#skin cancer fears me

[queer-coded-tourney]

"your freckles are so cute" thanks for complimenting my sun poisoning

[exeggcute]

"american sunscreen sucks, if you want the good shit you have to try asian or european sunscreen" 100% sounds like a lie to get you to buy fancy sunscreen but having tried an amazing (and cost-effective) korean sunscreen I am thoroughly convinced. even cerave's ultra-light face sunscreen sucks pretty bad and I normally love cerave so it hurts me a little bit to say this. the white cast it leaves is undeniable though. on the other hand isntree hyaluronic acid watery sun gel goes on completely clear, no greasy shiny sheen, doesn't burn or stink, doesn't make you break out, and after five minutes you'll basically forget you're wearing it. and this bottle was twenty-five bucks with shipping but after near-daily use for three months I'm still not out!!!

[meiieiri]

𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫 [toji fushiguro]

synopsis: so she tells him not to cry over the injustice of a life cut too short for at the end of all this, she’ll only be a dream.

pairing: ex-husband!toji fushiguro x terminally ill wife!reader | song inspo: soon you’ll get better, cancer

warnings: heavy angst, terminal illness (primary bone cancer, stroke and MS), mentions of divorce/past infidelity, allegories to cheating, major character death. please read at your own risk. | a/n: this was so heavy for me to write, i started writing at 2 in the morning, and it’s 6:34 now.

word count. 3k~

“Why can’t you do anything right?”

Toji should have noticed, he laments as he takes a sip of his cognac. He should have sensed that something was wrong sooner, maybe that way, he wouldn’t be begging to borrow some more time to make things right. Your fingers were trembling that day — the first time you ever ruined his morning coffee — your hands shaking uncontrollably as you washed the mug with a sorrowful look on your face, your eyes glossy with the tears you were desperately trying to hold back.

He shouldn’t have been so harsh, he realizes that now. Breakfast had been burnt to a crisp and ruined, sure, but nothing could compare to how he constantly ruins the one beautiful thing that has ever happened to him, who haphazardly spilled her smoothie on him when they first bumped into each other in Shinjuku just after he finally cashed in enough money with Shiu to get his laundry done.

Toji, whose senses have now been honed to pick up on the slightest of your sluggish movements and your pained and suppressed hisses, hears the bedsheets rustling and he instantly gets up before you could even force yourself out of bed. “Hey, hey, easy now.” He catches you before you could fall backwards onto the mattress, your skin appears cold and clammy, your thinning muscles stiff as a board — you must be having one of your episodes again. “What do you need?” he asks, his voice heartbreakingly gentle for the first time in months.

“Water.”

Your husband nods, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed, hurriedly making his way to the dining table which was now kept in your bedroom so you aren’t forced to move around too much. The sound of water splashing into the glass fills the air and you feel another stabbing pain coarse through your joints.

Toji gingerly brings the glass of water to your lips and you sighed, an exasperated yet amused smile on your face. “I can do it, babe. Don’t worry.” Why did that sound like you were trying to convince not just Toji but yourself? You bring your bony hands to grip the glass and it takes everything out of your husband not to break into a fit of sobs when he sees your hand violently shaking with effort just to keep the glass steady.

His larger hands close around your defeated one. “I-I…I can do it, I did it yesterday. Y-you saw me.”

“Shhh, I know, it’s okay.”

You bite your lip to distract yourself from the anguish of realizing the truth behind the doctor’s words. Everything you feared was finally becoming your and Toji’s bleak reality.

“It’ll be a painful decline.”

Funny how you’re the one fighting to extend your life but Toji feels like he’s already gone ahead and passed on. Just a few minutes earlier, you were overjoyed to see him again. You didn’t think he’d see your text thinking that his new girlfriend must have asked him to block your number, and you most certainly didn’t expect him to arrive when you asked for him via a brief phone call to drive you to the hospital for your monthly checkup since he took the car with him when you separated. He made up a bullshit excuse when Yuko asked where he was going in such a hurry and he makes it to your old shared apartment to see you sitting on the driveway looking thinner and sicklier than ever — your eyes were sunken, and your cheeks were hollow.

Yet in spite of that, you gave him the brightest of smiles, waving shyly to him as he steps out of the driver’s seat. “Happy morning!” you smiled, greeting him with your signature good morning tagline which he used to happily wake up to everyday. There wasn’t a scintilla of resentfulness in your demeanor, and you genuinely looked so happy to see him for the first time since he moved out.

“How long?” Toji asked the doctor, his heart twisted into knots when he hears you happily humming in the MRI room as you put your clothes back on, oblivious to the solemn mood in the other room. You already knew what was going on, but you’ll just continue pretending that everything’s alright and that this is nothing more but a case of fatigue so as not to inconvenience Toji.

“A year, maybe even less.”

“And…you’re saying it’s best if she simply…doesn’t get the treatment?”

The doctor sighs heavily. She’s seen many cases like this before, but none as utterly hopeless as yours. Even if you did start the treatment, the lesions in your spinal cord have already entered the most severe stage, you were already exhibiting signs of autonomic nervous system distress — the tremors, the uncontrollable stuttering of your words, the growing loss of balance — and as if that wasn’t enough, the doctor also discovers that you were suffering from primary osteosarcoma.

There was no way to cure you now that it’s too late.

“I suggest we just focus on keeping her comfortable. The only thing left for us to do now is to bring her home. I’m so sorry.”

“You’re so fucking embarrassing. I can’t bring you anywhere.”

By some miracle, you and Toji went out one night around four months before the divorce proceedings. He went home that day, exhausted beyond all belief from another mission, but he was in a good mood. Yuko was out working late tonight, so, he decides to take you out to your and his favorite izakaya for some yakitori.

Some time during the night, after downing three full bottles of sake together, you excuse yourself to use the restroom. “I’ll be right back,” you told Toji, tipsily kissing him on the cheek as you hop off the bar stool in the direction of the women’s room.

You couldn’t tell if you were staggering from the copious amounts of alcohol you ingested, but your legs were beginning to feel heavy, and for some ominous reason, you were slowly losing all sensation in your left leg. You try to hold onto one of the izakaya’s shōji panel decor pieces to regain your balance, but it was a futile effort in the end. Your knees suddenly buckle, and a sickening crack tears through your tibia as you fall to the ground.

“Are you alright?!”

Toji picks up on the commotion instantly and he sees the izakaya patrons crowding around the hallway leading to the restroom. He quickly makes his way over and a look of disgust appears on his features when he sees you crumpled on the ground and the mortifying sight of you having relieved yourself on the floor, tears of embarrassment staining your cheeks at the thought of your body suddenly malfunctioning like this.

Muttering out an ignorant apology for his seemingly drunk wife, he roughly picks you up, growing increasingly infuriated with you when one izakaya employee offers him a damp cloth to dry out your urine with. It was funny how quickly other people came to your aid — people whose names you don’t even know — while your own husband seems very reluctant to even touch you right now. He doesn’t speak to you on the way home even as you apologize while he’s loading you into the car, grimacing when the leather seat gets wet. “Toji, I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened—“

“—Save it.”

What he should have said was: “Are you okay?”, “It’s alright.” or better yet, “I still love you.”.

At present, Toji decides on a whim to take you to Yokohama’s famed bayside today. It’s only a two hour drive from your place in Tokyo and Toji figures you must miss going on road trips by now with you cooped up at home all the time. “Toji, are you sure this is a good idea?” you murmured nervously as the car pulls to a stop by the bayside promenade. What happens if you can’t control yourself again? There doesn’t look to be a lot of public restrooms nearby.

Toji plants a reassuring kiss to your nose. “Babe, you remember what the doctor said, spending some time outdoors can do wonders for your health. Besides, didn’t you always love the coast?” He brings your hand to his scarred lips, rubbing his thumb against the soft skin before stepping out of the car to retrieve your wheelchair from the trunk.

“I know but what if I have another accident?” you said worriedly, rolling down the car windows so he could hear you. “What if I embarrass you again?”

“There’s nothing embarrassing about you.”

You’ve lost all control of your lower extremities three months ago, rendering you unable to walk and feel when you need to relieve yourself. Toji struggles with the wheelchair for a bit and a flash of sadness fills your heart when you see him take a few deep breaths to calm himself down. He wasn’t angry, he was devastated. He looks wistfully at the boardwalk, a distant gaze trained on the sea. He remembers when you used to walk down this very lane, his hand protectively around your waist as you happily take selfies. He could still hear your fond giggles the last time the two of you went here.

“Why don’t you ever smile when I take pictures of you?”

Toji shoos away a pigeon from stealing a bite of his ice cream sandwich. He feigns an unamused look when you try to take another picture of him on your phone.

“Come on, I’ve been trying to get a shot of you all day! You still have to take pictures of me so I can post it on my Instagram feed!”

Your ever moody husband pinches off a small piece of bread and feeds it to the nosy pigeon. “You and your precious feed,” he bemoans jokingly.

“Please? Just one picture!“ you playfully nudged him. Truthfully, you just wanted to see him smile for once, a genuine one and not one of those lopsided smirks he usually gives you when he’s teasing you. “Please?” you pout knowing he can never say no to that adorable face you make when you really want him to do something or worse, buy something for you.

Sighing, he turns to look at your phone’s camera lens and you blush when a smile slowly illuminates his usually stoic face. Your thumb hovers over the stop recording function, not realizing you’re taking a video, but you can’t seem to press it. “What’s taking so long?” he holds the smile like he’s some cartoon character and you snap out of it.

“Oh shoot, it’s a video!” you laughed, and you begin to run down the boardwalk, eagerly getting away from Toji who demands that you delete it immediately. Of course, you’re no match for his borderline inhuman speed attributed to his athletic physique and he catches you by the waist, playfully swinging you over his shoulder like you’re a sack of potatoes.

Now, your giggles have gone silent.

Toji realizes now he should have indulged you more over the course of your relationship and subsequent marriage. Had he known that you won’t even make it to your third wedding anniversary, he would have allowed you to take as many pictures and videos of him as you’d like, he’d swallow his pride and he’d give you the brightest of smiles so you could happily post him on your social media accounts with a heartwarming caption about him being your “smiley hubby”.

More than that though, he should have taken more photos of you, mostly stolen candid shots, of course. You can’t catch him being all soft on you now. He still has a reputation to live up to after all. But more than that, had he known that your illness was intent on stealing every scrap of you from him, he should have made more effort in preserving all these memories. He should have kept everything from those toll tickets on your late night drives together when the two of you just needed a quick escape from the world, to receipts from your trip to Tokyo Disney Sea on your first wedding anniversary, and even simple convenience store receipts.

Toji should have kept everything down to the smallest of memories knowing one day, that’s all he’ll have to remember you by.

He opens the passenger seat’s door and he effortlessly gathers you into his arms, being extra careful with your fragile form as he sits you down on the wheelchair. He opens the backseat and he pulls out two different colored blankets, one sea-foam green and the other, rose pink. “Take your pick,” he smiles at you and you chuckled softly, pointing to the rose pink one. He happily covers your legs with it to keep you warm, stroking your cheek when you whisper a bashful ‘thank you’.

Suddenly, the wind picks up and your hair-clip that’s holding your locks in a low bun comes loose, and your head turns in the direction of where it flew off to. Toji is quick to take out his phone and he snaps a quick burst shot of you, your hair blowing in the wind, under the coastal spring weather. You turn to look at him and your face falls when you see him burying his phone in his pocket. Since you fell ill, you’ve become insecure of your appearance, banning your husband from taking pictures and videos of you altogether. “Toji, I thought I said no pictures.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The next day, you serendipitously find your photo on your Instagram handle with the caption: “Y/N — Yokohama, Spring, 2024” and when you swipe left, another picture, well to be more accurate, a screenshot of the video clip you accidentally took of him captioned: “Toji — Yokohama, Summer, 2022”.

“You don’t have to stick around for me. Please just go, I’m sure Yuko must be looking for you right now.”

Yuko, his new fiancé, had been blowing up his phone the entire day with texts demanding to know where he is and if he’s going to make it to their date that night. It’s 7 PM now, and Toji still hasn’t shown up to confirm their restaurant reservations. The damn witch will surely cuss him out when they see each other again, but for some reason, even if he tries, he simply cannot bring himself to give a flying fuck. Your immunologist and oncologist stepped out for a bit to allow you two a brief moment of privacy which had now stretched to an expanse of five hours since your results came in.

The air in the room is thick and heavy, not a single sound can be heard. Inside however, underneath this tough exterior he was projecting, Toji is throwing a fit, screaming at the sky like those broken men in those shitty Netflix romance tragedies he used to callously make fun of.

“Why didn’t you call me sooner? You knew, didn’t you?”

Toji’s bites his cheek trying to keep a lid on his emotions. He knows the answer. He just wants to hear you say it out loud. You hated him. You wanted nothing to do with him after he cheated on you with some girl he met at a bar in uptown Shibuya. That’s why you didn’t tell him, he didn’t deserve to know. “Shit,” he whispers harshly, crumpling the medical abstract in his hands. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick? Was it because you hated me? Is that it? You didn’t think I’d worry about you?”

You screwed your eyes shut, shaking your head. You didn’t hate him, not even when you have every reason to. He abandoned you, left you to waste away and to die and yet, even now, you can’t bring yourself to resent him for the simple reason that he is the literal love of your life, the reason behind your smiles, your happy mornings and passionate midnight hours. “At first, I thought I was fine, maybe just fatigued or something.”

“Don’t lie. You knew something was going on and that something in your body was seriously fucked up.”

“And we weren’t married anymore so, I didn’t think it was right to tell you…I wanted to though, but I didn’t want to intrude on you and Yuko,��� you said meekly. Even in your greatest hour of need, you were still thinking of him, putting him first even when he doesn’t deserve it. “I-I…I don’t hate you enough to worry you, to make you feel that you could have done something to prevent this. Because I’m telling you right now, regardless if you were faithful or not, I was bound to get sick anyway. You couldn’t have done anything to change that.”

“But I could have been there. I should have noticed. I shouldn’t have downplayed everything.” He says this as if he wants to shake this noble, self-sacrificing bullshit attitude out of your system. “I’m your husband. I should have been there.”

You flash him a heartbroken smile at his little slip-up, so, even now, he was still referring to himself as your husband, not your ex-husband. “To see me waste away? Babe, I don’t want you to see that.”

You begin to feel tears streaming down your face, the emotions you were experiencing now flowing like a free river after an entire dam is destroyed. Toji watches you unravel before his eyes and his bottom lip begins to tremble. What has he done? Dear god, what has he done to his poor, poor wife?

“I want you to remember me healthy, I want you to remember me as myself not this…sickly pitiful woman you’re unlucky to call your ex-wife…besides, after all this, I’ll only be a dream.” A mere passing second in his life. “And believe me, my life wasn’t so bad.”

He loses it at that.

“Just stop this, Y/N! Stop acting like you’re not scared shitless of dying, like you’re not gonna have regrets once all this is over! Stop pretending that things are gonna be alright one day because it won’t! Not when I’m now being forced to accept that you won’t get better, not when I’ve wasted so much time putting you through hell and back instead of taking care of you like a proper husband should, and certainly not when I’m suddenly supposed to learn to say goodbye and to live without you! Because fuck that, Y/N!”

You are left speechless at that.

Toji was never one to lose his cool, even during your worst arguments, he may slide a few snarky remarks here and there but Toji Fushiguro…never yells, and he doesn’t sob either.

You hesitantly stand up and walk over to him, crouching down in front of him as he covers his tear-stained eyes with his right hand while the other is crumpled around your medical abstract. Taking his left hand, you gently remove the medical abstract from his grip, and for the first time in so many months, you feel one another’s warm skin against each other. You press your forehead to his hand as you wept with him.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be a dream. I want you to be real.”

“Can’t you be bothered to clean up in here?!”

You wake up from your nap, you’ve been battling muscle and joint pain the entire day, the slightest of movement causing you to double over in agony and because of that, you weren’t able to clean the apartment today. You slowly get up from the couch, being extra cautious not to make any sudden movements. “Well?” Toji presses, his lips curled into a scowl.

“I’m sorry, I was feeling a little tired,” you sighed heavily, picking up a broom to sweep the living room floor despite the excruciating pain you were in. Toji rolls his eyes, handing you a Manila envelope. “What’s this?” you asked softly, peering inside.

“Divorce papers,” he shrugs nonchalantly. Everything stops, even the very rise and fall of your chest halts into an uneasy stasis. “I already signed them. I just need your signature then, I’ll move out by tomorrow.”

You must be dreaming. That’s the only logical explanation to all this. You’re asleep, in a deep REM sleep, utterly oblivious to the world. This wasn’t happening. But you could feel the rough surface of the brown envelope, and you could still feel the agonizing stabs of white hot pain throughout your body. Glancing at Toji, you see him texting someone with an eager look on his face that screams: “I’m free.”.

Instantly, it dawns on you.

“Will she make you happy?” you asked, putting down the broom to look around for a pen but Toji pulls one he stole from the law firm office out of his pocket.

“She will,” he answers simply.

And you are indeed grateful that he is completely upfront about finding another while the two of you are married. It would have hurt much more, you silently remind yourself, if he had just upped and left without another word leaving you to wonder what went wrong between the two of you. This was Toji’s final act of mercy in your marriage, and he’s not opposed to honesty and truthfulness either. Not once did he try to change his phone’s lock-screen passcode, nor did he try to conceal the identity of the woman who was texting him every night while you slept fitfully next to him. It was almost as if he wanted you to find out, like he wanted you to know so you could back off yourself.

But if there’s one thing Toji loves about you, it’s your unending faithfulness to your promises, to your marriage vows, and your willingness to endure anything he threw at you. You never checked his phone, you never brought up his affair, you never got angry with him. You just kept silent, simply content with giving and giving…and giving while he milked you dry by taking, and taking and taking, tearing you to pieces bit by bit without hearing a single complaint fall from your lips.

You were a devoted wife, through and through.

And it bored the hell out of him, on top of your recent mishaps, he was done. Done with everything, and done with you.

“Okay.”

Come morning, he takes everything he owns with him and promptly proposes to the girl he’s been seeing for the past year. Two weeks later, your divorce is received by the Tokyo Family Court and is summarily approved and finalized. From that moment on, you and Toji went on your separate ways never to look back, you were each other’s yesterdays, and the love that existed between the two of you was nullified in favor of acquaintanceship…or so you thought.

“Y/N, I’m home!” Toji calls into the house as he comes back from your neighborhood’s pharmacy. You look up from the book you were reading, smiling ever so slightly at your husband who seemed to have a wonderful sparkle in his eyes. “Hey, kid,” he kisses the top of your head when he reaches your wheelchair.

“You seem happy,” you remarked positively.

“Well, for one, they replenished their stocks today and I managed to get you your steroids and painkillers so you’ll be able to sleep easy tonight,” Toji smiles, taking out the items from the pharmacy’s paper bag. “And I got you this neat memory foam cushion for your wheelchair.” He fluffs it up as a form of demonstration before placing it behind your back.

When he sees you smile, a sense of relief washes over Toji. You reach towards him, and he pulls you into an embrace. “Thank you,” you said, pure sincerity dripping from your voice. “For everything you do.”

“Anything for you.” He suddenly moves back and reaches into the tote bag you lended him. “Oh, and wait, before I forget, I have another surprise.”

You laughed airily. “Another surprise? Now, you’re just spoiling me!”

He pulls out a piece of paper from the tote bag and he places it in your hands as your eyes quickly scan over the document. Your breath hitches in your throat when you realize what it is. Did Toji really—? You couldn’t believe it. “A marriage pre-registration,” you said in awe. You read it again just in case to make sure that this wasn’t a figment of your sick body’s imagination, that this was real, that Toji genuinely wants to make everything right again. Your fingers skim over your typewritten names. “It has our names…we’re really—“ You can’t even finish your sentence without bursting into happy tears. “Are we—?”

Toji nods, gazing into your eyes, and as emerald and (E/C) clash for what seems to be an eternity lost in one another, he plants a kiss to your temple, coming up to embrace you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“We are. The Tokyo Family Court, as far as I know, will approve our remarriage once we file this. So, you have to get stronger, okay?” He’s begging you at this point, despite your rapidly deteriorating condition. “Strong enough to see me fix everything. Strong enough to be there on our second wedding, strong enough to say our vows again.”

Your hand comes up to stroke his cheek from behind, and he nuzzles into your neck at your tender touch.

“I will. I promise.”

But you never really get to say your vows. Not comprehensibly anyway.

“Babe, can you say that again?”

Toji crouches by your bedside as you look at him apologetically. You were causing him trouble and pain again which is the last thing that you want to give him especially when’s fought and worked so hard to care for you, to keep prolonging this borrowed time you’re on. “To-ji. Toji.” You gaze at him apprehensibly, not really believing you can do it without crumbling.

“Come on, babe, you can do it. Say my name, please…Toji. I’m Toji.”

“Toooji-“ you slurred sadly. At this point, your Multiple Sclerosis has reached its end stage and has taken…everything from you: your ability to walk, your ability to control your muscle spasms and other bodily functions…and now, coupled with an unexpected stroke, your ability to speak. And you and Toji know that time is almost up, with you having come to accept it, while your husband still held onto hope. Your fingers gently graze over his face as best as your spasms and tremors allow you, starting from his forehead to his eyes, his nose, his cheek and finally, his lips, as if you’re memorizing it one last time. “Lo-ove you-“

Toji sniffles, and your fingers instinctively catch his warm tears. “I love you,” he whispers brokenly. “I do. I love you.”

You feel yourself tearing up as you’re forced to watch your beloved cry. And the worst part? You can’t do a thing about it. “D-oon’t c-cry—‘m okaay. Promi-miise…e’everyything ‘ill be okaaay.”

“Y-yeah,” he chuckles, trying to crack a joke even as hope dwindles. “You’ve been nothing but a fucking champ this entire time, you know? I’m so proud of you. So…so…proud that you’re still here.” He strokes your hair as you tread between the realms of the conscious and the unconscious. “Do you wanna go out today? The weather’s shit though. You’ll probably catch your death out there.” At the mention of the word ‘death’, Toji stops, falling into an uncomfortable silence.

You smile weakly at him. “Tiiredd—“

“You’re no fun,” Toji gently flicks your nose and you scrunch it up in displeasure. “Sorry,” he chuckles, holding back an entire waterfall of tears. He knows it’s today. It has to be. You woke up today without your usual ‘happy morning’ greeting, and you refused to drink anything, much less eat anything. “You tired? Any pain?”

You shake your head. You’re as comfortable as you can be for the first time in months. Hospice nurses say humans are built to live the same way they are built to die, no person in this world has ever had the uncanny privilege of being able to look up ‘How to die?’ on a quick Google search and actually find a Wikihow on the morbid subject matter, nor is there anyone else who can teach another how it’s done. It’s just something humans know how to do without a manual, deeply ingrained in the very fabric of human existence is the fear of death, the fear of what comes after, the fear of a nothingness that could follow after living such a vibrant life. Your life was short, barely spanning thirty years, but you lived well: you fell in love, you got hurt, but you fell together again. Now it all has to come to an end, Toji will just have to take care of the rest.

And you weren’t scared.

Or at least you can’t look scared, if you were to be more accurate, you have to look strong and ready to accept the cards you’ve been dealt with for Toji’s sake. When he feels your hand start to slacken, Toji intakes a sharp, shaky breath of sheer panic. “Not yet, Y/N. Please. Not yet.”

He climbs into bed with you, bringing you closer to this desperate man you call yours. There was no getting better anymore, there was no miracle he could hang onto, no deity he could beg for death to spare you, no pill bottle he could pray to. He knew that from the start. But what he witnessed these past months, you’ve been the braver one between the two of you, you knew how to make the most of the rhythm this cruel world gave you and you graciously took him along to dance to the last song of the evening with you.

“There’s still hope. Just keep your eyes open. Just keep them open.” He presses his lips to your forehead, his delusion getting the better of him. “We’ll just keep trying…you can’t leave. You have to stay. You have to.”

“Thaank yoou—“ you softly told your Toji, your voice shrinking in decibels as you become a little drowsy, sinking into the warmth of the requiem of a life well spent.

Toji listens to you, his lips pursed, intent on making this final act of love — a love that is strong enough to say goodbye — a memorable one. And should the afterlife exist, he wishes to send you off with a smile, with the reassurance that he’ll be alright even if that was far from happening.

“Toji.”

“I want you to be real. And I don’t care if we’ll live on borrowed time. Another extra second with you…is enough to last me my entire lifetime.”

[radjoy]

i have seen so many “hypergamy/it girl/soft life/luxury” posts about women not making decisions in a relationship and leaving it up to their bf phrased as “relaxing into your feminine energy” and since you all seem to be confused on the matter, i’m going to clear this up.

The reason that you find making decisions more mentally taxing than your bf seems to is not because you have some mystical feminine energy and he has some spooky masculine one that makes him a better leader. it’s because he isn’t considering consequences or evaluating risk/reward. simple as. you’re putting thought and intention into how you life your life, he’s coming from a place of fear and ego and???? idk maybe vibe and hoping everything comes up sunny side. you’d have equally valid luck just consulting a magic 8 ball for all your decisions.

men do not think things through. i work in an emergency room. all day every day: why are you missing a finger, sir? because there was something stuck in the lawnmower and he forgot that lawnmowers have blades. why do you look like ground beef, sir? he was going 104 in a 55 to show off his new sports car. why is there a miniature can of WD-40 up your ass, sir? you never get an explanation for those ones. women always think their boyfriend wouldn’t be the type that decides to shove something up his ass but let me tell you. let me tell youuuuuu. these men will surprise you. i have seen men from all walks of life decide to give it a whirl with something completely unsafe for anal penetration, then seem so confused to find themselves in the ER.

like 97% of penis amputations are from squamous cell carcinoma, an extremely slow-growing form of skin cancer that is usually completely easy to remove with a tiny little excision. so why on earth would we ever need to amputate? because MEN REFUSE BIOPSIES. men walk out AMA because they’re scared of the scalpel going near their junk and can’t pull it together. men will ignore a growing red crusted lesion on their junk for a full decade before giving into their wife’s begging and going to a doctor, who tells them they’re going to have to cut his dick off now.

are you hearing me? men will calmly make decisions that lead to them getting their dick cut off in ten years. do not let him lead you into dick cut off levels of credit card debt.

[plutonianeris]

【ｔｈｅ 8th ｈｏｕｓｅ】

ａｒｉｅｓ　

This reminds me of someone plunging headfirst into the unknown, like a daring adventurer who thrives on intensity. Bold moves in intimacy, raw and fearless when facing personal transformation. It’s that energy of setting fire to the old to make way for the new, like a warrior charging into the battle of self-discovery. It’s a spark in the darkness, igniting passion, power, and fierce independence.

ｔａｕｒｕｓ　

This feels like a luxurious, secret garden hidden behind a heavy iron gate. It’s earthy, sensual, and grounded in the deepest layers of intimacy. Taurus here reminds me of someone who craves stability, even in the most unpredictable moments of life. It’s slow-burning passion, deep-rooted loyalty, and transforming yourself through the appreciation of beauty and comfort. Think silk sheets, candles, and taking pleasure in life's sensual transformations.

ｇｅｍｉｎｉ　

This reminds me of someone rifling through an old box of letters in the attic, piecing together hidden mysteries. It’s a curiosity-driven quest into the unknown, where secrets are uncovered through conversation and connection. Gemini in the 8th House feels like the mind diving into the depths, transforming through ideas, words, and a constant need for mental stimulation. There’s a trickster energy here, always asking questions, always exploring.

ｃａｎｃｅｒ　

This placement feels like diving into the deep, dark waters of emotion, like someone finding comfort in the undercurrents of family and legacy. Cancer here reminds me of someone who cradles their inner transformations with tenderness, seeking emotional depth and security. It’s about healing ancestral wounds and embracing the intense emotions that come with personal evolution. Think of a nurturing presence in the storm, or the warmth of home in the darkest nights.

ｌｅｏ　

This is like a phoenix rising from the ashes, bold and radiant even through life’s most intense transformations. Leo in the 8th House reminds me of someone who faces their fears with pride, owning their power and shining light in the darkest places. It’s theatrical, dramatic, and powerful—transforming through creativity, self-expression, and the need to be seen and admired, even in moments of vulnerability. Picture a regal lion, unafraid to face the shadow side and emerge stronger.

ｖｉｒｇｏ　

Virgo here reminds me of someone carefully stitching together the pieces of their life after a major transformation. It’s about dissecting the details, analyzing the process of change, and emerging stronger through self-improvement. There’s a practical, methodical approach to the mysteries of life—like organizing the chaos of emotions, money, or intimacy. Virgo in the 8th House feels like someone transforming through healing rituals, health routines, or even the fine art of letting go—one step at a time.

ｌｉｂｒａ　

This reminds me of a ballroom dance in the shadows—graceful, elegant, yet deeply intense. Libra here seeks balance even in life’s most tumultuous transformations. It’s about merging with others, finding harmony in the deepest connections, and transforming through partnerships. Think of someone who transforms through relationships, but with an air of refinement and diplomacy. It’s someone navigating the complexities of intimacy like a skilled mediator, bringing beauty to the dark corners of life.

ｓｃｏｒｐｉｏ　

This placement is like a snake shedding its skin—raw, intense, and transformative. Scorpio naturally rules the 8th House, so this feels like someone who’s at home in the depths. It reminds me of a powerful alchemist, someone who embraces the shadow side with ease, diving into the underworld of emotions, secrets, and mysteries. It’s dark, seductive, and magnetic, with an uncanny ability to rise from the ashes stronger than before. This is the ultimate transformation, like a smoldering fire that never burns out.

ｓａｇｉｔｔａｒｉｕｓ　

This feels like a fearless explorer navigating the deepest jungles of the soul, unafraid to dive into taboo topics or push boundaries. Sagittarius in the 8th House reminds me of someone who seeks truth and freedom through life’s biggest transformations. It’s about finding meaning in the unknown and expanding your horizons through intense personal growth. There’s a philosophical flair here—transforming through travel, higher knowledge, or even spiritual quests. Picture a wild horse, running through the unknown with excitement rather than fear.

ｃａｐｒｉｃｏｒｎ　

This reminds me of a mountain climber, steadily ascending even through life’s darkest challenges. Capricorn here approaches transformation with discipline and control, determined to conquer the shadow side of life. It’s about facing the depths with a sense of responsibility, finding power through resilience, and transforming slowly but surely. This placement feels like someone building an empire from the ground up, never letting emotional turbulence derail their long-term goals. There’s power in persistence here, a slow burn to success.

ａｑｕａｒｉｕｓ　

This feels like a mad scientist, diving into the mysteries of life with a rebellious spirit and innovative approach. Aquarius here reminds me of someone who seeks freedom through transformation, always pushing the boundaries of what’s possible. It’s about changing the way we view intimacy, power, and the unknown, using unconventional methods to navigate the depths. Think of someone who approaches life’s challenges with a detached curiosity, seeing transformation as an opportunity to break the mold and reinvent themselves.

ｐｉｓｃｅｓ

This is like drifting through an ocean of emotion, where transformation happens in a dreamy, spiritual way. Pisces here reminds me of someone who finds power in surrender, embracing the unknown with a sense of faith and compassion. It’s about dissolving boundaries, merging with the mysteries of life, and transforming through spiritual or emotional release. Think of someone who feels deeply connected to the collective unconscious, navigating life’s darkest moments with an almost ethereal grace, like a poet lost in the mysteries of the soul.

[bruciemilf]

Need a no capes! AU where Clark is Just A Guy trying to help his folks keep their farm going. It’s not easy under the Luthors.

Having to sell their property rights because their farm is on a purchased land wasn’t an easy choice. But if Clark knows something, is that Kents don’t go down easy.

Once Thomas Wayne buys it from Luthor Senior, — Clark doesn’t know the specifics; He just heard the words “old college teammate” and “lost bet” and “fuck you, John” and put it together.

So, Thomas Wayne buys their farm. They have peace, for a while.

Except one day the man himself knocks on Clark’s apartment, switchblade smile bright and fraudulent. Clark quickly learns Thomas Wayne can either be your best friend, or your biggest fear.

“It’s really nothin’ personal,” Thomas shrugs. Maybe, to him, it’s a good apology. “Luthor just found out some…Nasty lies about me. And it’d really affect the cancer research fundraiser if they got out. “

People don’t fear lies, Clark thinks.

“So, your daddy ain’t answering me, and your mom threw a bottle at me when I went over there, so I figured you’re my last resort. I can’t buy if they ain’t sellin’, son.”

“We don’t appreciate being bought, Mr. Wayne.”

“Right, but the other alternative would be kicking ya’ll out on the street, and it’d make me feel like a real asshole,”

You already are, Clark wants to say, but decides it wouldn’t be a good idea.

“ So we have two options: Either you sell me the farm and everyone’s happy; Or you get the best bed at Gotham’s homeless shelter. I’m sorry, Clark. Really.”

He swallows an angry gulp. World’s strongest man and he can’t help but feel such sorrowful helplessness. “And what’s option 3?”

Thomas knows that’s a challenge, and knows Clark has a right to it. Something just clicks in the man’s eyes, thought. Clark isn’t sure he likes it. “Option number three…I deal with this my way. But you gotta do something for me.”

And that’s how Clark ends up babysitting infamously anonymous Bruce Wayne.

No paper touches him; He successfully evaded and escaped any journalist that ever approached, hunted, or tracked him down.

The man is awfully quiet, lilly pale skin glowing pink in Kansas sun. Clark studies the wide, impressive curve of his shoulders, surprisingly thick and strong for such a pretty thing.

The way his eyes are alert and focused and the color of watercolor rain. Mostly, he’s crushed by Bruce’s timidity. God, he’s so beautiful.

“Imma need a week and Brucie’s outta your hands faster than a devil in a church,” Thomas jokes, affectionately ruffling chestnut hair. Clark can see the resemblance, but not the relation. “You be good for Clark, ya hear?”

Bruce doesn’t give a verbal or physical answer. He seems awfully angry about something. He picks up his bags, storms past Clark and stomps off upstairs. He has a feeling this week will be hell for all of them.

“Well, you have fun! And Clark?” Thomas’ voice lowers, “You take care of my boy, now.”

“Oh, I will.”

It’s not a lie.

He’ll take care of Bruce so good he won’t ever want to leave.

[themedialmercurial]

Asteroid Glo (3267) and How you Shine🐚

This asteroid and its placements point towards the ways in which an individual naturally shines. By taking awareness of this, one can level up their life in a more naturally-occurring way, tending to their innate strengths. With dedication, it can even lead to fame ⭐️

I'm finally back with a new post! Thank you for both your patience and your kindness on this platform. I'm so glad to have joined such a kind and accepting community on here 🫶🏽

As always, do share your own placements and how you believe it has played out in your life thus far! Of course, asteroids are not as important as the natal chart itself, though it can be fun to explore, because why not? Enough chatter, more about the content:

GLO IN THE HOUSES

1H

You shine for your authenticity, your natural beauty and personality. This kind of person reminds me of someone who simply wakes and is considered to be radiant. All face. Great skin.

2H

Your personal possessions are something of interest of others, perhaps being literally shiny and even of great quality. You are perceived to be of high status as a result.

3H

Your mind is highlighted with this placement. There is something so magnetic about the way you think and communicate with others. Perhaps your learning style is innovative and an emphasis on your early education days.

4H

☆ of the family vibes? Either way, your family is a very important factor in your life and even moreso, when it comes to your mother.

5H

Your mind is highlighted, this time in terms of your creativity. Your children, pets and romantic relationships can be a source of light for your life. Also, there is an emphasis on talent.

6H

Your work ethic is likely the talk of the town, perhaps for your disciplined nature. Also, the way in which you tend to your body (diet, exercise, hygiene) can be admired.

7H

Your long-term relationships (marriage) are something that naturally draw attention. On the other hand, careful with open enemies and envy on others behalf.

8H

Your ability to transform and resilience throughout your life are truly one of a kind. Perhaps your spiritual practices draw a lot of attention.

9H

This placement points towards a life plentiful in travel experiences, upper education opportunities (college, university) and overall incessant learning in life, particular language learning and of other cultures. These qualities do not go unseen by others.

10H

Your career and your status draw in attention naturally, regardless of what it is that you do. You can be admired for your authority-like presence.

11H

Friend magnet position. You also can be a hopeful and wishful person, thus attracting even more abundance, which makes you glow even further.

12H

Your energy is unforgettable. Despite this placement being more reclusive and desiring time alone, your spiritual practices are often highlighted. Also, some of your secrets and fears may to more apparent due to the illuminating nature of this asteroid

GLO IN THE SIGNS

How can you express and optimize your natural gifts?

ARIES

Through your shameless and enthusiastic nature

TAURUS

Through your patient and artistic nature

GEMINI

Through your inquisitive, communicative and adaptable nature

CANCER

Through your emotional, nurturing nature

LEO

Through your creative and fun-loving nature

VIRGO

Through your attention to detail, precision and helpful nature

LIBRA

Through your peace-loving, diplomatic and charming nature

SCORPIO

Through your magnetic, persevering and passionate nature

SAGGITARIUS

Through your optimistic and honest nature

CAPRICORN

Through your ambitious and efficient nature

AQUARIUS

Through your independent, unique nature

PISCES

Through your empathetic, responsive, escapist nature

GLO IN ASPECT

Glo-Sun benefic aspects (conjunction, sextile, trine)

You shine in your self-expression and identity. You know that you shine though it isn't an ego show, you know how to acknowledge the confidence you have in yourself

Glo-Sun malefic aspects (opposition, square)

Surplus of ego, cockiness that may not be well-received. On the other hand, this may manifest as insecurity and lack of sense of self and esteem.

Glo-Moon benefic aspects (conjunction, sextile, trine)

You have a knack for expressing your feelings that others resonate with, people can feel understood when you open up (youtubers who share their intimate mental health struggles come to mind).

Glo-Moon malefic aspects (opposition, square)

May manifest as emotional outbursts if not careful (breakdowns, surges of anger) that are not well-received but are perceivable to the public eye.

Glo-Mercury benefic aspects (conjunction, sextile, trine)

Your communication style, whether that be through writing or speaking draw people in.

Glo-Mercury malefic aspects (opposition, square)

You may be prone to overthinking and communicating in a way that is difficult to follow as a result. On the other hand, this can point towards a fast speaker that engages their audience (a rapper perhaps).

Glo-Venus benefic aspects (conjunction, sextile, trine)

You have a natural beauty that you too know how to accentuate. Whether it be through clothes, makeup, art or all the above, you capture others attention as a result.

Glo-Venus malefic aspects (opposition, square)

You may not see your beauty as easily as others, which may lead others to think you're searching for validation. On the other hand, this placement may lead to vanity, constant appearance checks and being unable to stop thinking about how one looks (overindulgence).

Glo-Saturn benefic aspects (conjunction, sextile, trine)

You are a naturally hard-working person ("started from the bottom now we here" vibes) and your discipline does not go uncelebrated by the masses.

Glo-Saturn malefic aspects (opposition, square)

Despite well intent, you may be prone to overworking, something that generates concern for your well-being. On the other hand, perhaps you do not see the point of hard work and lack discipline.

Glo-Mars benefic aspects (conjunction, sextile, trine)

You are likely a trailblazer in whichever career you choose. What comes to mind is a fitness instructor for example, who creates new exercises that can be done from the comfort of one's home. This creates competition in the best possible way.

Glo-Mars malefic aspects (opposition, square)

Despite your potential trailblazing capabilities, perhaps it wasn't always in the best interest of others. Remember not to step on others just to reach the top, not only is it not well-received, it also will not go unpunished (the fiery mars energy). Remember, competitiveness is healthy, in small doses.

Glo-Jupiter benefic aspects (conjunction, sextile, trine)

You are perceived as a lucky person, particularly when it comes to all your life experiences. This is someone who likely finds luck through their travels and emerging themself in new cultures. Not to mention, higher education opportunities are abundant, something that does not go unnoticed. These blessings strengthen the individual.

Glo-Jupiter malefic aspects (opposition, square)

This can lead to either a blockage in opportunities, causing despair to the person or a surplus of opportunities, leading the individual to feel overwhelmed and unable to choose. In particular, this makes me think of someone who wants to do many things with their life though is unable to choose one venture. In the public eye, this person can be perceived as scattered or restless as a result.

Glo-Uranus benefic aspects (conjunction, sextile, trine)

You shine through your uniqueness, your ability to tap into your original ideas. In particular, unconventional YouTube videos come to mind like storytimes with several plot twists or even "Staying in My Freezer for 24 Hours", idk. You have a great ability to entertain.

Glo-Uranus malefic aspects (opposition, square)

This can manifest as sudden, undesired changes. Using the previous YouTube example, perhaps things go wrong seemingly out of nowhere or that you venture into more dangerous video ideas.

Glo-Chiron benefic aspects (conjunction, sextile, trine)

When you are aware of your natural ability to shine and you own it, this placement in turn shines again for their ability to share their teachings and past hurt to others.

Glo-Chiron malefic aspects (opposition, square)

This placement indicates a person who is not able to work through their shame associated with their natural shine, who shies away from what they know they are good at, in the guise of humility. They dwell on the undesired parts of themself rather than foster and nurture their strengths.

Glo-Neptune benefic aspects (conjunction, sextile, trine)

Your imagination, and artistic ability take you far in life. Sharing these gifts with others provides both parties with a healthy escape from the daily routine of life.

Glo-Neptune malefic aspects (opposition, square)

This placement may lead to an excess in escapist tendencies, and mental sensitivity, thus leading the person to retreat more into themself and not share their gift.

Glo-Pluto benefic aspects (conjunction, sextile, trine)

This persons' transformative nature is incredible. This can be perceived as having many different "phases" (emo, edgy, girly, hairstyles, clothing, etc) depending on what it is that they've gone through in their life. This is admired by many.

Glo-Pluto malefic aspects (opposition, square)

This may manifest as someone who is in the spotlight for their inability to adjust to the constant changes in their life, who is famous for unfavourable transformations as a result.

GLO AND INSECURITIES

Forgive me for not mentioning the exact source but I've seen a person on TikTok hypothesize that when we feel insecure, we tend to embody the negative traits of the sister sign of the placement in question when we feel lesser than.

Let's use myself as an example. Natally I have asteroid Glo in Libra 1H. According to this, I shine for simply being myself. In times of insecurity, it can be said that may appear self-centered and arrogant (negative aries traits) and perhaps seek external validation through romantic relationships in attempt to remedy this (7H). With this awareness, I can learn to pour more into myself and become more attuned to my needs.

SOLAR RETURN OBSERVATIONS

This year (2023-july 2024), I have Glo in Cancer 11H trine saturn and squaring neptune. I've found myself slowly opening up more and literally crying (cancer) to my friends (11H) and noticing that it does help with the emotional burden, as someone who usually doesn't. Also, I find that those closest to me occasional make remarks about how hard-working I am (saturn) and this in turn has led me to in more into their perspective of me (8H) and lean more into discipline (capricorn) daily routine, diet and healthy regiment (6H). On the other hand, I have been trying to balance my mental sensitivity (neptune) through my formal education alongside more spiritual practices such as tarot, crystals and astrology (9H). As a result, this year has led me to take a more caring and gentle approach (pisces) to my mental health and explore the inner workings of my mind through guides such as tarot and astrology (8H) though I do require more alone time.

As for this upcoming year (july 2024-2025), I'll have Glo in Virgo 12H sextile the moon and venus, as well as trine uranus and opposing chiron (wow). I foresee myself taking a more analytical view (virgo) when it comes to the inner workings of my mind, analyzing my spiritual beliefs, sleeping routine and hidden fears (12H). With this placement sextile moon, I suspect that emotional expression may come with more ease (moon) and that freeing myself from emotional turmoil may lead me to more career opportunities, and a greater reputation (10H). With a venus sextile as well, this placement is indicative of an improved fashion sense and general understanding of what natural suits me through an intuitive and emotional connected approach, nurturing my needs (cancer), in particular when it comes to finding success in career and social standing (10H), which mirrors my exact natal placement. With a uranus trine, embracing my innovative ideas (uranus) will allow me to flourish in matters related to fear as a general concept, conquering it and transform for the greater good as a result, becoming more spiritually attuned to myself perhaps (8H). This success should be approached in a patient, practical way as lasting success is not immediate (taurus). Now, with Glo opposing chiron, this upcoming year may be one where I must actively fight against my limiting beliefs, perhaps even those that others project onto me (chiron). In particular, challenges associated with potential romantic pursuits are at the forefront, if I do not acknowledge my strengths and hide away instead (7H). I must not waver in my faith and tap into the true courageous, leader-like energy that I know I have inside (aries). This last part shouldn't be as daunting seeing as I have Glo square chiron natally, both in cardinal signs.

Dividers from source!

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 7: Tell Me That I Won't Feel A Thing]

A/N: Hello besties! Thank you for voting in the poll for Chapter 7. Below are your predictions...let's see how you did! 🥰

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon™️, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes, Jace is back yay!!!

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “Give Me Novacaine” by Green Day.

Word count: 9.6k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

Billboards ask you as the Tahoe flies across the flat emerald sea of Iowa: Have you heard the good news? Have you been saved? Where will you spend eternity? Are you struggling with same-sex attraction? Do you regret your abortion? Do you fear the Lord? Do you want to end up in Hell?

Aegon snickers, gnawing on a Slim Jim. The sun glare turns his wild hair to gold, etches crinkles into the ruddy skin around his eyes, murky like deep water, oceans you recognize from other corners of the world. “I thought I was already there.”

Jace’s Honda Rebel 300 is left on the shoulder of the highway with its fuel tank uncapped, drained to feed the Tahoe, prehistoric combustion, bottomless mechanical hunger. Rhaena takes over driving so Baela can sit with Jace, touch him, inhale him, convince herself he’s real. Aegon climbs into the passenger’s seat and skips songs on the CD player until he finds the one he wants: In Da Club by 50 Cent. The miles roll by so soft and so infinite that you can’t imagine ever feeling trapped again, warm July air unfurling down the darkest corridors of your lungs, hawks on lifeless power lines and fields dappled with white-tailed deer. And you think: Everything will be better now.

You cross the Missouri River and into Nebraska at Plattsmouth, which—according to a plaque mounted on the outskirts of town—the Lewis and Clark Expedition passed through over two centuries ago. Rhaena follows Aegon’s directions to cut between Lincoln and Omaha, avoiding the roiling wastelands of the cities and keeping well north of Cooper Nuclear Station, where in the absence of a successful manual or computerized shutdown before the power grid collapsed, rods of uranium are melting down and irradiating the surrounding area, anemia, cancer, heart disease, radiation sickness, an affliction that eats you alive.

Rhaena takes Nebraska State Route 66 north and then Route 92 due west, lush fields of corn and soybeans and sorghum planted before the dead began to walk, bones of devoured livestock. You stop for the night in a town called Broken Bow, the sky turning the colors of fire and rust and blood, the Tahoe exsanguinated like a man with a slit throat. Every vehicle you pass already has its fuel cap unscrewed; the farther west you go—the scarcer the resources, the longer it’s been since the world began to end—the less the earth will yield to you: less guns, less gasoline, less food, less human settlements scattered across what was once called the frontier. You commandeer a two-story house: white wood, wraparound porch, a long gravel driveway that winds like a snake. There is a small cornfield and a barn, both of which you sweep for zombies before making yourselves at home. You try not to think about what happened to the family that used to live here.

Helaena lights candles, Luke and Rhaena distribute bowls and silverware, Aemond and Rio gather kindling for the woodstove, Daeron keeps watch on the porch, Aegon picks all the Twizzlers out of a mixed bag of Hershey’s candy for Jace. There is a 12-pack of Ramen noodles in the pantry, gallons of water in the cellar, and a pot large enough to cook it all in one batch. Cregan takes Ice and disappears into the cornfield for half an hour at dusk—something none of the rest of you would ever consider—and reappears with an opossum that he’s nearly decapitated with his axe. He butchers it and you brown cubes of meat in a sauté pan placed directly on the glowing embers. The others are horrified and won’t eat a single bite until you do. It’s the first real food you’ve had since you left Saratoga Springs, and you feel satiated in a way you had forgotten existed.

In honor of Jace’s resurrection, some revelry is in order. There are bottles of Grey Goose vodka in a kitchen cabinet, and Aemond allows a two drink maximum for anyone eligible to participate: Baela is too pregnant, Daeron is too young, Aemond himself is too vigilant, too self-sacrificial, too indoctrinated into the religion of his own martyrdom.

“Daddy loved his screwdrivers,” Cregan says. “I remember being five or six and taking a big gulp of one thinking it was Sunny D or Tang or something. Lord almighty, was that a shock!” He guffaws, then inspects the pantry, scratching at the dark stubble on his cheeks. “We ain’t got nothing like orange juice though.”

“Mama made hers with Hawaiian Punch.” You point: there are several jugs of it on the floor between boxes of Pop-Tarts and Welch’s Fruit Snacks and Cheddar Whales, red like crushed blackberries or fresh blood.

Cregan grins at you over his brawny shoulder. “That’ll work, Miss Chips.”

Luke and Rhaena have first watch, Rio and Aegon will take the second. You are blessedly unburdened tonight. This house is big enough for you to get your own room; you climb the staircase with Grey Goose vodka burning in your throat, your head warm and dizzy, a sensation like freefalling as you lie down on the bed.

I left them, you think, the walls spinning around you, echoes of Mama’s voice through the phone as Rio stood there nodding, encouraging you to hang up. I left them and I never looked back. Can someone commit such an act of ancestral betrayal without incurring a curse?

You are still considering this when you feel Aemond’s weight on the mattress and fold into him, the world going dark and hushed and harmless.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I think it’s safe,” you tell Aemond between sighs, his lips on your throat, his hand between your thighs. Late-morning sunlight slants in through the bedroom windows; goldfinches and blue jays flap by chirping blithely. The dead pillage the misfortunate beasts of the earth, but creatures of the air and water are spared. You can hear geese honking from a distance, and the breeze through the cornfield, and calm indistinct voices beneath the floorboards. You can smell pancakes turning from white to gold in a pan sizzling with Crisco. Cregan must be cooking breakfast in the woodstove.

“How sure are you?” Aemond murmurs, his breath warm on your neck, those small teeth he’s always hiding nipping playfully, and if he leaves marks like stains of ballpoint ink you don’t care. He’s whisked every scrap of your clothing away. Beneath him you are bare and helpless and needing more.

“Like…eighty percent sure.”

“I’ll pull out.”

“Like Jace did?”

He laughs and kisses your mouth, not just ravenous but wild like a storm, and all the rest of the world goes quiet. Your ankles are linked around him, his hips rocking with yours. He is wearing only his boxers, black plaid from a looted Walmart, apocalypse chic. “Hopefully better than that.”

“Just try your best. I trust you. I’m willing to risk it.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s worth it to me.” I could be dead in nine months, he could be dead in nine months. I’m not wasting the time we have left.

“It’s your decision. You would be most affected by the consequences.” He draws away and glances down. “I want to look at you.”

“Ohhh.” You stall. “I’ve been trimming with scissors by candlelight. It’s a hack job.”

“I won’t mind.” He grins. “You don’t mind my hack job of a face.”

“I love your face,” you say as you skim your fingerprints down the length of his scar. And then, when he raises an eyebrow roguishly: “I didn’t break any rules. I didn’t say I love you, just your face. I’m totally using you for your face. Your personality is terrible.”

He snickers, kisses you goodbye, retreats to your hips and pushes your thighs apart as you cover your face and whimper, nervous, exhilarated. And then his lips are on you and the trepidation melts away, puddles pooling and then evaporating, and you have a vision of being home again, shivering and dripping in front of the crackling flames of the woodstove after playing outside in the snow and waiting for the fire to take the cold away. Now the fire is growing over you like ivy, tendrils snaking through veins and leaves opening in your lungs, bones vanishing, muscles turning pliant and weightless. You can feel Aemond’s fingers pushing into you, a fleeting second of tension and discomfort, and then a fullness that is delectable, irresistible, maddening.

“Come back,” you plead, and when he does you clasp his face with both hands, kissing him deeply as his fingers remain inside you, thrusting and bathed in your wetness. You’re finally ready for him, you have to be, you need him so badly: like you’re dying of thirst, like you’re running out of air. “Now, Aemond, please. I want all of you.”

And he wants it too. His boxers are gone and he’s positioning himself between your legs, his tongue in your mouth, one hand cradling your jaw as the other guides his cock to where you are slick and aching and aware of an emptiness that has never felt so dire.

He’s so big…

But you are determined to take all of him. You don’t care if there’s pain, if there’s fear. You want to feel what it’s like to be with him before it’s too late.

Aemond presses himself against you, rolls his hips cautiously…and nothing happens. He is a bit more forceful. There is immense pressure, then the beginning of a stretching that is sharp, searing, dreadful, unfamiliar in a way that is completely disorienting. You gasp before you can stop yourself; a wince ripples across your face too quickly to camouflage. Aemond shakes his head and climbs off you, settling beside you on the bed.

“Fuck,” you exhale in frustration, slapping a palm down on the mattress. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand why…why I’m like this…”

“Shh,” Aemond soothes, kissing you. “It’s okay, it’s fine. I’ll help you finish and then we can try again later.”

“Why isn’t this easier?”

“You’re just nervous,” he says gently, smoothing your hair back from your face, like it’s no big deal, like he’s pointing out a bird or a rabbit or the shape of a cloud.

“I don’t feel nervous.”

“It’s not always conscious, sometimes the body reacts without the mind even being aware of it. You tense up and things become…more challenging. But fortunately for us, the treatment is very enjoyable. We just keep messing around and working up to it until one day you’re so aroused and so relaxed that I can glide in without any discomfort whatsoever, and then your body adjusts to this glorious new experience and you aren’t so nervous anymore.”

“Can’t you just…you know…sorry, this isn’t very romantic, but like…shove it in?”

“I could, sure,” Aemond says. “If I was a horrible person. And then you’d learn to associate sex with pain, which would just exacerbate the situation.”

“The problem, you mean.”

He smiles patiently. “You aren’t a problem. We’ll figure it out, we have time.”

Do we? You stare morosely up at the ceiling, shadows of clouds, shades of wings. “I should have hooked up with that Marine at Corpus Christi. Then I’d have practice. I was so afraid of giving a man the power to hurt me or get me pregnant or otherwise ruin my life, but I didn’t know I’d meet you one day. And now I just want everything to be easy for us, and it isn’t.”

“Hey.” Aemond turns your face towards his. “For me, you are…” He struggles to decide on the words, his eye drifting to the window, sunlight turning the blue of his iris to a shallow, glass-clear river. “You’re like an island, and everything else is a sea of poison, and violence, and catastrophically fucked up situations, and when we’re alone together it all goes away for a little while. The world gets quiet. It’s never been like that for me before. I don’t mind if it takes time for us to figure this out. I just want to be with you.”

“What happens when we get to Nevada, and you’re supposed to turn south for the Bay Area while I go north to Oregon?”

Aemond shrugs, but his expression is contemplative. “I’ve been thinking about that. Maybe we’ll all stay together and go to one place, then the other. If Odessa is safe, I can bring my parents, Criston, and Grandfather there. If it isn’t, we can bring Rio’s family south and live in California in that beach house on the cliff.”

“I never thought I’d set foot in a mansion.”

“I never thought I’d eat opossum.”

You laugh and curl up against him, resting your head and a palm on his chest. “How was it?”

“Not too bad, actually. Kind of like dark meat chicken. A little gamey, but I like lamb and venison, so that’s fine with me.”

“Just wait until you try bear.”

“Bear?!”

There is a knock at the bedroom door. Luke’s bashful voice is muted through the wood. “Aemond?”

“Yeah?” Aemond replies impatiently.

This was not an invitation, but Luke doesn’t seem to know that. He opens the door, and as he does Aemond throws the blanket over you so you’re covered, leaving himself completely exposed.

Luke begins: “I’m really sorry, I didn’t want to bother you, but…” His eyes go wide. “Oh, you’re like, all the way naked.” He turns and stares at the wall to be polite. “If it’s a bad time, I could come back in five minutes. Do you need more than five minutes? Wait, that was rude, I didn’t mean it like that, I’m sure you can last way longer than five minutes…um…”

Aemond sighs. “What’s wrong, Luke?”

“Jace is sick.”

“Sick?” Aemond sits up straighter, his eye narrowing. “Sick how?”

“He’s been puking since he woke up.”

You and Aemond exchange a startled glance as you clutch the edges of a blanket patterned with wild horses. Illness, virus, plague, curse.

“He hasn’t been bitten or anything,” Luke says quickly. “So it can’t be…you know…that. And he and Baela don’t seem that worried. But you should probably take a look at him.”

Aemond nods, less alarmed now. “I agree. Can I get those five minutes first?”

Luke smiles. “Yeah. See you downstairs.” He leaves and shuts the door behind him.

You look to Aemond. “Why—?”

He yanks the blanket away and drags you towards him. “I said I was going to help you finish,” he says, grinning, a hand slipping between your thighs.

You bite at his lips when he kisses you and tease: “I don’t need your help.”

“No, I’m sure you don’t. But it’s better when I’m here.”

And he’s right; it is.

~~~~~~~~~~

Daeron is out on the front porch sharpening sticks into arrows and using goose feathers for fletching, attaching them to the wood with a tube of Gorilla Glue that Helaena found for him. Helaena herself is presently floating through the house—soundlessly, ethereally, traceless like a ghost—and partaking in what you all call “apocalypse shopping,” pilfering the clothes and accessories of the former occupants. She seems to know everyone’s sizes without needing to ask. Aegon, Rio, and Cregan are sitting in the living room and eating pancakes off paper plates, carelessly spilling Mrs. Butterworth’s syrup on hideous 1970s couches ornamented with scenes of pheasants and autumn leaves. Down on the Turkish-style area rug, Ice is merrily chomping her way through a stack of burnt pancakes.

“So Cregan,” Rio says, his bare feet propped on the coffee table. “What did you do before the whole zombie situation?”

“I was a lumberjack.”

“No way!”

“Yes sir. I cut down trees for the power company.”

“What a coincidence,” Rio says around a mouthful of pancakes. “I was an electrician!”

“Well how about that? We oughta go into business together once the world straightens itself out. Where’d you work?”

“All over. Wherever the Navy sent us.”

Cregan sets his fork down on his plate. “You were enlisted?”

“Yeah, me and Chips both. That’s how we met.”

Cregan, much to Rio’s surprise, seizes his hand and shakes it soberly. “Thank you very kindly for your service.”

“No problem,” Rio replies, then turns to Aegon. “No gratitude from you, huh?”

“I showed my gratitude when I let you have the last pancake, you ogre…”

In the only bedroom on the first floor, down a hallway and towards the back of the house, Jace looks worse than you expected. He is heaving into a reusable plastic popcorn bucket, gluey ropes of saliva dangling from his lips; his skin is pale and bloodless, his dark curls damp with sweat. Baela is perched beside him on the bed and holding a wet washcloth to the back of his neck. Rhaena and Luke are loitering anxiously in the doorway, watching Aemond to determine if they should panic.

Jace casts you a bitter glance. “You poisoned me with your poor people food.”

“There’s nothing wrong with eating opossum,” you say, somewhat defensively.

Aemond feels his forehead. “That wouldn’t give you a fever. And everyone else is fine.”

“Maybe I’m extra sensitive. My digestive system has higher standards. I’m built different.” Jace resumes retching into the bucket.

Baela tells Aemond: “He can’t keep anything down. There’s nothing left in him, but he’s still so sick…it has to be a stomach flu, right?”

“Who would he have caught it from?” Luke asks, and Baela doesn’t have an answer.

“Stand up,” Aemond orders Jace when his wave of nausea abates. “Strip down.”

“Aemond, he wasn’t bitten,” Baela says. “I saw his whole body last night. He doesn’t have any scratches or bruises or anything.”

“Fine. But I want to see for myself.”

Jace stumbles out of the bed, pushing away Baela’s hands as she tries to stop him. “Okay, Nick Fury. If you wish to gaze upon the goods, I won’t deny you. I’m not shy.” Aemond rolls his eye. You turn around to give Jace privacy. “What’s the matter, Chips? The only dick you’re interested in belongs to Mike Wazowski over there?”

“Jace,” Baela says, but she’s chuckling. Amused, you stare at a picture on the wall—a haloed Jesus guiding a flock of lambs—as Jace sheds his clothing and follows Aemond’s instructions: lift your arm, turn around, show me the bottoms of your feet.

“No bites,” Aemond confirms, deep in thought. “But the symptoms…”

“It’s not that, Aemond, I’m telling you,” Jace insists, rasping breaths between each clause. “Listen, I got sick when I was alone, before I found you guys again. My stomach, my head. Maybe it’s the same thing now. It didn’t last long, and I thought I was over it, but I guess not.”

“People don’t get better and then worse again after they’ve been bitten,” Rhaena observes softly. “They just get worse.”

Jace lies back down on the bed, his face crumbling with pain. Baela uses the wet washcloth to cool his cheeks and neck. “My head hurts so fucking bad…”

“Because you’re dehydrated,” Aemond says.

“Helaena brought pills, but every time I try to take one I throw it up before it can start working.” There is a gurgling sound in his guts, and then a horrified expression. “Baela, I gotta get outside again.” She and Luke immediately swoop in, grab one arm each, and usher him out of the bedroom, through the back door of the farmhouse, and into the cornfield to allow him some semblance of dignity.

Rhaena gives you and Aemond an awkward smirk. “Helaena found Jace a 24-pack of Angel Soft toilet paper in the basement. So there’s some good news.”

“He needs electrolytes,” Aemond says. “We can’t let him get so dehydrated that his kidneys shut down. IV fluids aren’t an option. Pedialyte would be the next best thing, Gatorade or Powerade if that’s all we can find.”

“We passed a pharmacy on our way here,” Rhaena recalls. “It’s only a mile back, I think.”

Aemond nods. “Then that’s where I’m going,” he says, and walks out of the room.

You say as you follow him: “I want to go with you.”

“No.” Aemond points to Rio, who is now playing Uno with Aegon on the coffee table in the living room. “You and I are going to a pharmacy to get Pedialyte for Jace so he doesn’t die.”

“Cool,” Rio says, standing and fetching his Remington shotgun from where he propped it against the wall. “What’s wrong with him?”

“We don’t know. Maybe food poisoning.”

Aegon says, a hand pressed to his heart: “Personally, I loved the opossum.”

You stare defiantly up at Aemond. “If Rio is going, I have to go too.”

“Aww, so you can protect me?” Rio teases fondly, patting your back with one monstrous palm, an unintentional battering.

“Yeah. Exactly.”

Rio looks at Aemond. Aemond looks at you, touching his chin agitatedly. “You are stressing me out.”

“I’m the best shot. I want to be there in case anything happens.”

“Fine, okay, whatever you want. Just stay near Rio.”

“That’s the idea.”

“A pharmacy?” Aegon asks excitedly. “Can I go?”

“No,” Aemond snaps, and continues out onto the porch. In the gravel driveway, Cregan and Daeron are kneeling by the Tahoe and inspecting the front tire on the driver’s side. “What’s wrong now?” Aemond asks, exasperated.

“Got a flat,” Cregan says. “The little fella here noticed it.”

Daeron is mortified. “Please don’t call me that.”

Aemond peers around mistrustfully, out at the road, into the cornfield. “Someone sabotaged us?”

Cregan shakes his head and taps the tire. “Naw, we just ran over a nail yesterday. You can see it right here. A big one too, a masonry nail, I suspect.”

“Can you fix it?” Rio asks.

“I think so. I saw a jack and a lug wrench hanging up on the wall in the barn, now I just need a new tire, a real one. A spare wouldn’t do us much good, not with all the weight we’re carrying. It’d pop in twenty miles.” Cregan gestures to the main road, but westward, the opposite direction from the pharmacy. “Don’t remember seeing a tire place on our way in. Figured I’d try the other direction. I’ll walk ‘til I find a shop or a truck with the right kind of tires to steal from, whichever comes first. Can’t change a tire on gravel, though. I’ll have to drive the Tahoe out to the road and fix it there. I’m gonna need Rhaena’s keys.”

There is an uneasy lull as Aemond studies him. You, Rio, Daeron, and Aegon—who is lingering on the front porch, not yet ready to admit defeat—glance between them apprehensively. Ice is rolling around in the gravel, coating her grey fur with dust. “How do I know you won’t take off without us?”

Cregan’s face goes dark. His brow, heavy and furrowed, settles low over his eyes. “Look buddy, I’ve done a lot of things for you and your people that I didn’t have to. And now I’m fixing the Tahoe so it can take you west, someplace you decided we’re going. If you don’t trust me, do it yourself. Kill your own opossum. Change your own flat tire. But you can’t, can you? Just like I can’t shoot a zombie straight through the eye or tell you how to cure that sick boy in there. We’ve all got jobs here. Let me do mine.”

Aemond glowers at Cregan, knowing he’s right. Daeron averts his eyes; Rio, grinning, eats a handful of Cheddar Whales from a pocket of his cargo shorts. You lay a palm on Aemond’s forearm. “Aemond…he’s trying to help.”

“Sure,” Aemond replies crossly.

“You want collateral?” Cregan says. “Take my dog.” He whistles, and Ice scampers to his side. He points to you. “Go on, princess.” Ice obediently trots over to stand with you, shaggy ash-colored fur, bestial amber eyes like a rattlesnake’s. “She’ll look after you on your way to the pharmacy and back. And if the Tahoe and I have mysteriously vanished upon your return, you can eat her for dinner.”

“You don’t want a warning if you’re about to run into zombies?” Rio asks.

Cregan chuckles as he picks up his axe off the gravel. “Don’t you worry about me. We haven’t heard a peep since we got into town, and I’m just going a little ways up the road. Any less than ten of those abominations, and I can take care of myself.” He gives you and Rio a parting salute and strides into the farmhouse to collect the Tahoe keys from Rhaena.

Aemond turns to Daeron. “Stay here, keep watch. We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

Daeron nods, glancing to where his compound bow rests on the front porch. “Got it.”

“Aegon will help you.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Aegon says. “I want to go to the pharmacy too.”

Aemond is losing what remains of his patience. “No.”

“Please?”

“No!”

“Then can you at least bring me something back?”

Rio is confounded. “What do you need?”

“You know…” Aegon gestures vaguely. “Percocet, Vicodin, Oxy, maybe some of that cough syrup with the codeine in it—”

“Grow the fuck up,” Aemond flares, and Aegon falls silent. “You’re thirty years old. Take some goddamn responsibility for something, for anything. I have to go to the pharmacy, Cregan has to fix the Tahoe, someone has to stay here with Daeron to help protect Jace and Baela, and Luke and Rhaena, and Helaena too. Just shut up and do the right thing. You have to start acting like an adult. Who do you think is in charge if I get killed? I’ve never for a single day of my life had the luxury of making selfish choices, and now I feel like I’m not even allowed to die. Leaving everyone else with you would be like leaving them with nobody.”

Aegon gazes up at him, not offended but childishly, mortally wounded. His oceanic eyes are huge and glistening. “But you’re not going to die before me.”

“That’s not the point,” Aemond pitches back, cutting, caustic. Then he starts down the long gravel driveway towards the road. You give Aegon a small, apologetic half-smile and then follow after his younger brother, Ice loping alongside you.

Rio thumps Aegon encouragingly on one shoulder. “See you soon, Honey Bun.” And Aegon watches the three of you disappear, standing in the dazzling midday light with his arms folded over his chest and his hair in hie face, kicking at the gravel with the Sperry Bahama sneakers he once wore on yachts and golf courses.

“Please try to be nice to him,” you tell Aemond when you’re far enough away to be out of earshot. Rio is humming a song you don’t immediately recognize—probably Enrique Iglesias—and acting like he’s not listening. “You don’t know how much longer any of us have. And if that was the last thing you ever said to him, you’d feel awful about it.”

“You have no idea what it was like being his brother. Since I was born all I’ve done is try to plug the holes he blasts into ships. But there’s always water on the floor, I’m never done bailing it out. He needs to learn how to do things for himself.”

“Yes, he does. But he loves you, and he wants you to be happy. He would never intentionally take anything from you. He’ll grow into his purpose, whatever that is.”

“He needs to do it faster,” Aemond says harshly, and you walk the rest of the way without speaking, listening for snarling or lurching footsteps, hearing nothing but birdsong and wind whispering through leaves.

The pharmacy—a diminutive family-owned business, not a chain—has been ravaged. The glass of the large bay window has been broken out and the shelves looted, empty containers and wrappers littering the floor, crystalline shards threatening to gash, stab, infect.

“Stay out here with the dog,” Aemond tells you. Ice is panting calmly, her ears relaxed, her strange yellowish eyes taking in the scenery without any concern. “If she gets her paws sliced up, Cregan will have yet another accusation to levy against me.”

“You’re going to have to get used to him.”

“Not much of an adjustment for you, it seems,” Aemond says, then steps through the shattered window, glass crunching beneath his shoes. Rio gives you a wink and goes after him. They rummage through the remaining merchandise, strewn about randomly and interspersed among trash. Aemond peeks behind the counter where pharmacists once filled prescriptions and climbs over it, searching for any bottles or boxes that were left behind.

“Sorry guys, no condoms,” Rio announces, then laughs at his own joke.

“Be careful,” you urge from outside. “Look underneath, check the bottom racks. Rio? Rio, down low, check them!”

“Relax, ain’t nothing going on in here. It’s silent as the grave.” He laughs again. “Get it? As the grave.”

“Aemond?”

“I’m fine,” he tells you as he squints to read medicine bottles.

“Okay, okay,” Rio says, squatting to examine the shelves closest to the cluttered floor. “I’m checking all the racks. There’s nothing scary under the racks. Happy now?”

“Very. Helaena said something that freaked me out.”

“She can be a bit of an enigma,” Aemond admits. He is taking a tiny box from a drawer to keep.

“Oh, we got Pedialyte!” Rio says, yanking a jug of pink fluid from a pile of debris. “You think Jace likes strawberry?”

Aemond hurries over to help him hunt for more. “Yeah. It’s like a Twizzler, right?”

Ice noses your hand and whimpers softly. You look down at her. “What?”

She whirls and canters around the side of the pharmacy, then returns to make sure you’re keeping up. You go after her, slow and wary, a hand on one of your Beretta M9s. There’s nothing of note to be found in the narrow, shadowy alleyway other than an overflowing dumpster and two skeletons stripped of every shred of fabric and flesh; even the bones were licked clean.

You turn to Ice. “Did I need to see this?” She whines and shifts her weight from foot to foot, ears perked up. Something else? You look down the alleyway. Far behind the pharmacy and the shops that surround it is a church on a jade green slope, old-fashioned, white wood and a belltower. There is a cemetery beside it, and amidst the small grey blurs of headstones are… “Oh,” you breathe. “So that’s where the rest of the town is.”

The graveyard is full of limp, swaying figures that can only be zombies. You are far away and draped in shadows; you retreat back to the pharmacy without any indication that you’ve been spotted, Ice trailing close behind. Aemond and Rio are climbing out of the window just as you arrive. They are each carrying three jugs of Pedialyte in various flavors.

“Where the hell’d you go?” Aemond says; but he sounds more relieved than irritated.

“There’s a church about an eight of a mile away. And there are a lot of zombies in the cemetery.”

Rio sets his Pedialyte down on the sidewalk and reaches for the Remington 12 gauge hanging over his shoulder by its leather strap. “Okay, let’s go clear them out.”

“No, I mean a lot. Like a hundred.”

He freezes. “Oh.”

“We should leave town,” you say.

“While Jace is puking and shitting everywhere? You want to be stuck in a car with that?”

Aemond is thinking, toying with the little box you saw him pick up earlier. “We’ll leave as soon as we can.”

“What’s that?” you ask him.

He shows you the label. “Injectable morphine. All the pills were gone, but I found one vial of this, and I have syringes in my medical kit. It doesn’t need to be refrigerated. It should still be useable.”

“For Baela?” For when she delivers the baby?

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. Just in case.” Then he looks at both you and Rio meaningfully. “Don’t tell Aegon I have this.”

“We won’t,” Rio promises. And Ice begins trotting back towards the farmhouse, as if trying to rush you along.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Tahoe is at the mouth of the long gravel driveway, still up on a hand-cranked scissor jack. The tire appears to be new, but the lug nuts haven’t been tightened, and the wrench is nowhere to be found.

“Cregan?” Rio says uncertainly, peeking through the cornstalks as they bend in the wind. “Hey, Cregan? Aemond’s sorry he was a bitch to you earlier. He wants you to return ASAP and do manual labor for him.” Aemond grimaces; Rio beams in reply. But Cregan does not appear.

You can hear them long before you reach the farmhouse, muffled chaotic chattering, raised voices and rushing footsteps. As you ascend the steps of the front porch, Rhaena bursts through the door.

“Thank God you’re back,” she says; there is blood on her hands. “It’s Jace, he…he…come look at him. Aemond, you have to do something. He’s sick, he’s really sick. He’s bleeding.”

“From where?” Aemond asks, urgent, bewildered.

“From everywhere,” Rhaena replies, and beckons for him to follow.

The bedsheets Jace is swathed in are blooming with crimson, flowers of doomed gore. Blood drips from his nostrils and his eyes; when he retches into the popcorn bucket, clots of pink and red spew out. Everyone is gathered around him and speaking at the same time, except Helaena. She is crouched on the floor of the hallway just outside his room, her arms wrapped around her bent knees and her face stricken. Ice curls up beside her.

Above the other voices, Baela screams at Aemond, a desperate horrified moan: “What’s wrong with him?!”

Aemond pushes by the others and feels Jace’s forehead, then grabs his wrist to measure his pulse. As Aemond’s fingers tighten, Jace’s skin rips beneath them, the top layer sliding off and leaving only glistening, raw pink. Jace howls, tears of blood streaming down his cheeks. “I don’t know,” Aemond says, his voice unsteady.

“What the fuck do you mean you don’t know?!” Baela shouts back. “You’re a doctor! Fix him!”

“It hurts, Aemond,” Jace gasps, fresh blood on his teeth. When Baela touches his hair, locks of it fall out into her hand.

“He’s turning, right?” Rio says to you. “This is what happened to Snowflake, the blood and the skin and everything—?”

“He wasn’t bitten!” Luke insists, positioned in front of Jace’s bed as if he’s guarding it.

“I don’t care if we can’t find a bite mark, he’s decomposing for Christ’s sake, what the fuck else could it be?!”

Daeron returns with more blankets and towels. Aegon grabs a strawberry Pedialyte out of Rio’s grasp and tries to help Jace drink it. Cregan is muttering: “I ain’t never seen anything like this…”

Decomposing, you think dizzily. He wasn’t bitten, but he’s falling apart…what else does that to a person?

Baela cleans blood from his lips, a towel turning from snow to rubies. “Jace, baby, it’s going to be okay, we’re going to help you…”

“Could it be rat poison or something?” Cregan is saying. “Rabies? Mad cow disease? Ebola?”

“How the fuck do you think he got Ebola?!” Aemond exclaims. “You think he took a jet to sub-Saharan Africa when he was on his own? Use your brain.”

“I’m just trying to come up with ideas here, doc, and I don’t see you with any bright ones!”

He’s decomposing. He’s decomposing.

And then you remember. You kneel down beside the bed so you can look into his face, so you can make him pay attention. “Jace, listen to me.”

“I’m listening,” he replies faintly. He coughs, wet and gurgling. Fresh blood paints his lips. There are blisters beginning to form up and down his arms, you see now, the skin bubbling and separating.

“Jace, do you remember Three Mile Island?”

“What the fuck.” He is baffled, dismissive. “Three Mile what? Huh? What are you talking about…?”

“You’re upsetting him,” Baela says fiercely, tears glittering in her eyes.

But you are determined. “Outside of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, after we left Fort Indiantown Gap. There were these huge concrete cooling towers. We saw them from the Wawa parking lot.” But he wasn’t there when we talked about radiation. He was still inside searching for guns. “Remember, Jace? Do you remember?”

Now Aemond and Rio are looking at you, petrified, realizing what you must be thinking. No one else understands yet. After a long pause, Jace nods feebly. “Yeah. I remember the towers.”

“Good,” you say, smiling to encourage him. “Okay, this is important. After we lost you at the river, before you found us again, did you see anywhere that looked like Three Mile Island?”

“Yeah,” Jace murmurs as he stares back at you with glazed, bloody eyes; and Rio sighs and shakes his head. “I drove right by it on the Honda. The sign said Byron.”

And it’s been over for him since that moment.

“Alright, Jace.” You want to touch him, to embrace him or cup his cheek. You know it will only make his suffering worse. “Thank you. That’s all I wanted to ask.” He begins to gag again, and Baela hurries to place the popcorn bucket so it can catch his liquefying organs. You turn around and walk through the doorway.

“What’s happening?” Aegon asks you, hushed voice, frantic eyes. He has followed you to the living room, along with Aemond, Rio, and Cregan. You nod to Aemond. He knows.

“It’s radiation sickness,” Aemond says, low and bleak.

“What?!” Aegon gapes at him. “I mean, are you sure…?”

“It fits all the symptoms. He was in close proximity to a nuclear power plant, something the rest of us have intentionally avoided. If there was a meltdown, there are miles and miles that are poisoned with radiation. Passing by on a motorcycle could definitely result in a lethal dose.”

“Poor guy,” Rio says. “Not a good way to go.”

“No,” you agree. It isn’t.

“So how do you treat something like that?” Cregan asks Aemond.

“It can’t be treated,” Aemond replies tersely. “Not here, not by me, not by anyone. Not even if the world was normal again.”

“What do you mean it can’t be treated?! Everything can be treated nowadays! Cancer, heart attacks, diabetes, hell, my cousin got testicular cancer and he was fine a month later, he even got to keep one of his balls!”

“Radiation sickness can’t be treated. He’s going to die.”

“But how is that possible when—?!”

“I need you to try to not be stupid for five minutes,” Aemond snaps.

You say quietly: “He’s not stupid, Aemond. He just doesn’t know about this.”

“You are always defending him.”

“Because not going to med school isn’t a character flaw.”

Cregan asks mildly, looking at Aemond: “Could you explain it to me?”

“It’s pennies in a jar, man,” Rio says. “Radiation stacks up and at a certain point it kills you. It destroys your DNA and your body falls apart. You can get it just by going near someplace contaminated, and you might not even feel it happen. And there’s no way to undo the damage. The pennies never leave the jar.”

Cregan raises an eyebrow at Aemond. “Was that so difficult?”

Aemond ignores him. “We have to tell Jace,” he says instead.

Back in the bedroom—a mineral stench in the air, coppery blood and the salt of sweat—Aegon sits on the edge of the bed and takes one of Jace’s swelling, blistering hands carefully in his own.

“Don’t hold my hand, you loser.” Jace mumbles, and Aegon respectfully releases him.

“Jace,” Aegon begins. “We think you have radiation sickness.”

Jace blinks up at him, wincing and disoriented. “Which means…?”

“Which means, um, it’s going to be…not great.”

“Why are you the person explaining this?”

“You’re right, I really shouldn’t be explaining it. Can someone else explain it…?” Aegon glances around hopefully.

“Jace,” Aemond says. “Those cooling towers you drove by were part of a nuclear power plant that melted down when the power grid collapsed. You received a fatal dose of radiation. It’s the only thing that explains what’s happening to you.”

“Fatal…?” Daeron ventures.

Rhaena gasps and reaches for Luke. Baela’s face is a mask of numb shock. Jace stares up at Aemond for a long time before he speaks. “Aemond, fix me.”

Aemond’s words are brittle and fracturing. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Stop fucking around, man, you’re a doctor. You can fix me. I know you can. You’re a genius. You’re a total freak but you’re the smartest person I’ve ever met. Give me the pills, give me the shots. Cut me open if you have to. I won’t scream, I promise. Fix me. I trust you.”

“Jace, I can’t do anything. No one can.”

“I have to meet the baby, Aemond,” Jace whispers, scarlet tears bleeding down his cheeks. “I have to be here for Baela and Luke. Fix me, man. I’ll do anything you tell me to.”

“Jace,” Aemond says, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry. I can’t help you.”

Jace looks to Baela, Luke, Rhaena, and at last back to Aemond. “How long?”

“Not very. A few days, maybe.”

“Days?” he echoes, dazed. “What happens?”

Aemond shakes his head. You don’t want to know.

“Yeah I do. Tell me.”

Aemond can’t respond; clear silent tears snake down the right side of his face. Rio answers for him. “You continue to bleed out of every orifice and the rest of your skin falls off. And eventually you die.”

Jace breaks down in sobs. “I was trying to find you guys.”

Suddenly, Baela turns to you and Rio and Aemond, wrathful, hissing. “This is your fault.”

Aemond pleads: “Baela, please don’t—”

“You made me leave him at the river. I knew he was still alive, but you forced me to leave him. If he’d been with us, this never would have happened. But he was alone, and it was because of you. You did this to him. You stole him from me.”

Rhaena tries to console her. “Baela, no one meant to—”

“I just got him back!” she screams, and then shelters Jace in her arms as he clings to her, the skin of his fingers and palms flaking at the pressure, holding onto her anyway. No one knows what to say; everyone has tears burning in their eyes and embers in their throats. “Get out,” Baela demands. “Leave us alone. This is the last time I’ll ever have with him and it’s your fucking fault. So get out.”

And you leave them to their final moments, failing flesh in a dying world.

~~~~~~~~~~

Only Luke and Rhaena flit in and out of the bedroom, carrying soiled linens and the plastic popcorn bucket to be periodically emptied. The rest of you are engrossed in a grim, thunderstruck deathwatch in the living room. You discuss the inevitable in hushed murmurs. It is cruel to let Jace suffer; it is unspeakably horrible to let Baela witness it. Ice alternates between receiving scratches from Cregan, Helaena, and Aegon, never trying to enter Jace’s room. You can hear Jace and Baela talking in there, his retching and groaning, her sobs.

It is not until dusk that Rhaena summons Aemond. Luke is weeping as he paces back and forth in the bedroom. Baela is still sitting on the bed with Jace, resigned now. She does not apologize, but she doesn’t have any more venom to spit either. The rest of you watch from the hallway, keeping a respectful distance. Ice nudges your hand with her nose, but you ignore her. Jace’s bloody eyes roll to Aemond.

“I’m keeping you here, aren’t I?”

“Yes,” Aemond replies. There’s no point in lying.

“And I don’t need to feel myself melting like this for days. I get the idea.” Jace looks at Aemond for a while. His voice is anemic but calm; there are fresh blisters on his face and neck. “What can you give me?”

Aemond opens his medical kit and shows Jace the vial of morphine. “I found this at the pharmacy today. It would be painless, like going to sleep and never waking up.”

“Why do you have that?”

“I was thinking a small amount might help Baela during labor.”

“Is it the only morphine in your kit?”

“Yes.”

Jace nods. “Save it for Baela.” His gaze drops to the Glock in the holster at Aemond’s waist. “Can I borrow that?”

Rhaena stifles a dismayed yelp. Baela closes her eyes, but does not protest. Aemond says: “I don’t think you want to do this.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, Cyclops,” Jace says, smiling. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”

“It’s heavy,” Aemond warns. He clicks off the safety and gives the Glock to Jace. “Are you able to use it by yourself?”

“It’s a very simple two-step process. Barrel to skull, finger on the trigger. I think I’ll manage.”

Again, Ice bumps her nose against your knuckles; again, you barely notice. Baela kisses Jace on the mouth, her lips coming away bloody. Rhaena says goodbye to him, then Luke, whispered parting words you don’t try to listen to. Before Aemond exits, Jace grasps his hand.

“Take care of my family, Aemond.”

“I will.”

“Don’t let the zombies eat me afterwards.”

And then it becomes real. Aemond’s composure falters. “Jace…I’m so sorry…”

“Go,” Jace urges him. Then there is a coughing fit, fresh blood and pieces of stomach and lungs. “Right now. Before I lose my nerve.”

Baela is the last one to leave the bedroom; she shuts the door behind her. Almost immediately afterwards is a deafening bang. Baela sinks to the floor and wails, one hand on her belly, the other embracing Rhaena and Luke when they rush to her. Ice is whining and pawing at the floor, her nails screeching on the hardwood. Aemond alone returns to Jace’s bedroom and reappears with his Glock. He places it back in his holster, his scarred face vacant. There’s blood on his fingers, you see. Jace’s blood, the last he’ll ever shed. Aemond hasn’t noticed yet.

You reach for Aemond’s hand; he flinches away. You ask him, pained: “Do you think if you don’t touch me, it won’t hurt you when I die?”

“Please don’t say that,” Aemond responds in a hoarse, splintering whisper.

Ice yowls, and Cregan is abruptly aware of her. “Oh shit, the Tahoe is still up on the jack. I’ll go get it.” He opens the front door. Under the moonlight, there are upwards of a hundred zombies stumbling down the long gravel driveway. Everyone begins screaming. Cregan slams the door shut and shoves one of the couches in front of it. “What now?!”

“We go through the cornfield,” Aemond says as you are all frantically gathering your sparse possessions. “It will be more difficult for them to see us. We kill as many as we can and we make our way to the Tahoe. Cregan, how long will it take you to get it ready to drive?”

“Maybe a minute. But I’ll need someone to spot me while I tighten the lug nuts.”

“Sounds like my kind of job opportunity,” Rio says, pumping his Remington. Helaena gives you a flashlight. Cregan secures the lug wrench under his belt and picks up his axe. Rhaena has her Ruger out and is telling Baela to breathe, to stay focused, to let her and Luke lead the way.

Aemond comes to you and leans in close so the others can’t hear. “How many bullets do you have left?”

“Not enough. Maybe fifty.”

“Do what you can. Stay near Rio.”

“I’ll try.”

Now there are zombies at the front windows, beating their spongy swamp-colored palms against the glass. Baela, Rhaena, and Luke are leaving through the back door with Daeron; you can hear the whizzing of his arrows and the sick soft sound they make when they pierce rotting meat. Under the weight of so many hands, one of the living room windows pops from its frame and clatters against the floor. You open fire, bullets exploding skulls and spraying brains, corpses jolting and then diving to the ground. You shoot until both M9s are empty, then pause to reload, boxes of bullets that Cregan gave you back in Iowa.

“Let them in,” Helaena says.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?!” Aegon shouts at her. He’s firing his Marlin .22 beside you, quite poorly; Rio and Aemond are in the backyard killing any zombies that find their way towards the cornfield. “We’re not letting them get through the house!”

“Not through,” Helaena says placidly. “In.”

“Oh.” Aegon understands. “Oh! I get it! Trap them inside!” He races to the kitchen and tears the remaining bottles of Grey Goose vodka out of the cabinet, then begins spilling them onto the wood floor. “Helaena, give me a lighter.”

She places one in his outstretched palm and then leaves with Cregan as he escorts her away, leading her by her fragile hand. They vanish together into the cornfield, Ice on their heels.

“Time to go, Chips!” Rio booms; he can’t be far behind Cregan.

“We’re on our way!”

Zombies are pouring through the front of the house; another window has given way. You pull the trigger over and over again as you move with Aegon towards the backyard, his clear river of vodka drawing a path from one end of the house to the other. You hit the grass before he does, then wait for him by the edge of the cornfield. Aemond and Rio are shouting for Aegon to hurry up. He crosses through the threshold, flicks the lighter to life, and throws it into the house. His plan works—the farmhouse is abruptly aflame, cooking zombies like long-spoiled hams—but he neglected to realize that in his haste, he had also accidentally doused his own left leg and Sperry Bahama sneaker. The fire licks up over Aegon’s skin and blazes there radiantly. He shrieks and falls to the ground. Rio yanks his own shirt off and uses it to smother the inferno, then throws Aegon over one shoulder to carry him.

“Go to Cregan!” Rio tells Aemond, shoving him in the direction of the Tahoe. Rio will be slower now, but no one else could still run with Aegon’s added weight. “You and Daeron spot him until I get there!” When Aemond is gone, Rio glances back at you.

“I’m fine,” you say, felling zombies as they round the house. “Get Aegon to the car!” And Rio listens to you like he always does, vanishing with Aegon through the cornfield.

You weave through the leafy stalks, investigating each growl and rustling with the beam of your flashlight. Grotesque, fetid faces plunge through the greenery, and you demolish them. You’re in the rhythm now, wheeling for a target and locking in, squeezing the trigger and watching ghoulish faces disappear. And then you spy a zombie lurching towards you from fifteen feet away, a twenty-something in a red Nebraska Cornhuskers t-shirt making her way down the dirt aisle between two rows of corn; and when you pull the trigger, there is only a dry click in reply. Your other M9 is already empty. You’ve used all the ammo Cregan gave you.

“I’m out of bullets,” you say, but no one hears you; you are alone. Aemond always told you to stay near Rio and you never did. Too late, you realize what an oversight that has been. “Rio? Aemond?!”

There are human voices and gunshots, but reverberating from a distance. Far closer are snarls and groans of the dead. You click off your flashlight, drop to the earth, and crawl until you are as far under a row of corn as you can be, long leaves tickling the back of your neck and damp soil in your nostrils. Clumsy, lumbering footsteps trod by you. From the road, you hear the Tahoe’s engine start with a rumble.

They’re leaving.

You shake your head, here with no one to see you in the dark. Still, the thought persists.

They’re leaving. I left my family and now my family is leaving me.

“Chips, stay where you are!” Rio shouts. “We’re coming back, we’ll find you!”

You wait until they are within ten feet of you, Rio cracking skulls with his Remington—he must be out of bullets too—and Aemond firing his Glock. “I’m here, I’m here!” you cry, and they are lifting you up from the dirt and dragging you towards Tahoe, and Aemond puts his pistol in your hand knowing you can do more good with it. You fire ten rounds before the Glock is empty, and you think with terror: Do any of us have bullets left?

Then you are being helped into the Tahoe, and the second all the doors are shut Rhaena floors the gas pedal, heading west on State Route 92.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I got my drugs after all,” Aegon rasps as Aemond injects him with morphine on the floor of a laundromat on the edge of Merna, Nebraska, far enough to escape the zombies, not so far that the Tahoe risks running out of gas before you reach the next town. His left leg is burned from the knee down, and burned badly: skin, fat, muscle, blood-red scorched ruin. Even through the modest dose of morphine—Aemond is terrified of accidentally killing him—Aegon can still feel what has happened to him. He knows it’s bad. He knows it could be the last mistake he ever makes. “I’m so thirsty…”

“I got you, Honey Bun,” Rio says, and then uses the butt of his Remington to bust open the vending machines and bring him bottles of Powerade. Baela is sobbing in the corner with Luke and Rhaena. Helaena is shining a flashlight on Aegon’s leg so Aemond can see. Daeron and Cregan are keeping watch by the entrance. You don’t even know why. All the bullets and arrows are gone, Aegon can’t walk, the Tahoe’s gas tank is nearly drained. If you are descended upon now, what will you do?

Aegon sobs and clutches for you, links his arms around your waist, rests his head in your lap. You hold him and comb your fingers through his unruly hair over and over again, like a compulsion, like a ritual. You are so afraid to let go of him. You are terrified he’ll disappear.

I wish I knew what to say. I never know what to say.

He’s shaking uncontrollably as Aemond cleans his leg: peeling away dead skin, wiping down the raw flesh with disinfectant. Aegon’s eyes are wide and glassy. There is blood on the white tile floor, pinkish lymph fluid, bits of charred skin. Ice is whimpering, her muzzle propped on her paws and her eyes darting around the room. Aegon manages through the pain, a reedy, gasping whisper: “Tell me about all those places you went when you were in the Navy.”

You can see it like the miles-deep blue of his eyes: the Indian Ocean, the jewel-tone equatorial sky. “On Diego Garcia, they have these birds called red-footed boobies—”

Aegon barks out a weak laugh. “They do not. You’re making that up.”

“No, really, I swear! They’re like seagulls, but they have blue on their face and bright red feet, hence the name. They’re extremely stupid, and one night a few of us were hanging out drinking Guinness and playing pool, and a booby flew in through an open window. We panicked, it panicked, and then it was flying in circles and couldn’t get out. We opened all the doors and windows, and the booby still just flew around banging into the walls. And of course the whole time it was shitting and bleeding and getting feathers everywhere, we knew it was going to take hours to clean up. After thirty minutes of chasing this idiot bird around, Rio snapped, took off his boot, and smacked the booby with it. He was trying to fling it out the window, like hitting a tennis ball with a racket, but he accidentally hit the bird too hard and murdered it. Its beak literally separated from its body and flew across the room. None of us could believe it, we didn’t even know that was possible. Rio felt so bad he started crying. We took the booby—and its beak, of course—out to the beach for a Viking funeral. We made it a little raft of coconut tree leaves, set it on fire with a lighter, and pushed it out into the waves.”

Aegon is cackling. “Bryan Osorio, terrorizer of the homicidal undead and boobies!”

“What else?” Baela says, and you look over at her, startled. The flashlight incandescence turns you all to ghosts, phantoms, half-shadows. At first you don’t know what she means. “What else did they have on Diego Garcia?”

“Oh, tell them about the coconut crabs,” Rio prompts you. He’s settled down beside Aegon and is resting one broad hand on his trembling shoulder.

“Coconut crabs?” Rhaena asks you, wiping tears from her cheeks with her delicate, small-boned fingers.

You are abruptly aware that you have an audience. You can feel yourself shrinking beneath their gazes. “Rio should tell the story. I’m not good at it.”

“Sure you are,” Rio says, smiling kindly beneath dark, wet eyes. “Go on. Tell them.”

So you do.

[silkscream]

CHAPTER 7: TOO YOUNG TO GROW WINGS

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru x reader

He needed to learn how to stop being so goddamn obsessive. He’d work on it later, maybe. He’d try not to speak curses into existence from the way he felt about you.

At the moment, he wants to make this good for you. Something like love.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: explicit content (18+ mdni) , unprotected sex, drunk sex, face sitting, blowjobs, cum eating (lol) lots and LOTS of angst, gore, blood, graphic descriptions of injuries, bullying, satoru being......... himself

ੈ✩ wc: 8.8k

ੈ✩ a/n: i wasnt gonna post this but then i was like well. i start a new job on monday so who knows if i'll be able to keep up the weekly update thing. this is also prob my fav chapter so i couldn't hold back OOPS enjoy the yaoi btw <3 title from angel by omar apollo

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

April, 2009

Jujutsu Technical College looks lovely in the springtime—the golden light hits the room in a specific way that makes your body warm. You’re calm, nearly dozing off until three people barge into the classroom, taking up as much space as they can. When you open your eyes, you see Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko smiling at you as they take their seats.

The boys had convinced you to attend (with the help of Shoko) after informing you there was a generous stipend included with your education. Despite the scholarship you’d gotten from the college you’d meant to attend, they had easily persuaded you. You hadn’t had friends you were so close with before, after all.

“Suguru. Switch with her.”

“Huh?”

“Just do it. I want her to sit next to me.”

You lift your head, realizing that Satoru is talking about you. Suguru laughs nonchalantly and stands up to switch with you, and you move to replace him when you notice Satoru’s baby blues searing into your skin. He grins at you brightly as you roll your eyes.

It’s been like this for weeks – Satoru possessing you, claiming you, even though you never ask for it. Truthfully, it pools your stomach with ardor. You’ve never felt as wanted as you do when you were within a close radius of him. 

It dwindles eventually when you realize that the boys’ strength is so far beyond yours. In combat, they’re flawless, beautiful in their movements as they spar. You’re happier to watch than join—Shoko thinks the same, often rolling her eyes every time the two of you are assigned to practice hauling cursed energy for the sake of fighting. It’s nice when you can get her alone, studying healing techniques and watching her reversed curse technique grow.

Sometimes, you don’t even know why you’re here. Shoko is talented and you aren’t. You’re useful enough for superficial wounds, but you can’t do a reversed cursed technique. You doubt you could even heal something of a higher caliber than what you’re used to. You fear the prospect of this revelation on a mission that you know Yaga will eventually send you on. 

“Do they ever fight over you?” Shoko asks over a cigarette.

“Wh-what?”

“You know,” she drawls, smiling. “Satoru’s such a brat. Suguru is more open when you’re around. They’ve gotta be possessive, right?”

You shrug. You don’t know the extent of what she knows, but you can assume from the boys’ behavior that it was written all over their faces. Satoru’s hand on your waist, Suguru’s point to tower over you. Unspoken proximity wars between them with you in the middle. 

“I don’t know about that. They’re overprotective for sure,” you admit, taking a slow drag of her cigarette when she offers. 

“Twigs! Not you, too!” Satoru bellows. “Don’t give my girl your cancer sticks, Ieiri!”

Shoko laughs at that, grinning with the cigarette in between her teeth as you fold your hands into your lap.

My girl.

Satoru hovers over you and holds out his hands. Curiously, you take it, which you regret immediately when he pulls your body and hauls you over his shoulder. You thrash a bit as he laughs until you’re stumbling onto the grass. When Suguru throws a staff in your direction, you catch it reflexively. 

“Ready?” 

You roll your eyes. You’d gotten better at sparring, though you still choose to hang back and concern yourself with areas of Shoko’s expertise. She had become a mentor to you despite being a peer. Meanwhile, the boys had been trying to get you to practice combat, thinking you would do well with a cursed weapon.

You remember the first time you had tried to fight, watching Satoru and Suguru wrestle in the grass shortly after. Their raspy grunts, the skin of their waists underneath ridden-up shirts. The memory makes you flush.

“Yes,” you sigh.

You focus on Satoru’s eyes, saturated like a lightning strike. You were rather well-versed in the language of his body – you think that your intuition often matched Satoru’s rather equally. He was still much taller and larger than you, but you exceeded in your efforts to dodge. He didn’t often bother with hand-to-hand combat much anyway, much more focused on perfecting his inherent techniques.

You gasp when he decides to close the distance between you. The touch of his fingers on your skin is a jolt to the senses as his legs sweep you when you’re too occupied with dodging. You hit the ground with a thud, groaning.

“Sorry, babe,” he chuckles, leaning down to take your hand. When he does, you pull him backward so that he tumbles.

“Hey!”

“Payback,” you shrug. You maintain a fighting stance once again, staff in hand. 

Suguru often took you more seriously, offering to teach you martial arts when Satoru was off on solo missions. You breathe heavily as Satoru takes his first swing, which you dodge by a hair. 

Focused, you move with the grace of a ballet dancer, halting his movements with your staff the way Suguru had taught you. When you kick a leg high in the air, Satoru catches you by the ankle just for you to fall again. This time, you’re sure you’re bruised. 

“There’s still time for you to give up,” he teases. 

You groan in irritation, rising to your feet and walking closer to him. He smiles, enjoying seeing you pissed off and breathing so hard. He’s so wrapped up in looking at you that his senses are hit with whiplash – your fist gets through his Infinity easily and socks him square on the jaw.

“You little–”

“Why didn’t you have your Infinity on?” you exasperate, but he’s already pushing you to the ground and struggling with you the way you used to when you were children.

“I’m soooo gonna get you for that–”

You end up kicking him again, this time in the ribs as he groans. When you pin his wrists above his head, he merely stares at you with wild eyes and heaving breaths. His face is red and cherubic, and when he squirms, you squeeze his waist in between your thighs.

You lean down close to his face, your breath tickling his ear.

“I win,” you whisper. You flick him on the forehead and he flinches. You wonder again why he’s letting you touch him like this. 

“Letting you pin me down isn’t me letting you win, sweetheart,” he rasps lowly, only for you to hear. He rolls his hips slightly and it makes your eyes widen, much to his satisfaction. You frown and crawl away from him just in time to hear Shoko beckoning you.

“Lab time!” she calls after you. Without a second look at Satoru, you follow her inside.

Satoru is lying on Suguru’s stomach, frowning because it isn’t as soft as yours. 

He’s also without entertainment since Suguru has been hogging his DS for the better part of an hour, which Satoru had only let him do because he claimed he wanted to take a nap. But, as per usual, he can’t sleep. He’s still roused from sparring with you, slightly sweaty still from the warmth and the mustiness of the dorm room, and his cock is getting hard again just from thinking about you on top of him. 

“Fuck,” Suguru swears under his breath, caught up in a game of Pokemon Emerald.

Satoru lifts his head to scoot his body higher, chin resting on Suguru’s forearm to peek at his progress. 

“You’re doing terribly.”

“I know that, thanks,” Suguru groans. “I have like, two backup Pokemon left and they’re both level 30.”

“Do you use the same technique with your curses?” Satoru teases. Suguru makes another agitated noise again in response.

“You should’ve brought your Game Cube from home.”

Satoru shrugs, sighing as he sits up. He snatches his DS out of Suguru’s hands, interrupting the boy’s protest with a wet kiss to the mouth. Suguru kisses back immediately, tongue peeking into Satoru’s mouth before he pulls away.

“You haven’t kissed me in months,” he chuckles. Satoru shrugs. 

“Maybe you haven’t kissed me in months.”

“I would’ve thought you’d count it as cheating.”

Satoru is quiet for a moment, rubbing Suguru’s jawline with his fingers gently. He’s been rather gluttonous lately, and he thinks Suguru is starting to catch on. He’s been clingier to the both of you, obnoxiously so, acting more of a nuisance to you specifically for the sake of attention. His heart is aflame whenever he sees you interact with Suguru in ways that are both good and bad, but he doesn’t prefer to dwell on it for very long before he nearly forces you to give him attention.

“Having withdrawals?”

“Huh?”

“She’ll be back soon,” Suguru laughs cruelly. “Whenever she’s gone for a bit, you act like you’re fucking dying.”

“No, I don’t,” Satoru frowns. But he knows he’s lying.

“Don’t mope. C’mere.”

Suguru sighs, seemingly out of pity. He grabs Satoru by the face and sticks his tongue in his mouth – a rough kiss out of spite, out of unbridled passion. He’d dreamt about Satoru and you for weeks, always sneaking glances. 

He’d considered taking both of you months before when you and Satoru and Shoko threw him an impromptu surprise birthday party despite his refusal. He had seen you tipsy, squirming in Satoru’s lap while Utahime set up karaoke on the television, and decided he’d let you come to him when you wanted to. You were still a shy thing even after New Year’s, never asking again for his touch.

Satoru groans, palming his dick over his slacks as he leans back. He could feel his cock leaking in his boxers already just from the roughness of Suguru’s knuckles grazing his skin. There was a manic buzz in his head, thrilled by the slight power imbalance he was allowing. 

Suguru hadn’t touched him since before he started seeing you, and even then, it was mostly rudimentary teenage lust. Jerking off to magazines together. Seeing how much they could take in their mouths before gagging like it was a competition.

“Fuck,” Satoru grunts, feeling Suguru’s tongue on his clavicle.

“You thinking about her?”

“Yeah,” he rasps.

Suguru chuckles darkly, biting harder at the bone. “She was so hot today. I taught her those moves, y’know.”

Satoru makes a mumbled nose, eyes fluttering shut as Suguru palms him. He unbuttons his slacks to reveal the snowy trail of hair above his pubic bone, Satoru’s cock flushed and weeping as Suguru holds it. 

“Want me to fuck you?”

“Use your mouth,” Satoru pants. He knots a fist in Suguru’s dark hair. “Want it like this.”

He hisses when he feels Suguru’s mouth. His jaw slackens at the feeling, gasping for air when Suguru hollows his cheeks to suck tightly. Satoru shoves him down further.

His body feels tight when Suguru motions a finger towards his hole, pausing to spit on his fingers beforehand. With two fingers stretching him open, Satoru pants and gasps. His thighs twitch, hips rolling upward into Suguru’s mouth like it was a cunt.

Your face flashes in Satoru’s mind and it makes his insides careen. Brain like pulped fruit. He opens his eyes to see Suguru’s, narrowed and golden and taunting. It’s similar to the way you look at him, sometimes.

The fist in Suguru’s hair tightens now, knuckles white. Satoru grunts brutishly, overwhelmed by the stimulation in his hole in tandem with Suguru’s tongue pressing on the underside of his cock. 

“Fuck, gonna cum–” 

Suguru moans, jaw aching only slightly. Satoru could feel his dick inside Suguru’s mouth, heat building up until he spills onto the boy’s tongue. His head falls back. Breathing like he’d just run a marathon.

“You need a better appetite. Shit tastes like battery acid.”

“Doesn’t all cum taste like that?” Satoru frowns. His hand is still in Suguru’s hair.

“You tell me.” Suguru kisses him, licking the inside of Satoru’s molars. His lips move against Satoru’s mouth slowly, listless so he can take himself. When he pulls away, Satoru wipes the slick off his mouth, plump and bitten.

“You’re exaggerating.”

May, 2009

The sky is oddly grey this afternoon despite the pleasant morning. Yamanashi prefecture is as beautiful as ever with cherry blossoms blooming, but as you approach the cursed site, you continue to feel a chill down your spine. 

It’s your first real mission. One that Yaga had at least approved you for after you had nailed your physical assessments, able to imbue enough cursed energy into a katana to swing around without slicing yourself. Still, you were meant to act as backup for Suguru, which Satoru hated. 

“Why don’t we just both go with her?” he had wailed to Yaga days before, to which Yaga grunted in dismissal. 

“You have a solo mission.”

“But–”

“That’ll be the end of it, Satoru.”

Admittedly, you do wish he was here. Suguru is a comforting presence, though, calmer in demeanor but much less talkative than what you’re used to. You walk with him through overgrown grass and lengthy vines. 

“What kind of curse are we supposed to find?” you question out loud. 

Suguru shrugs. “It’s difficult to tell exactly, but I’m assuming the cursed spirits roaming around here will be, er, women-shaped? Maybe. It should be Grade 2 at most."

“What do you mean, women? What happened here?”

“You don’t know? This place is super haunted.”

“So we’re ghost-hunting.”

“Ghost exorcising,” Suguru grins. “There used to be gold mines here in the 16th century owned by the Takeda Clan. They also ran brothels for the miners. After the Battle of Nagashino, the clan had to give up the land, but not before they killed all the prostitutes to keep them from spreading information about the gold mines.”

“H-how did they kill them?” 

“The miners had the women dance at a farewell party, then they hacked the vines that kept up the bridge they were on. They fell into the waterfall.”

“That’s horrible,” you frown. Foreboding swells in your chest. 

You can’t sense any cursed energy around you other than Suguru’s. You’re too busy ruminating to watch your step, accidentally tripping over a thick root. You fall forward into Suguru’s arms. 

“You okay?” he croons. His face is inches from yours and you forget how to breathe.

“Y-yes. Sorry.” As you untangle yourself from him, your body jolts. You gasp when you hear the hint of a wretched, bloodcurdling scream in the far distance that makes your blood run cold. It isn’t very loud, but it almost sounds muffled, like someone was screaming from another room.

“What? What is it?”

“Did you not hear that?” you whisper. 

Suguru frowns at you in confusion, his expression seemingly genuine. You blink, trying to shake off the horrible feeling in your body. 

“I think I just heard something. It sounded like a scream.”

Suguru waits, prompting you to elaborate. The forest seems darker now despite it being midday, the curl of the trees billowing in a way that feels uncanny. A girl-shaped forest. 

“Maybe we should split up.”

“Absolutely not,” Suguru protests, his mouth set in a firm line. You hold his hand in yours, stroking it gently with your thumb. 

“Suguru, you can’t expect to protect me the entire time. I need to learn how to handle things on my own–”

An inhuman gurgle rumbles from behind you. The curse looks similar to a reptile, yet human-like with webbed hands and sharp incisors slick with algae. The stench of mud is apparent in the air now. It drools green sludge before it bows.

You stand in shock, unsure of what to do as you lock eyes with Suguru. Warily, you draw your sword, and the curse’s eyes roll back in agitation as it lets out another gurgle. 

“Oh, shit–”

You dodge a projectile of slime, but it crawls towards you at a faster pace than you expect. A slice of your katana dismembers one of its arms, but it easily grows back. Within seconds, a giant curse rises from the ground and swallows it up, teeth mashing on gooey flesh in a way that makes you want to hurl. Suguru’s ringworm curse is dismissed once the riverbank is cleared.

“What was that about not needing me to protect you?” Suguru sneers.

“I still mean it,” you exasperate, heart hammering out of your chest. “You barely gave me time.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll let you have the next one, I swear.”

He smiles genuinely. Satoru must’ve gotten to him – he’s not nearly as neurotic as Satoru in that way, but he wouldn’t be able to stand it if you got hurt. It was less of a possessiveness thing and more of a selflessness thing. Suguru had always been the one to be reliable. He was also more perceptive than Satoru in the way that he could practically feel the tightness of the leash he held on you. 

If you were going to be something in the Jujutsu world, you wouldn’t be held back. Suguru thought you could be something ever since he saw you.

You continue to walk with him, knuckles brushing as the air turns thick. Suguru thinks that maybe you’re sulking in his periphery, so he pokes your cheek.

“Yes?”

“You’re awfully quiet.”

“Just thinking,” you mutter.

The katana feels heavy on your back. You had never thought of yourself as a particularly strong person, growing up to be obedient. A maid’s daughter. Hands a little rough from housework and the dirt of the Earth when you were wild, once. 

“Let me walk around in that little brain of yours,” Suguru murmurs, always charming.

You pause, swallowing. You realize you have never spoken your insecurities out loud. When you were on the brink of it, it would always be during petty arguments with Satoru, who had a way of shutting you down dismissively. He was always a bit of a control freak, even with you.

“Do you think I’m weak?” Your voice sounds almost frail.

“Of course not. I think you’re very talented, actually,” Suguru says. “Satoru and I– we just care a lot.”

“I’m not sure if talented would be the word. It’s not like he thinks so, either.”

“He does. He just doesn’t know how to express his feelings.”

There seems to be something lingering in his tone that gnaws at you. The way he sighs. You decide not to pry, attempting to steer the conversation away from Satoru altogether. 

You hear a wail again. Something in the shape of a girlish scream but only the echo of it. Suguru gives you that confused look at him and you aren’t sure if he’s just messing with you at this point. He touches your hand again and the motion makes you wince.

“What’s wrong?” He looks genuinely worried now as he looks at you, holding a hand to your jaw. That alone is mildly unnerving for some reason, even though you think that in any other environment, you’d welcome it. You place your hand over his palm.

“Do you really not hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“That woman screaming!” you hiss. 

“Are you sure it isn’t some wild animal?”

You blink at him blankly.

“You don’t hear it.”

When he shakes his head, you hear it again. You begin to walk towards the source of it while Suguru stalks behind you, but you stop him. 

“Maybe I should handle this.”

He grimaces, clearly unhappy. You raise your brows, challenging him. Suguru wants to hold you back but he knows he shouldn’t. 

“Hey, another fucking– river monster could show up, and you’d be able to handle it. Maybe this is something that only I can see or hear. We’ll be too conspicuous with both of our cursed energy.”

He says your name with a hint of desperation and discipline, but you hold your gaze firmly. 

“Okay,” Suguru sighs. “But if anything goes wrong, just yell for me, okay?”

You nod. 

The tall grass tickles your legs as you move, which makes you thankful you decided to wear trousers instead of your usual skirt for the mission. Your hand grips the strap of your sword bag with anxiety. As you get closer, it’s as if the air is permeated with a smell that you can only describe as being in between sex and blood.

The scream you hear is louder now. You aren’t sure if it’s truly a hallucination, but it seems like the forest laughs back at you after. If you were a smarter person, perhaps you’d return to your partner. But you also assume that if you were to do that, you’d be a weaker person.

You walk over a wooden bridge that feels like it’s holding on by the barest thread. The creaking of the bridge beneath your weight adds to the unease that has settled in your gut. Every step forward feels like a gamble, a test of your bravery. The forest seems to close in around you, the trees whispering secrets you can't quite decipher. 

A scream rips through the air and this time, against your better judgment, you follow it.

It’s punctuated with sobs and whimpers, getting louder and louder as you walk along the path. Cursed energy flickers in the shape of a girl. When you get closer, you see her. 

A girl is sitting in a fetal position behind a tree, clutching her shoulder as she wails in agony. Her long black hair is matted and damp. She doesn’t seem to notice you yet, so you swiftly move to hide yourself between shrubbery to get a better look.

“P-p-please… help me…” she sobs. You choke up at the sight of her torn dress, hands and shoulder crimson with blood. She looks younger than you – no older than fifteen.

You grasp the strap of your sword bag tightly and cautiously as you walk towards her. Her eyes widen when she sees you. You aren’t sure if it’s a look of relief or fear.

“Hi there,” you say with a tremor in your voice. “What’s your name?”

“Akane,” the girl whimpers. Her face is pale with bruised lips.

“Akane. Are you lost? How did you get this injury?” You crouch down to meet her at eye level. 

“Th-there was a man… I was trying to run away from him… but I’m in t-too much pain to keep going,” she breathes. “Please help me.”

You furrow your brows. You’re surprised that there was anyone in this forest besides those grotesque cursed spirits considering how abandoned and desolate the place was. The girl must’ve run far. 

“Where are you from, Akane?”

“Tabayama.”

“That’s not too far from here,” you smile softly. “Let me heal you and my friend and I can get you back home, okay?”

You reach for her arm but she flinches and looks at you with unease. 

“It’s okay,” you reassure her. “I’m a healer, see?”

Your cursed energy waxes and wanes within your palm like a luminous mist. You hover it over a superficial cut on your hand that you’d gotten from dealing with thorns earlier and the skin patches up like new. Akane watches in awe.

“I want to help you. Is it okay if I touch you?”

She nods her head apprehensively. You unwrap the saturated cloth from her shoulder, cringing at the sight of the gore and blood. You can’t quite envision the type of violence she’d just been through from the vagueness of her words, but you don’t want to make the poor girl explain in the midst of her trauma. 

It’s more effort than what you’re used to – the wound is so deep that you fear that you’ll overexert yourself. You’d spent enough time in the lab with Shoko to improve your technique, but this time, it seems as if everything you’re doing isn’t enough. The skin on the girl’s shoulder is healing very slowly, and when you think that her condition is improving, another area of her body seems to bleed out.

“Maybe I should get my friend to help. He could take us to a hospital.”

“He?”

You look up to see Akane’s eyes grow cold. Almost lifeless, as if she’s looking through you. You hear the visceral sound of a limb breaking, the squelch of her organs. It seems as though her face is transforming right in front of your eyes, but it feels like an illusion – the way her skin looks decayed, the way her teeth grow sharper. 

Akane – or what was Akane – cackles cruelly. Her cursed energy is overwhelming now, suffocating you. There’s a warbled cry that falls from her mouth.

“I’ll kill him.”

This is not a fucking Grade 2 curse.

You immediately get to your feet and swing your katana, but the curse blocks your attack easily. She’s also growing exponentially, no longer the size of a teenage girl and more like the river monster you’d seen earlier. She grabs you by the ankle, tripping you. A hack to the wrist with your katana makes the creature scream even more. You watch in horror as thick, black blood seeps out.

You yell Suguru’s name at the top of your lungs.

You see the Rainbow Dragon first, flying through the forest around you and the curse, but the nails on her other hand are strong enough to slice through the dragon’s hide. When you turn to lock eyes with Suguru, the curse lets out something in between a sob and a scream, shrill in your ears. 

It seems as though she forgets you entirely, running head-first towards Suguru. 

“I’ll… kill…. youuuuuuu!”

“No!” you screech, pulling her backward by the leg with all the strength you can muster. You slash the curse’s skin with your katana, making her wail, but she pins you down in retaliation with cuts to your arm from its sharp nails. 

You hiss at the pain. You notice that her hair has transformed into its own entity, tentacle-like and razor-sharp as it slices through one of Suguru’s hound-like curses. She directs her attention back at him and aims for his neck, but you hold down a bloody hand onto her back as your hand pulls one of her sharp hairs back. 

You cry out at the wound it makes in your hand, but your other stays pressed to the slimy flesh of her body. Your cursed energy ignites something unfamiliar in your body, something painful, but you imbue it into your touch with all you have. 

She’s screaming. Or maybe you are. You can’t tell anymore – your head is dulling from expending more cursed energy than you ever have. It’s all dissonant to you. A horrific cacophony. You feel blood drip from your nose. 

The curse’s flesh is rotting. As if the wounds she had when she appeared as a human were only rapidly progressing into decay, cells rupturing, body degenerating the harder you push. 

It’s like she turns to mush. The corpse of the curse is barely recognizable anymore, just a puddle of chunky purplish-black blood. 

You breathe heavily, looking up to see Suguru staring at you in shock. You try to give him a weak smile, but you don’t feel anything other than sick. Or maybe it’s numbness, at least for a few seconds as the forest is quiet again.

You double over and vomit. Your vision blacks out.

As a surprise to no one, Gojo Satoru is fucking livid. 

He’s about to open his mouth but stops himself when Suguru gives him a look of disdain. There’s no one to yell at, except maybe Yaga, because why the fuck would he put you on a mission that could potentially involve a Special Grade?

“She’s fine,” Suguru affirms. 

Satoru merely exhales through his nostrils, curling his hands into fists as he slumps down on the bench next to Suguru. He can’t help but envision your corpse, his brain reeling a horrific supercut of all the ways you could’ve been disfigured, maimed, bruised. Changed.

He realizes that the protectiveness over you he feels has turned into something ugly now that he knows you’re in the infirmary, something akin to fear, which is foreign to him. 

It sinks into him like teeth down to the marrow, parasitic. He thinks of a faceless curse that he wants to tear apart with his bare hands. Satoru had tried to get over the desire to keep you in a cage, to keep you so unbearably close to him out of his own selfishness, but the feeling came back. He doesn’t know where to keep it other than lodged in his chest like a bullet.

“Did you absorb it, Suguru? Because I might need you to summon it later so I can get my fucking hands on it myself,” Satoru says, his voice low and seething through gritted teeth.

“No,” Suguru sighs.

Satord nods dumbly. Silence ensues.

“She killed it herself.”

You have dreams while you’re passed out. The curse you killed transforms its face from its teenage girl form and into others. You see Shoko, Suguru, Satoru. Everyone you’ve ever known. And when the skin of its face starts to rot the same way it did when you used your technique on it, you end up staring at yourself. 

When you wake, it’s slow. The fluorescents in the infirmary don’t help. From outside of the room, you can hear hushed voices. 

When you attempt to lift your body off the bed, you see Shoko sleeping in a chair next to you. Your bones ache, your skin stinging with the ghost of a wound. The cut on your palm from being slashed by the curse is a scar now.

You drop your head again, squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to rest more. It’s too fucking bright in this room. Your breathing stills when you hear the door creak open.

“For fuck’s sake,” a voice bristles. 

You hear another whispering Shoko’s name. Waking her, you assume.

“How is she doing?”

“She’s okay,” Shoko yawns. “Just sleeping. Her wounds were kind of deep, but I took care of it.”

A hand caresses your jaw gently, fingers stroking through your scalp. Your eyes blink open slowly to see Satoru grimacing above you. From the way the overhead light illuminates the back of his head, you think he almost looks like an angel. A makeshift halo shining on moonlit hair.

You notice the way he holds his fist tightly and the iciness of his gaze. It’s a fraction of rage, which makes you feel nauseous again. You’d seen that look on his face before, during the night of Shoko’s party. You wonder now, vaguely, what he looks like when he kills.

“Hey,” you mumble weakly.

“Hey,” he scoffs. “Wanna tell me what the fuck happened?”

“Satoru, let her be–”

“It’s okay,” you interrupt. You rise, wincing at the soreness of your muscles. “Um. I… killed the curse.”

“So I’ve been told,” Satoru deadpans. His jaw is tense, but his eyes soften. He looks up, flickering his gaze between Shoko and Suguru.

Shoko clears her throat. “She used her technique. The healing part of it is based on cell regeneration. Apparently, it can also be used… the opposite way. It must've been activated by adrenaline, and then it was too much. Passed out from exhaustion.”

“How is that possible?”

“Well, our technique is like a muscle, right? And she didn’t use hers very rigorously until now, so…”

“Right,” Satoru sighs, his voice clipped.

“I need a smoke,” Shoko rasps. “Do you need anything, baby?”

You smile weakly, shaking your head. 

You can’t help but feel guilt snaking its way into your body. Even though you had exorcised a curse, your first actual achievement in Jujutsu sorcery, the bloodshed you’d experienced feels fruitless. You don’t feel very powerful at all, only monstrous. 

It’s difficult to gauge what Satoru is thinking. He’s clearly upset about the fact that you got hurt, but you wonder if there’s more. If he resents you pulling a stunt like that and nearly killing yourself in the process—because what would you be if not his? Are you still his with bloodstained hands? Would he like you better now that you could prove to be strong?

It didn’t matter. He would always be stronger. 

You hate the tension in the air. You can’t bear it. Maybe they’ll disperse once you get on your feet. There wasn’t anything left to do with your treatment since Shoko had tired herself with your wounds. 

When you swing a leg over the cot and attempt to sit up straight, an invisible wall stops you. You glare at Satoru holding his hand out, palm outstretched inches away from your chest.

“No,” he snaps.

“Don’t do that,” you grumble. “I’m fine.”

He laughs but there’s no amusement in his tone. His eyes are cold again. Pools of ice.

“Right. You’re in fucking pristine shape.”

“Satoru,” Suguru warns.

“I– I can walk–”

“No,” Satoru repeats. “You’re hurt. Stop it.”

You look between Satoru’s hard gaze and Suguru’s frown and roll your eyes. You’re so tired, and overwhelmed with pain that transcends the physical kind. You can’t even put a name to it, the amount of emotions spilling out of you as you look at the two of them with mild desperation. You want to sleep for another twelve hours.

Irritation flares behind your face. You aren’t sure if you want to scream or cry for catharsis, but you stay quiet, trembling.

“I want to be in my bed,” you mutter.

Satoru lets out a breath as if he’s been holding it for a while. Gently, he touches the nape of your neck, Infinity down. Laces his fingers in your hair in a sort of compromise. He moves his arm underneath your back with the other under your knees and lifts you, kicking off the blankets.

You curl into him, head on his chest. It made it hard for Satoru to breathe, for some reason, like something was stealing the air from his lungs. He nods to Suguru as a voiceless confirmation, watching his cursed energy flare. I’ll take it from here.

When he gets you into your room, Satoru releases you, placing you gingerly on the floor. Part of him wants to shake you by the shoulders, have you slap him across the face for reasons unknown to him. Something, anything other than the despondence of your limp figure. He can’t stand it.

“Satoru,” you whisper. “I’m sorr–”

“Don’t,” he strains. “Do you even know why you’re apologizing? Or is it just second nature to you?”

You say nothing.

He strips off your uniform, torn and battered. Still reeking of copper blood, the stench all too familiar, but not on you. 

“I’m sorry for being mean. I was just worried,” he says. “I’m… proud of you.”

“Proud?” You look at him, dazed, as if this is the last thing you expect him to say.

He nods curtly, a sad smile on his face. “I always knew you had it in you.”

He picks you up again despite your futile protest, walking you to the attached bathroom. After turning on the faucet, he sits next to you, hand stroking your thigh gently in silence. He doesn’t look at you. He’s not sure if he can.

“C’mon. Up.” He taps your thigh once.

You’re still dizzy as you enter the bath, sighing at the warmth of the water. As you sink into the bath, a sense of relief washes over you, momentarily easing the tension in your body. A much-needed respite.

You feel Satoru trail his fingers around your collarbone, rising to feel your pulse. The rhythm seems to calm him as he soothes his palm over your shoulders and back. His touch is less urgent than it usually is. 

He squeezes shampoo in your hair and threads his fingers through it, scratching your scalp gently, untangling the mess of you. He saturates a washcloth with soap, rubbing small circles over your limbs, lifting you like you’re a doll. It was funny—he had never had to take care of anyone other than himself before, but at the moment, he’s indulged in the small hums of pleasure you make, reveling in your comfort. Your trust.

He likes taking care of you. It makes him feel like he has a sense of control. He doesn’t want to indulge too far into it, knowing it’ll smolder a nasty part of him in some way. But the steam of the hot water makes his cheeks ruddy, and when you open your eyes at the feeling of his hand on your jaw, he can’t help but want to keep you. 

Satoru turns your face toward him, cupping your chin as he leans in to kiss you. Your mouth opens like a flower blooming, ready for him like always. He tries not to be rough despite the moan you tease out of him. Your skin is soft after he bathes you. His hands know carnage, but they also know you.

You break apart, looking at each other for a few seconds before he kisses you again. He pecks your mouth, nose, and cheeks, leaving you to scrunch your nose by the end. Laughing, he rinses your hair.

“Feel better?” he asks lightly. You nod. 

“C’mon, baby. You’re gonna get all pruney in there.”

You’re perfectly capable of drying yourself off and putting on clothes, but Satoru seems eager to do it for you, so you stay limp in his arms. He’s being oddly affectionate as he babies you, which he never does. It’s usually the other way around.

With his hands on your waist, a dangerous thought flits through Satoru’s mind, but it dissipates when he fixes your hair to see you fresh-faced. You look young, innocent. Untouched by violence like he had known you before. 

He takes you to the bed, where, despite the size of it, he manages to slot his body next to yours so he can curl into you. Head on your chest to listen to the murmur of your heartbeat. 

You stay like this for a while, listening to each others’ breaths. You’re on the brink of sleep when you think you feel tears on your chest. Dampness on your cotton shirt, but only a little. Satoru exhales heavily, squeezing the meat of your side. You’re feeling a little too warm from the proximity but don’t have the heart to untangle yourself. You close your eyes.

“I love you.”

You aren’t sure if it’s a whisper in your dreams or not.

June, 2002

You both had matching bruises. Green and yellowish like snot.

The summer was changing you and Satoru in a way that held gravity. Satoru’s body was growing more and more, handsome like the beautiful child he’d been when you first met him, and you were a purgatory. Something girlish. Something ghostly.

Your mother had reprimanded you last week for coming back with a bloody knee, scolding you for rough play. The expiration on your youth seemed to be ticking from the way she chastised you about your shared misbehavior with Satoru – you were meant to grow into something polite and womanly.

Satoru had scoffed at the notion when you told him. He liked that you weren’t obsequious to him like everyone else in his life who treated him like a little prince. 

Unfortunately, you’d pave the road of your abjection all by yourself later on.

He still thought of you as the only person who understood him. He was your first friend, your only friend for a while, and you were his. You’d count stars with him. Catch fireflies and make wishes on them. Wear each other’s clothes before his growth spurt.

You’d clung to each other for years—it was difficult to tell which one of you was the parasite. Despite this, sometimes you think Satoru hates you. Sometimes he makes you cry, especially with how apathetic he can be. You blame his stoicism on his upbringing, but there are times that you feel like an afterthought, only exacerbated as he grows older and into something of worth.

At age twelve, it’s difficult for you to believe that you could be anything similar.

Your young ferocity gets minimized to meekness at school. There’s hair-pulling, harder than Satoru’s ever done to you. Stolen lunches. Spitballs to your back. Your face kissing pavement.

“What happened to you?” Satoru asks, narrowing his eyes at the sight of your split lip.

“I fell.”

He’s forceful when he drags you to him. He’s too tall for his age, towering over you with cold blue eyes staring down at you. You flinch when he touches your cheek with his hand.

“You’re lying,” he frowns.

“It’s fine,” you mumble.

He doesn’t pry after that, but he does force you to clean the cut with hydrogen peroxide, which is ironic considering how little he cares about his own cuts and bruises from his private training.

On the playground the next day, you’re targeted again, reaching desperately for your backpack that’s stolen straight from your hands. A kick to the shins has you scraping your palms when you try to ground yourself. Your hands sting as they bleed. You gasp when you feel another kick to the stomach, a cruel round of laughs taunting you.

But then, you hear them gasp. The sound of knuckles hitting bone. 

“Touch her again and I’ll fucking kill you.”

Satoru lifts you up by the hand and holds you by the shoulders. He picks the debris out of your hair.

“C’mon, let’s go home,” he sighs. He ignores the tears on your cheeks. He’ll wipe them away later along with the dried blood in your palms.

You’ll shower in his bathroom, mind blank under the hot water. He’ll see your silhouette through the peek in the door, and his stomach will lurch in a new way. He won’t be able to look at you for a week after. 

June, 2009

He comes to you at night a little drunk. You’re surprised Satoru didn’t warp this time – you’re used to seeing him in the blink of an eye right before you go to sleep just because he doesn’t want to sleep in his own room. Sleep is hardly a thing for him anyway – his insomnia has gotten a bit worse over the years, so he prefers to play on his Nintendo DS quietly as he strokes your hair. 

“You actually knocked?” 

He shrugs as he moves past you to flop his long body onto your twin bed. You look at him in question. He doesn’t answer, only gesturing for you. 

“Come over here,” he slurs.

“Are you drunk?”

“Not–” he hiccups, “at all.”

“Satoru,” you berate.

“Okay, maybe I went a little crazy with the Dirty Shirleys. Needed a drink after the stupid fucking mission Yaga sent us on.”

“You shouldn’t be drinking this much. It’s a weekday.”

He mocks you and settles a hand over your waist. You notice the calluses on his hands, ironic considering he can never let anything touch him. But you can.

He sits you on his lap, rubbing your shoulders carefully. “How’s your night been?”

“Shoko made me watch Audition,” you frown.

“Oh. I love that one.”

“Of course you do,” you sigh, “Nothing scares you.”

You aren’t wrong. After assassination attempts and countless wretched curses thrown Satoru’s way, nothing could make him flinch anymore. 

“You scare me,” he pouts, undressing himself. Always staking his claim on you in this way – he wouldn’t leave if you asked, and you know that you won’t.

“I highly doubt that.”

“You should yell at me more. It’s kind of a turn-on when you’re mad.”

You roll your eyes as you turn off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness if not for the light of the moon and the annoying brilliance of Satoru’s eyes. Even his hair seems to glow in the dark, head dipped in starlight. 

As you lay on your side, you feel Satoru’s palm undulating your bare thigh, tickling you under the hem of your t-shirt. He breathes in the scent of your neck.

“You have goosebumps,” he mumbles against your hair. “Gonna get nightmares from the movie?”

“No.”

“I’ll protect you,” he giggles boyishly, body overheating with want.

He sucks on your neck, hand parting the plushness of your thighs. You keen at the feeling of his teeth and tongue, gasping at his large fingers sliding your panties to the side to prod your cunt.

“This is all I could think about today.”

“Yeah?” you whisper.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice rough. “Kept thinking about all those sounds you make. Kept thinking about your face.”

“You shouldn’t—ah—let yourself get so distracted on your missions.”

He laughs. “Whatever. Killed all those fuckers in less than ten minutes anyway.”

Satoru keeps you pressed to his chest, his other hand grasping your breast. You feel his dick hardening behind you as he plays with your cunt, fingers knuckle-deep inside you. It didn’t take him long to find your spot the way he had you memorized. Your eyes shut tightly as you moan. Stars knock around your head.

He turns your face toward his and licks at the seam of your lips, tongue roughly licking the inside of your mouth. Your body tingles at the sound of his groans. He holds you by the chin, hand slipping around your throat to hold you in place so he can take in every detail of your face. 

You flush under his gaze, how his blown-out pupils outweighed the ocean blue. His pink mouth is parted and breathing out, zephyrs of maraschino cherry tickling your face.

You cry out when he pins you down, sinks his cock into your wetness. A wounded sound. It makes him shiver, makes him think about you on that dingy cot a month ago in the infirmary. Satoru was about ready to avenge you in any way he could, back then, even when you weren’t even half-dead. He’d reshape mountains. Drown the whole city of Tokyo with his bare hands.

In the way he holds you with bruising force, rutting into you like a devoted dog, he decides that he will be the only person to hurt you. The only one who should, knowing that even with his regrets and jagged ways of caring, no one else should lay a finger on you except him. He’d never hurt you in a violent way, unless his passion had counted. If devouring you counted, which it probably did, he would be content with his selfishness if it meant you were safe.

He needed to learn how to stop being so goddamn obsessive. He’d work on it later, maybe. He’d try not to speak curses into existence from the way he felt about you.

At the moment, he wants to make this good for you. Something like love.

“Made for me,” he whispers. “You were fucking made for me.”

“Yes,” you gasp.

He splits you open, spearing into your gut as he mumbles praises lowly into your ear. Your cunt pulses at the sound of his voice. He thrusts into you harshly, making blood rush to your head.

“You make me feel insane,” he grunts. “Used to think about you like this in high school. You were so fucking stubborn, refusing to give me attention.”

“You were a brat,” you flush. “Still are.”

“Your brat.”

“Mine,” you hum.

He groans at that. He’s so deep in you, drowning in syrupy velvet. He liked it when your body made him feel like this, like he was levitating. He wasn’t Gojo with you, always Satoru, always just a boy. He’d be content in this infinite spiral, swapping spit in between tongues and fucking into you until you cried. Your body is sacred. You made him forget himself when he needed to.

You like when he carves you out like this, your cunt a shrine for him at this point. You moan at the loss of him, watching through glassy eyes as he stumbles, fixing your body in between his knees.

“Wanna see my pretty girl’s face,” he groans. He’s annoyingly rough when he enters again, but you love it. He says your name like it’s a prayer.

Your head buzzes as he thrusts into you faster this time. His hair sticks to his face, tickling your cheek as he bites into your neck. Midnight vignettes blur your vision. 

“Wish you’d let me have you earlier,” he pants.

“Fucking me for the past year wasn’t enough?”

He shakes his head. “Wish I lost it to you. I was thinking about you during it, too.”

“Satoru,” you whine.

He means it. He was already blunt as could be, but alcohol made him over-honest. He liked that his candor made you blush.

“Would you have let me fuck you?” he teases. “When we were fifteen?”

“No. You were even stupider then.”

“So mean to me,” he chuckles, rolling his hips more aggressively. He revels in watching you squirm. “I would’ve worshipped you.”

“No, you wouldn’t have,” you mumble, hiding your face in his chest. Nails cross-hatching the length of his back.

“I would’ve.” I will.

He kisses you open-mouthed like it’s a promise, pulling your hair in the process. The room was starting to get hot, that June humidity unforgiving, even at night. You’d have to open a window later. His body makes yours swelter, skin melting into skin like he’s trying to fuse the both of you into one thing. Like that Greek myth about two halves of a soul.

“Fuck, ‘m so close,” he whimpers. “You feel too good. Shit, I wanted to make you beg.”

“Sounds like you’re the one begging,” you exhale.

“Yeah,” he grunts. “Want you. You’re killing me. Fuck.”

He spills inside of you at the same time you cum, the heaviness of his low groans making your brain break. He’s still drunk, head swimming with every part of you. Above you, he sports that fallen angel look again, eyes gleaming with rapture. Prodigious as he was, he worships you instead, blessed with love bruises adorning his shoulder.

Satoru always liked to fuck you like it was the last day he’d ever have you. Tonight is no different. 

He exhales at the juncture of your neck, soothed by your hands in his hair. He lifts his body up, kissing your collarbone before he descends to your belly. You tremble at the feeling of his hand cupping your cunt.

“Satoru, I can’t–”

“Please?” he pouts, his breath tickling your clit. “Wanna taste you. All mixed up with me.”

Heat rises to your face violently. “You’re disgusting.”

“You love it.”

“You made such a mess,” you grumble.

“I’ll clean it up,” he grins. 

You let him. His sharp mouth never lets up, anyway.

“Wait! Sit on my face.”

“I can’t even feel my legs,” you pout.

He whines your name. “I had such a tough mission today, baby. You don’t think I deserve it?”

“Spoiled,” you mumble as you switch positions with him. Below you, he looks feral in the eyes, over-eager. Hungry like a wolf even after fucking you hard.

You gasp when he pulls you down, slotting your thighs on each side of his head while he starts to taste you. Licking up into your cunt, moaning at the taste of himself and the sweetness of you. He grips your ass, guiding your movements like the ebb and flow of a wave. You shake above him.

“Jesus.”

You feel him laugh, the vibrations tickling your clit. 

“Annoying slut,” you call him. He seems to enjoy it, thinking of it as praise considering how loud he groans. It almost embarrasses you.

That familiar feeling twinges in your core again. 

“Cum for me, baby,” he breathes. He latches his mouth on your clit and you think you might burst. Maybe crumble and fly away in the wind like a dandelion.

He continues to suck on you as you ride out your orgasm, your thighs trembling. When he gets up for air, his eyes are blown out wide, drunken smile on his face as if he’s peaking. Chemical reactions in his blood.

“So good for me,” he grins, kissing you on the mouth. Your heart flutters.

His gaze is still searing into you. Looking at him hurts, sometimes. 

Satoru presses into you, curling into your neck again. His heartbeat reverberates throughout the room. Tenderness floods the both of you, bodies slotted together like he wants to make a nest out of you. 

You’re exhausted with heavy lids. Satoru strokes your skin until you fall asleep, careful fingers soothing the places his mouth had been. Divine wounds. Like a devotional dog with teeth too sharp and love larger than his body, Satoru will be the only one to hurt you.

[cosmic-ghost-hermit]

What mask do you wear that is keeping you from the rebirth you have been waiting for?

I have a ton of prompts that I have waiting! My partner picked this one intuitively for the day so shout out to them. The decks used today are the Star Spinner Tarot, the Healing Waters Oracle and the Starseed Oracle. Take what resonates and leave the rest behind but always be open to new experiences.

_________

PILE ONE

Astrology: Leo, Pisces, Cancer

Song: Magic by B.o.B.

Vibes: Pink, blue, yellow, mice, rabbits, corvids, dice, bear, mushroom, 666, watermelon, kiwi, pancakes, hockey, activism, university, fairies, Amaterasu

Cards: The Sun, The Moon, 6 of Wands, The Waterfall, Cracked Open

Hello, pile one! The mask you wear is a mask of logic. You think you need to see it to believe it. You have a tendency to see the worst-case scenario in a lot of situations. You see life as guilty until proven innocent. This point of view is understandable but it is limiting your success. Why assume that you will fail before you have even begun? Especially, because you are so capable and a powerful manifester. You seem to believe that you deserve to fail. This belief is a subconscious belief that you can definitely remove easily if you just knew it was there. Take this mask off and you will see your dreams come true! Your manifestation will come true fast and easy it'll feel like the impossible became mundane. Spread your wings and fly my dear. You don't need to fear jumping from the nest. You have always been ready no matter who told you that you weren't. I believe in you, the universe believes in you! Please believe in yourself too!

PILE TWO

Astrology: Scorpio, Aquarius, Sagittarius

Song: We Are Golden by MIKA

Vibes: Lavender, periwinkle, gold, make-up, skin routine, hair routine, routine in general, butterflies, dragons, 444, sleeping beauty, roses, stars, crown, the sky, chocolate

Cards: King of Cups, 4 of Swords, 4 of Pentacles, Thank You, The Golden Children

Hi, pile two! Welcome to your reading. This miiiight be a little hard to hear so heads up on that. You are being held back by a mask that can't exist in the present. You are constantly thinking of what will be to the point where when you get the manifestation you were wishing for you can't even enjoy it because your mind has already turned to the next achievement to work towards. You are incredibly driven but I see how unsatisfied you feel about all that you do because of this mask. Take time to congratulate yourself! Take time to give yourself a gold star for your efforts. You worked so hard!!! Thank yourself for working so hard. Thank the world for what you have in front of you. What you will have is important to work towards but what you have now is still worthy of recognition. Look back at how much you put into what you have now. Look at all that you have achieved! It's hard for you to recall. The tunnel vision you get from the task at hand is blinding you from everything you have already done. Please see how well you have performed so far. Acknowledge yourself. Acknowledge your strength. Your inner child is screaming at me "ACKNOWLEDGE ME ACKNOWLEDGE ME ACKNOWLEDGE ME!!!!" You need to hear them because wow they are yelling loud. Don't just buy them something nice by the way. Genuinely allow them to feel happy about what they have done. Pat them on the head and tell them you see them.

PILE THREE

Astrology: Libra, Aries, Capricorn, Taurus

Song: The Call by Regina Spektor

Vibes: Pastel pink, yellow, teal, clocks, falcons, Horus, armor, coy fish, 8888, storms, renaissances festival, mermaids, libedo, strawberries, cucumbers, caramel

Cards: 6 of Cups, 8 of Wands, 8 of Pentacles, Let It Rain, Star Brothers

Pile three, welcome. You wear a mask of perfectionism. You have the belief that only you can perform tasks to the right standard. Part of this belief is good but some of it is holding you back. I am glad you have confidence in your abilities and feel capable enough to do things on your own. The problem is you feel this way a lot more than is physically healthy. You believe it so deeply it makes you over-exert yourself constantly. You probably feel super tired all the time. Part of you longs immensely for help with all the tasks you do. It feels lonely to do everything alone with no companionship. Let me tell you a little secret, my friend. Let them fail. Let people underperform the tasks that aren't and shouldn't be your responsibility. If you let things slip through the cracks it might seem like you are failing but really what you are doing by letting people fail is helping others learn lessons. You are doing yourself and the people around you a disservice by taking responsibility for tasks that need to be failed. If the people around you fail, they will be more likely to learn faster. You are robbing them of lessons and exhausting yourself in the process. That literally helps no one. The next time you see someone not doing their job properly. Let them. Let them not do their job. If someone else tries to make it your problem you tell them what I just told you, okay? It will make you a better teacher and the people around you better students. Let people fuck it up. Trust the universe. Trust people to learn even if it takes them a couple times to figure it out. Failure is the best lesson teacher.

PILE 4

Astrology: Capricorn, Gemini, Virgo

Song: Hell's Coming With Me by Poor Man's Poison

Vibes: Purple, lilac, navy blue, ibis bird, Thoth, architecture, stars, akashic records, 3rd eye chakra, crown charka, dreams, diamonds, lilys, daffodils, angels, whiskey, pyramids, curse breaker, dragonfruit, mangoes

Cards: The High Priestess, The Star, Ace of Swords, Stagnant Waters, Star Ancestors

Hi there, pile four. You wear a mask of imposter syndrome. You don't think you've done enough. It doesn't matter how much you have achieved. You never think it is enough. You are blind to how much you do. You have the belief that the world would be better off without you but the thing is. You raise the planet's vibration WAAAAY more than you believe. You have such a good heart and you are so balanced. You are kind, smart, intuitive, wise and witty. I wish you could see yourself clearly because you are truly an angel. The thing is all the things I just named are things you wish to be. You wish it as if you aren't aligned with those things already. The mask you are wearing is distorting your vision of your true self. The only thing holding you back is your perception of yourself. Let go of the past criticism that plagues you, my dear. You took that critique in stride and grew far past your initial goal. You have succeeded already. You already did it! Congratulations on being super awesome and cool! You don't need to wish upon a star anymore, baby! You are already a star yourself. <3 Change your view of yourself and you will be UNSTOPPABLE!!!

[okuhle23]

Astrology Observations- 020

Saturn in the 12th house can mean that you've got a fear of abandonment, this is because the 12th house rules one’s fears, and Saturn can represent abandonment. 

Having a lot of Mercury or Neptune aspects in your chart can mean that you tend to get distracted easily, and have quite a short attention span. This is me fr, because I cannot finish a whole movie without checking my phone or something. 

People with Moon conjunct Ascendant, may be told that they resemble their mother a lot, this is because the ascendant rules one’s appearance and the moon represents one’s mother. 

Pisces mercury is the true sweet talker placement, these people will tell you what you want to hear, and you’ll be charmed. They also tend to be good singers. Singers with this placement include: Rihanna, Pharrell Williams, Justin Timberlake and Lady Gaga. 

Moon square Mars often don't like being vulnerable and showing people their emotions. This is because Moon represents one's emotions, while Mars is an aggressive planet, and so in this instance, the square aspect is causing the two planets to oppose each other instead of working together.

Having Mercury as your dominant planet, or having Mercury aspecting your personal planets can mean that you often suffer from hayfever, headaches or anemia.

Prominent Gemini placements often have glowing skin because Gemini rules the oxygenation of blood,  and therefore= glowing healthy skin. This is why Geminis are often associated with looking really young.

Mars rules piercings, the sign in which Mars is located can show which areas you'd wanna pierce or have already pierced. It can also show which piercings would really suit you. 

 ♂ Mars in Aries: you may have facial piercings such as eyebrow, monroe piercings etc

♂ Mars in Taurus: nose and ear piercings would look really good on you

♂ Mars in Cancer: nipple piercings and belly ring would suit you well

♂ Mars in Libra: you’d look really good with a belly ring and dimple piercings 

Where your Mercury is placed can show what you frequently think about: 

Mercury in the 1st: you may  think about about your interests, and you may enjoy telling others about yourself. 

Mercury in the 2nd: you may talk about money quite a bit. 'If I were rich I'd....' You also like to think of ways to spoil yourself and make more money.

Mercury in the 3rd: you like to spread fun facts, and also talk about the new things that you've learnt. You may often think about your siblings/ cousins.

Mercury in the 4th: you can clearly express yourself around your family. You can also talk about real estate often, or you like imagining how your future house would look. You may think about how it would be like having kids. You often think about your past and how you could have done things differently.  

Mercury in the 5th: you like talking to new people and you enjoy socializing. You could also talk about your art (if you make any) or you enjoy talking about your hobbies. You may be constantly coming up with new ideas relating to your hobbies. 

Mercury in the 6th: you probably like to talk about ur job. You could also like talking about your future/daily plans. You may often think about your health too. 

Mercury in the 7th: you probably (pretty frequently) think about what it would be like to be in love, you also prolly read FS pacs (I see u👀). If you've got a partner, they prolly live rent free in your mind💕😌. 

Mercury in the 8th: you like to think about how you can transform yourself (whether it be clothing style to the way u think).

Mercury in the 9th: you could think about your spiritual journey/your God or religion quite a bit. You could also like talking about your university/college. 

Mercury in the 10th: you may often think about what you want to do in the future (career-wise). You may also think about your reputation, and the first impressions u make.

Mercury in the 11th: you often think about your friends. You may also think about the injustices of the world (racism, misogyny, domestic abuse, climate change, global warming etc etc). 

Mercury in the 12th:  you can think about what haunts you from your past (as 12th house rules the subconscious mind). You also may think about the secrets that you keep from others (whether those secrets are yours or not). Your thoughts also manifest into your reality, you’re really good at manifesting.

Mercury square Pluto can make others misunderstand your words. Others may also be quite offended when you share your opinions, even if you don't actively try to offend others. 

Saturn in the 3rd house can mean that you sometimes have problems breathing normally. This is because Saturn represents restrictions, and the 3rd house rules the lungs. You may also have a respiratory illness, like asthma or something. This placement can also mean that you have anxiety in front of people, or that your voice is really quiet, you may be asked to repeat yourself often. 

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Thank you for getting this far, let me know which observations resonated with you in the comments below. If you enjoyed these, click here to access my paid readings <3. Until next time my lovelies. <33

x Okuhle ♥

[just-a-ghost00]

Who is your soulmate/twin flame? - Pick a Bangchan aesthetic edition

Twin flame is usually a term used to designate a specific type of soul bond/ soul contract between two individuals. They are sometimes refered to as « a single soul coming from the same egg » that got seperated before being incarnated. Each bearing different wounds, they navigate lifetimes to hopefully heal and reunite, becoming one again. Twin flames could be what you could say is Plato’s definition of soulmates. In modern times, the term soulmate refers to two distinct souls that have shared many lifetimes together and are meant to cross paths again in this lifetime to teach each other lessons and help each other resolve karma. Whether we are referring to one or another, both have in common a deep sense of love and connection. Whether you enquire about a twin flame or a soulmate, know that they aren’t necessarily a romantic partner. They could be of any gender. They might not be incarnated yet. They could be a child, an adult, a parent, a friend, a coworker. If you proceed with this reading, you should step in it with an open heart and mind. Take only what resonates and leave doubt at the gate. As you read, you may find that the person I’m describing sounds like you. That is because soulmates/TF tend to mirror one another. If it doesn’t feel like anything that makes sense to you, then maybe this reading held no messages for you today. Yours truly,

Just a ghost.

Group 1 - Rocky Chan🤘 Channeled song : BTBT from B.I feat Soulja boy & DeVita

Tarot : 8 of wands, Queen of swords, ace of swords, 9 of wands, 2 of cups, The Fool

Oracle cards : Ametrine - Make your big dreams your big life, Shiva Lingam - Go all in on your essence, 3 Dolphin - Socialize and celebrate life, play

Messages from Merlin :

Mandragora spell - Be the master of your beliefs : Your fears and anxiety are the product of your beliefs. Stop ruminating, for none of it is meant to happen. Your beliefs shape your reality so transform them to make them reflect your wishes and thus materialize them.

Red dragon & white dragon - Shed light onto your shadow : Shed light onto your inner conflicts. By accepting your mistakes and fears with humility, you’ll allow your trust and harmony to take back their rightful place in your realm. Don’t hesitate to apologize to and forgive yourself.

Whyvern spell - Choose consciously : Before you give in to temptation and follow a thought, a project or a person, take the time to learn more about them. Listen to your reason and intuition in order to avoid delusions. You can then peacefully envision what’s next.

Significant signs : Pisces, Gemini, Scorpio, Cancer, Sagittarius, numbers 8 1 9 2 0 3, letters F P A S L , colors like pastel pink / purple / ocean blue /red, dolphins, snakes, white dogs

Key words : idealist, hopeless romantic, Peter Pan syndrom, mommy issues, creative, connection, playfulness, emotional immaturity, soft hearted, touch starved, loyalty, inner child healing

This reading is going to be quite lengthy so bear with me. Grab a pen and a notebook if you wish. This person feels rather masculine. They are a soulmate of yours without a doubt. In terms of looks and general information, they have rather wavy hair and a lean body. They’re a swimmer or they enjoy any kind of activity related to water, like fishing or diving. They have tanned skin. They probably have kind of a surfer vibe. They live near an important body of water or they want to live near water. They likely have clear and shiny eyes, big doe eyes and kind of a lost puppy look. Their style feels pretty flowy and laid back. Probably casual most of the time. They feel gender fluid. They could identify as being bisexual. They are likely younger than you. If so, they are only a few years younger. You might want to check group 2 as well if you hesitated between the two groups. They could like painting as well, especially water coloring.

This person is a dreamer. Eternally dissatisfied with life, they long for more. They seek for thrilling and exhilarating sensations to make them feel alive. They are carefree, playful, innocent in many ways. It’s like they never had the time and space to really grow, to be a child with childlike occupations and worries. They had to grow up and be responsible too quickly too soon, probably because they were the eldest of their siblings or because they had to take care of an ill relative. They are an idealist. They tend to be very harsh on themselves, they struggle with the feeling of being good enough. They are the people pleaser, the mom friend, the psychologist, the cutie bestie of the group that gives so much but only gets so little in return and would never say a thing about it because they think they don’t deserve to demand anything. They are the social butterfly, the « I have so many friends » that they barely know type. They crave attention, they crave love. They love the idea of love. They are often in their little bubble, wishfully thinking about life and people. They are probably the type that wonders where in the world their soulmate is and WTF they are doing. They idealize love. Probably because they’ve never really been in love. They are incredibly intuitive and sensitive, caring and lovable. They like to make people feel good, to show love through acts of service and affirmations. They are all over the place. They are so excited by life and what it has to offer. They are an over thinker. They are pretty communicative. Though they are innocent and naive, they know pretty well what they want. They don’t hesitate to cut people off when needed. They have a lot of responsibilities on their shoulders. The concept of love and being in relationships is pretty new to them. They lack experience in the matters of the heart. They are a wanderer. They like to travel and explore places but also mindsets and people. This person has the potential to astral travel. They have very vivid dreams and nightmares. Intimacy scares the shit out of them but they crave it just as much as they dread it. This person wants to have children. They love children, love the idea of a big family. Since this person is so creative and dreamy and they have the Play card, they could very well be an artist or someone that has a meaningful presence online. They work in the entertainment industry in some way, shape or form. They tend to burn themselves out. They lack patience sometimes. They might struggle with ADHD or any other form of neurodivergence. They could be on the spectrum. This person’s purpose in life is to bring healing by alleviating the weight of other souls. Hence the entertainment thing. They are meant to distract people from their struggles and shadows so that they can appreciate their existence to a bare minimum and breathe a little. They could enjoy working with kids specifically. Being a teacher or a social worker could also be a thing they are into. They like to share and evolve in groups. Because they struggle with finding a sense of belonging. They feel sometimes like they are not from this earth and something more awaits them. Especially if they are on the spectrums (LGBTQIA+, Autism and so on). It can be hard for them to relate to other people or read the atmosphere in social settings. Being the comic relief of the group helps them deal with the stress that generates. They often wear masks to be liked by other people which gets pretty tiring. Hence they have no energy left to tend to themselves which is why they look for connections where they can rely on their partner without asking for or worrying about anything. They like to be pampered and praised, especially in bed.

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Group 2 - Smiley Chan 😄

Channeled song : You can’t hold my heart from Monsta X Significant signs : Scorpio, Leo, Sagittarius, Gemini, Libra, Taurus, letters S L J P B K, snakes, ravens, numbers 37 19 9 6 11, colors like pastel green / sandy grey / soft blues

Tarot cards : Queen of wands, The Sun, 9 of wands, The Lovers, Page of swords, Justice Oracle cards : The Pillar, 37 Candy Basslet rx - Know your worth, Shungite - Get real with your truth, Bloodstone - Power up your vitals

Messages from Merlin The Wizard :

The 9 Guardians of Avalon - Ask and you shall receive : They guard the order of all things. They ensure the threads of fate twist and twine as they should and at the right time. Be sincere about what you wish for and they shall answer in their own way. Pay attention!

Guinevra Queen of Arthur - There is no King without a Queen : you need the qualities of both masculine and feminine. Combine your thinking with your sensitivity and creativity to your decision making skills and influence. It is within this fair and balanced union that fruitful projects can be birthed.

Tuatha Dé Danann - Message from the silent people : We became Sidhes, people from the underground of the earth we seek to protect. Faes and divine beings, our magic is powerful. Come meet us in the forest, by a lake or a river. Seek our help in the form of a simple prayer and we shall know how to comfort you.

Key words : daddy issues, ambition, balance, communication, spirituality, intensity, depth, grounding, self confidence, self worth, anger issues

There is a lot to cover here and this is going to be a lengthy reading so bear with me. Feel free to take notes, make your own research if you feel called to especially when it comes to the crystals mentioned. So first of all, I want to say that this person’s energy feels like it’s currently in it’s feminine era. Though this person is very balanced in general they are indulging more into their feminine side. They could have long hair and rather tanned skin. They like going outdoors, bathing into the sun, going for walks or running. They are athletic and pretty active. The reason I am saying this is because all of the tarot cards we have here are illustrated with very feminine characters. Now this person is very much owning their power and doing their best to unapologetically be themselves. In the past, they struggled with their body image and sense of self but it seems like they are coming to terms with that. They have strong boundaries and there’s a depth to them that could really trigger/scare people, including you. This person has been through so much they can’t be bothered anymore. They don’t have time for mind games, petty lies and arguments. They want to be treated with respect and are willing to do the same so long as you don’t cross them. They are very much down to earth and simple in their functioning : all or nothing type of mentality, be good to me and I’ll be great to you, stab me and I’ll bring hell upon your head. They don’t forgive and forget easily and could hold grudges. This person values honesty, fairness, integrity. They have a strong moral compass and look for people who can match their intensity. They are cerebral. They like to think, to imagine, to create. They have the energy and mentality of a leader, a pioneer, someone that people look up to because they pave the way in a very unique manner. This person really stands out from the crowds. They tend to burden and pressure themselves because they hold themselves in high regard. This is due to their upbringing. They were raised to be the man of the house, regardless of their gender. I have a gut feeling they could identify themselves as genderfluid. They value love and connections, loyalty and compassion. They give their all in relationships and are very protective of the people they love. They are very sensual, kinky even. This person is likely to be a potential romantic partner, whether you know them already or not. They are definitely not a child, though they can sometimes harbor the energy of one. They are bratty and stubborn AF. They get under people’s skin easily whether for good or bad reasons. They elicit strong reactions from people because their vibrations are beyond anything people can fathom.

Sometimes they overextend themselves. They like to give and be of help to others. People tend to feed off of their light like leeches. They could attract a lot of narcissistic people, naysayers and haters just by breathing. This person’s job in this lifetime is solely to trigger people and shake their dusty and sterile belief systems. Which is probably what they’re also meant to do in your life. Honestly, this feels like a twin flame connection. If you were ever wondering if you had one, now I guess you know. If we get more detailed about their looks and general information about them, I’d say they’re pretty curvy. They kinda set the usual standards of beauty off. This person was never meant to fit into a box. They’re their own goddam category. Very very strong energy here. They’re the type of person that maybe wouldn’t match the traditional beautiful/pretty girl/boy stereotype but instead would look magnificent because of what they radiate. Their morals and ideals are their beauty. They’re beautiful because of the way they think, the way they treat people with equity, the way they are deep down when no one is looking. They have unconventional interests or an unconventional way of going about common interests. Their eyes could be what draws you in. Other than that, their voice can be pretty addictive. Their whole being is addictive actually. They are likely to be a foreigner or someone that was raised with a different culture than yours. This person likes to play with their appearance and the way they present themselves. Their fashion style can vary depending on their mood.

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Group 3 - Dreamy Chan Channeled song : My Oasis from Sam Smith feat Burna Boy

Tarot cards : 5 of pentacles rx, knight of pentacles, 2 of cups, 6 of pentacles, 7 of pentacles, king of cups Oracle cards : Ascension, Labradorite - Protect your magic, Pyrite - call on your core power, 15 Clownfish spirit - Protect your home, 43 Koi fish spirit - Just for fun

Possible signs : Pisces, Taurus, Scorpio, colors like soft greens and yellows, baby blue, cows and bulls, white dogs, letters A L P K C

Messages from Merlin The Wizard :

Mordred's betrayals - Don't let anger be your master : your anger isn't a good advisor. Shout, write, dance, talk about your suffering to let go of it but don't let it dictate the next chapter of your story. Whatever struggles you face, stay calm, transmute your anger and then you shall know how to deal with it and find solutions.

Merlin crazy in love - What are you ready to let go of? : To choose is to sacrifice realities that could have been. With each decision, you create your story by giving up on other possibilities. If you are wondering what to do, ask yourself what you would like to experience and what you are ready to let go of in order to get there.

Shadow magic - Transmute fear into strength : It is there, lingering in the shadows. Your fear. It doesn't know how much of a strength in can be instead of weakness. Understand your fear and challenge yourself to be stronger than it. Use it as a fuel to improve and have twice as many reasons to be proud of yourself.

Key words : caring, friends to lovers trope, morning calls and text, feeling lost and helpless, laidback, no strings attached, humanitarian work, anger issues, trust issues

This person is a soulmate of yours. They feel both masculine and femine. Their energy is pretty balanced and comforting. They are likely older than you. They have a look and a body type that's pretty common. Not too fit but not that bad either. They kinda blend in the crowd. You wouldn't notice them unless they wanted you to. They likely have long brown/black hair and tanned skin. But that's just a detail. I heard their appearance doesn't matter, they focus more on the soul. They think they're not pretty is what it is about. They are prettier than they think. But more than anything, they want to be known and loved for who they are deep in their core. When it comes to jobs or interests, this person could do something that inspires people. This is very general and can match a lot of jobs and activities. They like to raise awareness and learn from other people, so humanitarian work seems relevant. Artist could also be a possibility. This person is appreciated in their community for their strong values, their gentle side and work ethic. They never judge anyone or look down on people. They are very giving and patient, understanding. They know what it's like to be afraid or struggle. They've known pain on so many levels that at this point they have a black belt in life struggles. I feel like they want to protect people from the shitty sides of life. They want to help people avoid going through the struggles they faced when they were young. Like, let's say this person is queer and had a very hard time being themselves without facing backlash from other people, now that they've come so far they want to advocate for queer rights and help people that may be going through the same experience. Or if this person was abused, now that they've done their healing they want to help victims of abuse. This person has a lot of empathy and understanding of human condition. They are pretty down to earth and realistic. They like routines and patterns. They either work a nine to five or if they don't, they make sure they always do the same things : get their coffee first, set their equipment and tools, check their emails and notifications then get to work. Get a coffee on their way back, wash when they're home, check their mails again, work some more, overthink. Repeat. They strive for more. They long for more than the life they're experiencing right now. They're going through an awakening. This person had been neglecting the spiritual realm. They were only focusing on the material aspects of life. Concepts of souls or connections that went beyond distance and matter didn't resonate with them up until now. They recently had to let go of something that was important to them. Their life has been filled with sacrifice. This person would let opportunities pass, out of humility or out of love for others. They would put other people's needs first, no matter how much pain they were in. But the scales tipped when someone betrayed them or something felt very unfair to them. Like they were screwed over. This person lost confidence because of this and went through a very dark time in their life. They have struggled with depression and anxiety. They've had health issues, their abundance was affected by this situation. They could have lost a lot of money or important business partners, for instance. They could have lost their job or home or even their family. This person is now at a place in their life where they're back on track. They've worked on themselves, fought to regain control over their life and create a reality they could be proud of. Their finances are going well, they somewhat feel fulfilled but in the back of their mind it's like something's missing. They long for connection and attention. Something genuine and light hearted. I think this person has started to date. Or at least, they're open to the idea.

[me-loving-woso]

And all the days after that.

Hi everyone! So this is the last part of Today. Tomorrow. I hope you will enjoy this! Let me know what you think about it!

It was night when Aitana first arrived at the hospital. She had multiple missed calls from Ciro, heightening her worry. She quickly approached the nurse at the entrance of the oncology department. “I’m looking for Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Are you a relative or family?” the nurse asked.

“I’m her wife,” Aitana blurted out, the first thing that came to mind. It had a nice ring to it.

“I need an ID.” She handed over her ID.

“A real one, as if I’m supposed to believe you’re actually Aitana Bonmati.” For the first time, the nurse looked up from her computer and stared at Aitana. “Oh, you are actually her! Thank you for all the trophies! Y/L/N is in room 309.”

Aitana sprinted to your room. Peering through the glass walls, she spotted Ciro inside with you. He turned to Aitana and exited your room.

“How is she? Is she sleeping? Is she alive? Is she—”

“Aitana, you’re rambling. You’re sleep-deprived and extremely worried. The surgery went well. The cancer was a bit larger than expected, but they managed to remove it completely.”

“Her voice?”

“We’ll know when she wakes up.” He turned to look at you. “Go inside.”

Aitana nodded and gently opened the door, slipping inside as quietly as possible. You lay in the bed, a pale but peaceful expression on your face. She took a moment to absorb the sight of you, relief flooding her knowing the surgery was successful.

She approached your bedside, her heart aching at the sight of the tubes and monitors attached to you. Gently, she reached out and took your hand in hers, feeling the warmth of your skin. The room was silent, save for the soft beeping of the heart monitor.

Minutes passed like hours as Aitana watched over you, her mind racing with a thousand thoughts. She couldn't shake the fear of what might happen when you woke up, but she also couldn't deny the immense love and admiration she felt for you. You had faced this battle with incredible strength and courage, and she was determined to support you no matter what.

Aitana fell asleep sitting next to you, her head on your lap and your hand in hers.

-

In the morning, your eyes finally fluttered open. You looked around the room, your gaze eventually landing on Aitana. You squeezed her hand, hoping to wake her up. Her head shot up in discomfort, but as soon as she saw you, she gave you a soft, encouraging smile, squeezing your hand gently.

"Hey, beautiful," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

You tried to speak, but your throat was dry and sore. Aitana quickly reached for a cup of water with a straw and brought it to your lips. You took a few sips, wincing slightly at the discomfort.

"Take it easy," she said softly. "Don't try to talk just yet."

You nodded, understanding. You gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, and she leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"I'm so proud of you," Aitana continued, her eyes filling with tears. "You did it. You're so strong."

You couldn't speak, so you just caressed her cheeks, letting your eyes convey your feelings.

“I’m going to call the doctor. I’ll be right back.” She kissed your temple and left the room.

A few minutes later, she returned with your oncologist and Ciro in tow. Aitana resumed her place, holding your hand, while the doctor performed your check-ups. Everything seemed fine. The incision on your throat was healing properly. Now came the moment of truth: testing your voice.

Dr. Martinez smiled warmly at you. "You did very well, Y/N. Now, the moment of truth. I want you to try saying something, anything at all."

Aitana's hand squeezed yours reassuringly. You took a deep breath, feeling the slight pull and discomfort from the incision on your throat. Slowly, you tried to form a word, any word, in your mind. You opened your mouth, but nothing came out at first. Fear gripped you, but Aitana's gentle presence gave you strength.

"Don't rush it," Dr. Martinez encouraged softly. "Take your time."

You tried again, focusing on the word "hi." A faint sound, almost like a whisper, escaped your lips. It was weak, but it was there. You saw the relief and joy in Aitana's eyes as she held your hand tighter.

"That's great, Y/N," Dr. Martinez said, smiling. "It's a good sign that you can make any sound at all. With time and practice, your voice should improve."

Tears welled up in your eyes. You managed to croak out a hoarse "thank you," barely more than a whisper, but it was enough. Aitana leaned in and kissed you softly, her eyes shining with pride and love.

"We'll work on this together," she whispered. "Every step of the way."

Ciro, standing nearby, gave you a thumbs-up and a supportive smile. "You're a fighter, Y/N. We're all here for you."

Dr. Martinez finished his check-up and gave you some instructions for your recovery. "You'll need to rest your voice as much as possible, but I want you to practice speaking a little bit each day."

You nodded, feeling a mix of relief and determination. You were ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, knowing you had the unwavering support of the people you loved.

As Dr. Martinez left the room, Aitana stayed by your side, her hand never leaving yours. She sat back down, her eyes never wavering from yours. The room fell into a comfortable silence, both of you just soaking in the relief and the promise of a future together.

"You did great," Aitana said softly, her thumb gently caressing the back of your hand. "I knew you could do it."

You squeezed her hand in return, a small smile forming on your lips. "Thanks for being here," you managed to whisper, though it was strained and barely audible.

Aitana's eyes sparkled with unshed tears. "I wouldn't be anywhere else," she replied, her voice thick with emotion.

The hours passed quietly. Occasionally, Aitana would read to you from her phone, recounting funny anecdotes from her teammates to keep your spirits up. You communicated with nods, gestures, and the occasional whisper, growing more confident with each passing attempt.

When night fell, the hospital room was bathed in darkness. Aitana was preparing to sleep uncomfortably in the chair next to you once again. You took her phone from her and typed: 'Go home.'

“I’m not leaving until you are leaving.” She was stubborn, and you didn’t have the strength to fight back.

You made space for her on the bed and typed on her phone, 'Cuddles?'

“You know I’ll never say no to that.” She slowly sat on the small bed and rested by your side, planting a kiss on your clothed shoulder.

“Thank you,” you barely whispered.

-

The next morning, you woke up to find Aitana still by your side, her hand still holding yours. You reached out with your free hand and gently brushed a lock of hair away from her face. She stirred and woke up, her eyes meeting yours with a sleepy but affectionate smile.

"Good morning," she whispered, leaning in to kiss your forehead. "How are you feeling?"

You nodded, managing a soft, "Better." Your voice was still weak, but the improvement was noticeable.

Aitana's smile widened. "That's great to hear. Today’s a new day, and we'll take it one step at a time."

That morning you started doing some speaking and breathing exercises to help your vocal chords to fully heal, which you didn’t think would be difficult since you never had any problem talking. Needless to say, it was more challenging than expected. It felt as if you had to learn to talk all over again.

Aitana’s unwavering support was frustrating at times. You tried not to take your frustration out on her, but sometimes it was difficult. Thankfully, as the days went by, your voice gradually began to improve.

Progress was slow but steady, with Aitana's constant encouragement helping you push through the tough moments. She celebrated every milestone with you, no matter how small—whether it was successfully pronouncing a tricky word or managing a full sentence without pain, she was there, cheering you on.

-

-

You remembered perfectly the day you spoke to your oncologist before checking out of the hospital.

Aitana and Ciro were having breakfast, leaving you alone for one of the few times. As you changed back into your normal clothes, the doctor walked into the room.

“Y/N, how are you?”

“I’m good, thanks to you,” you replied, smiling gratefully as you sat down on the bed to tie your shoes.

“I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I think it’s best if we do another round of chemo, just to be sure. We completely removed the tumor, but that doesn’t mean all the cancer cells are gone.”

Your heart sank a little. You had hoped the surgery would be the end of it. “Another round?”

“Yes, I recommend it to ensure we’ve eradicated any remaining cancer cells. It’s a precautionary measure, but it’s important.”

You nodded, taking in the information. “Okay. How long will the next round be?”

“About six weeks. By April, you should be done with everything, but we’ll monitor you closely. If all goes well, this could be the last step in your treatment.”

You took a deep breath, nodding again. “Alright, let’s do it. I’ll talk to Aitana and Ciro.”

The doctor gave you a reassuring smile. “You’re strong, Y/N. You’ve come this far, and you’re going to get through this.”

As you walked out of the room, you saw Aitana and Ciro in the cafeteria. They both looked up, concern etching their faces as they saw your serious expression. You sat down with them, taking Aitana’s hand in yours.

“Ready to go? I can't wait to go home.” You sat next to Aitana and silently asked if you could take a sip of her matcha.

“Did you talk to the doctor?” Aitana asked.

“Yes, I did,” you replied, savoring the comforting taste of the matcha. “There’s something we need to discuss.”

Aitana and Ciro both leaned in, their expressions a mix of concern and curiosity.

“The doctor wants me to do another round of chemo,” you began, feeling the weight of the news settle in. “It’s just to make sure we’ve got all the cancer cells. They said it should be about six weeks. By April, I should be done with everything.”

Aitana’s eyes widened slightly, but she quickly composed herself. “Whatever it takes to make sure you’re okay,” she said, her voice steady though her expression turned somber.

The drive home was filled with a mixture of quiet contemplation and light conversation. Aitana and Ciro did their best to keep the mood light, discussing their plans for the next few weeks and how they would help you through this next phase of treatment.

When you arrived home, Aitana helped you settle in, taking your things to the bedroom and folding your clothes neatly into a pile, while you complained that she wouldn’t let you do anything.

“I’m not on the verge of dying Tani! I can do some stuff.”

“I know, I know,” Aitana replied, smiling gently. “But let me pamper you a little, okay? It makes me feel better too.”

You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t help the warmth spreading in your chest. Her care was both endearing and comforting.

Once everything was settled, Ciro left for the men's game at Montjuic, leaving you and Aitana alone for the first time in a while.

You knew she had missed some practice sessions and two games to be with you during chemo and surgery. Sometimes, you couldn’t help but feel guilty that she was missing out on her best years to be with you.

As you sat together on the couch, you couldn't shake the feeling of guilt. The TV was on, but you weren't really watching it. Instead, you found yourself lost in thought, glancing occasionally at Aitana, who seemed perfectly content just being by your side.

“Will you promise me something?”

“Anything.” Her gaze softened as she looked at you.

“You won’t miss any more games because of me.”

“I only missed two games, and it wasn’t a big deal. I wouldn't have played anyway, and I got to stay with you.” She shrugged happily.

“But football is your life. I understand you want to support me, but you should focus on your career.”

Aitana sighed, her thumb gently stroking the back of your hand. “Y/N. You’re my partner. I know these months have been hard, especially for you, but I’ve never been happier than when I’m by your side.”

You could see the sincerity in her eyes, but the guilt still lingered. “I don’t want you to put your life on hold for me. I don’t want you to look back and regret missing opportunities because of me.”

She smiled softly, her eyes twinkling. “I won’t regret it. Being here for you is something I’ll never regret. We’ve known each other for what... six months? And yet, from the first moment I saw you... okay, maybe the second time... I knew I wanted you in my life. Football shouldn’t be my only priority; I should also take time for myself. I would miss an entire season if it meant being able to be with you. I love you, Cari.”

You felt a lump form in your throat, overwhelmed by her words and the depth of her commitment. “I love you too, Tani. I just don’t want to hold you back.”

“You’re not holding me back,” she said, her voice firm and tender. “You make me better, happier, and... honestly, I couldn’t ask for a better girlfriend.”

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes. “Thank you for being here, for loving me.”

Aitana leaned in and kissed you gently, her lips warm and reassuring. “Always, Cari. Today. Tomorrow. The day after tomorrow. And all the days after that.”

---

Two weeks into chemo, the treatments hit you hard. You started throwing up more and couldn’t walk more than ten steps without feeling pain.

Aitana had started the busiest period of the season, so she was often away. Thankfully, Ciro, Eva, and your other friends from work were great. They stayed with you during treatments and always brought a smile to your face.

One evening, after a particularly tough day, you were lying on the couch, feeling utterly exhausted. Eva was beside you, scrolling through her phone, while Ciro was in the kitchen making tea.

“Hey, look at this,” Eva said, nudging you gently. She showed you a photo of a Bernese puppy. It was adorable, and you couldn’t help but smile, even though you felt like crap.

“That’s cute,” you said weakly.

“He kinda looks like Ares when he was a puppy!” she exclaimed excitedly, showing you the picture again. Ares had been your childhood dog. You’d always had big dogs in your home; since he passed, you hadn’t thought about getting another one.

Just then, the front door opened, and Aitana walked in. Her face lit up when she saw you, but you could see the worry in her eyes.

“Hey, Cari,” she said, coming over to give you a gentle hug. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a truck,” you admitted, trying to keep your tone light.

Aitana sat down beside you, taking your hand in hers, you immediately leaned into her. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be here earlier. Training ran late.”

“It’s okay,” you reassured her. “I’m glad you’re here now.”

Ciro came in with the tea and handed you a cup. “Here you go. Chamomile, to help you relax.”

“Thanks, Ciro,” you said, grateful for his support.

The four of you sat together, chatting and trying to keep the mood light. Aitana was just content to be able to listen to you and Eva joking about adopting the puppy from the photo.

“So when I ask you to adopt a puppy, you say no, but when Eva showed you a puppy picture, you immediately said yes?” Aitana pouted, crossing her arms childishly.

“Eva was only joking! And honestly, as much as I love dogs, we don’t have the space nor the time for a puppy. And you can’t even take care of yourself! I need to remind you of everything!”

Aitana pouted even more dramatically, mischief sparkling in her eyes. “I can totally take care of myself! I just like you reminding me of things because it means you care.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Sure, keep telling yourself that.”

Eva laughed, enjoying the banter between you two. “Well, if you ever change your mind about the puppy, let me know. I know someone.” She winked.

Needless to say, you didn’t change your mind about the puppy thing.

---

Your last chemo had been really emotional for you. It was April, and all of your friends, Ciro and Aitana were busy, so you were alone. As you sat in the treatment room, the familiar hum of machines and the sterile smell of the hospital enveloped you. The nurses, who had become like family to you over these past months, tried to lift your spirits with their kind words and warm smiles.

As the session progressed, you couldn’t help but reflect on everything you had been through. The fear, the pain, the moments of despair, but also the love, the support, and the small victories that had kept you going. Tears welled up in your eyes, a mix of relief and exhaustion washing over you. You were almost at the end of this grueling journey, but the emotions were overwhelming.

Just as you were about to succumb to the loneliness, your phone buzzed. It was a video call from Aitana. You quickly wiped your tears and answered.

“Hey, Cari,” she greeted you, her face lighting up the screen. She was walking outside in the parking lot of the training grounds. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there with you today. How are you holding up?”

“I’m good. I just want to get this over with. How was training? You ready for Chelsea?”

“Definitely. I cannot wait for another Champion’s League night. They are the best.” She got inside the car.

“Where are you going now?”

“To see you,” she said as if it was the most obvious answer.

You rolled your eyes at her, knowing not to argue. “I’ll see you in ten minutes then.”

In those ten minutes, you had finished your chemotherapy and went with your oncologists to do your last tests to check if you still had cancer. Unfortunately, you would know the results of the tests this afternoon.

You were done very quickly, so you told Aitana to wait for you in the parking lot.

As you walked out of the hospital, the sun was shining brightly, a stark contrast to the anxiety that weighed heavily on your shoulders. You spotted Aitana's car and saw her standing outside, leaning against it with a concerned expression on her face.

“I hate when you are concerned; your face scrunches up in a weird way.” You walked up to her and snaked your hands around her waist for a hug. Her face softened as she held you tighter.

“Cari, how are you feeling?” She pulled down affectionately your beanie, which was hers, giving you a kiss on the cheek.

You were about to tell her that you would know if your cancer was receding this afternoon, but you opted not to, as you didn’t want to give her false hopes. “I’m good. What do you think about doing something different this afternoon? We always stay at home.”

“Well, if you want, Ingrid, Mapi, Frido, and Esmee are all going to this new art exhibit downtown. They needed to go because the artist is the daughter of one of our sponsors, so we are basically forced to go.” Aitana suggested, her eyes lighting up. “We could join them. It might be a nice change of pace.”

You turned to her, raising an eyebrow, “Why didn’t you go, if you were forced to?”

“I wanted to stay with my Cari.” You raised your eyebrow even more skeptically, “Okay, I didn’t want to go. But my friends have been bugging me nonstop about me going; the artist is so annoying and so-“

“You played the ‘my girlfriend has cancer’ card?” You chuckled.

“Am I an asshole if I did?”

“Just remember that your girlfriend might not have cancer in the near future, so you’ll have to come up with another excuse.”

“Well, I’ll just force you to come with me to keep me company.”

You rolled your eyes, “We’ll see about that.”

In the car, Aitana quickly called Mapi to explain that you were coming too.

When you arrived, you were greeted by Aitana’s friends, who were excited to see you out and about.

They all hugged you gently, making you go on your tippy toes, to hug them back. As you all walked inside the art exhibition, you took Aitana’s hand and waited for the group to move forward. “You really have to explain your thing for tall women to me,” you whispered teasingly.

“I don’t have a thing for tall women, otherwise I wouldn’t be dating you,” she smirked playfully, earning a playful smack on the arm from you.

“All of your friends are at least five centimeters taller than you.”

“Yeah, it’s true.” She couldn’t deny what you were saying, but she didn't give any further explanations.

As soon as you saw the paintings, you already knew it was going to be a very lackluster art exhibition. It was really bad, but somehow they felt oddly familiar.

“It’s so beautiful!” Mapi said ironically.

“I just don’t understand if the artist is actually that bad or if it’s just her artistic vision,” Esmee wondered aloud, trying to make sense of it.

You looked into another room of the exhibition and saw a painting that you had already seen. You turned to Aitana’s friends and chuckled, “The artist is just really bad, believe me. And let’s just hope that I don’t have to see her.”

Isabel Vallejo went to Uni with you, and you couldn’t stand each other; you always had a very competitive and passive-aggressive relationship. Eva would always have a good laugh when you both saw each other. You immediately texted her to tell her.

“Do you know her?”

“We went to uni together. We never got along.”

As if on cue, Isabel walked into the room, her eyes widening slightly when she saw you. She quickly masked her surprise with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Y/N, what a surprise to see you here. I didn’t expect to see you in a place this refined.”

You forced a smile. “Isabel, it’s been a while. I see you’re still making... bold choices.”

“Art needs boldness. At least I create something. You just apply some product to some painting and call it a day.”

You were about to speak when Aitana grabbed your hand, trying to calm you down. Isabel lowered her gaze to look at both of your hands and smirked, “You have a cute girlfriend, best footballer in the world. I hope you keep her satisfied, or else she might be looking elsewhere.”

“Yeah, I do keep her well satisfied, just like I did with Maria, remember?” You smirked, fully knowing that your words would bother her. You simply walked away and returned to your group with Aitana. Round 1 was won by you.

“What the hell just happened?” Mapi chuckled, looking at you.

“We went to Uni together; we always talk like this.”

“I didn’t know you had this in you, Cari. You are always so polite,” Aitana chuckled, making you turn to her.

“She’s so annoying, makes me want to punch her,” you sighed, frustrated.

“Who’s Maria, by the way?” Ingrid asked you, making you blush lightly.

“We dated the same girl; she broke up with Isabel to be with me. She didn’t take it that well.” Your face reddened. “And that’s not the worst part. We lived next to each other, so whenever Maria visited me, Isabel could hear everything.”

Mapi and Ingrid burst into laughter, and even Aitana couldn't help but giggle. “No wonder she’s still bitter,” Mapi said, shaking her head.

“I never thought I’d see the day Y/N had a love triangle scandal,” Aitana teased, nudging you playfully.

“You know what’s the worst thing?… I don’t regret it!��

“Wooo!” You made Aitana’s friend group burst out laughing.

After the art exhibition, you all decided to get coffee at a place nearby. While you were walking to the coffee shop, you got a phone call. You had forgotten that your doctor needed to call you that afternoon. You stopped in your tracks.

“Tani, can you take my order? I have to take this.”

“Is everything okay?” Her face scrunched up.

You placed a hand on her chest and kissed her reassuringly. “Go inside.” She nodded reluctantly, and you watched her join the others before answering the call.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Y/N, it’s Dr. Martinez. I have your test results.”

You felt your heart race, a mix of anticipation and fear swirling inside you. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“I have good news,” Dr. Martinez said, and you could almost hear the smile in his voice. “Your tests came back clear. There are no signs of cancer.”

A wave of relief washed over you, and you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. “Thank you, Dr. Martinez. Thank you so much.”

“You’ve been through a lot, Y/N. Take this time to recover and enjoy your life. We’ll continue with regular check-ups, but for now, celebrate this victory.”

“I will. Thank you again.”

You ended the call and stood there for a moment, letting the news sink in. You were cancer-free.

You didn’t know why, but you burst out laughing. After six months, you were finally free.

After taking your order, Aitana quickly instructed Mapi to take the two machas to the table and wait for them. Then she rushed outside to check up on you. You had just finished your phone call.

“Cari, is everything okay?”

“I’m cancer-free.”

Her eyes widened. “You are not joking, are you?” You shook your head.

“We are done, Tani.” She quickly wrapped you in an embrace, lifting you up in the air, making you giggle.

“You don’t know how happy it makes me!” She put you down, still hugging you, placing her forehead on your shoulder. You felt her shaking, so you gently pushed her away to look at her. It was the first time you had actually seen her cry.

“Don’t cry, meu amor. We did it.” You wiped her tears with your thumbs.

“They are happy tears. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“I love you, Tani. Today. Tomorrow.”

“The day after tomorrow. And all the days after that.” She finished the sentence for you.

You hugged her once again and then went inside the coffee shop, sitting next to your girlfriend. She wouldn’t take her eyes off you, giving you a lovesick look that made her teammates give her a disgusted look.

“Stop it, Aitana.” You poked your finger in her ear, making her snap out of her daze.

“Sorry. I’m just happy.”

“We just got some good news, and Aitana can’t act like a normal functioning adult.” You teased her. “I’m officially cancer-free.”

“Oh my god! I’m so happy for you!” Frido rounded the table to hug you, spurring the others to do the same thing.

You stayed with them for about another ten minutes before you remembered that you had to tell Ciro about the news, so Aitana offered to bring you home.

As soon as you saw Ciro and told him the news, he brought you in a big bear hug and didn’t let you go until he spurred Aitana to join the hug.

-

The next few weeks ahead, you started having more energy. You had lost a lot of weight when you had cancer, so with the advice of the doctor, you started going to the gym.

At first, you went with Eva, but then you figured out that you two didn’t work well as ‘gym bros’. So you tried going with Aitana, thinking that since she was already fit, she would give you motivation to push yourself. That didn’t work either.

Seeing your girlfriend with just a sports bra and some Nike shorts did things to you that wouldn’t make you focus. You thought about those thighs and shoulders way too much. Finding some excuse, you then told Aitana that you didn’t want to go to the gym with her anymore. She was sad, but after some coaxing, which meant a lot of kisses, she eventually agreed to help find someone else.

You were out for drinks with Aitana’s teammates when you were secretly having a cigarette with Alexia, and this topic surfaced.

"So I am trying to find someone to go to the gym with," you explained, taking a drag from your cigarette. “My best friend just goes to the gym to talk with people, so I tried with Aitana-”

“Never go to the gym with your girlfriend, you just don’t focus. I learned that the hard way.” She explained with a sheepish smile, making you nod in agreement. “Besides all that, I’m glad that you can get back to your normal life. You deserve it.”

“Thank you, Reina. It means a lot coming from you.” You nudged her teasingly, earning an eye roll from her.

“I might know someone who would love to go to the gym with you. She’s not a footballer, nor into any other sport.”

Intrigued, you leaned in closer. "Oh? Who?”

“Olga, my girlfriend. She loves meeting new people and her gym buddy just moved out. If you want, I can ask her.” You could see Alexia’s eyes sparkle when she talked about Olga. You wondered if you did the same thing when you talked about your Tani. Spoiler alert: You did.

“If it’s not a problem for you, I would love to.”

“Well, she should be here any moment. I’ll ask her when she arrives.”

As you and Alexia continued to chat, you felt a mix of excitement and relief. Finding the right gym partner was crucial for keeping your motivation high and ensuring you stayed on track with your fitness goals.

Just as you were about to take another drag from your cigarette, you saw Alexia's face light up. "Oh, there she is!" she exclaimed, waving enthusiastically.

You turned to see a woman approaching, her warm smile immediately putting you at ease. "Olga, this is my friend, Y/n, and also Aitana’s girlfriend." Alexia introduced you. "We were just talking about how you're looking for a new gym buddy."

Olga's smile widened. “Ale told me a lot about you!”

“Good things I hope.”

“Besides the fact that you both only smoke when the other one is around, she’s been saying only good stuff.” You hid your face in embarrassment, tossing the cigarette away with embarrassed.

"Hey, it's a social thing," Alexia said, trying to laugh it off.

Olga chuckled. “It’s not good for you, but you my girl, are one stubborn woman, so I won’t tell you what to do.” She said exasperated, they looked so cute, like a married couple almost. “So, do you want a gym buddy?” She turned to you again.

"Yeah, if you are up to it. I’m kinda out of shape, so I don’t want to stop you from having a good work out,” you replied.

“Don’t worry about it, Ale told me about your situation and I'm happy to help. We'll take it at your pace and make sure you get back into shape without overdoing it," Olga reassured you with a warm smile.

"Thanks, Olga. I really appreciate it," you said, feeling more at ease. "When do you usually go to the gym?"

"I usually go in the mornings, but I can be flexible. How about we start tomorrow morning and see how it goes?" Olga suggested.

"Sounds perfect," you agreed, feeling a surge of motivation.

-

The next day when you came back from the gym, you decided to go to Aitana’s house, since it was one of the few off days she had.

She was sitting on the couch intently reading a book when you entered her home with the pair of keys she had given you a couple of weeks before. As soon as she saw you enter, she put away her book and walked up to you, greeting you with a kiss.

“Hi, Cari, how was the gym?”

You huffed and sat down on the couch, waiting for her to join you. “I didn’t know that Olga was that shredded?! She looks like she goes to the gym every day!”

“I thought you knew that,” Aitana said, raising an eyebrow.

“No, I didn’t know! I found out later. By the way, she’s so nice and positive, but it’s so frustrating doing exercises with her! We were doing some arm exercises, and when we were done, she started to flex her arms and spurred me on to do it too. Her arms were so muscly, but when I did it: MY ARMS WERE JUST FLAT.” You pulled up your sleeve and showed her, your bicep almost non-existent.

Aitana burst out laughing. You gave her a glare while crossing your arms and pouting, which only made her laugh harder.

She eventually stopped laughing and tried to turn serious, but a playful smile still lingered on her lips. She maneuvered your body to make you sit on her lap. “In fact, I happen to love your flat arms. They might not fend off any enemies, but I do love them, just like I love every part of you. And you’ve lost a lot of mass in these months. It’s okay to feel a little weak, ya know.”

You sighed, leaning into her. “I know, I know. It’s just frustrating sometimes.”

Aitana kissed your temple. “You’re doing amazing, and I’m so proud of you. Remember, it’s not about how you look but how far you’ve come and where you’re going. You're taking back your life in your own hands, and that should be your biggest priority right now.”

“I know, I know.”

“But if you don’t like going to the gym with her, you can still come with me. I still don’t know why you don’t want to.”

You blush lightly, making Aitana turn her head curiously. “I don’t want to go to the gym with you.”

“Do I make you feel uncomfortable?”

“No no, you could never. You are always so focused and let’s just say that you distract me.” You whispered the last part embarrassed.

Aitana raised an eyebrow, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "Oh, I distract you, do I?" she teased, clearly enjoying your discomfort.

You buried your face in her shoulder, muttering, "Yes, okay? You're too attractive, and it’s impossible to focus on anything else. Do you like hearing that?”

She laughed softly, stroking your hair. “Oh, I love it! Well, I can't help being irresistibly distracting. And you’ve never seen me naked…”

“Aren’t we cocky this afternoon?”

Aitana laughed again, a warm sound that made your heart flutter. “Maybe a little,” she admitted, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “But I can’t help it if my girlfriend finds me irresistible.”

You raise your eyebrow, “Well then I’ll let you in on a small secret.” You began kissing her neck where you knew she loved it, “When my woman gets too cocky, I like to put her back into her place.”

Aitana's eyes sparkled with curiosity and mischief, her smile never fading. "And how do you plan to do that?" she asked, her voice a playful challenge.

You stopped kissing her neck and looked into her eyes, a smirk playing on your lips. "Well, I have my ways," you said, your tone teasing. "But it usually starts with making sure she's completely focused on me.” You placed a finger under her chin and slightly lift her head to look at you.

“And when I have her full attention, I’d want to kiss her until I know that she doesn’t think she’s in control anymore.” She smirked not fully believing what you were telling her. “By the time I’m done with you, you’ll never wear that cocky grin ever again.”

You pressed your lips onto hers into a passionate kiss. As the seconds went by, the kiss became more impatient and sloppy. Her hands went inside your shirt, feeling your skin in an attempt to make you get even closer to her. You could feel that she was getting lost in the moment, so you immediately stopped, biting her lower lip in the process. She had her eyes still closed, then she blocked twice screeching up her nose. “Why did you stop?”

You stood up from her lap and offered your hand. She took it, and you led her to her bedroom. You began to kiss her once again, aching slow, trying to appreciate every second with her, as if she would disappear the next second.

You grabbed the hems of her shirt, trying to take it off from her. You reached her chest level, when she stopped you.

“Wait. Wait, Cari.” You removed yourself from her, giving her a questioning look. “Cari, are you sure you want to do this? It’s a big deal.” You nodded, smiling that she took a moment just to double-check if you were ready.

“I’m sure, Tani.” She took her shirt off then proceeded to sit on the bed, pulling you to her. She helped you take off your shirt and you immediately felt her hands on your naked waist, caressing soothingly your skin, she then quickly placed an affectionate kiss on the middle of your chest, then lifted her head up to look at you.

“You are so beautiful. I can’t believe how I got so lucky with you.”

“I’m the lucky one.” You pushed her on the bed, beginning to kiss her on the lips at first. Then you moved to her neck, taking your sweet time to feel each and every moan she would grant you, satisfied you began to trace a line of kisses in the middle of her chest to her toned stomach.

As you reached the hem of her sweatpants, you lifted your head to look at her, silently asking her for consent, which she immediately granted. You quickly took them off leaving two sweet kisses on each thigh before she nudged you to get on her level, bringing you into another searing kiss.

She unexpectedly flipped you over, placing her right thigh in between your legs, eliciting a silent moan from you as she increased the pressure of her leg on your center. You felt as if you had too many layers of clothes between the two of you, so you took matters into your own accords and lifted your pants off yourself. By doing that, you quickly moved slightly on your side, eliciting a curious look from Aitana.

You were about to lie down again on your back when she stopped you, holding you in place and focusing on your butt. “Is this the famous third tattoo you weren’t so keen on telling me about?” She placed a kiss on top of it before helping you to lie back down.

“A little heart,” you said innocently.

“Don’t act all innocent. There's nothing innocent about you, especially when you're barely clothed and silently begging me to touch you.”

“Stop talking dirty and put those words into action.” You impatiently brought her lips to yours, feeling the smirk underlying her already swollen lips.

-

That morning, you woke up with a pleasant ache between your legs and an arm holding you down. Aitana probably sensed that you were awake because you felt her arm tighten around you, accompanied by a small contented moan.

“Bon dia, Cari. How are you feeling?” She finally spoke, her voice still raspy from sleep.

You opened your eyes and turned to your side to better look at her. “I feel amazing! Last night was…” You struggled to find the words to describe the experience. It was amazing. Aitana had taken care of you in a way that nobody ever had before. You hoped that she enjoyed it as much as you did.

“Last night was amazing, cari. You are just incredible. There’s nothing I would love more than to lay in bed with you all day, but I do have to leave for training in half an hour.”

You sighed loudly, feeling a pang of disappointment. Though you understood it was her job, you hated the fact that she didn’t have a fixed schedule and was always on the go. “And you, Cari, you start working again! How do you feel?”

“I’m a little nervous, but I’m so happy! It’s going to be like a really hard job, but I’m excited!”

“It’s the Templo del Sagrado Corazon de Jesus, right?”

“Yep, some students from Barcelona Uni will be there to help me out, so I’ll never hear the end of their incessant questions.”

“I think it’s cute. They look up to you, Cari.”

You couldn’t help but smile back, feeling a sense of accomplishment. “Yeah, I guess it’s kind of flattering.”

“You’ll be great. Returning to do what you love, it’s one of the best feelings ever. You’ll be great.” She reassured you.

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “Thanks for always believing in me.”

“Always,” she whispered, kissing you back gently. “Now, let’s make the most of the next thirty minutes.”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around her. “I like the sound of that.”

The next half-hour passed in a blissful blur of kisses, laughter, and whispered words of love. When it was finally time for Aitana to leave for training, you felt a pang of sadness but also a surge of determination.

-

As you got ready for your first day back at work, you couldn’t help but feel a mix of nerves and excitement. The Templo del Sagrado Corazon de Jesus was a monumental project, and you were eager to dive back into your passion. You thought there wasn’t a better way to return to work.

As you made your way to the church, you noticed a house for sale. You felt drawn to it for some reason. It was a pretty normal house, with a big garden. You couldn’t help but picture yourself calling it home one day. You quickly pushed the thought aside, trying to focus on your job.

“Good morning, everyone,” you greeted, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your stomach. “I’m Y/N, and I’ll be guiding you through this restoration project. Let’s get started, shall we?”

The students gathered around, notebooks and tablets at the ready. You launched into an explanation of the project, detailing the history of the church and the specific techniques you’d be using to restore its intricate details. The students listened intently, occasionally jotting down notes or asking questions.

As the day progressed, you found yourself slipping back into your old rhythm. You felt at peace. After six months of hell, you were finally back to your old life, doing what you loved most. Thankfully, the students didn’t get in your way too much. Many of them were still afraid of touching any artwork for fear of ruining it, which was something you reassured them would go away with time. You remembered your uni days and how curious you were when you first started this job.

.

As the day drew to a close, you were both exhausted and exhilarated. Driving home along the familiar route to Aitana’s place, your gaze was once again drawn to that house.

It seemed there was an open day to showcase the property to potential buyers. Unsure if it was mere curiosity or something deeper, you felt compelled to pull over. Parking the car, you walked up the path to the house, a mix of excitement and apprehension swirling within you.

The open house was abuzz with activity; real estate agents engaged in conversation with prospective buyers, and families wandered through the rooms.

Stepping inside, you were immediately struck by the warmth and charm of the place. The living room boasted large windows that flooded the space with light, while the wooden floors exuded a cozy ambiance. You could envision yourself and Aitana unwinding here after a long day, perhaps even hosting dinners with friends.

A real estate agent approached you with a welcoming smile. “Hello! Are you interested in the house?”

“I’m just looking,” you replied, still taking in the details. “It’s a beautiful place.”

“It really is,” she agreed. “Would you like a tour?”

“Sure, why not,” you said, feeling more curious than ever.

The agent guided you through the house, highlighting its features and potential. The kitchen was spacious and modern, ideal for cooking together or entertaining guests. The bedrooms were well-appointed, and the master bedroom offered a picturesque view of the garden. There was even a small study that could double as a workspace, which caught your eye.

As you strolled through the garden, your mind raced with possibilities. Aitana could train here, and perhaps you could finally fulfill your dream of getting a dog.

“What do you think?” the agent inquired as you completed the tour.

“I think it’s a place where you can build a life,” you replied with a smile, still envisioning yourself there.

“The owners are an elderly couple; their children have families of their own now, and they’re looking to downsize. They’d be open to renting the property for a few years if you’re not ready to buy outright.”

“I’ll need to discuss it with my partner.”

“Take your time to think it over. The owners are discerning, but this is a rare opportunity. Properties like this don’t come around often in Barcelona, especially at this price.”

“I understand…”

The agent handed you a brochure with all the details. “Feel free to reach out if you have any questions or want to arrange another visit.”

You thanked her and left the house, your mind buzzing with possibilities. Driving back to Aitana’s place, you couldn’t wait to share the news with her and gauge her reaction. Perhaps it was time to start thinking about the future, to contemplate what life could look like once you fully recovered.

-

Upon arriving home, Aitana greeted you with a warm smile and open arms. “How was your day, Cari?”

“It was amazing,” you said, enveloping her in a hug. However, thoughts of the house lingered in your mind, and Aitana soon noticed your preoccupation.

“What’s on your mind, Cari? You have that look like you’re holding onto a secret.”

Blushing lightly, you took her hands. “I’d love to talk to you about something, but I think it’s better if we have dinner first.”

Aitana ordered takeout pizza while you set the table, and over dinner, you both shared highlights from your day, carefully omitting any mention of the house.

“Have you ever thought about changing places?” you asked, catching her off guard. She blinked, puzzled by the unexpected question. Closing her book, she pinned the page and considered your question. “Well, I suppose I’ve never had a reason to move out. Don’t you like it here?”

“I love your place, Tani, but after everything with my cancer, I’ve been thinking about the future, you know?” You broached the difficult conversation with caution.

Aitana’s expression softened as she sat up, giving you her full attention. “I’ve been thinking about it too. These past six months have really got me thinking about the road ahead for us.”

“We’ve only been together for six months. Do you think we’re moving too fast?”

“Maybe we are, but the intensity of our experiences in these months—most couples don’t experience that in a lifetime or years of being together. We just… fit, you know?”

“I do. I feel like we’re meant to be. Mi media naranja. Plus we’ve gone through worse, I think we can handle moving in together.” You spoke sweetly, taking her hands. “I saw this house while driving to work today. It had a big garden, and I could see us living there. It’s close to both our jobs and has plenty of space.”

“Was it for sale?”

“Yes, I went inside. I couldn’t resist. It felt like a place where we could truly build a life together. I can’t quite explain it.”

“I understand,” she said, nodding in agreement.

“It may sound silly, but I’d like for us to have a place together. We don't have to buy a home right away, we could rent it for a while until we’re sure. I know it’s a big step, but it feels right for us.”

“So, are you asking me to move in with you, Y/n Y/ln?” she teased.

“Yes, meu amor. You don’t have to give me an answer right away, but could you think about it?” You replied earnestly.

She leaped into your arms, causing you to fall back onto the couch as she showered you with excited kisses. “I’ve already thought about it, Y/N! Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!”

Laughing, you held her close, feeling her enthusiasm infecting you. “Really? You’re sure?”

“Absolutely,” she affirmed, pulling back to meet your gaze. “There’s no one else I’d rather do this with. I love you, Cari. Today. Tomorrow. The day after tomorrow. And all the days after that.”

“I love you too, Tani. Today. Tomorrow. The day after tomorrow. And all the days after that,” you echoed.

-

The next morning, before heading to work, you called the real estate agent to schedule a visit to the house. She mentioned that the owners would be there, which made you a bit nervous.

Throughout the day, you and Aitana exchanged excited messages, discussing the possibilities and envisioning your future together in the new home. Finally, the time came for the visit. You arrived first, your heart pounding with anticipation. Aitana arrived shortly after, her smile reassuring you as you walked in together.

As you toured the house, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of belonging. The owners, an older couple, shared stories of their own experiences and the happiness the house had brought them.

Leaving the house, you and Aitana agreed to give them a response by the end of the week. You explored other options, but none felt quite right. In the end, you both knew—the house with the garden, the rooms, the overall atmosphere—was meant to be yours. By the end of the week, you made the call, and when Aitana hung up with a wide smile, you knew your future together was just beginning.

“It’s ours,” she said, her eyes shining with excitement. “We’ll have to wait in the summer, but it’s ours Cari.”

-

It was the end of April, and you were secretly in England for the second leg of the Champions League semi final. Barcelona was set to face Chelsea, 1-0 down on aggregate.

Aitana had been furious after the first leg; losing at home was something she despised. She couldn’t sleep that night, replaying the game over and over, until you finally had to snatch the TV remote from her grasp. Her mind was flooded with what-ifs, and she took the blame for everything.

Convincing her otherwise had been a struggle, but after a heated argument, you managed to help her see that the burden didn’t fall solely on her shoulders. She finally fell asleep, and the next day she woke up with a renewed sense of determination and confidence, ready to give her all in the next leg.

Initially, you told her you couldn’t come to the game because of work—the church you were restoring had been more demanding than you anticipated. However, with the help of a friend, you managed to finish the job earlier than expected and make your way to England. You wanted your presence to be a surprise.

You arrived at the stadium early, your heart racing with excitement and nerves. The atmosphere was electric, the fans buzzing with anticipation. You found your seat among the Barcelona supporters with Eva, hoping to blend in and not draw attention to yourself.

As the players warmed up on the field, you spotted Aitana. She looked focused, every bit the determined athlete ready to make a comeback. Your heart swelled with pride and love as you watched her.

When the match started, you were on the edge of your seat. Every pass, every tackle, every shot at goal had you holding your breath. Barcelona was playing with a fire you hadn’t seen in a while, and Aitana was at the heart of it all, directing play, making key passes, and encouraging her teammates.

Then, before halftime, Barcelona equalized on aggregate with with Aitana’s goal. She celebrated the goal by kissing the wrist in which she had your bracelet on, making your heart skip a beat, Eva teased you endlessly when she saw your expression full of pride and love.

The roar from the fans was deafening, and you couldn’t help but join in the celebration. You saw Aitana glance up at the stands, her eyes scanning the crowd, and for a brief moment, you thought she might spot you. But she quickly refocused on the game.

The second half was even harder for Barcelona, thankfully they were able to seal the game with Rölfo’s penalty.

You did have a jump scare, when they took off Aitana, and she acted like she needed a stretcher. You began to worry as you thought that she got injured, but then you saw her run to give a high five to Alexia, making you chuckle lightly. You loved that girl so much.

When the final whistle blew, you quickly ran to where the fans were asking for the autograph near the pitch, patiently waiting for Aitana to round the Barcelona part of the stadium thanking the fans.

As soon as she reached you, her face lit up with one of her biggest smiles as she sprinted over.

“Can I have an autograph??? I’m your biggest fan!” you begged playfully as she helped you climb over the bleachers onto the pitch. “I don’t think I should be inside the pitch,” you chuckled.

She enveloped you in a big hug. “I don’t care. How are you here! I thought you were working!” she said happily.

“Surprise!” She hugged you once again, lifting you off the ground.

You turned around, showing her the jersey you wore with Alexia’s number on it. “You like this new jersey?” you teased playfully.

Aitana's eyes widened in mock horror as she saw the name and number on your jersey. "Alexia? Really?" she laughed, shaking her head.

"What can I say? She's pretty great," you teased back, grinning.

Aitana put you down. “I don’t think I’ll ever forgive you for this,” she told you, feigning disgust.

“Come on, Tani! You know I love you, meu amor,” you said, covering your mouth, not wanting anyone from the stadium to lip-read your conversation. She wouldn’t budge, still giving you an offended look. “I’ll have a lifetime to make you forgive me.”

“You better start now.”

Your presence on the pitch became known pretty quickly. After you finished your conversation with Aitana, still offended, Mapi and Ingrid ran over to you, giving you a hug.

“Hey Y/n, I didn’t know you were coming!”

“I wanted to surprise my girl,” you said affectionately, turning to Aitana.

“You did,” she interjected, still bothered. You knew it was a ruse, but you still found it amusing to see her bothered like this.

Mapi and Ingrid turned to Aitana, looking confused at her tone. You turned your back, making them see the name on the jersey. They burst out laughing.

“How to break Aitana’s heart,” Ingrid giggled.

Aitana rolled her eyes dramatically, though a smile tugged at her lips. "You two are no help," she said, giving Ingrid and Mapi a playful glare.

"Hey, we’re just here to enjoy the show," Mapi replied, still laughing. "But seriously, it's good to see you, Y/N."

"Good to see you too," you replied warmly. "And congratulations on the win, all of you. You played incredibly."

As more teammates joined the celebration, you noticed Alexia approaching, a knowing smile on her face. "Nice jersey," she said, winking at Aitana.

Aitana groaned but couldn't help but laugh. "Alright, alright, I can’t be mad at you for so long," she conceded, pulling you close again. "But you're making it up to me tonight."

"Deal," you agreed, kissing her cheek.

-

As you waited for Aitana to finish her post-match duties, you met up with your gym buddy, aka Olga, who was waiting for Alexia. You took off your shirt, leaving you with just Aitana’s Barça shirt, and gave it to her.

“Thank you for lending me the shirt. Aitana’s expression was priceless.”

“No problem. I should do the same thing with Alexia!” She raised her eyebrow playfully.

“She would break up with you. My Aitana is the jealous type but she just gets mad, she doesn’t do anything about it. You can rile her up as much as you want. Alexia, on the other hand, I don’t think you can.”

“Yeah, but her face would be priceless!”

Aitana and Alexia appeared out of thin air. “You two are plotting something, I know that,” Alexia chuckled.

“I was just catching up with my gym buddy!” you said innocently, turning your back to show Aitana the jersey you had on.

“I quite like this jersey better,” Aitana said, hugging your waist and giving you a kiss on the cheek. “Are you ready to leave?” You nodded, then proceeded to say your final goodbyes to Alexia and Olga and left with Aitana to your hotel room, which unfortunately was in another hotel, meaning Aitana would have to leave earlier in the morning.

“Are you ready to make it up to me?” She said between kisses as you entered your hotel room.

“Maybe was my plan all along.” You smirked mischievously.

“You are such a bad girl. Riling me up just to have your way with me.”

“I just can’t help myself. You are just so hot. But don’t worry, I’ll be your good girl tonight.”

“Never. You know how much I like it when you act bad.”

You chuckled. “Take off your shirt and lay on the bed.” You instructed her, while she did exactly what you told her to.

-

May was the busiest month for Aitana, with two finals in two weeks. You attended all of her games, cheering the loudest whenever she scored a goal.

During the Champions League final, you were the most anxious person in the stadium. You decided to go to the game with Olga, wearing one of Aitana's jerseys. Knowing how much she cared about winning this game against Lyon, given their past matches, made you extremely nervous.

As you and Olga found your seats, you could feel the electric atmosphere in the stadium. The roar of the crowd, the sea of colors, and the anticipation hanging in the air were almost overwhelming. You glanced at Olga, who seemed to be handling the nerves better than you.

“Don’t worry, they’ve got this,” Olga said, giving you a reassuring pat on the back.

“I know, I just... I really want this for her,” you replied, your eyes scanning the pitch as the players warmed up.

The match kicked off with a ferocity that had you on the edge of your seat from the start. Lyon came out strong, and the tension was palpable. Every tackle, every pass, every shot had your heart racing. You cheered, you screamed, you held your breath with every close call.

Aitana was everywhere on the pitch, her determination and skill on full display. You watched her every move, feeling an immense sense of pride mixed with anxiety.

Even though Barcelona was dominating, in the first half there were no goals.

Everything changed, though, in the 63rd minute of the game. Aitana scored, putting her team up by one. As soon as you saw the ball inside the net, you screamed your lungs out, tears welling up in your eyes from the pride and joy you were feeling, especially when she kissed her bracelet and pointed at you in the stands.

As the minutes ticked down, Barcelona managed to hold onto their lead, even scoring an additional goal, courtesy of Alexia. And this time it was Olga who got emotional. Finally, the final whistle blew, signaling their victory.

The stadium erupted in cheers, and you felt an overwhelming wave of relief and happiness wash over you. You watched as Aitana and her teammates celebrated on the pitch, their faces alight with joy and triumph.

You made your way down to the edge of the stands, eager to share this moment with her. When she finally spotted you, her eyes lit up, and she ran over, pulling you into a tight embrace.

“We did it!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with emotion.

“You were incredible, Tani,” you said, holding her close. “I’m so proud of you.”

She quickly ran back for the medal ceremony, as you never took your eyes off her the entire time, until she finally came back to you. She helped you onto the pitch and gave you a bone-crushing hug.

“I’m so happy you are here!” She took off her medal and placed it around your neck. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

You hugged her again and whispered. “You would have.” You subtly kissed her neck, “My girl.” You said proudly.

Aitana beamed, her happiness radiating from her. “This is just the beginning for us, you know.”

“I know,” you replied, holding her tightly. “And I can’t wait to see what’s next.”

The team began to gather around, pulling Aitana into their celebrations, and you watched with pride as she celebrated her victory with the club of her life. You could see the immense respect and love her teammates had for her, and it made you love her even more.

As the night went on and the celebrations continued at a club, you and Aitana found moments to steal away together, sharing kisses and quiet words amidst the chaos. It was a night of pure joy. She insisted on taking pictures with you and the trophy, and she still refused her medal when you tried to place it around her neck, claiming that you were also part of the victory.

-

When you returned to Barcelona, you sadly had to see her leave again for the national team.

“We don’t even have time to celebrate before you already have to leave!” you said sadly as she packed her stuff.

“I know, Cari. I don’t want to go either, but I have to. Who knows? Maybe I’ll fake an injury so I can get back to you earlier,” she joked.

“You would never.” You giggled as she gave you a goodbye kiss and left.

-

The thing was, it was better that she didn’t joke about having a fake injury because not even a week after she left for Madrid, she came back to you on crutches.

You were already busy moving your stuff into your new home, wanting to surprise Aitana with everything ready before she came back from national duty.

You both decided to rent the house until you were sure about buying it. Her injury complicated things, though.

You juggled secretly bringing her stuff and yours into your new home without her discovering your plans and taking care of her.

She was in physiotherapy when you finally finished everything up. You still had to fix some stuff and bring more of Aitana’s belongings home, but you were finally able to surprise her, even though something was still missing. Fortunately, you fixed it before you had to pick up Aitana from physiotherapy. Everything was finally ready.

You drove to the Barcelona training grounds, waiting for Aitana in the parking lot. She greeted you with a kiss and then you drove toward your new rented home.

“Wait, where are we going?” she quickly realized that it wasn’t your usual route but toward her old home.

“It’s a surprise,” you said, grinning.

She looked at you suspiciously but didn’t press further. As you approached the new house, you asked her excitedly to place a blindfold on her eyes, warning her not to peak. As soon as you pulled into the driveway, you rounded the car and opened the car door for her. You dragged her excitedly inside the house and took off her blindfold.

The living room was warmly lit, and her eyes widened as she took in the sight of all your belongings neatly arranged.

“Welcome home, Tani,” you said softly.

She looked around, her eyes filling with tears. “You did all this?”

“These past months you have been my rock, helping me when I was sick, so when we decided to move in together I wanted to surprise you.”

Aitana hugged you tightly, still slightly limping from her injury. “I love it. I love you. This is perfect.”

“I’m glad you like it, I was worried I might have overstepped by taking some of your stuff here.” Aitana pulled back slightly, shaking her head with a smile. “You could never overstep. This is amazing. You’ve thought of everything.”

You grinned, relieved. “Come on, there’s more to see.”

You guided her through the house, showing her the cozy bedroom, the spacious kitchen, and the backyard with the garden you had talked about. Her eyes sparkled with each new discovery, and she kept squeezing your hand in gratitude and love.

“You even got my favorite coffee mug,” she said, spotting it on the kitchen counter.

As you led her back to the living room, she sat down carefully on the couch, still adjusting to her crutches. “I can’t believe you did all this while taking care of me and working. You’re incredible.”

“There is another surprise.” You couldn’t help but smile excited.

“I don’t think that there is something that could top this.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure.” You smirked playfully. “Stay here.”

You quickly walked inside one of the rooms of your new home and excitedly returned holding a huge puppy, a Bernese mountain dog to be exact.

Aitana’s eyes widened in pure delight as she saw the fluffy, adorable puppy in your arms. “Oh my god, Y/N! You didn’t!”

“I did!” You handed her the puppy, as it began licking all over her face, making her giggle childishly. “Hi there, puppy,” she cooed, stroking the puppy’s soft fur. “You’re so beautiful.”

The puppy wagged its tail enthusiastically, she sat down on the floor playing with it. You joined her enthusiastically as you both started laughing at the clumsy small dog, coming up with names for it.

-

Later, as the puppy curled up between you on the couch, Aitana leaned her head on your shoulder and sighed contentedly. “This is perfect, Y/N. I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

You kissed her forehead gently. “I love you, Aitana. Today. Tomorrow. The day after tomorrow. And all the days after that. I can’t wait to see where the future will take us.

She looked up at you, her eyes filled with love. “I love you too, Cari. More than anything. Here’s to our future, our new home, and our little family.”

The puppy let out a soft, contented sigh, settling deeper into the cushions between you. You both giggled softly.

You turned to Aitana, with a soft smile expressing all your love for her. “I’m really glad you hit my car nine months ago.”

“I’m glad I did too.”

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Sheer Irony

(Part 2)(Part 3)(Part 4)

—

Time written- 5:58 p.m

Titans!Jason Todd/fem!reader angst/fluff (TW: Suicide Mention/Attempt)

—

A faint breeze blows along your cheeks as you open the door, eyes glazing over a broad horizon full of dreary skies and rooftops. You find who you’re looking for standing ontop of a metallic platform framing along the edge of the building, his downturned head peering down at the dense, vacant streets below.

A long, harsh, catastrophic drop with just the wrong step.

Confusion rattled your mind when you wondered exactly what the hell was going on, never seeing such a trifling event happen in the common area. Millions of questions followed once you heard the screaming.

A million more followed suit when you walked in on the hostile environment, the air thick with static tension.

“You people are insane!” He had cried out by the second you entered the room, surprised to find a short crowd of people against him. Friends, colleagues, all glaring at him with accusations you didn’t fully hear.

“I’d rather be with Deathstroke than you assholes,” Jason states with an emotional quiver in his tone, growing more detectable towards the end of his words. “You think everything’s my fault.”

“Jason?” You call out to him, seeing his head lightly peek over his shoulder. Whether he heard you or not, he knew you arrived once the door was slammed shut behind you due to the wind.

“What do you want?” He asks with understandable bitterness wrapped up in a solemn tone, as if you were a stranger he could’ve cared less about.

Technically, you and Jason were colleagues for a long time, but never really reached the category of friends.

He was an obnoxious, painfully reckless Robin, but he was good. You were good, training yourself to set your differences aside to put the tasks at hand. You provided data, not violence.

The task now was to set those barriers of yours down with intentions to knock on his.

“To talk.” You reply, not wanting to approach further than you had to, but a huge part of you wanted to go further.

“Look. I don’t wanna hear any more bullshit—“

“Not about that,” you insist. “Just to talk, that’s all.”

To talk, to buy time. Anything.

Waves of guilt coursed through your veins for him, for his safety. The strong winds could easily sweep him off his feet if he allowed it, the tension in his braced legs preventing him from slipping off the ledge he stood on for now.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Jason states, his lungs burning with reach trembling breath he took. “The others think you’re crazy following me out here.”

“I don’t care what they think,” was your response, rooftop gravel crunching underneath your shoe as you took a slow step forward. “I don’t want you to be alone out here. That’s what matters.”

“Why?” He questions, refusing to turn around and face you with full disbelief on his face. “You hate me. You can’t stand me every time I’m around. No one can.”

“That’s not true,” you shake your head, slowly getting yourself to take another step forward. About four feet of distance remained between you and Jason, your mind cluttered with ideas on how to get him

“Jason, I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t need to lie to me,” Jason mutters, not believing you for a good second. You understood that he wouldn’t trust anyone after what you witnessed. You didn’t want to be on that side.

The steel frames were tall enough for you to hop up yourself, but the height was unnerving.

He remained quiet, pondering his rancid emotions running nonstop in his head. He felt himself nothing but poison; black pitch that stuck to everyone who so much as touched him, costing their skin like a cancer until it killed them.

That’s what was happening now, wasn’t it? Everyone was hating him, blaming him for things he didn’t understand. Now, here you were, coming up to add onto the pile. He assumed that on the spot. Why else were you here?

Bracing your hands along the beam, you push yourself up on it, fighting back your fear of heights to put yourself into this vulnerable position. Thinking slowly, you ponder over what else you could do, thinking over in your mind.

“Wanna sit?” You say, hoping he’d take the hand that offered such an innocent suggestion. “Talking is easier to do when sitting.”

To show this, you move into a sitting position beside him, feeling a little less tense on your concerns for falling. Jason doesn’t take the bait at first, only wondering as to why you were still even trying with him.

“You don’t need to be here,” he reverberates, but you weren’t going to have it.

“Neither do you,” you glanced up at him, seeing his attention fully focused on you, sitting beside him as of the ledge was just an every day public park bench.

Reluctantly, he shifts his position, leaving you to thank the Gods. With Jason sitting, you had much better control and opportunity to catch him, with the roof behind you to break both your fall.

“Do you want the truth?” You hesitantly ask, wondering if that’s what he needed. Someone who didn’t follow the others, who didn’t view him as a scapegoat to their problems, just because the unintentional category he fell into without realizing.

Just a glance of his bruised face in your direction after staring ahead for so long gave you the sign, smoothing your sweaty palms over thighs.

“You can be… obnoxious sometimes,” you proceed, slowly making the decision to proceed. “But not dark, or annoying, or… Look. I don’t get why they accused you on the spot. I really don’t.”

Silence continued to rattle his physique. His shifting head slowly peering downwards after hearing your words. His heartbeat began drumming in his head, his lungs burning with an irritated sting, his throat going dry.

“I might not like how you are, Jason,” you blatantly confess, “But I tolerate you enough to understand that you didn’t deserve this.”

There it was. Catching him off guard by cold facts, only to soothe the blow with truth. Your truth, the truth that should matter.

Not everyone was against him.

A part of him appreciates it, but at the same time, he grew irritated at your persistence to tell him what he already knew. It only made his feelings for you that much harder to understand.

He was supposed to not like you.

You were smart, yes. You popped one liners when you helped relay information to the Titans, read books and kept journals by yourself during your free time, and listened to music when you were in desperate need of relief after plenty of audible overstimulation.

The way you had your hair styled on different days, your persistence of spraying perfume on yourself before going to bed.

You weren’t loud, you weren’t overtly quiet. You respected business and boundaries, despite your job to hack and defy the purpose of them behind a computer screen.

He hated how unique yet simple you were. No one would suspect you of your talents, balancing your double life with little to mo effort.

“You don’t deserve this, Jason,” you say in order to remind him, watching his calloused fingers slowly flexing in his lap, signifying his various difficult emotions. You’d say it as many times as you needed to, to ram it into his every day thoughts.

“I don’t hate you,” you shake your head, peering at his battered, slowly healing face. “And… maybe I don’t entirely hate just how annoying you are. Sometimes, it makes things fun on a boring night.”

The corner of his busted lip rose in a faint, subtle smile. That made an interesting amount of sense. Maybe he was the type to irritate you on purpose, especially during his much earlier days.

His much earlier, flirtier Robin days.

“How annoying?”

Maybe, just maybe, being his friend didn’t sound like such a bad idea.

“Horribly,” you instantly reply as it became your turn to smile. “I mean it. Every day I wake up and dread what stupid thing you’d say next. What could you possibly say today for me to cringe at.”

If the both of you weren’t sitting on the edge of a building, Jason would have half a heart to nudge you with his shoulder. But, he knew your fear of heights.

“You think of me?”

“It’s hard not to, Jay.”

—

“Did I miss a party?” You announce as you enter the dark, gloomy hallway, coming to an abrupt halt at the sight of two tall men talking to one another. A pile of unconscious bodies explaining their rigorous treatments just moments before you arrived.

“You missed the fun,” Jason chides, an amused smirk quickly growing on his face. The first full bodied smile Tim had seen on Jason since they met.

“A little earlier, you coulda joined in on your kickass computer skills.”

“Oh, ha ha,” you say, catching sight of Jason’s said laptop abandoned on the ground, bits of broken glass hinting at an unsalvageable screen. “Looks like someone beat me to it already.”

“It’s you.” Tim’s voice makes your head raise, giving the man a smile as you take in his Robin uniform.

“It’s me,” you reply, feeling a nostalgic flutter in your chest upon seeing that uniform worn by someone new. “I see Dick passed on the torch. How’s it feel?”

“He’s learning fast,” Jason gestures with a raised finger before pointing towards the bodies. “Very fast.”

“I see that.”

Ever since you had made the choice to step back from your position with the Titans a while back, life had gotten more chaotic in very unexpected ways.

You changed; in heart, in mind, in maturity.

You’ve grieved your best friend’s death, silently took pleasure in violent justice in the deaths of those who’ve betrayed and harmed your colleagues. You grieved once more when masks were unveiled, and even aided the wrong crowds for a while.

At your age, you’ve seen it all, you’ve learned from other peoples mistakes, as well as your own. You hated it, but accepted the lessons learned. As off as that sounds, that’s the best way you could describe it.

You kept in touch with Dick when he needed the help from the ‘attractive computer geek,’ so you were at least aware of what was going on. Hearing it all from Tim’s perspective brought back the times when you used to work alongside a particular ex-Robin, who remained standing close to your side during all topics of discussion.

“I got to meet the great Red Hood,” you watched with a smile a few steps up on the staircase as Tim prods Jason’s chest in a friendly manner, causing a flare in his ego as he chuckles in response.

“Don’t forget her,” Jason gestures his head up towards you, Tim’s eyes catching the faint flush in your cheeks.

“Poor girl’s kept us from running around with our heads cut off for years.”

“Always gotta respect the tech workers,” Tim agrees with a nod, making you scoff in amusement. “At least you didn’t call me ‘customer support’. That’s Grayson’s favorite.”

You said you were leaving when Tim was considerate to offer you a ride, but you brush off that you had your own, intending to head out for a date in two hours.

But, you weren’t.

The Titans, old or new, didn’t need to know all your secrets, regardless if cracking them was your specialty.

“You gave him your bike?” You ask once he gets off the phone with said old bird, approaching him as he gazed up at a clear board with various equations scrawled on the surface.

“Just sits there getting dust in the corner. I trust him to take care of it.” Jason sips at his dark drink once more before trailing off to the side, setting the bottle down.

“Still on for tomorrow night?” Jason asks, watching smile form on your face. The date. It was kinda true.

“Of course. Just came by to get my lipgloss.” You smirk, raising up your cherry flavored lip product you had to fetch from under his bed where it had rolled. “Forgot it here last night, remember?”

“How could I ever.” Jason replies with a lowered rumble, recalling all the memories of the night prior, involving getting sticky, glittery cherry gloss along his lips, leaving remnants of it smeared on his neck after a very short, sexually tense conversation.

“Kinda thought you’d wear a scarf when you showed up,” he teases as he approached, amused at your eye roll.

“I don’t do scarves, Todd,” you state, feeling it harder to fight off a smile. Your hands ease off your hips to settle across Jason’s broad shoulders.

“Whatever you say, shortcake.”

By now, you should take up a job at being a makeup counter girl, especially considering how well you managed to cover up your hickies over the span of many, many months.

Your nose lightly brushes with his, his lips merely missing yours on purpose, planting a single kiss on the corner of your mouth before holding you closer, your hips smugly fitting into his hands.

You were a breath of fresh, rainstorm air after a dark storm, your perfume clinging to his clothes for days.

“Was thinkin’,” he murmurs. “We’d try to reenact last night for our date night.”

“Hmm, with a different flavor?”

“You taste a lot better without it.”

You giggle, settling your hands along his back to keep secure in this comforting embrace.

“You think of me like that?” The words softly leave your lips.

He smiles down at you, his eyes full of warmth and comfort in your presence, cradling your right cheek after fixing a bit of your hair. He can’t help but shift attention to your pretty lips; perfect petal soft skin that displayed the prettiest of smiles to his god awful humor.

“It’s hard not to, babe.”

[ramblingautisticman]

As it's kinktober, naturally, I have seen some things. It's inevitable. While I try to avoid reading the actual smut (I am way to asexual for that shit but to everyone who writes it, well done, your stronger than me), I see the titles and promts, and one made my lil autistic brain start churning- weirdly about Wade and the PTSD he would have from the torture. Also some fluff with Logan- you deserve it.

I don't think Wade would like being choked or choking? At all. It reminds him way too much of the oxygen deprivation tank he had to stay in. And it isn't even always in a sexual way- any time something is too tight over his mouth or too close to his neck- he freaks out and starts panicking because the idea of not being able to breath again is terrifying to him. He doesn't go swimming because he can't stand the idea of holding his breath. So when Dopinder suggest all of them go swimming for Laura's birthday (she has never been to a beach or swam before) he shuts the idea down so fast that everyone takes a second to just stare at him before continuing with other suggestions. He also refuses to ever choke anyone else. Whether it's in bed or killing- he knows that feeling so intimately that he doesn't want anyone else to feel that kind of pain or panic- even if they deserve it.

Wade is also extremely afraid of small spaces. He hates them. They remind him too much of the chamber. Logan tries to get him to go inbetween the couch and the wall to try to get the TV remote one time, only for Wade to shut down at the very idea, leaving a very confused Logan to do it himself before Wade snaps back to normal.

He hates belts and refuses to touch them because they feel like the restraints they used. Anything leather really- it feels too similar. It makes his wrists and ankles ache, and suddenly it feels like something is around his neck. So he avoids it at all costs. He doesn't touch Logan's leather jacket- avoids him whenever he is wearing it and never dares move it from where it's been thrown down- and when Logan mentions it he brushes it off. Tells him "Its so old that I'm afraid it will turn to dust if I touch it."

And Logan notices, obviously. He notices how Wade avoids touching leather, he notices how Wade freezes up at the idea of being in a tight space, he notices how Wade hates the idea of swimming. Expect, he doesn't know why. Wade has never shown any fear for water, so why does he not want to swim? He is fine sitting against Logan while he is wearing his leather jacket, but only if Wade is wearing a thick hoodie, so he doesn't like the texture maybe? The only thing he understands is the tight spaces. Some people are clostraphobic, he gets that. The other two though? They confuse him for ages. For awhile, anyway.

One day Wade breaks down- too many reminders and one bad nightmare later- Wade tells him about the cancer and the torture and everything in-between, and suddenly Logan gets it. He hates swimming because you need to hold your breath. It's why Wade likes baths over showers. More control. He hates leather because it reminds him of being tied down. That's why all his belts are fabric, even if they look like leather. That's why he avoids touching Logans jacket with his skin. He hates small spaces because he was practically killed again and again in a fucking tube. Who wouldn't be scared of small spaces after that?

So Logan takes the time to make sure he remembers these things. Trys to accommodate as best as he can. Never suggests something that might mean Wade needs to hold his breath or have something close to his neck. Gets a different jacket to wear, throwing the other one in the very back of the closet. Makes sure that if there is ever a small space they need to get too, Logan goes and does it without asking.

Wade only notices when he drops the TV remote down the back of the couch AGAIN, and Logan quickly grabs it and places it back in his hand, a worried look on his face.

[celestialprincesse]

to celebrate cancer free, how about a picnic with simon? but he’s letting his paranoia get to him and you have to comfort him that the man feeding the ducks aren’t spying on them and simply…living?

Katz my baby 💕 giving me all the good ideas🎀

AFAB Reader💕🩰

It's impossible not to laugh at Simon as he lugs the overfilled picnic basket across the park, his hulking form and grumpy demenour so at odds with you and your floral sundress, the pink gingham picnic blanket you carry.

The park bustles pleasantly with those stepping out to celebrate the first real days of the English summertime; groups of mothers with their children and couples with the same idea as you, bottles of fizz poured into paper cups and packs of buscuits shared between them. You manage to find a spot with sunlight dappled perfectly by the leaves of an old oak, setting down your picnic blanket, followed by Simon setting down the wicker basket you'd insisted on bringing despite the inconvenience of it. You're perfectly content as you lay in your little quiet place, listening absently to birdsong and laughter, breathing in the fresh air, cut grass and daisies wafting up and making you sigh with bliss.

Unlike you, Simon doesn't have the capability to relax. He doesn't have an off switch. He's very much aware of the lows to which men like him will stoop - seen them firsthand with his family. It's impossible to shake that residual stress, that fear of being out in the open, (relatively) unarmed, with the person he loves more than life itself. "You're all," You snap Simon from his reverie as you attempt to mimic his edginess, bunching your shoulders to your ears and straightening your spine. "Sorry." He mutters apologetically, perpetually worried about runing your sunny days with the inevitable dark cloud that is his paranioa. "Don't apologise." You hum, shifting so your knees press into the blanketed ground, hands coming around his shoulders, ear resting against the centre of his back where you listen to the steady thumping of his heart. The way he settles into your arms doesn't go unnoticed, lets you guide him gently back intil you're both laying beside one another, his head settled on your stomach, letting your fingers card softly through his hair. He allows himself to relax until his breathing matches the soft flutter of your inhales, looping his fingers through yours as he remembers how to shed his armour - to push Ghost down into the far deep crevaces of his brain, refusing his request to make an appearance on such a lovely day. Ghost doesn't get to feel the sun on his skin and the touch of a beautiful woman. That's for Simon. You're for Simon.

Once you're sure he's suitably relaxed, you shimmy from Simon's grip, not missing the frustrated grunt he gives from the loss of his favourite pillow. You soon halt his grumbling when you unwrap some scones from a cloth napkin, procuring little tubs of jam and cream from your basket too.

You spend the afternoon pink cheeked and happy, sipping at little glass bottles of lemonade and snacking on punnets of fruit or little baked treats you'd whipped up the evening before, revelling in domestic bliss and wondering if perhaps one day you'd be doing this not only with you and Simon, maybe a sweet rescue dog too, and a baby on your hip. You have been feeling a little nauseous lately.

𐦍༘⋆

I love babies and cute domestic shit!!! lovelovelove!! this page is not safe for pregancy trope haters!!! this is a domestic bliss safezone!!