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arijackz · 4 months ago

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PICK A CARD: Your Fall Awakening

✧ "I loved watching the base of those thunderstorms, the billowing tops of the cumulonimbus, the lightning that effortlessly lit up the lake and the sky. It was gorgeous, so energetic. I was in love." - Ginger Zee

Disclaimer: This is a general reading, take what resonates. This is a gender-neutral reading, change any pronouns to apply to you. Also, the tense changes from past to present to future, I hope this doesn't make the reading difficult.

Also! Thank you so much to everyone who put in a paid reading request, when my life stabilizes, those will be on the top of my priority list. <3

p1 → p2 ↙︎ p3 → p4

Pile One (King of Cups, 5oC, The Sun, The Knight of Cups)

This energy feels sudden but fated. This year’s eclipse season has been insane and you were always destined to reach a cosmic juncture of complete renewal around this time. The scales are tipping in your favor and this is your season to receive.

This is my emotionally attuned pile. You were a sensitive child—a walking bundle of warmth and acceptance—until people took advantage of your gentle soul. You could have been the typical sunshine kid always giggling, easily making connections, and being a bright energy people were easily attracted to. Whether or not you were aware of it, people saw your capacity for love and happiness as intimidating and “fake”. Their reality did not shine as bright as yours so they could not fathom your authentic happiness.

That doesn’t mean people did not try to take advantage of your gentleness. Society associates friendliness/happiness as weakness and sees you as an easy target to get over on. Being trusting isn’t naivety, it isn’t your fault that you extended your time and resources to greedy people, it is their loss that they ruined a genuine connection because they were too far gone in their own misery to recognize a helping hand out of the shadows.

This is a general reading so the details of what happened vary greatly, for most of you, there was a series of traumatic events involving your interpersonal relationships that scarred your heart. I visually see a wilting flower or a chest caving in on itself.

Betrayal, cheating, abuse, years and years of lying, bullying, isolation, being ignored, and just overall feeling less important than the other people in your life.

But we don’t need to get into the nitty gritty of that bullshit. That chapter is closed, burned, and a renewed phoenix is rising from its ashes.

To any other person, these events would have turned them rotten and nasty, but you never passed this hurt onto others, you just held onto it and kept holding on until it slowly drained and left all the cavities in your body empty and numb. You’re used to depletion, giving and giving, but being left in the dust after everyone else gets their fill and moves on.

Listen to me, you are stepping into your rainfall- the world revolves around you- era. You’re being rewarded for your resilience and “the cycle ends with me” attitude. A hurt person hurt you and you turned that into further reason why you would never be so cruel to another soul.

You got the sun, the best fucking card in the deck, right in the middle of your spread. With the lies you’ve been fed over the years, at some point on your journey, you got lost in the illusions of lack and fear. Fear that you weren’t enough and less than the magnificent being you truly are.

But this juncture is like a lightning strike of clarity to your consciousness, you are realizing that this journey is just that… a journey. A life lesson circling you back to your power so you can acknowledge just how fucking desirable your heart actually is.

People tried to rob you of your happiness because they wanted it. People tried to squash your kindness because they wanted it. People abused your time and energy because they yearned for it but could never have it. Think about it, if you had nothing of value, they wouldn’t have plotted on the resources you offered.

We’ve all heard the saying, “You don’t know how good you have something until you lose it.” Life put you on this course of being on top, hitting rock bottom (deep depression), and then climbing up again so you can cultivate the strength to have a sensitive soul and defend it against all the greedy hands who want a piece.

This journey taught you discernment, who to trust and who not to trust. It taught you how to pick yourself up and dust off. You learned to be stingy with your time and treat yourself as high value. Most importantly, you experienced your first full cycle of rebirth, where you learn that even your lowest of lows are temporary and it is universal law that all things eventually come to an end to be reborn bigger and better.

True strength is seeing the world’s ugliness and not letting it taint you. You’ve been the victim of cruel actions and you wouldn’t dare enforce those on anyone else. The universe honors people like you. You were always meant to experience this upcoming win fall.

If you’re reading this, you’re already beginning to feel it. Shifts like this happen internally before manifesting externally. You step outside and the world looks more… romantic.

You can feel it in your bones that you are about to receive your fairytale life. The moon is smiling back at you and the stars are spelling out your name.

Embrace this Knight of cups energy and follow the whims of your heart, they’re leading you to your new timeline. Fall in love with yourself and acknowledge the battle you not only survived but won.

P.S. Little you is so motherfucking proud of who you are and what you stand for. They knew you would make it back to them. It pained them to see you lost in other people’s lies but they never doubted your capability to see love in life again. Your kid self lived and breathed this joy and they knew nobody could truly take it from them. They are happy to see you realize it too.

"Sometimes, the strongest roots grow in the softest soil."

Pile Two (King of Swords rev., King of Pentacles, 10oW, Queen of Wands rev.)

YOU ARE MORE THAN ENOUGH! There is no fucking reason to fixate on changing yourself when you are already perfect as is, sugar plum!

You carried your family’s burdens up a verrry long mountain. You were trekking through life with a generational weight strapped on your back. Your greatest devil was expectations.

You were told who you should be, what you should do, how you should act, what you should believe in.

There weren’t many loving voices in your home, your efforts were met with harsh critiques and a heavier load on your plate. This is the classic case of being pushed beyond limits no child should have to reach. In your upbringing, it was perfection or nothing. Not only did you have to excel academically, you had to be attractive and have a thriving social life, do extracurriculars, and anything else that exemplified you as a model child and citizen.

And even then, when you did all those things, you didn’t get the proper acknowledgment or congratulations you deserved. Lots of you just got higher expectations set after you proved you could reach an already unrealistic standard. God forbid you didn’t reach those standards, some of you got shunned or abused.

Sometimes you felt more like a project your people flaunted rather than someone they authentically loved and cared for.

This fucked with your young psyche. I mean… what's the point!? You jump through all these hoops to barely get a pat on the back? Yeah, you seemed perfect on the outside but internally, you were teeming with self-hate and the contempt of not being enough for anyone.

I am getting frustrated just channeling this message, damn you deserved so much more!

(Do you get migraines or tension headaches?)

This is my pile of people who did not get the privilege of choosing their own career path. Your guardians told you to study to become a doctor, engineer, scientist, artist, or whatever the hell they wanted to flaunt as an extension of themselves.

But get this, your people didn’t do that shit either! They push so hard for you to be someone they’re not because they’re projecting their (fear of) failure onto you.

For some (those who were not ignored or abused), it wasn’t malicious. They pushed you to be great because they wanted the best for you, but the way they handled it was fucked up.

There was a lot of fear about falling short of expectations and disappointing the people around you. Creating this mindset that you had to perform for affection and needed to prove that you were of value to people in order to be loved.

Some of you heavily rebelled against this authoritarian force in your life. Explicitly, through using sex to satiate your desire to feel loved. Like with your family, you viewed love as transactional and went into “relationships” with people who disguised their lust for you as love but only truly wanted to exploit your vulnerable state.

I am sorry you did not deserve that, you are better with those energies out of your life.

BAAABBBYYYY, this season is rinsing out all that gunk between your ears and pushing the weight off your back. Can you feel your spine unfurl?

This season you’re letting all the bullshit go. You’re garnering strength the rest of society only talks about. You’re looking at yourself in the mirror and saying that nobody’s expectations are worth living a life you don’t want to live. Those people were empowered by you not recognizing your own capability, they were the only measurement of how worthy you were and the only source of the approval you craved.

(why won't this center???^)

You’re awakening to just how much of a bad mf you truly are! You’re the king of pentacles- you’re your own empire! You’re reclaiming your power and acknowledging that with all the time and effort you put into building someone else’s dreams, you have the strength to build your own!

With every challenge thrown at you, YOU BODY THAT SHIT!

I’m getting chills, I feel like a hype man lmao. I’m your biggest fan fr. I want you on my team! You’re an irreplaceable asset that anyone would be blessed to work with.

All the pressure you faced has forged you into a one-of-a-kind gemstone and you are shining brightly!

This journey taught you the power of control and how to take the reigns of your own chariot. You will never allow another soul to take your will from you again.

*Clears throat* Don’t tell anyone I said this but… expect your life to blossom in ways you can’t even begin to fathom.

Your 5th house: leisure, pleasure, romance, creativity, and your 10th house: higher self, your image, and how you carry yourself once you leave the shadows is getting a major activation.

The dreams of your future that you wouldn’t dare whisper to the people in your life are being heard by Source and they’re being packaged (with a cute lil bow) behind the scenes, ready to be delivered at your feet. I am not kidding, your oracle cards are: 10th house, 5th house, Venus, fated meeting, and “Blessings you couldn’t even dream of are walking to your front door”.

There is a special emphasis on your creative endeavors, unleash the side of you that was shunned, and allow it to garner the love and attention that has always been meant for you! It is your time to live life the way you’ve always wanted to.

P.S. People don’t want to hear it because getting your expectations high is a “bad” thing or whatever, but you will meet someone. It’s a fated meeting and you two are meant for each other. Royal love. You got all court cards and while I was typing, “one-of-a-kind” autocorrected to “one-of-a-king”.

Pressure Reveals Our Brilliance

Pile Three (10oS Rev., 10oW, 8oP, Queen of Swords, Emperor)

Growing up, my mom always told me that when we feel like we’re wandering aimlessly, we’re actually slowly inching closer to where we’re meant to be.

I pass these words of wisdom on to you because you know the pain of wandering all too well. When you were younger, your energy was unadulterated and you dreamt big without any doubt creeping around your skull to sully your aspirations. You are naturally a very ambitious person with a killer drive to get shit done.

However, something shifted. I don’t think it was a specific event, it happened over time. The wrong people and painful situations slowly chipped away at your spark for life until your body lost its will and you slowly staggered to the ground with all ten swords in your back.

There was a dense fog around who you were and what you wanted. You questioned your desires and your ability to achieve them, growing more frustrated with your own confusion. Until eventually, you stopped dreaming. Anything to curb the painful disappointment of feeling like a person coming from a broken mold. Or a human without an outline, just an indistinct blur melting into the background.

I feel static in my bones. I see that your shadows locked you in place- paralyzed. Limited only to the realms in your head as you watch the world evolve and move on without you.

This pile struggles with the most intense anxiety. Have you seen Inside Out 2? There is a scene where the anxiety emotion goes into overdrive and can’t remove herself from the control panel and Riley has an ongoing panic attack. For a huge chunk of your life, your anxiety couldn’t release itself from the command center. Your whole life has felt like you’ve been holding your breath, waiting for the panic attack to subside.

You’re a nervous nelly, I’m afraid. Not to be offensive, but I imagine a nervous, wet chihuahua shaking like a leaf (haha, been there).

Something about your friendships and the negative influence of others is important. The ten of swords is typically a betrayal card. These situations left you with an aching sense that you didn’t have control over the direction of your life, so you spent your days worrying about everything that has and will go wrong.

Maybe people told you that you weren’t capable? Maybe you felt like you didn't measure up to the people around you who had direction in their lives.

You have a lot of energy, pent-up energy. It is actually one of your blessings, you have an abundance of energy to achieve all that you set your mind to. But these traumatic events locked up this vitality and prevented it from being properly expressed. It didn’t go away, it got transmuted into mental energy and you “thought” yourself to death.

It’s funny—you probably daydream about taking action and doing the everyday things that others do without a second thought. For them, it’s normal, but for you, it’s a wild dream.

This is my late bloomer pile. The things people your age typically do, you haven’t gotten around to because you can’t seem to get your body and mind on the same accord.

You had restless energy, your body was always on but not in motion. Think of a tightly stretched rubber band aching to be released anywhere but stuck in this moment of tension. You felt the pull, the urge to leap into action, yet something held you back—whether it was doubt, hesitation, or simply the weight of expectation. Each day was a reminder of your potential, a constant yearning to break free and finally express that energy in a meaningful way. But, the second you went in for the kill, your bones locked up and left you stagnant.

I want to cry writing this. Your wishes are so simple and you will get them tenfold, quote me.

This season you are getting the key to freedom from your mental prison- clarity. Clarity on just how possible everything is. You are awakening to the world at your fingertips and the very road map woven into your heart.

It sounds silly, but you dream of work! You want to go out and create without paralyzing fear looming over your shoulder. This is your deepest desire because you are meant to do it. You’re the fucking emperor AND the queen of swords. Your name is meant to be plastered on a building somewhere, and no amount of fear or doubt is going to keep you from that.

This journey taught you how to build mental fortitude and define yourself. You won’t listen to any voice that prevents you from living the life you want to live, not even your own. The next time you get stabbed in the back, you won’t even flinch and you sure as hell won’t stop your motion.

You don’t need to think, just be. Your feet will take you to where you need to go.

(Shoutout to my Rahuvians!)

Your wildest dreams have been heard and answered, and you’re beginning to find your direction again. I know it’s hard to believe, especially after spending so much of your life in an illusionary prison—a mental construct that felt all too real. But take a deep breath and allow those bars to melt away. Remember, this chapter is just that: a chapter in your life. You are ready to turn the page and embark on a new adventure, one that could be your very first! Embrace the possibilities ahead, and tell any lingering fears to shut the fuck up and kick rocks.

This next phase in your life is anything but slow, it’s a complete 180 from what you’re used to. Get ready to be a busy bee and in high demand. Your mind and body will be sharp, focused, and honed in on your craft. You are mastering something and achieving great success. “Blessings you couldn’t even dream of are walking to your front door.”

P.S. I know that was a long, agonizing, period in your life but jump for joy now that it’s over! I promise you, it truly is!! Don’t stress about the past or worry about what you should or could have done differently. You did everything perfectly and you were always meant to be where you are right now.

I know this might sound cliché, but the situation was out of your hands. The lesson was about learning to surrender control and trusting in the only constant in life: change. Nothing lasts forever, your pain is temporary. Trust that this experience has shaped you, and now you have the opportunity to step forward with newfound strength and resilience. Embrace the future—it’s waiting for you!

She's Using the Colors of Her Aura to Define Her Being

Pile Four (2oP, 7oW, 4oW, 90P, Clear, Third Eye Chakra, 1st House, Pluto)

Hmmm, pentacles (earth = stay and grow, grow, grow) and wands (fire = go, go, go)… “Should I stay or should I go?”

Nobody wants to hear it, but you’re being pushed into hermit mode. But fear not! ☝🏾 This will be your last and most peaceful retreat. You’re caught in a battle between the urge to slow down and prioritize your wellness and the temptation to jump up and grind. Embrace this time for reflection and self-care—it’s essential for your growth. When you take the time to recharge, you’ll emerge stronger and more focused, ready to tackle whatever comes next with renewed energy. Trust that this phase is necessary for your journey.

The right answer is a blend of both. Make a steady meditation and fitness plan you can rely on where you feel productive yet kept to yourself. Your energy is sensitive at this time and people are going to try and purposely trigger you because they can sense that you’re getting ready to pop out and do your mf jig!

You are crazy intuitive and are awakening to this fact, but just like the start of any journey, you’re trying to find a balance between your intuition and judgment.

Spoiler alert, they're the same thing!

ESPECIALLY for you. Check to see if you have Pluto, Ketu (south node), Jupiter (Sag or Pisces), Mars (Aries or Scorpio), or Moon (Cancer) in your first, fourth, seventh, or tenth house. Or literally anything in your eighth house.

You are blessed with the ability to see beyond the veil of illusion and are meant to nurture and refine this gift. Embrace it as a powerful tool for understanding yourself and the world around you. Trust your intuition and allow it to guide you through challenges, helping you uncover deeper truths.

This season is bringing changes to your physical body and immediate environment, you feel most vulnerable to the weather changes and are probably having trouble sleeping. You are likely feeling tension between your eyebrows and are seeing images that aren't actually there.

You’re experiencing a third eye awakening and a major karmic clearing, this is my most spiritual pile by far. If you’re not into these types of things, this isn’t your pile. Actually, this group really stands out from the others, I don’t have advice for you per se; this message is to assure you that you’re not delusional.

I am here to tell you to trust what you’re seeing. You’re right! Whatever you think is happening… is happening. If you think great things are coming, they absolutely are. Conversely, if you feel that something shady is going on behind the scenes, then that’s exactly what’s unfolding. Trust your instincts; they’re guiding you toward the truth.

Here’s a secret about intuitive judgment: If the thoughts are causing anxiety and plaguing you with fear, they’re not true. On the other hand, if your instincts provide insight into a situation and help you feel more in control, you’re on the right track. Even if the truth is harsh or painful, knowing it empowers you to make informed decisions about your next move.

The truth is enlightening, even if it leads to a tower moment where everything you thought you knew comes crumbling down. Lies may feel comforting at first, but they can slowly trap you, binding you to a life that isn’t truly yours. Your soul craves deep transformation and healing. It may sound cryptic, but this is your season to die and allow yourself to be reborn anew. Embrace the intensity of Scorpio season; it’s a powerful time for you to shed old skin and welcome a higher version of yourself.

Who is this higher version? You have been cultivating them bit by bit with every trial thrown your way and it is finally time for them to rise to the surface. This version embodies your resilience, wisdom, and strength, shaped by your experiences and the lessons learned along the way. Embrace this transformation and let your true self shine. You are ready to step into your power and create the life you’ve always envisioned.

(Any Mula natives in the chat?)

I am excited for you, it’ll be tiring and unpleasant but the world waiting for you on the other side is one of bountiful harvests and celebrations! Hang in there!

Embrace the slowness and allow yourself to relax while it's here because this next chapter is TURNT.

P.S. You’re hot—like really, incredibly sexy. Your gaze is piercing, and people feel as though you see straight through them into depths they aren’t even aware of. You don’t have to do much to unsettle others; they’re easily triggered because they can’t hide behind the safety of their masks when they’re around you. Your authenticity and intensity shine through, making them confront their own truths. Embrace that power; it’s a gift that not everyone possesses!

She Follows the Blueprint Woven Into Her Flesh

#arijackz #pick a card #tarot reading #pick a pile #tarot #pac #astrology observations #divination #pac tarot #muah

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shittalkerxox · 1 year ago

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The 141 have a ridiculous run of inside jokes that is continuosly ruining their lives, such as;

1.) If someone says, "You love it really," to you, you immediately have to agree with them, no matter what the circumstances. Otherwise, you lose the ability to do it back. This has resulted in many weird fake confessions, including one time in which Soap got fed up with people making your mom jokes at him and went on a rant about it. Ghost glanced at him in front of a room full of cadets and just went, "You love it really, though," and Soap almost died as he sadly nodded and replied, "Yeah, I do."

2.) If something even remotely sexual sounding is said about you, you must always say, "You're damn right I do/am/will," back. This backfired once when they were in a defreif and Price said something about Gaz "coming through the back door" and Gaz, without think, winked and replied "You're damn right I did," In front of everyone and got in trouble for mild insubordination. (The others almost died laughing as he realised what he'd done, who he'd done it to, and who he'd done it in front of (aka Price's bosses))

3.) When talking about Roach, they will always act like he's died. He hasn't, but none of them can stop the joke, and it always makes all of them crack up, even Roach. This once caused major panic, as once when Ghost was discussing their latest mission with Laswell, he said, "It was fine because Roach - God rest his soul -" and Laswell had about two minutes where she thinks Roach has dropped dead and she didn't fucking know.

4.) They will always make up bad stories for how they met Ghost, if anyone ever asks. It doesn't matter what the truth is, or who they're speaking to, when asked, all three of them will reply with some made up, overly dramatic or down right boring story on how they met. These stories ranged from Ghost, saving them from a shark attack (Gaz), Ghost selling them assorted drugs as a teenager (Roach), and most devastatingly is when Soap told a distant relative of his that he met Ghost after "finding him with my older brother, behind his wifes back" he does not have an older brother, and so there is no wife.

5.) They always reference the "Malibu incident." None of them have ever been to Malibu. Nothing bad has ever happened there, but now they've created a whole conspiracy in the British Army about a coverup that happened in Malibu. Price knows about this one and finds it endlessly funny, so he goes along with it, never directly mentioning it but refusing to deny it when someone asks. If anyone ever asks about the details of it, they just give a deadpanned look as if the other person should already know and say; "Don't make me say it." There are rumours. Like, a lot of rumours.

6.) Roach claps every time someone says, "I'll be there for you" because once he clapped at the wrong time during the friends intro and had been paying the price ever since. It doesn't happen often, but sometimes you'll just hear him clapping - not even in the tune to the friends theme. Just random clapping. If any of the others hear it, they almost always reply with "That's a fuckin' joke" in a really disappointed tone. It's confused a lot of people.

#call of duty #cod mw2 #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #gary roach sanderson #john price #kate laswell #they spend far too much time together #so their humour has kind of melded together to make their own goddamn language that nobody else ever understands #and they can't explain it either #because it always takes too long and by the time theyre done its not even funny #so they just look crazy to everyone #price knows about most of these but absolutely refuses to take part in them #except for malibu #because he actually finds that one funny #task force 141 #cod 141 #shit talker talks

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grimeerie · 5 months ago

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If Enigma of Fear comes this month,i am praying for this game to be absolulety marketed fucking EVERYWHERE online,cause not only Ordem is such a amazing project that deserves so much recognition,but being a fully brazilian/latino-made TTRPG,the idea of this series becoming worldwide-known means so much personally as a brazilian artist.

I've mentioned this on a post before,but the experience of growing up as a latine being constantly fed white american-centric pop culture,be it comics,TV series,movies,art in general,to such a extreme point it made me develop such high insecurity in my country's art and culture as a whole,is so deeply harmful that even after leaving that toxic mindset,that insecurity still lingers on.

And it's why Ordem as a project is just so beautiful as an rpg to me,like the campaign main setting? All brazilian cities! The characters? Brazilians from different parts of the country all speaking in the accent and slang of their state or city! The players? Brazilians! The promotional art,the music,the boards,the tokens? ALL BRAZILIAN MADE. Like this project in so unashamedly Brazil and that makes me love every bit of bit.

Even though the gringo side of the Ordem fandom may still be somewhat small,the ammount of love i've seen you all have for this project is so big; all of the fanart,fics,headcanons,every single form of appreciation has just been so good. Know that regardless of what you may think about the quality of your contribution to this fandom know that to me and so many other brazilian,your love for this series means a lot to us. The hype for Enigma of Fear has been wonderful to see,and DESERVED CAUSE THE GOD THE GAME LOOKS FANTASTICAL AND DUMATIVA PUT THEIR WHOLE DUMATUSSY FOR 4 YEARS INTO THAT GAME AND THEY DESERVE THE RESPECT FOR IT-

BUT ALSO i want to shoutout the QSMP fandom as well,cause y'all are insane fr,seeing people love the same CCs i've watched and loved since my childhood,the fandom interacting with us Brazilian ??? Learning about our culture???? LEARNING TO SPEAK PORTUGUESE???

Sorry for the ramble but like- the whole learning portuguese part still makes me so happily feral cause as someone who grew up on Internet fandom spaces,having to learn english on my own to be able to interact with others,especially english being the main language in most internet spaces,THE FACT THE INVERSE IS HAPPENING LIKE WHAT?? Serioulsly,the dedication man! That is awesome!!

Legitimately i don't think there's enough words to describe the appreciation i have for yall,so basically: thank you all,so much,for giving us so much love this past year,and i hope if Ordem does become big enough out there,that more brazilian art to come gains as much love as this one,we are such a diverse country with so much to offer,and im am so glad to be born to such a colorful and crazy country <3

In general i hope this will be an encouragment for all to support non-white american centric art in general,there's so much art from other countries to love and appreciate,that desperately need it.

So basically: Watch Ordem Paranormal,and play Enigma of Fear when it comes out. It's RPG,it's story,characters,worldbuilding are fantastic,its horror,found family,comedy and deliciously SOUL-CRUSHING angst. Trust me,you won't regret it.

É ORDO REALITAS CARALHO!

#ordem paranormal #o segredo na floresta #o segredo na ilha #os sinais do outro lado #a ordem paranormal #cellbit #qsmp #qsmp cellbit #ordem paranomal quarentena #desconjuração #calamidade #enigma of fear #this is the first post that i ever rambled so much #and i wont apologize for it honestly #my love for this series is big and i will be annoying about it as i damn please

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missarchive · 2 months ago

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Hey,

could you please write a Hannibal one-shot, where he realizes he is in love with the fbi reader after she nearly dies while she was hunting an other serial killer. After this realization he persues her and has dinner with her, where he confesses in a typical Hannibal way.(preferably with smut)

my first request! thank you so so much!!! i hope you like it <3

who? hannibal x fem!reader

category: angst, smut

content warnings: NSFW MDNI!! dark themes, cannibalistic references, mentions of death, blood, fingering, food, biting

word count: 2k

He watched in horror as you lay motionless on the floor, your blood painting the room in crimson rivers, a masterpiece of despair. The coppery scent filled his nostrils, igniting something primal in him, but it was overshadowed by the weight of his failure. His heart fell like carrion, devoured by guilt. If only he hadn’t been so consumed by his obsession with Buffalo Bill, so blinded by his macabre reveries, he might have caught the predator who nearly stole you from him. You were his now, his life’s marrow, and the thought of losing you gnawed at his resolve.

Jack’s frantic voice calling for paramedics was a dull roar in the background, irrelevant. All that mattered was you, your fragile body bathed in the ichor of survival. Your blood called to him—a siren’s song of life and fragility, begging him to protect what he had claimed.

The ride to the hospital was a slow dissection of his patience. He stayed by your side, never wavering, his presence as steady as a hunter guarding his feast. When they sedated you, he felt the sting of powerlessness, like a beast caged, unable to act. Seeing you pale and vulnerable in the hospital bed filled him with an ache he couldn’t name—a hunger not of the body but of the soul. You deserved better, and he would carve the world into a place worthy of you.

He’d never felt like this, not even in his darkest indulgences. You had unearthed something raw in him, something human, an appetite for connection that rivaled his other hungers. You made him feel alive, your presence slicing through his apathy as cleanly as a scalpel. You were his purpose now, the flesh to his bone, the feast he never knew he craved.

When you were discharged a week later, he was there, your shadow and sentinel. He helped you into the car, his touch lingering, savoring the privilege of your skin against his. You ordered takeout and sat together, the mundane act transformed into an intimacy that gnawed at the edges of his restraint. You wanted to know him, to taste the marrow of his history, and for the first time, he relented. He bared his scars, his childhood, Mischa—the foundation of the monster he had become.

Your arms wrapped around him, your cold hands branding his skin, and he reveled in the comfort you offered. You were his salvation, his undoing. When he stayed with you that night, your feverish body beside his, your scent and warmth filled the hollow void within him. The memory of your blood on his tongue haunted him, exquisite and forbidden, but he resisted. For now.

The next evening, you agreed to dine with him. He led you to the table, his lair dressed as an altar, the candelabra casting flickering shadows that seemed to dance with the promise of secrets. The silver serving dish gleamed between you both, an offering. When he revealed its contents—sliced thigh meat, glistening and tender—your breath hitched, her eyes wide with fear and something deeper. Desire.

“Will you taste it, for me?” he asked, his voice silken, the predator coaxing the prey.

“I shouldn’t,” you whispered, your eyes darting from the meat to his face.

“But you want to,” he said, leaning closer, his presence enveloping you like a shadow. “Don’t deny yourself what you crave.”

You swallowed hard, lips parting in hesitation. “And if I do? What does that make me?”

“It makes you honest,” he said, his voice dark with promise. “Honest with yourself. With me.”

Your trembling nod was all he needed. He fed you, piece by piece, watching as your soft lips closed around the fork, tongue darting out to savor the taste.

“Tell me,” he murmured, his eyes locked on yours. “What do you taste?”

Your gaze flickered to the dish, then back to him. “It’s rich,” your voice barely above a whisper. “Decadent. It shouldn’t be, but…”

“But it’s exquisite,” he finished for you, his lips curling into a satisfied smile. “Just like you.”

Your breath hitched, and you shook her head. “You can’t say things like that. Not after everything.”

“Everything I’ve done, you mean?” he said, setting the fork down and leaning closer. “And yet, here you are. At my table. Tasting my work. Why?”

You looked away, hands trembling in your lap. “I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do,” he said, his voice a blade cutting through your defenses. “You’ve known since the moment you found me in my cell. We are not so different, you and I. You feel it, don’t you? That pull. The hunger.”

Your eyes snapped to his, wide and glassy. “I’m nothing like you.”

He laughed softly, the sound more predator than amusement. “Oh, but you are. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t. You wouldn’t have tasted it if you didn’t want to know.”

You shook your head, tears brimming in your eyes. “I can’t. I can’t be like this.”

“You already are,” he said, reaching out to cup your chin. “And it’s beautiful.”

Lips quivered under his touch, your resolve crumbling. “What do you want from me?”

“Everything,” he said simply, his voice low and deliberate. “Your mind, your body, your soul. Give yourself to me, and I’ll give you the world.”

You stared at him, breath shallow, pulse hammering against your ribs. “And if I say no?”

“Then you’ll walk away,” he replied, his tone calm, though his eyes burned with a fire you couldn’t ignore. “But you won’t. Because you already know the truth.”

Your lips parted as if to argue, but no words came. Instead, you reached for the fork, hand trembling, and lifted another piece of meat. “More?” you whispered, voice barely audible.

He nodded, his gaze never leaving yours, and you fed him. His hands slid to your thighs, a deliberate and possessive touch, and you didn’t stop him, how could you? Your eyes met, your hesitation melting into something deeper, darker.

“How does it taste?,” you whispered, your voice soft and reverent.

His groan rumbled low in his chest as he pulled you to him, his lips finding yours with an urgency that made you gasp. The taste of you, the feel of you, was intoxicating, and he devoured it with a hunger that felt endless. “Delicious.”

You let him kiss you, let him taste you, for one long, breathless moment before pulling back, lips swollen, chest rising and falling in rapid rhythm. “Hannibal…” you murmured, voice a blend of warning and want.

He released you reluctantly but seized your chin, tilting your face to meet his gaze. His fingers were firm, unyielding, but not cruel. “Say it,” he commanded, his voice velvet over steel. “Tell me you’re mine.”

Your eyes widened, twin storms of fear and longing swirling in their depths. Your breath hitched, and for a heartbeat, the room held its breath with you. The weight of his command pressed on you like a velvet shroud—suffocating yet intoxicating. You hesitated, lips trembling, caught between resistance and the undeniable pull of surrender. Finally, as though the tension within you had reached its breaking point, you nodded, voice quivering, a fragile wisp of sound.

“I’m yours.”

His eyes darkened, the amber depths of them ignited by the molten heat of satisfaction and desire. A predatory smile ghosted over his lips as he drank in your submission. “Good,” he murmured, his voice low and rich, heavy with promise and intent.

You lie there, motionless, your body trembling with the echoes of his touch. His presence is all-encompassing, a shadow that devours the light and leaves only him. You can’t escape the intensity of his gaze, the way his eyes seem to bore into your soul, unearthing secrets you didn’t even know you carried.

The first bite sends a jolt of pain and pleasure coursing through you, a sharp contrast to the softness of his lips that follow. Your breath hitches, your body betraying you, arching toward him, craving the sting of his teeth even as your mind screams at you to run. But you don’t. You can’t.

His voice, low and commanding, is a dark symphony that plays at the edges of your sanity. “Open,” he says, and before you even realize it, your lips part, obeying him as though the word itself holds you captive.

The strawberry he presses to your lips is sweet, its juice sticky and warm as it drips down your chin. His tongue follows, deliberate and slow, tracing the trail it leaves. Your eyes flutter shut, the world narrowing to the sensation of him, the taste of the fruit mingling with the metallic tang of blood.

Your hands find their way to him, desperate for something to anchor you in this storm of sensation. You tangle your fingers in his hair, pull him closer, needing him, hating yourself for it but unable to resist. He groans, the sound vibrating against your skin, and it ignites something deep and primal within you.

When his teeth find your inner thigh, your gasp is involuntary. The pain is sharp but fleeting, replaced almost immediately by a rush of heat that pools low in your belly. You can feel the wetness between your legs, the evidence of your desire, and it shames you even as it thrills you.

“You’re mine,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice rich and dark, a promise and a threat all at once.

And you are. God help you, you are.

He moves with purpose, trailing his lips, his teeth, his tongue over your body. Each bite, each scrape of his teeth, feels like a brand, marking you as his. And with every mark, you feel yourself slipping further, the lines between pain and pleasure, fear and longing, blurring until they’re indistinguishable.

When his fingers find you, parting your lips, sliding into your heat, your moan is loud and unrestrained. You’ve never felt so exposed, so vulnerable, and yet you’ve never felt so alive.

His mouth claims yours, swallowing your cries, his tongue tasting you as though he can’t get enough. When your body tightens around him, when you shatter in his arms, he doesn’t stop. He devours you, body and soul, until there’s nothing left of you but the trembling, aching woman in his arms.

And when it’s over, when you’re spent and sated and utterly his, he looks down at you with a hunger that hasn’t been satisfied.

“I’m still hungry,” he whispers, his lips brushing your ear, and your breath catches in your throat.

You know what he means, and yet you don’t run. You nod, surrendering completely, because in that moment, you realize something terrifying and undeniable.

You want to be devoured.

#missarchive #hannibal nbc #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal x reader #hannibal smut #hannibal oneshot

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ghastlyfilters · 3 months ago

Note

Hi! Saw you were taking Lost Boys requests...

I have a lot of silly concepts or ideas but my favorite is poly!Lost boys with a partner (I usually prefer fem reader but whatever ur comfy with is all good) who loves stealing some of their older clothes. Like, reader is smaller than them so the clothes are really comfy. Especially the older stuff cus decade+ old fabric is so soft.

reader stealing the lost boys’ clothes!!

pairing(s): implied poly!lost boys x fem!reader

warning(s): aside from paul and marko definitely paying attention to your curves, none!!

(now if i was the reader here i know damn WELL i would be stealing their clothes too. each one of their styles is literally perfection and to see that shit on vampires? HELLO? also i may have gotten a bit too carried away with thinking about all their clothing designs.. but thanks for this cute request<3)

gifs not mine! (if you know the original owner please tag them!)

HEADCANONS

• Stealing your boys’ clothes is by far the EASIEST thing anyone could do. The reason being? They quite literally never change out of the fits they’ve had on since 1987.

• The boys don’t have much of a scent, seeing as they’re all undead. So a washing machine doesn’t exist in their little world anymore. Which means they will now forever be outfit repeaters.

More fun for you.

• All of the boys have the most random shit scattered around the cave. They’re the worst hoarders you have ever encountered. Cough cough.. Paul.. cough cough..

• But the amount of clothes they have laying around is shocking. Boots, band tees, jackets, jeans, leather trousers, gloves, shirts, man you name it. They have it. Every fucking decade.

• The band tees are by far your favourite thing to run around with. Paul has a shit ton of Môtley Crüe tees, and Dwayne has so many shirts with The Doors on them. (Jim’s face is literally everywhere in the cave now. They sure as hell ain’t Christians, so if they’re selling their souls to anyone it’s the horned god below or their icon Jim Morrison.)

• They did let you away with wearing their old band tees until Marko told the boys about EBay.

When Paul found out a vintage Mötley Crüe tour shirt was going for over a grand, the mf was ecstatic..

So much so, he decided to put his own vintage Mötley tees up for bidding.

“Two thousand… three thousand.. FOUR THOUSAND… FIVE THOUSAND FUCKING DOLLARS!!!”

Poor Paul’s bubble was burst however when David told him there was absolutely nothing they could do with the money aside from unlimited Chinese food for the next few months.

• David’s old clothes are much different from what the others have. He was the first to be turned, therefore he’s lived throughout the most eras.

• He’s got a LOT of leather jackets and trenchcoats. Paul and Marko always joke about him being Jack the Ripper, but you see a different side to his style. There’s been many nights you actually sat down with him and asked where he’d gotten the majority of his old items. Some were by Spanish designers that had been gifts from Max whenever he’d provided David with different clothing, others were from when David had fed off multiple store owners and casually picked out what he fancied afterwards.

• It saddens you that he doesn’t wear any of these anymore. The only reminder he ever gets of them is when you put on the soft wool Trenchcoats that go right down to your ankles, almost looking like a cape. Marko makes mini conspiracy theories that maybe you’re the real Dracula.

• Dwayne’s load of clothes is FILLED with leopard print designs. He’s been a 70s boy even all these years later, and he misses that era so dearly.

• There’s this one satin leopard print shirt that actually fits you quite well in his eyes. It’s still a little baggy.. yet oddly attractive to him. You’ve claimed it as your own now, wearing it like a pj set.

• Aside from the satin shirt, literally nothing else Dwayne has fits you. He’s a muscular guy.. and a vampire. So trying to get his baggy ass clothes to even have a slight loose fit is not for the weak 😭

• Marko however, this is where the real fun begins. You can borrow anything from Marko.. ANYTHING.. and it’s guaranteed to fit.

• He was a big crop top collector. When he used to find a good shirt that wasn’t cropped however, he’d cut it up and make it into a crop top himself. And these are what he adores you wearing. They cling nicely to your curved body, and whenever you wear them you can never get both Paul and Marko to stop staring at your breasts. Assholes.

• Marko’s clothes are by far your favourite pieces out all the boys. Much like the crop tops, he really enjoyed designing all his other outfits when he wore them. And he was pretty damn good at it too. Marko can be a crafty little thing when he wants to be. He’ll even help you design your own outfits too! He’ll cut, sew, stitch, glue, draw, paint, anything you want Marko to design, he’s down. He took so much pride in his unique outfits back in the day. And if you want yours spiced up, Marko’s your man.

• You wear his old belts a lot. One time, you were rummaging through the boys’ old stuff again, and immediately fell in love with this black latex belt Marko had. He’d drawn on perfectly shaped skulls with a white acrylic pen, and added different studs around the buckle. Ever since that day, Marko pretty much customises everything you own now.

FIRST TIME WRITING FOR THE LOST BOYS!! hope you all enjoyed these headcanons and my requests are open for any lost boys related ideas you may have!! <33

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gentrychild · 1 year ago

Text

BNHA 407 : AFO is a lying liar who lies

Today is a very sad day because I am about to do something I genuinely dislike: I am about to defend All for One. In order to cope, I shall make fun of him the whole time.

AFO and Yoichi's backstory is finally out, with AFO narrating it, and there are two possibilities: he is either completely lying about it (boring) or he is lying a little about it (very in-character for him) because he is also lying to himself.

Lie number 1: AFO was born evil.

The narrator (AFO, seriously, it's AFO) says things such as "The baby drained the lifeforce of both his mom and his brother.", "It was born an arrogant baby." and such but it really reads at AFO villifying himself to add to his own legend.

That's what babies do. Children, before they're born, kinda have to take their strength from their mother. That's why pregnant people aren't supposed to do anything taxing.

AFO and Yoichi's mother didn't die because baby AFO drained her like a vampire. She died because she was a homeless woman who had access to nothing and had to go in labor alone.

Same thing here: during twin birth, a twin is often bigger than the other (well, probably not to extent of Yoichi and AFO, but you get my point).

Lie number 2: AFO, as a demon baby, is shown killing for no reason, just because he can.

(First slaughter by Baby AFO shown in that chapter.)

There are two things that are strange in this scene (apart from... you know.... a baby murdering people...)

AFO had no reason to go after them because they don't have any quirks to steal.

It makes no sense for someone to attack a group of people with nothing to gain. I doubt that's the kind of behavior you have when you're in survival mode as you're barely surviving in the street.

However, a previous panel points at some context we might be missing.

The same panel that indicates that those guys don't have a quirk to steal also shows that they are wiling to do some "preventive attack" on a bunch of quirked people who might or might not be those who assaulted a protest group (reminder that in this context, that protest group are protesting the rights for quirked people to exist).

I could be wrong but odds are that they did something to be qualified as a threat to All for One and we are missing the additional context.

(Second slaughter by Baby AFO shown in that chapter.)

Now, the poor souls who just got absolutely wrecked by a toddler wearing what I suspect to be a garbage bag have quirks, which makes more sense than the previous scene.

However (and thank you for @aimportantdragoncollector for pointing that out to me), we also have this panel.)

Yoichi is shown with bruises on his face and might be broken teeth.

Probably because those same people AFO is shown killing attacked him.

Lie number 3: AFO never loved Yoichi because he can't love, he just considered that he was his. That's all. Nothing more.

(Just... Just ignore the rats.)

AFO didn't care about Yoichi so much that the very conscious first act of his life might have been to swim a river upstream while dragging his brother above the surface with what must have been the deathgrip of all deathgrip.

AFO didn't care about his brother so much that Yoichi was fed and clothed by an AFO who was malnourished enough for his ribs to show and who wore what's basically an improvised toga.

But he just keeps sacrificing what little he has for someone he doesn't care about one bit, that's just his first possession. Nothing more.

Okay, I am going to be clear: anyone who sees that panel and thinks that it's the proof AFO didn't like his brother... You just outed yourself as an only child.

Siblings punt each other for no reason. (There is a reason why the first recorded murderer was an older sibling.) In this case, the reason was Yoichi throwing a can at him.

AFO: "You're not inviting me to a fun activity? You're leaving me out, in the cold, unable to partake in brother bonding activity? Oh, vault for Little Brother! Vault for Little Brother for one thousand years!"

AFO: "Nevermind, we're reading together. All is well, I guess."

Lie number 3: AFO killed the glowing baby for power, because he could, or because the Glowing Baby didn't deserve it

Still laughing about AFO's flawless reasoning... "Comic books heroes' life suck. Better to be a villain. I already did the whole struggle thing, I want an easy life."

AFO killed the glowing baby because he was jealous. It's as simple as that. The glowing baby was considered the first official quirked individual (even though it's not true), was protected by his family (if I remember correctly, the mother of quirks was his mom) while AFO and Yoichi had no one but each other (EDIT: I was wrong, the Mother of Quirks was Destro's mother. thanks to the people in the tags), and had a ton of people following him (while, for some strange reason, people start running away screaming when AFO shows his quirk... What a mystery...).

The last panel was basically AFO saying "I want to be loved' but not having the frame of reference to even know what love is.

In conclusion...

While AFO is definitely a bad guy and a monster, he didn't begin his existence as one. He just wants people to believe that. Because his pride and his ego can't allow him to admit that he lived a childhood full of horrible trauma where he was a victim abandoned by society (to an even greater extent than the LOV) or he would probably combust out of rage and mortification.

Ergo facto, AFO is a lying liar who lies, especially to himself.

#bnha 407 #bnha meta #bnha manga spoilers

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somewhat-insane · 3 months ago

Note

Hello, its me again- the ShadowPeach x GN!Reader (QPR Wukong & Reader) thhank you for the lovely headcanons again btw. nervous to request more, but i am starving so- i was thinking about a drabble / oneshot. in which shadowpeach has been established (and reader has been a large help with that), but macaque is now realizing he has feelings for the reader, and how he goes about addressing it. so i guess a simple get together story. but macaques lowkey having a crisis. <3 take ur time hope ur having a great week.

I LOVE YOUR REQUESTS SO MUCH LIKE- No need to be nervous! I only have two other requests I'm working on right now, and knowing that you liked my stuff enough to request more means a lot to me!

•°¤(¯`°🌹(Conflicted )🌹°´¯)¤°•

Tags: GN!Reader x Macaque, queerplatonic relationships

Overall, it had been great. Amazing, even. As unsentimental as Macaque was tried (and failed) to be, he couldn't help but admit he enjoyed having his best friend back. That alone had seemed little more than a distant dream a little over a month ago, but being more than that? It seemed impossible. So impossible that he refused to even entertain such a thought, lest he risk the pain of subjecting his already battered and bruised heart to more abuse. Eventually he conceded that would be the case regardless of what he let himself believe.

But then you came along. Foolish, stubborn, adorable you. Despite arguments from both sides that this was hopeless and a waste of time; despite even MK suggesting you step down so as to not get caught in their crossfire, you persevered. Turns out the centuries old murderous demons are much more hesitant to get into physical altercations with each other when their fragile mortal friend is standing between them. (Which had the entertaining benefit of you getting to hear the creative insults they would yell at each other. Most of Macaque's seemed like cheesy Pinterest lines while Wukong made use of hand motions that you're pretty sure depicted some very graphic death scenes.)

Even after you got involved, things weren't always easy, things rarely are when it comes to dealing with these monkeys, you've found. They still argued and healing came slower than either of them had anticipated (logically they knew centuries of pain couldn't be undone by a few chat sessions over tea and an unlicensed therapist, but you couldn't blame them for hoping).

But... how could Macaque even pretend he wasn't grateful when he got to wake up to find his personal ray of sunshine nestled against him, withered from age and stress but still as beautiful as ever? For a moment, as cheesy as it sounds, his heart had felt full again. He had felt like the young warrior he used to be; devoted to his king and untouched by the dark truths of the world. But after a while he realized there was still something missing, a piece of himself he had simply... misplaced rather than the one that had been buried. Wukong held the pieces of Liu'er Mihou, but the warrior realized, at some point, a piece of Macaque got away from him. Something-someone had been able to weasel their way into his peripheral when he had been trapped in an obsessive loop of trying to kill his murderer, and now that that desire was gone and his tunnel vision had given way to something wider, it was aggressively clear that his being no longer only craved Wukong. Someone after the terror and pain. Someone who fed that piece of his soul which clung onto hope harder than Macaque had dared to in a long time. A piece fueled by friendly words and crooked smiles...

At first he thought it was some kind of boredom. He had spent centuries locked in a rivalry with the Monkey King, it makes sense it would feel weird to no longer have that... anticipation coiled tight in his muscles. To no longer have something to chase after; to no longer have a goal or a plan. Though... isn't this was what he had always wanted? Ever since Wukong first promised it to him...

And no matter how long he spent meditating or talking through his inner turmoils with Sandy and MK, there was this aching void that persisted, refusing to be tended to. Almost as stubborn as-

"Mac?" Your voice broke him out of his thoughts, allowing him to blink away the haze he hadn't noticed forming and focus on the credits now rolling down the TV screen.

"Ah- the movie's over?"

"Uh, yeah? Where'd that handsome mind of yours take you?" Wukong smirked from his place pressed against Macaque's side, playfully letting his tail coil around the warrior's leg. Macaque huffed and rolled his eyes fondly. He's about to respond but freezes as he meets your concerned but slightly amused gaze. His fur bristles slightly as you open your mouth to speak, his eyes dilating at the motion of your lips parting and he tears his gaze away, already mentally beating himself up for how his heart stuttered at that, the poet in him already latching onto even the smallest of details to fawn over. The guilt dancing inside him only intensified when he caught sight of the barely concealed concern dancing in Wukong's eyes that mirrored your own.

Macaque rushes to interrupt you before you could say anything that would make the stubborn void of a heart inside him start radiating that stupid warmth again.

"I- Nowhere. I need to uh- pee?" Macaque abruptly stood up, much to Wukong's displeasure as he had gotten rather comfortable. Before Wukong could voice this, Macaque had already disappeared into a shadow, leaving you and Wukong to sit in a confused silence.

"... What was that about?" You find yourself asking. You had been used to witnessing their fights and seeing how they act when tensions are high, but the only time you've seen Macaque act like that was when you forced him onto his first date with Wukong.

"Honestly? I have no clue... he's been quiet today," before you can say anything he amends, "quieter than usual."

You chew on the inside of your cheek thoughtfully, examining Wukong's expression. He's looking at the spot Macaque left through, chewing nervously on his lower lip. You could nearly see the overthinking beginning to build up in the way his eyes remained locked onto that one spot, his brows creased tightly and his tail flicking against the couch. Sighing, you knock your knee against his to get his attention before tossing a controller into his lap.

"Think you'll finally beat my high score?"

"Stupid, stupid, stupid..." Macaque groaned to himself, pacing back and forth beside a small stream, monkeys already gathered on his shoulders. Their curious chirps went ignored as Macaque focused on the thoughts swirling in his head and tried to push down the emotions swirling in his chest, "what is wrong with me?"

He finally had everything he could've ever wanted and his stupid heart craved more.

Not only did he not want to ruin everything he worked so hard for with Wukong, but he also didn't want to ruin his friendship with you. Genuine friendship was so rare for him. He was... amicable with most of the brotherhood (everyone except Peng, at least,) but he only truly considered Wukong a friend. MK, as good of a kid as he is, barely hits the mark. But you arrived and despite his cold demeanor, you got to him with your sarcastic comments and surprisingly insightful views. It was nice to have a friend that felt... normal. Someone who wasn't trying to kill him. Someone who knew him as "that weird angsty guy" instead of a villain.

Plus, if you really wanted him like that, you wouldn't have gone through so much trouble to get him and Wukong together... granted, that does sound like a very you thing to do.

Macaque sighs, running his hands over his face. It's not like he wants to replace Wukong with you. Wukong isn't replaceable and you could never be just a replacement.

Taking a deep breath, Macaque assures himself that it must just be a passing... infatuation, of sorts. He'll get over it... mortals do this stuff all the time. He can't count on one hand the amount of times you've complained about workplace drama involving one guy who is head over heels for another person each week.

He comes back with a familiar easy smirk, watching as you and Wukong wrestle each other, both of you trying to distract the other to get an upper hand in whatever game you two were playing (it seemed to be a bunch of tiny brick men jumping around the screen and- was that Wukong wearing a cheerleader outfit?) before perking up when you see Macaque and he swears he's boiling from the inside based on the warmth blooming in his chest at the sight.

Wukong goes to say something but you see your chance and push him off the couch, ignoring his indignant squawk in favor of winning the game. When you go to brag in Wukong's face, you're met with a shoe being thrown at your own.

You respond very respectfully by jumping off the couch to body slam Wukong, which doesn't do much to the immortal monkey but does pull another amusing sound from him as he screeches and thrashes under you, clawing at the abused floorboards as he tries to escape you. Despite knowing he could easily throw you off if he was actually trying, you smirked triumphantly and sat on his back to keep him on the ground

Macaque watches with a fond smile...

He's so screwed.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Thank you so much for reading! I know the "get together" part of this never really happened, but I wasn't sure how to transition into that without making this too long. I can always do more if you want; your requests have genuinely been my favorite so far. I'm so sorry it always takes me so long to get this stuff done- There were a few parts of this where I considered taking a part out, but most of the time I decided not to. Hopefully it ended up being at least semi-enjoyable?

Don't be afraid to let me know of any typos, grammar, or consistency mistakes! Constructive criticism is accepted and appreciated!

(I'm so nervous to post this for some reason-)

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rinniessance · 1 year ago

Text

TEENAGE FEVER ༊*·˚ - suguru geto x fem!reader x satoru gojo

SUMMARY. you, satoru and suguru have been taking care of the fushiguro kids and the twins since your teenage days. after your latest mission, you reminisce about the beginnings of your little family. and during an impromptu trip, unspoken feelings finally come to a boil.

꒰ warnings: pure fluff! idiots in love. friends to lovers, mutual pining, family dynamics, non-canon compliant, megumi calls you mommy once ♡ // word count: 11.6k ꒱ ꒰ notes: another repost from my old account .ᐟ.ᐟ just really wanted to have this piece on my new blog <3 ꒱

sometimes you wonder why you agreed to be a part of madness that is the geto/gojo/you in a co-parenting throuple (you internally scream every time you remember how nonchalant satoru was about that description. what? i think that’s kind of adorable. you and suguru did not agree; somehow the name still stuck around). you would think that a pair of strongest sorcerers would be able to handle four first graders yet dozens of notifications that finally came through to your phone prove otherwise. your left eye twitches.

[ groupchat notifications: co-parenting throuple ] ‘toru /ᐠ. ᴗ.ᐟ\: girl dinner ! ‘toru /ᐠ. ᴗ.ᐟ\: [picture] sugu ₍ᐢ⑅ᐢ₎: im sorry i wasn’t there to prevent the disaster sugu ₍ᐢ⑅ᐢ₎: shall i prepare the casket?

messages are stamped two hours ago, and you’re too afraid to open the picture, dozens of different scenarios popping up in your head at the speed of light. when you finally unlock the messages, you think suguru was considerate enough to even suggest a casket because once you’re done with satoru gojo, there will be no body to bury.

you: you fed them cake for dinner ?? toru /ᐠ. ᴗ.ᐟ\ responded: it’s sunday! they deserve a little treat! sugu ₍ᐢ⑅ᐢ₎ responded: it’s a 12-inch cheesecake you responded: satoru, i know what you want to say, zip it. you’re in so much trouble already.

you: and why is it only you with the girls, where is megumi???? toru /ᐠ. ᴗ.ᐟ\ responded: and ‘gumi ate regular dinner like a child-man he is :< you responded: it’s called a man-child satoru… toru /ᐠ. ᴗ.ᐟ\: responded: no, megumi is a child-man because he has a soul of a man trapped in a body of a seven year old sugu ₍ᐢ⑅ᐢ₎ responded: so you’re calling him benjamin button? you responded: that’s why he doesn’t like either of you.

the frustration you felt towards satoru mere two minutes ago dissipates and gives space to something much warmer; the feeling that was tugging at you the whole weekend as you travelled to korea, sent away on a mission (you found yourself missing your little family more than you expected); the feeling that made you treating exorcising curses with utmost care because for the first time in a while, you want to come home safe. with a simple reminder of how lucky you’re to have satoru and suguru protecting the little piece of safe haven you carved out for yourselves; all the anger is gone as if it was never there in the first place.

you’re about to scroll through the earlier messages but flight attendant announces that the passengers are finally clear to get off the plane, so you shove the phone into your bag, grab your carry-on and hurry out. security check is surprisingly fast, and you’re riding a taxi back home in no time. you send a quick message to the group chat that you’re on your way and close your eyes.

quiet hum of the radio, steady movement of the car, and familiar surroundings immediately bring you peace – you’ve been feeling restless during your whole weekend trip, and now that you’re almost back with people you want to be with the most, you cannot help but smile. you’re being lulled to sleep by something pleasant playing on the radio, and your thoughts drift back to the day you found that being teenage parents can come in different forms.

3 years ago

you sigh again as you look at your watch. 4:23pm, satoru was supposed to be here 23 minutes ago. not only that, but he’s been ignoring your calls, not responding to your messages and did not tell anyone where he’s suddenly gone off to. suguru cannot be reached either, you know he has a mission today, so now you’re stranded in the middle of shibuya, your least favorite place to be, alone. you think this is the day you finally stab satoru gojo because he has the absolute nerve to beg you to come to this new dessert cafe, the one that just opened. supposedly, it was so good, you just have to try it - satoru convinced you to join him, knowing that you hate being in overcrowded spaces, only for to him to ghost you.

buzz of your phone brings you out of your thoughts.

[ incoming call: toru /ᐠ. ᴗ.ᐟ\ ]

“i swear to god, satoru, you better have to save half the planet as an excuse or —”

“where are you?”

“what? what do you mean where am i? in shibuya, where we were supposed to meet almost 30 minutes ago!”

“we’re going back to the school now, come back as soon as you can.”

and then he hung up. you blankly stared at the screen of your phone like it would somehow explain what just happened. with a deep sigh, you put the phone away and massage your temples, feeling the headache coming. satoru gojo might be the one who’s getting migraines from having six eyes but he always makes sure you have one too, just for the company.

ride back to the school is quick and easy – thankfully you’re in time to beat the rush hour, and currently, you’re standing in front of tokyo high. now that you’ve had time to calm your anger and frustration down, you realize that gojo would’ve at least texted you if he was late. something must’ve happened, and you feel panic start spreading its icy tentacles all over your body. picking up the pace, you almost run through the courtyard, pass the temple decorum and straight to doctor’s office – you assume he would be there if something happened.

you finally stand in front of the door: your breathing is heavy and you’re dizzy from how fast you sped up. the horrors of last year’s mission flash before your eyes, painting it blood, sorrow and anger, and you pray to every god known that it’s not a repeat of that failure. you almost lost suguru to the darkness that preyed on him, stalking his shadows, seeping through his skin – you are still haunted by how hollow his eyes became. you’re sure seeing him like this again will break you instead this time. you try to steady your breathing and knock.

“you can come in.”

of course satoru would know you were here. pushing the door and walking into the room, you are met by two little girls sitting on each suguru’s side on the hospital bed. satoru is standing next to them and observing his best friend who is gently murmuring something to the twins. both of them look unharmed which means shoko already worked her magic if it was necessary. it seems none of you want to bring up the elephant in the room so you just take a sit in the chair next to the desk.

“what happened?” your voice sounds loud in the hushed murmurs bouncing off the wall, and all four pairs of eyes are directed at you. it seems you startled the girls as they grabbed onto suguru’s sleeves – you cannot help but stretch your lips in a pretty smile, waving to them. “sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” you tell them in a hushed tone this time, “would you tell me your names if i told you mine?”

brunette twin shakes her head for the both of them, and you introduce yourself. same girl responds to your curiosity.

“i am mimiko, and we’ve never met our parents but i know i am older by 5 minutes. and this,” she points at the girl on the opposite side of suguru, “is nanako. she is always a little shy so i make sure to talk for the both of us!” blonde girl curls a little more into your friend, and you finally make eye contact with him. you’re a little lost by what you see – hurt, anger, tenderness, confusion, he looks so defeated yet relieved at the same time. you’re turning to look at satoru instead but he only shrugs his shoulders.

“don’t look at me, he didn’t really share any details with me either.”

you hum in response and get up from the chair, walking to where the hospital bed is and squat to face them, extending your hand.

“well, it’s really nice to meet you, mimiko and nanako,” and as you get a little closer to their face, you whisper as it’s meant to be a secret, “i think we’ll become really good friends.”

from what satoru told you, it seems that him and suguru hadn’t had a chance to talk yet – girls looked very attached to dark-haired man already, it’s most likely they wouldn’t leave his side and whatever gojo wanted to discuss was not meant for children’s ears. you’re too scared to overstep the friendship boundary you just started building with the girls but you know the look on your friends’ faces, and they tell you they need to have a serious and most likely unpleasant conversation (not too hard to guess what about). standing up, you tentatively reach out your hands to nanako and mimiko.

“have you ever tried crepes? there is a very good place that sells them nearby. what do you say if we go and grab some dessert, just us girls?”

you could see their eyes lit up as they looked back at suguru, looking for a confirmation you’re safe to go with. he smiled at them (that smile that sometimes makes your heart skip a beat and makes you yearn for something you know you could never have), making wrinkles appear in the corner of his crescent-like eyes.

“she is my friend, you can go with her. i’ll meet you in a little bit,” and as he looked back at you, he mouthed quiet “thank you”. you only smiled in return: suguru never needed to thank you, not after the near escape to hell you guided him away from; not after the sleepless nights you spent keeping him a quiet company on the rooftops of jujutsu tech because silence was everything he needed in those moments; not after tight embraces you had to hold him in when you witnessed a sliver of panic attack creeping up on him when he least expected it. in the year that followed the disastrous star plasma vessel mission, you were the light that guided suguru back to himself, back to satoru, back to you. geto didn’t need to say thank you, at least not to you, not anymore.

grabbing two little girls by their hands, you lead them out of school.

“i promise you we will have the best time.”

present

the particular rough bump of the car brings you back to the present moment. you look at the time on your phone, display showing 11:23pm, and you smile looking at the picture on your lockscreen: it’s a picture of satoru with nanako and mimiko, their mouths stuffed full of crepes.

after suguru decided to take the girls in, you and satoru made it a habit of coming over and helping him take care of them. geto and gojo used to be inseparable but the rift that broke in between them in the year that followed amanai riko’s death was a surprise. being close to both strongest sorcerers, you knew why it was there, you knew the sheer trauma of it for both of them. so you stayed with gojo when he needed you to keep reminding him that his shoulders do not have to carry the weight of the whole world, and you’re here to share it. and you stayed with geto when he was plunged into the coldness of heart-wrenching guilt and needed you to pull him out from under the deep. after suguru adopted nanako and mimiko, you were the bridge that crossed a seemingly bottomless crevice between the two of them.

making satoru see what he was missing with suguru’s behavour at the time and asking suguru to understand why satoru was seemingly oblivious to it in the first place – the confusion, the pain, the loss of innocence, and everything unsaid that went on between them – was almost as difficult as being a sorcerer in the first place. by a miracle, you stopped being their overpass as they started rebuilding their bridges themselves. yet, the connection you weaved with the sacred geometry of your hands between the three of you created a special bond that prevailed until this day.

unlocking your phone, you scroll through the earlier messages in the chat: messages that kids already miss you (sent 30 minutes after your plane took off on friday), stories about their successful disneyworld trip on saturday (traitors, you think, you’ve been begging them for a family outing there for months now), and cake-baking adventures today (you internally dread the mess that will have to be cleaned up in the kitchen). looking back at you from your home screen is the picture of megumi and tsumiki on their first day of school, proud suguru holding both their hands (megumi refused to hold satoru’s hand so he refused to be in the picture – sometimes you wonder who is the older out of the two). warmth takes over your entire being once again, and you allow yourself to recollect the memories of how the last pieces of your family all came together.

2 years ago

“i am going to meet with that kid fushiguro was talking about before he, you know,” and satoru dramatically slashed his neck with his finger, poking his tongue out, imitating a dead face. nanako and mimiko laughed from the opposite side of the table while you kicked him on the shin.

“please, satoru, i didn’t sign up to babysit three kids. eat your breakfast, i need to get girls to pre-school, we can talk about it once i’m back.”

“what if i drive you? and then we can go grab kikufuku from the new place that opened near shinjuku station, i heard it’s really good.”

“satoru, it’s 7am in the morning. unlike you, i am a normal human being who cannot possibly consume that much sugar this early. and,” you lean in closer and whisper so the girls cannot hear, “please don’t say stuff like this in front of the twins, they will think it’s normal to be asking for dessert at this ungodly hour.”

satoru thinks it’s adorable, how you huff and puff at the girls like a mother hen. ever since the girls started living with suguru, you made it your mission to come over at least once a week to make sure they have everything they need – and nanako and mimiko, as they once confessed to geto, love your presence. after everything they’ve been through, the girls learned to recognize the intention behind people’s auras, and yours only gave them peace. and, unbeknownst to them at this tender age, they have craved peace for a very long time. so he bites his tongue and keeps the snarky remark he wanted to say, instead quietly whispering “sorry”, and you appreciate the gesture that may seem small to another, but speaks volume to yourself.

“fine. we will be leaving in,” you look at the watch, squinting and thinking about how much time you have left, “30 minutes, make sure you’re ready or we’re leaving without you.”

you let the twins finish their breakfast and rush both of them to brush their teeth before you prep their outfits. suguru was sent out on a mission for the whole week (you worry; satoru tells you that with how much you worry about everyone and everything, you’ll be grayer than him in couple of years) and asked you to stay with the girls until he returns. you won’t lie – you’ve grown attached to them within the short amount of time you’ve been helping taking care of them so you agreed to babysit in a millisecond.

you didn��t expect that a third child will be living with you all this week too.

“why don’t i get my outfit chosen for me?” you feel satoru before you can even hear him, the never-ending reach of his limitless tingling your senses, rushing the goosebumps up your spine (this is totally normal, right? friends make other friends feel like this, right?). and you wish he would only be the omniscient presence that makes your knees weak because as soon as he opens his mouth, you want to roll your eyes and smack the back of his head. you learned to treat him like a child, if he wanted to behave like one.

“because mommy is busy and you’re old enough to do it on your own.”

satoru did not expect you to say that, sudden blush rushing to his face making his thoughts drift in a direction incredibly inappropriate for a friend. great. you’re so gross, satoru. he suddenly turned away and rushed out from the bedroom (if you had more time, you would’ve asked him what his deal was but alas, you were already running late). then he proceeded to stay quiet the whole morning: while you were getting nanako and mimiko dressed, while he was driving all of you to school, while you waved goodbye to the girls and made your way back to the car. the phrase kept running through his mind the whole time until you cleared your throat and looked at him with your brow raised.

“what’s gotten into you? you’ve been suspiciously quiet the whole morning. didn’t you want to talk about something?”

he forced all the wrong thoughts to stay hidden for now, patted them away like crows nibbling at the forbidden nerves of his sudden need. he cleared his throat and started driving away from the school, not knowing where he was taking the two of you yet.

“uh, yeah. i was telling you that i am going to meet with the fushiguro kid tomorrow.”

“okay… and?”

“and what?”

“what are you going to do?”

megumi fushiguro was discussed among you before, but no concrete decision was ever reached. what if the kid doesn’t even want to go with him? he won’t be able to drag him by force unless he wants to be accused of child abduction.

“i don’t know. if he does want to come with me, i have the resources to keep him out of whatever deal his father cooked up for him with the zen’in clan. but if he doesn’t… by the time he realizes what zen’ins are, and if he ever wants to leave, it’ll be too late,” satoru clicks his tongue at the mention of one of the three big families. it’s no secret gojo clan has not seen eye-to-eye with zen’ins for a long time now but for satoru, it’s personal.

“you know, if you decide to take him in, it’s not like one more child will really make a difference. you’ll just have to stop coming around and it’s like nothing changed,” the words come out of you with such levity, satoru sometimes thinks you don’t even realize that your presence alone can make a wilted flower spring back to life.

he can only laugh in response. you haven’t even met the kid and you already welcome him like it’s nothing to worry about. gojo always wanted to compare you to the sun, the stars or any other celestial being that shines so brightly, they illuminate every shadow in their reach. but as the time passed, he realized that he didn’t want you to be a sun, or a star – then he will have to share your light with everyone else. no, you’re a flame in the home’s fireplace, warm and inviting to anyone who’s welcomed into your humble abode but lost to everyone else.

“you say that now. let’s see what happens when i show up with two kids instead of one.”

present

the memory makes you chuckle. sometimes you wonder if he knew megumi had a sister because when he did show up with two kids instead of a promised one, you swore he looked as smug as ever.

as the time went on, spreading yourself thin between going to university (you said you wanted to finish your degree in case your career as a sorcerer doesn’t work out), helping out geto and gojo on their missions when they asked you, and helping take care of both suguru’s girls and fushiguro siblings was proving to be too much. so satoru, for all his seemingly unlimited resources, decided that buying a house and living all together will be better. you knew that it was easier to move a mountain than change gojo’s mind once it’s been set on something so you didn’t argue. to no one’s surprise, living together for all of you came as naturally as breathing. who said a family cannot be three barely functioning not-even-yet adults and their four adopted children?

the familiar silhouette of home comes into view, and you sigh with relief. when the cab stops, you pay the driver, grabbing your things and rushing our the car. it’s the moments like this you envy satoru’s teleportation ability though you will never admit it to him out loud, lest you inflate his ego even more. you’re barely able to step away from the gates when the front door to the house swings open and you see the person you were just thinking about poking his head out.

“need a hand?”

gojo is as cheerful as ever, and you cannot help but smile back, lips stretching in that tired way he finds almost domestic, and he feels something prick inside him. not now. you want to say something back, but you’re interrupted by the sound of little footsteps running past satoru, towards you.

“you’re back, you’re back!” nanako and mimiko are the first rushing to greet you, with tsumiki hot on their tail. you see megumi standing in the doorframe trying to pat away satoru’s hand resting on top of his head as he comes out to greet you as well.

“oh my god, ‘toru, what are they still doing up, it’s past 12am!” you redirect your attention to the kids instead. “what are you little rascals still doing up, uh? just because you don’t have school tomorrow doesn’t mean you don’t have a sleeping schedule anymore!”

“gojo-san and geto-san said we can stay up today!”

“3 years later and you’re still the only one they call by your first name,” you hear suguru before you can see him: he is standing on the opposite side of megumi, letting the kid hide behind his leg to get away from gojo’s assault on his hair. you smile at them and decide there is no point of staying mad at them any longer.

the men help you to bring your bags inside, and you collapse on the couch as soon as you pass the threshold of your home.

“how was your trip?” megumi asks as he slowly crawls to sit on your right side. out of all the kids, megumi was the hardest to read – for a child his age, he was overly perceptive and did feel almost like an adult at times. what did satoru call him? a child-man, that’s right.

“it was good, ‘gumi. ‘m just tired now. how was your weekend? i saw someone took you to disneyworld when i was asking for it the whole time,” you said, raising your voice at the later part of the sentence so it can reach gojo and geto’s ears from where they were in the kitchen. you could only hear a light chuckle back.

“it was so fun! mimiko was scared of the ride we went on, but i was so brave!” nanako’s eyes twinkled with so much joy, you really wish you witnessed the moment yourself. satoru was right all those years ago, you were a mother hen back then, you’re a mother hen now.

“no, i wasn’t! tsumiki was scared more!”

“why are you lying? no, i wasn’t!”

“ay, ay! i’m sure all of you were equally brave. now, can you tell me why you stayed up this late?” you finally sit everyone down, satoru and suguru joining you with freshly brewed tea, and think this is the most at peace you’ve ever felt.

“we were waiting for you…” tsumiki shyly confesses on behalf of everyone.

“oh,” your vision gets blurry and you feel pearly beads of tears pool in the corner of your eyes before quickly blinking them away.

“ughhh, you cute little puppies, i just want to eat you up,” you say before anyone can question your tears and pull all of the kids into a bear hug. time is late, however, so you make a quick work of tucking everyone into bed now that they’ve seen you. you say your goodnights and leave their rooms.

“do we not get a hug now?” satoru asks, wearing his signature smirk, and you want to clap back with a retort of your own, chastise them for letting the kids eat cake for dinner and stay up past midnight, or remind them that they are not seven years old anymore; but the car trip and the memories you revisited bring out something nostalgic in you making you slowly walk up to satoru and hug him instead. he is taken aback at first but gojo has always been good at recovering from momentary stupor so he’s pulling you back into a hug in no time.

“you two are rude,” comes from suguru’s side and as soon as you’re untangling yourself from gojo, you’re walking up to the raven-haired sorcerer to do the same.

“i missed you two idiots.”

“we missed you too.”

the silence stretches across the room but it’s comforting and inviting, like an old friend who hasn’t visited in a while, enveloping the three of you in its embrace. you look at the clock on the wall, showing you 1:05am, and suddenly your whole body feels heavy.

“sorry guys, i think the trip is finally showing its signs… i am so tired, don’t even have energy to take a shower,” you say and groan in disgust. you hate going to bed without washing the grime of the day off your body but the fatigue is clinging onto your skin like humid air. “i’m going to bed now, see you guys tomorrow.”

“good night.”

“sleep well.”

and if you paid closer attention, you would’ve noticed the deep seated longing in the men’s gazes, the one that you sometimes have to hide from them too; you would’ve noticed how suguru’s hand is following yours long after you’re out of their sight, and how satoru’s tongue darted out to wet his lips when you were pressed against him, even if for a second; you would’ve noticed that the feelings you’ve been trying to push deep down for your two best friends are reflected all the same somewhere in the constellation of their eyes.

next morning you wake up as a result of someone laughing your name and jumping on your bed. sunlight is peaking through the curtains, making sun bunnies dance on the walls of your room and kiss your cheeks. you try to open your eyes but your head feels heavy like you’ve just fallen asleep and you struggle to make out your surroundings – feeling disoriented first thing in the morning is definitely your least favorite thing. you groan softly and finally force yourself to lift your eyelids – as you do so, you’re met with two little girls using your bed as a make-shift trampoline.

“wake up! wake up! gojo-san and geto-san told us we will be leaving to go to the sea in an hour!” and they swiftly left, just as quickly as they had come in, leaving you to stare up at the ceiling in confusion.

“uh?”

once the words really settled in, you’re getting up from the bed in record time and putting on the first clothes you lay your eyes on. you find the strongest duo already up and ready. all of the kids, worryingly, also look like they are ready to leave the house, and there are bags near the door with both satoru and suguru looking too smug not to be suspicious about it.

“what is going on here?” you ask from the doorway that connects the hallway leading to your rooms to the kitchen. “why am i hearing that we’re going to the sea, and why are you dressed like this?”

“well,” satoru starts, “because we are going to the sea so we’re wearing appropriate clothing. you’re the only one who’s still not dressed.

you close your eyes and massage the bridge of your nose. mentally you douse whatever feelings you were having for these idiots yesterday.

“why am i hearing about this only now?”

“surprise?..”

“i know it’s last minute, but satoru made a promise to drive so you can relax in the car while we’re on the way there. just get ready and we can leave right after,” suguru says from his place on the couch, and you cannot help but sigh deeply and return to your room to shower and quickly pack.

when you’re out of earshot, geto shoots gojo a look.

“what are you planning, satoru?”

“why would i be planning anything? she’s been really stressed recently, and then the higher ups have the audacity to send her away for a whole weekend and give you a mission that took your whole sunday at the same time she was sent away. i was overworked the week before that. sometimes it feels like they are doing this on purpose. so maybe we should all disappear for a couple of days with no way of contacting us, maybe they’ll stop pestering us like we’re the only sorcerers available.”

“very mature of you, ‘toru.”

“yeah, yeah, whatever.”

the two of them finish packing the last of the food that gojo bought in the morning while waiting for you. reserving a spot this late in one of the most popular vacation spots in japan was hard, but nothing is impossible when you’re satoru gojo.

you’re ready in record time, and the kids are all yelling and arguing about who is going to sit where. you need to intervene and say you will be sitting in the back of suv with nanako and mimiko, while mugumi and tsumiki agreed to sit in the middle row; suguru is riding shotgun and satoru has agreed to be your driver for the ride. unsurprisingly, not even an hour out of the city, the car is filled with snoring as the kids fell asleep shortly after you started driving. you feel yourself getting drowsy, closing your eyes and swearing you will only sleep for a moment. however, the next time you open them, you’re informed by suguru that all of you are already halfway through the trip.

“oh my god, i can’t believe i slept for that long,” you mumble through a voice heavy with drowsiness. “i think it’s best if we stop somewhere now, i’ll wake the kids up so they can eat quickly and pee. i suggest we all do it.”

“yeah, i think it would be best, i don’t know if we will have the opportunity to stop any time soon,” satoru agrees with you, and the drive continues for 20 more minutes until you’re stopping at the gas station. you gently wake the kids up and let them know that they need to have a snack and go to the restroom (time is 11:20am and they should be able to fall asleep again with no issues after that).

“how much longer do you think we have to drive?” you ask satoru as he is refilling the gas tank. you’re watching suguru watch the kids where they are running around nearby.

“maybe 2.5-3 hours, depending on the traffic.”

“did something happen during the weekend?”

“no, why would you ask?”

“hm…” you quickly hum, “this is all too sudden for it to be spontaneous.”

“oh, common, don’t be like that. i just think the little family of ours needs a mini vacation, that is all.”

as soon as the words leave his mouth, gojo can feel the blush creeping up all the way to his ears and he clears his throat, walking away. you don’t know what makes you giggle more – the way he admits that whatever it is you have, he also sees it as a family, or the way the confession makes him feel embarrassed. you observe him preparing to get into the driver’s seat – sometimes you wonder what is happening in that handsome head of his. you glance at suguru and wonder if he would have a better guess.

gojo lets you know that you’re good to depart again. the second part of the trip is as chaotic as you would imagine it go and you give up on trying to make kids to go back to sleep. instead, you’re breaking up the fights between almost everyone: nanako and mimiko argue about their friendship bracelets across from you; you keep having to remind gojo that he is indeed an adult in this situation while he wants to continue arguing with megumi; and suguru somehow breaks the AC so the last 30 minutes of the drive everyone is suffering in silence.

once you finally pull up to the little vacation house gojo somehow procured at the last moment, you’re already feeling at your limit: you need the sun and to dive into warm water before you start losing your hair.

geto helps you with the bags while gojo unloads everything into the kitchen – you’re not sure how long you’re staying here for but the amount of food they brought will last you a nuclear winter. the children are excited about their rooms, and you must keep reminding them to be careful and to not run into any corners despite their enthusiasm. you help them unpack and choose outfits for the day – it’s been decided in the car that you will be going to the beach as soon as you’re settled.

everyone is ready in half an hour – you helped the girls get into their swimming suits, while megumi insisted he can do it himself (you suggested geto or gojo help him, but he closed the door in their faces and didn’t come out until he was done). both men were already waiting by the door with the picnic bags and beach essentials – you had to admit they looked a little too good, making a knot twist in your stomach.

satoru was dressed in a simple white button up that matched his hair and a pair of navy swim trunks. maybe he was right, this trip was long overdue for all three of you, as gojo looked more relaxed and at peace than you’ve seen him in a while. his lips were stretch into a lazy smile and his eyes, unobstructed by the glasses or a blindfold, had a glint of mischief that reminded you of a 16 year-old boy you met all those years ago. he tried his best to style his white unruly hair but the surrounding humidity only made it frizzier.

gojo makes it seem almost effortless, with how good he looks, and maybe part of it is true – despite never admitting it out loud, you know he won the genetic lottery when it came to his appearance. but you also know that satoru has an unrelenting skin care routine (because you buy your products together); that he asks what you think about his outfits even though you keep repeating you should be the last person he asks for fashion advice (don’t worry about it, princess, your opinion is the only one that matters anyways and you hate how your heart clenches at these words); and that he spends 45 minutes taking his showers. but what gojo doesn’t know is that you adore him the most first thing in the morning – eyes so sleepy he can barely keep them open, voice gruff and low asking what’s for breakfast, wearing his sleeping gray sweatpants and nothing else. and he will never know lest you want to ruin everything you’ve worked so hard to build between the three of you.

you moved your eyes away from gojo to where suguru was leaning on the door. he was wearing a blue hawaiian shirt with the three top buttons popped off, paired with simple black swimming shorts. his hair was put into a perfect manbun, however, unrelenting bangs always make themselves known untangled from the rest of his locks. you noticed it back when you were teenagers and got used to carrying bobby pins for him – he somehow always leaves them at home (you will never admit but you love the fact that he always forgets them – it gives you another reason to run your fingers through his hair) – and this habit stayed with you all the way into adulthood. while satoru was handsome in a regal way, suguru was all sharp edges that made him look almost dangerous – pronounced jaw, pointy nose, almost cat-like eyes; the kind of beauty that always makes you weak in the knees.

“see something you like?” satoru’s voice takes you out of your daydream and, shamefully, you realize you’ve been standing in the corridor doorway, gawking at them like it’s your first time seeing their faces. you only groan in response and roll your eyes, trying to hide the blush that adores your neck and flushes your cheeks red.

“if i saw something i like, i would’ve told you,” and you stick your tongue out. liar.

“are you feeling well? you look a little red, maybe you got a fever?” comes from suguru’s side now as he tries to reach for your forehead but you swat his hand away.

“ugh, i hate both of you.” liar. they only laugh when you rush past them, megumi and nanako on either side of you holding your hands while tsumiki sits on satoru’s shoulders and mimiko takes her rightful place on suguru’s back.

“whatever you say, sweetheart.”

the way to the beach is short and sweet, your attention is fully dedicated to megumi and nanako as they re-tell you the stories from their weekend. ‘gumi won a plushy and gave it to mimiko because she asked him to play in the first place, and tsumiki, apparently, had the highest score in the game where you punch a bag to see how strong you are. nanako says that helping satoru bake the cheesecake on sunday was her favorite part of the weekend, and you make a mental note to let her help you the next time you do it.

from behind you, geto and gojo observe your interactions with the kids, each of them in their own thoughts, yet both mulling over the same thing – you, letting tsumiki and mimiko chat between themselves.

neither of them thought you would become a constant in their lives when they decided to take in the kids – after all, none of you were in a relationship, despite their feelings for you, and you had no obligations to be giving them so much of your time. but as the time went on, all three of you fell into a comfortable routine that was both a blessing and a curse – they couldn’t confess that the boyish crush they had on you in your teenage years not only endured but blossomed into something so much more. that something kept growing inside their ribcages, weaving and building a home there, rooting itself so deep, they forgot what life was like before you offered them your light.

satoru and suguru only discussed this once between each other. the unspoken feelings they had not only for you but also for each other made already complex situation even more complicated. the fear of damaging the carefully built dynamic between the three of you was overwhelming - so overwhelming in fact, both agreed to never speak of this again. pandora’s box was sealed, and only you behold the power to open it. the strongest duo knows why this little box of wonders needs to be locked far away from them - however, it’s moments like this, when megumi asks to be carried in your hands (even though he’s getting too big for that) while nanako clenches your hand harder and you indulge both of them without a moment’s delay, that make them wish you knew: knew how much suguru adores the little tilt to your head when you’re confused about something, knew how much satoru loves smoothing out the wrinkles on your head when you’re deep in the thought, knew how both of them yearn for your laugh after a long day.

the cute white bikini you’re wearing is definitely not helping the ever-running thoughts two men are trying so hard to push down. it’s not the first time the absolute indecency of their desire is sparked by the slight bounce of your tits and the swing of your hips. memories of countless times they had to take an extra shower in the morning because you would show up in the kitchen in one of their shirts, without a bra, nipples hard and visible through a thin fabric, should make them feel embarrassed, yet the shame never comes. when did the longing for you start feeling so right?

as the years progressed, this dance the three of you did around each other became familiar, and none of you dared to switch the melody.

sometimes you wish you were brave enough to do it.

“look, look, we’re finally here!” mimiko yells from suguru’s back and then instructs him to put her down. nanako lets go of your hand as tsumiki’s climbing down satoru’s shoulders, and three girls run away towards the sea.

“be careful! you still need to put your sunscreen, don’t run away too far!” you move your attention to the little boy you released from your hold as you entered the beach, “‘gumi, you’re not going with them?”

you wiggle his arm back and forth (his hand is so tight in yours, gripping now harder than before) but he refuses to look at you so you don’t push.

“did you forget he doesn’t know how to swim?” satoru says from behind you, and you shoot him a look. god, was he purposefully trying to rile megumi? fushiguro only digs his fingers further into your hand, and you honestly want to bite satoru’s head off.

“that’s okay, baby, i’m sure your dad needed support of his whole clan when he was trying to learn how to swim.”

“he is not my dad.”

your brain goes blank for a second, and you hope satoru did not hear what you just said (he did; but he thinks he’ll spare you the further embarrassment; he also doesn’t want to admit that it makes his stomach turn in a way he wish it wouldn’t).

“you’re right, dummy like him could never be your dad.”

you find the spot not too far from where the girls are playing, and you help geto and gojo set up the blankets and umbrellas. while they are making sure none of it flies away with the first gust of the wind, you search for the sunscreen in your bag.

“girls! come here, we need to put sunscreen on you!”

you hear the tatter of 6 feet rushing towards you, trying to get first in line so they can all get back to playing in the water. you hand satoru and suguru two other tubes you brought.

“help me to put this on them. i think if we don’t do it in the next minute, they will actually explode,” you say, smiling at how impatient tsumiki is being in front of you as she keeps bouncing on her legs. before you start on the sunscreen, you turn her so her back is facing you and let her hair out of the ponytail as you try to retie it. she winces a bit and lets out a small ouch.

“’m sorry baby, didn’t meant to hurt you, you okay?” you ask as you rub on the roots of her hair.

“yeah, i’m okay!” she exclaims loudly, making you giggle. once her bun is all set in place, you quickly put the sunscreen on her whole body, finishing with the face, and boop her nose. tsumiki scrunches it in her adorable way, and you feel your heart swell with joy and love.

once the girls run off again, suguru comes up to you with the tube of sunscreen in hands.

“don’t you think you need a little help too?”

the smile adorning his face is so sweet, he doesn’t realize the summersaults it’s making your heart to do. and when you think about those hands on your shoulders, on your back, going lower where you want them most, you realize you actually might be burning up. but you can’t come up with an excuse fast enough not to let him do it so, without any words lest you’ll be embarrassing yourself, you just turn around and present him your back.

geto start slowly with your shoulders, squeezing the tube and spreading the sunscreen on your soft skin. you swear you can hear him sharply inhale, and your heart involuntarily skips a beat. you let yourself wonder, just for a second, how these hands would feel on the parts of your body where you want them most, if geto would be as gentle squeezing your breasts and tugging at your nipples. and when his hands start travelling lower, caressing the space between your shoulder blades and running his fingers down your spine, you wonder if his long digits would reach the spot inside your gummy walls that you’re unable to find yourself. you absolutely lose yourself to the indecent thoughts when he starts massaging the sunscreen into your lower back. that man, you think, if only he knew what he was doing. it takes all of your willpower to prevent yourself from moaning out loud and not tremble at his mere touch. you want to lean back and tilt your head to the side so geto can leave a trail of wet kisses on the side of your neck, following the curve of it to your jaw, and capture your lips in a way that only lovers can.

you can feel your skin grow hot and your white bikini better not show how embarrassingly wet you got from your best friend’s touch. you’re so sick, you think to yourself and before it becomes any worse, you’re untangling yourself from suguru’s arms and call out for megumi.

“i… uh… will go swim with him, don’t want him to get bored,” you breathlessly whisper as if too afraid to speak any louder, and call out to the boy.

“‘gumi, common! grab your floaties and we’ll go play a little further away from the girls,” you wait for him to grab his stuff, and you notice one of his rare smiles – he never hid the fact that you were his favorite out of three adults, and he always feels a little smug when your undivided attention is on him. satoru shoots him a knowing look which megumi successfully ignores, clinging to you.

you pass the girls as you show them the direction you’re taking megumi in and they all say “okay!” at the same time like it’s rehearsed. mimiko, nanako and tsumiki are in a competition to see who can gather the most seashells and are left under the attentive gaze of gojo and geto. you help megumi put his floaties on and gather him into your arms so you can walk a little deeper: once you’re satisfied with the distance, you try to let him go but he is attached to you like a baby koala.

“common ‘gumi, i promise i won’t let you go, okay? i’ll be right here in case you need help, and i’ll be also holding onto you the whole time.”

fushiguro only violently shakes his head, not wanting to be in the water by himself. you wonder where this fear comes from and think you’ll have to revisit it later. you don’t push any further, and hug him closer, running a smoothing hand on his back while he puts his head on your shoulder. you squat a little to help him get adjusted to the temperature, and he shrieks from the sudden rush of water above his waist while hugging you tighter, almost choking you. laughter bubbles in your throat but you don’t want to make megumi feel worse than he already does so you try your best not to let it out.

“hey, baby, it’s okay. i am holding you, yeah?” and as you say that, you try to push him away from you one more time, to let him experience the ocean by himself but he only tightens his hold as a sign he is not moving away. so you resign to gently swaying with him in the water, letting the salty waves wash around you. you can feel the sunlight dancing on your skin, warm breeze carrying all your worries away, if just for a moment, and you close your eyes allowing yourself to take all of it in. megumi’s head is pleasantly heavy on your shoulder, and you walk little bit further away from the beach until you bump into someone.

“oh, i am so sorry!” you instantly apologize and turn around. what you don’t expect is to be met with the pair of the most beautiful green eyes you see (your mind involuntarily goes to gojo and how even these emerald eyes pale to comparison to the infinity carried by his gaze). you think if your heart didn’t belong to the two most annoying human beings you’ve ever had a pleasure of encountering, you would’ve fallen head over hills right here, right now.

“please, no need to apologize.”

surprise number two: this stranger is not only handsome, but also has a voice that makes you want to do whatever he asks you to, as long as he keeps talking to you. and again, you think how unfortunate of you to fall in love with two people you can’t have when men like this walk around for free.

he smiles when his attention falls to megumi - little boy appears not to be happy with this encounter. who does this man thinks he is? maybe megumi didn’t want to learn how to swim, it doesn’t mean that he is willing to share you when he just got you away from two men on the beach (he is not old enough to rationalize that what he is feeling is jealousy; you never noticed but, geto and gojo excluded, he never liked how other men talk to you in the first place).

a handsome stranger doesn’t seem taken aback by the attitude from megumi, and for a seven-year-old, your little boy has a mean death stare.

“he is very cute, what is his name?”

“he’s megumi,” you give him your name as well and extend the arm for introduction. before a man can even respond, megumi is tugging your arm away and whines, speaking loud enough for satoru and suguru to hear, who, unbeknownst to you, have been watching the interaction this whole time (spoiler – they are not very happy about it but proud of the kid, truly an oscar-worthy performance).

“mommy, i want to learn how to swim now!”

you think you heard him wrong – he has never called you this before. if it happened any other time, you think you would’ve cried tears of happiness. now it only makes you feel stupor. how does he even know to call you mommy in this situation? megumi has always been the most well-behaved one out of all four kids, the disbelief at his attitude is written all over your face. what is he playing at?

“oh, i’m sorry, i didn’t realize he was your kid,” the man says but hurries to add, “i adore children though; i work at a pre-school. hi megumi, my name is rei.”

the boy looks at the outstretched hand the man offered like it personally offended him. all of a sudden, he points to the beach where satoru and suguru seat and announces, yet again loud enough for them to hear.

“my daddies are just right there!”

what happened to “he’s not my dad?” you think in panic.

you’re not sure if gojo and geto can hear the full conversation, but they wave back at you anyways. rei moves his gaze from you to megumi to two men on the beach, trying to decide if he should believe it or not. you, on the other hand, are speechless and currently wishing someone would be kind enough to curse you right now, or for the ground to split and swallow you whole with how hot and embarrassed you feel. megumi is so grounded today. you can feel the inner temperature rise to the inappropriate levels, feeling like a kettle that is about to overheat – you don’t wait for rei’s response while saying awkward “bye, nice meeting you!” and rushing away.

“welcome back, mommy,” satoru teases when you settle back at your spot. megumi is sitting on the opposite side of you, munching on the watermelon like he didn’t just make an absolute fool out of you in front of a random man. you try your best to ignore satoru, but his comment only makes you groan, sound almost bordering a sob.

“please, for the love of everything holy, don’t say another word. i bet it was you who put this idea into his head.”

“you know as well as we do that you can’t make megumi do anything he doesn’t want to,” gojo responds with the knowing smirk, and you only sink into yourself further. your face is burning up, and now you think it’s not because megumi’s whole afternoon mission was apparently to embarrass you in front of a stranger but because of what he said. the shock of the moment is finally dissipating, instead giving the space to indescribable tenderness. you will have to cry about it later on your own so to save yourself further shame, you hide your face behind your hat and lay down, contemplating how this one simple word somehow turned all of your insides upside down.

what you fail to notice is the proud smile satoru shoots to megumi, mouthing “good job” and suguru passing him his favorite candy knowing he’s not allowed to eat it before dinner.

you feel absolutely drained. after the incident with megumi, you stayed in the same position until the kids started complaining that they were hungry. the sun is getting low, painting the skies ochre and pink, giving everyone its glowing kiss. you dare to peek at satoru and suguru, and they looked almost ethereal – sunshine dancing on satoru’s white eyelashes as he dries tsumiki with a towel and nodding enthusiastically at the collection of shells she is showing him, while suguru tries to untie nanako’s wet hair so he can wrap a towel around it. mimiko slowly drags her legs towards you, poor girl absolutely exhausted, and as soon as you open your arms to embrace her with a towel of her own, she plops against you and almost momentarily falls asleep.

suguru offers to carry her home, but you wave him off, asking to grab megumi’s hand instead.

“i am not cooking once we get home, we better buy food now or we can drive into the city.”

“ugh, i don’t think i have the strength to drive,” satoru whines like he is the youngest out of the bunch. “let’s just buy something here, it smells pretty good.”

suguru only hums in agreement, listening to nanako and tsumiki argue about who got the most shells (both fail to count their shells correctly), and with that, your dinner plans are decided with satoru ordering your food from the stall nearby.

“what do we say when someone gets you food?”

“thank you, gojo-san!” three little voices echo each other, and you’re surprised even megumi joined in. the way back home is quick as you’re standing in front of your door in no time.

“oh my god, my legs are killing me,” you complain as you pass the threshold of the house. mimiko has been sleeping in your arms the whole way back, and you don’t know if you should wake her up and ask her to eat, or if you should just let her sleep. you can still smell the ocean on her skin, and you decide it’s best for her hygiene and your peace of mind that she is clean before she goes to bed too so with a heavy heart, you’re gently shaking her awake once you sit down on the couch.

“hey sweetie, we’re home. let’s eat, bathe and then i’ll put you back to bed, yeah?” her eyes are unfocused as she opens them, and she’s letting out a long yawn before slowly nodding her head and getting up.

“okay, everyone, go wash your hands, dinner will be ready soon,” suguru says from where he already stands in the kitchen, and all four pairs of legs excitedly hurry away.

“i hope the adventure today is enough to put them all to sleep right away,” you wistfully say.

“with their tummies full, i’m sure they will pass out in no time,” suguru says back while satoru circles around him to grab the plates from the overhead cupboards. you want to get up and help but looking at them like this, all domestic and familiar, the side of the strongest sorcerers only you get to see, makes you stall for a second to appreciate this moment for a little longer. the dull ache in your chest starts throbbing again as if someone’s picking at the rough edges that never seem to fully heal, and you wonder if you could have it all if you were a little more selfish. you shake your head banishing all unnecessary thoughts from your head.

the dinner is eaten quickly, everyone so hungry, you barely exchange any words. you can see the children are struggling to keep their eyes open, tsumiki almost falling face first into the plate, so you make a quick work of their unfinished dinner and hurry them into a bathtub. megumi insists he is old enough to take a bath separately from the girls so you ask either satoru or suguru to help him (megumi makes it known who he prefers by grabbing suguru’s hand and dragging him to the second bathroom). bath time is also surprisingly quiet, low energy in the room being an indicator of just how exhausted everyone is.

with the kids finally tucked into bed (megumi apologized for misbehaving, and you think about how far you’ve come with the boy who wouldn’t utter a full sentence to you for the first 6 months), you grab the beer from the fridge and make your way onto the patio where satoru and suguru are already engaged in conversation.

they turn their heads toward you once you step outside and offer you the space between them which you gladly take. you can see suguru is nursing his own beer, while satoru opted out for a bottle of virgin mojito.

“did neither of you really ask megumi to call me “mommy” today?” you wonder out loud as you’re looking out into the horizon, where the last rays of sun melt into the ocean, clearing the canvas for the stars to spark to life.

“nah, you know how stubborn that kid is,” satoru drawls as he takes another sip of the drink; you scrunch your nose just imagining how sweet that concoction is but smile, nonetheless. “plus, it was nice being called a dad.”

both you and suguru turn to look at him, but he stubbornly keeps staring forward. you snort, seeing geto’s smile in your peripheral vision, but there is no malice behind your action. both you and suguru always knew that gojo cared in the same capacity as the two of you for the kids, he was just a little more stubborn about admitting it. you can see it in the way he handles them after they wake up from nightmares (because he knows the same thing haunts him), how he packs them lunches to school when neither you or suguru are able to do it (i know i am not as great of a cook as those two but it’s better than buying stuff from the store), how he allows them to have sweets from his secret stash when everyone else (even you and geto) are not permitted to even think about it. the two of you always knew how much he cared – satoru just needed a little push to say it out loud.

you’re about to say something witty but suguru speaks up first.

“would you have continued flirting with that man if it wasn’t for megumi?”

“flirting? i wasn’t flirting with him!”

“whatever, talking,” geto waves a hand at you like it’s all unimportant details. “would you?”

the air suddenly feels charged with electricity, years of longing and yearning threaten to rip everything at the seams. you tried so hard to move past them, move past your silly little crush, failing miserably. not that dating other people was an option for you anyways – you are sure anyone, upon hearing that you take care of four small children at only age 21, will run away in the opposite direction. it’s a good thing it didn’t matter to you either way – the kids became an integral part of your life, and you would not give them up for anything. but sometimes, just sometimes, when the loneliness creeps into the parts of your bones that have no space for it, when the heart becomes a little too big for your own chest trying to escape through rushed beats, when you tremble from how longing encompasses your whole being, you wonder how it would feel if romantic love was made for you too.

you tilt your head to look at suguru, trying to find something in his face. he doesn’t know why he asked that question – maybe it’s the sun rush of the day, the good mood he’s been in recently or how that man looked at your body – but it felt right. and he knows he’s being selfish without discussing it with satoru beforehand, but he’s so tired of hiding, so tired of pretending like he doesn’t dream of waking up next to your warm bodies, so tired of thinking about what ifs and could haves - asking that question only felt right.

“no, i don’t think i would’ve returned his sentiment,” you simply state and hope that they would leave it at that. you know they never do.

“why?” it’s satoru’s turn in this interrogation, and he looks at you in a way that makes your pulse pick up its pace.

“because…” you don’t know what you’re supposed to say. because you’re in love with your best friends? have been since you were 16 years old? you’ve been carrying the weight of unrequited love for so long now, you think you’re afraid what will happen to the space it occupies if you confess. you hope you know them enough to realize they will not make fun of you for your confession, at most making lighthearted jokes about how they always knew you were not immune to their charms, but your palms are getting sweaty just anticipating their reaction.

“because?” satoru nudges you again, and you dare to steal a glance into his baby blues. satoru’s eyes have been compared to the most prized sapphires, an ocean that will never be fully explored, the skies that are bigger than life itself – all the metaphors that describe him to the outside world perfectly. however for you, his eyes are the color of blueberries that he painstakingly picks out of tsumiki’s desserts and gives to megumi; they are the color of his favorite shirt that is more gray now than blue with how much he washed it but refuses to throw away; it’s the blue ribbons he picked out for nanako’s and mimiko’s hair for their first day of school. you look into his eyes and see a sparkle of something familiar, something you’ve seen in your eyes times and times before, staring back from the reflection in the mirror.

unexpectedly, you feel dizzy and don’t know if it’s the summer breeze that makes your head feel heavy, the alcohol swimming in your veins, or the present company, but you’re brought back to when you were all 16 and innocent, to the moment before the steady ground was violently ripped from right underneath your feet. you think about amanai and that she still loved and cared despite knowing how all of it would end for her. you think about haibara, and how he was full of promise and life and so, so much love, you almost feel sick again.

you’re quiet as you contemplate, and the men don’t interrupt your train of thoughts. memories flash before your eyes like snapshots of old cameras, making them wonder where you have gone off to.

but then you think about how it ended, for the both of your friends, in blood and violence and guilt, their life threads cut short before either of them knew what life even is. amanai and haibara didn’t get enough time to figure it all out: have they loved anyone the way you love satoru and suguru? would have they have had time to figure it out if it was a fair world?

you can feel your best friends’ body heat wrap around you, encapsulating you in their scent and presence, and you decide you’d like to stay like this forever. you think about everyone who didn’t get to spend another hour with someone they love, and you realize you’d regret it your whole life if something happens and they didn’t know how they make you feel. and with the life you lead, something can happen at any moment. you steady your hands and take a deep breath, reading yourself. now or never.

“because i am in love with you two, and i have been since we were 16.”

you close your eyes, waiting for the laugh to come, for them to say oh, you little silly girl, to chastise you for falling for the only two people that will never be yours. you wait and wait but nothing comes. instead, you feel someone’s knuckles brushing lightly against yours and gasp, opening your eyes. what you didn’t expect to see is your two best friends looking at you as if they are seeing you for the first time, their lips stretch in smiles so wide, it looks like it’s supposed to hurt. and eyes, their eyes, say so much without them needing to say anything at all.

“so… what you’re saying is that we’ve been blue balling each other since we were 16?”

“ohmygodsatorupleasestop,” words leave your mouth all jumbled up, you’re sure they didn’t understand what you said. gojo might be a little crude but the meaning behind his childish metaphor is not lost on you – three of you have been oblivious to each other’s feelings for five years now, and a pang of regret shoots through you. how different would everything be if you were brave enough to confess all those years ago?

“have both of you really known since you were 16?”

“yes.”

both of them say it with such conviction, you feel yourself get lightheaded. you don’t want to cry but tears are pooling in your eyes involuntarily, and you sniff a little into satoru’s shoulder.

“aw, why are you crying? i thought we all finally agreed to be happy,” suguru coos at you from the side. the warmth of your hand in his still feels unreal – like it’s someone else’s arm attached to him, and he‘s just observing as a passer-by. he brushes your knuckles with the pads of his fingers and it feels right, how your digits perfectly intervene with his and how your head fits just right into the crook of satoru’s neck, and how your lips look so perfectly kissable and shiny right now. but he doesn’t want to rush the fragility of the moment, so he only squeezes your hand tighter.

“because we could’ve had this all this time… if we were just a little braver.”

“don’t you think we are already brave enough, all the time?” satoru asks this time. “maybe it’s okay for us to be a little cowardly, even if it’s not entirely good for us. we have next memory to look forward to anyways.” gojo lifts your head and looks into your teary eyes – you’re so beautiful, it almost hurts. he let his daydreams to be full of you and your lips and your touch, that it takes everything in him not to cross the distance in a searing kiss. but he knows it’s not the right moment, so he just swipes your tears away and kisses you on the forehead. behind you, you can feel suguru’s lips gently touch your exposed shoulder.

and just like that, all worries dissipate like sand through the cracks between fingers. what is the point of worrying about the past when you have future full of love in front of you? you don’t know what tomorrow holds for three of you with your souls now bare for each other, but you have the time to discover it together. for now, you’re content with this moment, salty ocean breeze dancing on your skin, the warmth of suguru’s palm in yours and satoru’s shoulder lulling you to sleep, and you think that maybe you’ve always meant to end up here, between them.

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chaoticbardlady99 · 1 year ago

Text

I Wondered If I Could Come Home (Astarion x F! pregnant reader) (Part 3)

Synopsis: A hag has set her eyes on you and Eowyn- Astarion is determined to kill the damn thing.

CW: Mentions of child loss

Author note: Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are much appreciated!!!!

Picture does not belong to me! Please reach out to me if it is yours!

P.s. lightly edited

Month 8 has been blissful and going into your last month- you actually feel stronger than you have the entire time.

You sit on a bench, reading another book about babies (you save the Dhampir books for locations with less eyes), as Astarion throws a ball with Scratch and Wide Eyes (Karlach thought her name for the Owlbear was clever) in the local park. Astarion had been fed up with their zoomie shenanigans since they began earlier this morning. You wanted to go outside anyway- so it was perfect!

Eowyn kicks every so often to let you know that she is still there and doesn’t intend on leaving anytime soon, but overall, it’s been a really easy day. It’s fun to be able to watch Astarion enjoy such mundane life activities and it makes you realize how many simple things in your life that you have taken for granted.

You smile to yourself as you continue to read your book and you finally feel hungry enough to begin munching on the pastry Astarion bought you.

It was an apple cupcake and it was surprisingly very very yummy.

“My, my,” a scratchy voice says, “aren’t you a pretty little bred thing.”

You feel the hairs on your neck stand up and you turn very slowly to look at the elderly woman who stares at you with a look of hunger in her eyes. Oh- it’s the woman Astarion bought the cupcake from. She looked… friendlier earlier?

You don’t know why you feel like you are in danger all of a sudden, but your arms go over your stomach protectively- one of them ready to fire a cantrip if needed. The energy around her feels familiar, but different- you’ve been in the presence of this type of magic before, but you can’t remember when.

“You are that pretty girl that lives in the house with the dark curtains,” she steps closer, “you come and buy those herbs with your little Cleric friend!”

Oh- maybe that’s why I recognize her more? I’ve seen her more than I’ve realized?

“You know, Droplet, I could take that little one off your hands.”

Your whole body freezes at the statement and her already wicked smile becomes even more menacing and even intimidating.

“You do look close to death as is- you don’t really want to birth a child you won’t survive having do you? Especially not a bloodthirsty Dhampir!”

You feel your heart racing, a deep sadness and fear is coursing through you.

Eowyn, my sweet girl, you are not going anywhere.

That relieves some of the uncomfortable emotions stirring within you, but this woman has you in a trance. You can’t look away from her and you don’t feel like you can move.

“I- I don’t know you,” you say shakily, “I- you need to walk away, please. I’m not interested and I don’t know what you are talking about.”

You don’t even sound convincing to yourself. You begin to feel really sleepy all of a sudden and your eyes are becoming harder to keep open. Something is wrong and as much as you want to call out to Astarion- your mouth feels heavy.

“Oh, Droplet,” the woman tuts, “it will be okay- you’ll wake up and it will all be bet-“

“What in the hells do you think you are doing?”

Whatever spell the woman had tried to put you under broke when she jumped at Astarion’s voice. You look over at the father of your child and you almost begin to sob. You have never been more grateful for how menacing Astarion can look when he wants to.

“Oh, hello!” she recovers her composure, “I know this young, adorably pregnant girl from the market. I was just offering to… adopt.”

“Oh yes,” Astarion snarls, “because Hags are known for their kind hearted souls and their selfless adoption of children.”

You feel sick to your stomach. Scratch is up on the bench and standing between you and the Hag- his hackles are raised and a long, low growl is released from his throat while Wide Eyes stands right next to you as close as he can get.

The Hag looks at you, then Astarion, then Scratch, and lastly, Wide Eyes before she returns her gaze back to yours. She gives you one last wide grin.

“I will see you later, Droplet. You should know that I always get what I want.”

You turn to Astarion who is pushing past the Owlbear- your face is in between his hands in an instant and he’s frantically searching over you- looking for signs of maltreatment..

Astarion pulls out an antidote from his pocket and makes you drink it- just in case the woman had intentionally poisoned the cupcake. It didn’t make the intense sleepiness you feel go away, but at least you know you aren’t dying.

It doesn’t matter to him though- Astarion is quick to pull you up and support you while you walk home. You can tell Astarion wants to just pick you up and run back home to Shadowheart, but you both know how crazy that might look considering normal men who have Astarion’s physique can’t carry pregnant women.

The park is only a block away, but it felt like it took hours. The world is hazy and you shift in and out of focus as Shadowheart begins to check on you.

“Wh-when did Shaodowww smart get here?”

“Will you please figure out what’s wrong already, CLERIC!?”

Astarion yells and your jumbled brain jumps- tears come falling out of your eyes.

“I-I’m sorry,” you sob, “I- I didn’t- I shouldn’t-“

“Shhhhhhhh, my Darling,” Astarion is sitting next to you in an instant as you begin to tilt over, “it’s okay- this is not your fault.”

“You….. sur…..”

Your question dies on your lips as you give into the exhaustion and fall asleep with your head on Astarion’s shoulder.

***********************

Astarion’s chest loosens when Jaheira, Minsc, Gale, and Halsin arrive. At least now he can go and kill the hag without worrying about dying in the process. He almost left after you had fallen asleep- the muffin he had bought you had in fact been laced with a sleeping potion. Astarion felt like a complete idiot, but Gale reassured him that he couldn’t have possibly known.

You are laying peacefully asleep in your bed and Astarion finds himself putting his hand against your belly to make sure Eowyn is okay- her kicks give him instant relief from the anxiety he is feeling.

He almost lost both of you and that thought is still enough to make Astarion homicidal. He will not let another evil individual take his life, his happiness- his home- ever again.

“S-star?”

Your eyes are staring at him lazily as you try to blink away the sleepiness. Astarion gently grasps your hand and brushes the stray hairs out of your face.

“I’m right here, my Love,” Astarion whispers, “I’m not going to let anything happen to either of you. I promise.”

You whimper and sniffle at Astarion’s words- your bottom lip trembling. Astarion climbs into the bed behind you and holds you to him- you burst into tears.

“I al-almost lost-“ you say through sobs, “Eow-“

“Shhhh Darling, it’s okay. She’s okay,” he soothes, “I’m going with the others to kill the Hag. Jaheira and Shadowheart are going to stay here with you- okay?”

“Don’t go,” you turn awkwardly to look at him, your face is grief stricken, “I don’t want to lose you- please don’t go.”

“Darling…”

“Please.”

Right as Astarion responds- Gale is knocking on the door.

“Would it be alright if I came in?”

“Yes,” you both say in unison.

Gale smiles at Astarion sadly after he looks at you. Astarion didn’t think about the fact that it was hard for your friends to see you in this emotional state until he moved in. Shadowheart cries after leaving the room when you’ve had a particularly scary vomiting episode or false contraction. She is terrified for you and it made him realize he had been wrong about her as well. Shadowheart is a selfless person for the right people.

“Minsc and Halsin are about ready to go, Astarion,” Gale looks between the two of you- noticing how the comment created some tension, “Tav- he will come back alive. We all will. We fought Auntie Ethel as a group of total strangers with no battle experience together and won. This will be a breeze, my Friend.”

“You really think so?”

“I know so.”

You take a deep, inhale in and with one last sniff you agree to not put up a fight about Astarion going. Astarion can’t believe that you would trust Gale’s opinion on the matter more, but he does understand the sentiment. It’s how he feels about Jaheira and Shadowheart staying behind.

He leaves a chaste kiss on your forehead and whispers promises of seeing you soon- promises he intends on keeping.

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 spoilers #astarion x tav #astarion romance #astarion x you #bg3 #karlach #astarion x f!reader #astarion baldurs gate #astarion x f! reader #astarion ancunin

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comradeboyhalo · 4 months ago

Text

Q!BadBoyHalo Lore Masterpost Pt.2

Pt. 1 here. If you're familiar with early QSMP, I think it's fine to start with this one. A recap on most of Bad's backstory can be found here.

Links lead to youtube vods, but they're also available on Bad's twitch channel. Some vods have been excluded for dropped plotlines.

☆: Most important vods in my opinion for q!Bad’s lore if you’re really short on time.

☆Dapper's Secret: Really fun and cute vod of Leo babysitting, but towards the end of the vod (5 hours in), Dapper asks Bad some cryptic questions/warnings.

Nether Trip: The islanders go to the Nether and find some books. Unsure of future relevance.

☆New Members: Bad and the other islanders go on a mission to rescue the new members from ice chambers. He also talks about being a demon after meeting Ironmouse.

Dapper's Secret Pt 2: 3 hours in, Bad searches for Dapper and can't find him. He investigates Dapper's shed and walks inside to see blueprints and notes. He eventually finds Dapper at his ant farm.

Dapper's Secret Pt 3: Dapper remains cryptic about his projects throughout the stream. Five hours in, Bad and Pomme enter the shed again.

☆Dapper's Secret Pt 4: QSMP Among Us for the first 2 hours. Afterwards, Bad starts stream reading one of Dapper's books, and he and Pomme later find Dapper at the cemetery.

Furniture Thief: Someone has stolen furniture, and Bad is accused of the crime.

☆☆ Dapper's Experiments: The reveal of what Dapper has been working on. This stream is both heartbreaking and necessary to understand all following BBH lore. (This stream mentions Bonnie the Felsteed, and you can learn more about them here. Not necessary though.)

☆☆ The Eggs' Disappearance: Bad finds out that the eggs have vanished in the first part of the stream. This is the beginning to Bad slowly losing saturation in his skin.

☆ Soul Vultures: At the end of the stream, around 3:18:00, Bad goes back to Dapper's laboratory. The beginning of this stream connects afterwards.

☆ Acceptance: At 1:40:00, Bad questions Fed workers, reminisces in the graveyard, then introduces us to his new...guest. 1:38:00 in the next vod connects.

The Maze: Introduction to Boo, and then the islanders investigate a maze linked to the egg's disappearance. Stream ends at Dapper's laboratory.

Bagi's Arrival: The islanders break out Bagi, and Bad wishes a missing Pomme happy birthday.

☆Interrogation: In the beginning of the stream, Bad questions the Fed Worker. Bad continues to visit the worker (Ron) at the end of each stream following.

☆Puppet: The stream opens with Bad visiting Ron again. Bad and Foolish talk around 3:45:00 and it's genuinely one of the most insane conversations Bad has every had, lorewise. I'd also recommend watching it from Foolish's POV, because his facial expressions show everything.

Who Can We Trust: Bad has Baghera meet Ron. The Federation and the other islanders start investigating Bad for suspected kidnapping. Baghera also has a great conversation with Bad here about Ron 45 minutes in.

☆The Break: Bad has a complete breakdown (tw derealization, paranoia) of Cucurucho in his home.

☆☆Opening Up to Tina: Now this is thee most insane conversation Bad has ever had. Tina's POV, and Bad lays out all his feelings on the table 5 hours in.

Ron's Home: 3 hours in, Bad reveals what happened to Ron.

Día De Los Muertos: Very sweet event where the dead eggs visit again, and Bad spends the day with them.

☆☆Purgatory: Day 1 and the Day 13 are the two must-watch vods. Link goes to the playlist. Would recommend watching the entirety of Purgatory to understand the elite Soulfire bond.

☆☆Are We Back?: Bad's return from Purgatory, and the start of an arc that will take him from now to the QSMP's end.

☆The Desert: Continuing from the previous vod, each stream opens with Bad wandering a strange, washed-out desert. The openings are a must-watch, and the rest of the vods are a great insight onto Bad's declining health as well.

New Eggs: Bad meets the new eggs (no special intro on this one). Also 34:00 is both subtle and heartbreaking.

Dapper Wakes Up: Dapper and Bad reunite

Climbing Up

No Escape From Reality: more of a chill day, 4:50:00 really shows his worsened state

QSMP Prison: Mini-event that's not super relevant for Bad's personal lore, but it was very fun to watch! Day 1 / Day 2 / Day 3 (starts 4 hrs in)

New World: Starts 3:15:00 in, Bad wakes up into the new QSMP world. Chill stream, mostly exploring the new environment.

☆Healing and Recovery: Bad wakes up with memory loss.

Before the End: The next vods are all a slow build up of Bad's deteriorating health, as shown mainly through his skin. Recommending 8:00:00 of this vod and 6:00:00 of this vod for some sweet egg talks.

Happy Saturday's: Bad builds a house with the late night eggs.

☆☆ Sweet Despair: What's this? Oh it's fucking cinema. The culmination of every single stream before it.

Egg POVs: The next vods follow around Dapper and Pomme as they cope with their father's death, from the POV of the ghosties. Not 100% necessary to watch because it's mostly slice of life, but I'd suggest watching the first one.

Absence / Fading Light / Funeral Preparations / Happy Days / The Last Day

☆☆Reunion: Bad comes back. I think this vod is a great ending to this arc (but you can also watch the follow-up vod here), as the stream itself follows such a strong storyline.

Please let me know if any links are broken and if there are any vods I should add!

#badboyhalo #qsmp #masterpost #badboyhalo vods #qsmp vods

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foxglovepng · 9 months ago

Note

Hello! Can I request for Soulmate AU of your choice for Leona, Idia, Floyd and Malleus? Thank you in advance!

Characters: Leona, Idia, Floyd, Malleus

CW: Leona & Idia being haters, Floyd is Floyd. Maybe OOC, Not proofread

A/N: Hello Anon! I am not too familiar with writing for soulmate AU so this will definitely be interesting. I decided to go with the red string one because It's the only one I sort of know.

A/N: I am so sorry if these are short I really do not write for soulmates at all.

If you liked Reblogs and Likes are appreciated <3

🌼🥀

Leona

Soulmate?? PSHHHHH Leona doesn't believe in soulmates. Or so he thought.

His brother met his soulmate and well we all know how that went. Leona had given up on soulmates in general since he could never find the said person.

Going to NRC he didn't think he'd meet them.

When he came across Yuu he saw their strings joined during the spelldrive incident. But that wasn't the topic of conversation that was for another day.

When they came across him again Yuu realized they were soulmates and their eyes gleamed. Leona was like Ugh an was constantly trying to fight it, he didn't really care, but Yuu of course kept pushing. He snapped at them one day and was like

"You're annoying I don't care that you're my soulmate." and then walked away.

Eventually Leona secretly began to miss Yuu's prescense but would never admit it out loud. One day he got fed up and went to go look for them. Some students were ganging up on them and he well scared them off.

"Be careful herbivore I'm not cleaning up your messes again." Liar he would.

At first he hated the soulmate thing, but he's not saying he likes it just doesn't mind it.

Floyd

He is a special case. He doesn't care enough, but he also does care. He's neutral to the soulmate thing, but if he ever did find his soulmate he'd be super stoked to meet them.

When Yuu came to Mostro Lounge to make the deal he found out Yuu was his soulmate then. However he was currently busy so he couldn't do anything about it although he's now super interested in Yuu.

After the whole ordeal he attaches himself to Yuu to learn everything about them, and just to get to hang out with them.

(Yuu literally has to force him to practice because he won't leave their side)

Eventually when they do start having a relationship he's even more loving and affectionate knowing he can kiss and cuddle his little shrimp as much as he wants.

Idia

He can barely handle a social interaction what make you think he will find his soulmate.

He's literally a shut in who is mainly on his computer either programming, doing school work, or gaming he'd not one for social situations.

The only way he found out Yuu was his soulmate was because he coincidentally went outside for club and he ran into Yuu and learned Yuu was his soulmate. Yuu figured it out too and he pulled out every excuse in the book to go back to the dorm.

Bro is not ready for the level 100 boss

Ever since then, he has tried to avoid Yuu. Emphasis on try as Yuu would probably be pushing as he is their soulmate.

Ortho at some point tells him he can't keep pushing away. He won't give up, but Ortho literally invites Yuu over forcing them to hang out.

It will take a while and some work before Idia can work up to the idea of a partner and a relationship, but he eventually does get there.

The second Yuu starts talking about marriage or a baby Idia would ramble about how he's not ready and tell Yuu to slow down.

Malleus

Poor boy has been lonely forever a soulmate would make him feel less lonely and he'd be happy that he has someone to be around. He's been excited to meet said soul mate. He'd been dreaming what they'd look like what kind of person they are what gender they are (Not that gender matters to him)

When he was outside ramshackle and Yuu came out he realized their strings connected. He was happy he found his soulmate and would be even happier if they felt the same way about him.

When he came back from Diasmonia that night he told Lilia he found his soulmate. Lilia was happy so was Silver. Sebek was like WHAT? but he will get over it. (Spoiler he ends up liking and tolerating Malleus's s/o)

Peep Malleus planning the wedding with Lilia as the officiant.

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bearsbeetsbeskar · 1 year ago

Text

Din Djarin cock worship drabble (din djarin x you)

pairing: din djarin x f!reader warnings: 18+ MDNI, explicit descriptions of smut, (assumed age gap maybe???), the armour stays on except for when din eats pussy (which is 24/7 in this universe), overstimulation wc: 1.4K a/n: hello lovelies, this is just a part of something that has been cooking in my brain for the last week. I was ignoring my schoolwork and other responsibilities as usual and rewatching mando, and just thinking about how that modulated rasp makes me melt, and how I would give anything to tie Din Djarin up and suck the soul out of him to hear those moans. that man deserves his cock to be worshipped, and I think about that on the daily tbh . this is unfinished but i hope to complete it this weekend!

Impenetrable beskar steel forged under sweltering heat that could rival Tattooine’s binary suns. Stealthy, calculated, choreographed skills of a warrior, so innate to his being, an exoskeleton similar to the armour he wore. An unshakeable creed that represented devotion, honour, humility, and strength.

Powerful, weathered strength. Strength that shouldered hundreds of bounties, countless days of survival in the harshest planets, and so many physical injuries he’s lost count at this point.

Din Djarin was a humble man. He never boasted his abilities or displayed a cocky nature. He had no reason to. Growing up in the covert, competing drills and sparring with other Mandalorians, he let his combat skills speak for himself as opposed to his words. Din would never deny his strength however. He knew he was strong, despite his age, and despite the aches and pains that permeated his body after each hunt. It was a quality that he could always pride himself on- at least that’s what he thought up until this point. Until he met you.

It turns out the stoic facade of strength that the hardened warrior so heavily relied on, crumbled the instant you could get your hands on him. Well, your hands and your mouth.

Nearly 3 months had passed since you joined the mandalorian And the child. Three months since you offered your skills to help him with his bounties and take care of the child when he was off on his hunts. 3 months since your relationship progressed from just ship mates and acquaintances coexisting in solitude and monosyllabic answers, to partners that shared each others bed every night. A cacophony of grunts and deep groans to catch your breathless whimpers and keening whines filling the hull of the razor crest.

You soon learned how much of a pleasure dom that mando was. Well, Din to you, now that he had entrusted you with his name. Once he learned what made you tick, what made you scream out his name as your eyes rolled into the back of your skull, he was fucking insatiable.

Most nights he wouldn’t fuck you until he made you cum on his tongue or his fingers at least twice. And even then you’d be a mess. Squirming and sobbing as you pushed his head off your dripping sensitive cunt. Just when you thought you couldn’t take anymore, you could feel the heat rolling off his broad body as he caged you against the bed.

“It’s okay, you can take it cyar’ika,” he would coo at you as he fed his thick cock into your warm wet heat. “Need this tight pussy nice and wet before I stretch you out on my cock.”

You never lasted long, your orgasm crashing over you as you pulse around his length, writhing into the bed sheets.

He reveled in being able to take you apart. Pushing you to the limits of your pleasure that it almost became painful. He fed off of it.

It was rare however, that Din ever let you return the favor. Whenever you attempted to take him into your mouth, to show him your desire and appreciation, he would bat your hands away. Or he would only let you taste him for a minute or two before he’d manhandle you back onto the bed, legs spread by his massive palms, as he beheld you like a deity he wanted to worship over several lifetimes. His ferocity to have you usually outweighed his usual firm patience.

You doubted that you were bad at giving head or that he didn’t enjoy it. Din was vocal, that much you were surprised to learn. As vocal as that modulator in his helmet would allow. Nothing rivaled the groans and curses you were rewarded with as you swirled your tongue around the head of his cock, eyes never straining from the T of his visor, taking him deep in your mouth, sucking on the head. You could only bask in the glow of his praise and delicious sounds for so long before Din became impatient and hauled you off his cock, the desire to be deep inside your warm wet heat his sole focus. “Need to have you now meshla,” he groaned, “can’t fucking wait any longer.”

Tonight would be different, you thought to yourself earlier that day as you watched Din stroll down the ramp of the Razorcrest, eager to begin his hunt for the next quarry. You had landed on Trandosha near dawn, and while the lush landscape of the planet appeared inviting Din had made it clear that you and the child couldn’t explore while he was gone.

“The quarry hasn’t exactly been covert about laying low, so it shouldn’t take long to track him down.” He explained as he restocked his munition and triple checked his weapons.

Something about the methodical, almost choreographed manner in the way he loaded the pulse rifle bullets in his bandolier, reloaded his blaster, secured his vibroblade on the inside of his boot made you ridiculously horny. Watching the weathered faded leather of his gloves, caress the barrel of the rifle, mold around the handle of the blaster, those same gloves that molded to the curves of your body. You felt your throat go dry as he kept talking.

“Are you listening cyar’ika?”

Two leather clad fingers settled underneath your chin, urging it upwards to meet his visor.

“Huh?”

His helmet tilted to the side ever so slightly as he appraised your glossed over gaze, not before letting out one of those deep sighs that you had come to know and love.

“No leaving the ship while I’m gone, under any circumstances. Got it?” The fingers under your chin shifted as his hand curled around the nape of your neck, thumb rubbing gently over your jaw.

“Trandosha may be a decent planet but Trandoshans are ruthless hunters, and they wouldn’t miss an opportunity to capture a sweet thing like you, or the child.”

The thought didn’t scare you. Having been around Trandoshans before, you knew they were cunning hunters, but the large reptilian species were slow on foot and clumsy with weaponry. They were nothing in comparison to Din’s prowess and perfected combat skills.

Humming in response, you walk your fingers up the cool beskar of his chest plate, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Good thing I am traveling with one of the most ruthless and equally feared bounty hunters in the galaxy hmm?”

Burying your fingers in the curls peeking out from underneath his helmet and tugging slightly, you reveled in the shaky exhale he let out.

He leaned down, resting the forehead of his helmet against yours. A quiet rumble leaving the depths of his broad chest.

“Ruthless huh?” His strong arms snake around your waist, pulling you flush against his broad body. You basked in the warmth emanating off his armour. While he appeared a mountain of metal, it sent a thrill through you upon feeling the humanity coursing through his body, the life exuding from underneath his beskar shell.

“Yes Din.” You replied with a smirk as you arched your back, smushing your breasts against the cool, hard angles of the chest plate.

“Ruthless in catching your bounties, ruthless in destroying your enemies,” you look up at him from under your lashes, “ruthless when you fuck my pussy and make me cum so many times I lost count.”

He lets out a noise, between a groan and a growl, as his hands slithered down to grip your ass, tightly cupping your ass cheeks, trying to pull you impossibly closer than you already were. It wasn’t enough to be pressed up against you, he needed to be inside you. That much was evident as you felt the hard outline of his cock, nudging against your lower belly.

“Damn fucking right I am. That tight little pussy is mine.”

It was your turn to shiver as your eyes fell shut and you bit your lip. Stars, the power that this man had over you. How he was able to make you fall apart with just his words, that filthy fucking mouth hidden underneath his unreadable halo of steel.

He leaned down till the helm of his helmet was beside your ear. “No leaving the ship,” he repeated in that delicious rasp. “I’ll be back soon okay?”

Little did Din know the surprise you had in store for him later.

#din djarin smut #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fic #din djarin drabble #i need him so bad #i need this man of metal to crumble underneath my tongue #and the armour stays on ofc #my 'drabble is over 1k' what a joke #idk what drabble is clearly

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jzprncess · 18 days ago

Text

the missing melody ♪

part 3 previous

pairing : franco colapinto x singer!reader

faceclaim : various people!

summary: Y/N announces exciting news, keeping her fans buzzing. Restless, she spends the night awake and finds comfort in a late-night call with Franco, who has to hang up for race day. The next morning, nerves and excitement fill her as she worries about Franco after his crash during the Brazilian Grand Prix. Despite only knowing him for a month, Y/N is falling for him and decides to surprise him in Las Vegas for the next race, reflecting on their growing connection as she rushes to catch her flight.

warnings : some singers do not exist in this au since i might take their songs!

y/n's mini album playlist - its on spotify

note : lowk do not know if this fits well since i wrote it awhile back an i dont feel like rereading it lol.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

yourusername just posted

liked by francolapinto, F1GOSSIP, and 1,584,051 others

yourusername what would you guys do if i dropped a mini album in a few hours? I forget I have children to feed 👀👀

view all comments

username3 LITERALLY CRYING IF YOU DROP IT. I'M READY. 🙏🙏

F1GOSSIP I’d sell my soul for a mini album.

username1 I WILL CRY ON THE FLOOR. FEED US PLEASE.

username2 Manifesting that mini album like it's my full-time job.

username4 Feed us, we’re starving!

username6 Sooo we’re about to be fed AND blessed, I’m here for it.

username5 i still can’t believe she's back

gracevanderwaal you know you wanna drop it girl

♥️ liked by yourusername

bensonboone ready to get sent to heaven ☁️

♥️ liked by yourusername

madisonbeer oh pls do 😭😭😭

♥️ liked by yourusername

third pov

Y/N set her phone down after reading through the overwhelming flood of comments and DMs pouring in. Her fans were ecstatic, begging her to release the mini album as soon as possible.

With her laptop open on the kitchen counter, she stared at the six tracks she’d poured her heart into over the past couple weeks. The raw emotions, the late nights, the breakthroughs—each song held a piece of her story.

“Alright,” she muttered to herself, clicking open her notes app. “If I’m doing this, it needs to make sense.”

She scribbled down the track names, numbering them in various orders. Should she start with the vulnerable acoustic ballad that mirrored her hiatus? Or lead with the upbeat anthem that felt like a comeback?

As she toyed with different combinations, a thought crossed her mind. Franco had been listening to her yap recently about ideas—maybe he could help her settle on a title. She grabbed her phone and typed out a quick message.

messages

After texting Franco and finalizing the album title ‘Breathe Again’, Y/N sets her phone down, letting out a long sigh as she takes a moment to reflect. The decision felt right, the title capturing a sense of renewal and strength that she had been channeling throughout the past few weeks. She leans back in her chair, eyes drifting toward the window where the soft, golden glow of the evening sun filters through the curtains. It was quiet in her house, the only sound was the gentle hum of the air conditioning.

Her mind drifts to the photos she had taken recently—images that had been a source of inspiration for her mini album. She pulls up the gallery on her phone, scrolling through the collection. Each photo had a story, a memory, or a feeling attached to it. There were shots of early morning fog clinging to the trees outside her home, a few candid pictures from when she had visited the beach, the wind tugging at her hair, and others of her walking through empty streets at dusk, feeling as if the world was holding its breath with her.

Y/N smiles to herself as her fingers gently tap the screen to select the photo. It wasn’t extravagant, not a dramatic moment or a flashy pose, but it held something far more meaningful. The photo was taken from the back seat of a moving car, capturing just the view through the window. Outside, the trees sped past in a blur, their shapes dissolving into streaks of green and brown as the car moved along. The only thing visible in the shot was the natural world unfolding outside, with no sign of her face, just her silhouette as she sat quietly in the back. There was something serene about the image, the simplicity of being in motion, surrounded by nature, yet detached from everything else. It was the kind of photo that spoke to her journey of healing—about moving forward, even when it felt like the world was rushing by. It was real, and it felt right for the album’s theme of finding peace and strength amidst the chaos. And of course, with a little twist of falling for someone new.

yourusername added to their story

view story replies

francolapinto i’ll be here

yourusername you better be

y/n’s pov

Y/N sank into the couch, clutching her phone as her thoughts raced. She scrolled past Franco’s name a dozen times, debating whether to call him or let him rest. But she couldn’t shake the jittery excitement coursing through her. The album was dropping in a few hours, and her nerves were impossible to ignore. She knew she wouldn’t sleep tonight, but maybe hearing his voice would help.

After a deep breath, she tapped his name, and the phone began to ring. It didn’t take long for him to answer, his familiar voice warm and slightly amused.

start of phone call

“Hola, trouble,” he greeted, his accent making her smile. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Not even close,” she admitted with a laugh. “It’s dropping in the morning, Franco. I don’t know if I’m excited, terrified, or both.”

“Both is good,” he said. “It means you care. But we talked about this—‘Breathe Again’ is perfect. It’s going to be amazing.”

Y/N felt a small rush of gratitude at his confidence. He’d been there when she’d been agonizing over the title, encouraging her to go with something that truly reflected her journey.

“You really think so?” she asked, fiddling with the hem of her sweatshirt.

“I know so,” Franco said firmly. “You’ve been working on this for weeks. People are going to love it. Plus, you have me hyping it up from the pit lane.”

She laughed, imagining him sneaking mentions of her album into post-race interviews. “I’m holding you to that,” she teased.

“Done. So, what’s keeping you up? Overthinking or too much caffeine?”

“Both,” she admitted, slumping further into the couch. “And maybe a little imposter syndrome.”

“Stop that,” Franco said immediately. “You’re Y/N L/N. You’re a badass. Remember what I told you—this album isn’t about perfection; it’s about being real. And that’s why it’s going to hit people in the heart.”

His words felt like a balm, calming her just enough to breathe easier. She shifted the conversation to him, not wanting to hog all the attention. “What about you? Are you ready for tomorrow?”

“Always,” Franco replied. “But race day nerves are a thing, even for me.”

“You? Nervous? I don’t buy it,” she teased.

“Okay, maybe not nervous,” he admitted. “But it’s Brazil. The crowd is insane. The energy is next level. It’s like racing in the middle of a concert.”

“That sounds amazing,” she said, a bit wistfully. “You’re lucky you get to experience that.”

They fell into a comfortable rhythm, their conversation bouncing between her album and his race. She told him about the meaning behind some of the tracks and how each song reflected a piece of her journey. He asked thoughtful questions, like, “Which song was the hardest to write?” and “How do you know when a song is finished?”

“Honestly, sometimes I don’t,” Y/N confessed. “It’s like I have to force myself to stop tweaking things and just let it be.”

“That’s like racing,” Franco said. “At some point, you have to trust what you’ve done and just go for it.”

When the focus shifted to him, Franco painted a vivid picture of the upcoming race, describing the challenges of the track and how the high altitude affected the car’s performance.

“Do you ever get scared?” Y/N asked, genuinely curious.

“Not really,” he said. “But there’s always this moment at the start, right before the lights go out, where everything feels... still. Like the world’s holding its breath. And then it’s chaos.”

“That sounds intense,” she said, shivering at the thought.

“It is,” Franco said with a grin in his voice. “But it’s also the best feeling in the world.”

Eventually, their conversation turned playful, almost like a round of 21 questions.

“What’s your go-to comfort food?” she asked

“Dulce de leche on everything,” he replied. “Yours?”

“Hot Cheetos,” she said.

“Figures,” Franco teased. “Classic Gen Z choice.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Dulce de Leche. What’s your most embarrassing moment?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” he groaned. “Waving back at someone who wasn’t waving at me. You know when you’re sure it’s for you, and it’s not?”

“I’ve done that!” Y/N laughed so hard she nearly dropped her phone. “It’s the worst.”

“And yours?” he prompted.

“Tripping on stage during a show,” she admitted, cringing at the memory. “I tried to play it off, but it was so obvious.”

“They probably thought it was part of the act,” Franco offered.

“Sure, let’s go with that,” she said with a chuckle.

The hour flew by, their laughter and easy conversation making time feel irrelevant. But eventually, Franco’s voice grew softer, a sign that fatigue was catching up to him.

“I hate to say this, but I need to sleep,” he said reluctantly. “Big day tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Y/N agreed, though she wished the call didn’t have to end. “Thanks for staying up with me.”

“Always,” Franco said warmly. “Good luck tomorrow. You��re going to crush it.”

“Good luck to you, too,” she replied. “I’ll be watching.”

“Sweet dreams, Y/N,” he said softly.

“Night, Franco.”

As the call ended, Y/N leaned back into the couch, her heart full and her mind a little calmer.

Y/N set her alarm for 9:00 a.m., double-checking it twice to make sure she wouldn’t accidentally sleep through the morning. The thought of her mini album finally releasing had her stomach flipping with a mix of excitement and nerves, but she tried to push it aside as she made her way to her room.

Once inside, she flicked on the bedside lamp, casting a warm glow over the space, and began her nightly routine. She changed into an oversized t-shirt and soft pajama shorts, tying her hair into a loose bun before settling on the edge of her bed. The house was quiet except for the faint hum of the fridge in the kitchen, but her thoughts were anything but calm.

Her mind wandered, inevitably landing on Franco. A small smile crept across her face as she thought about their conversation earlier. The sound of his voice, his confident yet playful encouragement, the way he always seemed to know exactly what to say—it all made her chest feel warm and fluttery.

She leaned back against her headboard, hugging a pillow to her chest as she allowed herself to dwell on him a little longer. He made her feel something she hadn’t felt in a while: excitement, not just about her work or her music, but about life. It was like seeing the world in brighter colors.

Y/N chuckled softly to herself, the sound breaking the quiet of the room. “I feel like a teenager in high school,” she whispered, shaking her head at how giddy she felt. It was silly, but it was true. The butterflies, the overthinking, the random smiles at nothing—it was like she was back in her teenage years, crushing on someone in secret.

Without thinking, she reached for the notebook she always kept on her nightstand. It was her sanctuary, a place where her thoughts and feelings often turned into lyrics. Grabbing a pen, she opened it to a fresh page, the faint scent of paper filling the air.

She tapped the pen against her lip, thinking for a moment, then wrote the words: I feel so high school. The simplicity of it made her smile. It wasn’t a complete lyric yet, just a fragment, but it captured the light, bubbly feeling she couldn’t quite shake.

As she stared at the words, her mind raced with possibilities. Could this be another song? A hidden track someday? She didn’t know yet, but for now, it was enough to capture the moment.

Setting the notebook aside, she turned off the lamp and slid under the covers. Even in the dark, her mind refused to quiet, replaying memories of their conversations and imagining what tomorrow might bring.

alarm ringing

At the first ring of her alarm, Y/N's eyes snapped open, her body still heavy with the exhaustion of staying up late. She groaned, disoriented, not quite believing it was already 9:00 a.m. She had barely gotten any sleep, but she had set her alarm on instinct, knowing she couldn’t afford to sleep in.

She rolls over in bed, the soft morning light filtering through the curtains as she reaches for her phone on the nightstand. The screen lights up, briefly blinding her sleepy eyes. After a quick glance at the time, she unlocks it with a practiced swipe of her thumb. Her fingers hover over the screen, lingering for a moment as she debates if she should text him.

Even though she’s just woken up, the thought of Franco crosses her mind immediately. She imagines him at the paddock, likely already in the midst of the buzzing race-day chaos. He’s probably shaking hands with fans, posing for pictures, or answering rapid-fire questions from broadcasters surrounded by the wet air, with heavy rain drenching everything in sight. It’s his element, and the image of him—calm and confident—makes her smile softly to herself.

With a small sigh, she decides to text him. The familiar sound of her keyboard clicking under her fingers fills the quiet room as she starts typing. She keeps it casual but thoughtful, knowing how hectic his day must be.

messages

Y/N grabs the cereal box from the counter, pouring herself a bowl as she leans back into the couch. The screen of her phone is flashing with notifications about the album release, but it’s still too early to press "send" on her post. She needs a distraction. She hits play on the F1 broadcast, just in time to hear the pre-race chatter about the rain in Brazil. She can't help but smile a little, feeling the excitement of the race season.

The soft sound of the cereal crunching is the only thing that fills the room for a moment, and Y/N stares at the clock, watching the seconds tick by. She scrolls through her phone, making last-minute adjustments to her album post while keeping one eye on the screen. The F1 broadcast is so familiar, comforting almost, with its chaotic energy that she missed during her time off.

"Weather looks like a mess today, but that’s just Brazil for you," the commentator says, bringing her back to the present. Y/N tilts her head, thoughts still racing, but everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion. She absentmindedly stirs her cereal, her finger hovering over her phone screen, ready to post when the time comes.

The race begins, and she can't help but feel a little nervous energy bubble up—Franco’s out there, racing in the rain, a place where anything could happen. She bites her lip, watching as the cars race off, feeling oddly connected to the moment.

A few laps in, the race is going as expected—intense, slick, unpredictable. The camera zooms in on Franco’s car, and Y/N leans forward, a smile creeping onto her face. She knows he’s got this. He’s in his element.

Then, just as Y/N hits the "post" button to announce the album's release, her phone rings with a loud buzz. The commentator's voice breaks through the moment: “Red flag for Colapinto. It’s a big crash, and we’re going to have to pause the race for now.”

Y/N freezes.

The spoon she was holding clatters softly onto the table. Her heartbeat hammers in her chest as she replays the words over and over. "Red flag... for Colapinto..." She slowly turns toward the screen, eyes scanning the faces of the team members and the rain-soaked track.

She stops breathing for a moment. The bad weekend, the tense race conditions, all of it flashes through her mind. "Please be okay, please be okay," she mutters under her breath, her fingers nervously typing a quick message to Franco. She barely registers the notification from her album release going live.

franco’s pov

The world was spinning. Or maybe it wasn’t—the car had stopped moving. Franco’s ears were ringing as he leaned his head back against the seat, staring at the rain-splattered visor of his helmet. He could hear muffled voices in his ears, the panicked chatter from his engineer cutting through the haze.

“Franco! Are you okay? Talk to us!”

He groaned softly, wincing as he shifted in his seat. His body ached, but nothing felt broken. That was good, right? Definitely a good sign.

“Yeah,” he rasped, voice cracking as he reached for the release on his harness. “I’m... I’m okay.”

The marshals were already there, waving frantically as they helped him climb out of the car. The rain was relentless, soaking through his suit as soon as his feet hit the asphalt. Franco glanced back at what was left of his car—a crumpled mess of blue and white—and let out a shaky breath.

“Well,” he muttered to himself, running a hand through his damp hair, “guess that’s my day done.”

He turned away, his mind already jumping to the list of people he’d have to reassure. The team, his family, her.

Especially her.

y/n’s pov

Y/N was still glued to the TV, her cereal now soggy and forgotten in the bowl next to her. The commentators were running through the replay of Franco’s crash for the fifth time, slow motion showing every agonizing second as his car spun out and slammed into the barriers.

She wasn’t breathing. At least, it felt like she wasn’t breathing. Her leg bounced nervously, her nails digging into the edge of the couch.

“Get up,” she whispered, eyes locked on the screen as they finally cut to a live shot of Franco stepping out of the car. She let out a loud, relieved breath, slumping back against the cushions. “Thank god.”

Her phone buzzed, the flood of notifications from her album release catching her attention. Fans were posting their reactions—excited, emotional, over-the-top—but it barely registered.

“Oh my god,” she muttered, finally remembering that her album was live. She glanced at the clock. It was 10:15 AM. She’d been so caught up in the race—and Franco’s crash—that she hadn’t even checked her post or seen the reactions.

yourusername posted

liked by username1, username2, and 5,847,864 others

yourusername i don’t even know where to start... breathe again is finally here. 💙

this mini album is more than just music—it’s a piece of my heart. it’s the moments where i didn’t think i’d make it, the nights i didn’t recognize myself, and the mornings i fought to find the light again. it’s about falling apart and learning how to pick up the pieces, one deep breath at a time. and its about something else… you’d have to listen to find out!

thank you for waiting for me, for letting me figure out who i am again. thank you for giving me the space to come back when i was ready.

this isn’t just my album—it’s ours. i hope these songs make you feel seen, heard, and held.

link in bio. tell me which one feels like home to you. #BreatheAgain

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madisonbeer girllll you did a number with this one, we deffff gotta collab!

↳yourusername yes! double yes!

username1 y/n really said, 'y’all need healing' and then dropped an album for us to get our life together

username2 ‘Chaotic’ has me screaming into the void. I’m in my feelings but also vibing at the same time.

username3 so who's ‘enchanted’ about????????? y/n?????? Hello?????

username4 my neighbors are about to become fans. I don't care how early it is right now.

username5 “i just wanted you to know that this is me trying” EXCUSE ME???? DID YOU JUST STAB ME?!?!?!

username6 brb im sobbing

username7 ho did you just hit me with a ford f150?!?!?!!?

noahkahanmusic we have to collab.

↳yourusername why all serious haha (yes)

username8 “they talk shit, but i love it everytime” BAHAHAHAH iconic

Her phone buzzed again, but it wasn’t Franco. It was just more notifications—more comments, more fans reaching out. The sheer volume of it all made her head spin. She hadn’t expected this much of a reaction. She had known people would listen, but this... it felt like she was being swallowed whole by it all. It was overwhelming, but in a way, it felt like something she couldn’t escape.

She switched her attention back to the TV screen. The commentators were still talking about the crash. They kept replaying the moment over and over, and each time it made her heart stop.

He wasn’t just some driver on the track anymore. He was someone she thought about when the lights went out and when the world got too loud. He was someone she’d shared enough moments with to make the thought of him hurt more than it should.

A few minutes later, the screen showed an image of Franco being helped off the track, his helmet now off, but his expression unreadable. Her heart dropped. She could see the rain, the puddles on the track, the chaos unfolding around him. The scene was chaotic, yet there he was, walking under his team’s support, keeping his head down.

She took a deep breath and tried to steady herself, feeling that familiar mix of protective instinct and helplessness. This was part of the life he’d chosen, the one where every race had that potential risk of danger. But it never made it easier to watch.

The announcer’s voice broke through her thoughts: "Franco Colapinto, unfortunately, out of the race today due to a crash. He’s been taken to the medical center for precautionary checks, but we’re hearing that he’s okay. We’ll keep you updated."

The relief hit her like a wave, but it didn’t take away the gnawing worry that lingered. She needed to know how he was doing, but there was nothing more she could do right now. He was out of the race, and all she could do was wait for more updates.

She leaned back in the couch and closed her eyes, letting the sound of the race drown out everything else for a moment. It was the only thing that grounded her right now. Everything else—her music, her career, the fans, the pressure—it all felt like it was spinning out of control. But here, in this moment, at least she had this connection to him, even if it was distant.

Her phone buzzed again, and this time, she didn’t hesitate. She reached for it, a small part of her hoping it would be a message from Franco himself, something that would assure her he was okay. Instead, it was a reminder for her album launch, a simple notification to congratulate her on hitting another milestone in the release.

She sighed. The world kept turning, no matter how she felt.

In that moment, Y/N realized something she hadn’t truly thought about until now: the music had always been her escape, her way of telling her story without saying a word. But now, with the album out there and the weight of her feelings laid bare for the world to hear, it felt like she had no choice but to face those emotions head-on.

And maybe, just maybe, the chaos of everything—whether it was the race, Franco, or the pressure of fame—was part of her healing. The only way out was through.

She let the sounds of the race continue to wash over her, trying to block out the weight of her thoughts. But, in the back of her mind, she couldn’t help but wonder what Franco was doing, how he was feeling, and if he had listened to the album. Would he know that, even without his name, there was a piece of him in her songs?

She shook her head, pushing the thoughts aside, and refocused on the race. She wasn’t going to let anything distract her from this moment, from this connection to him—no matter how small or distant it seemed.

For now, she just needed to breathe again.

franco's pov

Franco sat in the quiet of the race room, still processing the crash. The team had been struggling all weekend with car issues, and when he lost control on lap 34, it all fell apart. His body still ached from the impact, his head spinning from the sudden stop, but it wasn’t the physical pain that lingered the most—it was the frustration, the disappointment.

He had been so close to making it through the race. But now, he was sitting in the aftermath, forced to watch the race unfold from a room that felt more like a holding cell than a place of recovery. Alex had been out of the race from the start, unable to even take his place on the grid. It had been a tough weekend for the Williams team—nothing had gone right.

Franco’s phone buzzed again, and this time, he didn’t hesitate. He picked it up, seeing the message from Y/N still there, her words jumping out at him:

"I’m so worried right now. please tell me you're ok. I can't stop thinking about you."

Franco leaned back in the chair, reading Y/N’s message again. He had just crashed on lap 34, and the weight of the race day was starting to sink in, but Y/N’s message made his heart race in a completely different way.

Franco blinked, his stomach doing that familiar flip. Why does she always make me feel like this? he thought, slightly flustered. It wasn’t like they were dating or anything—he could never figure out where they stood—but damn, that little “thinking about you” was enough to make his face go hot.

He quickly wiped his hands on his pants, trying to hide the small blush creeping up his neck. Okay, focus... he thought, but the message was making it hard to do so.

Finally, he decided to keep things light, adding a bit of humor to ease the tension.

After sending her last text to Franco, Y/N sat back, a soft smile spreading across her face. The worry was still there, of course. She couldn’t stop thinking about him. But at least she knew he was okay, which brought her some comfort.

Still, it wasn’t enough. She felt the itch to do something, to show him she cared in a bigger way, to really surprise him. He’d been through so much lately, and she was determined to be there for him.

She grabbed her phone again, not wasting any time.

Y/N let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. It was on. She was going to make it happen.

She quickly found the first flight to Las Vegas, and within minutes, the ticket was booked. There was no turning back now. The clock was ticking, and she needed to get on the plane before Franco.

With the flight confirmed, she tossed a few things into a bag—comfortable clothes, her phone charger, and the essentials—and headed out to the airport.

The nerves hit her as she drove, but it was nothing compared to the excitement bubbling inside. Franco wouldn’t see this coming. She just hoped she’d get the reaction she was hoping for when she showed up to surprise him.

It wasn’t just about being there for the race, it was about being there for him—letting him know that she cared more than just as a fan or a friend.

yourusername added to their story

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francolapinto GET OFF OF YOUR PHONE WHILE DRIVING. Also, where you going? 🤯

↳yourusername somewhere……. I have a mischievous grin on my face. 🙃🙃😏😏😉😉

↳francolapinto WHAT ARE YOU UP TO?!?!?!😤😤 anyways, wanna call later? I don’t leave until early morning tomorrow so i’ll be bored. also, your plane leaves thursday morning yeah? 🧐

↳yourusername NOTHING hehehe. I can’t talk tonight, ill be busy. yeah thursday…why? You cant wait to see me huh? 😏 i’m just that awesome.

Y/N sat at the airport gate, her eyes scanning the crowd as she waited for her flight to Las Vegas. It was just the calm before the storm—her flight didn’t leave for another hour, and Franco wouldn’t be arriving until the morning. She had the night to herself, time to reflect before everything became a whirlwind.

She pulled out her phone, scrolling through the texts from earlier with Franco. She couldn’t help but smile, feeling a rush of excitement wash over her. They’d only known each other for a month, but in that short time, she’d found herself thinking about him more than she cared to admit. Their connection had been instant, easy, and now, here she was—ready to surprise him in Las Vegas.

She felt a mix of excitement and nerves. The truth was, she hadn’t seen him since Austin, and while their time together had been brief, there was something about him that made her want to take the plunge, do something a little crazy. The more she thought about it, the more this whole surprise felt right.

Tonight was about anticipation. She had hours before she’d see him again, and as much as she was looking forward to the reunion, she couldn’t help but think about how weird it was that they hadn’t had much time together yet. There was still so much to learn, so much they hadn’t experienced. But for now, this surprise—coming to Las Vegas to greet him—was her way of taking a chance.

With a deep breath, she snapped out of her thoughts. She’d be in Vegas soon, and before long, she’d be face to face with him. And that made her heart race with a mix of excitement and nerves. She couldn’t wait to see what would happen next.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

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