#like the anxiety of not knowing where it would be and living in fear that one will for some inexplicable reason come onto my bed or couch or

[keep-both-eyes-on-trump]

I want to talk about another post I saw the other day.

It was from a Catholic user and they were describing a time in which they overheard a group of men, democrats presumably, talking about how Christians, and especially Catholics, are evil. They described sinking in their chair and hoping their friend would not call attention to or out them as Republican and Catholic. Described how they've managed, so far, to keep other people outside of close friends from finding out that they're Catholic. Described the hurt and anxiety and fear they felt. It was very poignant, and I'm sure it was a very unsettling experience.

Which is why I didn't reply or reblog and am, instead, writing this.

Because, although I am neither Republican or Catholic, I can recognize myself in that post.

I recognize myself from family Thanksgivings when the topic of politics come up and suddenly nearly thirty people around me are loudly discussing their support for Trump, distaste for Biden, and hatred of Democrats who are all lying, demonic, scum of the earth while I try to hide in a corner and down my wine and hope no one addresses me, the lone college graduate who came back too "liberalized."

I recognize myself from when I was listening to my cousin at my sister's birthday party detail how disgusting and repulsive she found her gay high school principle while my mother, aunts, and other cousins all just nodded thoughtfully and tossed out some form of agreement. The crime this gay principle committed? Having a family photo of him and his husband and their child on his desk. My family doesn't know I'm queer. I, too, remember roaring in my ears and my chest tightening as I sank in my seat and swallowed mouthfuls of water in an attempt to wash away my anxiety.

I've known I'm queer for years and I've kept that from my family.

Because every comment, every remark, every agreement that queer people are disgusting, repulsive, wrong, and sinful echos in my head anytime I think about telling someone.

These experiences? They're not unique. There is a long history of people who have had such experiences all their lives and there is likely to be many more to come.

So, if you've had a moment like this, a moment where you've felt hurt or shamed or frightened because of the words another person used to describe a group that you belong to, I want you to take a moment and be mindful of the words you use to describe others.

The Watcher

[saramurad1]

‏I am Sarah Murad from Gaza, Palestine. I married Abdullah Murad in 2018, and together we started building our home with hard work and dedication. Every brick in our house carried a special meaning, and it was a small dream that we began to realize together. We faced many challenges from the beginning, as my husband worked for a very low salary, barely enough to cover even the simplest daily needs or pay the house installments. Despite that, we worked together to live with dignity, never giving up.

‏Seven years into our marriage, we still had not been blessed with a child. It was one of my biggest wishes, and I longed to experience the joys of motherhood. But I had to face the painful reality of infertility, and fertility treatments, which are extremely expensive. Despite living in poverty, my husband was always there to support me in every way possible.

‏In July of 2023, after long suffering and immense pain, I was able to raise the money needed for the fertility procedure. I felt a glimmer of hope return to my life, and when the procedure initially succeeded, I thought our lives were about to change for the better. But then, disaster struck. The war on October 7th broke out, and with it came immense fear and anxiety for our lives. My husband was unable to buy the necessary medications, and the procedure ultimately failed, resulting in a miscarriage.

‏Just three days after the war began, our home – the home we had built with so much effort and sacrifice – was destroyed. The Israeli military demolished it, shattering all of our dreams and our future. In one moment, we were left homeless, with no place to return to. We were forced to flee to the southern part of Gaza, and our search for safety began.

‏We spent over 13 months in dire conditions, under the scorching summer sun and the freezing winter cold. No shelter to protect us, no place to call home. We lived in tents and exposed to the open air, as if we were living in another world – one where there is no comfort or peace. Yet, even in these harsh conditions, hope still lingered in our hearts.

‏As time passed, life became even harder. Due to the ongoing siege for more than a year, we could no longer afford even the most basic daily necessities. There is not enough food, no meat, no vegetables, and no cleaning supplies. My husband is now unemployed, and we have no steady source of income.

‏Since I got married, my biggest wish has always been to become a mother. To hold a child in my arms and feel the joy that comes with motherhood. But as the years passed, this dream seemed farther away, and my daily struggle became not only with the loss of our home and hope, but also with this deep sense of grief—the grief of motherhood I had always longed for.

‏I was sure that motherhood would come one day, but in Gaza, where wars and difficult circumstances prevail, that dream feels out of reach. When I finally managed to raise the money for the fertility treatment in 2023, it was a moment of hope, a moment of triumph over the pain that had accompanied me for years. But, as is the case in Gaza, the circumstances were not on our side. The occupation destroyed our home, and with it, the hope of a future I had begun to see.

‏But hope still lives in my heart. I can’t let go of my dream of becoming a mother. I know that the treatment requires huge costs, and these amounts may seem out of reach given our difficult circumstances. But I am here today, humbly asking for your help so I can cover these expenses. So I can continue my treatment and finally have a chance to become a mother, to experience the motherhood I have always dreamed of.

‏Your donations may not seem like a big deal in the face of many of the challenges you may face, but they mean everything to my husband, to my family, and to me. Every contribution, no matter how small, brings us closer to realizing

[jewish-vents]

Just to note: this is an emotional vent, and a lot of the things are say are just feelings and thoughts, not what I actually believe in.

I've been kicked out of servers and stuff because I'm from Israel. I have anxiety and sometimes it feels like every single person in the world wants me to die. Whever I'm home alone I have the irrational fear that someone will get in and do something to me.

I feel like people out there don't realise how much power they hold. American citizens hold a certain power over us, because they have the power to vote. At the end of the day without america we would be dead and gone. So in truth their opinions do matter. And it feels so disempowering, knowing these people that live on the other side of the world get to be the judges, and decide what my life is going to be like. My fate is completely in their hands, and they could kill me on a simple change of mood. It's like this overwhelming force of people that tower above me and I am too little to ever change their minds. I know it is not completely true, but it feels so real sometimes. And hearing how much these people want us to leave... Sometimes I think maybe this world isn't fit for us, and that it would be better if we just left it. And I feel horrible for thinking that, but I can't help but feel like a problem or a burden to everyone out there. And when they tell me I don't deserve human rights I start to believe them, because if everyone thinks that way, and if they feel so strongly for it... Maybe I shouldn't bother wasting my time where I'm not welcome. And it angers me that I need to be queer and mentally ill to excuse my existence, and that I even need to make up a reason why I deserve to live. I don't want to feel so pathetic anymore, I don't wanna be small. But no matter how hard I'd yell and scream and cry and beg for my life they will not care. And now I don't know what to do anymore.

.

[icarusflewsworld]

Rhysand & Cassian & Azriel X OC

Hello, here is the chapter 7 of a fanfiction on the world of Acotar where our three favorite Batboys are the mates of a single woman.

I hope you like it! Please feel free to comment and telling me what you think of the story, it would make me very happy. In any case, thank you for reading ❤️❤️

! Don't forget to read the previous chapters ! : Here

Happy reading!

Chapter 7

The time had come. They had flown at a crazy speed after crossing the wall but had still not been fast enough. When they had decided that they could finally return to the Archerons' domain to find out if Feyre's sisters had received answers from the queens, none of the three Illyrians, despite the amount of work they had to do, had wanted to miss this opportunity to see their possible soulmate again.

They hadn't even had time to go see the Suriel and in fact, none of them really wanted to. They had wanted to do it but every time one of the three suggested going, a ball of anxiety formed in their stomachs. They were far too afraid of what the Suriel could say because in both cases, it would change their lives forever.

They were afraid that the Suriel would tell them that this link with Luxiana was a lie, that this link with this sunny, cute and pleasant young woman was not true, and then, they would never recover. They had felt so many emotions, fear but especially happiness when meeting her that telling them that this link was false would make them feel like they were losing their true soul mate even if she was not.

But deep down, that wasn't what the three Illyrians feared the most. No. What they were afraid of, what kept them awake at night, wasn't that this bond forming between the three of them and their soulmate was false, but that it was true. Because that meant a whole world of change.

It meant that their sibling relationship with their brothers would change forever, that they would be connected in a much greater and deeper way than before.

It meant they would have to share the woman of their lives with two other men and they wouldn't be able to have her all to themselves.

It meant putting their soulmate in danger because of who they were. It meant days of anguish and fear trying to protect a fragile, seemingly suicidal human who was absolutely not going to help them in the process.

But most of all, it meant that their time with her was limited. She was human and so, she would grow old. She would grow old without them. And she would eventually die without them. Of course, they would never get over it. They didn't know her but it was already a certainty for them, they would follow her anywhere even in death. That said, knowing that their days with her would be so short killed them with sadness. When they thought about it, their shoulders hunched, their eyes faded, their stomachs exploded and their hearts tightened. They would not have an eternity with their soulmate but a few precious days numbered. And that terrified them.

But it also meant one thing, that they had already wasted too much time away from her. Their bodies and minds couldn't stay away from her for too long without driving them completely crazy anyway. Their hearts, their stomachs, their skins and every single muscle they had were aching with every second they were away from her and their minds were slowly killing them by making them imagine the worst. By making them visualize Luxiana's body in another man's arms, laughing with another, or by making them imagine her cute little face looking lovingly at someone who wasn't them. Sometimes, when they were really not well, when they were worried, they remembered that their soulmate could get sick and even die because of a simple stupid thing. They imagined her injured or sometimes even lifeless and it destroyed them. It would destroy them.

They were already worried sick even though they didn't even know her. It was all that anxiety and sleepless nights that had made Rhysand decide. He had waited as long as he could, but those few weeks away from her had been hell. He knew he should have waited a little longer before returning to the Archerons, and that he had to give the queens a little more time to answer him, but he couldn't wait any longer. He needed to see her. He needed to make sure she was okay. He needed to make sure she could still be his. Theirs.

He hadn't even asked his two brothers if they wanted to come, knowing full well that these last few days had been as hellish for them as they had been for him. He had simply gotten up this morning and given in to his desire to want to find her. "It's time," he had just said to his brothers when he arrived in the dining room this morning and they had followed him hastily without even asking what he was talking about, knowing full well that it was about their soulmate. It was always about their mate anyway.

They hadn't even had lunch. Actually, they hadn't eaten much these last few days. Even Cassian. His love for food had completely disappeared, which worried Mor and even Amren a lot. In fact, the way the three brothers had been behaving since they had met that girl worried Mor and Amren. They didn't know what they could do to help but Azriel was on edge all the time yelling at the first thing that pissed him off, Cassian had become as silent as Azriel before and Rhysand had lost his taste for everything. In fact, the only time they had seen excitement and joy in their eyes since they had returned from the Archerons, had been when they talked about that girl and this morning.

The three Illyrians were breathing again. They were going to see her and that was all that mattered. Cassian was flying around, smiling with joy and excitement at the thought of seeing her again. Rhysand was flapping his wings with all his might to get to her as quickly as possible. Azriel was fighting against his anxiety at the thought of finding her injured or with someone else.

They weren't even sure if she would be in the Archerons' house today but they knew that either way, they would look everywhere for her and not leave until they saw her or made sure she was okay.

As they landed, invisible, in front of the door of the mansion, the excitement and reluctance bubbling in their bodies nearly made them jump on the spot. Cassian knocked on the door, much louder than necessary.

After a few moments, an old woman, a servant, comes to open the door for them. Seeing no one at the door, the three Faes being invisible, she frowned as she looked a little more closely at the door frame. But Rhys allowed himself to get into the old woman's head to force her to go and warn one of the Archerons of their presence. Which she did, her gaze devoid of life.

The maid left, even leaving the door open, having only one goal: to warn one of the Archerons of the presence of someone important at the door. Azriel closed the door, not wanting to let a cold that could make his soulmate sick enter the house.

Unfortunately, the old woman returned with the coldest of the Archerons, Nesta.

Nesta descended the stairs with a heavy step, almost irritated, going with an anger visible on her face towards the front door. She did not want to see the Faes again and in addition to not having announced themselves, they had dared to enter the head of their servant to force her to do something. Nesta was shaking with anger and if it had not been those powerful Faes on her doorstep, she would have left them outside. Especially since they had announced during their first visit that they would return next week, why were they already there? She opened the door a little wider than necessary, silently inviting invisible Faes to enter by pointing to the hall with her hand and moving to the side.

Seeing the sister who had opened the door for them, Cassian grimaced, Azriel sighed and Rhysand closed his eyes tightly. They would have preferred to come across someone else. A pretty blonde, with almost white hair for example.

The three faes rushed into the house in a hurry. Fortunately, because Nesta slammed the door a little too quickly, probably hoping that one of the Faes would take it in their face. A little disappointed that this was not the case, Nesta grimaced with disdain as the sound of the door closing violently still echoed in the hall. She rushed with heavy steps up the stairs while the Illyrians followed her reluctantly. She climbed up to the first floor where she opened the door to one of the rooms.

Nesta half-stepped into the room, pressing herself against the door to let the faes enter. The Illyrians looked around the vast chamber from floor to ceiling, noting the gold silk sheets on the enormous bed and the blue velvet curtains on the large bay windows.

“I am not dealing with that,” Nesta spat coldly as she stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind her.

The Illyrians frowned as she left, thinking they would be left alone in a room, but suddenly a white-haired head came out from behind a three-drawer dresser at the other end of the room and slightly away from the wall.

Luxiana's head raised, her eyebrows furrowed, a confused and surprised look fixed on the door, on Nesta who had just left.

Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel's eyes widened as they noticed the blonde in the room. A ball of anxiety and a weight of disappointment left them, allowing them to take a deep breath. Then their chests swelled with joy, excitement, and apprehension. She was there.

She still had a completely undone bun that made the Illyrians smirk. She looked careless and they loved it, especially since she looked so cute with all her strands of hair hanging around her face.

Luxiana straightened up fully from behind the dresser where she had been, a butter knife in her hand, making every muscle in the Illyrian tense. What was she doing there with a butter knife? She could hurt herself.

“Huh?” she said simply, still staring at the door, not seeing the faes who were still invisible. “Nesta?” she called out, almost running towards the door. “What are you talking about?”

A wave of fear electrified the Illyrians as they saw her running with a knife in her hands. What if she fell and stabbed herself? When she put her hand on the doorknob to open it and catch Nesta, Rhysand put his hand on the blonde's, stopping her and Azriel almost threw himself on her to snatch the knife from her hands.

Luxiana gasped in surprise as she felt an invisible person's fingers on her hand while another stole her knife. She turned and put her back to the door, her brow furrowed, her muscles tensed ready to defend herself but her hand was still in Rhysand's.

The three Fae made themselves visible and Cassian raised his hands in the air in front of him in a sign of appeasement. They could not, however, help but examine her greedily, feeling relieved, almost believing that she was a dream. She was there, in front of them and she was fine. She was fine.

“Forgive us, we didn't mean to scare you,” Rhysand whispered, smiling kindly at her, looking at her with concern.

When she recognized the faes, Luxiana relaxed, blowing out all the air she had been holding. And to think that she had nearly slit their throats, to such sexy creatures, what a sacrilege it would have been. She placed her free hand on her heart, a relieved expression on her face. “Are you crazy? I could have hurt you!”

The Illyrians looked at each other in surprise before bursting into laughter as they looked tenderly at the young woman. Cassian's hands pressed against his stomach and Rhysand had to reluctantly release his soulmate's hand on the doorknob.

Luxiana opened her mouth in shock, before gritting her teeth and narrowing her eyes, glaring at them, realizing they were openly mocking her. She crossed her arms. If only they knew she could knock them down whenever she wanted, and she didn't know what was stopping her from doing so when she had made others eat the ground for less than that.

“Forgive us,” Rhysand repeated, seeing the blonde's annoyance and wiping a tear of hilarity from the corner of his eyes to stop laughing softly at the same time as his brothers.

The blonde huffed as she relaxed. They were lucky they were so hot and that one of them had saved Feyre. “So you’re what Nesta was referring to, I guess.”

Cassian grimaced as he suddenly stopped laughing, “I think she doesn’t like us, actually.”

Luxiana laughed softly as she turned her head to the side “Don’t take it personally, she doesn’t like many people.”

But when she turned her head to the side, the Illyrians could notice a huge bruise on the corner of her jaw, the skin of which was completely damaged and still had dried blood on it. Someone had hit her. They froze from head to toe, their eyes widening and their smiles faded away.

Rhysand's heart tightened in his chest. Cassian tensed every muscle in pain. A wave of anger washed over Azriel, paralyzing him entirely.

Sensing the change in the atmosphere, the blonde looked at them and lost her smile when she saw their serious, angry and surprised expressions. They could almost seem intimidating like that.

Cassian blinked and went to ask her what had happened to her, but Azriel reacted without being able to stop himself. He grabbed the blonde's chin with his thumb and index finger, tilting her face to the side so he could observe the purple, bloody angle of her jaw. The sight made his anger raise. His breathing rushed. He couldn't breathe. They couldn't breathe. If anyone had hurt her, they swore they would set the world on fire.

“Who did this to you?” scream the Illyrian with the red siphons with a mixture of surprise and anger in his voice.

The blonde pulled away from Azriel's hold - who groaned as he felt the blonde's skin leave his - then she stepped back in shock, sticking herself completely to the door behind her. She frowned a little more as she looked at them one by one with incomprehension. What were they playing at? In which way could it possibly matter to them? That said, it was cute.

“Did someone hurt you?” Rhysand asked, taking a step forward, his body almost pressed against Luxiana’s.

“Someone hit you,” Azriel added in a cold voice, detailing her with anger so strong it rang in his ears.

Luxiana's eyes widened in realization. "Ah, that," she exclaimed, pointing at the angle of her jaw. She fake-laughed, running one of her hands over the back of her head, embarrassed. She couldn't help but look away, blushing in shame. "Uh, yeah, I fought," she tried to find an excuse.

“You fought?” Cassian repeated, his eyes widening in surprise. This little woman fought?

“Uh yeah, yeah. Ha ha.” she looked away again, searching in the four corners of the room for a solution. “That was quite a fight, the guy i fought never got up.” She adorably threw her fists in front of her as if she were hitting someone.

Azriel frowned.

Cassian grabbed her fists, forcing her to stand still and eyeing her seriously. “Easy, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

“And you’re lying to us,” Azriel added with a little uncertainty, looking her up and down with narrowed eyes. He wasn’t sure, but she seemed embarrassed to talk about something. She seemed to be making something up.

Luxiana twitched, frowning for a microsecond. “What?” She giggled at Azriel’s accusations, blushing a little more. “No, not at all… I…” She stopped under the accusing and scrutinizing gaze of the three faes in front of her. Ugh, she really was a bad liar. That was her only flaw. She sighed in resignation. “Yes, yes, I’m lying… I fell.”

“You fell?” Rhysand repeated, almost shouting in surprise. “What do you mean you fell ?”

“Yeah, miserably.” Luxiana grimaced, her face now completely red. She bit her lip. Damn, those Faes weren’t going to be intimidated by her after that, if they ever could have been. “I just splayed out like a pancake on the floor.” She pursed her lips together, making them almost disappear into her cheeks, grimacing embarrassedly.

The Illyrians looked at her without being able to do anything else. She fell? She fell? Their soulmate fell ? And she told them this while making the cutest face possible.

Rhysand stared at Luxiana with narrowed eyes. Was she that clumsy? Was it possible? He took a step back. Had fate really given him such a clumsy soulmate when his own life was filled with danger? His heart felt like it was trembling with fear and apprehension in his chest.

Cassian smiled as he detailed the blonde's expression. She was cute. He relaxed his muscles slowly, one by one. He released his fists which she let fall limply to her sides. He crossed his arms as he stared at her with a mocking look that Luxiana intercepted by shooting him with her pupils, accentuating the Illyrian's hilarity.

Azriel took a step back, huffing as he did and pinching the bridge of his nose wearily. His soulmate fell. Was he really going to have to bubble wrap her and lock her in his room to make sure she didn’t hurt herself? Damn, she could have broken her neck. He clenched his fists. He really didn’t like this ball of anxiety in his stomach. He was already worrying too much about her.

“Yeah, I know what you’re thinking.” Luxiana chuckled. “And the worst part is that it happens to me a lot… Like… A lot…” She crossed her arms, suddenly staring into a blank space with sadness. She wanted to take a step back, but she was already backed up against the door. She grabbed the bracelet on her wrist. A simple silver chain with blue gemstones on it. She stroked it with her fingertips. “I… I kind of lost my balance when I was little.” An infinite sadness crossed her face for a second. A sadness of such power and depth that it disarmed Rhysand, who had been the only one to see it.

Luxiana shook her head, her usual haughty demeanor returning. Rhys narrowed his eyes, realizing it was one of her defense mechanisms. He didn't like it. He didn't like it at all. What had she been through to act like this?

“But I still can kill you with this butter knife,” Luxiana said as if nothing had happened, pointing at the knife still in one of Azriel’s hands. “So do not mock me.” 

She took a step forward and with a quick movement tried to take the knife back but, although Azriel was surprised to see her move so quickly, he had the reflex to avoid her, withdrawing his arm and raising the knife in the air.

Luxiana started jumping to try to get it back but she was too small. “Give it back to me” she shouted out of breath from her jumping.

“No,” Azriel replied coldly without meaning to. He hadn’t been able to concentrate on his tone, obsessed by the vision of the blonde jumping near him and disturbed by her proximity, making his heart explode in his chest. Luxiana’s scent climbed up to Azriel’s nostrils. Vanilla. She smelled like vanilla. Azriel had to grit his teeth. He loved it.

Cassian laughed, taking a few steps back to rest his butt on the foot of the bed, admiring the scene mockingly but the truth was his heart filled with joy.

Rhysand in turn detailed the scene with a smile but a bitter aftertaste remained on his palate. He hoped with all his guts that he was wrong and that the sadness he had seen in his soulmate was just him imagining things.

“Why did you steal it from me in the first place?” she screamed, jumping around Azriel trying to grab the knife still in his raised hand as high as she could. “Give it back, damn it!”

Rhysand huffed with a smile, he placed his hands on the young woman's shoulders, immobilizing her. She gave him a questioning look from her small heigh and Rhysand thought he would melt inside. His soulmate.

Cassian laughed heartily. She was so cute and she fit in so well with him and his brothers. “Why were you walking around with a knife anyway? And what were you doing behind that dresser?”

“That's…” she huffed, scowling and crossing her arms. “You're always asking questions. It's none of your business.”

Azriel raised an eyebrow at her, urging her with a stern look to tell him what she was doing. It concerned him, after all.

Rhysand narrowed his eyes, leaning slightly towards her, trying to see through her, even trying to catch a thought of hers that would be the answer to his questions but her mind still remained closed.

Cassian looked at her intently, tilting his head, a smirk on his lips.

A silence settled where the young woman's gaze oscillated between the three Illyrians who stared at her with a piercing gaze. Luxiana did everything not to feel intimidated, or at least not to show it because inside she was completely red under these intense looks. She took a step back, lowering her eyes for a second and clearing her throat to give herself composure. How did these three faes manage to disconcert her every time? She sighed in resignation. "Elain lost the key to her dresser so I was trying to unscrew the back to get the inside."

The three Illyrians smiled satisfied to see the effect they had on their soulmate and that they had managed to make her give in.

“You wanted to unscrew with a butter knife?” Cassian laughed at the top of his lungs.

She glared at him, biting her tongue. He was annoying and his superior air was getting on her nerves. He honestly had no idea what she could do with that butter knife and she was dying to show him but he was way too sexy to ruin his pretty face with scars.

She groaned and then rolled her eyes. “But you’re surely not here for that,” trying to change the subject of conversation and trying to regain control of her emotions.

Cassian could see how much he was getting on the little blonde's nerves and boy did he love it. She was so cute when she was angry.

Azriel put the butter knife in one of his pockets under Luxiana's dark gaze that was glaring at him. There was no way he was going to give her back her knife when she could hurt or even kill herself with it. He crossed his arms but his muscles were still tense, ready to intervene to prevent her from getting the knife back if she wanted to. She actually had no interest in even thinking about it. It would drive Azriel crazy. He would have to teach her to obey.

Rhysand regained a minimum of seriousness, still looking at the blonde with tenderness, not even able to think properly anymore. Why did they come here? They were here to see her, right? “The queens,” he reminded himself. “We came to know if you received a response from them.”

Luxiana tilted her head with a frown, eyeing them suspiciously one by one. Why were they already here? “I thought Feyre had told me this visit would take place next week. Was I mistaken? Was there a problem that would require moving this appointment forward?”

Rhysand holds back a grimace. He had to find an excuse, and fast. “No. That was what we agreed to, indeed.”

Luxiana looked at the high Lord waiting for an explanation that didn't come. "Then why did you come today?" she insisted.

Cassian smiled “because we were a little too eager to see you again.” Luxiana narrowed her eyes at him, electrifying him once again. It did that to him every time she laid eyes on him, damn it.

Luxiana knew that these words were not true and that it was only to hide the reason for their visit today but she couldn't help. She had to hold back a smile of pleasure. She would have loved for Cassian's words to be sincere. She huffed and rolled her eyes, giving up on the idea of getting the answer she wanted. They were apparently not ready to tell her why they had moved up the date of their meeting. She would have to investigate and find out why herself.

She turned her eyes back to Rhysand, ignoring Cassian and his words or Azriel’s intense gaze. “To answer your question, yes, we did receive a response. Yesterday, in fact.”

Luxiana grabbed her pale blue petticoat to lift it up. She first revealed her ankle, then her calf and her thigh where a white lace garter holding a folded sheet of paper was located.

Rhysand froze, Azriel's gaze flared, and Cassian had to sit up straight. What was she doing? Her legs were thin and her skin felt so soft. Their hearts began to pound wildly in their chests.

Luxiana grabbed the piece of paper from under the garter to pull it out. She handed it to Rhysand as she released her skirts which fell back down to her legs much to the dismay of the three Illyrians. “This is the letter we received.” She kept it on her to make sure no one got to discover it.

Rhysand blinked a few times to come back to reality and grabbed the piece of paper she handed him.

“They agreed to meet you,” Luxiana added. “They gave a date.”

Rhysand unfolded the letter and began to read it, once done he smiled as he gave a hopeful look to Cassian and Azriel who returned it to him.

Luxiana intercepted this look and expressions with great curiosity. “Can I ask you a question?” she asked Rhysand.

“Whatever you want,” he replied, looking back at her.

“Why are you doing this? Why do you want to help humans? I mean, you clearly have nothing to gain from this.” Luxiana looked at him, hoping to understand something in his expression. No matter how hard she torments her brain, she didn’t understand why he was doing this. He had nothing to win from this. She had thought about the fact that maybe he was trying to betray them and that he was on the side of the King of Hybern, but none of her sources of information, that she had devoted the last few days, had found any connection between him and Hybern. And then, he had saved Feyre, she simply refused to believe that they were that bad.

Azriel, Cassian and Rhysand smiled as they looked at her. She was so beautiful and she seemed so intelligent.

“My mother dreamed of seeing humans and Faes living in perfect coexistence together. She considered all living beings equally. I wish I could make her dream come true.” Rhysand said, his voice heavy with meaning and feeling.

Luxiana heard his sincerity and understood the sadness in his eyes. He had lost his mother. “Then why not let Hybern destroy the wall, we will all be forced to live together.”

“Not like this. Cohabitation must be wanted by both sides and Hybern doesn’t just want to destroy the wall, he wants to enslave your species. I won’t let him.” Rhysand lifted his hand, gently placing it on Luxiana’s soft, plump cheek, caressing it with his fingertips. His gaze went blank. “I couldn’t let him hurt humans, not when you’re one of them.”

Luxiana frowned for a second, surprised by his words. He seemed absent and had given the impression of thinking out loud which added a bit of sincerity to his words. But she didn't really understand the meaning of his sentence. Why would he do that for her? She glanced at Cassian and Azriel to see their expressions and try to get some kind of answer but they were both looking at her intensely with a serious face. She frowned even more and then gave Rhysand a suspicious sideways glance. She leaned towards him with a mischievous look, causing Rhysand’s arm to fall limply to his side. “Is this some way of flirting with me, my lord?”

Rhysand came back to himself, smiling. He looked down on her but not in a haughty way, in a tender way. “Maybe so, does it work?”

Luxiana smiled, holding back a laugh. “Maybe.” She remained mysterious despite herself because, holy shit, it worked.

Rhysand smirked and took a deep breath to speak but was interrupted by the door opening abruptly. He took a step back to avoid getting hit in his head and grabbed Luxiana by the arm to shift her to the side. Azriel reacted just as quickly by grabbing the blonde by the forearm to pull her towards him, but due to lack of balance, Luxiana stumbled and crashed into the chest of the Illyrian with the blue siphons. He wrapped his arms around her to catch her and prevent her from falling. A wave of adrenaline and worry surged through Cassian's body who straightened up with wide eyes, hands raised, ready to catch Luxiana if she fell.

Nesta remained in the entrance of the room, positioning herself under the door frame. She detailed the scene before her, observing Rhysand holding Luxiana's arm, Cassian a few centimeters away standing with his hands outstretched towards her and Luxiana in Azriel's arms. She grimaced with pronounced disgust.

Cassian and Rhysand breathed a sigh of relief when they saw that Luxiana hadn't hurt herself, then glared at Nesta. Azriel didn't even see the oldest of the Archeron sisters, too disturbed by the waves of warm feelings that stirred in his body because of the blonde's face buried in his pectorals and her body so thin and fragile glued to him. He had never felt such a feeling of comfort, warmth and tenderness. Such a feeling that made his heart melt in his chest.

Luxiana leaned her palms on the Illyrian's chest to straighten up but Azriel could only tighten his grip around her, preventing her from moving away. Luxiana threw him a questioning look from below although her cheeks were completely red as she was embarrassed by the situation. It was the shame of her life. She had been so absorbed by Rhysand's violet eyes that she had not reacted when Nesta had opened the door. She had had to be saved by Rhysand and Azriel and she had almost fallen again.

“I can’t keep the servants from entering the corridor and passing by the door much longer. They’ll hear your voices eventually,” Nesta said coldly, still eyeing them with a grimace. She noticed the queens’ letter in Rhysand’s hands. “You got what you came for. Go away.”

Cassian's arms fell limply to his sides and his nostril flared in anger. He hated this sister, she had nothing to do with his soulmate.

Azriel finally noticed Nesta, raising a dark look towards her. How dare she speak to them like that and above all, how dare she look at his mate with so much disdain? If Luxiana had not been in his arms making him the happiest fae in the world, he would have wanted to tear out the tongue of this viper.

Rhysand fought back a grimace. Nesta’s tone was clear, they had to leave. They couldn’t stay with their soulmate any longer. He could get inside the eldest sister’s head and force her to leave them alone, but as much as a part of him wanted to, wanting more than anything to stay with his soulmate, his good conscience screamed at him that it was wrong and that Luxiana would surely hold it against him. And he couldn’t jeopardize a potential meeting with the queens in a perfect place like this anyway. He nodded. “We’ll leave.”

Azriel and Cassian looked at Rhys in surprise before understanding and glaring at Nesta. Luxiana detailed the silent interaction between the three Illyrians, trying to understand those reactions. She put her hands on Azriel's chest again, propelling herself further away from him with a little more force than before.

Azriel looked down at her, growling as he felt her try to pull away from him but eventually reluctantly let go of her, knowing they had to go.

Luxiana was able to take a few steps away, lowering her head, dead with shame and completely red.

Cassian, Rhysand, and Azriel felt like every muscle in their bodies was vibrating and their chests were swelling at the sight of how cute their soulmate was. She was adorable like that.

Cassian raised his hand to the blonde's face with the intention of raising it and admiring her blushes with a proud smile, but Rhysand, not wanting to let anything show in front of Nesta, grabbed his brother's wrist and lowered it.

“We're leaving,” said the high lord, taking a step toward the door.

Nesta pressed her back against the door to let them pass. “You know where the exit is.”

Rhysand nodded and then took another step towards the door, stopping beside Luxiana. He leaned towards her, shivering at her vanilla scent. He placed his lips gently and quickly on her cheek, giving her a little kiss. “Be careful, please.”

Luxiana shivered at the contrast of the heat that exploded in her lower abdomen at the high lord's breath on her ear. She raised her now even redder face towards him at his words.

Rhysand straightened up, a smirk on his lips, proud of the reaction he had provoked on his soulmate. He took a few steps forward, past her and closer to the door, reluctantly moving away from his mate. Then he glanced at Cassian and Azriel, nodding towards the door, silently indicating that he had to leave.

Cassian huffed through gritted teeth, disappointed that he wouldn't be able to stay with his soulmate longer, then he looked at her and relaxed. She was so cute. Damn, he couldn't stand being away from her for much longer. He didn't even feel like he could breathe without her anymore. These weeks away from her had already been pure torture when they didn't even know each other. He needed to touch her so much. He slowly closed the distance between her and him and then gently took her in his arms, jealous of what Azriel had done previously. He put his hands on her back, pulling her closer to him, furtively placing his nose on the top of her head to breathe in her scent. He had to stop himself from growling. Her scent tickled him all over.

Luxiana's eyes widened, throwing her hands up in the air next to Cassian, surprised by his gesture. Was this fae hugging her? She had frozen but as she was about to come out of her stupor to hug him back, feeling far too comfortable in his arms not to, Cassian quickly released her, not wanting her to feel uncomfortable.

He put his dark pupils into the blonde's electric blue eyes, his hands on her shoulders. "Don't fall and don't start a fight." He smiled at her tenderly before looking her over one last time and then releasing her to stand next to Rhysand.

Azriel stood in front of the blonde, placing his index finger under her chin to force her to raise her head towards him and look him in the eyes. The blonde blushed a little more under the intensity of his gaze and his gesture, making Azriel smile. He slowly leaned down and gave her a kiss on the forehead, his lips barely brushing the blonde's skin, too afraid to scare her. "If anything happens to you, I won't be happy, so be careful."

Luxiana shivered again, her eyes shining in surprise as the three Illyrians turned invisible and exited the room. Nesta gave her one last look of disdain before closing the door, allowing Luxiana to let out a huge breath. What had just happened here? Besides, she needed a new butter knife now.

[anotherpapercut]

people acting like there isn't still very much an active stigma against cannibas and cannibas users is going to be my joker origin story

when i go to the doctor they still put cannibas use under the tab "substance abuse". not even just substance use. it is fully assumed that people who use cannabis, even as a prescription medication, are abusing it. just because you're friends with a couple of dumbass stoners doesn't mean that we've abandoned the idea as a culture that weed is a bad and scary and dangerous and highly addictive drug that will ruin your life if you use it once

[doctormage]

LOL just saw a mouse. in my home. on the floor. after business hours so no one can come check for where it came in from the attic. I am having a full scale meltdown rn bc I was already so anxious and now I’m not going to be able to fucking sleep or pack or do anything I need to do tomorrow. I hate it here 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

[kodokugumon]

Okay I'm gonna say it. Are you guys ready. Nightheart wishes he had what breezepelt has

[joons]

"[Elvis] always appreciated compliments rendered him, the gifts he received or the considerations extended to him. Only when he thought an ulterior motive was behind the act, did he withhold his feeling."

!!!

[nexus-nebulae]

i hate when you're like. so aware that a delusion is a delusion. you know its a delusion. you know its not really what's going on. but you still can't convince your brain otherwise

[7-oh-ta1]

Bro I was watching smth and it reminded me of a good part in pandora hearts so I got that shit out and now I'm surrounded by books becs this whole fuckin series is FIRREEEEE like the way it uses symbolism and metaphors to ask a question at the beginning, dissect it halfway thru, and then give it answer without ever feeling on the nose or feeling like they're holding your hand while also clearly communicating the themes likevRARAGDRWYQASHRARAGRWHHGHHHGG read these books

[spacelazarwolf]

apparently a bunch of ppl on social media are trying to call for a boycott of rick riordan because of this statement in a blog post:

Becky and I are just back from a busy weekend with events at the Boston Book Festival and New York Comic-Con.

Before I get into that, however, some words to acknowledge the ongoing horrors in Israel and Gaza. As many of you may know, I am no longer on social media. My accounts post only updates on my books and related projects. I do not read posts, reply to posts, or share my thoughts about world events on those forums. That doesn’t mean I don’t have strong feelings and reactions. It means I am offline as completely as possible, except for the occasional blog post like this one.

I will say this: Over the last eighteen years, I have received many fan letters from young readers, both Israeli and Palestinian, who often told me that my books helped them escape the fear, grief and anxiety they were dealing with at the time. Some had lost family members to violence. Some were writing while in the distance they could hear explosions, gunfire, and the launching of rockets. They used my books as a way to escape into another world, where the monsters were fictional, and where demigods usually saved the day. While I am always glad that my books can help young readers find joy during difficult times, my heart breaks every time I hear about the things they have to deal with. I am grief-stricken by the horrific events now unfolding, especially because I know that they are part of a long historic pattern that has been robbing too many children of their childhood and perpetuating hatred for far too long.

I am also quite aware that when anyone, myself included, tries to speak about this issue, the reader is waiting to pounce, thinking, “Yes, but whose side are you on?” That is exactly the wrong question. If there are two sides to this issue, those sides are not Palestinian/Israeli or Muslim/Jewish. The two sides are humanitarian and dehumanizing. Dehumanizing has a long evil history. It is appealing and easy to buy into, because humans are tribal animals. We are hardwired to think in terms of ‘us’ versus ‘them.’ We are the real humans, the good guys, the ones with God on our side. Those other people are evil monsters who don’t deserve empathy. Hate mongers have thrived on dehumanizing for as long as there have been humans. It provides them with a purpose, a way to rally support, power, and scapegoats. It is easy to point to atrocities committed by our enemies, while justifying or minimizing the atrocities committed by ourselves or our allies.

Humanitarianism is a much harder sell. It requires us to empathize, to see other groups of people as equally deserving of dignity and quality of life. It requires not always putting ourselves and our needs first. But in the long run, humanitarianism is our only hope. If violence could end violence, if we could put an end to “those other people” once and for all, human history would read very differently than it does.

So yes, I am appalled by the Hamas attacks on Israeli civilians. I am appalled by the suffering of Palestinian civilians in Gaza. Both things can be true. Both things must be true. My thoughts are with all the people who have died, who have lost loved ones, who have had their worlds and their lives shattered, especially the children. More death and violence will not break this cycle, which has been going on for generations. There is no military solution. Even since I first wrote the post, only twenty-four hours ago, the Israeli government’s brutal retaliation against the entire population of Gaza has reached genocidal proportions. This is not only an atrocity. It is folly. Answering misery with misery only creates more fertile ground for extremism, dehumanizing the “other side,” letting hate mongers thrive, stay in power, and reduce us all to our most monstrous impulses. The only real solution is treating each other like equally worthy human beings, and negotiating a peace that allows all parties a chance to live in security and dignity, with hopes for a future that does not include bombs and rockets and gunfire. This means security and support for Israel, yes. It also means a secure Palestine which is allowed to get the international aid and recognition it needs to build a viable state.

Do I think that will happen? Unfortunately, no. Humans are simply too selfish, too ready to blame “the other” for all their problems, too ready to dehumanize, though I also believe, perhaps paradoxically, that most people just want to live their lives in peace and have a chance for their children to have a brighter future. The problem is when we don’t allow other people to have those same hopes and dreams — when it becomes a false choice of us versus them.

What can I do? I will continue to write books that I hope will give young readers some joy. I will resist the urge to demonize entire groups of people. I will call for less violence, not more violence. And when asked whose side I am on, I will tell you I am on the side of humanitarianism.

So with that said, I return to the world of books . . .

honestly, if you have a problem with this statement, it’s probably because he’s talking about you. this is exactly what legitimate activists (as in not just random westerners who share social media posts but on-the-ground activists who are doing real work) have been saying for decades. and i think all this really speaks to just how disconnected a lot of westerners who claim to be pro palestinian are from those activists.

if you can’t read a statement that says “i am on the side of humanitarianism and less violence” without immediately jumping to cancel them, you are the problem being discussed in the above statement.

[fefern]

✧˖° first dates with them. | lingyang, m!rover, jiyan headcanons.

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ synopsis: going on a first date is always nerve wracking, yet can also be exciting! what's it like for these boys to take you out on your first date together?

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ characters involved (separate): lingyang, male rover, jiyan, and a gender neutral reader.

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ warnings: none!

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ notes: hello! coming to you live with my first post for wuwa! just some cute little headcanons with the boys on first dates with you because i love planning dates out ;;!! requests are open if you want to talk or have me write something!! ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)

Lingyang

Lingyang has never been more excited or nervous to hang out with someone, even more so since this was his first date with you. 

As someone who always seemed to fear being different from the humans around him, he felt extra self-conscious when he looked in the mirror and adjusted his outfit. Did he look alright? Were you going to enjoy this as much as he thought he would? Will everything go well? What if you decided you changed your mind and didn’t want to date someone of his species?

His first date gift for you would be a small lion plushie. Cute and fluffy with vibrant colors, he’d hold it out in front of him and shut his eyes tight, anxiety flowing through him. “These are for you! That way, when you miss me, you can hug this! If you want to, no pressure!” 

He’d be ecstatic when you took it into your hands and held it throughout your date together, happily looking between you and the plush and feeling his cheeks turn a rosy pink that you two were going out together. 

He’d probably take you to the best food spots all around Jinzhou, ranting about which dishes to try or who had his favorite foods. He’d want to get to know you more, curious and nervous as he’s asking you about your likes, dislikes, what your daily life is like in Jinzhou. Lingyang would walk and eat with you along the way, practically enamored by anything you did or said. 

His tail would swish fast back and forth whenever you were talking. Even if it’s something you found mundane, he couldn’t help but be happy just listening to you speak. His ears will also be very reactive around you, usually up but always reacting accordingly to whenever you’d tell a story or joke with him. 

He’ll let you pet him if you want to, he trusts you after all. His cheeks flush a soft pink and he lets out a small purr when you do so, finding himself growing a bit shyer at the sweet touch. He also feels a tad embarrassed by it, so you’ll have to pry his hands away as he childishly hides the way he’s turning red from you. 

He seems a little bit sad when you two do have to part, but when you ask him when the next one would be, a hopeful look emerges in his eyes as he begins to excitedly make plans to see you again and take you on another date. 

Other Points:  - Will jump in place when super excited to tell you something while on the date.  - Would point to some random cute things on your walk and go, “That reminds me of you!” - Happy to talk about lion dancing with you, and if you show more interest in it, he’ll offer to give you your own personal show one day!

Rover (Male)

Considering he is a person that just woke up in a strange world with no memories of his past or who he is, he is a bit lost on the idea of what to do during a date with you. Were there rules he had to follow? Did people in Jinzhou have certain taboos or ways that they executed dates?

He’d most likely ask all around the city in order to find out what to do or where to take you. He wanted to make sure the experience was good after all, not something that the both of you would dread. 

When he meets up with you, his hair is a bit more put together than usual and he stands up tall, giving you a small smile as he gently takes your arm and links it with his. 

“Take me around the city. Show me how you see the world through your eyes.”

His first date gift would be a small box of candy. I could definitely see Rover as being a person who likes small sweet treats as a guilty pleasure, and he’d want to share them with you as a way of connecting you with something that you love. 

He’s calm throughout most of your stroll, browsing through stores or looking around in quiet curiosity as you show him little nooks and crannies of the city. He enjoyed hearing how you would describe stores or fixate on different areas of the city that he hadn’t thought to really pay attention to before. 

He makes a mental note of the places that you like so that for your next date, you two could come back to them. Rover is already a few steps ahead in terms of thinking where he wants to go with you or what he wants to do. 

When you’re done showing him the city, he’ll give you a kind, endearing look and smile at you. He’ll take a moment to just admire you, shifting some of your hair out of your face and enjoy being in your presence before ultimately, it is time to part ways. He’ll wave you off, thanking you for everything and giving him a tour, before he smiles to himself like a fool and turns to head back to his quarters. 

Other Points: - Probably would be looking at you more than the city.  - Fast walker, so you’d have to keep up the pace. Apologies if he’s going too fast and happens to catch you struggling. - Will inquire about certain places just to listen to you talk. 

Jiyan

As the general of the Midnight Rangers that conducts himself in a poised, righteous manner, he’d be the most classy out of all the people to take you out on a date. 

Jiyan’s got a busy schedule as the head of such an important group in Jinzhou, but after bonding with you and asking you out he wanted to ensure that he carved out time in advance for just you and him to spend an afternoon together. 

He’d take you to a fancy restaurant in Jinzhou, the best money can buy. He’d be sure to pick you up from your place and walk with you to the restaurant. When you open the door, he’s standing in front of you with his hair slicked back and ponytail waving a bit in the wind, his clothes pristine and ironed out to look his absolute best in front of you. 

His present for you is a bouquet of flowers he made himself. He enlisted the help of his mom for this one, catching up with her about medical practices as he puts together the best pecok, irises, and poppies that he could find when he was out on his rounds into a pretty bouquet just for you. It’s wrapped up with brown paper and has a nice aqua bow on it, matching his hair.

When you get to the restaurant, he’ll look at the menu with you and ask you to order anything your heart desires. He already knows what he wants to eat, and will quietly look at you with a softened expression as you begin choosing what you want. He finds the way you handle yourself beautiful, even if it’s through simple things like ordering food. 

Jiyan will happily eat anything you don’t end up finishing. He doesn’t want to waste money, and he also cannot deny that the way you ask him to finish your plate was cute. He’ll work it off anyways with the amount of fighting and training he does, so he doesn’t mind. 

Will pay for the meal. No splitting or you paying, as much as you might plead and beg.

Will take you back to your place and entertain any questions you may have for him, whether it be about his past, missions he’s been on, or just about his duties as general of the Midnight Rangers. When he drops you off, he’d take the back of your hand and gently place a kiss on it before standing up straight and giving you a small smile, wishing you a goodnight. 

Other Points: - Will hold all your belongings so your hands are free and light. Does not matter how heavy or how much you have, he will refuse to let you “labor” like that, as he puts it.  - Admires your personality and the way you hold yourself when you speak. - Has a strong desire to protect you; always subconsciously keeping an eye out for any danger even though it’s daylight out.

[chosok-amo]

WOMAN, YOU ARE NOT A GODDAMN SNOW WHITE : GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU.

thunderstorm, and you are nowhere to be found. your boyfriends is worried sick, wondering your whereabouts, until you come home a fat raccoon.

warning. established relationship au, fluff, crack.

> m.list

the sound of the storm outside was deafening, rain pelting down against the windows in sheets, lightning flickering through the darkened living room. the atmosphere inside felt as tense as the weather outside. gojo was pacing relentlessly, his usually bright and relaxed demeanor clouded over with worry. every now and then, he would glance at his phone, checking for messages or missed calls. but there was nothing—no response, no sign of where you were.

geto sat on the edge of the couch, his head in his hands, frustration and anxiety etched across his usually calm face. he let out a heavy sigh, his fingers rubbing his temples as if trying to ease the headache that had been brewing since they’d realized you weren’t home. “she should’ve been back ages ago,” he muttered, his voice barely audible above the relentless rain. “she always lets us know where she is… this isn’t like her.”

“i know,” gojo replied, his voice unusually tense. he stopped pacing for a moment, gripping the back of the couch so hard his knuckles turned white. “she promised she’d be home before the rain started. she said she was on her way,” his tone cracked slightly, the worry seeping through.

another flash of lightning illuminated the room, followed closely by a rumble of thunder that shook the windows. gojo flinched, the uncharacteristic gesture revealing just how frayed his nerves were. “if only we’d left work sooner. we could’ve went home with her,” he muttered, more to himself than to geto.

the storm outside continued to pound against the windows, the relentless rain and booming thunder doing nothing to ease the growing tension in the room. gojo watched as geto tried calling you once again, his phone pressed tightly to his ear, his brow furrowing deeper with each passing second of silence.

when the call went straight to voicemail again, geto’s frustration hit a breaking point. “where the fuck are you?” he muttered under his breath, his voice laced with a sharp edge of worry and anger. his hand clenched around his phone before he threw it onto the couch with a frustrated sigh, running his fingers through his hair.

gojo halted his pacing and looked at geto, his own worry mirrored in his friend's expression. “it’s not like her to just go silent,” he said, a nervous energy in his voice that was so out of character for him. his usual confident, carefree attitude was completely gone, replaced by an anxiety that he couldn’t shake. “she always lets us know when she’s going somewhere or if she’s late.”

geto nodded, his jaw clenched as he fought to keep his composure. “i know. and the fact that it’s her out there in this storm, alone…” he trailed off, unable to finish the thought. his hands fisted at his sides, the helplessness gnawing at him.

“satoru, do you think…” geto trailed off, the worst-case scenarios that had been racing through his mind too painful to put into words.

“don’t even go there, suguru,” gojo interrupted, his voice fierce, though his eyes betrayed the same fears. “she’s strong. she’s probably just waiting for the storm to calm down somewhere.”

his words were cut off by another flash of lightning and a clap of thunder that shook the house, causing both of them to stiffen momentarily. it was as if the storm outside was mirroring the turmoil inside, an added layer of anxiety in the already tense atmosphere.

geto took a deep, calming breath, trying to keep hold of his emotions. he straightened up and looked at gojo, determination in his eyes. “you’re right. she’s strong. she can handle herself. we can’t just sit here and worry ourselves sick.”

another loud crash of thunder shook the house, causing geto to flinch. he hated feeling this helpless, hated the tight knot of fear twisting in dis chest. he glanced at gojo, who was biting his thumb, lost in his thoughts. despite their differences, they were both on the same page now—both terrified of the possibility of losing you.

just then, they heard a faint noise—a car door slamming shut. both of them sprang to their feet, their hearts pounding in unison as they rushed to the window. through the heavy rain, they could make out your figure, drenched but alive, struggling to carry what looked like a a big box. relief washed over them, but it was quickly replaced by a mix of irritation and concern.

geto and gojo exchanged a glance, their expressions mirroring each other. “what the hell is she carrying?” geto muttered, his annoyance evident as he made his way toward the door.

gojo followed close behind. “and why the hell did she come home in this weather?”

they both stepped outside, the cold rain lashing at their faces, as they hurried towards your figure. their eyes narrowed, taking in the sight of you struggling with the heavy box in your arms.

geto reached you first, the rain soaking through his clothes as he approached. “are you insane?” his voice was sharp, laced with a mixture of relief and anger. “what the hell were you thinking coming home in this storm—and what is that?"”

gojo joined him, looking equally worried and frustrated. gojo caught up, his arms crossed as he took in the scene. “and what’s in the box? you better have a damn good explanation for all of this.” they grip your shoulder, pulling you into the house.

you couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of both geto and gojo’s faces as they stood dripping wet, eyes wide in shock and mouths slightly agape. you adjusted the heavy box in your arms, a fucking fat raccoon inside peeking out with curious eyes. “look what i found!” you exclaimed excitedly, completely oblivious to the scratches on your face and the mud staining your clothes. “it was just wandering, isn’t it cute?”

the rain continued its relentless assault, soaking through geto and gojo's clothes and causing their hair to stick to their faces as they looked at you in disbelief. their initial relief was quickly replaced by a mixture of annoyance and worry, their brows furrowed as they took in your soaked appearance and the scratches on your face.

geto’s expression darkened, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked down at your face. “cute?” he sputtered incredulously. “you went out in this storm for a raccoon? you’re bleeding and muddy as hell!”

gojo, less composed, stared at you with a mix of shock and anger. “and didn’t you think to call or text us, genius? we’ve been going out of our minds worried!”

your smile faltered slightly as you looked down at your muddy shoes, realizing just how much trouble you might’ve caused. “i couldn’t just leave it there,” you mumbled, glancing up at them through your wet lashes. “it was all alone, and I thought… i thought i could bring it here until it’s safe to release it.”

geto ran a hand through his wet hair, exasperated. “did you even think about the possible danger? bringing a wild animal into our home—”

“not just any animal,” gojo interrupted, “a damn raccoon. it could have diseases, or rabies. jesus, you’re smarter than this—”

geto shot him a look, but gojo ignored it, his eyes fixated on you.

“and look at you,” gojo continued, his voice stern. “do you know how worried we were? how much trouble you could have gotten in? or, even worse, how dangerous it could have been?”

geto nodded in agreement, his arms crossed over his chest. “you’re not a little girl anymore, baby,” he added quietly. “you have to start thinking things through.”

you glanced back and forth between your two concerned boyfriends, feeling like a child caught doing something they knew was wrong. their genuine worry and concern were evident, but so was their frustration. the raccoon in the box seemed to sense the tension, letting out a small squeak as it shifted uncomfortably.

you took a step backward, clutching the box tightly, feeling the weight of the heavy creature inside. “i know it was reckless,” you admitted, your voice quiet. “i just... i didn’t think. i saw it and...” you trailed off, your gaze lowering.

geto let out a heavy sigh, the tension in his shoulders softening just a bit. gojo scrubbed a hand over his face, his anger slowly giving way to worry and relief.

geto crossed his arms again, a small frown still on his lips. “well, you thought wrong,” he said firmly. “there’s a reason we keep telling you not to do things like this.” a moment of silence passed before gojo cleared his throat. “where the hell did you find it, anyway?” he asked.

you looked up at them through your lashes, swallowing nervously as their combined stares bore into you. you knew they’d be upset—more than upset. biting your lip, you hesitated, the weight of their worry settling heavily on your shoulders.

in your arms, the raccoon blinked up at them with wide, innocent eyes, seemingly oblivious to the tension filling the room. you glanced down at the little creature, which gave a tiny squeak, as if in solidarity, and you almost felt braver because of it.

“where did you find it?” gojo repeated, his tone softer but his eyes still sharp.

you mumbled, “... at school,” barely loud enough for them to hear.

“at school?” geto repeated, his arms crossing even tighter as he took a step closer. his voice was calm, but you could sense the frustration simmering beneath it. “we told you to come home right after class. and instead, you went off chasing… a raccoon?”

“it was stranded and soaking wet in the woods,” you explained, clutching the raccoon a little tighter, trying to make your point. “it didn’t have anyone else.”

gojo stared down at you, his eyes flashing. “so you were out there by yourself, in the storm, all because of a wild animal that could have had a million diseases? or attacked you?” his fists tightened as he spoke, his concern evident in his tone.

geto’s jaw tightened, his frown deepening as he listened to your explanation. gojo’s expression was a mix of concern and anger, his eyes never leaving your face.

“and you decided that it was your responsibility to play hero and bring it home? do you have any idea what could have happened to you?” geto asked, his voice quiet but laced with concern.

geto watched you with a mix of worry and resignation. he understood your soft heart, your need to help and care for others, but the recklessness of your actions was weighing on him. “we’ve always told you not to just run off without telling us,” he said finally, his hands on his hips.

you felt yourself shrink under their intense stares, their frustration washing over you in waves. still, you couldn’t let go of the raccoon in your arms, the tiny creature nestled against you as if it understood your need for comfort.

“i… i couldn’t just leave it out there,” you mumbled, voice growing quieter with each word as their gazes bore into you. “what if it got hurt?”

you looked down at the raccoon, still struggling to hold the box with its fat body, your fingers gently stroking its damp fur, remembering how helpless it looked huddled outside in the storm. “it was like… like it was asking me to take it home,” you added in a small voice, hoping they’d understand.

gojo let out a frustrated huff, crossing his arms tightly. “woman, you’re not a goddamn snow white,” he shot back, his tone sharp. “you can’t just waltz around talking to animals, thinking they’ll magically be safe with you.” his words stung a little, but you knew his anger was coming from a place of deep concern.

you felt the sting of their words as you stood there, drenched and feeling smaller by the second. your excitement quickly dwindled, replaced by the heavy weight of guilt. you couldn’t bring yourself to meet their eyes, instead focusing on the raccoon in the box. it looked up at you with its big, confused eyes, almost like it was wondering why everyone was so upset.

gojo noticed your silence and the way your shoulders slumped forward, and a flicker of remorse crossed his face. geto, too, softened slightly at the sight of you looking so small and vulnerable.

but the worry and anger in their hearts only grew.

“how could you be so careless?” geto finally spoke up, his tone still frustrated, but quieter than before. “we’ve trusted you to make responsible decisions, and you go and do something like this...”

gojo sighed, running a hand through his wet hair again. “you need to understand the gravity of your actions,” he said, his voice firm. “not just for your safety, but for ours too. we care about you, goddamn it. we worry about you—”

geto chimed in, cutting gojo off mid-sentence. “you scared us,” he admitted, his voice cracking slightly. “we thought something had happened to you. and then we found you, soaked and bleeding, with a damn raccoon in your arms.”

the room grew heavy with silence for a few moments as your boyfriends took a moment to collect themselves. the raccoon let out another squeak from the box, almost as if it sensed the tension in the room, and you reached a hand down to pet it gently. it nuzzled closer to your fingers, seeking comfort in its own way.

the weight of gojo’s words hung in the air, heavier than the silence that had settled between you all. as you reached down to soothe the frightened raccoon, gojo’s hand shot out, gently but firmly smacking yours away. “don’t pet it,” he said, his voice harsher than he likely intended, a frown deepening on his face. “it could be carrying diseases, rabies—who knows what. why are you acting so careless?”

his words stung, each one landing with a sting that made you shrink back a little. “you’re a grown woman,” he added, his tone hard. “you should act like it.” the reprimand, though unintentional, echoed in the room, making you feel smaller under his stern gaze. you could see the frustration in his eyes, the fear that had fueled his reaction, but it didn’t make the words hurt any less.

geto noticed the look on your face and gently placed a hand on gojo’s shoulder, urging him to take a deep breath. “satoru,” he said quietly, his tone calm but firm, and gojo’s expression softened, a flicker of regret crossing his face.

gojo looked at geto, then back at you, the frustration in his face slowly melting away. he let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping a bit. “i’m sorry, baby,” he said, his voice less sharp now. “i didn’t mean to snap. i was just… scared. worried sick.”

their voices were starting to blur together, and you could feel a flicker of annoyance growing inside you. you knew they were worried, but the way they were going on and on, like you were some reckless child, started to rub you the wrong way.

without another word, you turned on your heel, your grip tightening on the box. you didn’t bother looking up, your eyes fixed stubbornly on the raccoon who seemed to be your only ally in that moment. you could feel both of their eyes on you as you brushed past them, your shoulder knocking against one of them—honestly, you didn’t even care which one.

they fell silent, stunned as you stormed off towards the bathroom near the living room. you slammed the door behind you, the loud bang echoing through the house. for a moment, you just stood there, your heart racing as you leaned against the door, staring down at the raccoon who was now peeking up at you from the box, almost like it was asking if you were okay.

“great,” you mumbled to the little creature, your voice shaky with frustration. “now we’re both in trouble.”

you took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself as you heard the faint murmur of geto and gojo’s voices from the other side of the door, still clearly upset. you knew they meant well, but right now, you just needed a moment to yourself, away from their scolding and the overwhelming mix of guilt and annoyance swirling inside you.

you glanced at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, the scratches and dirt on your face standing out starkly under the harsh light. “looks like we’re both a mess, huh?” you said softly to the raccoon, who just blinked at you with those big, innocent eyes, as if it didn’t have a care in the world. you let out a bitter laugh, feeling a tiny bit of your frustration melt away, though the sting of their words still lingered.

the bathroom was cold and bright, and you shivered a little as the wet fabric of your clothes clung to your skin. the raccoon, seemingly more interested in exploration than the tension, poked its head over the edge of the box, its wet fur matted down and its dark, beady eyes looking up at you.

gojo and geto’s voices could be heard from the living room, their murmurs audible through the door. you could make out bits and pieces of the conversation, the words “careless” and “thoughtless” reaching your ears.

gojo and geto stood in the hallway, the sound of the bathroom door slamming echoed through the silent house. they exchanged looks, both equally frustrated. gojo ran a hand through his hair again, sighing loudly.

“great,” he muttered, his tone sarcastic. “she’s mad at us now.”

geto scowled, leaning against the wall. “can you blame her?” he snapped. “we just went on and on about her actions. she probably feels like a damn kid getting scolded.”

gojo shot him a glare. “she acted like a damn kid. what was she even thinking, going out in the storm for a raccoon?”

geto’s jaw clenched. “but she brought the damn thing back here. it’s not like she was careless with its life. just ours.” gojo cursed under his breath, looking in the direction of the bathroom where you were. the sound of your voice, talking to the raccoon, was clear even through the closed door.

gojo crossed his arms, leaning against the wall as he tried to ignore the twinge of guilt building in his chest. he looked up at geto, who was still looking in the direction of the bathroom, a frown on to his face.

gojo sighed, his expression softening slightly. “i know, i just...” he ran a hand through his hair again, a nervous habit he couldn’t quite shake. “i can’t help but worry about her. it’s like, the second she’s out of my sight, i start imagining all the ways something could go wrong.”

gojo and geto stood there, tension thick between them as they listened to the faint sound of water running from the bathroom. through the door, they could hear your muffled voice, and it didn’t take long to realize you were talking to the raccoon.

“you know, those two idiots think they know everything,” your voice drifted out, laced with annoyance and frustration. “like, seriously? they don’t get it. it’s just a little rain, and they’re acting like i brought a lion home or something.”

gojo let out a dry scoff, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. “she’s really in there talking shit about us to a raccoon,” he said, rolling his eyes. “unbelievable.”

geto couldn’t help but smirk a little, despite the lingering irritation. “yeah, well, at least she’s not yelling at us directly,” he muttered, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice. “guess the raccoon’s a better listener than we are.”

gojo huffed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “yeah, maybe we should start taking advice from the damn raccoon. at least it can’t talk back.”

geto laughed at that, shaking his head. “you have a point there. might be easier to deal with than a stubborn girl, huh?”

gojo looked at geto, a small smile playing at his lips despite his mood. “yeah, well, that stubborn girl is one of ours. and, as annoying as she can be...” his expression softened, his voice trailing off.

as gojo and geto leaned against the wall, their frustration slowly ebbing away. the tension in the air had noticeably lightened, the sound of your voice still drifting out from the bathroom, now with a different tone, softer and more soothing.

gojo’s shoulders relaxed, his scowl softening slightly into a half-smile as he glanced back towards the bathroom. “you know,” he said, looking over at geto, “she always tries to see the best in everything, even if she’s being an idiot about it sometimes.”

sitting on the cold of the bathtub, you hugged your knees close, letting out a sigh that rippled through the quiet bathroom. the soft warmth of the water surrounding you barely eased the sting of gojo’s words or geto’s exasperated looks, and you couldn’t help but vent a little. glancing down, you saw the raccoon sitting by the pool of warm water, eyeing you with a strange, almost sympathetic curiosity.

“can you believe them?” you muttered, resting your chin on your knees as you looked at the little creature. “they’re acting like i’m some kind of helpless kid. like i don’t know what i’m doing.” the raccoon cocked its head as if considering your words, and you couldn’t help but smile at its curious, wide-eyed gaze.

“i mean, yeah, i got caught in the rain,” you continued, your voice softer, almost pouting. “but it’s not like i was trying to make them worry. i just couldn’t leave you out there.” the raccoon gave a soft chitter, and you reached down to stroke its damp fur gently, finding a bit of comfort in its small warmth.

“they act like i’m clueless,” you went on, feeling the need to get it all out, even if your only audience was a stray animal. “i get it—they were scared, i know. but i’m not some dumb kid. i know what i was doing.”

another huff escaped you, your cheeks warming slightly as you remembered gojo’s frustrated sigh, his tone that was harsher than usual. it had hit deep, despite knowing he hadn’t really meant to be that way. maybe it was their worry, tangled up in anger, but it was hard to shake off.

you let out a long sigh and leaned back, mumbling under your breath to the raccoon. “maybe it’s their problem if they’re gonna worry so much over every little thing. it’s not like i’d do something reckless…” you trailed off, a small, rueful smile pulling at your lips as you glanced at your dripping clothes in a heap beside you.

just as you were about to continue your quiet rant, you heard a soft knock on the door, followed by gojo’s voice, a bit softer than before, “hey, you okay in there? the raccoon giving you better advice than us?”

you rolled your eyes, letting out a low sigh and glancing back down at the raccoon, who seemed perfectly content in its cozy little spot by the warm water. “can you believe these guys?“ you muttered, ignoring gojo’s voice from the other side of the door. “like i really need their advice on what to do. i’ve got this all under control.”

the raccoon looked up at you with those round, trusting eyes, as if it were your little confidante in this moment. a smirk tugged at the corner of your mouth. “exactly. they just don’t get it,” you whispered to the animal, reaching out to stroke its damp fur.

gojo leaned against the door, his arms crossed over his chest, as he listened to you talking to the raccoon. A conflicted expression crossed his face as he listened to you, your words a mix of hurt, frustration, and something else he couldn't quite place.

he shifted on his feet, a frown on his face, and knocked again, a little louder this time. “are you going to come out of there? or are you going to keep talking to the raccoon? it might start charging you for therapy at this rate.”

geto let out a snort, his annoyance quickly replaced by laughter. “oh yeah, i wonder how the raccoon is reacting to that little rant.”

gojo bit back a smile. “bet it’s just sitting there nodding, pretending to be a good listener,” he responded, trying to keep his composure. “probably thinking ‘this girl is crazier than them.’”

geto couldn’t help but grin at the mental image of you talking to the raccoon like it was your therapist. “i can already see it,” he joked. “the raccoon’s probably giving her better advice than we ever will.”

you glanced down at the raccoon, who blinked back at you with wide, curious eyes, and muttered under your breath, “can you believe those two? who do they think they are, acting like my dad and trying to scold me?” your voice was soft but laced with annoyance, and you could’ve sworn the raccoon tilted its head, almost as if agreeing.

“if they didn’t get on my nerves so much…” you paused, a sly smirk creeping onto your lips as you muttered, “i’d probably kiss them. especially that albino guy.” you rolled your eyes, thinking of gojo’s pale hair and smug face. he was always half a second away from annoying you into oblivion, but somehow, that just made him all the more irresistible.

the raccoon, as if it understood your dilemma, gave a tiny squeak and nuzzled closer. “exactly,” you whispered to it. “they’re the ones who keep acting like they run my life, and then wonder why i get frustrated.”

you could hear faint laughter from the other side of the door, geto and gojo clearly amused at whatever mental image they had of you venting to a raccoon. “they’re having way too much fun out there,” you grumbled, casting a sideways look at the door. but part of you couldn’t shake the warmth in your chest. as much as they annoyed you, their concern was something you couldn’t ignore—even if they were the world’s most overprotective idiots.

gojo stood outside the door, his expression shifting between amusement and slight concern. he knew your frustration was justified, but he also couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of the situation. you, venting to a damn raccoon, while they were stuck out here, waiting for you to come out and talk to them.

as he leaned against the door, he glanced back at geto, who was also having a hard time keeping a straight face. gojo’s voice was a low murmur as he spoke, his tone a mix of amusement and understanding. “she’s really not taking this well, is she?”

geto let out a soft chuckle, his purple eyes gleaming with warmth as he looked over at gojo, clearly amused but also filled with affection. “you know how she is,” he murmured, shaking his head slightly. “everything’s gotta be some grand, dramatic moment. it’s like living with a walking soap opera.” his voice held a gentle fondness that softened his words, showing he loved every bit of your theatrical tendencies.

he leaned on his side against the wall, crossing his arms with a small smile tugging at his lips. “she’s probably in there, giving the raccoon the speech of the century, like it’s her co-star in some tragic, misunderstood romance.”

gojo snorted, though a faint smile played on his lips as well. “wouldn’t put it past her to actually start acting out a scene,” he replied, his tone both teasing and fond. “and of course, we’re the villains in her story.”

geto rolled his eyes, nudging gojo with his elbow. “yeah, but we’re her villains,” he said, his voice softening as he gazed at the bathroom door. “and if she wants us to sit here and play along with her soap opera, then… well, i guess we’re in for the whole show.”

the two of them shared a quiet, knowing look. they might tease you endlessly about your dramatic antics, but they wouldn’t trade any part of you—mood swings, raccoon rescues, or frustrated rants—for the world.

the sound of water sloshing softly in the tub as you shifted in the water broke the momentary silence between you and the raccoon. another sigh escaped your lips, this one even quieter than the last.

you looked down at the raccoon, who seemed to be listening intently, its wide, beady eyes fixed on yours. “maybe they’re right, though,” you mused, your tone a mix of frustration and resignation. “maybe i really am just being reckless, not thinking things through. i can be a lot sometimes.”

the raccoon chittered quietly, almost as if in response. as they stood there, the faint sound of your frustrated groan came from inside the bathroom, followed by the soft splash of water.

“ugh, you’re useless,” they heard you mutter to the raccoon, your voice edged with irritation. “can’t even help me with this mess. just sitting there, looking cute, while i’m stuck with those two idiots.”

gojo’s lip quirked into a wry smile at the sound of your frustrated comment, though it was tinged with affection. “sounds like the raccoon didn’t give the advice she was hoping for,” he said to geto, amusement in his voice.

geto chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “maybe he’s just good at listening without offering solutions,” he replied, his tone light. “she’s probably just projecting because she didn’t get the grand epiphany she was hoping for.”

gojo chuckled, shaking his head as he called through the door. “baby, i’m coming in.” without waiting for a response, he opened the door and stepped inside. his gaze softened when he saw you in the bathtub. the sight made his heart ache just a bit—there you were, knees hugged to your chest, your face half-hidden, looking all small and defiant with the raccoon settled in front of you. despite the warm water around your legs, you shivered lightly, and his frown deepened, especially when he noticed you absentmindedly petting the raccoon’s back.

“hey,” he said, voice soft but firm as he stepped closer. “i told you—don’t pet that thing. who knows what it’s carrying.” he eyed the raccoon with a mixture of curiosity and mild irritation. But the creature simply stared back at him with round, black eyes, like little boba pearls, almost innocently.

gojo’s frown intensified as he took in the raccoon’s round shape. “why is it so… fat?” he muttered, utterly baffled. “isn’t this supposed to be a wild animal? how’s it getting so chubby?”

he glanced at you, suspicious but amused, his arms crossing over his chest. “you sure you didn’t find this thing at someone’s house instead of the wild? it looks like it’s been eating better than me.”

you shot gojo a glare, your lips drawn into a tight line. “i did not steal someone’s pet raccoon,” you retorted, your tone bristling with annoyance. “it’s a wild animal. i found it outside during the storm, cold and wet. it was shivering—it needed help.”

geto appeared in the doorway, peeking over gojo’s shoulder, and when he saw the round little raccoon, he couldn’t help but laugh. “looks like you picked the laziest scavenger out there,” he teased, nudging gojo with his elbow. “maybe it’s been making the rounds in the trash, or maybe it found someone as soft-hearted as you to sneak it snacks.”

gojo raised an eyebrow at you, his expression a blend of suspicion and affection. “you haven’t been feeding it, right?” he asked, crossing his arms with a slight smirk. “i’m just saying—this guy’s looking way too well-fed to be surviving on his own.”

you shot gojo a glare, your frown deepening as you turned your attention back to the raccoon. its big, shiny eyes stared up at you, and in your heart, you felt like it understood every word of gojo’s harsh critique. gojo’s insulted it, calling it fat, and now it looked at you with what you imagined was a pleading, almost wounded expression.

“no, satoru, i didn’t feed him... yet,” you retorted with so much sassy, leaning down and gently covering the raccoon’s ears with your hands, as if to protect it from any further slander. “and he’s not fat. you’re fat,” you shot back, eyebrows knit together.

gojo and geto exchanged a quick look, both of them fighting back laughter at your defense of the raccoon. you were so fiercely protective, even of a little, pudgy animal you’d just met. it was both endearing and utterly ridiculous.

gojo cleared his throat, trying to hide his amusement behind an exaggerated scowl. “okay, alright, we didn’t mean to insult his pride. but seriously, baby. that raccoon’s been living the good life, if it’s not a pet.”

geto chuckled, leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. gojo’s arms, too, crossed over his chest as he watches you with a soft smile on his face, “and for the record, my love, i’m in peak physical condition. unlike this round, fluffy little raccoon who's been living it up on your good nature.”

he leaned against the bathroom wall, watching as you continued to defend the raccoon. “and sure,” he said dryly, “tell me it’s not getting fat when it can barely fit through that window over there. look at it—it's like a furry little bowling ball.”

you gasped, eyes widening in mock offense as you turned to gojo. “satoruuu!” you whined, drawing out his name with a pout, clutching the raccoon a little closer as if to shield it from gojo’s unrelenting insults.

then, without missing a beat, you shot a look over to geto, silently begging him to step in and say something in defense of your newfound friend. your eyes held a mixture of frustration and that playful helplessness, almost like you were saying, “do something.”

geto moved in closer, his chuckle soft and warm, creating an inviting atmosphere as he crouched down beside the tub, his eyes lighting up as he looked at the pudgy raccoon nestled in your arms. his fingers gently stroked the animal’s fluffy back, a gentle caress that seemed to soothe both the raccoon and you. you watched the interaction, your heart melting slightly at the sight of your boyfriends bonding over this unexpected guest.

turning back to gojo, geto’s amused smile widened. “you do know not all raccoons are the same, don’t you?” he teased, his tone light and filled with mirth. “some just happen to be a bit more round than others.” his eyes sparkled with humor, and gojo rolled his eyes, but a smile tugged at his lips despite himself.

then, geto’s attention shifted back to you. he noticed the pout on your lips, the way your eyebrows knitted together in defiance, and it brought a fondness to his expression. a soft smile crept onto his face as he reached up to pat the top of your head, his hand warm and comforting against your damp hair. “hey, you know we care about you, right?” he asked, his voice dropping to a tender whisper.

his gaze lingered on your face, taking in the pink flush on your cheeks from the cold water and the storm outside. “we got mad earlier because we worry. we care so much about you that we can’t stand seeing you hurt.” his tone was serious, but the gentleness in his voice wrapped around you like a warm blanket, easing some of your stubbornness.

he glanced briefly at the raccoon before turning back to you, his expression softening even further. “i know you care about this little thing,” he continued, a hint of concern entering his voice. “but it’s not a pet. it could be dangerous for you, and we don’t want that. we don’t want you catching any diseases from wild animals.” his words hung in the air, a mixture of concern and protectiveness that resonated deeply within you.

as you processed what he said, geto’s gaze remained fixed on you, watching for your reaction. he could see the reluctance in your eyes, the internal struggle between your affection for the raccoon and the logical reasoning behind his words. with a gentle firmness, he added, “we will call animal control, and that’s the end of the discussion.”

the way he said it was calm yet resolute, showing he wouldn’t waver on this point, but the kindness in his eyes made it clear that he wasn’t trying to dismiss your feelings. instead, he was looking out for you, and you could feel that deep down.

you sighed, the weight of the situation pressing on you as you glanced at the raccoon, then back at geto, feeling the warmth of his hand still resting on your head, grounding you.

you opened your mouth, eyes wide and pleading as you looked up at geto, grasping for one last solution. “we could take it to the vet first, y’know,” you suggested, your voice laced with a mixture of hope and determination.

but before geto could even consider your request, gojo’s voice cut in sharply. “no.” his tone was firm, all traces of his usual playfulness replaced with a serious edge that made you pause. his arms remained crossed, his posture resolute as he looked down at you, his expression softened but unyielding. “this is the end of the discussion.”

you frowned, surprised by his uncharacteristic firmness, and a small pout formed on your lips as you tried to hold your ground. but gojo didn’t budge, his gaze steady and unwavering, showing you that he wasn’t going to compromise on this, even if he usually gave in to your whims.

you looked up at geto, your eyes filled with a silent, pleading look that you knew he couldn’t usually resist. you gave him your best hopeful expression, the one that always seemed to melt his resolve just a little. but this time, instead of caving, he let out a soft sigh, his gaze steady yet sympathetic.

“no,” he said gently, his tone unwavering. he gave your head a soft pat, his fingers brushing through your hair as if to soften the blow. “as much as i’d like to give in to that look, it’s still a no. it’s just not safe to keep him here.”

gojo, who had been watching the entire exchange with his arms still crossed, let out an approving hum, clearly glad to see geto sticking to his stance. he offered you a small, sympathetic smile, but there was no give in his expression either. “he’s right, love. we’re just looking out for you,” he said, his tone softening just a little.

you sighed, glancing back at the raccoon who looked up at you with those big, round eyes, almost as if he understood the situation. you muttered a quiet, disappointed “fine,” though it was clear the decision still stung a bit. geto gave your head another comforting pat.

the three of you settled into the cozy warmth of the bedroom, geto sat on the edge of the couch, carefully drying your hair with a hair dryer, his touch gentle yet thorough. you sat cross-legged on the carpeted floor, a fresh set of warm clothes now covering you, and across from you, the raccoon was nestled in a towel, its round body snug as you softly dabbed at its fur to help keep it warm.

gojo, lying on his side in front of you, had his head propped up on one hand, his other arm stretched lazily across the carpet. his gaze was locked onto you, a trace of amusement lingering in his expression as he watched you tend to your unlikely new friend with such fierce dedication.

you let out a small huff, still pouting from earlier. looking down at the raccoon with a sympathetic frown, you muttered, “i’m sorry, little guy, you had to meet someone with a heart as black as… the blackest black.” you gave gojo a pointed look, clearly directing the comment at him.

gojo snickered in response to your comment, his eyes glinting with amusement as he arched an eyebrow. “hey, i just care about you,” he retorted, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “and you have to admit, that raccoon is a real tubby one.”

he reached out and gave the raccoon's round body a subtle poke, earning another disapproving look from you. sighing, you shook your head.

you sighed, rolling your eyes as you tried to ignore the teasing glint in gojo’s eyes. “shut up,” you muttered, giving him an exasperated look. “you’re not funny.”

gojo’s grin only widened, clearly enjoying the fact that he was getting under your skin. “oh, come on, admit it—just a little funny?” he poked the raccoon’s round belly again, as if proving his point, and it looked up at you with what could only be described as mild raccoon annoyance.

you placed a protective hand over the raccoon, shielding it from gojo’s prodding fingers as you glared at him. “leave him alone, satoru,” you said firmly. “you’re just jealous because he’s way cuter than you.”

at that, geto let out a chuckle from behind you, and gojo feigned a look of betrayal, his hand coming to his chest in mock offense. “jealous of a raccoon?” he scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “not a chance.” but the playful spark in his eyes gave him away, and you knew he was just trying to rile you up.

but you simply huffed, holding your ground. “whatever helps you sleep at night,” you replied, still shielding your furry friend from any more of gojo’s antics.

gojo chuckled, his expression amused as he observed you fussing over the raccoon. he rolled his eyes, his voice dripping with sarcastic sympathy as he teased you further. “oh, woe is me. how will i ever match the cuteness of a fat little raccoon, eh?”

he playfully feigned distress, dramatically flinging his arm over his forehead, clearly enjoying this little back-and-forth. “i guess i'll just have to resort to using my charming personality and undeniable wit to win your heart, then,” he said with a dramatic sigh, giving you a playful wink.

you gave gojo a look of exaggerated disgust, wrinkling your nose at him. “freak,” you muttered, shaking your head with mock disdain.

gojo's dramatic pout only deepened, clearly playing along as he clutched his chest, pretending to be wounded. “oh, the cruelty,” he groaned. “my love, betrayed by her affection for a chubby raccoon!”

rolling your eyes, you turned away from him and focused on the raccoon instead. gently touching its tiny paw, you leaned in and murmured, “ignore that guy, he’s just… weird.” the raccoon looked up at you with those big, round eyes, and you could’ve sworn it seemed to understand, its tiny hand clasping around your finger as if in agreement.

behind you, geto snickered, but you kept your attention on your new furry friend, tuning out his playful antics.

as you showered the raccoon with affection, stroking his soft fur and giving him little scratches, gojo couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy—not for the attention the raccoon was getting (though that was definitely a factor), but for the way you were so effortlessly affectionate. he had a knack for being playful and teasing, and he loved bantering with you, but there was something about your soft, gentle side that he secretly adored.

he watched you with your new friend, genuinely admiring the way you interacted with the little guy. but there was no way he’d admit it. as you continued to shower the raccoon with gentle scratches and murmurs of affection, you couldn’t help but whisper, just loud enough for both geto and gojo to hear, “they’re so cruel… separating me from you.”

you sighed dramatically, running your fingers along the raccoon’s fur as it leaned into your touch, seeming perfectly content. without even looking at them, you could sense gojo and geto exchanging looks, probably fighting back smiles.

“you’re my only friend in this cold, heartless world,” you continued in a soft, woeful tone, earning a snicker from gojo as he nudged you with his foot.

gojo chuckled, teasingly scooting closer to you and poking your cheek. “oh, the drama queen strikes again,” he chimed in, his tone light and playful. he couldn’t help but relish this lighter side of your banter, appreciating the little moments of silliness you shared.

geto grinned warmly, his playful demeanor never far beneath the surface, even in these quieter moments. “i swear, one day you’ll realize that we are actually quite lovable, you know,” he mused, a hint of challenge in his voice, goading you to argue against that statement.

the three of you stood by the door, you felt a heavy wave of disappointment wash over you, watching the raccoon being carried off by animal control. your shoulders slumped, and your lips tugged downward into a deep pout as you raised a hand to give one last, pitiful wave.

“goodbye, my fluffy friend,” you called out dramatically, voice filled with exaggerated sadness. “i’ll never forget you!” gojo tightened his hold on your waist, his hand firm as he gently but decisively kept you in place, rolling his eyes. “alright, alright,” he muttered, unable to hide a faint smile. “you’re acting like you just lost a lifelong pet.”

your pout deepened as you looked up at him, sighing dramatically. “he could’ve been my lifelong pet, if it weren’t for you two.”

geto, standing on your other side with his hands in his pockets, simply shook his head, his gaze warm but resolute. “it’s for the best, you know that,” he said softly, his calm tone filled with an affection that softened the blow. “we just don’t want you getting hurt, alright?”

you let out a long, exaggerated sigh, leaning back slightly into gojo’s hold as you gave one last forlorn look toward the raccoon being taken away. “i hope you find a home as wonderful as the one we could’ve shared,” you whispered wistfully.

gojo chuckled, shaking his head as he gently nudged you. “come on, drama queen, let's get you inside before you make us adopt a whole zoo.”

you pouted, but didn’t protest further, leaning into gojo’s arms in defeat. “i just hope he finds someone who loves him as much as i could have,” you muttered, your voice soft and sad as you watched the raccoon disappear from view.

geto put an arm around your shoulder, gently nudging you towards the warmth of the house. “oh, you'll find another one to dote on soon enough,” he teased, his tone light but filled with affection. “but for now, let's get you back to the real world.”

you sighed, shoulders slumping as you murmured a soft, “alright,” letting go of the last thread of resistance. with a defeated pout still on your face, you allowed geto and gojo to guide you back inside, their warmth a silent comfort.

leaning into gojo’s chest, you felt him press a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his hand resting protectively on your back. the affection behind his gesture made you feel both comforted and exhausted, a soft wave of tiredness settling over you now that the raccoon had gone.

gojo’s hand rubbed slow circles on your back, sensing the way your energy had drained, and he whispered softly, “are you tired?” his voice held a tinge of guilt, as if he regretted making you let go of your little friend.

you nodded, your eyes half-lidded as you sank further into his chest. “yeah… just a little,” you admitted, voice barely above a murmur.

gojo hummed in acknowledgment, a soft smile spreading across his face as he processed your tired response. leaning down, he pressed another gentle kiss to your forehead before murmuring, “let’s get you to bed.”

with that, he effortlessly scooped you up into his arm, wrapping one strong arm around your thighs, holding you securely against him. instinctively, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, seeking comfort as you nestled your head against his warm shoulder.

the familiar scent of him—like fresh linen and something uniquely gojo—wrapped around you, making your heart flutter. as he carried you through the house, you felt the warmth radiating from his body, easing some of the lingering sadness from earlier.

“you know,” he said playfully, glancing down at you as he walked, “if that raccoon had stayed, he wouldn’t have gotten this kind of treatment. you’re too spoiled for your own good.”

you leaned against him, humming in mild protest, though your weariness quickly won out over any desire to argue. your voice came out soft and quiet, an exhaustion tinged with affection. “am not...” you murmured, your words almost lost to a delicate yawn that followed.

gojo's arms tightened around you as he settled you comfortably against his chest, his gaze warm as he glanced down at your sleepy expression, a soft smile on his lips. “oh, but you are,” he teased, his tone light and affectionate.

“you just can't resist being spoiled,” he whispered, leaning in to press a tender kiss to your cheek, a soft reassurance that his teasing was nothing more than lighthearted affection. as he carried you, his steps were slow and steady, a gentle dance that seemed to rock you closer and closer to the land of dreams.

the warmth of his embrace, the rhythm of his heartbeat against your own, it all lulled you into a state of tranquil comfort, your eyelids heavy. with a murmured hum of contentment, you let yourself sink further into him, his presence becoming a soothing anchor amidst the growing drowsiness.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the shadow’s soul obsession

kinktober, day five

a/n: extra, extra! come get your nasty monsterfucking, hot off the press!

summary: for the entirety of the rest of the night, you felt as if you were being watched. However, what you mere mortal didn’t know, was that the group of you college girls hadn’t been successful in communicating with any spirits on that autumn eve, but instead had been successful in cracking open a door, just wide enough for a demon to slip through.

warnings: demon!bucky barnes x virgin!reader, smut, dark content, noncon/dubcon, college au, halloween party, accidentally summoning a demon at a slumber party, bucky needs to "recharge his batteries" via sex (but virgins are the most potent), bad friends, monsterfucking, somno, loss of virginity, blood (just fit this fantasy), slutty demonic magic, kissing, size kink, belly bulge, dirty talk, fingering, squirting, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cumplay, references to gaping and fisting

word count: 2602

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2024

“So, do you know yet what your costume’s gonna be for the omega kappa beta party?”

“Alice,” you looked to your friend leaning against the opposite side of the kitchen island, “I don’t even know if I’m going.”

“Oh, come on,” her head tilted, “you have to!”

“Yeah,” the blonde to your right then teasingly suggested, “you could go as an angel since you’re already just as sweet and pure as one.”

With each passing moment, the end of October crept ever nearer. You were at a slumber party with a few of your friends, who unlike you, didn’t still live at home with their mothers, but instead in a sorority house on campus. 

The door to the kitchen then swung open and one of the other girls came waltzing in, “hey, look what I found!” she held what looked like a faded board game above her head. 

“Oh my god,” Alice gasped, “is that what I think it is? Where did you even find it?”

“The attic,” she plopped the box down on the table and the lid popped off, letting everyone spot the old Ouija board inside, “so, anyone up for contacting some ghosts or what?”

When everyone around you swiftly agreed in the spirit of the season, you were the only one who didn’t, although the teasing that quickly drowned you, about you being a scaredy cat, pressured you into joining despite your initial fear. 

Most of the girls leaned into your amusing anxiety and made the game more dramatic than it needed to be, taking every chance they got to make you jump in your seat. But none of their attempts rivalled the one towards the end when one of them spooked you so fiercely that your body shrivelled up and a shrill scream tore its way out your lungs. They all laughed at your reaction and abandoned the board, too entertained by the success in scaring you to continue and wrap up the pretend ritual in the proper way.

However, during every second of the eerie game and even ever past that, you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, though it wasn’t just because of how scared you admittedly were, as there was someone else, something else, that caused that sensation to bubble up within you. 

For the entirety of the rest of the night, you felt as if you were being watched. However, what you mere mortal didn’t know, was that the group of you college girls hadn’t been successful in communicating with any spirits on that autumn eve, but instead had been successful in cracking open a door, just wide enough for a demon to slip through.

From the second the sliver of him slipped through, Bucky felt drawn to you and instantly became completely and utterly entranced by you. Your soul was so bright and pure it nearly blinded him as he felt himself grow stronger merely from your presence. 

Who would have thought such luck would have been on his side, for with a perfect and potent little virgin like you in his gasp, an entity such as he would be able to restore his full power in no time. 

And when you eventually fell asleep on the couch and he greedily let his spectral touch ghost across your form, sliding off your blanket and coping a feel over your pyjamas, each caress he ravenously claimed felt to him like his lungs once again expanded and filled with oxygen, like he became a little more corporeal and regained just a little bit of his powers the longer and the fiercer he groped you.

Though what he truly needed to regain his full potential, unfortunately, had to wait, as his demonic grip caused you to stir from your slumber just enough for you to roll over into a new position and fall asleep again, never to think more of it than just a light slumber. But perhaps if he kept it up long enough, he’d soon regain enough of his prowess to make sure you wouldn’t rouse no matter what he stole from you in order to return to the grand demon he used to be. 

The home you returned to the next day was just as empty as expected with only a kind note stuck to the fridge as an echo of your mother, reminding you that she wouldn’t be back from her business trip till far into the coming week. 

When darkness fell upon the town and the moon rose up high in the sky, you went up to bed and swiftly drifted off into sleep. 

As Bucky leaned down over your slumbering form, he smiled as he let a finger trace the edge of your face before he bent down and pressed his lips to your own. 

Now, it wasn’t just a kiss he gave you, but a fiendish hex that forced your frame to keep on sleeping, no matter what, until the sun once again crested over the horizon. 

“As much as I’d love for you to wake up and have you witness everything I’m about to do to you,” he brushed some of your hair out of your face, “we can’t have that,” his broad thumb briefly stroked your cheek, “at least not yet…”

Ripping the duvet off, he watched as goosebumps rose and dotted your skin from the chilly night air, how your nipples turned into pebbles beneath your thin nightgown. 

While his consuming gaze raked down your form, his grasp pushed your sleepwear up and let it bunch around your hips, granting him a view of how the cotton of your underwear moulded around your soft centre. 

A smirk twitched at the corners of his lips as he let himself drift back down, closer to your slumbering frame, “let’s see if we can fix this little problem…” before he pressed a hot kiss to your covered core, briefly running his split tongue over the fabric as the effects took hold. 

When he tilted back, it wasn’t just his own saliva that now drenched your panties, but also your own juices as he had successfully scrounged up enough of his power to force your pussy into a state of desperation, making it extraordinarily leaky and sticky with cream and quite literally drool for him. 

With a primal growl, the throbbing between his legs swayed him to dig his grip into your underwear and tear them off, tossing the shreds off to the side before he spread your legs wide. 

Enclosing his fist around the base of himself, angry and flush in his grip, he offered himself an ouch of relief as he stared down at you.

“Hell… what I wouldn’t give to hear you moan and scream for me… to see fear arise in your mortal eyes at every little thing I’ll offer you… but that’ll have to be another time… can’t have you wake up and ruin the ritual…”’

As he rubbed his fat cock against the mess he’d made of you, he couldn’t help but smile at the staggering difference as his unholy length weighted down upon you, making you look so tiny in comparison, so easy for him to just break. 

“Would you beg me to stop? Would you cry about how big this devil dick is? Whimper about how you couldn’t possibly take it, not even if you weren’t a pure little prude? Yeah, you probably wouldn’t even be able to take it then…” a dark chuckle then crackled within his broad chest, “good thing I don’t care,” before he ruthlessly slammed his cock inside, stretching your poor pussy out beyond belief. 

He let out a deep moan at just how incredible you felt around him, how he had to strain himself to work past your strangling tightness and bury himself completely in your haven. 

“Oh, well would you look at that…” a sly smile crept up on his lips as he glanced down at how you struggled to take him and spotted the tinge of crimson that stained his fat girth as he momentarily retracted, pulling out just till your cunt only clung around the bulbous head of him. His digits floated down to swipe some of your virginal blood up onto the pads of his fingertips before he brought them up to his lips and groaned as he let himself taste your ruined purity, letting himself regain even more of his vigour, “you are just fucking perfect…”

As he let his frame drift down closer to you, he draped himself over your slumbering form as he thrust mercilessly into you, watching you closely at the way his efforts caused you to writhe and tremble in your sleep.

Nibbling at your neck, his lips wandered further down as he ruthlessly rutted into you, splitting you open like the savage monster that he was, and eventually sank his sharp teeth into your shoulder. 

With a low growl, he pushed himself back up, though even as the movement threatened to let his colossal cock leave the warm embrace of your tiny hole, his hands roughly found your hips and brought you back down onto him. 

“Fuck…” he lifted your hips off the mattress and made your back arch obscenely as he used you like a toy, “you’re such a little whore and you don’t even know it yet…” his possessive grip dug into your hips so fiercely that his nails drew blood and left angry scratches in their wake. 

His black eyes then found the dull bulge that rhythmically appeared in your lower belly at each and every one of his thrusts, “can’t wait to see how you react when you wake up tomorrow morning, all sore and swollen, wondering why you’re so sensitive. If only you knew that some big bad demon followed you home and tortured your pussy all night long…”

Perhaps his brutal fucking had forced your slumbering form to orgasm more than once, though it was hard for Bucky to ignore it when you came this last time as you squirted all over his fat girth. 

“Fuck, you’re so perfect,” he chuckled and kept up his ruthless rhythm, never pausing once as he made your gushing pussy give him each and every drop, “I knew it was true that virgins pack the most powerful punch for us unholy folk, but damn…” he slammed you down against him hard enough for his bullying tip to bruise your cervix, “you’re even better… I might just have to keep you after this…”

And when he soon tumbled over the edge and pumped your little pussy full of his demonic seed, his ethereal form flickered till it wasn’t at all ghostly any longer, till his full power regenerated and he now sat on your bed clear as day with his spent cock limp against his thick thigh and horns protruding from his temples. 

Briefly, he swept his broad hand up your stomach before it scooped down to where you leaked with his essence. 

“Look at you,” he pushed two fingers into your mess and pumped his hot cum that much deeper inside of you, “you’re still so fucking tight…” he struggled to force another thick digit in beside the others. As his cock began to twitch and swell once more, he quietly groaned, “guess that just means we aren’t done yet… you might have helped me with my little problem, but this ain’t over,” he tried and failed to slip his picky finger in beside the rest, “I haven’t finished breaking you in yet, little human,” his free hand found himself in silky strokes, “I won’t stop till you’re fucking gaping for me, till I fit my whole fist up in here,” his thumb quit its attempts at sneaking inside and instead extended up to crudely strum your puffy pearl, “till you’re utterly ruined and completely perfect for me…”

The bassy music rumbled the entire frat house like an earthquake as you leaned over to whisper to Alice that you’d be right back from your libation location mission. 

Though when you stumbled into the kitchen, the crooked feathery wings on your back brushing against the doorframe as you passed, a loud sigh escaped you as your eyes scanned the various bottles lined up on the messy counter and discovered them all to be empty, “argh, seriously?”

That was exactly what you needed. 

To be at a wild Halloween party without any alcohol in your system to make the obnoxious people more bearable and make you forget how you’d rather just go home and try to sleep as none of your efforts all weekend had granted you any ounce of rest, only left you more exhausted than the day before and bizarrely enough also making you sore in the oddest of ways. 

But then as all hope seemed lost, a voice echoed from the corner of the kitchen, “hey, you like tequila?” and you glanced up to see a man in an elaborate demonic costume holding up a full bottle for you to spot. 

“Thank you,” your tense shoulders dropped slightly as you offered him a smile and stepped closer, “though I don’t know if an angel like me should accept a drink from a devil like you,” the joke slipped out of you as you neared him. 

As a bright grin crept up on the man’s lips, he light-heartedly squinted down at you and played along, “hm, yeah, you’re probably right. We demons are an untrustworthy lot. But, I am your only chance at getting drunk and numbing these dumbasses out,” he seized a plastic cup and began to twist the cap off, “so, what do you say?”

“What’ll it cost me? To make a deal like that with a devil?” you kept up the gag, “just my soul or do you want my firstborn or something?” 

Naturally assuming that the handsome stranger was still just joking around, you saw him smile as he poured you a drink and uttered, “oh, your soul will do just fine, sweetheart.”

As he handed you the cup, he joined you as you raised the hard liquor up to your lips, taking a sip of his own straight from the bottle, though he somehow didn’t make a face like you did when the harsh booze poured down your throat, in fact he didn’t even blink as he tipped the bottle back and kept his intense stare glued to you.

“Your costume is really amazing,” you complimented as you let your gaze wander over his burly frame, “your coloured contacts? And those horns? I’ve never seen prosthetics as good as those before.”

You thought the flattery would have pushed him to elaborate, but instead, the mysterious man just murmured, “thank you,” and didn’t entertain the subject any further. 

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before,” you uttered and noticed the few grey hairs that faintly speckled his scruff, “are you a professor?” 

“No, I’m not,” he shook his head.

A shiver ran down your spine as his stare continued to stay glued upon you, “then what are you doing at a frat party? No offence, please don’t take this the wrong way, but you just look a bit too old to be a student. Not that you couldn’t be, maybe you are–” 

“I’m not a student,” he cut you off, “I just haven’t been feeling that well lately and the person who helped me get better is here, so that’s why I went out tonight, to this college party of all places, to thank her properly and hopefully make her all mine…” 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[livinghostly]

i will hold on to you for as long as you let me — megumi fushiguro x mom!reader, satoru gojo x reader

a/n: sorryyy the fushiguro-gojo family dynamic was rotting my brain and i needed this out of my system. LOTS of projection of my fear of growing up in this one soz. this was fully meant to be a drabble and it just kept going idk wc: 3.1k angst/fluff. mom!reader has a lot of bittersweet thoughts about megumi growing up and satoru is there to comfort <3 lots of parentheses and lots of repetition

you put on a brave face all day. all week, even. despite the burn in your chest that engulfed your lungs and squeezed unrelentingly. despite the tears that burned the corners of your eyes delicately balancing on the your waterline, one blink away from breaking the surface density and opening the floodgates to pour down your cheeks. despite the non-stop ache of your stomach, churning what you ate every day but still holding the same emptiness as anxiety consumed you.

megumi didn’t pack much, he never held on to many things to begin with. (you always prayed for that to change, for his comfort your home. you prayed he would see it as his own, as well). he neatly folded his clothes into his suitcases and stacked his hangers on top. he purchased a new sheet set for his bed in the dormitory because the one he was used to was much bigger, much softer. 

he packed most of his books, carefully picking out the ones that tugged at the nostalgic parts of him, frayed along the edges after many years of re-reading, as well the ones that still had vibrant covers and stiff spines he hoped to finish. you noticed the leather journal he kept tied together– the ink-blotted pages bursting at the seams –sitting on the shelf before he tucked it into his box of personal belongings. it was his third one since living with you, all filled to every last page and used beyond ruin. the rest were hidden between his headboard and the wall. you pretended not to know, after stumbling upon them while changing his sheets.

closing the door to your home felt eerily empty. it looked the same as every day. the couch was cleaned and the floors swept. dishes rinsed and promptly put away. but with your lingering gaze your mind fixated on the dining table set for four, two adult pairs of shoes at the door, one pink backpack slumped on the hook of the closet door with an empty space below. your chest twisted at the lack of clutter, though it’d been like that for some time, with tsumiki and megumi growing older and cleaning up after themselves properly like you taught them. like you wanted. the pride you initially felt with those memories of parenting were becoming eclipsed with resentment and despair.

the ride to school was quick and familiar, megumi knew well what he was getting into after visiting there to train. satoru liked to call them little getaways from megumi’s civilian life, claiming he wasted too much time around non-sorcerers when he could be on missions with his ever-loving benefactor instead.

satoru, who was whining while he laid himself across the three seats in the back of your car. you’d banished him there for such a special occasion, and he threatened to transport himself to the school alone. an empty threat, at best. he didn’t want to miss this. 

megumi had sparred with the older students and found himself thrown around the field many times already. he knew his way to the infirmary by heart, he knew where gojo tucked away his most powerful curse-imbued weapons (that were supposed to be under the surveillance of higher ups), and knew what letter-number combination granted him the ginger chips nobody else seemed to like. 

you were glad he was comfortable. you were glad he would fall into routine easily after the repeated trips to jujutsu high and developing a rapport with his upperclassmen. you’d waited for the day that he’d truly be part of the jujutsu world and welcomed into a better suited environment for people like him. and you knew he would be great, he already possessed an incredible technique and wielded it like he’d been fine-tuning it since birth. far ahead from most kids his age, you were proud.

still, your gut was sinking, sinking, sinking into the floor with each passing second.

megumi picked his room in one of the far-away corners of the boys dormitory, leaving inumaki and panda heartbroken (panda said he would find a way to organize sleepover. megumi said he would drop out before that happened. inumaki cried– no, wailed at the rejection). yuuta fell into step with you, slipping one of the boxes out of your hands and insisting on helping instead. it was sweet, if it didn’t feel like he was ripping precious time away from you.

but you smiled, and granted his wish. megumi wasn’t complaining, he liked yuuta more than the others. it was a good chance for them to talk more. all of this, a chance, a new chapter, the rest of his life. the thoughts weighed on your shoulders with a disgusting strain traveling to your fingertips.

you were painfully aware you were in your own head, doing this all to yourself. he wasn’t going away, you would still be seeing him, more than you used to when he went to his other schools. he would always be here.

satoru found you in your classroom, while you were organizing the stationary with an unnaturally stiff composure. your arms were tense, he could see the muscles constantly flexing with each of your movements.

your jaw was clenching and unclenching again. you made a point not to look outside, where the second-years were training brashly after successfully moving their things back into their dorms. you made a point not to meet satoru’s dangerous stare as he shut the door to your classroom, as if it granted any privacy with the seven large windows running along the wall that showcased the hallway. 

“what are you doing all by yourself, beautiful?” his tone was soft and inviting, begging you to open up and let yourself fall against the cushion of his words. 

“um,” you exhaled, voice shaky. you scrunched your face to break apart the tension that had hardened your expression. “i figured i would get a few things ready for tomorrow.”

it took satoru’s long legs two-and-a-half strides to meet you at your desk, where you gently shut the drawer. there were a handful of dated photographs in there, signed with his name and the chicken scratch of two children. 

“it’s all ready, baby. we did that last week.”

(correction: you did it. he tagged along for the shopping trip).

“there’s just… a few things...” you mumbled, not finding the strength to finish your own sentence. 

satoru gently placed his hand on your shoulder, emitting inhuman warmth that spread across your skin. you leaned into him as he dragged his hand down your arm and intertwined your fingers with the care of handling fine china. his presence brought you solace, effortlessly bringing the walls down that you desperately wanted to wait until you got home to break.

he kissed the back of your hand and rubbed the skin. “you know you’re going to see him every day, right?”

it was embarrassing how well satoru knew you, knew your thought process like it was an extension of his own. he knew your doubts and insecurities, your fears and desires. he could predict the words before they came from your mouth, more in tune with the way you spoke than his mother tongue.

“mhm.”

“you know we’re going to be the ones chaperoning his missions, right?”

you closed your eyes and looked away. “i know.”

“do you remember when he said he’d like to go home some weekends, and have dinner?”

“he said that to be nice.”

“when has he ever been nice?”

you opened your eyes to glare at him, though he was right. megumi was not nice. he was polite. he was too self-aware for his own good, too perceptive of others and their emotions. in all the time that you’d known him, raised him, he made himself smaller for the convenience of others. he walked on his tiptoes for a year and a half so no one else would wake up because of him. he made his own breakfast and bit back his tears when he burned himself. he didn’t ask for things or food and didn’t offer his input unless asked directly. for some time, he was a ghost in his own home. 

it seemed as soon as the bits of his shell started to break off, he was being swept away from you by the jujutsu world, leaving you with looming fears that consumed your mind and disrupted your sleep for weeks.

satoru smiled, though it was weighed down with your sadness. “hey, he’s not going anywhere, you know that. just because you’re not driving him home everyday doesn’t mean he’s gone.”

it’s funny, it’s nearly the same speech he gave you when tsumiki started middle school. and when megumi followed those same steps.

tsumiki didn’t make it this far, though.

the thought makes your lip wobble again, and you bite it back pathetically.

“i know. i know that. it’s just that…” your voice cracked, and you shoved your head in your hands. your palms squeezed your eyes in a desperate attempt to stop the already-flowing tears. “he’s not my little boy anymore.”

satoru’s soothing hands pull you into a tight hug, and you don’t have it in you yet to move your hands from your face. his embrace makes you sob harder, louder as all your emotions from the last week begin to pour out at once. his chest rumbled with your cries, and he tucked you further under his arms as if to shield you from what was making you hurt so much. it was all you.

“baby…” he chuckled, without a hint mirth or mockery. he squeezed you with compassion and adoration. “you know that’s not true. he’s still pretty short, he’s got another growth spurt coming.”

a small laugh slipped through, but was quickly drowned out by your cries.

“he’ll be okay. he’s still here.”

he was so, so warm. he gently began to rock back and forth with you, the heels of your shoes gently clicking on the tile floor. a small hiccup erupted from you as you found the strength to wrap your arms around him, burying your face into his chest. the familiar thrum of his heartbeat welcomed you.

“i know, i’m sorry. i know he’s not leaving, or anything… i just… i thought i was ready.” you blubbered into his button-up. surely, there’d be two wet spots where your eyes were when you pulled away.

he swayed side to side with you, staring at the blackboard ahead of him. he nestled his chin on the top of your head, wondering if you could hear the cracks tearing through his heart. “it’s okay if you’re not ready. but you’re treating this like it's goodbye.”

“but what if we don’t get a goodbye?”

“okay, you really are overthinking this,” he pulled away from your embrace, your fingers still digging into the material of his shirt. he brushed away the hair covering your eyes, stuck to your skin by the wetness of your cheeks. streaks ran through your foundation and the corners of your eyes were smudged. “there you are. so pretty.”

it was silly how he believed he could make things better like that. it was silly that he was a little bit right.

“don’t think for a second i’ll let megumi be sent on a mission he can’t handle. he’s going to be fine.”

satoru’s love ran deep. for you, for megumi, for all his students. he fought curses everyday for you, rotted himself with his technique and stitched himself back up in a moment’s notice to fight for you. to come home to you. all of humanity be damned, those closest to him were the ones he fought for, and he would do everything in his power to preserve their lives.

he already towed the line with the higher-ups and their conservative rules and regulations, but he would tear them down if you asked. for megumi, he’d fight tooth and nail to see that he wasn’t being sent off on a mission ill-prepared. under his watch, things would be different for his students. 

you nodded meekly, wiping away your tears with one hand. “i hate when you’re right, toru. it’s really annoying.”

he smoothed down your hair and grinned. “i know, just let me have this one, though.”

his sweet murmurs filled your ears, along with the gentle shuffling of your clothes as you made yourself presentable again. you balled up your sleeves and patted the corners of your eyes gently, and he straightened out the hem of your shirt. it was wrinkled, a reminder of how harshly you clung to him.

you smiled at the water stains on his shirt now, and he claimed it was in need of dry cleaning anyway.

neither of you noticed the eyes of megumi and yuuta, both stuck in place at the very corner of the windows leading to the hallway. they had training staffs with them, megumi’s grip becoming tighter as he watched you wipe your eyes and knock your head into satoru’s chest lazily. your shoulders low, clearly drained from the amount you cried. 

yuuta was frozen, eyes flickering from you to megumi repeatedly. he found his courage in placing a hand on his shoulder, a feather-light grip. “hey, let’s go through the east wing. i’m pretty sure it’s faster that way.”

it wasn’t. but megumi nodded anyway, begrudgingly tearing his gaze from you and turning around with yuuta. 

you stared down the red light of the intersection with a blank face, blank mind. letting it all out of your system had successfully flushed out your emotions, taking the rest of your energy along with it. the car was painfully quiet, but no part of you wanted to listen to anything.

satoru was whisked away by yaga, being delivered another mission he swore would take less than a day. ‘less than twelve hours’, he promised to be back for megumi’s first day. he would make it.

it was dark, and you milked all the time you could on school grounds. speaking with yaga and shoko, running through the still-developing information of missions to be sent on. cleaning the classrooms. the lockers. stocking the teachers lounge. dusting the armory. before you knew it the curfew ushered the students into their dorms.

a ringtone broke through your thoughts, making you jump. though the tune was soft, the sudden intrusion made it much more shrill. you fumbled with your phone in the passenger seat, seeing megumi’s contact on the screen.

“hello?”

“hey, mom?”

it took everything you had left not to gawk. he said it before, sparingly in desperation for comfort. his voice was quiet, a near-whisper despite the fact he was alone in his dorm. like he was nervous.

“yes, megumi?”

“um… are you home?”

you wondered if he forgot something. “no, i’m still driving. are you okay?”

“i’m fine, i just… can’t sleep, i guess…” he trailed off, hoping for you to fill in the gap.

“oh. okay. did you take–“

“do you think you could pick me up?” he interrupted. “and i just stay home tonight? you could drive me in the morning.”

you were quick to dissolve into a smile, pointed at the streetlamp on the sidewalk. sadness struck your eyes but you were too occupied by the warmth of his question to feel it.

“yeah. i can be back there in a few minutes, just let me turn around.”

“thanks.”

he didn’t hang up. neither did you. the silence lived on for a few seconds.

“mom?”

“yeah?”

“… gojo’s on a mission, right?”

you laughed, your hand sliding across the steering wheel as you reouted back to the school. “yeah, megs, he’ll be gone tonight.”

“he’s back tomorrow?”

“yeah, we can leave before he gets home.”

“thanks.”

bonus:

satoru tiptoed through the entrance of your home, brushing his blindfold over his hair and peeling it off his head. he hung it up with his keys, lax arms nearly missing the hook on the closet door meant for him. it was beyond late, and he was tired, but he was home like he said he would be.

he bent down to tie his shoes, buffering momentarily as he caught a glance of well-worn sneakers at the front door. they were as clean as they could be, though scuffed rubber turning gray and the laces becoming frayed where they were tightened most.

satoru made a grunt in acknowledgement to no one but himself, as he tossed his shoes down. he glanced around the living space, cautiously bringing himself to each room with a curious itch to scratch. a third pair of shoes. both backpacks on the door. dishes for two placed on the drying rack. 

he was expertly quiet by nature, but found himself avoiding the squeaky floorboards on the stairs and all the way to the hallway. he was greeted with a blue sign, corners covered with dog stickers. the frilly handwriting of tsumiki warding off unwanted visitors with the phrase: “megumi’s room. keep out!!”

the door opened quietly, satoru pushing it open to the limit and stopping before it would let out an ungodly squeak. he insisted on never getting it fixed, knowing it bothered megumi.

megumi had his face shoved in his pillow, a desperate attempt to block out any light creeping through the crack of his bedroom door or the streetlamp just outside the window. he was always a light sleeper, always on edge, sleeping with his back to the wall so if something barged in the night he was ready. it was horrible he thought that way, you always said. 

his duvet covers were black and white plaid, per his request three years ago when he begged to be free of the puppy sheets. still, he seemed small, curled up in a ball. his face was released of the usual tension and his light breathing filled the room. for a moment, he was little again.

satoru smiled, taking a step back and closing the door gently.

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part 8

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.2k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. No smut. Graphic domestic violence, physical abuse, choking. Non consensual kissing. Hospital setting, nurse!reader, medical inaccuracies. Drowning metaphors. Strong feelings of self loathing, despair, fear, anxiety. Suicidal ideation. Crying. Panic attacks. Bun is unraveling. Comfort. Protective Simon and Johnny. Things are happening.

The girl in the mirror hates you.

It’s easy to tell, by the way she stares, how her eyes glow in the yellow fluorescents of the staff bathroom.

You make her sick.

Your weakness, your stupidity, has cost her, again. As if it hasn’t cost her enough at this point, as if it hasn’t drained her dry over and over until she thought she would die.

Until she thought she wanted to die. 

Someone knocks on the bathroom door.

“Occupied.” You snap, and they huff, turning away to go who knows where.

You peek back over to the girl in the mirror. She still stares at you in disdain, but now it’s more expectant, more… intrigued, like she’s asking, well… what are you going to do?

“What are you going to do, sugar?” Phillip’s hands tighten around your neck, white teeth gleaming in the afternoon sun of your apartment. The sound of your windpipe being crushed echoes inside your eardrums, and you flail uselessly, struggling, kicking and hissing and crying to no avail. “Where are you going to run next?” Black spiderweb strings along the outside of your vision, and your palm slaps against his forearm, a pathetic endeavor, as always.

He’s too strong. Too determined. 

You’re an ant. He’s a shoe. 

You’re an early high school grad, on an academic scholarship at school your mom couldn’t afford, and he’s the charismatic grandson of a Texan oil tycoon, the son of a judge, living in a fancy house without roommates in the city.

You want to be a doctor. He wants a housewife. 

You want to be a mother; he promises to beat them out of you. 

You want a life in the sun. He wants to become a shadow himself. 

“Phillip.” You wheeze, air snaking through your teeth. He lowers his ear, like he can’t hear you, a mocking bow that you know he relishes. 

“What’s that?” 

“Can’t- breathe-��� The sigh that answers you is what you imagine a disappointed father sounds like, followed by a tsk, an over developed dramatic show that you’ve come to know so well, and he throws you to the ground in one motion, shoulder smacking against the hard wood floor. 

There’s a tear of muscle. An immediate soreness. Stars dance in your vision. 

“Gotta hand it to you, princess. You were hard to find this time.” 

You don’t have an answer for the girl in mirror.

Even with the turtleneck and the very good makeup, it’s bad. There is no doubt, someone will notice.

And then there will be questions. Nonstop questions, personal questions, private questions. Questions from your boss and an HR rep behind a closed door somewhere, invasive, mandated reporting, logical questions that you must have answers for.

You chew your lip.

It’s not so obvious, maybe, with the turtleneck. The long sleeve under your scrub top covers the tender flesh on your neck, your shoulder, your forearm. It’s second nature, how easily you hide, how perfectly they tuck away, little stories beaten into your skin for no one else but you to feel.

Except for your orbital and cheek bones. 

These are blatant. The ball cap pulled down over most of your face hid them well enough on your way in but now... inflamed, angry skin swells beneath your eye, and while it looks okay, you guess, when you get close, it’s obvious that something is wrong. The foundation and failed attempt at contour can only do so much.

It’s shocking to realize you’re actually mad at him for it.

For being so impulsive.

So sloppy.

But then again, wasn’t that your fault? 

You’re bold. Bolder than ever before. Closer to the top of your breaking point now, angry and beaten down and dying in the black of a bottomless pit. Unable to escape. Unable to climb out. 

You’ve been falling inside it for years, and it’s all you ever do. 

Fall. 

And you’re so, so tired. All you want, is for it to end. 

“That was sick, even for you, Phillip. What are you, some kind of freak? Jerking off all over your ex girlfriend’s-“ The backhand is swift. It rockets across your face, combination of it’s force and the sting making your head spin, and you stumble. 

When you lurch, he presses close, chest to your side, strong fingers digging into your forearm so tight it hurts. 

“Don’t say that.” His lips drag across your cheek, insult to injury where he struck you. They press together in a kiss, a foul, rancid piece of affection, making your stomach turn.“You know I don’t when you call yourself that. I don’t like when you lie, sweet thing. It’s not very nice.”

“It’s not a lie, you Texarkana hillbilly fuck, it’s the tru-“ You’re up against the wall in a single movement, arm twisted so hard you cry out, and he shoves you into place until he’s got you where he likes, face to face, nose to nose. 

“There’s my spitfire. Knew she was in there somewhere.” The nickname almost makes your retch. It’s a flicker of a memory, of yourself before the grave of your now life, the fateful twist that is Phillip Graves. 

“I hate you.” You spit. His eye twitches, and he looks every bit the insane man you know him to be. 

Because this... this is Phillip having fun. This is Phillip playing with his food. Phillip and his toy. 

This is not Phillip’s crazed rage. This is not suit and tie Phillip, rip your hair out from the roots Phillip, beat you until you’re unrecognizable Phillip. 

This isn’t the Phillip who slaughters innocent people. Who murders entire towns for pleasure. 

For a very short moment, your mind drifts to Simon and Johnny. You wonder what they’re doing right now, if they’ve already had their lunch, if Penny visited today. If maybe she napped with her Da safe and snuggled, sweet and asleep dreaming of sugar plums. You think about the light in Johnny’s eyes from last night, the way he looked at his daughter, and Simon, and even you. You remember the press of Simon’s mask covered lips on your forehead, a sweet, comforting piece of affection that you’ve already locked inside your heart. 

You float there. In those feelings, those memories. 

You wish they were here. You wish they could help you. 

The acknowledgement is terrifying. It happens so fast, hardly a second, but in that time, horror shivers down your spine. 

You’d put them in danger, for yourself. Your selfish, stupid self. 

Phillip’s mouth hovers over yours, and you swallow the gag rising in your throat. 

“I can’t stay.” He whispers, pseudo-gentle kisses adorning your nose, your cheek again. “It’s really rotten luck, honestly, you showing back up here today. I was just saying my see you laters.” You’re not religious, but the thoughts come easily regardless. Oh god, thank god. Thank fucking god. You have a chance.“I know you’ll be here when I get back, won’t you? I’m tired of chasing you around the world, sugar.” He gives you another wet, closed lip kiss, and your jaw trembles. “If you’re not, it’ll be that much worse for ya.”

You can do this.

It’s not anything you haven’t done before.

Deep breath. You can do this. 

Stepping outside the bathroom is like taking your first steps as a child. You’re slow, pushing through the burn in your side, the sore agony in your shoulder, the torn cartilage you’re sure is the cause the of the pain in your shoulder.

You can do this. 

Get it together. Get yourself together. You’re not going far. 

You make it down the hall without running into anyone, and once you reach the on-call room, you’re breathing long sighs of relief, sliding the lock into place after the door shuts behind your back.

Two black duffels sit on the floor, staring at you. Mocking you, just like the girl in the mirror.

What are you going to do? 

The receptionist is calling your name. 

You ignore her, trying to make it to the elevators, almost breaking into a run even though you’re in pain, your face throbbing, neck sore beyond belief. 

“Sorry, can you-“ Intercepted on your path, she gasps. “Oh my god, what happened?” 

“I was mugged.” It’s a point-blank response, even though you sound like a frog or a piece of roadkill, and it brokers no argument. You look at her with the flattest gaze imaginable, dissuading her from saying anything else. 

“I- I’m sorry. We’ve been trying to call you.” The hair on the back of your neck rises.

“For what?” 

“We need your room. There’s been a block reserved, and it includes the floor you're on. I'm... sorry.” You’re not able to contain your shock, mouth dropping open, heart cracking into tiny pieces. 

On top of everything. Now this. 

The receptionist peeks at you nervously, waiting on pins and needles for a response. 

“When?”

“Tomorrow morning, I’m afraid. I’m so sorry. The hotel apologizes, the block is paying for a higher rate and-“ 

“It’s fine, really. I needed to check out anyway.” You know it’s not her fault. Hell, you’d be surprised if it wasn’t the hotel’s fault either. It’s not like Phillip wouldn’t move heaven and earth to force you out of hiding. He's more than capable of finding out where you’re staying. 

She gives you another apologetic look before scurrying away, and the elevator doors finally enclose around you, a tidal wave of despair swelling in your heart, dropping you to your knees with gut wrenching sobs.

You’re crying again. Curled up in the on-call bed, your shoulders shake in hysteria, tears and panic overwhelming everything you have left, swallowing you until you can’t see the surface anymore.

Your throat burns. Breathing is like rubbing sandpaper down the back of your tongue, and you wheeze when you try to take deep breaths, shoulder shrieking in misery every time you shift.

You have to get it together. You have to work in an hour. 

But you can’t. You dig deep and try, desperately working to pull something forward, something sane and controlled, but there’s nothing to be found, only acid in your throat. The hysteria mounts. It catches the wind and flies down the hill, crashing into you over and over until your hands are clenched together so tight, even they hurt.

You fucking idiot. You waited too long. You ran out of time. 

You’re dead. 

“Oh my god.” Nia covers her mouth, eyes wide. You hold up a palm.

“It looks way worse than it actually is.” Another nurse peeks around her shoulder, and gasps.

“What happened to you?”

“I was mugged yesterday, getting off the train.”

“Oh my god!”

“I’m fine. Really.”

“Did you tell the police?”

“Yes, I did.” You assuage them to the best of your ability, reassuring their worry. “I filed a report, and they didn’t get anything important. I’m okay. Really.” And then the kicker: “I would tell you if I wasn’t.” You glance at everyone, four or five now, gathered around, and lay on the final piece of the puzzle. False familiarity and the ever present desire to be relevant. “Wouldn’t I, Nia?” You gesture around to expectant faces as if to say, tell them, and she readily agrees.

“Yeah, she totally would.”

Everyone pretty much leaves you alone after that. Patients need checks, meds, all of the usual stuff. You assure Nia once more in private, promising that you’re okay, and she reluctantly leaves you alone too, once you swear up and down.

The only thing that doesn’t leave you alone, is your cellphone.

>Hey, just wanted to check in, see how your day off was yesterday? 

>Bunny :)

There are a few others, alternating like above, Simon first, then Johnny. Asking if you got some rest, if you’re okay, and then a promise not to push.

You ignore them.

You ignore the feeling in your chest at the sight of their incoming text messages, the proof of their care.

You ignore the way it feels to know they’re only a floor below you.

You ignore the fact that when you got here today, all you wanted to do was run to Johnny’s room and settle in that chair next to his bed, curl up close to them, where there’s love, where there’s warmth. 

You ignore it at all.

Get it together. You have a job to do. 

Simon appears at the pit three hours into your shift. There’s no one around, everyone trying to take breaks, cover breaks, or deal with whatever emergency is happening in the moment, except you.

And when you round the corner and spot him, waiting, it takes your breath away.

Half of your reaction is pure fear. The last thing you want is for him to see you like this. Beaten. Broken. Ugly.  

The other half is… something pure. Something enamored. He came up here, why? Is he worried because you didn’t answer? Do they care? 

Still-

You start to turn on your heel, eyes flipping wide and panic startling your heart. You’re barely a shadow, a clip of a person on the other end of the hall and yet-

“Hey, there you are.”

Fuck. The acid starts to rise all over again. You keep your face tilted down towards the floor.

Maybe you can pretend you don’t hear him. You leap back around the corner, practically running towards the on-call room, where your life sits in two black bags, waiting.

You can’t do this. You can’t face them, let them see. 

Something desperate gnaws in the pit of your soul, a howl that begs you to turn back and let him in, let them both in, tell them everything.

It’s selfish, and cruel.

It’s unfair.

He calls your name. You still don’t answer. Your scrub pants swish together as you jog, trying to get away, but the effort is in vain. He’s too quick, long strides overtaking yours at a brisk walk, and just before you reach the door, he positions his body in front of the handle, an immovable wall.

There’s a long moment of silence. You stare up into his face, wide eyed, horrified.

You know what he’s seeing. A failure. A moron. A mess. 

To his credit, his expression does not change. His brow does not furrow. He only stares at you, frozen, slow thawing fury finally glowing in his eyes after a centuries’ long minute.

He reaches, time standing still, the back of his fingers stroking the lightest touch against your tender cheek, and his voice is almost unrecognizable behind the mask when he snarls,

“Who did this to you?”

The tears come in a flood. You don’t understand why the breakdown comes in this moment, why everything crashes into a million little pieces, until you feel a strong, careful arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a broad, warm chest, face tenderly nestled into a black hoodie. It feels… safe. Like a home you haven’t had in a long, long time. Like something you never thought you’d feel again.

Maybe it’s a moment of weakness. Maybe it’s your downfall, another thing for the girl in the mirror to be angry with you about, you’re not sure. You’re not sure about anything except this feeling, this feeling that lights up your heart in an explosion of fireworks, fear and panic and anxiety soothing into sadness, into a homesick feeling for a love, a life you’ve never had.

Maybe it’s a moment of weakness, when you sob his name, when you go limp against him and he holds you steady, a cheek atop your head, soft words washing over you in a whisper.

Maybe it’s a moment of weakness, but right now, you can’t seem to care.

Johnny is distraught.

Simon brings you into his room, still tucked into his side. He’s careful with you, telegraphing all his movements, letting you know where he’s going, reverence rich in his touch like he’s handling glass.

“What in the-“

“Bun says she was mugged.” Simon tells him, and you miss whatever is happening over your bowed head, hands shaking with nerves all over again. “She assures me she’s not hurt but-“

“I’m fine.” You croak, and Johnny jerks, mouth half open in disbelief. The light is dim, casting short shadow across his face, his sweet eyes drenched in worry, and you stand at the foot of his bed, tears waiting on your waterline. “I’m okay, they didn’t really get anything, and I-“

“Come here.” He cuts you off, raising both arms, extending them as wide as he can manage, scooting his hips to the side. It’s a feat, but he hides the grimace of pain well. When you don't budge, he repeats himself, firmly the second time. “Bunny. Come here.”

The shame burns, entrenched in you so deep, you know you’ll never be able to cut it out, and your tears fall unbidden, encouraged by the hollow feeling in the pit of your stomach, your heart, an ache that you need soothed so desperately.

You’re out of control. You’re losing your grip. 

You had a moment of weakness but this… this is too much. 

“Please, pretty girl.” He whispers, reaching you where no one else can. Speaking to you through the fog of your doubt, your hatred, your fear.

Your hands shake as you reach for his, and when you sit beside him, hip to thigh, he looks at you like he’s staring at someone other than the person who used to be his nurse. He’s looking at you the way you catch him looking at Simon sometimes. Bright gaze full of love. Of worry.

“I’m okay.”

“No, ye’re not.” He shakes his head. “Ye’re not. This is not okay.” The way he says it feels like he knows, like he understands, and you swallow dry, breathing ragged and shallow. It turns frantic, and he squeezes your knee gently, redirecting your attention. “Hey, shhh. It’s okay. Ye’re safe with us.” Simon sits on the arm of the chair, directly next to the bed.

“Do you need to count your breaths?” He cuts directly to the quick. Will this provide you relief? Will this stop the pain? The agony? 

No. 

“N-no.” You gasp.

“Okay. Just try to breathe, everything’s alright."

I’m s-sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just this- this happened and then I found out I had to find a new place to stay, and I st-still haven’t, so I have to sleep in the on call room, and I don’t-“

“Whoa, okay. Slow down.” Simon soothes, hand slowly sliding up and down your spine. You relax into it, marginally, clocking the subtle upward tick of Johnny’s lips, firm line shifting into a small smile, and then turning cross. 

“What do ye mean, ye dinnae have a place to stay?”

“My apartment-“ is trashed. Is a scene of a crime. Is a hollow rib cage housing a dead heart. “is being renovated so I’ve been living in a hotel,” Johnny nods, like he knows. Of course he does. What secrets do they have between? Probably none. “But someone reserved a whole block and there’s no vacancies, so I had to check out this morning.” It’s pathetic, the way you’re crying over this, the way you feel, but it’s all so forlorn in this moment, and you can't stop yourself from falling deeper and deeper into a well of despair, hopelessness dragging you to the bottom, trying to drown you. “It’s not a big deal but-“

“It is a big deal.” Johnny declares. “Ye had somethin’ horrible happen to ye, and now this on top of it?” Simon shifts, flat palm and fingers pushing down through the air, and you barely catch it from the corner of the eye. It’s the same kind of sign you give someone when you want them to slow down, and you blink.

What’re you doing?  

“I… I’m fine.” You wince at the croak in your voice, last menthol infused cough drop wearing off, bringing back the raw pain in your windpipe, the gravel grit of bruising in your voice.

“It’s okay to be upset, bun. Anyone would be.” You wipe your face, chasing away the tracks of tears and trying not to wince when you straighten your back.

“I know, but I’m okay. Really.”

“Ye cannae stay in an on-call room.” What?

“Oh… it’s fine. It,” wouldn’t be the first time. “It’s not a big deal.” Simon is watching you, focused with that same blazing intensity that feels like he’s digging around inside your skull. 

“Why don’t you stay with us?”

“What?” You blurt. “No. No, I… I couldn’t. It’s not-“

“Appropriate?” Simon finishes, head cocked. “Johnny isn’t your patient anymore.”

“And we have plenty o’ room. Penny’s still staying with Price’s a lot, because Simon’s here all the time, so it’d be nice and quiet for ye.” Say no. Tell them no.

“I couldn’t. It’s… you hardly know me. You’d invite me to live in your house?” Incredulously, you stare at them, flicking back and forth between two expectant, understanding faces.

“We know ye. Ye try to hide yerself from us, bun, but… ye cannae. Ye light up every room ye step foot in, and I dinnae think we would have made it through this without ye. Ye’re special to us, even if ye cannae accept it.” He winks. “Yet.”

“We want to help, sweetheart. Let us help you.” You’re between a rock and a hard place. An immovable force, and object. Two wills, locking in around you.

But instead of a cage, it’s warm. It’s gentle. It’s… safe.

“I couldn’t encroach.” You’re on autopilot, mouth making sounds that your heart protests. Simon sighs.

“You’re not encroaching. We’re inviting you.”

You would be putting them in danger. 

“I… I can’t.”

“Why?” Johnny’s still got his hand on yours, and he squeezes, carefully. “Talk to us, bunny.”

“Tell us what’s really going on.” Simon is grave, and for a second, air gets stuck in your lungs, fighting to escape.

You cannot tell them. No matter what. You can’t. The turtleneck is too tight, cotton and polyester scratching at your sore skin, and you shiver.

“There… there’s n-nothing going on. What if the people that mugged me,“ come back to finish the job? Track me down? Words die on your tongue, the lamest attempt to push them back withering away. Simon is having none of it.

“We’re special forces, love. No one is going to get to you while you’re with us." He pauses, trapping you, holding you in stasis, and when he repeats himself, it's a dark vow, a promise. "No one.”

If you do this. You have to tell them.

You can trust them. They’ve proven that so far, haven’t they? 

You hardly know them. 

But isn’t that better? 

“I…” Your hand raises instinctively to your throat, and Johnny’s eyes narrow.

“Bunny.” He leans forward at the waist, slow as to not hurt himself, and you sit, frozen, bug eyed, transfixed on his hand that are stretching towards your turtleneck.

You should stop him. You should tell him to back off. You should do something. 

You can't. You don't. You sit there, waiting for the discovery. Waiting for the shame. 

Once he hooks his pointer finger in the top and tugs, it’s over.

Your heart stops in your chest. Johnny burns, dragon flame and rage, incineration boiling over in his body.

“Bleedin’ christ.” He hisses.

“Fucking hell.” Simon echoes, and you close your eyes. You know the tender skin looks bad. Swollen. Angry.

“Please.” You whisper, lower lip quivering, floodgates trying to burst into pieces. “Please I… I can’t talk about it. I c-can’t, I can’t-“

“Okay, okay. Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe now, sweetheart. You’re safe.” You’re crying violently, unable to see, trying to rasp out apologies, and Simon stands, tucking you back into his chest, big hand on the back of your head. Johnny keeps his touch at your back, consistent, reassuring pressure that rubs from the top of your spine down, and he hums delicate, affectionate phrases lilting in heavy Scots’.

The girl in the mirror screams at you inside your head. She calls you a fool. A coward. She tells you the truth, that you’ll only get them hurt, that you know better.

You don’t disagree with a single thing. You know all this to be true.

But for a moment… would it be so bad to indulge? To have one- two good things in your life, even if it’s fleeting. Even if you know how it will end, can you not just have this for yourself, in this suspended moment of time, this chance?

You want it. Them. So desperately, it swells and aches and tugs at you, just as they do.

Time ticks forward, and you do not pull away. You don't try to hide, or evade. You just... exist. Between them. The rock and the hard place. 

“Alright?” Simon murmurs, your tears now stopped, only delicate sniffles sounding from his chest. You nod, shifting backward to take them both in.

“I… if you’ll have me, I’ll… I’ll stay, until I can find a place.” Inky dark shadow flickers across Simon’s face, but sunlight chases it away, happiness crinkling at the corners of his eyes.

“Are ye sure?” Johnny is hopeful, bright, and beautiful, and you tighten your grasp on his hand, holding it like you’ll never let go. You take a deep breath-

You take the plunge.

A moment in the sun. 

“I’m sure.”