#this may not make any sense i wrote this in a frenzy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mononijikayu · 8 months ago

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happy together ─ geto suguru and gojo satoru

As you observed the intimate exchange between them, you couldn't help but feel a warmth spreading in your heart. Your love was palpable, radiating from their gaze and enveloping you in its comforting embrace. It was a reminder that amidst the uncertainty and challenges of life, the love shared between kindred souls could serve as a beacon of hope and solace. If there was any possibility to split a soul into three, perhaps it was born into life just for you. You were each other’s fate, come what may. That’s what you think. You know that they wouldn’t have it any other way either. Life made sense when you were happy together. And now you are.

GENRE: Hidden Inventory Arc - Shinjuku Showdown Arc, 2006/2007 - 2018;

WARNING/s: Alternate Universe ─ Canon Divergence, Humor, Romance, Afterlife, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Character Death, Mention of Grief, Mention of Mourning, Depiction of Physical Touch, Fluff, Mild Angst, Pining, Reunion, House of Three;

masterlist

kayu's playlist, side 400;

listen: happy together by the turtles

note: i speed-wrote this because i had some time while i took a break from doing my school work. i love this one, you guys. cause they finally realized they should be a throuple!!! anyway, installment one done!!! enjoy it you guys!!! i love you <333

WAKING UP WAS QUITE AN EXPERIENCE. As consciousness flooded back into your senses, you could feel your entire body jolt with a sudden shock, gasping for air as your eyes snapped open, wide with alarm. It was as if you had been yanked back from the brink of oblivion, returning to the realm of the living from where you had lain, motionless.

Beads of sweat dotted your temples, evidence of the intense ordeal you had just endured, while short, ragged breaths escaped your lips in quick succession, reminiscent of a runner finishing a grueling marathon. A chill ran down your spine, sending shivers rippling through your body, and you couldn't help but purse your lips as you sat in the eerie stillness that surrounded you.

Perched on the cold, unforgiving metal benches, you made a conscious effort not to lose your balance; after all, you were already prone to clumsiness. Amidst the disorienting haze that clouded your mind, one thought echoed louder than the rest: what was happening? It was a question that gnawed at the edges of your consciousness, filling you with an overwhelming sense of dread and confusion.

As your eyes slowly begin to adjust to the glaring light assaulting them, you find yourself struggling to make sense of your surroundings. Every movement you make seems to flow effortlessly, your Jujutsu uniform clinging to your form, the bright yellow hoodie swaying gently against the back of your neck with each subtle shift. Squinting against the harsh brightness, your brow furrows in a gesture of discomfort before you finally manage to lift your gaze, revealing the source of the intense illumination: those bright, beaming lights overhead. A low growl of frustration rumbles silently in your throat, but you force yourself to look away, tenderly massaging your sensitive eyes in an attempt to ease the discomfort.

Yet, as you blink and open your eyes once more, a sudden realization strikes you like a bolt of lightning. Those lights—there's something undeniably familiar about them. In fact, they feel more familiar to you than you would have ever dared to hope. Casting your gaze around the vast expanse before you, you take in the massive glass windows, the endless rows of metal benches mirroring the one you occupy. Above, the wide expanding upper floors look like a circular maze, the long white columns stretching towards the heavens. Bright signs adorned with directional arrows point the way to terminal gates, their bold letters beckoning travelers onward.

Your mouth falls slightly agape, rendered speechless by the bewildering scene unfolding before you. Thoughts whirl through your mind in a chaotic frenzy. "Huh?" you inwardly mumble to yourself, confusion clouding your thoughts. "Why am I in Okinawa again?"

As you attempted to rise to your feet, a wave of dizziness washed over you, causing the room to spin alarmingly. "Too fast," you chastised yourself inwardly, recognizing the consequence of your sudden movement. The sensation of disorientation only intensified as you took in your surroundings—an empty, eerily silent airport devoid of any signs of life. This wasn't at all how you remembered Naha Airport from your previous visit with Satoru and Suguru, accompanied by Kuroi and Riko. Back then, it had been a bustling hub of activity, teeming with excited travelers eager to explore the exotic wonders of Okinawa or reluctant city-dwellers bidding farewell to the island paradise.

Your lips pressed together in a thin line as you made your way toward the expansive window, the view beyond revealing a grounded plane sitting desolately on the tarmac, devoid of any passengers or activity. Confusion gnawed at the edges of your mind as you struggled to piece together the fragmented puzzle of your current situation. The effort only served to exacerbate the pounding ache in your head, each attempt at coherence feeling like a futile road to go down on.

With each step towards the large window space, the weight of uncertainty pressed down upon you, adding to the throbbing ache in your head. Outside, the sight of the motionless plane sitting abandoned on the tarmac only deepened your sense of bewilderment. People would be here, no, you stopped yourself, they should be here. It was a stark contrast to the lively scenes you remembered from your previous visit, where the airport buzzed with the energy of travelers coming and going.

As you stood there, gazing out at the empty runway, a flurry of questions raced through your mind. How had you ended up here, alone in this deserted airport? Where were Satoru and Suguru? And what had happened to the vibrant atmosphere you had once experienced in Naha Airport? More importantly, what was the reason of you being here? And why are you all alone? You wouldn’t have gone here alone. Not by your own will, not at all.

Attempting to piece together the fragmented memories of your journey only served to exacerbate the pounding ache in your head. Frustration simmered beneath the surface as you struggled to make sense of the inexplicable situation unfolding before you. Your hands slides down to the depths of your uniform pockets and you gather yourself for a moment. Being frustrated wouldn’t do you good. With a heavy sigh, you leaned against the windowpane, your thoughts swirling in a whirlwind of confusion and uncertainty.

In the midst of the desolation, a pang of longing surged within you, a sudden ache for Suguru's comforting presence. He had always been the anchor to your tumultuous emotions, his touch a source of solace that grounded you in reality. You could almost feel the warmth of his hand enveloping yours, offering reassurance in times of uncertainty. Suguru possessed an innate gentleness, a kindness that seemed to radiate from his very being. He had a way of easing your burdens, providing comfort and relief to the pain that lingered within you. It was as if he carried a piece of sunshine wherever he went, banishing darkness with his unwavering warmth.

As thoughts of Suguru lingered, your mind drifted to Satoru, another pillar of strength in your life. Despite his penchant for cheesy dad jokes, he had a knack for lifting spirits and bringing smiles even in the darkest of times. You could almost hear his infectious laughter echoing in the empty halls of the airport, a reminder of the joy he brought to those around him. You missed the sound of his laughter, the way it bubbled up before he could even deliver one of his infamous jokes.

With a heavy sigh, you scanned the barren surroundings, searching for any sign of life amidst the desolate emptiness that surrounded you. It felt as though you were trapped within your own cage of loneliness, yearning for the comforting presence of those who had always been there to chase away the shadows of doubt and despair.

As you stood there, adrift in the labyrinth of your own thoughts, the sudden intrusion of a voice shattered the eerie silence enveloping the abandoned airport. Its resonance seemed to reverberate through the desolate expanse of the airport lounge, punctuating the solitude with an unexpected interruption. Startled by the intrusion, you pivoted on your heels to locate its source, your senses heightened by the jarring contrast between the stillness and the sudden commotion.

There, amidst the ghostly surroundings, you caught sight of Amanai Riko racing towards you, tears tracing a glistening trail down her cheeks. Her frantic footsteps echoed off the empty walls, each stride a testament to the urgency of her approach. The sight of her tear-streaked face stirred a mixture of emotions within you, a blend of concern and bewilderment at the unexpected encounter.

"Hey, are you alright?" Riko's voice called out, trembling with emotion, as she hurried toward you. Her hands moved frantically, checking your sides, your face, your hair, as though uncertain of what to do but driven by an urgent need to ensure your well-being. Confusion clouded your mind as you tried to make sense of her actions, her touch both comforting and disconcerting in equal measure. Tears welled in her eyes, her distress palpable, and without a word, you found yourself enveloped in her embrace. “You’re here, I can’t believe you’re right here. I found you!”

You could feel the warmth of her tears soaking into your Jujutsu uniform, her apologies whispered between sobs. The sight of her vulnerability stirred a myriad of emotions within you, leaving you momentarily stunned into silence. Slowly, you reciprocated her embrace, your arms encircling her as you gently brushed her hair, urging her to release her pent-up emotions. Despite your own confusion, your instinct was to offer comfort, to be a source of solace in her time of need.

At that moment, questions lingered on the tip of your tongue, but you pushed them aside, prioritizing Riko's emotional well-being over your own uncertainties. All that mattered was being there for her, providing whatever support and comfort you could offer in the face of her tears.

"I'm so sorry," Riko choked out, her words muffled against the fabric of your shirt, her voice heavy with emotion. “I’m so so sorry!”

Confusion swept over you like a tidal wave, threatening to engulf your senses as you struggled to comprehend the depth of her distress. Yet, despite the uncertainty swirling within your mind, your instinct was to offer comfort, to provide solace in whatever way you could. With a gentle squeeze, you conveyed reassurance, a silent reminder that you were there for her, unwavering in your support.

"It's okay, Riko," you whispered softly, your voice a gentle murmur against the backdrop of her tears. Each syllable carried the weight of understanding and empathy, a soothing balm to the turmoil of emotions swirling around you. "Don't worry about it. You don't ever have to apologize for anything, darling girl."

"But! But….I just!" Riko's voice wavered, interrupted by sobs that threatened to overwhelm her.

"Shhh…" You cooed, your words a comforting melody as you gently hushed her protests. A soft laugh escaped your lips, the sound echoing against the strands of her hair as you held her close. "I don't know why you're apologizing, but it's okay. I'm not mad about anything."

As Riko's sobs gradually subsided, you cast a glance over her shoulder, noting Kuroi Misato's approach with a gentle smile gracing her lips. "Hey," Kuroi greeted softly, her voice carrying a warmth that belied the complexity of emotions swirling within her.

Despite the outward display of kindness, there lingered a subtle hint of unease in Kuroi's expression, a flicker of guilt that caught your attention like a shadow in the midst of sunlight. It was a discordant note amidst the tranquility of the moment, leaving you with a sense of disquiet that gnawed at the edges of your consciousness.

As you pondered the significance of Kuroi's demeanor, a myriad of questions danced through your mind, each one seeking to unravel the mystery shrouding her intentions. Yet, try as you might, the elusive truth remained just beyond your grasp, leaving you to grapple with an unsettling sense of uncertainty. As Riko gradually regained her composure, you gently pulled away, your concern etched into every line of your face as you met her gaze with a mixture of worry and curiosity.

"What's going on?" you asked, your voice tinged with apprehension. You slowly straighten your posture and look between the younger girl and her guardian. “I woke up here….and you’re crying. And I just….”

With a trembling voice, Riko began to unravel the unsettling truth that had brought them to this deserted airport. She looks like she couldn’t even bear to tell you. But looking at her eyes, you realized that she was gathering the courage to say it to you. You wanted to coax it out of her, suspicion making your heart beat even faster at the anxiety. She looks at Kuroi, who gives her a soft smile and nods at her.

"We've been here for a while, on the other side of the airport," she explained, her words carrying the weight of revelation. "It took us some time to realize, but... we're dead."

The revelation hit you with the force of a thunderclap, jolting you from the realm of the familiar into the stark reality of their circumstances. It felt as if the ground had shifted beneath your feet, leaving you reeling in a maelstrom of disbelief and confusion. Each word uttered by Riko seemed to reverberate through the empty expanse of the airport, echoing off the walls like a haunting refrain.

Your mind raced to grasp the enormity of what she had just disclosed, but comprehension eluded you like a fleeting shadow. The implications of their predicament began to sink in slowly, like pebbles dropped into the vast ocean of your consciousness. This wasn't a mere misunderstanding or a figment of their imagination; it was the chilling truth laid bare before you.

As you struggled to come to terms with the stark reality of their situation, a sense of surrealism washed over you, enveloping you in a haze of uncertainty. It was as if you had been thrust into a waking dream, where the boundaries between life and death blurred and indistinct shades of gray.

Yet, amidst the tumult of emotions that threatened to engulf you, a flicker of determination ignited within your soul. You knew that you couldn't afford to dwell on shock and disbelief for long; there were questions to be answered, decisions to be made, and a journey into the unknown awaiting them all. With a steel resolve, you square your shoulders and prepare to confront whatever lay ahead, drawing strength from the bond that united you with Riko and Kuroi in this surreal limbo.

"Wait, what?" you stammered, your mind reeling with the enormity of what she was saying. It wasn’t registered. Your mouth parts, trying to get the words out. But nothing comes out.

This airport, once a bustling hub teeming with life and activity, now loomed before you as a solemn gateway to the afterlife. Its once vibrant corridors now echoed with the hollow silence of abandonment, the ghostly remnants of past travelers haunting its deserted halls. It was as if time had frozen within these walls, trapping them in a liminal space between the worlds of the living and the dead.

As the gravity of their situation settled upon you like a heavy shroud, a whirlwind of questions stormed through your mind, each one a relentless demand for answers in the face of this surreal reality. How had they ended up here? What awaited them beyond the confines of this desolate airport? And most pressing of all, what did it mean for their future?

Yet, amidst the chaos of your thoughts, you made a conscious choice to set aside your own uncertainties, focusing instead on providing Riko and Kuroi with the unwavering support they needed in this moment of profound uncertainty. With a steadfast resolve, you vowed to stand by their side, ready to confront whatever revelations the future held, even as you braced yourself for the unknown journey that lay ahead.

You let yourself slowly walk back to the benches.

You take a moment and you carefully sit down.

You look at the two of them as you cross your arms.

“Tell me everything you remember when you woke up.”

YOU THINK YOU SPENT QUITE WHILE REGISTERING EVERYTHING. The three of you huddled together in a somber tableau, grappling with the weight of the revelations that had reshaped your understanding of existence. There really isn't much to be done now, it seems. As the realization of your passing settles in, a heavy sigh escapes your lips, accompanied by a gentle rub of the back of your head.

The irony of finding yourself in an airport at this moment doesn't escape you; it's almost as if God has a penchant for whimsy in the afterlife. Taking a seat on one of the airport benches, you purse your lips in contemplation. You know you'll be waiting here for a while, and oddly enough, that's what you find solace in. Suguru and Satoru, together. You believe they'll be alright; those two were destined for long, fulfilling lives. At least, that's what you hope for. After all, Jujutsu sorcerers aren't typically associated with the concept of 'forever'.

In truth, for you, the concept of death had been a familiar companion since youth—a shadow that had trailed alongside you through the tumultuous journey of your upbringing. As an orphan with no prospects and no dreams to call your own, the specter of mortality had woven itself into the fabric of your being, a constant presence as natural as drawing breath into your lungs.

It was Tsukumo Yuki who had intervened, rescuing you from the abyss of despair during her travels and delivering you into the care of Yaga-sensei. Under his guidance, you had discovered the latent ability to perceive curses, a revelation that had irrevocably altered the trajectory of your life. Even then, death had not loosened its grip on you; the path of a sorcerer was fraught with peril, a reality Yaga-sensei had emphasized with disarming candor.

Yet, buoyed by the hope of strength and the promise of a newfound purpose, you had forged ahead, driven by the belief that diligence and determination would pave the way to a brighter future. In the embrace of companionship—with Satoru, with Shoko, with Suguru—you glimpsed the elusive promise of happiness, a fragile beacon amidst the darkness of uncertainty.

Now, faced with the stark reality of your demise, you couldn't help but mourn the life you had hoped to live—a life filled with love, with laughter, with the warmth of cherished bonds. The memory of your final moments flooded back, the visceral recollection of sacrificing yourself to shield Riko from harm, a selfless act that now loomed large in the landscape of regret.

As you leaned against the cold metal frame, a heavy sigh escaped your lips, carrying with it the weight of resignation and understanding. No wonder Riko felt guilty—your sacrifice had left an indelible mark on her conscience, a burden she now bore in the wake of your shared tragedy. You harbored no blame towards Riko, not even a trace of guilt weighed upon your conscience for sacrificing yourself in an attempt to protect her. From the depths of your being, there surged a profound sense of clarity—a steadfast conviction that your actions were born out of love and selflessness, devoid of any remorse or reproach.

In that fateful moment when danger had loomed large and fate had beckoned, you had acted instinctively, driven by an innate desire to shield Riko from harm at any cost. The notion of self-preservation had paled in comparison to the unwavering commitment to her safety, a commitment that transcended mere survival.

As you reflected upon the events that had led to your demise, there was no room for regret or recrimination. You supposed that it was the Jujutsu sorcerer in you. Yaga–sensei’s voice reverberated in your head, ‘A sorcerer doesn’t live for themselves. You live for others.’

The sentiment was something you wanted to laugh at. Satoru would laugh at how ridiculous that sounded, Suguru would think that it was ridiculous but it was what it was. But deep down you know you couldn’t. You know you wouldn’t. Instead, there existed a serene acceptance—a recognition that your final act had been keeping someone innocent alive. You did your duty, you stuck to your beliefs. You died well. You died fast too–you supposed that was a bonus in itself. That Sorcerer Killer had good aim too, you think. You sighed in finality, at the acceptance that this was fate. That this was what was destined. And it was what it was.

As you grapple with the weight of your departure, a single regret pierces through the fog of your thoughts, consuming your mind with its relentless presence. It's the ache of leaving behind Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko—the three pillars of your life, the anchors that tethered you to the realm of happiness and belonging.

Yet, amid this sea of regret, it's Suguru who occupies the forefront of your mind, his memory etched into the deepest recesses of your heart. You can't shake the feeling that your absence will inflict the deepest wounds upon him, for your love for him ran as deep as the ocean, binding your souls together in an unbreakable bond.

A flashback floods your consciousness, transporting you back to a moment frozen in time—a promise exchanged between lovers, whispered with the fervent hope of a future together. But now, as the harsh reality of your demise sets in, you find yourself grappling with the bitter irony of it all, the weight of unfulfilled promises hanging heavy on your soul.

You wish—oh, how you wish—that Suguru could understand the circumstances that led to your untimely departure, that he could find solace in the knowledge that your love for him transcends the boundaries of life and death. But even as you entertain this fleeting hope, a pang of uncertainty gnaws at the edges of your consciousness, whispering doubts of forgiveness and understanding.

And then there's Satoru—the other half of your soul, the one who had captured your heart with his infectious laughter and unwavering devotion. You can't bear to think of the pain that your absence will inflict upon him, the shattered dreams and broken promises that will haunt his waking hours.

A bittersweet memory emerges from the depths of your mind—a pinky promise exchanged between friends, a solemn vow to stand by each other's side until the end of time. But now, as you stand on the precipice of eternity, you can't help but wonder if Satoru will ever forgive you for breaking that sacred oath, for leaving him behind in a world devoid of your presence.

Amidst the whirlwind of emotions, a pang of guilt washes over you as you contemplate the impact of your absence on Shoko. She, too, had been an integral part of your life, a steadfast companion whose presence had brought warmth and solace in times of need. Now, as she navigates the bustling city streets alone, you can't help but feel a twinge of remorse knowing that she'll face each day without your comforting presence by her side.

You envision her, standing alone on the far-flung balcony of her dorm, the tendrils of smoke from her cigarette swirling around her like a melancholic dance. In that solitary moment, you can almost feel her loneliness echoing through the void, a stark reminder of the void you've left behind.

But even amidst the guilt and regret, you cling to a flicker of hope—that somehow, someway, Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko will come to understand the circumstances that led to your departure. You wish for nothing more than their forgiveness, their understanding, their acceptance of the choices you've made.

For now, as you stand at the crossroads of eternity, you hold onto the enduring love that binds you to them—a love that transcends time and space, a love that will guide you through the darkness and into the light.

A solemn silence settles over the three of you, each lost in your own thoughts and emotions. It's Riko who breaks the silence first, her voice trembling with emotion as she struggles to articulate the enormity of their situation.

"I... I never thought... I never imagined..." Riko's words falter, her eyes brimming with tears as she looks to you for comfort and understanding. “I just….”

You reach out to her, offering a reassuring squeeze of her hand as you meet her gaze with a soft smile. "It's okay, Riko. We'll figure this out together," you assure her, your voice laced with a gentle reassurance. “We gotta stick together, you hear me?”

Kuroi steps forward, her expression trying to lift from the veil of sorrow. She smiled. "We may not have all the answers right now, but we'll face this challenge together, as a team."

You nod in agreement, grateful for the unwavering support of your friends in this moment of uncertainty. "Thank you, both of you," you say with a sincere grin. “This might be easier with the two of you with me.”

With a determined smile, you hummed, eager to lift the spirits of your small group. You stand up from your chair. "Let's not dwell on what we can't change right now," you suggest gently, your voice infused with optimism. "Instead, why don't we explore this airport together? Who knows what we might find?"

Riko's eyes brighten slightly at the suggestion, a glimmer of curiosity replacing the sadness that had clouded her features moments before. She wipes the tears away. "That sounds like a good idea," she agrees, a tentative smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Kuroi nods in approval, her resolve visibly strengthening as she takes your lead. "We'll make the most of this situation," she declares with newfound determination.

“Now, let’s go! I’m craving an ice cream sundae!”

Riko laughs as she follows closely behind you. “We’re dead, we can’t eat ice cream.”

“It doesn’t matter, I want it!” You laughed back at her, but more obnoxiously. “Kuroi, what’s your favorite ice cream?”

“Oh, that’s a hard one to decide….”

As you set off together, embarking on a journey of exploration and discovery, you can't help but feel a spark of hope ignite within you. Though the road ahead may be uncertain, you take comfort in the knowledge that you're not alone—you have each other, and together, you'll find a way to navigate this strange new world.

With a sense of purpose guiding your steps, you forge ahead into the unknown, ready to face whatever challenges may come your way. And as you walk side by side, the promise of a brighter future beckons on the horizon, filling your hearts with renewed courage and determination.

You had high hopes that it’ll be just the three of you for now.

If there was a god watching you now, you whispered a wish.

You wished that those you love would live a long and happy life.

But a few months later, you stood and frowned as you stared.

Brown eyes stared at you, cheeks flustered all the way through.

“Yu Haibara, how the fu—you were supposed to grow old, idiot!”

YOU COULDN’T HELP BUT THINK. That’s all you could really do here, if you were being honest. God perhaps intended purgatory as a reflection on your life. But somehow, these days, you end up thinking more about your new arrival—-Yu Haibara, and how he got here. Why was he here? You already knew why. And yet you kept pondering why. Why did he end up here so early? Why should such a boy with a life long ahead of him be here?

In the hushed moments of contemplation, memories of Haibara's sacrifice resurfaced like ghosts haunting the corridors of your mind. You didn’t tell him about it, but you ended up thinking that he was more like you than you liked. You wished in a way, that the boy he was, had been a little bit more selfish. He didn’t have to tell you how he died — you already knew. Because he was just that kind. He was too good of a person.

His selfless act, a final testament to his unwavering loyalty and boundless courage, lingered with poignant clarity, etching itself into the fabric of your consciousness. The image of him, standing tall and resolute in the face of danger, sacrificing himself to shield Nanami from harm, was seared into your memory like a brand, a testament to the indomitable spirit that defined him.

Nanami Kento must have been distraught, you think. Your little Ken, as you liked to call him, was more emotional than he let on, you like to think. To lose you both in the distance of one year, that’s a big blow — at least you like to think so. Kento had few people he liked to genuinely call friends. Even with you, he was formal. But Haibara? Haibara was his closest friend, even if he didn’t say it out loud. And now Haibara’s gone. You didn’t know what to say, at first. But Haibara just smiled at you.

As you reminisced about that conversation with Haibara, his words echoed in your mind with a poignant clarity, each syllable carrying a weight of its own. His reassurance, delivered with a grin that belied his own fears, had offered a fleeting moment of solace amidst the turmoil of grief and uncertainty. But even then, you couldn't shake the heavy burden of concern that weighed upon your heart.

“He’ll be alright,” Haibara wistfully smiled at you. “He’s a strong guy you know! He’s survived this long!”

"I hope so. But he'll miss his friend the most, you know," you murmured softly, your gaze tender as you looked upon Haibara, your voice heavy with unspoken worry.

In response, Haibara had laughed heartily, his laughter a balm to your troubled soul. "Hm, I know. But we'll see him one day. For now... he has to live. Long and happily too."

Your response had been a quiet hum of agreement, the weight of his words lingering in the air like a promise yet to be fulfilled. Together, you had watched the birds outside the airport window, their graceful flight a stark contrast to the heavy thoughts that weighed upon your mind.

And then, in a moment of unexpected candor, Haibara had turned to you, his expression earnest as he broached a topic that had long been left unspoken between you.

"You know..." he had begun hesitantly, his voice trailing off as he searched for the right words to convey the depth of his emotions.

"Yeah?" you had prompted, your curiosity piqued by the sudden seriousness in his tone.

"Geto-senpai and Gojo-senpai..." Haibara had started, his gaze flickering with a mixture of sadness and regret. "They were really sad about your death."

The revelation had struck you like a blow to the chest, the weight of his words crushing in their sincerity. In that moment, you had been reminded of the far-reaching impact of your passing, the ripple effect of grief and loss that had reverberated through the lives of those you held dear. And as you grappled with the magnitude of their sorrow, a pang of guilt had seared through your heart, a painful reminder of the unintended consequences of your untimely departure.

A heavy silence descended between you and Haibara, the weight of his words hanging in the air like an unspoken truth. You felt a lump form in your throat, the guilt of causing pain to those you cared about weighing heavily on your shoulders.

"I... I didn't mean to hurt them," you finally murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you struggled to articulate the turmoil within your heart.

Haibara's gaze softened, a gentle understanding shining in his eyes as he reached out to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. "I know, senpai. None of us blame you for what happened. It's just... hard, you know? Losing someone we cared about so deeply."

Tears welled up in your eyes, a silent testament to the depth of your remorse. "I wish I could have stayed," you admitted, your voice choking with emotion. You straighten your posture. You tried to be strong. "I wish I could have been there for them, to ease their pain and share in their sorrow."

Haibara's grip on your shoulder tightened, offering a silent reassurance in the midst of your anguish. "I know, senpai. But we can't change what's already happened. All we can do is cherish the memories we shared and hold onto the hope that one day, we'll be reunited with them again."

You nodded in agreement, finding solace in Haibara's words. "You're right," you whispered, a sense of determination settling over you. "We'll wait. Like they’re waiting.”

In those quiet moments of solitude, you found yourself reflecting on the bonds that had formed between you and your companions, forged through shared experiences and the trials of this peculiar existence. Haibara, Kuroi, Riko—each one has become an indispensable part of your makeshift family, their presence a source of strength and comfort in the face of uncertainty.

As you watched the sunset beyond the airport windows, casting a warm glow over the empty terminal, memories of happier times flooded your mind. You recalled the laughter that had once echoed through these halls, the shared meals and late-night conversations that had brought you all closer together.

But amidst the nostalgia, there lingered a palpable sense of loss—the absence of those who had left this world too soon, their laughter now just a distant echo in the recesses of your mind. You couldn't help but wonder what they would think if they could see you now, still waiting, still hoping for a chance at redemption.

Yet, despite the passage of time and the weight of your regrets, you refused to lose hope. You clung to the belief that one day, your vigil would come to an end, and you would be reunited with those you had lost. Until then, you would continue to cherish the moments you shared with your companions, finding solace in their unwavering support and the enduring bonds of friendship that bound you together.

As the last rays of sunlight faded into darkness, you found yourself filled with a renewed sense of purpose—a determination to make the most of each passing day, to live fully and love deeply, even in the midst of this endless waiting. And so, with a quiet resolve, you turned to face the challenges of the days ahead, guided by the enduring light of hope that burned brightly within your heart.

Amidst the ever-present stillness of the airport, a burst of playful energy erupted as Riko suggested the game of hide and seek. "Let's play hide and seek!" she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she glanced around at the group.

You and your companions eagerly embraced the idea, craving a reprieve from the relentless monotony of waiting. With a chorus of agreement, you all scattered in different directions, eager to find the perfect hiding spot or to be the one to uncover the others' hiding places.

As the designated seeker, you closed your eyes and began counting aloud while the others hurried off to conceal themselves. The rhythmic cadence of your countdown filled the air, accompanied by the faint sounds of laughter and shuffling as your friends found their spots.

"One... two... three..." you began, the anticipation building with each passing moment. "Ten! Ready or not, here I come!"

You navigated the deserted corridors of the airport, your senses heightened as you scanned every nook and cranny for any sign of movement. Laughter echoed faintly in the distance, teasing you with hints of where your friends might be hiding.

As you rounded a corner, you caught a glimpse of movement—a flicker of movement behind a row of empty seats. Your heart raced with anticipation as you quickened your pace, closing in on the source of the movement. But as you rounded the corner, your momentum carried you forward, and before you knew it, you collided with someone—someone whose familiar touch sent a jolt of recognition coursing through your veins. You thought it was Kuroi. You believed it was Kuroi.

"Gotcha!" you exclaimed triumphantly, reaching out to tag the figure on the shoulder.

The realization hit you like a sudden gust of wind, knocking the breath from your lungs and leaving you reeling in disbelief. The warmth of the hand against yours was unmistakable—this wasn't Kuroi. Her touch was always cool, her fingers delicate and precise. But this hand... it was different. It was warm, rough with calluses that spoke of a life filled with toil and hardship.

As the truth began to sink in, your heart raced with a frantic rhythm, each beat echoing loudly in your ears as your mind struggled to process the impossible reality before you. Why was he….here? How was it possible? This soon?

Your eyes widened ever so slowly in the shock you felt as you resisted the urge to look up, to meet his gaze and confront the truth that lay between you. You knew that if you looked into his eyes, you would see the same pain and confusion mirrored there—the same turmoil that threatened to consume you whole.

“It’s you….”

The sound of his voice, so achingly familiar yet tinged with a hint of reproach, pierced through the haze of disbelief that enveloped you. You could feel his gaze boring into you, urging you to meet his eyes, to confront the truth that lay between you.

But you couldn't bring yourself to look. Not yet. Not when the wounds of his passing were still so fresh, raw with the sting of loss and longing. Instead, you bit your lip in a futile attempt to steady your trembling emotions, feeling the hot sting of tears welling up in your eyes.

“Look at me,” he pleaded, his voice soft yet filled with an unspoken urgency.

You shook your head, unable to find the strength to meet his gaze, to face the reality of his absence head-on.

“After all this time, are you going to deny me seeing your face?” His words were laced with a mixture of longing and frustration, a silent plea for reconciliation that echoed in the empty space between you.

Your heart ached at the sound of his voice, the memories of your shared love flooding your mind with bittersweet intensity. Ten years—ten long years since you last saw him, since he slipped away from your grasp and into the cold embrace of eternity.

And now, here he was, standing before you with his hand outstretched, a silent reminder of everything you had lost and everything that could never be again.

But still, you couldn't bring yourself to look—to face the truth that lay before you, to acknowledge the gaping void that his absence had left in your heart.

“I can't,” you whispered, your voice barely above a hoarse murmur.

The air between you hung heavy with unspoken words, the weight of your shared history pressing down upon you like a suffocating blanket. And as the tears continued to flow, you knew that no matter how hard you tried to deny it. He died. And so soon. He didn’t let himself grow old. He didn’t let himself live the life you wanted for him. You cried even more in the silence.

As you looked up, your breath caught in your throat, tears welling in your eyes at the sight of Suguru standing before you. His expression softened with concern as he reached out to steady you, his touch sending waves of warmth cascading through your body. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you gazed into his eyes, overwhelmed by a flood of emotions that threatened to consume you. His purple eyes gleamed, almost so wondrously as though he was taking in the features of your face. As though he’d forgotten. He slowly smiled as tears poured down from his eyes too. His breath became shaky as his fingers rested on your chin.

In that fleeting instant, all the pain and longing you had carried with you melted away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of love and belonging. Without a word, you threw your arms around him, clinging to him as though he were the anchor that could tether you to this world. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you buried your face in his chest, the weight of your shared sorrow and joy pressing against you like a comforting embrace.

In that moment, surrounded by the echoes of laughter and the warmth of Suguru's embrace, you knew that no matter how long you waited or how far you roamed, you would always find your way back to each other. And as you stood there, lost in the embrace of the one you loved, you felt a flicker of hope ignite within you—a hope that one day, you would be reunited with all those you held dear, in a place where time had no power to separate.

As the warmth of his embrace enveloped you, you couldn't help but let the floodgates of emotion burst open, tears streaming down your cheeks as you buried your face against his chest. The familiar scent of him, a mixture of earthy musk and the faint hint of his favorite cologne, washed over you, comforting you in a way that nothing else could.

“You idiot,” you cried out, your voice muffled against the warmth of his flesh. “You couldn’t even make me proud by growing old and living a whole life to tell me. You’re so annoying, you….”

But before you could finish your tirade, his laughter cut through the air, a melodic sound that echoed against your bodies and filled the empty space between you. It was a laugh filled with joy, unbridled and free, and for a fleeting moment, you couldn't help but feel a pang of envy at the happiness he exuded.

“I didn’t want to live a whole life if you weren’t going to be in it,” he confessed, his voice soft yet resolute. “There was nothing to smile about.”

His words hung heavy in the air, a poignant reminder of the depth of his love for you, even in the face of eternity. And as you stood there, locked in each other's embrace, you knew that no matter what trials may come, no matter how much time may pass, the bond you shared with Suguru would endure—a beacon of hope in the darkness that now enveloped your soul.

In that moment, amidst the chaos of emotions swirling within you, a sense of peace washed over your weary soul. You realized that even in death, your love for each other remained as steadfast as ever, an unbreakable thread binding your hearts together for all eternity.

"I missed you," you whispered, your voice barely a breath against his chest.

"I missed you too," he replied, his arms tightening around you in a silent promise never to let go again.

For a timeless moment, you simply stood there, lost in the embrace of the one you thought you had lost forever. The weight of the years spent apart melted away, leaving only the warmth of his love to fill the void in your heart.

But as the realization of your reunion settled in, a new sense of purpose stirred within you. You knew that you couldn't stay in this airport forever, trapped in a limbo of waiting and longing. There were others out there, waiting for you, longing to be reunited just as you had been.

You pulled away from Suguru's embrace, meeting his gaze with a determined glint in your eyes. "We can't stay here," you said firmly. "There are others who’d want to see you.”

Suguru nodded in agreement, his expression mirroring your determination. "You're right," he said. "We'll find a way. Together. But….”

You looked at him as he smiled at you, his height bearing down upon you.

“Let me kiss you.” He whispers to you. “Before you introduce me to the others.”

You felt a soft flutter in your chest at his words, a mixture of longing and anticipation coursing through your veins. Despite the weight of the years that had passed, the desire to feel his lips against yours burned fiercely within you.

Without a word, you leaned in, closing the distance between you and Suguru. His lips met yours in a tender embrace, a silent exchange of love and longing that transcended the boundaries of time and space. In that fleeting moment, all the pain and sorrow of the past faded into insignificance, replaced by the overwhelming warmth of his touch.

As you pulled away, you met Suguru's gaze, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of affection and gratitude. "Thank you," he whispered softly, his voice barely a breath against your lips.

Your heart flutters at his words.

He grins at you, wholeheartedly.

You admit, your heart is a little bit full.

But you knew it wasn’t as full as yet.

Satoru, you wanted to see Satoru too.

IT WAS DECEMBER 24TH 2018 WHEN GOJO SATORU ARRIVED AT THE AIRPORT. As you and Suguru stood by the airport benches, your embrace providing a comforting anchor amidst the chaos of the bustling terminal, a sense of tranquility settled over you. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in your own private sanctuary.

But amidst this moment of serenity, a movement caught your eye, drawing your attention to a familiar figure nearby. There, amidst the deserted terminal, Satoru lay sleeping, his form peaceful and serene against the backdrop of the bustling airport.

You exchanged a glance with Suguru, a silent communication passing between you as you both recognized the significance of the moment. It was an unexpected reunion, one that held the promise of both joy and uncertainty.

For a moment, you simply stood there, lost in the quiet beauty of the scene before you. The terminal faded into the background, leaving only Satoru and the two of you in a timeless embrace. As you watched Satoru sleep, a rush of emotions swept over you, mingling with the tender affection you felt for him. It was a moment of unexpected beauty, a reminder of the enduring bond that connected the three of you, even across the vast expanse of time and space.

"He didn't even wait a year after you," you remarked to Suguru, a hint of annoyance creeping into your voice as you crossed your arms. "Nanami Ken-Ken, I understand. But the two of you?"

Suguru's snort was barely audible, but the wry smile tugging at the corners of his lips spoke volumes. Memories flooded his mind as he remembered the last time Nanami had made an unexpected appearance in the airport. He couldn't help but find amusement in the way you had reacted then – your expression a mix of shock and disappointment that was, in his eyes, utterly endearing.

In that moment, Suguru couldn't help but recall just how adorable you looked when you expressed such disappointment. He knew you well enough to recognize that pout – the one that often graced your lips when things didn't go as planned, or when someone didn't meet your expectations. It was a trait of yours that Satoru, too, was likely familiar with.

But Suguru understood the underlying reason behind your tendency to pout and lecture. It wasn't borne out of mere petulance or frustration; rather, it stemmed from a deep-seated care and concern for those around you. You had a heart that overflowed with love and compassion, and you wanted nothing more than for everyone to live longer, happier lives – even if it meant lecturing them endlessly or wearing that adorable pout.

It was this caring nature of yours that Suguru found so utterly captivating, and it was a trait that had endeared you to him even more over the years. As he looked at you now, lost in your thoughts, he couldn't help but feel a swell of affection for you – a silent acknowledgment of the depth of your love and the strength of your character.

As you stood in the airport, a familiar figure caught your eye. It was Nanami, standing there in the terminal, his presence a shocking revelation. Disbelief washed over you, mingled with a sense of incredulity. How could he be here after all this time? He was supposed to be alive and well. If anyone was going to outlive them all now, it would be Nanami. Suguru had said that he had left that life behind, after you and Haibara passed away. But to have seen him there, as young as you met him, rubbing the back of his head as you

Without a second thought, you rushed over to him, your voice tinged with disbelief and a hint of annoyance. "Nanami? What are you doing here?" you demanded, unable to mask the surprise in your tone. "You... you shouldn't be here. You're supposed to be..."

“Well, I’m here.” Nanami Kento replied to you, sighing, crossing his arms. He was as much a teenager as you remember him to be. “I’m dead, senpai.”

“You….”

But before you could finish your sentence, you launched into a tirade, peppering Nanami with questions and admonishments. "You can't just waltz into the airport like nothing happened!" you exclaimed, your frustration bubbling to the surface. "Do you have any idea how bad this is? Suguru said you left Jujutsu! Why did you come back, you idiot?”

“......It’s not like I have anything to do.”

“Kento, is that you?” Yu Haibara’s mouth went agape as he stood before you all, looking at his closest friend. “You still look the same! Emo and all!”

Nanami frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Now, now,” Suguru tries to mitigate.

“Wait, I’m not done lecturing!” You impede, your brows furrowing. You sighed, lowering your head to your palm. “Let me think for a second, I’m overstimulating.”

Haibara grinned. “You can do it, senpai!”

“That’s not helping.” Nanami whispers.

“Shhhhhhhhh!” You put your index finger on your lip, glaring at him. “I’m not done!”

Your words trailed off as you struggled to find the right ones, emotions swirling within you like a storm. But despite your agitation, Nanami Kento remained silent, his expression unreadable as he listened to your impassioned speech. He knew you weren’t going to stop. You were more the parent than Geto Suguru, after all.

At the sight of your antics, Suguru couldn't help but laugh, the sound echoing softly through the terminal. "Leave it to you to give him a proper scolding, even after he's dead," he remarked, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“You’re not out of the water either!”

"You make it seem like it was a choice for us to go down that route," Suguru replied, his tone tinged with resignation. It was a reminder of the circumstances that had led them here, to this peculiar purgatory where time seemed to stand still. “It is fate, whatever happened.”

"It is a choice," you insisted, leaning against Suguru's side as you settled down beside him on the bench. "I wanted to see you with white hair."

Suguru chuckled, his smile widening as he reached over to playfully poke at Satoru's hair. "You already see so much of that on Satoru," he remarked teasingly.

You swatted Suguru's hand away with a mock glare. "Hey, he might develop a bald spot with that!" you protested, unable to suppress a grin.

Suguru laughed, shaking his head in amusement. "He's already in the afterlife, he's gonna be fine," he reassured you, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

You raised an eyebrow skeptically. "We're not even sure if he's dead, Suguru! His soul is a bit glitchy from here!" you retorted back to your lover.

Suguru met your gaze with a playful smirk. "You can see souls?" he quipped, his eyes dancing with amusement.

"I'm dead, so obviously, I do!" you shot back, unable to resist a jab back at him.

Suguru's smirk widened into a grin as he considered your words. "What if we return him back to life and he's bald?" he mused, the corners of his lips twitching with suppressed laughter.

“That’s not funny, Suguru!”

Just as you and Suguru continued to trade playful banter, Satoru stirred from his slumber, blinking groggily as he slowly became aware of his surroundings. His eyes widened in surprise as he took in the sight of you and Suguru sitting beside him, the playful atmosphere of your conversation washing over him. You waved at him, happily greeting him. He couldn’t believe it. How he was seeing you greet him in that warm manner, as you always have when you were alive.

Satoru's initial disbelief gradually gave way to a sense of wonder as he took in the sight of you waving at him, a warm smile gracing your lips. It was a sight he had longed to see for years, a memory that he had held onto tightly even as the years stretched on in this strange limbo.

With a mixture of awe and gratitude, Satoru returned your wave, his heart swelling with emotion at the sight of you. It felt surreal, almost dreamlike, to be greeted by you in such a familiar manner, as if no time had passed at all.

For a moment, he allowed himself to revel in the warmth of your presence, the memory of your smile etched into his mind like a cherished treasure. It was a moment of pure bliss amidst the uncertainty of their existence in this surreal afterlife, a reminder of the enduring bond that connected them across the boundaries of life and death.

"Yo," Suguru greeted Satoru casually, a grin spreading across his face.

Satoru's expression shifted from confusion to disbelief as he processed the unexpected reunion. "This is freaking awful," he muttered, his words tinged with a mixture of incredulity and bemusement.

Geto pouted exaggeratedly, feigning offense at Satoru's response. "Hey, that's rude," he protested with mock indignation. “I can’t believe you greet the love of my life warmly but you greet me so cruelly.”

You let your tongue out at Suguru. “I’m his best friend, of course, bangs!”

He pinches your cheek as you squeal “You’re acting so cheekily again.”

Satoru sighed, running a hand through his hair as he struggled to make sense of the situation. "I told my students that when they die, they'll be alone," he explained, his tone tinged with a hint of resignation. "So I'm hoping this is just some illusion."

You couldn't help but laugh at Satoru's melodramatic proclamation, shaking your head in amusement. It was a clearly playful jab, one that you had not been able to say to him in such a long time. "That’s actually such a loser statement, Satoru," you teased, a fond smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “You’ve gotten this lame over the years, Gojo–sensei?”

“I’m Satoru to you, thank you very much,” The blue eyed sorcerer pouts at you, crossing his arms. Though he had to admit, he liked the way you said Gojo–sensei. “And Yaga–sensei was the one who said it to me! Blame him, not me!”

As Satoru sat there, basking in the warmth of your presence, a wave of pure contentment washed over him, enveloping him in a sense of peace that he hadn't felt in years. The sound of your laughter was music to his ears. It was a harmony that he had been waiting to hear for a decade since you’ve passed. It was a feeling he struggled to put into words, a profound sense of happiness that seemed to resonate deep within his soul.

In that moment, surrounded by the familiar faces of you and Suguru, Satoru couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the opportunity to see you again. He had missed you more than words could express, longing for the warmth of your smile and the comfort of your presence during the long years of solitude in this airport purgatory.

Even as he grappled with the knowledge that he could never truly express his romantic feelings for you, Satoru found solace in the simple joy of being near you once more. For him, this moment was a glimpse of paradise, a fleeting taste of happiness that he would treasure for eternity.

In your presence, Satoru felt a sense of completeness that he had never known before, a feeling that transcended the boundaries of life and death. You were his paradise, his beacon of light in the darkness of this strange afterlife, and for that, he would be forever grateful.

As he sat there, savoring the precious moments with you, Satoru couldn't help but reflect on how his ten years in this limbo had led him to this beautiful reunion. Despite the uncertainties and challenges he had faced during his time here, none of it seemed to matter in comparison to the overwhelming joy of being with you once again.

He thought about all the times he had yearned to see your face, to hear your laughter, to feel the warmth of your touch. And now, as he sat beside you, surrounded by the gentle hum of the airport and the comforting presence of his friends, Satoru realized that this was where he truly belonged.

In your company, Satoru found a sense of peace and happiness that he had never known before. You were his anchor in this strange world, his guiding light through the darkness of uncertainty. And even though he could never express the depth of his feelings for you, he took comfort in the knowledge that he was with you, sharing this moment of bliss together. As the weight of his past burdens lifted from his shoulders, Satoru smiled, his heart overflowing with love and gratitude. For in this moment, surrounded by the ones he cherished most, he knew that he was home.

“Does he know?” You asked Satoru, looking at him with a soft tone.

He looked at you with his blue eyes, his glasses lowering. “Who?”

“That boy, you’ve been taking care of.” You whisper back to him.

“How'd you know about him?”

“I met his father around here—”

"Who cares?" Geto's voice cut through the silence, breaking the tension with a note of indifference. “He killed you.”

"I know" you retorted back, your tone gentle yet firm. "But he deserves to know about his dad too, you know. That boy….family ties run deep, especially when it comes to matters of the heart."

With a thoughtful nod, Satoru left the topic hanging in the air, shifting the focus to more pressing matters. "I've left it with Shoko to handle," he added, his tone indicating a sense of finality.

“We’re not even sure if you’re dead yet.” You whisper back to him, your hand resting on his. “You’ll be able to tell him.”

Satoru didn’t know how to tell you.

But you looked so beautiful to him.

He didn’t want to leave you here.

He wanted to stay with you and Suguru.

He wanted to be happy here, together.

“How was fighting Sukuna?” Suguru asked him, changing the topic.

"He was strong," Satoru admitted, his voice tinged with respect. "Even though he wasn't giving his all."

Suguru nodded in agreement, his expression thoughtful as he considered Satoru's words. "It must have been quite the battle," he remarked, his eyes reflecting a mixture of admiration and curiosity.

Satoru's lips curled into a wry smile, his demeanor surprisingly casual given the intensity of the confrontation. "It was exhilarating," he admitted, his voice carrying a note of genuine enjoyment. "But I can't help but feel a twinge of pity for Sukuna. He didn't bring his full strength to the table."

You couldn't help but laugh at Satoru's nonchalant attitude, leaning affectionately against him as you basked in his presence. His scent enveloped you, a comforting reminder of the bond you shared. "Only the strongest would say something like that," you remarked fondly, your eyes sparkling with admiration. "As expected of you."

Geto's eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of jealousy briefly clouding his expression as he processed Satoru's words. "That's what sets him apart," he acknowledged quietly, his voice tinged with a hint of envy. "But if you're content with the outcome, then perhaps that's all that truly matters."

Satoru's grin widened at Geto's response, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. "I suppose I would have been more satisfied if you were there to spur me on," he teased, his tone laced with sincerity. He gently looks at Suguru and then at you. “It would have made me feel a little bit more at ease.”

“Don’t you mean, less cocky?” Suguru teased him back but Satoru just laughed.

You take a moment to express your heartfelt gratitude to Satoru, your voice filled with genuine emotion as you speak. "I'm proud of you, Satoru," you say, your words carrying the weight of years of admiration and affection. "After all you've done, after all you've been through... I'm just so happy to see you again, to be together with you and Suguru."

As you gaze at Satoru, a sense of completeness washes over you, the weight of years of separation lifting from your shoulders. "You've brought so much light into my life," you continue, your voice soft but filled with conviction. "My heart feels whole again, thanks to you."

“South or north,” Satoru says, after a moment of silence. “Where do you think I should go?”

Satoru's question lingered in the air like a heavy fog, casting a veil of uncertainty over the moment. You and Suguru exchanged a meaningful glance, both understanding the weight of Satoru's decision. Going south meant embracing the reunion, journeying together towards an uncertain but hopeful future. Going north meant bidding farewell once again, facing the prospect of separation with stoic resolve.

"Moving south," you begin, your gaze drifting towards the direction of the plane resting on the tarmac. You turn back to Satoru, a smile playing on your lips, though this one carries a hint of somberness. "Means you'll stay as you are."

Satoru takes in your words, his expression thoughtful as he absorbs their implications. Leaning against the airport bench, he looks at you and Suguru, the two people who make up his world, with a sense of resolve. "Here," he breathes out, his voice tinged with determination. "True to myself."

Suguru nods in understanding, his gaze shifting between you and Satoru. "But to go north…," he begins, his tone gentle yet firm. "You'll discover a new part of yourself. Another you."

Satoru's expression tightens slightly, the weight of his decision bearing down on him. "But without you," he adds, his voice heavy with unspoken regret. It's a realization he never wanted to voice, but one he knows he must confront. He isn't truly dead, and he can feel it as much as you can.

Your eyes soften as you meet Satoru's gaze, your palm instinctively resting on top of his hand in a gesture of comfort. "Just for now," you assure him, your voice filled with warmth and understanding. "It's not forever."

"We'll wait for you, until the next flight," Suguru chimes in, his grin conveying unwavering strength for the blue eyed sorcerer. Together, the three of you stand at the crossroads of possibility, each prepared to face the future with courage and determination, no matter which path Satoru chooses. “Even if everyone goes ahead, we’ll be here. Waiting for you.”

Satoru's eyes soften as he stands, his gaze shifting towards the north. With a determined nod, he takes a step forward, his eyes meeting yours with a depth of emotion that transcends words. Leaning in, he presses a gentle kiss on your hair, a silent gesture of gratitude and affection for all that you mean to him.

Satoru's warm smile illuminated his features as he turned to Suguru, a silent expression of gratitude and affection passing between them. With gentle tenderness, he leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on Suguru's cheek, a simple yet profound gesture of love and reassurance.

Suguru's eyes met Satoru's, a softness reflecting in their depths as they exchanged a silent conversation. It was a moment of quiet understanding, a wordless exchange that spoke volumes of their deep bond and unwavering commitment to each other.

In that moment, as you looked at them and they looked back at you, you felt a profound sense of reassurance. Their eyes held the promise of a brighter tomorrow, a testament to the resilience of the human spirit and the enduring power of love. It was as if they were whispering to you with the windows of their souls, assuring you that everything would be alright, no matter what challenges lay ahead.

As Satoru straightens, his resolve firm and his heart heavy with the weight of his decision, he meets your gaze one last time. In that fleeting moment, you share a silent understanding, a mutual promise to await his return and embrace whatever the future may hold. Suguru wraps his arms around you, grinning at Satoru.

With one final glance at the two of you. You urge him forward, your eyes swimming with a watery glaze. He smiles at you and whispers to you, to Suguru – ‘I love you’;

‘I know.’ Both you and Suguru whisper back.

As Gojo Satoru takes a deep breath, his gaze fixed towards the north, a sense of resolve washes over him. He knows not what awaits him on the path ahead, but he steps forward with unwavering courage and determination. The road may be shrouded in uncertainty, but he finds solace in the knowledge that the bonds of love, forged over years of companionship and camaraderie, will serve as his guiding light.

You and Suguru stand by, silent witnesses to Satoru's journey, your presence a source of strength and support. Though the time for your reunion may not yet have come, Satoru carries your wishes in his heart as he ventures forth into the unknown. He is determined to fulfill your desire for him to live a long and happy life, to carry on in your memory and honor your legacy.

But there are tasks still left unfinished, promises yet to be fulfilled. Satoru's thoughts turn to the future, to the responsibilities that await him. He must see to it that your final wishes are carried out, that you and Suguru find peace together. He must be there for Shoko, for Megumi, for his students who look up to him with admiration and respect. They still need him, relying on his guidance and wisdom to navigate the trials that lie ahead.

With each step he takes, Satoru embraces the uncertainty of the journey, knowing that with courage and determination, he will find his way home. And though the road may be long and fraught with challenges, he walks it with the assurance that love will light the way, leading him back to the warmth and comfort of your embrace, one day. But not yet. For now, he walks forward, his heart filled with hope and his spirit fortified by the knowledge that you and Suguru will always be with him, guiding him home.

It may take some time.

He’d be away from you.

But he knows he’ll return.

Three of you, together.

You’ll be happy together.

205 notes · View notes

whataperfectwasteoftime · 10 months ago

Text

Trigger Points

Pairing: Erotic Massage Therapist Ezra x f!reader (not romantic)

Rating: E (explicit smut, 18+ only)

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Medical kink, massage kink (is that a thing?), erotic massage, mentions of sexual dysfunction and difficulty orgasming, consent forms, the clinical is erotic now, power imbalance due to the masseur/patient dynamic, mentions of uhhh *checks notes* anal massage, lots of vaginal fingering I mean massaging, pelvic floor massaging but make it erotic, dubcon only in the sense that Ezra says orgasm is not the goal and then definitely deliberately gives her one anyway, g-spot orgasms, squirting, Penny gets on her soapbox at the end

Summary: Ezra is a massage therapist. What kind, you ask? Internal massage. That’s it that’s the fic.

A/N: I wrote this in twenty-four hours in a horny unhinged writing frenzy. Am I embarrassed that this came from my brain? Yes. Am I posting it anyway? Also yes. Thank you to @littlebirdsbookshelf for the beta (and all of the screaming) and to @leslie-lyman for egging on the medical kink that I definitely don't have.

Masterlist

You aren’t sure what you’re doing here.

This isn’t like you.

As you stare at the nondescript building–no sign, no name on the door–you think back to the seemingly random circumstances that brought you here.

The party you hadn’t wanted to go to.

The friend–acquaintance–who insisted.

The man with a distinctive blonde streak that kept lingering by the snack table and popping cocktail shrimp into his mouth with an enthusiasm that had made you look twice in wary amusement.

Like so many men, he’d taken your glance in his direction as an invitation to come over and start a conversation, but the resulting discussion was decidedly unlike any other man–or human–you’d come across.

Loquacious to the point of being humorous, the man–Ezra, he told you–was disarming and insightful. You opened up to him immediately; he seemed to have this uncanny ability to pull your life’s story from your lips, much to your surprise and chagrin. Did you really tell a strange man at a party that you’ve been from doctor to doctor, complaining of sexual pain and dysfunction, only to be given dismissive, unhelpful advice? Have a glass of wine, one said. Use different soap, said another. Make sure your laundry detergent is fragrance-free.

“I think I’m just built wrong,” you said bitterly, taking a sip from your wine glass. “Anyway, it’s fine. You didn’t sign up to listen to a stranger’s problems at some house party.”

“On the contrary,” Ezra replied mysteriously, raising one eyebrow as he regarded you with amusement. “I think our fortuitous meeting must have been arranged by the universe itself.”

Fishing his wallet out of his back pocket, he had handed you a business card that had only his first name–Ezra, no last name, and a phone number.

“I just happen to be a certified massage therapist, trained to assist with the very complaints of which you speak.”

“What kind of massage?” you’d asked, scrunching up your face in skepticism.

“Internal massage.”

You may have told him to fuck off then and there. You may have made your excuses and left the party in your embarrassment over having spilled your heart to a stranger with a questionable line of work, to say the very least.

…You may have called two weeks later to inquire about an appointment.

The woman who answered the phone in that same kind of warm, soothing tone that seems to be common in so many legitimate massage practices made you feel slightly less insane about calling. The lengthy consent form she emailed after hanging up, however, sent you spiraling again.

Extensive questions about sexual history, your beliefs about sex, your relationship to sex, your experience with pain, dysfunction, your sexuality, etc. Check boxes indicating your level of experience and comfort with a number of sexual acts and situations. And at the end, three check boxes asking whether you would like to be massaged vaginally, anally, or both.

A bell tinkles pleasantly when you open the door, and the scent of lavender fills your nose. Soft, soothing music plays from a hidden speaker somewhere, and one of those self-contained rock garden water fountains bubbles away in the corner of the brightly lit waiting room.

A woman behind the desk greets you–it must be the same one you’d spoken to on the phone–and checks you in. She walks you through what to expect during the appointment–first, you’ll meet with Ezra to discuss the consent form, then you’ll be asked to disrobe and lay on the massage table under a sheet. The type of care you’re given, she tells you, depends on what you put down on the consent form, which of course she hasn’t read, so she can’t tell you any specifics.

“But he specializes in women with sexual dysfunction?” you ask skeptically. It had said as much on the forms.

“Oh, yes,” the woman nods enthusiastically. “I know it’s an unusual service he provides, but Ezra is a professional, conscientious, and passionate about the work he does.”

You nod slowly, and she flashes you a warm, comforting smile before instructing you to sit anywhere.

You do, trying not to look too nervous as you wait.

Thankfully, you aren’t there for too long before a door opens, and Ezra softly calls your name.

Your nerves cause you to babble as you follow the man to the quiet, dimly-lit massage room. “Sorry I told you to fuck off,” you say. “That was pretty rude, and I’m sure it’s weird that I’m here now even though I clearly thought you were a pervert at the party, and–” you trail off, standing awkwardly beside the massage table as Ezra sits on a rolling stool.

“Now, now. Water under the bridge, I assure you, sprite. My profession is often met with skepticism at best and outright hostility at worst, but I let the testimonials speak for themselves. I assume you’ve read them?”

You nod, thinking back to the paragraphs of women saying they’d never known their bodies were capable of such pleasure before experiencing what they had called erotic massage.

“And I have read your consent form very carefully; I like to commit these things to heart, you see. Helps me do my job to the very best of my ability. Now, I did have a question about your very last answer: you made a checkmark indicating you were interested in vaginal massage only, but drew in a little question-mark next to anal massage.”

“I’m not sure yet,” you say, too quickly, jumbling the words together. “Depends on how… how…”

“How everything goes. Of course.” Ezra nods, making a quick note on your form. “I’ll consider you to be a vaginal-only patient for now, to be revisited at a later date if so desired.”

“Kay,” you squeak.

“Allright, let me give you a rundown of how this works. I’m not a sex worker; my job isn’t to make you orgasm. Like any massage therapist, my job is to find muscles that need to be worked out, and work them out. I just happen to specialize in muscles that other areas of practice typically ignore. This will involve both internal and external work–you might find that I might press on your lower abdomen, for example, with the other hand inside you. I always start slow with new patients; I’ll begin externally, massaging the entire pubic area and finding spots that might require extra attention. When you’re ready, we’ll move to an internal massage starting with one finger and seeing how many is most comfortable for you right now. Eventually, as we progress through your appointments, the goal is for the internal massage to involve two hands.

“Now, all that being said, the goal of these sessions might not be orgasm, but I want to let you know that it is normal and okay if that happens during your massage,” Ezra continues. “This is a safe space, and your comfort and pleasure is encouraged through this process. All of that seem hunky-dory?”

“Mmhmm,” you nod rapidly.

“Perfect. If you’re ready to get started, I’ll leave the room so you can get undressed. You can undress only from the waist down if you’re comfortable, or you can disrobe completely; the rest of you will be covered by the sheet, so it’s all down to what you prefer.”

Ezra leaves, the door clicking shut behind him, and you take a few moments to steady yourself before taking off only your pants and underwear. Grimacing at the awkwardness, you tuck the underwear into your jeans and place your shoes on top of both on the spare chair in the corner of the room. Then, you lie down under the sheet and wait.

Ezra taps lightly to herald his return before opening the door. “Good,” he says, seeing you laying stiffly on the massage table. “I’m going to check in many times during this first appointment especially,” he explains. “So much so that you may tire of it. You may simply say ‘good,’ when I ask how you are feeling, and I will continue. If you do not feel good at any point, I must ask that you say so. Sound okay?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now, this massage table is custom made for my area of practice specifically,” Ezra explains, reaching under the table and unfolding a pair of stirrups–the kind you’ve seen many times at the gynecologist–and you grimace.

“Ah, I know, most people on this table do not have the most positive memories associated with these,” Ezra tuts, “and if you aren’t sure about using these, we can simply rest your legs on either side of the table.”

“I think I’m okay,” you tell him, cautiously reaching your feet out until your legs are uncomfortably splayed open.

“You tell me if that changes.” Ezra sits down on the stool and rolls it over to sit at the front of the table. “I’m going to do the external massage with the sheet down,” he says. “No need for a cold breeze if it isn’t necessary, after all. As discussed before, I’m going to feel around the entire pubic area, finding anything that needs extra attention. If you’ve gotten a regular massage, you might notice that this one is much gentler; there won’t be any harsh poking or prodding, just light pressure and rubbing. If that’s all good, sprite, say the word and I’ll begin.”

“I’m good.”

“Very good. First, we’re going to warm up a little by touching your inner thighs. All muscles in this area are interconnected, so this will help soften things up as well.”

You keep your eyes closed and let out a slow breath through pursed lips as you feel Ezra’s large, warm hands slowly working out the tension in your thighs. The unfamiliar feeling of someone’s hands in such an intimate area is an odd one, at first, but you can’t help but slowly begin to relax as he works out the delicate muscles of the upper-most part of your legs.

“Checking in again, sprite, how are we feeling?”

“Good,” you answer, with a little more confidence this time. “It’s good.”

“Excellent,” Ezra praises. “If we’re feeling nice and comfortable about it, I’m going to start to move upward and inward. You’ll feel me touch your outer labia, your perineum, and your pubic bone as we move forward. How do we feel about that?”

“Nervous,” you admit, giggling awkwardly. “But good.”

“Of course, sprite, it’s normal to be nervous about an unfamiliar sensation. Always remember that you are able to say ‘stop’ at any time.”

At your nod, Ezra’s hands shift, his thumbs beginning to rub up and down the outside of your labia. He rubs little circles around the entire area, including–something that makes your entire body flush with heat immediately–the skin just above your little puckered hole.

“I know, I know,” Ezra soothes. “Just trying to get a complete picture here. We aren’t doing any internal massage in this area, but you may feel my fingers on the skin around it occasionally.”

“Okay,” you agree, nodding again.

“You’re doing so well, sprite. I’m going to stay external, but we’re going to start to examine a little deeper, does that sound okay? I’ll be rubbing your inner labia this time, spreading them apart to examine your vulva, urethra, and clitoris with my fingers. This is where it might start to feel pleasurable, or it could feel odd and uncomfortable as you become accustomed to this type of massage.”

“Yep,” you say, voice tight with anxiety again.

“I need a little bit more than that, sprite,” Ezra chastises. “Are you good to continue?”

“Yes. Good.”

“I can tell you’re nervous; why don’t you take a deep breath in for me for the count of five…” he counts slowly as you obey, “...and as you let it out slowly, you’re going to feel my hands move inward.”

The feel of Ezra running his slicked fingers up and down your inner labia doesn’t feel quite as uncomfortable as you’d feared. You’ve never been touched like this, or even touched yourself like this. It’s an exploration of sorts, collecting some data that means something only to him, perhaps. After a short time, he pulls you apart with his thumb and forefinger, spreading you open.

“I’m going to rub back and forth just on the surface level,” Ezra says, “You might feel my thumb press down on a few places to locate any areas to focus on later.”

You take more slow, even breaths as you feel his warm thumb move from your perineum to your clit, then back down again. In a few places, he presses down, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb as he locates some unknown source of tension.

“How well you're doing,” Ezra praises warmly. “I've definitely found some areas of tension that we can work on during your sessions. This isn't the end of the external massage, per se, as I'll still want to work on some of those spots, but this is where I start to add an internal component, if you're up to it. What are we thinking?”

“Yeah,” you agree. “I'm okay with that.”

“Good. As I explained before, I'm going to start very slow. I work with clients with a wide range of comfort levels and ability, and I'm not going to push anyone too far before they're ready. Not to be glib or reductive, but this is not dissimilar to a basic shoulder massage. I'll be working all along the muscles of your vaginal wall. We'll start with just one finger, and if that's comfortable for you, we'll see how it goes with two. I'm going to slowly slide one finger in, let you adjust to how that feels, and then I'll begin the massage on your right side, moving to the back, the left, and then the front, around in a little circle like so. At the same time I'll be gently pressing with my other hand so that I can get a feel for the muscles that are stiff, sore, or carry any tension. If at any point any sensation is unpleasant, please bring it to my attention immediately. In that event, I will stop and reassess. If that discomfort is the result of muscle or pelvic floor tension, we will slowly, slowly work through it without causing you any pain. Is all of this acceptable?”

“Yes.”

“And am I okay to begin your internal massage?”

“Yes.”

“Very good. Just as before, I'm going to spread open your labia nice and wide, only this time you are going to feel my finger slowly enter you. Once inside, we'll take a few deep breaths together, I'll ask if you are comfortable, and I'll begin the massage.”

As Ezra speaks, he does each action in turn. You feel your labia being parted, and then one slick, warm finger slips inside. It hits a bit of resistance when he passes your pelvic floor, but doesn't cause any pain. At his instruction, he guides you through three deep breaths as you become accustomed to the sensation.

“I'm going to begin moving now,” he announces. “Beginning on your left side.”

It's an odd feeling to adjust to, the way Ezra’s finger moves inside you. With his other hand pressing sometimes on your hip, sometimes at your side, you can feel him pressing against your wall in–true to his word–the same way one might massage a shoulder. This is just… very different. Or perhaps it's the same, and your brain only perceives it as such.

Despite the awkwardness of having someone rubbing such an intimate, deep, vulnerable part of your body, you can admit that something does feel good about this. Ezra is right, of course; there are muscles internally as well as externally, and you've never had yours attended to in such a way before.

Ezra’s finger rubs this way and that, covering all possible knots and tense spots on that particular side.

“Checking in, sprite,” he intones gently. “How does it feel?”

“Weird… but kinda good. I think I understand why you say it's just like a shoulder massage–I never really thought about having muscles there, but… I can feel them relaxing the same way they would as… as if it were my shoulder.”

“No physical difference between the two,” Ezra says, voicing your earlier thought. “Only up here do we make a distinction.” He taps the side of his head and gives you a sideways grin. “If we’re feeling pretty good with one, would you like to try adding one more? It all depends on your level of comfort, but it is easier to get at the muscles with two, rather than one. Would you like to try?”

The gentle loosening of the muscles you hadn't even known were tense is surprisingly soothing, so of course, you agree.

“You're doing so well at checking in with me,” Ezra says. “Take a nice deep breath for me, and we’ll switch to two fingers. Ready?”

You make a little noise of assent, and as you exhale, you feel the pressure inside you increase as Ezra slips another finger inside you.

“Doing good, sprite. I’m going to move to the muscles at the back of your vaginal walls now, which means my other hand is going to be pressing up on your lower back and buttocks. Is this fine?”

“That’s fine, yeah,” you nod, and at your consent, Ezra goes back to his steady, methodical working of your pelvic floor.

At this new angle, the sensations inside you are new and different from before. When he was massaging your left side, all you could really feel was the gentle push and pull as your muscles were soothed and relaxed. You can still feel the muscle tension easing away… but it’s very quickly being replaced by a different kind.

You try to focus on taking deep breaths in and out of your nose as Ezra seems to draw heat into your core with every stroke. You stop focusing on the relaxation entirely, instead concentrating every effort to not make any awkward noises that indicate how much your body is responding to his touch.

You really should have known better.

“Many people find that different areas of the vaginal wall can cause different kinds of sensations,” Ezra says quietly as he gently rubs small circles from within you while pressing just above your puckered hole. “The front vaginal wall, of course, has the tendency to produce the strongest impression because of what most people call the g-spot, but the rear wall is also very responsive. I want to remind you of what we discussed earlier; that you are welcome and encouraged to lean into those feelings. It is common for patients to come to orgasm multiple times during a session, and can be helpful for further muscle relaxation. All this to say, sprite, you don’t have to work to suppress the fact that this feels pleasurable. Of course it does. It’s far more advantageous for you to allow it to happen rather than spend the session working to rein it in. Understand?”

“Y-Yeah,” you nod, trying to sink back down onto the massage table again and stop fighting against your body’s automatic responses.

Even so, you don’t really believe you could orgasm from just this. Hell, you can barely orgasm during sex even when you use a vibrator. Your body’s need for intense, prolonged clitoral stimulation is simply a fact. A law, as immutable as gravity, and no amount of “internal massage” would ever have the same effect.

“If you ever do wish to revisit that last little question on the consent form, one type of treatment that can be incredibly effective is to massage the area in between, if you take my meaning,” Ezra comments lightly, as though discussing the weather. “It’s perfectly workable through what I’m doing now, of course, but even though I’m capturing the same general area, in my years of practice I’ve actually found that anal massage is an important component in achieving a comprehensive relaxation of all pelvic muscles.”

“Okay,” you say dumbly. His words–all the more impactful because of the detached clinical tone–combined with the constant pressure of his fingers, are creating a maelstrom of pleasure in your brain. You still aren’t sure if you’re “allowed” to find this entire situation to be incredibly erotic, but you worry you’ll soon have no choice, especially if your mind keeps conjuring up how it might feel to have both of Ezra’s hands rubbing something deep within you. How full you might feel.

“Nothing that needs to be discussed now or even in the near future, sprite,” he adds. “But just something to keep in the back of your mind as we progress through treatment.”

“Mm,” you agree. It’s–oh God, are you going to come? The pressure is building, building inside you, and even though there’s nothing touching your clit, it feels as though you might be reaching that point of no return. You make a soft, whining, desperate little sound as Ezra massages your vaginal wall with methodical precision.

“I know, I know,” he soothes in that syrupy voice of his. “Take a few deep breaths for me–I promise, it’s okay to let it go. Allow your body to do what it’s meant to do.” At this, he presses down even harder, and you gasp as you suddenly begin to clench around his fingers. Your chest heaves as you ride the waves of pleasure until they subside to a gentle ebb. Ezra remains still throughout it all, waiting patiently until you stop twitching with aftershocks.

“See? So much better when you listen to your body,” he praises. “Can you feel that? It causes your muscles to relax even further, so much more effectively than even I can manage. Feel the difference right here–” he rubs a wide circle up and down your wall, “–there’s so much less tension now, isn’t there?”

“Yeah,” you agree, still catching your breath.

“Let’s do a quick check-in before I move on,” Ezra suggests, “and while we do, I’d like to make a quick recommendation, if you are amenable.”

“That’s fine,” you answer.

“Give us a quick run-down of how you’re feeling,” he says. “Any pain? Discomfort?” When you shake your head, he continues. “How about mentally? Orgasm can make us feel vulnerable, and that’s perfectly okay, of course, but not if it leads to feeling uncomfortable or unsafe.”

“It still feels a little… strange, but I’m okay.”

“Ah, of course. Now, as far as my recommendation… Now that you’re far more relaxed, I think it might be helpful to switch to three fingers. How do you feel about that?”

You swallow. “It might feel like a lot,” you admit quietly.

“Indeed,” Ezra agrees. “As a general rule, the more fingers I am able to use, the more effective the massage. The ideal internal massage would be either with all four fingers on one hand, or a combination of three and two. If you’re feeling at all apprehensive about discomfort, however, I think it would be better to wait and see, yes?”

“Yes,” you nod gratefully.

“Moving on to your right side, sprite,” he says cheerfully. “Halfway there, and doing great.”

You can see what Ezra had been saying–you can feel that your walls are more pliant and moldable after your orgasm. However, it’s also made your nerves more sensitive to his touch, and the intense feeling of pleasure continues to flicker inside you with every gentle probe of his fingers.

You begin to float, losing track of time and simply focusing on the sensations within you. Ezra quiets down when he senses your more meditative state, and continues to massage with minimal commentary. When his thick fingers begin to move, pressing upward toward your abdomen, however, your breath catches and your hips lift of their own accord.

“My apologies, sprite. I should have warned you I was moving to the front wall before I did so, but you were in such a state of utter relaxation that I was loathe to speak up.”

“S’fine.”

“You may find this area to be the most intense in terms of sensation,” Ezra comments. “There’s a reason I usually save it for last.”

You make a slightly garbled, strained noise of assent as his other hand rubs gentle circles on your mons pubis while the other continues its deliberate path up and down your walls, soothing out all of the tension and finding some incredibly sensitive spots as it does.

Ezra pauses over one such area, and, in such exquisite torture that makes you actually cry out into the room, curls both fingers up to apply even more pressure.

“Ah, that,” he chuckles to himself. “That thing–the little area they call the ‘g-spot’–it’s not some mysterious, unique phenomenon, nor is it mythological. What they didn’t know at the time–and far too many people still are not aware–is that the clitoris is much larger than just the little bit that we see on the outside.” His fingers rub little circles, back and forth, up and down, massaging so meticulously that it feels almost ruthless. “Sooo many nerves in one relatively small place,” he murmurs. “Stimulating the clitoris is normally the most reliable way to acheive orgasm, and yet so little of it is accessible. But here–” he presses up again, and you gasp, “–here we are able to access the other end of the organ.”

You can hardly concentrate on the original goal of muscle relaxation with so much pressure on your g-spot (or, apparently, the back of your clitoris) but you can still feel Ezra dutifully and clinically working out the tension in your pelvic floor.

“Doing so well, sprite, so well. One nice, big, relaxing orgasm for me and then we’ll gently explore how the tension lessens afterward.”

Despite his insistence before your appointment that orgasm was not the goal of these sessions, you can’t help but notice Ezra appears to be guiding you towards one with masterful precision. With one hand applying light pressure on your abdomen and the other pressing upward to meet it, it feels as though he’s got the most sensitive organ of your body trapped between his fingers. He plays it like an instrument, each finger working independently to stroke different parts of the soft, spongy membrane.

Finally, finally, the pressure becomes so much that you simply seem to implode; all at once, you clamp down on Ezra’s fingers like a vice as your lower back lifts from the table. A feeling of pure, hot, wet relief surges through you, and the release feels endless, as though your body simply cannot stop pulsing and contracting. Dimly, you realize that it must be the ruthless stimulation from Ezra’s hands keeping you suspended in what feels like a never-ending orgasm. His fingers press upwards, rubbing quickly and insistently back and forth against the sensitive organ, and the movement draws more and more rhythmic clenches that seem to ripple across the entire area.

And–Oh, God–with each intense throb, little streams of fluid splash out over Ezra’s hand, and you realize with absolute mortification that the sheet, massage table, and Ezra’s white coat are already soaked with your release.

“Oh shit, I’m sorr–” you try to apologize as soon as you have the presence of mind.

“Now, now, not to worry, little sprite. Any manifestation of pleasure is welcomed and encouraged here, and I’ve been at this long enough to know that stimulating the back of the clitoris oftentimes results in strong and voluminous ejaculations…” You twitch with one last, pathetic aftershock, and Ezra soothingly rubs his fingers up and down your wall in the same way one might rub someone’s back after a long day. “But feel the difference, little sprite. Feel how supple and pliant your muscles are compared to before. This is the state we strive for, little sprite. Complete and utter relaxation. When you find yourself starting to tense up again–such is the consequence of the stressful lives we lead–I want you to call up this moment, and the way your pelvic muscles so easily move for my hand, and try to get back to this state. With enough practice on your own in between sessions, this will become easily achieved.

“I’m going to do a couple of nice, wide circles with my hand to stretch out those muscles one last time, and as I do, I’d like you to take some nice, deep, easy breaths with me. Once we get to five nice big breaths, I’ll slowly remove my hand. Does this sound good?”

“Yuh-huh,” you nod.

“Nice big inhale,” Ezra reminds you, and you dutifully suck in a deep, cleansing breath of air as you feel his hand circle around your vaginal walls, pressing deep into the muscle as he does. You repeat the action four more times, and on your very last exhale, the light feeling of pressure within you finally abates as his fingers slip out of you.

“How do you feel?”

“Pretty relaxed,” you say with a relieved laugh.

“Mentally?” he prods.

“I dunno, fine,” you shrug.

“Any feelings of vulnerability are normal,” he says as he stands from his stool and helps you guide your legs out of the stirrups and back onto the table under the sheet. “You may find that these feelings may be delayed by a few days, even, so be gentle with yourself for the next week or so. Light muscle soreness is also normal, in the same way it can occur after a normal massage. If at any time this light soreness transforms into pain, please do not hesitate to contact me.”

Ezra picks up your consent form again and scans it briefly before setting it back down and giving you a serious, thoughtful look. “You told me three weeks ago that you were ‘built wrong,’ and you mention several times in your form that you have difficulty bringing yourself to orgasm. Little sprite, I have lost count of the number of clients who have the same complaints and who have similarly insisted their bodies were simply different from ‘normal’ people’s. Now, mind you, the sample size may be biased, but from this data I can only conclude that no human being is ‘built wrong.’ The problem lies in our minds, and more specifically, in the social conditioning we’ve all received since birth–conditioning that in no way favors the female experience of pleasure. Society has failed you, has labeled your pleasure as secondary, illusive, impossible, or even imaginary. Your sessions with me will help to reverse the physical symptoms from a lifetime of unhelpful social conditioning, and now that you know your body is not only capable of experiencing pleasure, but of doing so in ways you weren’t even aware, your mind will follow.”

“Wow,” you breathe, awestruck by how different you feel. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

“I’ll leave you to get dressed, little sprite,” Ezra says, briefly patting your hand in a comforting manner. “When you’re ready, go ahead and open the door and I’ll walk you to the lobby to schedule your next appointment.”

#ezra #ezra prospect #ezra x you #ezra x reader #ezra x f!reader #pedro pascal #prospect fanfiction

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likeadevils · 10 months ago

Note

Any timeline news bestie?

actually yeah!! a good chunk of news that i need to officially type up and source, but if you want to just take me at my word that i’m not making up interviews:

@1989worldtour and @taylor-on-your-dash found an old interview where taylor says she wrote back to december in new york, meaning it was likely written in early/mid may 2010

in that same interview she also said she wrote mine while on tour, probably in texas (that’s her saying probably texas not me). which would put it march 10-12 2010. the thing that trips me up about that though is scott borchetta said she showed it to him in february, which isn’t a big time difference, but taylor left for the bahamas right after texas. i don’t know exactly what day she left, so it’s possible she flew from texas to nashville’s to the bahamas and recorded the first mine demo then, but unless she did that the next time she could be in nashville would be on the 21st, and the next time she’s in nashville for longer than a day would be march 29, both of which are pushing the february mix up. but no matter what taylor probably wrote it in early march, since all the dates in february were in australia and tokyo, which seem hard to mix up with texas.

in that same interview she said she started mean in her kitchen but then had to leave to go play a show. that could be whenever, but the only 2010 show she played without a show right before/after it was in baton rouge on may 29, where she had two days off before and after it, so speculation but better than the “idk sometime in spring?” that i had it under before

(side salad: you might be thinking claire, is that too many may 2010 songs? and if you’ve read the speak now timeline you might be thinking, but what about long live in the first week of june and the story of us in the second week of june? is that too many songs? and to that i’d say wow, thank you for paying so much attention. but, taylor does go into writing frenzies in the months right before she finishes an album, and she finished writing for speak now in june and recording for it in july, so like. it makes sense that there’d be a cluster right at the end)

nathan chapman, the guy who produced basically every song taylor recorded between 2006-2011, posted a couple photos from the speak now and red sessions! unfortunately we don’t know which song she was making in the speak now picture (my kingdom for speak now studio credits), but the one from red is likely girl at home— it is the only released song taylor made with him at his house after cutting her bangs and straightening her hair

and some super early tortured poets speculation— on october 17, post malone said he’d just hung out with taylor, and on october 20 deuxmoi said taylor had just been in LA working with a new producer. dm is normally absolute dogshit at getting information out of taylor’s camp, but idk about post malone/whatever producer’s side of things. so i’m putting a very shaky maybe on fortnight in october 2023

if anyone has an opportunity to enter electric lady studios please tell me if they have a tan couch in front of a dark wood background. i have crawled through their website and instagram and i can find no such couch but taylor and jack working in a non-electric lady/his house studio would be insane (EDIT JACK BUILT A NEW STUDIO IN LA AND THE PHOTOS I WAS TRYING TO TRACK DOWN WERE PROBABLY TAKEN THERE)

#asks*#timeline*

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sirena-de-lunas · 6 months ago

Text

so i wrote a bit of a drabble based on this (under the cut) don’t know if it’s worth continuing but it was fun to write a bit about it. let me know what y’all think!

also Penelope had brown eyes in the book and I decided to stick with that.

“Did Lord Debling propose?” The question leaves his mouth in a rush. His lungs and legs are burning from his mad dash to reach the carriage. His heart is hammering painfully against his chest - and yet, looking at her fills him with the oddest sense of relief. There she sits in all her glory with her shimmery pale blue gown — a vision that nearly sets his already racing heart into a frenzy. His throat is dry, his legs are shaking even as he sits across from her, and his hands are sweating. His thoughts are a blur but there she is. Penelope is in front of him.

Penelope who has been his friend since they were but children. Penelope - the one person he needs at every dance, every social gathering, every family gathering. Her sharp quips and witty remarks bringing the laughter that is full-bellied and makes his eyes prick with tears. Penelope who he always longs to keep safe from the Ton, Cressida, her Cousin Jack, her family, and bloody Whistledown. Penelope with her gentleness and quiet demeanor that always filled him with joy. Her small stature makes his arms ache. He remembers thinking too keenly it must be the same reaction he has with his sisters. The need to comfort and be of use is ingrained into his being, of course Penelope would trigger the same response of him. He wants to beat himself about the head thinking that now.

Like a sister, indeed. If he thought of any of his sisters in such a light he’d surely be hung. As it is he feels he is already at the gallows as he awaits her response. He stares at her and wants to curse at every moment that he has looked at her but refused to see her. Because to see Penelope is to love her and he was too much of a boy to understand that love could be this overwhelming. He thought it was instantaneous. He thought it was a moment in a letter where the transition lets one know a new topic is being discussed. He did not know he would not recognize love until it was on the verge of being ripped from his arms.

Love is Penelope, the girl who was always simply Pen. But he cannot — will not — say it is love for now. Not when she has spent three seasons in the marriage mart while he gallivanted across Europe like the prodigal son. Not when he has yet to know where her affections lie. Not when he has been a bumbling fool, nearly eloping with her cousin, bedding ladies of the night to fill the emptiness he never realized he never felt around her. It may be love, in fact he is sure it is, but he fears that to call it such so early would be to break its fragility. Love is precious and he must protect its foundation if he wishes for it to grow.

Penelope, the name that always comes naturally to his lips. His companion on his long travels who reminded him of home when the white shores of Greece felt too foreign. His favorite dance partner because her hand always seems to fit just right into his.

Penelope with her soft red curls and warm brown eyes. His Pen. She has always been his, long before he knew he was hers. His mother knew before he could gather the courage to admit it to himself. How could he have ever thought it could be anyone but Pen?

“What business is that of yours?” Her voice is sharp. He feels the ice in it and can barely contain his need to flinch. She has never spoken to him with such coldness, not even when she called him Mr. Bridgerton early in the season did her voice carry that level of chill. Her voice before had been covered in armor, her eyes full of tears, and the disappointment she felt at his callous words were clear for him to see. Now, her voice is devoid of emotion aside from indignation. Her eyebrows are high in confusion and her soft jaw is clenched tightly, drawing attention to the pale arch of her neck vein.

His heart continues to race though it is not from exertion so much as from her reaction. Her voice. It does not suit her. She is everything soft from her round cheeks and billowy lips to her gentle small hands and sloping shoulders. This Penelope is not one he is familiar with and it scares him. His heart refuses to calm and as he stares at her cheeks reddening in anger - his mouth opens without hesitation.

“I need to know.” Penelope, he wants to ask, can’t you hear my desperation? Can’t you see me becoming untethered to sanity every moment I do not say I want you to be mine? But he cannot run before establishing her attachment to that vegetarian. Does she love Debling? His heart feels to be at his throat at the mere question. It would serve him right if she did have some attachment to the bloke, Debling took a few weeks to see what it took Colin a lifetime to comprehend. Instead he finds himself near groveling as he asks in despair, “Did he propose?”

“It is odd,” her voice is steel against his heart. It is hard in place of its usual brightness and even though he will not say it is love that does it, he knows it is love that keeps him suspended on her every word. “When I asked for your help in finding a husband, I did not realize that also meant you might try to deny me one.”

“It is my business because I care about you.” He can say that without revealing his hand - can he not? He knows it is not duty that has him in such extremes but he must he careful. He will not push her. He knows her heart, even as she might hide it, and he does not want her pity. “You cannot marry that man. He will leave you,” he wants to cheer at his brilliant argument. Debling would be an absolute idiot to leave Penelope after just wedding. He imagines her alone in her marital bed, empty cold sheets as her only companion and he grows furious at the insult. Who could leave Pen?

Sweet Pen with her sweet lips and unrestrained whimpers, with her gently smoothed curls and ink stained fingers, with her chest heaving in the moonlight - who could be mad enough to not want her? His thoughts have him so distracted and heated he can hardly think of his next point “and he is too particular.” He can hear himself grasping at air as he says this. Benedict would have a jolly good laugh at how abysmal his point was. Anthony would be thanking the Lord that Colin did not have a passion for law. The man is too particular but that was hardly a vice. “And he is…,” Colin cannot hold it in any longer, “he is just not right for you, Pen.”

“He did,” she says. Her voice is low. Her smile is tight. He has spent years looking at Penelope Featherington’s face and he can categorize every smile, every grin, every smirk, every pout, and every frown and he can see the falsity of her gaiety in how her eyes do not catch the light. Her truest smiles shine when her eyes reflect the sun, the candles, the moon. The woman in front of him who he has known since childhood has no spark in her eye, she has a measured diplomacy in her straightened spine and cadence. “I have accepted Lord Debling’s proposal.”

And for a moment Colin wonders if this is how his father felt when the bee stung him. He cannot seem to get enough air and his eyes can only stare at her as he wills his lungs to expand. His fists cling to his breeches and he feels the burn as he tries to draw breath down his throat. He has drank rum that burned less. He has swallowed water that hurt less. He feels everything grow darker except for Pen. Her eyes are wide with concern - is that him making such god awful sounds? He thought it to be a wounded animal in the road crying out to be put out of his misery. He feels for his mouth and feels the tears he unknowingly began to shed. His lips are parted and sobs are raking through him in broken gasps. Where is the air?

“Colin, breathe,” Penelope whispers gently as she looks at him. “Breathe,” she stresses as she raises her petite hands in the air. She moves them up and down imitating the fluidity of a wave crashing onto the shore - it transports him to Grecian beaches and hot summers and fresh air. “Keep breathing.”

And because she wills it, he does. He feels his heart slowing, it is still fast but the pressure to search for air is gone. He supposes this is what it must feel like for his mother, to continue on breathing even as your heart begins to die.

“Why?” He does not recognize his voice. It is cracked, it is rough, and it is so beyond broken he worries he will never sound human again.

She looks at him. He watches as concern fades from her expression and indifference takes its place. He wonders if she has always been able to hide her feelings so easily. He wonders whether they are more alike than he initially thought.

“He understands my need for independence.” She gives a brief nod as if that were all that there was to such a decision. He can feel his tears flowing even as he grits his teeth in annoyance.

“That is hardly cause for marriage.”

penelope is a better woman than me, i would’ve lied and said i got engaged just to see if colin would cry

#bridgerton fanfiction #fanfic #polin fanfiction #Penelope x Colin fanfic #bridgerton season 3 #bridgerton season three

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writefightandflightclub · 4 years ago

Text

I see you (Din Djarin x GN reader)

Summary: Din is hurting, don’t look at him. No REALLY, DON’T LOOK AT HIM.

Genre: Angst / fluff + hurt / comfort.

Author’s note: This takes place after the events of Chapter 15, therefore SPOILERS if you keep reading!

Of course, I don’t know what will ACTUALLY happens in the rest of the series, but in this version, Din + Reader + Grogu are safe on a spaceship after Those Events Happened in Ch14, and after THAT happened on Moskar in Ch15 (reader was present on Moskar). Din is dealing with some trauma following That Event.

I wrote this in one go in a tired yet enthusiastic frenzy after watching. I didn’t want to spend ages on it... but I hope that it’s coherent and that you like it!

Warnings: nightmares, angst but it turns out okay. Final warning: spoilers for S2 esp. chapter 14 and 15. Meant to be GN but not sure if the Mando’a confuses that. Pls forgive.

GIF: a non-chapter-specific adorable GIF so that I’m not spewing spoilers onto my dash. By @calsblueponcho

You hear him stir again. For the third night in a row.

You hear his groans start to build from within the cot opposite you - the sound wrung from his chest and strangled in his throat. You hear him thrashing, limbs and elbows and whatever part of him clunking against the walls of the narrow sleep space, the sounds tinny from within his metal box; like usual.

Metal between you and him.

Finally, you hear the shush of the door as he clambers out of bed, and you hear ragged breaths sawing in and out of him. You hear the weight of his blankets pool on to the floor as he throws them off with a grunt, and his bare feet making contact with the metal floor.

Now, his sounds are not tinny. They are organic. There are no layers of metal between you any longer. Now, only the darkness separates you from him. Only the darkness separates him from the knowledge you hold; that he is afraid.

You hold still. You stay quiet, as Din completes his now nightly ritual - as if the man needed any more rituals. Your heart breaks for him.

Each night now, he awakes in fear, and he throws off his blankets. You have no doubt that if you scooped them from the floor they would be warm and damp with sweat - the whole space is tinged with the odour of roused panic. Each night now, he shuffles hastily towards the foundling’s pram to see for himself that Grogu is safe and here, with him. As usual -you expect- the small child is sleeping soundly, despite what he has been through. Perhaps because of it. He knows now that no matter what happens, his father will keep him safe.

Each night now, as you lie in the dark, pretending to be asleep after his distress has awoken you, Din hovers over your bed for a moment, drawing in a gasp of a breath as if he might speak or plead for help; however, each night it is the same, and no words ever come. Each night he then breaks free of this hot, enclosing space and his suffocating sleep, and you hear his footsteps recede, heading in the direction of the cool, more open cockpit.

This time, though, when he tugs in a breath to speak, you do not pretend to be asleep.This man does not need any more rituals which hurt him, you think. You will help him to break this one.

“Din,” you breathe softly, turning your body towards where he stands, even though you cannot see him. Only because you cannot see him. There is no metal between him now, and you are determined not to look.

Although he stays silent, you can guess at the tension in him. You can sense his stillness and hear his short, sharp breaths. If he was armoured, his pain would be sounding out. Gloves creaking around his balling fists, his clunky boots tapping agitatedly on the floor. Unarmoured, his pain is in stealth mode. Unarmoured, he is entirely more vulnerable to it. You imagine him stripped down -in all ways, unprotected- and your heart breaks for him.

You desperately want to lay your body over him; become his armour.

Din had almost lost it all, and even after what he had gotten back, he had still lost too much to bear.

He had done it all for the child.

It had been worth it.

But that didn’t mean it wasn’t heavy to bear.

He still doesn’t speak, his pain in stealth mode, and so, you shift and swivel on your cot until you are sitting on the edge of it.

“Din,” you repeat, and your hand somehow finds his in the dark, your eyes deciphering the shifting shadows enough to reach for him, and immediately his fingers close tightly around yours, as if they had been searching for a hand to hold.

His hand is clammy, slick with panic.

“Did you have a nightmare?” You ask, not even venturing your gaze up towards his shrouded face, out of respect.You have nothing but respect for him.

“Yes,” he states, and even with one word his voice cuts through the dark and splits your chest like you have been struck with a spear of beskar. Because of the pain in it, yes. But also because there are no layers between you. No vocoder. No metal. His voice is warm and deep and robust like this, and it splits you apart. “Sorry. If I woke you.”

His fingers grip yours a little more tightly, but before you can return the favour, he quickly snatches his hand away. “Try and go back to sleep.”

“I couldn’t sleep anyway,” you lie. “Would you like some root tea? Maybe we can have a cup and both of us can try again.”

If Din finds you out in this lie he doesn’t let on. You’re a bad liar, and he’s a good judge of truth, so you suppose he can make whatever decision he pleases, this way. But, he merely makes a gruff sound of agreement. “I’ll get my helmet,” he states, and yet you find his hand again and give a gentle tug to stop him.

“It’s okay. Go sit in the cockpit, keep it dark. I’ll make some tea for us, and I won’t look.”

There is a beat, and then he makes another gruff sound of agreement before turning on his heels, efficiently swivelling towards the front of the ship.

You stand, and you take a moment to still the racing of your heart. You take your own gasp of air. You feel the pounding in your chest at this morsel of skin on skin. Your hand in his.

You exhale a long breath, and slowly, quietly, so as not to wake the child, you slip through the darkened ship until you reach the cramped ration store, heating and brewing some tea under a dimmed and hazy cooklight.

You hurry, as all you can think of is Din alone and unprotected, and how much you wish to guard his heart.

When you reach the cockpit, you enter with your eyes down, averted, looking anywhere but at him, and then you enter, a cup of sweet sleep tea in each hand. You can make out his silhouette in your periphery, and, silently, you slot yourself into the co-pilot’s seat beside him, extending the tea for him to take. His fingertips brush yours as he takes it, and you almost jolt and spill the contents.

You calm your breath again, and you allow the darkness to settle around you, a barrier between you and him. The only barrier between you and him, you can’t help but think.

“Thank you,” the Mandalorian states after a moment, his tone dull.

“Don’t thank me until you’ve tasted it,” you warn with a gentle attempt at a smile. “Couldn’t really see what I was doing.”

“No,” Din says, and this time, his hand finds yours in the dark, where it rests on the arm of the co-pilot’s seat.

There goes your heart pounding again.

“I mean... Thank you for looking out for me. And Grogu.”

Oh.

What else would you possibly do?

“Of course, Din, you’re my...” you cut yourself off before you complete the thought. Din is not your family. You’re not his riddur. Grogu is not your child. Even though that’s how it feels. Even though that’s what you want. “You’d do the same for me,” you say, reeling yourself in. That doesn’t sound quite right either, you fluster. To a bounty hunter that must sound transactional. Like he owes you a debt now.

You’re getting it all wrong.

And all you want to do is comfort him. Protect him.

“Din...?” you ask softly, your eyes fixed straight ahead, not looking at him, even though you are desperate to. Even though from the shapes in your periphery, and from the direction of his voice you can tell his head is angled towards you. Even though you feel like he is staring intently at you. Like he sees you, even in the dark.

“Yeah?”

A heat rises in you and you snatch your fingers away from his. Your hand had become clammy. Instead of this heat, you take a sip of your hot tea, both hands wrapped around the ceramic, earthenware vessel.

“You know,” you say, unsure why your voice is shaking. “It might help to talk about it, the nightmare... if you’d like to.”

You hope you haven’t overstepped. Din hasn’t had anyone to open to for a long-time before you, and you know he may not want to- however, he surprises you.

“I feel selfish,” he states, his words coming to you immediately and freely as if he had been waiting for a kind ear to listen.

“What in the stars..?!” you exclaim, in a shocked whisper, your eyes intent on the night sky through the transparisteel as you summon the stars in your setiment. “You’re the least selfish person I’ve ever met, Din.”

He emits another gruff sound, but this time it is not in agreement.

His pain...

Sweet man.

You are desperate to turn your head towards him in this moment, but you never would. You would not look.

“I keep having this nightmare, as if it’s the worst thing,” Din continues, and you recognise guilt in his tone. “And it’s not about Grogu. It’s not about you and the child and keeping you both safe.”

Your heart thrums again, from the fact he mentions you and the child in the same breath; mentions you alongside his everything.

“What is it about?” you ask gently, your voice barely above a whisper.

Beside you, you hear Din take a long sip of tea, and you don’t rush his words. You have all the time in the world for him.

“It’s... about my face,” he says solemnly, and even the mere mention of his face has your heart unsure whether it is breaking or racing.

You had known this would take a toll on him. You knew that having to show his face on Morak; to you, to the Imperials, to Mayfield, would haunt him. For a long time. You had tried not to look. You hadn’t looked. And yet, you had still seen him. You had seen him, only for a moment, before you could avert your eyes - hard as it was to look away.

That moment, though, was long enough to burn the image of him like a brand behind your eyes. His hawkish nose, his brown mop of grizzled hair...

Brown eyes.

Brown eyes as kind as his soul.

He was beautiful, exactly as he was to you already. Exactly as he had been to you before you ever had a hint of what he looked like.

Still, as much as you fell in love with his face the instant you saw it, exactly like you fell in love with his soul the instant you knew it, you wished you could take that moment back. You didn’t want it; not like this. It felt like a violation to even look at him, so can’t imagine how violating it must have felt to be seen.

No wonder he was having nightmares.

Your heart was in pieces for him. How in the stars could he feel he was selfish? It wasn’t as though he needed to prove his love for Grogu, when he had done that to get him back. When he had given everything he held dear.

“I let the kid get taken. I barely got him back alive. You back alive. And I’m dreaming about showing my face. I should be worrying about him. Not myself.”

Only this man could think himself selfish for experiencing a trauma, you could swear.

“It was a trauma, Din,” you state sensitively. “It makes sense that you would have nightmares about it. And... maybe,” you muse. “Do you think it’s possible... you’re not dreaming about the kid because you know he’s safe now? You know he’s back home and we can protect him. But the thing plaguing you... is something that was taken from you. Something you can’t get back?”

You’ve thought about this. You’ve had time to think about every single thing which might have been bothering him and how you might fix it, these past nights. That has become your ritual. To care for him. To notice when he holds Grogu a little tighter, becomes more reluctant to let go of his hand. When he grumbles about the specs of this ship, compared to the Crest. When he waits extra late, until it’s extra dark to remove his helmet these days. When he wakes in the night thrashing and gasping for air.

You can’t change what happened, but you hope you can be there as he heals from it.

Din doesn’t respond rightaway, but he takes a sip of his tea, mulling your words over.

“Do you want to talk more about it?” you ask gently. “About what happened?”

And, Din eventually begins, in a deep, empty rumble, sounding like an engine low on fuel. “They scanned me,” he says, and you can tell from the change in his voice that he has turned away from you - is now looking down at the floor. In your periphery you see his figure hunched over, head hung like a bird.

You want to reach out for him, but you don’t. Not yet.

“It wasn’t only showing my face to them, to you,” he begins, and you have a bitter taste in your mouth not only from his trauma but also from the fact you were any part of it. “They scanned me. My face is in their system. My face is everywhere. In every imperial back-up, all across the galaxy. Not only did I violate the code, but my violation is infinite, eternal. They have my face.” Your face twists in agony on his behalf as he speaks. “You know, I keep waking up, in a panic. Like I did when Grogu was taken... except this time it’s me they stole. They really did steal all of me. I’m not fit to call myself a Mandalorian.”

Tentatively, you do reach out your hand to him now, and you set it on to his shoulder, feeling the subtle heat of his skin through the thin, still damp fabric. You rub small circles there, hoping you can soothe him even a tiny amount. You let his heavy words sink in, before you speak.

“Din, I’m so sorry this happened to you,” you soothe. “I know I can’t fix it. I wish I could. But you should know, that it’s okay to feel this way, and I’m here -and so is Grogu- and we’ll help you however we can.” You suck your lips in between your teeth as he is unresponsive, wondering whether to go on. You decide you must. That he must hear this. “And, Din,” you say, through a watery smile. “I hope it’s not inappropriate to say- you know The Way better than I ever can- but, it seems to me, from what you tell me, that being a Mandalorian isn’t any one thing. It’s strength, and honour, and loyalty. And if it’s those things too, then, Din, you’re the most Mandalorian person I’ve ever met.”

Beneath your hand, your feel Din’s chest stutter and he takes a shaky, volatile breath in and out. You wonder if he is crying.

“Cyar'ika” he says softly, after a few moments. “How do you always make me feel a little better? A little safer?”

Your heart pounds. He called you darling.

“It’s just the tea,” you dismiss, through brimming tears of joy. It is all you want. All you want to protect this sweet man.

“It’s not,” he states painly. “The tea’s awful,” he says, and this time, his hand clamps over yours on his shoulder. His chest shakes again, but this time it is with a gentle, shaky laugh. The kind of throaty, beautiful chuckle which sounds out of him when Grogu plays with the silver ball of the flight control.

Yes, he settles his hand on top of yours, but, this time, neither of you snatch your hands away. His laugh subsides, until it dissipates into the space between you, warming the room a little.

“There is one more thing I’d like to talk about,” Din says, his voice cracking.

Softly, you invite him to continue with a squeeze of his shoulder.

“You saw me,” he says, gently, and you can tell his gaze has turned back to you, head pointed where he’s looking. You feel his eyes on you.

Brown eyes.

Now that you know what they look like, it is all the harder to avert your gaze.

You did. You saw him.

“I’m sorry,” you state, voice brittle, and your heart breaking, tears tipping from your eyes. “I wish I hadn’t. I wasn’t looking.”

Just like now. You won’t look.

“Yes, I know. But you saw me. You always see me,” he states, his voice warm and revving like an engine suddenly full with fuel. You shake your head softly in confusion, unsure where he is going with this, syllables stuttering out of you. Luckily, Din picks up the slack. “I hoped you would see me for the first time as my riddur, but, now that you have already... what do you think? Is mine a face you could live with?”

Your heart is pounding faster now. It is definitely racing, and no longer breaking.

As his riddur? He meant to marry you? Means to, still? Your brimming tears spill over on to your cheeks.

And, this time, you turn toward each other, even though your gaze is cast down. Not looking. His eyes very much fixed on you- on whatever he can make out in this shadow.

You think that having such kind, brown eyes fall on you is a blessing.

“Din,” you start, your voice full and bowed with emotion. “Yours is a face I loved before I ever saw it. Loved when I saw it. Will love if even if I never see it again, and would love if I looked at nothing else but into your eyes for the rest of my life. Your face is as beautiful as your soul, and I never needed to look at you to see you.”

“Cyar’ika,” he whispers softly, scooping up your hand and bringing it to rest on his cheek.

An impossibly joyous smile splits your face as you feel the texture of his skin and the scruff of his beard against your fingers. Finally. As you feel his own face crease into a smile in return, his cheek appling beneath your touch. You are overwhelmed by the trust he must place in you, to sit with you like this.

“Do you mean it, Din?” you ask, scarcely believing it. “You want to be a family?”

This time, Din’s voice does not come to you from behind metal - behind beskar. It is close. It is unfettered. You feel his warm, sweet breath on your face as his joyful, certain words filter out of him. “We’re already a family. You and me and the kid. I’m never letting anything take you away from me.”

You believe him.

You smooth the pads of your finger over his face and he reaches out to cup your cheek too, feeling the tracks of your tears beneath his touch. With his broad hands, skin-on-skin, Din pulls you into him, and your lips find his immediately, his tongue delving eagerly into you as if he has been waiting for a mouth to kiss.

Din has been waiting for a long time, perhaps. Waiting for you to complete his family - officially. But he’s never had to wait to love you. He already did that, long ago. From the first time he saw you, in fact. You had a face as beautiful as your soul, and he knew you were the one for him.

You close your eyes, feeling overwhelmed by happiness. You do not look at him; your Mando. You don’t even try to, but you don’t need to look to see him.

Still, you if you get the chance to look again, you think it will be a blessing to gaze into those brown eyes.

Those brown eyes as kind as his soul, and full of love, instead of fear.

#din djarin x reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal #the mandalorian spoilers #mandalorian spoilers #grogu #mando s2

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starilicious · 3 years ago

Text

ishq wala love (echo x gn!reader)

》 summary: reader comforts an insecure echo after the end of tbb episode 4 "cornered" about having mechanical parts as part of his body.

》 word count: ~2.2k

click here to read on AO3

》 warnings: slight sensory overload, mild panic attack (i think it could be classified as relatively vague in regards to the description), insecure echo about his body, a teensy bit of in universe swearing, lots of flufffff and a dash of angst here and there, no use of y/n [if i should add more warnings, please let me know!]

》 spoilers: extremely mild ones from tbb episode 4 "cornered"

》 a/n: hello! this is my first tbb fic, so i really hope i do the show, the characters, and the fandom justice hehe ^_^ over the past few days, i've become obsessed with tbb fics, particularly the echo x reader ones bc my GOODNESS this man is such a soft bean who deserves all the love in the galaxy. as a result, please enjoy this sleep-deprived frenzy of a fic that i wrote at 1 am and let me know your thoughts! :)

》 misc. notes:

• title of the fic is from the hindi song "ishq wala love" from the film student of the year. i've linked the song (in blue) with some pretty good english translations in case you would like to take a listen, but it isn't necessary for the fic–i just thought it fit well!

• i kind of got way too invested in building up the environment at the beginning, so apologies if it seems like a slow start! i just had to indulge in having the other characters there too <3

• please ignore the inaccuracies of the havoc marauder. i don't really know what the ship looks like, especially the living quarters, so i unintentionally ended up using the ghost from swr to guide my writing for that part.

• what the reader says at the end about the word in love in her native language is true. the language i'm referring to here is hindi, and we have several different words for love. in my very humble opinion, i think it’s one of the many characteristics of the language that makes hindi so sweet-sounding and poetic :)

• THANK YOU FOR 100 NOTES OMG AHHH YOU ALL ARE TRULY AMAZING 😭<333 (7/1/2021)

After Tech piloted the Bad Batch away from Pantora and safely entered hyperspace, you all decided to turn in to get some rest–or at least attempt to. With the bounty hunter scare, you and the boys figured it would be best to discuss what to do tomorrow morning, for Omega’s sake.

You tucked Omega in with her doll and offered her a comforting smile. “Don’t worry ‘Meg,” you said softly, running a gentle hand through her cropped blonde hair. “You’ll be safe, I promise. You’re stuck with us for life.”

Omega smiled sleepily at your teasing and held her arms out for a hug, one which you gladly indulge. “Sweet dreams, love,” you murmur as you let go. You shut off the lamp in her makeshift room and closed the curtains as you climbed down the ladder.

You turned around to find Hunter looking at you from his seat in front of the blinking controls. You raised an eyebrow as you plopped down in front of him unceremoniously, the exhaustion of the action-packed day catching up to you.

"You're good with her," he murmured as you both glanced at the light beige divider and you shrugged in response.

"Just looking out for her. Besides, you're not so bad yourself. She mimics your every move," you grinned. Hunter chuckled fondly as he recalled the memory where they were all stuck in the Kaminoan prison cell and Omega copied his every gesture.

The two of you lapsed in a comfortable silence as you mulled over the day's events, the hum of the ship thrumming beneath your feet.

"We'll be okay. It's tiring and difficult and none of us know how to raise a child, but we'll be okay," you said, breaking the quiet with optimism. You placed a hand on Hunter's shoulder and smiled. "Crosshair will be okay too. Have faith."

Hunter sighed but nodded in agreement as he put his hand over yours. "Goodnight," he said as he stood up, stretching his muscles.

"Sleep well."

You sat at the small table for a few more minutes to think before standing up yourself. You quickly checked in on Tech in the cockpit since he was on watch, and he immediately shooed you away, insisting you get some sleep. You had a feeling he only did so to optimize the ship in peace without distractions.

Nevertheless, you obliged and left him alone. Walking to the back of the ship, you completed your rounds. Wrecker was snoring loudly and you stifled a laugh. At least he was sleeping well–it was all you could ask for really. But frankly, you had no idea how Crosshair was ever able to sleep through it. Thinking about him and seeing his empty bunk made your heart pang in loss, but you were as determined as the rest of them to somehow bring him back. You had to.

You opened the door to Hunter and Tech’s shared room to find Hunter already sleeping soundly and you quickly left. With his enhanced senses, he was already a light sleeper, and compounded with his responsibilities as a leader, he rarely got any rest. You worried for him.

Last stop was your and Echo's room. You stepped in to find the light still on. Echo was sitting on the floor in front of your bunk, staring at the ground.

"Hey there handsome," you joked lightly in an attempt to get his attention and mask your unease. Echo usually only came near your bunk when something was wrong and after everything that happened today, it was safe to say you were concerned.

Echo didn't respond. Did he hear me? You make your way over to your lover and sit down in front of him. You place your hands on top of his.

"Echo, honey?" You said softly and finally finally he looked up at you. Your heart dropped into your stomach.

"Oh, darling," you breathed and you moved to his side to envelop him into a hug, his head resting comfortably in the crook of your neck. You didn’t say anything more–you saw the deep pain swirling in his eyes, the grief, the loss. The anger. You let Echo take the lead; you knew how difficult it was to wrangle raging thoughts and muster them into words.

You didn’t know how much time passed of you two sitting on the floor, breathing each other in before Echo spoke.

“Today… when we went on the supply run, I was dressed as a droid.”

You bit your lip, knowing exactly where this was going. But you didn’t interrupt, letting him continue. Your thumb rubbed absentmindedly on his arm as you listened.

“That vendor we were talking to wouldn't take what we had. And then he saw me,” Echo took a deep breath. You stayed quiet, holding his hand in a manner that you hoped soothed his anxieties at least a little bit.

“Hunter sold me as a droid to him. I-I know he doesn’t see me as a droid. I know that. But–” Echo’s voice cracked. He cleared his throat of the emotion building up. Echo didn’t know how to express what he wanted to say. He didn’t even want to speak it aloud–that would make it feel too real. And Echo severely doubted he could handle the heartbreak. Can I do this?

“Cyar’ika,” he murmured and you hummed in response. Echo pulled away from you, his hand still in yours. Now or never. “I need you to be completely, absolutely, 100% honest with me,” he whispered. Echo steeled his expression, doing his best to hide how terrified he truly was.

You nodded because of course you would be. When were you not?

But the way Echo gazed at you threw you off. Something was wrong, very wrong. You were almost scared of what he would say next, but you made a gesture for him to say what was on his mind. Clearly, this was important.

“Do you really want to be with me when I’m just–” Echo struggled with the last few words and you strained to pick them up with how they caught in his throat. “–a pathetic, disgusting, hybrid machine?” It’s out, I said it. I said it. Echo felt like he couldn’t breathe, the pressure on his chest too much, too much. He stared down at the floor, face flooded with shame.

You stared at him in blatant disbelief, eyebrows furrowed and mouth open from a shocked laugh. No no no Echo. You’re nothing of the sort. You didn’t move. Echo’s breath hitched as he looked back up at you, broken and open and raw.

“Don’t lie, please don’t lie to me. I know there's no way you could ever love me when I… when I look like this,” Echo whispered, but he may as well have shouted with the way the blood was rushing through your ears.

And then something in you snapped.

You removed your hands from his and placed them on his cheeks, pulling him in until your foreheads were touching. “Echo, you need to listen to me,” you instructed and heaved a breath as you tried to sort your own rushing thoughts into articulated words. But the effort was futile as your careful speech turned into a haphazard and passionate stream of consciousness.

His eyes glistened with unshed tears and your heart broke into pieces. Echo gave you all of his attention. What are you going to say? He didn’t want you to agree, but he would understand if you did. Echo felt disgusted with himself. The walls were closing in on him. Breathing was getting harder.

“You are the best damn thing that has ever happened to me. I don’t give one flying banthashit about any of your mechanical parts. If anyone ever says anything about them, they’re di’kuts and you can send them my way because I will not hesitate to punch some sense into them,” you spat with pure determination, not even noticing the Mando’a slip. After being surrounded by clones for so long, you absorbed bits and pieces of the language. You didn’t even register how Echo picked up on the word, much too focused on getting your point across. You were a person on a mission and nothing would stand in your way.

The knot in Echo’s stomach was loosening a bit, the storm in his mind beginning to break. The walls were a bit farther from him. He wasn’t drowning in his own presence anymore.

“Because you know what? You’re still my Echo. You’re a man, my dear. Not a machine. You never were, and never will be. These parts?” you gestured to his scomp link, his legs, the cybernetic implant in his head. “They mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. Don’t focus on them.”

You smiled sadly as you rubbed your thumbs gently on his cheeks. “I fell in love with you, Echo, not your body. I love the way you make me laugh, the way you comfort me, the way you cry with me. As much as I kriffing hate that you have been through so much pain because of those damned Separatists, I’m grateful for the fact that I’m in love with a man who would do anything for his family, for his brothers.”

A tear slipped down your cheek as you remembered Fives coming back home from the Citadel but no Echo in sight. You would never admit it to anyone, but you swore a piece of you had died that day.

Echo felt like he was going to cry. The pressure that had been building up in his chest was releasing. He could breathe again, slowly, slowly. His only focus was you, was your words. The artificial lights didn’t seem to be as glaring now. They were softer, calmer.

“Echo, my love, even through it all, you not only survived, but you came out on top, victorious,” you paused, briefly overcome with how much love and gratitude you had for this wonderful man. “You came back to me, Echo, and you’re as handsome as ever. I have never stopped loving you, and never will. Don’t you ever forget that darling.”

Echo drew in a shaky breath. The harsh cold of the floor grates was biting into his skin, but he didn’t care. It grounded him as much as your warm touch on his face. He could breathe again. My cyar’ika.

Your fiery and passionate emotional speech came to an end as you stared into your lover’s eyes. There was so much more you could say, but you feared words would not be able to convey it all. You hoped your eyes would be enough to soothe his pained and tired soul.

Silent tears trailed down Echo’s face and you gently brushed them away as you pulled him into a tight hug. It was all you could do to not cry yourself. Echo was always so strong–you admired him for it.

“Thank you,” he whispered, voice thick with appreciation and love. You didn’t say anything. There was no need to. The charged air between you both was enough. The two of you sat in a comfortable silence on the floor of the Havoc Marauder, deep in your own thoughts.

“Ishq wala love,” you muttered fondly after some time, still caught up in your own mind.

“Hm?” Echo questioned, curious as to what you said. The soft sound gently pulled you out of the clouds and back to the man in your arms as you attempted to explain.

“There’s a phrase in my native language, ishq wala love. You see, in Basic, there’s just one word for love, which is love. But back home, we have several different words for love, each with their own subtle, but distinct meaning,” you blew out a breath as you tried to figure out what to say. Echo was hanging on to your every word.

“There’s… there isn’t really a direct translation, but the best I can come up with is that the love that we have, ishq, is much deeper than just romantic love. It’s deep and strong and pure and unyielding. It–it reminded me of us,” you admitted, a bit sheepish. Your fingers dance along Echo’s scomp link, nervous.

Echo took a moment to process your explanation before smiling. You felt your heart stitch itself back together again after seeing that beautiful smile. You would do anything to keep it on his lovely face.

“Ishq wala love,” he echoed, his pronunciation a bit off. You giggled in response. “Close enough,” you teased and Echo simply beamed. You leaned in and planted a chaste kiss on his soft lips, rubbing his metal arm gently.

Echo stood up then, offering a hand to you to help you up. You took it and he led you over to the bunk you shared together. You both quickly climbed in, relaxing in the warmth of the well worn blankets and the other’s presence.

Your head was near his chest and you could hear the soothing dull sound of his steady heartbeat. Your arm curled over his waist protectively and your head rested comfortably on his flesh arm. Echo shut off the light and you were ensconced in black velvety darkness.

“Goodnight, cyar’ika.”

“Sweet dreams, Echo. I’ll be here, waiting for you.”

please consider reblogging! it really helps me and is super encouraging ^_^

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bump1nthen1ght · 4 years ago

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Thicker than Water (Demon x Reader) Chapter 1

Pairing: Female Reader x Gender Fluid! Demon

Genre: High Fantasy

Warnings: Arm Injuries, Several mentions of blood

Word Count: 1870 Words

Summary: A summoning gone awry ends up in your favor

Chapter 2

A/N: Alright, I know I literally just posted a demon story but this post showed up on my dash and my god if I have never been more inspired to write a fic. I legit wrote this in 2 hours in a frenzy. Also I plan this story to be multi-chap, but still rather short, so maybe 3 parts in total

Before that night, you had never known what nearly-passing out felt like.

Your mother had done it, once or twice, usually after a particularly stressful day at the shop. If you didn’t check on her between your studies she may forget to eat entirely, your father as well. But you had been lucky; Someone had always been there to catch her, to cradle her head and spoon-feed her strength back.

On the forest floor, surrounded by the smell of your own blood, you have no such luxury.

The black spots flickering in your vision blend into the desne canopy above you and your tears only muddle your sight. The iron and copper of the summoning circle drawn around you drown out the scent of fresh pine and grass, while your ears can only focus on your own heartbeat and the bickering of the four boys.

Oh, that’s right, they’re still here.

It seems you had lost more fluid than you realized, probably because of your incessant crying. You had tried to stop the flow, but your brain was losing coherent function with every second. The boys conversation sounds far away and hollow, bouncing off your eardrums and confusing your sense of direction

“You idiot, I told you not to go for the arm!”

“We needed a lot of blood!”

“But she needs to read the ritual dumbass! She can’t if she dies!”

Ah yes, the ritual, it all is flooding back to you now.

Having received a private education from your father at your family’s apothecary, you were already prone to isolation as a child. It didn’t help having no siblings, nor a lacking natural talent for friend-making. Although you had lived in the city all your life, the young people your age knew very little about you, and you them.

You knew they had rumors about you, The daughter the apothecary hides away; That your gaze can turn people to stone, that you can curse and poison people with a couple words and the right ingredients.

The truth was you weren’t so glamorous. You knew your way around a medicine cabinet, sure, but nothing about poisons or magic spells. You didn’t have any special abilities to compensate or explain your reluctance for socialization. Just some overprotective parents and a shy disposition.

So when the handsome postmasters-son began to pay you special visits, you let your guard down. You let him walk you to and from the market, memorizing your weekend route. You let him in for a bit of tea late at night, especially when it seemed so cold, and told him where the spare key was kept. And yes, you even told him about your favorite secluded spot in the forest, where the sounds of civilization were far away, where you could be alone.

And here, in these last moments of your life, you can’t help but feel so naive.

“Hey, hey!”

A boot taps your cheek, shaking you out of your revelry. Your glassy eyes look over to your right.

It’s one of the local merchant’s boys, you think his name is Nicholas? It doesn’t really matter. All you knew about him was that he was a bit rough around the edges; always nicking things from pockets, looking up ladies skirts, and skipping his lessons. That’s what your dad complained about anyway.

A page is shoveled in front of you, dangling over your face. Your eyes take a while, but focus on the words. Nicholas’ boot heel digs into your neck.

“Read it out loud, or we’ll kill you.”

Clearly I’m going to die anyway dumbass, why should I help you?

You might’ve retorted, if you were in such a physical condition to do so. But instead, you do as you're told, and start speaking.

To your left, the postmaster’s son, Richard, sucks in a breath with anticipation. Any false composure he had while luring you here is gone, his feet tapping with excitement as he holds your left arm and lef bound spread eagle.

Holding your right leg is Markus, another merchant boy. He picks at his teeth.

“What are you guys going to wish for?” He whispers. It goes in your ear and out the other, too focused on forming coherent sentences.

“A full-harem of babes, obviously.” Simpers Hunter, the son of a landlord. He isn’t ugly, only a bit plain, and has enough money to boot. Compared to the other bachelors in town however, he has had little luck in procuring a courtship.

“A million coins could get you that and more, idiot. That’s what I’m wishing for.” Whispers Richard.

“What are you going to wish for Nic?” Asks Markus

“Oh my gods, will you guys shut the fuck up?”

Nic snarls, unconsciously digging his heel back into your throat. You choke and stutter, but keep going. The runes around you, written in your own blood, begin to glow.

All of the boy’s eyes widen and they step back from you. Your limbs sink like dead weight as the words begin to flow out your mouth with no thought. The paper with the chant drops to the ground, out of your sight, but it's like your brain has been reprogrammed; You know the rest, know it in your bones.

The grass begins to simmer and burn under the summoning circle, smoke swirling into formation above you. When the final word whispers out of you, you feel your body go lax. You don’t even remember tensing up

I guess this is it. Sorry Mom, Sorry Dad.

You clench your eyes, just hoping the demon will be quick. That it will at least leave a recognizable corpse.

“Holy shit.” You hear muttered, unsure by whom.

Your eyes are closed, body teetering on the brink of unconsciousness, but your senses are still intact. A hot wave of breath washes over your face and the ground below you trembles with heavy footsteps. The boys are quiet but you can hear their hearts pounding. They thrum with life, while yours slowly fades.

“Why have you summoned me, mortal?”

Even half-dead, your muscles tense in fear. The demon's voice is deep and resonates like a crowd talking all at once. It reeks of inhuman power and cracks like thunder.

A brief silence passes, before Nicholas finds his courage.

“We have come to ask for a wish.”

Later, when recounting the story, you will mention that the demon looked over to Nicolas, unamused, despite never seeing it yourself. The demon huffs, the heat of it blowing over you once more.

“I don’t believe I asked you.” The demon mutters. The cacophony of voices blend together into one, bland and emotionless. Even in your state however, you are able to decipher a couple of louder tones which overpower the others. They seem...angry.

“But...you…”

“I asked….”

Your eyes snap open as a wet droplet lands on your cheek. Lingering above you, drool seeping from their unnaturally sharp teeth, is the creature. It’s face resembles that of a goat, but sharp fangs stick out from their lower lips. Their eyes are golden and shine in the night, piercing right into yours. Despite the part of your body screaming out in terror, another part feels oddly….comforted. It’s why you don't startle when they brush a hand against your cheek, their thumb wiping away your tears. Their palm is warm, not like a blistering flame, but like a thick quilt. Like hot chocolate on a rainy day.

“......What do you need of me, little one?”

Their hand, padded and calloused, slides down your arm, closing up the large gash on your inner bicep. In another movement, they do the same to the other. Power and vitality seems to sink back into your body, drip by drip.

Words escape you, but not Nicolas.

“Excuse me, demon, but we're the ones who summoned you.” The sarcastic tone of his does little to hide the quivers of his fear, especially when the demon's neck turns toward him at an unnatural speed. Still, he persists. “Not her. And we want-”

“Do you take me for a blind fool?” The voice bellows, sending all the boys to their knees. Markus clutches his ears while Hunter whimpers on the ground. Nicolas falls back to the ground, eyes widen. The demon stands to their full height, several feet above all of you. “Do you think I was born without smell, without sense?” The step away from your body, swiping at the ground with their fingers, taking a small bit of your blood with it.

The demon sticks their thumb and forefinger in front of Nicolas’s face, causing him to yelp and fall onto his back. “Is this your blood which forged the connection? Was it your words that spoke me into existence? Was it your body which came to the brink, wrenched open the door and pulled us both through?”

Nicolas, trembling like a leaf, shakes his head no. The demon’s eyes jerk up to the others. “And was it any of these young men?”

Richard furiously shakes his head, while Hunter stays collapsed on the ground. Markus pushes himself away, hands still clamped around his ears. The demon sneers, before turning and walking back to you.

The demon kneels before propping your upper body up with a gentle touch. A comforting claw rubs your lower back while another paw rubs the tension out of your shoulders.

“Now, mistress, what may you ask of me?”

Your muscles may no longer tire from blood loss, but your mind truly feels like it’s on the brink of breaking. The demon, with fearsome fangs and a soft look, looks to you for an answer.

“I-I…” You mutter as the demon continues to massage your back. They hum.

“Take your time, it is alright. Rituals are difficult, I can only imagine the toll your body feels.” The mass of voices have synchronized, fading from a hundred to a single, harmonious tune. It is cavernously deep, but pleasant. It reminds you of the portly older man who used to read stories aloud every holiday.

You feel your body unconsciously turn towards your captors. Nicholas stays stuck to the ground, the whites of his eyes almost glowing in the darkness. The others have slowly moved to their knees, all terrified with shaky limbs, and look like they might make a run for it. Markus is slowly inching towards Nicholas’ shoulders, trying to lift him up to his senses.

For the first time in your life, a deep, boiling hatred burns your skin.

Cowards. You sneer, with all the malice stored in your reserves.

“I want-I want…” You stumble as the anger bubbles out of your belly. “I want them to hurt. To feel humiliated.” Nails bite into the palm of your hand, letting out blood as you clench knuckles. “I want everyone to know what they’ve done, who they are, every fault they’ve ever been guilty of. I want them alive, but I want them to burn.”

The demon smiles, pulling you in for a hug. You collapse into their embrace, keeping your eyes locked onto the boys, those rats. The demon hums a contented tune as they rub your back.

“As you wish, my master.”

#monster romance #demon x reader #reader insert #monster x reader #female reader #my writing

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spideyspeaches · 4 years ago

Text

We always have been ↬ fem!p.p

A/N: AHHH I love genderbent Peter skjkjhjka and I’ve only seen @justme--emily write for her so far so I wrote one of my own 😤

Summary: It was not every day you crash into your ex boyfriend in a Stark Gala, was it? Your ex boyfriend you dumped right after your senior prom? It was probably her Parker luck striking, never a good sign, she learned that from experience.

Warning: um cursing lol.

Pairing: female!Peter Parker x Harry Osborn

WC: 2k

When Mister Stark had asked her to attend one of those glorious charity galas, Penny had been elated, internally (and externally) jumping at the thought of wearing fancy gowns and walking past pretentious rich bureaucrats and business people.

She was practically lost in paradise when Miss Potts had accompanied her to shop for her dress, a beautiful blue and red full length gown, hugging her in her curves with a chinese collar neck and embroidered bust (very on brand of her).

“Is your dress comfortable? Oh god I think I should have altered it myself, it’s not too tight right?” May fretted, fixing her hairdo and last minute make up she learnt from makeup hacks videos. Groaning, Penny nudged May by her shoulders, sitting her down on her twin bed, holding her aunt’s cheeks.

“May, the dress is comfortable! Miss Potts made sure that it was altered to my size okay? Now calm down, it’s just one night.” She smiled, folding her hands under her chest. Her dress was truly comfortable, and she looked undeniably good, she checked (she was a nerd, yes, but she wasn’t blind. Especially now that she had 20/20 long vision due to her spider powers.)

“You know how I feel about you going to fancy parties, baby.” May sighed, making her wince, “the last time you went to prom ended in a disaster. Both of them”

“I know May, but on the bright side, it gained me an actual paid internship. And Mister Stark and Miss Potts are going to be present the whole time!” She reassured, squeezing her aunt’s shoulders. In all honesty, she understood her anxiety, shuddering as she remembered her prom fighting Liz’s dad, and then breaking up with Harry, “besides, I have my spidery powers remember? I’m a big girl May, I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can sweetheart, god look at you all grown up, Ben would be so proud of how much you’ve grown, my little woman.” May sniffed, getting up to caress her head. She shook her head at her aunt’s emotional state, smiling as she bowed her head at the nickname. It was something Ben used to call her- little woman.

“Ben would be proud of you too May.” Penny said, willing her eyes to not water at the sudden rush of sentiment she felt at the mention of her deceased uncle.

“Now, shoo before I change my mind and keep you all to myself!” May laughed, fixing the non existent crease near her shoulders.

“Okay okay! I’m going May, jeez it’s like you and Mister Stark are holding a shared custody of me.” Penny snickered, scrambling to wear her uncomfortable heels, the ones that matched her dress.

“Maybe I am, but I get to be the primary guardian!”

Laughing, she gave her aunt a kiss to her cheek, doing a preliminary check of her cell phone and emergency bracelet, blowing her a kiss before walking into the car that was standing outside their apartment.

The car ride was silent, her stomach bubbling with nervousness and excitement. She was practically vibrating in her seat, glad that Tony had sent another driver instead of Happy- he would have teased her incessantly for being so nervous. She had grown close to Happy, the man growing fond of her as well, but he could be an embarrassing dad at times.

The gala was everything she had imagined, brightly lit in an overpriced hall, adorning overpriced decorations with people in overpriced clothes.

“Hey Mister Stark! Thank you so much for inviting me!” She grinned, skipping towards her fath- mentor.

“Hey Pen, wow don’t you look beautiful. A little too beautiful, beware of those good for nothing boys you hear me?” Tony smiled, hugging her, a protective hand on her shoulder.

“Oh don’t mind Tony, hun, he’s only joking.” Pepper said, giving her a kiss on her cheek and doing a once over, just like May had.

“I’m serious Pep, if those boys even tried anything, you call me okay? I’ll take care of them.”

“Mister Stark, you can’t just threaten teenagers.” Penny giggled, looking at Pepper with a smirk.

“Barely a teenager kiddo, why did you grow up so fast?” He smiled, a fond look in his eyes.

“I’m nineteen Mister Stark, I think I can take care of those boys themselves.”

“Hell yeah you can, that’s my girl.”

Easy for her to say, because not long after that, Mister Stark and Pepper had abandoned her to talk to some prominent dealer about some… deals concerning Stark Industries, she didn't ask.

By the end of an hour, she was already bouncing on her heels, bored out of her mind. Even the Avengers could entertain her only so much, going back to their important work. And

Penny was an awkward girl, always finding herself in situations she was unwilling to participate in, so socialising was out of question.

She remembered the one time she had accidentally spilled coffee all over Mister Stark’s touch sensitive keyboard, stuttering the whole time. He hadn’t even been mad, reassuring her that he had done that enough times before, hence the liquid resistant keypads.

And then there was that one time the school nurse had called Tony when she was experiencing period induced fever. That was embarrassing, if not a little heartwarming to know that he cared about her enough to confront Pepper about menstrual problems. She was his daughter in everything but blood, he reminded her that every day, though not verbally.

There was also this one time she had been caught kissing MJ, but none of those were going to top what she was facing right now.

Literally.

“Penny! Penny Parker?” Harry’s chirpy voice rang in her ears, his footsteps sounding increasingly closer as she tried to hide her face behind her (non alcoholic) drink, frantically walking towards the vague figure of Mister Stark as fast as she could with her overly expensive stilettos.

It was not every day you crash into your ex boyfriend in a Stark Gala, was it? Your ex boyfriend you dumped right after your senior prom? It was probably her Parker luck striking, never a good sign, she learned that from experience.

Finally standing near Mister Stark, she tried to stand next to him, ignoring the weird look he was giving her. Penny was petite, always has been small for her age, so she was glad Mister Stark could cover her with his side. Apparently he got her cue, as he shifted slightly to hide her from whomever’s view.

“What’s wrong Pen? Some pesky boy chasing you? Accidentally met your ex?” He joked, giving the old businessman in front of him a handshake and smirking at her with amusement.

“Something like that.” She shrugged casually, snickering at Tony’s wide eyes.

“Penny! Hey it’s me, Harry.” He said, nearly standing behind her. He was either incredibly stupid or incredibly brave, weaving his way through the crowd to stand right in front of her. He probably hadn’t noticed her clinging to Tony, which is why he came forward, a big goofy grin playing on his handsome face, sending her heart into a frenzy, his blue eyes shining under the gleaming lights.

“Uh, h-hey Harry.” She grimaced, elongating his name with a chuckle. Shuffling forward, she ignored Tony’s raised eyebrows, opening her mouth to speak, but all she could look at was Harry Fucking Osborn standing in front of her, “Um, small world?”

Her words sounded distant to her, heart heart a lump in her throat. She felt underprepared for these situations. Sure, they had broken off on a semi- good note, but it didn’t make whatever this was any less awkward.

“Small world indeed.” He said, much softer than before, a solemn expression taking over his face, “It’s not every day you get to meet Penelope Parker in a Stark Gala. Heard of your internship by the way, I knew you were smart enough to get it.”

“Oh, thanks about that. I guess you’re an unwilling guest here? Haven’t seen Mr. Osborn around.” She smiled shyly, shuffling on her feet.

“Yeah, kind of, I mean you know how he is.” He shrugged.

“How long have you two known each other?” Tony interrupts the two, watching in amusement as both his pseudo daughter and Norman’s son blush under his gaze, as if just noticing his presence.

“Uhm, Hi Mister Stark! B-big fan, hi oh my god Penny I’m standing in front of Tony Stark.” Harry stuttered, shaking Tony’s hand for a little too long.

Staring at him with confusion, he shook Harry's hand back, silently asking Penny the lingering question.

“He’s a bit of a fanboy.” She answered.

Harry was still looking at Stark with his wonderstruck expression.

“Well it’s always good to meet my fans, but you didn't answer my question, kid. How do you two know each other?” Tony said, smiling as politely as he could while his hand was still stuck in Harry’s grip.

Realising that, he instantly let go, standing awkwardly as him and Penny said at the same time-

“I’m her ex boyfriend-”

“He’s my best friend.”

His eyes widen, realising what he had just said.

“You guys dated? And when were you going to tell me about that Pen?” Tony asked, baffled at the thought of Penny dating a guy, and Osborn’s son of all people.

“Well, you see, I was going to tell you soon, but then we broke up. You know? We haven’t talked since.” Penny said, the last sentence directed towards Harry. She was looking at him now, gritting her teeth.

“Well did you expect me to call you after you dumped me? During prom nonetheless? I was ashamed, Pen, I couldn’t do it.” Harry said, looking apologetic. It made her heart clench, inherent guilt building up in her tummy. It was her fault, technically.

“Yeah but, Harry you were my best friend before my boyfriend, and I missed you okay? You could’ve at least called.” She defended. Tony was good at reading the room, so sensing a banter building, he quietly left the area, not wanting to witness the misunderstanding.

“I really missed you too Penny, I- I didn’t think I was good enough for you, gosh I really fucking love you.” He said, immediately stiffening.

Even back when they were dating, they had never said the L word to each other, not even when they were best friends, and now? Well he had just made the air more thicker than before.

“You- you what?” She asked, voice small as her heart jumped. She moved closer to him, holding her hands out, reaching to touch his shoulders. Her hands set on his silky tuxedo, she stroked her hands in a slow motion, dropping them immediately when she realised she was touching him.

“I really fucking love you Penny, even if you don’t want to get together, can we still be friends? Go back to our movie nights and lego sessions?” He asked, furrowing his brows as if to keep himself from crying.

No words left her mouth, her breath hitched when he moved forward, chest stuttering. With a sudden confidence she didn’t know she had, she leapt forward, capturing his lips in hers. Their lips moved with a sync, his familiar ocean scented deo invading her nostrils, his soft skin against her. The world around her melded in a technicolour blob, the only thing she could focus was his heartbeat echoing in her ears.

“I really fucking love you too by the way.” She said, pulling away from the kiss. She vaguely spotted Miss Potts in her periphery, shaking her head with a smile as she held back Mister Stark.

“So, are we friends then?”

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“We are more than friends, you dumbass. We always have been.”

I’m a thirsty bitch, pwease give me feedback? 🥺🥺

#peter parker x harry osborn #harry osborn x peter parker x reader #harry osborn #female peter parker #female peter parker x harry osborn #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #tony stark #spiderman #spider woman #spideygirl writes

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mrwinterr · 5 years ago

Text

Slippery, Smooth

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky gets a different kind of massage.

Warnings: Smut 18+ (consensual but still unprotected sex, vaginal penetration, oral [male receiving], thigh riding, titty fuck, cum play).

Disclaimer: I want to put it out there that while nuru massages aren’t legal in the vast majority of the U.S. or the world, I’m not condoning the underlying motive of selling sex and/or prostitution. I apologize if this may offend anyone or the culture. I did my best to read about the origins and some modern experiences. A girl just watched porn and wrote this – that’s it.

** Author’s Note (8/13/20): Read a snippet of Part 2! **

“We’ll just need you both to fill out the paperwork for some information. Please check any of the services we offer then sign the waiver on the back and when you’re both done, we’ll show you to your rooms,” the young female receptionist answered with a friendly smile on her face.

Sam returns the gesture with a smile of his own and grabs the two white clipboards with the paperwork attached to them, carefully balancing the pens placed on top so they don’t roll off. On his left, was Bucky sporting a resting bitch face, clearly showing he was dragged into this before heading to a pair of unoccupied seats. The woman unbothered by his sour demeanor pays no offense believing he’s come to the right place to relieve the stress he isn’t aware he’s been harboring.

Except Bucky really doesn’t want to be here at the spa. He just happened to be caught while walking by some of his colleagues and apparently, Sam had been asking around for someone to check out the raving massage parlor on the market with him, but mostly because it was much more of a discount to book for two than one.

With some convincing from his more levelheaded companions, suggesting Bucky continue to go out and experience more modern things while also participating in the act of self-care, he begrudgingly agreed.

“Man, hurry up. Did you forget how to spell your name?” Sam nudged at him seeing as Bucky hadn’t even filled out the first line before putting the cap back on his pen, signaling he had completed his paperwork.

“Shut up. I don’t even want to be here.” Bucky mumbled enough just for Sam to hear. It wasn’t the establishment’s fault that he felt bothered.

He let out a big sigh, filled out the basic information and skimmed at the options of the services provided. His face scrunched. There were all kinds of massages that he hadn’t heard of and some were even in different languages. Luckily, this place offered a brief description of each type.

“Barnes!” Sam, who was standing in front of the receptionist desk again, said with a now firmer tone and sending Bucky a hard look. He was getting impatient. Bucky shook his head and looked back down at the paper. Try something new. He reminded himself.

Feeling slight pressure and the practical idea of the sooner he got through with this part of the process the sooner he’d be out of this place, Bucky hastily checks off something near the middle, a different type of massage he thought sounded nice. They all sounded nice, but there were so many, he didn’t bother to finish reading through or retain any significant aspects on each of them as they all became a jumbled mess of terms in his brain. Afterall, a massage is designed to make one feel good anyways. How far south could the option he selected go?

A few more minutes went by until another woman from behind the desk emerges and calls for the two men. The receptionist bids them a good time and carries on with the next guest. To both of their relief, Bucky and Sam are placed in separate rooms.

Guess he picked a different massage. Bucky thought to himself and looked around the dim lit room. Its walls adorned with tasteful foreign artwork, different sized candles and infused with a refreshed yet soothing scent that began overtaking his senses. The place was pristine.

The employee who escorted him to this room sets the clipboard on the nearby table and instructs Bucky to prep himself with a shower that was located in the corner. Before he could ask why that was a significant part of the massage, she told him once he was done washing himself, to lie on the massage table with only his towel on and to wait for his actual masseuse, who would arrive shortly, then she left closing the door behind her.

Not wanting to think too much into it, believing perhaps it was part of the experience or this place was just super hygienic, Bucky doesn’t waste time. The masseuse could walk in any moment, so he proceeds to undress, open the clear shower door and step in.

A few months ago, aside from the people he worked with or the ones he fought against, no one would be caught alone with Bucky – especially in a vulnerable state such as being half naked and with his metal arm on display. It took a lot of self-therapy and confidence and just plain not giving a fuck anymore mindset, but now here he was letting a complete stranger touch him and take more than a peek and gander at his body. If the doctors could see him now. On top of that, there had to be a level of professionalism here anyways, he was in good hands.

Once he’s thoroughly clean, he wraps the white, fluffy towel around his waist before hopping onto the massage bed. It was big, almost like it was built for two. That was a strange thought, but nonetheless he chose to also not dwell on that and was grateful it was big enough for his burly body. He scoots around a bit to find the center and lies down, trying to relax.

He turned his head to the side, eyes wandering at the counter full of supplies – massage oils, rocks, towels, soap, a box of condoms, gloves, more towels…wait. A box of condoms? What the hell? Bucky thought now a little puzzled before turning his head back to stare at the ceiling in front of him. He closes his eyes and tries to calm his nerves once more.

Just before Bucky dozed off, as if on cue, he hears the door open and quietly close with an extra click. You finally arrived. He peeks an eye open to see the back of your figure, hair tied loosely and in a short white robe. It clung on your body different, it had to be of silk. He opens both eyes just as you turn around.

You quickly glance at his clipboard before finally fixing your eyes on your next client. His metal arm certainly didn’t go unnoticed, but that wouldn’t be a problem at all. It might sound mean, but it was one less limb to work on. All that shoved aside, he was athletically built and geez, was he a sight. Keep it together. You began telling yourself over and over. You’re a professional.

It wasn’t likely you did these kinds of massages, nor did you partake in paid sexual services just strictly intent on the art of touch and healing, but this type paid handsomely, and the lights didn’t have to be on all the way to let you see that handsome was indeed right in front of you too. You introduced yourself to the man on the massage bed but got no response.

A quiet one. You thought, but quickly shrugged it off and decided to get right to it by pulling at the end of a tassel in the knot tied around your waist to begin disrobing.

Bucky, not anticipating interacting or to be touched intimately by someone so pretty was gravely distracted, it wasn’t until he saw the skin of your cleavage that he snapped out of it.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Bucky exclaims sitting up, “what are you doing?”

With a confused expression, you simply replied, “disrobing?” Then wearily proceeded to part the material to the side, but before you could reveal anything else, you heard another plea to stop.

“Wh-why?” Bucky was having a hard time trying to formulate words with the swell of your breasts peeking from behind your robe now in his view.

You turned and cocked your head a bit, still perplexed by his questions, “because it’s part of the massage.”

“Wha…what? Isn’t the person getting the massage supposed to be the one that’s…naked?” His mind was in a frenzy and that was kind of annoying you.

“For a simple massage, yes.”

“What are we doing then?” He asked incredulously.

“A nuru massage.”

“Nuru massage?”

“Yes. A nuru massage is when one massages the other person’s body with their own.” You explained as calmly as you could. He was getting increasingly agitated and your job was to help others relax not add onto the stress.

Bucky shook his head frantically and looked away from you to stop his eyes from wandering too long on your body. He could tell you didn’t have anything else underneath. “This has to be a mistake. You must have the wrong room.”

You scoffed, covering yourself up again and snatching the clipboard on the nearby counter. “Aren’t you…James B. Barnes?” You skim over it before asking and turning the clipboard to prove to him that you were in the right room assigned to him.

He craned his neck forward to inspect the piece of paper he held not too long ago, his messy handwriting complete with his illegible signature staring right back at him.

“Well, yeah…”

“Then I have the right room and you checked off for a nuru massage.” You say crossing your arms as he took the clipboard from your hands to read more about what the massage actually entails.

“This-this can’t be legal though.” He said shaking his head and thinking about how it could even be acceptable for this kind of service without eliciting some sort of sexual stimulation from the other party. Bodies gliding against each other? It just couldn’t possibly go smooth or well…work.

“It’s not…” you replied like it’s a known fact but then were quick to respond seeing his eyes widening in overreaction, “in most areas of the world but it’s absolutely legal here!”

“But it’s basically pros-“ he didn’t even finish that last sentence catching himself when he saw your now offended expression.

Does this asshole really think he is going to just sit there and get away with downright calling you a prostitute?

“You don’t know shit about me,” you spat. Handsome or not, deciding he wasn’t as openminded as most people and harshly tied a new knot to the robe you were still wearing signaling you were about to walk out. He wasn’t worth the few extra digits to your paycheck.

“No! Wait!” He pleaded; guilt ridden. As he let out a deep sigh, you stayed put to hear him out, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. You’re right! I don’t know shit about you, but I also don’t know what a nuru massage is. I came here with a friend to help him get a good deal and I clearly wasn’t paying attention to what I signed up for.”

You nodded and decided to be civil since he was owning up to his mistake. “Okay. Apology accepted. I see why you freaked out, but you’re clearly not comfortable with the idea of this,” you responded while your hands helped convey your words, “so I can see what I can do to get you a refund,” and walked over to him to retrieve the clipboard.

It would’ve taken a significant blow to your pay – losing a client for the day – but you weren’t going to put anyone in a situation they weren’t familiar or comfortable with.

“Well…” He spoke up, placing his right hand on top of yours causing you to look up at him.

Wow, his eyes. They held the same color that reminded you of the kind water in a pool could reflect. The soothing kind of blue. You felt like you were glued to the spot, almost hypnotized.

“I mean I’m already here. I don’t want to take any business away from you. Again, I’m sorry I overreacted. What’s life without experience, right?”

And that deep voice... Shit, snap out of it! Remember, you’re a professional.

You gave him a small smile for his change of heart and willingness to try something new.

“Right,” you said forcing yourself to look away. Fuck, I hope I wasn’t staring for too long, “but I’m letting you know now, this isn’t a normal massage,” daring to look back at him for reassurance, “if at any moment you’re uncomfortable, we can change things up. Afterall, I’m very good with my hands.” You hoped to regain your composure with that last line. It wasn’t a lie though.

Bucky sends you a smile of his own before letting you go to lie back down properly, waiting for the next move. You cautiously disrobed without any protest from him. You noticed Bucky visibly swallowed the thick lump in his throat now that you were completely nude in front of him.

“Are you okay?” You were going to have to be patient with this one. He wasn’t going to be like any other you treated. It was easy for you to just stand there naked and you weren’t bothered by nudity at all, but that doesn’t mean everyone else is.

With a nod of his head, you reached for the towel to untuck the bunched-up portion at the side of his waist, mindful to not expose him of the slightest to spare him some modesty, while asking him to move just enough to let it rest on his body and cover his lower half like a blanket would.

You decided to let him keep his towel on for the time being and focus on his upper body. Next, you instructed him to turn and lie on his stomach, you’d start with his back first. You lifted the towel in a modest manner like you would for anyone so he could maneuver with ease. Once he settled in a comfortable position, you began the treatment.

“The word nuru stems from the Japanese term for slippery or smooth.” Talking to your clients was a technique most in your line of profession use to help distract or relax them to get the job done – that and it’s just good customer service showing that you care and know just what the fuck you’re doing.

You expertly jumped up onto the small space left on the bed to get into a straddling position on your knees hovering just over the small of his back and covered ass. Judging by the hump, it kind of looked nice to sit on.

“I’m going to start by applying nuru gel all over your body and mine, but we’ll start small, alright.” You carefully poured a generous amount of the warm massage gel in the palm of your hand lathering up your arms, chest, torso, thighs and fortunately you were flexible enough to reach parts of your back, but for parts you couldn’t, would transfer off his body to yours later on.

Scooping up a bit more, you watched as the gel dropped in a fine line and pool onto his back before beginning to spread it all over the expanse of his toned body in soothing motions. You started to gently press with your knuckles on the surface his muscles.

“The gel is actually made out of natural Nori seaweed,” you started explaining the colorless and odorless substance while progressing lower on his back with both hands, digging your thumbs near the lumbar region and compressing some of your weight down. You paid attention to specific areas of the body that draws the most tension. His body became visibly lax and less strained the more you worked your magic; soon enough Bucky was sure he would be putty in your hands.

Still perched up on your knees and not wanting to slip, you took initiative and just plopped down onto his plush yet firm backside. Even if a towel remained as a barrier between you both, you felt his glutes tense up underneath you, most likely having startled him. Trying to find a way to help him relax again, you tried to comfort him with more facts.

“It has other healthful benefits such as providing great moisturization to the skin,” you leaned down on your forearms and started an up and down repetition.

Your hands then travelled to his sides and you hoped he wasn’t ticklish before they met at the back of his neck to perform the simplest of massages ever. However basic as it might’ve seemed, felt like Heaven’s touch on Bucky’s end as he couldn’t help but let out a moan of satisfaction.

You were so good at it, working out all the kinks in his neck using your skilled fingers, he had to let out an approving moan after moan with each touch that hit the spot. The elicited sound racked through his body that you felt it reverberate all the way down to your core. You were crossing over a forbidden line, but that wasn’t letting you up. You had wanted to hear and feel that again.

“You’re really tense aren’t, you?” You comment continuing your handy work into the knots around his lower neck, slowly adding more pressure and testing his limits. His response was an even louder and deeper moan. Unknowingly, it caused you to shift, more like ground, your hips against his lower body. You mentally patted yourself on the back for keeping the towel there to absorb your juices. He didn’t need to try and figure out if it was the nuru gel or the sudden wetness pooling in you that his skin was swimming in.

Then you lowered your entire body, your chest now pressed against his back. Your head was close to his, you could smell the scent of the soap the facility provided for the massage prep mixed with his own and you swore he smelled more relaxing than any stress-free candle or burning incense ever could.

Due to the close proximity, you spoke even softer right next to his ear, “the combination of the nuru gel and full body contact or the touch of another human help to release toxins from the body and boost the feelgood chemicals in the brain.”

You paired that piece of knowledge with sliding up and down his back, your hands trailing up his arms that were bent but sprawled above his hand, grasping at the front of his hands to briefly interlock them before letting them go to repeat the actions.

Deciding enough time was spent on the upper area, you carefully swung around, gathered a bit more gel and snuck your hands underneath the towel to glide up the hill of his ass. Without protest, you seized the moment and experimentally grabbed a handful of each cheek before releasing the flesh and sail further down to his muscular thighs. Oh, you wish you could see them, but reminded yourself to approach each step with caution with him.

The towel still restricted you from attending to his calves, so you pulled your hands back out and scooted up to pull the towel up from the other end and treat them with the same amount of attention. After that treatment was done, you had him revert to his original position on his back.

As he settled, you reached over to pour some more gel and help slicken his front half.

“Interesting fact, nuru massages originated in Japan as a disguise to pay for sexual services,” you say as your hands spanned across the planes of his pecs, “but nuru massages are much more than an erotic massage.”

“How so?” Bucky asked genuinely curious because he was having a hard time trying to strain his cock from hardening. Thankfully for him, you were seated on his lower abdomen and barely inches away from his member.

“Think of them as more so sensual than sexual.”

Accepting that outlook, Bucky had to ask, “how did you get into…this?”

You knew he meant performing nuru massages and not your career in general, “I took a trip to Japan during a break from studying,” you replied and now tracing the lines of his abs. That sort of action, so close to his dick, created a ghostly tingle to run down Bucky’s lower region.

Counting each one of his abs to help distract you from the twitch of his cock that he thought you probably didn’t feel hit you, you continued your story, “like you, I also didn’t know what I signed up for either.”

With your breasts out in front of him squished between your upper arms as you continued to rub him and all slick from the gel, your skin seemed ever so inviting for him to touch, but he refrained from doing so. There was really no way to avoid getting aroused with this kind of massage. He was about to give up the fight. He needed to relax, right?

“Um, how-how was…he?” He asked trying to not ask awkwardly. You smiled noting he was having a hard time trying to look at your face and not your boobs. A guy like this at your fingertips? What woman’s ego wouldn’t be boosted? You had control.

Keeping in mind he is new to this, but also that the vitality of full body contact in this massage, you treated his front half to the same tactic you used on his back by laying your body flat on his.

“She was amazing,” you answered, your face now close to his you could feel the warmth of his breath puff out as he tried to regulate his breathing. The close proximity allowing you to feel the beat of his heart. You noticed the bob of his throat to that reveal, two women all oiled up.

“She taught me a lot of moves actually.” An innocent anecdote produced a whine from Bucky that he felt ashamed of slip out. Okay, maybe you got to bring it back down. “The first time I ever performed a nuru massage, I almost slipped off the massage table!”

What you hoped for was to lighten the mood, you didn’t expect was for him to bust out laughing at you. The sudden outburst took you by surprise that you almost reenacted the shared memory, but Bucky was quick to catch you with his left arm before you fell. His arms encased around you as he turned on his back with you now lying parallel, legs between his now parted ones underneath the towel that still managed to stay on.

“Oh my God,” you said burying your face into the crook of his neck, not giving a damn that the massage gel would get on your face. That first fall from your past was one of the most embarrassing moments of your career and here you were about to relive it or perhaps create one that would top it.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Bucky said tucking you in his arms as his flesh hand ran up and down the curves of your slick back, the metal one resting just above the curve of your ass. “I’m sorry I scared you. I didn’t mean to laugh. It’s just that you’re so poised and professional, having to imagine you being that clumsy took me off guard.”

Your eyes drifted down and noticed the scarred tissue of his skin that divided the metal from him. He probably ached there sometimes. You made a mental note to fit his arm somewhere in your routine.

“I’ve never told anyone that story before,” you admitted looking at him. Your eyes lingering at his pink lips that were parted. He brushed a strand of your hair away and cupped your face. You leaned into his hand and if he didn’t know it, you were the one that was putty in his hands.

Earning yourself another beautiful smile from him you got back into position. “Do you mind?” You ask referring to the towel. Having spent some time with you and seeing a more vulnerable side, he shook his head and let you rip the towel from beneath you and drop it to the floor.

“It’s okay to get hard,” you said trying to address the elephant in the room. You watched him stammer with his words, “it’s perfectly natural. Remember, this massage is designed to tease your senses and bring your body to full ecstasy.” Your now pressed against him again, rubbing your body up and down, hands trailing upwards to let your fingers intertwine with his again.

Feeling your breasts glide up just enough to stop under his chin, he kept tilting his head back as if he was neck deep in water, but if he was being honest, he would rather just drown in them at this point. Bucky tries to remain calm even if you assured him that getting aroused during a massage was a common occurrence.

“Relax, James,” you said releasing one of his hands to cradle his head and set it in a regular position. You just made it a point to not practically motorboat the poor guy.

“It’s Bucky,” he said, “please just call me Bucky. James is too formal.”

“Okay, Bucky,” you confirm by pressing your forehead against his.

Not taking your eyes off each other, you glided down a few inches so you’re face-to-face with the junction of the skin and metal and began leaving light feather kisses to the sensitive area. Adding a little squeeze to the flesh hand that was still in your grasp, Bucky felt his heart soar a bit. You, so unperturbed by the once traitorous appendage, were so gentle and the level of intimacy you carried, he wondered if you were like this to your other clients. He felt like a damn fool for falling for your every move.

“Are most of your clients men?” Bucky wondered.

“No. I don’t limit my services to just men. Most times, my favorite are the women. Nuru is open for anyone of any gender or sexual orientation.”

You slithered down again until you trapped one of his thighs between your legs. Lord, give me the strength to not cum. You prayed and begun rocking your hips almost sinfully.

Fuck, was this part of her normal routine? Bucky asked himself but wouldn’t deny the combination of her wet pussy and its soft lips gliding along his thighs felt good. Not to mention the way your hands grip at the grooves of his Adonis belt, nails slightly digging into his skin, watching your hips move. He didn’t miss the look on your face, eyebrows knitted in concentration and your plump bottom lip trapped between your teeth.

“Do you enjoy this too?”

You knew what he was going for. Did you get a rise out of this? You regained control of your body and shrugged, “I mean, touch is therapeutic in some cases, but if you’re wondering, most places or depending on the masseuse have modified nuru massages.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Not everyone gets a happy ending.” You were a masseuse specialist and not in a line of sex. It was the most misconstrued thing about it. Noticing the look on his face, you concluded that he must’ve not known the term “happy ending.”

“Sex. A happy ending is what usually culminates from a nuru massage,” you cleared the air. It was adorable to see the surprised look on his face. Yet, underneath the sheen line of sweat that had built up on his forehead, Bucky was internally relieved to hear that you didn’t actually partake in any sexual penetration or acts from this type of massage.

Okay, maybe that number on his thigh wasn’t part of your routine. You’d never been that needy. Before you could fly off the edge, you didn’t even peg yourself to be a sadist and actually edge yourself. You wondered if you could fully set ethical standards aside and go through it.

You set that same leg between your breasts and strategically slid from up his thigh before stopping just below the waist to keep his rather endowed member confined.

“You know, it’s a shame the reputation that nuru massages have,” you started, pushing your boobs together with your hands. You felt his cock jolt at the contact, “the first thing that comes to people’s minds in terms of nuru is fucking porn, but nuru has its benefits.”

“Like what?” Bucky asks breathily as you started practically titty fucking him. Is she serious? Are we in a porno? He thought seeing as there’s no way he was going to not cum any second.

“Yeah. Believe it or not, it’s proven to help couples spice up their love lives and even repair them.”

“H-how?” He tried to keep up with conversation, but it was so hard, he was so hard, as he watched his cock disappear and reappear from between the depths of your breasts. He hoped you hadn’t noticed that his pre-cum had been aiding in the slickness as it mixed in with the nuru gel. You were warm and soft and slick…and he wasn’t even buried deep in your pussy.

“I think you can guess one of the factors, but it’s more than just a physical connection, really,” you explain and release him. You move back up, body once more parallel to his, your hands smearing more of the gel around his chest, “it allows for one to feel more comfortable in their own skin and even create new sensations.”

“Almost sounds like a spiritual journey,” he said with seriousness his eyes meeting yours.

“It can be,” you responded with. You were so close to his face again. Not sure how long you sat there staring at him, but as ironic as it was, the setting in a massage parlor, one with a purpose to help the other, you both seemed to create a new kind of tension. A tension that was almost too thick you feared it wasn’t something your hands could resolve.

You stared down at his enchanting features, soft, pink lips that were parted, cute nose, the half-lidded eyes but that still shone from the blue that managed to peek out. Your hands trailed up to touch his face. He was so tempting.

Fuck it. All caution thrown out the window, your lips crashed against his. It wasn’t bruising nor soft, but enough to cut the tension that had built up in the room. To your astonishment, he didn’t object to your advances and pressed his lips back to yours and opening up wider to let you slip your tongue in. He caught your tongue in his mouth with his lips and enclosed around the muscle, sucking on it, causing you to gasp and pull away breathlessly.

You push yourself up just enough to get a full look at him with your hands on his chest. A slight nod of his head was all you needed to dive back in. Your lips massaged against his as you both kissed with such fervor, your hands threading into the short locks of his hair slightly pulling at what you could grasp in your fingers. The echoes of his moans and the light tap of his cock that had twitched in response against your lower abdomen was a dead giveaway sign that he liked that.

However, the continue rocking of your body against his, wasn’t going to help alleviate his raging hard on. It was pressed so hard in between you, it almost felt embedded into your skin. You slithered back down, leaving a trail of kisses from the column of his neck, chest – even managing to teeth at one of his nipples tauntingly – the line between his abs until you were met with the tip of his cock, which was unashamedly leaking.

You jeered around his head, placing lightweight kisses down the side of his cock, purposely avoiding the large vein on the underside, to his balls. Your eyes never leaving Bucky’s, who had his head propped under his flesh arm to watch you. Your hands still slick with the gel, you started to fondle him before taking them, one at a time, in your warm, wet mouth to gently suck on.

You weren’t sure who lost the staring contest this time between you two, but his head lulled back at the sensation and yours closed shut, full of him and savoring the taste of his skin. Pulling away with a pop, you wrapped a hand around his shaft to let his cock stand at full attention.

Bucky finally opened his eyes and picked his head back up to look at you just in time to watch you smear his pre-cum all over your lips and swallow him. You downed as much of his cock as you could before hollowing your cheeks and coming back up with your tongue dragging across the underside of him, bobbing up and down.

Without a warning, you pull away for a brief moment, a string of mixed fluids leave a web trail from him to you, “It’s okay to touch me, Bucky,” you say stroking his cock but also noticing his hands had been gripping onto the edge of the bed and hoping to encourage him to fully give in to his desires.

Bucky didn’t need to be told twice as his hands found purchase in your hair pushing you back down his cock. He let out a loud groan when he felt the tip of your nose bury in the soft hairs of his happy trail. You weren’t expecting that kind of aggression from him, it caused you to involuntarily gag around him. Your throat constricting around his cock only caused him more indisputable pleasure he jut his hips up, lodging himself even further.

When you pulled away again, this time with your own saliva and his cum dribbling down your chin, your eyes were slightly red and tearstained. Your ragged breathing, lips glistening and swollen, hair matted against your face. You looked so fucked, so raw.

He pulled you up to him once more, your legs instinctively setting on either side of him, your dripping cunt hovering just over his cock that lied resting on his stomach. He wiped at your chin before kissing you, his tongue darting all around the wet cavern of your mouth and tasting himself. Something about that was so filthy yet so erotic.

Your legs spread further apart, and you pressed yourself against his cock. The contact causing you both to draw out loud moans. You did your best to drag your sopping folds along his stiff member, but the bed had become so slippery, you were finding it hard to pull yourself back up on your knees. Bucky must’ve picked up on the small struggle as he grabbed handfuls of your ass to help aid you in sliding your pussy up and down his cock.

You could feel just how hard he was and the underside and ridges of the head of his cock scraping against your clit, pulled all sorts of tremors from your body. You were a whimpering mess, clinging onto Bucky’s body trying to find your footing, but your senses were on overdrive.

“I know, it’s your job to make me feel good,” he said continuing to rut up against you, “but go ahead…just let go.” Oh, how he would love to watch you unravel and you weren’t one to deny him. You wildly came undone, from the buildup of riding his thigh and now this, you gushed all over his cock.

Wrecked, you knew this was far from over. Once you reclaimed control of your senses, Bucky at your full attention, you snaked a hand between your bodies and lifted yourself up to position his eager cock at your entrance.

“Tell me, Bucky,” you said trying your best to dominate the situation and started teasing yourself, “…do you want a happy ending,” you asked seductively, licking his lips and your eyes never leaving his.

His heartbeat accelerated with each running pass of the tip of his cock made through your folds. If his ending was right here on this massage bed, he’d take it because you were a fucking tease. The string of curses that flowed out his mouth caused a smirk to form on your lips.

You felt his metal hand grab yours shoving it away, enough of your teasing, he repositioned himself at your hole, gripped your hips and slid right in you with ease. You internally applauded the designers of the building for making each room soundproof because let’s face it, no one wants to hear how good the person next door is feeling – especially not like this, not the sounds you and Bucky were producing.

Each slide up and down his thick length, Bucky found himself almost fully engulfed by your breasts again. He stopped you for a moment so he could finally get his mouth on them, but you weren’t about to catch a break. No. Bucky instead planted his feet on the bed and began thrusting up into you almost too vigorously, but you sucked it up. Letting him use you to work out his frustrations.

Then you sat up, hands sprawled on his chest and started grounding your hips. The way his cock swiveled with each rotation you made, had you reeling as the tip just barely kept hitting that spot.

Bucky straightened out his legs from behind you and managed to sit up, cradling the small of your back and gently laying you down.

“Slow down, baby,” he says trying to contain the relentlessness drive you had on fucking him by keeping your hips at bay, so he pulled out resulting in a displeased noise to come out of you.

He just needed to get into a new position, on his knees, your right leg hoisted up on his shoulder while he pushed down on the other to spread your legs further apart, just for him to easily plunge back into your wet heat and drawing out long and satisfied moans from you both.

“Fuck, it feels so good. You’re so good, Bucky,” you whined.

“I’m supposed to be saying that to you,” he chuckled almost breathlessly, coming down and placing his lips on yours with a kiss that had your head swimming. He pulled back to take a look down, loving the sight of him snug inside your warm walls. With his flesh hand, he pressed his fingers onto your clit, rubbing harsh circles, you grabbed and clawed at his forearm at the immense pleasure, eyes widening because it was proving to be too much.

The twisting coil that was settling in you suddenly snapped. With a loud rough moan, you were uncontrollably quaking beneath him, you knew Bucky couldn’t be far away from you. His bruising grip on your thighs and the faltering thrusts of his hips from your walls squeezing at him repetitively, he finally let go, emptying himself until he was sure he was completely spent. Fuck, and you loved feeling his cum shoot deep in you.

Watching his abdominal muscles contract with every breath, he pulled out and tried to regain his breathing, but before he could collapse, he used his last remaining ounce of strength to pull you up and back down with him on the other end of the massage bed.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asks you this time short of breath. You managed to let out a tiresome laugh and pathetically slapped his chest, but knew it was to no avail with what little energy you had left.

Several moments later, you both had calmed down and were prolonging the inevitable end. Bucky watched as you absentmindedly traced the outline of his metal arm. He longed for someone that was raw in nature, confident and there you were – walking into his life by mistake. He wasn’t sure where you stood aside from a physical standpoint, but he strangely craved for more.

You managed to stand back up on your own feet and drag Bucky back into the shower to clean off. You helped each other wash off the gel and mixed juices, with a few kisses shared here and there riddled along with soft sweet praises.

After helping you wipe down the bed and tidy up the room, Bucky couldn’t help but realize he felt good. Gone was the grumpy man that came against his own will. He definitely felt refreshed and his body felt great. This place really was all that it cracked up to be and he was just lucky enough to be assigned to you.

“What?” You asked catching him starting just as you slipped your robe back on.

“I want to see you again,” he says getting up from the bed.

You smiled at that. No one has ever made you feel that good. Your bodies seemed to be in sync with one another. Plus, during that last shower, you deduced that he could be a big softie when he wanted to be.

You wanted to see him again too and you would let him.

Once Bucky stepped back into the lobby, his peace of mind was shattered when he heard Sam yell. “Finally!” He watched as his friend threw the magazine he wasn’t really reading aside and stand up with a loose smile on his face. “How do you feel, man?”

“Amazing.” Bucky’s tone was audibly smoother and calm as opposed to earlier.

“Good! You were in there for a long time. I don’t know what massage you chose, but whatever they did on you...I’m glad it knocked out that attitude of yours,” he says as if he didn’t have one before his massage.

“Whatever. You’re exaggerating.”

“I even left to get something to eat and you were still in there!”

Shit. Were you both really that long? Was that normal? To Bucky it didn’t seem so. In fact, he wanted more time with you.

They both approach the same receptionist from earlier, who now donned a subtle smug disposition seeing the change in complexion on Bucky.

“Would you like to leave a tip?” She asked Bucky politely and just before he could say yes, he was interrupted.

“Oh, he’s good! He’s all taken care of,” you quickly interjected, popping out of nowhere and effectively grabbing Bucky’s attention one more time with a sweet smile. You wanted to be the last thing he saw when he walked out that door. Bucky didn’t even hear Sam ask how in the world he got you as his masseuse.

Your co-worker nodded understandingly before turning to Sam to ask if he’d like to book another visit.

“Yeah…when is she next available?” Sam asks the receptionist while looking at you. You hadn’t managed to only grab Bucky’s attention, but also his friend.

How Bucky hadn’t noticed it before everything was beyond him. You had a certain glow that was very alluring. He wondered if it was possible for anyone to look away from you or not smile in your presence.

Something Bucky failed to conceal was the rising discomfort he was feeling hearing the suggestive tone in Sam’s voice when speaking about you mixed with a small bubble of anxiety on if there was a possibility that he’d get to be alone in a room with you.

Before Sam could get a definite answer, you looked to your co-worker at the front desk, grinned at each other and then back over at the two men.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m booked,” sending a wink towards Bucky and disappearing to the back.

A/N: I work in digital marketing and what with all the searching I did I’m now paranoid that I’ll be targeted for a massage…even though I could use one. I did my best to proofread. Let me know if you liked it!

#mrwinterr writes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x y/n #marvel fic #marvel fanfic #slippery smooth

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cherryskyies · 4 years ago

Text

Fred Weasley x Fem! Reader

Genre: Fluff, a little angst

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: Swearing

Main Masterlist

Summary: You and Fred are best friends. Recently, you pulled a risky prank together that’s bound to come back and bite you in the ass but you two could care less. In potions, you and Fred are partnered together to make Amortentia and both of you refuse to share what you smelt.

I suck at summaries LmAo

“5 points from Slytherin and Gryffindor. I can’t believe you made me take points away from my own house.” Snape said, disgust evident in his tone. “Both of you, detention. 8pm sharp.”

You should be embarrassed and sad over house points being taken away but you could care less at the moment. You and Fred had just pulled a prank on a few of the teachers by knocking on all the doors and running before you could get caught. Sure, they'd probably figure out it was you two but who cares.

"Do you think they'll figure out it was us?" Fred asked, done laughing while a smile forms on his lips.

"Probably, but who cares." You said, giggling quietly. "I hope we don't though. I'm not a fan of serving detention for every teacher."

You felt Fred shudder beside you. "Especially Umbridge."

Your eyes widened. You completely forgot about Umbridge and how horrible her punishments were. "Don't remind me."

"Don't worry, (Y/N). We won't get caught." Fred reassured, but you could tell he wasn't so sure himself. The prank you two pulled was a reckless one. You were bound to get caught.

You replied with a nervous laugh. 'Yeah, we're definitely fucked.'

"Looks like we're partners, Freddy." You said, pulling the cauldron forward and taking out your potion book. "Do your best not to explode this in our faces like last time."

"I would never." He responded, adding a smile as if it was any help. "So, first we add peppermint, right?" He asked, looking from the peppermint to you back to the peppermint.

"And suddenly I've lost all faith that this won't explode on us." You said, gently placing your hand on his and pushing it down and away from the cauldron. "Put the peppermint away, Weasley." You warned, flashing him a smile that made his heart flutter.

"Yes, love." It slipped out. His face flushed and he wanted nothing more than to disappear but you didn't seem to mind, easing him a bit.

"Okay, can you hand me the stir stick thing please?" You asked, not looking up from the potion under you. It would be a lie if you said him calling you 'love' didn't make your stomach burst into a frenzy of butterflies. 'Calm down (Y/N)'

He handed you the stirring stick and watched as you carefully stirred it 3 times clockwise and 4 times counterclockwise. "We did it!" You exclaimed, bringing Fred out of his trance. Your excited eyes met his, "We did it."

You handed him the potions to smell first. Books, rosemary, and a hint of lavender is what he smelt. It was you. Though, he already knew what to expect from the amortentia. He's been in love with you since 1st year.

He handed it back to you, his face pink. "Your turn."

"Well, what did you smell Fred?" You asked, slightly hoping it was you. But, you knew better than to think he'd ever like you back.

His face turned an even darker shade of pink. "None of your business! Now, you smell it and if you tell me what you smell I might tell you what I did."

You grumbled, sitting back into your chair with a pout and mumbling a quiet "Fine."

Firewood, mint, and candy invaded your senses. 'Fred' you thought. You knew it was going to be him.

Quickly, you sat the potion down. Refusing to make eye contact with the ginger next to you. "Fair game Weasley. You win because I'm not telling you mine either." You said, bottling the potion so you could turn it into the professor.

He pouted. He really wanted to know what you smelt. Perhaps it was him? 'Oh god what if it was George? Or Draco!?' He had to stop himself or he'd list a million people.

"Tell me at least one? I'll tell you one in return!" He begged. Yes, begged. Fred was desperate to know.

You rolled your eyes, it didn't seem like too bad of an idea. "Fine. One thing I smelt was candy." You said, sighing. "Your turn."

"One thing I smelt was rosemary." He said, trying to act confident. "What's another one you smelt? I'll go first this time!"

You nodded. What's the worst that could happen?

"The second thing I smelt was Lavender." He said quietly. His confident act was breaking and he started to wonder why he thought this was a good idea.

"Mine was firewood. That's the last one I'm sharing though." You said. If he were to keep asking he'd definitely find out it was him and you were not ready for him to know.

"Rude."

"Anyway, you want to go to dinner now?" You asked, noticing it was almost time for dinner to start.

He nodded, "Yes ma'am."

You two had to separate ways once you reached the Great Hall. Fred left for the Gryffindor table and you left for the Slytherin one.

Most of the Slytherins didn't mind you, but they also didn't befriend you.

"Hey, (Y/N)." You heard a student from behind you say.

You turned around and saw a Hufflepuff standing confidently. "Hello?" You asked, not trying to sound rude.

"I'm Cedric! A Hufflepuff as you can see." He said, motioning towards his robes. "I came over to ask if you wanted to go on a date later?"

'How do I nicely reject him?'

Fred, overhearing the conversation between you and the Hufflepuff, snapped his head in your direction eager to hear your answer. 'Please say no, please say no.' He thought, over and over.

"I um, you seem like a really nice guy Cedric, but I'm interested in someone else at the moment. I'm really sorry." You said, feeling extremely bad. Saying yes would only be leading him on and you didn't want to do that.

"It's fine. Thank you for being nice about it and not embarrassing me or anything." He said before walking back to his house table.

Meanwhile, Fred was relieved. He still had a chance with you.

Dinner was over and everyone was leaving to their room or their friends room.

"(Y/N)!" You heard a familiar voice yell.

"Fred!" You yelled back.

"What did that Hufflepuff want earlier?" He asked. He already knew the answer but he didn't want you to know he was listening in on your conversation.

You shrugged, "He asked me on a date. I said no though, he seems like a nice guy and all but I'm interested in someone else."

"Who's the other guy?" Fred asked, poking your shoulder and raising his eyebrows at you.

"None of your business Weasley. That's who."

"Sure, we both know I'll find out eventually. "

"I hope not." You mumbled underneath your breath.

"What was that?" He said, teasing you.

"Nothing!" You exclaimed. You didn't expect him to hear you.

"Fred Weasley, (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Come with me." It was Umbridge who spoke, making your blood run cold.

"Yes ma'am." You and Fred said at the same time, giving each other the 'this is not good' look.

She opened her door, revealing a decent sized office with a pink rug and two chairs in front of a wooden desk.

"I know it was you two who pulled the pranks earlier. "

You froze, when you got in trouble with Umbridge the punishment was by far the worst.

"It was just me who pulled all of the pranks." You said quickly, ignoring the wide eye look Fred gave you.

Umbridge leaned back in her chair looking unimpressed. "Really? Then why was Mr. Weasley here late to class with you?"

'Quick (Y/N), think!'

"He slept in today and saw me walking back to potions so he joined me. He had no part in the pranks." You replied, looking her dead in the eyes.

"Is this true, Weasley?"

'Don't mess this up Fred.'

After a moment of silence, he nodded. "Yes, I slept in this morning and when I was on my way to potions I saw her walking there and joined her."

Umbridge nodded, "Very well. You may leave Weasley. (Y/L/N), stay here."

Once Fred left she handed you a quill. The same quill you had heard the horror stories about. "Write 'I will not pull pranks'."

She did not specify how many times, instead she ushered me to start and worked on school papers.

The pain was horrible. I wrote it 113 times. The words 'I will not pull pranks' was carved into my skin 113 times. The only reason she dismissed me is because blood was close to falling on her pink rug.

"You may leave now. Do not get any of your dirty blood on my rug either." She said, not looking up from her work.

"Yes ma'am." I barely whispered, clutching my hand to my chest.

I left her room, blood getting on my clothes. I knew I couldn't go to the Slytherin dorm because we had nothing to wrap and clean my hand with. My only option was to find Harmione and hopefully get her to help.

The walk to the Gryffindor rooms felt like walking a marathon. I lost a lot of blood and was starting to get hot and sweaty.

"Fairy lights. " You whispered the password so no one else would hear you. You spent more time in the Gryffindor house than you did in the Slytherin so of course you had the password.

"Harmione!" You said, catching her attention. She was sitting on the common room couch, studying, per usual. "Do you think you could help me?" You asked, showing her your hand and arm covered in bloody words.

She gasped, "Merlin! What happened to you (Y/N)!?" She yelled, attracting more attention than you wanted. She was examining your arm when you heard another gasp.

This time, it was Fred. "This was Umbridge, wasn't it?" He asked, mad at himself for letting you take the blame and mad at Umbridge for hurting you.

You nodded, ashamed he was seeing you in such a state.

"I knew I shouldn't have let you take the blame. This is all my fault." He cried, pulling you from Hermione gently. "I can take care of her, Harmione."

Harmione nodded, understanding what was happening and left to give the two some privacy.

"I'm so so sorry (Y/N)." He said, continuing to cry with you in his arms.

"Hey, hey It's not your fault, Fred. I knowingly put myself in this position so I could save you." You said, pulling away from him and meeting his eyes. "It doesn't hurt too bad anymore anyway." You said, smiling as you placed your thumb on Fred's cheek.

He looked into your eyes for a moment, searching them. For what? You weren't sure. That is until he kissed you.

He placed his lips on your softly, giving you enough time to pull away if you wanted to. When you didn't, he went ahead and deepened the kiss, placing his hands firmly on your waist as you placed your arms around his neck.

You were the first to pull away. Your lungs were screaming for oxygen and you were sure Fred's were as well.

"It was you I smelt in my Amortentia." Fred mumbled, placing his forehead against your own.

You laughed. "I smelt you in mine too."

Nothing could be better than this moment.

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kaistarus · 4 years ago

Text

What is Love

Pairings: Hinata X Reader

Words: 1.3K

Summary: Hinata knows nothing about love, but his heart constantly wants to jump out of his chest and his hands can't decide between sweating and shaking so that had to mean something.

Notes: This was literally a short story I wrote for class that I turned into a fic lol hope it worked

Masterlist // Ko-Fi

Hinata knew nothing about love.

He knew a lot about volleyball, but it turned out they didn’t correlate.

He’d been watching Disney movies with Natsu for years though, so he felt like he should have been an expert. Except, his feelings couldn’t be described with a magic carpet ride, dancing in a forest, or even two lions singing with a weird amount of sexual tension. No, being around you felt way more intense than all that.

It felt like his heart constantly wanted to jump out of his chest and his hands couldn’t decide between sweating or shaking so they just did both. There was this weird itch under his skin that wouldn’t go away until you were within reach and the amount of times he’d received a ball with his face because of how often he daydreamed of you was becoming absurd.

He would daydream about touching you a lot, especially while staring at you in class. In the way where he wished he was holding your delicate hands as they rested on your desk. Sometimes he wished he could feel your heartbeat under his fingertips, desperate to know if it ever beat as fast as his when you were together. He even longed to run his fingers through your soft hair, dreaming of laying your head in his lap after a long day of practice and spending your free days together. Doing nothing and everything and just existing together in the same space.

One day he caves and goes to the only two people he can think of for advice.

“You’ve come to the right place,” Noya says, patting him on the back confidently. “If anyone can help you get a girlfriend it’s us.”

“We are the lady experts around here.” Tanaka nods, stroking his chin with a cocky smirk.

Hinata nods while tossing a volleyball between his hands, hoping the distraction will calm the anxious rhythm of his heart. This will be the first time he actually voices any of these issues. “So, how did you guys know you loved Kiyoko?”

Nishinoya’s eyes go wide and his hands shoot up defensively. “Whoa, that’s a big word there buddy. I don’t know about-”

“The moment I saw her.” Tanaka smiles dopily. “I proposed on the spot.”

“You what?” Noya panickedly turns to Hinata. “Don’t do that.”

“But how did you know?” Hinata furrows his brow, frustrated Tanaka’s been hiding such important information.

“I don’t know. She just came into the gym and it’s like everything clicked into place.” Tanaka turned away with a far off look in his eyes.

Hinata and Noya both tilt their heads in confusion. Hinata didn’t understand him at all. Things never made sense when he was around you. If anything you’d thrown his world completely out of whack.

“Did that help?” Noya raises a brow, uncertain now that he understood Hinata’s problem.

Hinata told them it had. Which wasn’t a complete lie he realizes as he biked home over the mountain. He learned that love was something complicated, with more questions than answers, and that he may never get those answers. But he also learned that he kind of doesn’t care if it means he gets to spend more time with you trying to find them.

Once he entered his third year, Hinata’s love for you had become as easy as breathing. The butterflies had dissolved into warm familiarity rather than abrupt nervousness. His chest no longer ached when he thought of you, but he still found it pretty hard to breathe when you smiled at him. He had become familiar with the warmth that enveloped him when your eyes met and fond of the casualness that developed within your gradually built friendship. Sometimes it wasn’t enough, but most of the time it was everything.

Unfortunately, as it turned out, Hinata was pretty easy to read, so only everyone knew he loved you which didn’t matter unless you found out. It wasn’t that he didn’t want you to know, but more that he was scared once his feelings were out they’d get annihilated because you were beautiful and intelligent and a million times out of his league. He just wanted to keep you as close as possible for as long as possible.

Sometimes though he lets himself hope. When your eyes linger a little too long during class, when your fingers card through his hair during late night study sessions, or when you open your mouth to say something only to eventually close it and refuse to acknowledge whatever was on the tip of your tongue. It was moments like those that had him imagining what it might be like to kiss you, at least once, or maybe just hold your hand knowing you felt the same way.

There was nothing different planned for tonight. He’s invited you over to ‘study’, but really it was another lame excuse to spend time with you. Usually you’d accuse him of slacking off, which you’d be completely right about but he’d deny, then you’d likely give up trying and play games or watch a movie with him. But tonight you’re completely silent, eyebrows drawn together and lips pressed into a thin line.

“Is something wrong?” He asks, which makes you visibly tense.

“No, it’s just… Yes. Actually, yes..” You say. There isn’t any animosity, but instead you sound… nervous. Which makes him nervous.

“Are you feeling sick?” Hinata asked hesitantly. He needed to fill the air with nervous chatter because confrontation made him uncomfortable.

“Look,” You sighed, looking up exhaustedly at him. “I’m not stupid.”

“Well, duh,” he raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Did someone say you were?”

“No, I just-” You pushed the few books that laid in between you and shuffled closer to him. Hinata’s face lit up a brilliant shade of red when you invaded his personal space. “I’ve been waiting for you to do something Hinata and I--I can’t.”

“Do what?” Hinata tilted his head.

“You seriously can’t be this dense.” You roughly grab both of Hinata’s cheeks in a sort of cradle that sends his heart into a frenzy. He’s itching to place his hands on top of yours, but he balls them up into material of his shorts instead.

“I kind of am, yeah.”

Your eyes scan his face. “You’re looking a little red.”

“My room’s a little hot.”

“It’s winter.”

Hinata can’t cock his head to the side like he wants to because of the hands holding him still. You should know by now Hinata is dense and slow to pick on vague hints. If you want something from him you’ll have to tell him straight out. “(Y/N) I don’t know what’s-”

“Why can't you just tell me how you feel?”

It hits Hinata like a semi-truck and he feels the heat rush to his face. You knew.

“Well,” he stumbles over the right words. Any words. “I just… didn’t think it was important.”

“How is that not-”

Hinata scrambles to cut her off. “I didn’t want to ruin this and make you uncomfortable. I just wanted things to stay… how they are. I thought things would get weird, so I just… didn’t.”

You’re glaring at him and it’s exactly what Hinata didn’t want.

“You’re such an idiot.”

Hinata isn’t given much time to argue before you’re pulling him toward you to seal your lips together.

It’s not great. There aren’t fireworks like every Disney movie promised him. It’s sloppy, wet, and teeth where Hinata assumes teeth shouldn’t be used. It’s honestly the least romantic thing Hinata has ever experienced. But it’s you.

So, it’s perfect.

“I’ve thought about this for years.” Hinata whispers between gentle kisses.

“Me too.” You smile against his lips, trying to sneak another kiss before he pulls away astonished.

“You what?” He grabs your shoulders desperately. “If you knew why didn’t you say something?”

“I thought it was obvious,” you try to explain. “I thought you were waiting for a reason.”

“I’m not that smart.” Hinata smiles then rests his forehead against yours. “I love you.” He says, finally. It’s a weight off his shoulders and it feels so right.

You open your mouth, and he notices you fumble for words. He kisses you before you can say anything because you know. He finally told you.

And that’s enough.

#shoyo hinata #hinata x reader #hinata shoyo x reader #hinata shouyou #hinata shoyo #hinata shōyō #hinata shouyo x reader #hinata shoyo oneshot #haikyuu x reader #haikyū!!#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #nishinoya yuu #tanaka ryuunosuke #haikyu

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acrylicqueen · 4 years ago

Text

My Version of FNAF Canon

(a.k.a. my attempt at cleaning up the FNAF timeline) FNAF’s canon is messy and confusing, and I personally think the story would be better if the series ended with FNAF3 like Scott had originally intended. So, a few days ago, I wrote up a revised version of the story and explained every detail so it is all easily understood. You can read the revised story/timeline of events underneath the read more!

Characters:

Henry Emily

Original Founder of Fazbear Entertainment

Friendly and approachable. A family man despite being a single parent. Harbors big aspirations and is determined to stick to them. Has a tendency to get in a little over his head; has so many ideas that they all tend to muddle together and become confusing. Despite this, he is very professional. A HARD worker.

William Afton

Co-founder of Fazbear Entertainment

Founder of Afton Robotics

Manipulative and controlling. Narcissistic; possibly a megalomaniac. Has a habit of taking advantage of others for personal gain. Incredibly fake in earnest, but good at pretending to be a genuine person. Bad temper. Highly intelligent and sly, which makes him appear rather charming to most people.

Timeline:

Early 1970s

Henry has an idea for a kid's pizza restaurant utilizing animatronics and arcade games as entertainment.

He employs an old friend of his, William Afton, as his business partner. He becomes the co-founder of the company Henry's creating.

Working together, Henry and William found Fazbear Entertainment and in-turn Afton Robotics.

Henry and William create the restaurant's animatronics, Fredbear and Spring Bonnie, and open their first location, "Fredbear's Family Diner." While they both design the animatronics, William builds them.

Late 1970s

Restaurant is successful and groundbreaking

After a few years of being open, to make the restaurant more exciting, Henry and William design new animatronics to be displayed alongside Fredbear and Bonnie. These new animatronics are Freddy, Bonnie, Chica, and Foxy (what would later become their withered variants)

With an added aura of confidence due to building these new and more technologically advanced animatronics, William wants to take the company in a direction Henry isn't fond of; William is trying to take control of the company too much for Henry's liking

Eventually Henry fires William

Fuming, William files a lawsuit on Fazbear Entertainment, claiming he is the rightful owner of the physical animatronics. Since he built them he believes he is entitled to their copyright

William loses the lawsuit because when he forfeited the animatronics over to Fazbear Entertainment, technically Henry became the owner of them

Because of being fired and the result of the lawsuit, William is left penniless and disgraced

William grows to resent Henry and the Fazbear Entertainment company because not only did the company ruin him, but he also he believes it's not fair he helped the company become successful only to be fired and kicked off the team

William wants to get revenge, so he vows to figure out a way to ruin the company's reputation while also getting "even" with Henry for dropping him as a business partner

William takes his revenge to the extreme when he decides to murder Henry's daughter, Charlotte, outside of Fredbear's Family Diner in an act of vindictiveness and self-importance

Charlotte possesses the Security Puppet, binding her spirit to all future versions of the Puppet as well

Henry is devastated and the company takes a massive blow when the public finds out Fredbear's Family Diner is now linked to a child's murder

Henry closes Fredbear's down until further notice due to his grief and the negative reception from the public

Meanwhile, William gets away with his crime, no one even suspecting him since he dropped off the public radar after the lawsuit

Mid-Late 1980s (1985-1987) (FNAF 2)

Henry is being dogged by investors of Fazbear Entertainment to rekindle the restaurant

Feeling backed into a corner, Henry agrees to make a new version of Fredbear's Family Diner, which he renames "Freddy Fazbear's Pizza."

Henry makes new animatronics for the restaurant himself. He dubs these the "Toy" animatronics. Toy Freddy, Bonnie, Chica, and Foxy (+ a new version of The Puppet, "The Marionette")

Henry equips these new animatronics with special facial scanners to detect potential criminals in the restaurant. The animatronics identify these criminals through a database. Henry is determined to have this restaurant be safer than his last attempt.

Note: This restaurant is most likely when the company began using the spring lock suits. Therefore, the safe rooms for bleeding out are located in THIS location specifically. This may have been a suggestion and action from investors, as I can't see Henry making this reckless idea up.

The restaurant opens to mixed reception. This new restaurant is in a different city than Fredbear's. Henry made this decision mostly to help his mental health.

Eventually, Freddy Fazbear's Pizza becomes just as popular, if not more so, than Fredbear's Family Diner. Kids ADORE adore the restaurant for the characters, games, and prizes, and adults can appreciate the groundbreaking technology that goes into the animatronics.

Despite still being the owner of Fazbear Entertainment, Henry attempts to distance himself from holding a strong management role. He's still traumatized by the brutal death of his daughter.

William, noticing that Fazbear Entertainment is becoming successful again even after the crime he committed, becomes enraged.

Still doing poorly mentally and financially because of his termination from the company, William realizes that in order to truly tarnish the reputation of Fazbear Entertainment for good, he's going to have to hatch a new plan (William is truly a vindictive bastard)

Note: William tries so hard to ruin the company because not only did it put him out financially, which essentially ruined his life, but it wronged him personally, and since he's so narcissistic he believes people shouldn't be able to get away with doing him wrong. This is most likely not his first experience with breaking the law/doing something truly horrible.

Under the alias 'Fritz Smith' William applies for a job at the new location, landing a position as a day-worker and part-time night guard

William changes his appearance slightly just in case anyone recognizes him from Fredbear's

Considering the fact Henry is trying to distance himself from the new restaurant, he doesn't notice William (posing as a different person) is now working at Freddy's

Note: The animatronics begin to act strangely toward the staff of the restaurant after William gets a job there because Charlotte (inside The Marionette) can sense that an evil presence is within the building now. Therefore, the animatronics start to act aggressively toward all adult figures (considering Charlotte mostly remembers that the murderer is an adult.)

For a while, William works a normal job at the restaurant, getting close to the patrons and other staff members. He takes this time to study the inner workings of the company.

He's seen as a slightly odd, but generally well-meaning individual (and a pretty good worker too!)

After about a year or so William finally puts his plan into motion, using one of the old animatronic suits to lure five children into the backroom and murder them, just as he had done to Charlotte (maybe he does this on a day he's supposed to have off in order to have an alibi. Takes the day off and then sneaks into work anyway)

He finds great satisfaction in this and ends up having quite a bit of fun committing the crime. It reminds him of the catharsis he felt back when he murdered Charlotte.

(As an added bonus 🙂) William takes each corpse and shoves them into spare animatronic suits in the backroom closet for someone to discover later. He then cleans himself up and promptly flees the scene of the crime, lying in wait for what will happen next.

Charlotte's spirit, now residing inside of The Marionette, gives life to the dead children by allowing them to possess the animatronic they were each stuffed into. This permanently binds their souls to any and all past and future versions of that character. (So technically each child is possessing EVERY iteration of their respectful animatronic. Ex: The child stuffed inside of Freddy is haunting Fredbear, Withered Freddy, Toy Freddy, Regular Freddy, Etc.)

Note: The childrens' bodies were most likely stuffed inside the Withered animatronics. William probably figured it would take people a bit to check those specific models, which would give him enough time to prepare for the fallout that would occur when they were found.

With the disappearance of five children at the restaurant, an investigation is launched. The staff plans to have the restaurant closed for only a few days so the police can conduct it.

As expected, the corpses of the children are found during the investigation and the restaurant is promptly closed

After being cleaned out, the restaurant holds one final birthday party before shutting down to allow for further investigation into the crime

With these five murders, the animatronics are sent into a frenzy, acting more aggressive than ever and generally not working right

During the last birthday party, Jeremy Fitzgerald, the night guard that was instructed to work the dayshift, is attacked by one of the animatronics, resulting in the "Bite of '87". He survives, but with the loss of his frontal lobe he loses cognitive abilities and all motor skills.

Note: You may ask "Why'd Fazbear Entertainment agree to still do the birthday party even though they literally just found five childrens' corpses in the building?" Money, duh. The managers don't want to miss out on a sale, and they CERTAINLY don't want to have to refund parents for the party.

This is the final nail in the coffin for the restaurant, so it's completely shut down, the future of the company unknown.

The murders of the five children and the Bite of '87 completely tank the reputation of the restaurant, and the tragedy is all over the news.

Henry is left in utter disbelief and turmoil after the incident. Unable to deal with everything, he makes the decision to sell Fazbear Entertainment, completely cutting ties with the company.

Meanwhile, William sits back, satisfied with the fact that he was successfully able to achieve what he set out to do.

Early 1990s (1993?) (FNAF 1)

The Fazbear Entertainment company is in limbo for a while after the incidents. The FNAF2 location is left to rot.

The investigations into the murders of the five children culminated in the wrongful arrest and detainment of another Freddy's employee. Therefore, William has remained innocent.

However, as the years have passed, William has begun to be haunted by the spirits of the five children.

He decides that in order to get *them to stop bothering him, he'll break into the rotting Freddy's location and completely dismantle the animatronics, effectively destroying their vessels and hopefully causing the spirits to be destroyed along with them.

*This doesn't necessarily have to be the actual spirits of the children. It could also be an inkling of William's conscious seeping through and torturing him about the crimes he committed.

William does this and during the dismantling process is ambushed by the five spirits, scaring him into the safe room and causing him to hide in an abandoned Spring Bonnie costume lying on the ground.

This is where the spring locks release and kill him inside the suit, as seen in the FNAF3 mini games.

Now that William is finally dead, the spirits believe they can pass on, but what they aren't aware of is that being killed in the Spring Bonnie suit has now fused William's spirit with it. Therefore, he is not truly dead.

Mid-Late 1990s (FNAF 1)

The people that purchased the Fazbear Entertainment company from Henry decided to once again try and revitalize the company, still seeing great potential in it despite the tragedies that took place. (They want their money!)

They decide to turn the restaurant into more of a chain.

They salvage some parts from the old FNAF2 location, board up the safe rooms inside the building, and use the parts they find to remake the animatronic characters.

(Q: Why do they board up the safe rooms?

A: Considering these people technically still own the old FNAF2 building, I would imagine they would like to keep it around for potential other locations in the future. Therefore, they don't want anyone easily breaking into the building and screwing things up, so they just board up any and all entrances, doorways, etc.

Q: Why did they decide to do this now? Why not earlier? The building was just sitting there, so why hadn't they boarded it up sooner?

A: Up until this point the people that own Fazbear Entertainment now weren't planning on doing ANYTHING with these old locations. They had no plans, so why would they need to make sure that one of the old locations doesn't get vandalized? They only start caring now because the building is finally a potential way to make a profit.)

These characters are cheaply made and look like a significant downgrade from the Toy animatronics (considering they weren't made by William or Henry)

Most of everything in the new restaurant is dingier and cheaper than the past two locations because the new owners of the company care more about money than quality, unlike Henry.

Since William's spirit lives on inside the Spring Bonnie suit, the children's souls are unable to pass on, so even these new animatronics continue to act strangely and attempt to attack the night guard.

This continues until this new location is shut down as well for health violations. The place is a mess, the pizza is nasty, and families are complaining that the animatronic characters are glitchy, smell awful, and seem to be leaking "what appears to be blood and mucus."

~2017 (FNAF 3)

Far in the future, the Fazbear's Fright horror attraction is made to capitalize on the infamous Freddy Fazbear's Pizza "rumors"

William, now possessing Spring Bonnie, is found by Fazbear's Fright while they scavenge through the old FNAF1 location

He is placed into the horror attraction after he is salvaged.

Influenced by his remaining bitterness toward anything Fazbear Entertainment related, plus the animalistic nature he processes while inhabiting Springtrap, he attempts to attack and kill the night guard of Fazbear's Fright

After a week, the Fazbear's Fright building catches fire and burns down. Springtrap burns with the building and, with his vessel destroyed, William's spirit is sent to Hell. It's currently debated on whether or not the fire was caused by an outside party, or by the faulty wiring and ventilation in the old building.

Note: It's quite possible Henry found out about the horror attraction and burnt the building down himself, attempting to end all things related to the seemingly cursed franchise once and for all. This might have been an act of catharsis for him, almost like he's finally letting go of the past.

With William officially gone, the spirits of the six kids he murdered can properly pass on.

#five night's at freddy's #fnaf #fnaf1 #fnaf2 #fnaf3 #springtrap #william afton #purple guy #henry emily #script revision #story revision #story rewrite #drabbles

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lastsonlost · 4 years ago

Link

The star begins a libel trial against a U.K. tabloid that called him a "wife beater." No matter the verdict, he's destined to lose.

If there's a single word to describe Johnny Depp's status at the moment, I'd go with zugzwang, which chess aficionados know to be the moment when a player basically gets cornered into making a move that will inevitably lead to an even more inferior position. On Tuesday, the star actor appeared in a London courtroom to take on the U.K. publisher of The Sun for characterizing him as a "wife beater" in the print edition of an April 27, 2018, online article. Unfortunately for Depp, it seems to be a defamation trial that's a no-win situation.

Depp appears to think that success is achievable at a proceeding that will last several weeks and feature all sorts of inside details about his life plus celebrity friends including Paul Bettany and Winona Ryder. Depp is claiming that during his tumultuous marriage to Amber Heard between 2015 through 2017, he didn't actually throw a phone at her, slap her across the face, and grab her by the hair, as she once testified in a deposition during one of the nastiest divorces in Hollywood history. Perhaps Depp will play audio tapes in an effort to claim his ex-wife was the abusive one in this stormy relationship. It won't matter because there's really no reversing the damage that Depp has incurred these past few years.

That should have become obvious on June 26 when it was revealed that Disney was working on a new Pirates of the Caribbean, this time featuring a female-fronted cast led by Margot Robbie. In other words, at the exact moment when a U.K. judge was deciding on whether to actually proceed with Depp's libel suit after the actor's attorneys breached a court order by failing to turn over a series of text messages concerning the procurement of drugs, Depp may have lost his most lucrative role. A source tells The Hollywood Reporter that Jerry Bruckheimer would like to at least nod to the popularity of the Captain Jack Sparrow character in the coming film if the controversies die down, but at this point, Disney is resistant. Depp is too controversial. (Disney didn’t respond for comment.)

So Depp will pursue a favorable verdict and a nominal damages award from a trial that's playing out under English defamation standards — in other words, where the burden of truth is on the news publisher to establish rather than Depp. Meanwhile, over the next few weeks, amid an international pandemic, Depp will surely incur additional reputational harm from these prying court proceedings, the impetus for which was a column questioning J.K. Rowling's defense of Depp being cast in the adaptation of her book Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. It's hard to sue one's way out of controversy.

Given this situation, it's no wonder Hollywood insiders are increasingly puzzled over Depp's moves. I spoke to several industry attorneys and publicists, all of whom offered some variation on the theme that the public would likely have forgotten Depp's years-old troubles but for court actions that keep reminding everyone.

“One of the things you’re always balancing is, how do you respond to accusation? Do you add more fuel to the fire or let it dissipate?” asks Howard Bragman, a longtime crisis manager in the entertainment industry.

Says Neville Johnson, an attorney who has previously brought suits against tabloids but questions the star plaintiff's wisdom here: “Depp doesn’t need the money [from any damages award] and it is not going to enhance his reputation.”

***

How did Depp find himself at the point of zugzwang? More and more, one has got to question Depp's reliance on attorney Adam Waldman. Depp has many attorneys, and the others seem to be the ones actually doing the hard work in court, but Waldman has become Depp's mouthpiece and also looks to be the lawyer who has emerged as the star's svengali of sorts.

Who is Waldman?

A search on Google (where he referred this reporter instead of agreeing to an interview) yields some clues, though hardly anything definitive. Unlike most attorneys, Waldman maintains no bio page these days. A few years back, Waldman's D.C.-based Endeavor Group did have a working website, but no longer. A trip to the Internet Archive reveals that Waldman once took credit for overseeing "all corporate aspects" of the landmark antitrust trial United States v. Microsoft, being the "principal architect of several ground-breaking initiatives" including the Center for Global Development, and even predicting the 2009 financial crisis with a "seminal law review article" authored all the way back in 1993. That would be when he was a student at American University, which did indeed confirm his graduation in 1995.

Waldman, according to reputable press reports, seems to have been involved in various dealings with the Kremlin, Russian oligarch Oleg Deripaska, and Wikileaks founder Julian Assange. He had a lucrative ($40,000 per month) lobbying contract with Deripaska, was registered as an agent for the Russian government, visited Assange nine times in one year at the Ecuadorian embassy in London, apparently in connection with efforts to strike a deal with the DOJ, and more. His associations have become fodder for intrigue among reporters and lawmakers even if there’s a lack of public evidence of anything more than Waldman having a talent for landing recurring, if minor, roles in real-life Russian political dramas.

I'd say that Waldman's foray on the periphery of the industry hardly matters, except that it appears Depp is publicly burning bridges with the sort of abandon that one hardly ever sees among big Hollywood stars. Depp's recent legal pursuits include battling his former money managers over the disposition of hundreds of millions of dollars; splitting with longtime transactional attorney Jake Bloom; and, of course, continuing to face off against Heard again and again and again, including in a separate defamation suit against her over an op-ed she wrote for The Washington Post. That latter case is currently scheduled for trial in Virginia in January 2021.

That's a lot of legal work, and Waldman appears to have taken on a central role. As Stephen Rodrick put it in an often-cited Rolling Stone article, "Waldman seems to have convinced Depp that they are freedom fighters taking on the Hollywood machine rather than scavengers squabbling over the scraps of a fortune squandered."

Waldman is also conducting a public experiment on social media. In a nutshell, do tactics of preaching to a choir of a small number of Twitter accounts achieve anything outside of politics? Most attorneys don't pick fights with the media during a big case, particularly in the weeks before trial. Not Waldman. For weeks, he's been goading reporters at The New York Times who apparently are investigating him, and he's been whipping his followers into a frenzy with attacks on Rodrick, Variety ("Saudi Arabia's Variety"), THR ("too much corruption") and other journalists and news publications. (That said, Waldman may not be above going to his own favored media outlets. Depp's attorneys have been accused in court papers of leaking to outlets like The Blast, which seems to be to Depp what Fox News is to Trump.) He's also litigating on Twitter, presenting evidence procured from Depp's cases, and overall, exhibiting highly unusual behavior for a working attorney.

To what end? That one is very hard to answer. But if anyone in Hollywood is ready to take on "fake news," the ticket of Depp-Waldman should be deemed real contenders.

***

In the era of #MeToo, allegations of misconduct get attention — and deservedly so — but some newsrooms have traditionally made a distinction between behavior in the workplace and domestic conduct, with the latter being perceived as tabloid fodder. This time, though, an ugly divorce proceeding has transformed into something quite more.

Alas, the trial of John Christopher Depp II v. News Group Newspapers Ltd has now begun.

On July 7, Depp himself took the witness stand and accused Heard of being sociopathic, a narcissist, and completely emotionally dishonest. He insisted her "sick" claims of abuse are untrue. And in opening statements, his attorney David Sherborne said, "This is not a case about money. It is about vindication."

Depp, in fighting a battle against an unflattering headline, is merely going to draw more attention to The Sun's accusation that he's a "wife beater," especially once Heard gets on the witness stand. At the end of it all, no matter the verdict, this trial will likely do nothing to tamp down the controversies that have tarnished his career. He's elevated a tabloid columnist's random musing into something that's going to be covered by serious news outlets for weeks, months, years on end.

For that, Johnny Depp should regain his senses and fire his lawyers.

Vindication ain't possible. The damage is done. That's the only thing a successful libel claim shows.

__________

What kind of Weinstein bullshit is this? So what, If he gives up on getting Justice for what hes been through Hollywood might throw him some crumbs?

JUST SHUT UP AND SUFFER IN SILENCE! ACCEPT THE LIES THAT WERE SPREAD ABOUT YOU! LET YOUR ABUSER WIN!

I wonder if this clown would tell metoo victims not to get Justice?

#justiceforjohnnydepp

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prpledusk · 4 years ago

Text

PSA: Kids please fucking stop.

In regards to recent events I just wanna go ahead and make something clear about where I stand on certain subjects, I dont have a lot of followers and for all I know I might actually lose a couple by writing this but eh. Fuck it, its tumblr.

So my oppinion when it comes to children the internet. Kids are fucking stupid.

I say that not to be mean spirited but more in the sense of "Kids do stupid shit when given the power of anonymity."

Specifically they do stupid shit when it comes to nsfw content.

Throughout my time on Discord and tumblr Ive come across muiltible sitations involving both children and adults as well as controversial and nsfw content, from a child lying about their age to gain access to said content, to adults posting minor/adult content under mine and my friends noses, to someone actually attempting to groom a minor. Its the Kingdom hearts fandom, we've had problems with preditors, and people spreading things like noncon fics since the early 2000's! Put simpley Ive seen some shit. And have a zero tolerance when it comes to Minors on the internet for reasons dealing with experience and also for the fact that I have a daughter and plan to teach her Internet safety when she becomes of age.

So here's a few bits of advice to help those in the fandom and maybe to assist in understanding why children shouldnt be posting or activly participating and comtributing nsfw content.

Children are not permitted to post pornographic content online. Ya'll can write and draw it sure but do not share it or post it online. Its illegal and can get you in serious trouble.

Do not write noncon as it not only helps in the spread of rapeculture but its insulting to actual victems, especially in cases where you may not be cappable of understanding things like nuance or lack the world experience that would tell you w h y its bad. To top it off, most of the time these fics are written by children whove never hhadto experience such a thing and see it as just an edgy way to get their kicks which again, just rubs salt in the wound.

Kids dont have to tell you their age, but if ever theres something that requires age identification simpley say "I identify as an adult/minor". Or just dont identify at all and stay away from adult areas. Easy peasy kill me pleasy.

If someone says "no" or "Im uncomfertable" please. Back the fuck off. End of discussion.

Do not post, contribute, or even dabble in minor/adult things. Yes Im looking at you Akuroku fans. I wish you all a very perish. By comtributing any minor/adult ships all your doing is helping pedophilia and MAPs become more normalized and for a minor online that is definatly not a good because it increases the chances of you becoming a VICTEM of those people.

The amount of times I had to call out adults for thinking theres nothing wrong with minor/adult things is staggering and I want to swallow glass and grind my own bones because of it, but its worth it if it makes a safer inviroment for the children around you. That being said, adults reading this: call that shit out. You obviously dont have to if you dont want to but you'll be shocked how many people you end up helping because of it.

If a minor has been getting nsfw from you, block them and cease contact. Its really the best thing you can do, and Minors? Please dont interract with adult artists and writers, you wont face any consiquence for getting nsfw from an adult but the adult can be legally charged with distribution of porn to a minor you have the potential to ruin someones life and you do not want that on your conscience.

Kids? Please do NOT share porn with other kids? Thats distribution of porn to a minor, which a minor can be charged with.

This list may be subject to update but ya'll get the picture. Back when I was a kid I made a lot of mistakes and yes even I wrote some things that I wish I never did but the difference is I kept it all PRIVATE. I made certain that Only I ever saw that stuff and never ever posted any of it publicly, and dammit it hurts to see kids who already remind me of myself when I was younger make those same mistakes within the same fandom no less.

I remember demyx time and how it consistantly made noncon jokes at the expense of minor characters, I remember Saix puppys :You got served! and how the characters where constantly sexually harassed and molested for the funnies,

I remember the near constant stream of noncon fics and how NO ONE was ever calling out this behavior in the fandom but times have changed. The fandoms changed and most of those kids have grown up and are now highly against all of that bullshit from the past and are currently calling out shit behavior and irresponsible posting but thanks to those mistakes of the past kids today see things like pressuring people into things they dont want, gaslighting, guilt tripping, and streight up minor/adult ships are fine and should even accepted. Hell proshippings apparently a thing and the more I think about that the more I get the Frenzy status.

I want this fandom to be safe. I want peoplr to come to my blogs and feel safe. I want people to talk to me and feel. Safe.

So I guess hopefully people read this and try to understand the basic do's and donts of being a kid on the internet.

In conclusion

Kids need to practice basic internet safety and creepy adults need to fuck off into the abyss.

#psa #musings #rambles #kill me #kingdom hearts #pokemon #iunno if someone reblogs this they can add other fandom tags I aint ya papa #this is why we cant have nice things

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aspenflower17 · 4 years ago

Text

Finding You (Part 16 of ??)

Hello metal husband and readers! Welcome to another update to Finding You! What’s on tap today you ask? Well, just keep reading and find out! New here and don’t want to spoil the story? Just hop on over to Part One through this link, and you can read through!

Word Count: 3,558

Tags for the Tagged: @simpingforsatan @naimena @hachimochi @wrathandgreed @magi-minminxiii @rensphilia @a-dream-at-night @chloelikesobeyme @getbehindme-satan @theuglypugling @oofthelazyweeb @solomonismyman (If you want to be added to my tags list, just say the word down below in a comment or a message, and I will get you added to the list :D)

Trigger warnings: One character’s a total douche, talk of war and death

Mc twirled the pencil she had been sketching with debating if she should ask the question she had been thinking about. Her and Michael were the only ones in the room and no one would be coming in for quite awhile. This was probably the best time she’d get to ask, "Hey, Michael. Can I ask you a question?"

He looked up from his book, "Yes? What is it?"

"Well, I was reading a book the other day, and I came across something odd. It… it was about the Avatar's Fall," Mc couldn't look at Michael, so she just continued, "Eyewitness accounts say there were eight angels that fell that day. So, I was wondering: Was there an eighth angel who fell that day?"

The silence was heavy, threatening to crush Mc. After a long moment, Michael's voice sounded lowly, "And just why were you reading about something like that?"

"Meeting them in person got me curious."

"And you would believe an eyewitness account over the teachings of the Celestial Realm?"

"Well, not necessarily. I just was curious since I'd never heard of there being another angel who Fell."

There was silence, and Mc still couldn't make herself look over, "I suppose just because some of them have paid attention to you makes you think you know all about demons.”

“No, it’s not that.”

“Then what is it then? If you haven’t forgotten, demons will lie about anything. Sinning comes naturally to them. In fact, the seven you keep coming into contact with are the embodiment of some of the most damaging sins. The lower demons are even worse.”

“I just want the most information possible. If there was another angel who fell that day, shouldn’t we tell everyone?”

“You forget your place, Mc. You may have luxuries other angels do not possess, but that does not raise your station. Questioning Father’s teachings. To believe something a demon wrote about another demon-"

"I'm not really questioning. I was just confused because-"

"And now you interrupt me? Just who do you think you are? I am an archangel, and the only reason you've been allowed down here. You are a simple angel that we have allowed to express her talents throughout the three realms. Do not make me wonder if it was the right decision."

Mc flinched at the door closing. Though he hadn't slammed it, nor had he raised his voice, she had felt the waves of displeasure rolling off of him. The threat about sending her back to the Celestial Realm had her really nervous. Before she was aware of what she was doing, the message had been sent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I could’ve come to the castle.”

“Hmmm… I don’t think that would be for the best right now.”

Satan cocked his head, “Did something happen?”

“Kind of. Anyway, thanks for meeting me here.”

“Of course. Is there anything in particular you’d like to do?”

“Well, I kinda thought, since I have an invitation and all, that you could show me around the House of Lamentation.”

“I… I mean, if you want to. I’m warning you now, it’s almost never calm there. My brothers are… a handful.”

“Sounds great!”

Satan looked over in shock, “Seriously?”

Mc nodded her head, “I grew up with calm. I want some excitement.”

“Well, be careful what you wish for.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

“GIVE ME BACK MY LIMITED DIAMOND EDITION SUCREY FRENZY SIGNED POSTER MAMMON! YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IT’S WORTH!”

“Course I know what it’s worth! Why’d ya think I took it in the firs’ place?”

“SO YOU DID TAKE IT!!!”

“Oh. Whoops! Forget I said anythin’.”

“MAMMON!”

A blur of demon shot past Mc and Satan. All Mc could make out was white and brown, before Leviathan went past, considerably slower than Mammon, but still fast for a demon. At least, Mc thought it might be Leviathan. The shy purple haired demon was now in all black, with black horns and a snake-like tail. He also looked like he was going to rip apart his brother.

Satan sighed, continuing forward, hands in his pockets, “Welcome to the House of Lamentation.”

“Shouldn’t we do something?”

“Hmm? Oh, about them? I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“Ah. I see…”

“We should probably get you out of the immediate vicinity though. There’s no telling what those two idiots might do.”

“Where should we go then?”

“Hmmm… Well, since we’re close, I guess we could start with the kitchen.”

“Sounds good to me!”

As they walked, Mc looked around her. Though the decorations were both a tad macabre and extremely grand, she found herself… comfortable. The candle light cast everything in an almost cheery glow, and the atmosphere, while a little daunting, made her feel like she was…

“... Home.”

Satan stopped dead in his tracks, and turned slowly towards her, “W-wait… Hwat did you say?”

“Oh, did I say that outloud? Sorry. That probably sounded really weird,” when Satan didn’t answer, Mc continued a bit awkwardly, “It’s just… This is the most comfortable I’ve been in a brand new place in a long time. I thought maybe my attraction to the Devildom was just because of how novel it all is to an angel. But… Being in this house, it just makes everything feel more like… Home,” Mc looked up to see Satan looking at her with a very tender but sad look, “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah. Let’s keep going.”

When they got to the kitchen, Belphegor and Beelzebub were there, former hiding his head in his arms and the latter consuming a concerning amount of food in a very short time. He stopped when Satan and Mc entered the room.

“Burfy! Wrok hus herr!”

“Hmmm? What? Who is it?”

“Ots Emm Fee!”

Belphegor lifted his head tiredly, but smiled when he saw Satan and Mc, “So, you took us up on the invitation?”

“Yup. Satan’s showing me around.”

“Do you guys want some food?” Beelzebub asked, mouth cleared for a second.

“Well, I-"

"Here. You can have this," Beel said, grabbing her hand and dropping what looked to be a kind of sweet bun in it. He gazed at it for a second then looked at her and grinned before walking back to his food pile.

"You should eat it," Satan said quietly, " He doesn't share his food with just anybody."

"Oh. Okay," Mc said, looking at the sweet. She took a small bite and then her eyes grew wide before eating the whole thing.

"Thought you'd like it," the Avatar of Gluttony smiled.

"It was absolutely delicious! What was it?"

"An orange roll. It's a human word treat."

"I'm going to have to have Luke make it later."

"Did he come with you?" Beel's eyes were shining.

"Ummm… Not this time."

"Oh."

"I'll make sure to let him know next time I'm coming."

"Please do," Beel said, smiling again.

"Well, I'm going to continue our tour if that's alright."

"Yes, please do," Mc smiled, turning back to him.

"Have fun you two," Belphie said, dropping his head back onto his arm.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mc and Satan progressed through the house. The feeling of familiarity just kept growing as they went. There was a room off the kitchen that Mc felt very drawn to. Satan said it was just an unused bedroom, nothing of note, but it did nothing to curb her interest. In fact, it made her want to see what was inside even more.

When they got to the library, they had to stop because Mc was so excited. No matter how many library’s she saw, personal or otherwise, they never failed to excite her. The fact it was the personal library of the Fallen was not lost on her.

“Do you want to stop here for a bit?” Satan chuckled.

Mc turned to him with wide eyes, “Can we?”

“Of course. Spending time with books is always time well spent. Anything in particular you’d like to look for?”

“Ummm… Do you just want to give me a tour?”

“Of the library?... Hmm… I suppose I could do that. Lucifer does like it organized a certain way. And, of course, if there’s a book that catches your eye, all you have to do is say the word and we can stop to read.”

“Oh, that’s what you’re really after,” Mc teased.

“Well, can you blame me? Reading with someone in companionable silence is one of life’s greatest joys.”

“Well, I suppose it is nice to just sit and read with Sim, though he’s probably the only one I’ve read with.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Most other angels don’t just sit and read very often. Unless it’s scripture.”

“Sounds about right,” Satan said, rolling his eyes and starting to climb the stairs that lead to the second story of the library.

The “certain way” Lucifer liked the books to be organized was by genre, then alphabetically by author.If an author had multiple books, they were to be then sorted alphabetically by title, any series sorted by the first book’s title then in order. Many of the books were old though in impeccable condition. Mc was impressed by the breadth of selection available, and she could sense some spacial magic at work which housed more books than what was visible to the naked eye. While browsing, Mc found a book that looked interesting, and carried it until the tour was over. Satan happened to have a book in a hidden pocket in his jacket so they decided to sit and read awhile. Instead of the ground floor, Satan knew of a little nook on the second story which had a cushioned window seat and two plush reading chairs, so they went and sat there.

Though the story was interesting, she just couldn’t get into the book she’d grabbed. Her mind kept wandering back to her earlier conversation with Michael. She didn’t know how she could have brought up the subject in a way where he wouldn’t have gotten so upset with her. He’d reprimanded her before, but never had he been so dismissive and final about it.

“Are you alright?” Satan’s voice cut through her thoughts. She looked over to see him watching her.

She suddenly felt embarrassed, and averted her eyes, “It’s… Well, I got reprimanded by Michael.”

“Why?”

So Mc told him about her search for information, how Barbatos had told her to ask Michael and his rebuke. When she finished, Satan’s face was impossible to read. He was silent for long enough, she was concerned she had offended him somehow. Finally he spoke, “Lilith. Her name was Lilith. If you want some answers about what happened, I think Lucifer would be the best person to give them to you. I would suggest Beel, but he has enough trauma about what happened as it is. I don’t even know if he remembers, or if he’s blocked it…”

“Blocked what?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Satan knocked on a bookshelf on the ground floor. A deep voice sounded from behind it, “Enter.” At the word, the bookshelf sung open to reveal a secret room. Despite wondering what was going on, Mc was both delighted and intrigued.

“You guys actually have a secret room behind a bookcase?!”

Satan shrugged, “Yeah. The house has a lot more secrets too. It would’ve been my room had I not lost a bet with Lucifer. Now it’s his office,” and with that, he walked in.

The whole room was a lot cozier than Mc would’ve expected. Austere and imposing yes, but there was a level of warmth and comfort to the room Mc would never have expected.

“Satan, what is it?” Lucifer sat at his desk, quill scratching across some paperwork. He hadn’t looked up.

“Mc has a question for you.”

This got him to look up, “Ah Mc. How can I help you?”

“Oh, if I’m interrupting something I can come back later.”

“I could use a break anyway. Please continue,” Lucifer sat there expectantly.

“Okay. Umm…” the memory of Michael flashed through Mc’s mind, and she winced a bit, but continued on with her story. Lucifer’s eyes darkened the further into the story she got. When she got to Michael’s chastisement, Lucifer got up from his chair abruptly, and went over to his window, back to Satan and Mc. Mc faltered in her story, watching as his clothes changed, horns pushing up and out from his head.

“I told her you’d be the one to ask,” Satan intervened, coming to stand behind Mc.

“Why? You know everything. You were there,” Lucifer asked, back still turned.

“You know the whole story,” Satan shrugged, eyes on the black clad figure.

Lucifer was silent and unmoving for quite awhile. Mc’s tension was on high alert for quite awhile, not seeing the horns retreating, until he finally spoke, “Before I begin, I feel I must warn you. You are going to hear things you probably won’t like or agree with. You are not to interrupt me. There will be a chance for me to answer your questions at the end, but only at the end. I will not explain my actions. The only person I answer to is Lord Diavolo. Whether you believe them correct or not, I am not embellishing the truth nor am I trying to hide from it. Knowing all of that, do you want me to continue?”

“... Yes. I would like to know the truth,” Mc answered confidently, though the fact he was still angry put her on edge. She knew he wasn’t angry at her at least.

The eldest, having calmed down enough to revert out of his demon form, came over and sat behind his desk. Satan came and sat next to her, earning a look from Lucifer, “You’re going to stay?”

“She is my guest.”

Lucifer raised his eyebrows, but said nothing, turning his attention back to Mc, “Have you heard about the Great Celestial War?” Mc nodded, and he continued, “No doubt you’ve heard their version of what happened. Probably talks about me and my brothers rampaging around the Celestial Realm until they finally cast us out?” Lucifer looked to her for confirmation.

“More or less,” Mc conceded.

“I am sure they make me out to be a villain in every way?”

“They say before you became angry, you were the model angel.”

“That is… interesting to know. Thank you for that. Now, where to begin?... Do you know anything about our sister?” Mc shook her head no, and Lucifer sighed angrily, “To think they just… Lilith came into my little makeshift family with Beel and Belphie. They were almost triplets in a sense of the word. Beel was the sun, Belphie the moon and Lilith the stars, though I would argue she shined the most brightly out of them. She was... angelic. They should really point to her as the model angel. She was everything an angel should and could be. Though they were all very close, once Beel made himself my bodyguard, Belphie and Lilith spent a lot of time together. Belphie had a habit of going off the the human realm whenever he could, which was not seen as a good thing, though he knew how to keep himself unattached to the humans he happened to meet, so no one could really do much more than grumble. That is, until Lilith started going down him.

Her heart was so pure and full of love, she ended up falling in love with one of the humans she met. Belphie tried to talk her out of it, but it was no use. When the rumors started, I asked both of them what was going on. From what they both said, it was love at first sight. Though I was furious, I went down myself to meet the man in question, and found myself unable to criticize her. He was everything I could have wanted for my sister.

Unfortunately, he was mortal and he came down with a serious illness. Lilith was devastated. We all tried to tell her this was a good thing. He was a good enough person he would probably join us in the Celestial Realm. I even spoke with my father and got permission for her to lead him to the Celestial Realm when he passed. She wouldn’t listen however. He had told her all about his dreams for the future and she couldn’t let his life end. SO she concocted a plan. I wish she would’ve told me about it earlier, but I only found out about it after the deed had been done. She took a Tarel fruit and fed it to him,” Mc gasped despite herself. That fruit was precious. Michael himself wasn’t allowed any unless Father approved of it. Lucifer didn’t even acknowledge the outburst, “He recovered, obviously, but the damage was irreversible. As punishment for her sins, my father decided she would be put on trial, though we all knew the outcome, “ as did Mc. Either death or complete exile. They were essentially one-and-the-same.

“I had… many issues with the Celestial Realm and how it was run. How it probably still is. I was able to put those all aside however for the sake of my family and my position. This however,” and Mc could see the rage that still filled his eyes, “I could never forgive. Not if it meant the death of our dear baby sister. All my brothers felt the same way, especially Beel and Belphie. We all decided we were going to do something about it. Despite what anyone might say, I did try to go the “correct way” in the beginning. Supplications to my father. Speaking to others that might listen. I think we even tried a petition at one point. Very few would listen. I think there was a level of envy from most of the other angels. They saw in Lilith all their shortcomings, and so they had latched onto the one “bad” thing anyone could ever remember her doing.

“Tensions came to a head one day when I told my father and Michael I would do everything in my power to keep Lilith safe. Michael then looked me dead in the eyes and told me my sister was going to be punished, even if he had to do it himself. I left that meeting trembling with rage, and that’s when I knew I would wage war against anyone who tried to hurt my family, even if that meant fighting my father myself. I flew into the sky that day and sent my declaration of war over the entire Celestial Realm.

“Some came to our aid, but most sat on the opposing side. The war was long and bloody. Many that had flocked to our aid perished, low ranked angels who didn’t stand a chance against the likes of Michael and his bow. On what would come to be known as the last day of the war, we had so few left, my precious family had to be put near the front of the battle. Everything was going fine, and we were actually winning when I saw Michael emerge from the enemy forces. He had spotted Lilith, standing with Beel and Belphie, and I could see his intentions before anyone else. I tried my hardest to reach the three youngest, but a large crowd of angels came to attack me. Whether it was his plan all along to keep me tied up with so many, I don’t know. All I do know is that by the time I had fought off all my attackers it was too late. He had strung three arrows pointing them at my family. They all knew it was coming too, and I watched the panic set in to all three of them, with Beel in the middle. He chose to save Belphie. Lilith went down with an arrow to the wing, which was then followed by three more arrows shot by others, one to her other wing, one to the stomach, and then one to the chest. She looked over to me as she started falling and I…” Lucifer’s voice broke and he had to take a second to compose himself, “Well, let’s just say I will never forget it. After the shock had worn off, I flew after her as she fell. I tried to shoot down as fast as I could hoping to grab her, but it was no use. She crashed into the Devildom, wings singed body broken.

“I didn’t tell anyone about that day for a long time. Eventually I did tell Barbatos and Lord Diavolo who Lilith’s murderer was, which is why Barbatos knew who to send you to for answers. The fact Michael wouldn’t come clean about the whole thing, and that they’ve essentially erased her from history… It makes my blood boil. To see Diavolo acting so chummy with my sister’s murderer…” Mc could see, through the film of tears blocking her vision, Lucifer’s horns starting to emerge again.

Without thinking, she crossed over to him and hugged him, openly weeping. The thought was appalling. Whenever people spoke about the Great Celestial War, they always spoke of Michael’s brilliant tactical genius. They spoke of how he’d helped crush the rebellion, though they had never gone into detail. She now knew why. Lucifer was taken aback for a second by the behavior, but eventually hugged her back.

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So, yeah. That happened.

Likes, shares and comments all vm appreciated.

If y’all got the reference in the beginning, I applaud you and offer the chance to quote her magnificence in the comments or you could send me asks and I will reply with another quote (please take me up on this!)

Part Seventeen

#obm #obey me!#obey me #obey me satan #obey me swd #obey me satan/mc #obey me lucifer #obey me michael #obey me lilith #obey me angst #obey me celestial war #obey me hol #obey me beel

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