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lotuseye · 3 months ago

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KINKTOBER 2024, I DIDN'T CHANGE MY NUMBER.

don't take it out on me, i'm out of sympathy for you. maybe you should leave, before i get too mean and take it out on you ( and your best friend too! )

suguru geto & satoru gojo. it was so, so difficult to put up with satoru sometimes- especially when every 9 of the 10 words that left his mouth was lies and excuses. in a particularly rough patch where there seems to be a whose-d*ck-is-bigger contest between the two stubborn idiots, she runs into geto in the bar they frequent and decides he deserves an earful for enabling gojo to be atrocious- but a torture can come in various forms, can't it?

word count: 6902.

genre: one-shot, kinktober product.

characters: suguru geto & satoru gojo & reader.

notes: hi so this is an insane idea that i could not help but write. satoru being a bad boyfriend. suguru being an even worse friend. pr*ise. degr*dation. kind of ch*king. car s*x. pet names. mean dom!gojo. submissive leaning p*ssydrunk switch!geto. switch!reader. dont even perceive me with this one i have no clue how we got here even.

“ you are such an… such an asshole.”

“ and your learning curve is horizontal, sweetness- i don’t recall you leavin’ me.”

the liar, the bitch and the master manipulator, she hated every single bone in satoru’s body.

well, except the one he was burying her to the sheets with.

the same old unfinished story of broken promises, it is a rinse and repeat now with the vibrant colors of their relationship is diluting in the waters of exhaustion and exasperation. oh it was limitless alright, the number of times he could have let her free fall from the tallest skyscraper of tokyo and be forgiven with how he catches her right before the fall, a honeyed coo or two in her ear. no language on the face of earth is adequate when it comes to explaining the way satoru exists on the axis of the world he’s tilted, but the words detached & displaced are the first ones that come to mind. she is simply one of the many things bound to be lost in the infinity between him and the space he occupies, a hard-swallowed pill that she couldn’t still digest even when he had his veined hands splayed on the curve of her hips, his steel of a bicep pressing against her throat as the bed rhythmically creaked beneath them.

it felt too good, and he knew it- he knew he had her when she left that airy sigh into the pillow she had been drooling in with the spot he found without effort, he knew he had her when she preened underneath him with her shoulderblades against his ribs. it’s lazy, lazier than satoru usually indulges in, his hips maintaining an angle that let him bully the spongy g-spot tucked between the snug walls with such fervor that he has her reeling with each languid thrust. his damp locks are tickling the nape of her neck, the beads of sweat collecting at the conjunction of their limbs, wetting the already messed sheets. she can hear each grunt, each breath of his, feel it vibrate in her chest. the same old tale, he does something rancid enough to piss her off and then instead of an apology he fucks her until she forgot what she was mad about in the first place, but like any trick, it has a point where the audience tires of the repetitive schemes.

“my baby’s pissed at me, huh? would ya’ look at that. ” he coos, his mouth pressed against the junction of her jugular and her neck, his mouth wet. she has no choice but to listen, no choice but to take it- he doesn’t leave anywhere for her to escape, having her stuck beneath the mattress and his heavy figure, with her throat sitting tight and cozy in the crook of the arm he has wrapped around her neck like a shackle. her maroon nails are digging into his sinewy forearm until crescent moons shine with a painful pink color and it is not only a rightful response to the merciless pounding, but also a subconscious punishment, a silent outlet of her anger.

satoru doesn’t like that.

the position shifts, the man atop her whining rather dramatically before his weight lifts off of her. “ naughty girl, so ungrateful.” he chastises breathlessly, and just when she thinks she’s free of the torment she can’t stop cumming from, he yanks her up by the fat of her hips, propping her up on her knees but her attempts to rise on her hands is strictly prohibited, satoru lets out a “ tch tch,” as he catches both her wrists in one large palm to cross them on the small of her back, right in the middle of the twin dimples before his empty hand grasps the nape of her neck and push her face into the sage green, satin pillowcase she had been moaning into few moments ago, burying himself to the hilt in one go simultaneously. “ this is why we can’t have nice things,” he clicks his tongue, and she can almost see the way his eyes roll to the back of his skull, all educated deductions from the way he speaks through his gritted teeth. complain he might, but he cannot deny that he lives for the thrill of her, lives for the thrill of having her in his bed, the taste of cherry lipgloss stuck in the back of his throat and her laughter his favorite siren song. “ because you don’t appreciate ‘em, baby.”

“ don’t even start-” she groans, and his hips snap harsher the next time as a silent yet effective method of shutting her up, liking her pliant and obedient as always. “ sorry, what was that?” he leans over, asking with a faux undertone of surprise in his tone. “ can’t hear you over the sound of her, babe,” he pulls out temporarily, just to bring his palm down for a hard smack on her swollen cunt, only pleased when he hears her cry out and shudder to grasp the base of his painfully hard cock and nudge it right back inside her to resume. “ wanna’ repeat that f’ me?”

but she can’t, her vision already having painted white as she stiffens and seizes with a whimper choked on her throat, clenching around satoru impossibly as her climax pulls her right under the crashing wave, a steady ringing in her ear that deafens her briefly- she can call him every single name under the sun and he’d deserve each one of them, but she cannot deny that the bastard has a way of pushing her to the brink of feelings & sensations she didn’t know was possible. it’s what makes it all so alluring, it’s what makes her heart swell with the ease of familiar affection when he follows her almost immediately, his hips slapping against the back of her thighs faster as he falters, the feeling of wet ropes fill her to the brim a one that makes her toes curl, a nice warmth spreading through her system.

“ why are you adamantly trying to get me to leave you?” she asks, breathless, rolling to her back- her knees hurt, and she’s definitely pulled a muscle in her neck with how strained it feels. the heel of her palm presses against the junction of her neck and shoulder, rubbing in idle motions to alleviate it a bit. she watches him collapse next to her, just as breathless, his tongue darting out to lick his dry lips, snowy lashes fluttering with exhaustion, gaze heavy lidded. “ didn’t i tire you enough? ” he mutters but she doesn’t need to know him as well as she does to hear the whiny undertone. he blindly reaches through the sheets to find her warmth next to him, yank her to his chest without paying any mind to the way she yelps, and nuzzle his face against her spine. “ you talk too much, go to sleep.”

it had been a long shot, but at least she wouldn’t say that she didn’t try. “ get off of me,” she sighs, exasperated more than anything as she pushes satoru’s heavy arm to slide further away in the sheets. still drowsy & a bit lightheaded but still not relaxed or prideless enough to fall asleep next to him. “ ‘m gonna’ go take a shower.”

oh, that gets his attention. his head slightly lifting from the sheets, he watches her go, wearing nothing but his shirt. “ can i come?”

the only response he gets is the door that slams shut on his face.

****

she hadn’t expected suguru to be home. by the time she takes a stroll to the kitchen with her damp hair tucked in a soft towel, having switched back to her own clothes to deprive satoru of the pleasure of seeing her in his own clothes, adorned in a pair of rust nike shorts and a hot pink crop top. she finds suguru by the stove, cooking something that smells like thyme with his headphones on. she would have snuck her head in to get a good sniff of the pot, but since sneaking up on someone who is handling a hot pan while wearing headphones is never a good idea, she makes her way to the fridge as intended. he notices her by the shadow that falls on the counter, pulling the headphones down to his neck. “ hey there,” he greets, simple as he spares her a single glance. he doesn’t need to look at her twice to imagine what went down, sighing before turning to his meal.

“ i can feel you judging me,” she says as she pulls the bottle of milk out before closing it shut with a sway of her hips. suguru snorts. “ i am.”

ever the honest.

“ you don’t get to,” she comments simply as she occupies the same counter he’s cooking in. their shared apartment having memorized by now, she pushes on the side of his head slowly to avoid him hitting his forehead on the cabinet she pulls open ( thinking about it, maybe she should have let it hit him ) to get the coffee she had been desperately craving. she releases him a moment later, putting the coffee jar on the counter. like the calm before the storm. “ you’re the one who told me he was home when he was out with the bitches, if my memory isn’t failing me.” she states thoughtfully as she licks the spoon she delved into the coffee jar earlier. “ and you were the one who told me not to worry when i, in fact, should have been worrying.”

suguru sighs, clearly discontent to be in the conversation but too bad- he wasn’t discontent when he was lying straight to her face. her gaze is keener than a knife when she turns it on him, the smile that curls on the corners of her mouth is cold enough to look cruel. “ you’re a disappointing friend, suguru.” she comments, her tone sing-song-y enough to sound eerie. too serious and unserious at the same time, like his mistake was spilling her favorite coffee on the floor or forgetting to pick up groceries on his way home. “ and you’re not one bit innocent.”

“ don’t get me involved in your shit,” he exhales, keeping his gaze on the pan- chicken pesto & rice, hm. delicious. what a pity she felt too nauseous to take a bite. “ it’s not my responsibility to keep your deranged man in check, satoru is the way he is and you know it.” he places a large palm on top of her head but not ruffling her hair, instead bending over a bit unnecessarily to get down on eye level with her, his voice reeking of condescension. “ aren’t we a little too old to be blaming others for our bad life decisions, missy? ” she smiles at him, as sweet as a plum. “ fuck you, suguru.”

he grins. “ oh, i’d bet you wish. ”

***

it has been two months without satoru, two months with letting his calls go to voice mail or turning the flowers away from her doorstep. he’s using every trick in the book, from the gifts to the soft epilogues he is murmuring into the mic in the late hours of the night, hoarse and truthful but satoru’s truth as subjective as it can be- his emotions shift with the weather, and so does his intentions. his detachment applies to his ability to hold onto his promises, and the last couple of years he had not learned from his mistakes or her pleading, and she doesn’t necessarily deem herself the teacher he loves being. it’s not in her nature to be coddling a man that is not getting the message, at least not without making him regret every bit of a wrong he’s done her.

early 2010s are playing in the club that smells like pot & cigarettes & sweat, the fog of everything & anything that’s been smoked blurring in her gaze and dimming the moving purple & pink of the lights, coating the glitter on her cheeks prettiest of technicolors. four martinis in, she’s feeling the buzz in the marrow of her bones, not drunk enough to be stumbling on her feet but drunk enough to not try to see satoru’s white head in the packed crowd. the soles of her butterfly shoes are hitting the back of her ankles, and the polyester of her cheap dress is sticking to her damp skin in ways uncomfortable enough to assure her she definitely is getting a rash the next day. still, it is not nearly as bad as the urge to check her phone every twenty minutes to see if he’s texted. he probably has, and not that she’d text him back, but still it was a reassurance of its own to know that she occupied his thoughts. it was hard, for someone like satoru, to stay focused without drifting away. she’s even surprised he seems to have object permanence altogether.

just when her tired feet are dragging her to the bar for a refill of her empty martini glass, a similar figure draws her attention. the oversized black sweater that’s ridiculously loose on his shoulder, the fresh wolfcut, the black circle earrings and the cargo pants that also sit nonchalant on his waist and that goddamn manspread. he’s been staring at her.

if he was here…

“ the pot and its lid, how lovely.” her smile is forced when she leans over him, to the bar, yelling inaudibly over a loud remix of lady gaga for a refill, trying to contain her suddenly restless heart in her ribs, over the prospect of satoru popping out of somewhere to tap her on the shoulder with his disgustingly saccharine smile, sticking a tongue out through his perfect teeth. her knees feel weak and the alcohol is not the only culprit. suguru chuckles, taking another sip of his own drink, neat whiskey as usual. “ he’s not here.”

thank fucking god. she breathes, and he takes the sight in, nursing his whiskey, slowly twirling the glass with leisure movements of his wrist. “ you want me to call him?” he asks, mocking, teasing. she doesn’t give him the reaction he probably had been pulling and poking around for, instead waiting patiently with her elbows on the counter, a little bent, her midsection resting on suguru’s knee. she’s too occupied in her thoughts to notice it, but he’s not. though, it remains a silent acknowledgement. “ no,” she tells him, mouthing a thank you to the bartender before she turns to suguru eventually, her blue eyeliner having smudged around the corner of her eyes. he offers a grin. “ why, you here with someone? ” he shakes his head at the possibility of that being true, accompanied by a disapproving sound. “ don’t let him know, princess- he can dish it out but he can’t take it. such is the man, your boyfriend. ” the cynical undertone is laughable, so she does- it is swallowed by the slender glass in her hands. “ look at the one talking,” she gestures, amused. suguru shrugs, his head tipping back with the big sip to down the rest of his whiskey, adam’s apple bobbing and the chain that shines distracts her, gleaming under the now red hues. “ jus’ saying,” he shrugs. “ i know him. and you know him. don’t understand why you’re so obsessive over things you know that ain’t good for ya’.”

well, that had been a little too real than what she expected. she blinks, her expression shifting into one of confusion and of restlessness- a question she cannot answer truly, as she herself is yet to discover the big revelation. instead, her limbs retract, the ghost of a smile playing on the corner of her mouth. “ careful, suguru.” she muses, words laced with honey but not without the sting. “ you don’t know me like that. you don’t know me at all, actually. ” how would he, when all he has seen of her was her reflection created in satoru’s image? he hasn’t known her the way satoru or even shoko did. he knew her as the girl satoru couldn’t treat right a day in his life yet the girl he simply was too entranced to move on from.

his expression remains untouched, but a twitch at the corner of his mouth catches her eye. “ you’re here for him,” he says, without an attempt to correct her. “ you’re wearing that skimpy little dress for him. you’re drinking, laughing, dancing- for him. and he’s not even here.” it feels like a dare, the way his shoulders move, how he leans back. “ what a shame.” her ears are burning, the root of her hair red, and the flush on her cheeks is reeking of shame. she feels exposed, at the way suguru pecks at her open wounds without a care- but she asked for it, didn’t she? she stills, then leans, until both of her hands press against the cold edge of the marble counter, caging suguru in. she can smell the whiskey on his breath, can smell the cologne he wears, earthy and woody, lacking the sharp scents satoru uses. he leans back in his stool, carefully curated expression watching every single movement of hers to see what she’s after, decipher the secret message except there is no secret message- she’s angry, and she feels like a lesson has been due by yesterday.

“ and you’re here for me,” she says eventually, cracking into an eerie smile with the dawning of the revelation. “ oh, suguru, you sneaky bastard,” she can’t help the airy chuckle that escapes her, her eyes having widened with something she’s found in the poker face he had been wearing. he is good at this but so is she. “ you’ve almost had me, gotta’ give it to ya’.” she coos, mingled with mockery in the worst way possible as her head cranes aside, withdrawing to take a good look at him. “ who knew?”

he laughs, the tormenter that he is, and it’s pretty. has it always been this pretty, or is the newfound depth to dabble in make her see him in a light she hasn’t before? “ please,” he snorts, shaking his head, asking the bartender for a refill and tossing his empty glass on the counter. he makes no moves to get out of her symbolic cage, pretty content to be sitting where he is, a knowing look painting him more annoying than he already is- but how could he not be, with the pretty girl lodged between his knees? satoru’s girl, at that. or not. that part was always confusing, even for them. “ i’m flattered, but you’re… not my type.” he finds the words he had been looking for eventually, clicking his tongue with satisfaction. “ i don’t like ‘em as whiny and loudmouthed as you.” she can’t tell if he’s joking or not, can’t tell why the room went up a hundred degrees all of a sudden. “ do me a favor and pick up the next time he calls, yeah?” he murmurs, digging around for something she assumes to be a cigarette, no longer focused on her. “ he’s been nagging like a bitch all day, ‘m tired of it. we both know you’re not going anywhere.”

she didn’t think it was possible to despise someone as much as she did satoru, but suguru is full of surprises. even if he is not able to find that one particular vein satoru adores pressing with the soles of his pretty, expensive shoes, he finds a completely different one- condescension dripping off his mouth, that lazy stare boiling the blood in her veins. he deems her not worthy of him, whiny and loudmouthed.

she kisses him just for that.

it is short, it is confused- it is filled with the urge to prove something, unsure to herself or to him. he tastes like whiskey & mint and it burns the back of her throat, and for a brief moment, he parts his lips, to which she takes as an invitation to push her tongue in and lick at the roof of his mouth as her hands grasp the collar of his hoodie.

it is short because suguru breaks it, his hands on her elbows, eyes widened and the cherry hue of her lipgloss smudged on his lower lip with the saliva that it shines with. “ ‘m not the revenge you want,” he warns, perhaps the most serious thing he’s said to her that night- but she lacks the fucks to give. “ shut the fuck up,” she says in return instead, before pushing him incessantly to return to the bittersweet taste she had been craving before it even died on her tongue. this time, suguru doesn’t reel back or stop. this time, his tentative hands slide around the small of her exposed back, pulling her flush against him as his teeth sinks into her plush lip. it’s dizzying, how he kisses the breath out of her lungs, and how it sets a dozen fireworks in her ribs.

“ oh, fuck, i can’t- he’ll kill me,” the sentiment returns, and she doesn’t remember hearing him so desperate in her life- doesn’t remember hearing him so out of breath and pleading, a begging more to himself than her as he rests his forehead on her temple and draws in heavy breaths like it might make him want her less. it doesn’t. satoru doesn’t plead the way he does, doesn’t look at her with the same pathetic insurmountable need in his eyes. maybe it’s what makes her bold enough to push her thigh between his knees, watching the way his jaw falls slack, slender fingers tightening on her hips as if he can’t decide if he wants to stop her or not. “ you’ve been lying to me for him long enough,” she murmurs, hot and breathless into his mouth, watching every single way his face contorts with shame and pleasure like a hawk through heavy lidded eyes. “ time to lie for me, sugu.”

it’s how they end up in the back of her car- with her perched atop suguru’s large thighs, moaning into each other’s mouths, raven locks bunched in her incessant palm and his hands splayed out on her thighs. it’s sloppier than anything, and all she can think about is how utterly beautiful he is, with his heavy breathing he is pointless trying to regulate and the way he keeps clutching at her, ridden with guilt & lust at the same time. she doesn’t carry the same concern as he does, doesn’t care about satoru- not in the way she should, at least. it was time he stopped underestimating her. it was time he stopped believing her lack of retaliation on his bullshit was because she thought he could be a better person than he was, not because she was weak enough to stay. she only realizes her mistake now, how wrong it was of her to try to handle things the way adults did- but forfeiting grudges, by trying to forgive and communicate. he mistook her kindness. he thought her sweet, thought her all bark no bite.

but looks could be deceiving.

no clothes are coming undone, but suguru is half unraveled underneath her thighs. “ look at you,” she says in pure admiration, catching his chin between the knuckle of her index finger and her thumb, tilting his head to her liking- which is straight at her, having no choice but to see the diabolical grin that turns her into something he has never put his hands on before. something he wouldn’t know what to do with, if he had. “ whiny and loudmouthed, you said?” she quotes, and a single shift of her hips is enough to drown out any response he might have, to which he responds with a grunt of restraint and a kiss harsher than loving. “ shut up,” he kisses it on her teeth, and she has no objections to that. his presence is overwhelming. it’s unusual, the attachment that comes along- suguru is intense in a way she cannot define to be good or bad. so explore she does, tilting the corner of his jaw with a stubborn push from her nose, teeth grazing at his jugular. she can feel the way his breath hitches, feel the way he twitches. he attempts to take control of the situation by manhandling her on his lap, squeezing the fat of her hips in his palms with a grunt as he forces her into movement. the sticky material of her long drenched panties stick to her, the zipper of his pants getting caught at her clit and making her jolt with each drag. it gives him a momentary release from her evil clutches, but it is questionable how it can be considered relief when he has that drunk look on his face, jaw setting with a low grunt. “ such a fucking slut,” he whispers it against the column of her throat, freeing one hand to resume the movement by lazy & languid rolls of his hips, having her gasp on top of him, boneless on his lap. “ grinding on me because your boyfriend just can’t act right, huh? is this how you get back on him? ”

she nods, even if she doesn’t want to, too caught up in the way he pseudo-fucks her, unhurried and devoid of any rush- like they had hours to spend in the back of her car. his pants might be deceiving her, but even the outline of him pressing against her is enough to have her mouth watering for the real deal, satoru half forgotten in suguru’s warm lap. his fingertips trail beneath the hem of her blue skirt, and they dance around the edge of her panties without ever getting to business. she squirms, desperate for a taste of something she can’t go back from, but his hold is a one of steel- “ if you want something, you’re gonna have to say it,” he murmurs, his mouth brushing hers without properly kissing her, each thrust making her jolt on his knees. she melts halfway, face contorted in pressure. “ are you this much of a headache for satoru too, or is it special f’ me?”

that does it, her lower lip trembling as she rests against his chest, hips lazily grinding back into his to keep up with the delicious rhythm that has her seeing stars before anything. the fingers that now ghost over the damp spot of her underwear is her undoing. “ performance anxiety, sugu baby?” she lets a breathless, airy chuckle, accompanied by a sweet aw she manages to utter. “ don’t worry, i’ll guide yo-ohhhh shit,” he tucks her words back into her mouth without batting an eye, he’s good like that, of course he is. there is nothing to be questioned in his abilities to touch a girl, it seems- he doesn’t struggle as he slips underneath the wet fabric and plunges two fingers deep inside her, the sudden intrusion sending an electric jolt down her spine. for a moment, it becomes so, so hard to speak, toes curling in the pretty heels satoru has gotten them as an apology gift for one of his many fuckups. she doesn’t think suguru would like to know that.

“ sorry, you were sayin’ somethin’?” he hums, a pleased, toothy smile tugging his mouth upwards as he takes in the sight of her squirming on his lap to handle the pressure. he brings an end to those wiggly hips by pressing the forearm that has been on her thigh even harder to pin her nice & tight. “ uh uh, don’t run away from me, now, you wanted this, remember? ” he tuts, still keeping his slow grind her swollen bud as his fingers pump leisurely in & out. “ suguru,” she shudders, gripping the car seat behind him just to be able to have some sort of anchor but even that is failing her. suguru is an asshole of his own kind, so instead of easing up on her, he tugs on the lace ribbons of her dress with his teeth, like an animal, just so he can nuzzle his nose between the valley of her breasts. he’s not as chatty as satoru, it turns out. not as hurried either- it’s not the same rush, not the same avid sense of detachment. this is not turning out the way she expected it to, not the mindless fuck she had been going after just so she could see the look on satoru’s face when she told him she fucked his best friend.

“ mhm, i see what’s got him so hooked alright,” he reveals to himself, half mesmerized and half amused, an afterthought as he drags his tongue on the velvety edge of her dress, dipping it underneath. “ i’d be tweaking too, if i fumbled this.” the this he is talking about is not her sparkling personality, she assumes, but it has her chuckling breathlessly anyway. it’s one thing to be wanted by satoru who wants everything he can get his hands on all the time, but it is another to be wanted by suguru who seems to want nothing at all. well, except the girl he lied to the face of repeatedly. just for that she thinks of leaving him blue-balled, but all thoughts flee her mind once his teeth catches her hardened nipple and his fingers crook in that delicious way, pulsating around his fingers as the tight coil in her guts snap.

she doesn’t realize the buildup, nearly panicking with how sudden it all crashes into her- eyes widening impossibly as she clutches onto suguru desperately as the man holds her still. “ keep cumming, keep cumming, good fuckin’ girl,” he grunts with his nose pressing hard against the column of her throat, effortlessly handling the mess of limbs on his knees that is stiffening & seizing with the pressure it takes her to release it all. she thinks she’s seeing sounds, she thinks she’s hearing colors- by the time she comes back down to earth, she has half a mind on her to breathe, and only through the demanding of him who is now holding her chin in his palm: “ don’t pass out on me now, keep breathin’, keep breathin’.”

it feels cold, when his fingers finally vacate their cozy home, but they are soon to find another- he uses the hand on her chin to pull her jaw a bit down, fingertips squishing into her cheeks to make her open up so he can stuff her mouth with the very same fingers with a dazed look in his eyes. “ polite girls clean up after themselves,” he murmurs. the tangy taste melts on her tongue, sucking on suguru’s fingers as he slowly rocks them a bit, imitating the lewd imagery of her sucking his cock. it would be a pretty sight, she thinks. to see him with his head tipped back, to rob him stark naked of any control he might have, to own him by the balls, as they say. but suguru doesn’t seem interested in the idea, as he just sighs, contently watching her suck on his fingers. she’s always thought he had pretty eyes, violet hues that have been shining with brilliance from the day she’s met him. “ i can’t be doing everything around here, can i?” the way he asks is so fucking condescending, she can’t help the way her ears burn as he pushes his hips into hers to remind her of the very painful hard on that’s been straining against her thigh now. “ ‘m not satoru, sweetheart- i don’t give out free dick. if you want it, you earn it. ” the now empty hand comes harsh against the plush fat of her ass, making her let out a muffled cry through his fingers. “ ride me like you mean it. ”

he doesn’t have to tell her twice.

the unbuckling of his belt and the freeing of his hard on is unceremonious, but the thrill of it is so, so heavy in her blood she thinks she’d ride this high for a good year, if she was lucky. he’s not as long as satoru, but the girth of him makes her gulp with the unsavory calculation- it doesn’t take a genius to know it’s going to be a hell of a stretch. suguru, who seems to have noticed her hesitation, grins a little. “ aw, afraid of dick, now?” he mocks, and she hates how much she really likes the genuine laugh he lets out, even when he’s bullying her. “ it doesn’t bite. go on, now. ” she wraps a hand around the base of it, her knuckles brushing against the dark happy trail as she indulges herself in a leisure stroke, watching his eyes roll back with an animalistic pleasure. all she knows is that she wants to see more of it, so when her thumb reaches the angry & leaking tip, she makes sure to apply all the pressure she can manage. “ i think the dick is afraid of me, baby. ” she teases, teeth grazing the corner of his jaw. “ you’ve been packing this the whole time? damn, maybe i got the wrong bestie.”

suguru can’t manage a response with the way he looks like he’s on cloud nine beneath her, and she finds it sweet, the way he leans into her touch, the way he’s lost in it. having decided that she doesn’t want pleasure if it doesn’t involve hers, she aligns him with her slick entrance, letting the fat tip nudge against her folds with a shaky breath, and tilting her hips to let him sink into her without further teasing.

the moan they let out when he’s finally inside her is in unison, but his is much whinier than hers and she finds that she revels in the sound- she’d never think him to be whiny in bed, never think him the one to release control. but here he is, holding onto her hips in the backseat of a honda civic, the living and breathing embodiment of pussy whipped. “ holy fuck,” he gasps out, his adam’s apple bobbing as his head tips back to the headrest. “ holy fuck.”

“ you’re gonna eat your fucking words, suguru,” she confesses in his ear, in the most saccharine voice imaginable as her thighs part to dig her knees on the leather seats so she can ride him to her heart’s content, moaning every single time he bottoms out, every single time his head kisses her cervix, filling her up so nicely. all she can think about is how he deemed her unworthy of him in the bar an hour ago. “ oh, no words? the whiny girl’s pussy got your tongue, baby?” she latches onto his throat just so she can leave a pink mark of hers, just for him to see in the mirror, just for him to have to sit down in satoru and try to explain where that came from. what a scene it would be, how she would have given a kidney and a lung to see it. suguru, to the proof of her point, is too focused on not busting on the spot all her teasing is returned by radio silence except for grunts and whines. he looks so drunk, she wants to kiss him just for that, but she bites on the inside of her cheek instead, wanting him to know what real desperation was. his hands are so, so tight on her waist, and his mumbles are her favorite song.

well, except the ringtone that disturbs the perfect rhythm she has found, an unexpected caller.

it is coming from suguru’s pocket, to which she has no problem digging around to find. “ i’ve got you, sweetness, keep moaning like that,” she kisses his forehead just to drive her mockery home, before her eyes lock on the screen.

gojo.

if it wasn’t lucky.

“ no, no, give me that back-” suguru attempts to get his hands on his phone but she is already answering before he can manage, and the first thing they hear is satoru’s voice, who never lets anybody speak first if he’s the caller: “ dude, i’ve been calling you all fucking night, ” he complains. “ where the hell have you been?”

suguru is looking at her with pleading eyes, but seeing how that desperation erodes with a single roll of her hips is so satisfactory there is no shame in her voice as she responds: “ he’s busy, satoru babes,” she laughs, giddy. and it takes a hot minute for the white haired walking ego on the other end of the line to register her voice. “ what?... how?... what the fuck?” by now there is no fucking way he’s not hearing the sweet moans suguru is releasing, too pussy-whipped to realize the situation she put them in, too pussy-whipped to stop. “ say hi, sugu.” she plays an evil more diabolical card, shoving the mic right in the corner of suguru’s mouth, who is now scrambling for the last bits of his late composure. “ sato-oh, fuck, satoru, i can’t- i couldn’t- oh my fucking god, ‘ts so tight, ” unable to string a form of coherent sentences, she thinks she could cum from just how mouth-watering the view is.

“ suguru, are you fucking my girl right now?” satoru is asking with a bamboozlement she has never heard in his voice before but before he can get an answer she hangs up, tossing the phone somewhere in the messy seats- not everything is about satoru, and leaving him hanging is a bigger punishment than letting him stay on the phone for the whole thing. there was no knowing with the bastard- it wouldn’t be a punishment if he turned out to be into it, after all. torture or not, suguru is hers for the moment, and there is a prized possession in such belonging, she honors it with wrapping her arms around his neck and rocking into him like there is no tomorrow. “ you feel so good,” she breaths into his ear, honest and genuine. “ you feel so fucking good, suguru. you’re so beautiful, look at you,” she slides his chin into her palm, gaze boring into his heavenly visage with an adoring look, even when he looks so utterly fucked out. “ who’s passing out on who now, hm? ”

maybe he would have panicked at the aspect of being caught red handed, maybe he would have stopped or would have actually do something about it when satoru calls again immediately after- but all he does is to shift deeper in the seat, spread his legs wider and start fucking up into her in a rhythm so unforgiving they go back to square one, all power evades her, being reduced to a ragdoll in his arms as he hooks his arms beneath her thighs and spreads her all the way open. “ you got wetter when he heard this,” he tugs on her earlobe, hoarse and teetering on the edge of his own pleasure. “ you got tighter when you picked up, such a fucking whore,” he grunts, and she is reeling, nails digging into his shoulders as she tries to take the pounding without screaming. “ little slut is gonna cum from being caught,” he mocks, breathless. “ go ahead and fucking cum.” he is so right there is no fighting it- he commands with that growl and she is falling apart before she can stop it, and suguru is right behind her.

it takes minutes, for both of them to come down from their highs, as suguru keeps spilling into her with no end and she keeps milking him for all he’s worth, clinging to each other like their lives depended on it. knowing that satoru had stopped calling somewhere right before they came, it truly might have, as there was no knowing what he would be doing right now. his silence was scarier than his reactions, but at the moment she really can’t bring herself to care. “ you doin’ okay?” he asks, making her jolt on his thigh just to get a reaction out of her, brushing her damp strands away from her face, revealing her hazy gaze and unfocused eyes. “ cockdrunk,” he grins. “ look at yourself, poor little thing.” her limbs still work enough for her to give him a slap on the bicep along a roll of her eyes. “ says the man who moaned like a bitch to the boyfriend of the girl he’s fucking. who knew you were such a whore, suguru?” her tongue darts out to lick her dry lips. “ you’re full of surprises.”

“ and you’re so full of unnecessary words,” he sighs, both to how she immediately became annoying again and how it feels when she finally lets him slide out of her, remaining seated on his thigh. none of them make an attempt to leave this cozy nest they have been indulging in for a good hour or two now. “ at this point i just think you are incapable of going fifteen minutes without hearing your own voice.” she snorts with the response, shifting off his lap to collapse right next to him, both of them breathing heavy in silence for a moment. “ what now?” he asks after a few minutes, looking over at her with those heaven of violet eyes.

she offers him the most charming, dazzling smile of hers. “ what happens is that you tell satoru i said hi,” she says. “ and get out of my car, suguru. i’m done with both your asses.”

172 notes · View notes

dragonbabes · 15 days ago

Text

The Thorns that Bind

A/N | Took forever, but I drafted the next part too so I can keep working ahead! Enjoy my friends :)

Pairing | [OC]Crow!Rook x Lucanis, Solas X [OC]Lavellan

Warnings | I got quite sad while writing this, so you might too... Just a fair warning... But also, it's a tale about being trapped by her regrets so... to be expected.

Words | 5,616

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 (In Progress)

Chapter 2 | Turned to Thorn and Vine

“That’s your problem.” His words that day were as hard as the gravel beneath her bare knees, cutting and digging in deeper with every passing minute. Her own throat itched at how Viago’s yelling must’ve scratched his throat raw; he’d been at her for thirty minutes with no end in sight. “You don’t stop and think, Isehari.”

“You’ve said that six times already.” The young crow shot back. The elf, being sure to move as little as possible, flicked her gaze up to her mentor, and tried at a grin. She could see his patience fraying just behind the practiced indifference settled on his tanned features in the way his chest heaved, nose flared, and lips pulled down into a severe frown. “Just say you’re worried, Viago.”

“Ise!” Teia scolded from her spot just to Viago’s left, comfortably leaned against a thick stone pillar. “This is serious!”

She knew it was. She figured as much as recognition hit her like a punch to the jaw… Really, though, it was as the senior crow – Mateo – brought his fist to her jaw in a head ringing punch, that Isehari bothered to recognize the jagged scar over his lips and the rage sundering in the icy hues of his eyes. He had held a dagger to his throat until blood began to bead, her heart hammered in her head and throat as she squeaked out a plea, and then Varric was holding Bianca level with Mateo’s head.

It’d take a real dumbass to not know that she was in deep shit.

“Of course!” Isehari chirped back as lightly as she could and tilted her head in Teia’s direction but flinched at the sharp pain jutting up from her knees; it had begun to spread up into her thighs. She bit the inside of her cheek and gave them a tight-lipped smile. “Of course. It’s rare he makes it this obvious.” Viago let out a frustrated cry at her, throwing his gloved hands into his dark hair, and walked away from Ise.

“I can’t get through to this idiot.” Viago ground out to Teia. Isehari took the time that he paced the length of dark room to steady her spinning head… Mateo may have given her a concussion during their little exchange... “Do you know what you did today?” Viago suddenly spat closer than Ise was expecting. She’d opened her mouth to respond, but Viago’s hand came up and she immediately swallowed her tongue. He brought his dark eyes level to hers, and, though his features were hard as a mentor that was disgruntled by his protégé, she felt a little warmth in her chest at the look shifting just under the surface of his burning gaze.

She knew what the slithering weave of worry and ire just behind a person’s eye looked like. How it pierced into her like a dagger, carved itself to the deepest part of her, and twisted and tore until it was nothing like it was before… Sometimes it tore something away, other times it would plant something like a seed. It was a rather dreadful look to receive, but it was warm, and she had spent her life out in the cold.

"No smart words, Ise. Today, you sabotaged a covert operation that had been in the works for months – months, Isehari! You let that pretty little idealist in your head win again,” he tapped his fingers hard against her forehead, causing her to sway and clench her jaw, “and you ruined the mission. You keep doing dumb shit like this, and you’re going to get yourself killed…” He leaned away from her at that point and looked at her torn knees dribbling blood on the floor. “I cannot protect you from everything.”

She had laid on the ground for some time after she hit, considering those words like she’d stare at a healing wound; there’s a wave of disgust, a shudder that racks through the body, but a fascination that always drags her attention back. Pulling her arm away from her wet eyes, she finally opens them to take in the shifting and murky green expanse surrounding her.

You’re going to get yourself killed.

A smile flicks onto her lips with a snort and then a flat laugh. There’s a humor to all of this. Ise sits up with a groan that dissolves into another short fit of laughter. The foreshadowing almost feels deliberate here. It all feels like a fucking joke. Should she have known the significance of Viago’s words that day? Just like she was supposed to know that the prisoners being transported that day were the one group in a million that didn’t need rescuing?

“What’s so funny?” A familiar voice, with a lightness to it that put a bit more weight on Isehari’s chest, asks from behind her. She runs her bloodied hands over the packed dirt beneath her.

"Something Viago said to me after I rescued you from the Antaam.”

“Yeah?” He hops down from the ledge he’s been silently perched on while the elf gasped for air, choked on settling dust, and sobbed into her arm for however long she’s been wallowing. She nods and turns her head slightly in Varric’s direction but keeps her eyes on the shifting clouds extending far below her.

“You’re going to get yourself killed one day!” Isehari puffs out her chest as she makes her voice lower in a decent impression of her stoic and hard-ass mentor. “You don’t stop and think, Ise!” She shakes her finger dramatically, but her voice thickens. Varric chuckles next to her before kneeling and trying to get a clear shot of her eyes. She turns away slightly to hide the droplets streaking down her reddened face with the long walls of her disheveled burgundy hair.

“I waited for him at the Diamond for some time that night.” Varric mentions. The assassin wrings her slender and scarred fingers in front of herself.

“Thank the gods,” She really needs to throw that whole phrase out of her vocabulary already, but habits die hard, apparently, “if you hadn’t bothered him that third time, I would’ve had to listen to his nagging for the rest of the night.”

Said nagging mentor left her – reluctantly - that night to finish up the rest of her punishment in sweet silence thanks to Varric’s insistence to talk. That’s the thing about Viago: annoy him enough, and he’ll pay you mind… Annoy him too much, and you get eight hours kneeling on gravel.

It was a forgiving punishment, she knows, and he had believed it would teach her patience. She was to kneel on gravel (she’s convinced they had handpicked the sharpest damn rocks they could’ve) while the houses argued what to do with a idiotic, bad apple like her. Ise knew a lot more than she let on, and her patience was not the lesson she needed to learn that day.

No… That lesson didn’t stick until today. Until just now:

Ise’s problem is not one of patience. She can almost see both Viago and Neve rolling their eyes at these words, but she is a very patient woman… They’d point out her track record, and she admits, it doesn’t look very good… There are just some things they don’t get, though. None of what she has done has been on impulse. She has mulled and chewed on every decision, every action, thought, and word that she’s made until her hands start to tremble and she wants to throw up.

She’s not impulsive; she has shit luck and makes even shittier decisions.

Trusting the Dreadwolf wasn’t a decision she made spur of the moment because she felt like it; in fact, Isehari stewed on it for a few idiotic weeks… She chose to trust Solas after he helped her save the Dalish. No tyrant — no piece of shit that wanted to sunder the world — would waste his time on that. ‘Least she thought so.

All of this – the floating rocks and the shifting sky and that skull splitting rumbling that’s always crawling around in the distance – is because she made a bad call.

She trusted the Dreadwolf.

So, she’s not impulsive, but full of mistakes.

~*~

Lucanis trudges through the eluvian. The salty air from Rialto Bay is a welcome comfort to him. His nerves have been on edge since he’d left the lighthouse and began toward Treviso’s eluvian at the pace of a mourning party…

He may as well be.

Isehari is gone. Viago will – probably – accidently kill Lucanis when he tells him. All of those emotions the talon has bottled up these past years are sure to boil over at the news he bears; the protégé Viago had done everything he could to protect has been taken from him anyways. He could kill Lucanis in the crossfire, and Lucanis would understand.

He’s practiced the words – carefully chosen - on his tongue over and over. Until he can say them in an even tone and without much more than a blanket of heat settling over his cheeks and a prickling behind his eyes. He’s never been tasked with informing someone of tragedies like this; Illario has always had more of a knack for such sensitive topics, where grace and charm are necessary. Lucanis is good with knives… Or he was: missing his shot at a target twice is a blow both to his pride and his confidence.

The assassin takes a deep breath and then leans up against the smooth metal of the railing. It’s truly a beautiful view; the evenings setting sun casting a rich orange hue over the bays soft rippling waters, the scent of fresh spices drifts faintly from the market mixed with the bitter comfort of freshly brewed coffee. His hands tighten over the railing as his cold cheeks warm under the sun.

“Well, if it isn’t the first talon himself.” Teia’s strong voice startles him as she steps to him with a teasing grin on her lips.

“Teia.” Lucanis says in way of a greeting – sounding quite grim, unfortunately – and shifting himself to face her.

“No idiot today?” Viago’s droll words draw any warmth Lucanis has collected from the sun directly out of him. Viago is always tailing Teia, he knows, but Lucanis is still sent into a stumped silence while watching his fellow crow come to a stop in front of him. It’s only a few seconds that the panic seizes him, but it’s enough to erase his train of thought along with the words he’d carefully prepared with Emmrich.

It’s long enough for Viago to notice.

“What is it?” The teasing tone – however faint it was a breath before – is replaced entirely by a crow conducting business. Lucanis casts a desperate glance at Teia, only to find another set of piercing eyes on him and awaiting his answer.

“We heard of your assault on the gods.” Teia quietly says. Lucanis nods suddenly and shifts. “We’ve been waiting for an update.”

“Yes. Ghilan’nain is dead.” Lucanis starts with the good news.

“Good riddance.” Teia breathes out, and Viago agrees with a firm nod of his head. What were those damn words? Lucanis looks to the water, as if he’d accidentally dropped them in there when he was leaning against the railing, and he would find them clear as day again. It only pushes them further away; his mind drifts to what the sky may look like in that prison, if it’s anything like the lighthouse…

“And Elgar’nan?” Lucanis starts again at Teia words; it only makes Viago’s frown deepen.

“Ah. No. We didn’t get that far.” He takes a deep breath. “When Ghilan’nain died, and Rook removed the dagger from the body, another tear appeared in the fade. We aren’t sure of the details but… It was Solas’ ritual all over again.”

“There are more blighted gods?” Viago cries. Lucanis shakes his head.

“No. Well… Not blighted.”

“The Dreadwolf.” Teia clarifies

“Yes.”

“And Isehari?” Viago asks, tone a bit harder and more demanding than before. Lucanis’ head falls: he just has to say it. Not saying it doesn’t make it any less real than it is.

“She was pulled into the fade prison.” The three stand in a stunned silence. He’s not sure why, but he repeats himself, “She is imprisoned in the fade.” Viago returns Lucanis’ look, and the assassin can see his words taking grip in the way Viago’s eyes glass over in an unblinking stare. Lucanis notices that his chest has stopped rising and falling.

“In the fade?” The fifth talon suddenly asks. Lucanis nods.

“How do we get her out?” Teia‘s hand seems to instinctively find its spot on Viago’s shoulder without having to spare a glance to him.

“We… Don’t know.” Viago’s eyes narrow, and Lucanis is quick to continue but puts his attention back onto the waters, “But, we have an idea. Solas took the dagger when he escaped the prison. We’re going to craft another lyrium dagger that we can use to create an opening and find her. Hopefully.”

“Hopefully?” Somehow Viago’s eyes narrow more.

“We don’t know much of anything about the ritual. The team is looking into it. Taash is already starting to secure supplies, Neve is reaching out to the Shadow Dragons for any movement of the Venatori or Elgar’nan…” The two nod and exchange a look.

“Tell your team that any expenses will be covered by House de Riva.”

“And Cantori.”

“I did, as well as House Dellamorte.” Lucanis feels a little lighter, having given Viago and Teia the news, and chances bringing his eyes up to Viago’s. “I’ll see her home.” He says simply. A beat passes as if Viago is sizing him up, before the assassin’s hand comes firmly down onto Lucanis’ shoulder, and he gives him a firm nod.

“You craft the dagger and let me know when it’s ready. In the meantime, I will start hunting down my new target.”

“Solas?” Lucanis asks. Viago nods.

“No!” Spite’s intrusion is sudden. “The Dreadwolf is mine!”

“Rook was originally hired to stop him; that contract falls to me now.” Viago spins on his heel… Lucanis blinks at how well Viago is taking this…

“I’d like to ask a favor from you both, before you go.” Lucanis calls. Teia looks over her shoulder with a raised brow.

“Do you have to ask?” She smiles, “We have you. Both of you.”

“Thank you. To craft the dagger, we need mages; lots of mages.”

“Any within our houses are yours.” Viago says with a shrug; as if it should’ve been obvious.

“And we don’t know what will happen when the Veil opens-“

“We’ll be there.” Teia confirms. Lucanis stays in his spot, shifting… If they are to help carry this plan through, they deserve to know.

“By opening the Veil like this… We could unleash unspeakable things-“

“If no one is willing to do it, give the dagger to me. I’ll tear the damn Veil open myself and yank that idiot out by her collar.” Viago sternly says; it’s when his eyes meet Viago’s this time that he sees it. The tightness in Viago’s jaw, the downward angle of his brow and the pinch between them, his blown pupils, and the slight flare of his nostrils. His attention flicks from Lucanis and softens considerably when it settles on Teia. “I’ll tell Fiori.”

“I’ll come with you.” They nod at each other. “Take care, Lucanis.”

“And you.” Lucanis’ response is quiet.

He’d forgotten about Fiori. He’s never met her, so he’s glad he doesn’t have to break the news to her as well. He pities the girl. She’ll feel like he did when he sniffed out Illario’s betrayal, he imagines. Except Isehari never betrayed Fiori.

Fiori will be learning that her sister – her only family left – is imprisoned in the fade. Perhaps to never be reached again, if he fails.

Lucanis looks back out to the water… He’d wanted Isehari to introduce him to her little sister; she promised that she would, but only if he started to teach her how to knit. Lucanis wanted to see a family like Ise’s. How she talked about Fiori – with a sparkle in her eye and a fond smile always on her plump lips – put a warmth in his chest… He wanted to see her surrounded by family, oddly enough. The thought brought him joy, happiness, almost giddiness.

Now?

It’s heavy.

~*~

“To think that I told the Inquisitor that she should still try and forgive with him!” Ise has traded her deep reflection for boiling rage. Varric’s taken his seat again, watching her beat a path into the dirt with her stomping feet, and letting a fond smile color his lips and cheeks. She points a finger at the sky – sure, the chances of him hearing her are slim, but she’ll scream until her throat is bleeding on the off chance that he’ll hear what she has to say to him – and, with a smoldering fire in those wide eyes, screams, “Fuck you!”

“Fuck you, you bald little bitch. You lying sack of shit!” Her hands slap to her face as she lets out a frustrated screech. “All the times I could’ve strangled you, but I didn’t! What a waste! You don’t deserve her!”

Solas doesn’t deserve Kahna’s forgiveness.

He didn’t deserve Isehari’s trust. She should’ve never trusted him. Why did she believe that look in his eye? That he was capable of remorse. Someone who feels guilty doesn’t keep betraying those they respect. They don’t lie to the woman they ‘love’ and then proceed to abandon her. They don’t stab their friends in the fucking chest. They don’t lie to someone about it. They don’t twist. They don’t manipulate, or lie, or give half-truths. They don’t abandon someone they respect in the fade, surrounded by their demons.

She knew all of that, but she still chose to trust him, to advocate for him, to turn her back to him…

So…

Her eyes, blowing wide and glazing over, look back to the floating rocks colliding with each other, the storm clouds cracking in the distance, then to the twisting vines and hundreds of hands sprouting from the ground; gripping, grabbing, pointing. At her. Pointing at her and laughing.

“You did this.” They seem to say. “How many lives were lost, because of your choices?”

Isehari can see dark brown whisps of hair framing large eyes and full cheeks; can hear the triumphant cry of a griffon and the swish of his tail when a truffle is in sight; feels the vibration of a bellowing laughter, a grounding sound; feels the grip of a small hand in her own.

“Three more that have trusted you, died because of your inadequacies.” That whisper seems to laugh at her as it raises into the chirp of a child and says, “Though, no one should be surprised… You’ve always been a failure, haven’t you, Lethallan?”

“No.” It’s horror settling cool and nauseating in her gut, making her knees buckle and throat constrict. That voice… She hasn’t heard so clearly in eighteen years.

“You deserve this.” It… He says.

“No.”

“Ise?” Varric sounds so far away… Varric is far away. Varric’s dead. Is that actually Varric slowly inching closer to her? Or is that just another trick of the Dreadwolf? He was never really there… It was just the Dreadwolf twisting her until she did exactly as he wanted. She can’t expect it to be any different this time.

“No. No…” Her hand tangles into her hair, and she puts her forehead to the ground.

“If you’re locked in here, you can’t get anyone else killed.” Her lips tremble with a sob. “You deserve this.”

She… Deserves this?

~*~

The sound of her heel and the metal of her prosthetic clicking against the stone outside let Lucanis prepare for Neve – most likely pissed, judging by her fast pace – before the door to Bellara’s room is thrown wide open. He gives her a curious look. Everyone in the room waits patiently for Neve to begin. Harding seems to drink in Neve’s irritation; her brow furrows and she straightens, at full alert and ready to punch something, as needed. Emmrich’s eyebrows have nearly touched his slicked back hairline, his frazzled yet curious by Neve’s crackling energy.

“Oh, dear.” The professor mutters.

“There’s nothing.” Neve throws her arms out with wide eyes and an exasperated scoff.

“Nothing?” She’d left a few hours ago to check in with the Shadow Dragons, see what sort of movements the Venatori have been making…

“Nothing. My contacts say that the Venatori have been up to nothing.”

“That’s unusual.” Emmrich sighs, looking back to the notes in his hand.

“Could be a good thing?” Harding doesn’t sound like she believes that herself. Lucanis gives her credit for trying.

“It’s frustrating. That’s what it is.” Neve huffs out, removing her gloves, then hat, and then outercoat. “Please tell me you guys have had better luck than me.” Emmrich hums, grabs a large piece of folded parchment, and passes it to her.

“Bellara made an absolutely wonderful sketch of the dagger. It’s just so astounding how much detail she included in that sketch. It was easy enough to get Taash the list of supplies because of it.” Emmrich explains. Neve holds the paper gingerly, as if it would burst into a million scraps if she’s too rough, and scans every precise line on the page. She’s quiet, and when Lucanis catches the wobble of her chin, he immediately puts his eyes back on the journal he’s been scanning.

Is she going to cry? His eyes dart back to her face. Should he say something? What would he say? Lucanis lets out a long breath; Neve will probably deflect it expertly, as she always does…

“Bell kept notes for me when I was in Minrathous, after the attack…” Neve idly mumbles. All three of the others lower their current reading and turn their eyes up to her. “She thought I would be able to see something that she hadn’t. Look at this, though…” Everyone’s eyes look to the diagram she lays flat in front of them. “She had so much left to give this world.”

“She’s left quite the hole here…” Emmrich nods his agreement, his eyes rippling with sympathy for Neve, and then adds, “Rook called her Sunshine for a reason.” Harding lets out a quiet laugh.

“She said that Bellara was like the sun; bright and warm. She always said, ‘We have to protect her at all costs’”

“So why did she ask her to clear the way?” Neve snaps. The others are quiet. “It should’ve been me.” The mage quietly adds.

“Ise must’ve had her reasons.” Lucanis says.

~*~

“You knew it was dangerous. But you still chose me.”

Her feet ache. How long has she been walking? Her eyes turn about the ever-shifting scape around her. Nothing is recognizable, but sometimes she notes a familiar piece of a statue floating by or sees a crumbling stone pergola that ignites a sense of familiarity in her gut. If there’s anything the fade lacks, it’s creativity; the same ole statue and same ole pergola in different spots at different angles. It’s a bit disorienting, but at least those eyes aren’t staring up at her anymore. At least Bell isn’t shouting at her anymore.

“Why did you do this to me?”

Not shouting, just whispering. Hours — she thinks, trying to keep a sense of time in the fade is useless, really, but Isehari is stubborn — of this, and her mind feels like it’s about to snap in half. She can barely tell if it’s her, the fade, or Fen’harel whispering these thoughts in her head. Or maybe it’s not in her head and it’s all around her.

“How long are you going to walk away from it?” Isehari stops suddenly in her tracks. Her puffy eyes turn to look down at the light blue eyes staring sternly into her own. She checks the horizon with only a bit of hope, and is horrified to still see the faint white, stone figure trailing her. A stone woman with a decorated bun atop her head, and a beautiful elven artifact on her left arm. To see Bell’s face so stone cold, so blank… It scares her.

So, she doesn’t look behind herself anymore. She keeps walking.

“Until I deserve to look them in the eye.” Is her short answer, and she begins again even though every fiber of her legs protest and ache. Varric throws his arms out and looks about madly while trailing her.

“How’re you gonna do that in here, kid?”

She stops again and stares down at him.

“Are you actually him?” She suddenly asks. Varric grumbles as he gently takes her by her elbow and guides her to a fallen pillar; how convenient. The fade truly does show people what they need or want – her eyes dart up to the small white figure – or what they don’t want.

“You really think a little death is gonna stop me from seeing this through?” Ise snorts.

“I guess not.” She casts him a wary glance. “How do I know you’re you, though? You could be a trick of the fade.”

“Look at me! Do you think the fade could create something so perfect?” She stares blankly down at the chuckling dwarf, until he sighs and continues, “There’s one thing the fade can’t imitate, kid.” His hand taps over her heart, she feels his fingers thud firmly against her chest, and blinks, “This. Heart. Soul.”

Her eyes narrow, “You want me to believe that cheesy crap?”

“Listen, you grumpy shit.” Varric locks her with a strong stare, “Where is Isehari? Is Isehari in there?” He shifts around, as if he’s trying to look around her eyes and somewhere deep down. She chuckles; this really is something Varric would do.

“Fine! Fine. So, you, Varric, are back as my guardian angel?” Ise gives him a short laugh. His hand flies up, and his head twitches to the side.

“Whoa. Guardian angel is too official. I’m just a friend, looking out for a friend.” She watches the curve of his eye and the uptick of one side of his mouth. Isehari’s choking back a sob before she can think better of it.

“What? What did I say?” His hand roughly beats down on her shoulder in comforting pats. She’d like to believe him, that this truly is Varric before her…

“The fade shows you what you want.” She quietly whispers back. Desperately, she wants a friend; a friend who knows how close she is to crumbling under the pressure of it all. That’s what had gotten her through; knowing Varric was just a room away, ready to help her work through it. She stares down into her empty and calloused hands, wondering at the scrapes that were just fresh now being scabbed over and swollen. Her brows pinch for just a second.

“A whole fade expert on the team and you still don’t believe a thing he said about the soul and spirits. You saw his corpse whispering. If they can come back, why can’t I?”

“I don’t understand any of that.” Ise dully responds, before another sob and she cries, “He uses such big words. I’m just an orphan who knows how to use a knife.”

“Like I said, there’s a difference between a spirit and a soul.” There’s a color to his cheeks as his mouth fumbles for the explanation. “Alright, so what if I don’t much get it either?” His hands on his hips and an indignant look in his eye, he earns a snotty laugh from Ise. He plops next to her.

“What I do know is that I am right here Ise. You’re not alone here.” His hand takes up her own and gives it a squeeze. “Not here, and not over there.”

Ise raises her eyes back to the sky. She wonders what the others are up to. Are they okay? Did they find Bell? Or Davrin? How’s Lucanis? Does he blame himself? Does Fiori know? Viago? Are they going after Elgar’nan? Her throat tightens.

“They’re fighting for you.” Varric assures. She knows. Ise knows they care.

“If anyone can stop Elgar’nan, it’s them.” Varric nods.

“If they’re still fighting, shouldn’t you, too?”

She lets her head fall…

“What can I do from here? I’m not a mage, I don’t understand any of this fade nonsense. Obviously.” She motions about herself. The reason any of this is a thing is because she made a rash decision about something she knew nothing of.

“You can do something.” Varric assures, and she sees his head flick up from the corner of her eye. “You can look them in the eye.”

The smell of dirt that has been stinking up her nose since she’s fallen into this shithole is suddenly being pushed out by the earthy smell of tea and honey. A familiar pairing; when Ise would sit down for a drink, Bellara would take tea, and always with a spoonful of honey. Ise stares critically at the pair of light boots in front of her. White as stone, but still full of all the scuffs Ise had the caretaker repair regularly.

Her stomach twists as she brings her wide and trembling gaze up to trace over the hairpiece sprouting out from around her head like a halo. The thought made Ise’s stomach roll and her throat burn. There’s a whimper that comes from her as she is scrutinized under that blank glare.

“Why did you do it, Rook?”

~*~

He sits on his cot with his arms crossed firmly over his chest, and thumb rubbing over the soft curve of his empty cups handle. There’s a worry in his brow and an even deeper worry throbbing in his head.

Another day has passed. Another day with little progress, no sign of the Dreadwolf, and no Venatori movement. It’s all so stagnant. The ever-patient Lucanis feels that he’d finally found the bottom of his well, and is ready to bang his fists on the walls until some answer fell into his lap. He knows it won’t, though.

They’ve searched better places for answers and found none.

No sign of Bellara where she was last seen. There wasn’t a single remnant of Davrin or Assan. Not even a scrap of fabric or feather turned up. Scout Harding had spent all day there and left on the verge of tears under Taash’s arm.

Tonight brings them to one week.

The banging of pots in the kitchen startles Lucanis from his thoughtless stare at the ground. Poking his head out into the dining room — curious over who is still awake — he finds Neve grumbling over coffee grounds, ready to toss some in a pot of boiling water. It’s atrocious.

“No!” He cries, completely emerging from the pantry and stopping the crime in its tracks. “If you want coffee, just ask. Please don’t do this.” Neve scoffs.

“You’re so dramatic.” Her words are light with laughter, but her eyes are flat. The skin under her eyes is bruised a deep shade of blue; unusual for the investigator to let that show.

“No, I just have standards. And it’s a waste of perfectly good coffee.” He gently removes the beans from her hand and nudges her aside. “Why are you still awake? You should be resting.”

“I could say the same to you.” She quickly snaps back but leans back against the counter and hooks one leg over the other at the ankle. “I just… I keep thinking about what Taash said…” Lucanis raises his brows at her; their dragon hunter has said a lot these past few days. He wonders what specifically has Neve Gallus bunched into a knot.

“About… Ise. And how it seems that I don’t care for her…” Neve draws now glassy eyes meets his in a stare so present and penetrating that it stops Lucanis’ work entirely as he takes in that short second of her walls falling down. That she wears her worry so blatantly on her face… He imagines it’s a rare thing to see, even for this split second that it lasts. Neve looks away quickly and tightens her jaw.

“You’re worried the others see you that way too?” He asks. She only nods, keeping her face hidden. He begins his own awkward nod, wishing that Harding or Emmrich would’ve caught her in the act instead of himself.

“I don’t think anyone here truly believes that, Neve. Not even Taash.” He resumes his work, placing a freshly filled kettle over the green fire. “The things they said that day…”

“We’re all hurting, I know.” Neve rolls her neck and begins kneading at a sore spot. “I’ve said some things these past few days that sound bad… Really bad…”

“Ise wouldn’t blame you.” Lucanis knows she wouldn’t. She’d probably nod along with Neve if she were in the room during that argument. “She knows the kind of woman you are. There have been bumps in the road between the two of you,” Lucanis levels Neve in her spot with an unwavering look, and he says something with full confidence, finally, “but Ise treasures you. As a friend and team member. She’s told me as much; she does not blame you, Neve.”

“Yeah.” The investigator looks away with a break in her voice. There’s a silence that follows, the only noise the tinkering of Lucanis’ careful and precise work. “You ever get tired of brewing everyone coffee when they want some?”

“No.” He chuckles.

He’s only glad he has more to offer them than death.

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