#<- why are these tags empty. cowards

[chimerical-daydreams]

i already tried to ask this but the thingy didnt seem to send (permanent loading screen) so im sorry if u get this ask twice: thinking about how the king feels about siffrin. i cannot WAIT to see the "oh yeah my hair's naturally darkless. yeah that was dye" reveal(if you would call it that). CAN YOU IMAGINE

Time to put this man through the horrors (committing a social blunder)

Bonus Nille:

[inseobts]

hi hi!! i wanted to start with saying i love ur writing so much!! I was wondering if you would be able to write a fic abt ace at marineford but instead of ace sacrificing himself it’s reader and we see how ace reacts? If not it’s oki!! Thank you 🫵🏽🤍

Burn for you

portgas d. ace x reader

a/n: okay wow I love writing angst for ace ngl, so thank you for your request (★‿★)

words count: 2.2k

tags: marineford, romance, angst, tragedy, reader d3ath

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The battlefield is chaos. Screams mix with the clashing of weapons, gunfire, and the roar of the ocean. Fire and ice tear through the air as pirates and marines fight for their lives. The sky is dark with smoke, and the ground is painted red with blood.

You stand beside Ace, breathing hard, your body covered in cuts and bruises. He’s free now, Luffy did it. He broke Ace’s chains, and for a moment, it felt like you all could escape.

But then, Admiral Akainu steps forward. His body glows with molten lava, his eyes cold and merciless.

“You think you can just run away?” Akainu’s voice is filled with hate. His fist turns into burning magma, and he glares straight at Ace “Portgas D. Ace… son of Roger… You don’t deserve to live.”

Ace tenses beside you. You know that look. He’s angry, furious, ready to fight.

“Ace, don’t...” you whisper, grabbing his wrist.

He looks at you, confused “I won’t let him insult—”

“Please,” you beg, squeezing his hand “We have to go... now!”

Akainu smirks “Cowards run. But I see it now… you’re just like your father.”

Ace stiffens. His fingers twitch. You can feel the heat rising from his body.

Luffy stumbles forward, exhausted “Ace… we need to—”

But it’s too late. Ace turns back to Akainu. His flames burn brighter, his rage boiling over “Say that again” he growls.

Akainu doesn’t hesitate. He lunges, his magma-covered fist aimed straight at Ace’s chest.

Your body moves before your mind can stop it.

You shove Ace away with all your strength.

Then, pain.

Blinding, searing pain.

Akainu’s fist burns through your body like you’re nothing. The heat is unbearable, your skin melting, your insides boiling. You choke, blood filling your mouth.

For a second, everything is silent.

Then Ace screams.

“Y/N!!!”

His arms catch you before you hit the ground. He’s shaking. His whole body trembles as he holds you close, eyes wide in horror.

“Why… why did you do that?” His voice cracks “Why?! That was meant for me!”

You try to smile, but it hurts “Because… I couldn’t let you die…”

Tears spill down Ace’s face. He shakes his head, gripping you tighter “No. No, no, no, you idiot! You didn’t have to do this!”

Luffy drops to his knees beside you, eyes filled with shock “y/n… don’t… don’t die…”

You can barely see anymore. Your vision blurs, the world turning dark. But you can still feel Ace’s warmth, hear his heartbeat. You reach up, weak fingers brushing his cheek.

You can barely see anymore. Your vision blurs, the world turning dark. But you can still feel Ace’s warmth, hear his heartbeat. You reach up, weak fingers brushing his cheek.

“I love you, Ace,” you whisper, your voice barely audible “I always have… since the moment you smiled at me. I just… I just wanted you to live. Even if it means I won’t get to see that smile again…”

Ace chokes on a sob, pressing your bloody hand against his face “No, don’t say that! You’re gonna be fine! Just... just hold on, okay?!”

You exhale shakily, your body growing colder “Promise me… you’ll live. Be happy. That’s all I want…”

Your hand falls.

And the world goes silent.

The battlefield is quieter now. The sounds of war are distant, as if the world itself has held its breath. Ace can’t breathe. His chest is tight, his heart aching as he cradles your lifeless body in his arms.

His hands tremble, unable to accept what’s happening. The heat of his own flames can’t even compare to the cold emptiness gnawing at his insides. You were gone. You, who had given him everything, were gone.

“Ace…” Luffy’s voice is hollow, barely audible over the chaos, but it still makes Ace flinch. Luffy doesn’t know what to say.

Ace doesn’t care.

He doesn’t even know what to think anymore. The world feels like it’s been turned upside down. Every breath he takes feels like it’s a struggle. His heart, broken, beats in slow, painful rhythms as he holds you close.

“I’m sorry…” he whispers, the words feeling so weak. He presses his forehead against yours, his body shaking. The flames around him die down, dimming to nothing.

The world is quiet, but inside his head, it’s deafening.

Why? He’s heard that question for years. Why did he survive when so many others didn’t? Why was he cursed to be a pirate, to be hated by so many? But now, with you gone, the question hits harder than ever.

Why did you have to go? Why couldn’t I protect you?

Luffy kneels beside him, his voice breaking as he touches your hand “Why… why did you do that?”

Ace squeezes his eyes shut, fighting the tears that sting his vision. He can’t lose it now. Not here. Not like this. But the weight of his grief is unbearable.

“Why did you protect me?” Ace says, barely louder than a whisper. His voice cracks.

The fire that once burned bright in Ace’s heart flickers out, replaced by an empty void that he doesn’t know how to fill. He can’t stop the tears from flowing, even though he swears he doesn’t deserve to cry. He doesn’t deserve the love you gave him.

But you still gave it. And now… you’re gone.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” His voice trembles “I was supposed to be the one protecting you. I was supposed to be the one to keep you safe.”

But you… you were the one who protected him.

He’s the one who failed. He let you go, let you sacrifice yourself for him. And now you’re gone.

“Ace…” Luffy says again, his voice filled with desperation.

“I can’t,” Ace chokes out, shaking his head “I can’t do this without you…”

Luffy looks at Ace, his face full of confusion and pain “Ace… please don’t…”

Ace closes his eyes tightly, feeling the tears mix with the ash on his face. He should have stopped you. He should have told you to stay back. But you were always so stubborn, so brave. And now, he’s left with nothing but the memory of your smile, the warmth of your touch, and the love you gave him.

You didn’t even have to say it, but Ace knew.

“I love you too” he whispers into the silence, his voice raw.

He stays there, holding you close, unwilling to let go. The battle rages on around him, but all Ace can feel is the cold grip of loss. The fire he used to live for now feels like nothing but ashes.

But somehow, through the overwhelming sorrow, he hears a faint, familiar voice.

“Live.”

You said it, just before you left him.

You told him to live.

And as he holds your lifeless body, Ace makes a silent vow to you.

No matter what, he’ll live. He’ll live for you, for your love, for everything you gave him. Even if it means carrying this weight for the rest of his life.

He will live.

And he will never forget you.

The flames of battle still rage around Ace, but the world feels distant, muffled. His body is frozen, numb, as if nothing could move him from the spot where he holds you. Even the chaos of the war seems far away, like a storm he can no longer hear or feel.

Luffy is still beside him, trying to shake him, to get him to move. But Ace doesn’t respond.

Luffy’s voice is panicked now, desperate “Ace! You can’t just sit here! We have to get out of here—”

But Ace doesn’t hear him. The world is fading, and all he can think about is you. Your smile. Your laugh. Your warmth.

“I promised you,” Ace whispers through his clenched teeth “I promised I’d live.”

He looks down at you again, his hands shaking as he touches your face. The fire inside him, the fire that used to burn so brightly, feels like nothing more than a dying ember now. But he still feels the heat. It still smolders in his chest, though it’s weaker, quieter than before.

He remembers the moment you told him you loved him. The way your eyes softened when you said it, the way his heart almost burst from the weight of it. The thought of you gone, never hearing your voice again, never seeing you smile at him again, is unbearable.

But… he promised.

He has to live. For you.

Slowly, Ace stands, his body aching, but the weight of your memory holds him steady. Luffy’s still watching him, his face full of concern and confusion.

“Ace… please, we need to get you out of here. This isn’t over.”

Ace looks at his brother. The boy who’s always believed in him. The boy who would never give up. The boy who reminds him so much of you.

“I’m not leaving her, Luffy,” Ace says, his voice low but firm “I’m not going to run away anymore.”

Luffy stares at him, his eyes wide. He can see the pain, the brokenness in Ace’s eyes, and it tears him apart. But he doesn’t argue. He understands.

Luffy nods quietly, stepping back. He knows now. Ace isn’t going anywhere without you.

Ace’s eyes fall on you one last time. The cold reality of the situation crashes down on him, but he knows there’s no going back. He can’t undo what’s been done. He can’t bring you back.

But he can keep his promise. He can live.

And he will fight, for you.

Ace’s flames ignite once more, though they burn with a darker, deeper intensity. His anger, his grief, his love, it all fuels the fire. His body burns with renewed strength, the heat coming from within, hotter than the fire that licks the air.

He faces the battlefield now, not with the same carefree fire of his past, but with something fiercer. He steps forward, each movement deliberate. The enemy may be strong, but nothing, no one, can stop him now. Not when he carries the weight of a promise.

Akainu is still somewhere on the battlefield, and Ace’s eyes lock on the admiral.

This isn’t over. Not until you’ve paid for what you did.

His fire burns hotter, and the flames stretch high into the sky as Ace moves forward, the memory of you urging him on.

Luffy watches, his heart heavy but filled with something else too... pride.

Ace, despite the brokenness inside him, is moving forward. For you. And Luffy knows that no matter what happens next, Ace will carry you with him.

The war isn’t over, but neither is Ace.

And as the battle rage on, Ace burns with the promise of a love that can never die.

The battle at Marineford is near its end. The pirates are broken, the marines are exhausted, and the once immovable fortress of Marineford now feels like a distant memory.

Ace’s flames still burn bright, but not for vengeance, not for anger. They burn with the memory of you, the promise he made to you.

The fight with Akainu was brutal. Ace’s body is covered in bruises, and his flames are flickering, exhausted. But the fire in his heart still pushes him forward.

Ace has made it to the heart of the battlefield. The war has taken everything, but it hasn’t taken his will to live, his will to fight.

His body aches with every step. The pain from your loss is constant, a weight that presses on his chest. But through it all, Ace carries you in his heart. Your smile, your words, your love, it gives him strength.

And then, in the distance, he sees him. Akainu, still standing.

Ace grits his teeth, walking toward him with a fire that never goes out.

“You,” Ace growls, his voice filled with fury “You took everything from me. You took her from me.”

Akainu sneers “Your precious (Y/N) was nothing. Just another fool who got in the way.”

Ace’s eyes narrow. The anger in him swells like a tidal wave, but it’s no longer the anger of someone who wants revenge. It’s the anger of someone who’s been broken but refuses to be crushed.

“I’ll make you regret that” Ace says, his voice steady, his flames burning higher.

The fight is short but violent. Akainu’s lava fists clash against Ace’s blazing flames, and the earth beneath them cracks and splits. But Ace is not the same man he once was. Every punch, every blow is fueled by the love he lost, and the promise he made to never give up.

In the end, it’s Ace who stands victorious. His body is battered, his flames are dimming, but the look in his eyes is one of quiet resolve. He’s done.

Akainu is on the ground, defeated. Ace’s breathing is shallow, but his heart is full.

And then, from behind, a voice echoes in his mind.

“Live, Ace.”

It’s your voice. Soft, but clear.

He turns, his eyes scanning the horizon, searching for a glimpse of you, a sign that you’re still there. But there’s nothing. Only the cold, gray sky.

Ace closes his eyes, letting the wind wash over him.

He feels the weight of your absence, but he also feels something else. Something stronger. The fire that you lit in his heart. The promise he made to you.

He will live. He will never forget you.

And though the world will never be the same without you, Ace knows one thing for sure:

Your love will never die.

With one final breath, Ace smiles, the flames around him flickering one last time.

[ravenclaws-stuff]

Theodore Nott x reader

Tags: hurt/comfort, comfort in this part, established relationship, Theo makes a pros and cons list of dating you, reader avoids Theo like the Filch avoids a bath, reader is not in Slytherin, Pansy is a great friend

Pros and Cons part two

A week has passed since Theo and I last spoke. A week of silence, awkward glances, and terrible loneliness. All my friends have repeatedly questioned what happened but I just wave them off. The only person I found solace in was Pansy Parkinson. 

The day after our fight, Pansy pulled me to the side and informed me that no matter what, she was on my side along with the other Slytherin girls. Pansy even went as far as ignoring the boys, including her boyfriend, Draco. Said they knew about it and encouraged the bloody list so they are just as guilty as Theodore.

Walking down the hallway, I make my way to the courtyard, where I was supposed to meet Pansy, Daphne, and Millicent. Daphne mentioned something about planning our next Hogseade trip. A hand reaches out, pulling me into an empty classroom. 

“Theo!” I screech, smacking his chest. “You scared the bloody hell out of me.” Theo has the audacity to smile down at me with that stupidly handsome smile of his and chuckle. His hands fall from my arms as he remembers himself and takes a step back. “Sorry.” I nod, looking away from his eyes. “So?” I whispers, unsure why he pulled me into here. Theo sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“No more of this. No more running. Yes, making that list was shitty of me. But you have to understand, you are terrifying.” My jaw drops from the sheer shock of Theo. His curls sticking everywhere from running his finger through them and the dark circles under his eyes.

“I knew if I dove head first in this with you, that would be it. You would be the love that consumes me. I could never find anything like it or you again. So please, Amore, forgive me.”

Tears run down my cheeks as I nod. “Theo I am so sorry it took me so long. I was a coward. I wanted to talk to you right after I walked away. My thoughts led me astray. W-what if you changed your mind?” His hands cup my cheeks so gently it was as if he thought I would crumble under his touch. “I could never change my mind about you, ragazza sciocca. Truly, you are the best thing to ever happen to me. I..I love you.” 

My eyes widen as my hands tighten around his bicep. Closing the distance between us, our lips brush against one another.

“I love you too.”

“I was supposed to meet up with the girls.” I whisper, resting my head on his bare chest. After probably the best kiss in my life, Theo and I went back to his dorm. Theo presses a kiss to my temple, fingers drawing circles on my back. “No um that was ploy for me to catch you. You, my beautiful girl, have been rather elusive this week.”

Heat creeps up my neck. “S-sorry.” Another kiss this time placed right behind my ear. “Never apologise for something that was my own fault.”

I sit up, remembering something I had in my pocket for Theo. “Oh I have something for you. Been in my pocket all week.” Theo chuckles as I bend over, reaching for my pants. “What is this?” He questions as I hand a piece of paper. I simply shrug. “Open it and you’ll find out.” 

 Pros and Cons of Dating Theodore Nott

Pros

Sexy as hell

Loves to cook for me

Loves me (I think)

An accent that can make me swoon

The most gorgeous set of eyes

Cons

Makes a pro/con list about dating you

Tag list: @aceofspades190

[hawkinsbnbg]

standin' at that altar, or we will run away

prompt: sneaking around | @steddiesmuttyseptember

tags: exes to lovers, bathroom sex, daddy kink, barebacking, creampie, top Eddie, possessive Eddie, bottom Steve, babygirl Steve, steddie in love.

word count: 1k7 | rated: E | ao3

Steve sipped his wine and sighed inwardly. It was too early to ingest the alcohol, but knowing his parents would criticize him no matter what, he didn't have any reason to behave himself.

If they thought being late was a power move, then he should be allowed to drink all of their expensive wine.

At least, he snorted humorlessly, waiting for them was better than another blind date.

Steve was a little tipsy when he finally saw him.

Black suit jacket, white open-collared, ironed trousers, and shiny shoes. His long curls were pulled up in a ponytail, tattoos visible on the back of his hands and fingers—adorned with silver chunky rings.

Since the restaurant wasn't exactly packed, it was criminally easy to pick out a familiar face among the sea of dining patrons.

Steve knew he was staring, but Eddie Munson wouldn't be a thorn in his side if the man stopped looking good even for a second.

Especially when he dressed up, a once-in-a-blue-moon thing that would make Steve weak in the knees.

He watched Eddie empty a glass of water and set it down, then stand up from the table and walk away.

Steve loosened his tie and sat there for a moment longer, glancing at his watch to check the time before also getting up and leaving his table.

———

Steve couldn't believe he would follow his ex of all people into a restaurant's bathroom. Which, sadly, wasn't news at all.

Because if there was nothing to stop him, he would follow Eddie to the end of Earth and even beyond death.

Perhaps, Steve supposed, he was a bigger freak than he gave himself credit for.

"Ed– Oof!"

He was pulled into a sturdy chest as soon as he opened the door.

The sight of Eddie—tall and broad shouldered—with his shirt's sleeves rolled up to the elbows, revealing more of the intricate inks, would forever be ingrained in Steve's brain.

A ringed hand came up to hold his chin aloft, dark brown eyes regarded him with an unreadable look before plump lips descended on his own, seizing him in a fervent kiss.

As his pants were stripped and long slicked fingers pressed into him, Steve couldn't remember why he didn't want to trail after Eddie in the first place.

In the mirror, he looked debauched with his disheveled appearance; tousled hair, unbuttoned shirt, red swollen lips, and hickey-covered neck.

All the while, Eddie's gaze felt like a physical touch on him—scorching, heavy, and ravenous.

Steve had missed it; the feeling of being desired and adored in the same touch and in all one breath. It was intoxicating, got him light-headed more than any alcohol or drug.

"More," he pushed his hips back, one hand hooking behind Eddie's neck while the other splaying on the bathroom counter. He clenched around the fingers working inside him, hoping they would be replaced by something bigger soon.

"Such a greedy little thing, hm?" Eddie mouthed the column of his throat and stroked his prostate relentlessly, drawing punch-drunk moans from him. "My fingers not enough for you, princess?"

Steve shook his head frantically. He wanted Eddie; whole and scalding and everything. He wanted and wanted until his body was torn into pieces, reaching its limit and incapable of containing his greed, his hunger—

His love for this beautiful man.

And oh, he had said it again, didn't he?

I love you, I love you, I love you.

Unrestrained. Unashamed. Unrepentant.

Eddie made a wounded noise like it was punched right out of him.

And while Steve loved like the sun, burning and consuming; Eddie loved like the moon, tender and forgiving.

Embracing him in warmth and affection even when he was the one at fault. Even when he had been a coward and run away.

"Missed you, Daddy," he trembled in the safety of those strong arms, barely able to conceal the desperation in his voice. "Need it so bad– Please–"

"Anything, baby," Eddie clutched his waist in a bruising grip, sounding hoarse and shaky, as he pushed slowly into him, stretching him open, tearing him asunder. "Anything."

Steve dropped his mouth in a silent moan, squeezing his eyes shut when Eddie set up a brutal pace right off the bat.

Neither of them had much time to savor this sacred moment. A reunion after two months apart. A drop of morning dew sliding off a green leave.

And he let Eddie use his body, slamming into him with an urgent need—as if his inside was the hearth of life, as if Eddie needed to be balls deep in him like air—chasing the blazing flame that they were both after.

"Am I that girl you dream of, baby?" Eddie grabbed his jaw to make him meet those crazed eyes in the mirror, hot lips pressing against his artery—thumping like a hummingbird. "Does she pamper you the way I did? Does she make love to you and fuck you like this? Does she tie you up? Eat you out until you cry and beg for her cock?"

"There's no one–" Steve was interrupted by the insistent knocks on the door. And suddenly remembered that they were very underdressed in a public setting.

Not that it had ever stopped Eddie from bending him over the nearest surface and going to town.

"Fuck off!" Eddie shouted at the door with a scowl.

"Yeah, fuck off," Steve giggled.

His parents would definitely have a coronary if they found out their straight son was given the pounding of his life in a bathroom. And right in a restaurant under the Harrington's name, nonetheless.

"Wanna share with the class what's so funny, darlin'?" Eddie rolled his hips and Steve's laughter suddenly cut into a strangled moan.

The constant pressure on his prostate wasn't a joke, making Steve drool and lose his mind.

"Love you, Daddy," he babbled incoherently, not caring that it didn't make any sense. "Love you so much. Love your cock so much."

"Jesus Christ, baby."

His eyes rolled back as Eddie grounded into his prostate and bumped his weeping dick quickly, setting his nerves alight and sending him over the edge.

Steve convulsed as he got overwhelmed by the toes-curling pleasure, muscles flexing and milking the thick length inside him like his life depended on it.

"That's– Fuck–" Eddie groaned and pressed his forehead on Steve's shoulder, blunt nails digging into the trim waist and leaving their crescent indents behind.

Steve wished they would take forever to fade.

After a few stuttered thrusts, Eddie buried deep and spilled inside him, filling him up to the brim.

"Don't pull out," Steve whimpered, clamping down even as he knew full well it was impossible.

"Me and you both, sweetheart," Eddie pressed a wistful kiss on his temple, slipping out easily from his sloppy hole.

After using the toilet paper to wipe down his backside and dick, Eddie pulled his briefs and pants back on, deft hands snaking around his torso to do his belt and zipper for him.

When Eddie turned him around to button his shirt and tucked it in as well, Steve's softened dick gave a valiant twitch at the feeling of Eddie's cum dripping from his hole.

His underwear would be a mess by the time he was home, but if he played his cards right, Eddie would clean it for him.

"Hey, Ed–"

"Steve, I–"

They paused and shared a shy smile.

"You first," Steve said, cheeks tinged pink as Eddie's hands came to rest on his waist, boxing him in against the counter.

"I know none of this is your fault. So whatever you need to do to fulfill your duty, I forgive you," Eddie gave him a tender smile, stealing his breath away. "And I'll wait for you for however long it takes. Because I know it hurts you as much as I, if not worse, to listen to your parents. I don't agree with it, but I understand that you have your reason to do so."

Steve felt guilt run through him, his eyes burned and his lips quivered as he rested his forehead on Eddie's shoulder, wanting to hide his tears because what right did he have to cry now?

"Let me be your silent support, baby," Eddie's fingers combed through his hair gently. "Let me take care of you even from the shadows."

"No!" He lifted his head to meet those kind brown eyes. "You don't deserve that– I can't– I won't keep you a secret, Eddie."

"I love you, and there's no other way for us–"

"There is," Steve raised his hand to wipe the tears in his eyes, smiling wobbly at his boyfriend. "I'm here today to break the big news to my parents. If you're willing to take me in when they disown me and deny my inheritance right–"

Someone banged on the door loudly from the outside, but Steve didn't care about it. Wealth, fame, reputation; they all paled in comparison to the man he loved.

"–then I'll go with you."

Eddie gave him a searching look, as if what he just said was too good to be true. Which Steve couldn't fault him after everything he had put him through. But it hurt still, to be doubted by his love because he had proved himself untrustworthy with his foolishness.

"Are you sure, sweetheart?" Eddie asked softly, caressing Steve's cheekbone with the back of his hand. "I'm not your parents. I'm just a small-time musician. A life with me won't be the same as anything you grew up with. I don't want you to regret your decision, baby."

"And you called me a worrier," Steve teased gently, before grabbing Eddie's wrist to kiss his ring finger—tattooed with a princess crown. "A life with you sounds good enough to me."

"Yeah?" Eddie smiled at him, fond and precious.

"Yeah," Steve smiled back, feeling his body tingle with light. So bright that he could rival the sun.

At the sound of the door being unlocked, Steve winked at Eddie.

"Let's bring me out of the closet. Show my parents that I'm as straight as a rubber band."

"Stephen Joseph Harrington," Eddie grinned widely and gazed at him in awe. "I'm gonna marry you one day."

Steve tipped forward and kissed Eddie soundly when those loving arms caught him.

Yeah, one day soon.

[eraenaa]

The Prince and the Poet

Aemond Targaryen x Lannister Reader Tag List

Synopsis: It is established that Prince Aemond hates poems and sonnets; it was just a pity that you adored them. 

Warnings: Mature, 18+, Mutual Masturbation, Aemond Writes a Poem, Childhood Friends, Hidden Attraction, Not Proofread

Word Count: 2,900

Inspired by my Original Fic on AO3, The Den of Dragons and Lions

Aemond scoffed and rolled his eye as he watched you completely enthralled by the sonneteer who performed before you. It had been un-endless hours he had to suffer as the court was subjected to watching poets read their works for the day’s entertainment. It was all too boring, all too frivolous, it was an utter waste of time. Aemond could not understand why you would willingly subject yourself to these men's trite and untrue words— whose delusions and desires were projected in their works. Aemond strongly believed that those who write poems and epics are weaklings and cowards. They do not have the courage to go on great adventures and woo their loves, so they can only imagine and write them down on parchment. And you were the sweet, naive fool who brought into their words—declaring their works beautiful and unparalleled. Blinded by flowery verses and empty promises. 

You sigh longingly in your seat as the sonneteer before you recited your favorite sonnet of them all. Your lips silently move unconsciously as you recite your most favored work with him. Aemond, who sat by your side, sneered at the sigh that left your pillowy lips and the enchanted look in your eyes. His gaze traveled the court; every young maiden swooned by the words and looks of the sonnet who stood in the middle, reciting the work that you clung on to. When his torment finally ended, Aemond rolled his eye once more as you quickly stood and clapped your hands, an ovation for the young man who had finished his performance. Aemond did no such thing, only staring down the sonneteer who bowed and savored the praises given. 

“I hope he shall return soon— and with new material!” You exclaimed to Helaena as you two walked the halls, arms linked together, Aemond trailing behind you. It was an old scene, your actions instilled since childhood. You practically grew up in the Red Keep with the princes and princess, a lion fostered by dragons. 

You hear Aemond’s third scoff of the afternoon, making you glance behind only to see the consistent look of annoyance on his face. “I would take it you did not enjoy?” You say and face onward, feeling Aemond fasten his steps and now walking beside you and Helaena. “It is an utter waste of time; why must we spend hours on this frivolity when pressing matters could be attended to?” You roll your eyes at the Prince’s complaint. 

“Aemond, your attendance was not required. If you believe poetry is a waste of time, I do not understand why you came there.” You say simply, pausing in your tracks. Helaena, a silent audience as you and Aemond began your ceaseless squabbles once more. Aemond was silent for a moment; the truth of his actions may not be revealed. “We did not force you to sit there and listen to Sir Liam— if anything, I’d prefer if you did not come; your glares and scoffs were seen and heard, and are very much unappreciated,” Aemond clenched his jaw as he had no response that he’d like to share. His eye traveled to his sister, who had a knowing smirk on her lips whilst you waited for his response that would not come.“I’ll see you both at supper,” Aemond grumbled as his eye landed on you, who bit back her smirk, the prince stomping away as you finally let your smile slip your lips. 

“Must you really tease him? You perfectly know why he sat through the readings,” Helaena said as you and she sat in the gardens for tea. You picking at the candied lemons that you and Aemond would usually fight over. You smile as you lick your finger clean of the sugary syrup. “Yes, I know why he suffered through the readings. However, he is not aware that I am knowledgeable of his intent,” Helaena sighed, “How long will you make him suffer?” The princess asked, already impatient for the day her closest friend and brother would finally admit their attractions. 

“Suffer?” You ask in shock, “I do no such thing! He inflicts his suffering himself—“ Helaena shook her head and laughed. “You’ve known of Aemond’s attraction to you for years! Yet you still act so clueless with him!” She reasoned. “I am a lady! I am expected to act chase and reserve. I cannot just go up to Aemond and confront him with his secret attraction!” You exclaimed with a fake and exaggerated look of scandal on your face, making Helaena laugh. 

“If you are waiting for my brother to acknowledge and confess his attraction towards you, then you must wait— it might take him a lifetime.” Helaena mused, a hint of frustration and pity in her voice, for Aemond had wanted you since childhood; he was just afraid to let it be known. “Then I pity him… he could have had the golden beauty of the realm, but he chose to stay silent.” You say confidently— proud with the title bestowed upon you by lords and ladies, small and noble folk men who agreed that your beauty was as valuable and desirable as the gold your family was known for. Helaena hummed quietly and quickly prayed to the gods that her brother would soon admit his attraction, for Helaena knew that your pride would not subject you to confess your feelings first. 

“Just because you do not understand or care for poetry does not mean they are a waste!” You exclaimed as Aemond picked another fight with you. You were peacefully seated in Helaena’s chambers, stroking your cat's fur mindlessly as Aemond’s own pet lay beside you. You were in no mood to fight with him and battle his views of poetry. “They are! They’re pointless. If you must say something, then say it— why must they dance around the matter? Why must they go on and on about something that could be said in one sentence? Cowards, the likes of them are!” You let out an exasperated sigh, making Aemond smirk at your annoyance. 

He finds you quite endearing at the state, which is why he often takes time out of his day just to annoy you. Relishing at the roll of your enchanting eyes, the sighs that leave your plump, pink lips, and the furrow between your perfectly arched brows. If he were lucky and had annoyed you to quite an extent, you’d stomp your foot like a spoiled child. Or simply wave him off with your pampered hand because you no longer had a word of defense. 

“Because they are poets! They do not wish to come to the answer and their intentions all at once— they create beauty with their words. They are capable of making subjects so dire be of great interest that they, in turn, create spectacles upon it!” You defended but Aemond only rolled his eye and shook his head, the former action he had gotten from you. Ever since you two were young, you would always roll your eyes when you found something disagreeable; Aemond would mock you for it— would mimic your actions in hopes of getting more from you. However, in time, he managed to adopt the same mannerisms. 

“Archmaester Sisco believed that poetry is of great danger,” he said, taking a goblet to his lips. Your eyes followed the way the ball on his throat booed as you waited for him to continue his thought.  “He says they mislead and are obscure and false— that poets are seducers of the mind,” He finished, noting the way your eyes were on his throat. Guessing you’d want to strangle him out of annoyance, Aemond was amused with the thought of you thinking about strangling him. 

“The Archmaester’s proclamation and thinking is old— irrelevant in our times. Even his student, Archmaester Aristedes, disagrees with his views on poetry. He reasons that it is not harmful— it is a form of expression! Cathartic to those who read and write it!”Aemond let another scoff of derision slip his lips, pushing your annoyance into frustrated anger. 

“You would not understand the beauty of poetry because you keep everything you feel inside you! You do not know what great relief it is to say or even write what you desire and hope for!” You exclaimed, and Aemond tensed in his seat. Silence surrounded the room as Aemond could not work out a response. You saw him fisting the arm of his chair, the knuckles of slender fingers turning pink from his tight grip. 

You sighed heavily, “What I meant is… I understand that you do not like poetry and find it pointless and a waste— but I don’t. I am not forcing poetry onto you, nor am I trying to change your views upon it. I enjoy and adore poetry— I just wish you would stop discouraging me from enjoying it. 

“Why do you enjoy it?” Aemond asked after a short while. You try to hide your surprise at his question. “Because… I find it romantic. For someone to take time to depict you with such beautiful imagery and flattering words, to love and admire you enough to dedicate a work of literature to your name… for me, it is the best way to express to someone how much you truly love them.” You could not look at Aemond as you said the words. In truth, a part of you felt silly because your love for poetry was only solidified because you loved a boy who you knew would not subject himself to create such works. When you read your favorite epics and songs, you would humor yourself and imagine it was Aemond who wrote it for you, knowing he would never do such a thing. 

Days passed since your and Aemond’s interaction and you noticed that you had scarcely seen his presence. You would pass by him whilst in training and join him and his kin for supper— but other than that, you could not feel a trace of his presence. He would usually join you and Helaena for tea or would suddenly appear by your side as you walked along the keep. He didn’t even pick fights or tease you anymore. Him growing more silent and reserved. Now you regret speaking— wishing you had just held your tongue and let him continue to disparage the sacred thoughts of poems and songs. 

It was high night, and you sat silently in your chambers, staring at the fire, trying to find ways to approach Aemond. Already missing his teasing presence— the only presence you would muster the patience to endure. 

You furrowed your brows as you heard shuffling at your door. Your eyes catch the shadow of a figure outside. You cautiously and quietly stood, going to your door only to see a piece of parchment being slipped at the slit of the wooden door. Your confession only grew. You quickly took the parchment and opened the door, revealing its sender. Three eyes went wide as you were met with Aemond, who blended in the dark. However, his silver hair shined in the light of the moon. “What are you doing?” You ask and turn to the parchment he had slipped. 

“Nothing— I… this—“ Aemond fumbled for words; you had never seen him in such a state. He was usually composed and stoic. You thought seeing him bashful and embarrassed was a nice gift from the gods. “What is this?” You ask and unfold the parchment. “No! Don’t—“ Aemond bit his tongue as it was too late to hinder you. Your eyes already consuming what was written. 

I’ve known you for half of my life yet; you consume the whole of it I’ve had you near and close to me yet, I only gaze from afar

I do not know how to proclaim I’m not certain how to say it without blame, but you, my beauty, are the cause of my desire and, most of the time, my ire

I know I pick countless squabbles, but I do it because I love to hear you babble about things I have no care for but you just simply adore

We disagree for many reasons, but I’d rather fight you through the seasons You, my beauty, so lovely and carefree my heart could not help but love you, most ardently 

Aemond watched you bite your lip as a wide smile started to spread. Aemond felt heat all over his body— anticipation did not sit well with him. He was ready to meet your laughs at his attempt to make you a poem. Ready to face rejection, but instead of the pessimistic thoughts in his mind, he was met with your sweet, pillowy lips. You were so excited and thrilled that you could not help but kiss him. Show him how you adored him as well. 

What was supposed to be a short and chaste kiss turned deep with passion. Lips dancing and refusing to part. You and Aemond stumbled to your bed, uncaring and ignorant of the teachings of the gods, for you and him had long surpassed your desires, and they could no longer be denied. They were ready to claim without thought of consequences because both of you knew that you’d happily take all punishment that would be presented if it meant neither of you had to stop your actions. 

“Gods, I want you,” You uttered as his lips traveled to kiss your soft cheeks, then trailed downward to the side of your neck. His hands were on your waist and threading dangerously close to your bosom. “Say it again,” Aemond almost begged. Savoring your scent, delighting at the way you feel against him. “I want you, Aemond. I’ve wanted you for years— you, only you.” You sighed as he left marks on your necks, earning quiet moans from you at the new sensation.  

Aemond let a low moan rumble as his cock painfully strained against his trousers, throbbing at your admittance of want for him. It was all he wanted. He thought his deepest desire in life was to have a dragon, but that was wrong. He desired you more than claiming a dragon— his deepest desire was to claim a lioness.

Aemond tangled his hair in your hair, finally letting his other hand move from your waist and cup your breast. Your hand, in turn, went to palm him through his trousers, watching as his jaw clenched and the ball of throat bobbed once more. “We… we must not lay until we are married,” Aemond said, voice pained and filled with impatience. Yet, he still did not move atop you; he kept his hold, but you relinquished yours. “We don’t have to,” You said, trying to push away your need for him to touch you. Aemond sighed and hurried his face in your neck, his lips and breath tickling your skin. “Then how…” Aemond trailed, and a thought passed your mind. “We must not touch each other….yet. However, I do not recall teaching forbidding us to touch ourselves,” You whisper, Aemond’s lilac eye flying to you, dark and filled with lust, mirroring yours. 

Aemond moved to remove his weight from you. You keep your eyes locked as you back away to the back of your bed, resting yourself on the pillows as Aemond kneels by the edge of your feathered bed, watching each move you make with his glazed, lone eye. 

You bit your lip harshly as your hand threaded a path that it threaded plenty of times, the thought you had as you did the actions now watching you. You slipped your hands, and you resisted moaning as your fingers brushed over the pearl of your cunt. Aemond admired the way your breasts peaked and traced through your silk nightgown. The way your eyes were hooded and how your plump lips finally parted and moaned his name. 

Aemond could no longer resist. Slipping his hand into his trousers just like he did every night, the image of you no longer in his mind but now sitting before him, calling out his name.“A-Aemond,” You stuttered as you felt the familiar cold within you. How desperately you wanted it to be, him to make you feel such a way. Aemond groaned and tilted his head to the heavens as he felt his cock twitch; he was quick to reach his peak; just the way you called for his name was enough for him to spill so quickly. 

Aemond closed the space between the two of you, each of your hands still pleasuring yourselves while lips met and wanted to be together when both of you reached your peaks. “You will be mine soon, my heart… mine to pleasure and please, all mine,” Aemond swore against your lips. You nod your head as you fasten your pace. “I’ve always been yours, Aemond.” You said truthfully, the final push for Aemond to come undone; you quickly followed as his moans spurred your peak. Aemond kissed your lips once more and boldly prayed for patience, patience, and restraint to not take you that night.

It was not enough for Aemond; pleasuring himself as he watched you pleasure yourself was not enough, but it had to be for now. Because when morning comes, he’ll demand that you shall be his, just as it ought to be.

If you enjoyed the premise of this story, you might like the inspiration for it!

[phyrestartr]

Prisoner of the Coast | Sukuna x M!Reader (WIP)

#SFW wip, reader is a water dragon, sukuna is a ronin, lore, mythology, there's plot, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, probably sad ending?, AU note: I JUST WANTED TO POST SOMETHING IDK

tags: @kamote-kuneho @prettorett @memedealer-exe @tr4nniez @better-imagination-9 @flowersatwork @memedealer-exe @silvern1006

Fear was not what he felt. Ryoumen Sukuna did not fear you who he faced; he was not a weak man. He was not a faint-hearted warrior. He was not a coward. But gleaming, ghastly eyes reminded him of mortality. Of the very human blood embedded in his veins. 

And the longer those round, moonlit eyes stared, the longer they sliced through the endless, empty blankness of the forgotten seaside palace, the louder that sound of drumming shook Sukuna's skull, against his ribs. But he was not afraid; he did not fear the gods. He would not fear one of their ilk in the flesh. 

The sound of water shifting echoed in the infinite void, dancing off distant walls as shards of light managed to catch on gentle, lapping wakes. Yet your head never moved an inch. Sukuna had seen other snakes do the same in his travels, keeping their heads still while their bodies squeezed and slithered–but their eyes were bound to fall closed. Yours stayed awake. Staring like the head of a Lion Dance puppet. Abnormal. Unaware of such abnormality. 

Sukuna gripped one of his swords tightly, ready to quick-draw if you'd chosen to strike. Gods were like that–hateful, horrible, honourless–and he expected nothing less from a beast like you; however, you'd been meandering towards him his entire stay, he realized too late. Slow. Quiet. Patient. The way one might approach a scared animal. 

I'm not getting paid enough for this shit. Sukuna found a smile, though. Maybe I’m getting paid too fuckin’ much. Who the hell does this thing need protecting from, huh? 

The question gnawed on his mind as your grandeur size became near-tangible–then, your eyes closed. Right when Sukuna started to make out the glint of scales against the moonlight of your eyes, the shimmering glow vanished, leaving only dappling sunlight streaming in from time-worn holes in the towering ceiling. 

“What do you want?” A man’s voice, your voice, asked from the shadows. The source was lower than before, ringing from a height so oddly human it gave Sukuna whiplash. 

“Ho? A shapeshifter?” Sukuna wondered, grinning. “You think you can take me on like that?”

“I don’t intend to ‘take you on’ at all, samurai.” You sighed and paced. Sukuna followed the sound of bare feet stepping on stones, coupled with the stiff drag of something scratching against the floor. Perhaps a tail? Perhaps fins? He didn’t know. The sunlight protecting him proved too stark against the shadows you dwelled within. 

“Someone has sent you here,” you decided. Sukuna felt your stare on him, though he could not see the twin lights. “My parents.” 

The grip on his blade lessened. “More or less. Said there was a godling that needed babysitting.” 

“Babysitting–?! The fucking audacity. Well, I promise you, this isn’t babysitting.” You snapped, bitter. 

Sukuna smirked. Never did he imagine a god-like thing would be so rough around the edges. “Then what would you call it?”

“Imprisonment.” You stepped toward the light when you said it, coming from an angle Sukuna didn’t expect, making him whirl in place and face the shadowed silhouette standing too close yet too far away. “And you’re my own, personal jailer.” Then, after a moment, you added, “Well. I guess it is glorified babysitting afterall. Expensive babysitting, at that. Congratulations on the easy money.” 

“That mean you’re gonna make this simple for me?” Sukuna asked. He tucked his arms into his sleeves as he waited for you to say something, but you only stepped back into the empty blackness filling your glorious cage. 

“Might as well,” your voice echoed, wilting, “I don’t care to leave this place anyway.” 

“‘N why the hell not?” He asked. 

But there was no answer; there was only the quiet splash of water, and twin ghost lights disappearing into the depths.

[sherewrytes]

𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕖𝕟 ℙ𝕚𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕤, ℝ𝕪𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕊𝕦𝕜𝕦𝕟𝕒 11

↳ Sukuna x f! black reader

( reader note, shere is still sick asf so me her friend is trying to post the stuff she had pre written.)

Summary: After the death of his grandfather, Sukuna Ryomen is left to shoulder the weight of his family, caring for his younger brothers, Yuuji and Choso. As he withdraws into grief, his relationship with Y/N, his girlfriend of a year, begins to crumble. When Y/N discovers the truth about his grandfather’s passing during a heated argument, it leads to a painful breakup. Now, both are navigating life apart, but Sukuna’s heart aches for Y/N. Determined to win her back, he must confront his pain and find a way to break through the walls he’s built. Can he rekindle their love, or is it too late?

contents: heavy angst, modern au, 18+, smut, dark romance, drug use, talks of depression and similar topics. (a lil )

fic warnings. ooc, profanity, mental health issues, toxic relationships, cheating, explicit smut, serious drug use, mentions of depression + more to be updated as story progresses.

Please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.

Taglist: @for-hearthand-home@clp-84@thelightknight21@favvkiki  @helightknight21@dylsw@ria-s-writes@sleepymothafterhours@sukunasstomachtongue@cosmic-lovr@imm0rtalbutterfly@kyo-kyo1 @choppersworlds-blog

if you wanna be added to the tag list comment

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Previous

I drifted back to my room, the buzz of satisfaction quickly giving way to the familiar emptiness. The high was fading, and with it came the weight I’d been trying to avoid. I shut the door behind me and leaned against it, staring blankly at the sterile white walls.

Sliding down to the floor, I let out a low chuckle that held no humor. 

Satisfied but empty,

 I muttered to myself, running a hand through my hair. It was becoming a cycle—filling myself with distractions only to feel worse once the moment was gone.

As I sat there, my mind wandered, unbidden, to Y/N. I could see her face in my mind, that mixture of hurt and anger when she found out about the first time I cheated.

Her voice rang in my ears like it was yesterday.

“Was I not enough for you?” she had asked, her eyes red and swollen.

I’d been too much of a coward to answer her then, and now, even in my thoughts, I had no good answer. She was always enough. It was me who wasn’t.

I closed my eyes, the guilt creeping in like a slow tide. It wasn’t just the act of cheating—it was the way I’d slowly chipped away at what we had. I thought about the nights she’d stayed up waiting for me to come home, the arguments I started just to avoid my own feelings, the promises I’d broken.

I rubbed my hands over my face, trying to shake off the memories, but they clung to me like a second skin. I could hear her voice again, softer this time, as if she was right next to me.

“I gave you everything, Sukuna. Why wasn’t that enough?”

I let out a shaky breath, my chest tightening. “Guess I’ve got something to talk about in therapy tomorrow,” I muttered under my breath, though I didn’t believe it.

The thought of actually bringing it up felt impossible. What would I even say? That I destroyed the best thing in my life because I couldn’t handle my own shit? That I let my fear of being vulnerable push her away?

I shook my head, standing up and pacing the room. Therapy was supposed to help, but every session felt like peeling off another layer of skin, exposing parts of myself I didn’t want anyone to see.

“Yeah, right,” I scoffed, my voice echoing in the small room. “Like talking about Y/N is gonna fix anything.”

But even as I said it, I knew I needed to. If I ever wanted to stop feeling like this—this constant pit in my stomach, this ache in my chest—I had to face it. Even if it hurt like hell.

I got up off the floor and sat on the edge of the bed, staring at my hands, the silence in the room louder than anything I’d heard in days. My thoughts raced, darting between the past and the present. The weight of everything I’d done, of every choice I’d made, pressed down on me like a lead blanket.

I knew I couldn’t keep running from it. Not from her, not from what I’d done, and certainly not from myself.

The next morning, I dragged myself into therapy, feeling raw and restless. Mrs. Henry greeted me with her usual calm demeanor, but I could see the concern flicker in her eyes. She gestured for me to sit, and I did, slumping into the chair like it was the only thing holding me upright.

“Good morning, Sukuna,” she started, her voice soft but steady. “How are you feeling today?”

I almost laughed at the question. How was I feeling? Like shit. Like every corner of my life was caving in. But instead, I just shrugged. “Same as always.”

She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on her knees. “Yesterday, we talked about your brothers and your grandfather. Do you want to continue with that?”

“No,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “Not today.”

Mrs. Henry nodded, not pushing, but her gaze didn’t waver. “Alright. Then what’s on your mind?”

I hesitated, the words sitting heavy on my tongue. I could feel my palms start to sweat, and I rubbed them against my jeans. “There’s… someone I should’ve treated better,” I finally said, my voice low.

She tilted her head, her expression encouraging me to go on.

“Y/N,” I said, the name almost foreign in my mouth after all this time. “She’s—she was my girlfriend. Probably the only good thing I had going for me.”

“What happened?” she asked gently.

I clenched my jaw, the guilt rising in my chest like bile. “I cheated on her. More than once.”

The room was quiet, the weight of my confession settling between us.

“Why do you think you did that?” she asked after a moment.

I let out a shaky breath, my hands gripping the arms of the chair. “I don’t know. Maybe because I didn’t think I deserved her. Or because I was scared—scared she’d leave first, scared she’d see me for who I really am and realize I wasn’t worth it.”

“And how do you feel about it now?”

“Like I’m a piece of shit,” I admitted, my voice cracking. “Like I threw away the one person who actually gave a damn about me.”

Mrs. Henry nodded, letting the silence stretch for a moment before speaking again. “It sounds like there’s a lot of pain tied to that relationship, Sukuna. But also a lot of regret. Do you think you’d want to reach out to her someday?”

I froze at the question, my chest tightening. “I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“Well,” she said, leaning back in her chair, “the first step is forgiving yourself. You can’t change the past, but you can work on becoming the person you’d want her—or anyone else—to see.”

I let her words sink in, the truth of them both comforting and terrifying. Forgiving myself felt impossible, but maybe—just maybe—it was something I could work toward. If not for me, then for the people I’d hurt along the way.

“ She only knows about one time, not the others, I mean I stopped at one point when the drugs were better than the sex…” my eyes widened with my admission. 

It was the first time I think I admitted that out loud.

Mrs. Henry’s expression didn’t change much, but I could see her eyes narrow slightly, her pen hovering over her notepad as if she wasn’t sure whether to write that down or not.

“You stopped… when the drugs became better than the sex,” she repeated slowly, her tone careful, like she didn’t want to spook me.

I nodded, my hands clasped tightly in my lap. My knuckles were white, and I could feel the tension in my jaw. “Yeah. I mean, what was the point? Sex didn’t do it for me anymore. Not like…” I trailed off, unable to bring myself to say it again.

She didn’t push, just let the silence settle before speaking. “It sounds like you’ve been carrying this for a long time, Sukuna. That’s a lot of weight for one person to bear.”

“I deserve it,” I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Why do you think that?” she asked gently.

I scoffed, shaking my head. “Because I’m a screw-up. I ruin everything I touch. I ruined us. I ruined her.”

Mrs. Henry sat back, her pen tapping lightly against her notepad. “You said earlier that Y/N only knew about one time. Why didn’t you tell her about the others?”

My chest tightened, and I shrugged, avoiding her gaze. “What good would it have done? She already hated me for that one. Telling her about the rest would’ve just been twisting the knife.”

“Or maybe you were afraid of losing her,” she said, her tone neutral.

I flinched, the truth of her words hitting me harder than I wanted to admit. “Maybe,” I said quietly.

“You said you stopped when the drugs became better than the sex,” she continued, her voice steady. “Do you think that was because of how you felt about her? Or because of how you felt about yourself?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. I didn’t know how to answer it. Maybe it was both. Maybe it was neither.

Maybe I’m just a fuck up

“I don’t know,” I admitted finally, my voice cracking. “I just… I didn’t want to feel anything anymore. The drugs made it easier to forget. To pretend like none of it mattered.”

“But it does matter,” Mrs. Henry said, her voice soft but firm. “That’s why you’re here. You can’t keep running from this, Sukuna. At some point, you have to face it.”

I let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through my hair. “Yeah, well, easier said than done.”

“It is,” she agreed. “But it’s not impossible. And it’s not something you have to do alone.”

I didn’t respond, just stared at the floor, the weight of her words pressing down on me. Maybe she was right. Maybe it was time to stop running. But the thought of facing everything I’d buried—the guilt, the shame, the pain—felt like trying to climb a mountain with no end in sight.

 I wasn’t sure I had the strength to take even the first step.

I sighed 

"Part of me wants to do better but another part of me refuses to. Life was so bright when Jin was alive. Yuuji reminds me of him sometimes. Maybe that's why I hate to be around him. It's too much. I dont hate Yuuji.I just."

 I stared at the floor.

Mrs. Henry leaned forward slightly, her voice soft but probing. “You just… what, Sukuna?”

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms as I struggled to find the words. “I just can’t. Being around him feels like being dragged back to the night Jin died. I can’t stop thinking about what I should’ve done. How I should’ve been there. How maybe… maybe it should’ve been me.”

The last part came out in a whisper, and my throat felt tight, like I’d swallowed broken glass.

She nodded slowly, giving me space to continue. “You feel like you failed him,” she said gently.

“I did fail him,” I snapped, my voice rising before I could stop it. “I wasn’t there. I was supposed to look out for him, and I bailed. And now he’s gone, and I’m still here, screwing everything up like always.”

“You’re carrying a lot of guilt,” she observed, her tone calm despite my outburst. “But blaming yourself for Jin’s death doesn’t honor him, Sukuna. It keeps you stuck.”

“Honor him?” I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. “What does that even mean? He’s gone. Nothing I do now is going to change that.”

“No, it won’t,” she agreed. “But maybe instead of punishing yourself for what you couldn’t control, you could focus on what Jin would’ve wanted for you. For Yuuji. For Choso. Do you think he’d want you to hate yourself like this? To push away the people who care about you?”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I felt my defenses crumbling. “I don’t know,” I muttered, my voice barely audible. “I don’t know what he’d want. I don’t know anything anymore.”

Mrs. Henry was quiet for a moment, letting my words hang in the air. “It’s okay not to have all the answers right now,” she said finally. “But it’s not okay to keep burying everything and pretending it doesn’t matter. Jin mattered. You matter. And the people in your life who are still here—they matter too.”

I stared at the floor, my chest heavy with emotions I didn’t know how to process. Part of me wanted to believe her, to believe that I wasn’t beyond saving. But another part of me, the part that had been running from the pain for so long, wasn’t sure if I even deserve to be saved.

“I don’t know how to fix it,” I admitted, my voice breaking. “Any of it.”

“You don’t have to figure it all out at once,” Mrs. Henry said. “Just take it one step at a time. Start with being honest—with yourself, with the people you care about. That’s the first step.”

Her words echoed in my head long after the session ended, and I found myself back in my room, staring at the ceiling. Maybe she was right. Maybe it was time to stop running. But taking that first step felt like standing at the edge of a cliff, unsure if the ground beneath me would hold.

For the first time in a long time, though, I thought about trying.

I laughed a bit and admitted " I was forced to be here by my friends. To them I have a serious drug problem and to me I don't." 

Mrs Henry looked at the file on her desk and asked me 

"Satoru Gojo right, that's the friend who paid your bills and Toji Zenin is your emergency contact right." I didn't respond, She flipped through again and said

 "Do you know why you were warded in the hospital twice.?"

I leaned back in the chair, my arms crossed defensively. “Yeah, I know,” I said curtly. “But I already told everyone it’s not that serious. I didn’t ask to be here.”

Mrs. Henry didn’t look fazed. She kept her calm, professional demeanor as she glanced down at the file again. “So, you overdosed twice in two close to three weeks, and you think that’s not serious?”

I scoffed, shaking my head. “It’s not like I planned it, okay? Things just… got out of hand. But I’m not some junkie.”

She looked up from the file and gave me a long, measured look. “You don’t think you have a problem?”

“Nope,” I said flatly, though my voice sounded less convincing than I’d hoped.

She leaned forward, her expression serious. “Do you know how many times Satoru Gojo called this facility to check on you in just the last week?”

I frowned but said nothing.

“Seven times,” she said. “And Toji Zenin? He’s called four times. These are people who care about you, Sukuna. They’re worried about you because they’ve seen what’s happening, even if you refuse to acknowledge it.”

I rolled my eyes. “They’re overreacting. They always do.”

She closed the file and set it aside, her focus entirely on me. “Overreacting?” she repeated. “You passed out on the floor of a friend’s house and the first time you passed out on the floor of your own bedroom Sukuna.. If they hadn’t intervened, you might not be sitting here right now.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, but I masked it with another scoff. “Well, I’m here now, aren’t I? So, I guess they can stop worrying.”

Mrs. Henry tilted her head, studying me carefully. “You’re here physically, sure. But mentally and emotionally? You’re checked out. And until you’re ready to face that, nothing is going to change.”

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, avoiding her gaze. “Whatever,” I muttered.

She sighed but didn’t press further. “You’re not alone in this, Sukuna. Whether you believe it or not, there are people who want to help you. But you have to let them.”

I stayed silent, my mind swirling with conflicting thoughts. Part of me wanted to keep brushing her off, but another part—the part I kept buried deep down—was starting to wonder if she was right.

“I don't care about my life.” 

SHUT UP SUKUNA!

“I don't think there was a moment I ever did. Not with yn was my girlfriend, not hanging with my friends, maybe when Jin was alive but I guess I have my parents to thank for that. They fucked off and left us all to live with Grandpa, Yuuji was still a baby then.”

Mrs. Henry didn’t say anything right away. She just let the words hang in the air, giving me space to breathe. I couldn’t meet her gaze, so I kept my eyes on the floor, tracing the cracks in the linoleum with my thoughts.

“They left us with Grandpa, and he did his best,” I continued, my voice hollow. “He was a good man, better than they ever were. But even with him, I always felt… off, like I didn’t belong anywhere. Like I was just some extra piece everyone had to deal with.”

“And Jin?” she asked gently.

I swallowed hard. “He was the only one who made it bearable. He made me feel like maybe I wasn’t so messed up after all. Like I could actually be someone.”

Mrs. Henry nodded but didn’t interrupt.

“But then he died,” I said, my voice cracking slightly. “And that was it. Whatever light there was just… went out. And now I’m stuck here, trying to pretend I give a damn about anything when I really don’t.”

She leaned forward slightly, her tone steady but soft. “You said you don’t care about your life, but you cared about Jin’s, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did,” I snapped, glaring at her. “He was my twin brother.”

“And Yuuji? Choso? Your friends?” she pressed.

I hesitated, clenching my jaw. “Yeah… I care about them. But that doesn’t mean I know how to show it. All I do is screw things up.”

Mrs. Henry folded her hands in her lap. “You say you don’t care about your life, Sukuna, but the people in it do. Your grandpa did. Jin did. And now Yuuji, Choso, Satoru, and Toji—they all care. They’re still here, even when you push them away.”

I looked away, my chest tightening. “Maybe they shouldn’t be. Maybe it’d be easier for everyone if I wasn’t around.”

“No,” she said firmly, her voice cutting through my haze of self-loathing. “It wouldn’t. You think you’re a burden, but to them, you’re family. And family doesn’t just give up on each other.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. I didn’t know how to respond, so I didn’t. I just sat there, staring at the floor, trying to keep the guilt and pain from swallowing me whole.

“You want to know why I cheated on YN so much even though she didn't deserve it. I just wanted her to go.. I mean i didnt...I never wanted to hurt her but she was too close....too close to who I am, the person” I paused “the person i try to hide.”

Mrs. Henry let the silence linger, her gaze steady but nonjudgmental. She didn’t press me, didn’t try to fill the space with words. It was like she knew I needed to say this, even if it ripped me open in the process.

“She saw everything,” I muttered finally, my voice barely above a whisper. “Every broken piece. Every damn thing I try to bury. And I hated it. I hated how much I needed her. How much she believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. It was suffocating.”

I clenched my fists, staring at the floor as if it held all the answers. “So I ruined it. I ruined us. Because if she left, it’d hurt less than having her stay and seeing me for what I really am. A mess. A screw-up. A guy who can’t get his shit together.”

Mrs. Henry tilted her head slightly, her voice calm. “Do you think Y/N saw you that way?”

I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. “No. That’s the problem. She thought I was better than this. She saw something in me that wasn’t real. And I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t live up to it.”

“You said she was too close to who you really are,” Mrs. Henry said carefully. “What do you mean by that?”

I swallowed hard, my chest tightening. “She saw me. Not the front I put up, not the tough guy everyone else sees. She saw the kid who got left behind. The kid who’s terrified of losing everyone he loves. And I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t handle being seen like that.”

My voice broke, and I gritted my teeth, trying to hold myself together. “So I pushed her away. Over and over again. Because if she left, it’d be on my terms. Not hers.”

Mrs. Henry leaned back slightly, her expression soft. “You sabotaged your happiness because you didn’t think you deserved it. Is that it?”

I nodded, feeling the weight of the truth settle over me. “Yeah. I guess I did.”

She let out a small sigh, her tone gentle. “Sukuna, it sounds like you’ve spent so much time trying to protect yourself from being hurt that you’ve ended up hurting the people who care about you the most. Including yourself.”

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. Because deep down,

 I knew she was right.  I fucking hate this therapy shit

“I didn't ask them to care. I don't want them too. I just want them to stop”

Mrs. Henry nodded, her expression calm but firm. “I understand why you feel that way, Sukuna. When you’re carrying this much pain, it can feel like people’s concern is just another weight on your shoulders. But shutting people out doesn’t make the pain go away. It just isolates you.”

I scoffed, leaning back in my chair. “Isolation’s fine by me. At least then I don’t have to deal with anyone’s expectations or pity.”

Her gaze stayed steady, unshaken by my words. “You say you don’t want them to care, but is that really true? Or are you afraid of what caring could mean? That it could bring more hurt, more loss?”

My jaw tightened, and I looked away, unwilling to answer. She didn’t need me to.

“You’ve lost a lot, Sukuna. More than most people your age should have to. But the people who care about you—they’re not your enemies. They’re not trying to hurt you or control you. They’re trying to remind you that you don’t have to face all of this alone.”

I let out a hollow laugh. “Alone’s all I’ve ever been. Even when Jin was around, even when Y/N was here, I’ve always felt alone. Like no one really gets it. Like no one could even if they tried.”

Mrs. Henry’s voice softened. “Feeling alone and being alone are two very different things. You’re not alone, Sukuna. You have people who love you, who want to see you get better. But you have to let them in.”

“I can’t,” I snapped, the words spilling out before I could stop them. “Don’t you get it? I can’t let them in because if I do, I’ll screw it up. I’ll hurt them like I hurt Y/N, like I hurt everyone.”

Silence stretched between us for a moment, the air heavy with the weight of my admission.

Mrs. Henry leaned forward slightly, her tone steady. “You’ve made mistakes, Sukuna. Big ones. But mistakes don’t define who you are—they define who you’ve been. Who you are is still up to you.”

I stared at her, my mind racing but unable to form a response. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t know what to say.

I got up from the chair and paced the room trying to calm my racing thoughts. 

“Everyone keeps saying i made mistakes, I did everything on purpose, the cheating, the fuck ups none of it were mistakes I'm not a saint or a good person. That person was buried at Jin's funeral. 

That person got beat on when my father showed up to Jin's funeral wake to blame me for his death and beat me to a frazzle while my mom watched. that person is dead. I'm what's left.”

Mrs. Henry sat back in her chair, studying me with a calm, measured gaze. She didn't flinch or try to counter my words immediately, which somehow made me feel even more exposed.

"You’re right," she said after a moment, her voice steady. "You’re not a saint, and you’re not perfect. No one is. But you’re not dead either, Sukuna. If you were, we wouldn’t be sitting here having this conversation. The fact that you’re still here, still breathing, still feeling all this pain—it means there’s something left of you worth fighting for."

I barked out a bitter laugh. "You’re wrong. The only thing left of me is anger and regret. That’s all I am now—a walking mess of mistakes and bad decisions."

She tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. "You said you’re not a good person. Okay. But what if I told you being a good person isn’t about never messing up? It’s about what you do after. It’s about facing your pain, taking responsibility, and deciding who you want to be from here on out."

I shook my head, my chest tightening. "I don’t want to be anything. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to feel this."

"Of course you don’t," she said softly. "Pain like this, guilt like this—it’s unbearable. But running from it doesn’t make it go away. It just makes it louder. And I think deep down, you know that. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here, in this room, talking to me."

I clenched my fists, anger and something else—something softer, something I didn’t want to name—burning in my chest. "I didn’t choose to be here. Gojo and the others dumped me in this hellhole."

She nodded. "They did. Because they see something in you that you can’t see in yourself right now. They see someone who’s worth saving, someone who’s more than the pain they’re carrying. And whether you believe them or not, Sukuna, you’re here. So why not take this time to figure out who you want to be? Not for Gojo, or Toji, or Yuuji. For yourself."

Her words hung in the air, heavy and piercing. I wanted to argue, to push back, but I couldn’t. Instead, I just sat there, staring at the floor, my mind racing with thoughts I didn’t want to face.

"Think about it," she said gently, breaking the silence. "I’m not asking you to have all the answers right now. But if you’re willing to try, even just a little, you might find that the person you thought was gone is still there. They’re just waiting for you to give them a chance."

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. But for the first time in what felt like forever, I didn’t immediately shut down the possibility that she might be right.

“Thanks for Session Mrs Henry.” I said bolting out of the room before my session was over. 

I couldnt bare anything else today.

 I saw one of the nurses saying i have visitors. I wanted to decline but i decided to go with the flow. I saw it was Gojo and Geto.

I stood in the doorway for a moment, staring at them as they both sat in the chairs in front of me, their eyes locked on me with that familiar mix of concern and frustration. The tension between us was thicker than ever, but I couldn’t bring myself to walk away.

Gojo stood first, breaking the silence with his usual smug grin, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes today. "Look at you, the prodigal son returns," he said, but there was no humor in it, just weariness. "Thought you’d be avoiding us for a little longer."

Geto was quieter, his gaze unreadable, but I could feel the weight of his disappointment in the air. He leaned forward slightly, crossing his arms. "You could’ve told us how bad it had gotten, you know. We would've come sooner."

I just looked at them. No words came to mind at first. I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to say anything. What was the point? Nothing I said would change what I had done. Nothing would fix the mess I’d made of everything.

I let out a frustrated sigh and took a seat across from them, leaning back in my chair. "I didn’t ask for any of this. You guys don’t get it. I didn’t ask for help, and I’m still not ready to accept it."

Gojo's expression faltered for a moment, and Geto sighed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck. "You think we don’t understand?" Geto said softly, his voice tinged with frustration. "You think this is easy for us? Watching you fall apart like this?"

I didn’t look at either of them, my hands tightening into fists in my lap. "You’re right," I muttered bitterly. "I don’t think you understand, because you’re not in my head. You don’t know what it feels like to be... this. To feel like everything’s my fault. To not care about anything anymore."

Gojo stepped forward, his voice more serious than I had ever heard it. "Maybe we don’t understand everything you’re going through, but we know you. We know who you were before all this. And we’re not giving up on you just because you’ve decided to run from yourself."

I met Gojo’s eyes, and for a split second, I saw the pain he was trying to hide behind his usual confident mask. "I never asked you to," I said, the words slipping out before I could stop them. "But that doesn’t change anything."

Geto leaned forward now, his voice softer but still carrying that urgency I had come to recognize in him. "Sukuna, you’re not alone in this. You’ve never been alone. I’m not going to pretend like I have the answers, but you have us. Don’t shut us out."

I looked away again, my throat tight, and for a brief moment, I could feel the tears threatening to break free. But I refused to let them show. Not now. Not in front of them.

"You don’t have to do this alone," Gojo said quietly, his usual bravado softened, if only slightly. "We’re here, whether you want us here or not."

The words hit harder than I expected, and I had to force myself to swallow back the emotion rising in my chest. I wanted to push them away, to tell them to leave, but the truth was… I didn’t know how to. I didn’t know how to do this alone.

"Just... give me some time," I muttered, finally meeting their gazes. "I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know what I’m doing."

Gojo nodded, his tone softer than before. "We’re not asking you to have it all figured out. We’re just asking you to keep trying."

There was a heavy silence between us then, and for the first time in a long while, I didn’t feel completely suffocated by it. It wasn’t a solution. It wasn’t a fix. But maybe… maybe I didn’t have to do this alone.

"I’m not giving up on you, man," Geto said, his voice firm but caring. "And neither is Gojo."

I nodded slowly, my chest tight, but something in me shifted—just slightly. It didn’t feel like enough, but maybe it was a start.

Maybe it was enough for now.

[sammysficfactory]

Gone and Back Again

Clark Kent x blackcoded!reader

tags: angst, hurt/eventual comfort, fluff

summary: clark chose the world over you, and comes to regret his decision.

wc: 4.7k words

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, mentions of abandonment

notes: bruce wayne cameo🤭, clark is a coward, reader is a MOTHA..NO DRAMA, yes the baby is named jonathan, feedback is welcome

beta reader comments: damn 6 years a secret?? them glasses work wonders

"Clark is that you? Why are you up?" Clark freezes when he hears your sleepy voice. He pushes what looks like a large bag out of your line of sight.

“Go back to bed sweetheart, I’m just going for a drive. I’ll be back in the morning.” Clark walks through the dark and places a kiss on your forehead and your large belly. You nod sleepily.

“Alright, be safe. I love you.” Is all you say before you find yourself drifting off to sleep again. Clark sighs in relief, he never planned on leaving his wife and coming child, but sometimes sacrifices have to be made.

The next morning, you wake up to a cold and empty half of the bed. It seems that Clark hadn’t come back from his late night drive. You don’t think much of it, writing it off as him losing track of time. But when hours start to go by and Clark hasn't returned, you find yourself getting antsy. You pull out your phone and call your husband.

“Come on, pick up..” You murmur, pacing around your living room floor. Clark doesn’t answer, even when you call a second and third time. This wasn’t like him at all, even when Clark was at work he made sure to pick up if you called a second time. You begin making calls, starting with his job.

"Good morning, Daily Planet. May I ask who's calling?" a woman answers.

“This is Y/N Kent, Clark Kent’s wife. Has Clark come in to work today?” You ask, doing your best to keep your voice level. You hear some typing before the woman on the other end answers.

"I've just checked the schedule, and he's not on it...He didn't give any warning either. Did something happen?" You sigh, that was definitely not the answer you were hoping for.

“No, it’s fine. Thank you for letting me know.” You sigh heavily.

“No problem, Mrs. Kent. If anything comes up I’ll call you back.” She replies before hanging up. You make a few more calls, calling some friends to no avail. You pace around the house in a panic, trying to think of places where Clark could possibly be. After a few minutes, you grab your car keys and drive around the city, looking in all of the places you think Clark could possibly be, all to no avail. You sigh, deciding to call your last resort. The only person you know with the resources to find your husband.

"Hello? This is Bruce Wayne..." You sigh in relief when he picks up.

“Bruce, it’s Y/N. Clark is missing.” You cut straight to the point, there was no time for formalities in your mind. You can hear Bruce move around on the phone.

“Are you sure? How do you know?” He asks, not wanting to jump to conclusions just yet, but the panic in your voice was unmistakable.

“Last night he said he was going for a drive and that he’d be back by morning, but he hasn’t shown up. I’ve done everything, I’ve looked everywhere. I even called his job. I don’t know what to do, and I’m starting to panic.” You quickly run through the events, tapping your fingers on your steering wheel as you drive back home.

"It's okay, just calm down. I'll get some people in the area to search for him." He says, trying to ease your worries.

“He said he’d be back by morning. It’s already past noon. What if he’s…” You trail off.

"Hey, hey. Calm down. Let's not jump to conclusions. He'll be alright, trust me. I'm doing everything in my power." Bruce is already setting things in motion, and that much comforts you slightly.

"I'll get in touch with you soon, okay? I gotta go." Bruce hangs up and you walk into your home. You check every corner of the house, every room, closet, and the attic. Nothing. Your phone rings and you pick it up, not caring to check who it is.

“Clark?” You answer nervously.

“Hi, honey.” Your husband’s voice comes through the phone and you sigh in relief. Your worry quickly turns into concern.

“Clark, where the hell are you?! I’ve been worried sick about you!” You exclaim. Clark sighs, his voice tense.

“Y/N, I need you to listen to me very closely. Are you in the house?” He asks, his tone tense and urgent. You sense something amiss, so you sit on your couch, listening intently.

“Yeah, I just got back.” You answer, you can feel his distress through the phone.

“I’m gonna tell you something important, you have to listen.” He sounds serious.

“I’m listening, go ahead.” You hear Clark go silent for a few moments, creating a tense and thick silence before speaking up again.

“I’m…Superman.” He confesses. You’re silent with disbelief before you reply.

“Clark, do not lie to me right now. I swear on everything holy if you’re lying to me-” You warn before your husband cuts you off.

“Y/N, I'm not lying! I always wanted to tell you, but I was scared..." Clark was telling the truth, and he can't deny the hurt he was about to cause you.

“I…Clark. This is a lot.” You sigh.

"Look, I know this is too much, I'm sorry, I wish I told you earlier. I just... couldn't say it. How do you expect someone to say -‘hey, I'm Superman’ to someone they love." Clark remarks.

“Clark, we’ve been together for six years, and we’ve been married for three of them. You’re telling me that you couldn’t have told me before?” You feel yourself growing angry and frustrated.

"I never wanted to keep secrets from you, I just didn’t know how to tell you." All Clark feels is guilt and shame.

"I love you, Y/N..."

“Clark, just come home.” Your voice wavers, for the first time the entire day you can feel yourself about to cry.

"I want to, more than anything..." Clark's heart hurts when he hears how distraught you are.

"It's not that simple, Y/N. If I come back, I'm putting you in danger..." He tries to sound reasonable, but he can feel his own resolve weakening.

“Clark, honey, please. I can’t do this on my own. We’re about to have a baby! You can’t just leave.” You plead over the phone. Clark's eyes start to well up as he hears you beg him to return. He hates hurting you.

"I have to keep you and the baby safe." He'd do anything to be with you... and yet, his fears still dominate him.

“We can still be together, we can still be a family.” You try to appeal to him through your tears.

"You don't understand." Clark can't control it as the hurt and guilt comes out as anger.

"I can't be with you or the baby. The world needs Superman. It's my responsibility." He immediately regrets his tone as soon as he finishes his sentence.

“Clark…” Is all you can manage to say, hurt and shocked by his tone. Clark takes a deep breath.

"Y/N, let me explain. I love you. I don't just love you, I’m in love with you. It's taken me a long time to know who I am... but this I know. I know I love you, Y/N. But the world needs me." The honesty in his voice catches you off guard.

"I was afraid of what you would think. I was afraid of hurting you by telling you. But, I had to tell you the truth. I couldn’t keep lying to you." His voice is as pained as his expression that you don’t see.

“How am I gonna take care of the baby when it grows up? What if it has powers like you do? Clark, I can’t do this on my own.” You sob.

"Y/N, I'm sorry. But the truth is I can't be with you. You and the baby deserve better than me. This is the kind of choice that comes with having the powers I do." The shame he feels is overwhelming. Clark can't believe what he says. He never meant for this to happen, but here he is, tearing his own home apart...all for the greater good.

"It's not your fault. I swear. You're amazing. I just... I can't do this." He hangs up the phone and you sob. The “greater good” had just ripped the love of your life out of your hands, and the crushing weight of having to give birth and raise a baby alone felt almost too much to bear. Your vision blurred by tears, you call Bruce to give him the news.

“Did something happen?” Bruce asks, but when he hears your soft cries he knows the news he’s about to receive isn’t good.

“You can call off the search, he told me everything. He told me that he’s Superman, and that he’s not coming back.” You feel yourself unravel the longer you have to speak. Bruce sighs.

“So he told you.” Is all he says in response.

“You knew?” You ask, feeling angry. Bruce takes a breath as he figures out how to explain his knowledge.

“I did know. I’m Batman, so we work together often.” He confesses, guilt and sympathy translating through his tone. You’re silent save for the occasional sniffle or hitch of your breath.

"Are you going to be okay?" There's a pause, no response from you.

"Y/N?" he calls for you.

“I don’t know. I’m eight months pregnant with a baby that might get superpowers when it gets older, and the only person who can help them won’t be there.” You exhale shakily, feeling absolutely helpless at the moment.

“Y/N…” Is all he says.

“I don’t know if I can do this…” You reveal weakly.

"Y/N, you're strong and you can do this. I know you can." Bruce tries to stay positive, but his encouragement is unconvincing. He can't help but worry for you and your baby.

"Can you... just tell me you'll be okay?" Bruce asks you, wanting you to hear yourself say it. You stay silent, not really believing him but decide to oblige him anyway.

“I’ll…be okay.” You say, your confidence wavering at best. You can hear his small smile over the phone.

“That’s right, you’ll be perfectly okay." Bruce's tone is filled with confidence once again, even if his heart is worried for you. He knows it's not going to be easy, but he knows that you’re stronger than your doubts are trying to convince you are.

"If you need anything, call me. Okay? I'll do whatever I can to help. You're not alone in this." Bruce reminds you, but it goes in one ear and out of the other. You can’t help but feel completely and utterly alone.

“Thank you, Bruce. Thank you for being a good friend.” You sniffle, giving him a satisfying enough answer.

“Always.” Bruce replies before hanging up, leaving you alone in your home.

After Clark left, you decided to focus all of your energy on giving birth and working to raise your son. The years have passed and your son has grown.

You shop around with your five year old Jonathan, your hand in his small one. His face looks just like Clark, with jet black hair and large, kind eyes. Jonathan is bouncing with energy, he seems as excited as a five year old can get.

“Jonathan, you can’t bounce around too much in the store. You might knock something over and hurt yourself.” You warn your son lightly, but your tone is firm.

"Sorry, mommy." Jonathan says with an apologetic shrug. As you walk through the aisle, your eyes settle on a familiar tall figure. You hope Clark doesn't see you, but it appears he already has. Clark stops at the shelf next to the two of you. He notices you and Jonathan, and he can feel the tension.

"Hello, Y/N." Clark's quiet and polite greeting punches you straight in the gut. The realization of his presence happens all too quickly.

He's right in front of you.

And it's surreal.

Clark looks just as handsome as you remember him, his eyes still full of kindness and joy. Your heart races as you look away, and you aren’t sure if it’s out of anger or love.

“Clark.” You greet him curtly, bitterness rearing its ugly head and making itself known. Clark's eyes search yours, looking for even a sliver of love.

"Y/N, I missed you..." He's holding back. It's a struggle.

"I know it's been a long time, and I've hurt you... But I need you." He starts.

"I want to try again. I want to be with you, I want to be with my family. I made a mistake, and I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you." He looks at you, his eyes full of regret. You look away from Clark, diverting your attention to your son.

“Jonathan, go choose a cereal. Mommy will be watching from right here.” You suggest to your son. Jonathan nods and runs a little further down the aisle and you turn back to Clark.

“It’s been five years, Clark. I gave birth in that delivery room alone when you were supposed to be there. You missed every milestone, and left me alone to take care of our child.” You say calmly, but there’s an unmistakable edge in your voce.

"You're right. But I just wanted to protect you, I wanted to keep you and Jonathan safe. I was scared that if I was here with the two of you, it would’ve put you in danger. If something would’ve happened to you, I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself." Clark looks at you. He can't bear to see you like this, to see your broken heart on display, showing him just how much pain he had caused.

"I made a mistake, I know... but I love you. I want to make this right. There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by that I didn’t regret leaving you and our son behind. You and Jonathan, you're the people I want to wake up beside. Please, just let me make this right." He pleads.

“You don’t think I was scared? You don’t think that every night that I was pregnant with your baby, I was scared? When you left, I had no one to rely on except for myself. I was supposed to bring that little boy into this world with you by my side, but you abandoned us.” You clench your jaw, doing your best to stay quiet and not make a scene.

“You chose the world over your wife, and you chose the world over your son, I’m not giving you the chance to do it again.” You poke his chest angrily, and you can see Clark’s heart break right in front of you. It doesn’t feel as good as you thought it would, even after all that time you still hated seeing him hurt. Clark watches you in your quiet fury, his eyes searching yours.

"Y/N. I messed up... I know." His eyes are wide, his voice is desperate.

"I'm terrified I'll lose you again. I'm terrified this is my last chance. That I won't get another." His heart is tearing in two, he wants his family back.

"Y/N, please... for Jonathan." Clark is trying to be strong, to be better... and it's breaking him to see you so upset.

“You lost me when you left, Clark. But your son deserves to have a father, so I’ll allow you that. Come over Saturday afternoon so I can properly introduce you to him. I still live in our house, so you know where to find me.” You brush past Clark, wiping a tear away when you walk to Jonathan.

It's a small step, but Clark knows that everything has to start somewhere. He watches you walk away with his son, and he knows that he can't lose you again. He needs to prove himself and make it right.

Time passes, and Saturday arrives. He can't stop himself, he knocks on the door. There's a tension and Clark's heart is racing. He wants everything back... to be with the woman he loves and the child that needs him.

A few moments later, you answer the door.

“Hey.” You greet him.

"Hi." he replies awkwardly, scratching at the back of his neck.

"May I come in?" You nod.

“Yeah, come in. I’ll grab Jonathan from upstairs.” You usher him inside before calling Jonathan from the bottom of the stairs. Jonathan all but runs down the steps. When he sees Clark, Jonathan hides behind your legs as you introduce them to each other.

“Jonathan, this is your dad.” You say, trying to coax your son from behind you. Clark waves at him, but doesn’t say anything.

“Can you say hi to your dad, Jonathan?” You ask, squatting down to Jonathan’s height, trying to reassure him that everything was okay.

"Hi..." Jonathan's voice is shaking, he's frightened by the strange man. He slowly moves out from behind your legs and stands in front of you. You keep your hand on his shoulder to remind him that you’re right behind him, and that he doesn’t have to worry.

“He looks just like you, Jonathan. You two have the same hair, same smile, same eyes.” You continue to try and help Jonathan warm up to Clark. Your son steps out a little more and looks up at Clark, shuffling his feet out of nervousness. He sees the similarities between him and his father and decides to take a step closer.

“Do you want to give your dad a hug?” You ask Jonathan, noticing how Clark desperately wants to hold him. Clark has never seen Jonathan until that day in the grocery store, and wants to immediately start making up for lost time.

"Umm..." Jonathan looks between his mother and his father and hesitates. It's all new and scary to him, and understandably so. He walks towards Clark and puts his arms out. It's the first hug of many to come for Clark and Jonathan. Clark's heart nearly explodes from affection, he has been waiting for this forever. He holds onto Jonathan tight, not wanting to ever let go.

You smile at the image before you, but can’t help the pang of sadness that hits you when you think about the day he left. Jonathan and Clark look happy, hugging each other tightly.

"Jonathan..." Clark holds him tight, and vows to himself that he'll never miss another day, another moment of his son's life.

"Y/N, I love you. I'm so sorry for leaving you. I love you." He says to you, still holding onto his son tight. You struggle to find what you want to say, opening and closing your mouth like a goldfish.

"Tell me what you’re feeling, Y/N." Clark says quietly. He's still holding onto Jonathan tight, but he doesn't want you to be upset with him. He feels his heart breaking, as you seem unable to speak. He knows he hurt you. He's so desperate to make it right.

“We need to talk in private then.” You reply, not wanting Jonathan to hear you say anything bad about Clark. You send Jonathan upstairs to his room.

"Okay, Y/N." Clark's anxiety is building, he knows you still have a lot of anger toward him. He knows he deserves that. However, he wants to fix all the problems the two of you have. He loves you, and he wants you back.

"Talk to me." He says gently. You sigh, sitting in a nearby chair, gesturing for Clark to do the same.

“I don’t have a problem with you spending time with Jonathan, but I’m not sure if I can get into a relationship with you again.” You admit.

"Y/N, I made a huge mistake. But I swear to you that I won't ever leave again." Clark's voice is desperate and longing, he wants just one more chance. He wants to be the best he can, by being a father and now a husband.

"Jonathan needs us, he needs his mom and his dad." Clark's voice has a pleading in it, all he wants is for his family to be together.

"Y/N, let's give it a chance. Just one chance." He implores.

“How do I know that, Clark? How do I know that when shit gets tough, you won’t just up and leave? I went through that, and I don’t want Jonathan to go through it too.” You ask. Clark winces, he knows that your fears are valid, but he can’t help but get hurt by your tone.

"You can't know, I guess." He's being honest with you.

"But I want to prove to you... to Jonathan... that I’ve changed." Clark's eyes still have that same desperate pleading in them.

"Please Y/N, you don't understand how much I regret what I did." He holds onto your eyes, willing you to believe him.

"And I will never leave Jonathan... I promise. Never again." You shake your head.

“Clark, you don’t understand. When you left, I was so alone. I was so scared. I had to give birth alone. When the doctors and nurses asked where you were, I couldn’t give them an answer. When Jonathan started school last year, he started seeing other kids with their dads. Do you know what he asked me? He asked me where his dad was, and I couldn’t give him an answer.” You tell him everything you had been feeling up to this point, the weight of it being lifted from you as you speak. Clark can feel his heart breaking as you tell him about your struggles. He didn't realize how the decision he made affected you and your son.

"Y/N, honey, I'm so sorry. I should have been there for you... for Jonathan. Please, give me... give us a chance." His voice is genuine, filled with regret and pain.

“It took you five years, Clark. I wanna give us another try, but how do I know you won’t leave?” Your eyes well up with tears as you speak, your once firm voice beginning to waver.

"You can't know... You can't know if I'll ever leave again. But what I can promise you is that I won't give up. I won't give up on you, and I won't give up on Jonathan." Clark holds onto your hands, his voice filled with love and compassion.

"Please Y/N, just... just give us another chance." He wants you back, he needs you back. He can't cope without you.

“If I do this…you have to promise me that you won’t run. That you won’t run away when stuff gets stressful.” You sniffle.

"I give you my word, Y/N." Clark's voice is filled with sincerity and determination.

"I'll never run away, not again. The one time that I did it... I destroyed everything. I won't ever do it again." He looks at you longingly, he knows that he needs you. He needs your love, your warmth, your affection. He can't live without you.

"Please, Y/N. Please give us another chance. I'll do anything.” You stay silent for some time, trying to figure out how you feel.

“Okay.” You nod hesitantly. Clark immediately wraps his arms around you in a gentle hug, he's been yearning for this moment for years. He holds you tight, unwilling to let go.

"Y/N, I love you so much. I love you. I love you." A tear rolls down his face as he holds onto you, the pain and fear, the regret and hurt, it all subsides in an instant.

"I love you." He repeats. He'll never run again. He holds onto you, his hand rubbing your back.

"I can't believe I put us in this position, Y/N. I was stupid. But I won't let it happen again. We have to be there for each other, Y/N. We have to communicate. We have to trust each other to share our fears." He smiles, you’re finally back in his life.

"I'm going to spend every day making it up to both of you." He promises you.

“Let’s start slow. I don’t want to change Jonathan’s life anymore than I already have with you meeting him.” You suggest. Clark nods in agreement.

"Of course, Jonathan is still so little, and this is a big change. Slow and steady, that's how I'll repair everything." He kisses the top of your head.

"Jonathan deserves to have a mother and a father. Let's work together to give him the best life possible." He's happy because you’re back in his life. The pain, the tears, the sleepless nights, they're all over. It's time for a new start, he can't imagine himself being with anyone else but you.

"I don't want to push too hard... and I want to earn your trust back. It's all about you and Jonathan, all of... this." He points to you, then to himself, then to Jonathan's room.

"Jonathan is going to be so happy when he sees all of us together. He needs a family Y/N... and I’m ready to give that to him." Clark pulls back from the hug, looking you in the eyes as he makes this promise. You place your hands on his broad chest, looking up at him and allowing yourself to relish in the familiar and comfortable hold of Clark.

“Can I…kiss you, Y/N?” Clark asks, this is all still fresh and he doesn’t want to move too fast, but he can’t help the urge to press his lips to yours.

“Yeah, you can.” You nod, feeling Clark lift your chin gently and bring your lips to his. The kiss doesn’t feel like fireworks or explosions like you’d expect it to. It feels more like a breath of fresh air after being stuck in a fire, like sleeping after days of insomnia, or finding water after walking through a desert for an excruciating amount of time. You don’t understand why, until you realize it. When you kiss Clark, you’re finally giving yourself the love you had been deprived of for so long. The two of you reluctantly break the kiss.

“Thank you. For all of this.” Clark smiles breathlessly at you. You nod.

“Don’t make me regret this, Clark.” You warn, holding his face in your hands.

It’s been about a year since your reconnection and ultimately rekindled romance with Clark, and he hasn’t let you down. He’s done everything he can to prove just how willing he is to stay with you and Jonathan. He’s been by your side as much as he can, occasionally stepping away for his heroic duties, but making sure not to miss any milestones.

“Daddy, mommy, look at me!” Jonathan does a flip on his trampoline as you and Clark watch him from your back porch. You and your not-really-but-still-legal husband smile in amusement.

“Be careful, buddy. Don’t hurt yourself, your mother already told you to be careful.” Clark warns, and Jonathan nods. You look at Clark impressed.

“Okay, Mr. I-mean-business. You need to do that more often.” You chuckle as Clark rolls his eyes playfully, pressing a quick kiss to your lips with a smile.

“Whatever. I reprimand Jonathan when I feel he needs it.” He tries to justify himself, but you give him a knowing look.

“Clark, please. Jonathan has you wrapped around his finger.” You snort, and he looks away sheepishly. Clark spoils your son, especially recently after Jonathan’s powers began to show up. Clark has been helping Jonathan control his newfound powers, especially his enhanced strength. Just a few days ago, Clark had to talk Jonathan down from pulling the kitchen door off the hinges after you told him he couldn’t eat ice cream for dinner.

“You know what I’ve been thinking about lately, honey?” You ask Clark. He shakes his head, looking at you.

“What?” You take his hand in yours.

“I guess you did choose us in the end, just not in the way we would’ve wanted. You chose to save the world, and technically Jonathan and I are part of that world.” You answer, rubbing his knuckles as you’re deep in thought.

“You’re right. But I like this choice best, don’t you agree?” Clark tilts his head slightly. You nod.

“Yeah, this is definitely the better option.”

[hiswhiteknight]

Unbelievably Outlandish - Part 12

Summary: Before starting down a new crossroads, the Reader goes onto an adventure of literary traveling. Suddenly tossed into an unbelievable story that has swept the world, The Outlander Series itself. How will a twenty first century woman survive?

Note: It has been a super long time since I've posted, like a year or more. I'm going to try to post weekly, but it depends on my schedule. As for a tag list, I'll be starting a new one – please send me a message to be added to the tag list. I don't always get to look through comments, so please message me.

Note Note: I own no characters, except reader, clearly this is based off the lovely book series Outlander by Diana Gabaldon and tv show. This follows more the tv show, but it’s far from accurate. I’m going to try to get better with using less proper English, but who knows maybe I’ll get into Scottish slang.

Pairing: Jamie Fraser x Female Reader

Words: 2700 (SO LONG)

Warning: Angst, playfulness, cursing, slow start

It turned out, in Angus's mind, the dog turned out to be a good distraction for you. It kept you from running around because you found yourself always training the dog. She was an angelic thing, who always got into some kind of trouble along the way. Your whole life you've been much of a rule follower, but as of recently you were finding you had a lot in common with the dog.

With this being said, you have yet to find a name you'd like for her. Often you found yourself filling the boredom by naming old fictional characters you loved when you remember the character Gilbert Blythe from Anne of Green Gables. Outside from being incredibly charming, he was intelligent, kind, and had patience and devotion for the ones he loved. You imagined you had a lot in common with Anne Shirley or you hope you did. And with that thought, you named the dog Blythe.

Jamie enjoyed watching you work with the mischievous creature. He could tell this was the first time you were filled with joy since you arrived in Scotland, "Why don't you go over and talk to the girl," Murtagh said from next to him.

He shook out of his daze, acting like he wasn't doing anything weird, "I like my bullocks, thank you."

Murtagh shook his head, "She wouldn't have that mutt if it wasn't for you, you know."

The men continue to work around and pack things away, "You and I both know she is a stubborn woman, if she wanted that dog enough she would have got it without myself or Ned mentioning a word."

"Coward," Murtagh whispered to Jamie.

"Damn right," he chuckled back.

You were working on the pups reactivity and word commands. While growing up you didn't get to have a pet, but your mother told you about when she raised dogs as a child. Your family moved around a lot, so having a pet wasn't in the cards. "Don't get too comfortable girl, we're going to be off soon," Angus barked at you from afar.

You turned around losing the smile on your face. With the time being away from the castle, you still hadn't earned much trust and you most definitely didn't give the men much energy. Outside of the pup, you were like a empty soul and it was coming to be more evident with every passing day. The dog plopped herself next to you watching Angus with her tongue out. Even Blythe was better respected and well liked by the men, even Angus though he'd deny it if anyone commented. Their acceptance of the dog made you more tolerant to their attitude and patriarchal manner. "Yes master," you bow.

"It's nice you are starting to learn your manners," he smirked back while making gestures towards the men.

With a deep inhale and low tolerance of attitude today you started to trudge towards your horse, "It was sarcasm, idiot," you grumbled.

He appeared to have the same tolerance of my attitude, "Watch your tongue girl or you'll get it cut off," Angus advanced forward while gripping his dagger.

Jamie and Murtagh were about to make a move when another man's voice appeared, "Everything alright miss," a British voice caught your attention.

Angus directed an aggressive response to the man. You turned to look at the man and in your daze started to register things about this man. He had a proper accent, boots, and his hair read a gentleman. He was clearly a British soldier and he could mean serious trouble. You turned to look at Jamie for a split second before charming a smile, "Excuse me sir," you asked, ignoring the comments from the other man to rile this man. This was not the time and place.

You could tell the tension with Dougal increased. He didn't trust what you would say, "I was asking if you were alright," he stepped forward again, ignoring the men behind you.

"Oh, I'm sorry you had to hear all that, sir. You shouldn't have had to hear a lady speak out of tune like that. It was very unbecoming of me," you looked embarrassed. Let's hope your acting skills are up to par. You ignored Murtagh mutter unbecoming to make fun of you, "It's just Angus here is a very, very, very," you paused to look at him, "Very distant cousin." You turn back to smile at the officer, "I sometimes gets so overwhelmed by his voice and tone I just lash out. I apologize," you put you hand on your heart. The dog looked up at you oddly, not recognizing your behaviors.

He smiled at you, not acknowledging the grumbling Scots behind you, "Not necessary, my lady I understand quite well actually." He bent down to scratch the puppy sitting in front of you, "I'm sorry your accent."

You scratch the back of you neck, "Right, I must sound so improper. I'm Y/N O'Mulligian. I came to visit some family here from the colonies at my brother's request. He said I could use some real life hard work. He likes to call me a debutante," you sent him a teasing smile.

Responding well to your story, he rises and smiles at you. A relief was lifted off your shoulders, you were almost past this moment when Dougal interrupted, "Enough," he shouted, "She is the guest of the clan MacKenzie and her business is none of yours." You clearly spoke too soon because the officers defenses shot back up.

"So off you go," Angus finished.

You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, "Are you sure you are alright, miss," he looked unshaking at you. He clearly felt so much privilege he did not care remotely about the strapping Scottish men standing around him. You wanted to smack yourself in the forehead how stupid these men had to be to not recognize the importance of this one man.

Dougal looked as if he was going to fight the man. You put your arm on his bicep to stop him, "Of course, good sir," you smile, "It's nice to know chivalry is not dead. I have more hard work to learn as you can see, it was very nice meeting you."

"Pleasure is all mine," he smiled back before frowning around the man watching this moment. He backed away into the blacksmith area to continue his work.

A minute passed by and you felt a firm grip on your arm drag you towards your horse, "It's best you didn't speak," Dougal scolded in your ear.

Anger surged through your body and it took every fiber of your being to say nothing. But as you were shoved onto your horse, you looked in the direction of the soldier and back at Jamie. You knew if you yelled it'd bring attention to Jamie, a fugitive to the English Army.

You continue to seethe on the ride. Blythe sat up, doing her best to see over the horses head to look ahead. "What's the dog's name," Jamie trotted next to you.

"Blythe," you muttered directly.

"What a cute English name," he emphasized on one word of his sentence.

You pulled back on your horse and halted, "Excuse me?"

He chose to stop with you, trying to not say directly what he'd like to say. It's been odd between you and Jamie. You weren't sure if you were pushing him away out of anger or fear, but none the less at this moment it appeared to be anger, "Nothing, it's a cute name."

A sarcastic laugh left your mouth, "No, no, you had a tone," the man halt to watch another scene unfold, "You clearly have something you want to add, some hidden message you feel you want to hide. Say it."

"Nothing, you seem to just like the English a bit more than an Irish Woman from the colonies I thought would," he said like his words meant nothing. It didn't matter the fact that maybe he felt jealous or he had a right to comment on any intention or likes you have. That comment engulfed your whole body into volcano, hell fire fiery.

Heat was written all over your face and Murtagh didn't have enough time cool down your fire with rationality, "The boy is just saying, you were awfully chummy with the Brit," Angus chimed in, "like a girl in heat."

And there goes Mt. St. Helen, "Un-Fucking believable, do you know how fucking dumb you are, like every single on of you are just egg head fucking dumb," you scream enough to make the echo quake the woods around you.

"Lass," Ned sent a warning your way.

Tears started to brim your eyes and Jamie knew he'd set you up to fail again. You point to Ned, clearly a man of reason, "That man back there," you continued to yell, "Was an English Officer out patrolling." You looked to Jamie and everything deflated in you. Everything from the past and the reality of your new world just collapsed in your soul, "I was trying to save you."

A sigh leaves your lips and you talk lightly while using your hands to emphasize your point, "Men are idiots and will always fall for charm, so I used mine to protect you all," you continued to go on, "Call me a hussy, I don't care. And that plan to charm the officer actually worked until you opened your trap, my lord," you bowed your head at Dougal. Something than broke in you, in that moment, you were exhausted at being angry. You had no more fight in you. You gave Jamie another look, "I was scared. I was trying to save you," you whisper.

Taking a deep breath, you dismounted from you horse, "Now where are you going," Angus shouted at you.

The anger stirred up again, spinning around to look at him, "To relieve myself, thank you," you speak loudly while stomping into the woods.

You knew what Dougal did to Jamie in the pubs and you weren't sure why. It wasn't much of your business, but you could see it chipping into Jamie. You were stuck again in your thoughts, give into this new world and let these people in or continue to bury who you knew you were inside a dark cave and never leave.

The ride to the next village was quiet, especially after finding Scottish men hung out on display. You wanted to vomit at the lack of humanity in the cruel act. If this was the normal the British did to Scots, I'm not all shocked of their lack of kindness and trust towards me. I'm sure I wasn't helping the matter either.

When you got to the pub, you chose to join in with the drinking. The owner made a bee line as Blythe trotted behind you and laid at your feet, "Lass, we do not let do-," he stopped mid sentence from the look you were giving him. You were sitting up straight, dead face.

"You were saying, sir," you answered curtly.

"What can I get for you miss," he finished instead.

"A pint of whatever, I am not picky," you said, resting your feet on the chair in front of you.

The men went a distance away from you, you imagine to process the thing they just witnessed. A man approached you with a smile on your face and you shake your head putting your other foot on a chair and shoving it away from your table. He quickly turn around, "You'd make more friends if you weren't so prickly."

Murtagh patted at the dog, "My expression and acts are nothing but kind, sir." He shook his head, "Plus, I don't need any more friends when I only need you."

He chuckles, looking at Jamie, "It was a kind thing you did with the soldier. I'll be the only one to admit, that was a good eye you have."

"Don't think much of it, it was also self preservation because I'm not a exactly the kind British soldiers have a keen sense to protect," the man brought you your pint and you started to drink while you viewed in your surroundings.

He pointed at you, "You like everyone to think you're this cold hearted she witch."

"Maybe I am those things," you said like it didn't bother me to have that reputation.

Murtagh shook his head, "You are quite the opposite lass and the only person you are hurting are you." You roll your eyes sighing as he looks at your with a smirk, "And maybe a red headed boy who I suspect would do anything to see you smile once again." You sit up straighter as Murtagh stands while looking at you, while gesturing to Jamie. He lifts his eyebrows speaking you the truth, "Don't think I only talk to you because your good company. I get sick of seeing the boy mope around with his worry for you. A single smile from you can set his day."

You glare at him as your cheeks warm red, "Mind your business."

When he walks away, you sit and continue to process your reality and options. Every now and again you catch a glance at Jamie. You could see his expression and the change in him over the last few weeks. You stand walking your glass over to the bar with Blythe walking behind you. You could tell Dougal was about to start his speech. He wouldn't need Jamie today if you guessed right. Those hanging men were part of this community they didn't need to see Jamie's scars. You leaned against a pillar near Jamie, "You alright," you asked him catching eyes with Murtagh.

You shake off his knowing look. Jamie stood up straight looking at you bewildered from the sudden change in your demeanor, "Are you talking to me?"

"Don't make it a thing, just answer the question," you whisper.

"Aye, I'm fine," he whispers back, glancing at you for a second too long into silence. He clears his thoughts, "If you don't mind me asking, what changed your mind with speaking to me?"

You smirk, "Murtagh paid me."

He shook his head, "Sure," he was trying to hold back a smile. Something appeared to pop up in his head, "Look Deoiridh, I'm sorry about."

"No," you stopped him, "Jamie, I'm stubborn and I don't know what I'm doing. I'm not from a place like this, so."

You noticed a change in his eyes when you said his name instead of Mr. MacTavish. This is where he stopped you, "I only want to help."

"Does that mean you agree I'm stubborn because Murtagh implied I was prickly earlier and that's why I don't make friends," you say while trying to hold back a grin.

He shook his head making his red hair shake with it, “You see comments like that are a trap and I will not be stepping on that one.”

“Smart man,” you say to him.

“And now a compliment, I might think you are wanting to be my friend again,” he whispered back with a smirk.

You see Dougal getting ready to do your speech, “I should be getting out of here and up to my room. I shouldn’t be down here when,” you stopped to look at Dougal, “Well good night.”

“Goodnight Y/N,” he whispered back.

“And Jamie, just for transparency sake, the jury is still out if we are friends,” he paused appearing to hold his breath. You offer a small smile, “I need you to walk over to Murtagh and tell him I was nice then I'll consider being your friend. You know for the sake of proving Murtagh wrong. It's the price you have to pay for my friendship.” And before he can respond, you and Blythe make your way upstairs.

[castielstwigandberries]

if the supernatural movie doesnt include a reference to

nevada and georgia turning blue, stop the count, destiel making putin resign, sherlock season 5 rumors, destiel news meme, which political person had to be briefed on what destiel is now?, jensen looks like he was holding back homophobic slurs, weird cuts in the confession scene, which way was dean thrown now?, bury your gays speedrun, gay angels get send to superhell/eeby-deeby/cas plinko, recognizing the confession scene only by the first letters of each word, 'homosexual declaration of love', The Tapes™ (Release them now jensen!!!), meta analysis after 15x18, 'i gripped you tight and raised you from perdition' callback as dean saves cas from the empty, why lamp?, onion field, pizza man montage, parallels be paralleling, dean screaming cas name so loud in one take that people heard it blocks away, dean offering to kill sam if it means chuck brings cas back, the 4 year old son of lucifer becoming god, chuck won theory, 'we explore the nature of destiel in act two', excitement for a long finale which could only be about dean saving cas, right?, the insanity inducing quotes of the day for episodes, 'the night we met' and 'angel with a shotgun' songs of the day on set, filming in a barn, worst finale ever (even worse than game of thrones), weirly short with 11 scenes cut, two thirds montages, carry on wayward son playinf twice, back to back, one a weird cover version, vampmimes, no cas in the finale but instead some random vampire from season one no one remembers, dean finally gets nailed from behind, dean dies from tetanus, party city wig, good cars go to heaven, Car/Cas and Biden/Bi!Dean/Bye!Dean, 'cas helped', blurry wife, misha and jensen are not in the thank you video, everyone was supposed to be at the roadhouse originally but no one was informed of those plans, walker backdoor pilot, covid/capitalism destroyed everything, misha was in vancouver for filming the last episodes and was in less episodes than he was contracted for, misha denies ever having been in vancouver, misha says originally he was supposed to be in the finale as jimmy, misha says cas was supposed to be in the finale and 'sidle up to dean in the roadhouse', heterosexual destiel whose kisses would have created entire universes, destiel reciprocated in spanish, rogue translator, #TheySilencedYou, Jensen Ackles sexy silence, jensen ackles longcon, deanbenny breakup in season 8 script leak, Heller Obama, fake italian dub, misha collins x bill clinton sex scandal, misha addressing the "scandal" and tagging bill clinton and monica lewinski, 'still beautiful, still dean winchester', mishapocalypse 2.0 and 3.0, 'eyes like the sky' beer from jensens brewery rumored to be misha description, cockles anniversay photo, chaos machine jensen ackles' production company, 'rainbow road' beer close to deans birthday, blue green ('destiel') shotglasses from jensen brewery, ash and ellen's actors roleplaying roadhouse reopening in twitter, people think they are planning destiel wedding, disappointment when thats not the case, fans celebrate Destiel Wedding anyway on Valentine's Day 2021, fallout with both actors after one said a 'queer interpretation would damage the integrity of the show',

*takes a deep breath*

jared calling cas junkless and comparing his love for dean to the love he has for his children, misha collins cameo including 'still beautiful, still dean winchester', saileen and midam wedding, spn prequel announcement and subsequent j2 fallout, '@/robbiethompson et tu brute wow. what a trully awful thing you've done #bravo you coward', the prequel being about the least favourite characters of supernatural and a love story disproved by canon, 100000 destiel fics on ao3, misha tweets about that, rumors if mishas secret ao3 account, real italian dub going 'you're kinda okay' instead of i love you, misha tweeting a video of him saying 'te amo' in response to that', jensen saying if there'd been more time he (he meant dean but he used first person pronouns) would have hugged cas and said 'i love you too', first anniversary, misha collins coming out as bisexual on accident and then saying he 'happens to be straight' three days later in a five post apology thread, hot sauce from adam/micheal actor advertised by him playing midam, casbaiting in the winchesters trailer, jarlos shipping by winchester main actors, dean with beard and turtleneck, jensen saying he wanted misha in the winchesters but it didnt work out because of scheduling conflicts but hed be there in a season two shortly before the show was cancelled, death of the rogue translator and destiel getting dragged to the trending page every time there is news

*panting* then i dont want it.

yes this is all i could remember without looking it up

[kairiscorner]

he's just the jealous type.

part i.

why was he always such an asshole? why was he always so distant when you need him, but always so critical when you're minding your own business? is it your fault you have such close friends? closer than he ever could be to you? who does he think he is?

he was always such a nerd, a loner, too; why does he have to shut you down like that?

well, little do you know how bad he actually feels for making you storm off. there's a all-consuming emptiness in the pit of his stomach that grows with every second the silence in the dorm gets louder and louder, reminding him that you aren't here.

he sighs and gets on his computer and does the one thing he knows little about: apologizing to you.

he doesn't apologize over text nor email, nor through a video—he isn't that much of a coward. instead, he prints out a long letter addressed to you, and he places it on your table. he knows you won't talk to him when you get back, so he decides to spare the two of you from the piercing awkwardness by leaving to get some dinner.

it's not even his favorite food that's on his mind right now, it's more so on yours. he sighs as he finds his feet taking him to your favorite takeout spot and already readying up payment for your favorite meal—his mouth about to order your favorite food while his mind is silently hoping that you've read the letter, and...

you'll realize that he didn't mean to hurt you.

but he wants you to know: he doesn't think those guys are worth your time.

"what's so good about those guys, anyway?" he mutters to himself aloud and scrunches up his nose, furrowing his thick brows. "i could be so much better than..." he stops mid-sentence when the cashier in front of him was looking at him weirdly.

he always had a habit of talking aloud to himself when he was feeling strong about something, or rather, about... you.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @hearts4gabri @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok @fictarian @yuridopted0 @simsrandomstuff @luvstarrstruck @popeheywardssecretgf @meeom @arachnoia @melovetitties @fable-library @ophanimgold @smokeywhalee @capnshtfce

[spiritedstars]

Spirit Meets the Bones - XXI

Genre: Angst/Romance/Drama Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse. Please Note: This chapter will contain physical violence with some implied language that may be triggering.

This chapter was previously part of chapter 20 and as I have been editing and reuploading the chapters, I have since decided to split chapter 20 into two. 

shoutout to @abruisedmuse for being my beta reader through it all ♥️

tagging: @climb-the-mountian / @vanserrass / @zenkindoflove / @readthelastpaage / @animezinglife / @positivewitch / @krem-does-stuff / @clockwork-ashes / @carolynmezzosoprano / @carnythian / @runningwiththeoceans / @secret-third-thing / @readychilledwine / @goldenmagnolias / @thedarkinmansfield / @mali22 / @maidr-00 / @electromagnetic-waves / @devilsfoodcake22 / @moonfawnx / @weesablackbeak / @ladywhilemia / @alohaangels / @eastofatlanta / @moobell55 / @bibliophiliaxvignette / @eachies / @feysandfeels / @thelovelymadone / @corcracrow / @dawneternal / @teddyhoneybear / @sinnerrsworld / @gracie-rosee / @stormycleric / @queenoftheworld1998 / @wolvesnravens / @theeternalstruggle / @the-midnightwriter / @illyrianvalkyrie / @that-golden-lyre / @ladystarrynight

Find it all here.

They were in the empty throne room this time. 

His father liked it when it was empty; the echoes it caused with each beating seemed to spur him on. Changing locations of his punishment was Beron’s way of keeping the trauma fresh. Made them hate their home a little more each time. As if his family needed any other reason to hate this place aside from having him reside in it.

Eris stood, his expression schooled to indifference and his hands clasped behind his back. His father had made him stand here in silence for what had felt like a decade but neither of them would say anything. Eris wouldn’t dare say a word before his father spoke. 

His father liked his games. 

Instead, he let his eyes wander around the room as his thumb tapped the back of his hand, not wanting to make eye contact with his father. He didn’t know if he could look at him without his anger bursting and Eris was already teetering on the edge today. The visceral need to be with his wife threatened to consume him, especially knowing that his father had brought him here for pain. Had wanted Iris here to witness it. Or likely worse. 

His mate. He should’ve told her before he left. But he had been a coward and an idiot and was now on the cusp of losing his mind completely if his father so much as mentioned her. 

So, he didn’t look at the High Lord. Instead, he glanced at the large windows and the light of the sunset shining through. It would be dark soon and Eris didn’t like being near his father in the dark.

It brought out the worst in him. He didn’t know how his mother had done it all these years.

“Where is your wife?” 

Beron’s question seemed to ricochet off the walls but Eris kept his gaze on the windows and kept his body as relaxed as possible, tapping his thumb to the back of his hand.

His eyes remained on the filtering sunlight as he asked, “What can I do for you, Father?”

“You are not the only person I requested to see.” Beron snapped. “Did your idiot brother not relay my message correctly earlier?”

A muscle flexed in Eris’s jaw, his fist clenching then relaxing at his back. “Finn conveyed your message verbatim, I assure you.”

“Then I ask again, where the fuck is your wife and why is she not with you at this very moment as requested?”

“My wife has retired for the evening. It has been a long day.” Eris replied blandly. “Again, what can I do for you, Father?”

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you, boy.” Beron snarled and finally, after taking a calming breath through his nose, Eris let his gaze meet his father’s. 

The High Lord’s face was flushed in anger and Eris knew to give his father a few moments. To wait until Beron sat back, until his anger melted into simple disdain.

Eris waited until the palpable violence had simmered down just a bit then calmly said, “I’m looking now, Father.”

“As you should’ve been the moment you walked in.” Beron spat and his eyes narrowed at his son. “I didn’t realize our windows were so interesting.”

“The sunset is always pleasant to see.” he only replied and Beron scowled.

“Why is your wife not with you?” 

Again, Eris fought back the urge to scream. To shout to the rooftops. He desperately fought the urge not to ram a sword in his father’s neck as he craved. He didn’t want his father to mention Iris, let alone be in the same room as her. 

He stayed quiet for a moment, the feeling of dread tightening in his chest. His father was going to drag this out. “I thought we had an understanding about my wife, Father.” he said and the clipped tone had Beron narrowing his eyes.

“An understanding.” His father repeated with a hum and Eris forced himself to keep that bored expression, to keep his face as bland as possible. “We did discuss this before, didn’t we?”

“Yes. We did.” 

“But…” his father began and Eris braced himself. “Things can change, can’t they?”

His fists clenched behind him and try as he might, he couldn’t stop the scowl from blooming on his face. “Father,” Eris tried, after another calming breath. “Is there a specific purpose to this conversation?”

Beron snorted, a finger tapping his knee as he gazed at his son. “Purpose of this conversation? I have to have a purpose to speak to my favorite son?”

The bastard was going to keep toying with him then. 

Eris gave his father a tight smile. “I am always at your service whenever you need me,” he said. “This matter seemed urgent.”

Beron gave Eris a small smile that had Eris tightening his fists even more. “Tell me about your day, son.” Beron continued, his tone conversational enough that it put Eris even further on edge. “How was the visit with your father-in-law?”

Eris blinked. His mind flashed to the panic that had coursed through his body — the panic that his wife had felt when she was alone with her abuser once more and he forced himself to take another silent breath. He smothered down the rage that had surged through at the mention of his piece of shit of a father-in-law and forced him to quirk a brow and pleasantly reply to his father, “It was productive.”

“Productive.”

The corner of Eris’s mouth lifted into a humorless smile. “I’d say Lord Aron and I bonded well.”

Beron let a beat of silence pass then quirked a brow. “Bonded, you say?” 

The humorless smile remained on Eris’s face as he tilted his head. “Yes.”

He waited in silence as his father watched him. 

Beron had never typically cared if Eris had gotten a little…unhinged when hurting someone. Usually, he encouraged it. But he wasn’t foolish enough to think that this time would be the same. 

Eris had hurt Aron for Iris and well, that simply wouldn’t do for his father. 

Cold anticipation filled the pit of Eris’s stomach as Beron stood from his throne and slowly descended the steps. Each step the High Lord took towards him matched the thump of his heartbeat and though Eris was used to it, had gotten used to his father’s mind games and fists, the tiny spark of dread never did go away. 

That tiny spark of dread fluttered in his chest as his father stopped in front of him. 

“Do you think you’re funny, son?” the High Lord asked and Eris only blinked, his expression as neutral as he could make it. 

“I have my moments to shine, Father,” he answered. “But please, let us get to this urgent matter you called me for.”

Beron chuckled dryly, his own hands clasped behind his back. “Impatient, are you?” he said quietly. “Eager to go back to your pretty little wife and leave my company.”

“It is always a privilege to be in your company, High Lord.”

Beron’s smile didn’t reach his eyes and he began to pace around Eris. “High Lord.” he repeated. “I am your High Lord, isn’t that right?”

Eris didn’t let his eyes leave his father, knowing he was trying to unnerve him. “Yes.”

“And you respect your High Lord, yes?”

“Of course.”

“Then tell me,” Beron began and paused with his back to his son. “Why do you find it so easy to embarrass me?”

And there it was. Eris thought to himself. Of course, his father would spin Bertillon’s disrespect this way. He smothered down his annoyance and resisted the strong urge to send every inch of his flame to tear his father to shreds. It would be so easy. He had been so pent up lately, even with this morning and ripping into Aron, it had barely done much. He was too on edge. So he’d dance this little dance with his father until they got to the end. He opted for a confused tone as he asked, “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, Father. I would never knowingly do that.”

Another dry chuckle left his Father’s lips and he turned to face Eris. “You say that and yet…How do you think it looks when my associate, who is your father-in-law, is found barely breathing and broken in so many places he is barely recognizable?” Beron said and the softness with which he spoke made the hair on the back of Eris’s neck rise. “How do you think I felt when I was asked about it and had no idea what to say?”

He would gladly flay Bertillon’s skin over and over again until nothing was left. He wouldn’t even hesitate. Instead, Eris breathed through his nose once more, trying not to let his nostrils flare, giving his father a thin smile. 

“Is that what all this is about?” he said and forced a chuckle. “You told me to give him a warm welcome. I only followed your suggestion, Father.”

Beron’s eyes narrowed and Eris braced himself, waiting for the blow to come for his tone. A heartbeat passed in silence before Beron tsked and shook his head.

“You must not have heard about the whispers filling the halls.”

���I don’t listen for mindless chatter, Father.” 

“I see.” Beron said and the High Lord watched his son for a moment before adding, “And you think what you did was acceptable?”

Eris raised a brow. “And what exactly is it that I did that would be deemed unacceptable?”

“You tell me.”

Eris couldn’t help the way his face pinched in disdain. “Your associate overstepped his boundaries with me,” Eris said flatly. “And as you know, I do not take that lightly.”

“Hmm.” was all his father said and continued to watch him. It was a moment before he waved a hand and said, “And you think the way you left him was…appropriate?”

Eris knew his gaze had hardened as he stared at his father but his mind had again gone back to the panic and fear Iris had felt. To the bruises that had appeared on her lovely skin. To the slight hesitation she had felt going back into their rooms after their outing. 

The fact that Eris had left him alive was the only inappropriate thing about this. He would’ve cut off each of his fingers slowly and made Aron wear them as a pretty necklace. Then he would’ve sliced off both his arms. Burned him from the inside out. Eris had many ideas on what he could do differently had he been given free rein over his father-in-law but Iris had stopped him. He would leave that particular kill for his wife. 

Eris flicked an invisible piece of lint off his jacket and finally said to his father. “That piece of shit walked into my space, a space he did not have permission to be in, and put his hands on my wife. My wife. For no other reason than because he wanted to and you find my reaction to this unacceptable?” he said sharply. “Other than the fact that she is now a princess of this court who outranks him in every way, he is too bold and too comfortable with his own stupidity and that is a problem for me. A problem I will have no issues eradicating should he continue to overstep with what belongs to me.”  His expression shifted to disdain. “The only reason he’s still breathing is that I didn’t want the blood to ruin my carpet.” 

“Is that right?”

Eris tensed and met his father’s gaze again. “Yes. That is right,” he said tightly and then furrowed his brows. “Forgive me, Father, but I am having trouble understanding why this trivial thing is being brought to your attention. Surely a business associate is less important than your daughter-in-law?”

Beron scowled at his son. “The only reason she is my daughter-in-law is because of her father.”

Eris ran his tongue over his teeth to prevent himself from lashing out. After a breath, he continued, “What exactly does he do for you, father? That he gets such leeway? Such attention from you?” Eris asked with a raised brow. “Other than stealing from our coffers, I don’t see what exactly he does to deserve a single question.”

“He doesn’t steal. I pay him.” Beron snapped and Eris resisted the deep urge to roll his eyes. “And he delivers.”

“You mean those backend deals done in the dark? The smuggled goods you could get with a proper trading deal if you’d let me negotiate with the Day Court?”

“I will not enter any trade deals with that pompous filthy piece of shit who plays at High Lord.” Beron snarled and Eris tensed. “This business agreement doesn’t include you, boy. You got your little wife out of this arrangement. Mind your business and focus on what you did.” 

“How can I mind my business when our lack of trade deals tightens supplies for everyone around the court?” he said. “We can do better than this piece of shit. Let me —”

A wall of fire slammed into Eris so fast that he barely had a moment to protect himself, staggering back a few steps. Slowly Eris looked up at his father in disbelief.

“You would hurt me for that lowlife?”

“I hurt you for the disrespect you’re showing me.” Beron snapped and stepped closer to his son. “I hurt you for the same reason I’ve had to beat some sense into you in the past — because you refuse to obey and have the nerve to challenge me.”

Eris could only stare at his father. The male he had once admired and loved so, so long ago. Someone he had wanted to make proud. Someone he had cared about. Until the monster had come out in full force. And yes, there had been moments with Mor and Jesminda and his own mother when the monster had made an appearance, when the dark side of his father had found an outlet for release…but it wasn’t until the nightmare that was Under the Mountain that had warped his father to the point of no return. Until the nightmare of Under the Mountain became the nightmare of their jeweled forest. Until their own court had become a court of nightmares and Beron thrived on spite, cruelty, and rage.

Eris let out a humorless laugh then nodded. “Of course, Father. My apologies for ensuing your wrath,” he said and placed a hand over his heart. “What can I do to amend my mistake?”

Beron backhanded him and though Eris had anticipated this blow, had let it happen, the sting didn’t hurt any less. But the sooner his Father smacked him, the sooner this would be over. 

“Apologize.” 

Eris nodded, running his tongue over his teeth once more and letting the sting of the blow remind him why, when the time came, he would let his father die a brutal death and feel no remorse.

“Of course, Father. My apologies to you,” he said. “The next time I decide to beat the shit out of someone, I’ll be sure to notify you immediately.”

His father’s hand wrapped around his throat and he yanked Eris closer to him. “You watch that tone, boy.” Beron seethed. “Ever since that fucken wife of yours came into your life, you suddenly think you’re above the way I treat you. You think being married means something.”

“Should I be following your example of what a marriage is supposed to look like, Father?” Eris said tightly and Beron squeezed. “You seem to enjoy being a husband.”

“Keep this up, your wife won’t have a husband much longer.”

“Your threats are noted, High Lord.” 

Beron glared at Eris and with a noise of disgust shoved him away. His father turned away from him, facing the throne and Eris took the moment to glare at his back openly. He straightened his jacket and brushed back his hair fighting the urge to snap his father’s neck. He noted the slight trembling in his hands and clenched his fists so hard, that Eris was surprised he hadn’t snapped his own bones. His anger was building and if he didn’t get an outlet, he was going to burst. But he kept his eyes on his father’s back and neutralized his expression, even if he was moments away from sliding his sword into his spine.

He waited again, the only sound that Eris could hear was the pounding of his own blood, anticipating what his father would say or do next. He almost wanted the beating to start so he could get it over with but had to remind himself over and over and over again that with his father, he had to pick and choose his battles. He had to be mindful of how much he pushed because Beron would not hesitate to hurt anyone he cared about. His mother especially. Beron delighted in making sure his sons knew whenever he laid a hand on her. 

They needed to get her out. 

The thought had barely left his mind when Beron finally turned to face his son again.

“You disappoint me.” 

Eris said nothing. If anyone had any right to be disappointed, it was him. Disappointment for all that could’ve been. Disappointment for the life they’d had to lead when it didn’t have to be that way. 

“Would you like me to apologize for that as well, Father?” Eris asked and desperately tried to rein in the sneer he knew his father had heard anyway.

The High Lord merely looked at him with a snort then waved his hand towards the side doors of the throne room. “No. I think I’ll correct that behavior in other ways.” he said. “But before I do that, you have one more apology to make.”

Eris’s brows furrowed in confusion as he glanced at his father who only gave him a cruel smile.  He warily shifted his gaze to where Beron had pointed and immediately froze as rage scorched his body. He forced himself to breathe slowly and keep his hands behind his back. He stared, knowing that the male whose death was already carved out in stone could sense every threat Eris sent his way. 

Lord Aron had made his way into the room and Eris fought back every demon, and prayed to any of the gods listening to help him maintain control. A small sense of satisfaction broke through the rage and coursed through him at the way Aron limped his way towards them but rage — his rage would always win at the mere sight of him. He narrowed his eyes at his father-in-law, who stumbled at the sight of Eris. The Lord had the decency to pale beneath his mountain of bruises. 

“You healed quicker than I thought.” Eris allowed himself to say. “It seems I was too kind to you, Bertillon.”

Despite the fear coming off him in waves, his father-in-law still managed to glare at him. “You call this kind?” he wheezed. “I was lucky your father found me sooner than later and sent healers my way.”

“Lucky,” Eris said with a snort. “Or a waste of time because the chances of you leaving my sight with functioning legs are very slim.”

Aron paled further and looked to Beron. “I — I thought it would only be my daughter here, High Lord.” Aron stuttered.  “My daughter apologizing on her knees would be enough. I don’t expect the prince to grant me any form of respect after this morning.”

Eris let out a harsh laugh and then turned to his father. “My wife will be apologizing to no one, much less this piece of shit.” he snarled.  

Eris turned back to his father-in-law and the savage rage he had felt breaking his bones was resurfacing as the room had heated again. “I thought I made myself very clear about your involvement with your daughter. The moment she became my wife, she was no longer your problem.” And without so much as a blink, Eris’s fire shot out to gag his father-in-law, then bring him forcefully to his knees. “I don’t want to hear you speak while I’m in the room. You are barely given permission to breathe while I’m in the room. I warned you only earlier today and you are still saying the wrong things in front of me.”

His cold gaze met Aron’s widened ones. “It seems you didn’t learn your lesson the first time.” he said softly and then glanced back at his father. “I’m going to break his legs, Father.”

Beron ignored the noise of outrage that Aron choked out and narrowed his eyes to his son. Eris simply glanced back. Of all the things he thought his father would drag him in here for, reprimanding him for this vermin was not one of them. But Eris would be damned if he let Bertillon get away with any of it.

He knew he never mattered to his father. None of them really did. But to bring someone else into the mix, to witness what happened between them was new. 

Father and son looked at one another in the thick silence, the tension suffocating. 

“Now now, son,” Beron began in a placating tone that had Eris sneering. “He is family after all. We need to behave better than that.”

Eris snorted at the irony of his father’s words. “My family is a very limited amount of people and this fucker is not one of them.” he snapped and turned to glance in his disgust at Aron. “He is nothing and no one.”

“Eris.” Beron snapped and he slowly turned to look at his father. “You will release him and then you will apologize for your brutish behavior.” 

A humorless laugh slipped from Eris’s lips before he could stop it and without leaving his father’s gaze, his magic shot out and snapped Aron’s right leg at the knee. He smiled at the howl of pain and the sound of his body falling back.

Beron scowled. “That’s not what I asked you to do.”

Eris shrugged with as much nonchalant air as he could muster through his anger. “It’s what I heard.”

With that statement, it seemed that Beron had reached his limit with his son. The High Lord’s face darkened and he pointed one finger at his son. “You will apologize to your father-in-law now.”

Eris couldn’t help the cold smile on his lips, couldn’t help how he’d loosened the damper on his magic and rolled his neck back, then met his father’s gaze. “Apologize? Of course. You’re right, Father.” he said and Eris knew his control was slipping, his tone a little unhinged, a little guttural. “I will gladly apologize.” 

Before his father could stop him, Eris stalked over to Aron still semi-broken on the floor, every step had flames licking at his heels. His father-in-law let out a muffled cry of pain as Eris’s magic shot out again, breaking his other leg at the knee. Yanking him by his hair, Eris crouched and leaned towards Aron.

“This seems familiar, doesn’t it.” he said softly and savage satisfaction coursed through him at the sight of Aron’s face. “I warned you earlier, didn’t I? I did. Yet here you are, still stupid and still saying the wrong things.” 

Eris shoved his head back and then gripped him by the neck. “Your earlier bruises have barely begun to heal and you seem to itch for more of them.” Squeezing tight, fire blazing in his eyes, he leaned close enough to see the white of Aron’s eyes. “To quote what you said to my wife earlier, I can say the words all you want but I will never mean them.” Eris seethed and slammed a fist of fire into Aron’s face. “I am only sorry that I left you alive. I am only sorry that I didn’t leave you in pieces and feed you to my hounds…but then again, they would never eat something as disgusting as you. You’d be too vile for even the likes of the Attor.” 

Lord Aron made a choked noise that had Eris chuckling darkly. He knew his father was still in the room but he barely heard a word with the ringing in his ears, the pumping of his blood. He wouldn’t let Iris near any of them, would never let anyone dream of demeaning his wife. He crouched closer and spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, “I told you, you may be in the High Lord’s pocket but not in mine. Test me again, Bertillon, I dare you.” 

Pulling back only slightly, Eris’s grip tightened around Aron’s neck once more. “Is that a good enough apology for you, Bertillon? Please tell me so my father here can be satisfied.”

Aron gave a vague resemblance to a nod, barely conscious. Turning slightly and dragging Bertillon with him by the throat, Eris smiled darkly at his father. “You see? My father-in-law- forgives me.” he said sweetly and then glanced down at Aron again, lowering his voice once more to add, “Your death day has already been marked. Tread lightly.”

Letting him drop unceremoniously to the floor, Eris slowly stood and dusted off his hands. He forced himself to take a silent breath, roll back his shoulders, and let some of the tension in his body go before he could face his father once more. That Beron had allowed Eris to go this far only meant that he was going to pay and pay dearly. He straightened his jacket and finally glanced at his father. “I assume we’re finished with this situation here?”

Beron slowly glanced at Aron’s slumped body, at the blood smeared on the ground, and then back at Eris. “You disobey me so openly.”

Eris shook his head, anger once more coursing through his body. Everything about his fucken father was always about him. He gave the High Lord a cold smile. “It was you who taught me that we don’t apologize to anyone. I am merely what you made me, Father.”

A pregnant silence filled the room and Eris forced himself again to calm down. His own power was one card he kept close to his chest and it would do him no favors to unleash himself now. He would need it for a later time.

“I could have your wife dragged in here and force her to her knees until both of you do as I ordered.” Beron mused. 

Eris shook his head and let his gaze fall to his father-in-law yet again, half dead on the floor. Too many people were too obsessed with his wife. It would only get worse when they knew she was his mate. 

His mate. That his father kept threatening. 

Eris hid the slight tremor of his hands by clasping them behind his back once again. “You could do that, Father. But this day would end very, very badly for everyone involved.” 

“Is that a threat, boy?”

This little dance they did had never gotten this far. Eris had rarely defied Beron but to do it in front of someone else changed the game. Made it more dangerous. Their interactions had rarely ever been about anything else but humiliation and power and while he had shown his cards in other conversations…today was different. Today, Eris knew he had crossed a line. 

So he shrugged, willing as always, to take the brunt of his father’s wrath. “It is a fact, Father.”

Beron watched Eris and uncomfortable silence washed over them, making Eris tense, bracing himself as his chest tightened. 

“You see, this is what I was afraid of,” Beron said in a voice that promised the violence Eris had been anticipating and he straightened. “Not only do you play your games but you’ve made the mistake of getting attached to your wife.” 

Eris barely held back a snarl and instead, forced himself to take a deep breath and then dust off his jacket. This was getting fucken ridiculous. “If that will be all,” he said through clenched teeth. “I will be retiring for the night.”

But Eris had barely moved a step when his father’s magic lashed out, halting him in place. Another breath had him forced to his knees. “You will leave when I allow you to leave,” Beron said and it was the voice of the High Lord, the one that terrified his people into submission, the voice that haunted Eris’s dreams on the dark nights. 

He was locked in place by his father’s magic, his arms stuck to his sides with his back to his father and it was a position that had that flutter of dread flare to life in his chest. He couldn’t turn his head and had to swallow against the footsteps of his father coming closer. 

“You dare speak to me the way you do. You dare disobey and challenge me, especially in front of another.” the High Lord’s voice carried. “All for who? Your wife?”

Beron finally stopped right behind his son and Eris knew the yank was coming as Beron nearly snapped his neck, pulling his head back. He fought back every instinct in him not to flinch as his father’s hand tightened in his hair. 

“I thought I taught you not to be controlled by a pretty cunt.” he continued and Eris fought back his snarl as he glared up at his father. “I thought I made it clear that if I find your wife to be distracting you or that you weren’t controlling her, she would be easily replaceable.”

Beron shoved Eris’s head, letting go and Eris closed his eyes for a moment. A dangerous move with his father standing so close but he could already feel the room heating, was already choking back on his magic that wanted to rip from his throat and kill the male in front of him. He would kill and kill and kill. He would fill this hall with blood if he didn’t get it under control. After a breath, Eris swallowed his anger and opened his mouth to answer but his response died in his throat when he saw his father’s sentries drag his father-in-law out and bring in something he hadn’t seen in a while. 

His father usually used his fists or his magic. His words could cut as easily as his blade when he was lashing out. But this…his father saved this for special occasions and Eris knew as his heart started thundering in his chest, that his father might leave his wife alone but he sure as fuck would make Eris pay for it.

His mouth went dry as the sentries placed the flogging pole in the middle of the throne room and began setting it in place, only a mere foot away from him. 

“What do you think son? Should I bring your little Iris here? Tie her up. Break her a little.” Beron mused and Eris’s heart stuttered in his chest, the fire in his veins turned to ice.

“I hardly think that’s necessary.” he said tightly. 

Beron’s chuckle made gooseflesh erupt on Eris’s skin and he tilted his head to give his son a cruel smile. “Her father mentioned something about the two of you earlier. Something seemed off during his visit.” the High Lord mused. “Is your wife not satisfying you, son? Do you need someone to fuck her for you? Break her in a little bit?”

Blind rage flared through Eris’s body and he nearly snapped himself in half trying to break out of the hold his father’s magic had him in. But Beron only laughed at Eris’s wild snarl. 

“You don’t like that?” The High Lord taunted. “It doesn’t have to be me this time, of course. But there is no shortage of males in the Vanserra line who could deal with her if you don’t like her. You do have three brothers.”

“That is enough.” Eris would kill him. He would skin him alive and tear his father apart limb by fucken limb if he so much as looked at his wife. 

Beron gripped Eris’s chin tightly and forced him to meet his gaze. “Her father also happened to mention that he used to leave delicious bruises all over her as well. Do you do that too?” 

Eris’s breath stopped altogether as his father leaned in. “Should I give her some to match yours?” Beron said softly. “Do you think she’d like a different Vanserra hand bruising her alongside a different Vanserra cock?”

“Beron.”

Eris snapped his head as his heart leapt into his throat, his magic going numb at the sight of his mother striding towards them and the Lady of Autumn was seething, steam licking each of her steps.

“Leave him alone.”

“Mother.” 

His mother ignored him as she glared at the High Lord who narrowed his eyes at his wife and Eris knew he would beg like never before. He would plead with everything he had for his mother to leave. He would let his father skin him alive if she’d just walk away from this unscathed. 

“What are you doing here, dear?” Beron asked, his tone so polite it made Eris want to vomit at his feet. “This is a conversation between my son and I.”

“This isn’t a conversation, this is a punishment.” Enya snapped. “One he does not deserve and you should not be giving.”

“Telling me what to do, are you, Lady Enya?” the High Lord asked and Eris felt a slight panic bubbling. He couldn’t stand to watch. He couldn’t see it happening again and again.

“Mother.” Eris called again and she met his gaze. “There is nothing to worry about. Please leave.”

“I will not leave!” she spat. “You plan to hurt your son for what? For what, Beron?”

“Watch that fucken tone, Enya.” Beron snarled. “Your son and his tone have already tested my limits today. Don’t push me or it’ll be you I bring here next.”

“No.” Eris immediately snarled and pulled against his father’s magic, still binding him in place. “Mother, it’s fine — please,  please leave.”

Enya’s eyes snapped to her son and Eris watched her chest rise and fall, her breathing hard and Eris could see the slight steam coming from her fingers now. If she didn’t watch herself, she would unravel, and then Beron would know — he would know what they’d been working on. He’d know she’d been healing and all their work would’ve been for naught. The High Lord would just find new ways to break her.

“Mother.” Eris said more firmly. “It will be fine. Go.”

“It will not be fine.” she seethed and Eris hated the way her bottom lip trembled as she turned back to Beron. “This is not the way. Don’t do this. Leave him be. He has done nothing wrong.”

“You.” Beron sneered and took a step towards hers. “You are the reason he’s so soft and I am sick of it. Leave now and I will deal with you later.”

“Don’t you —” Enya began and stumbled back a step with a small gasp as Beron backhanded her and Eris felt himself leave his body as she turned to glare at the High Lord. “How dare you.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Beron snapped. “Get the fuck out of here or I swear to the gods you won’t be able to use your limbs for the next week.” 

“Mother, look at me.” Eris nearly screamed then demanded again, “Look at me.”

And Eris wanted to die at the sight of all the rage and all the frustration in her eyes as she looked at him. He wanted to throw up at the red blotches marring her cheek. 

“I will be fine. Father and I are just having a conversation,” he said calmly. “Then it will be over and things will be perfectly normal tomorrow morning.”

“Eris —”

“Mother.” he cut her off, desperate for her to leave before Beron changed his mind and tied her up here anyway. “Please do as Father says. Goodnight.”

Enya’s chest continued to rise and fall as she took a breath, looking at her son and Eris wished he could have killed his father years ago, just to avoid the hurt in her expression. She turned back to her husband and though hatred shined so clearly on her face, she swallowed and said the one word Eris hated to hear from her, “Please.”

“Don’t.” Eris almost begged but Enya stepped closer to her husband.

“Please don’t do this.” 

Beron merely stared at his wife with disdain and then scoffed. “You can beg me later. After you apologize properly,” he said then waved her away with a sneer. “Get out.”

Revulsion marred the beautiful face of Lady Enya as her mouth trembled and with fisted hands, she spat at the High Lord’s feet. “You disgust me.” she whispered venomously.

The High Lord glanced down then smiled coldly at his wife. “You will pay for that.”

“I already did.” she said and glanced once more at her son. “I have never stopped paying for it but I will not leave.”

Eris swallowed and he wished the floor would open up and swallow him whole. He wished and wished but could do nothing else as his father stalked over to his mother and yanked her by the throat.

“Father —”

But Beron’s flame wrapped around his mouth and gagged him. He could only watch in horror as whatever his father was saying into his mother’s ear, too low for him to hear, had her face pale. He could only watch his parents stare at each other and rage silently until Beron shoved his mother away from him and said once more, 

“Get out.”

His mother shot Beron one last look of disgust before she turned to Eris, her mouth once again trembling in rage but she straightened. “I’m sorry.” she said gently. “I’m so sorry.”

Eris shook his head as he watched her reluctantly leave. She would never have anything to be sorry for. He would never blame her. She had stayed for them and endured for them and he would never let her apologize for anything his monster of a father did.

His father finally waved a hand and Eris let out a breath. 

“That was unnecessary, Father. You didn’t —” 

But Beron’s magic slammed into Eris once more, choking him as Beron watched him with dead eyes. 

“You once told me what happens between you and your wife is your business.” Beron said too calmly. “The same applies to my wife and I. Don’t worry about your mother. We’ll only have a nice chat before bed.” 

“Father —” Eris wheezed but Beron cut him once more, the High Lord’s magic closing off his airway. 

“No more words from you.” Beron said and with a wave of his hand, dragged Eris across the floor to the flogging pole. “It’s been a while. You seem to have forgotten yourself, son. So let me remind you why I am your High Lord and you do as I say regardless of how you feel about it.” 

His father leaned in close as Eris’s arms were forced up and he couldn’t help the hate in his eyes as the High Lord smiled down at him. “Now…let’s give you a whole new look, shall we?”  Beron said softly. “We’ll see what your pretty wife thinks of you then.”

[essie-essex]

I was tagged by @antlered-vixen to post a WIP! Thanks so much!!

This was supposed to be for the "Pride" entry for Fang Fest, but I'm tired out from the new job, and my brain is sludge right now, so I have no idea when I'll finish this.

“Know that I will not tolerate any so-called 'Tremere of House Carna' to reside or operate within the same city as my chantry, which answers to the loyal House Tremere.” As Asha's tone darkened, the air seemed to grow heavier. “They are traitors. Is that who you want to serve the Camarilla? Traitors? If they found it appropriate to betray their own clan, do you really think they won't betray you?”

Kwon and (name tbd) met eyes, sharing a long look before answering.

“You are correct, Regent,” said (name) before turning to Maureen. Kwon stayed silent. “I regret to inform you that we will be staying with House Tremere for our, ehm, magical services.”

Maureen's head shook violently.

“Cowards! All of you.” She pivoted toward Asha, marking her with a scowl. “Are you really going to let her bully you into carrying out her will? Why are you all so afraid of her?” she hissed.

The others looked on silently, the atmosphere growing cooler by the second. A few nervous glances here and there followed, but no one spoke. They knew why.

Asha stepped forward slowly, her voice low.

“I am... sorry, Miss (last name). It seems you are a bit too young to understand. However, this is a good time for you to remember your former lessons and respect the wishes of your elders. Do as you are told, Adepta.”

Maureen nearly spat, her face twisted with anger.

“This is all bullshit. You think I don't know that you barely accepted House Tremere's terms before. You didn't even like the Regent. Now House Carna comes to you with a better offer, and you turn it down? All because of her?” She pointed to Asha. “It isn't respect that keeps you from taking the better deal.”

“No matter the reason,” Kwon finally interjected. “I have given you my answer, Miss (lastname). Respect it and move on.”

“And if we don't?”

The Prince sighed, an empty look in his eyes.

“Then I cannot protect you.”

“You're the Prince,” Maureen hissed.

“I will not interfere in the business of Clan Tremere.” He said the words slowly, enunciating each syllable as he locked eyes with the angry kindred standing before him. “I thank you for your inquiry, Miss (lastname), but the Camarilla in Sorrow's Heart will continue to work solely with Regent Mariam and House Tremere.”

I tag: @medeaft @porcelainseashore @qadiral-asmaimylove @thelongestway and anyone else who wants to do this!

[thegreatobsesso]

OC confession tag

Tagged by @space-writes 🤩

So this comes almost at the very of the first book of the Insuppressible Electra Ray duology, and hints upon the title. :)

Simon POV

“Why don’t you just ask him? Bell knows, he can tell you.”  “He’s not you,” the judge said slowly in a tone suited for the child she was behaving like. “Ms. Ray, in all my decades of practice I’ve never heard a defendant less eager to reduce their sentence.”  “There won’t be a sentence, you can’t do anything to me.”  “Just say it,” Simon blurted. “For Christ’s sake, Electra, just tell them.”  His outburst drew too many eyes for comfort, but their connection was killing him - he felt her cornered, terrified, lashing out wildly and stupidly at anything that came close. Delaying the inevitable. Even now, glaring at him like he'd done something wrong. Oh, she wanted a battle of wills in front of this entire crew? He'd stare her down until his eyes fell out. “Have you got something you’d like to get off your chest, Mister Bell?” Judge Baker asked.  “No, she does,” he said plainly. “Say it. Now.”  Honestly, he'd expected her to spew a bit of vitriol in his direction from the stand or at least send her best attempt at a telepathic stabbing, but all at once she squirmed in her seat and became inexplicably small. "I'm a piece of shit," she murmured, casting an empty gaze at the concrete floor. "There, I said it. I fucking killed him by accident 'cuz I'm an idiot and then I ran away 'cuz I'm a coward and then nobody found me because I'm just fucking lucky. And then, they started calling me an evil genius or a dangerous sorceress or whatever, and I liked that better than what I was, so I just, took it.” She leveled a scowl at Judge Baker. “If you were as shitty as me you’d do the same. All of you would. You have no fucking idea what it's like to be this way." wrong, wrong, wrong in a way nobody can fix, wrong in a way that's not sexy or gritty or interesting it's just EMBARRASSING and it's all my fault I did it to myself I did it to myself and I'm so ANGRY and NOBODY CAN- Ten years of practice with his power and it was all he could manage to reduce it to a dull roar. A look passed between the judge and the warden, an entire silent conversation.  “Here’s what’s going to happen,” the judge said, his head bowed. “To the public, Ms. Ray has been exonerated. Extenuating circumstances of an undisclosed nature changed the shape of the case, and the original verdict is reduced to involuntary manslaughter. I will not have people thinking we’ve set a monster loose.”  Electra was barely listening. Her murder conviction was a prized possession and she wanted to keep it. This hearing was one thing but soon everyone would know and - And he pulled back out. Back into the room. “This is not a free pass for life,” the judge continued, oblivious to her turmoil in a way Simon dearly envied. “If you so much as put a toe out of line again, we’ll hold another hearing like this one, incarcerate you again for as long as we can, admit the truth to the public that a new breed of magician exists that cannot be suppressed, and start a panic. Look at me, Ms. Ray,” he demanded, his voice booming off the cell block walls. “I don’t want that to happen, do you?”  She frowned begrudgingly. "No."

Tagging @foxboyclit, @winterandwords, @andthebubbles, @zmwritesand :)

+ the Electra Ray taglist for good measure!

👠 💄 🥀 💋 🍒

@avrablake​ @adie-dee​ @dontjudgemeimawriter​ @ryorine​ @thelaughingstag​ @winterandwords​ @afoolandathief​ @asomeoneperson​ @cedar-west​ @diphthongsfordays​ @lowslore​ @poetinprose​ @cilly-the-writer​​​​​​​​ @harps-for-days

[seneitut]

‘‘Redemption’‘

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

[Yoru/F!Reader][Slight Gekko/Reader(?)]

Words: 10K

Tags: Fluff, break-up, jealousy, introspection, technicality of the game (Wanted to play with the AFK idea oopsie), NSFW +18, handjob, oral sex, teasing, dom/sub undertones, vaginal sex, more fluff, aftercare.

[Sorry for the wait, I had matters to take care of before posting this and, as you can see, is literally the longest fanfic I’ve written so far so I had to make a lot of revisions before posting it.]

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

A few weeks later, Gekko breaks up with you.

Sudden and quick, from what he's been told.

Is surprising how fast the news travels within the few agents who are interested in something so mundane as gossiping inside the protocol. And Yoru is certain he wouldn't indulge in it if it weren't for Jett's loud mouth and perfect timing to witness the event unfolding in front of her very eyes.

The part where she decides Yoru should be the first to get the news was out of his control. Jett made sure the gossip was spread around like wildfire, starting with him and consequently Phoenix, to later on be told to Raze and Killjoy, and like dominoes, it all went downhill.

You didn't deserve something this personal to be vented out like it was nothing, and while he reprimanded Jett for being so careless and stupid for breaking your trust, her apologies wouldn't quell what has already been burnt.

What were the reasons? He asks himself that night. Why did this happen?

There is a faint clink between the tools he switches from hand to hand, discarding the one he doesn't need at the moment, before he goes back to fixing his bike. 

The loose screws and the heavy puffs of breath he exhales are the only sounds accompanying him in the empty room, too deep in thought and simply mulling over what developed in the conversation that culminated in your relationship with Gekko.

Is unhealthy of him to think about your love life when he has nothing to do with it; but Yoru is nothing but a curious human, and as flawed as he might be, the need to know nags him unceasingly. 

Yoru wonders if you ever told Gekko what transpired between you two that night. And if so, wouldn’t he understand that he was the one to take advantage of you? Yoru initiated the approach. He kissed you without asking for your permission—and while it is true that he acted upon impulses and you miraculously reciprocated, he is still to blame and be taken accountability for complicating things.

But if that wasn't the case, if you decided to keep the secret of your little moment of weakness and passion to yourself, has Gekko been planning this beforehand and simply decided to toy with your feelings for this long? Because that wouldn't make any sense.

Gekko has always acted like you were his everything; his light, his moon, his whole world. Gekko always made sure to let everyone know how much he was in love with you, much to Yoru's chagrin, and has been your personal cheerleader at everything since day one.

And now, he decides he's tired of it and breaks up with you without any explanation?

How fucking dare him.

The man is stupid for letting go who could possibly be the strongest and kindest person he's known; just what the fuck was he thinking to break your heart like this? Wasn’t he boasting about your amazing relationship a couple of weeks ago? What changed? Why was he backing off like a coward?

The shock about the separation turns into confusion, which soon boils into pure anger sizzling from the inside of his heart.

Anger is a very known feeling to him, an acquaintance to his impulses when he was younger. When he used to fall under his emotions with no regards to whoever received them, it got him into trouble more often than not, sometimes to the point he would wake up in a hospital bed after a bad beating against Tokyo’s gangs or whoever dared to mess with him.

Was it worth falling under those impulses again, when he has come far and grown from those times?

It is not his place, in truth, to be this angry. You are nothing to him, a friend at most after all. Should he be reeling in anger just because someone hurted you?

No, but he does it anyway.

Inside the rift, everything has its place. Time, space and matter all have their purpose set straight unlike him, who doesn’t really belong in this dimension and he bends them to his liking. When he goes through it, his body feels like it sinks underwater, although his movements are not deterred despite the feeling, it gets overwhelming if Yoru stays for too long. 

Omen has once mentioned how it feels to leave a part of himself everytime he goes through the rift, does it hurt? Can he feel himself tearing apart? He doesn’t, he doesn’t feel any sort of pain, and Yoru wonders if that should concern him or shall not be too worried.

But no matter, that is of no importance right now.

It doesn’t take long for him to find Gekko while running through the base, the tip of his fingers tingling with the want to release some steam and chest heaving with anger seeping off of him. 

Gekko is lounging at the range with Reyna by his side. His whole posture is slouched, head between his hands and avoiding Reyna’s gentle but confused expression.

Both are lucky he doesn’t carry a weapon or else a crime would have taken place at the base. He's bluffing, of course, because he wouldn't dare to harm others severely. 

Yoru wishes he could, though.

For the time being, he will remain inside the rift and watch in silence. If he's going to punch Gekko until he becomes a pulp, he rather do it alone without witnesses. That and he doesn’t want to deal with Reyna’s wrath if she were to be present when he beats the shit out of this scum.

They seem to be talking about something, but it doesn't seem to be escalated enough to label it as an argument but it wasn’t a normal conversation either. 

When he decides to take a closer look, he finds Gekko with a devastated expression on his face and eyes misty with a thin layer of tears. Is shocking, to say the least, being the witness to such an abnormal expression on the usual happy man.

Reyna is frowning, a tight line set on her lips and hand hovering over his shoulder, hesitant whether to touch him or not.

Through the rift, the sounds come garbled and sometimes impossible to discern with the huge gap between the time passing by and him floating in nothingness. Yoru approaches further, cautious, for maybe Reyna might be able to distinguish his soul in between the subtle breaking in the rift.

“Why did you have to break it off, though?” She mutters, a confused expression painting her features. “Las cosas iban bien entre ustedes, ¿no es así?”

Gekko shrugs, not wanting to voice his thoughts.

“She likes you, Teo,” Yoru doesn’t know what’s going on. “She likes you a lot, mijo.”

Gekko’s eyes look downcast, a sad smile tugging his lips.

“She might like me.” he whispers brokenly. “But she doesn’t love me.”

Yoru might be a killing machine on the field and a cold-hearted person towards others if he so desires; he’s been told so many times before. But at this moment, he understands that his anger should be quelled and tone it down a little bit, for he is not the only one who is hurt and he might have misinterpreted the whole situation.

What could be worse, than finding out the person you love doesn't share the same sentiment to the same degree as you do? 

He's gone through the path once, way before meeting you, but never considered himself hurt because he was experimenting with said emotion. Because love is weird, a state in oneself where you are the weakest and he hated feeling like that. 

It was thanks to you he decided to transform this weakness into a strength, despite knowing it could bite his ass one day. Yoru gave in to his desires with you, and he admits you acknowledging his intentions and reciprocating them gave him the sort of euphoria he doesn’t find often in fights.

Gekko is as upset as you might be, more hurt than one might think.

What should he do now?

Staring off into the distance, Yoru thinks emotions are bullshit and way too difficult to deal with.

Gekko and yourself have been a clear example to how far he can go because of some petty feeling like jealousy or lust, and how pathetic it made him act without thinking of the consequences—not like he's cared about that before.

But because of this, Jett has been his shoulder to cry on, and Phoenix his ear to lend when he feels like he cannot handle the mixed emotions into a devastating concoction of overwhelmingness. 

Both have been the key to fix himself up and rebuild after learning of your relationship, despite reassuring with anger that he was fine when it was not true.

His friends are good and he doesn't deserve them, in truth, with how shitty he has been in the past. But for so long he has been denying himself the pleasure to get things that are meant to be his, and this is one of them. 

Yoru will learn to heal and move on, sooner or later, and he hopes he can face you without feeling troubled or confused as to what he wants in life.

Things never get easier from afar.

“Launch site, be there in ten.” Brimstone calls out to him one day. 

To say he scared the shit out of him would be an understatement, choking on his beverage before glaring at the commander with the dirtiest look he could muster. 

He did not hear him coming, even when his loud stomping could be heard from down the hallway, but that is mostly his fault because of his lack of attention and disoriented mind. It should be obvious with the dark bags under his eyes and tired expression that he hasn't been getting enough sleep and was most likely out of it because Brimstone regards him with solemnity.

“It’s Ice box, Yoru.” he mentions. The name of the place alone makes him perk up in attention. “Anomalies have taken place recently, coming from the lab holding onto the samurai's armor.”

What?

“We’ve tracked down a wave of radianite that was ignited on icebox, but we weren’t sure from where exactly.” Brimstone takes out his device, approaching him on the kitchen table and laying it out for him to see. “Cypher was able to narrow it down to A site only, and by the looks of it, we aren’t the only ones who are after it.”

“The omega?” he asks, uncertain. 

“They are approaching rapidly. We need to leave soon.”

That wakes him up, “I’ll be there in ten.”

Brimstone nods and takes his leave.

There is not much time before parting nor question who else was coming to Ice box with them. Not like it matters, but he rather have teammates that will work well alongside him for something as important as this.

Taking his jacket from his room and his butterfly knife, he wonders if the sudden anomaly on Ice box had anything to do with his restless nights for the past weeks.

An incognita were the nightmares that Yoru has had lately. It was never anything clear for him to guess or simply have a vague idea as to what it wanted, but with what Brimstone has told him, a lot of things cleared up. 

Not the whole picture, but it was something to start from.

At the launch site, he encounters Sage and Reyna talking in hushed voices. Both of them regard him with a silent nod and go back to the conversation, but Reyna's eyes never leave his form while he keeps on walking—and if looks could kill, he would be underground in an instant. Yoru does his best to ignore it until he can no longer feel her threatening aura sticking to the back of his neck, and once to a safe distance, he sighs in relief.

Brimstone is at the entrance of the jet carrying an operator, securely strapped to his back, and a few other weapons on the carriage. He seems to be talking to someone inside the vehicle already, handing out the guns and the operator, but can't figure out who.

“Step in, Yoru, we are getting ready.” The commander calls. “I'll coordinate with Sage and Reyna, and we take off.”

Nodding, he enters, but his whole serious façade is gone the moment his eyes land on yours.

Perhaps it had to do with time, or the light working in your favor, but the moment you lock eyes, you literally take his breath away with surprise painting his features. It almost seems like you were expecting him with the way you perk up in excitement as soon as you see him.

Smiling softly, you pat the seat next to yours, beckoning him to approach you. 

“I didn't know you were coming.” He comments, clearing up his throat. “Should've said something.”

“It was a last minute call.” Shrugging, he notices the strap of the operator in arm, but says nothing. “Brimstone was unsure whether to call you in or leave you out of this. But with how things were going, I decided it was for the best if you came and asked him to look for you.”

“Hah, missed me that much?” 

Yoru really never learns, huh. 

Is natural for him to want to tease you, so used to it that now, even after so long without speaking nor crossing words, he has the urge to interact with you this way.

“I did, Yoru.” You answer with honesty. The look in your eyes has him paralyzed, feeling his face flush with the short distance between you two. It reminisces the moment where you first kissed in the kitchen, and that only fuels his embarrassment because it could be so easy to lean in and kiss you again. “I-um, I missed you a lot.”

Brimstone stomps in the jet, raising a brow when he sees Yoru jump on his seat, startling him once again, and fixes his composure before the two of you look at him. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, we’re just catching up.” Your hand covers his own hand laying on his lap, squeezing it with gentleness until your fingers intertwine. “Been a while.”

Brimstone nods, going to the cockpit without any further questions. Sage and Reyna follow up next, both of them regarding you two with a respective nod and taking a seat in front of you.

Cowardice isn't a term known by Yoru, scratching it up and dunking it on the trash since he is by no means a coward. But with how heavy Reyna's stare is, burning holes into your gentle but loving clasping hands, he is starting to get why some people are afraid. 

You distract him enough, though, speaking in a soft tone about what has been going on lately and the missions you haven't shared since Lotus—there is no mention of the situation you had when you first kissed, but he is soon to push it to the back of his mind to save you the trouble.

Surprisingly, he is able to maintain eye contact for longer than he expects without embarrassment clouding his senses, following up your peppy conversation with a few grunts and short replies.

Throughout the whole flight, your hand never leaves his.

x    x    x    x

Ice box is just as he remembers. 

Empty, freezing, but with a whole new wave of unknown power radiating from the old labs. 

Yoru gets why Brimstone was so unsure to bring him along. 

The pulsating beckoning of energy was nauseating and tiring; a migraine approaching fastly and making him lose his footing as soon as he steps off the jet.

Sage is there in an instant, clear worry across her features and helping him to stabilize himself. 

“Are you okay?” She asks. Her hands are glowing a soft blue, her healing abilities ready for him if need be. 

Yoru is close to dismissing her help, annoyed to be treated so delicately, but before he could muster a word, a spike of pain strikes his head, groaning in discomfort and his side hits the entrance of the landing. 

Leaving the operator on the floor, you run to where Yoru has fallen to the floor, and grasp him tightly by the shoulders to help him sit comfortably. 

Holding his head between his hands, he grunts, eyes tightly shut and breathing heavily through his nose. His head is pounding horribly, sounds he doesn't know where they were coming from was deafening him heavily that all your voices were melting together in the background. 

He sees the moment the sounds stop completely, mouths moving and actions on going but nothing else. Instead, a gruffing and heavy voice is what resonates inside his brain, like an echo, and a womanly voice accompanies it when they call to him.

‘Come’, they whisper, ‘Come to us.’

Your hand goes straight to his back, caressing him with soothing motions and whispers of gentle words. Respectfully, nothing you are doing helps with his pain nor confusion drowning him. It is kind of annoying, too, but Yoru likes you too much to say something of the sort and lets you do whatever you want.

‘Find him.’

And then it ceases completely. The sounds from his environment come back with a sudden burst he feels his ears sensible with the many voices trying to talk one above the other. Is overwhelming.

“We cannot continue with Yoru in this state.” Brimstone walks up to where Yoru is sitting, patting his back with a strong push. The japanese man holds back an insult at his action. “You’re staying. There is no time to go back and bring someone else to replace you, so stay here.”

“I can still fight-”

“No. And that’s an order.” He nods to Reyna and Sage to go on ahead. “Survey A site, I’ll take mid and we will strike as soon as I give the order.”

Sage glances at him from the corner of her eyes, worried, but complies with Brimstone's request. Reyna follows after her without regarding him at all but with a scoff, vandal at hand and the most graceful walking she could muster.

If Yoru wasn’t in so much pain, he would have laughed to mock her. He can have all the respect for Reyna and her tactical abilities, but to be this childish over whatever she was feeling was ridiculous in his eyes.

Brimstone calls you out, startling you, “Survey B site but don’t push. You’re gonna be alone so we can’t gamble losing a team member this easily, understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

Brimstone gives a brief glance at him before leaving you two alone.

Grunting, his fist hits the side of the floor, frustrated. The only time where he needs to be in the best shape is ruined by god knows what, that he doesn’t know who to blame it on.

“Yoru, is it okay if I speak this softly? Does it hurt you?” Your hand hovers over his fist, thumb running up and down his spiked knuckles. 

He breathes out harshly, nodding. 

“The enemy team has brought Yoru, too, and the chances of him suffering what you're going through are high.” Hand under his chin, he lets you raise his head gently to lock gazes. The pain subsides for a little bit, enough to have clarity and melt under the beautiful color of your eyes looking at him with so much emotion. “Don't worry about not coming, their Yoru might have to back off from this just like you, so there is no need to worry.”

Kissing the top of his head, you stand up and take your gun back. Reloading the ammo, you strap on the operator and send him a small smile before walking away.

“We'll figure out what happens after we're done, for now take a rest.”

The normality of your actions only furthers his want to go after you, seeing you walk away with a steady step. Nevermind the pain clouding his senses, he cannot help but worry for whatever might happen if you were to stay alone.

And it doesn’t have to do with him doubting your skills, but the inability to do something to help because of some dumb bullshit about the radianite and the armor still under vigilance in the labs.

The voices from before might have something to do with the anomalies, but he isn’t sure whether to trust his guts or just wait for some miracle to happen to figure it out. The headache won’t be going away anytime soon nor the pain racking his whole body, and he isn’t going to stay at the landside where there won’t be any action unfolding.

Standing up slowly, Yoru grunts in discomfort, losing his footing the first try but finding support on the wall the second time. 

He taps on the private line immediately, breathing a sigh of relief when you answer quickly to his call.

“Yoru, what’s wrong?” Your voice comes in rushed, a subtle undertone of worry honeying your words. “Are you okay? Do you need me to come back?”

“I-I’m okay. I need-”

Everything turns black for a second. The single second where all matters and nothing does at the same time.

The numbness on his limbs, the rush of memories, the excruciating pain destroying him from the inside; this all feels familiar and nostalgic, reviving the moment where his life changed and there was no turning back from the powers gifted to him.

‘Look for us', they plead. ‘Find him.'

The moment he blinks the sky greets him with a bright shine, blinding him for a moment and taking his time adjusting to it. Your face comes into view after a few seconds, a frown between your eyebrows and mouth set in a tight line. 

The light from above gives you a crown of light, glowing softly against your skin Yoru might have commented on it if it weren’t for his lucidity and catching his tongue on time.

When he breathes, he doesn’t feel any sort of pain. 

It almost feels like it never was there to begin with, which is surprising given the circumstances.

“Yoru?” Your voice quivers with anxiousness. 

“Hm.” he sighs, running a hand through his hair in a weak attempt to appear cool. “M'fine, just…dizzy.”

“Here, sit.”

You manage to make Yoru sit without any trouble, looking for any signs of injury or distress from his pain early on, but find nothing to worry about. He seems fine, better than before, for sure.

The japanese man pushes you to the side gently, creating enough space for him to stand up and pat down his clothes to clear it from debris or snow sticking to the fabric. You are still watching him like a hawk in case he starts losing his footing, but Yoru scoffs, offended, and walks past where you're kneeling.

“Aren't you coming? We've got a mission to fulfill.” 

Flabbergasted, you blink up at him, mouth opening and closing without any words making it out. 

“Yoru,” you start gently, standing up. “Brimstone was very clear with his instructions. You have to stay here if you are unable to perform.”

“I look fine, don’t I? Let’s go.”

“Wh- Yoru, you couldn’t even stand minutes ago and now you’re acting all tough?” You point at the jet, “Go back. This whole act isn’t cool.”

The wind blows by strongly, ruffling his well kept hair, but no words of daring come from his mouth. Instead, he leans into the side, cocking his head and smirking at your attempt to be bossy.

“Who’s going to make me stay, you?” Giving a dry laugh, he crosses his arms. “Go on, try it, little minx.”

“Don’t make me start, Yoru, or else-”

“Or else what?”

You breathe in heavily, counting to ten inside your head to not snap at him nor disrespect him.

 “You have to follow what Brimstone has told you.” You retort, muttering through clenched teeths. “You stay here because I say so, too.”

“Oh yeah? And when has that stopped me?” 

Spluttering, your anger rises with the tone in your voice, “I have no fucking idea, so stop acting like a fucking brat and stay!”

Not wanting to give him a chance to reply, you turn around and stomp your way to B site just like Brimstone delegated. You hear Yoru walk right behind you, oblivious to your demand, and you cannot help the little vein protruding on your forehead with the anger consuming you.

“Fucking bitch.” You mutter under your breath. Walking backwards, you shout at him. “Is it that hard to listen to instructions?! What is your deal?”

“I can’t leave you alone.” is his reply, which infuriates you more. “I’m good. I will go with you.”

“Do you really not trust my own abilities? Weren’t you the one who said that you all should be more trusting of my skills when we went to Lotus?” Scoffing, you turn your back to him, climbing up the stairs to the kitchen. “Unbelievable, you are truly unbelievable and a hypocrite.”

“It has nothing to do with your ability or not. I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“Hah! Sure, as if that were all.”

“Would you even stop for a second if I were to say anything else?” Rolling his eyes, he continues. “You cannot even trust me when I tell you I’m fine and now you want me to follow your rules?”

Not even looking at him, you reply, “Yeah! That would be nice!”

“Stop for a second damnit! Listen to me!”

You don’t. You cross the threshold of the kitchen and he runs up to you like a little kid about to throw a tantrum. Taking your hand into his, he tries to make you stop and look at him, but you snatch it away immediately.

“I love you.” he blurts out.

That is enough to stop you dead in your tracks, not giving him a glance nor reply to his words. Yoru feels his face burn with embarrassment but is determined to let his feelings be known after so long. Whether you reciprocate or not, is all up to you. Whether this is the correct place to be outing his feelings, he is not sure.

The contrast of the cold brushing his warm cheeks in gentle breezes sends a shiver down his spine, blaming the weather for the wavering puffs of air coming out of his mouth and not because of the sudden nervousness eating him from the inside. 

After a long minute, that almost feels like many years in his opinion, you resume your walking with him tailing behind you. Yoru wonders if you’ve heard him correctly or perhaps you misunderstood his words. 

“I said I love y-”

“I know.” you interrupt, gaze set straight in front of you. “Gekko told me so but I didn’t believe him. It wasn’t until we kissed that night that I realized I was pretty dumb for not noticing your feelings.”

Yoru would think this was some sort of rejection, not really understanding if you were reprimanding him for kissing you or telling you he loves you when you already know. But looking closely, he sees the tip of your ears redden with each step, refusing to meet him in the eye.

“You should go back to the jet. Brimstone is going to be mad at us.”

“I don't care.”

“Well, you should! I ain't taking responsibility if something happens to you.” 

“I don't need protection nor for you to take responsibility. I'm here right now because you need to know that I love you and I won’t be leaving you alone.”

“Okay! I get it!”

Smirking slightly, he jogs to your side and bumps shoulders with you. You shot him a dirty look, pouting when he finally sees the red on your cheeks is not because of the cold but from his words.

“What about you?” he dares ask.

“What about me?” you echo, annoyed.

Yeah, what about you? Was he expecting to hear the same words of professing love from you? He just wanted to get rid of these thoughts cluttering his brain and distracting him, to be free, in some sort of way. Yoru hopes he didn’t make you uncomfortable with his sudden confession.

Humming, you give him a side glance and a grin, “You sure are very confident for someone who doesn't know what the other feels.” Bumping his shoulder back, you walk ahead of him. “I love you too.”

Oh.

Oh.

You love him.

Having you say those words sparks some sort of hope he buried deep within his heart, digging them back to surface. His face is lit in flames within seconds, and he tries to hide it behind a raised hand and looks the other way to avoid you seeing it.

Is clear he does a poor job trying to conceal his embarrassment and excitement because as soon as you get a glimpse of his face, you laugh brightly, poning his side to mock him. That only worsens his state, face hot and red as a pepper.

Once you two are deep in the kitchen, you take a bold decision.

Pushing Yoru against the halls, your hand tangles behind his head, pulling on his roots and clashing your mouths together on a bruising kiss. Is obvious he wasn’t expecting this kind of action from you because he groans loudly, leaning into the hand pulling at his hair harshly and melting under your liplock with a sigh.

He doesn’t take long to hold onto your waist and turn the tables, caging you against the wall this time and giving you the same treatment of roughness by holding you behind your neck and his left hand grabbing you by the waist, slotting your hips together. 

Is a little uncomfortable being in this position because the operator is still strapped to your back, but Yoru makes it work with bending you to his body and making you forget about the gun when he takes your chin between his fingers and makes some distance. 

Whining, you close the gap once again, not giving him time to take a breath and sticking your tongue inside his mouth to maintain contact. 

He consumes your fire from within like a starved man, sucking on your lower lip and biting it as gently as his hands paws over your whole form, basking in the feeling of your mouths clasped together and the tight hold you have on his hair every time his hands travel to to your backside.

You pull on his hair harshly when his left hand grabs a fistful of your ass and he groans, trying to make distance to breathe in some air, but you gasp loudly when his lips attach to your neck immediately, nibbling on the skin and sucking desperately to mark your skin.

“We need to survey B site, Yoru, let go.” You moan at one particular bite, sighing when his hands try to go under your clothes. You smack his hands away, flustered and a little bit angry. “God dammit, Ryo, not now.”

“Says the one who started this, little minx.” he teases, licking up a strip of saliva from your collarbone to your neck.

Huffing, you push him off of you, resuming your walking with the little dignity you still hold and cleaning the spit in the corner of your mouth. Yoru prides himself in seeing you this disheveled over him, imagining what else could he do if you let him be.

Gotta calm down, now. He doesn’t want to deal with the bad guys with a hard-on now, does he?

“So?” he asks. You blink up at him. “What’s going to happen now?”

“Feelings are difficult, I guess.” Shrugging, you strap off your operator. “I understand why the fraternization rule was made, it only gets in the way of our job. That’s why Gekko and I never worked.”

“Does it, now?”

Brimstone is saying something through the comms, but neither of you pay him any mind. Yoru nudges your side with his arm, and you cannot escape the small smile tugging at your lips.

“We can talk about ourselves later.” is all you say before setting off. “We have all the time in the world, Ryo.”

Smiling, he straps off his Sheriff. 

He likes the way you say his name.

“Whatever, you idiot.”

x    x    x    x

Yoru doesn't want to admit that he was weak throughout the fight. 

Not because of his abilities nor aim—he would fight whoever thinks he whiffs his shots— but because he let the enemies run away in one piece when he had the chance of eliminating them for good.

The excuse of running out of bullets was believable, having only a sheriff and a few reloads while defending the site, and you backing up his report helped a lot. Besides, Brimstone was more focused on his disobedience in a clear order than letting go of the omega agents, so he supposes that was enough of a distraction.

The intel was right, omega Yoru was here, alongside your omega version. It seems like they were set off to lurk while the rest of the team attacked A site and they were to wrap around your base to corner you all. 

It backfired immediately.

Your aim was impeccable, as always. He didn't know you were proficient with the operator but it was no joke when you had the gun in hand and targets to shoot. 

But, in truth, he is tempted to think you let them go, too, because they were injured enough but not dead by the bullets that were fired. 

Your omega version stood in front of omega Yoru, protecting him from the bullets that weren’t coming through anymore. Both of them were bleeding and with wounds that could probably kill them if it were not to be treated correctly and on time.

“Please,” your omega version begs. They have a shorty, only, discarding it to the side to mean no harm. “Take me if you want, but don't touch him.”

Yoru's eyes travels from you to omega Yoru, who is panting harshly behind the other you. The omega snarls, furious, to be witnessed by his mirror to this weak state.

He knows himself, knows the other must feel pathetic and frustrated for not doing more and failing so miserably on this mission. The pride is high and wild, so who better than himself to understand the situation at hand.

Yoru loads his last bullet to the sheriff, and you shrivel up in panic. Your stance hasn't changed, your tattered body still shielding omega Yoru despite the pain and that is something he respects. 

“Should I shoot?” your voice comes from the comms. He knows you're still aiming and watching in silence whatever is unfolding on site, but you don't interfere further than to ask that question. 

“I have it under control.” Is all he answers.

A bullet is shot, and your omega version gasps in unison with omega Yoru when they see the bullet go a few centimeters off the side, not even gracing them.

“What-?”

“Leave.” Yoru straps on his sherriff, taking out his butterfly knife instead to play with it while he waits in silence. When neither of you react, he raises a brow. “Want me to carry you to your own base or what? Leave now before Brimstone comes, he won't be merciful.”

That was their cue to start moving.

You try to carry omega Yoru as best as you could, having his arm around your shoulders and your hand holding onto his jeans for leverage. Giving him a brief glance, you thank him quietly before starting to walk away with urgency.

“Wait.” Omega Yoru tries to turn around, glaring at his alpha version. “It's because of her, isn't it? Is it the same for you?”

You nudge him, eyes pleading for him to keep walking,“Yoru, stop.”

“No. I want to know why.” His mirror grunts in pain, almost colliding against the wall if it weren't for your hold. “I know me. And I know I would have shot if it weren't because of her. So I need to know if it's the same for you.”

Yoru decides to not answer, since everything is already laid out for them. He knows you are listening through the comms, so whatever his answer is, you should've known by now.

“So it is.” he mutters, giving a dry laugh. “This is going to be the death of us one day.”

“Love, let’s go.” Your mirror mutters. He nods, and they take off.

“Ice box is fucking cursed, Yoru.” The other says. “The voices are torturing, trying to be helpful, but this place is cursed for us.”

You never said anything, watching the duo walk away as best as they could with the sun setting in the background. 

The trail of blood they leave behind is the only clue that a battle has unfolded and they were once again victorious, although it felt nothing like a victory to him.

The words from omega Yoru would stay with him, storing the information for future investigation, and haunting him until his next confrontation takes place. 

“I think you did good.” Eating a slice of the apple, you glance briefly at him, interrupting his thoughts. “Letting them go, I mean. I think it was good.”

He scoffs, “I was weak. A mistake I won’t be making again if we encounter them in the future.” 

Shaking your head, you lean your head to the side, “You had mercy on them. I think this is a step that was necessary to take to change the dynamic we’re living in.”

Blinking down at you, he raises a brow, “What do you mean by that?”

Your fingers tap the table in a rhythmic motion, mulling over his question for a moment before replying, “I don’t think it is necessary to be killing them, despite having done so already many times before.” Shrugging, you take another slice. “Call me naive or just a hopeless romantic, but what they had is something I respect a lot. They are humans, too, not just some kind of experimentation we can look over. They…they might have an explanation for the radianite and their need.”

Yoru rolls his eyes with skepticism, crossing his arms with disappointment in his eyes. 

“This is my way of thinking.” You defend. “You can have yours, but we both know that nothing might change unless we are the one’s meddling in the battlefield.”

“You’re willing to risk it all to prove that an amicable relationship can be doable?”

Humming, you nod, “I do.”

“You’re dumb, then.”

“Maybe, but only time will tell if I’m right.”

“Suit yourself.”

Both of you fall in silence, eating from the plate the few slices of apple that are left. Only the buzzing from the refrigerator makes a background noise to cover up the long and suffocating topic that none of you want to touch now. 

Yoru is nervous, you are nervous, but you are too cowardly to take the first step.

Mission aside, what happened at ice box when you kissed again was supposed to be the bridge to start a conversation about what would entail knowing each other’s feelings. One would believe that something might have happened by now, but here you are.

In silence.

“I think I’ll take my leave.” He coughs awkwardly, standing from the chair. “Goodnight.”

It was almost like a mirror situation many weeks ago. Where he leaves and you are left confused, wanting, and you cannot bear the thought of dealing this by yourself again.

When he bids you goodbye, you unconsciously reach for his hand, immediately stopping him from going further and he looks back at you. 

When none of you say anything, you brave yourself through your nervousness to break the distance and take his face with your free hand, caressing his cheek with tenderness. 

Yoru lets you do whatever you want, anxiousness seeping out of him when you tiptoe to reach him and, in an act to fulfill your impulses, you kiss the corner of his mouth with a gentle touch.

The japanese man stifles at the contact, gasping when your lips travel from a mere graze, to groaning when your mouth captures him in a passionate kiss, lips melting together sweetly like honeycomb.

You hold him like you desire to be devoured completely; reaching, grabbing and tugging everywhere until his body engulfs yours against the counter of the kitchen and you hold onto his shoulders for leverage. His hands rise goosebumps under your clothes, big palms caressing the skin on your back, racking down his nails until he feels your shudder. 

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wonder if this was wrong of you to do. If Gekko would mind you chasing after what you really want despite having failed him miserably while together. 

Gekko is none the wiser, your brain supplies, and you hope it stays that way. 

You tug playfully at his lower lip with your teeth before diving to get more of him, mouths slotting together on a more profound kiss and tongues fighting to claim dominance. It is then that any rational thought goes out of the window.

His hand finds purchase on your hips, yours tugs at his hair, earning a groan from him which you immediately swallow with greed. Yoru has half the mind to think about what he's doing when his hand brushes your thighs and pulls you up until you're seated on the counter. 

“What are you doing?” You ask, breathless. 

Yoru's mouth kisses every inch of skin to his availability, sucking on your neck with want until you have your head thrown back, enticing him to mark every part of you. 

“We should stop.” He begs, but his actions betray his words when he rolls his hips against your core, cock twitching inside his pants. You whisper his name, returning the favor and caging him between your legs. 

You can feel his erection even through all the clothing between your bodies, lust clouding your mind with nothing but the good sensations despite feeling guilt gnaw at the pit of your stomach.

That does not deter you from purchasing the euphoria coursing through your body when you rock your hips again, his clothed cock rubbing deliciously against you till the point your words get slurred.

This is not the right place for this kind of situation to be unfolding. You both are too exposed for anyone to walk into, and the least he wants is to show the other agents the boner he is sporting right now. Besides, he is sure to go feral with anger if anyone dares to see you this disheveled and flustered. 

This sight is for him alone.

Claiming his mouth, your hand let go of his hair to reach for his belt, unbuckling it quickly. Yoru freezes when your hand goes into his trousers to grab at his dick shamelessly, thumb running over the head of his cock. Gasping, he hides his blushing face in the crook of your neck, hips thrusting in tandem to your slow pumps to rile him up. 

“You feel so hot.” you whisper in his ear. He bites your neck and sucks on the skin to have his mouth occupied. “You are so hard, love.”

He gasps when you twist your wrist and your thumb runs over the head of his cock again, spreading the pre-cum and messily using it as a lube to pump your hand faster on his shaft. You feel him twitch in your hand when you accelerate the pace and tremble when his warm breath hits your cheek in gasps. 

“Faster…” he mutters, groaning. The timbre of his voice lowers a few octaves, and it's of immediate urgency to keep listening to more. “Shit, go faster.”

You indulge in his request, hand moving to a faster pace, and feeling the veins protruding on his cock between your fingers. Your mouth glues to his neck, nibbling it softly and biting down, hard, until a mark is visible against his pale skin. 

The schlik-schlik sounds in the background are filthy to the ears, Yoru feels his face flush up with embarrassment to have been reduced to a puddle of lust and trembling legs from the overwhelming sensations.

Pushing him away, Yoru groans in frustration because he was close to being ripped to the seams with the upcoming orgasm. The momentum is gone, and he is not sure whether to be angry at you or beg you to please keep going.

But by the time he decides what to do, you’re already on your knees, pulling down his pants until his member is freed from its confines and your mouth sucks on his cock with an invigorated enthusiasm that has him grasping the counter for leverage.

His right hand goes to the roots of your hair, pulling and pushing your head in tandem with the thrusting of his hips. Yoru abuses your mouth to his liking, chasing after the little fire burning him on his lower abdomen and to let loose. 

Groaning, his eyes roll to the back of his head when your tongue comes into play, licking the underside of his dick with each stroke of your mouth. Yoru leaves your head to hold his weight with both of his hands onto the counter, knees weak and breath taken away.

You use your hand to keep the stimulation going, giving you time to catch some air and glare at him from down there. Despite having his face flushed, sweat rolling down his temple and trembling under your touch, he dares smirk at you, as if he has gotten away with something he’s been wanting to do for a long time.

“You fucking brat.” you whisper, mouth latching onto the side of his cock and your free hand toying with his balls.

Yoru whimpers, he fucking whimpers, the moment your mouth sucks on the head of his dick and your hands wrap around the rest of his member with fast strokes, bobbing your head up and down, and timing it with his weak thrusts, you hum, vibrations running up his cock deliciously.

You try to close your legs while kneeling, trying to get some friction to alleviate the pressure on your lower belly and the need to touch yourself; but you are prioritizing Yoru’s pleasure above else right now, enjoying his salty taste in your mouth and gulping down the pre-cum gathering with your spit.

“Fuck!” he curses. His hips stutter wildly, head thrown back and eyes closed when the sudden rush of euphoria courses through his body. 

Yoru cums inside your mouth moaning your name and gasping for air.

He holds your head with a tight grip, spurting his seed inside your mouth in big spurts until you have no other option but to swallow it, choking on his cock when the tip hits the back of your throat. 

Yoru rides his orgasm as if his life depended on it, breathless and hitting a high point where his noises couldn’t be contained. 

Backing off, Yoru slides down next to you, breathing heavily and slumping against your form in defeat and burrowing his head on your neck, nuzzling it affectionately. Is funny how he seeks physical contact like a little cat, voiceless and going for it.

You’re coughing up harshly, part of his cum still drooling to the side of your lips.

“You owe me one.” You say, knocking your heads together. 

He only hums, satisfaction oozing out of him, and cleans the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

“You can cash in right now, baby girl.”

Trembling, you look to the side, bashful, “Don’t get all flirty with me now.” Giving him a brief glance, you blush when you see his dick still out of his pants and butt naked against the floor. “You fucking idiot, put on your pants!”

Yoru laughs softly, nuzzling your neck and kissing the pulse with gentleness. You can’t help but sigh at his change in demeanor.

“I’ll do so if you promise to come to my room with me.” his lips caress the shell of your ear, kissing it. You give a surprised giggle at that. “Hm, what do you say?”

x    x    x    x

The moment your back hits the bed, Yoru is taking your pants away, pulling them with carefulness but urgency in his actions until you are bare from the waist down. He messily takes your shoes, too, and you save half the work by unbuttoning your shirt and unclasping your brassier so you can be bare for him.

Yoru is grunting, snarling almost like an animal, when he pounces on you and his lip attaches to your neck with ferociousness, biting and sucking harshly on the skin till it reddens. He makes room between your legs, your glistering folds rubbing against his jeans while he cages you against the bed and devours you with hunger.

Your hand tugs at his hair, finding out that he seems to like the rough treatment as much as you do, and your legs closes around his waist, grinding against him in search of some friction to alleviate yourself.

His right hand palms over your breast, fingertips running over your nipples while his mouth makes way to your other breast, sucking in with the same fervor he did with your marked neck. Biting softly on your nipple, his tongue flattens against your skin, licking it up and sucking until you curve your back, shrieking from the sudden action.

“Again-!” You plead, hips stuttering, and hands holding onto the sheets by your head. “Again, Ryo, please.”

He does as you say. Mouth sucking on your breast while his hand toys with your nipple. The left hand that was holding onto your waist goes straight to your core, fingers pressing against the outer lips but not entering, teasing you with gentle strokes, pads running softly over your clit but is not enough.

You need more.

“Ryo, I swear to fucking god if you don’t put that mouth to work I’m going to kill you.” Grabbing him by his hair, you pull, hard, and the motherfucker has the nerve to give you a cheeky grin, licking his lips. 

“You’re gonna regret that, sweetheart.”

Yoru moves out of the way until he is sitting on the floor right next to the bed, and with a strong pull, he takes your legs to rest above his shoulder and hands hold you by the waist tightly.

Before you could utter a word, nervous, he dives into your pussy, licking up a stripe with harshness that has you trembling under his touch. You moan his name shamelessly, gasping for air when he sucks on your little nub of nerves and his fingers prod on your entrance.

Coated in your juices, two of his fingers slide in easily, pumping them in and out slowly, and dragging his pads against your walls and timing it with his sucks. Being pressed between your legs and eating you out has to be one of the best things in the world, and he cannot begin to describe how aroused and hard you’re making him with your taste and moans coming from your mouth.

Your hands tangle in his hair, swapping between pulling at his roots or pushing his head to drown in your folds. Your hips are moving against his mouth erratically, riding in the feeling of his fingers and tongue on your pussy, wearing you down with each stroke of his appendage.

“Ryo, Ryo- Ah!” Head thrown back, you gasp when his fingers leave your hole to replace it with his mouth, tongue abusing your entrance rapidly and fingers going to your clitoris to rub them in tandem.

Stars were starting to cloud your vision, feeling the tight knot on your belly so close to snapping you can feel the orgasm tethering on the brim. Your hands travel to your chest, touching yourself with eagerness while being watched by your lover. You can almost feel his smile against your pussy, enjoying the show, which only riles you up.

But before you could combust and cum all over his face, Ryo makes distance, pushing you away but not before giving a last lick to your outer lips, legs trembling on each side of his face, that he smirks up at you.

“We haven’t finished yet, little minx.”

Furious for being denied of your climax, you punch him in the chest, “Fucking shit, Ryo! I was so fucking close-”

“Shhh,” he silences you, kissing your mouth with your taste on his tongue. He looks disheveled, raw, it makes you drip with want. His hands hovers over your perky nipples, flicking them with a devious smile playing on his lips. “It only gets better now.”

He strips down easily, throwing his jacket to the side of the bed while taking his shoes off. Pulling down his pants, you see his cock fully erect and bouncing slightly against his abs, flushed red with the tip smeared with his pre-cum. 

He pumps his cock a few times, pushing you against the mattress and devouring the sight as if you were a meal.

His chest is pressed against yours, leaning down to gently lay his lips to yours, and holding his weight with both of his arms on either side of your head. Yoru doesn't notice your tiny hand making its way to his cock, too concentrated on your lips and the hand pulling on his hair.

Guiding his dripping cock to your entrance, you open your legs to accommodate him easily and, with the help of your legs, you push him inside.

The head of his member breaches your entrance, a shiver runs down your spine when he bullies his way inside you slowly, walls clamping down on him and pulsating with lust running down your veins. 

Yoru groans in unison with you when he's fully in, your legs holding him in place to make the feeling of being connected this deeply last longer.

Touching your face, Yoru rests his forehead against yours, breaths intermingling in soft pants. Cupping his face, your thumbs run down his cheekbones, looking deeply into his eyes before kissing his lips in a soft peck.

“I love you,” You whisper, eyes clouded with love and affection. Smiling, he kisses your cheek.

Yoru slowly distances himself, pulling his hips away until the tip of his member is the only thing still in contact with your vagina, before thrusting hard into you. The sound of skin against skin is deafening, dirty and exciting for both who are enjoying this act of love, jolting with waves of .

His hips continue to move in a slow but steady rhythm, causing your begs and moans to rush out of your mouth hurriedly. Yoru is nothing but giving, accelerating the pace to your liking and watching in amusement the change in expression on your face.

Shouting his name, Yoru can't take it anymore. The speed increases, pelvis against pelvis, sweat rolling down your chest and seeing your breasts bounce with each thrust into your cunt only makes him lose control.

Nevermind the soft and calm Yoru from before, the moment your moans got to him is when he finally lets loose his mouth.

“You like that, huh? You fucking slut.” Grunting, he raises your legs to rest on his shoulders and bends you over in half. You can’t help but whine in embarrassment because of this position and the words uttered by him. “I bet Gekko didn't fuck you like this, right? I bet he doesn't even know how to please a woman.” 

Your walls clench painfully around his cock at his words. Yoru's eyes roll to the back of his head when your entrance gets tighter, sucking him in. With one of his hands, he starts masturbating you with fast flicks of his wrist, timing it with his thrusts rapidly. 

“Does he even know how good you taste? Or how filthy you are, sucking cock like a desperate whore?” Licking up your neck, he whispers in your ear, “Imagine if he were to see you like this, being fucked by me and cumming around my cock.”

“Ryo, I'm so close, please, so close!” You gasp, feeling your climax approach rapidly with how good Ryo is drilling into you.

“I'm going to fill that pussy of yours with my cum so everyone will know you belong to me.” he warns, a wicked smile tugging on his lips. “I'm going to mark every inch of your body as mine, understood? You’re going to be a good girl and take it all.”

Nodding, your hands hold onto his back, nails running down his back in an attempt to ground yourself, “Your good girl, yes-”

Yoru grunts heavily, loading his cum inside of you and fucking his seed deep inside with weak thrusts, riding his orgasm with closed eyes and mouthing your neck with lovebites. You follow soon after, the stimulation of his cock pushing in his cum and his fingers pressing against your clit is enough to send you over the edge and finally break, moaning his name and hips stuttering with the waves of the climax.

Slumping on top of you, he breathes heavily, trying to get in some air and enjoying the post-orgasmic experience with your hands brushing the hair out of his face gently.

You kiss the top of his head, smooching your way down until all you can reach is his forehead. He hums, raising his eyes and locking gazes silently.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

Sticking your tongue out, you pinch on the bare skin of his shoulder, making him jolt in surprise and glare at you with a pout. 

Yoru hovers over your body, resting his body weight on his arms and gives you a peck on the lips before standing up and going to the adjacent bathroom to bring a wet towel. Rolling to your stomach, you cross your arms under your head and watch him walk around freely and naked, admiring the view immensely.

His muscles ripple when he bends over to reach for the towel, watching his back with the mark of your nail alongside scars from past battles. You’ve never noticed, but Yoru with his hair down was a whole nother person to see, giving his sharp features a softer look with his hair framing his eyes and a boyish look that has you melting on the inside.

When he sees you ogling him shamelessly, he can’t help the flush on his cheeks and shyness for being this vulnerable in front of you. He throws the towel to your head to distract himself; that body of yours is enticing in every way possible, and he doesn’t want to look too eager to keep going.

“You’re a degenerate, clean yourself up.”

Laughing, you take the towel and lay down between his pillows to clean between your legs carefully. “Says the pervert who called me, what was it? A whore for your cock? A slut? Your words were colorful there, Ryo.”

Yoru grunts, sitting next to you on bed and stealing the towel from your hands. He makes you scoot closer and starts scooping out the cum oozing from your vagina with gentleness and avoiding it touching his sheets. 

The pressure he applies is enough to spark a new wave of heat on your lower abdomen, biting your lower lip to refrain from sighing out loud when the fabric stimulates you.

His fingers clean the remaining of both of your cum with a gentle brush, fingers caressing around your clit softly and watching your flustered expression focus on what his hands are doing.

Wanting to tease you, he applies pressure on the little nub, making circular motions to heighten the tension and sees you throw your head back. You whine, hips raising to seek the touch desperately. Moving your hand on top of his, you guide his movements from up and down, making his thumb tease your hole and your hips roll against both of your hands.

“Someone wants more of this pervert.” He mutters.

“Ryo…”

Kissing your legs, he licks his lips, discarding the towel to the side and making his way to your core slowly.

“Here comes round two, love.”

[awrote]

condolences came in spoken word, cards, letters, flowers and baskets of jams, fruit and candies. charlie gave them away to the maids and butlers. only reading the letters and cards out of courtesy and discarding them soon after. "s'alright. it happened a long time ago." for a moment, adele and horatio's ghosts kept him company. finding his mother tending to her garden or his father sitting at his desk in the study. the steel heir felt lost and unfit to take over as sole proprietor. then his godfather arrived just in time and suggested a partnership. bereft and alone, he believed when anthony said he would be the father and guide he lost. "why do ya' think we do that? apologize when people die?" he asks, looking down at their hands. she radiates warmth and comfort. familiarity. it's both a shame and a good thing he'll be gone in the morning. staying longer would be mean there'd be more to miss when it was a time to leave.

at bea's answer, charlie tilts his head and frowns. it would have been sweet if she tagged along with the gang on their journey to california. although he's not sure how she'd react to their reckless lifestyle. as she explains her reasoning, his expression changes into that of understanding. "i've heard nothin' but great things about it. the golden state. sounds promising t'me." while he's content with the life he's built, maybe if he struck gold he could return to illinois and get back at his godfather. reclaim his family's steel factory and offer the guys a job there. he feels like a coward for running. "you're a good person, bea. one of the best i've ever met." a sincere smile spreads across his face, seeking her gaze in the dimly lit room. "i mean it. ya' let a group of scrappy men into your home that ya' just met. i'm gonna be prayin' that goodness one day comes right back t' ya and all your dreams come true." since he's done a fair share of profane things, he's not sure if he and the man upstairs are in good terms but maybe if it's for bea he might answer.

"thanks again for the bread and tea. luci's got a real gift. i'm startin' to think it runs in the family." charlie compliments with a nod after chugging down the last of his tea that turned lukewarm. "i'll wash the dishes, s' the least i can do." he stands up and begins gathering their empty plates and cups.