#unsteady hadns

[iluvseb]

unsteady hands

[ateliersss]

The Huntress

Pairing: Yautja x Fem!Reader Summary: It's the first time you and your mate go on a hunt after your pregnancy. Cross-posted on AO3: here Warnings: Mild Smut, English isn't my first language Word Count: 4.412 After the Blooming Family series

⇨ I wanted to post this yesterday already, but I got a little distracted as something terrible happened last night in my city.

⇨ The long awaited hunting trip is finally here! I apologize for the long wait, but a writing slump is the most horrible thing for a writer.

"Oh, come on, my little star. Say Mama." You pouted down at the pup in your arms. "Ma-ma."

Toyah, who seemed to be displeased that you had your hair in an updo and therefore couldn't touch your soft and shiny strands, wasn't listening to you in the slightest and instead reached up to your head with grabby hands.

"Mama, Toyah. It's Mama. Ma-ma." You tried again, but except for whine, you got nothing back from him.

A rumbling sound that could only be your mate's laugh caused you to look up with a displeased look. Mi'ytiar came closer to you until he felt Toyah's wiggling form press against his stomach and securely placed his hands in the dip of your bare waist, looking fondly down at the both of you.

"Yawne, he will not talk. Not for a while." He grunted, his thumb stroking your soft skin. "Took Akail one year."

"I know that. I just want to finally hear his voice, hear him talk." You sighed. "Remember when Akail started speaking?" You asked him with a starry look in your eyes as you looked up at your mate.

Akail as a toddler in itself had been chaotic, a whirlwind in his parents' lives, but Akail as a toddler who had just learned the ability to speak? It was mostly loud nonsense, but you found it endearing nevertheless. Every now and then, you could understand a "Mama" and, after some time, even a "Papa". You were mostly fond of the times when he would sit on your chest, hands on your cheeks, and he would just start chirping with the occasional "Mama" in between his words. That had been his version of informing about his day.

Mi'ytiar grunted in acknowledgment and his hand left your waist to reach up to pet his son's head. He had grown in the last three months, albeit only slightly. His skin had grown in intensity just as his eyes. His teeth were now tiny little spikes and the tusks of his mandibles had gotten sharper. The rest had stayed just the same. But his personality had grown as well. Like his older brother at that age — fast on his tiny legs, a combination of crawling and unsteady stumbling on his feet — he loved to explore his environment. Once, you had found him sitting outside with the Hell Hounds, even though you had put him to bed five minutes earlier. You didn't know how he had managed that and you had to hide your grin when you scolded him.

"Go?" Mi'ytiar asked with a purr and you let out a hum in agreement.

Your mate and you had planned this trip for a while now. You had been sick of it, doing nothing but lazing around in your nest with your pup as your companion to bridge the time while your mate was busy with leader business and your eldest doing his own duties. Mi'ytiar's overprotectiveness had reached new heights and you were barely allowed to leave the nest to go to the bathroom to relieve yourself without him hot on your heels. To his credit, you only needed one intake of air in one certain way for him to suggest the hunting trip before you could start your rant.

Now, you were dressed in your hunting attire similar to the one your mate was sporting. A metal chest-plate was sitting on a layer of leather that covered your body like a top but kept your arms and midriff free. The metal of the loincloth hugged your lower body like panties did while a cloth that was attached to it covered your backside, going from one hip to your other and was triangular in shape.

Everything was tailor-made, though it had been altered from time to time. The beautiful design, the carvings and the feminine touch hadn't changed at all, but your pregnancies had taken a remarkable toll on your body, with your breasts growing bigger and your hips wider.

The only thing that stayed the same was the wrist gauntlet adorning your right forearm. It wrapped around your arm, beginning at your wrist and ending near the crook, so you weren't restricted in bending it. You had a matching forearm vambrace on your other arm, though this one was merely armor. The gauntlet was a petite little thing and your preferred choice of weapon. It looked like any other gauntlet the Yautja used, though it was modified significantly. You only needed it to hunt, so most of the usual functions were removed.

Mi'ytiar placed a hand on the nape of your neck and guided you through the door and out of your home. After a short growl, the Hell Hounds stayed put. They had excitedly greeted you with wagging tails but now let themselves dejectedly sink on the floor again to lie on their stomachs.

The walk to the docking platforms for their ships was calm, though you sometimes cooed back at Toyah in answer who had started to babble. Here and there, you stopped for a few minutes because some of his people had to inform their leader about this or ask him about that, but you didn't pay them any mind. You only did when a Female approached you to take a look at your pup and you presented him to her like a proud cat mother would with her kitten. The Female chirped at him and complimented his development. You would have spent hours chatting with her and about what a precious boy your pup was if not for your mate to gently stir you away.

You stopped again at the ship that was readied for your departure under the watchful eye of Akail. You never understood why they needed to make such a spectacle out of it. You would only go hunting for a few hours.

"Akail." Mi'ytiar addressed his son who turned around to greet his father properly, hands on each other's forearms and forehead pressed together.

"My little warrior." You chimed in. "Are you excited about your alone-time with your little mei'hswei?"

Akail bristled before he let out a grunt you would label as a "Yes." It was more than you would have received from him two months ago. Your eldest still had some resentment towards your youngest, but the murderous glint had disappeared from his eyes since your little talk a while ago. It took him baby steps, but steps nonetheless towards a better relationship. Toyah was oblivious to his brother's displeasure about his short existence and behaved like he always did with his family, with happy shrieks and grabby hands.

There had been this one moment where you had coincidentally stumbled upon Akail holding Toyah in his arms, pointing towards one of the skulls on the walls of your home, showing him their father's trophies. Toyah, of course, didn't understand one word but was simply happy to be near his brother. You had to quickly compose yourself and walked backwards to not disrupt this wonderful moment. It was like there was a conflict inside Akail that told him to continue disliking his brother for what he did to you, but after your talk, there was a voice that told him to try, as hard as it might be.

You smiled up at Akail and handed Toyah over into his arms. He gingerly took him — you had to bite your lip to not comment on how he suddenly knew how to professionally hold the pup as if he had done it before — and looked down at his little brother in disdain.

Grinning to yourself, you continued, "I already fed him, but if he should be hungry again, go to Zakui. She also knows how to change him. Right now, he is still full of energy, so I would suggest bringing him to T'ihtuial who watches some pups of other Females when they're too busy. He will tire himself out on his own. And should he actually grow tired, then put him in his crib and turn the small light on. Oh, and don't stop keeping an eye on him." You said and watched him to see if he understood. "Don't. Let. Him. Out. Of. Your. Eyesight." You empathized every word because you knew Toyah would find a way. He was determined like that. "He seems to like being anywhere but where you want him to be."

After another grunt, you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes to place a kiss on Toyah's cheek and another on Akail's forehead after he leaned down for you. "Bye, my boys. Be nice to each other and behave, alright?"

"Bye, Mama." Akail rumbled while Toyah only gurgled a laugh.

With a smile, you turned around and met Mi'ytiar halfways who placed a hand on your lower back, his scales rough on your soft skin. Together you entered the ship through the ramp and he wasted no time starting the engines and taking off.

Thanks to the autopilot, making the ship fly to its destination on its own, you could easily make yourself comfortable on Mi'ytiar's lap. You talked, exchanged sweet nothings, and snuggled with each other. It had been quite some time since it had just been the two of you and without any of your pups. The only time you did have your togetherness was once in a blue moon at night when everyone was asleep. Well, when most were asleep because most certainly didn't include Toyah who, like his brother in his toddler stage, needed to spend even the nightly hours with you. It was exhausting, but thankfully, the only downside of pups at his age.

"Where are we going, my love?" You asked him after a while of playing with his fingers, stroking his knuckles and massaging his palm.

"Yiulk." He answered with a soothing rumble of his chest, showing just how relaxed he was after God knows how long it had been since the last time it happened. "You remember? You hunted Wikki before carrying Toyah. You really good at it, yawne. Very proud." He purred and fondled your nape, his claws playing with the tiny hairs that had already loosened from your updo.

You smiled with a soft blush dusting your cheeks, mumbling "Charmer." before sitting up with your knees on his knees and your arms snaking around his head to hold the back of it. "Makes me want to give you one more. Right here, right now." You purred seductively, twirling one of his dreads around your pointer finger.

Mi'ytiar was about to reply, but the nav started beeping and signaled your arrival. Turning around in his lap, you could see the bright green-colored forest planet that was Yiulk. There were no humanoid beings living on the surface, only animals ready to be hunted. There were over a hundred species living there, both predator and prey, and you loved the various difficulty levels those species offered. Some were as simple as a sloth and some a little harder like a cheetah. And they were so fascinating, you loved to stay back and watch them, study them. If you had the equipment — a camera, paper, a typewriter — you would write a factual book where each and every one of them had their own double-page.

You readied yourself for the landing and quickly exited the ship with Mi'ytiar in tow. You were greeted by a wall of trees, standing so close to each other, it was a miracle he found a landing spot so easily. You took a deep intake of air and were immediately hit by the sweet aroma that emitted from the trees around you. Mi'ytiar had told you about them on your first hunt on Yiulk and he had seemed rather amused by your amazement, which was no surprise because Earth had looked so dull to you for a very long time.

The ground was soft as you took measured steps forward and through the jumble of trunks. Your eyes were fixed on the dark, earthy forest floor as you scanned it for traces of whatever animals you would find first. The environment was ideal for Shuxxi. The air was humid, the trees were covered with their preferred moss, and if you stopped in your tracks and pricked up your ears, you could hear the sounds of splashing water. Your best guess was to follow whatever source it was coming from as Shuxxi loved swimming and deep waterholes were rare on Yiulk.

You continued on your way, slowly and quietly.

While your mate preferred the chase, you put your strength into stealth. Rather than barreling towards the prey, you stayed back and observed their behavior, even killed from a distance. And although Mi'ytiar's fingers were already itching, he held himself back when you climbed up the large rocks that had emerged behind the trees after walking quite a distance. You slowly crawled up and to the edge until you had an overlook over the area to where you had tracked your prey.

You smiled at your success as your gaze wandered over the small herd, from one to the other. They were pretty for something that looked like a mix of deer and sheep. You could at least discern seven of them, a male and six females, all of them nibbling on the bluish moss growing on the trees around the clearing.

You looked down at your wrist gauntlet and skimmed through the different projectiles. You chose your favorite one — spike-like arrows of razor-sharp metal that were the size of an unused pencil and as thick as your pointer finger. You lifted your arm to aim at the one standing the farthest away from you. You enjoyed challenging yourself again and again when you were hunting a species that was already familiar to you.

And for today, you had chosen easy prey, so it wasn't that challenging. They were child's play, but something to gain back the mobility and stamina you had lost during your pregnancy and bed rest after giving birth.

You were about to pull the trigger, your aim secure on the grazing animal, when you felt a warm breath fanning against the side of your head and a hand on the back of your thigh slowly traveling up under the cloth attached to the loin cloth. You wiggled your hips and tried to throw him off, but when you only got a deep rumbling back — a laugh, probably — you shot him an angry "Mi'ytiar!" through gritted teeth.

"Distraction. Typical in environment like this. Need to get feel for it." He only grumbled against your ear.

His body was now pressed to yours, practically lying half on top of you, with his face nuzzled into your nape. You could feel him tug on your tied-up hair until it was hanging loosely down your head and he could bury his face into it, inhaling your scent. His hand snaked around your waist and to your stomach, pulling you back into him.

"Concentrate."

You tried, but your arm had gotten a little shaky as well as your focus.

"Mi'ytiar." You said slowly, warningly, when you felt his hand dipping lower.

"Shoot, yawne." He growled into your hair and started to rut against your thigh.

You let out a growl of your own, used the only part of your brain that was still able to work logically and took your shot. Your prey dropped dead when your arrow pierced its eye, killing it instantly, and spooked the rest of the herd that soon took off.

You rolled to the side and away from Mi'ytiar's rutting hips. You gave him a mean look with glinting eyes before you climbed down the rock and quickly approached your prize. You looked it over. Maybe you could use the gorgeous black fur with red speckles as another cushion for your nest. You already had four of them, but another wouldn't hurt.

"You did good." You heard Mi'ytiar behind you.

You only needed to stand up and turn on your heel to find him looming right above you. You wanted to give him a little piece of mind after he almost made you miss your target, but he looked so deliciously feral right now that the words died on your tongue. His eyes were wild, his chest was heaving and the muscles of his chest and stomach were twitching and contracting. You wanted to jump him at this very moment.

"You know…" You purred and pressed yourself against him, dug your fingers into the flesh of his hips, and pushed him backwards against one of the nearby trees. "I believe this was one of the possible scenarios where we created our firstborn." You mused, your voice taking a lower pitch with every word. "Hunting, me killing something and then you fucking me against a tree, filling me up so much that your seed dripped down to my ass and on the dirty forest floor."

Mi'ytiar let out a roar, grabbed you by your shoulders, turned you both around, and pushed you against the tree trunk.

You groaned, but not because of pain. Whenever he would manhandle you, use his brute strength to put you in whatever position to his liking, it turned you on a little more and reduced you to nothing but the basic need of graving him buried in your depths.

Patience was never something for Mi'ytiar when you were the only thing on his mind and instead of going through the process of opening the buckles that connected your thigh-high boots to your loin cloth, he just ripped them apart and tore off the pieces of metal and leather that hid your dripping arousal. Your hands immediately flew to his own covers, disparately pulling and tearing on them to free the throbbing piece of muscle that must be hiding behind it, but Mi'ytiar gripped your wrist.

"No." He groaned and pulled your hands away.

"But-"

"No."

Mi'ytiar might crave you, but he didn't want to mate with you just yet. "Three months." Cahrein had said to refrain from mating with each other to let your body heal after birthing Toyah. Those months were already over, but he wanted to be careful. Your body was a treasure, so magnificent, so beautiful. He wanted to give you all the time you needed and more, no matter how tempting it was to see it nakedly sprawled across the furs of your nest.

You reached for his loin cloth again. You could at least please him with your mouth, feel his heavy manhood down your throat, taste his heady aroma, and get drunk on it. You were desperate for him and you wanted to feel him inside you, even if it wasn't in the way you wanted for months now.

But Mi'ytiar once more pulled your hands away from it and instead lowered himself down on his knees. He grabbed you by the thighs and hoisted you up against the tree until your pussy was on eye level with him, placing your legs on his shoulder until you were practically sitting on them.

You hissed when the tusks of his mandibles dug into the skin of your ass cheeks and pelvis as they clamped around you after opening them up. Your breath hitched when you felt his own hitting your already dripping and twitching folds, and your hand grabbed ahold of a few of his dreads, keeping you grounded both on his shoulders and in the moment.

"Mi'ytiar…" You mewled.

And Mi'ytiar immediately listened. The tip of his tongue darted out and gave your folds one, two, three licks before it circled around your pulsing clit. Greedily, he lapped at your leaking hole before he plunged his tongue into you, wasting no more time, and groaned when your sweet ambrosia filled his mouth.

Meanwhile, you were a quivering mess on top of his shoulder. With your one hand already seeking support by holding onto his dreads, your other hand had reached up and above your head to dig your nails into the bark of the tree. Your eyes had fallen close and your head had lolled back. Your thighs trapped his head between them and you used them to push him impossibly closer to where you needed him most. Your hips rocked against his mouth, seeking for more.

And Mi'ytiar was soaking everything up as he ate his fill. You looked stunning in this very moment. Your face was flushed, your mouth parted, lips glistening with salvia, and your eyes were squeezed shut with the occasional twitch of the eyelid. It all made him even hungrier and he started twisting his tongue.

"Oh my... ahhh, Mi'ytiar!" You moaned, dragging the last syllable of his name out into a long, high-pitched squeal.

When your grip on his dreads tightened before you pulled on them, he growled into you, the vibrations adding to the stimulation and making your back arch. His tongue drove deeper and the deeper he got, the thicker it stretched you out.

"Tanhì… I’m…"

You couldn't even finish your sentence. With a scream of his name, you came as your thighs tightened around his head. In the orgasmic bliss that hit you like a train, you faintly heard the pitiful whine Mi'ytiar groaned into your depths and, therefore, almost missed it. Luckily, you didn't and thus, you immediately knew. You could tell by the signs when you looked down through half-lidded eyes — his claws digging into your thighs, the jerky motions of his hips, the unsteady up-and-down movement of his chest from heavy breaths.

He'd just ejaculated from eating you out.

You didn't need to see the evidence dripping from his loin cloth covered crotch. You knew because it hadn't been the first time it happened. No, there was this one moment decades ago when Mi'ytiar and you slowly but surely got to know each other on an intimate level, step by step. You had explored your bodies and discovered the multiple aspects of mating together. For someone who had no lips and no mouth per se, he had made you cum harder than on the rare occasion when one of your former lovers reluctantly agreed to pleasure you with their tongue. And Mi'ytiar, who never had tasted the paradise between a Female's legs, came across the furs and blankets after your sweetness hit his taste buds mere seconds earlier.

"Tanhì…" You purred and placed your hands on either side of his head to pull him back a little.

He retracted the tusks of his mandibles where they had been digging into your skin, eliciting a hiss from you, and tugged them back to his face. You smiled softly down at him when he nuzzled his face into your belly, purring in content, and you put your hand on top of his head, your thumb stroking his forehead.

You couldn't wait until you would finally be able to truly mate with him again.

When you went back home — after hunting down the rest of the herd to bring food back to the clan — you were greeted by a grumpy-looking Akail who dropped his little brother into your arms when they reached out to greet him, wanting to hand back the responsibility to watch over the pup as soon as possible.

You had asked him if something happened and the only thing Akail said was that he had found the little parasite in the most impossible places, although he had just been put into his crib throughout the few hours their parents were gone. He had found him in your bedroom, in the bathroom, outside with the Hell Hounds once again, and crawling down the path to your home. There even had been a Male with little Toyah in his arms at the clan leader's abode, asking Akail what the hell the pup was doing at the landing platform next to one of the Scout Ships.

You actually considered strapping Toyah to your chest every hour the day had to offer at that moment.

You looked down at the pup resting in the crook of your arm. "You are a little troublemaker, hm, you little rascal? You made it so difficult for your big brother, didn't you? Put him through so much trouble." You cooed down at him.

You and Mi'ytiar started walking side by side, his hand securely placed on your waist. The ship you had used for your trip was taken care of and the hunted prey was being carried out of it to store it. Your mate offered nods to the Yautja of his clan who greeted the three of you on your way home, but his attention was rather occupied by you and his son who was babbling nonsense. Until…

"Ma!"

You stopped dead in your tracks and looked down at your pup with wide eyes.

He did, didn't he?

"My little star, what was that?" You asked, barely holding in the bursting happiness. "Can you say that again? Did you say Ma?"

Toyah was looking at you, beautiful yellow eyes partly closed from the — what you called, although it was pretty unlikely — smile. He was babbling more and more non-coherent stuff before another "Ma!" slipped from his mouth while he reached out to your face with grabby hands.

It may be just another random syllable mixed with the other typical chatter of a three-month-old pup, but to you, it was a win.

"Yes, Toyah, Ma! It's Ma! You are such a clever little boy, aren't you? My sweet and clever boy!" You praised the pup before you turned to Mi'ytiar with a smug grin while he looked down at you with what looked like an amused glint in his eyes. "That's two for me, my love."

He then watched you continue on your way home, listening to the receding exclamations of "Such a clever boy, my Toyah!" and "Already knowing how to say Ma!" and that familiar warmth bloomed inside his chest. It happened with every smile, every crinkling of your eyes, every caress of your soft hands on his skin, the sound of your voice.

He chose good, he chose right to have you as his Life Mate. Even without pups, you were an incredible enrichment to his life. The way you treated him, appreciated him, loved him, he could not have been luckier. And after you brought your two wonders into his world, it only confirmed his beliefs that you would be a great mother, too.

Masterlist: here

Tag List

@rorrika, @lialiwasneverseen, @lil-lilacwitch, @purplekitten30, @eternalmoonshineofahopelessfan,

@ladygrimmx, @blurpleuni-squid, @zaky-ller, @chrishy973, @devilslittlehelper,

@freyablack90, @shadowstar123, @isntsocial

⇨ Want to join the tag list?

[zooblesbutchpuppygirl]

BRINGING THIS ABCK BECAUSE GUESS WHAY I'M WAYCHING AGAUN

Why did they have to make the villain from the GoodTimes Entertainment Rudolph movie so 😳👉👈

[gojosystem]

✧˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ LABOUR ♡·˚

— [♡] ; souls tied by fate will inevitably cross paths again. ｡°. gojo satoru

tags: endgame gojo satoru, afab!reader, slow burn, pregnancy, regret, hurt/comfort, angst, co-parenting, vulnerable gojo satoru, past suguru geto x reader, past rejection, longing, bittersweet, I'm dramatic so I write dramatic shit, chapter ten of ten

wc. 5.2K

prologue | part 1 | part 2 | part 3| part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9

The tension had been simmering between you and Gojo for days. Ever since the truth had spilled out—the confessions of regret, the moments you had both wished for but never acted on—the air between you had grown heavier, charged with something unspoken. It wasn’t just the past that hung between you anymore. It was something more. Something that had been building for weeks, maybe even months.

At first, it had been easy to ignore. You had thrown yourselves into the routine of taking care of the kids, focusing on their needs and on rebuilding the fragile peace that had settled over your life. But every time Gojo was near—every time his hand brushed yours, or his gaze lingered just a little too long—the tension flared, a silent acknowledgment that something was changing.

You hadn’t spoken about it. Not directly. But you both knew it was there.

And now, after days of walking that fine line, the weight of it was becoming impossible to bear.

It was late at night, the kind of stillness that comes when the world is asleep. The twins were soundly tucked away in their crib, and your daughter was fast asleep in her own room, the house wrapped in a blanket of silence. You had been sharing a quiet evening with Gojo, as you often did these days, sitting together in the dim light of the living room. A bottle of wine sat between you, half-empty, the two of you having indulged in a few glasses to unwind after a long day.

It had been peaceful at first—just the two of you, the soft clink of glasses breaking the silence as you exchanged small, easy conversation. But as the evening wore on, the atmosphere began to shift. The space between you felt smaller, more intimate, and every glance, every touch of fingers as you passed the bottle, carried with it a weight that neither of you could ignore.

You weren’t sure when it happened—when the conversation fell away and was replaced by something else. But as you sat there, your body warm from the wine, your gaze met Gojo’s, and the look in his eyes was unmistakable.

There was a tension there, something that had been simmering for far too long. And this time, you didn’t want to ignore it.

Gojo’s hand rested on the table, his fingers brushing lightly against the edge of his wine glass, but his eyes were fixed on you. His usual playful expression was gone, replaced by something deeper, something far more intense. You could feel it in the way his gaze lingered on your face, the way his body leaned just a little closer to yours, as if drawn to you by some invisible force.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched between you, heavy and charged, and you could hear the soft, unsteady rhythm of your own breathing.

The door had been opened. The words you had exchanged days ago had broken down the last of the barriers between you, and now, the tension was impossible to ignore. It was only a matter of time before it reached a boiling point, before the unspoken desire that had been simmering between you for weeks finally spilled over.

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry as you looked away, trying to gather your thoughts. But the movement only brought you closer to Gojo, the space between you shrinking until you could feel the heat radiating off him.

It was inevitable. You both knew it.

“Satoru…” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly.

He didn’t respond, not with words. Instead, his hand reached out, his fingers brushing against yours, sending a shiver up your spine. It was such a simple touch, but it carried with it the weight of everything you hadn’t said, everything you had been holding back.

You looked up at him, your heart pounding in your chest, and the look in his eyes stole your breath away. There was no mistaking it now—this was more than just the remnants of old feelings, more than just the pull of the past. This was something new, something raw, and it was pulling you both under.

Without another word, you stood, your movements slow and deliberate. You could feel Gojo’s eyes on you as you took a step back, your heart racing, and then you turned, walking toward your room. It wasn’t a decision you had consciously made—it was instinctual, driven by the pull that had been building between you for so long.

You didn’t have to look back to know that Gojo was following you.

The path to your room felt longer than it should have, each step heavy with anticipation, the quiet sound of Gojo’s footsteps right behind you sending your pulse racing. You could feel him—his presence like a magnetic force drawing you in, pulling you toward something you couldn’t quite name but knew you couldn’t stop.

When you reached your room, you hesitated for a moment, your hand resting on the doorframe as you took a deep breath. The weight of what was about to happen settled over you, but instead of fear, all you felt was a strange sense of calm. This was inevitable. This had been building for too long, and now, with the door open, there was no turning back.

You stepped inside, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of the moon filtering through the curtains. You turned, and Gojo was there, standing in the doorway, his blue eyes dark with something you had never quite seen in him before. The playful, carefree mask he so often wore was gone, replaced by a quiet intensity that took your breath away.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The tension between you was electric, and you could feel it in every inch of your body—the pull, the desire, the need that had been building for so long.

And then, finally, Gojo took a step forward.

It was slow at first, hesitant, as if he was giving you one last chance to stop this, to step back and close the door that had been opened. But you didn’t move. You couldn’t. The pull between you was too strong, too overwhelming to resist.

Gojo reached you, his hands finding your waist, and the warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine. His breath was warm against your skin, and for a moment, he hesitated, his forehead resting against yours as if he was trying to steady himself.

“You sure about this?” he whispered, his voice low and rough, filled with the same tension that had been simmering between you for days.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

That was all it took.

In the next moment, his lips were on yours, and the world around you seemed to fall away. The kiss was intense, filled with all the pent-up desire that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long. His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you closer, and you could feel the heat of his body against yours, the weight of him grounding you in the moment.

It was everything you had been holding back, everything you had been afraid to admit, pouring out in a single moment of release.

And it was perfect.

Your hands found their way to his shoulders, your fingers curling into his shirt as you kissed him back, the taste of wine still lingering on his lips. The room felt smaller, the air between you thick with anticipation, and as Gojo deepened the kiss, all the tension, all the unspoken words, melted away, leaving only the two of you.

This was it. The line had been crossed, and there was no going back.

And for the first time, that didn’t scare you.

As Gojo’s hands slid up your back, pulling you even closer, you realized that this—whatever it was, whatever it would become—was the next step in whatever strange, beautiful, complicated thing was unfolding between you.

And you were ready for it.

The room was still, bathed in the soft light of the moon filtering through the curtains. The air was heavy with the weight of what had just happened, a quiet intimacy settling over you and Gojo as you lay beside each other. The tension that had been simmering for weeks had finally broken, but instead of the relief you had expected, there was something else—something softer, deeper.

Gojo’s arm was draped over your waist, his body warm and solid against yours. You lay with your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing, feeling the rise and fall beneath you. The quiet between you was comfortable, but underneath it, there was still so much left unsaid. So much that lingered in the space between breaths.

You shifted slightly, your hand resting on his chest as you turned to look at him. Gojo’s eyes were half-closed, his usual bright blue gaze softened in the dim light, but he was watching you, his expression unreadable. There was a vulnerability in the way he looked at you now, something raw and unguarded that you hadn’t seen before.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched, not awkward but filled with a quiet understanding. You had crossed the line, stepped into something new, and there was no going back. But instead of the tension that had simmered between you for so long, there was something warmer, something more comforting in the aftermath.

Finally, Gojo broke the silence, his voice low and quiet. “You okay?”

You nodded, your hand still resting on his chest. “Yeah,” you whispered. “I’m okay.”

He let out a soft breath, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back as he held you close. “I didn’t… I didn’t plan for this to happen,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I’m not sorry.”

You smiled, a small, tired smile, and rested your head back on his chest. “Neither am I.”

It was the truth. You weren’t sorry. For weeks, maybe even months, this moment had been building, and now that it had finally happened, it felt like a weight had been lifted. The tension, the unspoken desires, the complicated feelings that had tangled between you—they had all been laid bare. And instead of feeling overwhelmed, you felt calm. Settled.

Gojo’s fingers continued to trace slow circles on your skin, and for a moment, the silence between you was enough. But there were still things you needed to say. Things that had lingered in the back of your mind, waiting for the right moment.

“Satoru,” you began softly, your voice hesitant.

“Hm?” His voice was a low hum, content and relaxed, but you could feel the shift in his body as he waited for you to continue.

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. “What… what happens now? With us?”

There it was—the question that had been hanging in the air since the moment you crossed the line. You had been dancing around it for so long, avoiding the inevitable conversation, but now, with the tension gone and the intimacy of the night settling over you, there was no avoiding it anymore.

Gojo didn’t answer right away. His hand stilled on your back, and you could feel him thinking, processing the weight of your question. His chest rose and fell beneath you as he took a deep breath, and when he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, careful.

“I don’t know,” he admitted softly. “I’m not sure what this means. But… I don’t want to go back to how things were before.”

You nodded, understanding the complexity of what he was saying. This wasn’t something that could be neatly categorized. Your relationship with Gojo had always been complicated, and now, after everything that had happened, it was even more so. But you didn’t want to go back either. The intimacy you had shared—the connection that had been building for so long—was something you couldn’t ignore.

“I don’t either,” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the quiet room. “But I’m scared. I don’t know what this means for us, for the kids.”

Gojo’s arm tightened around you, pulling you closer, and you felt the warmth of his body against yours. “I know,” he murmured. “And I’m not going to push you. Whatever this is, whatever happens, we’ll figure it out together.”

You closed your eyes, letting his words sink in. The path ahead was uncertain, filled with questions you didn’t have answers to, but Gojo’s presence beside you, his steady warmth, made the uncertainty a little easier to bear.

“I just want to be here for you,” he continued softly. “For you, for the kids. That’s all I know for sure.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten, and you lifted your head to look at him. His blue eyes were open now, watching you carefully, and the raw honesty in his gaze made your heart ache.

“Satoru…” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. “I’m scared to let you in. I don’t know if I can handle losing someone else.”

Gojo’s expression softened, and he reached up to brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle. “You’re not going to lose me,” he said quietly. “I’m not going anywhere. I promised you that.”

You searched his face, looking for any sign of doubt, but all you saw was the same quiet determination that had been there since the moment he came back into your life. Gojo wasn’t like Suguru. He wasn’t going to walk away, wasn’t going to leave you to face the world alone.

For the first time in a long time, you believed him.

You let out a shaky breath, leaning into his touch. “Okay,” you whispered. “Okay.”

Gojo smiled softly, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. “We’ll take it slow,” he said gently. “One step at a time. No pressure, no expectations. Just… us.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of your fears begin to lift, replaced by a quiet sense of hope. It wasn’t going to be easy—nothing about your life had ever been easy—but with Gojo beside you, it felt like maybe, just maybe, things could be different.

“I can do that,” you whispered, your voice steadying. “One step at a time.”

Gojo leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment before he pulled back. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I’m not letting you go.”

You smiled, a real, genuine smile, and rested your head back on his chest. The quiet of the night settled around you again, but this time, the tension was gone. In its place was something softer, something more stable.

The door had been opened, and now, there was no going back. But instead of fear, all you felt was a quiet certainty.

This was the beginning of something new. Something uncertain, yes, but something worth holding on to.

And with Gojo beside you, for the first time in a long time, you were ready to face whatever came next.

The days following that night passed in a blur of quiet moments and stolen glances. The tension between you and Gojo had shifted, giving way to a softer, more intimate dynamic that felt as natural as it did unfamiliar. The unspoken connection between you was no longer tinged with awkwardness or uncertainty, but there was still the weight of everything that had happened. The newness of your relationship, whatever it had become, was something you were both navigating slowly, carefully.

There were no grand declarations, no discussions about what this meant for the future. Instead, you fell into a kind of unspoken understanding, a rhythm that came naturally as the days passed. It was easier to be around him now, easier to let him in, and with every passing day, it felt like the line you had crossed was becoming less daunting and more of a welcome presence in your life.

One morning, you woke up earlier than usual, the light filtering softly through the curtains as you lay in bed, your thoughts still hazy with sleep. Gojo wasn’t beside you, but that didn’t surprise you. He had taken to getting up early to help with the kids, something that had become a sort of quiet routine between the two of you. It was strange—this domesticity, this sense of normalcy—but it was comforting in a way you hadn’t expected.

You stretched, the soft warmth of the blanket still wrapped around you, before getting out of bed. The house was quiet, save for the distant sounds of your daughter’s giggles coming from the kitchen, and you couldn’t help but smile at the familiar sound. You walked down the hallway, pausing at the doorway to the kitchen, where you found Gojo sitting at the table with your daughter perched on his lap, the twins in their high chairs, babbling softly.

Gojo looked up when he heard you, his bright blue eyes meeting yours with a soft smile. “Morning,” he said, his voice low and warm.

“Morning,” you replied, leaning against the doorframe as you watched the scene unfold before you. It was still strange, seeing him so deeply involved in your everyday life, but it was a good kind of strange. He had slipped into this role so naturally, so effortlessly, and you couldn’t help but feel a swell of warmth as you watched him interact with your children.

Your daughter giggled again, reaching up to pat Gojo’s face, her little fingers poking at his cheek. “Papa Sato!” she chirped, a nickname she had started using more often lately.

Gojo’s eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by the term, but he quickly recovered, smiling down at her as he gently ruffled her hair. “That’s me,” he said playfully, though there was something deeper in his tone, something softer.

You bit back a smile, watching as Gojo handled the situation with his usual lightheartedness, but you could see the way the word had affected him. It was a simple thing—your daughter’s innocent use of “Papa Sato”—but it carried so much weight.

You walked over to the table, placing a hand on the back of one of the chairs before sitting down across from them. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full,” you said, glancing at the twins, who were both busy with their breakfast, babbling in their high chairs.

Gojo grinned, his usual mischievous spark returning. “You could say that,” he replied, his tone teasing. “But I’m handling it like a pro.”

Your daughter reached for her spoon, which Gojo handed to her, guiding her tiny hands as she tried to scoop up some food. The moment was simple, domestic, but it carried a weight that was hard to describe. You had never imagined this—this quiet life with Gojo, this shared responsibility of raising your children. But now that it was happening, you found yourself settling into it, slowly but surely.

The sound of the twins giggling brought your attention back to the table, and you smiled at them, your heart swelling with affection. The room was filled with warmth, the kind of warmth that you hadn’t felt in a long time. It was a far cry from the chaos that had defined your life in recent years, but it was a welcome change.

Gojo leaned back slightly, one arm still around your daughter as he looked at you. “You okay?” he asked, his voice quieter now, more serious.

You nodded, the weight of his question settling over you. “Yeah,” you said softly. “I think I am.”

Gojo’s eyes softened, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he turned his attention back to the kids. It was a simple exchange, but it carried the quiet understanding that had come to define your relationship. There was no need for grand gestures or declarations. You both knew where you stood, and that was enough for now.

The rest of the morning passed in a peaceful rhythm. You and Gojo worked together to get the kids dressed, your daughter insisting on wearing her favorite outfit—one of Suguru’s old shirts that she had claimed as her own—and the twins babbling happily as they were settled into their play area. It was a simple routine, but it was one that had become second nature.

After the kids were settled, you found yourself standing in the kitchen again, cleaning up the remnants of breakfast while Gojo sat at the table, watching the twins with a soft smile. The quiet between you was comfortable, filled with the warmth of shared moments, but there was still an undercurrent of something unspoken, something that lingered in the air.

As you wiped down the counter, Gojo’s voice broke the silence, his tone thoughtful. “You know,” he began slowly, “I’ve been thinking about what we talked about the other night.”

You paused, glancing over at him. He was watching you, his expression serious but not tense. You knew what he was referring to—the conversation you’d had after crossing the line, the talk of what this new dynamic meant for both of you.

“What about it?” you asked, your voice steady but curious.

Gojo leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table. “I just… I don’t want you to feel like I’m pushing you into anything,” he said softly. “I know things are complicated, and I don’t want to make it harder for you.”

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, you were quiet, processing the sincerity behind them. Gojo had always been confident, always sure of himself, but when it came to you, there was a new kind of gentleness, a vulnerability that made you realize just how much he cared.

You walked over to him, leaning against the back of the chair as you met his gaze. “You’re not pushing me,” you said, your voice soft but firm. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.”

Gojo’s eyes softened, and he reached out, his fingers gently brushing against yours where they rested on the chair. The touch was light, but it carried with it a quiet reassurance that made your heart ache in the best way.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay,” he said quietly. “That’s all.”

You smiled, squeezing his hand gently. “I know,” you whispered. “And I appreciate it. But I’m okay, Satoru. Really.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward or heavy. It was the kind of silence that came with understanding, with acceptance. The two of you were still figuring things out, still navigating this new territory, but the foundation was there, and it was strong.

Gojo’s fingers lingered on yours for a moment longer before he leaned back, his usual playful grin returning. “Well, good,” he said, his voice lighter now. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes as you straightened up. “Yeah, I figured.”

As the morning wore on, the ease between you remained. The newness of your relationship was still there, still fragile, but it was growing stronger with every passing day. The tension that had once defined your interactions was gone, replaced by a quiet comfort that made everything feel just a little bit easier.

For the first time in a long time, your life felt like it was settling into something normal. Something good.

And as you watched Gojo playing with your children, his laughter mixing with theirs, you realized that this—whatever it was, whatever it would become—was exactly where you were meant to be.

The night was quiet, wrapped in the warmth of familiarity and intimacy. The moonlight filtered softly through the curtains, casting gentle shadows across the room. The sound of your steady breathing and the rhythmic rise and fall of Gojo’s chest created a comforting rhythm that filled the space. The world outside felt far away, distant, as you lay wrapped in the afterglow of the night you had shared.

Gojo’s arm was draped lazily around your waist, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on your bare skin. The closeness between you felt different now—more settled, more real. There was no longer the tension of uncertainty hanging between you, no more unspoken words waiting to be addressed. What had started with a hesitant kiss had grown into something far deeper, something neither of you had quite expected but welcomed nonetheless.

The silence was comfortable, each of you lost in your own thoughts, but you knew where Gojo’s mind had drifted. You could see it in the way his eyes softened whenever they lingered on you. There was something unspoken still lingering, something that neither of you had dared to bring up. Not yet.

Gojo’s fingers stilled for a moment before he spoke, his voice low and quiet, almost hesitant. “You ever think about it?”

You blinked, turning your head to look at him, your mind still half-lost in the haze of contentment. “About what?”

He smiled softly, his gaze shifting away from you, as though he was embarrassed to say it out loud. “About… what it would be like. If we had a kid together.”

The question hung in the air, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. It wasn’t something you had really thought about—at least, not consciously. But now that he had said it, now that the possibility was out there, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander.

A child. A baby that looked like Gojo—his bright blue eyes, his white hair, that mischievous grin that always seemed to carry the weight of the world so lightly.

You smiled at the thought, the idea of it settling into your mind with surprising ease. “I’ve… thought about it,” you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just didn’t think it was something we’d ever talk about.”

Gojo’s gaze snapped back to yours, his eyes wide with surprise, but there was something else there too. Hope. He propped himself up on one elbow, his eyes searching your face. “You have?”

You nodded, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at the way he was looking at you. “Yeah. I mean… I have three kids already. But the idea of having one that looks like you… It’s crossed my mind.”

Gojo’s smile widened, a soft chuckle escaping him. “I’m surprised you’d want a mini-me running around. You sure you’re ready for that chaos?”

You laughed, the sound light and easy. “I don’t know if I’m ready, but… I don’t think it’s the worst idea.”

There was a pause, the air between you thick with the weight of the conversation. You hadn’t expected to talk about this, not so soon, but now that the idea was out there, it felt… right. Like it was something that had been lingering in the background all along, waiting for the right moment to come to light.

Gojo’s hand slid up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin as he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “A baby,” he murmured, almost to himself. “One that looks like me, huh?”

You smiled, your hand resting on his chest as you tilted your head to meet his gaze. “White hair, blue eyes, and all.”

Gojo’s eyes softened, his playful grin fading into something more serious, more intimate. “It’s strange,” he said quietly. “I never thought about having kids. Not until now. But seeing you with them, seeing how happy they make you… I don’t know. I guess I started wondering.”

You looked at him, your heart swelling with affection. The idea of having a baby with Gojo wasn’t something you had let yourself dwell on before, but now that the thought was there, it felt… natural. You had already built a life together in so many ways—raising the children, sharing your home, finding comfort in each other’s presence. The idea of adding a new life to that mix, one that was a part of both of you, felt like the next step in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

“What would you want?” you asked softly, your fingers tracing the outline of his jaw. “A boy or a girl?”

Gojo chuckled, leaning into your touch. “Doesn’t matter. As long as they’re healthy, I don’t care. But I bet you’d want a little girl. Someone you could dress up and spoil.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You think I’d spoil her?”

He grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I think you’d spoil her rotten. And you know what? I would too.”

The thought of it—a little girl with Gojo’s eyes, running around, laughing, getting into mischief—made your heart ache in the best way. It was a dream, a possibility that hadn’t been there before, but now it felt so real, so attainable.

“You’d be a good dad,” you whispered, your voice soft but filled with certainty.

Gojo’s eyes softened, his hand still resting gently on your cheek. “You think so?”

“I know so,” you said, smiling at him. “You’re already so good with the kids. They love you. And you love them.”

Gojo’s gaze flickered with something deeper, something more vulnerable. “I didn’t expect this,” he admitted softly. “Any of it. But now that it’s here, I can’t imagine my life without it. Without you.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. It was gentle, a silent acknowledgment of everything you had shared, everything you were building together.

“A baby,” you murmured against his lips. “I can see it.”

Gojo pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours, a quiet intensity in his gaze. “I want that,” he whispered, his voice filled with a sincerity that made your chest tighten. “With you.”

The weight of his words settled over you, but instead of fear or uncertainty, all you felt was warmth. You had never imagined your life taking this turn—never imagined that after everything you had been through, you would find this kind of peace with Gojo. But now that it was happening, now that the possibility of a new life, a new baby, was out there, it felt right.

“You really want this?” you asked softly, your voice barely audible in the quiet room.

Gojo’s smile was soft, his hand brushing your hair away from your face as he nodded. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I really do.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding, your heart pounding in your chest as you leaned into him, your body relaxing against his. The future was uncertain, but for the first time in a long time, it felt full of possibilities—beautiful, messy, chaotic possibilities.

As you lay there, wrapped in each other’s warmth, the dream of a baby with Gojo became more than just a fleeting thought. It became something real, something you both wanted, something you could both see in your future.

And as you drifted off to sleep, the thought of what could be lingered in the back of your mind, filling you with a quiet sense of hope.

A new baby. A new life.

One that looked like Gojo, white hair, blue eyes, and all.

notes: ITS DONE THANK FUCKING GOD!

taglist: @username23345 @arminswifee @tomiokasecretlover @ffyona1214 @tojirin @eggrollforyou @ironicsss @asahinasstuff @feitanett @xdinaryheroesstan @laviefantasie @hyunsuks-beanie @starlightanyaaa @tanyaspartak @forever-paramore28 @saatorubby @ssetsuka @archiveoftherain @kxrla-20 @reesesnieces

©apollogeticx ⋆ all rights reserved.

[softsusanoo]

With Or Without You (18+)

"My hands are tied, my body's bruised, got me with. Nothing to win and nothing left to lose."

summary: the orders were clear: find him, stop him, end it. But nothing about him had ever been simple. Not the way he fought. Not the way he left. And certainly not the way you loved him. What began in fire would end the same way. But between the sparks, there was still something left—a touch, a breath, a choice. Not peace. But maybe… something like it.

pairing: deidara x female reader

genre: lovers to enemies to lovers, drama, tragedy

word count: 6,6k

warnings: fighting scenes, mature content/mature language, mentions of intercourse, blood/bleeding, mentions of wounds, death

author's note: this story was deeply inspired by the song With or Without You by U2. There’s something about the aching tension and quiet desperation in that song that stayed with me — and I knew I wanted to write something that carried that same weight. I set out to create a piece that hurts — the kind that clings to your chest and doesn’t let go right away. The kind that leaves behind a trace of longing, of something beautiful and broken all at once.

The forest here was older than most. You could feel it in the way the roots twisted above the earth, gnarled and reaching, and in the hush that pressed low against your ears, like the trees themselves remembered too much. Moss carpeted the stones beneath your feet, soft and damp, and the fading light slanted through the canopy in fractured shafts of gold. Each step you took stirred the air—scattering leaves, bending shadows, and still the silence clung to you.

You weren’t thinking about the trail today. Not yet. You let your steps guide you without urgency, without purpose, as if the past itself had laced the path in front of you. Some days were like that—when memory pulled harder than duty.

Deidara had always walked ahead of you on these paths. Even when you told him not to. He’d turn just often enough to make sure you were still behind him, flashing that grin that never asked for forgiveness.

You remembered him at twelve, sprinting up a muddy hill, slipping, laughing, and shouting something about how the storm made everything more alive. You’d followed, soaked and annoyed, but secretly warmed by the way he threw his arms wide like he could hold the whole world.

You remembered him at fifteen, lying beside you under a half-collapsed shrine, the rain drumming on the roof and his fingers inches from yours. His voice soft in the dark.

"You ever think about what we’d do if we weren’t shinobi?" You hadn’t known how to answer. You still didn’t. And then there was that one night—the one neither of you spoke of afterward. The one where the world felt too fragile, and you both leaned in. Not with words, but with a kind of silent gravity. His hand on your cheek. Yours in his hair. Breath shared, slow and unsteady. The kiss had been brief. But it was enough. Enough to know that something had shifted. It was always like that with him. Sudden and bright and irreversible. He used to talk about beauty like it was a kind of violence. How things were only real when they were fleeting. How art had to vanish to mean something. You never argued, but you never agreed, either.

And maybe that was where the breaking began. Somewhere small and quiet. A fracture beneath all the closeness. Because when he started talking about change, about truth, about tearing it all down—you didn’t follow. You couldn’t. He’d asked you to. Not once. Not dramatically. Just—quietly. Like he believed it was inevitable. "You see it too, don’t you?" he’d whispered one night, eyes lit by firelight and fever dreams. "This system… it eats people like us. I want to make something that lasts. Even if it has to explode first."

You remembered the way you’d reached for his hand, fingers curling just shy of his. "And what happens to us?" you’d asked. He’d looked at you then, really looked. "We survive it. Together." But he had gone.

And he hadn’t taken you with him.

It curled just at the edge of your senses—thin and acrid, half-hidden beneath the scent of pine and cold stone, but it was there. Real. Present. And suddenly, the weight of the present returned with full force. This wasn’t just a walk through memory. This wasn’t just mourning someone who was still alive. You were here for a reason.

Now, the silence between the trees was thick with the shape of him. The sound of his voice still clung to the undersides of your ribs. The memories were soft and sharp in turns, like worn-out fabric hiding glass. You stopped at the edge of a ridge, letting the wind push your hood back. The sky was beginning to bruise with dusk. You breathed it in slowly. The pine. The old, wet stone. The smoke of some distant fire.

Deidara.

Your mission had been given in quiet tones, behind closed doors, the kind reserved for names that held weight. The kind that burned when spoken. S-rank missing-nin. Target to be eliminated. No room for sentiment. No room for history. Just the cold efficiency of ink on scroll and blade in hand. And you’d nodded. Of course you had. You were a shinobi of the Village Hidden in the Stones. Loyal. Trusted. Bound by duty to protect what remained. Even if that meant turning your blade toward the ghosts of your past.

Even if it meant killing him.

Your superiors didn’t know the depth of what you shared—not really. They only knew the broad strokes: that you’d trained together, come up through the ranks side by side, that you’d once been close. But closeness was common in war. Bonds formed quickly when death was never far. They assumed it was just another thread cut clean when he left. They didn’t know what he had been to you. They didn’t know the pieces he’d taken when he disappeared.

And yet—you’d accepted the mission. Because you had to.

Because you’d seen what he’d done since. The villages left smoking. The broken bodies. The signature left behind in every crater, in every flash of clay-born flame. He wasn’t the boy you knew anymore. That’s what you told yourself. But still—your grip on the strap of your pack tightened. Your jaw clenched against the wind. The ache in your chest remained a quiet, insistent thrum. You didn’t want to kill him. But you didn’t know if you could walk away, either. The forest thinned slightly as you moved forward. The trail was clearer now—heavier footprints in the dirt, bark scuffed along a trunk where someone had passed through in haste. And there—caught on the jagged end of a low branch—a thin strand of golden hair.

You reached for it without thinking, fingers brushing the delicate thread. It shivered in the breeze before slipping free and vanishing into the wind. Just like him. You closed your eyes, steadying yourself. Focus. Breathe. Don’t remember— but it was impossible not to. You remembered the first time you realized he was gone for good. Not on a mission. Not lost in battle. Just—vanished. No word. No goodbye. Just silence where there had once been fire and laughter and the sound of his boots pacing outside your room when he couldn’t sleep. They called it betrayal. You understood why. But for you, it had felt more like abandonment.

You had waited. You had hoped. For weeks. For news. For anything. But all you got was a report. Cold. Clinical. Stamped with the Tsuchikage's seal. Missing-nin. Name: Deidara. You should’ve hated him then. You didn’t. Instead, you folded the report and tucked it into the back of your journal. It stayed there for two years before you could finally throw it into the fire. Even now, some nights, when the wind howled low, you thought you could still hear his voice in it—bright and impatient, complaining about rations or politics or the way your hair never stayed tied back in a fight.

You kept walking.

The trail sloped downward, stones slick beneath your boots, and the smell of smoke grew thicker. You adjusted the strap across your chest and quickened your pace. The trees parted ahead—just slightly—and through the gap you saw the curl of black ash rising against the pale sky. A campfire. Recent. Still alive. Your heart slammed against your ribs. This was it. No more shadows. No more memory.

Only him.

You dropped low, moving silent and swift. Each breath was measured, each step deliberate. Training overtook emotion. You fell back into the rhythm of mission mode, of muscle memory. The edge of your cloak barely whispered against the undergrowth. And yet, beneath it all, the war inside you raged. Because what waited at the end of this path wasn’t just a target. It was the only person who had ever made the world feel loud and bright and endless. The only one who had made you believe that maybe you weren’t just a tool to be wielded and discarded. That maybe—just maybe—you could choose your life. But he had chosen first. And you were here to finish what he started. Another step. Another breath. Your fingers brushed the hilt of your blade.

Duty.

Loyalty.

Honor.

These were the things you were meant to live by. The things you had always lived by. But as the campfire flickered into view, small and stubborn beneath the hush of dusk, you felt them crack like old stone inside you. Because this wasn’t just another mission. This was Deidara. And you didn’t know if you’d come to end him—

—or to see if there was still anything left of him worth saving.

The fire was smaller than expected. Nothing but embers now, tucked into a shallow pit of scorched earth. Still warm. Still breathing. Whoever had been here hadn’t left long ago. You crouched low at the edge of the clearing, gaze sweeping across the site. The coals whispered softly, pulsing with that fading orange glow — not yet dead. A single clay cup rested near a moss-covered stone, half-full of cooled tea. No footprints around it. Just one. Singular. Careful.

Deidara.

You didn’t call out. Didn’t move too fast. You let your senses stretch beyond the fire, reading the brush line, the trees, the rhythm of wind through leaves. It was quiet in a way that didn’t feel right. No birdsong. No distant insects. Just hush. Watching. The camp was minimal, sparse to the point of impermanence. A pack had been left near the fire, sealed. A folded scrap of cloth set neatly on top. It wasn’t like him to be neat. Not unless it meant something. You stepped forward slowly, testing each shift of weight as if the ground itself might betray you. Your fingers brushed the pack.

Click.

Instinct screamed — you jumped back, chakra flooding to your feet, just as the first explosion hit. It was small — a flash, a blast of light and smoke — meant to disorient, not kill. But it was enough. Enough to send your ears ringing. Enough to scatter your focus. And then—

The second came from above.

A shape dropped from the trees, sharp and fast, a blur of blond and black and red — a streak of chakra-laced precision. You barely brought your blade up in time, the clang of steel ringing too loud in the hollow space between you. The impact forced you back. You hit the ground hard, rolled, came up in a crouch with your kunai drawn. Your vision cleared just in time to see him — really see him.

Deidara.

Standing at the far edge of the clearing, still in that damned cloak, still with that same wild, ungovernable hair. A little longer now. The shadows carved sharper lines into his face, age and battle and distance making him something stranger — something more dangerous. But his eyes…

His eyes were the same. They met yours and held — and for a second, neither of you moved. Just breath. Just the thunder of blood in your ears. Just the ghosts.

“I was wondering when you'd show up,” he said at last, his voice low, careless in that practiced way of his. But there was something underneath it. Something brittle. You didn’t answer. Didn’t trust yourself to. Instead, you stood slowly, keeping your blade between you. The silence tightened. The air tasted like ash and something else—something older. Familiar.

“Still fast,” he mused. “I thought maybe you’d slowed down.”

“You set the trap,” you said quietly, ignoring the tremor building in your chest.

“Of course I did,” he replied, as if it were obvious. “I knew it’d be you.” The words struck somewhere deep. You didn’t flinch, but you felt them all the same. You studied his stance, the way he stood with weight shifted back, like he wasn’t sure whether to run or strike again. Or maybe he was just waiting. He always had a flair for timing. For showmanship. But this moment — this breath between you — it didn’t feel like an act. It felt like memory crawling out of the dirt between you and refusing to die. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said, softer now. “I could say the same.” His lips twitched — not quite a smile. “But you came anyway.” You tightened your grip. “You left me no choice.” At that, something flickered behind his eyes. Brief. Unnamed. He took a step closer. “No. I gave you a choice. You just didn’t take it.”

The words landed sharp. Too sharp. You almost said his name, but bit it back. Not yet. Not like this. Instead: “This ends now.” He tilted his head. “Does it?”

His hand moved, slow — too slow for a real threat. But your body braced anyway. He reached into his cloak and pulled out a small, familiar shape — a clay bird, half-formed, delicate and incomplete. He held it up between you. “I kept making them,” he said. “Even after.”

The world held still. You didn’t lower your blade. And yet—

Part of you did.

Something inside you pulled taut, fraying at the edges. “Why?” you asked. Not because you needed the answer. But because the silence would’ve broken you if you didn’t fill it with something. He looked at the bird in his hand, turning it slightly in the firelight. “Because they’re beautiful when they fall.” Of course he would say that. Of course he would still believe in that same fleeting brilliance — the art of vanishing things. And you were tired of being one of them. “Are you going to fight me?” you asked. He didn’t look up. “Are you here to kill me?”

You said nothing.

He finally raised his gaze to yours. And for the first time in what felt like lifetimes, you saw the boy beneath the cloak. The boy who once made you laugh without trying. The boy who used to walk ahead of you, just to turn back and make sure you were still behind him. You saw him. And it hurt. He lowered the bird. You didn’t move. The fire crackled softly between you.

“We don’t have to do this,” he said.

But the distance between you said otherwise. The years. The blood. The duty. The ache. You shifted your stance. “We already are.”

You moved first. Just a twitch — a forward shift in your weight, the barest narrowing of your eyes — and he caught it, like he always did. His hand dipped to his pouch, fingers ghosting over clay, but he didn’t throw. Not really. You surged toward him in a blur, blade arcing low. He turned with it, letting the steel kiss the edge of his cloak. Sparks flared. No blood.

“Still predictable,” he murmured, stepping back into the half-dark. “Still arrogant,” you shot back, twisting, your heel driving a spray of dirt as you struck again. He dodged cleanly — just barely. Your blade sliced a lock of hair as he dipped and rolled to the side, landing light on the balls of his feet. You followed. Quick, clean, a punch aimed for his side. He caught your wrist, your bodies colliding in a tangle of old instinct and breathless adrenaline. Too close.

Too close.

For a second, neither of you moved.

You felt his fingers tighten around your wrist — not painfully. Not yet. Your heart was a drum in your ribs. He was warm. Solid. The scent of smoke and wind and something familiar clung to him — the ghost of a life you never got to live. His eyes flicked to your lips. Yours stayed locked on his. “Careful,” he said, voice low, breath brushing your cheek. “You’re getting reckless.” “You’re holding back,” you replied. He didn’t deny it. Neither did you.

Your hand rose, fast — kunai pressed flat against his ribs, right beneath his heart. He didn’t even flinch. Just looked at you like he had all the time in the world.

“You won’t do it,” he said. You hated how sure he sounded. You hated how right he might be. His grip loosened. Slowly. Deliberately. Letting you go without stepping back. The distance between you remained a breath. You didn’t move. Couldn’t. Because in that space, something broke open. Or maybe it had never fully closed.

You saw him — not as the Akatsuki rogue, not as the missing-nin with blood on his hands — but as the boy who once whispered your name like it was a secret worth keeping. The boy who reached for your hand in the dark. Who pressed his lips to your collarbone like it meant something more than survival.

And suddenly, the memory was there — alive beneath your skin, blooming like heat through old scars.

That night.

The last night.

Before he left.

It had rained for hours, the kind of storm that rattled the roof and blurred the line between night and morning. You’d both returned from a mission — bruised, tired, damp to the bone. But neither of you had slept. He’d come to your door, wordless, eyes wild and searching. You let him in. You always did.

And in the quiet hush of candlelight, with the storm howling just beyond the shutters, you let the world fall away. It hadn’t been fast. Or desperate. It had been real. The slow slide of fingers over skin, the catch of breath in your throat, his name on your lips — half-spoken, half-swallowed. The way he’d looked at you like you were more than shinobi, more than function, more than weapon. Like you were his. Your bodies had found rhythm in the hush, not in hunger but in knowing — that this might be the first and last time. You remembered the way he’d touched your face afterward. Reverent. Almost afraid. As if memorizing you. You hadn’t said it. Neither had he. But it had been there, in the silence. And now—

Now that same silence pulsed between you, thick with what had been and what could never be again.

Deidara’s hand hovered near yours. His eyes flicked across your face — not calculating. Not cold. Just looking. “Why did you really come?” he asked. You didn’t answer right away. Because the mission had always been a shield. Because saying the truth aloud might crack it open too far. But your voice came anyway. Bare. Shaky.

“To see if there was anything left of you.”

Deidara didn’t answer you. Not in words.

Instead, he shifted — a flicker of movement, fast and angled, like a spark catching dry air — and you were already moving to meet it. You didn’t know who struck first. Maybe it didn’t matter.

The first clash was fast and sharp, chakra humming through the air as your blade met the thick sweep of his arm, reinforced with earth. He twisted to the side, boot kicking up moss and ash, and your momentum carried you into a tight arc, steel slicing through smoke where his shoulder had been a breath before.

His laughter came soft — not mocking. Not quite. “Still chasing shadows.”

“And you’re still hiding behind tricks,” you spat, pivoting low to avoid a clay spider skittering through the grass toward your heels. It hissed once before erupting in a crack of white light. He barely waited for the smoke to clear before launching another — two birds this time, half-formed, flaring with chakra. You leapt into the trees, caught a branch with one hand and flung a kunai with the other. It shattered the nearest bird mid-air, the explosion splintering bark beside your ear. You dropped hard, knees bending, blade raised. His voice came again, closer now. “You really came to kill me?”

You didn’t answer. Not when the truth curled too close to the bone. Instead, you rushed him.

And he let you.

The next exchange was faster. Rougher. You pressed in with precision, your strikes landing with just enough force to bruise — not break. And he returned each one with matching speed, his hits sharp but shallow, calculated to remind you he could have gone deeper. He could have ended this. But he didn’t. Neither of you did.

You moved like a memory pulled taut, the rhythm of your bodies still echoing that old training yard tempo — strike, pivot, breath, dodge, circle, clash. You saw the flicker in his eyes before he formed the next seal — you remembered that twitch of his fingers, the way he exhaled right before his chakra spiked. You ducked just in time. A bird the size of your chest swooped over your head and exploded against a boulder behind you. Stone rained down in fragments. He watched you through the dust, breathing hard. “You knew I’d be here.”

“I hoped you'd be here,” you corrected, chest tight. “I followed smoke and silence and too many ruined things. That usually means you.” A beat passed. Something unspoken coiled in the air between you. The forest had gone unnaturally still again — as though the land itself was listening.

He stepped forward. You did too.

Another crash — blade against bracer, chakra pulsing between your palms, breath rushing from both your lungs. His hair brushed your cheek for the briefest second. And with it — the memory returned.

That night. The first time.

Your bare skin beneath his hands. His mouth tracing your collarbone like it might vanish come morning. His breath catching like he couldn’t believe you were real.

“You gave yourself away the day you left.” You struck harder than you meant to. And he caught your wrist. Held it there. Not in restraint. But in something like remembering. Your blade pressed against his collar. His fingers twitched with chakra. A stalemate. Again. But neither of you moved. “I never meant for you to follow,” he murmured, gaze locked on yours. “You knew I would,” you replied. The next moment shattered the stillness. He spun, breaking contact — a flash of movement, sweeping your legs from beneath you. You hit the earth hard, rolled, came up swinging. Your blade sliced open his sleeve, clay scattering from his pouch. He retaliated in kind — a sharp jab to your ribs, a second explosion close enough to scorch your coat. You wheezed but didn’t fall. Instead, you slammed your shoulder into his chest, knocking him back into a tree trunk with a grunt.

“Still angry,” he coughed. “Still here,” you snapped, lunging again. The fight grew messy after that. Less style, more ache.

He threw everything you once admired — elegant forms, beautiful devastation — but his timing faltered in ways you remembered. The way he didn’t like getting close. The way he always struck high first. You read him like you used to. And he read you. He dodged a spin-kick you hadn’t used in years. Caught your wrist mid-feint like he’d been waiting for it. You broke free, kicked out hard, and he stumbled. Blood streaked his cheek. Your lip split.

The forest reeked of smoke and clay and the copper tang of shared pain. Still, you didn’t stop. Because something in you had to see it through. Not the mission. Not even the outcome.

Just him.

Deidara, after all these years. Still impossible. Still brilliant. Still yours, in some quiet, ruined place you’d locked away and pretended didn’t hurt. “I’m not the same girl you left,” you hissed between breaths. “I know,” he said. He sounded almost proud. You clashed again. Slower now. Breaths shorter. Blows less precise. More weary than wild. You drove him to one knee — he knocked your blade from your grip.

You pinned him — he flipped you both.

He loomed over you, forearm pressed to your collarbone, breath ragged. His face hovered close. Too close.

“I never stopped looking,” he said. You blinked against the sting behind your eyes. “Then why run?” “Because I wasn’t enough to stay.”

And there it was. The truth between all your battles. The thing that always burned. You shifted beneath him, not to escape, but to breathe. “You should’ve let me decide that.” He swallowed, throat working hard. “Would you have come with me?” You didn’t answer. Because the truth was this:

You almost had.

You had packed your things once, stood at the edge of the village gates, wind in your hair, heart breaking in your chest. But you hadn’t moved. And he hadn’t waited. Now, your legs tangled in his cloak, your blood on his knuckles, your heart beating like a war drum — you both breathed the same silence.

You pushed against him with a force born of desperation, your legs sliding from tangled cloak to solid earth. The impact jostled your breath, but you caught yourself, pushing upward, knees bending, feet steadying on the mossy ground. Deidara’s eyes narrowed, calculating, as he rose too — that familiar spark lighting behind the calm facade. The dance was far from over.

Steel and flesh had tested limits, but now it was chakra, the real language between you, spoken in bursts of flame and clay. You took the lead. Your fingers flicked open a seal, breath steady despite the storm pounding in your chest. The air trembled as you summoned the chakra to your palms, coiling it like a living thing. You felt the familiar surge — the pull between power and control — and then let it burst forth. A ribbon of fire spiraled from your hands, weaving through the trees toward Deidara with a roar that shook the leaves. His grin flashed, wide and reckless, but not without shadow.

With a fluid motion, he countered, molding his signature clay — hands moving fast, shaping a cluster of small birds, their wings fluttering with ominous life. They darted forward, a swarm of fragile death, twisting through the flames with reckless grace. You barely dodged as the explosion shattered a nearby trunk, the heat scorching your cheek. Pain bloomed, but your eyes never left his. The forest was a cage and a stage, each breath thick with ash and memory.

You unleashed another burst — tighter this time, a whip-crack of flame aimed to trap him against the ancient stones. His birds scattered, diving and exploding like bursts of violent petals. But Deidara twisted, clay shifting into something larger, darker — a dragon coiled and snarling with molten edges. The fire met earth and clay with a cataclysmic crack.

You stumbled back as the dragon surged, snapping jaws that sent shards of burning clay hurtling like deadly shards of glass. One grazed your arm, burning deep, flesh sizzling beneath the surface. You clenched your teeth and ignored it. Deidara moved with a terrible grace, every strike painting the air with destruction and art entwined. His eyes held a wild light, fierce and broken — a man caught between brilliance and ruin. “Why do you fight so hard?” he called over the roar. “Is it loyalty? Duty? Or something you won’t admit?” You spat blood from between clenched teeth.

“It’s what’s left of us.”

He hesitated — just a fraction — before shaping a massive sphere of clay, veins pulsing with chakra. The orb exploded in a wave of searing heat that threw you to the ground, wind knocked from your lungs. Pain radiated from your side where the clay had grazed you, burning through layers of clothing and muscle. You pushed yourself up, vision blurring but determination steady. Your voice was hoarse but clear. “I’m not the girl who left.” “You’re not the boy who stayed,” he replied, voice cracking under the weight of years.

You summoned your chakra again, hands weaving seals faster now, flames licking higher, hotter. The fire swept over the clearing, turning shadow to ash, the scent of burning pine and earth filling your senses. You saw his eyes flicker with respect — and regret. He didn’t just defend. He attacked. Clay birds rained down like hail, each strike precise and merciless. One clipped your shoulder, sharp pain exploding through your arm. You gritted your teeth, forcing your fingers to steady your blade as you deflected the next wave. Breath came hard, ragged. You traded fire for clay, each blast echoing the other’s desperate yearning — destruction for creation, chaos for control.

The world around you burned, trees splintering, earth cracked, the sky darkening with smoke. It was a battlefield for more than just skill — a war of souls, of memories and broken promises. Deidara’s voice broke through the fury, quiet and raw: “There’s nothing left to win.” You didn’t answer. Because you knew it was true. Still, you fought. Because losing without a fight would mean forgetting everything. You closed the distance, your flames colliding with his clay like a storm crashing on a shattered shore. The heat pressed against your skin, sweat and ash mixing, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

You were burning — inside and out.

He was too.

Your arms slammed into each other, strength meeting strength, until the clay cracked beneath your grip and you both stumbled back, bruised and bleeding but unbowed. For a moment, the world held its breath. You stared at each other — two ghosts bound by fire and pain, tethered by something neither could fully let go. “Why won’t you stop?” you whispered. “Because without this,” he said, voice breaking, “there’s nothing with you.”

The weight of his words hung between you like a fragile thread stretched thin over a chasm you both feared to cross.

Your breath hitched, chest tight with the ache of everything unsaid. The firelight flickered across his face — shadows playing over scars you’d never seen, eyes that held the same restless longing you felt clawing beneath your ribs. You could have stopped then. You should have. But the silence wasn’t peace. It was the storm before the last fall.

Deidara’s fingers curled into fists, shaping a final seal with trembling precision. The earth trembled beneath your feet as the air thickened with tension. You matched him, weaving your own chakra with a desperate clarity — flames licking your skin like ghosts, hungry for release. The clash was inevitable. His clay surged forward like a tidal wave, monstrous and raw — a dragon unfurling wings wide and wild. You met it with a blaze of flame that roared like a cry in the dark, consuming the earth in its path.

The collision tore the forest apart — trees exploding into shards of wood and ash, the ground fracturing beneath your feet. The heat seared your lungs, the world reduced to fire and fury. You fought like two halves of a broken whole — destruction and creation locked in a desperate embrace. Each blow cracked the air with the sound of a heart breaking.

Your arms burned, muscles screaming as you blocked a crushing strike that sent shockwaves through your bones. You retaliated with a burst of flame, a wave meant to end it — to end him.

But Deidara was relentless, weaving his clay with frantic grace, shaping beauty in devastation, his eyes wild and fierce. Pain blossomed in your side, sharp and cold, a cruel reminder that this fight was more than skin deep. You staggered but refused to fall. Because somewhere beneath the rage, beneath the fire and the fury, a silent truth whispered:

You couldn’t live without him.

The night around you thickened, smoke curling like dark fingers against the fading stars. Your breaths came ragged, each inhale a battle against the weight of exhaustion and loss. Deidara faltered for a heartbeat, his breath shallow, a streak of blood trailing from his lip. You seized the moment, launching forward with a final, desperate strike — a flame that wrapped around his clay like a lover’s embrace, searing and consuming. He countered, clutching at your arm with a grip that was fierce and tender all at once. The world seemed to tilt, time slowing to a breathless pause.

You met his gaze — eyes locked in a silent confession.

The silence between you was no longer held by tension. It was the kind that settled over battlefields after everything had been said and done.

You couldn’t feel your left arm anymore. Not truly. It hung useless at your side, the blood that poured from your shoulder soaking into the scorched earth beneath you. Every breath was a struggle — wet, shallow, thick with the taste of iron. Your ribs were cracked, maybe broken, and the wound across your abdomen was too deep to clot, too messy to bind. Warmth kept spilling from you, leaking like time you no longer had. Deidara wasn’t much better. His face was pale, slick with sweat and streaked with blood — not just yours. A gash above his brow had bled down into one eye, half-blinding him. You could see the way his hand shook when he moved, how he favored his side — the right, where your blade had pierced deeper than either of you intended. His breathing was uneven, rattling through a punctured lung, and when he coughed, you saw red on his tongue.

You watched him as he staggered, trying to stay upright, hands still curled in habit around his clay pouch — but there was nothing left to give. No chakra. No tricks. Just a body breaking down the way all bodies did, when pushed too far for too long. The forest, now a graveyard of ash and ruin, stood still. The stars blinked into existence above the clearing, indifferent. “I don’t… think I’ll make it to sunrise,” you murmured, voice hoarse, barely audible.

Deidara turned his head slowly toward you, every motion slow, deliberate. His mouth curved into something soft. Something sad. “I won’t either,” he said. And there it was. Not drama. Not fear. Just the truth.

There would be no returning. No running. No next time. You were both dying — not in the abstract sense of ‘someday’ or ‘soon’ — but now. Minutes. Maybe less. Every heartbeat louder than the one before. You could feel your pulse in your ears, dull and heavy. Everything else began to feel far away. Except him. Deidara.

The boy you loved.

The man you couldn’t stop loving.

Even now — maybe especially now.

There was something tragically poetic in it: that neither blade nor fire had killed you. It was your memories. Your love. The way you’d fought not to destroy, but to hold on. Deidara’s hand trembled as it brushed against your cheek, fingers tracing a line that burned deeper than any wound. “Don’t leave,” he whispered, voice raw. You wanted to say you wouldn’t. But the flames in your veins screamed otherwise. The fight had claimed more than your bodies now. It had claimed your hearts.

The night had folded around you like a shroud, thick with smoke and the bitter scent of blood. The forest, once alive with the clash of chakra and steel, had gone silent—its breath held, waiting for the final note to fall. You and Deidara stood tangled in each other’s arms, swaying where the battlefield had gone still, his hand splayed across your back, yours clutching weakly at his cloak. Blood soaked the fabric between you, warm and heavy, mixing until it was impossible to tell whose was whose. Your bodies leaned into one another like dying trees, held up only by shared gravity and the will not to fall.

Your vision blurred, the world tilting like a fading dream, but through the haze you found his eyes—those fierce, wild eyes that had haunted your memories and dreams since the day he left. They were softer now, touched by something raw and unspoken, a vulnerability neither of you had dared to show before.

“You always were impossible to forget,” you murmured, voice ragged, every breath a jagged shard in your chest. Deidara’s lips curved into a faint, bittersweet smile. “And you… you were the only reason I ever stopped wanting to disappear.”

The weight of your shared past pressed between you, as heavy and delicate as the ashes drifting from the sky. The silence between your words held the countless moments you never spoke—laughter beneath stars, stolen touches in shadows, the unbearable ache of goodbye. His fingers found yours, weak but steady, weaving a silent promise that needed no words. You squeezed back, heart clenched tight by a love that had survived pain, distance, and time itself. “I never thought… I’d see you again,” you whispered, voice trembling with the fragility of hope and sorrow entwined. “Neither did I,” he breathed, “but maybe some things don’t let go… no matter how much we try.” Your chest ached with a bittersweet warmth, a melody that played softly in your mind—an echo of a song you once heard, its words now etched deep in your soul:

“I can’t live without you.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the memory wash over you like a gentle tide. The pain faded beneath the ache of holding on—holding him—one last time. Opening your eyes, you saw the flicker of tears glistening in Deidara’s gaze. His hand moved to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, the touch tender and trembling. “Do you remember,” he asked softly, “that night? When we were one? When the world was nothing but us?” You nodded, voice barely a breath. “I’ve never forgotten.” “Me neither,” he said, voice cracking. “Not even when I tried.” Your breath hitched as his forehead leaned against yours, heartbeats syncing in the quiet dark. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, “for everything. For leaving, for the silence.”

His laugh was low, almost a sigh. “You didn’t leave me. I left myself.” You smiled weakly, tears spilling free, mixing with the dirt and blood on your cheeks. “Then maybe we can be found… together.” Deidara’s smile deepened, filled with both pain and peace—a fragile light in the encroaching darkness.

“I don’t want to be without you,” he said. “Nor I without you,” you replied, voice firm despite the trembling inside.

His lips met yours then, soft and trembling at first, a kiss that held the weight of years and unspoken promises. It was a kiss of forgiveness and longing, of love born from fire and shattered dreams. The world seemed to hold its breath as your souls tangled once more, finding in each other a fragile sanctuary. When you finally parted, your foreheads still touching, the night seemed a little less cold, a little less empty.

Deidara’s fingers curled into a fist, a spark of chakra flickering beneath his skin—a final masterpiece born from chaos and love. “We end this,” he said, voice steady but laced with sorrow, “not with pain, but with peace.” You nodded, the exhaustion settling deep in your bones, the ache of loss mingling with the warmth of a love that had refused to die.

Together, you closed your eyes, hearts beating slower, the world fading to black.

Then — the explosion.

A brilliant bloom of light and sound, a final note in the symphony of your lives, stretching out into the night. And in that moment, as fire and silence intertwined, you found your peace.

[sto11en]

@crue11 ' JIWOON × $$$ ` » continued .

if he were honest , this is far more reckless than he ' d like . it ' s only been a few days since he broke in , and god only knows if security for the building had been increased , it ' s riskier now than it had been ` & this plan of his is something to be studied . if caught , he will , without a doubt , be charged with so many crimes that he ' d never see the outside again . initially the kidnapping part wasn ' t anything but a joke in his mind but he let it marinate into something stable . even now , there ' s an unsteadiness . a creeping anxiety , lingering against his chest .

but he promised jiwoon he ' d back sooner rather than later ` & he ' ll be damned if he went back on that word [ . . . ] so here he is , clad in nothing but black , a baseball cap to match on his head . admittedly , it ' s later than he had initially planned but that ' s the thing about predators : you never know when they ' ll strike . really , he had been waiting for the perfect moment , lights out ` & slumber taking control . only , it took longer than he ' d expected . as soon as he noticed it though , si eun rushes up to where jiwoon is . ryu would be laughing at him for this , may call him pathetic . a robbery that ended up with his own heart stolen . it sounds like a joke ` & his friend ' s laughter echoes in his head . but jiwoon . oh . he had something about him that pulled si eun in ; as if he were a moth ` & jiwoon was a pyre , a fish caught on the fisherman ' s hook .

he stumbles a little in the dark , cursing under his breath . the door clicks quietly where it shuts behind him . ` & it ' s all a blur from there , too much happening at once for him to keep track , but he follows through . gets his boy ` & takes him .

his own name sounds sweet in the whisper , something he ' d like to taste , in other circumstances . the kiss is instinctual , woven into the dna to calm , attempt comfort . the wolf sheds it ' s fur for the sheep . gentle hushes form between his lips , a soothing taste . " hey , hey , it ' s okay i ' m not gonna hurt you " murmured with a delicate tone " i know it was unlocked , but " he cuts himself off as his attention pulls down to jiwoon ' s wrists , he hadn ' t tied the rope tight enough to leave marks , he really didn ' t want to hurt jiwoon more than he already had . he fiddles with the rope he ' d used to tie jiwoon ' s wrists , holding the pulse under the pad of his thumb . the hands shake , and there ' s the familiar tingle at his spine ; he ignores it in favor of beginning to pull at the rope , gaze landing on jiwoon ' s " i wanted to surprise you "

the rope loosens , unravels from jiwoon ' s wrists and he rubs at the skin , something akin to checking for injury . " we ' re on a date " spoken through his own crooked smile as he pulls jiwoon upward , out of the bed of the truck ; it didn ' t belong to him but one of his buddies . he needed it for his romancing tonight . " don ' t be scared . " eyes pool like he ' s pleading , another kiss ; this time placed on jiwoon 's temple as he shifts away again . he has sushi , some candies and blankets crowded in his arms when he returns , throwing them behind jiwoon and flashing another smile . he actually put thought into this , a night under the stars ; and away from prying eyes , anybody who would recognize jiwoon .

[museguided]

Mika stood his ground, with a set, determined jaw and a steady gaze. He had a feeling it wouldn't be pleasant. Sanguinem was full of patrolling vampires, a sprawling, dangerous maze if one didn't know where they were going. No matter what it was, they had gotten through before, and with this Yuu's help, it'd be even better.

But his hesitation wasn't promising. He found himself growing wary, acknowledging the weight of his heart pounding in his chest as Yuu's gaze turned haunted. Then it seemed like reality was fractured, chipping off piece by piece as he joined his side. Slowly, Mika found it in himself to move rigid limbs and sit properly in his seat. Already, new, dreadful possibilities flooded his mind, painfully rearranging itself with every thing Yuu was telling him.

It would be okay if he died. The thought was terrifying, but if his family could escape and live, he would accept that. Then the ice returned to crawl through his veins when he realized Ferid had been toying with him. All this time, he thought he was getting the upper hand on vampires, using his brain and outsmarting nobles out of their supplies. Mika broke his gaze with Yuu, switching to their family across the room that were blissfully unaware of his growing panic.

They were happy, idly kicking their feet and interrupting story time with questions concerning the inconsistencies and comments to make the made-up tales better to their ears. The older Yuu had saved him from the details, but it only made his imagination run wild. Several kids against a vampire, a creature at least seven times stronger than the average human being.

They would have been torn to pieces.

Mika hung his head, wavering blue eyes focusing on the balled fists in his lap. He felt tears sting his eyes, welling up and ready to fall. But Yuu's story wasn't done and he had to be strong enough to face it. Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he turned his head up to look at the older Yuu again, his attention briefly falling to his weapon before he witnessed the curse. As if he weren't frightened enough, he stared at the fangs Yuu sported, the strange markings dancing along his skin. So, not only did his plan fail, the outside world seemed to have its own difficulties. The rumored virus now seemed laughable in comparison.

"Um...!" What could he say? An apology from him seemed pathetic for a Yuu that had lost so much. To think that he had pestered Yuu about being part of their family so much, only to lose them so brutally. What could he do? Knowing what he did now, he could avoid that fate and think of something else. But what if he failed to protect his family again? A tear fell loose from his lashes to splash on his trembling hand as he sucked in a quick breath.

"But you told me now. So I won't find the map and get everyone killed. We can find another way." He didn't sound too convincing, his voice unsteady even just above a whisper. It was too hard to hold himself together, though he tried knowing that Akane or Yuu-chan would glance over eventually. "Anyway, we have you now. If you stay, there's gotta be something we can do, right?"

There had to be; staying livestock wasn't an option with the possibility of freedom lodged in their heads. Even so, Mika felt paralyzed, wondering if the next step he took would land them in another dire situation. It was amazing, really, how Yuu was able to move on from that when Mika wasn't sure he could have done the same.

Then came another flash of light, the sound of boots stumbling forward to stop the momentum. Mika raised his eyes to follow the white cloak of another newcomer and he suddenly couldn't breathe. Everyone was deathly still before someone yelled, "Vampire!" followed by a sharp screech as the new stranger straightened up.

It was Akane, who could see his face clearly from her angle, that shouted with incredulity, "W-Wait, that's Mika!"

The vampire in question dazedly looked around, floored by the familiar young faces surrounding him. He hadn't thought much of it when it was assumed Yuu traveled this far back in time. Now that he found their family, alive and well, surprised and a little scared, the reality of the situation left him winded.

But it was nothing but a memory he couldn't disturb. He was only here to locate Yuu and bring him back before they could alter the timeline any more then they already had by showing up. The older Mika tore his gaze away from the smaller Yuu reluctantly, red eyes landing on the other Yuu and smaller Mika at the table.

Then his expression fell flat. "Why does it look like you already made yourself at home?" His condescending tone drifted toward confusion when he registered the expression his younger self wore. "Yuu-chan, please tell me you didn't—"

But the little one had stood, the wooden chair noisily screeching back. He saw the fangs in his older self's mouth, if the crimson gaze hadn't been telling enough, and knew exactly what had happened. "I thought I died," he mumbled, taking a heavy step forward, then another, until he stood before him and looked up at his reality. His voice rose, nearly hysterical, "you said we didn't make it!"

"Why didn't you tell me I turned into a vampire, Yuu?!"

Little Yuu scoffed at what his companion told him. Not a bad thing huh? He begged to differ on that one.. And yet, he was looking at a very real glimpse into his future. One where he was happy and a soldier apparently. He'd even heard his older self say that he and the army were killing vampires.

Was his family part of that unit? Little Yuu doubted that once they all escaped they had just let themselves be separated. They were their own unit weren't they? Maybe even special forces. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but he was willing to bet that Mika had probably killed more vampires than he had. The boy had easily given him a beat down a couple of time already. Mika didn't look all that strong at first glance, but Yuu knew better than anyone that he was.

That didn't keep him from swinging and missing when Mika teased about who he had a crush on.

"Sh-Shut up.." he murmured. "I don't know what the other me was talking about. I don't have a crush on anyone.."

He was lying and right away his cheeks turned red again. He couldn't exactly tell the blond who he had feelings for. Not when it was the blond in question himself. Not when he was sure that Mika didn't feel the same and that he'd start avoiding him if he were to find out. He may not admit it, but he enjoyed the other boy's company. Thankfully though the topic changed and he glanced to his older self again.

That was right, his older self looked to be eighteen or older now. If the virus killed people over thirteen then how was he still alive and a soldier? Unless..

"It could mean that the army has a cure or a vaccine or something.. Like those shots we had to get before the virus hit.. Either that or the leeches have lied this whole time."

Either one seemed plausible to him, especially the latter. The vampires could just tell them that they'd die in a few years to further discourage escape attempts. But here was an older him who had escaped and was thirteen or older.

"Make sure you ask him about the virus too, Mika," he reminded as the other boy moved to talk to the soldier. Though he made a sound of protest when Mika volunteered him to read to the other kids. Protest he didn't actually mean and it showed when his lips lifted into a smile. "I don't have a book on me, but I remember some fairytales. Or maybe we can make our own story."

Yuichiro chuckled as the little monkeys let go of his arms to go listen to his smaller self. Now that they had let go, he flexed his arms in a circle to get the subtle burn in his muscles out. For all of his bravado, he couldn't keep that up for a long time. One kid on each arm maybe, but not multiple at once.

"Hey Mika, you're still taller than me in my time. Give me a little time to be the bean pole would ya?" he snickered as he watched the boy prop himself on the chair.

Though the smile fell when Mika point blank asked him the question he was somewhat dreading. He knew he had to tell him though if he was to save them. He had promised to bring them back to life and make Mika human again. This was the way to do it.

He took a moment to look back at the other kids and the memory of that horrible night flashed before his eyes. Ako had been drained and dropped like she was nothing. All of the other kids had been some form of mutilated in seconds.. And poor Akane had been decapitated.. Mika had been ran through and his arm cut off in one fell swoop. For four long years he had thought he'd left Mika there to die alone.. Only to find he'd been turned against his will later.

He wasn't sure if that horror showed on his face when his attention returned to the small blond or not.. But he sighed and raked a hand through his hair.

"We didn't.." he started, lowering his voice to a whisper. None one else but the two of them needed to know. Yuu helped himself to a chair beside the blond youth, but turned his head to lock his gaze to the blue one.

"You found a map and a pistol and we'd reached the exit but.. Ferid was waiting for us right when we got there.. He fooled you into hoping that we could get out. I was the only one to survive.."

Mika had pushed him away and told him to run that night.. But he didn't have to.. He could have stayed and died with them or been turned along with Mika, whichever the case may be. It was his single greatest regret all this time. Even as he ran and screamed out his pain, his breaking heart was screaming to turn back. It screamed that even if he died too, he didn't want to leave his family alone to rot there in the vampiric city they had dared hope to escape. He didn't want Mika to slowly bleed out and die alone.

That guilt only worsened when he was reunited with Mika and came to realize he had been turned. He'd had to stay there, haunted as Yuu was that their family had died while trying to escape. He also came to understand that Mika blamed himself for it all, even though he couldn't have known he was being played by Ferid. Worse.. Mika had, had to keep company with that very same blood sucker that killed them all. Yuu couldn't imagine how painful that must have been for him. How painful it still was..

"Out there.. Its not what you all think. There's these monsters called The Four Horsemen of John. They're mindless, their only purpose is to kill any human in sight. I kill vampires, but only special weapons can do the job. Weapons like the one I have. I had to make a pact with a demon to get it. Activating the curse is what kills them."

As he spoke, he slightly showed Asuramaru's blade. He activated his curse just enough for the markings to appear on his face and his teeth to show as fangs. He sheathed the blade again right after and the markings and fangs disappeared. Of course, there was a chance that Yuu could get them all out himself. Maybe Ferid wouldn't be waiting this time because Yuu already knew the way so Mika wouldn't need a map. And even if the vampire was there, then Yuu could at least keep him distracted long enough to go head to head with him and get the kids out. But that was a big gamble and one he wasn't sure he wanted to take. He'd be gambling with his family's lives.

If Mika was there then maybe he'd be comfortable enough that they could pull it off.. The two of them made an unbeatable team. And with everything to lose all over again, they had plenty of motivation. But with it being just him, he didn't want to risk it.

[my-robot-heart]

@fictober-event 2021 | Fandom: the blacklist - lizzington

Day 3: "I've waited for this." | Rating: T | Warnings: none

Late at night, Lizzie thought about him.

When she couldn't fall asleep, she would let her mind replay over and over the interactions they'd had. The ones where he'd slung an arm just casually enough so as to remain inauspicious across the back of a seat they'd both shared. Or when he'd lingered just seconds too long when clasping her hand, or placing a guiding hand on her back. The ones where he'd said things like, we're gonna make a great team, or just pretend you're my girlfriend from Ann Arbor.

The scenes would replay in her mind, and she'd let herself imagine them playing out differently: stopping his hand before it could leave hers, or leaning back into the arm that was slung across the back of the seat. Replying yes, sure, that sounds like fun to his challenge, and showing him that she, too, knew how to be mischievous.

Late at night, she thought about these things, and wished things were different. And knew that, if they ever were to be, it was up to her to do something. Anything.

But when the sun rose, and brought with it a new day, full of possibility, Lizzie found herself unable to conceive of what she would do if something went wrong. If she reached out to him, and he refused. In that case, she was better to just let things remain status quo; at least then she could be certain of their friendship. At least then, she knew she wouldn't have to face the what ifs.

Their next assignment was supposed to be easy. Posing as a couple on an undercover mission at a museum gala, while waiting to pounce on their Blacklister: a Renaissance art thief.

It was supposed to be easy, but from the moment she stepped out her door and into the waiting car, accepting Red's proffered hand lightly as she did so, Lizzie knew it would be anything but.

Red slid into the backseat beside her, waving to Dembe to start driving, and as he buckled his seatbelt he gave her a look that warmed her even more than the sunlight coming in through the window and playing on her skin.

"Lizzie."

"Red."

"You look... dazzling," he said, and before she could react he finished with, "the perfect foil for our plan tonight. All eyes will be on you rather than me, which means we shouldn't have to worry about my being recognized."

Typical, she thought. Undo her with a compliment and then follow it with business talk. It was maddening, because it meant she was never quite sure whether she was interpreting him correctly, or just reading into things. That they were business associates was a fact, but whether there was the possibility for something more...? Perplexing.

"You look very dapper as well," she returned. "As expected."

"Agents Mojtabai and Navabi should be there already," he commented, fiddling with one of his shirt cuffs. "We'll tap into their communication system as soon as we arrive."

Lizzie glanced over at what he was doing with his cuffs, noticing that a button had come undone and he was attempting to refasten it with his non-dominant hand. And failing quite badly, she saw.

Reaching over, she gently took his arm and made quick work of the button, tucking his cuff back into the tuxedo jacket as she did so.

Was it her imagination, or did he let out a quiet huff of breath when she let go of his arm? It was almost as if he'd been holding his breath while she fixed his cuff. She watched his expression for a sign that he was unsteady in some way, and found none.

Nevermind, Liz, she told herself sternly. Just focus on the task at hand. But, as usual in cases that involved working closely with Raymond Reddington, just focusing on the task at hand was never as easy as that.

This situation in particular: pretending to be a couple, this was going to be tough. Because it's what she was doing, what she had been doing, wasn't it? But now, now she had to both pretend to be his girlfriend and pretend that she hadn't thought about that very situation over and over until it became as familiar to her as her real life. That was the real challenge.

They arrived at the museum, and Red came around to give Lizzie a hand out of the car, easefully letting his arm slide round her waist when she stood beside him.

We're a couple. She reminded herself. He's doing this as part of the job.

Giving him a smile she hoped was bright and not wary, she walked with him into the gala.

They were immediately handed glasses of champagne. Lizzie sipped hers quickly, hoping for some fortification.

Red, maddeningly, appeared perfectly at home. The nerve of him, being able to fall into character like that every damn time.

They found themselves standing near a large triptych, and Lizzie decided they should at least appear to show interest in the artwork, so she leaned in to take a closer look.

Red leaned in as well, keeping an arm around her waist. This proved so distracting that when she noticed he had asked her a question, it was already too late, and she had to ask him to repeat himself, embarrassedly.

"I said, are you a Renaissance art fan, Lizzie?"

"It's Caroline," she whispered back, giving him the alias she was supposed to be using tonight. Just then she heard a crackling from her earpiece. Aram was listening.

"Hello Aram," she said in a low voice, wriggling free from Red's arm for a moment.

"Yes, we're in place. Okay. I'll keep watching for our guy."

"So sorry, Caroline," Red said. "Are you a Renaissance art fan, then."

"No, not really. Are you?"

"I prefer the Surrealist period, myself," he replied.

Of course he would.

The evening passed uneventfully and with no sign of their Blacklister. Lizzie was beginning to wonder if the entire thing would turn out to be a bust, when she heard Aram in her ear again.

"On your right, two o'clock."

She turned slowly, hopefully inconspicuously, in that direction. A tall man was eyeing one of the paintings. That was their guy.

She tried to nudge Red, but he was deep in conversation with another couple, regaling them with some story of his own invention.

"Ahem." She tried clearing her throat. He didn't notice.

Damn it, she would have to interrupt.

Walking right up to his side, she took Red's outstretched arm and gave him a pointed look.

"So sorry to interrupt, but-"

"Ah! Perfect timing, Caroline. May I introduce you to my enchanting girlfriend, Caroline. She's the light of my life," he announced proudly, causing Lizzie to raise an eyebrow in surprise before falling into character as best she could.

"What a pleasure to meet you all," she said with a smile. "Sorry to interrupt, but I need to speak to you, alone."

Red caught the emphasis and smiled at his new friends before excusing himself. He followed Lizzie to a secluded corner.

"It's our guy. Over there by the da Vinci sketches." Her eyes flicked towards him.

Red nodded.

"Yes, I know."

"You know? What do you mean, you know. We're here to apprehend him, aren't we?"

"Apprehend? Oh heavens no. We're just here to have a quick chat. And while you were grabbing a refill on your champagne, I did exactly that."

A beat passed.

"Exactly what."

"Had a quick chat. Made my negotiations, as it were. So, we're free to either leave, or spend the rest of the evening here, in pleasant company and with wonderful food. The choice is yours, Lizzie."

She stared at him.

"Alright. Let's stay."

To her delight, he looked surprised.

"What?"

"You said we can leave, or spend the rest of the evening here. And I said, let's stay. The food is good, I've drank a few glasses of very nice champagne, and the night is young." She grabbed her earpiece and threw it into a nearby potted plant. "Let's stay."

It was a challenge, and he knew it.

Giving her an appreciative glance, he tilted his head in agreement.

"Alright."

He led her away from the secluded corner, and, with a very charming look, suggested that they dance.

"Dance?"

"Yes. Everyone's doing it," he noted, gesturing to the many couples who had filled the centre of the room.

"Okay," she agreed, wondering if it was the champagne, or if her lightheadedness was due to some other reason.

One hand taking hers, Red placed his other hand on the small of her back and pulled her what felt like very close, but was in fact a perfectly normal distance away.

They started moving slowly with the music, and soon Lizzie felt her cheek gently come to rest on his lapel. It felt easy, and she wasn't going to question it if he didn't.

"I've waited for this," she heard him say, or did she? That seemed oddly out of character. Pulling away from his jacket slightly so that she could see his eyes, she couldn't find anything in them to confirm either way.

"What did you say?" she asked, figuring if he'd said something else at least she should know what it was.

"I said, I've been waiting for this, Lizzie," he repeated, and she felt her cheeks warm once again.

"Waiting for what?" her voice was a whisper. He couldn't possibly mean what she was thinking.

Momentarily, he stopped dancing and looked her in the eyes.

"This. All of it. With you."

She definitely felt lightheaded now, and it wasn't just the champagne.

"All of-?" she repeated, and he cut her off, his mouth covering hers and reminding her that, although they were in full view of everyone in the room, they were anonymous here, and so the kiss could take place without any implications, or complications that came from their regular lives.

Leaning into the kiss, she returned it with the pent up energy from months of thinking about just this moment.

"Oh," she exclaimed when they finally broke apart. There didn't seem to be any words for what had just happened.

Red was looking at her with concern, perhaps wondering if she'd gone mad for a moment and suddenly regained her faculty of thought.

"Are you..." he began, but this time she cut him off with another kiss.

In a minute, she managed to pull away long enough to whisper, "I've waited for this, too, you know."

The look of realization in his face was enough to confirm for her then that she hadn't been the only one wanting this to happen.

As they continued to dance, Lizzie knew that the circumstances would immediately change as soon as this evening was over, and they had to return to their lives. But for now, at least, they had this chance. And they were both eager to seize it.

[feminaexlux]

Hot Chocolate

Merry Christmases & Happy New Years & Happy Valentineses, and Happy Super Belated Birthdays to @fenheart87 and @mamanabeille and @motherofwoofers AND @MAL HAH (I’m so bad at this) 😹😿🧡

This was a Christmas exchange for LBSC for @mamanabeille and I hope it’s cute at least if not massively overdue o m g

On AO3 here!

⁂

Marinette wasn't sure how she strung the words together into a coherent enough sentence to convince Luka to take a walk with her on a lightly snowing afternoon, cruising for a little café to find some hot chocolate together. He probably understood most of what she'd been trying to say (or ramble, more likely) since they'd been friends for years.

Actually now that she thought about it, it probably hadn't been coherent at all, but Luka came along anyway because they were friends.

Friends. Close friends? Close enough that she loved his company with his generally good natured chillness and kissing his face with little bises in thanks.

They'd always been comfortable with casual intimacy like that. She always felt so… warm and comfortable with him near. That must have been the reason she was so panicked when she heard from him that he'd be leaving a few days after Christmas to tour with the one and only Jagged Stone as lead guitarist at age 19. It was huge for him, Marinette knew that. But to face that sudden dearth of his presence made her uneasy, to say the least.

It had gotten to the point where she forgot about making a Christmas gift for Adrien. She'd just repurpose one of her many Adrien Birthday gifts, so that wasn't too bad. But she wanted to make something important for Luka. Something that would hopefully show him just how much he meant to Marinette. And maybe it'd be something for him to remember her by.

She had been up all night working on Luka's Present. Well, she'd been up late a couple of nights working on it. She maybe had about 8 hours of sleep in the past 3-4 days.

Kitty Section had wanted to throw one last hurrah for Luka "moving up in the world", and along with it a mini-concert for Christmas and New Year's for their closest friends. Marinette had shown up late to the Liberty and nearly fell overboard crossing the gangplank but Luka had sprinted forward and caught her.

She blamed her unsteadiness for holding onto him the next couple of minutes after that. He kept an arm around her shoulder and they'd been just fine. She was warm. She was comfortable. The GirlSquad™️ that were present gave her looks. Marinette pretended that she didn't notice.

As it turned out the Liberty had run out of coffee. Marinette had rambled on that she preferred hot chocolate anyway and that she'd go out and get some while Kitty Section was just setting up. At least, that had been what she was trying to say, but it turned out she'd said something else that convinced Luka that he'd have to accompany her.

Or maybe it was because she was still a little wobbly. So she held onto his arm on their walk to find some hot chocolate. Luka didn't seem to mind. She slipped on something icy and instinctively threw her arms around him to steady herself. "Oh God I'm so so sorry," she squeaked.

"Are you alright?" He looked concerned but had on a smile. "Hey, let's find somewhere to sit down for a bit."

"Noooo, no I'm okay," she said hurriedly. "I don't wanna make you miss the party."

"They can deal," Luka shrugged.

"But it's for you! It's important!" It was important, wasn't it? Marinette was a little sleep-drunk, but her mind had registered this party as "For Luka" so it was automatically labeled IMPORTANT with big red letters and underlined 3 times.

"You're more important to me," he said quietly.

For some reason, Marinette giggled. "I know," she said, squeezing him tight. "But this is for you so I want everything to go right and have it be spectacular!"

He laughed. "The party is just for close friends, you know that, right?"

"It's for you," Marinette said. She straightened herself up and stepped back, having realized after the fact that she'd been talking to him all this time with her arms around him. "It's… it's for you and you're gonna be… gonna be with Jagged and people will notice you and you'll become a big star, I can… I can feel it!" She'd gotten wobbly again, and she hadn't even noticed that she'd been waving her arms to emphasize her points so hard that she'd lost her footing. She slipped again and landed on her butt. "Oof!"

"Alright, we're finding a place to sit down now," Luka decided. He took her hands and helped her to her feet, wrapping one arm around her shoulder again. "Hold onto me," he said.

Marinette giggled again. "Always," she mumbled, wrapping her arms around him tight. Luka stopped for a heartbeat but pressed on. He found a bench along the Seine that they could rest at for a few minutes. He sat her down first, then stood in front of her with a hand on her shoulder to make sure she was steady.

"Looks like there's a café nearby. Let me get you something warm, alright? I'll be a few minutes."

"Mmkay," she said sleepily.

He chuckled. "Try not to fall asleep out here. Are you cold?"

"No, I'm alright," she yawned. "I'll be awake, promise," she smiled, looking up at him. He did look a tiny bit concerned (a little like he doubted her to be honest) but then jogged off. Marinette let her focus soften and turned her head up to the light snow, the chill helping to keep her awake. She felt a few flakes land on her cheeks and closed her eyes just for a second, the white clouds fading out to black.

The heat from where he had held her had radiated out, leaving her colder than she liked. She wanted him back so she could lean herself against him and feel him near. Ugh, she was soooo close to dozing off. She shook her head and patted her cheeks, dusting off the snow that had started to cover her.

She better keep herself busy. She pulled out her phone and was momentarily confused. She wasn't so sure what made her upset staring at her phone until her brain unfuzzed after a few seconds. Her phone backsplash was of Adrien Agreste and it didn't feel right… She needed to change that. She went into her settings and tried to find a good replacement picture. She did think Adrien was cute and all, but… her tastes had… well, they weren't quite the same anymore. She had barely thought about Adrien until now. That background had just been… there, static, as the scenery for ages.

She found herself being embarrassed scrolling through her photos. Her most recent pictures had been selfies with her friends and pictures of her crafts or baking. Anything more than a year ago had mostly been pictures she stole off the internet of Adrien. He'd definitely grown more handsome over time she had to admit, but it was… kind of cringey just how many pictures she had of him. She started deleting the Adrien pictures that hadn't been taken by her or her friends. It just didn't have the same appeal anymore.

As she kept going further back in time in her photos she saw sketches of the prototype kittycorn masks she had made for Kitty Section. Wow she really needed to update those sketches, and maybe she could ask Luka if he wanted a custom logo? If he did she needed to go back and tweak some of his Christmas presents, but it'd be worth it to see Luka's reaction.

Marinette desperately hoped he'd like what she made for him.

She'd been setting her phone background to the pink and blue lightning bolt of Luka's kittycorn mask when he came back with 2 takeout cups. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

"Thank you," she smiled up at him. She took the cup that was offered to her, then wedged the cup in between her thighs to take off her gloves to feel the warmth more directly. She picked the cup back up and loved that feeling of the heat suffusing into her hands. She leaned in and smelled the hot chocolate.

He sat down next to her and had taken the lid off of his… she couldn't really smell what it was but he did have whipped cream on top of that drink. He took a sip and got some of that cream on the tip of his nose and on his lips.

Before he was able to wipe it away, and before even Marinette knew what she'd been doing, she reached out and wiped her thumb across his lips and licked off the stolen cream from her finger.

Then, because she still wasn't thinking about it, she did the same with the whipped cream on his nose when he turned to face her, giggling after mentally adding a boop. Ugh, it was that cream that came out of an aerosol can. Too much air, not enough body. "What'd you get?" she asked. She noticed his eyes were pretty wide, and she hadn't fathomed what had surprised him except maybe the drink?

"Uh…" he trailed off, looking a little red. "C-Coffee?"

She leaned against his shoulder and sipped her hot chocolate, feeling it warm her up inside. "This is good," she sighed happily. "Feels really nice."

"Yeah," Luka said absently. "Nice. Did… I didn't ask if you wanted… any whipped cream… I can get…"

"Hmm? I'm okay," she murmured, drinking the rest of her hot chocolate. Plus she really didn't want him to go anywhere. He was warm and it felt like she could sit here with him forever. It'd be nice if they could snuggle together in her bed or something like that. She should ask if she could steal him away for a cozy snow day. That was a grand idea.

"Marinette," Luka started, then just. Stopped. He'd been looking at her, eyebrows furrowed. It was a few seconds during which Marinette turned back to face him, pressing part of her face against his shoulder. He exhaled, then smiled his lopsided smile. "Nah. It's alright." Part of him looked… resigned, maybe?

"I want you… to be as comfortable with me as I am with you," Marinette said sleepily. "I'm… I feel like it's so easy to be with you," she added. "You're so good for me," she sighed, letting her body lean back against the bench. The hot chocolate was working its magic and she felt parts of herself relax.

⁂

She woke up feeling slightly more rested but still overall groggy. Ugh, what happened? Wait. Wait. Oh no, she'd been with Luka and she'd just… she'd just dozed off? Wait, where was she? She sat up and blinked a few times, rubbing sleep from her eyes. She was back in her own room?! Her winter gear had been taken off as well as her shoes, but she'd been tucked back into her own bed by her mom by the look of it.

Marinette threw off her blankets and rushed downstairs. Oh God it looked like it was already evening -- did she miss the concert? Ugh, Marinette why did you have to be so lame?! "Maman?! Papa?!"

"Did you rest well, hon?" Sabine asked. "Luka brought you back a few hours ago--"

"HOURS AGO?! Oh no! Oh no oh no," Marinette yelled, pulling at her pigtails. She'd definitely missed the concert. Luka's last concert with Kitty Section!

"He also came back to bring the rest of your things from the Liberty," Tom added. "He stopped by just a minute ago! He can't be far, dear, why don't you see if he's still nearby?" Her dad handed her purse and gloves back to Marinette from where they were sitting near the register.

Marinette was ready to run out when Sabine tossed her a jacket. "And don't forget your shoes!" Sabine added, tossing boots at her daughter as well. Marinette didn't see the calculating smiles her parents exchanged with each other after she hurriedly put her gear on and ran out the Boulangerie.

Her mind was scattered but one thing seemed pretty clear: if it'd been a minute or two and Luka was heading back to the Liberty, Marinette would most likely find him in the subway station waiting for the next train. She didn't know the trains by heart but they came really quickly. She might have already missed him but if there was even the slimmest chance that she could catch him before he left she'd try.

She flew down the steps of the nearby subway entrance going toward the Liberty and saw only a few people milling around, but there was definitely a train pulling into the station right then and Marinette felt the rush of air buffeting her. There was one familiar figure in the distance and she ran toward them, hoping her gut instincts had it right. "Luka!"

Of course, as soon as she was close enough she tripped. She'd overstepped something or other and caught the edge of… something. If it hadn't been Luka she was hoping whatever kind soul she had just launched herself at would stop her from faceplanting. "Whoa!" a voice yelled out. Gloved hands braced her and pushed her back upright. "Marinette?" Yes, yes, yes, thank God, she thought looking back up at Luka, her world finally feeling right.

She promptly burst into tears after the relief faded. "I'm so sorry I missed it!"

Luka smiled, shaking his head slightly as he pulled her in for a hug. "The concert? Doesn't matter to me, I'm glad you got your rest."

Right, the sudden and inevitable betrayal of her body just because she'd stayed up a few nights makiNG PRESENTS OH SHOOT SHE NEEDED TO GET THOSE TO HIM! She snapped her head back to look up at him and slammed her head into his chin instead. "Ouch! Oh I'm so sorry oh no--"

Luka just started laughing after rubbing his chin. "God I'm gonna miss you," he said breathlessly, wiping away tears of his own, though his were caused by laughing too hard. The train next to them closed its doors with a hiss and started moving away. "Ah, whoops," Luka sighed. "I'll catch the next one."

This moment stretched in her mind as her mind raced. When he said he was going to miss her… it just reminded her how horribly she was going to miss him. Why had she been so freaking indecisive all this time? How was she going to deal with the Luka-shaped hole in her heart? How had she not realized that she'd wanted him and needed him until right as he was leaving for another freaking country and what if he was gone for a year or maYBE 10 YEARS or what if he decided he didn't want to come back and found himself someone else and she'd gone ahead and thrown this all away because she'd been too shy and too scared and too freaking stupid to realize she was in lo-- Oh, oh no.

Oh no. Don't freak out now, you saw this coming! Don't let him leave! she yelled at herself. Not yet. Not… yet, anyway.

"Wait! Wait, um, I-I have your presents pack at the packery--back at the bakery! I-I-If it's okay did you want me to get them now?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you already bring one to the Liberty?"

Marinette pressed her lips together in a wan smile. "One's not enough," she said quietly. "There are more. I… wasn't able to carry all of them." HE won't be able to carry all of them, she thought angrily at herself. But there was one that she wanted to give him in person, in private. Now was as good a time as any, if he was willing.

He looked a little worried, but then Luka shrugged. "Sure, I don't have anything else right now. I'll head back with you. Thanks, by the way… You know you didn't have to get me anything."

"How long have you known me?" Marinette sniffed.

His smile broke through again. "Fair enough." They walked back up the stairs back to surface streets and walked to the bakery when the pedestrian light was green. Tom and Sabine looked delighted that Marinette brought Luka back. "Hey again. It's been a while," Luka joked.

"Go on upstairs, we'll bring you some snacks in a little bit!" Sabine said cheerfully. Marinette noticed that there wasn't any room for argument in what her mom said. It'd nearly come across as a command.

"Stay as long as you'd like!" Tom added unnecessarily.

Luka just smiled and nodded politely and followed as Marinette decided she'd best leave right then. They went up the stairs past her parents' bedroom floor and into the main floor. Luka almost went up the Marinette's bedroom ladder behind her but decided against it. "I can wait down here unless you need help getting it down?" he offered.

Marinette wondered why he was getting weird about going into her room now, of all times. "Just come up?" Luka let out what was the tiniest sigh and he relented, going up the ladder. She waited until he was finished climbing. "I didn't get a chance to wrap this up yet, but… I want to make sure it fits properly anyway." She took a long leather jacket off of her mannequin and presented it to Luka. "This is yours. I made this for you. Can you try this on?"

He just stared for a minute. "That looks… pretty damn incredible, Marinette," he said in awe. He took off his current jacket and handed it to Marinette when she offered to take it from him. She pretended she didn't feel just slightly awkward watching his lean form emerge from his bulky outerwear, pretended she didn't notice that his gray shirt underneath fit snug around his chest, pretended that she didn't keep getting drawn to the lines and curves of the muscles he usually kept hidden underneath hoodies.

He put on the jacket she made. Most of it was black leather lined in fleece, but she left the arms and the hood a softer, more pliable fabric so he wouldn't have his arms constrained by the stiff leather. The dark gray fabric of the arms extended out past the wrist to cover the palms and backs of his hands, and had slits for him to put his thumbs through. He pulled the hoodie over and smiled at Marinette. "Feels pretty good," he said.

Marinette moved his arm so it extended out, looking at the pull of the fabric and making sure that it was fitting well. She made some minor adjustments to the way the jacket sat on him, checking the length, checking seams, checking if there were any problems at all before she realized she was probably being weird on him. "Oh! Sorry, I just--just wanted to… um. A-anyway, how is it?"

Luka had just taken her hovering around and fixing things with quiet dignity. "It's great. It's… like I said, incredible. This must have taken a lot of work," he said with clear praise in his voice. "I honestly can't believe you're giving this to me. Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Since you're l-leaving in winter I wanted to make sure… that you're warm." Like you keep me warm. "And comfortable." Like you keep me comfortable. "And it's… it's not obvious but I also have something on the back. Here, you can check it in the mirror," she said, pulling him toward her full length mirror. He faced away from the mirror but checked over his shoulder to look. In the light Luka could tell that she had painted the leather in subtle blue and pink, more stains of color under the light than distinct painted lines. "I wasn't sure if you'd like it but… I put in the lightning bolt from your Kitty Section mask. So that way you even if you're not part of Kitty Section anymore, you can bring them with you? Am I making any sense?"

"I got it," he nodded, still checking out different parts of the jacket. "God, I don't have words for how amazing this is."

"I'm glad you like it."

"Marinette, I love it." He paused suddenly after looking back up at her. He was a little surprised when he saw that she was crying again. "Hey, hey, what's wrong?" He moved to her and pulled her into another hug.

"I'm just," she sighed, burying her face into his chest. "Seeing that on you. It makes it real that you're going." Luka took in a breath like he'd wanted to say something, but he let it go without saying anything. For a few heartbeats they stood there like that.

They heard Tom shuffling below and the hatch opened. "Hey kids, I brought some crois-- Oh, that looks wonderful, Marinette! That jacket turned out very nice!"

Marinette sighed and pulled away from Luka. "Thanks Papa," she laughed, taking the proffered plate of steaming hot bread.

"Eat them up while they're still warm!" Tom beamed, going back down the ladder and closing the hatch behind him. At least her dad didn't make a comment on how he found her and Luka. Maybe he was saving that for later… ugh.

"Want one?" Marinette giggled. "They are best straight from the oven."

"Sure, I'll take one."

Marinette handed one to Luka and ate one for herself, feeling pretty self-conscious at how awkward it got again. She put the plate of croissants on her computer table. "So um… The other presents for you are just… um. I guess there might be a lot to carry now that I think about it, ha."

"Keep them," Luka said between bites. Keep them? As in he didn't want them? Marinette froze in place. "Here," Luka added belatedly, smiling after he finished his croissant. "Keep them here. I'll be able to pick them up when I come back in the summer." He took a step toward her and leaned in close, placing his fingers against her cheek. Marinette blushed at the contact but she didn't shy away.

He pulled an errant flake of pastry off the corner of her mouth and ate it. "H-hey," Marinette grumbled. Well, it was probably her fault for expecting something… different. "That was mine," she added lamely at the end.

"What, you want it back?" He chuckled. "Dunno how--" She grabbed his lapels and pulled him in to kiss him hard. Then she heard Tom shuffling around again and shoved Luka at the chaise lounge just in time for Tom to open the hatch.

"I brought hot chocolate!" her dad announced with a huge grin, though it faltered a little as he took a slight pause to look back and forth between his daughter and the startled young man on her chaise. The kids were blushing pretty hard and Marinette just knew Tom was formulating some conclusions on what happened.

"Thanks Dad, we're good on snacks for now," Marinette said, trying to emphasize that she did not want anymore interruptions as she took the cups from Tom.

Tom grinned again. "Sabine and I added a little Dupain-Cheng magic in the cocoa, let us know what you think, alright? We'll leave you alone now," Tom winked.

UGH. She handed a cup over to Luka who took it automatically, still staring at her in a slight shock. Oh God maybe he didn't like her like that? "I-I'm sor--" she started.

"Don't," Luka interrupted. "Be sorry. Don't be sorry, I mean." He looked a little panicked and laughed nervously. "I didn't. Think. That you. Were…" he continued, speaking in fragments at a time. "Are you? Was that…"

Marinette sipped her hot chocolate nervously, her cup shaking slightly in her hands, but asked "Are you?" for some reason.

"How long have you known me?" Luka barked out as a laugh. "I've always liked you. Always."

"Me too. Really." Marinette said quietly. "I… it just. I suck at timing, you know?"

"Yeah," he breathed out, nodding.

She pouted. "But since you're leaving… it was something that… it just scared me."

"You know I'm coming back right?" He put his cup of cocoa on the floor. "Especially if you're waiting."

"You-you could meet someone new…?"

Luka furrowed his eyebrows. "I'll let you know if that happens. Is that what you're worried about?"

Marinette sighed. "No, orrrr ummm, sort of but not really. I just… didn't want things to change. And by that I mean I didn't want to… I didn't want to make… make any mistakes. With you." She chugged her hot chocolate, tasting the hints of buttery toffee and cream with a pinch of sea salt, then set her mug aside. "You've let me just hang out, you know? Let me be… me. And I was so afraid I'd screw something up if there was… anything more between us, if anything changed between us."

"But now things are changing anyway?" Luka replied. "Because I'm leaving for a while."

Marinette nodded. "Yeah. So, I thought I'd… well, give you that," she pointed at the jacket, "at least. So a little part of me can go with you."

Luka got back up to his feet and took off the leather jacket. "Then I'll only wear this when I'm away. Right now I'm here," he said. "And you're here. And I've always liked you. If you want me, I'm yours."

"That simple, huh?" Marinette smiled shyly.

"Always been."

Marinette drew herself into his arms and hugged him tight, feeling him wrap his arms around her. "I do. W-want this I mean. You. I really do suck at timing," Marinette sighed.

"Yeah, you do," Luka laughed. "But you've just given me some of the best Christmas presents I've ever gotten." He drew her face up to look at him and smiled. "And something to look forward to when I come back." He leaned in and kissed her.

[m0etenchandon]

Six (dom!Joe smut)

Pairing: Female reader x Joe Mazzello Summary: Part two of Romantic Getaway. Joe is jealous that you slept with his friends and is determined to make you forget all about them the only way he knows how. By making you cum over and over again. Warnings: SMUT (18+ only), dom!Joe, fingering, squirting, spanking, over-stimulation, multiple orgasms, blowjob, unprotected sex, hint of breeding kink A/N: So you all wanted a Joe part and here it is! Thanks for reading!

Word count: 6.6 k

Read part one first!

This is pure filth and you are not allowed to read it if you´re under 18. I will block you if I catch minors interacting with this story.

Joe´s eyes met yours as soon as he appeared around the corner in the airport. He looked way too good after literally having been on a seven-hour flight. His sweats hung around his hips and his t-shirt hugged his arms perfectly. Those arms that you couldn´t stop thinking about after receiving that text all those weeks ago. You almost hadn´t spoken to him since that, just in the group chat. You knew that if you did message him privately it would just end up going south real quick. There was no way you could keep yourself from outrageously flirting with him. You wanted him. And you knew he wanted you too. He was definitely undressing you with his eyes.

“Mate! Over here!”, Ben yelled to get Joe´s attention. You had gone to the Starbucks to get yourself an iced coffee and was currently making your way over to him and Gwilym. They obviously hadn´t noticed that it was you Joe was staring at.

You hadn´t wanted to come get him in the first place. You knew there would be tension in the air. Ben and Gwilym were probably too excited to pick up on it. But it was definitely there.

Joe threw his arms around each of the boys to give them a hug, but his eyes were still locked on yours as you walked over.

“Hi, Y/N”, Joe said as he pulled away from Ben. He winked before pulling you into a hug. A hug that definitely lingered a bit too long. God he smelled absolutely amazing.

“You´re mine tonight”, he whispered with a small bite of your earlobe. His breath hot on your skin. And the move definitely made you hot too. Way too hot. Blood rushed to your cheeks and you had to take a sip of your coffee to try and cool down just a little bit. It helped momentarily until you noticed all three boys stare at the way you hollowed your cheeks as you sucked the liquid into your mouth.

Your eyes widened, and you immediately let the straw slip from your lips.

“Shall we hit the road, boys?”, you asked, nodding towards the exit for the carpark.

Of course, you had decided to take Ben´s car which was definitely a bit too small to fit two people in the backseat. Yet, there you were next to Joe. Thigh to thigh. You couldn´t focus on anything else. The three boys were chatting along, catching up with each other. Ben kept looking in the rear-view mirror to check that you were ok since you weren´t talking. You shot him a smile and yawned, pretending you were just sleepy.

You definitely weren´t. Joe slid his hand down to rest on his thigh, his fingertips brushing against yours. He didn´t even look at you, and was barely touching you, but it was enough to send your pulse through the roof. What you wouldn´t give to have those long fingers somewhere else.

“So, did you have fun in France?”, Joe said with a knowing smile. The tinge of jealousy was completely gone. He knew that he had you wrapped around his finger. That you would be his and only his in a few hours.

“Yeah! It was amazing”, Gwilym said. “You definitely should have come”

“I guess I missed out on a lot of things while home”, Joe said, his eyes darting to yours for just a second. Enough to make your heart skip a beat.

“You certainly did, mate. We had lots of fun, didn´t we, Y/N?”, Ben said.

You whipped your head away from Joe at the mention of your name. Heat rushed to your cheeks. You had definitely been caught staring.

“Yeah”, you said, not really knowing what else to say. They were talking about the time you had sex of course. Not that they said so explicitly, but you knew. It was always a competition. And they´re boys. Of course they had talked about it amongst themselves without including you.

Joe leant over, his lips brushing your ear.

“They might have had you first, Y/N. But they´re nothing compared to what I have planned for you, baby girl”, he whispered, his hand sliding over to rest on your thigh as he spoke.

Your eyes widened, and you had to focus on the road ahead to keep yourself from moaning. Joe´s touch was so warm. It sent electricity up your spine. The familiar dull tingle flaring back to life.

“What´s the plan for tonight then?”, Joe asked, acting like his fingers weren´t sliding across your thigh and between them. He nudged your thighs apart and slid his hands up to your heat. Warmth radiated from your pussy onto his fingers, and you could tell Joe noticed by the smirk that was tugging at his lips.

“We were thinking a movie-night at Y/N´s”, Gwilym answered, looking at Joe in the rearview mirror. If he, or Ben for that sake, turned around to look at you they would see everything that was going on. Or rather what wasn´t going on. You cursed yourself for having picked jeans instead of a skirt. You were positively drenched for Joe and he had done nothing but brush his fingers over your clit through your jeans.

“Sound good”, Joe said. “I´m pretty tired after that flight. There was so much turbulence”.

Joe talked to the boys about his flight, all the while pressing his fingers into your clothed heat. Your legs had instinctively separated, your breathing grown unsteady. Joe applied just the right amount of pressure, swirling his digits over your sensitive and aching clit. You could already feel your orgasm start to build in the pit of your stomach. A silent moan escaping your lips.

“There was this girl next to me who I´m pretty sure had a wet dream because she couldn´t keep quiet”, Joe said, his eyes flickering over at you at the last part. He sent you a warning look before turning his attention back at the two boys in front.

“Sounds like someone we know”, Ben snickered, turning around to look at you just as Joe retracted his hand. You wanted to whine in frustration at the loss in contact, and you had to resist the urge to call Joe out. Sure, neither of the boys in front could shame you for sleeping with him, but you didn´t want them to know. Especially that it worked in making Joe jealous. You hadn´t told them about the text you had gotten after that night at Gwil´s.

“I still can´t believe you slept with them, Y/N”, Joe said, a playful tone in his voice.

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“I was only playing along with your stupid jealousy game”, you said.

“Well consider me jealous”, Joe said.

“She wasn´t that hard to convince, all you have to do is ask, Joe”, Gwilym snickered from the front seat.

“Gwilym!”, you yelled, leaning forward to punch him in the arm. That god damn prick. You knew he was joking, but it was true. And all four people in the car knew it.

Joe kept his hands and eyes to himself the rest of the ride home, so you were actually able to contribute to the conversation. You had missed this. All four of you just making fun of each other and hanging out. Like friends. Friends that slept with each other. It hadn´t had that much impact on your relationship with Ben and Gwilym, and you didn´t regret it. At all. It was just constantly in the back of your head. But to be honest, it was probably because you wanted it to happen again. They really did know how to make you feel good.

Which was probably the reason you were so keen on Joe. He was a great kisser, a fantastic one that was. Better than the other two. The way his hands grabbed your ass harshly as he pulled you close to his body that one time, had never left your mind. His cock had pressed into your front. God, you wondered what he looked like. Of course, you had imagined it. Several times in fact. And now he was right next to you on the couch. His thigh pressed up against yours once more.

You had finally decided on a movie to watch.

“What do you guys want to drink?”, you asked, getting up and pointing your thumb towards the kitchen. The popcorn had just finished popping in the microwave, so you had to get it out anyways. Might as well be a good host.

“Do you have beer?”, Ben asked, barely looking up from his phone.

“Yeah, beers all around then?”, you asked, looking at Gwilym and Joe. They both nodded.

“I´ll help”, Joe said. He gave you’re a cheeky smile and followed you into the kitchen. Fuck.

Your pulse rose immediately. You hated the fact that he had this much control over you. You could feel Joe´s eyes burn into your backside as you turned the corner into the kitchen.

He had you pressed against the counter in a heartbeat. His knee pressed its way between your legs and he lifted it until your clothed heat was flush against his thigh. A surge of pleasure shot out through your body.

“Tell me to stop if you don´t want this, baby girl”, Joe said, pressing his lips against your neck. He sucked the skin into his mouth, his teeth grazing over the bruise. The slight sting went straight to your core, soaking your panties once again.

“N-No, I want this, Joe”, you moaned. You threw your arms around his shoulders, desperate to have him closer. To have his thigh closer to your heat.

You grinded down on him and tried to stifle the loud moan that wanted to escape your mouth.

“Good, ´cause I got really jealous watching Ben and Gwil fuck you”, he growled. Joe pulled away just enough to look you in the eyes. His own had grown several shades darker. A pink hue evident on his cheeks.

“I´m sorry”, you said.

“You aren´t though. Are you, Y/N?”, Joe asked, raising an eyebrow. He pushed his thigh higher, causing a moan to slip past your lips. “I could hear you had a good time”

“I yeah- I- It was good. Really good”, you confessed. He had literally seen you cum, there was no denying it.

“How many times did you cum? I can´t remember. You were moaning like a god damn slut”

Your mind was all foggy from the pressure on your clit, from how close Joe was. From how fucking hot he sounded. How turned on you were. How many orgasms? You had no idea at this point.

“Can´t remember, baby girl? Am I distracting you?”, he said, his breath hot on your ear despite the shiver that ran down your back.

“J-Joe, please, I just fuck- I need more”, you whined. It too much and not enough at the same time. The air thick with arousal.

“You´re going to have to answer me, baby girl”, Joe warned, his tongue darting out to soothe the skin he just nipped at.

“Fuck you”, you groaned, pulling at the hair in the nape of his neck. Joe just chuckled in response though. Oh, he liked it rough. Noted. “I guess- ok shit I think it was three”

“Hmm, I guess I´ll have to give you six then”, he said, pulling away just as Gwilym strode into the kitchen. What? Six? Was he actually insane? You would pass out if you had six orgasms.

“What´s up Gwil?”, Joe asked, walking over to your fridge and pulling out two six-packs of beers. He placed them on the counter, giving Gwilym an innocent smile. As if he didn’t just have his thigh pressed against your clit and his mouth on your neck.

“Just checking how those beers are coming along”, Gwilym said, looking between the pair of you. You avoided his gaze and reached a hand up to cover the spot where Joe had sucked a hickey onto your neck, passing it off as having a stiff muscle.

“We were just catching up, right, Y/N?”, Joe asked. He sent you a not-so-innocent smile.

“Yeah”, you said, “I´m sorry. We lost track of time”

“Ok.. is there something wrong with your neck?”, Gwilym asked. His eyes narrowed.

“I just didn´t sleep well tonight, I think I pulled a muscle or something”, you said. The first wasn´t a lie. You couldn´t stop thinking about Joe last night. Your stomach filled with butterflies and your clit throbbing in anticipation. Just like it was now. That fucker had to stop teasing you and leaving you high and not-so-dry. It was driving you crazy.

“I´ll give you one of my massages later”, Joe said with a wink.

And with that, he followed Gwillym into the living room and you were left frustrated. Again. He had you completely at his mercy. Your panties completely drenched by this point.

“Fucking hell”, you muttered, taking a moment to compose yourself. You drew in a deep breath, closing your eyes as you exhaled. Desperately trying get your mind to think about anything other than Joe. About his lips, his stubble on your neck. His thigh against your clit. His cock.

It really was no use. The tingles were growing unbearable in your panties. Your entire body way too hot.

You grabbed the popcorn out of the microwave and poured it into a bowl. Fuck. How were you supposed to sit through an entire movie with Joe right there in the same room?

“Are you coming, love?”, Ben called from the living room, obviously not bothering to come check you were actually ok.

You rolled your eyes and followed his voice. There was a spot next to Joe, and one in the middle of Ben and Gwilym. You were definitely not going to be able to focus next to Joe, so you chose the other seat instead. He raised his eyebrow in amusement, a smirk tugging at his lips. You fought the urge to shoot him the finger, deciding on snuggling into Ben´s side instead. The action caused Joe to narrow his eyes, the smile completely disappearing from his lips. Hah. Two could play at this game.

You kept stealing glances over at Joe during the movie. Ben´s fingers were running over your arm, but all you could focus was the way Joe was playing with his fingers. They were so long, so perfect. Your thighs clenched together at the thought of them buried inside you pussy. God, you needed him. Or a release.

“I have to pee”, you mumbled, quickly rising to your feet and walking over to the bathroom. You took a hard look at yourself in the mirror once inside, trying to talk yourself out of just rubbing one out alone. Six. Joe was going to give you six orgasms.

You groaned. Fuck it. You would need all the strength you had, so you did your business and opened the door only to be met with Joe. He had a hand on the wall next to the door, making sure you had nowhere to escape. His other hand holding the door.

Not that you wanted to be anywhere else

“Hi”, he said, cocking his head.

“W-What are you doing here?”, you asked.

“You know what, baby girl. I´m going to fuck you. That´s what I´m doing”, he said, closing the distance between you. His hands grabbed your hips and pulled them flush against his. You could feel his erection digging into your lower stomach. “I´m going to show you what you missed out on at that party. Show you how much better I can make you feel than Ben and Gwil”

You swallowed. Hard.

“But they´ll hear us”, you said, your voice far from convincing. You didn´t care. Too caught up in him. In Joe.

“You don´t care, baby girl. I know you don´t. You literally let them film you fucking you. You don´t mind them hearing you scream out my fucking name as you cum”, he said, licking his lips.

God you wanted to feel them against yours.

“Do you remember how many times I´m going to make you cum?”, Joe asked.

A bolt of electricity shot down your spine, dwelling out in your panties.

“Six”, you said, you voice barely above a whisper.

“That´s right. Good girl. Do you want me to?”, he asked, cocking his eyebrow.

“God yes”, you muttered way too quickly. Heat rose to your cheeks as you watched Joe chuckle.

“Good. You´re mine”, Joe said before smashing his lips to yours.

The kiss was frantic, both of you too turned on to care about your teeth clashing and your tongues sliding into each other’s mouth. All you felt was Joe. And his stubble against your skin.  

You placed your arms around his shoulders and started walking backwards, pushing him into your bedroom and closing the door with your foot. Joe´s eyes raked all over your body, pushing up under your shirt, sliding along the waistline of your jeans. Your own hands tugging at the material of his t-shirt. Joe lifted his arms to let you slide it off your body, pulling away from your lips for a split second.

Joe slid his hands from your ass to the front of your jeans, skillful fingers popping the button open and shoving them down your legs.

“So wet already for me, baby girl”, he cooed, sliding his finger over the front of your panties. Just once. Enough to earn a desperate whine from the bottom of your throat.

“Fuck off”, you mumbled, reaching out to rid him of his own jeans. His hard cock strained against the material, making it difficult to get the zipper over the bulge. Fuck you wanted him so bad. You couldn´t move fast enough.

You finally got them over his bulge and down his legs, a satisfactory moan leaving your lips.

“Patience”, Joe reminded, grabbing your chin and forcing your eyes up from his crotch. “I don´t want to rush this, baby girl. I´ve waited for ages to have you in bed with me”

“Take me to bed then, Mazzello”, you said with a sly smirk.

“That was my intention”, he said, plopping down on the bed and pulling you with him.

Joe´s lips met yours again, his hand sliding down your back before coming to rest on your ass. He pushed his fingers into your skin, causing you to moan into his mouth. You slid you knee between his thighs, rubbing it against his bulge. You could feel how hard he was, how damp his boxers where against your skin.

Joe´s hand slid down your thigh, but you reached down to grab it, forcing his hand up to your ass again. He smirked, but it was soon replaced by a groan as you grinded your knee against his clothed cock. Joe held your body close, thrusting his hips to meet your knee. His hand sliding over your cheeks before delving between them. He teased your entrance before pulling back only to slap your ass. You moaned at the slight sting, encouraging him to do it again. Smack. Smack. Smack.

Joe grabbed your ass harshly between each spank, sending wave after wave of delicious tingles straight to your core.

Another slap to your ass cheek. Harder this time. You were moaning into his mouth, grinding against his cock and begging for more.

“Harder”, you whined into his mouth, feeling his stubble rub your skin raw.

“Yeah? You like that? Like when I spank you?”, Joe asked with another spank. “That ass belongs to me”

“Fu-uck”, you moaned. You were desperately craving more, your excitement practically dripping through the material of your panties.

“Fucking mine”, he growled. Smack. Smack.

Your ass had to be red and angry at this point. But my god did it feel good.

“I need more Joe”, you whined, “Please, I want you”

“Yeah? Let´s fix that”

Joe knelt beside you, pushing you down on your stomach. His fingers hooked into the waistline of your panties before he ripped them off your body, leaving you bare and wet in front of him.

You turned your head towards him, resting your cheek against the mattress. Joe´s cock was straining against his boxers, and you could see the head of it slightly poking out under the waistband. Your clit twitched in anticipation. You reached out to grab it, but Joe stopped you.

“Don´t”, he warned, “Let´s focus on you first, baby girl. Get on your knees for me”

You pouted but did like you were told anyways. Joe´s hand was firm on your ass as you pushed your knees under you, your head still resting against the pillow. You could feel the cold air in your room hit your soaking folds.

“What a pretty little pussy”, he cooed. Smack. “Can´t wait to be inside of it”

His words sent a shiver down your back. God you wanted that too.

“And the prettiest ass I´ve ever seen too, baby girl”, Joe said. Smack. Smack. It stung even more in this position.

“Fuck yeah”, you moaned, arching into his touch. Smack. Smack. Smack.

He didn´t hit you very hard, but they were precise. A delicious tingle spreading all over your body.

You separated your legs in hope of actually getting some friction against your clit. Joe hummed and hit your pussy playfully before letting the palm of his hand hit the very inside of your thigh, just beside where you needed him the most.

“God it feels so good”, you whined.

“Yeah?”, Joe asked. He slid two of his fingers over your folds, collecting your wetness before spreading it over your ass cheeks. It stung.

“Please, Joe. I need your fingers inside me. Please”

“Good girl. It´s ok. I´ve got you”, he cooed.

You spread your legs a little further as you felt Joe´s finger press against your entrance, the palm of his hand resting against your asshole. He didn´t press in, just teasing.

“What a dirty little pussy. Just look at it. You´re dripping for me, baby girl”

“I wanna cum, Joe”, you whined, tilting your hips so you could feel his erection pressing into your side.

“Mhm? We´ll get there”, Joe said. Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack. Two on each cheek.

Several quick, light, spanks to the inside of your thighs. You could feel your wetness start to drip down your thighs. Joe sild his fingers over your folds again. He brushed them against your clit before running them between your folds.

“Are you going to let me cum?”, you asked, your eyes meeting his as you pouted.

“Mhm”, he said, sliding his middle finger up to your clit. A loud moan left your lips.

“That´s it. Good girl. Does that feel good? Do you like my fingers against your swollen little clit?”, Joe teased, applying the faintest amount of pressure.

“Y-yes. Fuck it feels so good”, you moaned. You arched your back to let your ass rise even higher. Desperate for some more pressure.

“Do you think you can cum from this alone, baby girl?”, Joe asked, adding another finger. He pressed them both against your clit, sliding back and forth. You replied with a loud moan, feeling the knot in your stomach start to tighten at an alarming rate. “Yeah? Good girl”

You were nothing but a moaning mess as he brought you closer and closer, his fingers working you towards your high. Fast and precise.

“Spread your legs for me”, he said, moaning when your thigh brushed against his erection as you did what you were told.

Joe used the pads of his four fingers, rubbing it over your clit. Pleasure started to build. Your legs began to shake.

“That´s right. That´s right. Good girl. Go on. Cum for me. Yeah. Keep those legs spread for me”, Joe cooed.

His other hand came down hard on your ass, the stinging only added to your pleasure as you fell over the edge. Bolts of electricity shot up your spine, the pleasure reaching the tips of your fingers.

“Don´t stop”, you whined as your legs shook underneath you, overcome with your high. Joe´s fingers worked you through your orgasm, not stopping even when you came down.

“Oh god I want your cock. Please, Joe”, you whined, your hips bucking away from his touch. You were too sensitive, but you needed more at the same time.

“That was only one orgasm, baby girl. You have five more to go. Can´t give you my cock just yet”, Joe said. God. Six? He was actually serious about that.

“I need your cock so bad”, you whined.

“I know, baby girl. You´re not getting it anytime soon”, he answered, spreading your folds with his free hand.

“Please? Just a little”

You felt pathetic for begging, but you were desperate. Your walls clenching around nothing. You needed something inside. You needed his big cock.

“No”, Joe said. His voice felt almost condescending. He was definitely enjoying having you beg.

“Please can I have your fingers then?”

“I´m not done teasing your clit just yet, baby girl”, Joe said. He brought his fingers to his lips, wetting them with his tongue before moving back down to your sensitive clit. He rubbed the very tip of them over the bundle of nerves. Making the knot in your stomach tighten again. God you were going to cum.

“That´s it. Let Ben and Gwil hear how good I´m making you feel”, he cooed. “Good girl. That´s right. Cum on my fingers”

And you couldn´t even hold back if you wanted to. Another wave of pleasure washed over you, your vision going blurry. All you could focus on was Joe´s fingers pulling yet another orgasm out of you.

“Two. Good girl. God you look so hot like this”

You cried out in pleasure as you came down, hearing the wet noises that came from Joe sliding his fingers over your clit.

It was too much. Your knees gave out as he pressed his middle and pointer finger into your entrance, his thumb sliding up to work your clit. Joe´s long fingers reached far inside you, your walls clenching around them.

“You like my fingers in your pussy, don´t you? You´re fucking drenched”, Joe teased, pushing you into the mattress with each thrust of his digits. He angled them against your g-spot before starting to rub. He pushed his hand back and forth. Pressing against your clit and your g-sport at the same time.

Your vision went white as another orgasm built in your stomach. Why was he so good at this?

“You still have two more to go before I give you my cock, baby girl”, Joe reminded you. He pushed even harder, effectively throwing you over the edge.

You could feel your excitement gush out of your pussy as Joe worked your through your high. Obscene wet noises coming from between your legs.

“Three. Good girl. I feel you squirting all over my fingers, baby girl. You´re soaking the sheets”

Joe slowed his movements, chuckling at the noises you were making.

“That pussy is so fucking wet, Y/N”, he said, pressing down on his cock with his free hand. There was a large wet spot where the head strained against the material. God you wanted him.

“Joey..”, you whined.

“Yeah?”

“Can I suck your cock? Please? And then I need you to fuck me”, you said. You tried to be determined, but the words came out as a whine instead.

Joe giggled, palming his cock.

“I need you to fuck me so fucking bad with your cock. Please, just a little bit”, you begged. “I want to squirt all over you cock, Joe”

“Oh you´re going to. Just one more for me and you´ll get my cock. I promise, baby girl”, he said, picking up the speed of his fingers. It rubbed them against your swollen g-spot, his thumb sliding over your clit.

“Oh my god I can´t do it. I´m going to- It hurts so good”, you moaned, feeling your orgasm build for the fourth time.

“Please I´m going to cum Joe. It´s too much. I can´t”, you whined before being pushed over the edge. “Oh god oh god oh god”

Your fourth high hit you like a train going a million miles an hour. You couldn´t see straight, your orgasm completely taking over your entire body. It was like a million needles were poking your lower half, but in the most delicious way imaginable.

“Four. That´s my good girl. Squirting all over and everything”, Joe cooed, finally removing his fingers from your pussy. He gave your ass one final spank before sitting back on his knees and grabbing his cock, letting you have a little breather.

You closed your eyes in a mixture of pleasure and exhaustion as you tried to steady your breath. Your clit was twitching with over-stimulation and your pussy felt empty.

“Can I have your cock now?”, you asked, turning your head to Joe. A smirk spread over his face.

“If you think you can handle it, baby girl. You look awfully tired”, he said, sliding his hand down your back. Goosebumps formed in his path.

“Are you going to fuck me?”

“Soon, baby girl. I need you to come down properly first”, Joe said. His hand slid down to your ass, rubbing small circles over the bruises he had left.

“I can handle it”, you insisted.

“I want you to suck it first”, Joe said, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers. He slid them down his legs and you watched in awe as his cock sprung free. It was rock hard. The tip was red and angry. A small bead of pre-cum resting at the slit. Your mouth watered. His cock was big. Bigger than both Ben and Gwil. Fuck you needed him. Your walls clenched around thin air.

You pushed back onto your knees and rid yourself of your t-shirt as Joe laid down on the bed. His eyes followed your every move, his hand wrapped around his hard cock. He even let out a low growl when you removed your bra. Your hard nipples coming out to play.

You hummed and leant down, immediately wrapping your lips around his cock. It felt warm in your mouth, the pre-cum coating your tongue. You wrapped your hand around the base as you started bobbing your head.

Whimpers and whines left Joe´s mouth as you worked his cock.

“Oh fuck. Just like that”, he groaned, “Feels so fucking good. I love it”

“Yeah?”, you asked, pulling off to work his cock with your hand. “Does that mean you´ll fuck me”

“Soon baby. I need your mouth a bit more first. You´re so fucking good with it”, Joe whined. He reached up to tangle his fingers into your hair before pushing your head down to his cock. Another bead of pre-cum oozed from the slit which you eagerly licked. Enjoying the groan that left the back of Joe´s throat. His voice rough and deep with arousal. Your clit twitched again.

“I need you in my pussy so bad”, you whined before wrapping your lips around his tip.

“I know, baby girl. You´ve earned it too. This cock is all yours. You just need to get it ready first”, Joe said. His hand guided your head up and down, his hips thrusting up to meet your mouth.

“No one sucks cock like you, Y/N. You´re my new favorite little fuck toy. So fucking good for me”, he cooed, “Can you take me down your throat baby?”

You whined, relaxed your jaw and took him until the hairs of the base of his cock was touching your nose. Your tongue pressed up against the bottom of his cock. You fought the urge to gag as you heard the pretty noises Joe was making. Feeling the way his fingers tightened in your hair. Cursing under his breath.

He pulled you off his cock with a groan. A string of saliva connected the two of you.

“I think I´m ready to fuck you, baby girl. How do you want it?”, he asked.

“I want you from behind, Joe. I want you to grab my hips and fuck me. I want you hard and slow”

Joe groaned and rolled off the bed. He stood at the edge and waved you over. His cock standing at full mast out of his body. Rock hard and covered in your spit. You felt your pulse increase as you wiggled your ass in front of him, almost jumping when you felt his hands on your ass. He pulled you closer and ran his fingers through your heat before positioning his cock at your entrance. A gasp left your mouth when he pushed in.

“Oh fuck, Joe”, you moaned, “God that feels so fucking good”

His cock dragged against your walls, the tip pressing against your g-spot with his every thrust. His balls slapped against your clit. His hands harshly grabbing your ass. It was too much. You were already so sensitive and worked up. You felt your orgasm approaching at an alarming rate and you couldn´t hold back.

“Holy- holy fuck, I can´t, I´m going to cum already”, you yelled, feeling the pressure was about to snap. Joe slapped your ass and thrusted even harder. His cock pushing you over the edge.

“Oh god I´m cumming- I´m cumming. I can´t hold it. It feels so good. Jesus it feels so good”, you whined as you orgasm took over. Your cum dribbled down your leg as Joe worked you through it. His cock continuing to press against your g-spot. Prolonging your orgasm as long as he could.

Your whole body felt like it was floating once you came down.

“I need you to cum one more time. Can you do that, baby girl?”, Joe asked, angling his hips in a way that pressed even harder against your sensitive g-spot. You were certain you were actually going to pass out if you came one more time, but you had to have another orgasm. Had to feel him cum inside you.

“Y-yes”, you said, your voice failing you.

“Good girl”, Joe hummed, “Did Ben and Gwil make you feel this good, Y/N? Could they fuck you like I can?”

You whimpered.

“Words”, Joe warned with another spank of your ass.

“Fuck no. God you feel so good inside me, Joe”, you whined. Each thrust pushed you closer to the edge for the sixth time.

“Feels fucking amazing to be inside you too. You´re hugging my cock so well, baby girl. Taking every inch of my big cock in your little pussy. So wet and tight for me. Fitting me like a fucking glove”, Joe groaned, his fingers pushing into your hips.

“I need you to cum, Joe. I can´t take it much longer. I can´t hold it”, you moaned.

Your walls squeezed around his cock as you felt another orgasm build in your stomach. Your legs were hurting. Your clit twitching with need. His cock was stretching you in the most delicious way possible. Every vein in his cock adding to the pleasure.

“I´m close, Y/N. One more orgasm for me and you can have all my cum”, he said, “That´s what you want, isn´t it? You want me to cum inside you, don´t you?”

The whine that left your mouth was all the answer Joe needed. He chuckled, grabbed your hips harder and drove his cock into you. His hand snaked around your front to press his fingers against your swollen, sensitive, clit. The knot in your stomach had already tightened to the point of no return, and one final snap of his hips against yours, his tip against your g-spot, had you violently falling over the edge.

White fog clouded your eyes as you fell forward into the mattress, your legs unable to keep you up anymore. Wave after wave of absolute euphoria washed over your body, your excitement squirting out of your pussy as Joe pounded you through your high.

“I´m going to fuckin cum, baby girl. Going to fill your pussy with my cum”, Joe groaned, his hands digging into your skin as he chased his own high.

He came with a loud cry of your name, hips stilling as ropes of hot cum shot out of his cock. The familiar warm feeling spread over your walls, making a shudder run down you back.

You were so exhausted but so satisfied. Feeling like you were high on Joe.

“Fucking hell that was good”, Joe muttered as he pulled out, spreading your ass cheeks to watch his cum pool at your entrance. “Good girl”

He leant down to press his lips to the small of your back before plopping down on the bed next to you. He reached out to brush a strand of hair behind you ear before letting his fingers tickle your cheek and chin. A dopey smile spread over your lips as you met his eyes.

“So you know how to squirt”, Joe said. His entire face filled with admiration.

“I guess”, you whispered. Completely spent.

“That´s probably the best sex I´ve ever had”

“Me too. I´m so pissed at myself for not sleeping with you when I had the chance last time”, you admitted, causing a giggle to fall from Joe´s lips. The sound was like music to your ears.

“And to think all it took was for you to fuck Ben and Gwil to realize that it was me you wanted”, he said, playfully pinching your cheek. You leaned into his touch.

“Oi slow down there, Mazzello. I´m not going to rush into a relationship with you or anything”, you said. Your stomach did a little flip at the thought, but you fought it off. You were just friends. You didn´t want to ruin what you already had. You were just high form your orgasm. Your pussy doing the thinking.

“I know, I know. But I hope this wasn´t the last time we had sex”, he said, looking into your eyes.

“Me neither”, you confessed. You could do friends with benefits. In fact, you wanted it. Sex on tap. Perfect.

“That´s all I need to hear, baby girl”, Joe said, smiling, “Do you want me to stay? I´ll cuddle you if you want to. You look like you could need it”

You were suddenly reminded of Ben and Gwil watching the movie in your living room. Just down the hallway. Oh god they definitely heard. You felt heat rush to your cheeks.

“What about the boys?”

“Y/N, it´s been over an hour. I´m pretty sure they´ve gone home”, Joe laughed, throwing his head back. You watched in awe as his Adam´s apple bobbed in his throat. His laugh filling the room.

“Oh right..”, you mumbled, eyes trained on the man in front of you. Honestly, you didn´t want to see Ben and Gwil anyways. You always saw then. That´s the good thing about living close. And you had missed Joe. You hadn´t had the chance to talk just the two of you, and your conversations were your favorite. Joe knew everything about you. He really was a great friend.

“How about you go clean up and I´ll change the sheets and go check, yeah?”, Joe said, getting up from the bed. He shot you one of his signature smiles before leaning down and pressing his lips to your cheeks. You momentarily closed your eyes at the sensation. Who would have thought this Joe was the same Joe that made you cum six times just minutes ago?

Masterlist

Permanent tag list: @tanya-is-dead, @meghans-corner, @killah-queenz, @mrs-tayylor, @sunflower-borhap-boys, @seasexnsun, @valkyrie-and-lokis-daughter, @joes-milk, @pantamemes, @unicornofdanger, @gwilymplots, @monochromedeacon, @pushthetide21, @finite-incantatem-7, @jiswoogannon, @bensrhapsody, @bowiequeen, @another-random-girl, @augustjosephine, @vee-ndetta, @mymelancholyblu3s, @the-next-one, @katiesobsession, @catch-a-deak, @cheese-on-deaky, @caffeine-girl, @spacedust1124719, @scarsout, @lovelikeafrenchman, @little-weirdo-13, @shewantsthe-youngamerican, @goodolfics, @toomuchtellyneck, @crazy-little-thing-called-me, @brownhardyho, @arrozsocarrat, @deacyloverogerinalove, @ezmina98, @aslutforqueen, @harrisunn, @travelbugg64, @rogahhtaylahh, @royalblueviper, @benders-diamond-earring

Romantic getaway series tag: @zyanmaik, @ramibaby

Tag list is open. Strictly 18+.  I will add/remove you if you comment you want to, but I won’t reply (this is a side blog). If you want me to reply, send me an ask:)

[whatdidimissjm]

Alex wakes up with a pounding headache, feeling hot and sweaty. He pushes the blanket away and instantly shivers as the cool air hits his overheated body. Still, he sits up and blinks at the alarm clock, trying to get his eyes to focus. The movement has made him dizzy, so he waits a moment, until the feeling passes. Alex is still sitting on the edge of the bed, when John comes into the bedroom with a cup of coffee in his hand.

“Moring, babe.”, John says with a warm smile on his face.

Alex just can´t comprehend how his boyfriend can be so happy at 7 in the morning, when he himself needs about one litre of coffee, before he starts to function. Maybe it has something to do with John getting more sleep, but Alex doesn´t think that´s it. Must be genes.

“Are you okay?”, John asks, as he puts the cup down on the bedside table.

“Yes, of course. Why?”, Alex gives back, even though he doesn´t feel good at all.

John takes a step closer and presses his hand to Alex´ forehead. Alex´ first instinct is to move away, but instead he leans into the touch, closing his eyes for a moment.

“You are definitely running a fever.”, John states.

He removes his hand again, and Alex lets out a whiny noise.

“I´m fine.”, he insists, even as John shakes his head, and continues. “We´ll just stop at a pharmacy on our way to work.”

John lets out a huff.

“Forget it, you´re not even going to work.”

Alex stares at John in shock.

“John-“, he starts, but one look from the other man has him closing his mouth again.

“Lay down again and try to sleep some more. I´ll call Washington and tell him that we´re staying home today.”

Grumbling Alex gets back under the cover again, although he is secretly glad that he doesn´t have to think too much today. His head is pounding even more from just that little mental effort it took to reply to John, so he closes his eyes, hoping that this will help.

“Wait, you´re staying home too?”, Alex asks, and John gives him a soft smile.

He leans down and presses a kiss to Alex hair.

“Of course, someone has to look after you.”

Alex feels John softly stroking his hair and yawns.

“Can do that myself.”, he mumbles, leaning into the touch.

“I know, babe.”

Alex wants to reply something, but the rhythmic movement of John´s hands coaxes him back to sleep. When he opens his eyes the next time, blinking bleary eyed at the alarm clock, it´s almost 3 hours later. He feels strangely disoriented and just lays there for a few moments, before he gets up, wraps the blanket around himself and makes his way to the living room. John is watching tv and instantly gets up when he notices Alex. He takes his arm and guides him to the couch. Alex is glad when he gets to sit down, seeing as the short walk from the bedroom has drained him of all his energy. He leans his head against the back of the couch and closes his eyes for a moment. He is shivering again and pulls the blanket tighter around his body. He can almost feel John´s eyes on him, watching him full of concern. He doesn´t want to see it, so he just keeps his eyes closed.

“I´ll get you breakfast and then I´ll run you a hot bath, alright?”, John asks after some time, and Alex nods.

He hadn´t really noticed before, how hungry he is, but at John´s mention of breakfast, his stomach lets out a loud growl. While John is gone, Alex must have nodded off again, because when he feels John shaking his shoulder, there are pancakes in front of him.

“Should I call a doctor?”, John asks, but Alex shakes his head vehemently.

“I´ll be fine.”

That doesn´t seem to really convince John, but he sits down beside him nonetheless, and watches him eat. When he seems to be sure that Alex will actually eat the pancakes, he gets up and walks into the bathroom and Alex hears him turn on the water.

“Use the fancy vanilla shit Laf has sent us!”, Alex calls, and he hears John laugh.

A moment later the whole flat smells like vanilla and Alex smiles. He really loves his boyfriend. Alex manages to eat two pancakes, before he puts the plate down onto the coffee table. Seeing as John is not back yet, he gets up and walks over to the bathroom, swaying a bit on his feet.

“You´ll have to wait a bit.”, John says, as he notices Alex in the door. “Go sit down again.”

“Wanna stay with you, Johnny.”, Alex whines.

He walks over to John and hugs him from behind, slipping his hands loosely around the other man´s waist and resting his forehead against his back. John lets out a little huff and shifts a bit to stand more comfortably. Alex isn´t sure if he´s really awake during all that, but it´s nice being close to John like that.

“Alex, baby, you´re getting a bit heavy. Why don´t you sit down on the floor, huh?”, John says after some time.

Alex lifts his head a bit, staring at John´s hair, while trying to understand what John had said.

“What?”, Alex mumbles finally.

John carefully turns around and guides Alex to sit with his back against the bathtub.

“You can undress, the bath is almost ready.”, John says softly.

Alex can feel himself blushing a bit.

“But you´ll see me naked.”, he mumbles, and John laughs at that.

“Baby, I´ve seen you naked lots of times already.”

Alex blinks up at him.

“Oh yeah, right. I kind of forgot, sorry”

He starts to slowly pull his shirt over his head, while John watches him with a worried expression. When Alex is naked, John turns the water off and helps his boyfriend into the bathtub. Alex lets out a content sigh and closes his eyes for a moment.

“Join me?”, Alex asks, looking up at John with half lidded eyes.

John hesitates a moment before he starts undressing and gets into the tub behind Alex. The smaller man leans back against him almost instantly, his eyes already slipping close again. John wraps his arms around his body and presses a soft kiss to his hair. Alex´ face is flushed from the fever and he shivers despite the hot water.

“Alex?”, John asks quietly.

The younger man opens his eyes, blinking up at him. They are glassy and he seems to be having a hard time focusing something.

“Try to stay awake, okay?”

“Hm ´kay.”, Alex mumbles.

He presses a sloppy kiss to John´s jaw, who giggles at it, and shoves Alex´ face away.

“Stop that.”, he says firmly, but there is a smile on his face.

Alex lets his head fall against John´s chest again and starts talking about a new plan he´s just had – that doesn´t make any sense – while John draws nonsensical patterns on his skin.

“Come, I´ll wash you and then it´s time to get out.”, John says after some time, and Alex lets out a whine.

“But it´s so nice.”

After a bit of coaxing John manages to persuade Alex to let him wash his hair. Alex isn´t much help, but he seems to rather enjoy it, because he lets out little sighs and moans the whole time.

“Lazy ass.”, John mumbles, and presses a kiss to Alex´ shoulder, before he gets out.

He grabs a towel and wraps it around his body, before he helps Alex out of the bathtub. Alex notices almost instantly that something is wrong. He feels lightheaded and far too hot and when vision starts to blur, and his knees seem to give in, he reaches out blindly for John.

“John, think ´m gonna-“, he mumbles, but he´s not sure if the words even leave his mouth.

Distantly he feels John catching him and then he´s lying on the floor, blinking against the black dots in his vision. He feels John saying his name repeatedly, but he can´t really concentrate on it. He´s just far too hot. John disappears suddenly and he feels panic growing in the pit of his stomach. What if he leaves him there? A moment later he shivers as cold air hits his skin, but it helps clear his mind again. John is back too and he feels him covering him with a blanket. Alex leans into the touch, letting out a small groan.

“What the hell was that?”, John asks, and Alex can hear a panicked undertone in his voice.

“Dunno, felt hot.”, Alex mumbles.

“Are you feeling better? Will you faint again?”

Alex pouts at that.

“Didn´t faint. Damsels faint.”

He sees John shaking his head, but at least there is a small smile on his face now.

“Alright, princess. Are you feeling better? Will you pass out again?”, John tries once more.

It takes Alex a bit to understand what John is asking, then he nods and a moment later shakes his head in confusion.

“Wait, ask that not together.”

John looks at him for a moment, trying to figure out what Alex means.

“Are you feeling better?”, he asks, and at that Alex nods.

“Okay, will you pass out again?”

“I don´t think so.”

John regards him for a moment, and helps him sit up, so that he can lean against the bathtub, like he did before. Then he uses the blanket to dry him, before he dries himself and slips into his clothes. He helps Alex up, who still feels a bit unsteady and is glad that John keeps his arm around him on their way to the bedroom. He has Alex sit down on the bed, while he grabs a new pyjama for him and passes it to Alex to change.

“Should I call a doctor?”, John asks again, but Alex shakes his head.

“I´m gonna be fine with sleep and your great care.”, he answers, grinning up at him, while putting on the pants.

“Never thought I´d hear you say you need sleep.”, John chuckles.

“Hey!”, Alex responds with a soft smile. “I´m not that bad at sleep anymore.”

John shrugs.

“I plead the fifth.”

“You can´t- that´s not how this works.”, Alex whines, and John just laughs.

“Move over, we´ll watch a law show, so you can explain why they are doing things wrong. I know how much you love this.”

“Fine.”, Alex grumbles, as he shuffles to the side.

John gets under the blanket and a moment later Alex snuggles up to his side.

“Hope I won´t make you sick too.”, Alex says, but still doesn´t make a move to shift away.

“It would be worth it, baby. It would be so worth it.”

[livyybeckett]

Shared Soul (Ben Solo x Rey)

Disclaimer

Hello and welcome to my little post TROS fix-it-fic (because, really, they can´t be serious with that ending)

So what is it about? Tbh ... I havn´t worked out the whole storyline yet, only a few major plot points. I´ll make up the rest as I go ;)

Anyway, there´ll be ...

A LOT of reylo (so if you don´t like this ship, this story is probably not for you)

exploring of the dyad storyline (because they really neglected that in TROS)

Bendemption

Ben´s trails

Hux´s trails (yes, he is still alive)

Ben and Hux trying to get along now that they are both part of the resistance ... and really, what other option do they have? ;)

Gingerrose ... because that´s a ship I really wasn´t expecting to find so interesting ;)

and ... to add some (more!) drama, excitement and to raise the stakes... there´ll be a new thread to the dyad

Also a healthy sprinkle of drama, heartache, romance, eventual smut

I hope you like what I came up with for the prologue. Feel free to comment, like and re-blog.

The hand that came up from the gaping chasm that split the floor of the citadel was bloodied and bruised. A man, clad in black, heaved himself up. His body ached from exhaustion and countless injuries and his breathing was heavy and labored. His eyes that seemed even darker than usual in the pale bluish light roamed the collapsed ruins of the destroyed Sith temple, searching desperately for another sign of life, for her.

When he saw the motionless figure that lay crumpled on the floor, his heart squeezed in pain. A raging agony exploded inside of him that had nothing to do with the injuries he´d sustained in their desperate fight against the Emperor.

            Rey.

            With his last ounce of strength, Ben Solo heaved himself up from the chasm and onto unsteady feet.

            Around him, utter chaos reigned. The massive columns and stands that had surrounded the sinister throne room like an arena only minutes ago, lay in waste, the dome now almost entirely gone and open to the skies.

Above him, the fight was still raging. Blue, red and green laser blasts and the orange and yellow of massive explosions tinted the black night sky in colorful lights that stood in stark contrast to the reality of what was happening. People fighting each other. Killing each other for what they believed was right. For what he, too, had once thought was right.

            But that didn't matter anymore. Any of it. Not the war. Not the Resistance. And especially not the First Order.

Ben Solo didn´t see any of it, as he staggered through the ruins of the shattered Sith temple towards the woman he loved.

All that mattered now was Rey.

            Rey.

            He stumbled and fell to his knees but barely registered the pain that shot through his body, his eyes only set on the limp and lifeless form of the young woman lying still and motionless on the ground in front of him.

            No, no, no… this couldn´t be happening! Not after everything!

            Dragging himself forward on his hands and knees, Ben Solo collapsed next to her and pulled her into his arms. There was no breathing in her limp body, her eyes were wide open but unseeing, her face was a mask and devoid of any of the emotions she usually so freely shared with the world.

            Something inside of him broke apart and died right there with her. And something else … something Ben hadn´t felt… hadn´t allowed himself to feel in what felt like an eternity … broke free.

            A silent sob rose in his chest, burned the remnants of his soul to the ground until there was nothing left, but the memories of what used to be and the visions of a future that now could never be. Frantically, he looked around, as if some foolish, desperate part of him still hoped that there was someone around who could help him.

            But there was no one.

            They were alone.

            No, he was alone.

            He'd waited too long to make the choice he knew he had to make, afraid he was too weak. And now it was too late. Now he´d lost her – the light to his darkness.

            Rey.

            He clutched her to his chest, cradling her gently in his arms and rocking her lifeless body like one would a small child after a nightmare. This was his nightmare, Ben Solo thought, and finally allowed his tears to fall freely, blurring his vision, blinding him to the things around him. But he didn´t care. His world lay shattered in his arms. Sobs racked his body, but he held her close, not willing to let go of the one thing that had brought balance to his life after all these years of darkness, the missing piece of his soul.

He hadn´t known it back on Takodana. He´d suspected it when she´d reached out for him on Ahch-To. He was certain after their fight on the bridge of The Supremacy. After he´d killed Snoke and offered her his hand. They were one. A dyad in the Force. Two that were bonded as one. A power over life itself.

            Ben.

            It was nothing more than a silent whisper. A disembodied voice in the Force called his name, like a breath of air washing over his skin.

            Ben.

            A spark. A spark of light in the darkness. He could see it reaching out for him in the Force.

            Ignoring the numbing pain of his soul, Ben Solo closed his eyes. Looking.  Feeling. Searching for her presence. Hoping beyond hope and reaching out for her in the Force.

            Ben.

            His breath caught in his throat. There! He could still feel her, a weak spark in the darkness, barely there anymore and fading away with every passing second. A piece of her soul that clung to his, when it couldn´t cling to her own body anymore.

            Rey.

            There was still hope. He was going to bring her back. He was going to save her, even if he had to defy all the stars, the foundations of the universe, the laws of life itself. He was one part of the dyad, she was part of his soul and he of hers. He would bring her back … even if it meant he had to sacrifice himself so that she could life … and make amends for all the things he did when he was shrouded in darkness. He would bring her back. The woman he loved, who´d never given up the fight for his soul, was not lost to him.

            She was worth his life. And more.

            Rey.

            With a smile, Ben Solo put his hand to her chest, took a deep steadying breath, and began to pour his life force into the limp body in his arms. There was barely anything left after Palpatine had drained them both.

            But it was enough.

            For one of them.

  *-*-*-*

            She was somewhere beyond space, beyond time. Disembodied and disconnected from … everything, traveling through nothingness and slowly fading to eternity. Nothing more than piece of a soul floating in the in-between. Was that how death felt like? It was peaceful. Painless. Quiet.

            She wasn´t afraid.

            She was … happy … and relieved that the war was most likely over, that her friends were safe now from the First Order and the influence of the Emperor … her grandfather.

            She was a Palpatine. The blood of the darkest of Sith Lords that ever lived flowed through her veins.

            But that didn´t matter anymore. The Palpatine bloodline would end with her. She´d defeated him. And now she was dying, too.

            She wasn´t afraid.

            She felt almost … peaceful.

            But there was something else … no … someone else.

            Ben.

            A twinge of sadness surged through her, and the unmistakable feeling of loss invaded her senses. If this incorporeal state she was in had a body, she knew her heart would squeeze, and her eyes would sting with tears. She´d won so much, yes, saved so many. But she´d lost him and the future she´d glimpsed of them whenever she´d looked through the cracks of his mask.

            For a second, that stretched into eternity, she wondered if all that she had given was really worth losing him.

            In the end, Ben Solo had stood beside her and fought with her against the darkness.

            Two as one, a dyad in the Force.

            Somewhere … deep inside of her … she'd always known. Known that the belonging she´d so desperately searched for on Jakku and then on Ahch-To had waited in front of her all along. With Ben Solo. She could still remember Maz´s words: Whoever you are waiting for … they´re not coming back. But … there´s someone who still could.

            And in the end … he had.

            Now it was her who wouldn't come back.

            The weight of this loss rippled through her peaceful and disembodied state like a stone breaking the waveless surface of a still lake.

            She´d given so much, and in the end, she´d still lost him. Where was the balance in that?

            She only hoped he lived.

            After everything … he deserved as much.

            Rey…

            A voice … disembodied like herself … called her name … reached out for her …

            Rey …

            She didn´t recognize it, but something about it … about him … felt familiar. She knew him once … many years ago.

            Oh, Rey …

            A second voice … this one female … joined the first one. She didn´t know her either, but her presence felt somehow familiar, too. A feeling of longing, of waiting and hoping for a return that would never come filled her soul. And suddenly she knew.

            Mom? Dad?

            Rey … we are so proud of you … her mother´s voice whispered.

            You did what I could not … her father´s voice admitted.

            I missed you so much! Don´t worry, we´ll be together soon, she thought.

            But Rey … this is not your time … you have to go back …

            Back? Back to where? No! I can´t! I want to be with you.

            And you will be! One day.

            But now … your friends … the galaxy …

            They are safe! I killed the Sith Lord, I killed Palpatine.

            There is a darkness … her mother´s voice whispered.

            A darkness rising in the Force …

            Something evil … that´ll destroy the balance between light and darkness …

            A darkness … that´ll destroy the dyad …

            You have to face it … Rey …

            … together.

            What? But how? No, this can´t be true. I gave everything. And I lost everything. It has to be enough.

            Go back … Rey … it´s not your time yet … your path lies still ahead of you!

            He can´t do it alone, Rey … He can´t do it without you… Go back to him…

            Who? Ben?

            Find it, Rey! Find it and destroy the darkness.

            Find it! It´s the only way.

            Find it? Find what?

            She wanted to scream, but the voices of her parents were slowly fading.

            Find what? How? No … wait … don´t go …

            Use the dyad, Rey.

            Trust your connection within the dyad.

            Then she was alone again, floating aimlessly through nothingness, fading, disconnected, weak, with nothing but silence surrounding her for what felt like another eternity until she started to believe that her parent´s voices had been nothing more than a trick of her imagination. Turn back? Even if she could, she didn´t know how. There was no strength left in her. No way for her broken piece of soul to find it´s way back.

            Suddenly there was a shift in the Force.

            Not faint and gentle, like the voices of her parents. But like an earthquake breaking through the layers of nothingness surrounding her.

            Rey.

            When he called her name, the spark that was left of her soul ignited into a million burning flames, tinting the nothingness of the in-between, she was trapped in, in the light of a million blazing stars.

            Ben. I am here!

            His presence in the Force reached out for her, and she gave in to the pull that drew her to him like a magnet to its opposite.

            And when the dyad in the Force touched, the darkness faded.

  *-*-*-*

            Someone was holding her.

            It was the first conscious thought that trickled back into her mind when Rey came to. She lay on the cold hard ground, and behind her closed eyelids, she could see the flickering lights of explosions and colors above her. Was the battle still raging? Was she still in the citadel on Exegol?

            She wasn't alone. Someone was holding her. Ben. He pressed his hand to her chest. It was warm, and she could feel his raw, desperate life force trickling from his fingers into her skin. Her weakened body clung to it like someone dying of thirst to the first drop of water. With every passing moment, she felt stronger, the Force sparking to life in her again … while his own was fading away.

            “No …”

Rey´s thoughts were still muddled, her body weak. But she realized with a start what he was doing. And what it would mean for him in the end. He was sacrificing himself to bring her back to life. She could barely feel his presence anymore.

Rey´s eyes flew open, and she grabbed Ben´s hand, instantly breaking their connection. “Ben … no!” She almost passed out again, when the energy that had brought her back suddenly ceased. But she forced herself to stay conscious. “Don´t … do … that … please …” Her words came out in a desperate plea. “It´ll kill you.”

“I .. I know … .” Ben put his hand to her chest again, but she pushed against his Force, closing herself off to him. “Rey … I want you to live… please.”

“I will.” She said with more conviction than she felt, clinging with all her might to the life force he´d given her. It was only a spark. But it would have to be enough. If he gave her any more, she´d lose him again and this time forever. She laced her fingers through his, taking the hand he´d offered to her twice before. Ben´s hand. “You have to live, too. We are a dyad in the Force, remember? Two sides of the same.” His hand was cold and shaking, his breathing heavy and labored from something that went far deeper than pure exhaustion. She felt it, too. He´d brought her back, almost giving his own life. But she hadn´t allowed him to give her everything. Now they both lived, but they were neither here nor there, too weak to do anything more than simply … exist.

Ben only looked at her, a ray of emotions crossing his face. Relief. Exhaustion. Happiness. Puzzlement. And even something that Rey decided to read as amusement.

His face was bruised and cacked in mud, sweat and blood. His dark hair was matted to his face and his shirt was torn in all places. She probably didn´t look any better. Worse even, if her aching body was any indication. But it was his eyes that struck her. The last time she´d seen them, they had been haunted by grief, by loneliness, desperation, and all the other emotions he´d tried to hide from her behind his mask. Now all of that was gone, and the eyes of Ben Solo were gazing into hers.

He´d found his way back.

And though Rey knew that a part of him would always feel a pull to the Dark Side – the same way she felt that pull in herself – she knew that Kylo Ren was dead.

Despite her aching body, Rey sat up slowly, her eyes roaming his face, drinking in every little detail of him. The tears in his eyes. The bruises on his cheekbone and lower lip. But most of all, the now unblemished skin that once had been marred by a scar. A scar she´d left him with, in what felt like another lifetime.  “Ben?” she whispered and felt a smile tuck at the corners of her mouth.

His red-rimmed eyes blinked away tears as her hand came up to touch his face. “Say it again. My name…”

“Ben.”

He smiled that wide Solo-smile, and she was mesmerized by how carefree his face looked, if it wasn´t marred by the pain that had threatened to tear him apart for so many years.

“Ben …”

Rey wanted to say his name again and again as if it was the only thing that anchored her weakened soul to this world, and in a way, he was precisely that.

But before she could repeat it once more, he pulled her close, crushing his lips to hers in a devouring kiss. She responded with the same desperation, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and melting into his body. He wasn´t gentle, but she wasn´t either. His mouth roamed almost greedily over hers, and she responded in stride, digging her fingers into his soft hair. She parted her lips and felt him washing over them like a wave of warmth after an ice-cold snowstorm, melting every nerve ending in her body, curling her toes, lightening all her senses on fire as the taste of him almost silenced all her thoughts.

Afterward, they sat in silence for what felt like an eternity, her face pressed into his neck, his breathing heavy and strained in her ears. The noise of battle and explosions above them had finally ceased, the sky of Exegol no longer split wide open by bolts of lightning and darkened by the looming shadows of hundreds of Star Destroyers. Only once in a while, Rey heard the sound of spaceships crossing the skies.

Were her friends alive?

Were they looking for her?

“Ben … we have to get out of here.”

“I know.”

But they both already knew the truth, that they were too weak to even make half the way back to Luke´s X-Wing. But they had to try.

Suppressing a groan, Ben struggled to his feet, then held out his hand to Rey to pull her up, too. She noticed that he winced in pain when he put weight on his left leg. But he tried to shrug it off with a weak smile, when he saw the worry in her eyes. “It is nothing … must have hurt myself when Palpatine threw me down that chasm.”

But Rey saw that he could barely support himself on his leg. “You never lied to me. Don´t start now, Ben Solo.” She chastised him, which earned her a low chuckle. “Come on, let me help you.”

She wrapped her arm around his waist, and he draped his over her shoulder, leaning into her heavily. Together they began to make their way through the maze of ruins, weaving through collapsed columns and crumbled walls, as all that was left of the ancient Sith temple lay in waste around them. By the time they reached what was left of the laboratory Ben´s weight grew heavier on her with every step they took, and soon Rey could barely support him anymore.

“Ben … ? Ben … you´ve got to help me with this.”

There was no answer.

His breathing came in labored, shallow gasps as they struggled to take another step and then another. Then it stopped completely before his legs buckled under him and he collapsed to the ground, dragging Rey down with him.

“No! Ben!” Rey cried, barely recognizing her own voice contorted with fear.

With shaking hands and the last reserves of her strength, she rolled him onto his back, and gasped in fear. His skin was almost translucent, his cheeks looked hollow and his closed eyelids were bloodshot, standing in stark contrast to his pale skin. Cold sweat matted his dark hair to his forehead. His lips were slightly parted, but barely a breath escaped them.

“No … no … no … Ben … please. Don´t do this to me.” Rey choked, leaning over his lifeless body and cradling his face with her shaking fingers. “Ben … please …” She sobbed, her tears now falling freely onto his face. “… wake up … please …”

But she already knew he wouldn't. She could barely feel his presence in the Force anymore.

He was dying.

Angrily wiping her tears off her face with the back of her arm, Rey closed her eyes, reaching out into the Force and searching for another presence, hoping for anyone to hear her plea.

Angrily wiping her tears off her face with the back of her arm, Rey closed her eyes, reaching out into the Force and searching for another presence, hoping for anyone to hear her plea.

Help us … please.

Then she collapsed onto his chest, and, with her mind already slipping into unconsciousness, she shared the rest of her life force with him.

[tendertenebrosity]

@castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @iwhumpyou, @doglover82; @top-hat-aye; @burtlederp; @just-a-raccoon-with-wifi  

Flashback piece with some caretaking and family relationships, sequel to here. 

Jetta de Graer climbed the stairs up to her brother’s room, holding a cloth-wrapped package against her chest with one hand so she could lift her skirt up out of the way with the other. The skirt was already scuffed a little around the hem; it had been cut long. At nine years old, she was ‘shooting up like a weed’, as the housekeeper was prone to saying -  disapprovingly, as if Jetta was doing it on purpose to vex her.

As she’d expected, the landing was dark but light shone under the door. It was too early for Illiam to have gone to bed, even if it hadn’t been a bad day.

She let go of her skirts, and tapped smartly on the door.

“Illiam,” she called brightly. “It’s Jetta!”

She listened, and heard nothing. He didn’t yell at her to go away. He didn’t say she could come in, either, but Jetta hadn’t been expecting him to. After a minute of waiting, she turned the door handle and went in anyway.

Illiam was lying on his bed, face-down, in his undershirt and breeches. Gangly and lean, but almost as tall as their father already, there was a lot of Illiam to sprawl. There were books scattered listlessly around the bed and the floor, but he wasn’t reading any of them. 

“Hey,” Jetta said, closing the door behind her and sidling to stand with her back to it.

Illiam propped himself up on one elbow and scowled. Over eight years her senior, he had been basically an adult in Jetta’s eyes for a while now. But as the months passed, and Father gave him more free reign, and castle servants started to speak of him as a young lord and not just the Duke’s child… Jetta had become more and more afraid that the way he spoke to her would transform into the way Father and her brother Brant did. Looking past her. Seeing a child.

She had been standing there in silence for a long moment. Illiam made a noise that was almost a snarl of frustration.  “What?” he demanded.

She fidgeted with the package in her hands. “Can I come in?”

He snorted. “That’s rich. You’re already in, what do you want?”

A little knot of tension eased in Jetta’s chest. She smiled tentatively. “I missed you at dinner.”

He frowned, looked away. If the crease between his brows might be as much pain as annoyance, maybe even if he looked like he’d been biting his lip hard, he would never have admitted it. “I wasn’t hungry. And I don’t want company. So if you don’t have anything important to say, go away and leave me alone.”

Jetta made a show of biting her lip, and raised the package. “Oh. Soo. If you’re not hungry… you don’t want these, then?”

He opened his mouth to say something, probably to tell her to go away… and then paused. Jetta shifted from foot to foot and watched him considering, his eyes narrowing. She didn’t think Father had actually told Illiam he couldn’t have dinner; surely that would have been too much. He was staying away because he didn’t want to talk to people at the dinner table. This suspicion was confirmed when Illiam rolled over and sat upright, pushing strands of dark hair out of his face.

“All right,” he muttered, low and grudging.

Jetta grinned and came forward immediately, laying the wrapped package of food on the bed. She picked up one of the books, moving it out of the way to clear a space. When Jetta was smaller, she had resented those books, quite a lot. Illiam eyed her as if he was going to object, but she stacked the books together very carefully and gently. Eventually he sighed, took the stack away from her and let her perch on the bed beside him.

As he moved to put the books on the floor, Jetta caught him wincing. She looked at his back; it wasn’t much, but there was some brown spotting of blood on his shirt. She sobered, slipping her shoes off and pulling her legs up onto the bed. She wrapped her arms around her knees.

“Was it bad?” she asked, hushed.

Illiam glanced over at her, realised what she was looking at, and gave an angry shrug.

“No. It’s fine,” he said gruffly.

“It looks like it’s pretty bad. Father didn’t - ”

“It isn’t,” he said curtly, dismissing her with a wave. He unfolded layers of cloth from around the pair of bread rolls, each torn open and filled with a cold cut of meat.  “Honestly, this damned noise in my ears is much more annoying. Did you sneak this from the dinner table, Jetta? You’ll get in trouble.”

“The cook let me have them,” Jetta said, watching him over her knees. A thought struck her and she sat bolt upright. “Oh - Illiam, the healer gave me some ointment when I cut my knee, I still have some left. I should go get it!”

“No,” Illiam muttered. “It’s fine. Jetta, it’s fine, you don’t need to…”

She was already up off the bed, hopping as she slid her shoes back on, halfway to the door. “I’ll be back soon!”

By the time she had run to her room, found the ointment, and come back, Illiam was just finishing the last of the rolls - nothing left but crumbs. His scowl was noticeably lessened. Jetta suppressed a smile as she hopped back up onto the bed beside him. Not hungry, hmm. Well, I know you better than that, don’t I?

“Here it is,” she said, attempting without success to pull the stopper out of the little jar of ointment. “Turn around, I’ll put this on for you.”

Illiam frowned, carefully sweeping crumbs of bread roll into the cloth and folding it up. “I don’t think so. Thank you for bringing it, but it won’t be necessary to expose you to…” He shook his head. “Leave the ointment here, I’ll put it on myself.”

She frowned, still working on the stopper. Expose her to what? Her shirtless brother, or a belt mark? She’d seen both of those before. “How?” she demanded. “You can’t put stuff on your own back. ”

“Yes, I can,” he said. He held out his hand for the jar.  “Give it here.”

She held it away from him. “Don’t be silly. You don’t even have a mirror.”

“Give it to me, Jet, I - ”

“I’m here, why shouldn’t I do it?”

“Absolutely not.”

“What? Why? You’re being an idiot about it, Illiam. Let me help.”

“I can manage by myself.”

“Can not.”

“Can so.”

“Can not.”

They frowned at each other in silence. Jetta tugged fruitlessly at the jar stopper. “Ugh!”

Illiam put his hand out again, giving her a superior look. She pouted and gave him the jar, which he opened with a twist and a faint twitch of his lips.

“I just wanna help,” Jetta mumbled. She pulled and worried at a loose thread in her skirts, shoulders slumped, lip pushed out. “Doesn’t it hurt? Why do you have to do things the hard way? Just because you don’t want me to help you? You can let me see, I’m not going to hurt you, or make fun of you, or think it’s gross, or tell anybody about it…”

Illiam hesitated, turning the jar between his fingers. Then he sighed, and passed it back to her.

Jetta smiled, pulled her skirts out of the way, and clambered up onto her knees on the unsteady surface of the bed. Illiam  leaned forwards, tugging the back of his shirt up to sit on his shoulders, a low hiss of breath escaping him.

Jetta winced in sympathy at the sight of his back. It wasn’t just the red criss-crossing lines of his punishment; there was also a bruise like he’d been kicked by a horse. She wondered if it was true that the explosion had thrown him out of the library and across the hall, like her maid had said.

But the stiffness of Illiam’s shoulders and the way he stared, fixedly, at the floor warned her not to say anything about how painful it all looked. Silently, as gently as she knew how, she dipped her small fingers into the jar and began to apply the cool, sticky ointment to the biggest of the weals, and ignored any more little hisses or sharp breaths her brother might have made.

“Brant was talking about the trip to the capital at dinner,” she commented, in an attempt to distract him. “Are you going to go?”

“Hm. Yes, I think so. Assuming…” He shifted, breathed in and out deeply as Jetta treated a particularly deep cut, leaning his elbows on his knees.. “Well, that was the plan when I heard of it last.”

“Why can’t I come?”

“You’re too young. Anyway, you wouldn’t find it very interesting. It’ll all be politics and trade. It’s not a leisure trip.”

“I might find those interesting,” she protested.

He snorted. “Would you? Maybe you should go instead of me, then, I’m not sure I will.”

Jetta wondered whether or not he wanted to go. It was hard to tell, sometimes. Maybe he was worried Father would no longer take him after today - that would be a hard thing for Illiam to bear, even if he genuinely didn’t look forward to it.

He cleared his throat after a few moments. “You said you cut yourself? How did that happen?”

“I was climbing the rockfall up on the western edge of the woods and I fell off,” Jetta said absently, gently smoothing ointment over an angry red mark that ran over the edge of Illiam’s shoulderblade. “It wasn’t bad or anything. It’s all gone now, the healer just worried it was dirty.”

Illiam grunted disapprovingly. “You shouldn’t be climbing the rockfall,” he said,officiously. “It’s too dangerous. And what do you need to be up there for anyway?”

“You always used to climb it,” Jetta pointed out. “Fell off more than I do, too. Don’t you remember that one time when -”

“That’s different. It isn’t ladylike.”

Jetta pulled a face at the back of his head. “I don’t care.”

“Well, you should. You’re going to be a woman soon, Jetta, and you can’t be a married woman running a household and be climbing through the woods and… ”

“Why do you get to scold me?” she said, frowning, gently dabbing at his shoulder. “I mean, I think that it’s not very gentlemanly or grown-up of you to blow up libraries. So.”

He jerked away, biting back a gasp of pain. They glared at each other for a moment.

Illiam turned away first, hunching his shoulders and folding his arms. “Shut up, Jet,” he said, his words low and ground out between his teeth. “Don’t try and talk about what doesn’t concern you.”

Jetta felt twin pangs of frustration. She hadn’t meant to say that; why do something that was bound to make Illiam snap and pull away? She hadn’t intended to bring up the library at all. And yet... It doesn’t concern you, Jetta. Be ladylike, Jetta. Don’t bother me, Jetta, I’m too busy.  

It feels like nothing concerns me any more.

She waited, half expecting him to snatch the jar of ointment away from her and tell her to get out, and mean it this time. He didn’t; he sat in stony silence. She went back to her work, pressing her lips together, trying to ignore the prickling in her eyes. There were still a lot of welts to paint with the ointment.  She’d been right - all of this would have been way too hard for Illiam to treat on his own. But he’d shut himself in here, and previous experience told Jetta he might have stayed up here for days. He needed her, even if he didn’t seem to see it that way sometimes. He did, and he always would. Even if the things that filled his mind now weren’t childish things, or ladylike things, he would always need her to talk to.

Wouldn’t he?  

“There,” she said eventually. “It’s done.”

He sat up, rolling his shoulders and pushing the shirt down, so quickly Jetta thought he must be regretting allowing her to help.

But then he sat there for another minute, and cast her a sideways glance from under brows that were low and dark over his eyes.

“Thank you,” he muttered.

Jetta shimmied down off the bed, pulling her skirts down to cover her thin knobbly knees. She pocketed the jar of ointment and the discarded cloth from the bed next to him.

Her brother brushed nonexistent dust off his knees, rubbed absently at a cut on one of his hands. He spoke jerkily, without looking at her. “You know - you know I only want what’s best for you. Right? Jet?”

Jetta tried to smile. “Yes,” she said.

“All right, then.” He nodded, head down. “Go on off to bed, then. It’s late.”

“All right,” she agreed. “Good night, Illiam.”

He gave her a little smile - the kind that wasn’t sardonic or mocking, rarer now than they used to be, particularly coming after the kind of day he’d had. “Good night.”

[whathehellisanotp-blog]

All the lonely people

"Slowly, very slowly, he sat up, and as he did so he felt more alive and more aware of his own living body than ever before. Why had he never appreciated what a miracle he was, brain and nerve and bounding heart?" - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: The Forest Again.

Jughead could feel it as if it was in the very constitution of his body. This was the stupidest idea he´d ever had. Yes, he´d been a thorn in Hiram Lodge´s side long enough to simmer the glimmer of hope that his sacrifice would be enough to stop the full fletched war that was knocking on Riverdale´s door, if not forever then at least for a while. And yet, the thought of handing himself over for what promised to be a painful, certain death was something Jughead had never thought of himself doing. It was so crazy, it seemed to have been Archie´s plan and not his, his best friend - the ultimate hero. But he´d made the deal anyway, he, aspiring writer and novelist, he, the weird one, the loner. Trading himself for his family and friends, so no-one would suffer the same fate as Fangs. Blood pumped through his veins quickly, his heart beating harshly in his head. He knew he was trembling in expectation - death would come briefly, but he´d never felt more alive, more in tune with everything around him, all that made him, him. He wished he hadn´t had to leave his crown beanie behind, the thought of parting with such a part of his soul in this moment was daunting but knowing he´d had to preserve it because Betty would need it soon. Betty. There were so many things he wished he could tell her. Many things he had to explain, but didn´t have the time to. He´d parked his bike a short distance from where Penny had asked him to meet, hesitating a little as he took out his phone, ready to make one last phone call. "Jug," she answered like a question, but Jughead, as in tune with the world as he was in that moment could hear a strain in her voice. What was going on with her? Was she alright? Would he ever know the answer to that question? "Betty," He breathed in relief, swallowing tightly, the thought of leaving her when she needed him taking his breath for a second. But this, the hope of doing this was more important. This could mean safety for her. This could mean life. "I´m happy to hear your voice," he settled for this, knowing it might be the last time. She exhaled in relief. "Me too, Jug. You have no idea." "I just wanted to let you know that I love you. I´ll never stop loving you," this, this was the most important thing for her to know, something worth dying for. "What are you saying, Jug?" she sounded concerned. He knew she should be. "Where are you?" He could hear Archie´s voice in the background and it helped him settle somehow. Good, she wouldn´t be alone. Whatever she was dealing with, their best friend would stand with her. The thought of not being there with her, of facing this alone was too much, and he knew he couldn´t handle carrying out the conversation. His eyes wet, his throat burning, he rasped out one last goodbye. "I´ll see you soon." And as he bravely walked to his doom, he hoped against hope it wasn´t a lie.

-

Anger filled him through determination as he heard the threat against Betty. He was doing this for her safety, and the thought of if being for naught was taunting. Jughead wouldn´t stand still as it happened. So, he takes the first strike. He felt a small glimmer of achievement before his world was filled with pain, blow after blow hitting his body – and he let it, for there was no escape. Nothing except darkness, and he welcomed that too.

His last thoughts were of the people he – if Penny´s gloating was right, and he doubted it wasn´t – had failed to protect, his mind filled with an image of blonde hair, and then, he knew nothing more.

-

“What have you done?” F.P. muttered as terror filled his limbs. He had a sickening feeling on his stomach, he´d felt like that for hours. At first, he´d thought it had only been typical pre-fight jitters, specially in one with as bad odds as this one. But now, he knew it was something else entirely. Jughead had gotten himself into trouble, again. Something was terribly wrong. Betty´s voice repeated in his thoughts. I´m really worried about him. He gripped his bike´s handles forcefully, barely registering the fact that he was speeding way beyond the limit. That was meaningless, the consequences of lawbreaking in his legal status, while his son was missing. Nothing mattered most. As he arrived at the site Toni had directed him to, the feeling became stronger. A fire was burning at the center of the empty clearing, woods creating a barrier to the world. The grass was wet with something dark and F.P. Jones sped even more, his eyes hungrily searching for his everything, his family; while his hand went slack and dropped his helmet as his brain registered that the dark liquid was blood. “Jughead!” he bellowed to the wind, following the trail from the fire and into the woods. “Son!” He stopped abruptly, and the world came to a stop when he spotted a figure lying broken on the grass, left behind to die against discarded bottles  and fallen leaves. He wasn´t wearing his usual crown beanie, and the leather jacket or sweater that usually protected him from the world were gone, and yet, F.P. knew, even as he got closer and got a better view of the damage, that it was his son. Pain, unlike that that had surely taken a hold of Jughead filled him with surety. No. No. No. No. “Jughead!” he found himself collapsing next to his boy, shaking, he placed a hand on his blood covered cheek as if to assure himself he was there. They said that the worst thing a parent could face was having a child hurting, and F.P., who´d given his everything to the boy he´d once driven away, who´d made sure to give Jughead a life even at the cost of his own could tell that was an understatement. His son didn´t look like a person anymore. Blood and dirt covered him entirely, mixing in a grotesque way. His limbs were twisted in unnatural ways, like someone had cut their strings and left him to fall against the hard ground. And god, his face… F.P. had to fight against the howl aching to leave his chest, the tears that threatened to fall from his blurry eyes, but he knew it was hopeless. He gave in.

Panic set in when he noticed his boy was breathing shallowly. He set a clammy hand against his neck, cursing himself for not doing so before. He breathed in relief. A beat. Unsteady, but there. There was no time to lose. He picked his son, his blood and legacy against his chest, lightweight against his strong arms, but heavy with the feeling of pain and loss. He stopped breathing in the way, and somehow, even while conscious and breathing, so did F.P.

-

 I love you. I love you. I love you.

-

Jughead´s phone call taunted her and took her breath away. The thought of him being in trouble was too much to bear, more than it had before their brief separation and it was all consuming. Heart beating against her chest, eyes wide, she looked to Archie, her best friend. “I have to go,” she rasped out, already thinking of where to go. She´d contact Toni or Cheryl they´d know were to go. Swallowing, she turned to a perplexed Archie, her mom long-forgotten behind her. “Jug´s in trouble. I´ll contact Toni for the details, but I should go now.” She stopped when an arm anchored around her arm. It was Fred Andrews. She looked into his concerned eyes, one of the best men she had ever met, and she had to take a breath. “Take Archie with you,” he ordered, already throwing his keys to his son. “I´ll stay with Alice. Call us with any news, ok?” Betty nodded in urgency, throwing a desperate look at her mom, who nodded in understanding. Archie led her by the arm to the truck, and she was numb.

 -

 They took too long to get there. She hurried out of her seat, Archie behind her, and waved through the Serpents in wait. At last, she spotted Cheryl´s bright red hair, and she was hugging Toni; Sweet Pea standing beside them. “Where is he? Where´s Jughead?” she asked, dreading and yet hopeful. They shook their heads. There was no news then. “Guys look!” Archie exclaimed suddenly, frozen in place, glancing at the mouth of the woods. The fire shone brightly beside them, and that was the last thing that registered before they came into view. She´d had hoped to glimpse at F.P. and Jughead arriving together, joking, laughing, telling her all her worry was for nothing. Instead, she saw F.P. come into view, and he was carrying someone. The body was still, what looked like a dark arm hanging limply in the air. She felt her feet moving out of their own account, and barely noticed the rest of the gang following her. She looked at the pain and tears in F.P.´s face, the devastation, and it hit her. The figure was Jug. Later, Betty would struggle to find the words to describe what she had felt in that moment. She would never forget it, but would never be able to talk about it, because for a single second, it had felt like the world had stopped. Or maybe she had. Maybe she would be following in Jug´s footsteps and she would become limp as well, welcoming the darkness. Nothing mattered but the sight of the boy she loved hanging in his parent´s arms and the crushing feeling she had that she would never get to spend a moment with him again.

Her hand tightened in a fist and her breath caught in her chest and she was struggling to breathe, struggling to get past the way F.P.´s face was looking, for nothing made sense, not anymore. Jug looked dead. His free arm was spotting a gruesome sight – his tattoo had been butchered. His face was… he was bloody and disproportionate. She couldn´t see his chest move to breathe. He looked dead. Betty sprung forward as a sob caught in her throat and she wanted to scream. Maybe she was. If Jughead was… gone, how would she find her clarity? Who would stand beside her always? Who would be her partner in crime, the Watson to her Sherlock? Her fist tightened, and she felt liquid drop from her hands. Blood. She felt nauseated. Who would kiss her darkness and love her for it?

-

She crossed the clearing and stood before Jug, her bloody hand coming to rest against his, grabbing it like a lifeline. “F.P., is he?” she heard Archie ask, but the answer was drowned out. She couldn´t see anything but Jughead. “He is not wearing his beanie,” she whispered, fog clearing just enough to realize that. “Where is it? He needs his beanie.” “He wasn´t wearing it when I found him,” F.P. rasped out, still clutching his son. Betty nodded absently.

-

“Cousin Betty,” she heard Cheryl say gently. A hand snaked against her shoulders. “Betty, we need to move.” She couldn´t understand. “Why?” Someone was pulling her away from Juggy. “We need to take him to a hospital.” Wasn´t he already gone? Weren´t the hospitals full? Still, Betty let go of his hand, not ready to give up hope. Besides, she wouldn´t leave his side.

-

As soon as F.P., Jughead, Betty and Archie had gone in Fred´s truck, Sweet Pea and Toni gathered the remaining Serpents. The Serpent´s leader´s son may not have been well liked by his gangmates, not anymore, but he was still one of them. And he´d payed the price for his mistakes well enough. “A Serpent never stands alone,” Sweet Pea reminded them. “But tonight, Jughead did. We´ve let way too many Serpents down, including Fangs.” “I say it´s time we give them hell,” continued Toni, grabbing Cheryl´s hand tightly. “It´s time we showed them no Serpent is alone. It´s time to win this war against them! For Fangs and for Jughead!” The Serpents cheered furiously. No one would mess with them anymore. If it didn´t before, this proved it, this meant war.

[miax1119]

Marillas flirt

Fanfiction Marilla and Nate - not complete. Feel free to leave a comment on what to happen next.

Nate and Mr. Dunlop had spent almost a year in Avonlea. They had just revealed their scam about the gold and were just waiting for all the good people to pay up the money. Nate was getting impatient. He hated that little red-haired girl always snooping around. He missed some action – some women. Mr. Cuthbert wasn’t much fun and all Dunlop had on his mind was cooking with Anne. But Miss. Marilla, she could be some fun, he thought. He had noticed how she looked at him with interest, just like he wanted. Sure she was old enough to be his mother, but she was still something to have fun with. Maybe he should test her a bit. See how far he could go.   He looked out the window. Sure enough, Marilla was hanging the laundry in the fresh air. Nate went outside and thought he would try with some sweet-talk: Miss Marilla don’t you just look like a bright shining thing this morning. She was a bit startled, she hadn´t seen nor heard his approach. She looked a bit shy and continued her work. Nate reached for the next piece of clothes and handed Marilla her own wet under dress. She got even more embarrassed but accepted the dress. Thank you. Nate went behind her very close to her back: No wonder you always smell like fresh flowers. He said in a low voice close to her neck. She stood still and he caressed her right arm. I haven´t expressed how much I appreciate you letting me stay here. I´m really grateful. Please let me help you with the laundry. As he reached for the clothespin on the string in front of her, he deliberately touched her bosom with his elbow. She gasped a bit and stepped back which placed Nate right in front of her but she didn’t dare look directly at him. He let her feel his warm breath on her lips and she closed her eyes for a second. I´m sorry – I´ve overstepped... I better get going to the goldmine. She was clutching the wet under dress, her heart beating somewhat fierce. She didn’t dare look his way and continued her work not knowing what to think.

Later in the afternoon she was preparing dinner, standing by the kitchen table when Nate returned from the mine and stepped up behind her and took a deep breath behind her left shoulder Mmm smells good Miss. Marilla.   He put his hands on her shoulders and caressed them. You´re a magnificent cook. She just gave a shy smile. Nate went upstairs and Marilla found herself looking forward to dinner and sitting next to Nate.

The next morning Marilla was washing her hair by the kitchen sink, assuming everybody had left the house, when she was quite startled by Nates approach:

Oh my, she said trying to press the remaining water out of her hair and at the same time tried to cover herself. Her blouse was open wide revealing her cleavage, under dress and corset. The towel over her shoulders didn’t do much in covering her front and she noticed Nates interest in her appearance.

I can help you with the water if you´d like?

He didn’t let her answer but took the can of water and guided her over to the sink again.

my my your hair smell as fresh as a summer breeze. He complimented. He poured the rest of the water a little too fast and the water got into her nose and she gasped for air.

Oh I´m sorry. Nate took the towel from her shoulders to wipe her face as she tried to catch her breath. She  got unsteady on her feet and Nate supported her around her waist. Suddenly they were awfully close.

You okay Marilla?

Yes – just give me a moment.

In that moment Matthew made an entrance and stopped mid pace at the sight of his sister in the arms of their young border.

What going on here? Marilla, you alright?

Marilla tried to get a word out but was still coughing and having difficulty speaking.

Nate saw the anger in Matthews’s eyes and took his leave.

I´m so sorry, I was just trying to help. Nate excused himself and went fast out the door.

Marilla what was going on? Between the two of you?

Oh Matthew nothing.

It didn’t look like nothing to me.

Stop it Matthew. I´m old enough to be his mother for God’s sake.

[are-you-still-writing-that]

Garage

They were tracing their hands over their books, when they suddenly noticed one, that stood out. Pushing the manuscript in their hands gently away, they grabbed for the strange book. Though, when they realised that their manuscript was starting to sail down the table, they made a quick grab for it.

First things first, was what they decided upon, as they eyed the book from the corner of their eye. They would need to first take care of the manuscript. Frankly,  it was more important to keep it save nowadays. It was fragile, and they already hated how smudged how the handwriting had become over the years. They had often thought about giving it away to another library, but never could bring themself to part with a gift. It contained a small collection of stories, that had been written down for them, that had ultimately up the mythos of the land. The only reason, they could still read the manuscript was, because they still could remember what had been written there, when it had been first finished. Nowadays, there wasn´t much left any more.

With gentle fingers, they checked over the manuscript one more time, before carefully packing it away again. It wouldn´t be long now, till it fell apart completely, but till then, they would still take care of it. Making that sure, that everything was still fine, they returned the packed away manuscript to it´s place. Letting their fingers linger for a moment, they only reluctantly stood up again.

Their eyes traced back, to where they had seen the book a few moments before. It surprised them with how quickly they caught sight of it again, and for a moment, they wondered how they could have missed it before. Pulling it down by it´s spine, they turned it between their hands, inspecting the front and then the back.

Something about the way that it looked rung a bell for them, though for some reason they couldn´t quite place, where they would have seen it before. Though, the feeling of familiarity that overcame them, wasn´t something, that they could shake that easily off. Settling down, with the book in their hand, crossing their legs beneath them, they rested their head upon one fist. With the other hand, they opened the book, which they had settled on their legs, as they leafed mindlessly through the pages.

But quickly their fingers stilled, as they only frowned at the pages. The first few had been blank, but now there were some drawings. Crude and with inexperienced hands, colourful lines had been pulled across the page. When they leaned in, they could still smell the scent of ash, that was wafting from the pages. The source, clearly identifiable as the lines running over the yellowed paper.

They slowly started to remember why these lines seemed so familiar. Goodness. It had been so long ago, and they never had any reason to be reminded of this all. They weren´t even sure, how this book had come to be here. Had they carried it with them all these years? A confused laugh escaped them, as they slowly turned page after page.

Slowly the unsteady lines became smoother, and pictures were slowly replaced with shaky signs, soon to be replaced by letters. A small smile spread over their face, as they carefully traced every last line with their finger. This, they knew, had once been their only lifeline. A simple way to pass their time, but one they had enjoyed regardless.

They kept leafing through the book, that they hadn´t only filled with clumsy fingers, but had also pulled together with their needle. Later, they would do this countless times again, when they walked through a forest, and this, this was truly the beginning of that all.

A smile could be seen, as they gently closed the book again.