#not that i already have two big wips going on already but you know

[slimybeth69]

Que Será, Será: Part 7

Rating: Explicit- Smut, violence, drinking/drug use. MDNI!! Summary: It's almost twenty years after some weird outbreak almost happened but the CDC took care of that...Now you're living in Austin, Texas as an adult.What happens when you meet Joel Miller who hasn't been hardened and ruined by twenty years of murder and loss? Warnings/Tags: DaddyDom!Joel/ you. no use of y/n. No physical description of the reader besides one tattoo. Reader has a background story. Drinking/drug use. Slow burn. Smut. Angst. Cheating. Graphic depictions of violence. Eventual loss of virginity. Use of nicknames/pet names (lil girl, baby girl.) DD/lg dynamics. BDSM play. Unbeta'ed. WIP. Cross-posting from my Ao3. Chapter Warnings: nothin' crazy, just some sensual shower stuff. ANGST. SAD.

Sorry if the texting is like, hard to understand. Joel is BOLD and INDENTED. You're just regular-degular.

<- previous chapter

Series Masterlist

You slept not one wink. Not one single fucking wink and guess who slept great? Mr. Miller.

His alarm goes off early as shit. So early. You’re mad at him when he crawls over the bed and snuggles into you. Your eyes are so tired but they just wouldn’t shut. You are praying he doesn’t ask how you slept because you won’t be able to tell him not well. 

“Mornin’.” He kisses the back of your shoulder gently. He can go kiss bricks for snoring as loudly as he did. Morning? Like you weren't up all night? Okay. 

“Morning.” You’re so short with him and you don’t even mean to be.

He notices immediately. This must have been a common issue in his past relationships or... he hasn't fucking had any, or he dated deaf women.

“Snorin’ all night?” 

Oh. So he knows? Cool. Didn't wanna warn you about it? Get you some ear plugs? Awesome. 

“Yeah, kinda.” You roll over and lay on your back beside him, he’s on his side, looking down at you.

“Sorry ‘bout it.” He mindlessly rubs the back of his neck before he leans down and kisses your forehead gently.

Suddenly all the anger is being melted away. All gone. 

“You don’t need a fan to sleep? You just sleep in the dead quiet?” You blink up at him tiredly. Just tired. No more mad. He's so handsome and he has sleep still attached to his voice so it's deeper. 

“I can fall asleep anywhere. Doesn’t matter.” Joel chuckles softly. “I didn’t think y’cared ‘cause y’never complained or nothing when I stayed at your place.” Joel slides the hand that's not supporting his head across your stomach over the t-shirt he gave you last night. “Sorry. I keep ya' up all night?” He feels bad, but…you don’t care that you didn’t sleep. If this is how he’s gonna wake you up every morning? Shit. You’ll get a sleeping pill or something. Ear plugs. A fan. 

“It’s okay.” You’re the one smiling stupidly now. Grinning up at him like no ones ever touched you anywhere ever before (not like this, they haven't). “I don’t care.” Your hand mindlessly rests on the one he has on your stomach, he keeps moving both of them slowly. 

“What time ya gotta work?” He asks softly. 

“Eight. What time you gotta go in?” 

“Whenever I want.” He grins at you and leans down to kiss you softly. “Do you gotta shower before work?” He asks with a raise of his eyebrow.

“Yeah, I usually do. I brought stuff to shower here if that’s okay?” You’re talking to him like he’s going to say no. He just asked if you needed one.

You don’t like how nervous he makes you, not at all. But he is already climbing out of bed and pulling the covers off of you. 

“It’s only six thirty…Do you want this old man to make you come before you go?” He whispers down to you softly, his hand inches down towards your center. You nod. “C’mon. Follow me.” He is already headed into the bathroom.

You scramble out of bed, grab your little shower bag and follow him. He’s already getting the water turned on and ready. and it’s incredible. The inside is… big. For what reason? There's two fucking shower heads in here–two! No fucking way. 

“You did this bathroom?” You ask as you climb in before he does. Getting naked was so easy. So fast. Two things. 

Now, this is the most naked you guys have been around each other and you might end up just calling out of work. You’re going to stay in here with him all day. You've seen him naked when he showered in front of you last time you were here. But now you get to touch him.

“I did… y’impressed?” Joel smirks and turns on the other shower head. 

“Shut the fuck up. Different temperatures?” You eye him suspiciously because who is he? How did he do all this. 

“Yeah. The ex’s request. For no reason. We never did this.” Joel wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you under the water with him. Lil colder than you’d like but that’s fine, still warm. You’ll heat your side up perfectly when he’s done kissing you.

His morning breath isn’t bad and you wonder what god sent him to this earth. You know your morning breath is, and he’s kissing you anyway. He might be a god, honestly.

Joel's tongue slips past your lips and he licks at your teeth and the inside of your cheeks. It's a deep, desperate dance of open mouth kisses as his hands roam across every inch of you he can reach.

You mewl when his fingers and hands cup and grope your tits gently, his palms rubbing across the nipples teasingly as he moves his hands around the curve of your breast. 

“How you want me t’do it?” Joel looks down at you with water dripping all out of his facial hair and his hair is so wet. Fuuuck. Okay. Play it cool.

“Fuck me.” You whine up to him quietly but he snorts at you and shakes his head quietly. “Whyyyy?” You cry softly but with no real tears or sadness. This is a fun lil game– for right now. It will not be if he keeps this up forever. You’ll revoke your offer. 

“Oh are you gonna complain ‘bout it?” Joel narrows his eyes on yours but his smirk never leaves. You freeze. “No. Yer’ not.” Joel decides for you. “How do you wanna come? Mouth? Fingers? I could use the shower–”

“What?” You blink. 

“What?” he blinks back at you. 

“The shower? How–” Joel answers your question and removes the shower head from the holder. There is another shower head still going. This is just an attachment appaenrly. You wonder if this was something his ex-wife requested as well and wanna throw up. But then he does a thing and the shower attachment comes to life and spurts and sputters. “You never had one of these?” Joel ask, twisting the dial around the nozzle. So many different setting. Regular shower head. A fucking super concentrated jet of water that if Joel tries to put anywhere near you… you’ll never speak to him again. It's like a fucking pressure-washer. No. Not that one. Then one that just is fucking… looks broken. What the fuck? Just dribbling out? No pressure? Who uses that one? It makes you actually upset to see that because it’s actually pointless. 

“No. Just a regular, boring shower.” You’re staring at the attachment in his hand and then he finds the perfect one.

Like a fucking lawn sprinkler. One quick, short, fast little blast of water. Not nearly scary as that fucking jet stream. Jesus. Joel already knows that this is the one. Which makes you mad but you have no time to question how he knows the perfect setting before he’s kicking your legs apart. The shower handle is behind held only inches away from your already buzzing and throbbing clit.

Dear God.

It is a leg crumbling pleasure that almost drops you to your knees because you’re not expecting it. Joel grabs you under one arm and pulls the shower attachment away. 

“Good or bad?” Joel needs to know. 

“G-Good. D-Do it again.” You can barely comprehend how you've been shower handled into stuttering.

What just happened?

Before he does it again he has you place your hands on his shoulders for support- ya know in case ya fucking fall over. What the hell did you get yourself into with this man?

“Keep goin’?” Joel holds the shower head so it’s massaging the front of your thigh and even that feels fucking amazing. Oh god. He could do this all over your body…and then you could do it to him. 

“Pleeease,” you whine, holding onto his shoulders.

Joel kisses you again in a slow, searching-for-something embrace as the short, fast bursts of water find your bundle again.

Holy shit.

You can’t even kiss Joel back anymore. He licks at the inside of your mouth while you vibrate against him. It’s incredible and so fucking amazing and almost too much…so concentrated.

You move your hips back and forth to give it some rhythm and that-- well that's just amazing.

The moan that gets pulled right out of your chest is filthy. It's a sound you've never made before, not with Joel, not on your own. You're embarrassed as soon as it leaves you.

"Oh ya' fuckin' like that?" Joel moves his wrist in a small circle, the stream of water focused solely on your clit. "Say my name," he growls down at you.

There is apparently nothing to be embarrassed of, Joel loves the enthusiasm.

"Daddy," you mewl up to him as he leans in to press his forehead to yours.

"S'my good girl," Joel snakes his free hand around the back of your neck and holds you-- grips you-- so you look up at him. He crowds you in the shower, his whole body towers over you. "Ya' s'fuckin' cute. Love watchin', baby."

Everything feels like it's being swept away, pulled out from under you. There is a tautness in your belly and it's threatening to snap.

You clench your eyes shut at the rapture inside of you, but it’s short lived. The water between your legs is gone. “What!?” You exclaim, snapping your eyes open to look at Joel. 

“Yer gon’ look at me when you come…” Joel whispers softly. “I wanna see ya… been relaxed ‘bout it… not anymore. I wanna see them eyes when you fuckin' come,” Joel leans down and you right between the eyes. “You want Mr. Miller to make you come now?” He whispers it against your forehead, and now your knees are weak for a whole new reason. 

“Yes, Mr. Miller. Please make me come.” You whisper into his chest. Joel doesn’t hesitate or make you ask again.

The water and the pressure and everything are back. Right where you want it and you start to move your hips again. His shoulders feel so fucking strong under your hands. His skin? Fucking smooth. Like, incredibly smooth and soft.

Shit. That water is hitting you in all the right spots and leaving you almost breathless. 

“Good?” Joel pulls his lips back from your forehead and looks down at you. You’re already looking up at him, nodding. Unable to speak. “I bet it does. Y'ain't gotta ask me to come…yet. Just gotta look'it me f'now." He rumbles deeply, leans down to kiss your lips, and is met with a moan, a real one as the water touches you in all the best fucking ways. It’s warm like Joel’s mouth. Fuck. “Yeah, lil girl. Move them fuckin’ hips.” Joel is looking down between the two of you and sees your body undulating at his watery command.

“Feels s-so good, D-Daddy,” You sound come-stupid already… but you’re close. He’s pushing you there. Pointing over your shoulder which way to go to feel good. You’re so thankful for him ‘cause you did not know where to go. "Yes. Y-Yes. P-Please keep going..." Fuck, your legs are already trembling and you can barely think. 

“I love makin’ you moan and feel good," He growls down to you and that just pushes you right to where you wanted to be.

You stare at him and try so hard to get your words out before it actually happens. 

"You'regonnamakemecome,” you spit it out quickly as all one big word.

Joel is grinning, and nodding his head softly like he’s giving you permission even though it was going to happen regardless. 

“Ohgod-- Ohgod-- Ohfuck-- Fuck! Mr. Miller!” Each exclaim followed by a gasp for as because you are moaning, so loud.

Joel’s eyes are lock onto yours, never leaving as you come. You barely blink. You’re hypnotized by him. You feel too good and your hips are doing things they’ve never done before. Moving in ways they’ve never twisted and turned while rolling them back and forth. You gush and it’s the first time you’ve done that standing up so, it does make your knees buckle but Joel has you. Had you the whole time. “Ohthankyou.ThankyouDaddy.Fuuck.” 

It's only whimpers and whines as he holds the water to you as the orgasm disperses and now you’re left with now just mind buzzing and jolting electric shocks of too much pleasure. You’re twitching with each one and Joel is smirking down at you as you stare up into his big brown eyes. He pulls the shower head away and kisses your lips. 

“Good?” He smirks and lets you go gently, making sure you’re on your feet and not going to fall. You got it. Can’t fucking think straight…but you can stand. Joel replaces the attachment and gets right to showering. You’re still swallowing hard, standing there. Breathing heavy. You have to move. Have to shower. You have to work. 

“Are you…good?” You ask Joel as your body remembers how to move again. 

“Whaddya mean?” Joel asks as he washes his hair and beard. You also start to wash. 

“You don’t need to.. Ya know?” You nod down to his very obvious erection and smirk. He chuckles and rinses the suds out of his hair. 

“Nah. I’ll be fine.” He chuckles and starts to wash his body with a bar of soap. You..don’t like this answer. Dunno why. 

“Okay.” Is all you say though.

Why? Why will he be fine?

He finishes his shower first and leaves you in there to finish up. To overthink. Shit. Okay. No. You're not doing that. No way. Things are fine. You think and hope and pray to Satan because, fuck. Why didn’t you do something with that big swinging thing between his legs while he was working on you? Idiot, too focused and selfish to worry about Mr. Miller. Sonofabitch.

He’s gonna hate you. 

Nooooo, you don't want that. You… kinda like him, actually.

Humph— No you do not. 

You get out of the shower angrily… like you have a right to be. You grab the towel Joel hung up outside the shower for you and dry. Fast and angry.

You go into the bedroom where Joel is already pulling on a black t-shirt over his head; you only catch the last glimpse of his beautiful, sculpted back before he's fully dressed.

You both are quiet as you finished getting dressed. You bring your little make up bag back into the bathroom and brush your hair and your teeth.

Joel comes in while you’re trying to put on mascara. He reaches over to your mirror and presses a button on the side and all the lights come on. 

“That better?” He smiles at you goofily. So stupidly. 

“Why wouldn’t you let me touch it!? Why are you fine?” You do not keep your composure at all. 

“Uh– wha– I–.. I would’a let y’touch it. I get why y’didn’t but— we gotta work now. Don’t really got time.” Joel snorts nervously and shrugs his shoulders.

Oh. 

“Shit. I’m so sorry.” You turn to him and feel stupid, of course. “I wasn’t even–” Joel doesn’t let you finish. 

“Hey… I’m not mad ‘bout it. I’ll get through the day jus’ fine.” Joel smirks and gives you ass a soft smack. “Make it better fer’ when I see you again. More.” Joel smacks your ass again and then starts to brush his teeth. 

“I’m still sorry. I was distracted and not thinking.” You feel goofy for being so upset. Jumping to conclusions.

“Listen Birdie, you ain’t gotta apologize. M’not mad. I wanted to make y’come before you went t’work. I don’t normally…do that…to myself before work.” Joel shrugs his shoulders. “Makes me tired.” He smirks and cleans his graying beard up with his electric razor. “I was tryin’ to distract ya.” He adds when he turns his razor off. “If I needed you to touch me…I’d tell ya. I didn’t need it.” His reflection is talking to you through the mirror. You’re standing behind him, done getting ready minus the wet hair. 

“You’ll really tell me?” You double check to make sure he isn’t lying to you. 

“T’be honest… if we were already in that situation… and I know ya wanna…I'd make ya touch it.” He winks at you through the mirror and puts on deodorant and then he turns around. “Never gonna force you… unless you wanted me t’force ya…know what m’sayin, baby?” He leans against the sink and crosses his arms over his chest.

Fuck. He’s… fuck. Nothing. He is nothing. 

“I would try that sometime.” You smirk at him– can’t fucking help it. Just happens. 

“I wanna be th'one ya' try it with.”  

“Ok.” It comes out short and fast and excitedly. Joel chuckles. He pushes himself off the sink and walks to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“Yer’ real fuckin’ cute. Makin’ it hard t’wanna wait.” He leans in and kisses you softly. 

“How long you gonna make me wait?” You ask tentatively. Joel shrugs his shoulders. 

“I ain’t gotta time frame. Jus’ want it t’feel right n’ make you comfortable…” Joel kisses you again. “Give ya a lil confidence so yer’ first time is real fun. Yer’ a lil-cute-shy-thang sometimes…” He murmurs against your mouth and, now you’re never leaving his house.

Never. He’ll have to call the police. There will be a domestic disturbance here if he makes you leave. 

“Okay… ” You’re officially obsessed with him. You could kick your feet and hug your pillow and literally giggle. Giggling. Oh god. This is bad. You just got a cat!

“Fuuck. I wish we didn’t have t’work.” Joel groans and so do you but you are going to be late if you stay here any longer. 

Joel walks you downstairs with your bags in his hands like the most perfect, handsome gentleman that he is. You love this. Never want it to end. It’s all happening…he puts your bags in your truck, opens the door for you. Stands by the open door when you’re in so he can kiss you. Then he says goodbye and shuts the door and you have to watch him walk back into your future house without you. 

UGH. 

This is getting out of hand. Out of hand. No. You’re not doing this– he is twenty years older than you. He has been married, and has a daughter your age. He is NEVER going to introduce you to her. He’d probably be so ashamed… oh god. Okay. No. Don’t do it. You buy yourself another overpriced coffee as a treat, for nothing.

You’ve done zero good things today so far. Neglected your ‘has-yet-to-fuck-you' buddy this morning. Got all pissed off about that for no reason. Now you’re making up scenarios in your head. 

Gotta call Patti tonight after work. Maybe on the way home even. Fuuck. Okay. Shit. 

Thank god you got that coffee. You needed it because it's so busy. So busy all day for no reason. So many people all buying dumb, stupid tools you know nothing about.

There isn't much you know about home improvement, but the things you do know, you can list off on one hand.

Screwdriver. Hammer. Nails. Shingles. Saw. 

Boom! Done! Did it!

Fuck this job. 

You stand in the back room and just give the wall that faces the sales floor the finger for a solid thirty seconds. It does the trick and makes you feel better. A little.

It’s almost time to go and you snuck away for a lil break. Haven’t had one all day. Bullshit. Okay. It’s not that bad. The day went by real fast. Just… hate looking at fucking tools all day. Bleh. Rather be lookin’ at Joel if you’re being honest which you know you are. So. That’s fun. You check your phone for the first time today. Three messages from Joel. Two from Cody. A voicemail. One missed call. From Cody. You call him back before anything. 

“You workin’?” Cody sounds distressed. 

“No, I’m home.” You lie so that he will just tell you and not wait until you’re not at work. 

“Okay. Listen t’this. Sam is being admitted into a mental health rehab here in Munich for a while. Carson n’ I are gonna stay close by in an AirBnB or whatever. You good out there? Need any cash or anything? Truck good? House good?” Cody needs to get off the phone and honestly so do you, but you have so many questions.

What the fuck?

‘She’s okay, right?” You ask nervously. “She didn’t do anything stupid, Cody... did she?” 

“No. Fucking dumbass. She’s fine. Sad. Real sad. Maybe not fine but she didn’t do that. Her doting husband is helping, asshole. Are. You. Good?” He asks again because he is clearly busy. 

“I’m fine. I’ll call you later or call me or something I dunn-” Cody hangs up on you like a dick but you get it. He’s probably dealing with shit. Fuck. Thankfully she is somewhere people can help her. You can’t imagine not being able to get help with that. S’gotta feel hopeless. Joel’s messages. 

Better have a good fuckin day brat… ima be thinkin bout you 

Shit. Okay. He is so cute. Fuck. The next one. 

i'm thinkin bout you right now. when i can see you again?

Oooooooh. Oooooooooooohhhh. Okay. You’re fineeeee. The last one says. 

tonight maybe? I can come to you.

OH SHIT. He likes you too! OH. OH. This is so good. Such good news.

He sent those messages hours apart, which means he thought about you multiple times during the day.

You have to sigh. A big deep one. A happy one. You’ll still call Patti when you get out of work, but for a different reason. This could be the start to your first real relationship, and it's with a decent man.

How exciting!?

Work is expecting you back (they didn't ever expect you to disappear), so you'll just call Joel when you get home. There is only an hour left of your shift and it goes by fast.

Unfortunately for you-- Patti isn't the person you call to tell your good news to.

It's the police, and you have no good news for them.

Someone broke the window to Cody's truck and took your ‘spend the night’ bag with your laptop in it.

There wasn't anything incriminating on that laptop, and it's not like they could get into it easily. It's password protected. There's that feeling of 'nothing-can-ever-go-right' feeling creeping up in your stomach as you explain what happened on the phone to the dispatch person on the phone.

The laptop wasn't your whole life, it's just an electronic-- but you did use it every single day. To read your fan fictions, and your murder blog and to video chat with Cody and Carson.

You just want to cry. There is broken glass all over the seat and floor of the truck, and the police officer is very nice and tries to help you get it all off before you climb in and start the annoying drive home with no window.

As if your day wasn't bad enough, when you open the garage door to park the truck inside, there is a mountain of stuff you have to move so there is room. It's not like the truck would get stolen if you left it in the drive way, but with your luck? You're not taking the risk.

It takes you almost forty-five minutes before there is a space large enough for the truck.

There's an excessive amount of tears the entire time.

You finish and head inside, and about to get in the shower when your phone rings. You answer without even looking at the screen.

“S’wrong with you?” Joel doesn't give you time to say hello and he sounds upset. “Mad at me or something’? I thought we were good when you left t'day. Th'fuck is wrong with you?”

You groan loudly- you forgot to call him or even text him.

Why is he being so unforgiving!? He doesn't even know what happened, and he's going to make you start crying all over again! Even in this state, you know what it feels like to be ignored, and to overthink, and to have the worst thoughts running through your head.

Now you feel bad for making him worry, even if he is being an asshole.

"N-Nothin's wrong w-with me," you sniffle in an attempt to try and keep your composure, but it's a sad attempt. "I just h-had a b-bad day. I'm sor-sorry." The words are choked on, and it's very obvious that you're trying to hide your tears from him.

“What're ya' cryin' for?” Joel sounds much less mad. “S’wrong, lil girl?” He coos to you through the phone. 

You whimper, and feel like an idiot, unable to speak.

"Baby girl..." Joel trails off like he's in physical pain at hearing your discomfort.

The shower is still going in the background, and now you're just sobbing against the sink, completely naked.

What a humbling experience.

"Were ya' 'bout t'shower?" He asks softly.

"Yeah," you whine out softly. "S-Sorry--"

"Hey, shhh, s'okay, s'alright. Get in the shower, get nice 'n clean. Relax. Calm down a lil, and call me when ya' get out, 'kay?" His voice is so soothing and it makes you feel so much better than when you had originally answered the phone.

"'Kay," you sniffle and wipe your nose, nodding in agreement, even though he can't see you.

"I'm gon' talk t'ya real soon, baby girl."  

You hang up because the tears continue to come even now, when he's being so sweet and nice to you.

You don’t even know why you’re so upset.

You have the money to do both things… fix the window and get a new computer. It’s just all your extra money– saved money. So, that’s fun and it just feels like you can’t catch a break.

It’s always been like this. 

You spend longer crying in the shower than you would like to admit. It felt good though. You get out of the shower and are puffy and red faced from crying. Of course. You dry off and go to get pajamas on before you call Joel. When you do he doesn’t answer. Of course. Now you’re sad again. 

It’s late-ish. Almost nine now. He’s not gonna even wanna come over anymore. Fuck. You don’t even bother trying to call again in case he fell asleep or something. You read your scary blog on your phone but it’s not the same and you just get more sad. 

The TV is good for Jersey Shore reruns. That’s it. You need some good Ron and Sam drama. Need it. So good (it’s not). It made for such good TV(highly toxic). It’s almost nine thirty when the doorbell rings and now you’re in attack and protection mode. You run up the stairs and fling the door open. 

“Stop it.” It just comes out of your mouth before you can help it. The sigh in front of you is so perfect.

Joel has his stupid 'spend the night' bag in his hand.

“Y'don't want me to stay?” He asks nervously, like maybe he made the wrong choice coming over… but isn’t mad that you might not want him to. He’ll do whatever you say. 

“I need you to stay, I thought maybe you fell asleep. You never called me back."

“I realized fifteen minutes into the drive that I left that stupid phone at home… n’ I don’t need it. Yer’ here.” Joel shrugs his shoulders. “Didn’t think ya were.. Tucks not in the driveway…”

It’s inevitable after he says that! Waterworks. Tears.

Joel doesn’t wait for you to invite him in this time. He just wraps you up in his arms. “S’wrong? Somethin’ happen? I gotta go kick someone’s ass, lil girl?” Joel sets his bag down and leads you into the upstairs living room because it’s just right there when you walk into the house and there is a couch. He sits you down beside him and brings your legs into his lap. 

“Just a b-bad day.” You whimper as he rubs his hands across your thighs slowly. 

“How? What's makin' you cryin’ like that?” He is so worried for you. He probably thinks you got attacked or something. 

“Just a long day a-at work. Someone b-broke Cody’s truck window. Took m-my c-c-comp–” You can’t even finish.

“I’m fuckin’ sorry, baby. Don’t cry. I know someone who can fix yer’ window.” Joel is working on this right now--working on solutions for you. “I’ll text ya his number tomorrow when I get my phone, ‘kay?” 

“Thank you.” You sniffle and sigh loudly. “N’ thanks for comin’ over. I did really want you to come and was… a lil sad when I thought I couldn’t see you.” You whisper. 

“I thought y’were fuckin’ mad at me all day.” Joel huffs in annoyance and it makes you actually laugh. “Thought y’were ignorin’ me. Spent most of the day wonderin’ what I did!?” Joel leans his body over yours so he’s partially on top of you. “I didn’t do shit.” He sneers and kisses you lips softly. “Got me actin’ all big n’ dumb,” He snickers against your lips. 

“Acting?” You tease him and he pinches at you sides but you point at him in warning. “No. Tickling.” You raise your eyebrows at him. “Neither of us get tickled… fair?” You try to come to an agreement on it. 

“What? Jus’ ‘cause you gave up easy means I gotta?” Joel pinches and tickles at your sides anyway and has you cackling. “S’what you wanted t’do t’me last night? N’ you couldn’t. Too bad, lil girl.” Joel is growling at you as you laugh beneath him. “Might be big n’ dumb… ya know what else I am?” Joel pauses and looks down at you, waiting for a response. 

“I dunno. What?” You ask breathlessly. 

“Bigger n’ stronger than you.”

Then then more tickles start on your sides and stomach with his big, strong fingers.

“Noooooo. Dooooon’t.” You whine, and Joel’s fingers stop. “I haaate it.” You’re giggling even though you do not like this. It's torture.

“Okay. No ticklin’. Uhhh, you hate bein’ carried ‘round like a lil baby?” Joel smirks down at you.

You pause…having to think about it for a moment. You shake your head no up at him while he climbs off of you. Standing beside the couch, Joel scoops you– literally a swift swooping motion and he’s got you behind the back of the knees and behind the back– up to his chest. “Hey pretty girl.” 

“Why’re you doin’ all this?” You sigh softly as he carries down to your room.

Joel shrugs. "I dunno. Don't like seein' you sad?"

You love that he doesn’t want you to be sad. You hate that he won’t tell you why, or that he doesn’t really know why he's doing all these things.

Sounds like a crock of shit to you. Just once-- like in the fucking movies (it's stupid, you know it, doesn't matter), you want someone to tell you exactly why they care. It's the confession, it's the desperate need for you to hear them proclaim their feelings for you.

Even though Joel hasn't done that, he’s here. So…. that might be the answer?

UGH.

It doesn’t really matter right now, Joel is laying you down on your bed and he takes two steps back and doesn't do a lil tease or anything— it’s not even a conscious thing he does, you don’t think. Joel just starts to strip. He’s unbuttoning his flannel shirt, smirking at you a little while he does it. You sit up on your elbows as he rids himself of the button up. His thick, strong fingers work on the buckle of his belt and soon he’s just in his boxers and a t-shirt and white socks which is just… ugh. 

“Come here.” You whisper and Joel twists his head around like you could be talking to someone else and then looks back at you curiously and points to his chest. 

“Me?” He teases and looks flustered. “Ya want me in yer’ bed?” He sounds like he cannot believe you. He’s being so fucking cute and you’re punching everyone who even comes close to him. He’s too fucking cute. He doesn’t make you ask him twice as he crawls into bed with you. 

“Sorry I have just a regular sized person bed.” You whisper as he presses himself to you gently. Joel shrugs. 

“I’ll deal with it.” He’s not smirking or being cute anymore. He’s so close to you and there is something different in his voice. “I like bein’ here with ya.” He leans down and kisses your lips softly… but he lingers. His mouth opens slowly, almost like he doesn’t know if should but you part your lips to let him in– graciously accept his tongue into your mouth– greedily even. He exhales heavily through his nose as your tongues touch and sinks into your mattress besides you. His whole body melts and you lean into him as his hands find your waist. “Get on me.” He growls into your mouth, tugging at your shirt as he rolls onto his back. 

You get on Joel quickly and desperately, crawling to be straddling his waist and leaning over him to kiss him again. His fingers spread across your cheeks on both sides as he moves his hands into your hair so it’s not hanging down around either of your faces. He grips it gently in both of his hands as you deepen the kiss, moaning softly into his mouth. He is breathing heavily and pushing his hips up into yours as you grind down into him– feeling how excited he’s getting. 

“Are we gonna?” You whisper quietly as one hand drops from your hair to between your legs. He’s rummaging around down there like he’s looking for something. He smirks against your lips as he adjusts himself to be more comfortable. Not touch your pussy or put his dick inside you. 

“Nah. But I know when we are.” he whispers quietly, his lips barely moving as he speaks against your mouth. Then he sighs deeply and his other hand leaves your hair and finds your waist. 

“When?” You moan softly as he starts to move your body against his. 

“Soon.” He smirks. “Sit up.” When he speaks it’s not a demand or an order but he’s firm about it and his fingers dig into your hips through your pajama shorts softly. You do what he wants, and run your hands over his chest– still hidden behind his t-shirt– as he pushes and pulls your body along his slowly. You help him this time. You weren’t able to the first time he did this but now you’re not stuck and in shock on his lap. You’re ready for this and want to be the reason he comes in his boxers again. “Fuck.” Joel strains it out softly under his breath as his arms stop having to work and your hips take over.

“Do you like this?” You coo down to him, pushing your hands against his chest softly so you can lift your hips off of him lightly and with a gentle and slow sweep forward of your hips, you can push your body down against him and drag the heat and softness of your pajama covered pussy back down his shaft over his boxers. 

“Jeeeeeesus fucking Christ...yes.” Joel sighs loudly as you do this. He lifts his head so he can watch where your bodies meet even though there is nothing to see. “Yer’ doin’ so good, lil girl. D-Don’t fuuh-cking stop.” You stammer his speech as you do it again, a little rougher now when you grind down into him. 

“Yes, Mr. Miller. Whatever you say.” You purr softly and Joel has to close his eyes tight and stifle another moan. 

“Fuck.” He snaps breathlessly as you move against him, his hands are still on your waist but they’re moving with no meaning, searching your sides helplessly as you start to lead him to euphoria– for the first time on your own and you’re excited. 

“You like my young pussy on you like this, old man?” You whisper down to him and his eyes snap open and his hands stop moving and grip you tighter, he looks… a little shocked at first. “What?” You're just as shocked by his reaction.

“Dunno… say that again..” He whispers softly and pushes the hardness of himself up into you, his eyes never leave your face as you whisper it to him again, more hesitantly now because of his reaction, but your hips keep moving and he keeps bucking up into you rhythmically.

“Y-You like…m-my…young pussy—” You can’t even get the rest of the sentence out before Joel’s mouth drops open slightly and his tongue glides across his bottom lip but he stays silent, just gazing up at you with his smoldering brown eyes. “...on your big, hard cock like this, old man?” You put a lil twist on it this time and get a very positive reaction from the man underneath you. 

“Fuck. Fuck." He chants quickly. "Yes I do.” He whimpers. “P-Please don’t stop.” He begs you. You almost go completely still because he’s a different man underneath you right now and you fucking love it. 

“You gonna fuck my tight little pussy soon, Mr. Miller?” You lean over and watch his face, pinning him below you with your hands on his chest as you rock your hips against his rhythmically and drag a low groan from the back of Joel’s throat before he can speak again.

“So f-fuckin’ bad, lil girl. F-Fuck.” His body is quivering underneath yours. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.” He begs more and it’s doing something to you. 

“Open your mouth.” You coo to him and he doesn’t question you at all. While still moving your body against his, you grips his face under his chin and hold him to look at you while you work your mouth together. Joel is moaning softly, looking up at you while his body starts to twitch and jerk underneath him. His cock is throbbing already between your legs. You lean in close and spit onto his tongue. 

Joel grips you tightly, closes his mouth and groans loudly, keeping his eyes open so he can look at you while you make him come. He swallows and then he talks for you. 

“Fuck yeah, bad lil girl. Oh fuck. Fuck. Yer’ so fuckin’ naughty, baby. Jeeeesuuss.” He is breathless and panting those words loudly as his stiff body twitches underneath you. He holds you like that down on him– keeping you still, pushing his hips up into yours. You inch your hips forwards slightly and make him hiss sharply and clench his jaw as his eyes clench shut. “Shiiit.” He sighs softly as you lift your body off him. He lets you, his hands falling to his sides. 

The room is silent besides him catching his breath. You don’t climb off of him yet, you just look down at him as he lays on your bed, his brow beaded with sweat as is the base of his neck. His eyes are still closed and he is just breathing. 

“You ok? Do you want a water?” You snort softly and lean over to kiss him. His hands come to your hair again and he kisses you with those big, slippery, open mouthed kisses that feel like a tidal wave when he kisses you. Feels like you’re drowning in the best way. His tongue– fuck, is so soft and warm and strong as he slithers it around yours. He kisses you like that for only a moment before he pulls away. 

“I’m good.” He smirks and his hands start to trawl up and down your sides and hips and the outside of your thighs. “How you wanna come?” He asks, nodding up at you with a smirk. 

“I don’t.” You grin down at him but he frowns. 

“You got me this morning. I’m paying you back now. N’ now you can be tired n’ sleep real good and snore in my ear all night.” You’re smirking harder and feel silly but he smiles now and tilts his head up to steal another, gentle kiss. 

“Yer’ somethin’ else, baby. Really are.”

Joel’s snoring that night isn’t that bad with your jet engine sounding fan blasting as high as it will. You sleep fine. You just need to get one for his house… You’re trying to not…freak the fuck out? Because…this might be the first guy who you like…really start a real relationship with. Which makes you sad because…why are you just starting now? Silly. But…everything you ever did led you right here…sleeping next to Joel Miller the carpenter and the sex god. Jesus. The sweetheart. The dirty old man. Fuck. Okay. Don’t get too ahead of yourself. It’s fine. Having fun. Takin’ things slow. It’s good. Fine. You’re good. 

The next morning Joel’s watch alarm goes off and you don’t want him to go. You don’t have to work today and you’d rather just him not leave. He turns his alarm off without rolling over to you and goes back to sleep. You don’t question it. The next time you’re waking up it’s him touching your stomach and thighs gently. 

“Hey. Get up.” he’s shaking you gently. 

“Why?” You groan quietly.

“We gotta go get yer’ window fixed.” he whispers quietly. “C’mon I’ll get you an iced coffee.” He smooches your face and you finally open your eyes. He’s changed into clean clothes and showered already. It makes you smirk and you dunno why. “I don’ gotta work today. Jus’ takin’ care of ya. S’my only job today.” He stands up and pulls the covers off of you. 

“What?” The sleep is still rolling all around in your brain. “Why?” 

“I dunno.” Joel shrugs his shoulders. “I don’ gotta job today. Next one doesn’t start ‘till next week.” 

“No why are we doing the window?” You’re so confused. So tired still honestly. 

“It’s broken, right?” He’s just as confused as you are. “Ya need t’shower? I can wait. Roll up fer’ us, if ya want.” He suggests, standing at the end of your bed. You stare at him, blinking. You rub your eyes and wipe the crusties out of them. 

“Okay.” You get out of bed and shower. 

Joel is going to take you to get your window fixed and get you coffee… sonofabitch. Motherfucker. He’s too good. Something’s wrong with him. Has to be. Not just him being an asshole either. He’s perfect. Why wouldn’t some hot bitch have snatched his ass up sooner? It’s too suspicious but you… don’t even really care. That man sitting on your couch– which lets not forget, is located in your older sister's basement— could ruin your entire life and you…wouldn’t care. You’d be sad about it, obviously…but he’s so hot you might thank him as walks out of your life forever. No. That’s…unhealthy. Obviously. You’re swallowing hard in the shower by yourself thinking about all of this. 

Joel is waiting for you with two joints and a smile when you come out of the shower. 

“I uh… took th’liberty of…” Joel trails off and looks at your bed and doesn’t say anything else. You turn to see what he’s looking at and he… picked an outfit for you while you were showering. “Hope you don’t mind. Don’t gotta wear it. I think it’s cute though.” 

Uuummmm. Okay . He picked such a simple outfit. Black denim jeans and a black v-neck t-shirt. Low cut. He also picked out your undergarments. A pair of light pink cotton panties and a black bra. Fuck. He is perfect. 

“I don’ wanna do it all the time… just… dunno. I was peekin’ at all yer’ stuff.” Joel smirks as you get dressed. He watches the entire time. “I do alright?” 

“You did. Somethin’ I’d pick.” You try and sound not in love with him as you go to blow dry your hair and do some quick sprucing up. Whatever you’d normally do to get ready. When you walk out of the bathroom, Joel is ready– joints in hand and his cute little spend the night bag in the other. 

Joel drives back to his place to get his phone, gets you an iced coffee and on the way back to your place calls the guy who can fix the truck window. When he gets off the phone he smiles over at you. 

“Lucky yer’ man knows so many people. He said t’bring it over now and he’d be able to get it back t’ya tomorrow.” Joel is smiling and resting his arm on the center console, his wrist facing up. You know what to do. You scratch your nails up and down the underside of his arm. You’ve seen the scars on his arms and back before. Assumed they were from years of carpentry but…looking at them now…they’re weird. Patterned. 

“Thank you. I really appreciate it.” You say, still inspecting the slightly raised lines of skin on his arm. More pale than the rest of him. “How’d you get all these? Work?” You ask curiously, flicking your eyes up to him. He pulls his arm away, swaps his grip on the steering wheel and rests his other arm on the open window. 

“Yeahhh. Been in the trade fer’ a long time. Get cut up real good.” Joel doesn’t look at you when he says this. Doesn’t sound very genuine about it. You don’t push it because he either doesn’t wanna talk about it or doesn’t want you to know. Either way�� scars are scars… you have a bunch, don’t always wanna talk about how you got them. So you respect him and let it go. 

“Well, if you ever get scratched up again like that, I’ll come clean it up for ya. Take real good care of ya.” You wink at him and make him smile. Now he turns his head to take in your face. 

“I’m holdin’ y’to that.” He growls and drives back to your place. You’re about to climb out of your truck when an unknown number starts to call you. You answer. 

“Hello?” You’re curious. 

“Hey, it’s Matt from the cat shelter…” His voice is like nails on a chalkboard and you start to shake like a leaf. Your phone isn’t on speaker but it’s not quiet. And Joel's truck is quiet. 

“Hey…” You don’t know what else to say and Joel is staring at you. 

“Hey…uh… Agatha is ready for you to come pick up whenever. Today or tomorrow. Whatever works for you.” He says simply. 

“Oh!! Oh god. Okay! Thank you. I’ll be in either tomorrow or the day after– is that alright?” You ask less nervously now, more excited but still…don’t wanna be talking to Matt. Not in front of Joel. 

“Yeah. She’ll go back up for adoption if you don’t get her by next week though.” He explains not sounding mad or annoyed that you blew him off. 

“No. I’ll be there for her before then. I will.” You speak firmly now so he knows you’re not having second thoughts. 

“Yeah, sounds good. Have a good rest of your day.” Then Matt hangs up. You glance over at Joel who is watching pretty intently. 

“My cat.” You smile nervously at him and he smirks, shaking his head. 

“You wanna go get her?” Joel asks curiously. “I’d take ya….” This is an excuse for him to go eye up Matt. See how you act around him. You know it. 

“Yeah, if you don’t mind… I’d like her here and not in a small little cage.” You nod at him slowly. 

“Alright. Let's go meet Matt." Joel sounds so excited.

Joel leads you to the car repair shop, Agatha’s carrier is in his backseat and you’re going to pick her up after you drop Cody’s truck off. This is the first time you’ve been around Joel and seen him interact with someone else. Joel shakes his hand with vigor when the men greet each other. 

“Heyyy buddy. How ya’ been?” The taller, older man pulls Joel into a hug and slaps his back with just as much vigor as the handshake. 

“Ken. Nice t’see ya man. Been good. Jus’ workin’. How’s the old lady? How’s Mags?” He asks curiously. 

“Shiiit. Mags is ‘bout to be graduatin’. Headin’ off t’college soon. Goin’ to Penn State. So fuckin’ proud of her.” Ken does sound proud of his daughter. So fucking cute. You’re a little jealous but whatever. “Ole Lady? She’s fuckin’ perfect as always.” Ken smiles again. He’s kinda handsome. Older than Joel– not as handsome as him. But he takes care of himself it looks like. 

“S’fucking good to hear, man. I ‘ppreciate you gettin’ the truck in here s’fast. Needed it done pronto, so thanks.” Joel tips his head to the side slightly when he thanks him. You love his little mannerisms. 

“Shiit. No problem. Ain’t busy so it’ll be quick. Get it back t’ya tomorrow mornin’.” Ken nods. “It yer’ truck or the young woman’s?” Ken asks, giving you a small nod and a smile. 

“Shiit, I’m sorry. This is Birdie.” He introudices you with his pet name for you and you…melt. 

“Nice t’meet you.” Ken holds his hand out and you shake it. 

“Nice to meet you too. Thanks for helping me out. Takes a lot of stress outta my life.” You chuckle and are very appreciative. 

“Anything for Joel. Did work on my house when me n’ my wife n’ daughter moved t’Austin a couple years ago. He’s a good guy.” Ken talks him up to you and Joel’s pinky finger brushes against yours so gently it’s almost like he didn’t do it. But then he does it again. And again. Then he holds it there against yours. 

“He’s alright .” You joke and rub your pinky against his as you say it and get goosebumps…all over. Ken laughs, a good laugh and points at you knowingly. 

“We’d love t’stay and chat…but she’s got a cat waitin’ fer’ her at some sad shelter. We’re gonna go get her’, right ?” Joel looks down at you for confirmation. 

“Sure are. Spend the rest of the day lookin’ for her, ‘cause she’s probably gonna be scared and hide.” You are excited and as you speak your excitement leaves because you know you’re not gonna see that cat once you get her home for at least three days. You researched it. She’s gonna be scared. 

“Well go on then, go save that lil pussy cat!” Ken exclaims and gestures with his hands to leave. You smirk and Joel slides his fingers between yours and walks you back to his truck– opens your door for you. 

“Thanks.” You smirk as you climb up. It’s getting easier now. Joel gives your ass a soft smack as you get in. 

“No. Thank you. ” Joel is grinning as he shuts the door. 

The ride to the shelter isn’t long. It’s close by. You hadn’t been nervous at all but now… you’re shitting your pants as you walk in and Matt is right fucking there to look at and now ‘yer’ man’ is right behind you. Matt looks confused as to why you brought him, but doesn’t… say anything weird or act out of sorts when he takes the carrier from you. He puts Agatha in there and hands it back to you. 

Joel is right behind you the entire time, standing so close you can feel him breathing down your neck but it’s not bothersome at all. You like it– like how his fingers graze at your lower back under the hem of your shirt.

“She’s gonna be a little spooked for a couple days. She’ll come out n’ eat at night when you’re sleeping. Just make sure she uses the litter box within the first couple days. If she doesn’t… let us know. She’s had some kidney issues— nothing crazy! It’s why she has that special food–”

Joel pinches your ass gently. It makes you shiver before you cut Matt off.

“I know. We talked the other day about it. I’ll call if I have any issues or anything. Thank you,” You’re so polite and respectful and nothing weird happens. It’s perfect. You and Joel are walking out, Joel is about to put his hand in yours when Matt calls to both of you.

“Hope you and your dad have a good rest of the day.” 

You stop dead in your tracks and look back at Matt and he’s not even looking at you anymore. He’s already walking into the back area behind the counter.

Joel does not grab your hand after that and you die inside. 

The walk to the truck sure is quiet after that. Most of the ride too, minus Agatha howling like she is being tortured inside her spacious and comfortable carrier. He speaks halfway back to your place. 

“Uh– so… did you have any place, uh…else ya’ needed t’go?” He asks, with hesitation all over his words. 

“No… I’m fine. Thanks though.” You answer nervously. “ Sorry –”

“Nope. It’s fine.” Joel doesn’t let you finish. 

“I don’t care. I know you’re not , so—”

“Yeah… but does everyone else?” Joel scoffs softly and now. You’re dead. Fully dead. A dead body with a screaming cat on her lap. Fuuuck. Joel pulls into the driveway and doesn’t move. Doesn’t turn the truck off. Nothing. 

“Do you…still wanna come inside?” You don’t even wanna ask. You know he’s not going to. 

“I know I said we’d hang out—”

“It’s fine. I hope you have a good rest of your day. Talk to you later.” You do not let him finish. You get out of his truck and carry your screaming cat up to the front door. Joel rolls his window down but doesn’t get out. 

“I’ll call ya later, ‘kay?” He calls out as you put your key in the door. 

“‘Kay.” You call back to him and slam the front door shut. 

Stupid fucking Matt. Fuck Matt. And his stupid tattoos. Fuuuuck. You wanna run back outside and tell him not to leave but when you look out of the window he is gone already. You’re doing nothing to try and hold your tears back. You bring Agatha downstairs, shutting the door at the top so she can’t explore the rest of the house yet. 

You get the litter box ready in the bathroom and set it out of the way. You get her fresh water and open the food you got. Angrily. All of this is done so angry. The tears you have aren’t even sad ones. They’re mad ones. You’re a woman. A grown fucking adult woman. Who gives a shit how many years there are between you and Joel? You’re both grown. Fully. No more growing left to do. Why is there an issue? Why is it weird? It’s because he has a daughter your age. Almost. She’s younger than you, yes. But not by much . 

Agatha doesn’t bolt like you expect her to when you open the carrier. She pokes her little head out and looks around very curiously and takes one hesitant step out, sniffing everything. Very intently. She looks right up into your face and meows. It’s high pitched and adorable. Sounds like she says ‘hello’. 

“Hi.” You sigh to her sadly. “You don’t care how old or young I am. Do you? ” You let her smell your hand and she does, for two seconds and then rams her head into your fingers and rubs her head all over you. This fills you with love and now…you’ll die for this cat. Fuck, she is perfect. Small and sweet. 

The next four hours are spent playing with her because she doesn’t hide. Not one time. She eats her food and drinks her water. You show her where the litter box is, but she doesn’t use it right away. S’fine. You’ll keep an eye on it. You might keep checking your phone to make sure you didn’t miss a call or a text even though your phone is on the loudest ringer setting. You listen to your sad music and cry a little because you might have lost ‘yer’ man’ before he was ever really even yours. 

You cry a lot. Sad tears now. Jersey Shore reruns don’t even help and they always do. 

“ Are you friends with her? Lemme know know. Are you friends with her?.... Are you?” TV gold and it didn’t even touch the sadness inside of you. You wanna call Joel but he doesn’t wanna talk to you. Obviously. You call your job around five and let them know you’re not coming in tomorrow because of your truck. They understand, they’re not mad. They feel bad that the security cameras didn’t catch anything. Didn’t see who did it. 

Joel doesn’t call you all night. The next morning he texts you. 

Your truck is ready.

And gives you the address. You text him back.

Thanks.

That’s it. He doesn’t offer to give you a ride or ask how you are. Nothing. You order an Uber to the repair shop. Ken smiles when he sees you. 

“Lady Bird, how are you doin’?” He asks happily. You do your best to not sound like your insides are being pushed into a wood chipper. 

“I’m good. Thank you again for doing it so fast.” You smile at him half-heartedly and he gives you a small sad smile and hands you the keys. 

“Don’t look s’sad. I dunno why yer’ sad, but… just don’t. Try n’ smile.” Ken offers some kind words but they do nothing. 

“Thank you. How much do I owe you?” You ask, reaching for your wallet. 

“Oh. Nothin’? Joel paid for it over th’phone this mornin’” Ken explains. 

“Oh– okay. Thank you again.” You thank the mechanic and jump into your truck. You text Joel immediately. 

Thanks. Didn’t need to do all that. I can pay you back.

You will pay him back if he has no intentions of seeing you again. You’ll drop an envelope with like four hundred dollars at his door and run away. Joel doesn’t text you back right away. You know he’s not working. Said he doesn’t have to until next week. So he is just ignoring you. Cool 

Joel doesn’t text you or call you for four days. You are fuming. So mad. Not sad anymore. Rage filled. But you only text him one thing on the fourth day and nothing else. 

Cool. 

And then you almost throw your phone against the wall but…you can’t afford a new phone and a laptop. Not even with Joel paying for the window. Your phone dings and it’s him. Your heart flutters until you open it. 

Sorry.

taglist: @immyowndefender @korikolove @untamedheart81 @fanficlover1414, @creepycorbeaux (i'll add or take you off, just let me know!)

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ mad with need ]❜

ft. logan howlett x f! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ you want him so bad that you feel like you’re going crazy so he indulges you┊3.0k words

setting: deadpool & wolverine (2024) worst! logan contains: smut!! dom logan & sub reader┊x wade wilson too, age gap, dirty fantasies from a horny reader (who is actually insecure about herself), size difference, no prep we’re dying like nicepool, riding & unprotected piv, breeding/creampie, a bit rushed i need this out my wips

➤ author's note: okay so this is actually the very first logan fic i started, but i have no idea why it took me so long to finish it? it’s a bit all over the place, but i hope some people enjoy anyway!

has he realized you were there and simply testing your self-control, or is he just being so effortlessly sexy again that you aren’t sure if you’re in love or jealous? was there any other reason for him to be laid out on the beat-up couch like something to feast on when he was simply holding a bottle of liquor in one hand to sip on and flipping through the channels of a barely-working box television with a remote in the other? why else would he be so delectable around a known pervert(s, wade is just as bad as you are, just more focused on the possible destruction of his home rather than the pansexual panic between you and logan plaguing him) if not to tempt you?

you’re constantly fawning over the sight of him and letting out dreamy sighs which have become more common lately than you would like to admit, swearing that you could gaze upon him for every second of the day and not tire of it. they say “god gives his most difficult battles to his strongest soldiers”, yet the battle assigned to you is restraining yourself from pouncing on him at the very moment and begging to suck his cock. you know that you’re horny most hours of the day and also kinda a brazen whore, but the way he makes you wet in record time should be worthy of a gold olympic medal.

every time his lips wrap around the rim of the glass bottle, you can’t help but imagine them somewhere else. the image of his handsome face between your legs and scruffy facial hair coated in your slick while he ravishes you haunts your mind whenever you try to sleep, yet the phantom sensation of his tongue on you while his nose stimulates your clit helps you rest in the end. you bet that he would be great at eating pussy too, with his sharp tongue and arrogant attitude— god. 

he’s also so jacked that even when he’s resting, his muscles still seem to bulge with prominent veins like a nurse’s wet dream and it has you downright drooling. now that the sleeves of his suit were gone, you could see how beefy his arms were, and seeing any inch of his skin had you acting up like a victorian man seeing a woman’s ankles for the first time. he could probably crush your skull like an egg if you ever found yourself head-locked in them (you’ve seen him do it to wade out of irritation, and you’ve never been so jealous).

and not to mention how peggable his shapely ass is, there’s really no limit to all the things you want to try with him if you were given the chance—

“are you finished staring?” his gruff voice brought you back to reality, refocusing your vision as he made a slight gesture to his body with one of his rare smirks, “like what you see?” it’s a rhetorical question, he knows how good he looks despite his age and you have already made your attraction towards him well-established. 

you don’t need to say anything, he can tell what you’re thinking as clearly as day, so you don’t bother making any dirty remarks like usual and just walk out the room. you paced around the house for a minute or two to calm yourself down until you eventually ran into wade. “oh my god,” you cupped your face with your hands, eyes becoming big and round as if you were going to cry, “i want him so bad, i feel like i’m gonna lose my mind if i don’t fuck him!”

“well, why haven’t you? i know for a fact that my presence isn’t enough to stop you from climbing him like a tree, so spill it!”

“uhhhh,” you pointed your fingers together to exaggerate self-consciousness, “what if… what if he doesn’t like me and just sees me as some annoying, excessively horny kid?”

“can you believe this bitch?” he scoffed, looking at the invisible audience that was always watching before grabbing your shoulders and violently shaking you, “listen here missy, he definitely likes you— i have yet to see that man smile at anything else that isn’t your face and comments that rival jjk twitter fans in vulgarity! why are you suddenly getting cold feet now when you’re such a player? you’re suddenly screaming, crying, and throwing up over peanut whom you’ve been hitting on non-stop since we found him?!”

“i don’t know! it’s different, he’s my hero, and— i know it’s hard for you to believe, but he’s not even half the asshole my previous flings were. besides, he so fucking hot—”

“yeah, but he’s also so fucking old— his dick is probably all shriveled up—” the sound of the said man clearing his throat made him jump out of his skin, slowly turning his head to look at the older man before giggling nervously and waving his hands around in some form of awkward greeting. even if he can regenerate and wounds are more like papercuts, the last thing he wanted was to get stabbed in the balls by his adamantium claws again for making such a comment. “ahaha, how much did you hear…?”

“enough,” he grunted, turning his attention to you, “and you’re coming with me.”

“huh—?” there was hardly a moment for you to properly react before he suddenly bent down to grab you by the waist and toss you over his shoulder, “you’re not even gonna ask me to dinner first?!” you must have looked like a fish out of the water with how your mouth was agape with surprise, and you heard him genuinely chuckle in amusement. both from the fact that you didn’t see this coming after all you’ve been saying to him as well as the fact that he could pick you up and throw you around like you weighed nothing.

“well, you didn’t exactly greet me with a ‘hello’ before shamelessly undressing me with your eyes when we first met, now did you?” you couldn’t see if he was smiling or not considering that you were upside-down. the current angle only gave you a close-up view of his perfect ass (not that you were complaining, you need to know his squat routine), unsure if the heat on your face was from the embarrassment of him calling you out or simply from the blood rushing to your head.

“what about me? are you lovebirds really going to leave me all by myself, lonely and yearning for the companionship of another while you two fuck like rabbits?”

“ahh, go fuck yourself.” the grin on his face dissipated the moment he opened his mouth, but it wasn’t enough to ruin his mood as he carried you away to the closest bedroom available, quickly flinging you on the bed without a bother to be careful when handling you since he knew that you could and have taken worse as deadpool’s sidekick. “why are you so nervous? think i don’t want you as much as you want me?”

“wait, actually?” your usually confident facade of the overly forward flirt was faltering more and more by the second.

“you’re so busy ogling my body that you haven’t even noticed the way i look at you, huh?” it’s obvious logan was an absolute beast of a man, but when he cages you with his arms between his bulky frame and the mattress, you feel like a little field mouse against a lion. the way your pupils dilate as you look up at him with adorned excitement has him so fucking feral, heat stirring in his stomach and blood rushing to his cock. he traced over your outfit, admiring how the skin-tight leather hugged your curved. “wearing such a slutty little things that leaves nothing to the imagination, and you expected me not to think about pinning you down and fucking you until you pass out?”

you shivered at his words, arousal pooling in your underwear and warmth spreading throughout your body under your skin. this cheeky son of a bitch can smell it too, the sweet smell of desire, sensing how needy you are for his touch and how your pussy is just begging for his attention. 

as much as he wanted to rip your clothing off and pound into you like there was no tomorrow, he wanted to take his time to properly treasure the cute sidekick who has been reminding him how it feels to be a man again, young and unafraid to pursue the woman of his dreams and treat her right the way that countless of others failed to do. (you’re going to laugh hysterically at him later on down the line when you hear him say that, never thinking you could be the object of anyone’s affection past a one-night stand, but the look in his eyes makes you realize he’s telling the truth and you’ll get all flustered over it.) 

you can taste the alcohol from earlier when he kisses you and moan into it, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer, all teeth, tongue, and animalistic want. he ran a hand down your torso to reach the zipper of your suit, undoing it in one swift motion, exposing your bare chest to his eager eyes.

“no bra?”

“i don’t need it when the suit— ah!” 

he cut you off, not caring about the intricacies of how the costume supported everything when he would only get distracted, moving his lips to take one of your perk nipples in his mouth and sucking like it was going to give him milk or something while pinching the other one in between his fingers. he’s like a kid on christmas playing with his new toy: palming at your breasts, cupping and squishing them together, and realizing that his large hands could practically cover them entirely.

“fuckk, you’re so pretty, doll,” he drawled, letting go of your teat with a ‘pop’ and kissing your neck before making you gasp by sinking his teeth into your skin. you gasped at the sudden sensation, deep enough to leave a lasting indent but not deep enough to draw blood, as he soothed the fresh wound by licking it with his tongue. everyone was going to know that you were his, especially that motherfucker he knows is listening in on the other side of the door with his cock in his hands.

 “logan…” you rasp, voice barely above a whisper.

“what is it, princess?” it was a nickname he has used plenty of times, yet it felt completely different in such a sexually charged situation, so much more intimate in a way that you feel your heart racing even faster than before and a rush of energy within. 

“need you…” you murmured.

“come on, a little louder, you need to use your words.” 

“fucking hell,” you covered your face with your hands, trying to ignore the way your cheeks burned, “i need you, logan! i’m gonna go crazy if you don’t fuck me right now!”

“hm, is that so?” he had been resting on his side up until now, laying on his back and lifting you up with both hands under your arms. you found yourself sitting pretty in his lap, straddling him, legs on either side of his waist. “why don’t you work for it then? work for what you wanted so badly this entire time?”

you inhaled sharply, looking down at this fine specimen of a mutant under you made of pure muscle and adamantium with a noticeable tent in his pants, a cocky grin gracing his features daring you to continue. only a fool wouldn’t take up his challenge. biting the inside of your mouth, you began to fully strip yourself of all clothing, kicking it off to the side to be forgotten and showing off your beautiful bare body that logan has been dreaming about since the moment he met you. “take your clothes off too,” you huffed, “it’s not fair for me to be the only one naked.”

he hummed in agreement, taking off the upper half of his yellow and blue-detailed suit, revealing his rippling abs and pecs— age has yet to make a dent in his physique, he doesn’t even look real. he’s not going to remove the bottom half though, both because you’re already on top of him and because you still need to “work for it.” 

experimentally, you rolled your hips on his bulge, feeling a twinge of amusement when he visibly had to clench his jaw to prevent a moan from slipping out. he’s just as pent-up as you are, no matter how hard he’s trying to hide it right now. you fiddled with the metal of his zipper for a moment before pulling it down, motions fidgety with nerves yet still determined to see this through. 

your eyes widen at the sight of his fully erect cock, noting instantly that he’s bigger than any other guy you’ve been with, yet still feeling your mouth water at the size and the vein trailing its underbelly. “is it even going to fit?” you manage to breathe out, reaching out to run a finger over the leaking tip and hearing him hiss.

“only one way to find out, but i think you can take it.” 

placing your hands on his shoulders for balance, you put his theory to the test and raised your body to sink yourself onto him, whimpering at the pleasurable stretch when you manage to make it past the tip. you’re so fucking soaked from your own thoughts and the few minutes of foreplay earlier that you didn’t even need his fingers to prep you, just using your slick as a form of natural lube and feeling him slip into you inch by inch.

“that’s it, doll, just like that,” he praised, the words going right to your head, really enjoying the show of you struggling to take all of him.

“mmhh, lo—” his name came out in a more whiny voice than expected with your eyes rolling back and nails raking into his skin. your thighs were aching with the constant repetitive motion of working yourself up and down his cock, taking one step back for two steps forward, more than halfway there yet unsure if you could handle it all when you felt so impossibly full already.

“shhh, i know, i know, sweetheart— just take your time, i’m not going anywhere.” his words are so sweet despite being a complete asshole by laying back and letting you do all the hard work, hands behind his head and everything while watching his cock slowly disappearing between your folds.

you look at him through glossy half-lidded eyes, brain turned to absolute mush, not even realizing that you had finally taken him to the base and was comfortably nestled on his cock. it took a few moments to adjust to his girth, breathing heavily with the swelling feeling of satisfaction developing within you. you have barely even started, and yet it was already so much better than anything else— he was so much better than anyone else. 

“you okay?” he waits for you to blink to process his words before nodding slightly, letting out a soft ‘yeah’ before your eyes went wide when he suddenly grabbed your waist and positioned you under him once again. you didn’t notice because you went dumb with dick (to put it bluntly), but he had been restraining himself from flipping you over to be on top or trying to buck his hips into you before you were ready. 

he then started thrusting into you at a relentless pace, your hands flying up to his biceps and clinging on for dear life to find purchase. there was no frame to go with this mattress you were resting on, but you were sure it would be banging against the wall until it broke if it was there. your eyes were screwed shut with your head thrown back into the pillow, letting out pathetic pitched moans along with stutters of his name as the orgasm in your stomach builds.

“aah, lo-logan!”

“don’t worry, i got you,” he lazily circled your clit with his thumb, feeling you clench even more tightly at the action, “just let yourself go, relax— cum for me, doll.”

you cried out as your climax washed over you, gushing all over his cock and the pants of his suit that neither of you bothered to take off earlier. it’s a shame that you ruined his clothing so soon when he just got this costume, but honestly, he likes it a lot better when the yellow is stained with the evidence of how good he made you feel.

the way your walls spasmed around him made him quickly follow suit, shooting ribbons of his seed into you and painting your insides white. perhaps he would have been able to hold on for a bit longer when he was younger, but he can’t find himself caring in the least when you were looking up at him like he was everything right now.

he leaned down to kiss you, slowly pulling out of you, being careful not to rest on top of you and crush you under his weight, generally being uncharacteristically sweet towards you in stark comparison to how he was rocking your world like you were the last two souls on earth just a minute ago.

“so… do you like me?” it was the tone he grew accustomed to when you and wade were teasing him, feeling you wrap your arms around him with a sigh and snuggling into his chest.

“yeah… i like you a lot more than you think…”

[moonyflesh]

What if Wolverine took you to a hockey game?

WARNINGS: (not much). no smut- just a playful set of imagines/headcannons — very fluffy and ‘lovey-dovey’ (small kisses and cursing).

CHARACTERS: James “Logan” Howlett (‘Wolverine’) - (MARVEL/X-MEN)

🍺 .*.. 🏒

- At first you thought he was joking.

- i mean- can you imagine trying to squeeze his massive frame into one of those tiny, plastic stadium chairs?

- sure you know nothing about the “Calgary Flames”, but supporting the beast either way is entertaining enough as it is—

- (^) literally the worst person to sit around. he’s loud, obnoxious, (big), and curses like there’s no tomorrow.

- “fuckin- can you fuckin’ believe these pieces ‘uh shit? i totally could’ve fuckin’ made that fuckin’ shot. buncha’ bullshit ifya ask me.”

- he’s definitely big on stadium snacks. constantly has to get up and get more food (and beer).

- (^) the bar would 100% have to draw a limit on the amount of beer they can physically sell him.

- probably walks you through the basic rules of ice hockey, and/or the different players, and the fan-favorites.

- little forehead or cheek kisses when he needs to run to go to the bathroom or grab more food.

- one of his arms is slung around your shoulders at all times.

- throughout the game, he’s constantly glancing over at you- reading your facial expressions. are you enjoying yourself? do you know what’s happening? is this entertaining for you, too?

- definitely likes to show you (and your jersey) off.

- (^) forced you to wear a Flames jersey (that’s much to large on you) and is proud of you for “pickin’ the right fuckin’ team”— so what? at least you get his undivided attention.

- puts you on his shoulders so you both have a better chance of getting on the big screen.

- (^) and if you do? jesus, it makes his whole month. the second that camera pans to you two he’s already tongue-deep into your mouth, grinning like an idiot as you try to push him away from embarrassment.

- you totally go to the photo booth and take the most grainy, out-of-focus pictures known to man together in some shitty ice rink backdrop, (to which he insists you look beautiful- and sticks the entirety of the photo into his wallet).

- buys you a shitload of merch, including one of the collectible hockey pucks.

- claims to know some of the players personally (he’s never met any of them outside of the rink).

- distinctly shouts out each player’s first and last names when cheering them on.

- boos the other team, and their fans with zero shame whatsoever.

- the drive home depends on the outcome of the game.

- (^) The Flames lose? he’s not even mad- he’s just disappointed that that was all his team could manage for your first game. he promises to take you to more, though.

- (^) and if they win? he’s already discussing the ticket prices for the next game (if you’re willing to go with him again); excited grins tossed your way here and there as he makes sure you’re paying attention.

@trenchcoathunnybee08 this is dedicated to you! Sorry it took so long to finally get out (in some ways, it’s still a WIP). 🫶🏼

((if any of you would like to be added to my taglist, let me know through my inbox.))

[remxedmoon]

(You don’t know how much longer you can do this.)

hi the wip for this was absolutely not supposed to blow up. why does that have 1k notes. horrifying. anyways!!!! it’s update time baby!!!! 64 new assets this time around!

so that’s what the caption was supposed to be. this update was already pretty damn big and took a ton of time to make!!! and i was finally done!! but then my hand slipped and now we’re at 143 new assets. super sorry for the delay! That Was Not Supposed To Happen.

i’ll go more indepth below the cut, but this update encompasses all menu/profile art for both isat and sasasaap, battle portraits for sasasaap, every single pixel icon in isat (to my knowledge anyways), the dialogue skipping animations, and a few miscellaneous additions.

also i spent too much time on these to put them below the cut so Please God Look At My Icon Resprites I Spent 16 Hours On Them. enjoy!

okay first things first. why the hell is this batch 143 assets. so. i HEAVILY underestimated how many times the menu drawings are used in the games. even removing all of the custom art, it’s still ≈30-40 variations! that’s a lot! and once i finally finished everything, i got Posting Anxiety and somehow convinced myself that attempting Animation And Pixel Art (two things i haven’t done in YEARS) would be easier than writing a normal post. so here we are.

the custom art here is pretty much par for the course at this point. extra menu art for bonnie, extra expressions for the party in act 5, we’ve done this enough times that it’s expected. i am aware that bonnie’s custom menu art gets completely covered by the ui. i kept it in because it’s really funny (and also i didn’t feel like extending the sprite (but then the sasasaap version forced me to extend the sprite anyways so Whartever)).

once again, provided a spritesheet for sasasaap’s battle portraits! i do intend to cover both games, it’s just a slightly lower priority atm. unlike isat though, i’ve got Less (read “No”) experience with sasasaap, so there might be more issues with those assets?? apologies if there are, i’ll try to fix any issues that come up!

the Miscellaneous Additions i mentioned above are the sprites used on the teleport map and the loading screen, which is just a tiny version of the skipping animation. they were pretty small, so i figured i might as well get them out of the way!

not actually much to say about the 75 icons surprisingly! i haven’t done pixel art in about 5 years?? and that’s a Travesty actually these were super fun to make. i did make mockups for the overworld sprites earlier, but they aren’t Officially part of the redraws (yet) so they’re getting posted seperately

and also!! some exciting news!! this project might actually become a Proper Published Mod pretty soon!! i’ve been in contact with someone who’s willing to help me get everything set up, and i’ll be getting a Usable Computer around the end of the year!!!! it’ll still be at least a month before it’s up (i’d like to get the enemy art finished beforehand wauaua) but!!! still exciting!

okay, i think that’s everything relevant to the update!! i Definitely can’t fit all of the relevant assets here lol. but i’ll try my best ! please enjoy !!

[physalian]

Quick Foreshadowing Tip: Misdirection

Nothing quite like a line coming out of nowhere to make you go "Well, that'll clearly be important later."

There's a line to walk between leaving an obvious breadcrumb trail so audiences know the whole time that A Thing is going to happen, and are just waiting for the chracters to realize it, and leaving hints for only the most savvy audience members to pick up on the first read through.

Misdirection is your friend.

If you want to include important details that audiences can but aren't supposed to notice, you should hide them as something else.

I have a natural disaster that needs to happen in a WIP, and then cascading plot consequences coming from it, but "natural disasters" aren't a big focus of this story and tossing in a Surprise!Earthquake to keep the plot moving out of nowhere, even if that's how earthquakes work, is not how quality fiction works.

But if I start mentioning it, it's a concept so out of left field that the reader would immediately notice and wonder why I'm randomly talking about earthquakes.

So: Misdirection.

First, I have two characters talking about fishing, a pre-established concept, and how much of their food survives off hydrothermal vents that are only in their region, reminding the audience that the geography is unstable without saying any of that. We're just talking about fishing.

I have a character already unused to weather and natural phenomena that other characters take for granted, necessitating an explanation of basic concepts like lightning and thunderstorms. But it's not exposition, it's a fundamental trait of this character and their growth and flaws, self-concious about not knowing these things.

I have baby quakes happening during a later scene, ones that every other character would dismiss as just a thing that happens sometimes, meanwhile the narrator notices, as they've never experienced one before, necessitating a call to attention to explain it to them, and thus the audience with them, while the narrator complains about being patronzied to. But we're not really talking about earthquakes, are we? No, we're watching this character get insecure about another gap in worldly experiences.

The whole time, I am priming the audience for the possibility of a natural disaster that you probably wouldn't expect, but would see coming after the fact as something that makes sense for this world and this story.

All this is so Surprise!Earthquake has as much setup as an unpredictable geological event can have because, when you toss in an "act of god" to fuck with your characters, it has no agency, it's just the hand of the author deciding to throw a wrench in things entirely outside any characters' power and independent of their choices. So having it as embedded in the story as possible instead of coming out of nowhere helps it feel less random and contrived.

Misdirection is your friend.

[satoruxx]

PARACOSM OF THE GODS.

PAIRING: gojo satoru x f!reader, geto suguru x f!reader | 11.5k words

SUMMARY: ok here we go, canon au, angst, fluff, best friends being in love, stsg being whipped but unable to express it, reader is clueless as usual, timeskips, canon compliant deaths, bittersweet, longing, mutual pining, emotionally stunted teens, dad!gojo makes an appearance, hopefully that’s it i'm tired of typing

RHEYA'S NOTE: highkey lowkey stressed posting bc this has been sitting in my wips for 4 years now. i honestly didn't have to add much to it i basically just proofread. but yeah when you maladaptive daydream and create a plot where you're a character in jjk and you're also in love with gojo and geto this is what happens. a little sad to let this go but it's time !! plus i can add more parts later. but anyways pls lmk what you think, i'm super curious to know <33

i. the unknown

satoru's first impression of you is anything but kind.  

his words come casually, free into the wind without care, and they aren't meant for you to hear. instead, they fall only to suguru's ears, evoking a deep chuckle and a slight shake of his head. his bangs swish a little with the movement, but satoru is too busy eyeing you over the frame of his shades to notice. 

you're lucky to have not heard it, because the intent with which it was said would have probably made your brow tick with frustration. he says it without a thought, as if he hasn't the slightest bit of interest in you as hints of arrogance fill his tone. 

"who's the rookie?" 

satoru and suguru sit outside against the patio railings of the classroom they had chosen for the day. it overlooks the grounds of the school, where they have a clear view of who approaches the main entrance. suguru absentmindedly clicks his lighter—shoko had gone to get another pack of cigarettes. 

it is from this higher point that they have a clear view of you. you're so obviously new to this, satoru thinks as he watches how you awkwardly stand in front of yaga sensei. 

he already wants to label you as a side character. it's mean, he realizes—cruel even, but he can barely bring himself to care. 

"yaga sensei mentioned that there'd be a new student joining us this week," suguru says, fingering the bangs hanging in front of his eyes. they roam over you with only slight interest before uttering your full name, just as his teacher had said it.

satoru repeats it with a hum. "not a big name or anything. a small-sized family of sorcerers i think." he shrugs carelessly. "but honestly i never really paid attention to all those stupid clan and jujutsu family lessons." 

suguru only responds with a good-natured chuckle, tearing his eyes away from the scene to look at his friend. "no shit." 

the two sit in quiet silence, watching yaga's lips move in structured, emotionless greetings as he shakes your hand. satoru is especially focused on the hunching of your shoulders and the way your eyes nervously dart around. 

suguru is the first to interrupt the peace. 

"maybe she's strong?" 

"are you kidding?" satoru scoffs as he stands up straight, shoving his fists into his pockets. he turns his nose up slightly. "that's not the attitude of someone who's confident in their abilities." 

ii. routine 

"can i ask you guys a question?" 

a cool breeze tickles your skin, goosebumps rising in its wake, and you suppress a shiver. the smell of the air tells you winter is fast approaching. 

"you just did," satoru hums, his snowy hair splayed out against stems of green grass. suguru's chuckle reverberates deep in his chest, and you have to push back an exasperated smile. 

"another one then," you press, leaning over satoru's face to force yourself into his view. his blue eyes pierce through yours over the dark-rimmed frames of his glasses, and even after seeing them so many times, they still feel as dominating as the first. he hums again, and you take that as your cue. 

"what did you first think of me when we met all those months ago?" 

satoru sits up quickly, and you can already feel your shoulders dropping when you catch a glimpse of the teasing smirk on his lips. he shifts so that he's directly facing you, leaning close so that the two of you are barely a palm's distance from one another. 

"thought you were an annoying little rookie~" he sings and you immediately shove at his shoulder.

"'m not a rookie anymore," you huff, and satoru laughs joyously. suguru only grins, his eyes darting between the two of you happily. satoru moves himself into a proper sitting position, digging his long fingers into your bag of chips and popping one into his mouth. you swat at his hand, even though you don't mean it, because though you complain about gojo satoru all the time, you would give him the whole world if you could. 

you and satoru take turns reaching into the bag. you wonder if the sound of crunching disturbs suguru. he's not asleep—he's just doing that thing where he keeps his eyes closed and escapes to his own land of tranquility. you'd like to give him as much peace as you can, so you stay quiet. satoru does too, but you think that's just because you aren't talking to him. 

the quiet is nice when you're with them. sometimes silence makes you feel alone—paranoid. it feels like there is some impending doom hovering over your shoulder, and all you can do is wait for it to come. but with them it is different. you know that any danger in the quiet will be caught by the two of them. maybe that's why it's so easy to let your guard down around them. you trust that they won't let you die.  

"i thought you were weak," satoru pipes up after a few minutes of silence. "you didn't seem like you were confident in your abilities, and that's a sign of weakness." 

after spending so much time with satoru and suguru, the word weak has permeated almost every one of your conversations. later you learned how much more significant it was for them to label someone as strong. you chase after the word—crave it.

"and turns out that wasn't true." suguru adds with a smile, his head leaning back against the trunk of the tree. his eyes are still closed serenely and you wonder if he can feel the way you're gazing at him. 

"yeah and now you act like some big hotshot," satoru grumbles, as though he doesn't want to admit to his old mistake, but you can hear his smile. it annoys you, the way his once degrading little nickname has now somewhat turned into a term of endearment. you would rather die than admit that you like hearing him say it. 

"well, I'm glad that i was able to prove you both wrong."

the conversation ends there. 

shoko returns a few minutes later, tossing you a can of soda and suguru a pack of cigarettes. as soon as she sits down in her spot under the tree you're forcing your head into her lap and kicking your feet onto satoru's legs. you ignore his complaints, because you know that in just a little bit he'll quiet down and his hand will rest over your ankle, fingers soft but firm. they'll occasionally drum some rhythmic tune, or draw nonsensical patterns against your skin.

shoko's fingers thread through your hair, just like they always do, and you know that in a few minutes you'll doze off in her lap, just like you always do. it's clockwork, this thing that you have with them. they make the days keep going—time doesn't stop for you. 

a part of you wishes you could freeze time at that moment. 

but you can't. 

iii. halcyon

"hey suguru?"

"hm?"

"how come you always do your hair the same way?"

suguru glances up from his book. he's seated at your desk, and for a minute, the breeze pushes your curtains so that they block your view of him. satoru groans lightly from your left, turning on his side to snuggle deeper into your pillow, and slumber overtakes him once more. him and shoko remain quiet, faces free of worry as they dream in a land that is so unlike the real world you live in.

"what do you mean?" suguru asks in response to your question. he has an amused smile on his face as he places his book on your desk, though his thumb and pointer finger keep his page.

"well…" you suddenly feel stupid for asking, but he's looking at you so intently now. "you have such nice hair. you could style it in so many different ways."

"are you saying you don't like my hair the way it is?" he frowns.

"no no!" you scramble, shaking your head emphatically. quite the opposite actually you think he's so so attractive—how on earth did you screw this up so badly? "that's not it i just—"

he laughs, tilting his head fondly. "i'm just messing with you, hotshot."

you blanch, before crossing your arms with a huff. "asshole…"

he chuckles, before lifting a calloused hand up to finger the tie that holds his hair in a bun. he glances back at you, before a michevious smile settles on his face. he gives the tie one sharp tug, and the bun falls away. black hair drops, resting on his shoulders, and you stare at him—oddly parched. wind brushes through the open window, tickling your curtains, tickling his now open hair. you had seen his hair down before, of course. in the few seconds after a sparring session when the bun had gotten loose, or when too many strands escaped the tie and fell in front of his face (he always pushed them away with an agitated huff). but now he looks different—good, you realize. he looks good.

"how should i style it then, hotshot?"

his question shakes you out of your daze. you hum in contemplation. "i don't know."

he laughs quietly, as to not wake the other two. "didn't you just say there were so many ways to style it? enlighten me then," he teases, reaching over to grab a small scrap of paper from your desk. he slots it where his fingers are holding place, and then closes the book. he swivels in the chair to face you completely, rolling over so that he's right in front of you.

"well…" you start, biting your lip in thought. "a ponytail maybe?"

suguru bunches his hair into his fist, holding it up against his head. "and? how do i look?"

you grin, eyeing the new style with a stifled laugh. "fantastic."

he laughs again, louder this time, before dropping his hand.

"it looked good though!" you laugh and he rolls his eyes fondly.

"yeah yeah," he dismisses with a wave of his hand. he looks back at you, eyes tracing over your hair before he grins wide.

"i like yours."

you blink. "mine?"

"the way you did your hair today," he points to the half up-half down style you've thrown together. a dark blue ribbon holds the hair in place—satoru had said it matched nicely with your uniform. suguru's eyes gleam as he appraises it. "it's nice. it looks really pretty on you."

something in your chest feels like it fell off a cliff.

"oh—" you stumble, before smiling at him because that's all you can do when he makes you feel like this. "thanks suguru."

"do mine like that," he says quickly.

once again, you blink owlishly and all you can manage is a stupid "huh?"

"do my hair like that," he repeats, getting up from the chair to sit at your feet, back towards you. he crosses his legs and puts his hands in his lap, patiently waiting.

"you can't do it yourself?" you tease, scooting closer to the edge of the bed.

"i can," he replies and you can hear the easy smile in his voice. "but i want you to do it for me."

"okay then!" you laugh before gently parting sections of his hair out. and then you work in silence, putting more effort into his hair than you've ever done with your own.

iv. fragility

"lady riko does not have any relations. when she was young, her family was involved in an accident…since then, i've been her caretaker. so please let her at least spend time with her fr—" 

"—so that makes you her family then." 

suguru's words seem to stun kuroi, the weight of riko's situation finally making itself clear as her face crumbles. 

"…yes." 

you listen to the way her voice wobbles, and try to suppress the poisonous lump forming in your throat. 

"then we do everything we can to make her happy," you say solemnly, leaving no room for argument. suguru seems to agree and says nothing—some deeper part of you feels something more than thankful towards him. 

"you're awfully sensitive for a jujustu sorcerer, you know that?" satoru comments offhandedly. you turn to look at him, meeting his piercing gaze over dark rims. 

"maybe," you concur. "is that considered weak?" 

satoru seems to ponder his answer, before shrugging, a light smile on his face. "to some people, maybe." 

you manage to smile back, and he takes in the expression with an odd look on his face. "say what you want, satoru. but you agree with me, don't you?" 

he looks away, eyes gazing out to the distance where you know riko is currently in class with her friends, trying to live the life she wants, and something in them softens considerably. 

"we'll do things the way she wants us to." 

it's one sentence, said without a smile or laugh, but hearing it fall from satoru's lips makes you beam at him. 

that's just your kindness, isn't it, satoru?

your heart leaps when you notice the tips of his ears tinge with rouge. 

v. longing

riko's hand is warm against the coolness of your fingers. your body feels hyperaware of your surroundings, toes deep in hot sand and salty air sticking to your skin. for some odd reason, you can't seem to relax. unconsciously, you tighten your grip around the young girl's palm. she glances up at you, but when you look down at her, she's wearing the biggest smile you've ever seen. 

satoru's presence makes itself known behind you—his shadow looms over yours in the sand. "it'll be fine," he says.

you can't see his face, nor can you see suguru who stands at his side, but your shoulders drop slightly, and you find yourself smiling back at riko. 

"i'm getting in the water!" she squeals eagerly, before dragging a helpless kuroi with her. satoru laughs—a clear, pristine sound—and follows after her. you watch the three of them with a fond smile, something akin to content settling deep within you.  

"and what are you planning on doing?" suguru asks. you turn to look at him, watching the way his heavy eyes stay focused on you. 

"hmm," you quirk a brow mischievously. "build sandcastles with me?" 

suguru blinks owlishly before he breaks out into a good-natured laugh. 

"deal." he walks closer to the water's edge, where the sand is damper, and crouches down. he turns to look at you over his shoulder. "don't make me do all the work, hotshot." 

you stand there, taking him in—really taking him in. he's just as clear as the sky behind him, and the sun shining on his face makes his smile glow. you want him to continue smiling at you like that well into the future. the waves crash onto the shore, as though the ocean is chasing his radiance, and an overwhelming feeling of unfiltered affection swells in your chest. 

your feet carry you forward, and you think that they might always lead you back to him. 

the sun rises as time passes, and occasionally you spare a glance at satoru and riko, who are screaming as they splash water at one another. and then you catch a glimpse of kuroi, who stands with her feet in the water, a soft smile on her face. 

and in that moment, nothing can be ruined. 

"what's wrong?" suguru's voice calls out, and you tear your gaze away from the others to look back at him. he stands behind you with two strawberry ice cream cones in his hands. 

"nothing," you hum, a serene smile on your face. "everything's perfect."

his eyes trace your face, stopping to linger on your smile, and they soften. "it is, isn't it?" 

he turns to the ocean, watching satoru and riko, and his eyes sparkle. "i hope it stays like this always." 

"me too." 

he bends down to take his place at your side before he hands you a cone. you take it from him. suguru's eyes drift away from you to look down at his castle. 

"i think it looks great," he expresses, before taking a lick of his ice cream. 

you roll your eyes with a huff. "yeah, because you made it look so nice. you're unnecessarily good at this, suguru." 

he laughs, waving his hand dismissively. "no no, we did it together! and yours is nice too!" 

"maybe," you grin, looking at his castle. "but yours is extra pretty." 

he smiles back, before pointing at a small hole in his sand tower. "see this room? it's yours." 

"mine?" you chuckle.

"yeah, all yours," he hums softly. "this is my castle and you get your own room." 

"oh? and why's that?" 

suguru's gaze lingers on you, and his dark eyes soften considerably. "because you'll always have a place in my home." 

you stare at him, speechless—something hammers away at the inner crevices of your chest. 

"and this one—" he points to another hole a few inches away from the first. "—is my room." 

"well in that case, that room is mine too!" you declare.

"what?" he barks out a laugh. "how does that work?" 

"well…" you grin at him, the sun burning into your cheeks. "because my home is wherever you are!" 

suguru's cheeky smile fades and his eyes widen. he looks at you, mouth agape, and you're about to say something else before sticky coolness trickles down your wrist. 

"ack!" you hurry to wipe away the strawberry ice cream dripping down your skin and you completely miss the red that creeps up his neck and seeps into his ears. 

vi. ice bath

shoko's fingers are unbelievably soft. you're grateful that you were unconscious through most of her procedures on your battered body—you don't think you would've handled the pain too well. she's quiet as she works over the large wound that now covers almost half of your torso. the man with the scar on his lip had done quite the number on you, and you don't think you'll ever forget the searing ache of his blade slicing through your flesh. he had left you in a bloodied pile, isolated, and you hadn't seen what had happened to suguru after the man shot riko. you could only lay there, vision swimming as a bitter taste filled your mouth—a reminder of the life you failed to protect.

the pain had been the only thing you could focus on, until satoru was on his knees at your side and tightly gripping your shoulders. your hazy focus was drawn to his lips as he spewed curses and insults at you. 

"why didn't you run away, you little shit," he had shouted, a feral look in his eyes. there was something different about him—a change in his very being that you could see even in the throes of death. "shoko's coming, do you hear me? for fuck's sake, keep your eyes open, hotshot!" 

you swore you saw his eyes shine behind that look of uncontrolled anger. he had been talking a mile a minute and your focus had waned until you could only see his lips move, no sound reaching your ears.

you've never thought satoru looked more godly than he did at that moment.

suguru eventually found his way into your field of vision—knelt at satoru's side. his large hand had squeezed your limp fingers in a death grip. he was sweating, and his eyes were darting back and forth between your pale face and bloodied torso, something akin to guilt swimming in them. you wished that you had the strength in you to squeeze his hand in return. the last thing you remember seeing is his dark hair falling in front of his face as he turned to shout at whoever was approaching.

now you're awake. disoriented and bleary, but awake, and all you can look at is the way shoko's bangs fall over her furrowed brows. she's taken care of the bleeding, and now all that's left is a dull throbbing, reminding you of how close you had toed the line with death. you don't know this yet, but the scar will remain for the rest of your life, and that dull throbbing will be a permanent reminder of your narrow escape. 

shoko hasn't said a word since she noticed your eyelids flutter open. you want to ask her so many things. important things that cannot wait: 

where's satoru? how about suguru? i saw them both. satoru's alive, right? and suguru, too? the man—with the scar. where did he go? he said that satoru—riko….where is riko? and—and kuroi…i—i..couldn't save riko. when did you get here, shoko? and why am i the only one who's being taken care of by you? 

you want to ask her. but she's making a very odd expression as her hands ghost over your body. you've never seen it before, this odd quirking of her lips. her teeth sink into the bottom one, and she chews and bites and nibbles like it's some kind of nervous tell. 

"shoko?" 

it's all you can manage to say—all you dare. your voice is dry, shaky, and sounds almost foreign to your ears. you're going to ask more, at least one of those thousand questions you had asked in your head earlier, but you don't get to because she speaks before you. 

"shut up," she spits, and the wobble in her voice has you pinching your lips shut and feeling closer to death than you did before. 

vii. acid rain

the sound of clapping is deafening. you don't think you've ever heard a sound so horrid in your life before, and you feel as though your ears are bleeding heavily. you can faintly make out the conversation between satoru and suguru, your ears struggling to pick out the tones of their voices. 

"no…" you hear suguru say quietly. "it doesn't matter if I'm fine…"

you can feel satoru's eyes roam over your motionless body, watching the way you gaze out into the crowd impassively. 

"let's get out of here, guys."

your feet carry you numbly, and you aren't aware of anything except the way riko's arm is swinging in front of you lifelessly. there are no mirrors around—no way of catching the track of tears cutting over your cheeks. the places where the salt touches burn like acid. you say nothing. 

satoru's gaze feels intrusive. he doesn't need to ask you anything—he just knows. it's like your body is radiating the emotions tumbling around in your gut. 

you're awfully sensitive for a jujutsu sorcerer, you know that?

"do you want to…kill them all?" 

the question stuns you, and for the first time, you can shake yourself out of your daze to look at satoru directly. blood is smeared over the left side of his face, cerulean eyes dimmed, as though something had pulled the shine out of them. red seeps into the fine hairs of his restless eyebrows. 

"right now, i probably wouldn't even feel anything," he continues, staring at you listlessly.

you think satoru might be feeling just as numb as you are. you don't know what happened to him yet. the last you had heard, gojo satoru had been killed by the man with the scar. he had boasted about it to you before he attempted to kill you too. but then satoru was at your side again, completely alive as he ran your battered body to shoko like a crazed man. 

you'll find out later who the man with the scar on his lip was, and what kind of legacy he had left behind. but for right now, all you see is a teenager with the weight of the world on his shoulders, and you know your answer.

satoru could help the pain go away; he'd be able to make the clapping stop—maybe then your ears wouldn't bleed anymore. but you couldn't ask that of him. 

"forget it. it's pointless," suguru mutters, and you're glad he's on the same page as you. not because any of these people deserve pity, but because satoru deserves a break—one less burden for him to carry. 

you hear suguru say more, but you can't focus. you continue to listen to the sound of the clapping, and once again lose yourself as you stare at riko's bloodied fingertips. 

"pointless, huh?" satoru mumbles in response to suguru's answer. "does there need to be a reason?" 

"of course. it's important," suguru's voice doesn't carry the same pleasant tone it always does. instead, it sounds strained, and tired beyond belief. unsure. "especially as jujutsu sorcerers." 

satoru doesn't respond, but you know that he's measuring the weight of his friend's words. that's how it was with the two of them. they both balance each other out—their moral compasses influenced by one another. but then you feel satoru look up from riko's body and turn to you. suguru follows suit, and before you can wonder why, it hits you: satoru had asked you both. 

you suck a deep breath in, feeling unusually breathless. the flesh of your stomach tingles with a painful reminder of what might've been, and you make up your mind. 

"killing them won't change anything," you say, breaking your silence. the tears on your cheeks have dried, but they leave a rigid trail in their wake—a trail that still stings. "let's just leave it at that." 

viii. fever dreams

satoru lies next to you. 

a few nights have passed since riko's death, and you've chosen to stay holed up in your room. you're not sure why—death has always played a big role in your life. you don't understand why it's different this time. 

tonight is different as well. while you've maintained a distance from everyone since that day, save for classes and passing by people on school grounds, today you've decided to let someone in. satoru's the lucky one, mostly because he would've pestered you until you opened your door for him anyway. 

it's strange though. he had knocked over and over, and when you finally opened up with a snappy jab at his annoying personality, he had brushed straight past you and laid across your bed. he hadn't said a word since then, and you've found yourself lying next to him in silence for quite a while. 

his hand stretches out in the darkness and you can feel his fingertips brush over the skin of your arm. it's delicate, like he's testing his limits, but you understand. it's just to ground himself—to know that you're still here, with him. to be sure that you're still alive.

you think the scar that goes down your body bothers him a lot more than it bothers you. 

"'m here," you mumble sleepily. your fingers reach up to bump against his knuckles, and you hear him inhale deeply. his voice is throaty when he replies. 

"i know." 

ix. doubt

satoru learns that you've never been kissed before and he teases you for it.

not in a mean way, but in a way that has your cheeks heating and your eyes avoiding his. suddenly it feels like the gap between ages 16 and 17 is huge. he's barely even a year older than you and you're in the same year, but it feels as though he knows so much more about the world than you do. you want to ask suguru if it's bad that you've never had a kiss, but you don't. suguru rarely talks these days. sometimes he'll have conversations with you but won't look in your eyes when he speaks. 

"hey listen, hotshot. if you don't get a kiss by…" satoru hums, an eager smile on his face as he swings an arm around your shoulders and contemplates his words. "…let's say 27, then i'll give one to you!" 

there's an odd note of glee in his voice. 

"shut up, toru," you groan, heat flooding your cheeks. "quit joking around." 

he laughs loudly, pulling your cheek teasingly. "aw, i'm just playing. it's not a bad thing i promise!" 

your shoulders relax slightly as the snowy-haired sorcerer continues to speak. 

"i just thought that you would've kissed someone by now," he shrugs. "wasn't there that one guy you went on a few dates with? the one you met when we went to yokohama?" 

there's an almost sour expression on his face as he speaks, but you're too frustrated to care. "just because i went on a couple of dates with him doesn't mean i kissed him!"

a broad teasing smile appears on satoru's face. "is that so?" 

"ugh, i'm only 16!" you hiss, shoving him away from you. "besides i'm saving it for someone special!"

"good," you hear suguru speak up, and you turn to look at him. his fingers are interlocked, elbows resting on his knees, and he's staring down at his hands like they hold the answers to some deep questions he has. "it is something irreplaceable after all." 

x. shadow

satoru's grin is proud as he stands before the three of you, his loose shirt billowing in the summer breeze.

you stare at him, heart thumping as shoko lets out a confused gasp. "huh? what the hell was that?"

"did it automatically choose the target for your technique?" suguru asks.

"yep!" satoru stresses the word, spinning the pencil suguru had thrown as he explains. "though i am the target. i've pretty much automated what i used to have to do manually."

your head is spinning.

"now i can tell an object's danger levels based the strength of its cursed energy, its speed, mass, velocity, shape—whatever. i want to be able to discern poisons too but that's pretty hard right now." satoru's voice is even when he explains, though you can make out the hints of pride that permeate his tones. you think his voice has gotten a little deeper too. "basically this is gonna allow me to keep my limitless technique active all the time!"

"that's gonna fry your brain!" shoko interjects, shaking her hair out of her eyes.

"yeah but i can do it while i continuously generate energy on my own. that way my brain stays fresh."

you can't help but let out an amused scoff. "what brain?"

satoru chucks the eraser at you, and you laugh as it bounces off your shoulder harmlessly.

"i've been working on shortening my hand signals so i can activate red and blue simultaneously." he continues, lips twitching upward as he gives you an exaggerated glare. "after this the only things i need to work on are domain expansion and long-distance teleportation. which i should be able to do if we set up some training courses here at school."

you think if someone examined you closely, they would see the stars in your eyes when you look at satoru.

"shoko~" he calls out, grinning eagerly. "think you could get me some lab rats?"

shoko groans as satoru bounds over to pester her more emphatically. you watch him, thinking you've never seen a person quite so magnificent.

god personified into a 17-year-old body. and yet it is a body that stays so close to you—well within your reach. maybe there's nothing so godly about that at all.

"don't you get tired of getting stronger and stronger, jeez?" you complain, crossing your arms as you raise a brow at him. satoru wets his lips as he throws you a smug smile.

"don't worry hotshot, you'll catch up to me someday!" he gives you an exaggerated wink over the frames of his glasses, and you shake your head somewhat fondly.

"no way! i never want to be at your level," you huff. "i'm very comfortable living in your shadow, thank you very much!"

a strange look passes over his face, almost puzzled, but the dip in his brows melts away as he approaches you. "well—" he slings an arm over your shoulder. "if my shadow makes you happy then you're more than welcome to stay there."

you don't have time to reply. pale lashes flutter at you—a backdrop of cerulean. you think white and blue may be the prettiest combination of colors in the world.

"suguru?" satoru's voice is casual, yet the amusement has dropped from it. his arm is heavy around your shoulders. "have you lost weight? are you okay?"

you look up, seeing tired eyes behind dark stands of hair. suguru's cheekbones are prominent, and you have the sudden urge to reach out and trace your fingers over them.

his lips twitch upward weakly. "it's just the summer heat…"

his lavender eyes drift to your face as he says it, and he tilts his head as he scrutinizes your worried expression. "…i'll be fine."

xi. hellfire

you hear suguru before you see him.

his breaths come loud as he pushes the door to the morgue open, the metal clanging heavily. his eyes bore into your back, taking in your clenched fists and raised shoulders that seem to tremble.

you wonder who told suguru you'd be here. maybe nanami, who was here not long ago, and had sent you a text that merely said: the mission went badly.

or maybe it was satoru, who had been chatting with you near the entrance of campus when he saw the myriad of emotions pass over your face as you read the text. he had probably called suguru as soon as you left.

it doesn't matter—you can't bring yourself to care.

you can only think about the way haibara had smiled at you before he left that morning.

now that smile is covered by a dirty white sheet, and you can't tear your eyes away from it. the taste of blood and vomit is heavy on your tongue.

suguru says your name quietly. you can't even look at him—you're scared that you'll cry if you do.

you don't ever want to cry in front of him. or satoru—so weak in front of those who are so strong.

"he asked if i wanted to go with them and i said no because i was lazy," you hiss, teeth clenched as you spit out the words with venom. "if i had just stopped thinking about myself for a second—"

your fingers dig into the flesh of your palms—deep, deep, deeper.

you hear suguru click his tongue, and his hands wrap around yours. he yanks your fingers apart fiercely, thumbs smoothing over the bloodied indents you've made in your own skin. you tear your eyes away from the body to finally look at him.

"don't—" his breath catches as his thumbs still over your flesh, eyes going hard as he takes in the blood.

he blurs in and out of focus. his head whips up when he hears you sniffle, and his lips slant ruefully. "you—"

"i'm fine," you interrupt, blinking pointedly and taking a deep breath. "it's fine—i mean it's not fine—but i c—"

"stop." suguru grabs your shoulders, giving you an even stare. you don't know how you didn't notice it before, but he looks thinner, older. there are dark circles under his eyes—poison seeping into his skin. "you need to rest."

you stare back at him silently, but you don't feel like you agree. something about this is making you feel restless, like there is so much you need to make up for. his grip tightens, before he's wordlessly leading you to take a seat—he finds his place next to you.

"satoru took over the mission." he stares at the lifeless body on the table as he speaks. you lower your gaze.

"and nanami?" your throat feels like it's closing. suguru inhales deeply.

"he went back to the dorms."

"okay."

you try to figure out if there is any meaning in having this conversation. despite everything, weren't you expected to wake up tomorrow morning and head out on a mission once more? and when you return, you're sure that there'll be another faceless body taking haibara's place.

the cycle continues—clockwork. it scares you, just how replaceable you are.

haibara, nanami, you, another, nameless—interchangeable.

not like satoru. not like suguru. not like the strong.

you lean your head against suguru's shoulder, fingering the hem of your uniform skirt. the fabric is cool to the touch—it seems darker, heavier. heat radiates from the body next to you, and there's something about him that's making your stomach churn with nerves. "suguru?"

his voice sounds far away. "hm?"

"are you okay?"

he stiffens and you suddenly fear you've said too much—nosy, intruding, out of place. you stumble. "it's just, we haven't talked much lately."

"i'm fine," he answers, and you can hear a smile in his voice—whether it's real or fake you can't tell. "just a little tired."

you know there is truth to this. but it scares you, how this tiredness of his has lingered for months. you don't know how to tell him that.

"okay…" your voice is barely a whisper, heavy with unspoken words that you don't know how to formulate. somehow you find that silence has always been your only option.

but like usual, silence with suguru has never once been uncomfortable.

haibara's smile burns behind your eyelids.

"it should be a relatively simple mission. if you're not doing anything today senpai, would you like to come with us?"

his voice tickles your ears.

"that's alright! i'll get going then! oh right, today's mission is a little farther than usual, so we'll probably be back late! what would you like me to bring back for you?" 

hypoxia crushes your lungs, your blood burns. selfish selfish selfish. you've only ever cared about yourself.

suguru's arm curls around your shoulder before you even realize you're crying. his palm is warm as it smooths over your hair, and all you can worry about tainting him with your ridiculous tears.

you don't ever want to burden him—just want to quietly live in his shadow.

"i don't—" you internally cringe at the throaty rasp of your voice, swiping a hand at your nose. "i shouldn't be so sensitive about—"

"it's not your fault." he quietly hushes you, grip tightening imperceptibly. through your tears you can see him adam's apple bob, and for some reason that makes you feel worse. you're too scared to look at his expression, even though his voice is resolute. "none of this is our fault."

something has changed in the way he speaks now. something has settled, a confirmation of some idea that has been brewing for a long time now.

you don't say another word, but somehow he manages to sear himself into your very being. he's warm, and fuzzy, and he smells like sandalwood and incense. 

you don't know how long suguru let's you pathetically sob into his shoulder.

but you think you're embarrassed that he has taken pity on a wounded animal's cries.

xii. split

he looks different, but also the same. you've seen him wear that sweater before. it's plain black, no patterns, and you know that there's a loose string on the inside of the left sleeve that he was always too lazy to cut. you've always liked that sweater—always liked the way he looked in it. 

you liked it so much that you've even stolen it a few times yourself. 

but now it looks different. older and dirtier—as though soiled by some unknown curse. 

that's what everything came down to, right? curses. 

suguru stands in front of you, almost no trace of emotion on his handsome face, and his expression makes you want to turn and run. you miss the calm serenity that normally graced his features, wishing that you had some kind of cursed technique that could turn back time. but you aren't blessed like that—you wonder what sin you might've committed in a past life that made you so unlucky in this one. 

"you look confused," he comments. you reel at how casually he speaks to you, like it's just another afternoon sitting under that stupid tree. like he's leaning his head back against the trunk and watching you and satoru bicker with that fond look in his eye. 

"suguru," you speak, an odd strain in your voice. you struggle to comprehend this odd turn of events. you've had time to understand that he's now a different person than the one you once knew. you know that he's responsible for killing 112 innocents, including his own parents. you know that he's now an enemy to jujutsu society and you know that you should kill him right at this moment.

but he looks so much like suguru, like your suguru, that you can only manage to stand there, frozen in place. his eyes drift over your body, taking in your pajamas, the bath towel in your hands, and the small drops that trickle from your hair, and you can see the familiarity settle in his expression. 

"why are you here?" you choke out. you feel an overwhelming sense of danger in your gut, knowing that your family is just a few rooms over from where he stands now. 

"at your family home, you mean?" he asks casually. a small, almost amused smirk appears on his face. "you said i was always welcome." 

you did say that. sometime last year or the year before, when you had invited satoru, suguru, and shoko over to visit during one of your quick holidays. suguru had sat across from you at your dinner table. he complimented the food and your father smiled one of his rare smiles. you had chewed quietly to hide your grin.

you don't know what to say to him now. 

"everything they said about you," you whisper, taking a step toward him. he remains rooted in place, but his eyes follow your movements. they shift when he catches your fingers gripping your towel tighter. "is it true?" 

"do you think it is?" he asks, and you gulp. it feels like he's baiting you into some kind of trap. 

"i don't want to believe that it is," you answer, voice shaking. "that you would ever do something so…"

the sentence hangs in the air, and he tilts his head imperceptibly. something in his eyes changes as he focuses on the drops falling over your shoulders. 

"well i'm sorry to squash your hope," he raises his arms in a shrug. "but everything you heard is completely true." 

your head aches, but you're not surprised by his confirmation. "why would you…?"

suguru hums, a dark look falling over his face. "do you remember the conversation we had after haibara's funeral? do you remember what i told you when he died?" 

anger flares in your gut at the mention of haibara, and the bath towel crumples in your hold. "don't say his name," you hiss through gritted teeth. "don't act like he's the reason—just…don't bring him into this. please." 

suguru licks his lips, eyes going soft before he tries again. 

"everything used to make sense back then," he sighs. "back when the strong existed to protect the weak. but it's not true." 

"suguru—" 

"the reason why we suffer is because of them," he interjects evenly, though frustration is clearly evident in the curve of his brows and the volume of his voice. "we clean up their messes. they create problems and we die for it." 

you're stunned into silence, at the way he's raising his voice at you, at the way he's speaking so firmly about this horrible topic, at everything. he seems to realize the effect of his speech, and he quells his anger to speak quieter. "that's why i'm doing this. i'm going to create a world without non-sorcerers, so that sorcerers like you and i can live peacefully." 

a lump forms in your throat because god, he's right. he's so right. your life would be a thousand times better without curses. non-sorcerers were the reason curses existed. but the way he's going about this…

"suguru," your voice shakes, but you press on. "i get it. i really do—" 

"i know you do," he interrupts. "you always have. even back then…" 

he takes a step closer to you, reaching out to finger the towel in your hands. "but you don't agree with the way i'm doing it, right?" 

you bite your lip, and he smiles at the sadness in your expression. "you're so easy to read, hotshot." 

you ignore the way the nickname stings. "i just—how could you kill innocent people like that? your own parents, suguru."

he looks away from you, steely resolve in his eyes. "if i made exceptions for my parents, that would kinda make me a hypocrite, wouldn't it?"  

you don't know what to say to that. he doesn't seem to have anything else to add either. 

he looks around your old bedroom, eyes sparkling as they catch a picture of the four of you from your first year. satoru's arm is slung around shoko. the dark-haired female has her elbow resting on your shoulder, her tongue sticking out playfully. you're clinging to suguru's arm, and satoru's free hand is squishing your cheeks together. the four of you are laughing. 

nobody has laughed in a while now. 

you tear your gaze away from the picture frame to look at him. he's so unbelievably close, and he's gazing down at you with this foreign look in his eyes, the picture forgotten behind him. 

he slips his fingers into your hair. his palm is large enough that it can brush the side of your face, and you wonder why your body doesn't flinch away from those bloodstained hands.

"it's okay," he mumbles, a faraway look in his eyes. they remain trained on your hair, but it feels like he's looking straight through you. like you're nothing more than a ghost he wants to erase. he's so close—you can count his dark lashes as they brush against his cheeks. "it's difficult. i don't expect you to understand." 

his words incite a sudden flare of anger in your gut. it burns something fierce, and in that moment you hate him. 

"no, i don't," you reply indignantly. he pauses, now really looking at you, and his brows quirk upward in what seems to be surprise, because—well, he's never seen you make such an expression at him before. "you never tried to help me understand. you just left." 

a strained silence follows. his fingers twitch against your cheek.

"this doesn't concern you," he says finally. "i don't need you to understand my actions." 

you recoil, as though he's physically hurt you, and your expression falls so hard that it almost makes him regret saying it. almost. 

"if it doesn't concern me, then why are you here?" you ask again, and you see suguru's shoulders drop. "you know that i have orders to kill you. i might not be able to because you've always been stronger than me. but you know that i'll…" 

go down fighting you, is what you want to say, but the words leave a nasty taste in your mouth. but suguru seems to know what you're implying because a wry smile appears on his lips. his fingers twirl a strand of your wet hair. 

"i'm here to say goodbye," he says finally. another tense silence fills the space between you both, and suguru can see the way your fingers shake between the folds of your towel. 

"you're a little bit late for that, aren't you?" you choke out, a strange tilt to your voice as you break eye contact with him. "you left school weeks ago, and you didn't say a word to me then." 

"better late than never, right?" 

the softness in his tone makes you turn to look at him again, and you desperately want to ingrain the features of his face into your head. the gentle slope of his eyes and sweetness of his smile. he almost looks like the suguru you once knew, and you suddenly have the urge to mourn his death. 

his face becomes blurry, the edges becoming less pronounced, and you can see the way his expression falls. 

"i didn't come all the way here to make you cry." his hand drops from your face and he takes a step back. your fingers hurry to wipe at your waterline, and you shake your head. 

"'m not crying." 

suguru smiles ruefully, and his eyes suddenly look devoid of life. he takes another step back—your heart plummets.

he says your name once, quietly, and it hangs in the air as you wait for him to say more. 

he doesn't. 

"you know that I'm not supposed to let you leave alive, right?" you mumble, fingers toying with the towel in your hand. "but i can't—i mean—"

"hm," he chuckles. "still as sensitive as ever, huh? s'okay…" 

he moves toward you again and his hand gently cups the back of your neck. "i think it's your best quality. makes you better than most people in our world."

he presses his lips to your forehead tenderly, and you feel your eyes widen behind your tears. 

you probably could've stopped him, because you're aware that he's now suddenly behind you, and that he's raising his hand. you can stop him, but a part of you thinks that if it's death at suguru's hands, maybe it's not such a bad way to go. 

you accept your fate then and there. 

you'll find out later that suguru never had the intention to kill you then. perhaps he was waiting for a more opportune time, waiting for there to be a meaning behind it. you're not sure. but when you wake up tucked in your bed cozily, you'll feel the remnants of him lingering around you.

he was warm, and fuzzy, and he smelled like sandalwood and incense.

xiii. sanctify

satoru's at your door again. 

you've memorized his knock patterns. he always knocks three times, then leaves a pause, then twice more. for someone so erratic, he can be quite predictable. 

"what's up, satoru?" you call out, not looking up from your busy hands. there are a couple of empty cardboard boxes open on your bed, and you've been placing things into them all morning. things that should've been put away a long time ago. you pause on one of your old test papers, and in suguru's dark, blocky handwriting you read: 

YOU GOTTA STUDY MORE DUMBASS.

underneath it, satoru had scrawled: 

hotshot failing class now huh? :P

and shoko had added: 

both of you stfu you're failing too 

you had drawn a heart next to her name. 

"whatcha doin'?" a familiar voice chirps. "spring cleaning?"

satoru stands directly behind you, peering over your shoulder. you can practically feel his aura shift when he notices the items you're putting away. 

"cleaning of some sort," you sigh, before turning to look over your shoulder. "i've been…putting it off." 

he doesn't move—just continues to stare down at the paper in your hands. you think maybe you shouldn't have let him in. sometimes you forget that satoru might have his own sensitivities—you've always viewed him as the strongest.

a few strands of his hair tickle your cheek, and you scrunch your nose in response. he then turns to you, eyes blinding as he studies you over the frames of his shades. 

"want help?" 

"please." you don't intend to sound so needy, but the way you whisper the word has him immediately grabbing your wrist and sitting you down next to him on the bed. 

"how are we sorting this stuff?" he asks, his voice oddly calm. he hasn't let go of your arm yet, and some quiet part of you is grateful. 

"i was putting our old school stuff in that box. books, papers…" you answer softly, and satoru nods in understanding. "and in the other box…" 

you inhale deeply through your nose. satoru waits, strangely patient. you're not sure if you're imagining it, but you think he squeezes your wrist. 

"…are all of suguru's things." 

there's a moment of silence—a quick mourning for what is no longer there. 

"it's stupid stuff that he left behind, you know?" you chuckle, even though nothing is funny. "some old shirts from when you two would sleep over, his old textbooks, a few pictures from our holidays—shit like that." 

satoru hums. he's not looking at you—instead he's staring at the box, a frown on his face. 

"i guess he didn't really need those things for where he was going. or for wherever he is now," you mumble. 

"guess not." 

you're not sure what's going through his head. satoru's reaction to suguru leaving had been chaotic at best. it was so hard to tell how he felt about it. you knew he was angry, confused, betrayed. but he never showed things like that. you think it might have to do with being the strongest. you're not sure though—you never were strong like him.

you wish there was a way to tell him that he could share his feelings with you, but you can't think of a way that won't be awkward. 

a ticklish sensation crawls up your wrist and you look down to watch satoru's first two fingers tap against the inside of your palm. his thumb brushes against yours as he lets out a heavy exhale. 

"let's get started then, hotshot." 

he looks down at you as he says the words, and you think you might cry. but you want to be strong, like him, so you offer him a smile. he gives you one in return. you realize there isn't that much warmth in it, not like it used to have—you're sure that yours isn't that warm either. 

but it's enough for the two of you. 

"you look tired, toru," you chuckle wryly, reaching up to brush a few strands of hair from his face. his eyes flutter at the touch, and you honestly think this might be the most vulnerable you've ever seen him. 

"so do you." 

"i am," you admit honestly. 

"'s okay," he mumbles. his fingers tap against your palm once more. "'m here." 

"i know," you answer. you always are.

nothing more is said as satoru stands up. he makes his way over to your desk and pulls one of suguru's old sweaters from your chair. you watch him fold it neatly, smoothing out the creases with care, before placing it into the box—you smile once more. 

you think the scent of sandalwood tickles your nose, but it's gone in an instant.  

both of you work in relative silence, sorting through the things in your room quickly. you're surprised at how bare it looks as you're nearing the end, as though there's nothing more to your life than old high school recollections. 

you finish putting the last few polaroids into the box when satoru speaks up. 

"hey." 

you look up and find him staring at you, so you turn to face him completely, giving him your full attention. 

"zenin toji—" the name sends a painful tingle up your body. "—left something behind." 

you frown. "what are you talking about?" 

"a kid. he's got a kid. and i was gonna go meet him today," satoru shrugs. you try to read his emotions, but as usual, he's giving you nothing. "the old man said something about the zenin clan buying up his kid before i killed him. i was gonna go see if there's something i could do about that." 

you sigh before raising a brow, an amused lilt to your voice. "and why have you kept this a secret?" 

satoru's trademark smirk appears, and he walks over to sling an arm around your shoulders. "who knows?" he quips nonchalantly. "guess i was waiting until we were bored. we need something to do now, don't we?" 

you glance at the packed boxes on your bed, and then look around your empty room. everything is always changing, but satoru is constant. 

"i guess so," you grin. his eyes shine, and for a second you see a familiar teenager at the beach, and then a familiar teenager under an old tree. you think you hear waves, and the crinkling of a bag of chips. 

"good," he chirps, walking you to the door, the arm around your shoulder secure. "his name's megumi, and we're gonna make sure he gets strong."

xiv. idyll

it takes you a little over four months to get used to megumi's eyes. they aren't unsettling or invading, like a certain snowy haired sorcerer, but they do give you chills when you first notice them. chills and a fleeting feeling of metal slicing up and down through your flesh. you just have to steady your breathing and remind yourself that the son is not the father.

tsumiki is an angel. you didn't think that kids that age could be so emotionally competent, but she's a pleasant surprise. she had been awfully protective over megumi, fidgeting with a firm hand on his shoulder as you and satoru invaded their space and upturned their lives. even after they had settled into the humble apartment satoru had purchased, tsumiki was still so overly cautious. it was obvious she still didn't trust either of you, but you thought it was admirable of her, and you relay this thought to satoru one day.

"think they hate us?" he asks, squishing his cheeks between his lithe fingers as he eyes the different milk cartons over the rims of his glasses.

"i'm pretty sure they just don't trust us that much," you reply, placing a few packs of instant ramen into the cart. "can you blame them? we're just random strangers who came up and basically kidnapped them."

"i'd like to say adopted!" he points out with a grin, before he sighs. "but we've already proved we're just doing this to help them. but they still barely talk at all."

"they're just being careful. megumi's still a little young and he looks like he doesn't give a shit about most stuff anyway," you chuckle as you remember the expression on the first grader's face as he spoke to your cocky friend. "and tsumiki's being cautious for both of them."

"she doesn't need to be cautious of us!" satoru dramatically whines, pulling out a carton of whole milk and placing it into the cart. you shiver as the cold air hits your skin, eyeing the sorcerer with an exasperated smile. he shuts the door with a huff. "i've been such a good dad!"

you roll your eyes, shoving his arm as he starts pushing the cart down the aisle. "she definitely should be cautious of you, you creep."

satoru looks down over his shoulder, appalled, though his eyes sparkle with mirth. "and why do you say that?"

"have you seen yourself? crazy 19 year old man that kidnaps kids," you mutter somewhat sarcastically, falling into step with him like it's normal. satoru grins at that—amused.

"i think it's pretty cool of her to be that responsible though," you continue, voice going softer as you think about them, and satoru hums in what you think might be agreement. you suddenly grab his arm, stopping him in his tracks and he turns to look at you.

"you think we should get another carton of milk?" you question, tilting your head at him. "megumi's been drinking it every day after he comes back from school and tsumiki said she wanted to try making milkshakes."

satoru blinks at you, eyes widening before an amused chuckle escapes his lips. you're about to ask what is so funny but he gestures back down the aisle. "go get some."

he waits for you as you go grab another carton, leaning against the cart easily. when you make it back and place the extra milk in the cart, satoru slings an arm around your shoulders. you raise a brow, but he just continues to push the cart with his free hand and says nothing.

so you don't say anything either.

the two of you continue shopping, trying to remember the things you've noticed the kids enjoying because you know they'll be too uncomfortable to outrightly request them. for every sweet snack satoru puts into the cart, you add something that can pass as somewhat healthy, and he hides a teasing grin behind his fist each time.

when you're almost done, satoru motions to the shelves of snacks, raising a brow at you. "what do you need, hotshot?"

you look up from where you're analyzing the contents of the cart. "hm? oh i don't wanna buy anything for myself. i'm good with the stuff i have back at the dorm."

"great," he shrugs with a subtle shake of his head. "except you're not buying anything this time, i am. so pick something."

"what?" you frown, walking over to him. "we're supposed to split groceries for the kids."

"we can split next time." satoru rolls his eyes at you, as though annoyed by your insistence. "i just got paid yesterday and i wanna waste money. pick something."

you groan. "but there really isn't anything i want. if you're gonna pay yourself then let's just go. i think this is good enough."

satoru looks unamused, his eyes boring into yours—bright, dominating, mesmerizing. "oh really? nothing you want?"

you stare at him in confusion as he walks over to the frozen section and opens the door. after a few seconds of rummaging, he pulls out a box. "not even this?"

your shoulders drop. he's holding a tub of strawberry ice cream.

he casually places it into the cart, eyes trained on your expression as he bends down. "it's your favorite, isn't it?"

your voice comes out throaty, and you wet your lips nervously—his eyes follow the movement at lightning speed. "how'd you know?"

satoru scoffs out a haughty chuckle, reaching up to knock a knuckle at your forehead—it's cold. "i know everything about you, hotshot."

he moves to grip at the cart's handle, standing close enough that you can feel the energy radiating off of him. the side of his hand touches yours, still cold. "now we can go."

he sticks by your side, pushing the cart towards the counters as he casually looks around the store. you briefly realize that his shadow doesn't cover you when you're at his side like this. the thought both scares you and pleases you in a way you didn't think was possible.

"thanks toru," you mumble before you can stop yourself. his gives you a sidelong glance—assessing.

his lips twitch. "it's just ice cream."

"no, it's a lot more than that." you're not really sure why you say it so tragically, and satoru inhales sharply. you notice that his knuckles have turned white as he grips the cart's handles. once again, his eyes dart rapidly over your face—between your eyes and then further down.

then he lets out a hushed laugh, nudging your shoulder with his. "as long as you share with me, hotshot."

everything is always changing, but satoru is constant.

you can't help but smile. "always."

you two don't say much as you head to the counter, taking turns placing all the items on the belt. you quietly watch satoru dig into his wallet, feeling oddly content doing so. you think the stars in your eyes will never disappear.

the clerk eyes you both, and suppresses a fond grin. with your close proximity, shared cart, and satoru's easy going smile, you realize that she's probably misunderstanding, but you don't really know how to correct her. satoru says nothing—he just continues smiling, oddly pleased.

he smiles all the way to the car. you catch yourself doing the same in the rear view mirror.

xv. retribution

the first thing you notice when you kneel in front of suguru is that he's bleeding all over the place. you have the strongest urge to scramble and grip his fingers tightly, just as he had done for you so many years ago—but you don't dare. you're too scared that touching him will ruin you completely.

he says your name quietly, and yet it's the loudest thing in the universe to you—crashing over your ears until you've lost all sense of self.

and then he leans forward, his gaze heavy, and his hand comes up to tangle in your hair. his palm rests on the side of your face just like it did when he visited you at your family home. the last time you saw your geto suguru.

except this time he moves further—crosses a line. presses his lips to yours.

he tastes like blood. you don't pull away.

the feeling of his lips shocks you though, and you stay permanently frozen in place as you feel your eyes glaze over with something you can't put into words.

suguru kisses you slowly, deeply, like he's been waiting but wants to savor it. maybe you've been waiting too. you're not sure. you're so confused.

you don't even process the way his tongue slips past your lips, tasting almost eagerly like your mouth is some kind of conquest he's trying to claim.

it's intrusive, but not unwelcome. slow, but not gentle.

you whimper quietly, feeling acid sting down your cheek as he pulls away and his eyes flutter open. he takes in your expression, and a million emotions pass over his face.

a quiet chuckle. "that bad, huh?"

you shake yourself out of it and try to push away the flush creeping up your neck. "w-what?"

"you're crying," he announces, his furrowed eyebrows paired with a sweet smile that makes him look so unbelievably tragic. "the kiss was that bad?"

your face burns, and you raise a shaking hand up to your cheek—it's wet.

"it wasn't—i didn't—" you struggle. "i mean—"

he smiles ruefully. "i'm sorry. you were saving it for someone special, right?"

there's a charged silence that follows as you scour your brain for the conversation he's referencing. when you find it, your heart sinks.

"you've always been special to me, suguru." your voice comes out quiet, but he hears it all the same. his eyes widen fractionally and you can see a light pink dust his cheeks before he laughs. it's soft, hushed, and looks like it's painful, but he lets it run its course.

it reminds you of a laugh from so long ago, at a beach, with childish screams echoing against the sound of waves. you think you can feel strawberry ice cream dripping down your wrist.

his laughs die down and he's left smiling softly at you. his lavender eyes sparkle with mirth as he tilts his head. "i'm glad. that you were the one i gave a room to."

you can hear waves in your ears, crashing crashing drowning. sand is in your hands, in between your toes, in your eyes.

he coughs, and his palm shakes against your cheek. you wonder why he doesn't just let go already dammit suguru.

you inhale sharply, trying so hard to breathe because what is that stupid thing that's clogging your throat and preventing you from speaking? there's so much you have to say to him. so many questions. so many things left unsaid. your words are failing you.

but silence with suguru has never once been uncomfortable, right?

you raise a shaky hand to press against his where it lays against your neck. "do you regret it?"

he licks his lips, smiling faintly, as though he's enjoying the new taste of you on them. "no."

"why not?" you whisper. your body unconsciously shuffles closer to him, chasing his warmth because gods is he warm. he's always been so warm, even now, in the throes of death.

"my feelings are still the same. i still hate the monkeys for everything they've done, all the crap they cause." he shuts his eyes, smiling that serene smile. you wish he was leaning against a tree trunk. "i still have no resentment to those at jujutsu tech. and you, i still…"

he doesn't continue. you don't think you want him to. there's a flush crawling up his neck, the faint pink a stark contrast to the red of blood. it makes you nauseous.

another deep inhale, and his thumb slides over your jawbone, before brushing under your bottom lip. he stares at the flesh heavily, letting his finger press into it. his tongue swipes over his own lips, eyes darkening further.

and then something shifts in his face, and he smiles mirthlessly. his hand drops from your face—broken contact.

he doesn't tear his gaze away from you, committing your face to memory. it's almost like he wants to say something, but decides against it at the last minute as he slumps further into the wall behind him and shuts his eyes.

when he speaks again, you know that it is all over.

"you're late, satoru."

[luvrgreyy]

WHAT GOOD IS SORRY?

ex husband!leon x f!reader

word count: 3.3k summary: why does one wound those they love so deeply? masterlist | taglist | ko-fi

18+ MDNI. mentions of divorce, cheating/infidelity, awkward leon stuff, guilt, yearning, leon and reader have a child together — and i named her denise for whatever reason, getting stood up by a date, drunk texting, kissing, oral(r!receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, bittersweet ending(?) i guess.

a/n: old wip,, this was supposed to be super gut wrenching and angsty but for some reason, my brain didn’t want to cooperate and decided that this would be the ending. also, i’ve been contemplating whether to address this or not and even tho its not a big issue, PLEASE interact with my posts. it’s the only way i’m able to know that you guys actually like the stuff i write, and ever since i’ve started writing on here 7 months ago, i’ve been noticing a decrease in interactions. im honestly losing motivation to write because i truly don’t know if people actually read my shit and like it. anyway, enjoy my mediocre writing ^___^

leon regrets everything he’s done up to this point. running into ada on a mission, going to the bar with her afterwards, and the kiss. the stupid kiss that eventually led up to this.

the divorce.

it all felt wrong, so wrong. yet here he was, driving his car to your doorstep, his stomach in knots despite having done this several times before.

for the sake of your daughter, the two of you had decided that shared custody would be the best option.

he stands at the door, hesitating before knocking, his knuckles hovering anxiously. clearing his throat, he gently raps his knuckles against the door, hoping for an answer. he's already second-guessing himself, wondering if he should have texted or called first.

your door eventually opens, and he's met with a familiar face. you.

you greet him with a civil smile, pressing a kiss into your daughter’s hair before ushering her inside.

he fidgets, adjusting the brim of his leather jacket nervously as he takes in the sight of you.

you reach to shut the door, catching a glimpse of him awkwardly hovering over you porch.

“you okay?”

he tries to find his voice. "yeah, i just, uh... i was just thinking..”

he looks down at his feet, kicking the ground with the side of his scuffed boot, as if trying to buy some time or maybe just willing the floor to swallow him up. when he speaks, his voice is low and sheepish. “when i was— last night, i thought… uh, do- do you remember when.. shit. are you free this weekend?”

”what?” you muse at his question. “leon, i really don’t wanna have this conversation with you again,”

he winces at the rebuff, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets as a defensive measure.

leon’s adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows hard, his ears burning at your words. he looks anywhere but at you, his eyes darting over the porch railing, the foliage, the sky — anywhere but your eyes. oh, those eyes he adored so much.

"no, wait, hear me out,”

"listen..." he takes a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever fallout this might bring, knowing he's already on shaky ground. “i just wanna talk.. to you.”

he shifts his weight, glancing up at the roof of the house as if the heavens themselves could offer a solution. when he does meet your gaze again, his eyes are pleading, his jaw clenched with a mix of anxiety and something akin to desperation.

“i’m sorry, leon. i’m busy,”

he scoffs and his face scrunches up, a pained grimace contorting his features as he cuts you off. “c’mon, please?” he's standing too close now, invading the personal space he once knew so well. “i.. i know it isn’t what we do anymore but—“

“no, seriously. i literally can’t. i have something up.”

“oh.” he deflates slightly at your dismissal, shoulders slumping in defeat. a soft, regretful sigh escapes his parted lips, and his eyes drop, gaze wandering aimlessly. "can- can you can you cancel? is it really important? what about on sunday-? i’m sure we can..“

“leon.” it's not a question this time, you stare at him with the tiniest hint of pity. “i have a date.”

ouch. he freezes, his chest constricting as if he's been punched. a date? the words echo in his mind, each syllable like a dagger to his pride, his ego, his everything. a muscle in his jaw twitches, his hands clenching and unclenching in his pockets. leon swallows hard, his throat suddenly parched.

"oh," he repeats, the sound barely above a whisper. he takes a shaky breath, trying to calm the storm brewing inside him.

he rubs a hand over the back of his neck, jaw working in agitation as he grapples with the blow of your words. a snarky retort rises in his throat, a cutting remark to deflect the sting, but it withers on his tongue, a futile attempt at salvaging pride he knows is misplaced.

leon swallows hard, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he finally finds his voice, laced with a wry bitterness. “yeah, no worries.. guess that's that," a bitter, hollow chuckle escapes him as he shifts his weight. his tone is flippant, trying to mask the sting of rejection, but the defeat is palpable as he turns to leave. he starts down the porch steps, his boots thudding against the wooden slats.

you finally close the door on him, standing by the door, hand on the knob, unease prickling along you skin like a thousand tiny needles, each one stinging with the weight of guilt. you sigh, rubbing the bridge of her nose as she tries to process her feelings. guilt, regret, a twinge longing — it's all so confusing, so messy.

the weight of his pleading eyes, the desperation in his tone — he had no right acting like a dejected puppy after he cheated on you.

you shake your head, face between your hands. he made his choices, just as you had, and now it was time to move on. you squared your shoulders, took a deep breath, and stepped away from the door, determined to let go of the ghost of what was and focus on the life you were building. for you, and your daughter.

but it’s not really easy.

not when you’re sitting alone at a restaurant, waiting for a date that never bothered to show.

your phone buzzes and you hold your breath. hoping for some sort of confirmation, but it's quickly snuffed out.

‘hey, sorry i couldn’t make it. something important came up’ the simple text reads. the same stupid excuse. every. single. time. your heart sinks, a dull ache forming in the pit of your stomach.

a bitter, derisive chuckle escapes your lips. serves you right. you knew he was trouble from the start. yet, your heart aches, a dull throb of pain and disappointment. you feel so foolish, sitting there, waiting for someone who never shows. though, it isn't really new.

now you lay in your bed, having already kicked off your heels and changed out of the uncomfortably tight dress you wore.

you pull the blankets up to your chin, suddenly feeling cold. you toss and turn, brooding and wallowing in misery, and it seemed like you’ve been doing it for hours till you’re startled out of your fitful doze by the buzz of your phone.

it's a text from leon, of course it is. it’s another one of his ‘where are u? i miss u’ ‘can’t stop thinking about you. please let me c u’ meltdowns.

he's drunk again, you can tell by the sloppy caps and the desperate pleas. every time he has a rough night, he always thinks coming over will magically fix everything. and you always refuse, knowing he’s only drunk and alone. but tonight, you feel particularly lonely.

your thumb hovers over the keyboard, and before you know it, you're typing. ‘come over.’ you hesitate, then send the message.

by then, he’s already halfway out the door, stumbling out and nearly falling as he trips over his own feet in his haste. he takes the stairs two at a time, a goofy, shit-eating grin plastered on his face. when he reaches your door, he pounds on it with a fist. his breath comes out in short puffs as he waits, anticipation making his heart race.

click.

the door creaks open a fraction and his eyes lock onto you, looking all soft and domestic in a robe. leon's breath catches in his throat as his eyes drink you in.

he tumbles in, arms outstretched as if he's about to catch something. he's immediately in your space, arms around you in a tight, needy embrace. his face buries itself in the crook of your neck, breathless with relief and something else, something suspiciously like love.

“leon—“ he smashes his mouth against yours, tongue pushing past your lips, the taste of beer and regret in his breath. his hands roam, sliding up your back, gripping your hair, fingers splayed wide as if to assure himself you're real. a low, desperate sound escapes him, half-groan, half-moan as his body presses against yours. he's desperate, sloppy, but undeniably passionate. when he finally breaks for air, he rests his forehead against yours, eyes glassy with drink and longing.

“missed you s’ much, baby,” he presses a kiss to your neck, tongue tracing the pulse point with a reverence that borders worship.

“let me make it up to you, please,” he looks up at you with those big, puppy-dog eyes, an expression so pathetic it’s comical. yet, the desperation behind them makes it anything but.

his hands skim down your sides to your hips, fingers digging in as if to keep you anchored to him. his face buried in the crook of your neck as his hands knead the meat of your ass, claws digging in through the fabric of your robe. his breath hitches as he nuzzles into you, inhaling deeply as if committing you to memory.

he trails a string of open-mouthed kisses down your neck, pausing to nibble on your collarbone before continuing his journey south. his hands never stop moving, roaming over your body with an insatiable hunger.

you let out a soft whimper, arching into his touch. "bedroom," you breathe out, and he happily obliges.

once inside, he kicks the door shut behind him and spins you around, backing you up against the bed. he begins to undo your robe with shaking fingers, your heavy breathing and the rustling of silk the only sounds in the charged silence between you. when the robe falls open, he pushes it off your shoulders, letting it pool at your feet.

the thin, sheer fabric of your nightgown offers little resistance as he practically rips it off you. a shaky breath escapes his parted lips as he reaches for you again, fingers grazing your skin as if he's not quite trusting his own touch.

he guides you to the bed, pushing you to sit on the edge. he immediately drops to his knees before you, face between your legs.

“these ‘re pretty,” he slurs out, before he fucking tears your underwear off.

“leon!”

he chuckles at your reaction, a low, rumbling sound in the back of his throat. “sorry,” he murmurs against your inner thigh, his hot breath causing goosebumps to rise in its wake. “gonna buy you new ones,”

his stubble scrapes against your sensitive skin as he slowly trails open-mouthed kisses up your thigh, savoring every inch of you that you’re willing to give him.

he buries his face between your legs, licking and sucking with a single-minded devotion that makes your toes curl and eyes roll back in your head. his scruffy cheeks hollow as he sucks a hickey into the soft flesh of your inner thigh.

god, it’s been so long. the feelings practically foreign.

his tongue begins to lash at your slit, long and flat, with a dexterity that belies his level of inebriation.

“you still mine?” he huffs. “‘course you are, ‘m the only one that can get ya this wet,”

slurp, smack, suck, repeat.

his tongue is relentless, probing your entrance, swirling around your clit with increasing fervor. he's sloppy, uncoordinated, but it only serves to heighten the intensity of it all. every time he pulls back, you can hear his heavy breathing, feel the vibrations of his moans against your most intimate flesh. your fingers thread into his hair, tugging him closer as your back arches off the bed. a keening whimper escapes you, the sound muffled by your clenched teeth as you struggle to maintain some semblance of control.

“fuck, leon—” your words trail off into incoherent mumbles as he drives you closer to the edge, tongue darting in and out with a pace that’ll make a grown woman go crazy. “d-denise, were gonna wake her up,”

a low growl rumbles in his chest as he responds to your whine. there's a hint of accusation in his gaze, but it quickly morphs into a look of raw, desperate need. “don’t matter,” he's relentless, persistent, refusing to back down even as you tremble and writhe beneath him.

he grunts, his attention snapping back to you, blue eyes squinting as he looks up from between your thighs. his tongue is a damn metronome, lapping and smacking with a relentless rhythm that has you chasing the edge of oblivion.

it's like every drunken fantasy he's ever had is being poured out onto you. messy, uncoordinated, desperate. and you’re eating it up. “gonna make you forget all about that stupid date," he mutters through slurred words. "’m the only man who can make you feel this good,"

he's not wrong. the way he's attacking you with his tongue, it's like he's trying to prove a fucking point.

"leon, please," you gasp out, and he takes it as an invitation to continue. your entire body is wound up tight, a taut string ready to snap. he slips a finger in, then two, curling them just right so that they’re pressing against that spongy spot that has you seeing stars.

your legs wrap around his head, fingers threading into his hair as you pull him in as close as humanly possible. his name is a chant on your lips, a prayer to the gods of pleasure. "leon, leon, leon,". denise could come in right now and catch you like this — legs splayed, back arched, eyes squeezed shut in bliss. he's that good. or maybe that bad. you dont know. and you don’t care to find out.

"yeah, just like that," he praises, voice a low, gravelly growl. "love my fingers in this greedy little cunt, don't you?"

your thighs clench around his head, heels digging into his back as you ride out the pleasure. "gonna cum, leon, please—“ yours words trail off into a wail, a keen of pure, unadulterated euphoria.

your back arches, toes curl, and your fingers dig into his hair, holding him to you as the wave crashes over you. he tugs you down to the edge of the bed, practically burying his face in your groin. he laps at your slit, in and out, in and out, until the last bit of resistance melts away.

he lifts his face from between your legs, eyes hazy and unfocused as he fumbles to unbuckle his pants. once he has it off, he's back, pushing your legs apart as he kneels between them. the thick of his length throbs against your lower belly, and you can feel his racing heartbeat through every inch of him that's in contact with you.

he notches the head of his cock at your entrance, pressing in just enough to make you feel the pressure, gathering your juices before giving a long, slow stroke up and down, coating himself in you. he's throbbing, pulsing with need, and you can practically taste the desperation in your mouth.

he presses in, just the tip at first, then a bit more. slow, shallow strokes, in and out. his hips rock against yours, the motion slow and languid. one of his hands cups your cheek, thumb brushing over your closed eyelids to check if he was dreaming. the other hand palms the small of your back, fingers digging in as if to anchor himself. your legs wrap around his waist, ankles locking behind his back as he slowly sinks into you.

he's quiet for a moment, just holding you, his heart racing in his chest as if he's trying to communicate something without using words. his hips move, the action slow and lazy, as if he's trying to spoon you into submission.

he pulls out, just to the tip, before pushing back in. the motion is slow, sensual, a deliberate teasing that has you whining and writhing beneath him.

sweat beads on his brow, tracing down the lines of his face, but he doesn't slow. if anything, he's driven by a desperate need to make up for lost time, to prove himself worthy of you. your back arches, hands scrabbling for purchase on the sheets as he pistons in and out, the force of his thrusts rocking your entire body. he's not gentle, not soft, but rough and demanding, just like he always used to be when he was trying to stake his claim.

he nips at your earlobe, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh before he sooths it with his tongue. “fuck, feels so good,” he gasps out, his words punctuated by the slap of skin against skin. “can't believe i ever let you go.”

"leon," you whimper, the name a plea, a prayer. his lips find yours in a sloppy, frantic kiss. he's drinking you in, devouring your mouth, your moans, your gasps, trying to consume every ounce of you.

he's sweating, hair a mess, face scrunched up in concentration, but those blue eyes remain locked on yours.

you're lost in the sensation, every nerve ending on high alert, screaming for friction, for relief, for release. "leon, leon, gonna cum," you pant, your voice raw, your throat dry. "please, i—" but your pleas are swallowed by his next thrust, his cock dragging against your sensitive walls.

he leans forward, his forehead pressing against yours, noses nearly touching. his hot breath mingles with yours, the scent of his beer-soaked breath and the musk of his arousal mingling together in the most intoxicating way. "love you," he suddenly whispers, the words a quiet, a desperate confession that hangs in the air between you.

“love you, love you, fuck—“

the way your walls squeeze him when you cum drags his own orgasm from him. for a long moment, he stays frozen, buried to the hilt, his chest heaving against yours as he tries to catch his breath.

the heat of your body seeps into his skin, chasing away the chill of the night air. he collapses against you, a boneless heap of satisfied male. his cock throbs, pulses, and drips onto the bed between your legs as he tries to catch his breath. the room is silent, save for your joint heavy breathing, and the occasional groan as his softening length slips out of you. eventually, he rolls off, lying on his back beside you, one big hand coming to rest on your stomach, thumb stroking in a slow, idle pattern. his eyes are hazy, unfocused, but they find yours and hold. a small, sheepish smile tugs at his lips.

"sorry," he slurs out, the word garbled and slightly off-kilter. "i shoulda been better, should’ve tried harder, i... i‘m gonna make things right, i swear,"

he peppers your neck with soft kisses, his stubble rasping against your tender flesh. he's warm, solid, and comforting. gentle and tender, a stark contrast to the desperation that drove him mere moments ago.

he's not reaching for grand gestures or flowery declarations. he's asking for something simple, intimate, and achingly human. a chance to hold you, to sleep beside you, to maybe, begin to rebuild something from the rubble of what once was.

and for a moment, you let yourself believe that he’ll be different this time. that he's not just trying to relive past glories, but genuinely wants to make amends, to start anew.

tags: @crowleyco @withonly-sweetheart @fanilkychae

[allpiesforourown]

OKAY SO I have way too many WIPs to write a role reversal fic and I meant to just yap about my au and ended up writing 2k words about it if you want to read it below...

oblivious shizun luo binghe / oblivious disciple shen yuan

First of all i've been reading a lot of role reversal fics lately but big shout out to ao3 user anqlbean for this fic because it really gave me "fuckboy shizun binghe, hiding that he's a demon lord" brain rot

Okay so anyway. In fair cang qiong sect where we lay our scene-

Luo Binghe is the Qing Jing peak lord. He’s also the heavenly emperor of the demon realm. No one knows both of his identities except for mobei jun and a handful of other people from his inner circle. It’s risky for a demon to hide as one of the cultivation world’s most prominent figures, but he likes having the best of both worlds!

Enter Shen Yuan: Shen Yuan's cultivation history is somewhat similar to Shen Jiu's in that he started cultivating late and joined Qing Jing well into his teens. He’s about 16 when he becomes Binghe’s student, but the thing is… Luo Binghe is kind of just the peak lord in name.

He spends his free time getting laid in the next town or going on an adventure with some hot demoness instead of giving classes. He’ll go on cultivation missions and take requests from villages and whatnot, but he doesn't bother teaching his disciples, just gives them a cultivation manual and tells them to figure it out. Half the time when students greet him on the peak he just nods because he doesnt even remember the disciple’s name. It’s fine though, once every few months he’ll take a break from all the one night stands and actually take a student along with him on a mission, just to keep the sect leader from complaining. “See, I teach my kids! Last month I took what’s-his-name on a night hunt!”

By the time Luo Binghe bothers to take Shen Yuan along for a mission, Shen Yuan is already 20 and has been on the peak for 4 years. Luo Binghe barely knows he exists, and he justs wants to collect this herb he was tasked with retrieving, send Shen Yuan back with it, and then get nasty with the woman back in the village who gave them directions to the cave that grows it. 

Unfortunately for Binghe, the cave is also home to one of the few flowers that can affect a demon lord. Binghe can’t move as he falls to the ground and hears his student yell “Shizun!” and run over.

They can hear monsters nearby so Shen Yuan’s two options are to 1) heal his shizun by taking advantage of Binghe's body or 2) abandon him to die and leave by himself. Binghe has experienced both multiple times, and is ready for either one. He's not ready for Shen Yuan to choose a third option that no one has ever chosen before: heaving Luo Binghe onto his back, transferring him qi, and using every bit of strength to carry him to safety. 

By the time they return to the cave’s entrance, Shen Yuan only has enough energy to use a talisman signalling the sect for help before they both pass out. 

When Luo Binghe wakes up, the Qian Cao peak lord is asking him how he feels while his head disciple is yelling at a sheepish Shen Yuan for doing something reckless again! Apparently this is not the first time Shen Yuan has exhausted himself for the sake of another person. 

Over the next few days, he can’t think of anything other than his student. 

(Also, he secretly feels kind of… angry??? Was his body so unappealing to Shen Yuan that he'd rather half-die than dual cultivate with him?? He's not sure why he's so pissed off by the idea, it's not like he's ever wanted to dual cultivate with a man before, but still…)

Finally he decides he has every right to be curious about shen yuan, that’s his disciple! Unfortunately while Binghe was ignoring Shen Yuan's existence for the past few years, his disciple has managed to build up… a reputation at Cang Qiong. 

Oh Shen Yuan selflessly saved Luo Binghe? Big deal, saving people is an average Tuesday for Shen Yuan, apparently! “He stopped my qi deviation” this, “he threw me out of a poisonous demon's way” that. 

For the first time ever, Luo Binghe is not special. If anything, he has less pull with Shen Yuan than anyone else at Cang Qiong, because everyone else knows Shen Yuan better. Luo Binghe doesn’t know Shen Yuan’s birthday, but the rest of his students make sure to throw Shen Yuan a party every year to thank him for all his tutoring. Binghe is SO far behind, which is a feeling he hasn’t felt in YEARS. 

About a month after the mission, he finally sees Shen Yuan sparring alone. Luo Binghe walks over, acting unbothered and nonchalant even though he's screaming internally. He greets his disciple and says, “This master has yet to properly thank Shen Yuan for his assistance at the cave… join me at the bamboo house tonight.” 

Shen Yuan apologizes, says he has important plans but would love to join him another night, then spends the rest of the day off the peak with the An Ding head disciple. 

Luo Binghe is flabbergasted. He's less important than an An Ding disciple???? Really??? Fucking An Ding????? 

After that, Luo Binghe……. He isn’t stalking Shen Yuan, despite what Liu Mingyan (Xian Su peak lord) might say with excited eyes. He’s just keeping an eye on this interesting disciple he never knew he had! In secret. 

He walks in on Qingge and Shen Yuan “sparring” and sees the exact moment Shen Yuan oversteps, loses his balance and goes tumbling on top of Liu Qingge. Binghe storms over, picks Shen Yuan up by the back of his robe like a cat, and physically separates the two of them. The two disciples gawk at how weird that was and he has no idea how to come up with an excuse for whatever the hell that just was. 

Instead he asks what they’re doing. 

Shen Yuan, being polite and answering the question: Liu-shidi and I are heading on a mission soon-

Luo Binghe: this master shall join you.

Shen Yuan: uh… it's a very simple request, two disciples are more than en-

Luo Binghe: this. Master. Shall. Join. You.

Liu Qingge: ???? What the hell is his problem 

Shen Yuan: Okay… this disciple is grateful for shizun’s assistance…?

Their flight to the village is dead quiet. 

The townspeople sigh theyre so glad they’re here, some demonic creature has been destroying their wildlife! This area makes most of their money with lumber exports, so if the creature continues to destroy their trees, it’ll result in huge losses. 

When they find the demon, Shen Yuan starts yapping non stop. It’s like he’s suddenly transformed into a textbook, explaining that this little beaver-esque demon needs to chew up trees for its survival. Luo Binghe is bored out of his mind and pulls out his sword. 

Shen Yuan gaps and picks up the small creature, holding it protectively against his chest. “This species isn’t even violent! We can’t kill it!” 

Luo Binghe crosses his arms and says they have to complete this commission somehow. Shen Yuan argues they can simply relocate the demon somewhere else! Luo Binghe expects Liu Qingge to complain or brutishly try to kill it, but he shrugs and says he’ll follow Shen Yuan. Apparently this happens regularly…

By the time they rehome the creature somewhere it won’t be a bother, it’s too late to fly back to the sect.

The only close by inn apologizes and says they only have two rooms left, and each one is a single bed. They can have a mat sent up, but…

Binghe says he should room with Shen Yuan because they’re both from Qing Jing, and (he glares at Liu Qingge as he says this) Liu Qingge is an outsider. Liu Qingge narrows his eyes and says it would be inappropriate for a peak lord to share a room with a lowly disciple, so he should room with Shen Yuan. 

Shen Yuan cheerfully chimes in that he and Liu-shidi sleep together all the time! “Whenever shidi and I camp outdoors, he says he prefers sleeping on the ground. He’ll be happy to take the mat.”

Luo Binghe's smile becomes a little forced, but shen Yuan doesn't even notice the murderous intent rolling off his shizun, aimed at his friend from Bai Zhan. 

In the end, Shen Yuan gets one room, and Liu Qingge gets the other. Luo Binghe insists his cultivation is high enough he doesn’t need to sleep, and had no intention to sleep tonight anyway.

This is a perfect time to go and find a brothel or a hookup. He realizes this is the longest he’s gone without sex in a long time, all because he’s been obsessed with Shen Yuan so much lately. But he’s got too much on his mind to do that tonight… He’s still thinking of the loving way Shen Yuan protected that small helpless demon, going as far as defying a peak lord for its sake.

Shen Yuan is… someone with shockingly good character. Despite being surrounded by cultivators, meeting people who are good is surprisingly rare. He doesn’t want his sweet disciple to have that lovely sense of justice stolen away from him by… gross perverts like Liu Qingge lusting after him! 

(He’s not projecting!)

He’s already neglected Shen Yuan as a shizun for so many years. Now he has to step and make up for all that time! He’s decided what he has to do. 

First thing in the morning, he knocks on Shen Yuan’s door. He hears a sweet ‘Come in!’ from inside and for some reason he feels… really nervous. Inside, Shen Yuan is sitting on his bed, brushing his hair, and he smiles when he looks up and sees Luo Binghe. “Good morning, shizun.”

Good morning??? How can he say something so casually, without a hint of shame, looking like that?? He’s wearing nothing but one layer that’s not even thick enough to hide his body! He can see Shen Yuan’s milky thighs and small chest!!!! What the fuck!?

(Is this how he walks around the shared dorms on Qing Jing? Do all the other disciples see the outline of his body through his thin layer every morning?? The longer he stares, the more he tells himself he’s making the right decision by doing this.)

He cuts right to the chase. “Once we return, Shen Yuan shall move his belongings into the bamboo house. This lord will teach him all there is to know about being Qing Jing’s head disciple.” He makes it clear that this is a statement, not a request – he’s not giving Shen Yuan a choice. 

Shen Yuan gawks at him, and Luo Binghe says they’ll discuss things more in detail once they return to Qing Jing, but from this moment on, he represents himself as Luo Binghe’s head disciple. It takes Shen Yuan a few minutes to really comprehend what’s going on, but eventually he bows in thanks and throws on another, thicker layer. Shen Yuan moves for the door and says, “I better tell Liu-shidi-”

Luo Binghe’s hand moves before he can stop himself, and they’re both surprised by the deathly tight grip he has on Shen Yuan’s wrist. 

Luo Binghe clears his throat and lets go. “You should let him be. Sometimes if you spend too much time with a person, it can become off-putting.” There, surely that will keep Shen Yuan away from that brute, right?

Shen Yuan says, “Ohhh,” and then smiles. “Don't worry shizun,” he says gently, “This disciple understands what you're saying. Once I move into the bamboo house, I'll make sure to give shizun his space.” 

Then Shen Yuan walks away and closes the door behind him. Luo Binghe can hear Shen Yuan telling Liu Qingge the good news, “I don’t know if shizun is joking or not, but wouldn’t it be nice for us to do our head disciple work together?” 

Luo Binghe realizes that Shen Yuan is going to RUIN him, and he’ll do it without even realizing. 

[cuttlekiss-mlp]

thought i might attempt to start off strong with my mlp infection au

this is still a pretty big WIP, especially with all of the characters. i've been very thorough with how i want things to go, so i've been taking my time with it.

stuck with a sketchier style bc it fit the vibe of what i wanted so well

MY LITTLE CATASTROPHE : SPIKE AND TWI

!!!TW: DESCRIPTIONS OF GORE!!! "Dear Princess Celestia, I have made a grave mistake, and my judgement is no longer sound. I have ruined everything. I am in search of a cure for what I have created. It cannot be destroyed. Normal magic cannot undo what I have done. He is gone, but maybe I can save the others. I am sorry that this letter has not been sent to you in a timely fashion. He is gone. I had to send this letter via pony mail. Please forgive me for all I have done. Friendship is not strong enough to save us. My friends have abandoned me. They know what I have done. Your faithful student, your failure, Twilight Sparkle."

Between all of the commotion of Sombra's defeat and Twilight's ascension as an alicorn, no one was quick to notice a very important missing person. As soon as Twilight realized her favorite baby dragon was not there to greet her and celebrate, she felt sick to her stomach. Where was he? Spike was found by Cadence. He was delivered to Twilight wrapped in her large pink wings, wounded beyond what could be saved. He was already dead when he was found. Her baby dragon was gone.

No amount of friendship or comfort could console the new princess. She laid with her body curled around Spike, and her cries filled the courtyard for hours. It took two days for her to move from that spot and head home towards Ponyville, where Spike would be buried in front of her home. But she could not bare the thought. Spike could not be gone, not forever.

When she returned home, she holed up in her tree house. The doors locked, the curtains covered the windows, and there was nothing but silence. Twilight worked tirelessly for hours, using magic to preserve her baby dragon's body long enough to find a spell that would erase what happened. Spike would not be dead for much longer. The power of friendship and love would bring him back to life. It had to.

She explained to her friends that if they used the Elements of Harmony, theoretically, he could be revived. They had their reservations. No one thought it was a good idea...but Rainbow Dash talked them into trying. Twilight was hurting, she needed her friends to be there for her. However, their attempts were in vein. Spike was not revived.

Despite their failed attempts, Twilight remained stubborn and persistent. She could not let this happen. Spike could not be gone. Everyone was starting to worry about her, but no amount of convincing could change her mind. They refused to continue trying. They did not believe in her and that made her very angry.

Returning into hiding, Twilight's determination became concrete. She did not sleep, she barely ate. Dash visited frequently, while the others had resolved that Twilight needed time and space. She was the only reason the princess ate anything at all. Twilight soon caught reference to a spell in one of her books. This spell was in a particular book in Canterlot's library...and that is where she would go. She packed up and she made her way swiftly to Canterlot. Unfortunately, the book was locked away, for it's magic was forbidden and dangerous. But this did not matter to her. Twilight broke into the library, stole the book, and rushed off to Ponyville. She would not allow anything to stand in her way. Spike could not be gone.

The spell required an intense amount of magic. Twilight would need help to cast the spell, to bring Spike back. But, none of the other elements would help her. They insisted she lay Spike to rest. She refused. How could they ever say such a thing? How could they give up on Spike? How could they not believe in her?

Twilight took it upon herself to cast the spell. She took the Elements of Harmony and she wielded them herself. Bright beams of pink light flooded out of her curtains...

!!!TW BEGINS!!!

"Twilight. . ." A soft, exhausted voice called from the explosion that was her living room. Twilight could barely hear it's faintness, but his voice was unmistakable. She blindly stumbled towards the voice, to find Spike. When she found him, she was first overjoyed. Spike was getting up! Spike was alive!! Bright pink and sparkling ooze spilled from his chest as he rose from his bed. "Twilight?" His voice was louder and sounded panicked? "What is happening-" his voice cut off with a sickening gurgle. Pink bursted from his mouth, and he coughed and wheezed, trying desperately to regain his breath. His eyes were bleeding, or were they rotting? Twilight couldn't tell. She rushed to his side and she held him. Spike choked and convulsed, pink ooze spilling all over his bed and onto the floor and onto her. And then...he stopped. Unsure of what happened, of what to do, Twilight stared in disbelief, in heartbreak. Had she revived him only to suffer yet another painful death? Tears welled in her eyes and she cried out with unbearable pain.

Between her cries and uncontrollable sobbing, she didn't hear Dash break through one of her windows. She held Spike and cried and cried. The house was a mess and Twilight was a mess and covered in pink ooze and Spike was a mess and pink ooze was still coming out of him. Despite her best efforts, Twilight would not let go of Spike. She snapped at Dash to leave her alone, and that is what Dash did. She didn't want to, but what was there to do?

Twilight fell asleep in the midst of her crying, holding her baby dragon close and covering him with her wings.

She woke to a gurgling growl and a terrifying creature standing above her, with pink, sparkling drool dripping from it's mouth. It's eyes were dark and lifeless but little pink glowing orbs betrayed it's gaze. It stared and growled and breathed raspy, shallow breaths. Twilight pushed it away in fear, scrambling up from Spike's bed. That is when she realized what the creature was. It was Spike...but it wasn't truly. He twitched and groaned and dripped pink ooze.

Before she knew it, a knock came at her door. Spike's head snapped towards the sound.

The door opened.

Spike lunged.

Screams and Spike's growls erupted.

What had she done?

[spdrwdw]

Could you possibly do a dbf (dads best friend) miguel.? nsfw Ty!😋

Ps. I love your stories

While I am okay with doing age gaps, both parties must be of legal age. I hope headcanons are okay! I had too many ideas and couldn’t narrow it down lol

♡DBF!Miguel Headcanons♡

Warnings: 18+ content, MDNI, age gap, smut, nsfw

A/N: If any other writers out there are interested in using any of my headcanons for a fic, please let me know! I wouldn’t mind as long as you credit me. I would turn this to a fic myself, but I already got my hands full with other wips. ❤️

DBF!Miguel who you met for the first time at your dad's country club. You couldn't help but to steal glances over his way, and unbeknownst to you, he was doing the same.

DBF! Miguel who went to your house one day to hang out with your dad, they were going to watch a game on tv. While your dad was outside firing the grill, Miguel couldn't help but stare at you as you lounged around by the pool in your swimsuit, soaking up some sun. You could see him staring at you through your sunglasses, a slight smirk lifting your lips. DBF! Miguel who came over to your house one day while your parents were away to fix something for your dad. You were upstairs in your room studying for your college exams when he passed by, seeing you in nothing but a tank-top and panties as you laid sprawled out on the bed. You turned around and noticed him just staring at your by the doorway before he quickly left. This made you want to make him notice you more. So, you started wearing the most revealing pieces of clothing you had.

DBF! Miguel who came over again for another game night with your dad. You did your hair and makeup and wore the most revealing dress you had, making your way downstairs over to the kitchen. You swayed your ass as you walked, making you he would notice you, and he did. That was the first time he had made his way into your room. DBF! Miguel who would come over more often while your parents weren't home, and not because he was going to fix something. At first it was a little awkward between the two of you when you were along with him, but, he was always gentle with you. It was rather sweet. However, as your private encounters occurred more frequently, you wanted him to not be as gentle with you.

DBF! Miguel who would by laying on your bed, his large frame taking over the majority of the bed, his legs dangling over the edge because of how big he was. He would help you with any homework that you may have, even help you study for tests. After you were done, he'd eat your pussy out as a reward. His tongue practically swallowed your folds, he usually didn't even need to use his fingers to get you undone, but when he did, your body would be quivering and flailing as you begged him for release, which he always gladly awarded you. DBF! Miguel who's cock was just so big that the first time you had intercourse, you honestly thought he was going to break you. But, he didn't. He filled you up rather nicely and after that, you had gotten addicted to him stretching you and pounding into you, filling you with his cum. Of course, he'd ask if you were on any form of birth control first. DBF! Miguel who will shoot you a pointed look whenever you tease him from under the table. You'll be sitting across from him and slip off your shoe, reaching over and rub his crotch with your foot. He would have to bite his lip from letting out a groan, and you could feel his cock growing hard underneath his pants.

DBF! Miguel who would give you a lift to and from your University, sporting his shiny sports car. The some car in which he would fuck you senseless in while parked in some secluded area. The windows would be tinted so no one could see what was going on inside. DBF! Miguel who'd call you a 'good girl' whenever you take his cock into your mouth and suck him off. He loved it when he came in your mouth and would see streams of his cum drooling from the corners of your mouth because it was just too much for you to swallow it all.

DBF! Miguel who secretly loves it when you call him ‘daddy’ while he rails you. It puts him on edge and he knows it won’t be long until he is spilling himself inside you. DBF! Miguel would you let you ride him on your bed. He's be surrounded by your plushies, which was actually pretty humorous to you. Here was a big man getting fucked by you while surrounded by all of your cutesy plushies.

DBF! Miguel who would low-key be your sugar-daddy because he would always be buying you things, no matter how expensive it was. He would take you on his yacht and fuck you either in the cabin or out on the deck.

[nonstoplover]

sleep without you ~ charles leclerc (cl16)

my masterlist | my f1 masterlist

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

song inspiration: sleep without you ~ brett young

summary: charles struggles to function properly without her by his side, or a story of a night without his girlfriend.

words: 2.1K

warnings: nothing, just fluff and a slightly clingy charles baby <3

a/n: idk why but this song honestly screams charles to me whenever i hear it, so i just had to make it happen. also this was supposed to be posted on my one year f1-aversary as celebration (well technically it should be more if counting my childhood f1 years but anyway), but i was so caught up in another wip that i couldn't do it. so happy anniversary to me and f1 (two weeks late) with this lil ficlet <3 thankful for all that f1 gave me.

big thanks to the amazing lovely silverstonesainz for helping me make this better and to the equally awesome monzabee for making me much less anxious with her words. love you sm queens!!

please, don't be a ghost reader, leave a comment or rb!

Charles spends a whole afternoon trying to convince her to have a night out with her friends. Just because they're in a relationship doesn't mean they can't have fun without the other as well from time to time. There are still a couple of weeks left of winter break, plenty of opportunity to spend time just the two of them before the season starts again. So the usual point of view, the usual reasoning doesn't stand a chance – that they should spend as much time together as they can, before he's back to travelling all around the world.

"Go to a club, grab some drinks, dance and laugh the night away", he tells her. The usual bestie coffee dates or walks in the park that she usually raises as argument are not the same as a night out, and she hasn't done that for so long now. Definitely not since he's been back home, and he knows just how much she enjoys dancing her heart out.

(y/n) agrees after a short while, accepting his reasons, knowing full well that he's right, and after a few phone calls she starts getting ready, soon walking out the front door, dressed all pretty and dolled up.

Doesn't take long before Charles realises what he's done. A feeling tingles in his chest, one he recognises swiftly. He's miserable. Solely because she's not there by his side, as he makes dinner, eats it – all by himself –, before settling on the couch to occupy himself with a movie. It doesn't matter though, he doesn't pay any attention to it. He doesn't even know what's going on, he hasn't heard a single line, too busy thinking about her.

When the credits start to roll, he switches the TV off with a surprised look in his eyes – how did it already end? He doesn't even remember the first scene ending. Then he moves into the bathroom to do his night routine, from taking a shower to putting on some skincare products, all the while wondering how long she will be out for? Will she come home soon? Hope tingles in his chest that the answer to his question is yes.

Having finished with everything, Charles lies down in bed, trying to read a book, then scrolling on social media, doing anything to keep his mind from straying over and over again back to her. He knows this is stupid, he was the one telling her to go out, why is he like this now? Lying awake on his side of the bed, the fingers on his right hand tracing figures onto the sheet where her body usually rests.

This is pathetic, Charles thinks. He never thought he would be like this, so miserable and impatient just because she's not at home, with him. He's tossing around, unable to find a comfortable position for himself – it seems like he forgot how to sleep without her. No matter how many times he's had to do just that, in hotel rooms all around the world. The past few weeks erased all those nights from his mind.

The delicious scent of her shampoo fills his lungs when his face lands just a bit too close to her pillow, and all of a sudden it's like he's burying his nose in her hair. It only makes him miss her more. Sleeping is impossible, he knows it now. He's only daydreaming, not actually dreaming, of her arriving home and being in his arms again.

Charles imagines the way she dances in the middle of the floor, her hands in the air, shouting the lyrics loudly to the song currently playing – most probably something she knows and loves –, and he can't help but smile fondly. Just the thought of her having fun is enough to make him happier, even in his misery.

He pictures a scene where a random guy tries to get too close to her, as it has happened so many times, whenever he leaves her alone for a few minutes at any club they've been to. It doesn't matter where they are, doesn't matter if they spent the night so far together, all over each other, someone comes into the picture immediately when he leaves, either to grab a drink for the two of them, or to go to the restrooms.

It's not like he doesn't understand those guys. She's simply gorgeous, and radiates such a vibrant aura that everyone is drawn to her. He honestly just finds it funny at this point. Nothing makes these men back off more effectively than her. Oh, the amount of times he bit back laughter watching the scene unfold from a distance. Seeing men crumble and disappear looking all ashamed, what a sight that is. And he doesn't have to do anything.

He wonders how many times she's had to fight off guys so far tonight, with him not even in the club, and he finds he can't wait to hear all her stories of the newest victims. Pierre never understood why Charles found it so amusing, he didn't seem to get it. The trust they have in each other. Knowing that it's him she'll come home to at the end of the night is enough to make him only feel entertained by each instance, and not irritated at the slightest bit.

But thinking about (y/n) fighting off men is only good enough entertainment for a limited amount of time, and soon the smile fades back into a miserable pout on his lips, as his thoughts turn back into ones of impatience, trying to make time move faster with short little prayers falling as mumbles from his lips.

With a sigh, he eventually sits up, looking around to find something he can do. At last he decides on grabbing a drink himself, maybe it will help stop the flow of thoughts racing in his head. A little welcomed dullness.

He takes a seat at the kitchen table, sipping on the liquid in his glass, enjoying the feeling of the light alcohol gently burning his throat on the way down, numbing his tongue along the way. His fingers stay restless, now drumming on the wooden surface. A few minutes later he realises they play a song, soundless except the soft thud of his fingertips with the occasional louder tap or little scratch of his nails when a finger finds a different angle to hit the table with.

A melody appears in his mind as he watches his fingers move, imagining how it would sound if it was his piano instead of the kitchen table. He would go sit at the beautiful, white instrument and try it, but he doesn't want to be so loud at such a late hour. And anyway, he's way too comfortable sitting where he is to stand up and go somewhere else.

He looks out the window, catching sight of the moon – almost full, just a tiny bit of it missing, and Charles examines the craters that are visible to the naked eye, though only as spots of a darker shade on the round shape.

Maybe he'll name this new musical piece that's being born in his head right now after her – well, if he ever finishes it. He'll keep the usual format, three letters of a city name and a date, only this time putting the time and place of when they first met. Or should it be the time and place of when he first asked her out? Or their first date? Or when she agreed to move in with him? God, there are way too many options to choose from. He decides to put this problem aside for now, he's not in a rush to name a song not even written yet.

As the clock on the oven changes all four numbers to display 2am, the action rouses his attention and makes him tear his eyes away from the moon and look at the numbers instead.

He would've never ever thought that he'd be like this.

Raising his glass he notices that there's only a small sip left in it, which he downs in a short moment. His tongue darts out to gather all the minuscule drops that might rest on his lips still, not wanting to waste even that much of the delicious drink. Then he stands up, placing the glass down into the sink, making a mental note to clean it in the morning before (y/n) wakes up.

Just as he ponders putting another movie on, maybe only as background noise if nothing else, his phone buzzes in the pocket of his pants. Taking his time, Charles pulls the device out, expecting nothing more than a useless notification from a social media app he shouldn't spend so much time on anyway.

Instead what he finds is a text. From her.

in a cab, be home soon &lt;3

Charles lets out a relieved sigh, his lips involuntarily curving into a smile, one that you could almost call giddy. It's not just the thought that she's going to be here soon, but the fact that she remembered to text him to let him know. He's in her mind, just like she's in his, even though she's been out with friends, having fun, drinking, while he's only been at home, all alone with his misery.

Now he can move back to bed happily, knowing that shortly she will join him.

It truly doesn't take long until Charles hears the front door creak as it opens, then the familiar jingle of her keys hitting the drawer in the hall, and his heart flutters with happiness. Finally. The high heels she chose to wear hit the floor with a soft thud as she presumably removes them, and the growing anticipation in his body seems to eat him whole.

Her steps grow louder and louder as she moves closer to the bedroom, and time slows for Charles. He watches in slow motion as she appears in the doorframe, being propped up on his elbows to have a better view, a lazy smile curling onto his face, and his eyes lidded with drowsiness.

"You're still awake?" (y/n) giggles, pausing in her steps for a second as her eyes take in the view he provides lying there. His lack of reply to her text made her think he's already fallen asleep.

"Of course," he mumbles. "Come to bed."

His voice is whiny and he behaves like an actual child, he knows, but he can't help it. He wants to sleep, and he wants to sleep beside her, feeling her warmth against his skin. That's the only way he can.

"Let me get changed first," she starts towards the closet, when a grunt of pure displeasure sounds from him along with the thump of his back as he falls into a lying position once more, making her glance back at her boyfriend. "What, can't wait a single minute?"

"No," he protests, pouting . "I've been waiting for hours."

His accent comes forth stronger when he's sleepy, and she can't help but smile adoringly upon hearing it. He's just so cute.

"Okay, fine, you'll get one kiss," she gives in. Charles resembles a lost puppy and she's sure he knows that's her weakness. She can't ever say no to anything when he looks like that.

So that's how she finds herself crawling into bed, trying to get as close as possible to the boy without causing damage to her dress. He grins, as much as his tired facial muscles allow, awaiting her lips touching his own. His pout becomes even more apparent, right until the moment he finally gets what he wants. His goodnight kiss. It's soft, slow and just so full of love it makes both their hearts flutter.

Then she caresses his cheek gently, whispering a barely audible good night, sleep tight to him, before moving back off the bed to disappear in the closet, leaving Charles to think about how he'd happily convince her again of going out if it means she'll come home to him, looking so radiant, properly buzzing with energy, eyes shining, hair messy but still looking so breathtaking. It's obvious how much it meant to her that she had this night out. He made her happy with telling her to go out with her friends, and he didn't regret it, despite all the miserable hours.

By the time she finishes her night routine and walks back into the bedroom once more, he's fast asleep, quiet snores filling the silence of the room. She bites into her bottom lip to keep in the giggle threatening to burst out, and with a heart full of adoration and a head slightly dizzy from the drinks she's had, she gets in bed beside him, snuggling up close to him, revelling in the feeling of his arms instinctively finding their way around her body even when he's sleeping.

He truly only waited for her to come home and give him a goodnight kiss to finally be able to fall asleep.

[the-californicationist]

Ursa Major: Ch. 01

In honor of WIP Wednesday, I thought I’d share Chapter One of my 100k+ word WIP on Tumblr! It’s your responsibility to check AO3 for tags. Thanks for taking a look ✌️🩷

You stood, transfixed, as you saw two bull elk, locked at their antlers, fighting for territory. The wide nares of their snouts were flared and desperate for air, gasping for a breath that they would never take. The taxidermied animals were perched, caught in a perpetual battle above the baggage claim carousel of Whitehorse International Airport. Their big, furry bodies were poorly reflected in the shining aluminum of the bag ramp, scuffed and scratched from years of loose luggage rattling over its gleaming slats. They looked as if they were poised over some frozen lake, their forms distorted in the gray ice, faces blurred so that the battle was even more gruesome than it seemed, every detail between them hidden by the frozen sheets. 

You peered down at your phone, checking through your emails once again. Your package of equipment had arrived at your client’s office, and he’d been nice enough to send a confirmation picture. He was standing in front of a mirrored window, and you finally got to put a face to a name. 

Mr. John Price, owner of The 141 Logging Company, had great taste in music. His Arctic Monkeys band tee looked well-worn and long-loved, its logo chipping and faded. He was bundled up in his Carhart coat, holding his phone in a gloved hand, and his pants were practically painted with saw dust. You closed the email. You weren’t sure why you kept pulling it up. It wasn’t like his face was going to get any clearer, and you weren’t really sure why you cared. 

Okay, let’s be truthful; you knew why you cared. He was absolutely killing your checklist.

Back in the eighth grade, you had lain on your floor with your best friend Martha. Her braided hair with its hot pink bobbles swayed back and forth as she insisted that you make The Checklist. Otherwise, she’d said, how will you know that you’ve found The One? So, with much convincing, you’d finally caved. 

He’d definitely have to love animals. You were going to be a vet one day, and that was a non-negotiable. He’d be sort of hairy. Martha had turned her nose up at that, but you’d seen that movie with Hugh Jackman as Wolverine before, and you refused to budge. He’d also love nature. Martha had protested that you double-dipped since you already had animals, but you insisted. You would never live in a city when you were a grown-up. Never.

And he’d need to have kind eyes. What color? Martha asked. But, you shrugged and said it didn’t matter. You knew, though, that in your heart of hearts, that you’d know them when you saw them. They’d be eyes that lit up the room when he smiled. When he wasn’t smiling, they’d be soft and patient. They’d look at you while you spoke, and the edges of them would fold together when he laughed. 

You turned back to the elk. Their eyes, distant and unseeing, shone like onyx marbles. The two animals stared at each other as they experienced their terrible, static afterlife, forced to face their mortality every morning when the sun came in through the windows of the small airport. You wondered how their skin had been stretched to fit over their hollow sculptures; you wondered how much of them was real and how much was just an illusion of reality. Perhaps there were more things like these two beasts in the space that surrounded you. Just how much of this world was truly a façade? 

He’d left you some voice messages, preferring to send memos instead of typing to text. It was nothing personal, just dates for meetings and practical matters. But, you found yourself replaying them, indulgently, listening to his unique, British vowels rumble around in a deep, dark register, reminding you of your neighbor who used to smoke. It was a raspy sort of tone, full of softness despite the gravelly texture. You listened to him speak his address in your headphones. Then, you played it again. The way he said Alaska Highway was particularly delightful. You tried to stop, a part of you policing yourself, finding it odd that you were enjoying the voice of a strange man. But, what was the harm?

If you listen to the voice of Master Logger John Price, but you don’t tell anyone, will anyone ever know? If a tree grows in a forest, and it dies there, and all of its pieces rot away, and no one was there to see it, was it truly real? 

These elk had been real, you were certain of that. Their hooves had crunched through dry grass and fresh snow. Their antlers had shed and grown back again. Perhaps they had even battled when they were alive, their blood pumping through their huge hearts, stirring their muscles and making them whistle their war cries into the frigid mornings. 

That was the thing you liked most about working with animals. They made you feel real. In fact, sometimes they made you feel primal, as if you were with them at the start of all of this. 

Before the airports and the electricity and the capitalism there had been quiet, uninterrupted mornings where the biggest news was that one elk had bested the other. You would pick winter berries and watch them posture against each other across the frozen field, unhurried in your work, knowing nothing of time or its passing. Nothing had been obscured then; no bodies were posed carefully for your enjoyment. There was only the animal need to eat and mate and sleep. You reminisced about a life you had never lived.

Just when you thought your backpack might never be delivered, and you too would be frozen here for all eternity, just like these elk, the baggage carousel came alive. All the metal clattered together like the opening tuning of an orchestra. The whining and whirring of the machine spinning awake jolted you back to reality where you waited a little impatiently for your colorful Cotopaxi to come tumbling down the slide. 

You checked your phone. The inn you had booked belonged to an old friend of yours, and she had promised to send you the address. You sent her a picture of the elk locked in their ritual.

You: made it to the great white north

She took a few minutes to respond. Your bag was still missing from the chute. You shuffled aside and helped an older gentleman with his insanely heavy case. Then, a soft pop notified you of her reply. 

Marie: looking forward to having you here!

She tacked on the address, and you pasted it into your map app. The airport, it seemed, was right next to downtown Whitehorse, but you’d need to take a cab all the way around it via the Alaska highway in order to make the loop. Ten minutes. Short and sweet. You hoped the bed would be serviceable. 

It wasn’t like you needed to get comfy. You were here to get in and get out. These logging companies never wanted an eco-specialist to stick around for too long. They could only keep up their angelic act for a short period of time before they went back to ravaging the landscape. People like you would just be in the way of their profits. You wondered if Mr. Price was like the rest of them, or if the kindness you thought you saw was genuine. 

You were looking forward to seeing Marie, though. She had been Marie LeBeau back in vet school when you enrolled together in the DMV program at Washington State, but she was married now. You hadn’t updated her contact card, yet. It didn’t really matter. You guessed you’d get to meet the husband on this trip. Apparently, it was his inn, and she just helped him run it. As a small animal vet in a tiny little town, you supposed Marie’s spay and neuter jobs weren’t enough to keep food on the table. 

A flash of color popped up in the carousel, and your bag emerged. You hoisted it up by the shoulder strap and marched to the car park. Your work boots made sticky little squeaks against the linoleum floor as you made your way outside. It was warm for the Yukon, even for June, and although there was a chill in the wind, the sun beamed down through the 70 degree weather. By all accounts, it was turning out to be a beautiful day. 

Hailing a cab wasn’t too hard when they were all parked there, waiting like fish by a dock, knowing they’d be fed. You picked the first one on the line and showed him the address. Of course, in a small town like this, there were only so many places travelers could go, so he wasn’t too surprised. 

The drive was short, and you admired the general splendor of the mountains and the quaint little town as you made your way in. Your driver pulled over, grabbed your bag from the trunk, and patiently waited for you to pull out your cash. He left you his card, 

“That way you’ll always have a ride, darlin’.”

“Thanks very much,” you smiled, leaving him a tip. 

He returned the smile and drove off, back the way he came. You turned around to face the old inn, feeling the afternoon sun kissing your cheeks and the wind rushing to make them pink. The tips of your hair stung them like needles, biting into your flesh relentlessly. You tugged it back with your scrunchie. 

The building looked like it used to be a factory of some kind, and its clay bricks told a story of many years worth of wear and tear. The giant buzzing neon sign out front said WHTHRS. All the vowels were out. You wondered about the odds of that before looking up further at a great stallion, bucking in his bright white neon piping, his hair billowing and yet static, captured in an eternal winnie. His rider was struggling to keep his seat, but his hat was held tightly in his hand, blinking sporadically in the dimming sun. 

The inn was situated on the corner of 2nd Avenue and Main Street, so there seemed to be plenty to keep you interested, at least for six or seven days. But, you were eager to get to work. Even in a tiny town like Whitehorse, the bustle of cars and people was a little much. You missed the woods, like a feral cat who had allowed herself to be domesticated, and a part of you still longed to be wild. 

“There she is!” You heard Marie’s distinct Southern drawl shout from the doorway to the inn.

You smiled, opening your arms wide for a tight hug, burying your face in her long hair,

“Marie! It’s so good to see you.”

It truly was a relief to be with your friend again. You studied her face. She hadn’t changed a bit even though vet school had been nearly a decade in the past. Her dark hair still had that signature white streak in the front. She’d always blamed it on a birthmark, but it wasn’t until you went on a two week trip down to Costa Rica on a field work assignment that you believed her. It was such an elegant shock of white, it looked like she’d dyed it on purpose. 

“How was your flight? Here,” she grabbed your bag, “Give me that. Come in, come in! Logan’s at the bar.”

She popped into the inn, and you followed close behind. Once inside, you took in the mesmerizing transformation of the run-down factory. They had done so much work on the inside, it felt like you had been transported to a different building altogether. The high walls stretched up so far that the golden glow from the lanterns and lamplight couldn’t reach the arched ceiling. The metal I-beams that spanned across the large, open space were imposing; it made you imagine how this place had looked when it had been filled with machines.

To the left of the entrance, Logan’s bar was generously stocked with gleaming glass bottles of liquors and wines as varied as you could imagine. The rich amber liquid of a whiskey bottle swirled around like boiling honey as the bartender poured it out into a waiting glass. The bar was wide and inviting, and the bartop itself was made from one long piece of live edge maple, shiny from sealant, showing off a gorgeous grain.  

The bartender, who you assumed was Logan, was scruffy to say the least. He had a bit of a mullet, and his sideburns were serious business. But, he was painfully attractive, and his eyes held within them an animal magnetism. His golden irises didn’t even seem real. When he smiled, your subconscious registered how sharp those bright white teeth of his were, but you smiled back, extending your hand.

“Hey, nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” that sharp smile was back, and his voice slid over you like warm honey, “I’ve heard more about you than I’ve ever heard about anyone, so we can skip this part, if you like.” He laughed good-naturedly, and you could see exactly what Marie liked about him.  

“I’ve heard so much about you as well.”

“Make yourself at home. Looks like we’ve got you all set up in the loft.”

You peered up the small wooden staircase toward the loft area, shrouded in darkness due to its height, and you noticed two doors. Logan pointed to them and explained,

“We’re on the left, and you’re on the right. Marie will take you up.”

“You live here?” You turned to Marie in surprise, not realizing their inn was also their home. 

“Yeah!” Marie shrugged her shoulders, “It’s easy enough. If we really need a break from the crowd, we’ll stay out in the cabin.”

“Mm,” you raised your eyebrows, teasing her, “Romantic.”

She gave Logan a look that stopped your giggling, surprising you with her candidness, 

“You have no idea.”

You followed her up the stairs and deposited your bags in your suite. It had a small bathroom and a kitchenette; everything you would need for your stay. It wasn’t exactly the Ritz, but it would do its duty. 

You started to unpack, chatting with Marie and trying to fill in the gaps each other had missed. You’d been on this sort of job three dozen times in the past year, and you were a traveling pro. All your clothes were pretty much the same; wool layers and flannels, waterproof hiking pants and all of your various undergarments. Then, stuffed at the bottom of your pack where he always was: Mr. Claw. Your mom had given him to you, along with some flowers, when you graduated with your DVM, and you didn’t go anywhere without your mini DJUNGELSKOG stuffed bear. You supposed you should feel some sort of shame as an adult woman carrying around an IKEA children’s toy, but you didn’t care. It brought your mom back, just for a moment, and that was all you wanted, sometimes. 

After unpacking, you made your way back down to the bar with Marie. You peered over the railing from your high vantage point, admiring the bar’s bustling, homey energy. Then, you spotted him. Your client was talking to Logan. He was much bigger than the barkeep, which you hadn’t really expected from the photo. Aside from his size, he was handsomely made, and just in your taste, too. All of your suspicions about him checking things off of your list were coming true. 

He was built with heavy muscles and bone, his posture exuded slick, easy confidence, and his fashion screamed masculinity. His thick, dark hair was cropped short on the sides, and he’d shaved only the chin of his facial hair; it was a unique choice, but it suited him. Even through layers of warm clothes, you could see the outline of mountainous shoulders rolling around in his jacket sleeves. He was also holding a black, full-face helmet by his side, his huge hand tucked into the mask’s hole, clutching it by the plastic jaw. A motorcycle in the Yukon was a brave choice. 

Marie’s eyes followed your gaze, and when she realized your fixation, she raised her eyebrows at you, 

“Guess you’ll be having fun on this trip, huh?”

“What do you mean?” Your eyes were still watching him. He drank. He talked. You studied it all as if it was your new purpose. 

“Aren’t you working on an ecological report for 141 Logging?”

“Yeah,” you finally met her eyes, nodding. 

She pointed down the stairs from where you stood in the dark rafters, 

“That’s the owner; John Price. C’mon, let me introduce you.”

You wanted to tell her that you knew him already, but that wasn’t quite right. One blurry snapshot and a few replayed voice memos wasn’t truly knowing a person. So, you followed Marie down the stairs, trying to fix your face. You coached yourself to be professional, and as he spotted you, you realized just how hard that was going to be. Those bright blue irises of his hunted you like a hawk, tracking you without moving an inch from the bar, pinning you down handsfree. His eyes were alluringly kind but calculating. 

“John,” Marie motioned to you, “Meet your new ecologist… and doctor of veterinary medicine… and professional researcher… and –”

“Hey there, Doc,” he interrupted Marie’s generous introduction, “John.”

His voice was even more decadent in person. People usually wielded your title like a weapon, trying to hurt you with it, or sometimes themselves, but not him. He said it with respect and a hint of amusement. His smile was genuine, if not a little aggressively friendly. You tried to ignore the way his hand slid into yours to shake it, engulfing yours with its immense size, as if his palm could swallow it whole. He lingered on you more than normal. It was as if he was testing you, seeing if you would run from him. You held fast, letting the warmth of his fingers melt into yours, comforting you even though it was the hand of a stranger. 

“Nice to meet you in the flesh, John. Looking forward to seeing your land.”

“It’s a little late for a tour, I’m afraid. Thought I’d come down to get you around 0400 tomorrow. Take you to the site with plenty of morning to spare. You said you wanted to lay out your cameras? Got that big shipment up at the office with your name on it.” 

He finally released your hand, much to your dismay. How was it that you missed a random man’s touch already? You weren’t usually this easy to please, but (you admitted to yourself with a little shame) it had been quite a while since someone had caught your eye. It was always work. That was what you told yourself. The work won’t hurt you. Do it for the animals. People just cause problems. So, you leaned on your old mantra like a crutch,

“Yeah, they should’ve sent you about a dozen trail cams and the wildlife field kits. If it’s okay with you, I’d just like to check the traffic you’ve got in that area. The report that came in said something about a grizzly hybrid? We’re a little too far south for polars.”

He shrugged, being a little more dismissive than you thought he should have been,

“Just some spooked tourists. Sure it was just a normal grizzly.”

His body language shifted from confidence to a reserved protectiveness, and you could almost taste the tension in the air. You eyed him with suspicion now. You knew that a grolar bear would be a problem for him. They were a protected species, and their discovery on his land would shut down his operation in that sector for good. 

“Did they get any footage?” You asked, trying to pry a little further.

“No,” he shrugged and turned away from you a bit, going back to his drink and downing it in one go. Clearly, he was done here. You got the sense he was holding back some information from you, but you weren’t concerned. You had a plan.

“Well,” you tread carefully, “Best for you and your bottom dollar if we make damn sure.”

He smiled, but it didn’t spread wide or reach up into his eyes, and that same aggression was back. White, sharp teeth lay all in a row. You’d thought Logan’s grin was wolfish, but John’s was something even more savage. 

He was friendly enough, but you needed to remember that he was there to harvest trees and nothing more. These companies were always in it for the profit. Even a logging venture as highly rated on sustainability as his still needed to sell products. You just didn’t want that poor bear to be caught in the crossfire. If he was out there, you’d find him.

“Alright, Doc. See you in the morning, then. Logan,” John reached across the bar to shake Logan’s hand, took one more long look at you, slid on his helmet, and pushed his way through the double doors. 

Whatever John Price was hiding, you were looking forward to finding out.

Logan and Marie convinced you to stick around the bar for a couple of drinks, and you watched them dote on each other. There was no mistaking their love. It was as bright as their neon outside, and buzzing with their own unique joy. You weren’t jealous. Jealousy wasn’t the right word. But, just like having curly hair and seeing someone’s bone-straight locks, unstyled and naturally uniform, you knew there were things that other people had that weren’t for you. 

You dismissed yourself, slinking up the stairs to lay in their spare bed, and before you slept, you called your mom. 

It rang three times, each with its own infinite silence between their chimes, and then, when she picked up the phone, it clattered a bit, getting stuck as she balanced it between her cheek and her shoulder. You had this next part memorized, and your mom's voice came through, loud and clear. 

“Hey… uh, hey! It’s Claire. Couldn’t make it to the phone – I know, shocker! Leave me a message. Uh, okay, bye!”

A deafening beep stung your eardrum. You knew it was coming. It always came. But, you sort of liked it now. The pain was familiar, and at least it was something you could feel. 

You reached over to the wall, crossing the chilly expanse of your bed, and turned the radiator up a bit. Snuggling down into the sheets, you clutched Mr. Claw to your chest, wishing with all of your heart that he was real and that you could be buried in his fur, warm and very much not alone.

[repulsiveliquidation]

earmuffs

Aitana Bonmatí x Reader [BLURB! angst.]

hey y'all! first work of the year! thank you all for being patient with me, i haven't been active one bit but hope you enjoy this one!

also send in more long aitana fic ideas! i have some blurb ones and one fic i have in my WIPs but i'd love to write more!

//

It’s New Year’s Eve in Barcelona and the whole team is together at Ona and Lucy’s house for the countdown. You’ve begrudgingly attended, your secret new girlfriend was insistent that you come before dragging you out of your house the day of. You’ve always hated fireworks, an accident when you were a kid in England that hurt your little brother still traumatized you despite it being years ago. The loud noises and the screaming didn’t help; you much preferred to be at home with all the windows locked tight and not a single curtain opened to hide under the blankets until the colorful lights were over.

"come on everyone, the countdown is in 10 minutes!”

Aitana stands, reaching out for your hand to help you up. She smiles softly before her face changes into one of confusion.

“Aren’t you coming?” she asks, reaching down to take your hand. You cringe and smile awkwardly, shaking your head.

“No, you go ahead Tana. I want to sit in here.”

“Bebita, it’s the uh fireworks! It’s pretty no? You can’t miss it, bebé.”

She tries to pull you up and you follow her, she walks ahead with a big smile as she joins the rest of your teammates on the deck.

You’re already trembling, reaching for the wicker chair on the deck to sit on. Kiera is beside you, she also happens to be the only one who knows about you and Aitana. She sees that scared look on your face, immediately rubbing your back as you sit.

“You okay, kid?”

“Uh, yeah. Just tired, that’s all.”

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, kiddo.”

Suddenly, Lucy is yelling while looking at her watch.

“3, 2, 1, HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!”

The team erupts in cheers and they start to light all their fireworks. Lucy managed to find big and loud ones this year, along with many long ones that you could hold and have them shoot out. You yelp in surprise when the first one goes off, a big box of 30 rounds blowing up in the middle of the garden. Aitana, who was watching you the entire time, hoping for a New Year’s kiss, saw the fear in your eyes before anyone else did. Her hands immediately pressed against your ears and they pulled you into her stomach as she stood between your legs and kissed your head. She leaned down and whispered in Catalan, you didn’t understand a thing but her soothing voice calmed you immediately. Tears streamed down your face but you held onto her, she didn’t move an inch until the fireworks stopped and the girls had retreated inside.

“Amor?” she said as she knelt, hands moving away from your ears to hold your wet face.

“Sorry, it’s stupid,” you begin, pushing her hands away and wiping the tearstains off your face. She huffs, grabbing your face again. She looks deep into your eyes with tears. You begin to panic, cooing at her to not cry. She sits beside you and takes your hands in hers.

“It’s not stupid, amor. You were panicking.”

“I’m a grown fucking adult, I shouldn’t feel this way,” you say with gritted teeth, wiping away frustrated tears as you stand and try to walk away from her. She’s small but defiant, grabbing your arm to make you face her. she’s got an angry look on her face that immediately disappears when she meets your eyes.

“Talk to me, amor. What’s going on, sí? I’ve never seen you like this before,” she says, pulling your body close to her. you’re just a foot taller, she tucks her face into your neck and leaves soft kisses.

The team watches from the inside with deep concern for their teammates, when suddenly everyone's phones are blowing up. Lucy opens her phone from where she’s sitting on the counter with Ona between her legs and gasps in shock. Patri had posted a New Year Instagram story and there was a brief two-second pan towards you and Aitana where she pecked your lips to calm you as her palms pressed against your ears.

“Patri, you idiot!” Alexia yells, chewing her out. There was no point in deleting it, the whole world knew that you were together.

Back outside, you and Aitana had moved to the stairs leading up to the porch to sit and talk. She held your hand in her lap, softly rubbing the back and occasionally kissing it. you leaned into her, head resting on her shoulder as you told her about your fear of fireworks.

“My cousins were being rough and not careful. Their parents told them they couldn’t play with it on New Year till my father got home but they didn’t listen. They lit one and pointed it right at me when my little brother jumped in front of one and got second-degree burns because his sweater caught on fire.”

Aitana listens carefully, eyes widened in shock when she learns the reason behind your fear. She leans in and kisses you softly, taking your hand in hers tighter.

“I wish you told me, cariño. I would have stayed home with you.”

“But you love the fireworks, I thought I could handle it; not. I’m sorry you couldn’t watch them.”

“No bebita, you were more important. Thank you for trusting me.”

"Te amo Tana, gracias por estar ahí para mí".

"Yo también te amo, mi niña.”

You two walk back inside where Alexia still hasn’t finished chewing Patri out she’s almost red in the face.

“What’s going on?” Aitana asks, gently guiding you into the kitchen where everyone is.

“Have you checked your phones, both of you?” Ona asks Alexia, taking a break and being handed a glass of water by Lucy.

“No,” you both say, pulling out your phones to see what’s all the fuss about.

“Oh fuck,” you whisper, hand going over your mouth in shock. The two-second clip of you and Aitana kissing while you were having a meltdown is going viral, already trending on X.

“Patri!” Aitana starts, already marching towards the much taller Spaniard. You stop her, grabbing her forearm. She turns around with rage in her eyes, fiercely wanting to protect your privacy more than hers. She softens when she sees the affection in your eyes, letting herself be pulled back to you.

“I don’t want to hide anymore, mi amor.”

“But bebita,” she begins, you cup her cheek and lean in to kiss her before she can finish her sentence. The whole room erupts with cheers and laughter, María capturing another picture of you two. She airdrops it to you as soon as you pull away from Aitana, Alexia already giving Patri a big hug and apologizing for yelling at her.

Back home that night, you post the picture María took and make it official. The world goes crazy, but you and Aitana knew that only the two of you mattered.

[writeforfandoms]

Homeward Bound 1

Find the series masterlist

Welcome to my newest wip, because dragons are my absolute favorite fantasy creature. Also, please leave canon at the door, this is a full on fantasy AU we're now entering.

Seriously. I have so much world building already done for this. Come ask me questions.

We've got a bit of a slow burn, dragons, baby dragons, and drama. What more could you want?

Eventual Simon Riley x f!reader

Warnings: Swearing, fantasy au rules, literal dragons.

Word count: 1k

You huffed as, yet again, Kyle and John invaded the nesting area. They had gotten more polite over the last weeks, but still. 

Truly, though, you couldn't entirely blame them. They were both in the group for this upcoming Hatching, and were very eager. John had been passed over last time, and Kyle was new this time. 

You would never tell them, but you had a good feeling for them, for this season. 

“Quiet down,” you told them, stern and no-nonsense, refusing to smile at their silliness. 

“Aw, we jus’ wanted te see,” John wheedled, his northern accent still strong despite his time in the capital. 

You rolled your eyes. “Quietly, then,” you stressed, taking a quick look round. Most of the dragons were still calm, only one or two first timers fidgety and anxious. Good enough. Nothing to fuss over. 

Kyle nodded eagerly, making a face at John. But the two were quick to look around the nests, whispering to each other. 

You just closed your eyes and leaned back in your seat. They'd be fine. And if they weren't, they'd get hissed at. 

Good enough. 

Yawning briefly, you blinked lazily up at the ceiling of the cave, which stretched far above your head. Strategic perches had been hewn into the rock over generations of dragons, giving plenty of spaces above the hatching grounds for the dragons to observe. The seating had been added for humans to observe, long before you. 

In a matter of weeks, the seats would be filled, and the cave would be the site of great joy once again. 

Kyle cleared his throat softly, prompting you to look at him instead of the ceiling. You raised one eyebrow in silent question. 

“You know best,” he murmured with a little smile. “How are they looking?”

“Healthy,” you murmured. “No issues that I can see. It's a good clutch this year.” 

“Good.” Kyle smiled, clearly pleased. “That's good to hear.” 

“You don't have long to wait now,” you encouraged gently, taking pity on the young man. 

He nodded, looking at the nests and the mothers with something akin to awe in his eyes. “Not long,” he agreed in a murmur. 

Your lips twitched in a smile, a little against your will. You had appearances to maintain, after all. “Go on,” you murmured. “Either go say hi to some of them, or go elsewhere.”

He shot you a look, a little startled and a little betrayed, but he nodded. He made the smart choice and went to the silver near you, greeting her. He'd be fine. 

You, instead, looked for John to make sure he wasn't getting into trouble. It took you a moment to spot him, way out by Ilsbet. Rather to your surprise, she had tucked him into her nest. 

Could be first-timer instincts, although most first-time mothers went the other way and drove everyone away from their nests… 

You meandered your way over there, smiling when Ilsbet chirruped at you in greeting, stretching her head out to gently nudge your shoulder. “Hi, sweetheart,” you murmured, scratching under her chin. “You seem to have a pest in your nest.” 

“Oi!” John's indignation was muffled somewhat. 

Ilsbet purred, trying to encourage you closer. Probably so she could tuck you into her nest along with John. 

“No, sweetheart.” You patted her nose. “I can't. We've talked about this, remember?” 

She drooped, massive green body only squishing John a little. He oofed. 

“Oh come now,” you scolded gently. “None of that, hm? Or your rider will insist I'm tormenting you.” 

“Are you not?” The dry question came from behind you. 

You didn't jump, but you did slowly turn to look. Ilsbet's rider was big and broad, blonde hair kept short, the usual fabric covering the lower half of his face. Brown eyes stared at you, impassive and unimpressed. 

“No, Simon. I am not tormenting your dragon.” You kept your tone flat as you spoke to him, none of the teasing warmth you had for Ilsbet coming through. 

Simon grunted once and stepped around you, staring down at John in his dragon's nest. “Out.” 

“But–” John started to protest. 

“Out,” Simon repeated, crossing his arms over his chest. 

John sighed but got out of the nest carefully. Ilsbet didn't even notice, busy purring and chirping at her rider. You did catch a glimpse of four eggs, shells still soft beige flecked with gold. Good. 

You were quick to back off and leave Simon alone. He was notorious for being difficult to get close to, even among the riders. And since this was Ilsbet's first time nesting… Well. You expected him to be extra grumpy. 

But the hatching wasn't that far away now, thankfully. 

You made your way back over to your seat, settling down again. In a little while, you'd check on the mothers, see if they needed anything. See if you could get another count on the eggs. 

But that would be in a little bit. For now, you found Kyle and John, watching them talk quietly. Your gaze wandered back to Simon, taking in the breadth of his shoulders, the way his body language had softened as he spoke to his dragon. 

He did have a heart. You'd known that, of course. You'd been at the hatching when he'd been selected. Dragons didn't select people who were heartless. 

Although how such a sweet dragon had selected someone as reserved as Simon… You would never understand. 

John and Kyle left, and Simon left not long after them. Your domain returned to quiet, the sand warm even through your shoes. All was as it should be. 

You breathed out slowly, eyes drooping half-closed again. This was better. 

Not too much longer until the hatching. 

Not that you went a single day without seeing Simon, as he came in to check on Ilsbet often. It was almost like he didn't trust you. 

Honestly, you weren't sure if it was just you, or if he was just like that in general. After several days of dealing with him, you were inclined to think he was just like that. 

Well. The hatching would be over soon, and then it was unlikely you'd see much of him for three more years.

[shadamyheadcanons]

Who would be the first to confess? Or the first to realize their feelings?

I’m of two minds on this. In my experience, the more common concept is “Shadow falls first, Amy falls harder.” This Twitter thread sums up the trope very well:

[Image ID: a screenshot of a tweet by user absolutesilly on April 17th, 2023 that reads, “it’s important to me that the “A fell first, B fell harder” trope ISN’T about B loving A more. it’s about A spending a long time just getting used to having this (seemingly) hopeless pining going on in the background 24/7, while B is just. hit by a truck with it all of a sudden.

fell first: been suppressing their emotions for so long that it’s like white noise to them. always there but mostly manageable. a bruise that only hurts when you press on it

fell harder: if We Don’t Get Married Tomorrow I’m Gonna Start Biting People” /.End ID]

And I don’t think I even have to clarify which one’s which. Shadow’s love is quiet and intense. He’s loyal and devoted. His affection is usually of the slow-burn variety. He hasn’t had any canonical crushes so far, but you can see it in his familial/platonic love for those he cares about. It’s natural to assume romance would be the same way.

And falling hard and fast is what Amy does. Need I mention Sonic? And her desire for marriage?

“Shadow has a crush on Amy for months/years until he suddenly sweeps her off her feet” is common for a reason. I’ve written plenty of it myself, including multiple WIPs. It was how I saw these two for a very long time, and there’s no denying that it’s compelling and in-character. If I were writing a shadamy-esque relationship in a movie, I’d write them that way.

HOWEVER...

I don’t think game canon is following that trajectory.

Under the cut: lots of ranting and images/hints, both old and new. You’ll recognize a lot of this if you’ve read my meta analysis posts, particularly why I ship them, how they’d resolve their arguments, and my feelings on TMOSTH. There’s a tl;dr and relevant headcanon at the end.

In my opinion, “Amy falls for Shadow later” doesn’t quite jive with canon because I think there’s ample evidence to suggest she already has a crush on him. It’s not as strong or obvious as the one she has on Sonic yet, but it’s there, just a little. To make a long story short:

She doesn’t look at someone like this...

[Shadow the Hedgehog 2005]

unless she has a crush on them:

[Sonic CD]

She doesn’t go out of her way to seek someone out this fervently...

[Sonic Battle]

...unless she has a crush on them:

[Sonic X]

She doesn’t insist on bringing someone along like this...

[The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog]

unless she has a crush on them:

Wallpaper posted on Sonic Channel 2/22/21. Art by Yuji Uekawa

One fun aspect of all of this is that the social media team seems to agree with me and keeps noticeably leaning into it. The Twitter Takeovers obviously aren’t canon and I’m not putting those in the “evidence” pile, but it’s cute how they keep having Amy act flustered about her feelings regarding him, and it’s definitely not something I’m imagining this time. It’s most obvious at 18:14 here:

The gushing, the stuttering...it’s obvious what they’re implying. Cindy Robinson’s very convincing at sounding smitten with him, which isn’t surprising considering her feelings on shadamy:

The question before that one in the Takeover arguably counts, too, and the social media team was primarily in charge of The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog, after all. This is consistent for them. There are plenty of other bits and pieces from them and the not-so-subtle marketing team these days, but I’d be ranting like a conspiracist and hunting down links all day if I got started on those.

^ Me at 2am.

I bring this up not just because it’s fun, but also to prove I’m not the only one who sees it. It’s definitely there, and it always makes me wonder what would’ve happened if she’d met Shadow first instead of Sonic. Would her little crush on Shadow have become the primary one if he’d entered her life first? Would we see this kind of thing all the time if Shadow were the protagonist?

[IDW issue 59]

Yes

We’ll never know, I guess! 🙃

Regardless, she met Sonic first, so her attention is...divided. She’s usually in-tune with her emotions, so even though her outlook on love is tinted somewhat by hero worship, I do think she’d figure out she had feelings for Shadow if her crush on Sonic were sidelined. As she got to know him better, she’d find even more things to love about him, and before long, she’d be hooked.

For Shadow’s part, it’s pretty clear to anyone who’s paying attention that he has a soft spot for her of some kind. In my experience, even non-shadamy fans will usually agree with this if asked. And why wouldn’t they?

1. He let her hug him and see him cry in SA2, then saved the world because she asked him to. There’s a reason fans hate it whenever Amy’s elevator speech at the end of SA2 is put in someone else’s mouth. It’s just not believable that he’d save the world for anyone else--not Sonic, not Chris Thorndyke--because the gentleness isn’t there for anyone but her. That had to be built and proven.

2. She inspired yet another heel-turn of his in the conspicuously-named “Miracle of Love” route in ShTH where “bad boy” Shadow ditches Black Doom to help her, resulting in a hero classification.

I think we undersell how big of a deal this is. For those who aren’t too familiar with Shadow the Hedgehog (2005), that story route starts out with Shadow ignoring Sonic and...*checks notes*...defeating fifty G.U.N. soldiers? The mission says “defeat,” not “kill.” But Black Doom says “finish off those soldiers,” “destroy them all,” “exterminate,” and “annihilate.” In a game where you’re explicitly encouraged to use firearms. On human soldiers. So this Shadow quite possibly has a significant body count by the end of the level, and then he immediately snubs Rouge to destroy Earth’s digital highway system. There’s a reason he can’t get a hero ending past that point if he doesn’t help Amy. Just like in SA2, she’s the only one left who can turn him into a hero. She speedruns his redemption with one jaunt through a haunted castle. This is the sequence:

[Source]

The way he trails off at, “I didn’t have any reason to help her, but since I was looking for the doctor anyway, I figured...” stands out, like he’d forgotten how good of a person he can be.

This brief Twitter thread summarizes the events in a much funnier way than I can:

3. The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog is the most recent and blatant example. Goes to a party. Dresses up in a silly outfit. Embarrasses himself to get her a thoughtful gift. Agrees to go to a concert for a band he can’t stand just to make her happy. I don’t think I even need to explain this one, but if you want to see me do so anyway, here’s that link again.

4. In Team Sonic Racing, he’s sweet to her when they’re on the same team...

...and he’s borderline flirtatious when they’re on opposing teams. ;)

His lines are delivered in a snarky, teasing way, especially when he calls her cute, and she’s matching that competitive banter.

[Source: this Twitter thread by MeliCross22:

Absolutely worth a read, and it includes links to the lines so you can actually hear them.]

The question is whether his soft spot is romantic in nature, and as biased as I am...I don’t buy it. In the first two, she’s just reminding him of who he is by calling to mind his memories of Maria, and “Miracle of Love” isn’t meant in a romantic way. Likewise, in TMOSTH, it’s extremely sweet of him and he wouldn’t do that for anyone else, but it’s still not inherently romantic. TSR is less cut-and-dried. It could be flirtation, but it could also just be the race stoking their competitive spirits. It’s also just a side game, and while it’s still canon, I don’t know if Sega would put that kind of dynamic between them in the main series. It could be a case of the TSR writers being secret shadamy fans who are tossing us crumbs, but it could also just be them mixing it up so there isn’t yet another instance of Amy saying variations of “Sorry, but I’m in it to win it!” every time she hits someone with an item. Trust me, it gets old.

Canonically, I don’t see Shadow as being romantically interested in anyone to a significant extent at the moment, Amy included. He’s been too focused on his past, his identity crisis, the alien invasion, etc. I don’t think there’ll really be room for romance in his life until he fully makes peace with his trauma. This moment at the end of his game...

...just doesn’t do that. Shadow Dark Beginnings has made it abundantly clear that he hasn’t moved on.

And this is where Amy comes in, because I think she’s the ideal person for the job.

Sega seems to pivot back and forth between “Shadow has no friends” and “Shadow has two friends, but he even keeps them at a distance sometimes.” Without people in his life who are willing to reach out, he withdraws, and it’s really not good for him. A lot of fans feel he’s hesitant to bond with others because no one else is immortal and he knows how painful loss is. It’s not explicitly stated, but it’s consistent with his behavior. Isolating himself is easy. It’s safe. It’s something he can control.

But it’s not sustainable.

He needs love. He needs it so much. It’s his very purpose, in the most literal sense. Maria said it best in episode 2 of Dark Beginnings:

“You have a big heart! It may be difficult for you to express it, but I know that deep down you really do care. About me. About everyone! What you do is what defines you. I know you’re having a hard time finding answers, but I’m certain you will one day. Then, you’ll find even more people you can trust.”

^ This is what I mean when I say Maria would love Amy. Amy’s the only other character who feels love as deeply as Shadow does, the only one who could fully understand, and she just so happens to be a clingy girl who’ll reach out to anyone, even people who think they want to be left alone. It’s baffling that Sega basically hasn’t let them interact for two decades because she absolutely would insist on befriending him.

Shadow hides, but Amy chases. She loves a challenge and doesn’t shy away if she feels she belongs with someone, even if that person runs. If she decided Sonic wasn’t right for her, I think it’s only natural that she’d pursue Shadow given her obvious fondness for him. The only difference is that when someone chases Shadow, he doesn’t run. He clings. He clung to Maria, he clung to Team Dark, and he’d cling to her, too, and I don’t think he’d stand a chance against her charm from there. He’s a romantic in his own way, and that soft spot of his would turn rose-tinted in a heartbeat. If there’s anyone who could convince him that love is worth it, it’d be her; I highly doubt she’d regret her past love of Sonic, and if he thought about it, I don’t think he’d regret his attachment to Maria, either. Amy told him the people of Earth deserved a chance to be happy. Now he lives on Earth with her. Couldn’t she convince him that he deserves that chance, too?

And if he hesitated and tried to ignore his feelings for Amy, I could see Rouge stepping in to kick him in the right direction. It wouldn’t be the first time she talked some sense into him for the sake of his own happiness:

[IDW issue 36]

tl;dr: Amy already likes Shadow. If she spent more time with him, those feelings would grow, and it wouldn’t be long before she’d be pursuing him in earnest. With her talent for breaking down barriers and his existing soft spot for her, it wouldn’t be a very long chase.

This headcanon is the one that I think portrays it best. I don’t think I’ll ever fully stop writing Shadow Falls First, Amy Falls Harder because it’s so damn compelling, but I love this interpretation, too, and it lines up too well with canon to ignore.

[bonefall]

Unrelated to the new book blurb:

do you have any tips on processing the absolute mess that is the family tree? Like, how does one put it into smaller bites for re-doing/adjusting? How does one even begin to rework it when it's such a confusing tangle?? I'm just so overwhelmed by the tree(s), and I've read the whole series (because I would love to re-work it, but FUCK).

I will be 100% earnest with you; reworking the tree from scratch as a single person is both difficult and time consuming. I have a penchant for it, and even I'm not completely done. I make my reduxed trees totally free to use so that others at least have a jumping-off point for your own "cleaner" Clans.

So my most helpful tip would probably be Don't. PLEASE take my trees and cut them, prune them, bonsai them, clean them up even more than I did, anything you'd like. I do not wish this fate on my worst enemy.

That said-- let's say you love pain as much as I do, or you just want to see how much work I put into these trees. I'll babble about my process.

This is my WIP file for the ShadowClan Family Tree. Consider this image a content warning for self-inflicted pain and suffering 💕

Uhhh and also; an ACTUAL, serious content warning. Because of the nature of them asking how to fix trees on their own, I have to talk a little about incest. It comes with the territory.

A few things to know before you start;

You will need a FUCK OFF MASSIVE monitor for this. Mine is an ASUS a little under 2 feet long-- I've tried doing this on my smaller, secondary monitor, and these trees just get too big to work on.

FamilyEcho will not cut it. You NEED an art program. You will have to do this by hand, because there is no lineage-drawing tool that can handle families this large and tangled.

You will need to decide your "rules" beforehand. How closely related are you allowing valid couples to be? Are you allowing Queen's Rights? Can you add OCs, and if so, how often? On this point-- I have my Three Strict Rules, and do not use OCs. Because of this, I do a LOT of research beforehand and usually have the wiki open as I work on these. I'm always scouring for forgotten warriors to use for this.

There are going to be multiple drafts. You will not do this in one go. That does not mean you "failed" or you're "stuck," that's a good thing.

With all of that out of the way.

Usually, the first thing I do is pick a Clan to work on. There's over 1,000 cats in this series, so I break that up by picking one group at a time. Once I do that, I draw out the canon chart.

In this case, I've already drawn out all of the canon charts. River, Thunder, Shadow, Sky, Wind.

I call this a Diagnosis because I'm taking a look at what the problem is, so that I know what I'm fixing. In Shadow's case, it's a solid brick of inbreeding with a "missing generation" line. In ThunderClan's case, it's mostly a Robinwing x Fuzzypelt problem. Each Clan has its own unique issues.

Once you know the issue, step two, start drawing out what you want to do and keep. For example, let's say that you want to use the Ivy/Dove as Holly/Cinder kittens idea.

I generally try to start with the "modern" cats and work backwards, but it can also be helpful to just doodle out floating "branches" that you want to work in backwards.

You can see examples of those in my ShadowClan draft, up there, but I've zoomed in and circled them.

Don't be afraid to draw "notes" like this. You can just grab them and drag them around when something clicks!

Getting back to our "example" tree with Holly/Cinder Ivy/Dove, you might notice now that Lionblaze has no mate. Another thing I do when I see an immediate problem but don't have a solution in mind yet is use a little ? mark. You don't want to get hung up on deciding everything RIGHT away.

Now, this is where my 3 Strict Rules would come into play, in two ways! I'm sure you'll be able to spot them. For one, Lionblaze has waaaaay too many kids here who would go on to have kittens of their own, so I'd start breaking them up. For two, this tree makes Ivypool and Fernsong a first cousin pairing, something I don't allow.

You can fix this in any number of ways, and I'm sure there's someone out there shouting their preferred Lionblaze ships and Alt Fernsong Parents like they're the crowd on a game show, but for this demonstration I'm going to do this;

Here, I decided I didn't want to undo FernIvy, but I still want Fernsong to be Clanborn with two parents, so I have removed him from Lionblaze and given him unknown family. I've also taken Sorrelstripe and Spotfur, and moved them to a little spot on the side. I can now use them to patch up the little ? placeholders.

You'll also notice this is already becoming a mess. This is why you will need to redraw this a few times, for readability. The best tip I can give you for that is that families who only have one kit to carry on the lineage should go in a long line in the center, but otherwise, offspring who do not have kits should go between their siblings who do.

It's easier to visualize it imo, so here's what I mean;

The vast majority of the time I spend doing these is just "puzzlework." Trying to figure out a way to make line connections look good, making sure cats are far enough apart, trying to make "wishlist" stuff work.

Here's some insight to that with the big ShadowClan mess I showed at the beginning of this post;

And, mind you, this is Draft 3 of this tree. Those grayed-out parts of the first image were my first two. I wasn't satisfied enough with them, so I started from scratch several times!

I wish I could share some kind of good, simple process for this, but unfortunately I don't have one. It's just a lot of work, familiarity, creativity, and problem solving. I spend days, sometimes even weeks on these. My intention is that they can be a fandom resource that's easier to read than the website tree, less carelessly inbred with more thought given to immediate family units, AND more comprehensive.

In any case, I hope this was insightful, or these tips I share helped in some way!