#me when i fucking. forget that dates and time are a thing

[deesseshesca]

PAC: What would your broken heart feel about your nuptial union ? (18+)

PILE 3 

SONG : Georgia on My mind - Ray Charles

2 wands, World, 3 cups (reverse), Emperor (reverse) 

Y’all ate your 12 red grapes under the table this year. 

The reading is you take down your wedding day hairstyle while your husband is setting up the room (whatever that means …) and you look at the mirror, there's a flash of your older self. 

(You are caressing your wedding ring.) 

I was pissed when they brought him back into my life again. When I ate the 12 red grapes we had just broken up … I know I am the one who decided to end things because I could not handle the purity of his love. Yes I know it was probably a very bitchy move to eat the grape under the table but I thought that maybe with someone else I would be able to open my heart more easily. I was so scared to break him. I’ve been broken so many times before. I did not want to be the reason that turn him into an helpless in love like the loser that I am. Maybe it is the red string theory or maybe it is the karma because I try to play in the Universe face but here I am proudly married to my first and last love. Is all thanks to him. He came back into my life, while I was starting to date around (tears of disappointment are making their way on your cheeks. You are so disappointed that you almost fall into an old cycle because you could not handle the goodness of his love) again. Can’t believe  I told him to wait his turn. Can't believe I told him that he was not  the only one. Can't believe I told him that it will pass. People always love me before I become too much and other times I destroy it  myself before it can destroy me. In all seriousness, I think I first ran away because I was scared of the pain that was going to come when it would all fell apart, like it usually does. How fucked of me to think so lowly of our union at first ? My sweet boy used to text me when drunk just to tell me how much loved me. How much he loved my brown skin, my curly hair and my curves and if he could he would ditch his boys and come hug me or just stare at me but he knows I need space and space is essential in a relationship. My sweet boy would ask anybody walking our way to take a picture of both of us so that if anything happens to him, he will not just remember to love me, but seeing both of us will show us how deeply he cared for me. My sweet boy has a parent with dementia which scar him, so he can't seem to go a day without writing me a letter, taking a picture or telling me ‘’I love u’’ . His words : ‘’ I will never forget to love you. You hear me ( your name), I will  forget how to breathe before I forget you’’. My sensitive baby is always so emotional. Never afraid of letting the tears flow. Always expressing to anyone who wants to hear him how much he loves me even when  the conversation has nothing to do with me ( ME: lol). It was so hard to make my way back into his family and friend group which I understood when I saw him again. He lost weight, he had such huge under eye bags and yet he called my name with much sweetness. I heard from  the grapevine, he drank so much more trying to make it hurt less and his friend would hide his phone because he would try to text me and call me. Which would end up with him sobbing (not u trying to keep it in… Is ok baby …). One day, I allowed him back. He asks for a hug, pleads for it,  promising that after that he would forever leave me alone. If that's what I wanted. I hugged him, cried, he cried, holding on strongly to me while comforting me and I promise myself to never ever let go again. 

(HIM: BABE … BABE … you can come out … I have a surprise for you. You can't answer because you are still crying and you don't want him to worry. HIM : (he knocks) Babe are u ok ? Can I enter ? Talk to me … baby ..; You open the door mascara running) 

Couple days before you let him see you again, you're going to make out with another boy. Claiming you are ready for something new. When the boy will try to make a move on your inner thigh, you will panic. I even think that you will kiss him, a loud voice in your mind will remind you how wrong it is. Also you are an amazing kisser but babe this is a very poor performance … I feel bad for the dude making out with you. Too much lips (is that even possible) and too much tongue. 

Your future husband loves kissing your whole body as a form of foreplay. Love caressing you, always checking up on you while sharing the intimate moment with you. Even when his inside you and your eyes are close, he makes sure that you feel good. He always checks your mannerism to make sure he isn't hurting you. Y’all dirty talking is more like love making affirmation. Is it not dirty or degrading, still very sexy but is more emotional than vulgar. 

Y’all were raised in different ways. You both have similar financial background but different parenthood. When I channel him, everything around him is orange and yellow. I can clearly see his friend and I can feel the love of his parents. There's a warmth that radiates from him. Also he grew up seeing his parents very much in love. The fact that their love survives the illness of one of them is like an ultimate confirmation that he wants the same for himself. He always wanted marriage, the house, kids and dogs, let's not forget the close group of friends. It will not surprise me if in one of his graduation speeches he commented, only really caring  about finding a wife. On your side is a light cold blue. Maybe your childhood bedroom was painted blue. The house is cold, so you may enjoy staying by yourself. Side note : U is very pretty. I know you may be tired of hearing that but babe your beauty is too strong for me to just move on. Actually for anyone to move on. Anyways back on track, your parents were never home busy with their career. Like you grew up on your own, no noise, lonely silence. Still very financially stable. Is not like they're working to keep a roof over your head. I think they told you multiple times in some way shape or form  that their career is more important than you. 

[harmless-variety-of-garden-snake]

Tommy's introduced as a bigot in season 2 and often shown taking initiative in starting the bullying of Hen and Chim vs. waiting for Gerrard to do something and just not standing up for them. There's even a scene in "Chimney Begins" where no one else is even in the room to overhear and Tommy still chooses to be nasty to Chimney instead of a bare minimum of civil. Even after the "resolution" of the episode and his 'apology' (not for racism, but for making Chim prove himself at work), he's still shown to have spent years not learning his lesson, becuase he goes back to the same behaviors with Hen and Chimnney even mentions that "the Asian guy" still isn't invited out by the team for drinks or BBQ.

Then when it's "addressed" in season 7, we see remarkably little growth from Tommy, where he's blaming "the environment" and Gerrard for his choices and actions as a grown man. And in season 8, we get a healthy dose of misogyny in ageism with how he speaks of Abby, while casually acknowledging he also screwed up her life.

It's not just that he was afraid to stand up against bigotry in the face of an evil boss. He could've taken Eli's route, and just be silent. But no, Tommy is someone who chose to actively participate in workplace bigotry and bullying, and then almost 20 years removed, shrugs it off as everyone else's fault.

let’s not forget his very recent comments about Abby that were reeking of misogyny. Talking about her dating some “himbo” younger than her (as if he wasn’t actively doing the same thing) and admitting he was lying the whole relationship (not just about his sexuality).

Word for word that man said, “Heard she went a little nuts after that” as if her entire world wasn’t flipped upside down with her engagement ending and having to take care of her sick mother. The only tiny bit of understanding he showed was him saying she deserved better, which duh. 

One time when I was five I put a bead in my nose and it went all the way up to the bridge and I had to push down on it from the top until I could get it out because I was scared it would go to my brain and kill me.

That has nothing to do with any of what you said, but I just thought I'd put that out there because you're doing some dumb shit and I wanted you to know we've all done dumb shit. This is a safe space.

Anyway, I don't think you've ever been a closeted queer person who's said and done some at times questionable or outright fucked up things to keep yourself safe from scrutiny.* I grew up seeing people like me getting murdered and heard people explain why it would've been avoidable if they hadn't been so obvious or if they'd just chosen to be normal. I also grew up with a lot of bullies who were only bullying me because it put them in the protected group. It kept them from having people look at whether or not they were actually a good target for bullying. I'm actually friends with a couple of those people now. Not close, but we're cordial and we'll talk when we bump into each other at the store. That has more to do with us being in our thirties and living our own lives. There's a couple who had no excuse whatsoever other than being actual homophobes, I don't talk to them.

I dated in high school, I was engaged but I was 18 so I don't know how much that counts, but then I came out when I was in my early twenties. I knew I wasn't actually interested the entire time I was with those people, either. At first I just thought the relationship wasn't right for me, then I started to realize what was actually going on. I still dated, I still asked someone to marry me because I thought I could be happy with them. I did love and care about them, just not the way you should if you're going to marry them. I also didn't tell anyone I was non-binary until two months ago, even though I figured it out about fifteen years ago. A trans person hiding their identity to protect themselves from danger or rejection is nothing new, but it's kind of a shitty feeling to know you've been lying to every ex you've ever had about something like that. I don't like that feeling, and it's going to take a while for me to shake that. I don't know that I ever will.

So all of that is to say that a character like Tommy is actually kind of important to those of us who also weren't perfect at being queer, especially those of us who grew up during a specific time. I was actually pleasantly surprised that a basic network show would have someone like that, but times they are a-changing. So onto your last point:

Abby Clark is played by a now 57 year old Connie Britton (drop the skincare routine, girl), Lou Ferrigno Jr is 40, and Oliver Stark is 33. When you're an actual grown person, a seven or eight year age difference is kind of nothing. One of you might be a little more ready for things like kids or marriage, but that's not a guarantee. But hearing that your ex started dating a 26 year old when she's about 50, whether or not he knows that she actually pulled Buck's info in a very questionable way (I love that no one going after Tommy ever seems to care about the massive ethical breach from Abby), is kind of...wild. And he presumably heard about this from a mutual friend of some kind, who likely gave him this information colored by their own perception of the situation. This is where critical thinking skills become important. Based on context clues, I can safely guess that Tommy asked someone how Abby was doing or ran into someone who knows her, too, and they said "Hey, did you hear about Abby's new guy?" Otherwise he would've said "I saw that she was dating...." or "She told me she was dating..." So this could've been secondhand bitchiness, it could've been that her behavior was being framed as extremely not okay by someone they knew. We'll never know, the show doesn't have the strongest writing all the time. I'm not touching the thing about her mother, because a very close family member of mine has Alzheimer's, a good friend just lost a parent to it, and I do not want to examine the behavior of a person who's dealing with that or that of the people in their lives.

Could he have said "But I get it, she would've been going through a lot because of her mom and then our breakup"? Yeah. Would it have been nice if they wrote any scenes between Tommy, Hen, and Chimney that bridged the gap between when they weren't close and when they actually celebrated him and his accomplishments when he left the 118 to show why he would be someone Chimney would call on in two major emergencies? Yeah. I think I would've liked to see them talk things out onscreen and to show any apologies. Mostly because it would keep people from dropping an essay in my ask box when I feel like my sinuses and temples are filled with hot needles. I don't actually need to see it other than liking the three of them together, because I figured that they would've shown some hesitation before Chimney would reach out to him or he would've pulled Buck aside to warn him to be careful with Tommy. Or Hen and Karen wouldn't have been so thrilled when they realized what had gone down before Buck and Tommy came into the hospital room. There's a lot of stuff they don't show on this show, but they'd at least make a point to do or not do certain things if a character hated or disliked a character.

*I believe a certain dispatcher even did a whole big speech about this on the very show you apparently watch. I didn't like the Glee part, because I don't like Glee after season one. But the rest of it was good.

[blessedbucky]

we tried the world, good god, it wasn't for us! (part 5.3)

pairing: autistic!satoru x suguru x autistic!reader

word count: 8.9k (this actually might be the shortest i've written to date)

summary: satoru has been naively thinking that his world hasn’t been on the edge of collapse for a long time.

tags: autistic!reader, autistic!satoru, not sure if it's suicidal ideation or what since suguru wants to die for what he did to reader, definitely probably some unhealthy codependency because everyone here is a teenager going through traumatic shit, uhhhh let me know if there's anything else but I think those are the big ones, hurt/like minimal amounts of comfort, gojo is disgustingly in love please help my boy he's struggling with his depressed s/o's

beautiful people who asked to be tagged 💕: @ichikanu, @iceheartsice, @anders-is-being-a-simp-again, @lexlibrary, @ziggy0stardust

author note: really wanted to write the fallout of the last chapter in satoru's pov, like how it goes in canon. not sure if it's my own depression on some fuck shit or a genuine struggle, but i got stuck in the middle of the chapter. i really hope it has the emotional impact that i was going for. i was channeling my depression here since my annual seasonal big sad is coming up. brains are great (:

chapter links: 1, 2, 3, 4.1, 4.2, 5.1, 5.2, AO3

[YEAR THREE]

[PART THREE]

No, I don’t know who you are. Should I?

It’s stupid. You’re stupid. No, that’s mean and unfair. You don’t deserve that. Satoru is the stupid one. Him and his traitorous heart that had fluttered like some blushing maiden when you completely dismissed his identity up until that point, ignored his immense strength that anyone with a shred of cursed energy could feel, and treated him like an actual human. Do you even know how much time he spent hunting down an exact replica of those cheap sunglasses you offered up to him during that first meeting? After Suguru broke them when he was punching Satoru in the face?

Yeah, Satoru is a moron. Because he’s happy that he hadn’t learned Reverse Cursed Technique yet and that Shoko had been away long enough that his nose would never sit totally right ever again after it was broken. Just like your sunglasses, his crooked nose is another reminder that two country bumpkins have rocked his shit so wholly that it’s kind of insane.

That night had been embarrassing and confusing. He hadn’t been able to stop pressing against the tender bridge of his nose, making pain shoot across his face. When he closed his eyes, all he could see was Suguru standing over him with sharp, furious eyes and bloody fists. All he could feel were the phantom touches of your soft yet unflinchingly steady fingers on his cheeks and chin. Never an ounce of hesitation from either of you when it came to Satoru. He’d rocked against his mattress, coming way too many times for him to ever admit. The second time that he’d touched himself to the thoughts of you two.

People have always been terrified of Gojo Satoru and his unfathomable strength. Little do they know that he’s no longer the strongest sorcerer in the world. He hasn’t been since the morning after his seventeenth birthday when he woke up in the early dawn, your head weighing down his chest, Suguru’s breath warm against the skin of his neck, and Satoru thought, I love you. Because he worships the ground that you and Suguru stand on. If either of you came to him and asked him to burn the world down, he’d do it. The only thing that held him back from blowing up a room full of batshit crazy cult followers is because Suguru told him there’d be no meaning in it.

But Satoru is still the same boy god as he’s always been. Thinking that his strength alone will be enough to protect himself and everyone else from problems. Pretending that plastering a smile on his face and never taking anything seriously will be enough to infect everyone else. Forgetting that his childhood of being raised as a weapon has dulled his sense of what’s horrifying and what’s not.

Naively thinking that his world hasn’t been on the edge of collapse for a long time.

No. That’s not totally true, either. Because he’s noticed. He sees everything, right? He’s been with Suguru on his trips to buy cigarette packs, becoming increasingly frequent. Satoru’s wondered, more than once, if Suguru is smoking more than eating these days. The bags under Suguru’s eyes and yours are getting darker. The windows and doors of your rooms have been locked more than ever before, a silent warning that you’re not up for spending the night with anyone. Both your tempers are shorter, especially with each other. He doesn’t think you’ve ever shrugged off the touch of others as much as you are now.

In the back of his mind, Satoru has known for a long time that you and Suguru are not okay, but he looked away. That’s his biggest sin. Because he’s been afraid that if he accepts that, he’ll have to accept that it’s because you and Suguru are not cut out for the lives of sorcerers, and that would mean you’d have to walk away from this world.

You’d both have to walk away from him.

This has been his blue spring. That’s what the adults call it, isn’t it? At some point, his spring turned to autumn without his realizing it. Now, he faces the daunting reality of his love turning into a brutal, deadly winter.

“…huh?”

It’s the middle of the night and Satoru has literally just walked into his dorm room when Suguru calls.

He doesn’t understand, at first. It’s hard to when the connection is in and out. There’s so much static. And between all that, Suguru isn’t making any fucking sense. He’s incoherently babbling. And Satoru prays that he’s wrong, but it sounds like Suguru is crying. Satoru thinks that he hears your name in there somewhere, making his stomach twist. There aren’t many reasons why Suguru would be this upset, but Satoru is trying to make Suguru calm down enough to explain.

“…hurt…so much…blood…blood everywhere…sorry, so sorry…”

“Please…need you…Shoko…get here…”

“…Squid…dying…”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Satoru remembers the prefecture that Suguru mentioned he was going with you to. Sensei would have more specific information on the village in his office, right? A primal panic, one that he’s not felt since last year, fuels him to flicker across campus. If he can get near the village, he’ll be able to sense someone’s cursed energy. He tears Sensei’s office apart, trying to find where he keeps mission details.

As soon as he’s got the location, he’s honing on Shoko’s energy, and then he’s there. Next to her bed. She’s still awake, hunched over some medical textbook. She yelps when he snatches her by the upper arm. He’ll apologize later for the rough treatment, but all he can think is Sketch is dying, Sketch is dying, Sketch is fucking dying.

“Run Reverse Cursed Technique,” Satoru demands as he physically prepares himself for this trip.

“What? Why? Where did you even come from? Why are you in my room—”

“I haven’t teleported with anyone.” He’ll also apologize later for making her his first guinea pig. If it’s going to be someone, though, it’s good that it’s the person who can heal herself. “I haven’t even taken myself more than a prefecture away.” This is going to hurt.

Shoko’s voice pitches higher with panic. “What the fuck is going on, Gojo?!”

“Sketch is dying. Start healing yourself.”

Satoru doesn’t even give her the chance to start running it.

Those are Suguru’s residuals.

Wrong. That’s wrong.

Those are Suguru’s residuals.

For the first time in the course of the Gojo clan’s history, the Six Eyes are wrong.

Those are Suguru’s residuals.

They have to be wrong.

Or…Satoru is overthinking it.

There has to be another explanation for why, buried deep in the gash across your torso that’s almost a mirror image of Satoru’s own scar, Suguru’s residuals linger. Suguru is crying and drenched in your blood because he wasn’t able to help you in time. The cursed spirit that did that to you was absorbed by Suguru after the damage was done.

That’s not how that works.

“What happened?” Shoko asks in a tone that Satoru has never heard out of her before. He tries to find his voice, tell her to shut the fuck up, because he knows what she’s thinking. The way that she’s curled over Sketch’s body, body tense, cursed energy flaring with emotion gives her away. “Suguru!” Shoko shouts, trying to reach him through his tears. “Tell me what happened to her!”

“I’m sorry.” Suguru hunches over. Digs bloody fingers in the dirt. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

“Why are you sorry?”

Satoru knows the truth. He does. It’s the reason why it feels like the world is about to slip out from under his feet. He wants to shut Shoko up because he doesn’t want to hear the truth. When Suguru, through his tears, manages, “I didn’t mean to,” Satoru wants to cry with him. There’s no stopping it now.

“What didn’t you mean to do?”

Suguru’s next cry is gut-wrenching. Satoru is trembling, more terrified than he’d been staring down the sharp edge of Zen’in Toji’s blade. “I didn’t mean it, I swear. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. Please, believe me. I didn’t mean for it to happen—”

Shoko, the stone-faced judge, has no mercy for either of them. She demands the truth, no matter what hell it’ll bring. She says your name, knowing Suguru can’t deny you your justice. “Did you hurt her?”

Satoru, the unintentional jury, has to witness Suguru become his own executioner when he chokes out, “Yes.”

A crack splits Shoko’s indifferent mask. Twisting her body around, she stares at Satoru with wet and shining eyes. “Goddamn you, Gojo,” she curses before quickly turning back around toward you. She ducks her head, but he catches the stray tear roll down her cheek before her hair fully hides her face. “You didn’t even give me time to get my smokes.”

The more time that passes where Satoru is forced to stand there, unable to do a goddamn thing for you or anyone else here, the more that he has to wonder what the worth of his strength even is.

Because, right now, it’s nothing.

His eyes have never left you after Suguru’s confession. He doesn’t think that he can face the implications of that yet. It’s so slow, the rise and fall of your chest, but he can see how rapid your pulse is under the delicate skin of your throat. Even from his vantage point and in the low light, he knows your skin is clammy. And the gore. It’s not like he hasn’t ever seen the result of a cursed spirit attack. He thought he was desensitized to that. But…things are different when it’s like this.

Guess this is what people mean when they talk about things hitting close to home. Seeing you there, your skin all torn open, blood so red…it makes him sick. His stomach has never rolled quite like this, not even when he was blearily watching his own skin stitch itself back together after getting shredded apart himself. He’d been…detached before he was totally healed and then the overwhelming euphoria poured in.

There won’t be any of that for you, he realizes. If Satoru is on the end of the emotional spectrum where he struggles to pinpoint feelings—even in himself—then you’re on the other side where you get it all. Your heart is too big. Always bleeding. Sitting there on your fucking sleeve, getting stabbed at by everyone and everything. Is this what you feel like all the time? Satoru’s brain is struggling to comprehend it all.

Aah, this is what it feels like to be weak, he suddenly understands. And he remembers how he’d felt it when that spear pierced his Infinity, right before metal sunk into flesh and he had to focus on survival. There was nothing he could do then and there’s nothing he can do now. This sucks, he thinks with the corners of his eyes stinging. No wonder you’re always undermining yourself and saying you’re weak.

How can you think you’re strong when your heart is always bleeding?

Nails digging into the skin of his palms, blood trickling through his fingers, he tries to think about anything else. He doesn’t want to cry. He never wants to feel like this ever again. He never wants anyone to feel this way again, actually. If he could go another day without ever having to hear your gut-wrenching cries when you were in the morgue with Haibara’s body or hear Suguru tonight, then he’d trade his soul away. He’d give his strength away. He’d pluck his eyeballs out and throw them to the highest bidder.

How can he do that, though? Satoru could throw his Infinity around your bodies, but it won’t protect your hearts. The two of you would never let him whisk you away to Kyoto and hide you away from the world forever, as much as he desperately wants to do that right now. Part of the reason that Satoru and every-fucking-one else loves you idiots so much is because of how fucking kind you are.

For some reason, Satoru thinks about that day near the start of the term, under the cherry blossom tree. This just isn’t a sustainable system, you’d said. I wonder how many Special Grade sorcerers there have actually been, but they just couldn’t reach their full potential because old men sent them off to die.

If he can’t make your hearts stronger, then he has to make everyone else stronger.

Satoru knows what he needs to do now.

The settling of Shoko’s cursed energy has Satoru lifting his head. It’s taken a lot of strength out of her. The healthier you look, the worse Shoko does. “We need to get back to campus.” Her hands are trembling, and she drops back on her ass, trying to catch her breath before she’s forced to move. “She’s stable now and I can take care of those kids back at school. I need to eat before I do, get my calories up,” she adds. “You didn’t hurt me on the trip here. Do you think you will hurt us if we go as a group?”

Right. The kids. They were hidden in the bush when Satoru and Shoko got here, but seeing Shoko healing and Satoru’s inaction must’ve been enough to coax them back out. They’ve been beaten. Satoru wondered, briefly, if they were the catalyst for what set Suguru off.

One of them, the one with dark hair, whispers your name. “She’s gonna be okay now?”

“Yes,” Shoko answers softly. “And so will you when we get back to Tokyo.”

“You’re…you’re Miss Shoko…right?”

“That’s right. I guess she told you about us?” The girls nod. “You know our names. What are yours?”

“Mimiko,” the brunette answers.

The other, the blonde, steps beside her sister and takes her hand before introducing herself as, “Nanako.”

Shoko nods in acknowledgement, slowly rising to her feet. “Okay. Well, Satoru over there knows how to move between places,” she explains while pointing over at Satoru. “He’s going to take us back to the school we go to. For people like us.” The girls nod again, eyes alight with understanding. “Don’t be scared. You’re safe now.”

“We’re not,” Nanako mumbles. “She told us we didn’t have to be scared with Mister Suguru around.”

Suguru had calmed down, his sobs quieting to silent tears, but hearing the kid say that has him hunching back over and covering his face in shame.

Shoko watches him, lips pressing into a thin line. “Take those kids first, Gojo,” she orders lowly. A complete turnaround from her earlier decision for them all to go at once. “It’ll be less of a strain on your body and ours. Do it in batches.” It’s a bullshit excuse. Right now, he’s scared of her. Those healing hands of hers can so easily become weapons. He’s seen it before. And, sure, she normally wouldn’t be a threat to Suguru, but there’s no fight left in him. “Now.”

In the end, though, she’s still right. There was no strain on her on the trip here, but he sure as fuck felt it. While future trips tonight will be easier in the fact that he has the two landing points in his mind, adding more people would ramp up what reprieve that gives. It’s more cursed energy, more brain power, more finely tuned control to keep the other bodies all in one piece.

What other choice does he have?

Satoru leaves the kids in his room. It’s comfortable, you’ve told him as much. He marches to Nanami’s room, but he’s already opening the door of his room when Satoru gets there. Apparently, the sudden absence then reappearance of Satoru’s massive amount of cursed energy woke Nanamin up. Satoru is in a rush, so all he can do is demand Nanamin watch the girls while he goes to get you because you got hurt.

Then, between one blink and the next, he’s back with you, Suguru, and Shoko.

The only hint that something happened between Shoko and Suguru is a dark mark on Suguru’s cheek and his split lip. Also, she’s got a lit cigarette in hand—probably stolen from Suguru. Satoru has never given thought to smoking. He’s never really seen the appeal, but he thinks he does now. Especially when Shoko beckons him over and he knows that he’s going to have to carry you on the second trip back to campus.

Bile rises to the back of his throat when he carefully lifts you up in his arms. He’s never been squeamish until he’s had to touch your blood-soaked clothes before. It’s disgusting and now, it’s sinking into his clothes. Satoru hates that. He knows you hate it, too. Wet clothes. You hate being sticky even more. It’s why you’re always so careful when you eat desserts with him. He hopes you blacked out as soon as you were hurt. He doesn’t want to think about you having to lay there, pained by more than the gashes themselves.

“Gojo will be back, Geto,” Shoko explains as she grabs Satoru’s upper arm since he can’t hold on to her right now. “Don’t you dare try to run. If I found out you tried, I’ll do a lot worse than punching you in the face.” To Satoru, she says, “Drop us off at my room.”

When they land and Satoru has gently placed you on Shoko’s bed, he collapses next to it, needing to catch his breath and run his own Reverse Cursed Technique. Not only has he gone the furthest he’s ever warped, but he’s done more trips than ever before, too. There’s still one more round-trip that he’s got to make. There’s a strain on his muscles that he’s never felt before. There’s a blossoming pain behind one of his eyes.

Shoko starts rummaging around in her pantry for something to eat. “I have some protein bars. You should eat one, too.” She throws one over her shoulder when she finds the box and he catches it without looking and pockets it. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t have the stomach for much right now. “Clean him up when you get back. Burn his clothes. We need to hide the evidence.”

Satoru bristles. “Stop treating him like a criminal.”

“Take off the rose-colored glasses and stop being naïve,” she snaps back. “You heard him.”

“Yeah, and he said he didn’t mean to. It was an accident—”

“Hurting her? Yeah, I believe that. It’s what led up to it that’s the problem.”

He stumbles to his feet, still glaring at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Geto just doesn’t lose control like that,” Shoko hisses before pointing at you. “She wouldn’t be hurt by one of his spirits unless he wanted it. He has to give them specific orders, you know that as well as I do. Maybe he didn’t intentionally have it attack him, but if he was pissed off enough, if he wasn’t careful enough with his order, then a spirit would consider her a threat.”

“Shut up.” Satoru wants to put his hands over his ears like a child. He’s in denial. She’s making sense, but he doesn’t want to admit that because it feels like acceptance. If what she’s saying is true, it doesn’t matter if he accidentally hurt you or not. If he was acting out of anger towards someone else, he’d be branded a curse user and there’s only one person strong enough to kill Suguru. “Have you forgotten who you’re talking about? The guy always riding on his moral high horse?”

“Stop pretending you’re both the same people after last year.” She presses the heels of her palms against her eyes. “Just leave me alone. I can’t deal with you right now. I’m saying that we don’t know, but you need to be a fucking adult and think about all the possibilities here. Also, you’re such a selfish asshole. Do you think I want to think about this? No. That’s why we’re hiding the evidence from Yaga.” She whispers your name. “If we had Suguru declared a curse user before she’s awake, it’d push her over the edge.”

Satoru feels less…panicky than before. He backs down. Glances at you while he asks Shoko, “What’s the story?”

“My residuals have covered up evidence of his on her,” she whispers. “Suguru got there too late. It’s why he keeps blaming himself. Any idiot at headquarters knows how close they are, so it won’t be hard to convince them that their relationship is what’s got him so hysterical.”

“Okay,” Satoru answers as quietly. “What—” his voice cracks. “What do we do if she wakes up blaming him?”

“That’s not something we can answer for each other, Gojo.”

“Explain yourself, Suguru.”

Just like Shoko said, Gojo Satoru is a selfish asshole. Somewhere between Shoko’s room and here, with Suguru, rage overcame Satoru. Because Suguru ruined everything. Instead of trusting Satoru or even you enough to talk about the things bothering him, Suguru let everything fester.

(But you didn’t, either, a nastier part of his brain reminds him.

Is there something wrong with Satoru?)

Suguru hasn’t moved. He’s still there, on his knees, staring blankly at your blood left behind in the grass. It’s like Satoru doesn’t even exist. It pisses him off more. What? Does Suguru think he can give up? He thinks he can sit around, crying over what he did to you, while everyone else has to clean up his mess? No way. Fuck that.

“Why?”

“Huh?!”

Suguru still hasn’t looked away from the place your body had been. “Why does it matter? I hurt a fellow sorcerer. That’s all you need to know, isn’t it?”

Satoru grits his teeth. “Why the hell are you being so vague now? Ten minutes ago, you were apologizing for hurting her!”

While saying your name hoarsely, Suguru reaches out to dig his fingers in the bloody grass. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t. But those…those goddamn monkeys…that’s who I wanted to hurt.” He squeezes his eyes shut, tears falling no matter how hard he tries to keep them from doing it. “I hate them, Satoru. All our suffering is because of them. They create curses. We exorcise them. Over and over until sorcerers die. First, it was Riko. Then, Haibara. When will it be you? When’s it going to be her on a metal slab?”

Under the weight of all this suffering, the anger quickly rushes out of Satoru. No, it’s still there, but he’s so stupid mad at himself for not seeing how bad things have gotten. He pretended that everyone else could separate themselves from their pain like Satoru has always done. He loves you. He loves Suguru. Why couldn’t he just see how much you two have been hurting?

Satoru doesn’t know what to do with all this sadness. He sprints forward, dropping and sliding in on his knees right in front of Suguru. He throws his arms around Suguru’s shoulders and Suguru seems to almost resist. He clenches his fists around the fabric of Satoru’s shirt. Then, he ducks his head down, pressing his head against Satoru’s sternum, trembling and giving another one of those sobs that’s just a gut punch.

“I wanted them dead. It was all I could think. I want them all dead. I want us to have a better world. I would start here. But I made the order too vague when I summoned them. I wanted to kill all the monkeys in this goddamned village and anyone that tried to stop me. She wasn’t even in the way. She said my name. She said, ‘Suguru, stop,’ and that was enough. They knew her because I know her, but I was so blinded by my rage. It was like nothing else existed but that.”

“It was an accident.” Satoru cups Suguru’s face with his hands, trying to get Suguru to look at him, but Suguru won’t budge. “It was an accident, Suguru. It’s okay. Look at me. Just look at me. It’s gonna be okay. We’re already figuring out how we can cover it up.”

Suguru just cries harder. “I can’t live like this, Satoru. Exorcise. Absorb. Exorcise. Absorb. Swallowing their shit. I want a better world, but I can’t do that, either. Because the people at the end of that road, standing in my way…it’s gonna be you and her.” He gives one sharp, hysterical laugh. “The people that I’d be doing it for, the only two fucking people that I love enough to make the world better for are the people that I’d need to hurt to get that utopia. How fucked up is that?”

“We’ll fix it,” Satoru whispers desperately. “It’s okay. We’ll figure out a way to fix it. The three of us, we can make this world better together.”

“Kill me, Satoru. Put me down. I’m begging you. I can’t live in this cycle anymore.”

“Stop! Stop it. Don’t you fucking ask me to do that.” Suguru finally loses the strength to fight Satoru’s hands. When Satoru lifts his face up, he goes. “Just listen to me. We’ll come up with a plan. We can make this world better together the right way. But you can’t give up on us. Me and Sketch, we can’t lose you. We can’t.”

“You don’t need me.” Satoru’s heart skitters in his chest when Suguru reaches out himself, hand on Satoru’s cheek. “I’m not good for either of you anymore. I can’t go back to being the person I was before.” Satoru shakes his head. He refuses to accept that. Suguru is the one holding Satoru’s face in his hands now, trying to make Satoru see his light. “You’re the best for her. I know you love her as much as I do. Take care of her. You can forget me and live a happy life together.”

“I can’t. I’d never be able to forget you. The only future I can see is one with Sketch and Suguru.”

“I don’t have a future anymore. I’m sorry.”

“I can’t accept that and neither will she.”

Suguru laughs bitterly, pulling away from Satoru completely. “Even now, after everything that’s happened, you’re still so damn arrogant, Satoru. What are you going to do if she wakes up condemning me? What will you do, then? Is the strongest sorcerer going to impose his will on her, too?”

“No! I’d never do that!”

“So, if she asked you to, will you kill me?”

“She wouldn’t!”

“I betrayed her,” Suguru whispers. “Weren’t you listening to those girls? I heard her say it myself. You never have to be afraid when Suguru’s around. Suguru is going to protect us all. She’s always trusted me. She wanted to leave all this pain behind, and I asked her to stay. I’ve been actively drowning her, but she couldn’t see it.” There’s a defeated slump in Suguru’s shoulders. “And neither can you, Satoru.”

Satoru doesn’t know what to say. He’s never been good with words. Not like you. But he does know that when you wake up, you’ll understand what Satoru does. You’ll say something along the same line as Satoru when he tells Suguru, “You’re hurting.”

“My pain doesn’t matter. I did what I did, and I need to be punished for it. I still believe in that. Justice.” Suguru stares Satoru dead in the eye before declaring, “I’m going to confess.” His features soften. “I know you’ve got a gentle heart, Satoru. You don’t need to worry. I’ll stick my neck out willingly so that you’ll never have to choose between me and her.”

When Suguru leans forward to press a chaste kiss against Satoru’s forehead, right over that tiny scar left behind last year, Satoru realizes that, yeah, maybe he is a little gentle. Because that gesture alone is enough to break him.

Satoru didn’t know what else to do with himself after everyone kicked him out—Shoko, so she could wipe away the blood and re-dress you, and Sensei, who needed to talk with Suguru about the details of what happened. He showered, desperate to be clean, but it’s like your blood left a stain on him even when he’d rubbed his skin raw. He put on one of Suguru’s hoodies because he’s broader than Satoru and the sleeves will cover his hands. He can’t look at them right now.

The sun is rising when Sensei tracks him down where he’s sprawled out on a staircase. He’s got a lit cigarette in one hand. Sensei has always been pretty good on keeping his habit on the low, wanting to be an excellent role model for his students, but even he has his limits, Satoru guesses.

“Suguru asked to be put in one of the cells.”

Figures, Satoru thinks bitterly.

“Should I?”

“You’re actually asking me that?” Satoru mumbles, no energy left to put any heat behind it.

Sensei sighs, as mentally exhausted as Satoru is. “My bad.”

Satoru straightens from where he’s been hunched over. After everything tonight—last night…something opened up in him. He’s got to stretch himself beyond the little world he’s cultivated. It shouldn’t have come to this, but he’s got a really shitty personality. He’ll always have one, probably. But he’s willing to learn now. It can’t be about him anymore.

“Sensei, I’m strong, right?”

“Yeah, brazenly so.”

“But apparently, it’s not good enough for just me to be strong.” Sensei’s a good dude. He listens. Doesn’t tell Satoru that he’s a dipshit for not realizing this sooner. Satoru throws Sensei a bone and says it for him. “Sorry, old man, for being a dumbass and not listening sooner.”

Sensei takes a drag of his smoke. “Don’t apologize to me for being a teenager. If anyone’s at fault, it’s us. The adults. The weight of the world shouldn’t be on your shoulders.”

“Not only on mine, though, is it?”

“No,” Sensei admits quietly. “Adults are forgetful. Not only do our days pile up, but so do our regrets and fears. With all that, it’s hard to remember that there was a time when we weren’t used to the weight of others’ lives on our shoulders. It’s just another one of those burdens that we carry.” He finally stoops down to sit next to Satoru. “At the end of the day, you’re all children. And to a child, it really is like having the world on your shoulders.”

“I know my shoulders can handle it, but…that’s only those of us that are born into it. Most of the school’s enrollment comes from scouting, doesn’t it?” It’s not only your face and Suguru’s that flash across his mind. It’s Nanami, too. Haibara. “We’re not giving anyone else the time to strengthen their shoulders, y’know? There’s not much fostering going on here. And that’s not a diss on you. No offense or anything, but you just don’t have the strength to keep us all safe enough to get that thick skin.”

Sensei exhales a cloud of smoke. “I know I don’t.”

“It’s not like we can add more teachers, though. Not enough out in the field to spare. But…hey, you ever read Fullmetal Alchemist? Nah, probably not. What about an ouroboros? Heard of that? It’s like this snake that eats its own tail. That’s us right now. Kids enlist and get thrown to the wolves before they can fend for themselves. Most of them die, so there’s few to go out in the world. Even fewer to stick around and teach. And that cycle goes on and on.”

“I agree.”

“We gotta break it.”

“I know we do, but how?” Satoru turns to stare at Sensei who is, in turn, studying Satoru in the same way. There’s this familiar spark in his eyes. Satoru thinks he’s seen it before. “You said it yourself. There’s not enough of us.” Oh. Wait. Yeah, Sensei is asking these pointed questions because he knows the answer already. He’s waiting on Satoru to figure it out himself. “How do we change things?”

Satoru knows what he needs to do. Last night, he knew that he needed to change things. But he understands how he’s going to do that now. “Make someone like me a teacher.”

A large hand suddenly drops on top of his head. “You’re going to be terrible at it,” Sensei whispers. He’s no longer looking over at Satoru, but he ruffles Satoru’s hair. “I look forward to working with you in the future, Satoru.”

***

Shoko crashes when everyone’s healed. Took those kids with her to bed.

Suguru…he’s holed up in his room when Sensei refused to put him in a cell, no matter how bad Suguru wanted it. The old man said that until you, the victim, corroborate Suguru’s story, there’ll be no imprisonment. Satoru asked Nanami to keep an eye on Suguru. Not that Satoru thinks he’s going anywhere. It’s like the fight left Suguru as soon as Sensei denied his request.

Nothing else for Satoru to do but keep vigil at your side. He’s seated on the floor next to your bed, cheek pressed against the mattress. He doesn’t do anything else. He doesn’t think he could focus on a game or manga or anime right now. Shoko’s always told him that Reverse Cursed Technique can do a lot, but it can’t wipe away the emotional weight of an experience. He can refresh his brain all he wants, but not his memories.

Before she went to bed herself, Shoko warned Satoru that this could break you in a way that you can never come back from. If they thought it was bad after Haibara’s death, this’ll be worse. Because it’s piled on for you. The incident with the Zen’in, the death that you blame yourself for, and even if Suguru didn’t hurt you, this is the closest you’ve come to death.

You can’t do what Satoru does—disassociate from the trauma. There’s no Infinity for you to keep people at bay when they start to close in on him the way all those fly heads had. If you’re scared the things that haunt your dreams, you’ll have to face it because you can’t wipe away the need to sleep with a technique. For the last two weeks, he’s watched you try to train yourself to smile, to try and distract yourself away from the thought constantly pressing in, but you’re not built for that like he is.

With every passing second, it gets harder and harder for Satoru to resist the urge to grab you and Suguru and flee to Kyoto. All he wants to do is protect you both. More than anything, he wants you to be happy. Neither of you have to be sorcerers anymore, he’d make sure of it. It doesn’t wear him down like it does you and Suguru. Or…maybe it does, but you two make it better.

It doesn’t take much for Satoru to be happy. For him, it’s as simple as the scratching of your pencil against paper. It’s the slide of Suguru’s fingers against the pages of his books before he flips them. It’s a gentle breeze that floats through your room when you open the window to get better lighting, carrying away the smoke of Suguru’s cigarettes. It’s the sunlight on his face and the press of your shoulders against his as you all lay on a blanket in the park.

Satoru doesn’t want to be lonely anymore.

As if between one blink and the next, the press of a hand on his cheek is pulling him from his doze. His vision is blurred when he opens his eyes, and your thumb is wiping away one of his stray tears.

You’ve rolled on your side to face him. There’s nothing on your face. Nothing in your eyes. It’s like your body is moving on autopilot. And none of that changes when he reaches up to return your gesture except that the breath in your chest shudders before tears roll down your own cheeks.

Satoru sees it for what it is. A war inside yourself—one side desperately trying to flee from the memories and emotions that come with them. Your body betrays you, though. Tear after tear slips from your eyes and soon, your bottom lip wobbles. You squeeze your eyes shut. Wordlessly, your hand moves down, fisting the fabric of his shirt, and you start tugging while shifting back on the bed to make more room.

“In the bed?” Satoru checks quietly.

You nod fervently in answer.

Satoru crawls up into bed with you. Your hands are greedier than they’ve ever been. He tries to be careful to not overwhelm you with touch, but you yank his arm to drape it over your waist so you can press yourself fully against him. You tremble in his arms, on the edge of collapse.

Right before you bite his shirt to muffle your gasps, you confirm what he’s known all along.

“Suguru hurt me.”

***

“Come again?”

You don’t repeat yourself, instead staring at Sensei with those lifeless eyes.

Sensei stares you down, waiting for words that aren’t going to come. He glances over at Shoko and, when she looks away, he then moves to Satoru. All Satoru can do is shrug helplessly. It’s not like either of them can make you talk. Satoru wouldn’t want to, anyway. He’s shocked you’re talking at all. This is the most you’ve spoken since you woke up two days ago. You haven’t had the energy for it…

Or anything else, for that matter. It’s been keeping Satoru up at night, stealing what little sleep he was getting before. It’s worse than it was after Haibara. You’d been a shell of yourself, but…you ate. A little. Once a day. Now…it’s like you’re a ghost. Shoko had threatened to pour some toxic sludge posing as a protein shake down your throat. She’d been so frustrated with you that she grabbed your chin, and you just gave her the same look as now. Not defiant. Not upset. Just…nothingness.

There’s not supposed to be smoking in the dorms, but Sensei lights one, anyway. “Explain what happened, then.”

“I wasn’t ready.” Your voice cracks from disuse. “The Grade 1 hurt me.”

“Suguru said it was under his control.”

“Not before it hurt me.”

Sensei presses a hand against his forehead, sighing. “Why would Suguru confess to something so serious?”

“Because it’s who he is. He’s upset he didn’t get there fast enough.”

For a long time, Sensei stares at you. “I need you to understand that our laws aren’t like normal ones. There’s no decision on whether or not to press charges against someone for a crime against you. If he hurt you, jujutsu law requires you to report that. If the official investigation results find that you lied to cover for him, you’d be charged as an accomplice and sentenced to death alongside him,” he explains carefully.

“I understand.”

“Good. So, knowing that, do you want to change your answer?”

“No,” you reply with no hesitation whatsoever. “Suguru didn’t hurt me.”

“There’s most likely going to be an official investigation.” Sensei is trying to get you to change your mind because he thinks it’s going to save your life. He knows you’re lying. Everyone that knows you and knows Suguru knows you’re lying. Suguru would never confess to something like this unless he actually did it. “I won’t be allowed to interfere.”

“Suguru didn’t hurt me,” you declare with an air of finality.

***

It’s a few days after you told Sensei your side of the story. Privately, Sensei confirms to Satoru what they all knew would happen. There’s going to be an official investigation. There’s no way they’d let something like this slide. The higher-ups are terrified of Suguru. Maybe more than Satoru. Satoru is a familiar threat. He’s a one-man army. But Suguru…as long as he’s alive, there’s no limit to how many strong his army can be. So, if there’s a chance that he’s gone off the rails, they’ll put him down. And you’ll just be collateral damage. You were always replaceable. A pet project. Nothing more.

“For the time being, you’re off assignments,” Sensei says to Satoru when he’s on his way out the door. Satoru glances over his shoulder at Sensei. He’s looking away. “You’re to keep your eyes on Suguru until the investigation is over.”

Satoru scoffs bitterly before leaving Sensei’s office without another word.

Shockingly, you’re not in your room when Satoru goes looking for you. You’re at the edge of the forest that they use for the Goodwill Event. Just sitting down in the grass, legs crossed, staring intently at some low-level cursed spirits who’d been lured to the tree line by your presence. He plops down next to you, ready to do the same thing he’s done since you woke up which is to be a steady presence.

“What do you see when I use my technique?”

Satoru is so startled by the sound of your voice that it makes him jump in place a little. His head snaps in your direction, but you never look away from the forest. “Uh…what?”

“Last year, when I influenced that old man…you said it was like there were two of me. It was like it was something you’d never seen me do before. But how was that different than what I do with a cursed spirit?”

It’s a weird thing for you to ask, but he’s desperate to hear more of your voice, so he tries to explain it. “Oh. It’s…normally, it’s kinda like…eh, a blanket? Yeah. When you pacify spirits, it’s like a blanket getting put over them. More than Suguru’s contract that looks like chains on them. With that geezer…” He hums. It was close to the blanket, is the thing. “It was like an infection, I guess. It was like there was this shot of your energy through his brain and it seeped through everything else. Does that make any sense?”

Your brows are knitted together in thought. “Yes,” you whisper after digesting all that. “Why is it different, though? What is my pacification but just another way to order a spirit around?”

“Maybe because the pathways are all different?” He crosses his arms over his chest, thinking about this harder now. “Spirits are just huge lumps of cursed energy. Cursed energy in sorcerers has a whole network to go through. Yeah, if you think about the shape of it, that might actually be why. Blanket for the lumps, an infection of sorts for sorcerers.”

You nod slowly. “Why do you think I didn’t have a brain bleed when I influenced Zen’in Ogi?”

“It could be a few different reasons, but the main one is probably time. The point behind this school is to hone your technique, y’know. They don’t really have a Sorcerer Biology 101 class, but our power grows as we do. You kind of peak after your body is done growing. Everyone, though, has this explosive burst of power when they hit puberty that lasts through the rest of your body’s development.”

“I’m still in sorcerer puberty?”

Satoru laughs a little. “Yeah, I guess that’s the best way to put it. It’s like your body is in the home stretch. C’mon, Sketch, I know you’re not dumb. You’ve noticed that your technique has developed over time, right? Why’re you asking such an obvious question?”

“But you said there were other reasons,” you remind him.

“It’s not obvious? C’mon, think about the basics here. How emotional were you? You were the angriest I’d ever seen you when you broke that geezer’s hip. How were you with Zen’in? Also, Zen’in Ogi loves to act like he’s hot shit, but he’s nowhere near as strong as he thinks he is. That guy never would’ve cut it as the head of the Zen’in. That higher-up is the stronger of the two.”

“But…you’re stronger than all the higher-ups combined, right?”

“Duh.”

“Do you think the action itself can cause more strain on me?”

“Huh?”

“Does it expend more energy for me to force an action than force a thought?”

“Oh. Probably, yeah. The Inumaki clan are like that. The more damage they cause to their opponent with their cursed speech, the bigger the blowback on the sorcerer themselves. It’s all about balance in sorcery.”

“Right.” You sigh softly. “I wish I had as much cursed energy as you.”

He rubs his ear absentmindedly. “You’re already halfway there. Once you pierce that barrier inside them, it’s really just a waiting game from there. You just need to finish letting your cursed energy flow through them.”

“Easier said than done. That’s probably where most of my energy is burnt up. If only there was a way to infect them faster…”

“Too bad you’re not like a snake or a spider and can just inject yourself in their veins, huh?” You don’t respond to that. You duck your head, staring down at your hands in your lap. Satoru doesn’t want you getting lost inside your head, so he tries to redirect the conversation. “How’d you like my explanations? Good? I’m gonna be a teacher, so I have to start working on that kinda stuff, right?”

You raise your head, turning to him with raised brows. “A teacher?”

“I’m gonna change things,” he swears. “Last year, when you said this system isn’t working, you were right. But there’s never been anyone strong enough to shake things up, not until me. What if that’s because of what you said? They were never allowed to grow before they died. The future needs someone strong enough to protect them, to let them grow. I’m gonna be that person.” He nods to himself. “I’m never letting anything like this happen ever again.”

For the first time in a really long time, you smile. It’s that small, genuine one that does what it’s always done—make his heart skip a beat. “You won’t be alone.” The back of his neck is getting warm. Why didn’t he bring his stupid sunglasses so he can obviously look away from you? Why can’t he stop blushing, damn it? “Let me be your spy on the inside. They’ll probably ask me to work at headquarters. I want to help you, too.”

As much as you hate dealing with people, that’d be the best course of action for you. It keeps you in this world, but you’re out of the line of fire. And…he doesn’t think you could cut it as a teacher. Kids are still going to die. Not as many as now, he hopes, but he knows the higher-ups won’t be happy with him. They’ll work to keep things the way they are. He can try his hardest, but he can’t be everywhere at once. You’d get too attached to the students. It’d break you.

“I’m going to make things right, Satoru,” you insist.

“You make it sound like it’s your fault.” Satoru leans sideways, his head butting against the top of yours. “Besides, the one in charge of fixing everything is me, isn’t it? It’s alright, Sketch. You don’t have to worry about things right now. I’m gonna figure something out. I promise that nothing else happens to either of you anymore, okay?”

***

The evening before the unofficial trial, when the sun is setting, you ask Satoru and Suguru to meet up with you. It’s at your favorite koi pond. The one where him, you, and Suguru named each fish. There’s a stone bench that you’re already seated at, posture straight and stiff, facing away from the pond. There’s a determination in your eyes that he’s been watching grow from an ember to an inferno over the past week. With that fire, though, is an edge.

“I know I don’t have any right, but…I’m glad you reached out,” Suguru admits softly. “I wanted to see you,” he adds again, even quieter than before. “Just one more time.”

There’s a bitter twist to your mouth. Before you rise to your feet, Satoru watches with a sinking stomach as that iciness forms in your gaze. Suguru flinches backward. Satoru resists the urge to do the same. No matter how mad you’ve been at them, you’ve always forgiven them. Were you finally pushed too far? Is what Suguru did unforgiveable to you?

“We both go, or we both stay. You remember when you said that, right?”

Suguru ducks his head. His shame never lets him keep it high anymore. “I do.”

“You’re as selfish now as you were then.” It’s not said as an accusation, no anger behind it, but it’s got Suguru hunching in on himself, anyway. “I keep finding myself here. Having to decide your future. If there’s anything I resent you for, it’s that. It’s worse now because it truly is life and death.”

“I’m sorry. I know it means nothing, but I am.”

“What about you, Suguru? Is there anything you resent me for?”

Satoru knows the answer even before Suguru confirms it with, “No. Nothing.”

“You will,” you whisper cryptically. “Do you remember the rest of that day? What happened when we made up? I told you what scared me most about coming to Tokyo. I don’t want you to leave me behind when we get there. Remember that?”

“I’m breaking that promise, I know. I’m sorry.”

“Are you?” Your words sharpen. “You keep saying that, but you begged me the other night to change my mind. You keep doing that. Wasn’t it enough hearing the first time that I didn’t blame you? Do you care that little about me? I don’t want your blood on my hands.”

Suguru sighs your name. “I need to be punished.”

“Shouldn’t I be the one to decide that?”

“You don’t want to punish me. That’s the problem.”

“Who says I don’t?”

The tension in Suguru’s shoulders loosens and there’s relief on his face for a moment before he straightens to his full height. He’s serious about receiving your punishment. He’s happy, too. Satoru feels stuck between you two. This…it’s your right, but…but he’s scared to lose you both.

“What is it? I’ll do anything.”

“Live.”

Suguru’s brows furrow. “What?”

“I’m making you do the thing that you clearly don’t want to do. I’m forcing you to live. You’re going to live with what you’ve done and you’re going to learn to live with non-sorcerers. I won’t make you stay a sorcerer, but I’m not letting you die. I’m not living in a world without you in it.”

He barks out a sharp, harsh laugh. “You can’t guarantee that, Squid.”

“I already have.” You raise a hand. Satoru had noticed a bandage wrapped around your palm last night, but you’d brushed him off like it was no big deal. That bandage is gone, showing a jagged gash. “I’ve already influenced them.”

Satoru’s stomach drops. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He should’ve asked more questions when you came back so exhausted from headquarters after they called you in to give your official statement. You’d told him that you wanted to study some cursed spirits, clear your head doing something you like. “What did you do?”

“It was easier than I thought it would be,” you start slowly. “All it took was a cup of tea. They trusted me too much. They trust us all too much, honestly. They left the kettle unattended. They didn’t look at the water before they let their tea steep. None of them noticed my blood in the water.”

“Blood?” Suguru repeats incredulously. “What?”

“I needed a quicker way to get my cursed energy flowing through them. I’d already tested it on the pencil pusher that drove me to headquarters. Coffee hides the taste better. It was harder with him than it was the higher-ups. Orders require more energy. It was just suggestions with the higher-ups. It took, though. They agreed.”

“Agreed to what?” Suguru asks hoarsely.

“You and I are going to make a binding vow. If a non-sorcerer should ever die by your hand, I die with them.” That look of horror on Suguru’s face is mirrored on Satoru’s own, he knows. “Even if they eventually realize that I influenced them, I doubt they’ll do anything. It’s a perfect deal. I’m a hostage. Neither of you would risk my life.” You pause. “That’s if you agree to the deal, of course.”

“I won’t,” Suguru spits.

“You will. Because if you don’t, I’ll tell them what I did. I’m an accomplice now. Binding vow or not, if you die then I die. You forced my hand.”

Suguru’s hands slowly ball up into fists. They’re clenched so hard that he shakes. You’ve trapped him. You’ve saved his life and he’s furious about it. This was the best possible outcome and Suguru has never looked so betrayed. “I will never wear a heartfelt smile in this world.”

“And I can never live in a world without you in it,” you state just as bluntly.

Tears well up in Suguru’s eyes. “For as long as we both live, I won’t forgive you.”

“I know. I’m doing what you wanted me to. I’m deciding what to do with your life. But I understand. I’ve accepted the risk. I’d rather you resent me for the rest of our lives than watch you die.”

“You’re cruel.”

“No crueler than you.”

[moodymelanist]

Freak Like Me Chapter Three

happy day 5 of @sjmromanceweek everyone. it's time for our favorite trope: making Cassian beg.

Summary: Nesta works Cassian over.

Read on AO3 here!

✵✵✵✵✵✵ Cassian

Cassian was in a little bit of a daze on his way home, somehow managing to drive back to Columbia Heights and make it into his apartment safely. He wasn’t so scatterbrained that he was going to forget to text Nesta back, though, so once he’d locked the door behind him he pulled out his phone and checked in like she’d asked.

Cassian Hernández, 8:34 PM

Just got home

Nesta Archeron, 8:37 PM

Good. I’ll call you on Wednesday?

Cassian Hernández, 8:38 PM

ok :)

Nesta Archeron, 8:40 PM

Cute. Have a good night.

Cassian Hernández, 8:40 PM

You too

Cassian smiled when Nesta liked his message, but once he realized their conversation was over, he was at a bit of a loss for what to do for the rest of the night. Jacking off again was pretty much a given, but that wouldn’t kill all his time for the rest of the night.

In the end, he ended up jacking off twice, all the possibilities of what Nesta would do to him simply too much for him to handle. It was worth having to remake his bed before he went to sleep for the night.

✵✵✵✵✵✵

After work on Tuesday, Cassian found himself at yet another after work happy hour. Nesta wasn’t here to keep him company, but he figured catching up with some of his best friends was a pretty good consolation prize.

“Hey Cass,” Rhys said once Cassian was close enough, standing up from the booth to grab Cassian’s hand and give him a one-armed hug. He had on a crisp white button-up and a pair of perfectly tailored navy slacks as though he’d come right from Deloitte’s office; knowing him, he probably had. “Been a minute.”

“Good to see you too, Rhys,” Cassian said back with a roll of his eyes. He returned Rhys’ hug briefly before turning to clap Azriel on the shoulder with a wide grin. “Hey, Az.”

“Hey,” Azriel replied, raising his beer in greeting. He shifted to make room so Cassian could sit next to him and Cassian slid in gratefully. “How’s it going?”

Their friend group tried to meet up once a month when they could, but Amren was away on a work trip and Mor was away for fun, so that left the three of them. Their plans were never as elaborate as Mor or Amren’s so they usually settled with their usual happy hour and pool night at their favorite bar. 

Once they got some food in their stomachs, they paid their server, grabbed their drinks, and migrated over to the pool table in the back room. Someone had just finished a game, so they took a few minutes to rerack all the pool balls and organize them for a game of three before they got started.

“So,” Cassian began once he’d taken his shot. “What’s new?”

Azriel took his shot next before he answered. “Nothing new for me.”

“How’s Eris?” Rhys asked, reaching for the chalk so he could rub some on the top of his cue stick.

“He’s good,” Azriel responded, a tiny little smile breaking through his otherwise stoic expression. He and Eris had been dating for a few months now, and clearly things were going well. “He wants to go away for Valentine’s Day weekend.”

“Perks of dating a lawyer,” Cassian told him with a grin. Eris worked in one of those fancy offices on K Street, and he briefly wondered if he and Nesta knew each other before forcing himself to focus on the conversation in front of him. “Where are you guys gonna go?”

“I don’t know,” Azriel answered, shrugging. “Probably someplace warm. We’re both tired of freezing our asses off.”

“Amen to that, Az,” Rhys chimed in. He took a sip of his beer before finally taking his shot, and then it was Cassian’s turn. “Speaking of dating… I think I met someone.”

“You think?” Cassian took his shot and then turned to look at Rhys with a teasing smirk. “What, is she imaginary? Or does she go to a different school?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Rhys retorted over Cassian and Azriel’s combined laughter. “No, she’s very real. She’s an artist.”

“An artist, huh?” Azriel asked. He caught Cassian’s eye just long enough for Cassian to tell they weren’t done teasing Rhys. “Surprised that didn’t make all your gold digger alarms go off.”

“She’s not like that,” Rhys immediately defended his new crush. She must have really been something for him to defend her so fast. “She runs a nonprofit teaching art to underprivileged kids, and she freelances on the side.”

“Very noble of her,” Cassian replied, grinning, “but I’m surprised you didn’t walk into your first date with a prenup ready to be signed.”

“You know Cass, you’re talking a lot of shit for someone who hasn’t had a girlfriend since…” Rhys trailed off for dramatic effect, pretending to count on his fingers. “Shit, actually, I don’t even know.”

“Fuck you, I dated Dierdre last year and you know that,” Cassian fired back.

“Cass, that was 2023,” Azriel said slowly, like he was talking to a little kid. Cassian rolled his eyes at how hard Rhys was starting to laugh; he supposed it was his turn on the chopping block. “It’s 2025 now.”

“Okay, fine, whatever,” Cassian said back. “But I just went on a date a few weeks ago, thank you very much.”

“At least you’re out there, buddy,” Rhys responded, laughing as Cassian half-heartedly tried to hit him on the arm. “I’m sure your person will come!”

Cassian rolled his eyes, doing his best to seem chill even though internally he was anything but chill thinking about the truth of his situation. He wasn’t about to get into the specifics of his arrangement with Nesta and how she was essentially leading him around by the dick when she wasn’t his girlfriend; his friends weren’t assholes, but he wasn’t about to get into his deepest, darkest desires in a bar in Adams Morgan. Rhys and Azriel could enjoy their teasing, and Cassian would have to just suck it up. “We can’t all be as lucky as you, Rhysie.”

✵✵✵✵✵✵

Teasing aside, it was good to catch up with Rhys and Az, and it took his mind off waiting around for Nesta to finally reach out. He made it home in one piece and managed not to rub one out for the first night in at least a week, which was a perverse accomplishment he’d keep to himself, thanks.

When the next morning finally rolled around, Cassian felt like a kid who knew his mom had gotten him something good for Christmas but he wasn’t exactly sure what was inside the wrapping paper. Nesta hadn’t specified what time she would call him, so he was just riding the high of knowing he’d talk to her at some point today rather than freaking out. 

He assumed she’d call him after work, and his intuition turned out to be correct; she called him while he was cooking dinner and he was more than happy to put down his wooden spoon to pick up his phone instead.

“Hello?” Cassian said, already smiling. He knew he should probably pull it together when it came to Nesta, but he really didn’t want to.

“Hi,” Nesta said back. She sounded like she was laying on something soft — he could hear her moving some fabric around, and he thought it was maybe her comforter or a nice, soft blanket. He liked the thought of her all wrapped up and cozy. “I hope this isn’t a bad time.”

“No, I’m just cooking some dinner,” he told her. He eyed the flame on his stove and turned it down just a little bit. “How are you?”

“Hungrier, now that I’m talking to you,” she responded dryly, pulling a laugh out of him without even trying. “What’s for dinner?”

“One of those one pot chicken and rice recipes I saw online,” he answered. He gave the food one last stir before stepping back to sit at his kitchen island. “It’s my first time making it, so I hope it turns out okay.”

Cassian could tell Nesta was rolling her eyes at his attempt at being modest. “Save it, Bobby Flay. You know I don’t like you selling yourself short.”

“Okay, okay, I know my way around the kitchen,” he admitted. He was the unofficial chef of his friend group, but he wasn’t about to give her more fuel for the fire right now. “Just say the word and I’ll cook for you anytime, sweetheart.”

“Good to know,” she replied. “But speaking of saying the word…”

He laughed again. “Yeah, I figured that’s what you wanted to talk about.”

“Gold star for you, Cassian,” Nesta responded, just on the edge of being patronizing. “What time are you coming over on Friday?”

“Maybe around 6:30 or 7?” Cassian offered. His office closed an hour earlier on Fridays, but he didn’t want to even think about risking being late considering DC traffic. “If that works for you?”

“Mhmmm… let’s do 7,” she told him. He could hear her typing, and he wondered if she was updating the calendar invite he was very sure she kept. “Wear something comfortable.”

“Okay,” he agreed easily, wondering now how much time she’d scheduled for him. An hour? Two? Longer? He supposed he’d finally find out in two days. “Anything else?”

“Greedy,” she said without much heat.

“You know I can’t help it,” he said back. It was maybe a little too honest, but she’d had his number within the span of drinks and an appetizer, so he’d left his shame behind him that same night.

“Fine. Don’t touch your dick more than necessary until I see you,” she told him casually. “I have plans for it.”

“Okay,” he breathed, his cock twitching in his pants despite his best efforts to stay calm. I should’ve jerked off again while I had the chance, he thought, but who was he kidding? It was more than worth giving up masturbating if it meant she’d lead him around by the dick, and wow, that was a fun thought. “Yeah. Whatever you want.”

“There’s a good boy,” she practically purred into the phone. “I’ll see you on Friday. Have a good night.”

Nesta hung up without waiting for his response. Cassian didn’t know how long he sat there thinking about Nesta calling him a good boy like that, but it was long enough that he jumped when the timer on his phone went off reminding him to check on his dinner.

His one pot meal came out a little crispier than he’d planned, but it was a worthy sacrifice. 

✵✵✵✵✵✵

Thursday passed in what felt like a blur, and once Cassian walked out of the office on Friday, he could hardly stop fidgeting. He had so much nervous energy that he had to do a quick workout once he made it back to his building, running through a shorter, less intense version of his usual full-body circuit. He didn’t know exactly what Nesta had in store for him tonight, and disappointing her was not an option. 

Once he sweated it out for forty-five minutes, he felt a little bit better. He left the gym in his building and headed upstairs to his apartment, already thinking about the nice, long shower he was going to take. He didn’t want to assume anything, but it was always best to be prepared; he took some time to clean up the hair around his dick and thoroughly scrub every crack and crevice on his body in case Nesta wanted to explore. He even made sure his fingernails were carefully filed down before he moisturized his face and body, and he took a few minutes to fluff out his hair properly before heading into his closet to figure out what to wear. 

Nesta had said to wear something comfortable, so Cassian figured he couldn’t go wrong with some of his nicer athleisure — this stuff was usually too nice to wear to the gym, so at least he could finally put it to good use. He looked through his dresser drawers until he found a white shirt and navy joggers, and he pulled on some socks and matching white sneakers to go with it. He didn’t know what to expect tonight, but hopefully this would fit his needs. 

Once he was dressed, Cassian made sure to put on deodorant and a little bit of cologne so he’d smell good without being overpowering. He still had about half an hour before he could reasonably leave, and while he’d normally make himself something to eat for dinner, he was a little too jittery to try and put some real food in his stomach. Instead, he grabbed two granola bars from his stash and plopped on the couch to try and distract himself with something on TV, half-paying attention to the newest episode of Abbott Elementary while he ate his snacks. 

Eventually, the time finally came for him to make the drive over to Nesta’s place, and Cassian hopped up like he’d been stung when he saw the time. He took several deep breaths before grabbing his phone, keys, and wallet and stepping outside of his apartment, and then he was on his way. He couldn’t stop bouncing his leg or tapping his fingers against the steering wheel as he maneuvered DC traffic, but he knew he’d much rather get all his anxieties out now before he came face to face with Nesta. 

Realistically, he knew he was probably going to have a good time. He was more than attracted enough to Nesta, and she’d said repeatedly that she liked him and wanted to do this. He didn’t know exactly what was going to happen, but he did know he wouldn’t have to worry about pretending to want to be in charge, so at least he had that going for him. Nesta wouldn’t laugh at him, or make fun of him, or say he was a freak for wanting what he did — at least, not in a way that they wouldn’t enjoy. 

Cassian knew it would be more than fine, but that didn’t stop him from worrying a little bit anyway. If he wanted to really enjoy himself tonight, though, he was going to have to get his shit together before he saw Nesta, so once he’d parked and was waiting for the elevator to her floor, he tried to mentally hype himself up a little bit. 

It’s gonna be fine, he tried to tell himself. She likes you. She wants to make you beg until you cry. It’s gonna be more than fine. 

It worked a little bit, but eventually the elevator dinged on the fifth floor and it was game time. Cassian walked down the hallway, and once he reached Nesta’s apartment, he wiped his hands on his pants and took one last deep breath before he gently knocked on the door.

“Hey,” Nesta said once she opened the door. She had on a white button-up shirt tucked into a pair of blue jeans, and instead of her usual braided coronet, half of her hair was pulled back from her face. She looked so beautiful with her hair down it was a miracle he was able to focus on what she was actually saying to him, and he managed to get it together just in time to hear her add, “Glad you made it. Come in.”

“Thanks,” Cassian said back, perking up like a dog with a bone at her choice of words. Her apartment looked the same as the last time he’d been here, though this time he noticed what looked like a Kindle sitting on her coffee table right next to an almost-empty glass of water. “Is that a Kindle? What are you reading?”

“Nosy,” she replied without any heat. She locked the door behind them before giving his sneakers a pointed look, and as he removed his sneakers, she added, “Yes, it’s a Kindle. Maybe if you’re good I’ll tell you what’s in my library.”

“I can do that,” he responded, grinning. He put his sneakers on her shoe rack and shrugged out of his coat before asking, “Where do you want me?”

She eyed him for a moment before beckoning him over to the kitchen. Despite her open floor plan, he hadn’t spent much time looking over here, but he liked the ample cabinet space and large island in lieu of a proper dining room table. “Wash your hands.”

Cassian draped his coat over one of her barstools before walking over to her sink, taking a few pumps of her floral-scented soap so he could wash his hands thoroughly. Nesta passed him one of her dish towels so he could dry his hands and he turned to look at her expectantly once he was done. 

“Did you eat before you got here?” Nesta asked, her gaze turning considering. He felt like she was staring straight through him as he leaned back against her kitchen counter, the fridge a cool wall to his right. 

“I had two granola bars,” Cassian answered sheepishly. At her unimpressed look, he felt compelled to defend himself. “I know, I know. I was just, ah…a little nervous.” 

“Nervous about what?” she questioned in that direct way of hers. 

“I didn’t know what to expect,” he told her honestly. He could feel the beginnings of a blush creeping across his cheeks, but he suspected it would only be the first of many tonight so he didn’t fight it too hard. “I was thinking about a lot of. Um. Possibilities.”

“Were you now?” she responded, the hint of a smirk appearing on her full lips as she took a few steps closer to him. 

“Yeah,” he breathed. It was almost hard to focus with her standing so close and looking at him like that, but somehow he managed to add, “I don’t eat much when I get nervous.”

Nesta tsked. “Big guy like you? We can’t have that, Cassian.”

“I— I guess not,” Cassian answered, nearly swallowing his tongue when she stepped so close to him that their fronts were pressed together. All the blood in his body rushed south so quickly it was a miracle he didn’t sway on his feet, and even if he’d wanted to move, he was pressed against her countertop with nowhere to run. 

“You said you’re good in the kitchen,” she said seemingly out of nowhere. She reached up onto her toes, and he had to hold back a whimper as she rocked right against his rapidly hardening cock. “Right?”

“Yeah,” he managed to say back. He was going to spontaneously combust or something, holy shit. “I am.”

“Why don’t we put those skills to good use, hmm?” she asked. He was mostly sure it was a rhetorical question, but that didn’t stop him from nodding like he was a goddamned bobble head. “We’ll put some food in your stomach, and then…”

Cassian choked on his next breath as Nesta managed to get a hand in between their bodies, her slender hand palming his cock through his pants before rubbing up and down a few times. “Nesta…”

“…And then we’ll see about the other big guy,” she finished. She squeezed his cock before stepping to the side to open one of her cabinets and pass him a wooden cutting board. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” he breathed as soon as he remembered how to form words. “Yeah. Okay.”

Cassian waited until Nesta had taken a seat at her island before he turned to open her fridge. It was decently stocked, and he pulled out a few things to try and assemble something that would pass muster. He somehow managed to make a passable charcuterie board with some meat, grapes, and cheese without losing his mind too much, despite his dick being distractingly hard and Nesta just being distracting, period. 

“Do you,” Cassian tried to say after a few minutes. Speaking coherently was harder than he’d anticipated, so he swallowed and tried again. “Do you have any crackers?”

He hadn’t made a ton of charcuterie boards in his life, but crackers tended to be on all of them. 

“No,” Nesta answered. “I hate dealing with the crumbs. Are you finished with that?”

“Yeah,” he replied, reaching out to subtly push one of the cheese cubes back into place. “I think so.”

“Looks good,” she told him. She leaned over the counter and reached over to snag the cheese cube he’d just pushed into place, keeping her eyes locked on him as she popped it into her mouth and made a satisfied little noise. “Mhmm. That’s good.”

“Thank you,” he managed to respond. His brain was bouncing between her saying something nice and the sound she’d just made like some kind of horny pinball machine, and he couldn’t pick which thing was sexier so he just gave up and decided on both. 

“You’re welcome. Now come on,” Nesta said, motioning for him to pick up the board he’d made. “We don’t have all night. Let’s go.”

Cassian dutifully picked up his board and followed Nesta down the hall and into the second door on the left, revealing the guest room she’d mentioned previously. It was half office and half guest room; there was a daybed with two bookshelves on either side on one wall, and a fancy desk and ergonomic chair on the other. He wasn’t entirely certain he’d fit laying down on that, but maybe that was the point. 

“I’ll take that,” Nesta told him once he’d looked his fill. He handed over the board and waited for her to tell him what else to do. “Shut the door.”

“Okay,” Cassian agreed. While she moved toward the bed, he turned and gently shut the door behind them; he didn’t bother to lock it considering they were the only ones here. 

When he turned back around, Nesta was sitting on the edge of the bed with the board directly to her left. He wanted to go to her immediately, but he wanted to be good even more, so he just stood there and let her look him over. 

“Come over here and sit,” she said after a minute or two. He crossed the room in a few long strides and was about to climb on the daybed when she tsked, and he froze the second his knee touched the comforter. “No. On the ground.”

Cassian slowly backed away from the bed and sank to the ground. Nesta handed him a pillow from off the bed and he took it, shoving it under his knees as he got as close to her legs as he dared. 

Turned out, he was feeling pretty daring. His face was basically pressing against her denim-covered thigh, and he couldn’t drag up an ounce of shame about it. She didn’t seem to mind, though, so he wouldn’t stress out about it. 

“Comfortable?” she asked once he’d stopped fidgeting. 

“Yes,” he answered, turning his face up so he could make proper eye contact. 

Cassian was by no means a small man, but the way Nesta was looking down at him made him feel like he was two feet tall in the best way possible. Looking at her was like staring directly into the sun, but he didn’t dare avert his gaze with how intensely she was staring at him. 

“You doing okay?” she questioned more pointedly. 

“Yeah,” he breathed. Then his brain caught up a little, and he realized she was trying to check in with him properly. “I’m good. I mean, I’m green.”

“Smart boy,” she replied, reaching down to run her hand over his hair. “Now open up.”

Cassian’s lips parted automatically just in time for Nesta to feed him a grape. It was perfectly firm and sweet, and she watched him chew on it for a few seconds before she said anything. 

“Aren’t you going to say thank you?” Nesta said, raising her eyebrows expectantly. 

Cassian’s swallow was so loud there was no way she didn’t hear it. “Thank you.”

“Was that so hard?” she told him. He shook his head no and she added, “Exactly. Don’t make me tell you again.”

He was a little curious what she would do to him if she had to tell him again, but the part of him that was so desperate to be good absolutely refused to even entertain the idea. So he just nodded and waited patiently for her to feed him the next bite of food, which turned out to be a little cube of cheddar.

“Thank you,” he murmured once he was finished chewing and swallowing. 

Cassian kneeled there and let Nesta feed him until he lost track of time. He could’ve been there for twenty minutes or twenty hours; he didn’t know, and he certainly wasn’t complaining. His focus had narrowed to the feel of her fingers pressing various food between his lips, to the satisfied expression in her eyes every time he bit down, to the bite of his knees digging into the floor despite the pillow there. 

She had him hook, line, and fucking sinker. He was more than happy about that.

“Last one,” Nesta eventually murmured. She guided what was apparently the last grape between his lips and her fingers lingered for a moment, somehow making his head spin even more than it already was. 

“Thank you,” Cassian whispered once he was finished. He didn’t know how it was possible to be this turned on just by her hand-feeding him, but holy shit was this in the top five hottest things that had ever happened to him.

Who was he kidding — this was definitely the hottest thing that had ever happened to him. She hadn’t even touched his dick properly yet, and he was two seconds away from panting like a dog and begging her to. He didn’t know how he was going to keep it together for whatever else she had in store for him, but Jesus Christ he was going to have to. 

“Why don’t you come up here and sit next to me,” Nesta said, stroking his hair again before she let go of him. “Go slow. I don’t need you falling all over yourself even more than you already are.”

Cassian’s cheeks were on fire as he slowly got to his feet, shaking out his legs a little bit after he’d been kneeling all that time. He had to hold back a sigh of relief as the blood came back to his legs, but judging by the amused look in Nesta’s eye, he could’ve just let the sound out. Something to file away for later, he told himself. 

“Take off your shirt and pants,” she told him after a few seconds. “And fold your clothes, for fuck’s sake. I’m sure your mother didn’t raise you to be a slob.”

“Okay,” he agreed, trying really hard not to cross his wires between his mommy issues and Nesta and failing miserably. It wasn’t really working, but he had other things to worry about right now, so he carefully took off his clothes and folded them like she’d told him to. “Where should I…?”

“The chair’s fine,” she answered. She sat back on her hands and watched him do as she asked, and he could feel her eyes lingering on him as he turned to neatly place his clothes on her chair. “Stand there for a second?”

Cassian turned to face her and did his best not to fidget as Nesta looked her fill, those gray-blue eyes sweeping over every inch of him with startling intensity. He could feel her gaze on him like a weight, as if she were touching him with those perfectly manicured fingers instead of merely looking him over, and when her eyes lingered on his hard cock tenting his underwear for several long moments, he had to start thinking about the Ravens and the Commanders losing their respective games to stop himself from coming on the spot.

“I see all that gym time is paying off,” Nesta told him after what felt like an eternity. He thought it was a compliment, but the slightly patronizing edge to her words had another blush creeping across his face. “Lose the underwear.”

Cassian’s hands shook a little as he followed Nesta’s command, and he folded his black briefs before putting them on top of the rest of his clothes. He was so turned on he hoped she wouldn’t keep him standing there much longer; his cock was leaking so much he might make a puddle on her nice floors, and who knew what she’d do to him then.

He kind of wanted to find out, but given the way her eyes were glued to his cock, he didn’t think he’d get a chance to, and he was one hundred percent okay with that.

“Come on,” Nesta eventually said. Her eyes flicked back up to his before she patted the space to her right a few times. “Come sit.”

Cassian took the few steps between him and Nesta and sat down on the bed next to her, trying not to hunch in on himself the way he wanted to. She was still fully clothed, so he tried to focus on that and how hot he thought it was instead of his slowly returning nerves.

Nesta eyed him up for a second before moving to grab the empty wooden board and put it on the ground. Once the bed was clear, she turned back to him and said, “Lay down for me.”

“Do you think I’m gonna fit?” Cassian asked, looking down at his long legs and back up at Nesta.

“Did I ask you if you would fit, or did I tell you to lay down?” she fired back without missing a beat. 

“Yep,” he squeaked out, already shifting so he could lie down. He’d come way too far to risk anything that would make her not want to touch his dick, so he mentally shook himself and grabbed a pillow so he could make himself more comfortable.

“Was that so hard?” she questioned once he was flat on his back. His legs were just the tiniest bit too short for the bed, so they just awkwardly hung off the edge.

“N–oh,” he replied, his voice shooting up an octave as she swung a leg over his middle and straddled him with no warning.

“What’s the matter?” she asked innocently once she was settled on his lap. She was sitting right on top of his cock, and he hissed when she reached down so she could pull it out from under her. “Don’t tell me I’m too heavy for you.”

“No, I basically bench you as a warm—fuck,” he swore right in the middle of his answer, losing his entire train of thought when she tightened her grip on him. He had to summon all of his strength not to buck his hips and risk sending her flying, and judging by the little smirk on her face, she knew that perfectly well.

“A ‘warm fuck,’” she repeated, laughing softly. He would’ve laughed with her if it weren’t for the way she still had her perfectly manicured fingers wrapped around his cock. “That must be a new kind of exercise. Speaking of exercise… you don’t mind if I take you for a whirl, do you?”

“I think you can do whatever you want,” Cassian answered, a little dazed from the way she was perfectly handling his dick. 

“Gold star for you,” Nesta told him. Her grip on his cock tightened until it was just on the edge of being painful, and he couldn’t help but groan when she finally started to move, even though her pace was torturously slow.

“Is that the only thing I get?” he asked, panting just a little. 

“Do you think you deserve more than that?” she retorted. 

He nearly swallowed his tongue when she let go of his cock long enough to lick her palm and bring her hand back down. “Fuck. Uh. No?”

“You don’t sound too sure of yourself,” she replied, clearly fucking with him. She picked up the pace just a little bit and he couldn’t stop himself from groaning. “Try that again.”

“Uh…” he trailed off. It was hard to think between her staring down at him like that and his cock in her hand, but he had to say something. “Whatever you think I — ah, God — deserve.”

“There you go,” Nesta said, really starting to pick up the pace now. He was leaking like a faucet, and between that and Nesta’s spit, everything was starting to feel a little too good. 

“Please,” Cassian moaned. He didn’t even know what he was begging for, but in his mind, there was nothing else to do but beg. 

“Please what?” she asked, clearly delighting in his suffering. 

“Please let me come,” he answered in a rush of words. He was torn between squeezing his eyes shut to try and hold off longer or watching her, but in the end it was impossible to really look away. She just looked way too good on top of him. 

“You know,” Nesta began, drawing it out. Cassian was holding on for dear life now, his nails digging into the mattress so hard he wouldn’t be surprised if he tore through the fabric as he tried to hold off. “I technically never said you couldn’t, but… I guess you’ve earned it.”

“Really?” Cassian panted, questioning her like a dumbass. He really needed to stop doing that.

“You’re such a fucking masochist,” she replied with a roll of her eyes. She was really pumping him now, and every time she jerked her wrist upward she managed to perfectly hit a spot just under the head of his cock that was damn near making him go cross eyed from how good it felt. “Hurry up and come before I change my mind.”

“Fuck, fuck, Nesta,” he groaned, his hips bucking into her hand one last time as he finally let go. His vision went a little fuzzy around the edges as he finally came, a choked gasp escaping him as the pleasure hit him. It was overwhelmingly good, so strong that his toes curled, and Nesta wrung every last drop out of him until he turned into a whimpering mess from the overstimulation. 

Nesta thankfully took pity on him and eventually brought her hand to a stop, grabbing a towel from somewhere — under the pillow, maybe — to wipe her hand and his stomach off. “Take some deep breaths, baby. Just like that. There’s a good boy.”

Cassian took in one deep breath and then another, his heart rate eventually slowing to something approaching normal the longer he laid there. If he’d felt a little dazed the last time he saw Nesta, it was nothing compared to how he felt now; he couldn’t conjure up a single thought besides how good it felt to be touched like this, his mind buzzing pleasantly as he just focused on breathing and the feel of Nesta’s hands on him. 

“I’m going to get a washcloth and some water, okay?” she told him after a few minutes, her voice low and soothing. She shifted slowly until she was off of him entirely, and he missed her comforting weight immediately. “I’ll be back in a second. Keep breathing for me.”

Cassian barely even registered Nesta walking away, and by the time he properly realized he was laying on the bed by himself, she was already back. The washcloth was warm and her touch was gentle as she wiped him clean, and she made him sit up for a few moments so he could drink from the glass of water she’d gotten for him. “You good?”

“So good,” he answered, still a little dazed from the enormity of what had just happened. 

“Okay,” she replied with a tiny, private smile. She put the empty glass on one of the emptier shelves of the bookcase and tossed the washcloth into a tiny hamper in the corner of the room that he hadn’t noticed upon first glance. “Lay back down. I’m not done with you yet.”

Cassian did as she asked, pleasantly surprised when Nesta maneuvered them onto a cleaner, drier area of the bed and laid down with him. She gently pushed and prodded at him until he was half on top of her, his face perfectly pressed into the side of her neck, and when she started to run her fingers over his curls, he couldn’t have held his eyes open even if he’d wanted to. He made a happy little sound as her other hand drifted down to wrap around his back, her palm just cool enough to feel good against his overheated skin, and shifted his arms so they were properly cuddling. 

“You did so good for me,” Nesta murmured into his hair after a few minutes of laying there in soft silence, her voice warm. 

“Yeah?” Cassian mumbled back. He felt like he was simultaneously flying high and ready to sleep for ten hours. “I did?”

“Mhmmm,” she told him, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. His skin tingled where she’d put her lips and he had to fight to hold back the full-body shiver that threatened to overtake him. “You were such a good boy. Very… eager.”

“If you say so,” he managed after a second. Trying to think straight right now was like trying to hold onto water, so he just gave up on it. Nesta could do plenty of thinking for both of them.  

“Lucky for you,” she replied, “I do say so.”

He laughed softly. “Think that makes me the luckiest guy around.”

“No arguments there from me,” Nesta said softly. “Now shhhh. Just relax for a little bit.”

“Okay,” Cassian said back, and then fell silent. Nesta kept running her fingers all over him, and if he was a cat, he knew he’d one hundred percent be purring right now. He was so comfortable laying here in her arms that he wished he could stay here forever, wrapped in her warmth and her reassurance that he was good, but he knew it would eventually have to end.

For now, though, Cassian could at least enjoy it while he had it. He snuggled further into her embrace and left his eyes shut, more than happy to let Nesta block out the world for as long as he could stand to let her. 

Eventually Cassian felt less like he was floating through reality and more like he was standing on solid ground, so he turned his face to try and look at Nesta properly. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Nesta replied casually, like she hadn’t just turned his world upside down, dick first. “You feeling okay?”

“Yeah,” he answered after a moment. He still felt amazing, but things had faded down to a pleasurable buzz and he could actually string more than a few words together. “I’m feeling pretty good, actually.”

“Glad to hear it,” she replied. This close, her eyes looked incredibly blue, and he had to force himself to stay focused despite how pretty they were. “Me too.”

“But you didn’t…?” he asked, trailing off as he realized she hadn’t finished. At least, not that he’d noticed, and he tended to notice those kinds of things when he wasn’t experiencing one of the best orgasms of his life. 

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t have a good time,” she told him. Her pleasant expression turned decidedly more wicked as she added, “Don’t worry. You’ll get your chance.”

Cassian’s brain couldn’t keep up with all the possibilities suddenly unfolding before him. “Yeah?”

“Down, boy,” Nesta replied with a fond roll of her eyes. Cassian just grinned up at her, far too excited about the prospect of making her come to be embarrassed. “We’ll talk about it.”

“Okay,” he responded, still smiling. He probably looked a little insane, but if he could give her even a drop of what she’d given him tonight, he was allowed to be a little insane about it. “I’ll be patient.”

“Of course you will,” she told him. She patted his head like he was her pet, and hey, that was… a thought. “For now, let’s get you dressed.”

Cassian recognized the beginnings of a dismissal when he heard one, and even though he knew all good things had to come to an end, that didn’t stop him from holding back a pout as he slowly rolled off Nesta and collected his bearings. His clothes were easy enough to find and put back on, and he’d left his keys, phone, and wallet inside his coat pocket. 

He hated how easy it was to leave, but that was part of the game, too. 

“Let me know when you get home,” Nesta said once they’d left her apartment and started walking to the elevator. She’d put her slippers back on and he thought it was the most adorable thing in the world to watch her pad down the hallway in them, but he valued his dick way too much to say that kind of thing out loud. 

“I know the drill,” Cassian eventually said back. If he was dragging his feet just a little bit to extend his time in her presence, that was between him and the hallway carpet. “I guess I’ll see you in two weeks?”

“You will,” she confirmed. They reached the end of the hallway despite his best efforts, and she reached out to press the elevator button when they were close enough. “I’ll call you on Wednesday, too.”

“Yeah?” he asked, smiling. He just couldn’t help it as far as she was concerned.

“Yes, Cassian,” she answered. The sound of his name on her mouth was still the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard, and judging by the knowing look on her face, she knew it. “You can just assume we have a standing phone call on Wednesdays.”

“Does it come with an itinerary?” he joked, pleased as hell to pull a soft chuckle out of her. She had such a pretty laugh that he wanted to hear it all the time. 

He wanted to do a lot of things with her all the time. It was starting to become a serious problem. 

“You can pick the icebreaker,” she told him dryly. 

“Nah, that’s all you,” he responded, laughing quietly. It felt good to go back and forth with her, but he knew his place here. “You’re the boss.”

The look she gave him right as the elevator doors opened damn near made his toes curl, and his lips parted in slight surprise as she reached up to tug a loose curl back into place. “Smart man. Have a good night.”

Cassian’s scalp tingled pleasantly his entire ride home. 

tag list: @c-e-d-dreamer | @jsmelodies | @queercontrarian | @nativeswfl | @that-little-red-head | @dustjacketmusings | @fieldofdaisiies | @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk | @kale-theteaqueen | @goddess-aelin | @livinforthetea | @valkyrie-archeron | @agents-assemble | @sweet-pea1 | @lilah-asteria | @brieq | @mydnights | @jmoonjones | @readskk | @fwiggle | @bookstantrash | @climbthemountain2020 | @underneath-the-sidras | @illyrianshadowhunter | @sublimecoffeefestival | @superspiritfestival | @sv0430 | @podemechamardek | @unlikelypersonalknight1 | @burningsnowleopard | @bri-loves-sunflowers | @itsinherited

[shy-canadian-snowflake]

Not Hungry- Mentally Unwell Wade

Something was wrong. Logan knew it in his gut, knew it in his metal bones. Something was up and Wade wasn’t saying a goddamn thing. He watched the man as he raced around on his Mario Kart game, swearing and shouting along to whatever the hell was going on. Something was wrong though. Something in the look of the other’s face.

“You’ve been taking your meds, right?” Logan asked, throwing his arm around the back of the couch to seem a lot more relaxed than what he felt. Wade shot him a look from the corner of his eye before going back to the game. 

“Yep, Five pills in the morning, one at night. Got my alarms set so I never forget- Fuck! God damn blue shell-” He let out a line of swears. 

“No new symptoms?” He asked casually again, this time looking at the TV. He saw Wade give a half shrug and turned to face him again. “What’s going on, Bub?”

“Same old shit, people coming to kill us in the middle of the night. It’s fine, I’m dealing.” There was something to the other's face that made Logan think that wasn’t everything. There was something else going on. He reached over and patted Wade on the knee before giving it a little squeeze. 

“You’d keep me updated if there were new symptoms.” It wasn’t really a question. It was a silent agreement between them, Wade would tell Logan, Logan would keep track. It’s been that way since Logan first found out Wade was prone to hallucinations and delusions. When Wade didn’t reply Logan frowned. 

“Talk to me, what’s going on?” Wade continued to play his game and only gave a half shoulder shrug again. 

“I’m dealing with it. When it becomes too much I’ll let you know, don’t worry your pretty little head there Babygirl.” Logan didn’t like that answer. He wanted to know now what the other was dealing with, but knew if he pushed Wade would clam up more. So he only grunted and patted Wade on the knee again before turning to the TV.

“What do you want for dinner?” Logan asked after a while, it was getting late and it was something they should think about. With Al on a date to steal some rich oldman’s money, they were on their own tonight for food. 

“Not hungry.” Wade said, still focusing on his game, tiling his body with every curve of the road. Logan raised a brow at that. The man was a black fucking hole, always gobbling up shit that wasn’t his to eat. He watched the other for a moment longer. 

“I’ll order a pizza, you can always eat it cold.” Wade made an agreeing sound still focused on his game. “You are going to eat right?”

“Like I said Babygirl, not hungry. Maybe later.” It was the short answers that were bothering Logan. Normally he had to wait through verbal diarrhea before he got the answer he was looking for. These quick quips were even more concerning. 

“Can you pause your game?” Wade shook his head. 

“Playing online.” 

“Can you stop playing for a second?” Wade gave a big sigh before closing down his game. He turned to Logan, waiting. Logan waited back. 

“Did you make me quit my game so that we could stare at each other? I mean I don’t mind looking at ya, you are easy on the eyes baby, but did I have to stop my game for this?” Logan waited and Wade tilted his head back on the couch to look up at the ceiling. “Nothing is wrong, yes I’m seeing and hearing things that aren’t there but it’s livable. I’m not about to do something stupid.”

“So you’ll eat dinner with me?” Wade side eyed the other before shaking his head.

“Like I said. Not hungry.” 

And Wade stayed ‘Not hungry’ all that night, all the next day, into the following morning. Logan watched and the fucker didn’t eat a goddamn thing. Something they both did a lot because of their healing factor, so he knew the other was starving, but still Wade refused to eat. 

“Is your brain telling you you aren’t allowed to eat?” Logan asked that morning over coffee. Wade just sipped his and shook his head. 

“I’m fine, Peanut.”

“Are your meds making you not hungry?” Again Wade shook his head. 

“I mean sometimes they make me forget that food is a thing I gotta do, but no, I’m just not wanting to eat.” Logan zeroed in on that.

“Why don’t you want to eat?” And again they went around in a circle of Wade’s answers always being ‘I’m not hungry’. By the fourth time they did their little song and dance around the topic, Logan thought he was going to lose it. 

“Eat something. I don’t give a fuck if it’s a pudding cup, or a granola bar. Eat fucking something.”

“I’m not-”

“You say that one more fucking time and I’m shoving something down your god damn throat.” Wade snapped his jaw shut. Logan sighed and ran a hand down his face before looking into his own coffee for a moment. 

“Is there something I can buy that you’ll eat?” Wade shook his head no. “Can I make something you’ll eat?” Again, another shake of his head. “Bub, if you don’t eat something soon, I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“And what are they going to do? Look at me disapprovingly until I eat something too?” Wade fiddled with the Hello Kitty cup in his hands. Logan gave him a lost look. 

“They might give you an IV so you have something in your system.” Wade seemed to debate that for a second. Logan could feel his throat close up. Was Wade really thinking an IV would be better then eating a goddam sandwich or a fucking pudding cup? He reached over and put his hand on Wade’s. Wade took his hand and started playing with Logan’s fingers, distracting himself. 

“I’m fine baby.” Wade whispered, still playing with Logan’s fingers. 

“I’ll give you a fucking blowjob if you eat something.” Wade gave him a half smile before shaking his head. Logan ran a hand through his hair and shook his head back at Wade. “I’m really fucking worried Jackass. Explain to me why you won’t eat, and for the love of god don’t tell me it’s because you are not hungry. I heard your stomach growl last night.” 

“I’m just… I can’t… There’s little worms in my food.” Wade finally said, letting go of Logan’s hand to bury his own face in his hands. “I know there's not, but there is. I keep seeing them.” 

“Okay.” Logan got up from his chair, stood beside Wade and pulled Wade into him, holding him close. “Okay, I need to know shit like this Wade. We can work something out.” 

“Or just wait it out.” Wade’s muffled voice came from where it was pressed into Logan. 

“We can’t wait this one out, Bub. You need to eat.” As if on queue, Wade’s stomach made a sound. 

“I can’t, the worms.” He sighs. “Don’t make me eat the worms, Logan. I don’t want them wiggling around in me.”

“I know Darlin, I know. I won’t make you, we’ll find a way to work around this, it’s going to be okay, Bub.” He didn’t know if he was saying that more to Wade or to himself.

Ha ha ha. Yep, throwing my issues onto Wade. Started for me two days ago. I'm not this bad yet, but I'll stop eating once I see the worms. I know logistics there are no worms in my food, but I can see them wiggling, and know they are there. I'll stop eating if I see them. I'm eating enough that I'll be fine, and my care team will learn about this on Friday so it's fine!

[kathlare]

some things never change

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Lando is caught off guard when a viral post shows Amelie and Shawn Mendes together, stirring old feelings he thought he had buried.

Wordcount: 1.9 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

February 28th, 2022 - London, United Kingdom

liked by shawnmendesbrzl, amelienation, and others

ameliedaymandaily: Spotted today! 👀 Amelie and Shawn out for a stroll in London! 😱 This is the first time we’ve seen them together in YEARS! 🌆💖 Anyone else feeling the old sparks? 🔥

View all 3,182 comments

fan1: uhhh… they’re basically each other’s first love 😳 this feels like a sign → fan2: @fan1 LITERALLY! You don’t just forget your first love like that 😭 → fan3: @fan1 i’m lowkey not mad at this, but also confused? 🤨

fan4: WAIT are they back together?? 👀 → fan5: @fan4 idk if they’re back, but the vibes are there 🥺🔥

fan6: this whole situation is giving me we were meant to be vibes 😩 → fan7: @fan6 girl, we can only hope 🙏 but I’m here for whatever happens 💅

fan8: guys, they’ve both had relationships since then—let them grow 😤 → fan9: @fan8 yeah, but can’t we just enjoy the nostalgia for a sec?? 😭

fan10: am I the only one who’s still bitter about Shawn and Camila? 🤡 → fan11: @fan10 honestly, SAME! But now’s the time for Amelie and Shawn 🔥🥵

fan12: too many red flags for me. idk why ppl still ship them 🙄 → fan13: @fan12 You know they have that first love magic, but I see your point. 🧐

fan14: Why do ppl act like Shawn's a saint? Didn't he literally just date Camila?? 😬 → fan15: @fan14 facts! This whole thing is so overhyped. Let them live and move on 😴

-------------

Lando sat in the barber chair at Max's house, staring at his phone with a blank expression, the buzz of the clippers echoing in his ears. Theo, Max’s younger brother, was behind him, expertly cutting his hair, but Lando barely noticed. His focus was entirely on the screen in front of him. He’d just scrolled past a few posts from fans, some about the new song Amelie had released, others about her recent Grammy wins. The usual mix of praise and admiration that followed her every move, always with the same undertones of jealousy, admiration, and curiosity. But then, something caught his eye.

A gossip post, the words so stark they seemed to jump off the screen.

Spotted today! 👀 Amelie and Shawn out for a stroll in London! 😱 This is the first time we’ve seen them together in YEARS! 🌆💖 Anyone else feeling the old sparks? 🔥

Lando’s stomach dropped. His fingers tightened around his phone, and for a moment, the room seemed to blur around him. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but it wouldn't go away. Amelie and Shawn? Together? He hadn’t seen her in so long—hadn't spoken to her in even longer—and now she was walking the streets of London with him?

Theo, completely oblivious to Lando’s inner turmoil, let out a low whistle behind him. —Hell, Amelie looks hot as fuck these days. Damn. I don’t know how you let her go, mate.—

Lando’s face immediately flushed. He gritted his teeth, glaring at the screen, unable to escape the mental image of Amelie laughing with Shawn, their bodies close, perhaps too close.

Max, who had been lounging nearby, his legs stretched out in front of him on the couch, gave Theo a sharp look. It was one of those looks that said, Shut up, now. Max stood up quickly, his eyes scanning the phone in Lando’s hand.

—What are you watching?— Max asked, his voice a little too casual.

Lando, still trying to hold onto some semblance of control, shrugged. —Just... some gossip. Nothing important.—

Max raised an eyebrow, walking over to get a closer look. His eyes flicked over the post, and then he turned to Lando, his expression unreadable.

—You okay, mate?— Max asked, leaning against the counter. His tone was cautious, knowing full well what a blow it could be to see Amelie and Shawn back together—especially after everything Lando had been through with her.

Lando tried to brush it off, his hands twitching in his lap. —Yeah, just... I dunno. Maybe they’re just friends again. You know how it goes. It’s not a big deal.—

Theo laughed from behind him, finishing up Lando’s trim. —Friends? C’mon, mate. Look at that picture. She’s looking at him like she’s in love.—

Lando felt a hot wave of frustration build in his chest. His fingers were trembling, and his heart was beating too fast. He exhaled, trying to keep himself together.

—I don’t know. It’s... It’s not what it looks like, okay? They’ve been friends for years. That’s probably all it is,— Lando muttered, though even he didn’t believe his own words.

Max crossed his arms, his gaze softer now, but with an edge of sympathy. —You can’t stop it anymore, Lando. She’s gotta move on at some point. You know that. You guys... it wasn’t gonna last. You were in a weird spot, and so was she.—

Lando’s frustration flared up like a fire, and he slammed his fist down on the armrest of the chair, causing Theo to jump a little. The clippers buzzed to a halt as Lando’s voice rose. —I fucking know, okay?— He was trying to keep it together, but it was like a dam bursting. —I know she has to move on. But fuck, I don’t want to see it. Not like this. Not with him.—

Theo exchanged an uncomfortable glance with Max, clearly unsure how to navigate the tension. Max, on the other hand, wasn’t quite as unsure. He leaned back against the counter, sighing heavily, the weight of the situation settling over him.

—Mate, I’m not trying to be a dick here, but...— Max began, his tone calm but firm. —You can’t keep holding on to this. You’ve already tried. And look where it got you.—

Lando’s eyes shot up to Max, his face hard. —I didn’t ask for your fucking advice, Max.— The words were sharp, bitter, and they hung in the air between them. He felt the heat rise in his chest as his emotions swirled into a mess he couldn’t make sense of.

Max didn’t flinch. He wasn’t going to back down this time. —Look, Lando, I know you care about her. But you’ve gotta face the reality of it. She’s moving on. And you... well, you’re still holding onto something that doesn’t exist anymore.—

The words hit Lando like a punch to the gut. He clenched his fists tightly, nails digging into his palms as he stared down at the floor, breathing hard. His mind was racing, but he couldn’t focus on any one thing. It was all too much. The anger, the hurt, the jealousy—it was all mixing into something ugly, and it was all over a girl he couldn’t get over.

Lando stood abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. His hair was only half-done, but he didn’t care. His heart was racing, his blood boiling, and there was only one thing that could calm the storm inside of him.

—Lando, what the fuck, mate? Where are you going?— Max’s voice cut through his thoughts, but it was too late. Lando was already halfway to the door.

—I'm leaving,— he shot back, his tone clipped and filled with frustration. He didn’t have time for another heart-to-heart with Max, didn’t want to hear any more about how he needed to "move on" or "let go." All he wanted to do was escape.

He was already pulling on his jacket as he reached the door, his mind made up.

—I'm gonna see Luisinha,— he added, though the words felt like acid on his tongue.

Max’s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as he stepped toward Lando, but didn’t stop him. Lando could feel the weight of Max’s gaze on his back, but it didn’t matter. He had to do something to distract himself from the pain that was suddenly consuming him.

Luisinha was always the easy option. The one he could turn to when he needed to bury his feelings for Amelie under someone else's warmth, someone else's smile. She was safe, uncomplicated—nothing like Amelie had ever been. And now, with Amelie out of his reach, maybe it was time to throw himself into whatever distraction he could find. He just couldn’t stand the thought of being this torn apart over her anymore.

Max didn’t stop him, but Lando could feel the unspoken words in the room. He could feel the weight of Max’s disapproval, but at the moment, it didn’t matter. He didn’t have time for it.

Lando’s car roared to life as he sped down the streets, barely paying attention to the road as his mind raced. What the hell was he doing? He wasn’t ready to move on from Amelie. Hell, he didn’t even know how to—he had barely gotten over her the first time around, and now it felt like it was happening all over again.

But if Amelie was going to be with Shawn, then what choice did he have? He couldn’t just sit around waiting for something that would never happen.

Lando didn’t remember much of the drive to Luisinha’s. Just the sound of his own thoughts, loud and relentless in his head.

Amelie. Shawn. Amelie. Shawn. Over and over again.

By the time he got to her place, his blood was still fucking boiling. He barely knocked before Luisinha opened the door, her face softening into surprise.

—Lando?—

He didn’t answer. He just stepped forward, grabbed her face, and crashed his lips against hers.

Luisinha gasped against his mouth, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she melted into him, her fingers curling around his neck.

Lando didn’t think. He just lifted her up, his hands gripping her thighs as he carried her inside, kicking the door shut behind him.

He just wanted to forget.

Even if it was only for a little while.

[yall-batman-fanfic]

Happy Valentine's Day, Bruce | Bruce Wayne/Batman x Reader!Magician

Synopsis: Vivian and Bruce celebrates Valentine's Day. 

Note: Me Before You by Jojo Moyes reference here.

His day started waking from a refreshing sleep. A rare thing for him to have – a refreshing start of the morning and almost six-full hours of sleep. No intervals of him waking, and no calls from the Justice League, or Robin who he let lead the patrol tonight, nor Alfred telling him the Bat symbol lit up. Turning to the space beside him, Bruce smiled at the sight of Vivian still asleep, lying on her belly, her arms under her pillow, hair messy, and the shirt she wore had hiked up to the middle of her back, showing the underwear that emphasized her bottom. A thought came to Bruce that he reached out to caress her ass, making Vivian hum in her sleep.

“If you want it go ahead,” she murmured in her sleep. “I give,” a yawn, “full consent.”

Bruce chuckled. “Appreciated but that’s not really what I was thinking of.”

“The hand on my ass says otherwise,” she finally faced him, her still sleepy eyes slowly waking up. A smile crept to her lips as she said, “Good morning, Bruce.”

“Good morning. How was your sleep?”

“Great. No dreams tonight, just a peaceful sleep… I was about to ask how it was yours but then,” she reached under the covers and palmed his erected cock through his underwear.

“Morning wood,” he told her.

“Uh-huh,” Vivian chuckled. “So, what did you dream of, Bruce?” she kept rubbing him.

This time, he was sure it wasn’t morning wood that made him hard. He let out a breath through his nose, focusing on the feeling of her hand. “I was dreaming about waking up in bed.”

“You better be careful with what you say next, Wayne,” she teased him.

“With my beautiful girlfriend,” he pulled her close to him. “Greeting me a very good morning.”

“Is that right?” She smirked.

He shrugged.

“What if I told you it wasn’t a dream?” She got up, sat on his legs and continued the motion with her hands.

“Then I am a lucky man, but that's not how my dream went,” he was surprised when he flipped them over, his thigh against her crotch, and his hands holding her wrist. 

“Ah, that good morning,” Vivian giggled. “Starting on your cardio?”

“This is my cardio for the day, Viv,” he kissed her cheek and reached in her underwear where he felt the dampness between her legs. “Already?”

“Shut up,” she muttered and kissed his lips. Not the best kiss they shared, but she couldn't complain, not when he was dipping his fingers between her folds, brushing over her clit, and teasing her hole. “Shit.”

Bruce smirked. “Happy Valentines Day,” he whispered to her ear, earning an eye-roll from Vivian. He laughed, knowing she rolled her eyes at that. One of the amusing things about dating people in academia. Sometimes they're too smart for the simple things. “Humor me.”

“Fine,” Vivian laughed. “But can't complain, I do like the endless chocolate I get during this day.”

Bruce stopped in his movements and turned to her, making Vivian frown and give him a knowing look, “What?” She asked.

“Someone is giving you chocolates?”

“Bruce, we've only celebrated Valentine's Day twice---the first one we're not so official yet—and yeah, people give me chocolate.”

“Who is people?”

She raised a brow at him. “You really should have preferred the morning blow job, bud.”

“Fine, forgetting about it.”

“Don't, the mood is gone.”

“Then I'll get you back in the mood,” he went down on her, kissing her neck, her chest---nothing---then he came to her navel and then he pulled down her underwear and he kissed her directly between her folds, brushing his nose against her clit. “I'm sorry,” he said while he continued to kiss her down there.

Vivian tried to fight it and act like the mood was gone, but fuck–

How was she not when he was eating her out and apologizing to her like he was worshipping her. Vivian bit her lip to stop herself from making a sound, but then he prod his tongue inside her.

“Shit!” She gasped. She felt him smirk down there and she hit his arm. Bruce took her hand and held it against her thigh, where he held her down, then his other hand reached up under her shirt to play with her breast. He played with her breast, cupping it in his palm, and then squeezed her nipple between his fingers making her moan his name.

Good.

He wanted her to moan his name.

He wanted his name to be the only thing that came out of her mouth, especially now.

“Master Bruce?” A knock at the door. “Sir?”

When Bruce showed no response to the call, Vivian, against her wishes, tapped on his hand to tell him about Alfred waiting for him. He held her hand in reassurance as he called out to the old butler, “A moment!”

A moment? Vivian wasn't sure a moment is enough. But then Bruce increased his movements, like a hungry animal having his meal. Vivian was sure she felt his tongue slip in and out of her.

Fuck!

“Sir?”

He pulled away this time and said, “Come back later, Alfred, I'm a little busy!” Bruce went back to kissing her sex, he hooked his arm around her thighs to lock her in. Vivian couldn't do anything about it but bring him close with her legs squeezing him. When she tried to get away, to get him to answer Alfred's calls, Bruce only pulled her back and sent a pointed look at her direction. 

He wasn't finished. 

“Bruce,” she tried to reason with him.

“It can wait,” said Bruce and ran his tongue her folds.

“Oh, god,” Vivian moaned and out of instinct, she had them flipped over so she was riding his face. She would always feel bad when Bruce would have her do this, but now… now she wanted release and she needed it before Alfred would burst through that door. She held on the headboard for leverage as she moved her hips, helping him to get her reach her climax.

“Fuck, Vivian,” Bruce groaned as he held her tight.

“I think… I think I'm coming,” she whispered.

Bruce slipped a finger inside her, then another, helping her reach the climax she is so desperately trying to get. 

“Bruce!” Vivian bit her hand to hide her moan as the knot in her belly finally unleashed,  a wave of pleasure came through, and her vision turned white for a second. Hot white, as she came. And she came hard. 

Bruce finally released her, letting Vivian fall to the bed, he followed her, though, to kiss her body that slowly trailed up to her lips.

“I'll be right back, don't move,” he told her.

“Wash your face, Wayne,” Vivian teased him as he got up and walked to the bathroom to do as she said, and brush his teeth first before walking out, wearing a robe, to answer Alfred's knocks. Alfred only came to remind him of his meetings today and some gifts from old acquaintances of playboy-Bruce Wayne. As soon as they finished with the list—he was particular with something he had arranged in Wayne Enterprise—Bruce told the old butler that he'll be down later and that he might start the day a bit late. 

Hearing that made Vivian smile like a teenager.

“I shall inform Master Richard about the change of plans then, and Mr. Lucius Fox. I'll be the one to drive him to school,” said Alfred.

“Yes. Thank you, Alfred.”

“Very well, Master Bruce. And good morning, Ms. Vivian.”

Vivian, blushing in embarrassment, called out, “Morning, Alfred!”

With that he left and Bruce closed the door, locking it too. He returned to their bed, discarding the robe, showing her his erection under the boxers he wore. Vivian welcomed him as he caged her in their bed and kissed her deeply. 

“You have any meetings today? Class?”

“The university has this campus event. Classes are cancelled, they just want us to chaperone or something, but I can make up an excuse,” she replied between kisses. 

“Good, that means we can take our time. Earlier was just the first of many, Pryor.”

Vivian laughed. “If you say so, Wayne.”

“You doubt me.”

She reached down, slipping her hand in his underwear, and squeezed him softly as she rubbed his cock. “With this? It feels like you’re going to come in my hand now.”

He hummed and settled himself between her legs, let Vivian pull down his underwear, and thrusted in. She was right, he was almost close to coming the moment he was inside her, but he took a breath and focused on her and only her.

~ * ~

“Professor!” A student approached Vivian with a box of chocolates and a rose. He was with a bunch of Gotham University Football team players, all also holding roses and chocolates. 

“Jordan,” Vivian greeted. “And everyone. Good to see that you’re having fun.”

“You weren’t there this morning, Professor,” said Jordan. “We had something for every Professor on campus. Here, to GU’s coolest and prettiest Professor in the CLASP building,” he handed her a rose and the box of chocolates. Following his gesture were the other members of the team who gave her a rose stem and more sweets. 

“Jordan, this is really, really sweet—and it’s plastic roses! You remember!” Vivian laughed. “Thank you guys. Go and have fun!”

“See you around, Professor Pryor!”

Vivian’s walk to the faculty office was filled with students and colleagues greeting her good morning and a Happy Valentine’s Day. Though she didn’t really celebrate it, she didn’t want to spoil their fun and got along with it. It was only with Bruce she let know about her “not celebrating” Valentine’s. Entering the office, Vivian was greeted by the walls filled with hearts, flowers, and cupid, and then the other staffs’ desks with flowers. 

“Via, hi!” Justin greeted her first. “I see the football team got to you first.”

She wanted to say it was Bruce who greeted her first with a very memorable Valentine, but she kept that information to herself.  

“Hello to you too, Justin,” Vivian said.

“Here, I got you something,” Justin showed her a cute box with doughnuts. Behind him, a couple of their colleagues shared a glance, knowing his game. Justin isn't really subtle with how he felt towards Vivian, and he became more “showy” when she started dating Bruce. “Your favorite.”

“Justin, you shouldn’t have,”  Vivian told him. “This is really nice. We could share it while we have coffee. It's not like we have anything for today, right?”

“Yeah, that would be nice.”

“Hey, Via, look at this!” Katherine called her. Bringing the roses and the chocolates with her, Vivian went to her desk where the others gathered, smiling giddily as a present sat there waiting for her. It was a red box wrapped with a gold ribbon, and on it was a cheesy Valentine's Day card with inside was a note written in Bruce’s handwriting. 

Valentine's Day became associated with romantic love in the 14th century---having something to do with spring and lovebirds. So, no reason to hate it now.

Vivian chuckled after reading the note, then she opened the box. She gasped at what she saw inside. It was a replica of the old stuffed bunny she lost and a pair of —

“Tights?” Justine raised a brow when he saw the pair of tights inside.

“Gosh!” Vivian blushed deep red at the sight of the bumblebee tights she remembered telling him she liked when she was a girl. Her mother got them for her from a thrift store and she loved it so much that she wore it almost everyday. She was picked on for it because of the odd taste, but Vivian loved them so much. When they finally worn-out, she tried to look for another pair but they stopped producing them in their little town.  “I can't believe he remembered.” 

Picking up the tights, Vivian held it over her legs to see how it would look with her shirt and skirt for the day. She can't wear it now, not on campus, but she will later to show Bruce. 

“He's a keeper, Via,” said Katherine.

“I know,” Vivian whispered and held the stuffed bunny. “He even got this right too… it's both sweet and creepy… but mostly sweet.”

“He's like a stalker--ow!” Justine winced after George and Margarete hit him with a roll of test papers. 

The ring of her phone had Vivian take it instantly, knowing who it was. She smiled when she saw his name on the caller ID. Excusing herself, Vivian left the office, bringing with her the tights and the bunny, then went to answer the call outside.

“I can't believe you!” Vivian greeted him.

Bruce chuckled. “I guess you finally saw the gift. Do you like it?”

“I love it, and I love you, Wayne---how did you even—when did you get this here anyway?”

“Remember when Alfred was knocking on the door?”

“Now I feel bad for what I got you.”

“For someone who doesn't celebrate Valentine's Day, you know how to give a gift,” she could imagine him holding the gift she got him. It was an old time he had when he was a kid, along with photos from a photo booth she and Dick took when they went out together. “I love it, Viv.”

“Well, just because I don't celebrate it entirely, doesn't mean I get to be a spoilsport and ruin it for everyone, right? Hey Bruce.”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

A pause, then Bruce said back, “I love you too. I'll see you later, I'll pick you up after work so we could have dinner.”

“And where do you plan to take us both?”

“Somewhere special. I got to go. Bye, Viv. Love you.”

“Bye, love you too.”

The call ended, and all Vivian could do was hug her bunny and tights to hide the giddy smile that won't disappear. 

~ * ~

Bruce couldn't stop the smile to reach his ears when he saw Vivian walk out of campus wearing the bumblebee tights and the bunny tucked in her bag. Seeing her racing towards him with a smile had him forgetting about the sight of chocolates and roses she got with her, and welcomed her to an embrace then a kiss.

“I hope this changes your mind about Valentine's Day,” he told her.

“Not so much, I still think it's a commercialized holiday, but for you,” she kissed his cheek. “I'll celebrate it with you, and no one else.”

“The bag of chocolates and plastic flowers beg to differ.

“A gift from the football team and my other students.”

“How thoughtful of them,” he took the bag of chocolates and roses to place them in the back, then opened the door for her. 

“Where are we going tonight, Bruce?” She asked.

“Somewhere you'll like. I'm sure of it.”

He was right. Bruce took her to one of their favorite spots in Gotham where a picnic was set up for their dinner-date. The Batcave, and waiting there were Dick and Alfred right in front of the Bat Computer with the homemade meals, a bottle of wine, and non-alcoholic drinks.

As she got out, Dick surprised her with a gift---it was a Valentine's Day card and a pair of earrings he saw in a store—and Alfred got her a bottle of scotch. In return, she got Dick a basket of chocolates and Alfred she got him tickets to watch the Manchester United game this coming season. The old man was a huge fan, just like her.

“I told him we should head to a restaurant,” said Dick as they ate on the picnic blanket on the floor.

“Well, I don’t mind this at all. I find it romantic,” Vivian ate her pasta, then offered Bruce a bite too. “What better way than to celebrate this commercial holiday by not falling into those over-priced Valentine's Day specials. Besides, every restaurant is fully booked now.”

“I'm glad you're enjoying this,” said Bruce. 

“I wouldn't imagine celebrating this commercialized holiday of love with anyone else,” she kissed his cheek.

Bruce smiled and tried to kiss her lips when Alfred coughed to remind them that he and Dick were present.

“Sorry, Alfred,” Vivian laughed. “So, does this mean we get to watch a movie on the Bat-Computer?”

“Still a no.”

Vivian turned to Dick and shrugged. “Worth a shot.”

Dick laughed and continued to stuff his face with the chocolates Vivian got earlier. 

It wasn't a conventional Valentine's Day dinner but it's the one that Vivian and Bruce loved, and would always look back to whenever they celebrated the future ones they have with family. Dick ws lucky to be there for the many firsts of their little family of four.

[chemdisaster]

WAIT 1ST AUGUST WAS YESTERDAY???????

[poniko-w]

⚠️GETTING AUTISTIC ALERT⚠️

one of my absolute favorite things abt mo4 is understanding just how terrible a lot of the main cast is.. i've changed fukurou and morikaze to be more normal in my mind for my own comfort (as someone still recovering from trauma), but am still heavily critical of their characters as i am with every other main numa!! i love discussing the intricacies of the mo4 cast without defending any of their actions, and i really dislike when people mischaracterize them and refuse to accept canon for what it is.. no guys bachikin was not a girlboss girlqueen she was a war criminal & an awful person & part of her character is the fact that she is trying to fix what she did!! holding her accountable is part of the story im afraid, you cant fake-feminism your way out of this one💔 when you remove the bad parts of a character meant to be a bad person u are left with a very bland & uninteresting character. learn to love a character despite the shit that makes them a bad person while still holding them accountable it. i love talking about the mo4 characters who wants to let me ramble about the mo4 characters to them

[dream-sans-mogai]

Anyway, because I'm considered a bigger creator within the mogai community and I have a responsibility to address things given my bigger audience-

Please remember that Tumblr, especially LGBT Tumblr concerning discourse and intracommunity issues, is a hyper niche, reactive, violent, sensitive community with next to zero basis in reality at large and you should not take any of its opinions as absolute fact. Especially the mogai community's opinions.

A lot of people on mogai Tumblr talk big game with very clearly fake the-whole-bus-clapped stories about the real world concerning acceptance towards mspec monos, Neopronouns and Xenogenders and it's my job as an adult and guiding voice to remind people these experiences may happen but rarely do and you absolutely should not just tell random people you use purr/purrs pronouns or your a bi gaybian or you identify as Chronosian or other things like that because it's really fucking dangerous even in hyper progressive places like new york, cali and Detroit. It can be deadly in many many small towns, including ones in progressive states. Especially dangerous in non accepting states.

I don't say this to burst your bubble or ruin your hopeful world view but many stories of acceptance are fake, even if some are true, most of the community is underage and just cause your teacher may approve of your Soniccharic identity, doesn't mean they won't tell your transphobic parents. It's scary and dangerous out here for trans and gay people rn and I won't be one of the idiots who tell you to run and frolic with your Xenogender pins Infront of increasingly hostile transphobes. I want the younger gen z trans people to survive and I won't lie to you about the reality of the battle we all are staring down concerning project 2025.

Most of the people telling these stories live in progressive states and do not tell you about the failed times or exaggerate the acceptance they supposedly received. I'm telling you from the mouth of someone who grew up in a tiny town in South Ohio with less than 1,000 people, it's still just as dangerous as it was 10 years ago. I still get followed in my home town. I still get stares in my home town. My actual home town, a place I grew up in where people knew me as the gnc dyke for a good while in my last 2 years of school. Do not spread this shit around to everyone. Nex didn't think they would become a victim, Brianna didn't think she would be one of the unlucky ones, plenty of those we've lost did not think they would die in hate crimes. I almost died in two of the hate crimes I've experienced.

You need to be really fucking careful and although I love than Neopronouns and Xenogenders are becoming more accepted by the larger LGBT community, you need to be very very VERY careful about what you do, what you wear and who you tell what because word spreads fast in suburbia and hate spreads faster. You do not want to be wearing a pin the day some white cishet magat decides he's tired of the "pedophiles" and chooses you as the first victim because you were the first he saw. Don't hide who you are but Be. Fucking. Careful.

[butteryunlikelylady]

it was never my life to live and he didn’t fall for the real me… he fell for an accessory and thought he could just change the label while things stayed the same

[asfdhgsdkjhgb]

i'll be glad that i made it out, and sorry that it all went down like it did // in the end it's better for me, that's the moral of the story. // know it's for the better, know it's for the better, know it's for the better, know it's for the better.

(motion sickness - phoebe bridgers, moral of the store - ashe, waiting room - phoebe bridgers)

[designernishiki]

as much as a i understand and respect ace kiryu truthers, i really feel like kiryu is the type to really take the idea to heart that sex is something vulnerable and meaningful and thus reserved for someone completely trusted and special to him– someone who feels right. after years and years he’s still never legitimately voluntarily slept with someone, always tries to turn women away or is at least apathetic when they try to get physical with him, never feels that deep and specific bond with a woman– nothing compared to some of his bonds with other men throughout his life. and maybe, hopefully, one day it’ll hit him that there’s a pretty big, glaring reason why no women have ever felt “right” to him.

[what-even-is-sleep]

Can’t wait for my drivers license to arrive so I can be driving legally again for the first time in 1.5 years!

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

Anybody else have an instance where their shoulder was bent weird while doing something and it felt like it was out of place but you could still use it and popped it right back but now it does that same thing every once in awhile and you’re starting to wonder if you dislocated it and healed it wrong?

[neverendingford]

.