#well after ive eaten too

[trashworldblog]

seasonings are great cus you can make most things taste similar

[james-p-sullivan]

they have us using these during one of the seminars and i have never seen a group of adults more rabid about little coloured sticks before

[kianely]

“HOLD ME, KISS ME”

i. PAIRING — Leon Kennedy x GN!Reader

ii. SYNOPSIS— Aware that your boyfriend hasn’t been granted the privilege of a homemade meal in ages, you decided to pull out your family’s recipe book and stir something up for him. He showed his appreciation in more ways than one, how could he not reward his little chef after all your time tinkering in the kitchen?

iii. CONTENT WARNINGS— Fluff to eventual smut (MDNI) Leon’s a bit awkward with his feelings, he scarfs down every last crumb on his plate, oral sex, fingering, creampie (reader receives all), mentions of aftercare, Leon calls reader “baby” and “sweetheart.” I left the contents of the meal as ambiguous, because I wanted it to depend on the reader’s own upbringing and culture. Written with RE4 Leon in mind.

iv. WORD COUNT— 4.6K

01— PREPARATION

Leon couldn’t remember the last time he was given the simple joy of eating a homemade meal. No, he grew up accustomed to enjoying the lunch trays that all schools gave out. He’d block out the noises of his peers complaining about the blandness of the food, because that food was the standard for him. The flavor of the dishes his orphanage provided is committed in his memory, a hint of nostalgia when he looks back on it.

And of course, the same followed into his academy and career. He’d eat institutional meals during his academy days, too wrapped up in his extensive training to pick up on cooking skills himself. MRE’s were obviously his go to during his government training period, and that followed into the missions he was deployed on.

To sum it up, the last homemade meal he probably had was when his parents were alive. He would never complain about it, far too grateful of a person to even see it as an issue—he would take what was provided, with an appreciative mindset.

You’re a sweetheart though, his sweetheart. And after learning the extent of his past, god you wished you had met him sooner. Because for as long as you’ve dated him, you can’t remember a single time where Leon mentioned an individual that was even remotely significant to him prior to his government days. Well—aside from a girlfriend who hastily broke up with him, and you just presumed she hadn’t been the best considering how little Leon had to say about her. Couldn’t even remember her face or voice anymore, he claimed. And you believed him, rightfully so. Leon looked at you as if you were more fascinating than the wonders of space, with no trace of feelings for any prior people he had been in a relationship with. You were the star on top of the Christmas tree for him.

Lounging lazily on your couch, a sleepy grunt brought your attention to Leon—who had come over to your house for a movie night. But he always ended up napping or resting his eyes for a good half an hour, feeling safe only in your presence and allowing his guard to lower. He was snuggled against you, head against your chest and an arm around your midsection.

You always let him sleep a little, it could do some good against those growing eye bags of his. He always liked it—resting against you, feeling safe with you by his side and the comforting golden like hue the lamp on your tableside emitted. The only time he could allow his mind to rest was with you, it was reasonable.

Your nose was stuck between the pages of your family’s old recipe book. The pages were old—wrinkled and a far cry from the original brightness of the white sheet of paper it once was. You wanted to cook something for him. But you didn’t want it to be something off of a google website or youtube tutorial. You wanted something authentic to your upbringing, that way it would be more meaningful and you wouldn’t be going into it completely blind.

Yeah, of course Leon has eaten at your house before. But…it’s always been microwaveable food or something that could be made within five minutes, like eggs— not anything that you actually put your entire heart into. He was big on dinner dates at restaurants, so the topic of cooking was never really brought up. You wanted to make him an actual meal. One with sides and maybe a small dessert, you’d seen the way Leon eats—you’d definitely need to make enough for seconds. With that physique and job of his, god knows he needs his energy.

“Mm,” a soft mumble from Leon, who was beginning to stir awake after a short but very much needed nap, his light colored eyelashes were beginning to flutter.

You laughed quietly, threading your fingers through his tousled hair. “Hey, sleepyhead.”

He let out an amused exhale at the nickname he had earned, the corners of his lips curled up a little into a lazy smile. “Oh, is that what I am now?”

“Mhm. Keep it up and I’ll have to start charging you for using me as a pillow.” Your voice was a playful one, spoken through a laugh as you hid the recipe book behind the pillow your head was propped against. It can’t be a surprise if he caught a glimpse, right?

“You can have every last penny in my damn bank account,” was his response—to which you simply snickered over. His American Express Black visa card was like an endless void of wealth.

Leon rolled one of his shoulders to remove some kinks as he sat up properly, missing your comforting body warmth already.

He always looked the prettiest like this: somewhat messy golden hair, slight flush on his cheeks, sleepy eyes that you didn’t want to look away from, and some marks on one of his cheeks from it being pressed up snugly against the fabric of your shirt.

“Looks like I missed the ending credits,” he glanced over at the now turned off television—he’d fallen asleep during the last half hour of the movie, like usual. Not that he was missing out, he had watched most movies so it wasn’t a bother. Plus, when it came time to actually sleep, like a healthy eight hours and all, he never could. So he took any nap time that his body granted him. “Can I put another one on?”

“Yeah, as long as you don’t yap my ear off about how silly the protagonists are again.” You could never escape hearing Leon’s muttered quips whenever the two of you watched something—it was funny, Leon had seen all the bigger issues in the world and yet he got frustrated by the decisions of fictional characters.

“What’s the fun in that?”

02— EXECUTION

You were given the perfect opportunity. Ingredients and dishes were already scattered all throughout your kitchen counters, and your recipe book was hoisted up nicely on a stand so it wouldn’t get dirty.

Leon was returning from a long briefing at his headquarters and the plan was for him to head directly to your house afterwards. He was going to go on a mission soon and his goal was always to spend as much time with you as possible. He’d latch onto your damn side all day, if he could.

You had the windows above the sink opened up to let some fresh air in, the curtains flowing a bit with each graze of breeze. It was cold as hell outside, but it helped ventilate all the heat that was gathering from the stove and oven. The television was on a low level, just some background noise to seep into the kitchen.

While you let some ingredients heat up on a large skillet, you cast your attention towards decorating the table up a bit. Not too much, but enough to make a difference. A candle of Leon’s favorite scent placed on the center of the surface, matching mugs already set—maybe they seemed a little too casual given the stupid puns written on them, but you figured Leon would appreciate it more than some fancy cups.

An hour and a half passed by and Leon was barely arriving, ready to complain about some of his rather annoying coworkers to you. If age didn’t give him gray hairs soon, the people in his line of work definitely would.

He had a set of keys to your house, fumbling with them as he unlocked the door.

“Hey, sweetheart.” His voice called out once he entered, for the sake of letting you know he wasn’t an intruder or anything. He usually expected to see you lounging on the couch, but not tonight. Instead, his senses were met with the tasty aroma coming from the kitchen, and the loud clatter of sounds from there as well.

Like a dog smelling a treat, his attention was immediately drawn and he naturally walked over to your kitchen, his curious eyes took in the scene.

Leon had seen a lot, inexplicable creatures that should have the power to make him still in his tracks—but they never did. Now, the sight of the homely decorated kitchen and the nice arrangement of plates on the kitchen table was something that made him pause in his steps. It looked straight out of a romance movie, something that would be described in a romance novel.

And you, the light of his life waiting for him with a small smile on your face. You looked a bit nervous, eyebrows furrowed together ever so slightly but still trying to muster some confidence.

Leon didn’t know whether he felt more like crying or grinning like a damn idiot. A mixture of the two, probably. The lump forming in his throat made him unable to vocalize his gratitude, his voice would crack and sound like a damn croak if he tried.

“Uh,” that’s all he could manage. He was usually good at showing his gratitude, but with such a thoughtful gesture like this, he felt all his known vocabulary scramble around in his mind into a jumbled mess.

“Penny for your thoughts?” You egged him on, wanting to hear the rest of his sentence—it wasn’t often you saw Leon all speechless, not with the banter and quips that came in his boyfriend package.

“That’s…” he trailed off, his hand motioning towards the scene you had oh so beautifully displayed for his eyes and use alone. “That’s just…” he looked over to you, corners of his eyes crinkling from the happiness that reached his eyes. “You did all this?”

His words were quiet, and for a second he feared you’d think he didn’t appreciate it. But he noticed the chuckle and shake of head you did at his performance. “Mhm, didn’t know it was possible for you to freeze up like this.”

He let out an exhale, grin forming on his face. God, he loved you.

“C’mere,” he muttered that out while moving towards you, enveloping your frame with his arms—having to hold back on squeezing you like he wanted to for the sake of not crushing your bones. He had a bad case of cuteness aggression for you.

The aroma of the food you cooked subsided when the scent of Leon’s cologne filled your senses instead—cool and earthy, one you could drown yourself in and pinpoint a mile away.

Leon kissed the top of your head as he articulated his thoughts, wanting to form them into actual words without spluttering—and without taking too much time because he’d be devastated if the meal you cooked for him went cold.

“You’re squishing me,” you grumbled, palms finding the surface of Leon’s chest and lazily trying to push him away. “Take a seat, it’s all ready.”

“I know, I know.” He placed his hands on your hips, guiding the two of you over to the table. He managed to land one last kiss against your forehead before fully parting. “It’s just really nice. I can’t even remember the last time I had—“

“A homemade meal?” You chimed in, to which he nodded as he sat down, his eyes flicking down to look at the food and sides more closely. His mouth was watering, he didn’t even need any utensils to dig in, he could just use his hands.

You knew him well, and reached over to playfully nudge his shoulder. “Don’t hold back on my sake,” You scooped up a spoonful of the food and brought it up towards his mouth. “Say ah…”

“Wish I could take a picture of this,” he grinned out, complying and opening his mouth for you to feed him.

You watched him eagerly as you set the spoon down against his plate and watched him chew, trying to hold back a smile—your eyes brimming with elation, your one true love was eating your meal, composed of all the love and emotion you poured into it.

Leon’s eyes shut with delight when his taste buds were flooded with all the savory flavors, letting out an involuntary groan. God, had he really been missing out on this for all these years?

There’d be mini hearts floating above his head if this were a cartoon. “Fuck, that’s good.”

“Yeah?” Your question came out a little more thrilled than you had hoped, and Leon caught onto it, you were so cute it was killing him.

“Yeah,” he echoed, hand reaching to hold yours over the table and giving it a gentle squeeze. “How long did it take you to do all this?”

While you responded, he was digging into the food—good thing you made seconds, because only a minute had passed and the surface of his plate was already beginning to show.

“—the time passed by really quickly though, when you unlocked the door I had barely served the food onto the plates. You got here right on time.”

You had never seen Leon eat this damn fast, maybe because the two of you usually ate in restaurants and he had to be a little courteous in public. Or maybe, he was making up for the years he had gone without the taste of a homemade meal.

“Easy there, tiger.” You were a little nervous he might fucking choke. What a way for your boyfriend to go, ‘death by choking on his partner’s food’ written on his gravestone. Would that be murder on your part? Anyways.

Leon’s cheeks blossomed with a rosy hue when he was called out, taking a breather instead of another mouthful. He felt spoiled now. You spoiled him. He had no idea how he would ever return to his bland tasting mission foods or even the dishes from the high rated food areas around, they all pale in comparison to your cooking. The secret ingredient they lacked was your love—the one thing that made his taste buds feel like they were swimming in an ocean of flavor.

“Sorry, it just really hits the spot.” He glanced over at your plate and realized that he was very much ahead, smiling bashfully to himself when he looked back up at you. “What can I say? Your cooking is delicious, none of it is going to go to waste.”

He looked over to the dessert you had made, it was untouched, there was no way in hell he was going to try it without you also finishing your plate of the main meal first, so the two of you could eat it at the same time. “So, what led to all this?” His question wasn’t a rude one, just out of pure awe and curiosity. What the hell had he done to deserve such a generous gesture?

“I dunno,” you shrugged out, not wanting to sound too sentimental or anything, “I just thought it would be nice.”

“C’mon, there’s gotta be more to it than that.”

“Well…” you trailed off, giving in and sighing. “You’ve trusted me with a lot of information about yourself and I love you. I thought that maybe instead of going out for dinner or ordering take out, I could give the kitchen a go and treat you to a hot and fresh homemade meal. It’s more special that way.”

“I love you too,” those words tumbled from his lips quietly, as if telling you the most valuable piece of information he holds. He felt his heart doing somersaults, already knowing he was going to spend his life reliving this memory, holding it close to him in a special pocket within the chambers of his heart.

The rest of the hour was spent domestically, sharing the dessert and Leon insisting that he clean everything up—from the dishes to wiping down the counters and sweeping the floor all while he listened in on you ramble about random things, he didn’t want to let you lift a single finger after all you had done for him. And of course, he took some mini breaks in between to snatch a sweet kiss from you, savoring the sweet taste of the dessert the two of you had eaten.

03— RESULTS (18+)

“Can’t believe you cooked for me,” Leon murmured against your ear, breath fanning over your skin as his hands snaked up and down your sides before settling on your hips. There was a rasp to his voice, a familiar one. He was starving despite the meal he had just eaten, every nerve in his body needing to feel you in order to truly feel full. He had a sweet tooth for you, and his craving needed to be satiated.

“I’m just glad you liked it,” you responded, mind already fuzzy with the way your lover’s hands grazed over you. “I was a little worried my cooking wouldn’t live up to all the 5 star restaurants we’ve eaten at.”

“Are you kidding?” His question was rhetorical, his mind set on a straight beeline to your bedroom. “Maybe I should show appreciation for my little chef then, hm?”

“Mm, maybe.”

That’s all it took for you to end up with your back against the headboard of your bed, legs spread with Leon adorning the space between them.

His moans were muffled against you, the vibrations sending blood straight to your bundle of nerves. He was so damn loud whenever he got a taste of you.

Leon’s hips were grinding against the mattress, cock leaking so much that his pants were surely already ruined. Yeah, he was so desperate to have his face stuffed against you that he didn’t even fucking unzip his pants.

You, on the other hand, were getting the best head of your life. One hand curled against your bedsheets meanwhile the other one had a hold on Leon’s hair, involuntary pulling and tugging with each movement of his mouth. Your noises just egged Leon on, each moan or gasp that left your mouth was responded to by a grunt of his own.

“Fuck,” he pulled back for a second to catch his breath, littering gentle kisses against your inner thigh, coating the area with the mixture of his own drool and your fluids that were on his chin.

“Wanna do this every fuckin’ day.” A kiss. “Come home, get on my knees, and taste you.” Another one. “Make you come over my face again and again.” His tongue lapped across your skin. “Suffocate between your thighs.”

“Leon!” You were desperate, hips bucking up into nothing and meeting the air of the room.

His eyes flicked to yours, letting out a soft growl when he saw the dazed out expression on your face. His favorite one—looking like a damn deer in the headlights with the way your eyes were pleading for him, lips parted and ready to beg if need be. He wanted to hear you say it. “What is it, sweetheart? What do you need?”

“You,” you replied breathlessly, tugging his head further up so he could get the damn message and continue. Leon was licking his lips already, mouth salivating at just how much your arousal was showing.

“You have me,” he was being a tease, massaging your inner thigh with one of his hands, kneading the flesh and blowing out some air directly at the area between your thighs. The way you squirmed around made him want to palm himself right on the spot. But he held back, you were his first priority.

“Want you inside,” you could barely even utter those three words out, the words blending together and sounding slurred.

A smirk found its way onto Leon’s lips, “yeah? right here?” He teasingly rubbed your already throbbing hole with his fingers, letting out a contented sigh at the way your legs jolted in response.

“Yeah, but…your cock, not just your fingers.” You whined out in complaint, knowing that it would take a while to get to the main prize.

“Shh, I know. That’s all you think about, my cock huh? You’ll get it, don’t worry, jus’ gotta prep you for it.” He slid a finger in until his knuckle disappeared, his fingers were so fucking thick that even one stretched you out. He raised his body further up, trailing kisses from the bottom of your stomach all the way to the middle of your chest.

“So reactive,” he murmured out, noticing the heave of your chest and how your stomach would tighten up with each thrust of his finger. His free hand grazed over the left side of your chest, pinching and twisting your hardened nipple.

“You’re driving me crazy,” your voice was strained, nails scratching Leon’s scalp but he welcomed the sting of it.

“Mission accomplished, then.” His voice was a rumble against your chest, tongue darting out to flick against your other nipple before sucking it gently, wet noises produced in the process. He had no shame, stimulating practically every single one of your senses and looking hot as hell doing it.

His tongue circled around your nipple for another few moments before he began trailing kisses up your collarbones and to your neck, the hiccup of your breath made him growl, burying himself into the scent of your soap and shampoo.

He slid another finger into you while igniting your body into flames, letting out a string of profanity under his breath when you took it with ease. “Fuck, you’re ready for me.” Not a question, but an observation, and suddenly Leon became very aware of the way his cock was begging to be freed from the confines of his pants.

He sat back on his knees and let out a breathless laugh at the way you whined from the loss of contact, he took his belt off in a hurry and unzipped his pants. Pavlog’s dog experiment. The sound of Leon’s fly coming undone made your mouth salivate in response because you knew what was coming.

Your eyes were fixated on him, watching the way he tugged his pants and boxers down—breath hitching at the way his cock slapped up against his stomach, already leaking and ready to stuff you full.

He placed one of his hands against the bone of your hip, his other one stroking his cock a bit as he inched towards you. “You ready, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, fuck, just put it in already.” Your impatience earned a huff of amusement from Leon, who tapped the tip of his cock against your hole a couple times before guiding it in. His head tilted back, mouth parting and letting out a groan when he filled you up completely—your head thrashed against the pillow, feeling him reconstruct the shape of your insides.

His cock was buried snugly in you, heavy balls pressed against the bottom of your ass, ready to shoot his load within a moment's notice. Leon was breathing inconsistently against you, kissing the corner of your mouth before making his way towards the shell of your ear. “Signal?”

“Green,” that whiny response from you was all it took for Leon’s hips to begin moving.

“God, you’re sucking me right in already.” His hip thrusts were slow but deep, each jolt making the headboard thump against the wall. “Give me your hand please,” The shakiness in his voice was cute, no matter how many times the two of you did this, he always asked for the same thing.

So you did just that, hand reaching for one of his—he immediately laced his fingers with yours, thumb rubbing over yours.

You moved your other arm under and over his shoulder to paw at his back, he hissed when your nails dug into his back scratched him up, undoubtedly leaving red marks on his pale skin—it would hurt like a bitch later but all it did was turn him on right now. “That’s it. Mark me up, baby. I’m yours, all yours.”

He looked down at the way his hips were rutting against yours, speeding the pace up a bit as his eyes flicked back into yours. He felt some pride that he was the one who had you falling apart, the one that made that dumb and needy expression form on your face.

“Feels so good,” you slurred out, your senses turning fuzzy, he was filling you up so good, reaching so deep that it had you seeing stars and clenching down on him. You wrapped your legs around his torso, needing to cling onto him.

“Baby—” he gasped out as soon as he felt the way you tightened up, squeezing your hand in response. “Ease up for me, not gonna last long if you keep squeezing me like that.”

“I know, I know…” you babbled out, but you couldn’t relax your body completely with the way your own hips snapped up to meet his.

Leon knew he was going to come soon, how could anyone hold back? You were making him addicted to you.

“Can I come inside you?” He somehow managed to grit that out, breathing rate growing in intensity.

You nodded almost immediately, wanting to feel him paint your insides white and feel the warmth of his cum, rambling almost incoherently. “Mhm, want you to fill me up. Please, please, please. I need it.”

“Shit, I will, don’t worry. Just gotta make sure you come first.” He was always so insistent on your pleasure, pressing his lips against yours and swallowing all of the pretty noises you made. Tongues swirling sloppily against each other, he loved the way you were barely even able to kiss him back properly. God, the tiny and quiet whimpers you let out were making his cock twitch inside you. You were trembling, too overwhelmed by the feeling of the coil in your stomach, but it’s okay, because you let Leon guide the kiss, drool spilling from the corner of your mouth.

Leon was losing it, holding back on spilling inside you, he needed to make sure you came before he did—but it was so hard with the way your ankles were crossed against his back and keeping him in place.

“Leon,” you sobbed his name out through an exhale, digging your heels into the arch of his back. “Too much, ‘s too much—” He could read your body well, the way you were holding onto his body so tightly he felt stuck, the way your voice turned up a pitch higher than usual.

“That’s it,” he lifted his hand to cradle the back of your head and hold you close, pressing kisses against the side of your head. “Come for me, sweetheart. Come all over my cock, you can do it. Let me feel you.”

You buried your head against his shoulder, breath fanning against his skin and incomprehensible mumbles of his name tipping out of your mouth, like if Leon was your God and you were chanting him a prayer.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, vision going white with a final call of his name, clenching around him and hissing when you felt his load spill inside you in ropes, his hips thrusting some more times in you before he stilled inside you.

He held you close as you shook against him, keeping you stable like he always did.

Silence, aside from the sounds of yours and Leons panting and the sound of the bedsheets twisting as you adjusted your position a bit, planting your feet back against the mattress and gasping softly when you felt him slowly pull out of you. Running a hand through Leon’s now damp hair, you let out a breathless chuckle. “You’re insatiable.”

“Not denying that,” managing to catch his breath, Leon propped himself up by pressing his palm against the pillow, pressing a gentle and loving kiss against your lips, his own curling up into a smile. “Stay right here. I’ll get you some water and clean you up.”

“No way in hell, mister,” you mumbled out, wanting to cuddle up with him before getting to that. You could handle being dehydrated for five more minutes in favor of being in his arms and some pillow talk. “Don’t get up yet, five more minutes.”

“Anything for my favorite chef.”

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Imagine:

Mizu arriving in London, she gets Lodging at this little home, it is run by an older couple and their daughter{ you }.

She does her best to ignore their kidness, ignore you, that she came to London for a reason but it gets harder and harder because you're so soft, so sweet.

It started off with you cooking sweets for her, making sure shes comfortable and Mizu hates it because she shouldn't want to be near you, she shouldn't enjoy the way you smile at her or enjoy hearing that soft laugh of yours that seem's to erase all her worries away.

She shouldn't enjoy how soft your body feel's against her own, how good your lips taste or the way you look at her with such love.

Mizu hates it, Mizu hate's it because she does enjoy it.

She love's the way your body flushes when she gives you a teasing comment. She loves the taste of your lips, the sigh the first time she kisses you. She loves how understanding your mother is, how the older woman frets over her, asking if she's eaten enough.

She loves how well she gets along with your father, she loves watching you cook, tasting whatever little treats you make. She loves how you make her feel safe, how you made her feel like she was something after being alone for so long.

She loves it when you would look in her eyes or the feel of your hands against her skin.

She loves how you made her feel like she was the only thing in the world.

Mizu love's you and her heart couldn't help but leap in her throat when you looked up at her with those doe like eye's and gave her a smile. Your soft hand's holding gently onto hers.

"I love you too."

A/n: Ive been thinking about this since 2am

[love-of-the-red-star]

That time I got reincarnated as an Aeon

(Series)

Chapter two: This is not a good day to be a god.

Warnings: Spoilers for Aventurine’s backstory, some canon divergent stuff as I’m taking creative liberties. Reader is kind of biased but also not. People aren’t really having a good time. Good ol Eldritch horror. This chapter is a bit more serious in tone than the last ones.

“Mr. Yang, can we please switch the channel?”

Welt, being the nearest person near the techy T.V you absolutely had no fucking idea how to operate yet had obliged to your request, because you see, the news channel had no problem broadcasting your latest breakdown for everyone to hear.

You could have sworn you saw Pompom almost cry from the sound of your eldritch version and honestly you wouldn’t blame them— if you were them, you were sure you’d cry at the sound of your own voice too because what the fuck was that—

Why you even cried? Well, you accidentally freed a planet.

From existing. By simply accidentally dropping your tears on it because you cried watching a planet from thousands of light years away that you’re pretty sure is Sigonia come to conflict.

How you accidentally did more damage than Nanook and haven’t ended up being assimilated to them is beyond you, but you remembered you still have some agendas, you can’t be eaten yet.

It wasn’t exactly your fault your true form was a little too big that rogue planets who had the unlucky chance to get too near you ended up being quite literally disassembled. You just hoped there were no sentient life forms in it.

Continuing on with breakfast, Himeko drank her weird smelling coffee near you, unperturbed and probably used to hearing the news airing out your dirty laundry. (She’s still a little shaken from hearing the crying, but knowing you personally has made it seem.. less terrifying.)

You munched on your toast, thanking Pompom for making it the way you liked it; being slightly on the burnt side.

Welt had switched the channel to a different network, this time, there’s sports. Everyone seemed content on seeing sweaty men on a soccer field instead of hearing your not so pleasant and probably horrifying sounding distress so it was a win.

Then you randomly remembered Sigonia.

“Hey uh.. Himeko? Do we have data on this specific star cluster here?” You asked as you scribbled on a piece of paper, hoping at least that Akivili had made it there at least once.

Himeko peered through the paper and frowned. “….” She seemed hesitant, which confirmed your suspicion. “We don’t… the rail hasn’t gone that way just yet.”

Well shit. It seemed like you couldn’t take the express with you without you heading there and establishing a space anchor first.

But that would take time. Too much time. And you realized that logically there would be little to no benefit of a space anchor in a harsh desert planet— you cut those thoughts as soon as they came, you weren’t going to think like the IPC.

It’s up to you to establish a connection then. But could you even make it in time?

————————————

Your projection had disappeared after breakfast, leaving the express once again to wander as they pleased as you returned to your original body to peer into Sigonia— specifically Sigonia IV once again.

It’s surprisingly lively for a desolate place. It made sense, people do live there, and it made you smile at the resilience they presented despite their circumstances.

You should bless them, you thought, maybe placing it under the guise of their mother goddess if you’re remembering their belief system correctly. She.. unfortunately does not exist, but you do.

You won’t let them know that though for the sake of their peace.

You just wish the two clans would free themselves from hatred; logically it would be more beneficial to work together in a place like that, and it made you feel bad for the Katicans in a way— to be caged by their own prejudice they can’t see beyond words or envy that they’d choose to simply wipe out another clan out of those feelings. It was just sad, a little pathetic almost.

You didn’t want to be biased, but you do know you have sides to take if you wanted to be free of something. In this situation, you don’t think there was an option to simply have the two of them be on equal terms— not for now at least. Maybe you should consult Xipe? But where even are they?

For the sake of quieting your strangely human conscience, you chose to bless the Avgins in their little festival, in the hope that you’d steer them away from their written fate.

You know it’d be hard to fight, but you’d be damned if you didn’t try.

It had taken you to seeing little Kakavasha for a good while for you to finally crack and get down there yourself.

There was no way you were going to let him suffer a life that you knew was going to happen to him, not if you could do something about it. And lucky for you, you were an Aeon, and you were an Aeon that did whatever they damn wanted.

You had said fuck you to fate that day and took the form of an Avgin woman, not before leaving a message to Boothill that you hope he’d receive considering you’re not delivering it through your phone number— you were delivering your message through sheer will.

————————

Assimilating with the Avgin had come rather easily. It had made you feel bad to deceive them— you had pretended to be injured, no, it was more like you intentionally let your projection appear injured, as you approached their camp.

You had called yourself “Delia”, and they were keen on accepting that. They had taken care of you and kids cooed over the patterns of the skirt that you wore, asking you how you had created it.

Your only saving grace had been a young girl who appeared almost the same physical age as you, shooing away the people who crowded you too much. (Not that there was even many of them, there were three at most, and they were children.)

You had only awkwardly laughed as she shot them a look, something about how the “patient” needed to be left alone.

“Sorry about them, they can be excitable when they see something pretty.” She said to you, squeezing a wet rag before she wiped your face with it. It’s embarrassing to be taken care of like you were a baby, but if it’s what it took to try and free them, then you’re willing to sacrifice your dignity a little more— if you were being honest, you’d take this over hearing the sound of your own crying on the television.

“It’s fine.” You smiled as she put the rag down and checked your “injured” leg.

“A few more days and you’d be good to go. Though…. You’re healing faster than people normally would…..” You could sense the suspicion in her tone, and inwardly you smiled mischievously. “Never mind, I suppose that’s a good thing. The sooner you heal, the sooner you’re out of the bed and can go around and move about.” She nodded to herself in her assessment of you and left the tent.

It was days later that you found that she’s funnily enough, Kakavasha’s sister.

By that time, you were known by the people around you, but you didn’t know them.

Kakavasha had been one of those who knew you in courtesy of his older sister; and now he’s here, shyly peeking over the table as you scribbled away into a sheet of paper.

He’s curious as he peered over your work. “It’s the stars you see on the left side of that mountain.” You told him, hesitantly he brings his pointer finger and holds it over the tear drop shapes.

“What’s this?”

“It’s rain.” You explained, and the little boy that you once knew to be the gambler tilted his head.

“Why is there so many of them?” Ah right, this place didn’t rain much.

“The sky is crying.” You told him and he simply frowned.

“Sister said you have a lot of stories.” He decided to change the topic, probably sensing your awkwardness. How embarrassing for a little kid to know you’re not good at speaking, but you know you’ll eventually learn how to better yourself in doing so.

“Yes I do, wanna hear one of them?” Your smile returned, and little Kakavasha, with his one missing front tooth, reflected your expression.

“I’m taking that as a yes. I’ll tell you the story of a girl who lost everything to the rain…”

————————

Two Sigonian months (you’ve counted the hours, and put them into months to prevent yourself from going insane from saying the numbers) and you’re pretty sure you’ve ran out of tales you’ve parodied from the original you told him and the other children. Kakavasha had brought it upon himself to stick by your side funnily enough, saying something about not caring if you repeat the tales to him again.

His mother had brought you to the side some time ago, thanking you for the diversion you gave to the children from the reality they were in.

You were combing a sleeping Kakavasha’s hair when you had heard it. The dreaded call for aid for the next Kakava festival.

And there was no time for the space anchor you were just starting to make.

Your hands paused, and you gently set the child’s head off your lap and into a pillow before disappearing into the night.

You returned 6 system hours later. Then another 18 system hours went by before you disappeared again and reappeared exactly after six hours. That continued on for days as the festival grew nearer.

——————————

Unbeknownst to you, this was utterly terrifying for the galaxy rangers aside from Boothill to receive messages from a nonexistent number. It had come in the form of a cipher, then actual comprehensive texts, then another cipher again and all of them would increase in frequency— as if the one who was calling for help was making it a point that it was urgent.

All of it had led to the answer of Sigonia IV despite the other strange contents of those messages.

Sometimes it wasn’t even texts at all, sometimes it was calls in the same six system hour time span that they’d receive those messages. They’d receive the call, and they would receive static sounds that formed words— gibberish half the time, but still beckoning them to Sigonia IV.

Some of them had put their phone down sometimes as the calls manifested into sounds that made them shudder all the way to their bones. They couldn’t describe the noise, but it put some sort of primal reaction out of them enough that some of them went 72 system hours without sleep.

As irrational and ridiculous as it sounded, there were very little things that galaxy rangers feared.

Whatever was sending them these things were one of them.

Sometimes it would be their TV, and Boothill had the unfortunate fate of listening to the strange cacophony that if he had been a human he was sure it would have terrified him enough he’d piss himself. There was something wrong about the waves it emitted, it wasn’t a normal glitch or a hack sort of glitch, but rather something else.

SOS, Sigonia IV, SOS, Sigonia IV. The message were a repeat.

In the calls he received, he would have thought he was having a fever dream when he found they didn’t exist in his call logs until his fellow rangers confirmed they received the same message.

He remembered receiving the text once before all this— a strange occurrence, but not exactly a coincidence.

They received the same messages again for this night. Except the ending sequence changed.

Bring people. Avgin. IPC not help. SOS. Sigonia IV. Send HELP.

After the last sequence had indicated the date, the TV short circuited and the lights dimmed.

“Oh fudge me.” Boothill muttered, whoever or whatever was even sending these things were clearly going agitated. “Looks like we’re going to be on a roll boys, I don’t think it’s wise to priss off this cutie pie so best we don’t ignore that signal for any fudging longer than we already had.”

“Say less, and I hope to the aeons I get a good nights sleep when we’re done.”

—————————————

Part I, Part II, Part III [HERE], Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII….

And that’s a wrap for part two! I know it lacks jokes but come on. But yeah we’re going on the more serious territory for a bit before we go back for the jokes. Heavily unedited and written in the middle of the night.

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Part III

Word count: 3900+

Warnings: a lot of anxiety and panic attacks (our reader have a tough time adjusting to the new life), also little smut(ish)

Autumn themed divider by tsunami-of-tears

Part II | Part IV

The morning found you curled up in the ottoman, peacefully sleeping. A knock sounded on the double doors and you jolted up looking around the unfamiliar room. As your brain got rid of the heavy fog of the sleep, all memories of the last day popped out and you sighed heavily. Your gaze fell to the bed and you immediately sat up, eyes wide. The bed was made, no one slept in it. You quickly checked up your body. And apparently you were just as untouched as that bed. You were confused as well as relieved. You didn't understand. How was it possible? You and your husband were supposed to do.. something. Did he not come? Or he came in, found you sleeping and left? Angry? And where did he sleep?

Another knock sounded, snapping you out of your thoughts before you started spiraling. You weren't sure what to do, so you went and opened the doors a little. Same maids were waiting there and as last night bowed.

"Good morning, my lady. We came to help you to prepare."

"Prepare? For what?"

They looked at each other with raised brows. "For the day, madame," the other one answered.

Blushing you stepped back letting them in and they immediately set to work. Even if they noticed the untouched bed, they didn't show any signs nor commented it. While you were getting dressed, servants brought breakfast to that small dinning table you saw last night. You bit on your lower lip when you saw only one plate.

"What about.. my husband?"

"His Lordship has already eaten. He woke up early in the morning and currently is at the meeting," one of the maids answered with a light nod to the doors opposite of yours. After that they all left leaving you to eat alone.

You were sitting there, staring at the food while it stared back at you. You had no appetite. Again and again you replayed every minute of the wedding ceremony and the party, looking for any serious mistake you'd done. You certainly did something otherwise he would have come last night. You thought that you were on quite good terms with your husband based on the fact that you were secretly holding hands most of the last evening.

This was bad, so bad. It was a catastrophe. Your father had to already know about everything, he always did. He was certainly so furious. You dreaded to meet him. Moreover if your husband decided to send you back, you definitely wouldn't live to see another day. Father would kill you right away before you even left this place. He didn't need someone as useless as you. There was no way he would forgive you. It wasn't in his nature. High Lord was the highest offer you could get. There was nothing better than that. Your father wouldn't accept any lower offer now.

You couldn't breathe. Panic gripped your insides, suffocating you. If you were back home, you would crawl to the space between your bed and the wall. It was so narrow that you hardly fitted in, but you felt safe there. You used to spend there even whole night after beating or when you were scared like now, you simply hid there and waited until the feeling faded away.

When walls started to close in on you, you left the food as it was and closed yourself in the bedroom, desperately looking for some corner where you could hide. The room was too spacious, too airy for you. It only made things worse. After searching in vain, you tried the bathroom with the same result and at last the closet. There in the back of the room, you found a narrow dark place between some drawer cabinet and the wall. You squeezed in there and sitting down on the floor pulled your knees to the chest as tightly as you could. Finally you could breathe in a small sip of the air, the pressure on your chest gradually eased. The tears began rolling down your cheeks and you sobbed until at some point you passed out from exhaustion.

"So this is where you've been hiding this whole time?"

A deep voice spoke, waking you up. In the distance you heard raindrops drumming on the windows and the air smelled of rain, smoke and apples roasted on fire. You didn't dare to look up, instead you curled up into yourself even more.

"Everyone out there is looking for you since lunch."

"I'm so sorry," you muttered into your knees.

The male sighed heavily. He seemed to be pissed off. "Can you explain me what in the bottomless depths of the Cauldron you're doing here?"

You pressed even harder against the wall, trying to get as far from him as you could. This was it. He had enough of you and there was no witness, so he could freely act upon it.

"I'm so sorry," you sobbed. You knew that no matter what you said, it wouldn't work. It never worked. Yet you couldn't stop apologising, still hoping it could ease the intended punishment.

You heard his footsteps muffled by the carpet as he approached you and got ready.

"I apologise, Y/N" he murmured and his fingers lightly touched your elbow. The smell of smoke was replaced by spicy cinnamon. "I didn't mean... I'm not angry at you. I was just worried sick, thinking that... Ah, it doesn't matter." He struggled with his words.

When you didn't move, he groaned and continued.

"Maids came to report that you are missing as soon as the meeting was over. They said that you looked pale in the morning and that you didn't sleep in the bed nor eat. They thought you went to take a nap. Just imagine how surprised they were when they came to wake you up for lunch and couldn't find you."

His fingers traveled down your forearm to your hand and gently squeezed it. Iciness of his strict deep voice melted, replaced by warmth and tenderness. "What happened? Why are you hiding here?"

You dared to peek at him. Your husband was crouching in front of you, his amber eyes watching you closely. He really didn't seem to be angry, just tired.

"I'm sorry to have caused you worry," you little bit straightened up, still avoiding his eyes.

He gently pulled on your hand. "What happened? You can talk to me. Someone hurt you? Or told you something you didn't like?"

"Are.. are you going to send me back?"

"Nope," Eris chuckled, evidently amused by your silly question. The sound was rich and kind of cute. Your heart did a strange thing. He seemed to be more relaxed than the last night at the party. "Last time I checked on this matter, your father signed that he will never even try to contact you and left with rather a rich reward."

You gaped at him in disbelieve. Your head went completely silent.

"It's true. You will either stay here or call Rhysand to come to pick you up, but you won't go back to your family."

"Thank you, my lord," you smiled genuinely, relief spreading in your chest.

"There you are. Finally smiling," he looked over his shoulder. "I think we should go out and tell everyone that you are fine. I guess they are still looking for you. What do you think?"

You flushed, feeling ashamed. "I'm sorry for causing the troubles."

"It's fine," he waved his hand and helped you to stand up. "At least they are finally doing something meaningful."

Eris left you in the sitting room between your bedrooms and went to stop the search. While he was gone, some servants with trays of steaming food marched in and set it on the table. They again prepared only one plate. Disappointed you looked at heavy double doors with carved ornaments that you hadn't noticed before. You still hoped he would come back.

After a moment the door swung open and one of the maids walked in.

"His Lordship apologizes, but he had to return to his duties," she announced.

Sad that after all he wouldn't come back, you sat down and let servants serve you the meal. Still having no appetite, you at least ate a bit of every dish of the late lunch that they presented you and when you were done they all left except of that one maid. She sat down on small stool in the corner of the room, took out something from under her apron and started embroidering. Your husband apparently made sure that you weren't left alone again.

For a while you watched her dancing hand with a needle and then you moved to a bench under the window, looking out into the drenched garden half hidden in the mist. Despite all the colours, it was quite a melancholic sight yet comforting. It perfectly matched your mood. You watched the colourful flowers and trees until they plunged into darkness.

The dinner went just like the lunch. Servants brought in food and you ate alone. Soon after you were done, other maids came in and ran a bath for you. The other one who spent the afternoon looking after you, meanwhile left. Just as the previous night, they washed you properly, massaged bath oils into your skin and hair, and helped you prepare for the bed. After they were done and cleaned the bathroom, they left.

With heavy heart you took a seat in the very same ottoman and watching the doors, waited. Your bedroom and the sitting room next door were so quiet that you heard the faint ticking of the clock and crackling fire from behind the closed thick doors. Eventually that sounds lulled you to sleep.

Later that night you jolted up, scared by a tremendous crash of thunder. Your heart leaped to your throat. Since you were child, you were scared of storms, its wild sounds echoed through the stone halls even deep under the mountain. However, it was nothing compared to this.

Another thunder rumbled through the sky. You jumped up with a small scream, pressing against the wall on the opposite side of the room, covering your ears with hands. You started pacing back and forth, your body trembled. Opening door of the closet you ran to your new-found safe place, hoping you could weather the storm there, but the sounds of thunder followed you even there.

A particularly bright bolt of lightening crossed the sky, closely followed by sound so strong that the walls shook. That was the last straw and you fled to the sitting room and to the double doors on the opposite side. You hesitated with a hand only inches from the smooth surface of the oak door. Another thunder rumbled around you and your hand met the cold surface before you could change your mind.

Surprisingly, the doors opened right away as if he waited with hand on doorknob. Your husband stood there with messy red hair that had a copper hue in the light of the fire from the hearth. Shirtless, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, he blinked down at you with sleepy eyes. If you weren't so scared, you would stop to take a proper look and blush fiercely.

However, thunder struck��again and you leaped to his arms, hiding your face at his muscular chest, your hands looking for something to grip on.

"What..?" he grumbled and stepped back, eyes widely open. His big hands landed on your shoulders, trying to push you away.

The lightning bolt enlightened the room, all decorations rattled and you cried out, clinging to him with arms wrapped around his waist. His brows raised in shock.

The beats of his heart under your face grew stronger and louder than the storm and you opened your eyes sharply, suddenly realizing what you were doing. Your breasts were pressed against his stomach. There was no way he didn't feel them through the thin material of your nightgown. You didn't even want to think about it. With bowed head and gaze focused on the floor you retreated a few steps back, blushing and thanking the Mother that the lights were turned off.

"I'm so-sorry, my lord, I didn't-" your sentence ended with a scream as decorations in the room rattled again.

"You are scared. Of the storm," he stated baffled. Only then his sight fell to your chest and everything bellow it and his cheeks turned pink. He held his breath.

"I'm sorry I woke you up, my lord," you said much calmer than you really felt, still looking at his bare feet.

"No, it's fine." He cleared his throat looking somewhere above your head.

With another too loud thunder you ducked with hands on your ears. Eris stepped closer, arms stretched to you, but then he changed his mind and let them fall back to his sides.

"Ehm.. What should we do?" he muttered under his nose.

"Do-do you want to come in?" he offered gesturing to his room.

"I-I think I could."

He stepped aside, making space for you. Without touching him again you slipped in. His room was just like yours, everything, including even the colours of sheets, was the same. The only difference was that instead of the vanity there was a desk in the corner. Left side of the bed was a mess, the rest was untouched. No personal stuff, favourite paintings, nothing.

Eris watched you with interest as your eyes wandered around his bedroom. Seeing you scantily clad in his private room where he didn't even allow the servants to come clean, was doing something with him. He shook head, exhaling heavily through nose.

"Sit down," he waved to the ottomans. Meanwhile he touched a teapot on the coffee table. It took only a minute and small puffs of steam began to rise from it. He filled one mug and handed it to you. Then he sat in the other one with own cup of tea in hand.

You looked at the windows, wondering whether the storm was already over, because it had been quiet for quite some time. How surprised you were to see the lightening flashing behind the curtains.

"It's just magic. I'm quite light sleeper and don't want to be disturbed," he explained with a small smile.

You lowered your eyes guilty and squeezed the mug. "I'm so sorry for disturbing you, my-"

"Eris," he interrupted you with narrowed eyes and tilted head to the side. One of his brows raised up. "You keep calling me 'my lord'. But we are married couple now and I'm not your...owner." He grimaced at the word. "Call me just Eris. And as I said before, it's fine."

You nodded and sipped the warm tea. You both fell silent unsure of what to say.

The realisation that it's night and you were alone with your husband in the room with bed, hit you suddenly and your heartbeat speeded up. You fought with your feelings and the urgent need to take a look at him, a proper look, until you couldn't resist it anymore. You wanted to get to know him better. Out of all the males you'd ever met, he was the least scary one and the fact that despite everything, he hadn't tried to hurt yet, encouraged you.

You started with his hands. Shyly you looked up at his long, elegant fingers embracing the cup. You quite liked them, their shape and how they felt on your skin. You didn't even need to focus to recall the feeling when they were entwined with yours. Your gaze of its own accord moved up the strong cords of muscles to nicely sculpted biceps.

The bedroom was rather dark, only one small light was on on the bedside table. Yet it provided enough light for you to involuntarily notice small freckles on his shoulders. There were dozens of them and you caught yourself thinking that you would like to try to count them. Your cheeks heated once again, but it didn't stop you.

Next your gaze shifted to the largest display of thoroughly shaped flesh and tight skin, to his chest. You knew nothing about these things, yet you had to admit that it was very nice chest. Even just simply looking from the distance, did funny things with your body and you felt tingling in your lower belly. If you remembered it correctly, his skin felt smooth and hot under your face, his flesh soft and firm at the same time. Dusted with a few lovely freckles, it rose and fell with quite rapid breaths.

Eris wasn't bulky, rather lean, but still so strong. A warrior.

You wanted to continue down to his stomach where you noticed a lot of interesting looking shadows you'd like to study closely, but it felt inappropriate. Not that what you were doing right now wasn't, but you couldn't stop yourself. You were always scared to properly look at people, to see them and the details of their faces. With your husband it was different, as if something was calling you, inviting you to take a look.

Wanting to see his handsome face again, to explore it and commit it to your memory, your eyes traveled up over the column of his neck to his chin. His Adam apple bobbed as he swallowed, arteries pulsed in wild rhythm that matched yours.

He was perfectly shaved, there didn't seem to be a single hair left out on his face. His lips in a nice shade of pink were full, the lower lip fuller than the upper one, and slightly parted. You knew that they not only seemed to be but really were soft. You still could feel their touch on yours and to be honest, you'd like to taste them again. Did they still taste of honey and alcohol or could you taste herbs now? You'd really like to get the answer. His lips quirked into a boyish grin and stayed like that.

Your gaze skimmed over freckles on his high cheeks and straight nose. Damn, you wanted to count them so badly now. Would you ever get a chance to try it? At least once and you'd never ask for more.

Lost in that beauty and your imagination, your gaze wandered to his eyes partly hidden under slightly furrowed arches of brows, and their colour immediately caught your attention. They seemed to shine in the dimly lit room, flames dancing in them. His gaze bore into you with such intensity that you felt wetness gathering between your legs. You turned into a panting mess, suddenly feeling uncomfortably hot in your own skin.

"What are you doing?" His deep, hoarse voice snapped you from trans and you blinked.

While you were admiring him, the air in the room grew thicker, strong scents middling together.

"I-.." You didn't know what to say, mouth completely dry, too ashamed of your shameless behaviour. You shouldn't behave like this, it didn't suit a lady.

His grin widened. "Do you like what you see?" your husband teased you.

"I-.." you shifted uncomfortably, your eyes moved to his lips, then to his chest and back up to those marvellous eyes.

"You what, Y/N? You can be honest with me."

You inhaled sharply, your face flushed with even more shame. "Yes, I like it, m-"

"Tsk tsk tsk. I think I told you to call me by my name."

"I like it, Eris," you murmured.

His eyes closed briefly and he exhaled deeply, making a strange noise. It sounded like a growl.

"Say it again. My name," he specified when you gave him questioning look.

You hesitated for a moment. There was something about him that made your pulse skyrocket. He was dangerous predator, able to kill with a single thought, but strangely, you wouldn't mind to be his prey. You didn't know him at all, yet you felt a connection between the two of you. And you longed to explore it more, to see what he was capable of.

"Eris," you whispered into silence between you.

Frowning with closed eyes he made the same noise. One second he was sitting in ottoman with mug in hand, the next one both mugs were left on the table and he was kneeling next to you. Even on his knees he was so tall that his eyes were level with yours. Those long fingers that fascinated you moments ago, found yours, entwining with them while his fiery eyes burned your body and soul in the most pleasant way. Room felt so hot suddenly that you had the urge to open the windows, get rid of any clothing you had on you and expose your bare skin to a cooling rain.

"Y/N," he groaned, his gaze slowly fell to your lips.

You were so attracted to him that it had to be result of some kind of spell. Not having enough strength to resist it anymore, you gave in. Still longing to taste his full lips you leaned in slightly. His eyes returned to yours, searching. Whatever he saw, it seemed to work. His softness brushed over your lips, tenderly pulling them into a kiss.

His lips were just like you remembered them, soft and sturdy at the same time, tasting like honey and tea he drank. You wondered where that sweet taste came from because there was no jar of honey in this room nor the tea was sweet. Deciding it had to be taste of him, you moaned.

Your lips parted briefly, but he was fast. His tongue slipped in with ease, hungrily exploring your mouth. You gasped at the new sensation. Everything was new to you. You were taught some theoretical basics, but never practised them.

His body pushed against yours until you were almost lying, hands on the back of your head and your waist navigating you. Thin material of you nightgown presented no barrier between your bodies. You felt him everywhere, but it wasn't enough. You needed more.

You reached for him, needing to feel his hot skin. As soon as the tips of your fingers lightly brushed over his shoulder, he abruptly pushed away, breaking the kiss.

He backed to the center of the room, hands running through thick red strands. All the warmth left together with him and you were left trembling, confused and lonely without his closeness.

Both of you were heaving heavily. He averted his fiery eyes, hand reaching for a handle. As if instantly remembering something, his hand dropped to his side.

"We should go to sleep. It's late. I have a lot of work to do, so I have to get up early."

Shirt appeared in his hands and he quickly put it on. "You can sleep here tonight."

Without looking at you again he climbed to the bed, waiting for you. You were desperately needing time to compose yourself, to understand what just happened, why your body betrayed you and reacted the way it did, but you couldn't keep him waiting. You slipped under the covers on the other side, lying on your back stiffly like a board.

Eris turned off the light, mirroring you. You were sure you wouldn't be able to even close your eyes with him so close. You were just laying there, nervously gazing at ceiling.

In the darkness his hand found yours, gently squeezing it. Within seconds pleasant warmth spread into your body and your eyelids grew heavy. Just before you slipped into a realm of dreams, Eris turned to his side, facing you and whispered lowly.

"Good night, love."

[songsofadelaide]

Hey!! just wanna say ive been obsessed w ur works and was wondering if u can do a hoshina drabble/ fic based on P1harmony’s Fall in Love Again (aaaaa pref if past/present can be soichiro & hoshina orrr narumi & hoshina) hust an idea that popped in my mind cause the song kept showing up in my fyp!! thank u so muchh!!

Anon you and your big brain! 🤩 I'll have you know I love the angst between the Hoshina brothers so I might as well! Since you've given me the idea. ✨

✧ Fall In Love Again - P1Harmony

candor — another side story to radiant point. | refulgence

There was a time when you thought of Soichiro as your first love. There was a time when you thought he would turn your way.

After being fed the fairy tale of true love time and again and having eaten of it until its flavours were bland in your mouth, you soon came to realise that all you were fed was false hope. Soichiro was his family's ultimate incarnation, while you were but a paltry offering by yours. Though paltry you were, you were all your family had. Your beauty was their pride and joy, but it certainly wasn't enough to win the heart of your supposed betrothed.

As you grew up alongside the Hoshina brothers, it became clearer to you that it would have made more sense to have been offered to the second son instead. Not only were you two closer in age, but you also shared a deeper friendship with him— the kind that made you forget all about the existence of his older brother, and what his existence meant for your own.

Soichiro did turn your way. Only you were too preoccupied to notice.

The older boy was evidently surprised at how you were able to hold yourself against him during one of your sparring sessions. It had only been a matter of months since you started swordsmanship training under your father but you had a mastery of the basics now and even had a certain flair for precision. But regardless of your exponential growth, you were still outclassed by him, and he toppled over you as easily as kicking a potted plant to the ground.

"Nice try, beggar princess. Let me tell ya somethin' while we're here," Soichiro stated as he turned his back on you. "You're leavin' yourself wide open in other areas, but other than that, your stance is perfect."

He didn't want to admit that there was a beauty in your ferocity, too. Not with his little brother watching you both so intently. He'll settle with berating you until you've had enough. It's not like you were going anywhere, anyway. As far as he knew, his family owned you now.

That time you thought of Soichiro as your first love was a joke.

It was only because you fed into your family's narrative that a daughter like you needed a husband like him. As you grew older, the prospects of him ever becoming a tolerable husband dimmed by the day. He acknowledged your skill now, but he was still an awful person at the end of the day. Awful in that he had no sense of delicacy at all, even when it came to you, who was supposed to be his wife in the future.

Now that you were sixteen, the fairy tale was over, or the curse had been lifted, and you finally decided for yourself that you wanted no part in Soichiro's plans for you in the future, whatever those may be.

So you did what he thought you would never have the courage to do.

"I thank you and your family for your kindness to me, and I apologise, oji-san, but I don't want to marry Soichiro-san," you stated as you prostrated yourself before the Hoshina patriarch. "As much as I would have loved to be part of your family, Soichiro-san's attitude leaves much to be desired."

Was he hearing things right? He was the one who had attitude problems?

Soichiro sat there in complete shock at your declaration, but Soshiro was even more surprised at it unfolding. Their father didn't look too nonplussed by your statement. He knew that his eldest son was a little devil who thrived in discouraging both you and his younger brother, only for you to show him results time and again.

He also knew that Soshiro challenged his older brother for your hand, not just once, but more times than he can remember. Perhaps he can turn you around once more by opening a simple possibility. "Is there nothing that can change your mind? Your family agreed to an engagement, after all."

"I..."

I want Soshiro.

But you couldn't say it. You were in no position to make any demands even if they were freely offered to you. And what would Soshiro say about that? He was more than happy to be your friend, but would he ever accept you as his bride?

No, you've done enough dreaming for the last ten years.

"I'm afraid not, oji-san."

It was only when you left their estate that the brothers spoke once more until it eventually evolved into another duel— like the wild beasts that they were.

"You should have said something back then!" Soichiro exclaimed between his slashes and parries. "Why didn't you ask her and tell her to stay? That you would have treated her better than I ever would? I mean, you already do, but—"

"Are you kidding?! You already ran her out of the family! She already made it clear that she wants nothing to do with us! What makes you think she'd want to stay here?!" Soshiro shot back at him, mirroring his speed and movements until they were all but a single blur of swords and wind.

This blockhead second son knew nothing, of course. Soichiro was annoyed beyond sense at how dense his little brother was. Was he the only one who saw the smile that lit your face every time Soshiro welcomed you to their estate? Was he the only one who noticed how sweet your laughter sounded when it was Soshiro at the other end of the joke? Or how you once said in confidence that you preferred Soshiro's presence over his own because he was unbearable to be with, even though it was all his doing?

Soichiro got his just deserts and it annoyed him to no end. Because once more, he faced the prospect of being second best to his little brother, who grew in strength and skill with each passing day and even managed to win your heart all the same.

"Hgk—!"

But it was his brother's blade on his neck now. Soshiro got the one-up against him without any handicaps this time. His usually boisterous little brother withdrew his sword and quietly stared down at him. Soshiro did not look at him with a sense of superiority, but that of revulsion. The very same emotion in your eyes when you bade him farewell that day.

"I'm going to ask for her in my own time. You better not get in my way when that happens."

Your promotion to Third Division Platoon Leader was met with quiet celebration. Many of your fellow team members rejoiced in the opportunity to work under you this time as their leader. You were known to give out measured and concise orders that allowed every single one of them to seamlessly weave through the field and get the job done with minimum risks and casualties.

When Captain Ashiro congratulated you and presented you with your badge in her office, she let you in on a little secret only she and a handful of other superior officers were aware of. "When you first took the exams, you received a commendation from Captain Hoshina Soichiro of the Sixth Division."

Huh. You heard her right once. "I did not know that."

Captain Hoshina Soichiro of the Sixth Division vouched for your skills. If this was his way of making amends for his terrible treatment of you in the past, it was a pretty gesture, but still far too late.

"In his recommendation, he detailed how your family was a close associate of theirs and how you learned swordsmanship alongside him and our Vice Captain."

"That's true, Captain. Much of my skill was honed under their roof."

"If you don't mind me asking, why did you suddenly shift from Kendo to Fencing?"

Your Captain's question elicited a small laugh from your lips. "You might think it a petty reason, Captain, but I changed sword arms just so I could be better than them at something."

You gently touched the shiny new badge clipped to the collar of your formal regalia. "Soshiro... I mean Vice Captain Hoshina is someone I looked up to very much when we were children. If I may be so bold to say that he inspired me to take up swordsmanship."

"Hmm. I see," came Mina's short but understanding reply to you. "Just as Hoshina is important to me on the battlefield, I'll also be counting on you to carve open a path for me and everyone else."

"Of course, Captain, ma'am!" You said resolutely, followed by a crisp salute that matched the sharpness of your outfit today.

"Will you marry me?"

Soshiro asked you that question in the dead quiet of the night as he held you close in his arms. The silence of your quarters and the stillness of the rest of the base made it feel like you were the only two people in the world.

"Yes," you said with a small swallow of saliva to wet your mouth. "As long as you aren't gonna be like your brother."

"I'm nothin' like him now, am I?" He chuckled at your assumption. "If I wanted to be like him, I would've chased you out of our home the moment I saw ya."

"Mm. I suppose you're right about that," you nodded at him. You contentedly sank into his touch when he moved to cup your warm cheek in his hand. "You're nothing like him at all."

"Good to know. That's high praise comin' from you."

As another comfortable silence lingered over your tired figures, a memory of the past crossed your mind. "Do you remember that time I told your father I didn't want to marry your brother?"

That day was one he would never forget any time soon. "As clear as day."

"I nearly begged for you instead," you told him with a soft laugh.

"You should have. I would've been there beggin' right next to ya!"

"In the end, everything worked out for this beggar princess," you said with a small sigh. "Gosh, I still can't imagine myself as your brother's wife. It kinda gives me the creeps."

A bout of tender laughter left Soshiro's lips this time. He raised your hand to his face and pressed a soft kiss on your palms, near the range of calluses you had from gripping your sabre. "You don't have to imagine anything other than our future together."

You mirrored his actions and planted a similarly gentle kiss on his cold knuckles, your breath blooming warmth into his fingers. He weaved his fingers into yours, as though sharing that little glow with you "Of course. For as long as we're fighting for it."

✦ Thank you for requesting! Nothing makes me happier than writing a request I know I can work with. 🍹 You can read more about requesting here

[tunamayojazz]

new inuokko au that's been floating in my head! they're both art students at the same university, toge majors in sculpture & ceramics and yuta is in fine art.

and they're also newly housemates.

yuta: nice to meet u inumaki-san! i'm okkotsu yuta ^v^🌷 have you eaten lunch? i made a lot of shio cabbage yesterday 💓🫣

toge's first impression: hes a golden retriever

also yuta: creates the most morbid, despairing paintings known to man

toge: a depressed golden retriever...

yuta's peers like to joke about him having demons in his head bc of the type of art he puts out. and yuta is jst like haha ure so funny! while sweating bc there are indeed demons in his head (rika)

that is also why toge is yuta's 5th housemate in 3 months. lets hear what his previous housemates have to say abt him:

👤#1: ive never had such vivid, fleshed out nightmares in my life. it felt like someone was boiling my brain in my sleep...

👤#2: hes rly nice but after i moved in with him it felt like my dreams were being written by junji ito. also all my safety amulets turned black, so

👤#3: too much cabbage in the fridge

👤#4: idk how else to explain it but i swear to you one of his paintings tried to k1ll me

not really 5 star experiences unfortunately. but lucky for yuta, toge was looking for a new place.

toge: so i heard you've had trouble with ur previous housemates. whats that all about

yuta: oh well u know, my paintings aren't exactly, yknow ><" the friendliest haha

(one of yuta's paintings seems to quite literally glare at toge in that moment)

toge: i see...

a new era at unit 44H begins!

[wildestdreamsblog]

Latibule V

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (Mafia/Detective AU)

Summary: In which you didn’t know who he truly was- until it was too late. Or in which he found heaven in you.

Warnings: Secret Identity, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: tysm for all your support! Our Agustd is now…showing.

Masterlist, Latibule IV

“What the fuck is that?”

You turned around to glare at the man with a confused look. Suga was looking down, observing what he called ‘that’ with his brows furrowed and his eyes squinted. He could not have looked any more disgusted and confused than he did at the very moment.

You briskly walked to him, flashing him a tight smile before pulling his arm so he could follow you, however reluctantly. You stopped dragging him when the two of you reached the kitchen. You looked up at him while he was busy looking down at your hand that was trying so hard to encircle his thick wrist with a look of a somewhat confusion. Suga couldn’t, for the life of him, answer why he felt something he didn’t want to name. And now, you were too aware of the feel of his skin, of how thick his wrist was, and of how the heat emitting from his skin felt good. You were much too aware of him.

And upon realization, you dropped his wrist carelessly as though it burned you. “That-“ you pointed your finger to the living room while glaring daggers at him. “-is a child.”

He frowned, his dark locks falling on his face as he look down at you. “Fine. Why the fuck is a child here, angel?”

You sighed in exasperation, explaining to him as patiently as you could that his father asked you to look out for his child because he had to travel for work, to which he rolled his eyes dramatically.

See, this was why you thought he was similar to a cat. He hated people, he hated morning, and he hated being hungry.

Was it morning? Check.

Was there another person in your house today? Check.

Had he not eaten yet? Check.

“That’s free childcare, angel! You should charge for it!”

“He’s my friend!”

“And?”

“And this is a favor! Have you not heard of that? Are you not familiar with the concept?”

Oh, he knew favor. He knew a lot of people owed him one and he was going to collect all of them soon.

“Do you hate children? Is that it?” You asked again when he failed to answer you, stepping closer to him to annoy him further. You didn’t know why you found it so entertaining to see him lost his cool, or how his face scrunched up when he was annoyed. But he stood his ground. He looked down at you, his lips tilted to the side as he focused his dark eyes on you.

“No. I hate people in general.” But he didn’t hate you. He wasn’t put off by your existence. He wasn’t happy when you were away for too long. But these were the things he would never admit to himself.

Nope.

“Well, he’s staying here until tomorrow. Be kind! Or else!”

He had the audacity to look affronted as though he wouldn’t do the exact opposite of what you asked of him. Right now would be the prime example.

“Who are you?” Suga asked him once the two of you returned to the living room where the child was happily watching cartoons. He was looking at the child as though be was dangerous when

“I’m Jackson,” he answered back, his little arms folded on his front as he looked up at the man questioning him with an equally defiant glare. “Who are you?”

Suga turned to you, his eyes in disbelief at what he heard. “He named his child his name?”

You blinked twice, unable to even defend your friend. But you didn’t have to. His child got his sassiness, after all.

“Your name please, ahjussi,” he repeated as he tapped his foot on the ground in obvious irritation at the older man. This was the first time he saw Suga and he automatically hated him. You were his favorite aunt, albeit you were the only aunt he had. But still! He thought you were too beautiful for the man you called your fiancé. He thought he didn’t deserve you.

“Ajhussi?” He repeated in disbelief as he squinted his eyes at the child. “I’m…Suga.”

“What kind of name is that?”

“Yah! What kind of name is Jackson?! Can’t your father think of another name? Is he that-“

You could feel a headache coming as you listened to them bicker. “Guys-“

“My friends said I have a nice name!”

“Yeah? Well, they’re lying to you!”

“At least I have friends! You look like you have enemies!”

Well, he wasn’t wrong though, Suga thought as he paused. He’d give this round to the kid. But he would return with a vengeance.

“Noona,” the young Jackson turned to look at you with his puppy eyes and an adorable pout on his lips that you couldn’t help but cooed at him and opened your arms so he could hug you.

He wrapped his little arms around your middle before whining at you. “Are you sure that man is who you want to be with? There are better guys out there, noona,” he said as he turned his head to glare at the other man.

“Yah!”

To which, he just stuck his tongue out.

“Angel, why is he still here? Can’t his mother take care of him?! Or did his mother also find him insufferable?”

“Suga!” You reprimanded him as you felt the child’s small body shook with impending tears. You glared at the man before hugging the now wailing child. For heaven’s sake, did he really have to fight with a child?! “Are you a child?! You should know better!”

“What?! He started it!”

“His mother…passed away,” you whispered the last part, feeling sorry for the child who never knew his mother. You thought that this was why he was somehow too attached with you. You were the only female figure in his life because his father refused to date anyone. He had said one night when you asked him why he never dated despite it being years already and he only said that he found the one. That his wife was it, that anyone would only fail in comparison to her.

You thought it was sad to have found your soulmate, only for her to be taken from your grasp forever, to be only left with memories that would fade in time, to be the only one whose love had no where else to go.

Suga’s eyes widened in realization, his gaze on you as what you said sunk in. He always knew he was an asshole, an abomination of a greedy man. He knew he was all that was wrong in mankind, but God, seeing that child cried his heart out displaced him. It felt…wrong. Was he developing a fucking conscience? Was this safe place making him soft?

Were you making him a better man?

He turned his dark eyes on the weeping child before he stood up. He clapped the child’s shoulder, “If you stop crying, I’ll buy you an ice cream.”

You watched the two in front of you devoured their ice cream like it was the end of the world. After fighting like vicious animals, they were sitting in front of you quietly as though they never said hurtful things to one another. You didn’t know that Suga even know this place. You thought that he must probably roamed around the town while you were at work and must have familiarized himself with the town. When he said that he knew a place, this was the last place you thought. This was the most colorful place in the whole town and it was also the loudest with pop songs playing on the speaker and children running all over the place. He was too in contrast with the aesthetic of the place with his all-black clothes and the emotionless face he was showing to the world.

You looked up to watch them again when you caught him already looking intently at you- or more specifically, your ice cream. “What?”

You ordered what you considered the normal flavor, chocolate and cookies and cream which were your favorite, while they ordered fruit-flavored ice cream. Suga thought it was peculiar that you didn’t eat fruits and you said he was weirder for fighting with a kid, to which he had no comeback for.

“I want your ice cream,” he announced as though it was his birth right to receive everything he ever desired.

“Suga- we talked about this.”

“About what?” He asked absentmindedly as he reached his spoon to your side when you slapped his hand away.

“What’s the magic word?”

He glared at you, his jaw clenched uncaring if he was bringing the vibe of the place down, or that he looked like an angry kitten.

“It’s ‘please’, ahjussi,” Jackson quipped up, looking up at the man sitting beside him with doe eyes. “Did you not know that?”

“Yes, Suga, did you not know that?” You asked him with faux confusion, batting your eyelashes at him annoyingly.

“May I please have your ice cream?”

“Of course, honey.”

You couldn’t help but smiled triumphantly at him before scooping your ice cream and lifting it to him. He glared at you before holding your hand closer to his lips before opening his mouth devouring the ice cream, all while holding eye contact with you.

And fuck it if you weren’t entranced with the way his lips seemed so pink…or the way his dark eyes seemed to hold so much hunger that you felt your cheeks heated up. You tried to pull your hand away from him but he didn’t let go.

“Delicious, angel,” he said lowly before flashing you a smirk and placing your hand down gently on the table. “I’ll go pay the bill.”

You blinked owlishly, shaking the haze from your mind. “What? You don’t have money. Let me pay-“

He regarded you with bored eyes before lifting his eyebrow, “You told me to get a job, right?”

You were still reeling from the added information as he already walked to the counter. He got a job? When? Also, who would hire someone as socially inadequate as he was?

Jackson grinned widely as he spotted his best friend from across the diner. The other child was waving at him excitedly. He turned to you, jumping from his seat with an elated expression on his face. “Noona! May I say hi to my friend?”

“Of course, honey. Just be careful and don’t run.”

You watched him walked to the other side and you only lost sight of him for a moment when you watched Suga smiled with the old lady working in the diner. He looked like he was familiar with her. Your brows furrowed. How would he, an anti-social, always irritated, mannerless man, know her? Unless…did he work here?

Your thoughts were cut off when you heard an aggressive shouting from behind you.

“Watch where you’re going, little boy!” The man hissed down at Jackson who accidentally bumped into him. He looked like he was about to cry as the man continually berated him that you snapped up to your seat and walked to them. You placed your hands around the little boy’s shoulders, hugging him closer to you as shield from the screaming man.

“Excuse me, is there a problem here?”

He turned his sinister eyes on you, “Are you her mother? You let your son run around like that? What kind of mother are you?!”

“He was not running. I know because I saw. And what about you?! You’re a grown man who shouted at a child over a harmless mistake!”

He sneered at you, his beady eyes roaming on your form. He chuckled tonelessly, before walking closer to you. “You’ve got a lot of nerve,” he whispered before pushing your shoulder hard with his index finger, making you step back from the force. “Do you know who I am?”

“Should I care?”

“I can ruin you and your family-“

He was about to hit you again when a someone caught his finger in his fist. Suga stepped in, his eyes devoid of any emotion, his jaw clenched as he walked closer to the man.

“I’d think twice about doing that,” he ordered coldly, stepping closer to him that the two of you were now hidden behind his back.

And it was as though he noticed a predator more dangerous than him because he did nothing but gulped as he struggled to look into Suga’s eyes. Suga whispered something inaudible to the man before smirking at him and dropping his hold on him. You felt him wrapped his arm around you as he guided you out of the diner and out of reach of the customers’ curious eyes.

The silence was overbearing, so unalike the one you were used to with him, the one where you could break it with your sassiness and teasing ways to him. No. This time, he looked like a different person. He still hadn’t released his hold on you and you could feel the tension emitting from his hand. You were almost to the park, the one you’d promised the little boy you could go to after the diner, when he paused his tracks.

You turned to look at him- only to find him already staring at you with a swirling darkness in his eyes. He let go of you, his hand that had just touched you was clenching.

“You go ahead, angel. I left my wallet in there,” he stated after a moment, his hands now in his pockets before turning around and walking back.

—-

“I told you I’d be back.”

The man’s eyes widened when he noticed Suga casually leaning against the wall of the narrow and quiet walkway. Had he not said a word, he would have walked passed the man who emitted an insane and menacing vibe. His dark hair was falling on his face, his scarred eye leering up at him as though he was elated to finally find a prey in this quiet and sleepy town.

“I-I don’t want any trouble, man-“

“Tsk tsk,” he pushed himself off of the wall before sauntering to the man. He looked relax as though nothing could phased him…as though he wasn’t about to do a crime. “It’s too late for that…man.”

The man whimpered as he was slammed to the wall, his body falling weakly to the ground. He couldn’t hold his own weight, no, not against Suga. His huge body was likened to a rag doll as the man he thought was the devil incarnate landed blow after blow on his body. And he did so without any emotions in his eyes.

“You listen here and you listen good, asshole,” Suga said in a toneless voice, his eyes holding a barely constrained anger. He stepped closer, uncaring that he was crushing the fingers of the man that dared touched her..or that the sound of bones crunching made the man whimpered louder. He crouched down, his hand hanging on his knees nonchalantly. “You fucked up,” he whispered as he took in the disheveled state of the crying man. Softly, he touched the other man’s fingers. He smirked when he heard him cried louder.

“You didn’t only scare the child, but you touched a woman. My woman,” he stated as though he was merely discussing the weather.

“W-what? W-who are you? Are you her husband?” He asked as tears fell down from his eyes.

“Yes.”

Latibule VI

[angel-kyo]

Pay it no mind

Part XXIV

In which reader confesses their feelings to Gojo, but it seems these are not returned (maybe?).

Warnings: reader is on the receiving end of rejection (kinda), and the fact that I'm obsessed with unrequited love is a warning itself. Drinking is mentioned, and there is a bit of cussing. I'll admit Satoru does not look good in this one, neither does reader honestly, but thanks for bearing with me.

Previous: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII, Part XIII, Part IV, Part XV, Part XVI, Part XVII, Part XVIII, Part XIX, Part XX, Part XXI, Part XXII, Part XXIII

----------------------

Ping.

Satoru heard the notification sound from your phone, which had been left unattended on the table in the teacher’s lounge, but he did not pay attention to it.

Ping.

You had gone to the restroom, and he was watching videos on his phone. In fact, he had found a funny video to show you when you came back.

Ping.

Whoever it was probably had a lot to say though.

Ping.

Satoru took his eyes off his phone and looked at yours.

It started ringing, then stopped.

Could that be something urgent? Satoru knew how to unlock your phone; you had showed him. You could access his phone too, although none of your ever used each other’s phone without asking first, but if it was urgent, he should maybe take a look.

He grabbed it.

4 new messages. 1 missed call.

Haruki: I did not want to say anything before, but I’m sorry if I weirded you out last night when I called you. Haruki: I was emotional and talked too much. Haruki: The whole thing with my father makes me drink more than I should and do things I should probably not do, and it’s… well, you know. Haruki: But I don’t regret it at all.

Satoru thought he did not need to read that. It looked like Ikeda had some family issues he vented to you about.

However, even if he did not want to, he could almost sympathize with the guy.

“Is that my phone?” you asked, reappearing before Gojo.

He stretched his arm out so you would take the phone he was still holding. “It was ringing.”

A moment later, your words confirmed what Gojo thought. “It’s Haruki… His father has been bugging him for money, but he does not really want to see him again.”

Gojo recalled you had told him something about how complicated his relationship with his father was.

I guess it makes sense he wants a friend to call, someone who will listen to him.

Not that he could make peace with you being that friend just yet, but he knew better than to say that aloud, so he hummed in response.

“Must be tough for him.”

***

Now that he looked back on it, that had happened two weeks ago, the morning he had returned to Japan only to find out that you would be clocking in late that day.

He had wondered what your friend could have said to "weird you out". What was the thing he did not regret? Why had you left the room to give him a call after that?

Satoru had tried, really tried to live with the fact that Ikeda was your friend, a friend that might have called you being wasted out of his mind to complain about the awful father he had. That was the explanation he had given to himself.

He never imagined you would have gone out to drink with the guy, maybe even spent the night with him, and then what? Eaten breakfast at his place just before clocking in at work to greet your obliviously hopeful best friend, if he could still consider himself as such, as if nothing had happened?

To think Satoru, overworked and sleep deprived as he had been after that trip, had wanted to get back to work immediately to see you...

He felt stupid.

“Are you okay?” Satoru heard you ask hesitantly.

He took his eyes off his reflection to briefly look at you. “What are you doing here?” he asked, moving to wash his hands for the third time.

You watched him hold his hands underneath the water stream, not really moving them.

So he still does that.

When he was younger, Satoru sometimes did that as a ritual to calm himself when he felt anxious. You could not remember the last time he had done it in front of you.

“You did not come back to the table, and Shoko said you looked pale when you left.”

And I’m afraid I know why.

“If you want me to call her to check in on you, I’m sure I can convince her to come into the men’s restrooms.”

Satoru knew those words were only meant to try and walk around the elephant in the room, or should he say the elephant that was sitting back at the table?

He grabbed a paper towel. “I’m fine. You should go back.”

You were standing from a distance but still saw his jaw tighten. “Aren’t you coming back?”

“What for?” he asked, throwing the used paper sheet into the bin.

“They already served the dessert, and…”

“What am I doing here, [name]?” Satoru’s eyes connected with yours.

What do you mean? You asked to come.

That is what you were going to tell him, but he did not let you.

“Is it true?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing, the ghost of an expression he almost never showed to you. “That night you went drinking with him, where did you sleep?”

Now that was a tricky question.

“At his place, but…”

Satoru’s face contorted into a broken smile and the forced laugh that escaped his mouth echoed through the empty stalls. “Of course.”

“Let me expla-”

“And? Was the breakfast worth it?” His venomous tone was not something you were used to.

You frowned. Was he really implying that? Did he really think that was the kind of person you were?

“I get that what he said sounded weird, but that’s… I can’t believe you’re asking that.”

“I can’t believe you’re not answering,” he replied dryly.

You took a step closer. “Satoru, what do you think happened between him and me?”

“I have no fucking idea.” The sternness of his words made you take that step back. “Because you did not even mention going out with him while I was gone, let alone that you spent the night at his place. Oh, but I’m sure that whatever happened he does not regret it at all, because that’s what he told you, isn’t it?”

What was he talking about now?

“What do you mean? Why would you say…?”

“Is that my phone?”

“It was ringing.”

The realization left you stunned. “You read our conversation?”

You were not expecting that. Knowing that Satoru was nosy at times was one thing. That he had actually violated your privacy and read a conversation from your phone without telling you was another one.

“Can you believe I almost felt bad for him? But why should I? He has you to comfort him in his oh-so-many hardships. What a lucky bastard...”

“Gojo, stop right there.”

He wanted to. Satoru really wanted to stop talking now before saying anything that would hurt you both, but he did not think he could. He had held it in for too long.

“No, don't Gojo-me. You did not tell me to stop before.” His eyes were burning blue.

The blue part of a flame is the hottest spot.

You could not remember who had told you that, but for the first time, it made sense, because it felt like Satoru was burning you under his gaze.

“No, scratch that... You told me to stop once, and I was foolish enough to think you needed time, that I was rushing you, but that was not it, was it? You had already made up your mind. You just did not have the guts to tell me.”

This was a side of Satoru that you were not sure of how to handle; your arguments were never like this; they could be ugly, yes, but it was never him yelling and reproaching while looking this agitated. He usually kept his emotions in check; you just lacked the experience seeing him like this.

What was that thing Suguru said once? That those who felt deeply will love you and hate you the same? That their love and their wrath was equally dangerous, or something like that?

Satoru’s agitated breath was all you could hear for a second, but then, as if regaining strength, he continued. “Tell me, did you ever think of him when you kissed me?”

Even before he finished the question, you had started shaking your head. "Of course not! Satoru, just let me explain. It’s not what you think, and I’ve never…”

“Now you are talking!” He advanced quickly towards you. “Yes, please, [name], please do explain what’s going on.” He was not exactly yelling, but he had raised his voice again, more than in any other argument you could recall, but it suddenly dropped. “What’s this? You play house with me Monday through Friday and fuck him on the weekends?”

“We are not playing house,” You were trying to avoid shouting, but it still came out sharper than you had intended.

“But you are fucking him.”

“I’m not!” That was it, you could not avoid shouting at him anymore. “Stop, just shut up. You know it’s not like that. He’s my friend, and you…”

“Then answer me, what are we playing at? Because I’m also your friend, right?! But looks like that’s all I’ll ever be, the friend that has to sit back and watch the person he loves fall in love with someone else. What a freaking great game, but guess what? I don’t want to play anymore.”

He had it all wrong and that irked you that he did not want to listen, but at the same time, it was breaking your heart to hear him. Was that how he had felt all this time?

You tried to touch his face to wipe away the tear that was about to fall down, but he pulled back. “Don’t… Don’t touch me. Just pick. It's him or me.”

What?

One look at your expression, and Satoru understood why he had put off asking you for a definitive response for so long. Maybe, deep down, he knew you could not pick him; he was flawed, he was selfish, he was always too late.

When you were younger, you had not been able to pick his friendship over Ikeda’s. This was just the same, was it not?

No, this hurts much worse.

“Satoru, I…” you started saying, but he shook his head and interrupted you…

“You seriously can’t, can you? You know… You were right, I’m selfish” he pointed to the door, “I’m nothing like Mr. Perfection out there, with the magazine face, corporate job, and just mundane problems..."

At some point, Satoru had given in and tried to get some intel on who the great Haruki, who had had you head over heels, was, but what he had found was just an average man that was perfect in everyone's eyes. In a way, that was worse than finding dirt on him.

"He may be a fucking saint, and I’m selfish all you want, but you…” the finger that had been pointing outside was now pointing at you “You are cruel beyond repair, and I’m an idiot for falling in love with you.”

He had lowered his voice, but the atmosphere could be cut with a knife, and his words certainly sliced it through.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” a young man, a waiter called behind you. “I’m afraid your… Umm… conversation is preventing some customers from coming in. May I ask that you continue this somewhere else?”

----------------------

Note: No notes today, just my love.

Thanks for reading!

Next: Part XXV

@mavs-stuff @witchbybirth @crookedlyaddictedone-blog @tqd4455 @maybe-a-bi-witch @mo0nforme @maliakealoha @zacatecanaaaa @blushhpeachh @astriarose @missesgojosatoru @ba-ks @sukunasleftkneecap @songbirdlully @cole-silas @heijihattorisgf @chokesonspit @hersheyzzz @smolbeanzzz @luciledreamz @avidreadee123 @moonmalice @ratscandaler @sadmonke @allie-jay @username23345 @spin-garden @ashehateaccount @kayzens @blehtotheblehtothebleh @stellasloth @bloopsstuff @cheesemachine44 @tetsuski @rosellerinfrost @catowru @bi-narystars @wondermilka @fortunatelyfurrygiver @shrxui

[y-umiko]

TOKYOREV BOYS WHEN THEY WANT TO BREAK-UP TO PROTECT YOU

CHARACTER(S): Kazutora . Hanma . Baji WARNING/S: angst? A/N: Please don't be surprised if the writing seems different as it goes on, I wrote each one when i'm in different moods.

Kazutora

Kazutora watches with gritted teeth as the nurse patches you up after being rushed to the hospital. It was nothing serious just some cuts and bruises, but Kazutora can't be relieved, imagining the worse that could happen if didn't arrive in time.

He thought long and hard about it, being with him had made you a target for others. and if separating from you means your safety then he was willing to do it.

but you were having none of it, all it took was to see the dreaded expression on his face to know what was running on his head. after thanking the nurse, you sternly gave him your piece of mind.

"whatever it is that's running on your head, quit it" his eyes previously downcasted and staring at the floor, flickering towards you, "I haven't said anything yet"

"It's written all over your face" you sigh, watching his eyes drift away from yours. Kazutora felt incredibly guilty that he can't bear to look at your eyes.

he had done a lot of bad things in his life, maybe this was his punishment, maybe this was his karma, if it is, he doesn't want you getting the same burden, and maybe he was right.

"Maybe it's for the better that we - "

"No" you quickly cut him off, reaching over to hold his hand, which was incredibly warm, "Listen to me, This is not your fault alright? so don't go having any thought in that pretty head of yours"

Kazutora simply stared back at you, content with your hold on his hand. wondering that maybe he wasn't so bad in his previous life to be rewarded as precious as you.

he was brought back when he felt you squeeze his hand, "are we clear?"

"…yeah" he mumbled, gently leaning towards you and nuzzling his head on your shoulder, this time he'll protect you properly.

Hanma

Hanma knows nothing good comes out of being associated with him. but he was being greedy wanting to have you in his life, he thought he can protect you but how wrong he was.

and for the first time in his life, he didn't want to be selfish, for your sake and his peace of mind.

"so that's it, see you around" he casually bid goodbye, hands stuffed in his pocket, after explaining to you he's breaking up with you 'just because he felt like it'. if it was a normal day it would have hurt you, but you knew him too damn much to know he felt guilty for what happened.

"wait a damn fucking minute" you called after him but Hanma pretended not to hear you and continued walking out of your hospital room. but you were quick to your feet, getting out the bed and dragging the bag of IV with you to catch up with him.

"you can't just come here, say what you want and leave" Hanma momentarily stops in his tracks, an internal turmoil inside his head, a slight worry in his eyes seeing you get out of bed. but if his gonna do it, he has to stay strong, as he continued his way out, "I have nothing left to say"

"Well, I do and you better fucking listen" you voice out loudly than intended, making Hanma sigh as he stops in his tracks once again to give you another piece of his mind and say words he didn't mean but will hurt you so bad that you'll probably stay away from him for good.

"you're serious-"

however, all those words got eaten and forgotten as you came tackling him, arms tightly wrapped around him, and head buried on his chest.

"Don't leave me…please" you coaxed, voice calm and gentle but Hanma can feel the tremors coming from your body. if it was fear of him leaving or fear of the accident. he doesn't care, all he knew was you needed him and that someone has to pay.

"you're a pain in the ass"

As his reasons crumble the bastards who did this to you can enjoy the last hours of their life. meanwhile, he wanted to be a little bit more selfish, as long as you want him, he'll stay with you.

Baji

When Baji came to see you with bruises and some remnants of blood, you immediately knew what had transpired before him seeing you in the hospital.

Baji just can't seat around, he just had to let out his contained rage upon seeing you all bloodied and bruised because of him. and amid the chaos of exchanging fists, he had a thought. his life had always been full of danger and will probably be more dangerous as the Tokyo Manji Gag expands.

he was sure enemies would come swarming towards him and normally that would have thrilled him. but after some careful thought, he wasn't alone anymore, the more enemies he made the more dangerous it become for you and he can only think of one thing to do.

"we should break up"

he coldly said, quick and direct he thought, hands on his side, a glare in his eyes as he stared at you. if there's one thing Baji was good at, it was his acting skills. and if you were anyone else, you would have believed him, luckily, you weren't just anyone.

"I don't understand? why?" you calmly replied, but your eyebrows were furrowed. while Baji remained a certain distance from you. it should be easy he thought, just like he practiced on his head countless times.

"I don't like you anymore"

words he thought would be enough to drive you away yet Baji swore you look calm than he thought you would be.

"then look me in the eyes and tell me you mean it" you sternly replied, and he did so with full confidence but as he searched your eyes, desperately looking for anything that will let him repeat his words, all he found was your eyes fill with unconditional love, eyes that had seen his worse and beauty. nothing came out of his mouth, words stuck on his lips.

"dammit y/n! don't make this anymore harder than it is!"

"then stop it!" you burst out before calming yourself. "I know what I'm getting when I agreed to go out with you, I wouldn't even lie, it was scary, but this is not enough to the point that it will make me leave you, you're stuck with me until the end"

"Besides I have full confidence that you would save me every time"

a rush of warmth spread on Baji's chest, he should deny it, he should continue his act and walk away yet his feet moved towards you as if having a mind of their own. would it be selfish to continue wanting to be with you despite putting you in danger.?

[jetblack4realz]

lake days iv - jake "hangman" seresin x reader

summary - jake is a regular in your household (collection of cute jake moments basically)

warnings - just a very domestic relationship with a lack of a ring which makes you want to scream

word count - 3.4k

pt i , pt ii , pt iii , pt v

______________________________________________________________

as your relationship continued, jake realized very quickly that the worst part of your weekends off was going back to sleep at base. and then waiting around for the better part of the morning before heading to your house to work on the truck you'd just recently bought because you'd been called in to tutor some new pilots or review prep work for an upcoming mission that he'd spent all night finishing.

soon enough, you found yourself coming home to jake over the hood of the truck in your driveway, tools from barrett's garage scattered around as he tirelessly tried to diagnose the issue with the engine.

he walked back into the house for the sixth time that day, grabbing a cup of water and chugging it quickly. "you alright, jake?"

"fine," he answered quickly. "do you have any floodlights?"

you glanced outside, watching the sun set slowly behind the pine trees surrounding your home. "you're not gonna keep working, are you? have you even eaten anything?"

"i've helped myself to a few snacks, but i wanted to figure this thing out before the end of the day," he answered. "i changed the oil and tried to bleed the brakes, but i think something's clogging 'em. i'mma go figure out which-"

"jake, let's just get some take out and rest," you told him, approaching him with a few slick steps. you rested your arms around his torso as you smiled. "why don't you stay the night? you seem tired and i don't want you driving back all by yourself."

"i'll be fine," he insisted.

"okay, let me rephrase: i want you to stay over tonight. will you please?" you asked sweetly, looking up at him with a soft smile. he grinned, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

"well, sure baby," he said. "anything for you. let me just clean up my things, return the tools to barrett, and then we'll get some food. deal?"

"deal," you nodded.

when you woke up the next morning, you didn't think it would be to your mother calling you. you checked the time with a groan, pulling jake's arm off of your torso as you scooted to the edge of the bed - seven thirty in the morning. you raised your phone to your ear after pressing the little green phone icon.

"what's up, mom?" you asked, your eyes still shut as you waited for a response.

"are you coming to church today?" she asked through the phone.

"what?"

"church, honey. you coming?"

"what time?"

"same as always, 2 o'clock. we've got dinner afterwards too. maybe jake can come! or is he working?"

"no, not today. he's over right now actually."

it was like he knew you were talking about him, reaching over to you with one eye peeked open. you grabbed his hand with a small smile, squeezing it gently.

"bring him to church. he's a church man, ain't he?"

"well, he is from texas, ma." your laugh was tired, but genuine, and it made jake smile as he scooted closer to you.

"bring him. and bring him to dinner after. finn here is dying to see him again."

"you have finn over at yours?"

"he usually runs over here for breakfast. dad buys the sugary cereal brynlee refuses to."

"hmm, sounds like finn."

"i'll see you later, honey. bye-bye, i love you."

"love you too, ma, bye."

you dropped your phone on your nightstand, immediately rolling back into bed and into jake's awaiting arms. you sighed contentedly as he pulled you close, lips to your forehead before settling you against his chest again.

"we going to church?"

"yup."

"i don't have anything to wear."

"call logan."

so, after you two woke up again, at nine this time, he did. finn was all too happy to run a gray polo over to your place, immediately thrusting it into jake's arms and situating himself in your pantry, searching for goodies.

"finn, get out of there," you laughed. "grandma told me all about your cereal run to their house this morning."

"aw man!" he cried, stomping over to where you were laid on the couch and plopping next to you. you pulled him into your side, messing up his hair. "stop!"

"let's watch cars," you said, flicking on your tv and clicking through your streaming services until you found said movie. you knew how obsessed he was with it, and so you were equally surprised when he stopped you.

"let's watch planes," he said. "it's like cars, but planes."

"i don't think i've seen that before," you hummed, but it was in the suggested section below cars, so you clicked on it.

"i love this movie," he told you.

"is it because your cool aunt y/n flies planes?" you teased.

"no, it's because i do," jake said, reentering the room in logan's polo and a clean pair of dark wash jeans. you smiled at him, being obvious as you checked him out, though finn couldn't tell from in front of you.

"well," finn said, dragging the word out for effect. "i mean..."

"no way!" you exclaimed, sitting up quickly and beginning to tickle the boy's sides as he shrieked with laughter. "i'm supposed to be your favorite! i was there when you were born!"

"doesn't make you cooler, y/n," jake said in a sing-songy tone, laughing as finn pushed your hands off to run to him. jake caught him quickly, pulling him up into his arms before throwing him back against the couch. finn sat up quickly, running back to the aviator but jake just leaned over and snatched him up by the legs, holding him upside down.

finn laughed again as jake brought him over to you, carefully laying him across your lap as you tickled his stomach again. "you're so mean to me, finn."

"i'm sorry!" he laughed, pushing your hands away. "you're my favorite!"

"ha! knew it," you said, relinquishing your hold on the child with a smug smile. jake rolled his eyes, scoffing a slight laugh as he joined your side.

"whatever, y/n."

you sent finn back to his family to get him ready for church after the movie wrapped up and you went upstairs to find a dress you thought was suitable for church. you landed on a comfy, ruffly floral midi dress that was ruched at the top with elastic thread to give you some shape. it even had pockets.

you took to the bathroom, pulling out your makeup bag as you turned on some old worship songs you listened to in highschool, appreciating the sense of nostalgia that washed over you. also pulling out your curling iron, you turned it on and began humming to yourself as you wiped some moisturizer onto your cheeks.

you did most of your makeup, only leaving your lashes out as you curled your hair the way you liked it. you were so used to keeping your hair in tight buns that it was so gratifying to be able to style your hair in a cute way - even if you knew it was just going to be back in a bun the next day. you turned off the iron, unplugging it now so you wouldn't freak out later.

"it is well, it is well... with my soul," you sang quietly, curling your lashes as jake walked into the doorway, leaning against it with a small smile. "what?"

"nothing, you're just cute," he said, coming behind you to wrap his arms around you as you continued your makeup routine.

"so are you," you told him with a smile.

"we gotta leave soon. you almost ready?" he asked, kissing your temple.

"just finished," you answered, turning around in his arms to smile at him. "you wanna drive?"

"if it means we don't drive the subaru, then of course," he said, taking your hand and dragging you out, turning off the lights as he went. "let's do this thing!"

"i haven't really been to church much since my first deployment," you told him as you drove to the small building about fifteen minutes away. "just the few times now that i'm back."

"i miss it," he told you, glancing at you with a small smile. "i hated it as a kid, but now i realize that it was actually fun. got to be with my friends and family in a peaceful environment."

you nodded. "i get what you mean. my mom always tried to keep us so involved with coloring pages and small snacks. my grandpa was the preacher, so that helped a bit, but i really just liked coloring."

and when you sat with your family, your two month old new little niece called ella who alice and barrett had been more than happy to let you hold perched on your lap, you realized that your mom still had the same habits.

jake happily accepted a coloring page from everleigh, helping her draw on it over a notebook on his knee. the red crayon he held carefully colored in the sash on Jesus' robe, everleigh scribbling over his hair with the brown.

"looks great, honey," you whispered to him with a smile.

he winked at you, grinning and whispering back, "i'm an excellent crayon artist."

after church, you all returned to your houses to change into comfy clothes and then headed to your parents' house. you and jake elected to walk the ten minutes to their house instead of drive and you took the opportunity to slap his butt as he locked up and you skipped down the driveway.

he laughed loudly, following after you and wrapping his arms around you from behind, keeping you from moving forward. "what was that for?"

"you just look good in your sweats, babe," you told him, turning around and matching his grin before pressing your lips to his.

"you look good in yours too," he hummed against your mouth, pulling away for a moment to just go back in for a shorter, sweet kiss. you laughed, grabbing his hand and stepping backwards.

"come on, mom's got a roast in the crockpot."

family dinner was always really fun for you and was always incredibly special to jake. he appreciated being included and feeling like he was a part of your family - because he really did. he could feel that they all loved him, and he loved them too. he loved being around your brothers and dad the most, though. having grown up with only sisters he craved the camaraderie of brotherhood, something he'd only found on the football team and hoped to get more of in the navy, but only finding it in a few other aviators - namely javi "coyote" lopez and johnny "cash" richards who you spent many nights in the bar and days on the beach with back in hawaii.

and your brothers loved him too.

"i challenge you to a game of speed," logan said to jake as you all finished up your ice cream and brownies. jake grinned.

"game on."

it was intense, but after five rounds, jake had him beat at cards. logan was dramatic as he sighed and traded places with darren, letting the younger boy have a go at beating jake.

but he didn't. and neither did josh. or barrett. or your dad. or kyrie, your mom, alice, or you.

but, brynlee had game, and you all knew it. they tied twice, and as the fifth round carried on, you all watched intensely. jake was quickly running out of cards as brynlee tried to jump into his run, but to no avail. and then suddenly, they were both stuck.

"can't keep going?" you asked. they each had two cards left. they nodded, eying their cards as they grabbed a new card from the side decks. "ready, go!"

it was a 6 and a 3.

brynlee placed a 7 just as jake placed a 2, then jake quickly slapped his 8 on top of her 7 and cheered in victory.

"oh come on!" she exclaimed, sitting back with a frown as her husband high-fived your boyfriend.

"i'm never challenging you to speed again," logan laughed.

you all started to gather your things, wishing your parents a farewell as you all went to your respective vehicles, or in your and jake's case, began to walk. you had your hand clasped in his as you walked down the road, finn yelling "bye!" through the window as they drove by.

"i don't wanna go to work tomorrow," you groaned, leaning into him as your hand dropped from the wave you sent to the five year old.

"me neither," jake sighed. he squeezed your hand. "we've got a debriefing for wednesday's mission. we gotta pre-run it tuesday."

"no, they moved it to tomorrow. and they switched out bambi for fritz."

"why?"

"bambi freaked yesterday while i was over with the new guys. came back from a run all frazzled, quit on the spot."

"what happened?"

"i don't know. cash said they were out on a routine flight when they came across some cuban bogies. freaked out bambi i guess."

"so, we've got fritz?"

"unfortunately," you groaned. "luckily cash is my backseater. wish i had coyote though."

"wish you were my wingman and not stuck with the wso's," he told you.

"i'm still your wingman, just a wingman with an extra mission," you answered.

"if anything i'm your wingman. can't really lock in our targets without cash guiding us in."

"true that."

you walked in silence the rest of the way, you swinging your hands slightly and making jake smile. as soon as you were in the door, you were rushing upstairs to brush your teeth and pass out, knowing you were in for a long week starting the next morning. jake locked up behind you before following your lead.

next thing you know, he's collapsing next to you as you pulled the comforter up to you chin and turning over to snuggle against his chest. you laced a leg in between his, your arm splayed over his torso as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

"this is comfy," he mumbled softly.

"i'mma sleep so well," you hummed, smiling up at him with evident drowsiness in your eyes.

"good. we're gonna need it."

after a very long week and successful, short mission, you were finally back home.

"hey honey," you mumbled, kissing the side of his head as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders from behind. he was sitting criss-cross on the driveway working on switching the crank window of your new old truck to an automatic. he'd completely dissembled the door and was feeding the wiring to the switch he'd installed before you came out. "how's it going?"

"surprisingly well," he answered, turning to give you a quick kiss before returning to his work. "i haven't had a smooth install of these things, well, ever."

"well, i'm glad it's going good," you said, smiling softly. after twisting the wire ends together and slipping a boot over them, he turned to you with slightly knitted brows.

"you need something, darlin'?" he asked. you lowered yourself to the floor next to him, playing with the tools at your feet as he tested the window, it going up and down just as it needed to.

"no, just missed you," you hummed.

"i thought you had to go help curly with the trainees?" he asked, furrowing his brows as he glanced at you again.

"that's where i was this morning, but i'm all done now and i wanna be with you," you said. "you're out here every free second you got."

"i wanna get this finished as soon as possible, baby," he told you, attention back on the window workings. he reached for a screwdriver that you grabbed for him, beginning to return the plastic pieces of the door to their rightful places.

"i know and i appreciate that. i was just wondering if there's anything i could do to help?" you asked, looking to him hopefully.

"well, i'm just about done with this window and then i'll be workin' on the engine," he answered. "it's kind of a one person job, but i'd be happy for some company and a dj."

"i can do that," you said with a grin, pulling your phone out and pressing shuffle on your country playlist titled texas that consisted of mostly luke combs, tim mcgraw, morgan wallen, and dolly parton. "is it the transmission? are we gonna have to replace it?"

"well, after checking it out this morning i don't think so. i think the guy who had it before was just looking at the wrong things - the catalytic converter is clogged and i might replace the spark plugs just for the hell of it to try to keep from replacing or even just rebuilding the whole thing."

"that's good, right? makes things easier."

"a hell of a lot easier."

"and the burning smell when we drove it?"

"i took it over to your dad's to ask about that and he said there's an oil leak. all he did was tighten the drain plug and it's not leaking anymore."

"you went to my dad's?" you asked, smiling slightly as you watched him finish up screwing the door panel in.

"needed some help diagnosing everything. was thinking about bringing it back over when it comes to unclogging the converter - i ain't ever done that before," he said with a shrug. then he looked at you a little more intently, the screwdriver in his hand halting for a moment. "is that okay? do you not want me going to your dad's without you?"

"no, i don't mind at all. i actually like it, that you're comfortable with my family," you told him. he grinned, leaning to kiss you gently on the lips before screwing in the last two screws.

"baby, i think i'm more comfortable with your family than my own at this point," he answered.

you smiled, leaning into his shoulder as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "while i love that, maybe we should go out and visit your family? i'm sure they'd love to see you."

"ma would for sure, probably not dad," he said, his voice dropping a tone or two.

"why?"

"me and him got in a fight before i left for the academy - nearly ruined my family. have only really spoken to ma since," he answered, mind obviously recalling the events of that convoluted day.

"have you seen your ma since then?" you asked quietly.

"once, at graduation. but, that was three years ago and i've been all over since then. they don't even know i'm back in texas."

you were surprised at how casually he was offering the information, but it looked like he didn't think it was that meaningful, like it was something he could just brush off like he had for the last seven years.

"how about we do what mom offered the first time you came over?" you asked with a smile. "what if we invite them over to our place? a big barbecue. then, it's not all on you and everyone can be out and about, no real awkwardness. we can pull out cornhole and the volleyball net - though it might be all ripped up now that i think about it. anyways, there'll be plenty to do."

"i mean, it's a better idea than me just showing up one day," he mumbled.

"do you have nieces and nephews?" you asked. he nodded.

"a few. don't really know 'em," he said.

"well, if my nieces and nephews are any indicator, then they'll love you," you told him. "and they can play around with the kids. it'll be so fun."

"i'm not sure."

"just think on it. we can wait until the weather gets warm again," you offered. "if we're even still stationed here by then."

"i hope so. i don't wanna leave this baby all by herself," he said, patting the side of the blue truck as you laughed. you kissed his cheek.

"she sure would be lonely without you, babe."

[kingcunny]

thank you sm!! <3

ive made a couple posts about balerion and viserys before, and i got another one in the works in my drafts. like im obviously biased but theyre one of my favorite dragon-rider bonds, even though they were only together for a year.

jorah in the main series says at one point that targaryen dragons were bred for war, and in war they died. balerion being the last of the valyria-born dragons probably has this instinct better than most. he takes aegon i as his rider because aegon is a conqueror, and is going to use him for the purpose he was born for.

the aegon i -> maegor line i think is pretty easy to understand. just like aegon i, maegor is also a conqueror. balerion sees in him that same war-instinct that he saw in aegon i, that he himself has.

maegor -> aerea is where things start to shift. balerion is an old war machine, but his last two riders died outside of war and away from him. aegon i from a stroke, maegor was eaten by the iron throne. hes made his lair on his not-quite-home dragonstone, when this upset little girl who misses the excitement of her life at court climbs on his back and tells him to take her home. i think balerion was fairly homesick at this point and thought “*i* want to go home too.” so he takes them home. back to his home. except balerion doesnt know that his home as been destroyed while he was gone. he spends those years with aerea *searching* for anything, any sign that the valyria that he remembers is still there. but theres nothing. its doomed and filled with monsters now. aerea spends the whole time begging him to take her back home, back to her mother. its only after hes injured and aerea is deathly ill that hes forced to accept that this is no longer their home. theres nothing here for them anymore, they dont belong here anymore than he belongs in westeros. so balerion reluctantly takes aerea back. maybe theres something they can do to save her, or failing that, at least shell be able to die in her home even if he cant die in his. after this balerion becomes the first dragon chained in the dragonpit.

finally, aerea -> viserys. i think viserys felt fairly alienated from the rest of his family, as he was so different from any of the other men he was related to. but he was raised to idolize old valyria (or at least the targaryens version of it) and feels that if he can claim balerion, if the last living aspect of valyria accepted him, well that means theres *something* targaryen in him. balerion was the living god of the thing he was raised to worship. when alyssa wanted to claim balerion, the dragonkeepers dissuaded her by telling her hes old and slow now, and wouldnt she rather a younger more energetic mount? i wonder if they tried the same thing with viserys, but viserys wouldnt care about that. thats not why viserys wanted balerion. all viserys wanted was balerions acceptance. balerion is very old now, old and tired and in pain. hes a war machine that can no longer fight, a dragon that can barely fly. but hes still holding on. he cant die yet. viserys is very different from balerions other riders, and i think that was the point. balerion could tell viserys didnt want anything from him, other than *him*. so balerion accepted viserys as he was, and viserys accepts balerion as he is. balerion gives viserys his final flight and thats enough for him. more than that even, after their first and last flight viserys tells baelon he wanted to fly to dragonstone but was worried that balerion wouldnt survive the flight. he was *worried for balerion*, worried about *his* health and safety and comfort. when has he had another rider care about him like that? (when has any dragon tbh...) viserys doesnt want to put more on balerion than he can handle. whatever balerion can offer him is enough. all viserys wanted was his love, and he got that. so he loves and comforts balerion in his final days. balerion doesnt have a home anymore, but viserys gives him one inside himself. he loves balerion enough to let him go. to let balerion finally lay down and rest.

(sorry for the screenshot answer i accidentally posted it before i was done <3)

[m4rs-ex3]

s7 spoilers ✨✨

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA ok

"death alive" fucking snipe me the insane death motif that seems to be present here is killing me pun intended

GRAAAHAHAHHGROWLS IM SO EXCITED I CAN TEVEN

"i don't want to be separated again"

"i don't want to be separated again"

stop it right tf now bc this is literally what i have been wanting one of them to say so badly. also smooch. dear christ

the fact that terry wants so badly for him and claudia to be free that he is pleading with fucking archmage aaravos himself. like ik they're partners in crime atp but still my guy has balls. the dedication. poor thing 😭

aaravos fucking leading claudia on with even more hope of viren being saved - his own backstory making the way he's manipulating her grief 10x more twisted - and terry seeing right through his bullshit..... im foaming at the mouth

fuckin.g- FOR ME?!?!?!?!?!?

CALLUM SOBBING OVER EZRAN??? (dreamer's nightmare was prepping us for this huh)

SOREN APOLOGIZING TO CALLUM?? (for what i do not know) EMOTIONAL CALLUM/SOREN HUG DEAR GOD ALL IVE EVER WANTED

the making of a primal stone, more moon magic, a quest for an ingredient, insane biblical imagery... once again, FOR ME??!?!?!?!??!

"AND THE CROWD GOES WILD!!!!"

NECROMANCY!! just what this show needed omg

astrid my love. i was a little worried post-s6/pre-date announcement that we really wouldn't see that much, if any, of the celestial elves, but oh ho ho i can't believe i ever doubted you tdp. like you're telling me that astrid is tired of watching, of being the wise observers (especially now that her own brother has been so far removed from, well, being a non-all-seeing prophet), and that all she wants is to, for once, do something about all the tragedy she knows is coming and hasn't been able to do anything about? christmas fucking morning i tell you

goddamn the true extent and emphasized tragedy of katolis has been brought up enough that you just know they're not messing around

NO STOP SEEING SARAI AND HARROW NEXT TO GROWN AND CURRENTLY FCUKED UP EZRAN IS GOING TO FUCKING DEMOLISH ME

obviously ez being angry is just wow omg teehee but just. immediately being so vengeful and wanting to "destroy him" with zero hang-ups is.......... yeah wow omg teehee

"it's great!" i genuinely trust that with my life

ok hello this will most certainly be the most incredible visual to ever exist holy shit. also this is making me realize that we've never actual seen ez on the throne in arc 2 and i mean that's insane enough

this is incredible what can i say. i can see it now: rayla shoving worms in his face like "JUST EAT THE FUCKING WORMS ITS GOOD FOR YOU ASSHOLE" and runaan fighting her like a toddler refusing to eat his vegetables (except it's the opposite bc it's a vegetarian father refusing to eat his grubs)

i love how out of touch aaravos is (makes sense after centuries underneath inside of a rock) bc in what world is this normal. i highly doubt they have snow white or the bible but still it's just human nature to be weirded tf out by that. also yes @zuppizup ur so right his affinity for fruit being played on is amazing

also corvus: yeah yeah uh huh right and what exactly is your name, sir? aaravos: ah yes my name! it's uh uhh i mean it's uhhhhhhhhhhh. jofus

TWO IN THE FIRST EPISODE (which worries me but anyhow) IN THE FORM OF A GOODBYE AND A REUNION AND IN FRONT OF EVERYONE TOO???? AS A TREAT??????????

i'm all for ezran ripping runaan to shreds but i can't exactly say i see the correlation here. although that is kinda funny. it's like when i can't find my phone or smth so i just look at my dog and go "whiskey did you eat it" (she's been asleep this whole time and also she has never eaten/chewed on an object in her life)

also help inigo montoya ahh

ok 1) i, much like everyone else, kinda presumed that the tension would mostly be between ezran and callum and he wouldn't really hold anything against rayla, but the act of straight up arresting him really makes me wonder how rayla's gonna react 2) i really need to see callum's reaction (mainly out of defending rayla, but also because i can see him kinda being like "HEY i JUST freed him bro fuck you") and 3) the way that it is emphasized that soren is the one to arrest him..... idk i just figured that between his love for rayla, his own daddy issues (+the fact that viren was the one to imprison him so it would kinda be like righting his wrong), and that harrow was in fact not his father so compared to ezran he'd have a lot less resentment (he was of course still his king and soren had to actually watch it so still some but like. comparatively) i didn't think he'd be this combative but i'm certainly not complaining. the more angst the merrier

AW YEAH BOYS SHES COMING TO KATOLIS!!!!!

this has been your incoherent, feral mars commentary.* thank you

[twosdays-trash]

Marquee Moon Part 1

2k Shapeshifter AU- Alex Marquez/Marco Bezzecchi

this is my first fic ive posted, so please give me feedback! Its also on ao3 if you want to read it there!

title is referencing Marquee Moon by Television

Bez, on all accounts, had a decent race. What he considered a “decent” race had previously been a “Bad” race, capital B. He has been struggling with the change from a top-five and highly competitive bike to a mid-field bike that has more issues than solutions. He tries to tell them what's wrong, what he's feeling. He stays longer in the meetings after races to learn the data, where he went wrong, why he isn't fast enough, and it's been piling on him. 

He's been so unbelievably stressed out from trying to make the bike better he has hardly been aware of anything else. He still goes to the ranch in his free time, and he still hangs out with Pecco or Luca or Franky or whoever after a particularly bad race, but he just can't get his mind off the bike. 

Maybe that's why he's so nervous to see if Pecco is willing to cheer him up. The race was incredibly boring and he only gained one position the whole race, finishing in an unimpressive tenth. Still, regardless of his nerves that feel like they're going to buzz right out of his skin, he knocks on the door of Peccos motorhome.

Bez waits for a minute. Maybe Pecco didn't hear? Bez’s heart thuds in his ears and he knocks again, harder and faster than he did at first. Still no answer. Bez can now feel sweat dripping down his neck, he feels like ice has been dumped into his veins and a fire was lit at his feet to counteract it.

He thinks for a second, maybe he's not here. Maybe he's out. Yeah. He's probably not back yet. So Bez stiffly spins himself around climbs down the stairs as fast as possible and walks swiftly to the side of the motorhome to get by, but he pauses just in the middle and looks up at the window to see if the lights are on inside. 

Huh, they are.

Bez feels like he's going to pass out or vibrate out of his skin. Maybe he will do both. He sits down under the window for a second so that he can catch his breath when he starts to feel it. The tingly sensation that appears every time he needs to shift. Fuck. he doesn't want to shift outside, but Pecco isn't opening his door.

His breath quickens, panicked. The tingling spread from where it started in his chest and rapidly moved out towards his arms and to his fingers, as well as down his legs into his toes. His limbs feel incredibly heavy and his head is now feeling tingly and full of cotton when the switch happens. 

In the blink of an eye, the once-human Bez now sits, panting. His now considerably smaller form sits in the middle of the walkway, a small and lean raccoon with a piercing in its ear. 

Bez, now a raccoon sighs, grabs what he can of his wallet and phone, and drags them towards the stairs of Peccos motorhome. Even if Pecco doesn't want to see him he will at least house his raccoon form for a while until Bez is feeling good enough to shift back. 

Dropping his things on the doorstep Bez stands up on his hind legs and reaches for the door handle, pulling down with all his might, and pushing the door open. To Bez’s surprise, the door opens with ease. Maybe Pecco oiled the hinges. Letting go of the door Bez leans down grabs his things and drags them in the door before dropping them again so that he can push the door shut. Or just closed enough that it looks shut. 

Bez decides that he can leave the phone and wallet on the floor for now, and he can pick them up later when he needs to shift back. Walking into the living area he looks around and finds that it's both cleaner and dirtier than what Peccos motorhome looks like normally.

There is a bowl of something on the counter, from what Bez can tell, it smells like a bowl of cereal, but since its smell isn't too strong he assumes it's been eaten and left behind. Confused he keeps walking to the couch, where there's a pile of blankets and hoodies and something else he can't figure out. 

Sniffing the air a bit doesn't help. It's a smell that he can't discern. A new smell. Which is odd considering he, as a raccoon, has smelt most things there are to smell. Climbing up the couch and onto the table, which he knows he's not supposed to do but does it anyways to annoy Pecco. 

looking down at whatever is in this pile of comfort and is shocked when he sees a pair of wide green eyes staring up at him in the shape of a cat. This causes a very loud and scary chain of events.

The cat jumps up onto the floor and starts hissing, tail and fur standing on point. Bez, still on the table, hisses back. And just like how Bez shifted, in the blink of an eye The cat that was once on the floor now stands at a wide eyes and angry Alex Marquez. Bez pauses his hissing briefly as Alex scruffs him and tosses him to the floor, where he accidentally shifts back into human form.

Alex stutters, mouth gaping and moving like a drowning fish, and Bez makes a scramble for it. Trying to stand up as fast as he can and bolt for the door without being caught by Alex, in which he only partially succeeds to his distress. 

In his fear, Bez had tripped over his own feet and hit the ground hard, laying halfway in the entranceway and halfway in the living space of the home. His prone and groaning form seemed to snap Alex into action. He took two quick steps over to the side of Bez and asked “Are you ok?” in a deadpan tone.

With Bez’s face still facing down, he nods and breathes in a shuddering breath. He cannot break down now in front of his sorta kinda enemy. There is silence for a second as Bez tries to steady his breathing when Alex asks the question Bez dreaded the most. 

“Why are you in Marc's motorhome?”

Fuck. That's right. Marc is teammates with Pecco, of course. his motorhome would be right next to Marcs. Bez wants to bash his head into the ground and curl up in a ball to never be seen again. With a muffled and wavering voice, he responds “I was, eh, looking for Pecco?”

“Hm.”

This is where Bez dies, at the hands of Alex Marquez. he can hear a little voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Vale saying “I told you those Marquezes are evil.” 

He feels like he's counting the seconds until Alex cracks down an axe or starts torturing him for information. Maybe this is the payback to Vale for whatever happened between Marc and him, Bez doesn't know what happened but from what Vale had told him and the energy in the room when Marc is mentioned something bad must have gone down between the two. 

He hears Alex move, maybe to grab a knife, but he feels a hand tap his shoulder a few times before Alex speaks up, “Can you sit up?” 

Bez holds his breath for a second before taking a breath, gathering all his courage, and pushing himself upright so that he's sitting on the floor with Alex squatting in front of him. He tries to keep up his composure, controlled breaths, tapping a random rhythm on his knee, clenching and unclenching his jaw, anything to keep up this facade. 

Alex studies him during this time, looking Bez in the eyes, occasionally flickering to his hands, observing Bez like a hunter preparing a strike on its prey. Alex blinks and some complicated emotions flick over his face far too fast for Bez to recognize. 

Alex's mouth purses, like he is choosing his words carefully, “Are you…” he kisses his teeth, looks away briefly then looks Bez in the eyes again, “Are you ok?”

That was the last question Bez was expecting. maybe “Are you a shapeshifter” or “Are you lying” or anything other than “Are you ok.” He stares blankly at Alex for a second, eyes wide and burning while his lip wobbles dangerously trying to keep his emotions inside. though, Bez has never been the best at holding in his emotions.

It is then that Bez snaps, large hot tears finally break loose after he blinks and a choked-out noise is ripped out of his throat. He brings his hands up to his face either to wipe away the tears that are falling or to hide the ugly face he must be pulling. 

After fruitlessly trying to wipe away the tears he can see the blurry form of Alex move, maybe to leave him sobbing on the floor or to grab a tissue, but instead, he shifts forward and softly lays his hands on Bez’s shoulder. Slowly and hardly with any power he pulls Bez's shoulders forward towards his body. 

Then the hands shift. the right hand slowly moves its way to the base of Bez's neck while the other slides down to the spine, right between Bez's shoulder blades, and squeezes. Squeezes his neck softly and holds his back like his mother would, which probably isn't the connection Bez should make between Alex and his Mom, but the comfort is undeniable.

This soft but strong hold only shatters Bez further. He shoves his face into the crook of Alex's neck and shoulder and wraps his arms around Alex's torso squeezing an almost painful amount.

Bez is full-on sobbing, he's a blubbering mess occasionally throwing out a wobbly “Sorry” before it's shushed by Alex. Bez, rather than calming down keeps working himself up further and further, heaving and wheezing out sobs and apologys. He can hear Alex taking a couple of deep breaths before he hears him murmur “Deep breaths.” which Bez tries to do as best he can.

He pulls in a long, shuttering breath, before letting out a cacophony of sobs, “I can't!” he wails. 

Alex shushes his again, “Shhh it's ok, just follow my breathing, ok?” 

it feels like hours of breathing and tapered-off sobs before Bez is breathing calmer, but still stuttered breaths. After another deep breath, Alex pulled back a little bit to get a look at Bez before asking “Do you want to shift? We can move this to a more comfortable place, ‘cause I don't know about you, but my knees are starting to hurt.”

This startles an ugly snort out of Bez and he gurgles out a week and wet little “yeah.” Before Alex knows it his lap is full of raccoon that are clinging to his shirt. He stands, groaning at the lingering pain of being on his knees for a long period, and makes his way over to the couch where Alex grabs the blankets and hoodies with his unoccupied hand. The other supports the back of the now raccoon Bez on his chest.

Swiftly Alex makes his way into the Bedroom where he internally apologizes to Marc, placing Bez in the center of the bed. Alex shuffles the bedspread around as Bez curls up chittering sadly at having been let go.

Alex sets down the blankets and hoodies that were in his offhand around Bez like a little barrier to prevent him or Alex himself from rolling off the bed. Only after the circle barrier is set up does Alex relax a bit, shifting into his Cat form and jumping up onto the bed to join Bez in the Comfort Circle he has since dubbed it in his brain. 

After he climbs the walls and enters the circle Alex trills at Bez to show him that he's there now. Bez chitters back quietly all while reaching for Alex's now smaller form. Flopping down on the wall and rolling onto his side, Alex raises a paw and trills again, signaling for Bez to come to him. and that is exactly what Bez does.

 He throws himself at Alex's cat body and starts petting and grooming the fur on his back and sides. This goes on for a little while before Bez settles down and he shuffles himself to lay alongside Alex, before going to sleep. 

Bez however doesn't sleep for long, waking up after 20 minutes and resuming his grooming on Alex. Having only just started picking and petting Alex, Bez is in the zone until he starts to get an itch.

Specifically that itchy feeling that happens he gets when he's being watched, so he looks up, hoping to quell the itch only to see him.

The man he has been trained to hate and destroy.

The only person who can cause him to crash at just a glance.

The Devil himself.

Marc Marquez.

[catflorist]

omg that sasusaku art you reblogged... i would pay so much money for your take on that prompt!!!

hi anon! here you go! :) thank you for this prompt, it's been a long time since i wrote anything and it was really fun! i hope you like it!

inspired by this incredibly beautiful artwork by @millientea!

dreams [post-war sasusaku, rated T] ao3 / ffn

In the brief time between the break of his fever and the break of dawn, Sasuke was absent of all his guilt. He held onto Sakura’s hand, and fought sleep to experience the sensation for as long as possible.

After the war, Sasuke's injuries keep him stuck in the hospital. Sakura visits every day.

First Sasuke lost a war with himself. Then he lost an arm. Then the infection and the fever struck, making him keel over then shiver feebly in his hospital bed for three days straight.

His more lucid moments were filled with strangers whizzing into his room to poke and prod him and stick needles horribly into his arm. And when the fever took hold, it carried him downstream to delirium. His nightmares were kind enough to visit him in waking hours, magnified and painted in strong color and detail. And each time he drifted briefly back to consciousness he was greeted with hot, billowing pain at the stump of his arm and the sound of his vitals blaring.

Later a team of doctors inform him that he’s survived a deadly case of sepsis and avoided a second amputation of his left arm. He’ll need bedrest and continued close monitoring. Naruto’s healing well, he hears. Figures.

The days blur. An IV chains Sasuke to bed, where he chokes on boredom thick as smoke. He memorizes the markings of each bird that lands on his windowsill. He watches a ball of dust in the corner move three riveting inches to the left over the course of twenty-four hours. He whips out his sharingan to memorize the lines of his palm, and compares that image to a corresponding record from the last time he was bored to death in a hospital. His heart line has grown longer.

Monotony breaks whenever Sakura breezes into his room.

“I brought you apples.” She smiles at him, a little knowingly. The apples are cut neatly into decorative slices.

She visits at the beginning and end of each shift. In the mornings she smiles brightly in a crisp white coat, and twelve hours later she still smiles brightly, with tired circles under her eyes and loose uncombed hair. This time she’s wearing civilian clothes, here to see him even on her day off.

She’s fearless, for her part. He’s quiet.

When he thinks back to the haze of fever, he remembers slender and cool fingers smoothing damp hair from his brow. A swirl of healing chakra that felt like the way her voice sounds. When he awoke, a nurse mentioned the doctor attending his case invented a new chakra technique on the spot to siphon away the infection.

Sasuke didn’t need to ask who. She never said anything, and he never asked.

He suspects Sakura’s involvement elsewhere, too. When he thinks about why he’s not kept in handcuffs or locked away entirely. In the roasted tomatoes that appear on his meal trays. The reason why Naruto is allowed the occasional visit, shuffling in on crutches and staying until the nurses chase him away.

Sakura sets the plate of apples at his bedside. Today, they resemble rabbits. Sasuke has never eaten more apples in his life, but he does not think of complaining.

“Good news. Your IV is coming out tomorrow!” She smiles, waiting for his reaction.

Right. He should be happy. The feeling flickers dimly and goes out like a damp torch.

Sasuke doesn’t know what his life will look like from here on out. There’s nothing left to hunt after. The main sources of his suffering have all vanished or changed form. All that awaits him is empty space and time—time to reflect, to let the cumulation of all his actions and decisions sink in.

He doesn’t regret the desertion, the treason, as much as others might hope. If he were to go back in time, knowing what he knows about the village, his choices might even look similar. But he regrets hurting the people who cared for him.

He regrets hurting her.

Sakura’s smile has faded. “What’s wrong?”

Sasuke wants to sink under his blankets, to be alone with his guilt. “Nothing.”

“Are you in pain?”

He throws her a glare. “I said it’s nothing.”

Years ago, this would have been enough to scare her away. Now green eyes meet his with full force. “Don’t do this. Don’t be distant.” Sakura’s fingers flex and curl at her sides. “Whatever is on your mind, you can tell me.”

She treats him with such kindness, such patience, though he’s certain he doesn’t deserve it.

“Why are you here, Sakura?” he asks quietly.

“I’m a doctor,” she says, with a flash of irritation.

“You know what I mean.” Sasuke’s vision swims like the beginnings of a migraine. “Leave me. Get on with your life.” He wants the words to carry a touch of contempt, but the lump in his throat filters it all out.

“Why would I leave you?” The pure sincerity of her voice cuts him through. “We just got you back.”

His tongue feels thick and heavy. “I’ve hurt you.” How could she forget?

“I’ve hurt you, too.”

He manages a shake of the head. It’s not the same.

“It’s in the past,” she insists. “We want you in our lives—we always have!”

“I don’t understand why,” he bites, gaining strength.

“Because I love you!”

Birds take off from the windowsill.

Wringing her hands, Sakura clarifies, more weakly, “I love all my friends.”

An icy flame tears through Sasuke’s entire body. He doesn’t believe her. Somehow, he must have tricked her. After everything he’s done, how can someone lower themselves so deeply as to love him? Hot pressure rises behind his eyes. He opens his mouth to recite every reason why she’s wrong.

“So get used to it,” Sakura snaps, recovering and doubling down, like she knows what he’s about to say. Sakura, who has always been a little brazen with her affection, who has so much love and care to give that it confounds him and most others. “I don’t care what’s happened or how long it’s been. You’re still my teammate.”

Sasuke feels a phantom of his past self crouch on his chest. It whispers, push her away, break the plate of apples. Trust yourself and no one else. Be alone. This is the way he knows to protect himself. It’s worked so well, all throughout his life, he can’t imagine anything different.

Does he need to protect himself, from her? Did he ever?

“And…you’re still my friend.” Sakura’s shoulders rise and fall in a deep breath. “If that’s what you want.”

Outside, a raven’s feather drifts in a slow spiral of wind. Sasuke nods.

Sakura straightens. “Good.” Her eyes are jade reflecting fire. “Being friends won’t kill you, I promise. See you in the morning.”

In the morning, Sakura arrives to remove his IV. She’s still carrying an air of quiet victory. To inch this close, to insist on picking up their friendship exactly where they left it, that’s some audacity. Bravery, even.

He needs it.

His heart would crack without it.

Sakura carefully loosens the adhesive and presses gauze over the IV site. Sasuke is already looking away, taking a shallow breath to prepare himself.

“There’s no needles at this part,” she says.

It’s true, he hates needles—one glimpse and he breaks into a cold sweat. But he’s never told anyone. It bothers him that she noticed. “How did you know?”

“I’m a doctor,” she says, which explains very little. “It’ll be quick, I promise.”

“Still hate it,” he breathes.

“I know,” she says. “Done.”

He looks back. She smiles when their gazes meet, holding down pressure on his arm. He didn’t feel a thing.

“You make a small sound.” Her voice is soft. “Under your breath. Like you’re trying to speak but hold it back.”

Sasuke thought he hid the discomfort well. If he can miss such small details about himself, no wonder he was wrong about almost everything—what path to take, and where to place blame, and who to trust. His world has turned over too many times to count.

His senses hone in on Sakura’s touch, muted as it is through gloves and layers of gauze. She’s never changed. Never failed to ease his hurts.

He wants to ask about the fever. The infection that strode in like one last attempt by the world to kill him. She saved his life.

He feels his hand float through the air, stretching towards her face.

Empty air buzzes where his fingers should be grazing her brow. He’s still not used to the loss of his dominant hand. His stump lowers back to his side. Sakura’s expression remains calm, unknowing.

“Thank you,” he says instead.

He knows what the words will mean to her. And so he says it.

A soft smile overtakes Sakura’s face. Sasuke is known for his infamous gaze, but now he doesn’t know where to put it. When to meet her crinkling eyes and for how long. If it’s considered normal to observe the rise of her cheek, the strands of pink hair falling around her face. If he should risk a glance at her smiling lips. The decisions overwhelm him, and he finds he must look away.

Something is different, he thinks.

.

.

“He’s on your roster today? Good luck.”

Sasuke’s room is stationed at a quiet bend of the hall, a blind spot between patient rooms and administrative offices where hospital staff stop to gossip before continuing on their rounds. Whether he wants to or not, he’s often forced to eavesdrop.

“—ripped out his IV. Yes, just ripped it out. Three times. Maybe four. Wouldn’t let anyone touch him.”

“Have you noticed all those horrible birds outside his window? The crows?”

A laugh. “Never seen anything like it. Like a curse, I swear—”

“Excuse me.” The conversation grinds to a halt at Sakura’s sharp voice. “Room Four is still waiting on warm blankets.”

Footsteps scatter in two different directions. Sakura sweeps into his room. Her face is a storm. If he saw that expression on a battlefield, he would reach for his weapon. He pictures her cutting apple slices into playful shapes to reverse the effect.

“Don’t listen to them,” she mutters, and throws the curtain divider closed.

“I don’t care.”

“I care.” Absent-minded, a frown tugging at the corners of her mouth, Sakura does something she’s never done before: she sits on his bed. All Sasuke’s attention is pulled to the hand’s width of space between his ankle and the slight dip of her weight on the mattress. He slowly shifts his legs away, careful not to draw her notice.

Sakura pulls a velvet pouch out of her coat. “Here. I brought something.”

The most exciting part of Sasuke’s day was when the scent of antiseptic wafted through the door a little stronger than usual. His interest spikes. “What is it?”

Sakura opens the pouch and pours dozens of black and white Go pieces onto the bedspread. She begins arranging the board among the folds of his blankets, and after a moment, Sasuke leans forward to help. He hasn’t played Go since he was a child, but the smooth, round stones feel familiar in his palm, and the rules come back quickly. They play five games in a row without speaking. Sakura wins the first, and he wins the last four.

When they look up again, it’s dark. Sasuke’s neck is stiff from bending over the game for so long. Time has never passed so quickly for him in the hospital.

Sakura is sitting fully atop the bed now, as she has for the past three games, legs crossed with a pensive hand held to her chin. She packs away the game pieces in silence and pulls the drawstring shut. A crease lingers between her eyebrows.

“You could have died.”

Her eyes swell with tears. She doesn’t make a sound.

“I didn’t,” Sasuke says, soft as he can.

“But you could have.” The tears flow faster than she can wipe them away.

“You didn’t let me.” It makes his gut twist to see her cry, even if she cries because his life matters to her.

“I almost didn’t bring the flowers that day. I didn’t know if you’d want them.” Sakura lifts a sleeve to her face. “If I wasn’t there when the shock hit…”

Sasuke struggles to follow. His memory of the whole ordeal is hazy. He has a vague recollection of a nurse removing a vase of wilted flowers from the bedside in the days after the fever lifted.

Sakura’s shoulders tremble with a sob. “I could have lost you.”

“You didn’t lose me.” He catches her hand. Fingers slide together like whispering a secret. “You have me.”

She lifts her tearstained face. Sasuke feels feverish as his words echo back in the silence of their breathing. Her lips part, bitten and red.

“You only ripped out the IV twice, Sasuke-kun.”

Her expression is knit with determination. Sasuke can’t stop himself—a smile twitches onto his mouth. Sakura seems confused by the reaction, studying him hard.

Movement flashes in the corner of Sasuke’s eye as a large black bird lands smoothly on the windowsill. He recognizes this one for a miniscule nick in its leftmost flight feather.

“And the birds. They’re ravens,” he says evenly. “Not crows.”

Sakura smiles, sudden and shining and wide. Sasuke doesn’t fully understand the meaning of the exchange, but contentment sweeps over him.

The warmth of her hand lingers long after she lets go, and he remembers something about the fever.

.

.

The infection stalls for days, but when the worst comes, it comes quickly.

First Sasuke’s mouth fills with saliva, then arrives a tsunami of inexplicable dread, and that’s all the warning he receives before an important current in his body shifts off-course and begins to sweep him away. Sasuke breathes deep. A sweet scent hovers in the air. Sakura arrived a moment ago with fresh-cut flowers.

His stump throbs with such a sick, bleeding ache that he loses his grip on his senses. His limbs are all trembling. Another breath. His lungs allow just enough air to call out her name.

Footsteps, a sharp voice. “Sasuke? What’s wrong?”

Healing chakra skims over his body. Sakura lets out a tense breath.

Sasuke knows suffering like he knows the face of an old friend. He can feel it loom over him, its breath ghosting the back of his neck.

“It’s—it’s serious, Sasuke-kun.” The air thickens with chakra, a thrum strong enough to detect by ear. “But you’re going to be fine.”

The breath returns to his lungs, but in exchange, screaming hot pain erupts at his arm and reverberates through every corner of his body. Each pain that flares and fades is replaced quickly by another. His mouth and the tip of his nose go numb. His vision cuts in and out. He is a boat tossed by angry waves, kept afloat solely by the light touch of Sakura’s fingertips.

“Don’t leave,” he hears himself say.

Her voice finds him like sunlight. “I won’t.”

“Do you hate me, Sakura?”

Not long ago, Sasuke hated her. The ache of hatred never left his chest. He hated her so much that her face sometimes replaced his nightmares, and he would wake up blinking away tears. He understands if she feels the same.

He never hears her response. A dark, turbulent quiet rushes over his head, and his old friend follows after him.

At dawn on the day his fever breaks, Sasuke floats awake, greeted by swirls of light floating on the inside of his eyelids. His body feels like his own, but different, like he’s been pulled apart and put back together in a different order. He curls his fingers—the numb tingle of phantom pain lights on one side. The fingers of his other hand tighten around something.

He opens his eyes to a world washed in soft grey. To Sakura’s sleeping face, her hair silver in the light. A dream? No, his mind doesn’t grant him peaceful dreams.

Her head rests tired and heavy on the edge of the bed. Between them lies their hands, tightly clasped, as if they met in a moment of turbulence and held on ever since. Long enough so he can’t distinguish her touch from his own. Flowers watch on the windowsill, shedding petals.

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Sasuke plays more games of Go. Less needles are stuck into his arm. He begins to walk again. He feels fresh air on his face. Sakura’s visits continue like clockwork, until one morning she fails to walk through his door.

He sits and watches the birds as morning stretches into afternoon. The chair that has never left his bedside remains empty. After years apart, how quickly he’s grown accustomed to her presence. But this stretch of time is coming to a close. When he leaves the hospital, he doubts he will see her so often.

His window looks out onto the hospital roof, crisscrossed with pipes and exhaust vents, and a small sliver of the street. When the wind blows just right, the branches of a sakura tree wave into view, buds unfurling.

Hard as Sasuke tried to shunt away his past life, he could never escape the spring. The torture of falling petals, of green and pink. The world around him transformed as if to ensure he could never forget her.

Daylight is getting long when Sakura wobbles in, rubbing her eyes. “Hi.”

Sasuke’s spine straightens. “Hey.”

She sits in her spot by the bed, where he’s been playing a game of Go with himself. “How’s the game?”

“I’m losing,” he says.

Sakura smiles and shifts one of the white stones to a dangerous location. Warmth floods Sasuke’s chest, though now he’s certain to lose. Their hands move back and forth over the imaginary board, bold and quick.

Sakura yawns victoriously as she captures his last tile. “Another?”

Exhaustion shadows her eyes, but if he answers yes, she’ll delay sleep even longer. Does she ever sleep? Hospital staff are always wandering the halls to seek her opinion, or pull her into surgeries, or hand her a stack of paperwork. Yet she carves out a portion of her valuable time for him.

Sasuke shakes his head. But he’s not selfless enough to give up her company so soon. “How are you?”

Her tired gaze lifts and flicks away. A faint blush dusts her cheeks. Why? Is it strange for him to ask? He’s still ruminating when she answers. “I’m okay. It’s been a long day. Emergency surgery, complications, everything. I can’t remember the last time I slept…” Their fingers brush twice as they put away the game pieces. “I’m really sorry I couldn’t come earlier.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.”

Sakura leans against his bed and drops her head onto her arms. “Hope you didn’t miss me too much.”

What can he say? He did miss her.

Springtime has come again. The season used to drive him mad. The sakura flowering all at once, all over the continent, wherever he looked. The petals scattering like rain in the wind, catching in the folds of his cloak. The sight of blossoms on bare wood, crossing over his head in a blooming lattice. The five-petaled flowers, the five fingers of a hand he would never touch again. The color. It tested his patience, his devotion to his goal like nothing else.

Sasuke skims his fingers over the pink wave of her hair. He’s always wanted to, deep down. Sakura cracks open her eyes, catches him red-handed in his affection. He runs a thumb in the barest caress across her cheekbone. He is at his weakest in the spring.

“Come here,” he mumbles, fairly certain that she will. Terrified that she won’t.

“Where?” she whispers.

Sasuke lifts his chin. He rests his hand on the blanket. His fingertips burn from touching her. “Here.”

In the brief time between the break of his fever and the break of dawn, Sasuke was absent of all his guilt. He held onto Sakura’s hand, and fought sleep to experience the sensation for as long as possible. He did not deserve her, but he pretended he did.

Even as Sakura slides into the bed, rests her head in his lap, he cannot fully believe what he’s seeing. She presses closer to him, as if she wants to be close, and her eyes drift shut, as if his presence soothes her. A spell falls over Sasuke as he listens to her breathing. His hand lowers to her back.

Maybe, in the end, it’s as simple as she said. She loves him.

Sleepy green eyes blink open with a trace of shyness, of the girl that used to blush each time he spared her a glance. He will never admit how often he tested his powers. “You don’t mind?”

“No,” he says.

Sakura climbs higher. She folds her arms across his chest like he’s a pillow and tucks her cheek into the crook of her elbow. Sasuke’s heartbeat grows unsteady. Her hair smells the same, like jasmine.

Sasuke never imagined a future beyond his revenge, that his life could continue on and contain moments lit in a glow like sunlight through petals. Holding her awakens desires that have nothing to do with pain and sacrifice. He wants to stroke her hair until she falls asleep. He wants to visit her dreams. He wants even more. His chest aches in the way he once thought was hatred.

He touches her cheek, straightening out a lock of silky hair. She doesn’t stir.

Sasuke closes his eyes, and like he’s never had trouble with it before, dreams.

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