#My distraction technique about avoiding sleep did not work

[that-bitttch]

HE?! I?! SCREAMS

[severinageto]

Thank you, Yoshi

(One shot for @flufftober )

(Word count: 5,822)

The keyboard echoed in Suguru's office with a mechanical, tedious rhythm, almost like an instrument in one of those repetitive songs. The words on the screen blurred together, and every time he reread them, they made even less sense. The damn PhD thesis that had been stuck in his head for years had to eventually become words, but without him realizing it, the deadline was coming at him like a tsunami, and every time he looked at a calendar, his chest tightened, his teeth clenched, and his back stiffened. Rarely had he ever felt this much pressure.

Sighing heavily, Suguru rested his elbow on the desk and ran a hand through his messy dark hair, pulling at it as if that would ease the pressure in his head. He had no idea if the clock on the wall showed four in the morning or six in the evening; he barely registered time anymore. All he felt was the constant weight on his shoulders and one nagging thought: "Hurry up, Geto Suguru."

Suddenly, the sound of his door being flung open made him jump.

"Suguru!"

Of course, it was him. The owner of that carefree, masculine voice was the only one who would dare interrupt him like that.

Suguru sighed and kept his eyes fixed on the screen. The looming deadline didn’t allow him to give in to the electrifying energy of that magnetic man. If he kept falling for Satoru’s distractions (like he had been for the last few months), he wouldn't become Geto Suguru PhD before turning forty, and that was far from the plan he’d laid out back when he became a sorcerer at the tender age of fifteen.

"Not now, Satoru..." he muttered, jaw clenched, trying to ignore the automatic desire that washed over him whenever his partner’s familiar scent hit him. "I'm not in the mood."

Gojo Satoru, bearer of the Six Eyes, user of the Limitless technique, head of the Gojo clan, and full-time professor of *whatever-is-needed-today* at the Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical School, wasn’t going to take that for an answer. He’d expected it, sure, but he was convinced he could change it. He strolled into the office with that confidence that could be as intimidating as it was annoying, and the smirk that drove Suguru crazy. Casually, he tossed a small stack of papers aside and perched on the desk. He pulled a candy from one of his pockets, unwrapped it, and started eating.

"That’s why I ditched my students to come see you," he said, not bothering to take the candy out of his mouth. "I don’t like you spending the night working."

Suguru didn’t respond. He’d been sleeping in the school office to avoid wasting time going back and forth. He’d explained it to Satoru, and he’d sworn he understood and wouldn’t make a big deal out of it.

"And I don’t like these interruptions. You know that."

Gojo kicked his legs, like a mischievous kid, to hide his worry. When Suguru decided to chase his academic dreams, Satoru knew he'd see less of him and that his boyfriend’s intellectual side would kick in, but he never imagined a PhD would be this much work or involve something as barbaric as sleeping on the deputy director’s couch. Besides, the truth was he couldn’t enjoy his four hours of sleep without Suguru next to him. If he didn’t feel his rhythmic breathing, or catch his sweet scent, he just couldn’t relax.

He watched him. Those feline eyes were glued to the screen, his nose practically touching it, and his hands typing like stopping meant the end of the world. That couldn’t be good for his mental health. And Satoru needed Suguru’s mental health to be okay. He didn’t even want to think about seeing him slip back into a dark place.

"Hey, look at me, Suguru."

Geto glanced over, blinking excessively, partly to rest from the monitor's light and partly to emphasize his annoyance. He lit a cigarette and sighed again. He loved that sugar-proof man, but boy, did he know how to get under his skin.

"What are you trying to pull?" he asked.

Satoru answered with a cryptic smile. Geto rolled his eyes. He didn’t have the patience for his boyfriend’s childish games.

"I have stuff to do, Satoru. Wish my thesis would just write itself."

Satoru lifted his blindfold and stared at him for a few seconds. Suguru looked exhausted—dark circles under his eyes, dry skin, messy hair. "Stress is taking the best of my boyfriend," Satoru thought, "and I’m not gonna let it."

Suddenly, he scooped him up. Suguru was stunned for a few seconds until he realized what was happening. He started flailing his legs.

"Satoru, put me down!"

"Nope. You’re getting some air."

Suguru tried to wiggle free, but Gojo was faster.

"I have to write, you idiot!"

Satoru slung him over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes.

"Well, you’ll just have to wait, dumbass! I’m not asking, I’m telling you!"

If anyone had any doubt about how strong Gojo was, it probably vanished when they saw him running around campus, carrying a six-foot-tall martial artist who looked light as a feather and was screaming like a baby. The shouts of "Satoru, put me down, you massive idiot" and "I’ll never forgive you, you moron" echoed throughout the school, even drawing Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara out of their curse class.

"What do you think’s going on?" Yuuji asked.

"Isn’t it obvious? Gojo-sensei’s kidnapping Geto-sensei to lock him up somewhere shady. I knew he was a yandere," Nobara said with disgust.

"Could be. He’s been whining about how he never has time anymore because of that whole PhD thesis thing," added Megumi, who had appeared behind Yuuji.

Itadori started laughing, and Nobara rolled her eyes.

"Where do you think he’s taking him? The basement? A storage closet? The abandoned cabin in the woods?" Kugisaki asked, eyeing Megumi.

"They’re probably headed to the roof of the main building," Fushiguro replied casually, staring at his phone. "They’ve got like a million ugly selfies up there."

Megumi wasn’t wrong. Satoru was heading with determination, ignoring Suguru’s complaints, toward his favorite spot. At first glance, it might not seem like much, but for him, that place held a special mysticism. The first time he stayed overnight at Tokyo’s school, unable to sleep after a long day of training, he had snuck up to the traditional rooftop to lie down and gaze at the stars. Breathing deeply and letting the night sky cover him, he realized that place had a calmness like no other, and from that moment, it became his personal sanctuary.

Until he met the one person he wanted to share his nocturnal sanctuary with. With Suguru, he discovered that not only the dark hours had that special charm he had first loved, but that peace also filled his soul at dawn, noon, mid-afternoon, and of course, during the orange sunsets.

Or maybe it was just sitting there, side by side with the person he loved.

Anyhow, the rooftop was a small piece of paradise that he had decided to share with who, to him, was the only angel that had fallen from heaven. That's why he had gone to great lengths to make it comfortable for both of them. After all, what was good for Satoru was good for Suguru. It couldn’t be any other way for two people who shared the same soul.

He was thinking about this when he noticed Suguru had stopped yelling. For his part, the curse manipulator had figured out what his boyfriend was up to. And, as tired and stressed as he was, he decided to let himself be pampered by his beloved two-meter albino. As soon as Satoru jumped onto the roof, Geto rested his head on his shoulder and hugged him, feeling tender.

With that strange mix of bluntness and awkwardness that defined him, Satoru set his boyfriend down on the ground. Smiling at him, he sat beside him.

“No one can stay mad at that smile,” Suguru thought.

“You always do whatever you want,” he muttered, his voice carrying a false toughness.

Satoru, without saying a word, leaned on his legs. He took off his blindfold and, playfully, started waving it in his face.

“Being grumpy doesn’t suit you like it does Megumi. You’re not 15 anymore.”

Suguru shook his head, pulling out a cigarette. He was right. Those years when his only responsibilities were the missions, his only problems not having the highest exam score, and his only interest holding the hand of the man next to him, were gone, never to return.

Before he could take his first drag, Satoru snatched the cigarette from his mouth and tossed it far away.

“Hey!”

“I can feel your cortisol levels. Cosplaying as a chimney isn’t helping.”

Suguru fixed his eyes on the horizon. The first colors of sunset were beginning to appear.

“It helps me calm down.”

“How about you calm down by putting something else in your mouth?”

Suguru blushed. Twelve years together and he still wasn’t used to his boyfriend’s direct ways.

He stroked his hair and kissed his forehead. He was there. Better to just go with it.

“Is that why you brought me up here? Sorry to disappoint, but I’m not putting anything of yours inside me in a place where Panda might easily find us.”

Gojo started laughing. He hadn’t brought him up there for that, but it didn’t hurt to hint at how much he wanted to feel Suguru’s mouth in his cock. It had been a couple of days without Suguru’s touch. He understood his reasons, but that didn’t make him miss it any less.

“You’ve done it before.”

Suguru let out a mischievous, embarrassed laugh. That was true.

“The last time must have been the night we graduated.”

Gojo sat up and looked him in the face. He smiled at what he saw in front of him. Even with the obvious signs of sleep deprivation, he was beautiful. He took a deep breath and kissed him on the cheek. He couldn’t believe that fortune had favored him so much as to gift him the love of such a creature, for so long. What had he done to deserve it?

“Suguru, do you realize how long we’ve been together?”

Geto kissed him softly on the lips. Yeah, he realized. He had been walking alongside the great Gojo Satoru since he was fifteen years old. Sometimes it was hard to grasp how much time that really was, and he couldn’t help but wonder how things would’ve been if he had broken up with him, as he’d considered during his darkest moments. Obviously different, but never better. When he saw the loving look in his eyes, he couldn’t help but smile. He didn’t regret spending half his life with the albino. In fact, lately, he’d been seriously thinking about spending the rest of it with him.

“Yes. It’ll be thirteen years this summer.”

Satoru’s eyes widened.

“What? No, no. This spring.”

“What are you talking about? Don’t you remember how hot it was on our first date?”

“You’re counting our relationship from our first date?!” he exclaimed, with exaggerated drama.

“Since when do you count it from?” Suguru asked, raising an eyebrow.

Satoru grinned, showing all his teeth, and gave him a shove.

“Well, from the day we met, you absolute idiot. Don't you remember?”

Suguru shoved him back.

“How could I forget, you absolute moron?”

April, 2005

Masamichi looked at the chaos that Yoshi, his sister’s hyperactive Kishu Ken, had caused in his office. He had only been taking care of him for an hour out of the three days he had promised, and he already felt on the verge of a breakdown. So when he heard his two students laughing in the hallway, the idea of handing over the puppy to them seemed pretty tempting.

“What? But we were about to leave!” Satoru exclaimed, while Shoko laughed, amused.

“Come on, Gojo. It’s not like we’ve got any hard classes tomorrow or anything,” said the sorceress, petting Yoshi.

Masamichi ignored his student’s hint and simply handed them the leash and the dog’s food.

“It’ll just be for a couple of hours. I’ve got something important to finish before tomorrow.”

With that, Yaga walked away from his students as fast as he could. He couldn’t stand Shoko’s ironic laughter and Satoru’s complaints.

“If these two are already making me age faster, I don’t even want to imagine how it’ll be with the one arriving tomorrow,” he muttered to himself as he left the academy.

Shoko waited until their teacher was out of sight and quickly handed the puppy to Satoru.

“I’m meeting Utahime, Gojo. You’re on dog-sitting duty.”

Satoru felt like he was about to explode with rage. That wasn’t fair. He had plans too. It was his last free afternoon before the first day of school, and of course, he intended to spend it with his best friend—the Nintendo Wii.

“You’re leaving me alone with this flea bag, you traitorous bitch?”

Shoko burst out laughing.

“I’d love to spend the afternoon with a nerd who calls me a traitorous bitch, but I’ve got other plans, Gojo,” she said, waving goodbye and tossing the dog food to Satoru.

Gojo stood in the hallway, dumbfounded, with the puppy in his arms. Never in his life had he taken care of another living creature. He had no idea what to do. He looked at the puppy, who started licking his face.

“Ugh, stop it, you idiot,” he said, pulling him off and putting him on the floor. “You’re kinda gross, you know that?”

Yoshi tilted his head, as if he couldn’t understand how someone could feel grossed out by something so cute. He barked, demanding attention.

Satoru looked at him in surprise, his eyes widening. Who did this furball think he was? The dog barked again, as if he could read his thoughts. Satoru glanced at the bag of food and shook it in front of him.

“Food? Yeah, well, go to hel—”

Before he could finish the sentence, little Yoshi had snatched the bag of food and, taking advantage of the fact that Gojo wasn’t holding his leash, bolted towards the exit, barking all the way. Satoru, shocked by the dog's audacity, took a few seconds to realize that the furball had escaped.

“You little son of a bitch!” he shouted as he began chasing after him.

Sure, Gojo Satoru was the strongest and his legs were probably a meter long each, but much to his annoyance, Kishu Kens were a hunting breed, known for their speed. Not only that, but Yoshi had a couple of paws and a few seconds’ head start.

Yoshi, in an obvious attempt to get away from the boring, stuck-up human, dashed towards one of the academy’s large courtyards. With his 35 km/h speed, he turned left, then right, and then sprinted straight toward one of the many koi-filled ponds that decorated the gardens. It’s not common for a dog to have an accident, but this particular one was so eager to escape from Satoru that he didn’t manage to stop in time. With a loud crash, he knocked someone into the pond, both puppy and person falling in with a splash.

Seconds after Yoshi’s high-speed disaster, Satoru appeared, panting. His breathing became even more labored when he saw a boy, broad-shouldered and about his age, who, despite being soaked from the muddy pond water, was laughing loudly while Yoshi playfully licked his face. The boy suddenly noticed Satoru’s presence and gave him a sweet look; not only were his sensual lips smiling, but his gaze was too, with feline, narrow eyes that held a mesmerizing violet color. He waved with his right hand, while his left stroked the mischievous puppy.

He was probably the most beautiful thing Satoru had ever seen.

“Uh… could you give me a hand?” the boy asked, motioning to stand up.

Satoru, startled by this strange feeling of admiration for someone of the same sex, didn’t respond. He just stood there, looking at him with a perfectly stupid expression.

The boy waited a few seconds for Satoru to help, but when he realized the guy in front of him might have some social issues, he decided to get up on his own. However, the task was complicated by the fact that the dog had his front paws resting on his lap.

“Well, if you won’t help me, the least you could do is take care of your furry friend,” he said, pulling Yoshi off him.

The boy got out of the pond and stood in front of Satoru. He let his hair down and shook it, letting a small strand fall over his left eye. Satoru stared at him intently, with only one word repeating in his mind, over and over.

“Bangs,” he said, unknowingly, out loud.

“What?”

Gojo blushed and looked away. Picking up the disobedient Yoshi in his arms, he said, “I asked who you are and what you’re doing here. You’re not a student. I don’t know you.”

The boy, also slightly blushing, leaned against the nearby willow tree.

“And how do you know everyone who comes to this school, huh?”

“Pfft. I’m Gojo Satoru. Of course I know everyone,” he said arrogantly, petting a reluctant Yoshi on the head. “And everyone knows me.”

The boy tied his hair back up and gave him a mischievous smile.

“Well, I’m Geto Suguru,” he said with a small bow, “and I don’t know you.”

Satoru took a deep breath and decided to act like he didn’t care, masking the rage he felt at this Suguru guy’s insolence.

“Doubt it,” he said, inspecting his nails. “But if you really don’t know who I am, what are you doing here, Geto Suguru?”

Suguru looked at the ground, searching for an answer. The truth was, few things had excited him as much in his short life as the prospect of starting his journey into the world of sorcery. Ever since Masamichi had found him and explained what his talent and power meant, he hadn’t stopped thinking about the institution he’d be part of for many years. That’s why, as soon as he arrived in Tokyo, he headed straight to the place, determined to see it, even though the official start was the next day.

Surprised at how easily he’d wandered onto the grounds, he began exploring, marveling at the traditional architecture and lush gardens. When he came across an old willow tree by a pond, he couldn’t resist standing there to smoke. That’s what he had been doing when Yoshi crashed into him, dragging him into the water. While he wasn’t embarrassed about that, he was a bit ashamed of the fact that he had been “illegally” smoking cigarettes in the garden of his future school.

He looked again at this Gojo Satoru. His white hair and exceptional height made him instantly unforgettable, at least to him. Or maybe it wasn’t those things, but his mysterious sunglasses and that soft yet masculine voice. Either way, he didn’t feel the need to make any excuses. For some strange reason, he felt comfortable around this arrogant guy.

He opened his mouth to reply, but instead, let out a loud sneeze. The dog mimicked him.

“Would you mind lending me a change of clothes, Gojo Satoru? And a bath for me and this little one would be nice,” he asked with his best smile, petting Yoshi’s head.

Satoru felt a strange tingle at the thought of Suguru bathing. He blinked several times, shaking away the impure thoughts, and as he took the puppy’s leash, he said,

“I’ll get you dry clothes, but only if I help with the bath.”

“What?”

Gojo turned bright red as he realized what he’d said.

“Help me! With Yoshi’s bath! His bath, not yours! Ah!” he exclaimed, pointing dramatically at the dog.

Geto might have felt uncomfortable with that Freudian slip if it had come from anyone else, but from his future partner, it just made him feel an inexplicable fondness. He laughed, instinctively flirtatious, and started walking.

“After you, Gojo Satoru.”

***

Satoru leaned against the locker room doorframe, arms crossed, chewing one of his many strawberry-flavored gums furiously. He was inexplicably nervous. The only sound he could hear was the water falling with that distinct rhythm of a shower. But that wasn’t what was driving him crazy—it was those brief moments when he could hear the soft movements of Suguru’s body under the water. That image seemed more interesting than he’d ever dare admit.

He turned and walked toward the exit of the locker room. From the moment he saw Suguru’s rebellious lock of hair, he realized he hadn’t felt this way about anyone. Sure, it was true that his short sixteen years hadn’t been free of dates with girls or the occasional teenage crush, but to be left speechless? Nervous? Saying stupid things? That was new to him. And Gojo Satoru was anything but stupid. It was a simple matter of adding two and two—this Geto Suguru confused him. Despite knowing him for less than an hour, something about him immediately mesmerized him: Suguru was calm, yet didn’t put up with any nonsense, and definitely wouldn’t let himself be intimidated. That made him a challenge. And Satoru loved challenges, the first of which was to stop thinking about how, just a few meters away, that attractive boy was naked, water running down his body, with an expression of pleasure that only cleanliness can bring.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Satoru?” he muttered under his breath, glancing down at Yoshi, who was watching him from a comfortable spot at his feet.

“And what are you looking at?” he asked the puppy. The little dog wagged its tail and looked at him with a playful, curious expression, as if he knew exactly the sea of confused thoughts swirling around the albino’s mind.

Gojo snorted, letting the puppy’s cuteness win him over. He petted him and, making sure Suguru couldn’t hear, spoke to him as if he could understand.

“This idiot’s bangs have gotten in my head because of you, Yoshi.”

The dog barked and wagged its tail, which to Satoru was a sign that not only was he the strongest, but he could probably talk to animals too.

A few seconds later, he heard Suguru turn off the water. He sighed, imagining him stepping out of the shower. He felt really dumb. He was thinking about that when he saw him come out with a towel, his black hair wet, falling straight over his broad shoulders. Discreetly, and shielded by his dark glasses, he glanced at his body.

“He’s fucking perfect,” he thought, swallowing hard as he tried to tear his eyes away from his sculpted abs and strong pecs.

Suguru wasn’t dumb either, and being the owner of such a savage, enormous beauty, he knew what he stirred in others. Usually, the lascivious stares from people he had just met disgusted him, but from this peculiar albino, they filled him with a strange sense of pride. Smiling, and calmly as he wrung out his hair, he thanked him for letting him use the shower.

“Yeah… well… you asked and…” Satoru coughed, in an exaggerated and ridiculous attempt to seem nonchalant. “…there’s your clothes.”

Suguru, still with the towel wrapped around his sculpted body, arched an eyebrow at him.

“You mind?” he said, gesturing toward the towel.

Satoru felt extreme heat rush through his body. Grumbling things in a language that didn’t exist, he turned around.

“You look… different without mud in your hair,” he said, immediately regretting it.

Suguru laughed heartily as he buttoned the pants Satoru had lent him, which were especially tight around his rear.

“Thanks?” he said, trying not to sound too ironic. “I’m ready. It’s your furry friend’s turn,” he added.

Satoru turned back around, picking up Yoshi in his arms.

“He’s not mine. He belongs to some old idiot who… ah, never mind.”

“Either way, you don’t want him to keep smelling like a pond, do you?”

Satoru shook his head. The dog really did smell bad, and while he hated playing babysitter and had no desire to bathe him, the truth was, doing so meant more time with him. Surprised by his own thoughts, he waved his hands as if to shoo them away and headed to one of the tubs. He turned on the hot water and placed his hand under the stream to check the temperature.

Suguru watched him closely and crouched down beside him. Without understanding where the gesture came from, he also brought his hand to the stream of water. Inevitably, their fingers brushed for a second. Startled, Gojo pulled his hand away.

“I think it’s…” he began nervously.

“Yeah, I think it’s perfect,” Suguru interrupted, embarrassed.

They both looked in opposite directions, their cheeks flushed. Slowly, Suguru glanced at Satoru, only to find him looking back. They locked eyes for a few seconds, until Yoshi barked loudly.

“Okay, time for the real deal, Gojo. You hold him, I’ll soap him up.”

Satoru nodded and placed the playful puppy in the tub. Yoshi, clearly enjoying himself, wagged his tail energetically, splashing both sorcerers with water.

Suguru let out a small smile. The brushing of their hands was inevitable, and it made him feel a spark he didn’t know existed. He tried to focus on the puppy’s white fur, but it was impossible. The soft touch of Satoru’s hands was becoming irresistible; he was holding back the urge to just grab his hands in his own.

“You’re good with animals, Geto,” the albino suddenly said. Of course, he felt that tension too. Time to break the ice.

Suguru smiled.

“Well… I’ve always liked them. They don’t bother with unnecessary things. If they don’t like you, they let you know and…” his heart started racing as he locked eyes with Satoru, “…if they like you, they let you know that too.”

Gojo let out a nervous laugh, but covered it with his usual arrogance.

“Or maybe they just know how to ask for shelter and food.”

Suguru raised both eyebrows, surprised by the albino’s response. “So that’s his game,” he thought.

“Well, a relationship can start from something as simple as shelter and food,” Suguru said, brushing his hands against his again.

Satoru swallowed hard. He didn’t know what Suguru meant, but he was almost convinced he was flirting with him. Geto, for his part, started whistling nervously. He didn’t know what he had meant either or why he had started flirting like that.

Suddenly, Yoshi shook himself energetically, spraying water and soap over both sorcerers. They couldn’t help but laugh. The puppy’s gesture had helped break some of the obvious tension. Still laughing, Satoru turned to Suguru.

"Hey, can you help me take off my glasses? They're covered in foam, and I can't clean them while holding this flea-ridden thing."

Suguru nodded and carefully removed the glasses from Satoru's face. Seeing him without them, he stifled a gasp of admiration. Nothing had prepared him for those eyes. The albino looked at him, smiling, and Suguru nearly fell backwards. In that brief time next to him, he had noticed his extravagant attractiveness, but he had never imagined, in a million years, that just seeing him once without his mysterious glasses would make him fall head over heels.

Satoru laughed again when he noticed Suguru staring at him with his mouth open. He gave him a playful nudge with his shoulder.

"You seriously don’t know anything about Gojo Satoru and his Six Eyes?" he said, in a smug voice.

Embarrassed, Suguru shook his head. A few seconds later, he returned the nudge.

"Geto Suguru doesn’t care about people who talk in third person."

They both looked at each other and burst into synchronized laughter, while Yoshi kept shaking himself. Satoru continued to hold the puppy with one hand, and with the other, wiped some foam off Suguru's face. Geto, stunned by the gesture and the never-ending beauty of those eyes, smiled like a complete idiot, until he realized how much he was giving himself away.

He coughed discreetly and rubbed his hands together. Grabbing the towel Satoru had left next to him, he started drying him off.

"I think this guy’s clean. And he needs a walk."

Satoru wasn’t a shy person at all, but he had to muster all his strength to ask:

"Would you come with me?"

Suguru checked his watch. He had orders to present himself to the school board the day before starting and was already running late. He glanced at Satoru. Oh well. At that moment, he couldn’t resist those eyes. And he wouldn’t be able to for the rest of his life.

"Yeah... why not?" he replied, standing up.

***

The afternoon air was warm, though the soft breeze carried a freshness that indicated spring was in full bloom. In the distance, the cherry trees in the courtyard were starting to blossom, decorating the scene with their delicate pink petals swaying in the wind. Yoshi trotted happily in front of them, gently tugging on the leash Suguru held in his hand.

Satoru walked beside Suguru, their steps in sync as they crossed the school yard in silence. But it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. There was something about Suguru’s presence that calmed him, and at the same time, made him nervous. Who was this guy really? And more importantly: was he here to stay?

"So," Satoru began, breaking the silence with his usual carefree tone, "You’re here as a student, right? I mean, you were snooping around and you’re radiating cursed energy. Pretty strong, too. I’m guessing you already know that."

Suguru looked ahead, his gaze calm and his steps steady. He took a second to respond, as if carefully choosing his words.

"Yeah, seems that way. I’ll be here…" he glanced at Satoru from the corner of his eye, "... for a good while."

Satoru couldn’t help but smile, though he tried to hide it. The fact that Suguru was staying brought an unexpected relief. There was something about having him around that made him feel an emotion he didn’t quite understand yet, but it was there, present in every exchange, every glance.

"I’m glad," Satoru said, looking up at the sky now painted with a soft orange hue as the sun began to set. "I mean, it’s cool. I figured you’d stay anyway."

Suguru glanced at him sideways, a slight smile playing on his lips.

"Oh yeah? And why’s that?"

Satoru shrugged, pretending a nonchalance he didn’t feel.

"Call it intuition. Or maybe it’s just that I can’t picture you anywhere else."

Realizing what he’d said, he felt a slight warmth rise to his neck, but he kept his expression casual.

Suguru observed him silently for a moment longer, and though he didn’t say anything, Satoru could feel that his words had struck a chord. There was something between them, a tension in the air, but neither seemed willing to break the fragile balance they had.

Yoshi, oblivious to any tension, stopped to sniff the grass, and Satoru took the pause to look at the cherry trees around them. The petals were slowly falling to the ground, floating gracefully through the air. One of them, with almost poetic precision, gently landed on Suguru’s head, getting tangled in the dark strands of his hair.

Satoru smiled, amused by the sight, and without thinking too much about it, he stepped closer. He raised his hand and, with care, removed the petal from Suguru’s hair.

"You’ve got a guest," he said in a playful tone, holding the petal between his fingers before letting the wind take it away.

Suguru looked at him, surprised by the gesture, and for a second, the space between them seemed to shrink. The closeness of Satoru, the way his hand had moved with such care, caused a strange warmth to settle in Suguru’s chest. It was as if, suddenly, the air around them had grown heavier, like every small movement and every word carried a deeper meaning.

"Thanks," Suguru murmured, lowering his gaze slightly, something he didn’t usually do. Satoru, in his awkward but charming way, disarmed him in a way no one else could.

Satoru, aware of the tension but not wanting to break the moment, cleared his throat.

"No problem. Though, if you’re staying at the school, you’ll probably end up covered in petals all the time. It’s kinda a tradition." He smiled, trying to lighten the mood, though his blue eyes remained fixed on Suguru’s.

They started walking again, this time in silence, but the atmosphere had shifted. Each step they took brought them closer, not just physically, but in a deeper way, as if without needing words, they were both acknowledging something they couldn’t quite name yet. Yoshi ran ahead, happy to be outside, unaware of the little dance his caretakers were playing.

The sun kept sinking, and the sky had turned to shades of gold and pink, creating an almost surreal scene, perfect for the moment they were living. The shadows were lengthening, and as they walked, they both felt that time had slowed. The usual noise of the school had faded, and all that could be heard was the soft rustle of the leaves and Yoshi’s playful barks.

Satoru, gazing at the sunset, couldn’t help but feel like he could get used to this. To Suguru’s company, to the way his presence filled the silence without needing words. There was something warm about being by his side, something he hadn’t experienced before and didn’t want to let go of.

"It’s a nice place to stay," Suguru murmured suddenly, his eyes lost in the horizon as the sun finished setting behind the mountains. "I think I could get used to this."

Satoru glanced at him, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Yeah, me too. I mean, probably."

He wasn’t sure if Suguru was talking about the place or something else, but in that moment, it didn’t matter. They were both sharing something, something beyond words. The attraction they felt for each other was still there, present, but there was no rush to name it or act on it. They just wanted to enjoy the moment, the shared silence, and the quiet companionship they had started to build.

As the last ray of sunlight disappeared, Satoru sighed, feeling strangely at peace. Maybe, he thought, it wasn’t so bad to let himself go with what he felt. Maybe, with Suguru by his side, everything would start to make a new kind of sense.

And yet, nothing had made him realize he had just met his first love.

The one and only.

————————-

Art by https://x.com/C_WOLFxx1

[sequinsmile-x]

I Knew You'd Linger Like a Tattoo Kiss - Head Kisses

-x-

A series of unrelated one-shots and mini fics about the many types of kisses Aaron and Emily share.

-x-

Hi friends,

Here's another one of these prompts to wrap up the week. This is just soft, with a touch of mommy issues because I can't help myself.

Please see the masterlist for a full list of tags, and the list of prompts for this series.

-x-

Words: 2k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily tried to avoid one-on-one time with her mother as much as possible. It was easier to do since she’d had Samuel, the 18-month-old and Jack both excellent distractions for Elizabeth when she came over to the house, her love for her grandsons obvious whenever they were together. 

On her worst days, Emily envied her mother's relationship with Samuel and Jack. The easy way she showed her love for them, the affection Emily had to earn when she was young given away as if it was free. It was nothing but proof to her that Elizabeth had always been capable of it, but had prioritised different things when she was young. 

She’d tried to get out of lunch with her mother, not entirely in the mood to be her best self after a rough night with Samuel. He was sick, the 18-month-old refusing to sleep and crying if he was anywhere but in her arms, so she and Aaron had barely slept as they took turns to soothe him. She’d almost called her mom to tell her she couldn’t make it, but Aaron had encouraged her out of the door, reminding her if she didn’t do it now she’d just have to rearrange it after a week of building herself up to it. She’d kissed him goodbye, whilst grumbling about his need to always be so damn sensible, and she’d made her way to her mother’s favourite restaurant. 

The first thing she does when she arrives is order the biggest coffee she can, wanting to make sure she is as alert as she possibly could be. She’s barely sat down for 5 minutes when she hears her mother’s voice echoing around her.

“Emily,” she exclaims, stamping a kiss on each of Emily’s cheeks as she stands to greet her, “It’s good to see you,” she says, frowning as she pulls back, “Are you okay? You look exhausted.” 

She suppresses an eye roll and clenches her teeth, wondering if it is too early to order a glass of wine, “Thanks, Mom,” she says as she takes her seat again, “Sammy is sick so we had a rough night.”

“Oh no,” Elizabeth says as she sits down, “Is he okay?” 

Emily nods, “He’ll be fine, it’s just a bug Jack brought home from school. He’ll be okay in a day or two. He’s all about me when he’s sick though,” she says, unable to pretend she didn’t enjoy all the extra snuggles from her toddler who was seemingly always on the go these days, “So Aaron tried to help but I was up most the night.” 

Elizabeth raises her eyebrows, “Well, if you didn’t coddle him so much he’d manage just fine I’m sure.” 

She sucks in a deep breath and smiles tightly, knowing that the only way to stop herself from biting at the bait offered to her was to change the conversation. “How are you, Mom? How’s work?” 

Her technique works, just as it always did, and she sits back and half listens as Elizabeth talks about work and the embassy. She checks her phone to make sure Aaron hasn’t attempted to contact her, and she smiles at the picture of Samuel and Jack that she has set as her wallpaper, the two of them giggling at something Aaron had said. 

“You’ll never guess who I saw - Steve Clemente.” 

Emily frowns, “Who?” 

Elizabeth rolls her eyes, “Really, Emily. You’ve met the man at my Christmas party the last few years. He’s the President over at Primrose Academy.” 

She hums and nods, “Of course, sorry,” she replies, sipping her coffee, “I remember now.” 

“Well, I was able to get Samuel on the list for their Preschool programme,” she says, opening up her menu, missing the confusion that passes across Emily’s face, “We’re a bit late but this is why it pays to know people.” 

“Sammy is 18 months old.” 

Elizabeth sighs, “It’s like you’re being purposely obtuse today,” she says, shaking her head as she looks back up at her, “I know how old my grandson is, Emily. But the waiting list for these programmes is 2 years. It’s a very prestigious school.” 

Emily presses her lips together and swallows thickly, preparing herself for an argument, “I appreciate the effort, Mom. But we’re not going to be sending him to private school.” 

Elizabeth’s head snaps up, her eyebrows furrowed as she looks at her daughter, “Excuse me?” 

“When the time comes we’re going to send him to the same preschool Jack went to,” she says, looking around for the waiter, the idea of a glass of wine with lunch more appealing than it had ever been, “It’s a great school.” 

Elizabeth sighs, “Emily, Samuel has the benefit of the Prentiss name-”

“He’s a Hotchner,” she corrects, her smile tight as she stares at her mother. 

“What?”

“Sammy. His surname is Hotchner, not Prentiss.” 

“You’re being obtuse again, I know that too. But you seem to be ignoring the benefits your son has purely from who we are.” 

The waiter chooses that moment to walk over, his smile kind as he starts to ask what they want to drink, a question Emily answers before he’s finished asking.

“Wine, please. A large glass.” 

The waiter clears his throat, looking back and forth between the two of them, “Any particular one, ma’am?” 

“Whichever one is closest.” ___

She smiles as she steps into her house, the tension automatically seeping from her shoulders the second the warmth of home washes over her. She hears cartoons coming from the living room and she walks in to find Jack sitting on the couch, his focus on the television. 

“Hey sweetie,” she says as she leans over the back of the couch and kisses the top of his head, “Are you okay?” 

He nods, barely looking away from his favourite show, “Yeah. How was grandma?” 

“She was…” she scrunches her nose up and blows out a breath, “Grandma,” she smiles at him, “Where are Daddy and your brother?” 

“Upstairs,” he replies, “Dad is trying to get Sammy to nap,” he shrugs at her, “It wasn’t going very well.” 

She laughs and leans down to kiss his head again, “I’m going to go see if I can help,” she says, pushing his hair from his forehead, “We’re upstairs if you need us, okay?” 

“Okay, Mom.” 

She heads upstairs and smiles as she steps into the nursery, love spreading through her chest as she’s met with the image of her husband pacing back and forth, their grumpy toddler in his arms. 

“Come on, buddy. You’ll feel better if you nap.”

“No,” Samuel grunts, rubbing his face against Aaron’s chest.

“Daddy’s right,” Emily says from the doorway, both of them looking at her at the same time, matching expressions on their faces, “You’ll feel better if you nap.”

“Mama!” Samuel exclaims, his lower lip pushed out in a pout as he reaches out for her, scrambling in Aaron’s arms. 

“I’ve got you, baby,” she says, lifting him into her arms and kissing the top of his head, “Mama’s got you,” she looks up at her husband, “You’ve been giving Daddy a hard time whilst I’ve been gone?” 

“Only you have the magic touch, it seems,” Aaron says, kissing the top of her head and then her lips as she tilts her head up, “How was lunch?”

She groans and runs her hand up and down Samuel’s back, “It was as expected,” she grumbles, turning her attention back to their son who was already a little calmer, “You want to get some sleep, sweet boy?” 

“Not tired,” he complains, and Aaron hides a smile, a look in his eyes that lets her know exactly what he’s thinking. 

He gets that from you.

“Well, I am,” she says, kissing his head again as she walks towards the loveseat in the corner of the room, “Why don’t we all just sit down for a little while.” 

“‘kay,” he says, pressing his face against her neck as she sits down. She rests her cheek against the top of his head and rubs circles on his back, knowing it is a surefire way to get him to fall asleep. 

Aaron joins them, his arm around her shoulders, and he pulls her closer, “Want to talk about it?” 

She hums, “She mentioned getting Sammy onto a list for a private preschool.” 

Aaron frowns, “He’s 18 months old.” 

She chuckles, “That’s what I said too,” she replies before her smile slips away, “I made it clear that isn’t what we want but…” she blows out a shaky breath, “But then she made it clear she didn’t agree.” 

He tightens his grip on her, his lips against her hairline as he blows out a slow breath, an obvious attempt to keep his cool, “What did she say, sweetheart?” 

“She said I’m risking my kid's futures for the sake of being stubborn.” 

He clenches his teeth and sighs, stamping a kiss against her head before he replies, “That’s not true, Em.” 

“I know,” she sighs, shaking her head a little as she looks down at Samuel, the little boy halfway to sleep already, “At least I think I do,” she looks up at Aaron and offers a half-shrug, “I don’t know. I hated going to private school, and I want something different for the boys. But we could afford it,” she licks her lower lip, “Hell, we could afford to send half a dozen kids to private school all the way through to high school if we want to,” she raises an eyebrow at him when she watches something spark in his eyes, “Down boy,” she jokes and they share a smile, “We could afford it but…that doesn’t mean we should do it, does it?” 

“Of course not, sweetheart,” he says, tucking some of her hair behind her ear, “We know what’s best for our children, not your mother, or an old friend of hers, but us,” he smiles softly, “And if we want to send Sammy and Jack to public school, or all half a dozen of them,” he winks when she rolls her eyes, “Then we will. And we can change our minds in the future if we want to. But you aren’t doing them a disservice or depriving them of something because you want them to have a different experience to you.” 

She nods, leaning forward and pressing her forehead against his shoulder, “I know,” she says, believing this time, and she blows out a slow breath, “I just never felt like I could be myself at those places,” she says, “All that mattered was getting good grades and being the best,” she sighs contentedly when he kisses the top of her head, “I never want the boys to think that’s all they are good for.” 

“They won’t,” he assures her, kissing her head one more time before he encourages her to look up at him, “You’re an excellent mom, Em,” he says, his smile growing as hers does, “Our boys are lucky to have you.” 

She stamps a kiss against his lips, “They are lucky to have you too.”

He smiles and looks down, shaking his head slightly when he sees that Samuel is fast asleep, “He’s sleeping.” 

She hums and looks at her son, his nose bright red and sore from where he’d been rubbing his fists against it, “Poor baby, was he okay whilst I was gone?” 

Aaron nods, “He was fine, he missed you - but he always does when you’re not here,” he runs his fingers up and down her arm, drawing a soothing pattern as they silently agree to stay sitting there with their son for a while, “So, about this half a dozen kids-”

“Aaron.” 

[hiddenst0rms]

Sick Stein - Soul Eater

For Christmas and your birthday, @onetrickponi 

I know that we haven’t really spoken much before, but I really hope you enjoy! ❤️

Fandom: Soul Eater

Stein/Marie

1.3k words

Stein loved his job. Not many people got to immerse themselves in their passion all day every day and get paid to do so. It was quite simple, really. He taught expert soul resonance techniques, graded exams, and spent the rest of his time on experiments. Aside from occasionally having to put an unruly student in their place (read: Black Star), the rest of his students were wonderful to watch improve and grow into their fullest potential.

The best part of the job? - the students.

“HH’RFFMSCHHHH!” 

The worst part of his job? - the students. 

He looked up with bleary eyes after burying his face into the sleeve of his lab coat. Ah, oh well. He had tons just like it. Gah. He used to never get sick. He was a fighter, he was strong; he could stitch up even the toughest of battle injuries on himself. That was until he had to spend eight hours a day trapped indoors with grubby gremlins that handed him hand written essays that belonged in a biohazard bin.

But he had gone to medical school, so he was much too knowledgeable to deny the telltale signs of waking up with a headache and scratchy throat yesterday that a few handfuls of aspirin hadn’t cured (who needed a stomach lining anyway). Those soon turned into sneezing, stuffiness, achiness, and as of tonight, a cough. It quickly crept into his voice and speaking all day at work certainly hadn’t done him any favors. By his last lecture, he was struggling to get his voice to carry throughout the classroom. He finally gave in and released class a few minutes early under vague orders to “go practice with your partner.” It was as if he had hit a second puberty.

“Heh’KGSCHh!!” A series of chesty coughs followed. At this rate, he would never finish his grading. He’d been hunched over the neverending stack of ungraded exams for hours and still wasn’t finished. The other professors at the academy wondered why Stein insisted on all open-ended questions instead of multiple choice. Multiple choice would have been a hell of a lot easier to grade, but Stein insisted that open-ended was the only way. Multiple choice was way too easy, a guessing game rather than true reflection of knowledge.

He leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms. It was late, almost one am. Marie had gone to bed a long time ago, leaving him alone at his desk illuminated by the lonely desk lamp. It wasn’t like Stein wasn’t used to late nights. That was the one thing that caught Marie by surprise when she first moved in with Stein. Despite having dated before, she had never realized just how messed up Stein’s sleep habits were. He seldomly went to bed before midnight, opting instead to research on the computer or experiment until he crashed, often at his desk, until work. 

“Stein?”

Great. Another distraction. Her presence wasn’t a surprise. He could sense her wavelength. But that didn’t stop him from giving a dramatic eye roll and a dismissive hand wave. He absolutely despised being interrupted, regardless of what he was doing.

“The place better be burning down right now.” 

“You’re still up?” Marie flipped on the light, not missing the way he winced. 

“You say that like you’re surprised. Ahh, turn the light off. It’s messing with my muse.”

Marie did so, that only confirming her suspicions. He’d come home from work sounding pretty rough and putting an unusual amount of effort into avoiding her. His aloofness was hardly out of character, but the coughing certainly was. “It’s not so much the time that I’m concerned about. It’s your health. You woke me up with your coughing.”

Stein lazily dug through his desk drawer and held out a container, eyes never leaving the paper in front of him. “Here are some earplugs. Now go back to bed and leave me alone. It is late, after all.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. You sound awful. Do you have a cold?”

Stein finally lifted his head to acknowledge her. He really wasn’t in the mood for this kind of interrogation. His mood had been low all day due to not feeling well, and he already wasn’t keen on admitting things that ailed him. He sniffled as quietly as he could muster. Now would have been a good time for him to blow his nose, but he couldn’t possibly do that with her standing over his shoulder.

“I prefer the term rhinovirus, but sure. You can call it whatever you want.”

“I don't know what that is - hey! What do you think you’re doing right now?

There was one trick he (literally) had up his sleeve to get someone out of his personal space with the added benefit of relaxation too. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, leading to a horrible coughing fit.

“Oh my God! Yeah, that’s what I mean - gah, you shouldn’t even be smoking right now! Give that to me!”

His glare was every emotion under the sun - annoyed, slightly amused, cocky. As if that would actually work. Her features slumped in defeat. It was worth a try.

“What I mean is,” She said, exasperated. “Is that you sound like you’ve been smoking a pack a day for the last 40 years. So perhaps it’s not in your best interest to smoke right now.”

Stein removed his cigarette, carelessly blowing the smoke around. An offended expression crossed his face. “Mathematically impossible. I’m 31, thank you very much. I certainly can’t sound that bad.”

He sniffled again, this time much thicker. His nose was starting to itch again too, but he wouldn’t have such a display with her standing right there. So he opted to breathe through his mouth, hoping that it would go unnoticed.

“I wasn’t being literal! Just, you’re so impossible sometimes. Go to bed. You’ll work so much more efficiently tomorrow after a good night’s sleep, which I know you don’t get often.”

Her speech was static to his brain. All that Stein could think about was how much he was trying to not make a mess of himself, but it was getting harder and harder to ignore such a blatant need. Another liquid sniffle, which only blossomed the tickle.

“Stein! Are you even listening to me right - “

“Hihhh…. hih’nkxt! h’nxgt! Xngt!” He tried to even out his breathing, but - “Nxgtshyuu! Het’shiuuu! Edtshuuu! Igxtshyuuu!” As much as he didn’t want to, he reached for the tissues, a blush creeping across his cheeks. He refused to turn around, to give Marie any sort of satisfaction. 

“Bless you. That’s why you need to stop working and go to bed, like I was saying.” She said, a hint of amusement in her voice. 

“That won’t be necessary. It’s very minor, a simple fluke in the human genome. Not worth causing a fuss over.”

“You’d really think that they would have figured out the cure to the common cold by now, huh.”

“Cure? Cure!?” Stein whipped around in his stool, newfound fire in his dead eyes. “How can you possibly expect to cure something that’s caused by over 200 viruses? Don’t you think we’ve tried? Well, it’s impossible! I’ll tell you - “

Woah. Now that Marie could actually fully see his face, she saw how pale and tired looked. Not to mention his absurd outburst. Stein always had a way of making everything so scientific. She couldn’t help but wonder - was this the madness taking over or a brewing fever?

Probably the latter.

Marie cut off his rambling with a hand to his forehead.

He stopped. Blinked owlishly. Flinched. Not used to being touched after living alone for so many years.

“You’re warm.”

Figures. 

That was the first time that Marie had touched him since their break up from years ago. If anyone was allowed to overstep boundaries and personal space, it was her. Their split had been amicable enough, but Stein had vowed that nothing more would come from their temporary living situation. But she certainly wasn’t helping right then and there. 

Stein smiled. He could only pretend to be annoyed for so long.

“Fine. I’ll come to bed.”

[hexpea]

Ch. 23 - Preparations

"Suguru!" You repeatedly shouted through the halls of the castle in search for your husband. You had eventually found him hard at work in his study. "Suguru!" You exclaimed with a bit more calmness in your voice now that you were in front of him. "Guess what!"

He looked up and softened his frustrated expression as soon as he met your gaze. It looked like he had been working on some serious looking paperwork, the quill quivering in his hand before settling after seeing your face.

"Hey, Y/N," he greeted with his soft, nasally voice. "Where's Satoru? I told him to watch over you after you left the table."

"Oh..." you felt a bit heartbroken at his sudden change in topic, but then again, he was concerned for your safety first. You had to appreciate that. "He never showed..." You waited patiently for any sign to continue discussing your discovery.

"That good for nothing..." Suguru hissed under his breath and rolled his eyes. "Sorry," he shook his head and brought his attention back to you. You now noticed the dark bags under his eyes. He hadn't been sleeping well ever since the incident, you could tell by how much he'd toss and turn at night ever since you'd started sharing a chamber. "What happened?" He asked with a gentle, intrigued smile.

"I. Have. A. Technique." You said in separate sentences, your wide smile back on your face. Suguru gave you a funny look with a bit of hesitance. He knew he already explained how jujutsu and cursed energy works, but he figured something had to have happened to convince you of this. "It happened while I was practicing my archery!"

"You have a technique? How did it present itself?" He asked, shaking his head still in disbelief before returning to the scribbles in front of him.

"I was able to manipulate the arrow using my energy! I was able to move its trajectory and control its speed! It was amazing!" You explained while walking closer to his desk, slightly leaning on its edge once you made your way over.

Suguru seemed distracted as he furiously finished the sentence he was writing. "Are you sure it wasn't a fluke?" He asked. The way he had phrased it felt a little hurtful compared to how you were used to hearing him.

"What's that?" You inquired about his distraction. "It looks serious."

"It's...like a will in a way," he described with a deep breath. He leaned back in his chair to take a break from it. "It's to protect the kingdom should something happen to me."

"What?" You giggled. "Nothing's going to happen to you." Suguru bit on the inner flesh of his mouth as he avoided eye contact.

"Sukuna's incredibly powerful," he reminded you, "and Satoru is much more powerful than I, but Sukuna will still pose a challenge -- which puts my life at risk. Satoru and I will always do our part to protect one another, but when it comes to the safety of our kingdoms, humanity even, that has to come first. He can't think about me during the fight."

"What are you saying?" Your voice dropped at the same time as your confused facial expression.

"The likelihood of my death occurring during this fight is much higher than I'd like to admit. This contract signs our kingdom over to Satoru. And don't worry, you're taken care of within these pages as well -- you and your family."

"No," you said flatly, standing straight up from your leaning position on the desk. "You have to let us help you. Kento and I, we both have techniques."

"I won't allow it," Suguru suddenly stood after digesting your words. His face was that of anger, a type of anger you hadn't seen out of him before. "I'm not allowing you to get killed, you or Kento." Suguru sighed after a long pause and sat back in his chair. You held back a bit of anger with a determined look on your face. "Honestly, Satoru should be able to handle Sukuna himself for the most part with myself as support."

"Then why doesn't he?!" You passionately whined, leaning forward on the desk now with your anger painted on your face.

"Sukuna is cunning and elusive. Any sort of support, a distraction even, will be helpful to Satoru," Suguru hesitantly explained. "This man...this thing...is the King of Curses after all."

You didn't know what else to say. You felt completely defeated, your pouted up face the only thing you could muster as you stood in front of him. Suguru saw your disappointment and immediately acted.

"Listen," his voice was as soft as it had ever been as he stood from his desk and gently walked to you. He placed delicate hands on your upper arms to encourage you to look up at him, even if it meant your pout was still on your face. "I'm going to finish these pages and then how about the two of us enjoy a night in together?"

You twisted your pout a small bit, a sign of wavering. "I want to help," you grumbled almost inaudibly.

"Something tells me that the end is almost near," he sighed, "we don't have much time left. Please...let's enjoy what we have."

Your pout fell into a full on frown as you felt something in your chest physically snap in two. It was a special kind of heartbreak, one you detested above all of the heartbreaks you had ever felt before -- given that amount was few.

Without any other words exchanged, you turned and left him standing alone. You gave him once last sad glance as you closed the large double doors behind you, a heartbroken look on his face.

With a sullen expression, you made your way toward Suguru's bedchamber. You took your time getting ready for the evening hours, washing up, changing clothes, and fixing your hair. The peaceful sunset was incredibly deceiving. The bright oranges and yellows that opened up into the dark blue sky made it look as if the field just outside of the window was on fire.

It felt like it had been ages since you left Suguru in the chancery. You were curled up on your side of the mattress attempting to read a book by candlelight despite your fatigue from the day's activities, the newest challenge in your reading journey. Suddenly, a gentle knock coincidentally sounded on the other side of the heavy wooden door. Without needing your approval, Suguru gently pushed it open with a soft smile on his face.

The heartbroken feeling in your chest returned, the immediate need to envelop him in your arms drove you to toss your book and dart from the bed.

"Suguru," you sadly muffled into his chest as you buried your face there. "I never want to let you go." He gave his usual low chuckle as he stroked your head, fully embracing you. "I can't help but want all of the work you went through drafting those pages to go to waste," you chuckled, pulling away from him and wiping a stray tear from your face.

"I long for that as well," he sighed heavily, the soft smile spreading in relief. Your presence always calmed him, no matter the impending war that weighed on his shoulders. "But for now," he laced his fingers with yours and pulled you toward the bed, "we're alright for now." You noticed how his voice started to shake as the two of you sat on the edge of the mattress. He had again pressed your face into his chest, his chin resting atop your head as you felt him staring out of the nearby window. "You'll be okay come morning light."

[cc-writesfor2dcharacters]

Hi how are you doing? Can I request Yuji, Megumi, Inumaki, Gojo and Nanami ( if it's too much you can reduce to whatever boys you prefer ) reacting to their ( gender-neutral or a female ) s/o's cursed techniques similar to magical girl. Like they need to transform, their attack are very cutesy, and etc. Sorry and it's okay if you can't do it or my request is confusing.

A/N: Sure! This one was kinda challenging to write since I haven't watched any magical girl anime for so long and it was hard to describe how will they transform. But, I hope you enjoy and like this one! <33 Cheers to my first request!!!

Here are the JJK boys reacting to their S/O who has a cursed technique similar to a magical girl:

Itadori Yuji

Oh, this boy was in awe, I swear. He literally had heart eyes when he first saw your technique. He stood there, frozen, as he watched you transform into like a goddess he usually sees in fantasy comics and anime he watches. The necklace you have is the one that activates your technique. After he blinked, you were already in this pretty ballerina form and you were glowing like a real goddess. You approached the cursed spirit as fast as you could so you could get momentum. You channeled your cursed energy into your right foot and kicked the cursed spirit, causing it to fly away due to the heavy impact of both your cursed energy and the technique. And, when you blew a kiss to that grade 1 cursed spirit, bubbles were sent throughout the area. Yuji gasped in admiration for you. He thought, “How could someone as cute as Y/N be this strong?” as your bubbles trapped the grade 1 cursed spirit. Yuji forgot that you guys were fighting two grade 1 cursed spirits. And, the one he was supposed to beat attacked him from behind. He had let his guard down and was on the defense side as he was avoiding the cursed spirit’s attack. But, he was still checking out on you, and he pouted thinking how that costume is actually not fit for fighting. Sukuna had to eventually wake Yuji up from his daydream. “Brat! Stop looking at your girl’s ass and focus. If you die, I die.” But, when he was about to finish that cursed spirit off, you already did the work for him. He was trying to cheer you up since your technique wears off the energy in your body. So, you were immediately exhausted after that fight. On the train, as you were sleeping on his shoulder, he took your hand and compared it to his. He caressed your hair and kissed your forehead. He whispered to you, “Oh, Y/N, your technique made me realized I should be more protective around you. You’re still fragile, but I’ll be here for you every step of the way.” And Sukuna had to interrupt his moment and laughed, “Brat, it’s a matter of time until that girl surpasses you. She’s hot and will become stronger. Ha! Never seen that technique in my years. So, watch out for your girl.” Yuji had to slap the side of his face to make him shut up. Every now and then, when you two have a mission, he secretly wishes you’ll activate your technique. But, you learned your lesson not to since he gets distracted.

Fushiguro Megumi

You were aware that Megumi wanted to see you transform and use your technique when you heard Nobara talk about how cool you looked. So, that’s why on your mission, he asked if you could bring your sword since you two will be fighting plenty of low-grade cursed spirits. He said he wanted to finish the mission as soon as he could, but he just wanted to see what Nobara saw. When you two got to the place, you two were not aware that a grade 1 cursed spirit would be here. He released his Nue to fend off the lower grade cursed spirits. You knew you two were in trouble, that’s why, you did the stance to activate your technique, your katana in front of your face as you held it tightly, and a strong wind blew throughout the area causing the grade 1 cursed spirit to be pushed back a little. As soon as Megumi’s attention turned to you, his eyes widened to see you with wings, and your skirt became shorter. You knew where he was looking, and this boy forgot about the shikigami he released. He wants this to be finished now, so you did it for him. You ran to the cursed spirit, and with your katana bursting with cursed energy alongside the wind you collected, you easily took off the cursed spirit’s head, causing it to disintegrate into thin air. When you came down from the air, you didn’t know what was going on in his head. “An angel.” You gulped as you heard those words from him. He didn’t realize that he said his thoughts out loud, so he felt kind of shy at the moment. It was loud enough for you to hear, causing you to blush. You helped him get up from the ground and he wiped off his butt. “Thank you for saving me, Y/N. I-I was distracted.” He shyly looked away from you, as a blush crept on his face. “Come on, I’ve been wanting to take you out on a date that’s why I wanted to finish this quickly.” All of a sudden, he grabbed your hand as you started to walk off. He’s a man of few words and wasn’t a fan of PDA. But, he’s been like this ever since he saw your technique. He told you that he was both terrified and in love with you. And, that’s probably one of the best compliments you’ve gotten from him so far.

Inumaki Toge

He was assigned to accompany you on your promotion mission. He knew about the technique you have, which is why you were recommended by Mei-Mei to become a grade 2 sorcerer. He wished you good luck by giving you a thumbs up and a light pat on the head. It was his way of telling you that he’ll be looking out for you in case you struggle. The cursed spirit was fast, and you could feel its bloodlust. You didn’t hesitate to activate your technique. It was rushing towards you, so you immediately took out the device you use in order to activate my technique. You imbued the device with a fair amount of cursed energy, enough to defeat this cursed spirit. It was taking its time to activate, and you caught a glimpse of Inumaki unzipping the zipper that covered his mouth. But, you wanted to prove to him that you’re worthy to be a grade 2 sorcerer. And, right in time, the device sent a blinding light causing both Inumaki and the cursed spirit to flinch. You were transformed with fairy wings, and a sparkly dress. He accidentally said, “Wow.” and he was caught off guard. Your eyes widened in surprise to hear him use his voice not for techniques or for his safe words. He alerted you and screamed, “Behind you!” You pointed the light to the cursed spirit, red lights in the form of little hearts came out. The light pierced the cursed spirit’s body with small holes. To finish it off, you slowly flapped your wings to send off beautiful but poisonous dust. And, the cursed energy within you bursts even more as the cursed spirit still wouldn’t die. When you eventually finished it off, you fell to the ground, breathless. You’ve never wasted your cursed energy that much before. It’s just that a part of you wanted to prove to your boyfriend that you can be relied on. He ran towards you and cupped your face. Using his free hand, he did a sign language which translated into You did really well, Y/N. I’m proud of you, remember that. You’re so strong and beautiful. I love you. Tears almost fell out of your eyes as he appreciated you. You hugged him and he hugged you back even tighter. He noticed that your wings were starting to fade and accidentally spoke again and said, “No!” He adorably pouted at you, and you comforted him. “You really liked my technique, huh? Even if I wanted to show you, it might hurt you.” He did another sign language which translated to You were so cute. I just want to wrap you in my arms. You smiled so widely and stood up. You helped him get up, “Then let’s go back and cuddle.” He has never been that excited before.

Gojo Satoru

He was being a little bit of an asshole to you when he found out about your technique. Being born from a family of sorcerers, who secluded themselves from the jujutsu world, he instantly fell in love with you when you two first met. And he was the first one outside of your family to know of your technique. But, the two of you are in for a mission, well it was a solo mission for you, but he tagged along just to see you use your technique over and over again. There have been numerous grade 3 and 4 cursed spirits running around. When you two arrived at the place, you were both shocked to see almost 50 of them, who varied in size, speed, and strength. You were a little scared, and when you were about to back down, Gojo held your back to stop you from going backward and said, “Show me that technique as beautiful as you.” You don’t know what he did to you, but you immediately obeyed. That’s when he stepped back and put his hands in his pocket. He even sat down and had his chin resting on his palm as he watched you. It’s always fun for him to see you and your technique, it was like a show. You snapped your fingers two times to make you transform. Darkness started to envelop the sky, and you knew so well that Gojo is smirking as he will see you in a cute short skirt, and a golden corset. When the darkness faded, you raised your hand like you were pointing a gun in the sky. That’s when you sent lightning on every cursed spirit there was, and electrocuted them. He started to activate his infinity so your lightning wouldn't affect him. His jaw dropped (the picture is the reference) as he stared at you and watched the cursed spirit struggle from your lightning. This is always a pleasant sight for Gojo to watch. There were no people other than him who pointed their hands like a gun to use their technique. It fascinates him and makes him love you even more. It ended sooner than you expected. You were about to remove your technique and Gojo stopped you. “No can do, baby girl. You finished your mission in the blink of an eye, and I haven’t fully enjoyed you in this cute get-up.” He whined as he nuzzled his face into your neck. “You’re always so cool to watch.” He complimented you. It was rare to hear that coming from the "Strongest". But, with you he will shower you with every compliment there is in the world. The reason for that is to see you smile, and well, to persuade you to use your technique later so he could fanboy on his own girlfriend.

Nanami Kento

He was always calm and collected, but he couldn't stop thinking about the first time he saw you use your technique. When you transformed into somewhat of a cat, with cat ears and tail, and you were sparkling like the stars. He thought that you were the cutest human being there is to exist. That technique gives you speed and great mobility. Your nails become like claws and it can rip apart a cursed spirit in an instant. Like Yuji, he was in awe but was still aware of other lower grade cursed spirits lingering around the vicinity. He killed all the cursed spirits so easily just to check if you were still in your cat form. Lucky for him, he saw you scratched the grade 2 cursed spirit from its head all the way to its feet. You perfectly controlled your cursed energy, and the big cursed spirit was killed in an instant. He thought, "Y/N's so cute but that technique's dangerous." He noticed that you were limping a little bit, but that was when you sprained your ankle from jumping too high. He thought it was a casualty from your technique, and that made him worry about you. "Next time don't use your technique, love. It hurts you." He said with his tone filled with worry for you. You laughed at him and replied, "Kento, I jumped too high and landed badly. So, it was my fault, not my technique." He fixed his glasses as he looked away from you. He was trying to hide as you noticed that he blushed a little. "I see. Then, can you use that again so I can see?" He shyly asked and that made you laugh even more. "And why do you want to see it?" You mischievously smiled at him as you crossed your arms. "Because it was cute. But, you're beautiful even in your human form." He flatly answered, but the blush on his face didn't fade. "You're cute when you're flustered like this." You spent the night teasing him about what happened. And, starting from that day, he always argues with Gojo to have him go with you on your mission. He just makes the "It's too dangerous for her" excuse. But, Gojo knows how cute you really are when using that technique, and Kento's just being a protective boyfriend. Up to this day, he won’t admit how he falls in love with you, even more, when he sees you transform.

[pizzaapplecheese]

Schizophrenic Basil headcanon

I decided to write my headcanons for Basil!

Warning: Spoilers, and same content warnings for the game, as well as self harm

Note: I do not have schizophrenia, so it is not going to be 100% accurate (especially when not everyone experience it the same way, ie. Some might have never hallucinate an entire person or some can only hear one voice in their head, ect.) anyways back to the headcanon!

Basil developed it after Mari died, the whole event caused too much stress on him

It started with Basil denying what happened and claiming it to be "something else" that caused it

Basil had a hard time sleeping and would spiral on the smallest of things (that happened before the incident, but it was never as intense as now)

A month later he started experiencing hallucinations and not something he made up to cope on what happened, he blamed the hallucinations on her death (even though they weren't there before)

He would see see a shadow swaying in the wind near a tree, a clomp of hair with eyes and mouth, and would sometimes hear Mari's voice yelling at Sunny

It started to go more than just the incident with sometimes hearing the sound of scratching, laughter when no one was there, or the feeling of being eating alive by something

Basil would experience delusions, he would believe that someone is following him, or that a classmate he never met knows about what he did to Mari, or that Mari is haunting him as revenge

After a while of this Basil would pull his hair, pinch himself, and hit himself to help him escape from this, from these hallucinations and unbareable emotions, it was too much for him

He doesn't speak to people much, especially after the incident and if he does it was usually quick and short. Talking to people for too long is hard for Basil to keep up since he had trouble staying on topic and would jump from one thing to another with what seems to be no correlation at all. (kinda like how in the Basil fight he went from "it's so good to see you" to "it came to you that day")

The bullying did not help at all, it made his issues worse and it also allowed people to dismiss his issues as a usual bullying reaction

Basil would avoid people as much as possible since he was scared of them, even if they treated him as nicely as possible and put themselves in danger to help him, he would be afraid of them

His mind would with questions, he would believe that they wanted something from him or that they are secretly trying to hurt him

Sometimes he would avoid his grandma too after all, what would happen if she found out? (she would probably hug him, but Basil's fear and guilt told him otherwise)

His grades dropped completely as well, he used to be one of the smartest kids in class, but after everything, it was too hard for him to concentrate

His hallucinations was too distracting for him to listen or work, he would sometimes skip lessons because of it

Teachers got suspicious of his behaviour, but didn't stop it too much since it was typical bullied child behaviour

They called his parents to ask them permission for him to speak to the councilors, but his parents knew that those were not good and promised him someone who can take care of him and grandma

Then came Polly, she is both Basil's and his grandma's caretaker

She would try to ease the load and stress off of Basil, taking care of his grandma and the house, just so Basil can focus more on his grades and personal life more

It made Basil hiding from his family about his bullying extremely hard

Polly although not knowing what was going on notices something is up

Basil avoided Polly, but even he cannot handle things completely and she would barge into his room when she hears him having a panic attack or when he is having an episode

She teaches him some breathing techniques which Basil aggressively uses whenever he can, because it helped at first

When Sunny came back the first day he was so happy, yet fearful. He missed Sunny, he is back!

However the voices were not as pleased and would go off on how Sunny wants him dead and is probably plotting his death, causing him to avoid them the next day

After the fight Basil had to stay in the hospital for a while, the doctors took notice of his episodes and how he harmed himself and was informed by Sunny during an investigation about what happened that Basil attempted suicide

They told Polly that Basil would have to be in suicide watch and taken to therapy or if she isn't able to handle it have him to be taken to a psychiatric hospital

Polly called his parents and discussed on what to do, after a while they agreed that a psychiatric hospital would be best since it is runned by professionals who would know what to do in any given situation

It takes a while for him to get diagnosed, but after a few years he finally gotten the right diagnosis and was given the proper medication for his issues

He still have his ups and downs, but at least he has people that will stick by him and help him no matter what

[yayteaberry]

*SFW* Dumbass! (Bakugou)

When you were about two years old, your family made a huge move from America to Japan. Your father found suitable hero work there so that’s where you stayed. His quirk worked much like a wolfs, giving him heightened senses and much more mobility. Naturally you inherited the physical aspects such as a tail and ears, though much of you remained human like your mother.

Growing up, you quickly bonded with your neighbor's son, Katsuki Bakugou.

Your fiery and determined attitude worked really well with him and he made for an excellent playmate. He could handle your tendency to roughhouse and wrestle, if anything he seemed to enjoy it. You two were inseparable, spending a near unhealthy amount of time with each other, this carried well into your schooling years.

Despite claiming you had your own intentions behind it, you did follow him like a lost puppy. It was quite obvious to everyone around you that you’d do anything for him, except for him of course.

You were almost dangerously defensive over him, snapping at people who questioned or pushed at him while you were around.

It made you seriously upset when other people touched him or got to speak with him more than you, heavily sulking and pouting until you got your opportunity for his attention.  As guilty as you could feel about it in retrospect, you really can’t help it.

When you had his attention all to yourself, you loved to spar with him more than anything else. It wasn’t like it was a special activity but still it felt like something between you and him. As you grew up ‘wrestling’ became something skin to sparring and then just became a routine part of training once he got into UA.  Though there was a nostalgic undertone, in the past it used to be something he’d only do with you, and you were having a hard time letting go.

Currently you were waiting for him to come back to his room so you could ask him to do just that. He enters his room right on time, totally unperturbed you were already inside since you’d made a habit of coming in anytime you wanted.

“Hey! Lets go practice!”, you chirp as you hop off his bed, excitedly skipping up to him.

“Nah, I just finished up doing that with Kirishima for the past hour and I wanna take a break.” He speaks as he nonchalantly drops his bag to the floor. 

It’s somehow more insulting that you can smell how sweaty he is. 

“What the fuck do you mean ‘no’?”, with a disgusted huff you size him up, angry enough to just tackle him already.

“Fucks your problem? I didn’t promise you anything today.”

You pout as you often do, crossing your arms over your chest, ears pinched back. “Yeah but why would you run off with him like that! I’m right here! You in love with him or something?”

He rolls his eyes and matches your stance with his standard snarl, staring you down. The height difference does nothing to make you intimidated, and it never has. “I can do what I want. He asked me first and either way I need to branch out and win against different people who actually provide a challenge.”

You scoff and throw your hands at your sides after balling them into fists, stomping your foot down to accent your disapproval. “I do provide a challenge, you don’t win every time you asshole! I bet he was really terrible at it, not nearly as good as me!”

The way his face scrunches up a moment makes you narrow your eyes, not sure what he’s thinking about. When a big grin breaks out you feel your rage double.

“You’re jealous of him.”

That makes you nearly explode, snorting out a scoff and shaking your head. “Not in your wildest fucking dreams! I am not jealous!”

“Yes, yes you are.”, he says after a laugh that makes your face feel hot.

“Stop talking so calmly! I just said I’m not so I’m not! Shut the fuck up! Shut up, you’re so dumb sometimes!”, you shout back at him, turning your head to the side as you instantly loathe your inability to shut your mouth.

He only smiles wider, leaning close into your personal space, gently flicking your nose. “You totally are, I can see it.”

You swat at his hand and growl, tail bristling as you go fully defensive. “I said shut the fuck up! There’s nothing jealous about me! I just don’t think you should be spending your time with such a loser!”

Easily he grabs your hand, tilting his head and speaking with such a mocking tone you have to keep down the urge to bite him. “Oh? And, just who do you recommend replacing him? If not him, then who? If you’re not jealous then I assume you’ve got another person in mind. C’mon, I’m all ears.”

With a harsh yank you get your hand back, pushing on his chest and getting even more frustrated when he doesn’t budge. “Shut up! I said shut up! Stop being such a bastard about this!”

“Why should I? You’re the one freaking out.”

“I AM NOT FREAKING OUT!”, you shout, freaking out.

“It’s adorable that you get so upset just because I spent an hour with someone else, you’re all pink in the face over it. That’s jealousy if I’ve ever seen it.” He can’t wipe the smirk off his face when you act like it, he did always find it cute when you get so heated over him giving you attention. 

“I’m not upset and I’m not jealous! I just don’t like you accusing me of things that I’m not! You’re a fucking idiot!”, you continually spout, upper lip curled up as your breathing turns into gruff pants, barely avoiding the urge to start barking. 

Despite how you look fit to maul him, he finds himself perfectly comfortable grabbing one of your ears, delicately massaging it between his fingers. The action almost instantly starts working to calm you down, feeling so good you lean into it without realizing it. Though you’re still pouting, the raging fire has simmered down greatly.

“I can’t only spar with you, I do need to improve my technique.” He speaks as he continues, now using both hands for both ears.

You puff out a large breath, “Well why can’t you do that with me? I can change my fighting style, do different things. If you need something different then why can’t you tell me what?”

“Why is this so important to you? We hang out a fuck ton outside of doing that so whats the difference.” His voice is laced with annoyance, making you wince internally.

“Because he’s got his stupid hands all over you.”, you reply, mildly hypnotized enough by his massaging that you let some of the truth slip out.

“So you should be the only person allowed to touch me?” He raises an eyebrow at that, nearly letting out another laugh.

Your stomach sinks at the implication of what you’ve said, attempting to fishtail your way out of it. “No! Just, that, well! Why’s it even matter, you’re not listening to me anyways! God is it too much to ask that you pay some attention to your best friend sometimes!” You grab at his wrists and pull his hands away, tossing them away.

“What the hell would you even call this right now? You even sleep in here most nights, how the fuck can I possibly give you more attention! Do you wanna be attached at the fuckin hip!”, he says with an exasperated grunt, pinching at the bridge of his nose. 

“Shut up! It’s just comfortable here is all, not a crime to have preference! S-So what if I like it in here? So what if I don’t think you should let just anybody get their hands all over you!” You anxiously fidget with your hands, shrugging passively despite your raised volume.

“So you admit that you’re upset about me sparring with Kirishima because you don’t want him to touch me!”, he says while he points an accusatory finger towards you.

“Yea, whatever! So what!”, you shout as you throw your arms up, sitting back on his bed forcefully enough to bounce a few times, “Not a fucking crime is it! It’s contact, I’m part wolf you know, it’s kinda in my blood!”

“I have to do other shit besides enable your needy ass, you should be grateful I allow you to do all the shit you do!” He puts his hands on his hips, leaning down to get in your personal space.

“I’m not fucking needy!”, you shoot back instantly, nails digging into your palms.

“That’s right, you’re needy AND jealous!”

You can’t handle anymore slander being thrown at you, lunging off the bed and tackling him to the floor with a loud growl.

He goes down but flips you underneath him the moment he makes full connection with the ground, holding your wrists together in one hand above your head. Squirming around somewhat violently gets you free, pushing him by his chest to get him away. Once he’s off balance you shove him back onto the floor, sitting on his back.

As you grab one of his arms to twist, he shoves you backwards hard enough that you tumble off. That disorients you long enough for him to pin you down, his chest against your back and your face partially mashed into the floor. You can’t reach him like this, so you get up on your knees before he’s able to hold your hips flat down, wiggling like before to see if you can escape.

But, it doesn’t work, all it does is make him grunt strangely as your tail awkwardly presses into his stomach. To submit so he’ll get off, you relax, your ass settling against his lap.

“Giving up? Say it, say you’re giving up!” He says with the usual grit, tugging one of your arms backwards.

You yelp in pain, no longer willing to go gently into defeat. “I’m not giving up, I just want your boner out of my ass!”

“Don’t distract and fuckin’ lie, say you’re done!”, he punctuates his sentence by yanking your arm.

Just to prove a point you made up on the spot, you wiggle your hips against him, definitely winning by the way he lets go of your arm and sits upright to grab at your hips instead, letting a soft ‘fuck’ slip past his lips.

You’ve already started crawling away when he shoves you forward, falling onto your face with zero grace.

“Hey! Asshole, don’t push me!”, you whine as you rub at your nose, nearly sneezing.

“Serves you right!”

“Oh, for fucking what!”, you get back to your feet, seeing that he’s sat down on his bed.

“I don’t have to explain it to you!” He plops down onto his bed, once again crossing his arms over his chest.

“So that means you’re so cowardly you won’t admit that was a dirty play!”, you spit out at him as you stomp over to him, standing in front of him.

He nearly jumps up, getting right in your face to try and make you back down. “Don’t think I forgot what you’re trying to distract me from. This is all because you can’t accept that I can’t be up your ass all day like you are up mine!”

You don’t fold in the least, if anything leaning in close enough that your nose bumps into his. “Fuck. You.”

“Jealous bitch!”

“Stuck up bastard!”

The staring contest you’re having is intense, full of tension that threatens to explode if you so much as blink.

Suddenly, there’s a shift in the energy, gaze softening for just a split second before he presses his mouth onto yours. It’s not until he pulls away that you realize that was supposed to be a kiss, turning red as a tomato as your eyes widen.

Bakugou was actually blushing, looking at you as if he’s having a hard time with something. Which did scare you a bit since he was always so sure of himself. “You’re fucking stupid sometimes but you know you’re mine. So, just say it.”

“... What..?”, you say after a full ten seconds of star struck silence.

He grimaces and collects himself for a moment before speaking through gritted teeth. “I’m asking your dumbass to go out with me.”

“That’s not really asking, you didn’t even phrase it as a question...” Your eyebrows knit together as you shoot him a confused look.

“Well what’s your fucking answer!” He rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue against his teeth, something he always does when he’s nervous.

“Of course it’s yes, I’m not completely braindead,” you smile and kiss him on the cheek, very pleased over the outcome of the argument, “only stipulation is that you tell me before you rub yourself all over another person. In return I’ll stop threatening to bite everyone.”

[elriel-oblivion]

WHO'S READY FOR SOME HARDCORE NSFW 🔥😈

Ashes from the Deep

Part IV

--

Just kidding! 😅

Lol, sorrynotsorry for that fake intro haha, but here's part four for real 😅 Thanks to everyone who read/liked/commented on/reblogged the last part, I really do appreciate all your support 😊🥰🥰

Shoutout to @julesherondalex again for finding one of my fave paragraphs ☺️☺️ I think I only have one fave line this time 😅 And thanks to all who comment their own faves!! I really like seeing what you like in each piece - and it def helps me gauge what kinda writing/literary techniques work and engage people the most 😊😊

I hope nobody's disappointed by this part lol, I really enjoyed writing it in tandem with the previous one 😅

Word count: 4.1K. Lemme know if you'd like to be tagged/removed

I've also finally posted all four parts to AO3 if anyone prefers to read there 😊

Ashes from the Deep

Part IV

--

The water falling from the jug to Azriel’s head was the only sound in the bathroom. His hair absorbed the water, darkening to a midnight gleam. A thin breeze entered the room, and now without a blanket, Elain's exposed arms prickled with goosebumps.

Elain plunged a hand into his hair, breaking the mud between her fingertips. A quiet breath passed through his mouth and the corners of her lips rose.

She rubbed his scalp, coaxing as much dirt to the surface as she could before guiding another jug of water through his hair. Some of the mud drained away, some clods of sediment sticking to the basin. She poured over a final jug and stained water trickled into the drain. The warmth of the water tickled through her skin, replacing the cold from outside.

‘Is that nice?’ she asked, brushing the water through his hair with both hands.

His body seemed to relax, one foot sliding forward a little. ‘It is,’ he said thickly. He cleared his throat.

Her fingers continued to gently work at his head, and when sure his hair was completely wet, she ran the bar of soap under the tap. Soft lavender entered her nose and she inhaled deeply. That calm scent loosened her own muscles; this could be as much a session of serenity for her as she hoped it'd be for Azriel.

So long as she held taut the chain on her heart.

Soap foaming, she immersed her hands back into his thick hair, forming a lather. The lavender smell intensified, a wave of tranquility sweeping over her. She blinked slowly, as though her mind were wading through water.

Another sigh from him drew her attention back to his head. She needed to focus on this task; for Azriel, she could stay awake a little longer, especially since she’d already started.

Her fingertips massaged his skull, pressing a little deeper at the base where knots had a tendency to form. Elain moved her own neck, a sharp stab sparking at the top of her spine.

She hadn’t mentioned it to anybody yet – didn’t even know if she would – but her visions had been so feverish the past fortnight. Sleep felt like a luxury as she tossed and turned with psychedelic madness flashing behind her eyes. A turquoise expanse of sparkling ocean, birds shaped from sunset, glittering gowns in every shade, and a too-wide smile with pointed teeth were just a few of the recurring images attacking her every night.

Bathing before bed wasn't helpful. She'd hoped the calming scents of the herbs she'd found would be enough to pacify her mind and lull her to sleep. So far, there was no positive result beyond a loosening of her muscles. At least some of those herbs relieved the intensity of the dark circles round her eyes.

Mellow darkness, however, was a true reprieve, one which she found in her garden in those quiet evening hours, when the sky, having bled through its saturated sunset, was awash with deep muted blues.

As if she’d summoned it, a similar darkness manifested around Azriel’s body, swirling thickest about his head like a black cloud. His shadows rose like vapour, tendrils reaching out and twining about him.

Elain’s hands were hidden among those dark whorls, and they whispered on her skin in cool caresses. She leaned over his head and said, ‘Azriel?’

His eyes flicked open. ‘Huh?’

There was something boyish and confused in the way he blinked and she laughed lightly. ‘Your shadows are sort of hiding your head.’

He turned his head an inch or two. ‘Sorry,’ he said, and those shadows began sweeping over each other, wisps kissing her as Azriel pulled them in.

Elain’s hands were stationary until those shadows were completely reeled in, a faint frown on Azriel’s face. Sorrow lurked there, perhaps that he couldn’t be cocooned in that safe space.

Guilt coated the chain around her heart.

‘Don’t be,’ she murmured. Did he hear the shame in her voice? She hoped not; he should be resting, not worrying about Elain’s feelings. ‘You can close your eyes again.’

He did, but not before she caught a shadow lingering behind his eyes. Were they a glimpse into the shadows he leashed within himself, or were they a reflection of something darker, more sinister, perhaps?

That guilt began to cut into her heart now, icy claws digging. Cold squeezed her chest, a cold unrelated to the outside breeze breathing over her skin. How could she think Azriel was sinister? After the countless times he’d reached out to comfort her, be with her, listen to her – and the sincere light she saw in his eyes. Even the hope Rhysand had spoken of that day of the last battle in the war. The hope whose meaning he'd learnt from Azriel, learnt to experience from Azriel.

No, it was absurd. Yes, Azriel was a warrior and yes, he’d killed people. Possibly worse, she didn’t know. But those shadows she knew with certainty weren’t formed from the darkness of nightmares and malevolence and all things wicked.

They were a darkness of safety and security, of nights spent in a loved one’s arms. When a child sought their parent; when an adult sought their partner. They were the darkness found deep underground, where the earth was pure and things grew. Where life grew.

And just like his shadows, he too was not crafted from unholiness. There was unrelenting virtue glowing in him, burning whatever taint touched his darkness. She’d seen it in his eyes when he’d found her at the Hybern camp, when he alone had armed her with his own dagger at that later battle – and then run straight into the thick of it without Truth-Teller.

She didn’t know what she would’ve done if he hadn’t survived while she held his blade.

So when his shadows leaked out again, wrapping him in twining vines and wisps, she said nothing. Simply continued to work in that lovely lavender soap, giving as much care as she could. He deserved it.

She poured jug after jug of warm water over his head, wading her fingers through his locks to wash out the soap. Within a minute or two, the water was running clear. She yawned and dried her hands on a fresh towel.

‘Az, you can lift your head now.’

The guilt relented a little, icy claws releasing. A cold still filled the space left behind. But before the warmth of his presence, his existence, could balm her heart as it often did, she froze. His shadows parted to reveal a tear slipping from his eye. Just a single tear but so abrupt it was jarring on the shadowsinger’s face.

‘Azriel?’

He was unresponsive. His breathing was regular, body relaxed in a state of sleep. Except for that tear. What was he dreaming of?

She raised her hand to his face but let it hover in the air. Would this wake him? Would he even be fine knowing Elain had seen him cry?

She touched the tear anyway, placed a knuckle right beneath it. The tear slipped onto her hand and she wiped off the trace left on his face.

Azriel stirred, voice raw as he said, ‘Mother?’

Mother – was she what, who he dreamt of? There was such a childlike insecurity in his tone that Elain’s heart squeezed. She moved her hand back a little when her own voice sounded wispy. ‘No, it’s Elain.’

His eyes opened, gaze darting around the room. There was a small crease in his brow as he blinked away whatever haze remained from his dreams. The shadows dissipated.

Confusion limned his features in the few seconds it took him to fully awaken. Did he know he cried? That she’d wiped off his tear? No, that wouldn’t be okay. Elain had to distract him, if that were even possible for a spymaster.

Sometimes his title overwhelmed her. Sometimes she found security in it; did he see things he didn’t want to on his travels? Did he have access to a wealth of information he didn’t initially understand, just as Elain didn’t comprehend her visions without further probing?

‘I asked you to lift your head but you’d fallen asleep,’ she said. ‘I didn’t want to wake you, but we should dry your hair before you really go to sleep. Especially if you’ll be going outside again. Although I would ask you to consider taking a guest room.’

That frown deepened for a second before he smoothed out his face. ‘Right.’ He sat straight, and Elain set a hand under his head as he stiffly pulled it up. He rotated his neck a bit, water dripping off his sodden hair, sliding down his face.

She placed the towel over his head, patting it across his scalp. Some strands escaped to hang over his forehead, so she pulled them back, ruffling the towel through his hair. All the while, he watched her, but she busied herself with the water that glistened on his neck. Anything to avoid his eyes.

Then he dropped his head – from tiredness or something else, she didn’t know – so she took the opportunity to dry the back more. Drying his hair took more effort than washing, he just had so much hair. The small towel quickly became damp so she continued with the one round his neck, and a short while later, deemed his hair dry enough. Still wet but not sodden, so she combed her fingers through it, smoothing out the tips that stuck out. She left both towels on her bathtub, touching a knuckle to one of the trailing plants sitting on a stool nearby.

She heard the chair scrape across the floor, Azriel rising, so she laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘Wait. I want to clean your face, too.’

The idea of having to look at his face for however long it took to clean sent a thrill through her and she woke a little more. The chain on her heart slipped from her control a little and she leashed it back. Her chest tightened as she grabbed a cloth and ran it under the tap. She knelt next to him, honing in on that giant gash on his cheekbone. She touched the cloth to his face.

He winced and her hand stilled. ‘Sorry.’

A small smile graced his face, and he said, ‘Don’t be.’

She recognised the words from earlier and breathed a laugh. ‘That cut does look very bad, though. I think I’ll have to clean it with alcohol too.’

‘Let’s crack open that wine then.’

Something sultry laced his voice, the chain in her chest slipping again. The metal warmed and Elain fiddled with her grip. She let out a shaky laugh. ‘Not tonight, Azriel.’

Goodness. A late night wine session with Azriel. There was heat in her cheeks and she didn’t know how to tone it down. It was even worse with his face so near hers. He’d see it all. Her face warmed further, and it was only the dirt and blood on his that reminded her he was in no position to be drinking the night away. Not with fatigue so clear on his features and in his posture.

And not with Elain. That toed a line she didn't deserve to cross.

So she gave focus only to his skin, wiping the cloth across his face. Once most of the mud and blood was off, she rinsed the cloth, then wiped him down again. He turned his head and as his eyes fixed squarely on her, the chain heated further. She tried to grip it elsewhere, but every link was as hot. It wasn’t uncomfortable – quite pleasant, actually – but she was sure it would be soon enough if she didn’t move now. The cool air sweeping into the bathroom did nothing to help. If he would just stop looking into her –

Elain abruptly stood and on a whim went to close the window. Maybe he'd think she was cold, though she'd regret trapping the air when it was stifling here soon.

She moved to the cupboard by the door, her back to him. She took a deep breath, taking her time to pull out a bottle of alcohol, in pouring a few drops of it onto a clean cloth. The distance between them was refreshing. The chain didn’t cool, not with Azriel still so close in the same room, but at least it didn’t warm any more. Elain took a moment to readjust her grasp and pull it again.

She composed herself and knelt beside him. The alcohol’s scent permeated the air and her own nerves bristled. ‘This’ll hurt.’

His smile was slight. ‘It’s all right.’

She bit the inside of her cheek and touched the cloth to the wound. His jaw clamped like a vice and she lightened her touch, the cloth barely kissing his skin.

This wasn’t the right way. She needed to clean that wound, regardless of what pain it’d inflict. It'd be temporary, the sting. So she pressed the cloth harder, dabbing it across his cheekbone.

His features were stonelike at the contact. Did pain ever become easier to bear? Would the prick of a thorn be less painful in a decade than it was now?

If Azriel’s face was anything to go by, she guessed no. Perhaps some pain couldn’t be learnt; perhaps the body never fully digested pain.

Perhaps she'd never fully recover from the desolation in the Cauldron.

‘Are you all right, Azriel?’ Her voice was so quiet, like she didn’t want to flare the hurt any further.

‘I’m all right. Are you all right, Elain?’

‘I’m fine.’

He wasn’t all right and nor was she, but neither was willing to broach that right now. There was so much to him she didn’t yet know. What was it that shadowed his eyes so often? What darkness clouded his mind before he fell asleep? In due time, she’d learn, but that human impatience, the sense that there was never enough time, threatened to run her tongue.

Time stretched out before her. She’d learn. He was her friend, she just needed to give him time to teach her the workings of his soul. And in return, she would bare hers too.

Neither said a word as she pressed the alcohol into every wound, cleaning his cheekbone and temple, a scratch across his jaw. She stared at the graze there for a few seconds. She’d ask Madja for some calendula oil later; that would speed the healing process.

She sighed as she washed the cloth. Something had loosened the chain, but it wasn’t a sudden unravelling. It’d just been gradual and she hadn’t noticed, one link falling back at a time. Her heart expanded. There was torment in Azriel’s posture, on his face, and it hurt. It hurt that Elain couldn’t do anything for him besides give basic medicines for his body.

But he was more than just a physical form. He had a heart and a soul, both so tight with whatever misery lurked in his past, and she couldn’t do anything about that. For all the light she saw in the world, all the places of brightness, there was ten times as much darkness, ten times as many nooks and crannies where gloom and wretchedness dwelt. What good was the light if it didn’t burn away the shade over everyone’s souls?

She spent more time washing the cloth than necessary.

The chair creaked. ‘You can talk to me, Elain, whenever you need.’

The chain slipped again, Elain’s fingers grappling for those final links. It hurt so much that he was willing to give so much. Her smile was too bright as she turned and said, ‘I know.’

He stood. His gaze was so direct on her that she only held one chainlink now. Just one link remained in her hand, one link between her and the release of a beast she hadn't yet had the courage to face.

The link heated. Her muscles loosened and her hands fumbled with the tap, the cloth falling from limp fingers.

He would realise. He would know what she was thinking and feeling if she didn’t get a grip on herself, on that final chainlink. So she turned her body to face his and cleared her throat. ‘We should go downstairs to the fireplace. It’ll be warmer there.’ For his damp hair, of course.

No matter that whatever cool air remained in the room did nothing to tame her heat.

His hand was cold on her wrist, a shiver tracking her bones, and colder still were the shadows that swept them up and into the living room. Good, there was much more space here. Her feet hit the floor and she bent to place three logs in the hearth.

Moonlight glinted on the steel she struck against the flint but the metal didn’t spark the way she’d seen it do when everybody else lit a fire. She tried again, Azriel silent beside her. This was pitiful. She swiped the steel a couple more times, and a spark finally appeared.

It was too silent here. ‘Those shadows are quite convenient at times, aren’t they?’ she said.

He breathed a laugh. ‘They can be.’

She let the spark catch on the cloth resting on the hearth and threw it onto the logs, a blaze finally blooming. She doubted anybody else took that long to start a fire. Heat bathed her legs.

Elain didn’t know what to make of the lack of judgement she found on his face when she stood. Though, it was common with him, how honestly he looked at her. She shouldn’t be surprised. Save Nuala and Cerridwen, he was perhaps the only one who didn’t view her as a naive fool, a child. None of the others said it, but she saw it in their eyes, that patronising glimmer.

He was leaning against the mantelpiece with a forearm, one leg crossed over the other, the portrait of casual elegance. It wasn't often she got to see him looking so relaxed. Then again, he was tired.

Her eyes met his. ‘Just a few minutes now and we’ll be warm.’

His eyes were soft; he didn’t say anything. Just kept looking at her. Into her.

The air warmed. That was a quick few minutes.

Just the flames. Of course it was the flames. Anything else would be ridiculous.

The wound on his cheekbone was an angry red in the dim light. ‘I think you’ll need a bandage for that wound.’ Some herbs would be prudent too.

‘I’ll be fine without it,’ he said.

She pleaded for interference from something, anything. ‘It’s quite deep.’

‘Not a match for my Illyrian healing.’ The smirk that followed sent a hot spark down her skin. The chain now burned and she lost her grip on it completely, that leash uncoiling and slipping down, down, down into the abyss of her core. Her heart swelled like a dragon inhaling a mighty breath.

She needed a distraction from his achingly stunning face. The wings behind him were not a reprieve at all. Especially not after what she'd overheard about them. Certain people tended to forget she was in the room and had heightened hearing when they talked about the sensitivities of the Illyrian wings.

Her face heated and her heart throbbed against her chest. How improper these thoughts were. The air was stifling now. Perhaps they should've stayed in the bathroom. Even the weak chill of night air would be better than this. She wished she could have shadows to cool her down like Azriel did. Or to hide in. She'd seen him do that plenty of times.

His wings rustled and he straightened, coming off the mantelpiece. His eyes were glazed, somehow even more stunning than they were outside earlier. The fire highlighted the grey brown storm swirling in his gaze while streaks of emerald glistened like the veins on leaves in the height of summer.

It felt like the height of summer too in this heat.

He frowned. She cleared her throat of the pocket of air lodged there.

'Oh.' A bead of sweat glinted on his temple, right above the gash there. The sting that would ensue was an unnecessary pain, so she reached up to wipe it away.

As her finger touched his skin, above the crackle of the flames, a loud thudding beat entered her ears. Azriel caught her wrist and a small gasp left her lips.

His eyes smouldered, that thunderstorm churning in the dim light. His heartbeat. It was his heartbeat she heard. It ran and ran, crescendoeing like a drum before the climax of a song.

Was the shadowsinger feeling the same as she? Did his heart yearn to touch hers too?

It was unbearable, the alternative. Unbearable but probable.

Her voice was thick, with longing, with desire, with anguish all entangled when she spoke, 'I can hear your heartbeat.'

He said nothing. If he truly didn't reciprocate -

She almost couldn't continue but pushed out, 'And it's a beautiful sound.'

That song in his heartbeat finally climaxed, a thunder of sound pounding the air.

'You're beautiful, too,' he breathed.

Her own pulse throbbed, heartbeat echoing in her throat. Tears blurred her vision of him. She blinked them away; she wanted to truly see every inch of his wonderful face.

His breathing lightened.

As did hers.

He was a mirror, Azriel. He saw her; he saw what she hid from everyone else, clear as day. It was his eyes that told. His words, too, in that smooth voice, free of condescension.

And now no mouth had ever looked so inviting.

And maybe this was okay. This fondness, this attachment she'd developed for him. It wasn't a sudden spark - childish and unquestioned. This had been building for a while now. Months. Maybe even since the first year she'd met him. And maybe it was improper and she was a lady, but perhaps it went beyond expectation. If her sisters could give themselves wholly to their love, then so could she.

Love. It was exhilarating, liberating to open up that well inside her. To no longer have that chain leashing her heart.

And because she knew he'd not make another move, she whispered, 'Are you going to kiss me?'

The fire hissed as a log tumbled further into the hearth. Shadows smoked behind his eyes. 'Only if you want me to.'

Without a doubt, she wanted this. There was a certainty, a clarity in her bones that sang high and free. It whistled through her marrow and glided into her blood, awakening her soul. She was not a child. She could want this. She could have this.

'Yes.'

A frown marred his face and her heart dropped. His eyes were now a hurricane, darkened like night descended over them. Torment was etched in the line of his brows, in the flicker of his jaw as it ground together.

He was afraid. Of hurting her. Ruining her. She'd seen the way he always glimpsed his hands, glancing away with revulsion in his eyes. He thought he was a disgrace, a savage.

But how could that be? How could this male, this male of honour, loyalty and charm think so little of himself? He was better than any male she could've had the pleasure of knowing.

'I know what you're thinking,' she said, 'and I want you to know I trust you, Azriel. You will do me no harm. You couldn't.'

His eyes shuttered as he lowered them, brows still furrowed. He still held her wrist, so, pulling his arm with her, she reached out and stroked his brow with her thumb. She rubbed back and forth in gentle motions until that crease was gone, and he exhaled slowly.

'I trust you, Azriel. So kiss me.'

The moody veil of night lifted from his eyes, the tempest calming to a glistening haze. His heart still pounded, so wondrously loud as he leaned down, his free hand settling against her cheek. He was unhurried, tentative.

It was agonising. Worse still, he paused with an inch of space between their lips. His night-chilled air and cedar scent blended with the smoke and wood of the fire, seductive as it crept into her skin and twined around her bones like ribbons of mist round pillars.

With shadows flickering over his face, and the light so sultry beside them, his eyes were alluring. She'd never let herself notice that before. 'Kiss me,' she said faintly.

Elain didn't breathe as his lips touched hers.

__

Feedback's welcomed, thanks for reading 😊

@illyrian-lover-flower @julesherondalex @nooriee @mis-lil-red @verifiefangirl @tswaney17 @a-happybird @thewayshedreamed @sleeping-and-books @thefangirlofhp @januarystears @courtofjurdan @ladylochan

[writingsoftheghost]

Caught Up In A(n Illogical) Bet

(Caught up in a bet, but with intruloceit this time)

Deintruality Version Here

Based on this prompt by @kawaiikat54

“Oh, that’s a brilliant idea, Logan! You’re so smart!”

Logan feels his face heat up, “Oh, uhm, thank you, Remus.”

Remus cackles, “Do you mind helping me with some other things? You’re the smartest person here so I wanna get your input.”

Logan’s blush darkens, “Y-Yes, of course. What do you need?”

*****

“Logan, could I borrow your expertise for a moment?” Janus asks when Logan emerges the common room.

“Of course, what can I do for you?”

“Do you think that perhaps my outfit may be a detriment to my goal of gaining acceptance?” Janus examines his capulet critically.

“Hm, I am not the best with emotional connotations, perhaps Patton would be better for—”

“No no,” Janus reaches out and grabs the logical side’s hand before he can turn away, Logan blushes at the unexpected contact, “You have a better understanding of psychology, Patton would merely tell me what I want to hear. You on the other hand tell me what I need to hear. I want your advice.”

“O-Oh, I see. Well, I am flattered that you think of me in such high regards,” Logan’s face is burning, why can’t he just take a compliment? “I think, perhaps, that your outfit has a ‘villainish’ flair due to Thomas’s obsession with cartoons and the way their villains look, but it also looks quite professional, and that has me quite fond of it. I think that maybe, in time, your look will come off as more charming than evil.”

Janus smiles at Logan, “That’s what I’ve been hoping. Thank you, Logan, you’re the best.”

Logan’s face fills with heat again, “Happy to help.” He rushes back to his room, hoping his blush wasn’t as noticeable as it felt.

*****

Janus and Remus discuss Logan’s reaction to positive comments that evening.

“He gets so flustered, hearing that calm of his falter is just perfect!” Remus laughs.

“I know, it’s quite endearing, to see him turn so red all because I thanked him.”

“Oh, that’s nothing, I told him he was smart and I thought he’s burst into flames!” Remus squeals.

“I touched his hand and I swear he needed a minute just to speak again,” Janus counters Remus’s bragging comment.

“Hm, you think you’re better than me, Jan?”

“All I’m saying is that I have a...certain charm with Logan that you simply can’t match.”

Remus scoffs, “Oh yeah? Bet you can’t back that up!”

Janus smirks, “Care to test me?”

Remus relays his idea to Janus, a bet, to see who can make Logan blush more in a week. If Remus loses, he has to take a bath. (“Why do you always bet that?!” “Because you never do it.”) if Janus wins, he makes Remus’s favorite dessert.

The bet began Sunday, it started off simple enough.

“Hey, Logie, how’s the prettiest nerd in the world doing?” Remus coos as he pokes his head around the doorway of Logan’s room.

“I—erm—hello, Remus,” Logan mumbles, his face down, trying and failing to hide the heat in his cheeks. “Can I help you?”

“I was just wondering if you could tell me some interesting ways someone could die in space?”

“Oh!” Logan’s eyes light up

“Well, there’s the obvious ones, lack of oxygen, freezing to death, and the pressure imbalance causing you to...”

Logan continues his list, Remus listens to all of them, asking questions on some. Seeing Logan’s eyes light up when he talks about space is an entirely different experience to Remus.

Later, Logan has a similar experience with Janus.

“Oh, Logan, darling?” The nickname causes an immediate flush of heat to Logan’s face. He turns around in the hallway.

“Yes, Janus?” He squeaks out, fighting to keep some of his composure.

“I was just wondering if you’d like to watch a documentary with me, it’s about psychology, and you’re the only one intelligent enough to appreciate it.”

Logan’s face, which had begun to cool down, quickly heated up again at that. “That-That’s, quite, nice of you to say.”

“I don’t mean it,” Janus says in that obviously lying way he has.

Logan smiles, “I would like to watch the documentary with you.”

*****

The slow start lasts only for the first day. Things quickly start to escalate, Janus starts complimenting Logan’s technique on everything. His posture, the way he folds laundry, just about everything he does. Remus asks for more facts, complimenting Logan on all he knows, and for being patient enough to answer his question. They also compliment Logan on his appearance, the way his hair falls, the light hitting his eyes just so, Janus calls him gorgeous, Remus calls him sexy. Each compliment gets Logan’s face redder than before.

By Wednesday they’ve started using physical touch to get Logan to blush. (Remus was given ground rules almost immediately, “Don’t make him blush like that Remus it doesn’t count”) Janus kisses Logan’s hand in greeting, (Logan squeaks the first time it happens) Remus holds Logan’s hand while he talks, they each play with his hair or stroke his calves while they watch tv. Logan doesn’t know what caused this sudden change to happen, but he found that he didn’t want it to stop.

No one had ever paid this much attention to him! Logan didn’t even know he’d been craving this until he’d had it! They asked for his opinion! And when he gave it they listened! It was all Logan wanted, and the added praise was so much better than Logan ever would’ve thought! The touching was a shock, Logan hadn’t realized how nice it could feel to have someone’s hand in his, or to have someone play with his hair, to have gentle arms wrap around him before going up to bed. To feel someone’s lips press against his forehead when he began to doze off whilst reading on the couch.

Logan tried to think of a reason for the sudden affection, but he was too distracted by how great it felt to receive it to do much investigating. By Friday he’d stopped being shocked when Remus told him he looked incredibly fuckable, or Janus calling him dashing.

Every time he sat down a hand would reach for him, or arms would be opened in invitation, and Logan would blush red and melt into the touch every single time. He’d grown to not only expect the displays, but to enjoy them. But I matter how common it became, Logan couldn’t help but blush each time.

The following Sunday, however, everything was different. When he came downstairs Janus merely said good morning, no comment on the way he’d done his hair. He’d opted for a different hair product, he’d taken to caring a bit more about looking nice since Remus and Janus had started complimenting him. Logan brushes it off, expecting Janus to call him beautiful every time they saw each other was illogical.

But...Remus didn’t say anything to him either, just waved to him on his way out of the kitchen. Logan brushed it off. It wasn’t like he could expect all of that attention to be constant, that was unfair to Janus and Remus. But as the day went on, neither one of them said anything to Logan. He even went so far as to initiate the affection. Sitting next to Remus on the couch while he read, hoping for Remus to wrap his arms around him, or even just hold his hand.

Remus did neither of those things, later Logan tried the same thing with Janus, he got a smile, but nothing else.

Logan began to worry that he’d done something wrong, but they didn’t act like they were angry with him. They spoke to him in the same tone, they didn’t avoid him when he entered the room.

Logan continued to wait, when he went to bed without so much as a hug from either side...he began to really fear he’d made a mistake.

The next day was the same, Logan tried everything, being extra helpful, sitting closer than he normally would on the couch, he’d even done his hair differently and worn a different tie in hopes of garnering some comments on his appearance.

None of that helped, Logan felt sick, he spent the next two days struggling to recall what he could’ve done to ruin it. He’d just discovered how wonderful affection could be, and now it was gone!

By Thursday night Logan has worked himself into a state of such distress that he found he was crying over the schedule he’d been working on. It was late, everyone else had gone to bed, but Logan couldn’t sleep. So he’d decided to be productive, he’d gone down to the kitchen to work at the table, but had ended up dwelling on the situation with Janus and Remus.

Remus entered the kitchen right as a sob rocked Logan’s body. Remus immediately rushed to his side.

“What’s wrong, Logie?” Remus asks worriedly.

Logan’s ashamed at how difficult it is to speak, he can barely get air in, let alone words out. He shouldn’t be crying, it was stupid for him to be crying over this.

“Hey, hey, breathe, baby. Come on, it’s alright.” Remus reaches out and rubs Logan’s back, starting to get really concerned. Logan never cried, and he’s rarely seen anyone cry this hard.

“I ap-apologize-ze,” Logan chokes out.

Remus shakes his head, “For what, Logie? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I-I shouldn’t be falling apart like this, especially over something so...so trivial,” he sighs.

Remus rubs his hand up and down Logan’s back again, leaving his hand resting there, “If it’s upset you this much I doubt it’s small, what happened, baby?”

Logan has just enough shame left to blush at the pet name and the softness with which Remus says it. “It really isn’t a big deal, Remus. I’m sorry to have bothered you with my illogical emotions.” He starts to leave.

“Uh-uh, come here,” Remus reaches for the logical side and pulls him back to the chair he was in, “Tell me what has your tie in a twist.”

“It’s ju-just th-at,” Logan takes a breath, hoping to stop the shake in his voice, Remus’s hand moves on his back again and Logan melts under the touch like he always has.

“Take your time, baby. It’s okay.”

Logan nods and takes another breath, “Did I do something to upset you?”

Remus blanches, “What?”

Logan looks away from the duke, “You and Janus seem to be, uhm, upset with me?”

Remus tugs Logan gently to his lap, Logan is still shaking a little and Remus is starting to worry that the force of holding back tears could make te nerd explode. He pushes the morbid image to the side and asks his next question carefully, “Why do you think that, Lo?”

Logan’s face flushes again, he’s beginning to feel foolish. He had been reading too much into it, and now Remus has seen him cry like a child.

“Lo? Come on, talk to me, you’re scaring me a little.”

Logan clears his throat, he tries to swallow his embarrassment, “Apologies, I—”

“Don’t apologize to me, Lo.”

“Er—anyway, I simply assumed that I’d done something to upset you and Janus, as you’ve stopped, uh...treating me in the manner you’d only recently adopted anyway. It’s illogical, my apolo—”

“Logan...” Logan stops talking, Remus looks like he’s in pain, “Is this because we stopped flirting with you?”

Logan’s face flushes a bright red, “I suppose so, forgive me, I merely—”

“Logan, I love to hear you talk but I’m really gonna need you to be quiet for a minute!” Remus cuts in. Logan shrinks, he must’ve really upset Remus now.

Remus feels Logan tense up in his lap, “No no no, hey hey, I’m not mad. Logie, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just that I—we—um...here let’s go get Janus and we’ll talk this out, okay? I’m so sorry, baby. This isn’t your fault, this is ours. I promise you didn’t do anything wrong.” He pulls Logan fully to his chest, holding him securely.

Logan fails to hold back another sob and just lie that he’s crying into Remus’s shoulder. “Oh, baby,” Remus whispers, “it’s alright, it’s gonna be alright.”

“Plea-please don’t let go, I can’t-I can’t,” Remus shushes him.

“I won’t let you go, baby. It’s alright, just breathe, sweetheart.” Remus rubs his back, Logan shakes in his arms, Remus picks him up, “Lets go get, Jan, m’kay?”

Logan nods into his shoulder.

They stop outside of Janus’s bedroom door, before Remus can knock though, Logan stops him. “It’s late,” he whispers to Remus, “We shouldn’t disturb him.”

“He’s still up, and we need to clear some things up. He needs to know what happened,” Remus reaches to knock again.

A pajama clad Janus appears in the doorway. “What do you want, Rem—”

He stops when he sees Logan.

“What’s wrong? Is he alright?”

Logan hides his face further in Remus’s shoulder. “I may have overreacted to—”

“No, Lo, no. I’m gonna explain because you won’t do it without blaming yourself for this.”

Logan lifts his head and looks indignantly at Remus, “But I—”

“Shh,” Remus turns to Janus, “We did something bad, Jan.”

Janus steps into his room, allowing Remus to enter. Remus sits down on the bed, he presses a kiss to Logan’s forehead before he explains what happened.

“Oh, oh, Logan, dearest. This is my fault, I should’ve realized this was a bad idea.”

Logan shakes his head, “It was all for a bet?”

Janus’s heart clenches, “Oh, darling, no. We really care about you, we shouldn’t have shown you just because of a bet. And we definitely shouldn’t have stopped. I’m so sorry.”

Logan nods sadly, “It’s alright, I’m just...glad you’re not mad at me.”

“Baby...” Remus brushes the nerd’s hair from his face, “Would it be alright if we went back to showing you affection?”

Logan’s eyes light up, “You would do that?”

Remus feels a twinge in his chest, “Yeah, baby. If we’d only known you wanted this, we would’ve been doing this long before our stupid bet.”

Janus reaches over and tugs Logan away from Remus and into his own arms, “I’m so sorry, darling. Would you like to stay with me tonight?”

Logan nods tiredly, “That would be...wonderful.”

Remus grins, “Can I stay too? I wanna show our Logie as much love as possible now that I know he likes it.”

Janus hums in agreement, quickly moving Logan to the center of the bed, where he and Remus quickly surround him in a hug, Logan yawns in between them. “Goodnight.”

They each press a kiss to his forehead, “Goodnight, Logan.”

—————

Taglist: @idont-freaking-know @aceawkwardunicorn @kawaiikat54 @emo--nightmaree @a-yeet-bop-bop-boom @me-a-mess-morelikelythanyouthink @katlikethesword

[noire-pandora]

“Midnight Rendezvous” (and “Take my hand”) for @14daysdalovers. Also on A03

Words: 3162

Pairing: Solavellan

Warnings: it gets a tiny bit steamy towards the end. Nothing too intense but just to be sure. (still not confident enough to write smut. One day!)

Before joining the Inquisition, midnight rarely found Solas wide awake, staring at the ceiling of his room, thoughts racing through his mind and refusing to bend down to his will. In his long life, he succeeded in becoming the master of his thoughts and feelings, able to switch and navigate through them as effortlessly as a seamstress spun her threads. He walked through life, taking pride in his concentration techniques, his indomitable focus not once defeated. Until he met the Inquisitor.

Her mind numbing smirk and cheerful laughter silently found their way into his mind, nestling there and slowly eroding through the barriers set to keep any distraction at bay. Her curiosity and kind nature planted the seed of acceptance in his heart, acceptance that maybe, maybe this Tranquil like world wasn't a world out of his nightmares. 

Slowly, she pushed him to become curious about her life, her thoughts and her mind. There, he found a feeling he had never hoped of meeting again since Mythal's death: love. A gentle, patient love. One that accepted him as he was, without questioning and without prodding his mind to reach his deepest secrets.

And now, midnight found him contemplating those facts, turning and tossing in his humble bed, the sheets wrapping around his ankles. He could not comprehend why she willingly offered her heart to him. Her behaviour forced him to lay awake at night, rummaging on his thoughts, every calming technique he knew unable to stop his mind from thinking about her. For the first time in hundreds of years, someone succeeded in distracting him from walking the ever-changing paths of the Fade. 

He turned on his side to stare at the door, punching his pillow to fluff it, as if that was the reason for his wandering mind. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose, in an attempt to focus. Instantly the memory of their last heated kiss came to his mind, and he groaned as heat travelled down towards his pelvis. He didn't deserve her, he didn't deserve her love or her acceptance. He should turned his back on her, but the thought of losing her, the idea of another one tasting her lips and curling their fingers into her fire like locks brought a heaviness in his stomach.

A faint knock on the door brought him back to the present, and he opened his eyes, unsure if he indeed heard it. He waited for a voice to follow it and call for him, but no sounds reached his ears after almost a minute. He closed his eyes again, ready to accept the Fade's embrace, when another knock, followed by the sound of shuffling feet interrupted him again. 

This time, confident he heard someone knocking at his door, he rose from the bed, grabbing the robe resting on the back of the chair, to cover his bare torso, wrapping the sash around his abdomen. 

When he opened the door, no one stood in front of it, but he spotted a petite silhouette turning around the corner. He followed it, his footsteps quiet. Soon, the red locks bouncing on the woman's shoulders gave away the silhouette's identity.

"Vhenan?"

"Solas!" she gasped, spinning on her heels to face him. "You're up!"

He hurried his pace to erase the distance between them, the smile on his face creating little wrinkles around his eyes and grooves in his cheeks. "Yes, I am. But why are you awake at this hour? Nightmares?" he slipped a hand around her waist to pull her close and kissed her head. Heat radiated through his chest as she softly giggled at his touch. 

"No, couldn't sleep, so I decided to walk around for a while." 

He hummed, cocking an eyebrow at her. He knew his love roamed the halls of the castle at night, but something in her cheeky smile made him suspicious of that answer "Is that so? And where are you heading?"

"Well," she started, placing one hand on his chest, raising her chin to look at his face. "Do you know Josephine will meet with a few Orlesian nobles in the morning? The type of people who keep their noses crinkled like they smell shit everywhere?"

"Yes," he patiently answered, tilting his head to the side. He took a step back, his hands living her body.

"And she asked Marin to bake sweets for them. But, the last time he did that, the Orlesians refused to eat it."

"Oh, is that so?"

She nodded. "Yeah, he told me the next day, when I went to grab some food from the kitchen. He ranted about how the Orlesians can't appreciate the skills of a Ferelden baker. After that, he mopped around for days, doubting his skills." 

"Too bad. His sweets are delicious." 

"Exactly. And I'm sure tomorrow they will refuse to eat Marin's sweets again, and he'll end up upset for another week. I have a plan to stop that." 

"A plan?" he repeated, leaning forward to examine her face. She had excellent plans at day, but at night, her ideas transformed into various shenanigans, like stealing food from the kitchen and having a late dinner in the courtyard, under the ancient oak tree. The cooks of Skyhold learned how to hide the food they cooked for the next day before the Inquisitor's nose caught a whiff of it and devoured it at night.  

"Yes. I'm going to eat everything he baked for them."

Solas caught a glimpse of pride shining in her eyes as she announced her plan. He bit down on his lip to contain a laugh. "What? Why? How would that help the poor man?"

"When he finds out that the Inquisitor snuck out at night to eat his sweets, he will be annoyed but also happy because the word will spread. And everyone will know how I, the most important person in this hold, ate his food like a glutton," a knowing grin grew on her face, a grin that was too infectious to fight.

In moments like this, when she uttered her plans with unshakable confidence, her shoulders back and chin raised high, he realised why every single soul in the Inquisition followed her without doubting her. Right now, if she decreed she planned to move the mountains, he would believe her instantly. But the idea of making a man feel better by devouring his food brought a smile on his face and reminded him how strange she could sometimes be.

"Oh, the brave Inquisitor, always sacrificing herself for the wellbeing of her subjects." he jested, offering her a bemused smile.

"But of course! C'mon, let's go, we still have a few hours until the cook's apprentice will wake up to heat the ovens."

She walked away from him a few meters, but she stopped as Solas didn't follow her. 

"Are you coming?" she asked, holding out her hand for him to take it.

"Is that the reason why you knocked at my door?" 

"Yes, I want to share them with you. I like to eat, but I doubt I'll be able to eat the sweets made for four people." 

"Vhenan, you know I prefer not to eat at night."

She huffed, rolling her eyes at him. "A late dinner won't kill you," she muttered, shaking her head. "Oh, c'mon Solas, it's going to be fun. Take my hand and join me in this quest of keeping sadness away from my dear subjects!" 

With her hand outstretched for him to grab it, and a serious frown knitting her eyebrows, Solas couldn't say no to her. He took her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers to walk by her side on their way to the kitchen. 

The hallways were empty, their soft steps resounding in the silence. The majority of the people inhabiting Skyhold slept soundly, a few snores and grumbles reaching Solas' ears. From time to time, he could hear giggles coming from some rooms, and he hurried his step, eager to respect the privacy of those behind the doors.

The wall sconces held large touches to illuminate their way, and, in combination with their Elvhen sight, they could clearly see the path ahead of them. The flames cast long shadows on the floors, and sometimes, their light touched Elluin's face, colouring her pale, freckled kissed skin a soft orange. He found himself staring at her as they walked, his mouth drying and his throat growing thick. An impervious need to touch her, to push her against the wall and kiss her until she moaned with pleasure took over him, clouding his mind. He took a deep breath to steady himself, annoyed she broke his indomitable focus without actually doing anything. He fixed his gaze on the floor, counting backwards from one hundred to calm himself, refusing to take another look at her. 

After a few more minutes of walking in silence, they reached the kitchen, one of the three kitchens in Skyhold. The smell of cinnamon and yeast tickled his nose as Elluin slowly opened the door, carefully not to announce their presence. He followed her, closing the door behind him with a low thud. 

Inside, the three, tall working tables stood spotless, with no trace of flour or dough to stain their surface. The measuring cups were lined up on the tabletop, small soldiers waiting for orders. He could see the pans, plates and brushes through the cupboards display, their doors locked. He frowned, staring at the small locks, wondering why the baker decided to lock his tools so diligently. 

A  clay oven with a thick iron door, large enough for a person to climb inside, stood in a corner along the wall. A long flue reached outside through the wall, specially built by the baker to avoid any fumes escaping in the room. Solas admired the man's ingenuity and his ability to keep everyone safe without the usage of magic. He spent a few fascinating hours speaking with him, learning more about the art of creating functionally clay ovens. 

"Well, this is weird," Elluin commented, scratching her cheek. "I can't see any tray with sweets." 

He snorted. "I believe the Master Baker hid his creations from you. The man learned his lesson." 

She rolled up her sleeves, revealing her toned arms. "Like that's going to stop me."

She approached one of the locked cabinets and grabbed a lockpick from her pocket, jamming it into the lock, twisting it a few times. "Let's see if Varric's lock-picking lessons will help me."

As Elluin struggled with the lock, he studied the room, one finger gently tapping his lips, his eyes analysing the potential hiding spots. He realised a man as bright as Marin would know better than to hide his food in locked cupboards. No, that was a trick, an ingenious method to keep the intruder busy until one of the kitchen workers heard the noise and came to stop them. It had to be somewhere in plain sight, a location no one would think about.

"The oven," he muttered, snapping his fingers. "Elluin," he spoke out, a faint trace of excitement in his voice. "The oven, he hid them in the oven. That door is closed to hide the tray from our view." 

"The oven?" she made her way towards the oven, narrowing her eyes. "Why would he hide it there? There's ash everywhere!" 

"Good question. Let us see."

The iron door made no sound as he pulled it opened, a testament of the cook's care. A faint magical barrier buzzed around the brass tray inside it, protecting the brownies from any ash or unburned charcoal. 

"Magic!" she laughed, slapping the back of her thigh. " I can't believe this. He asked a mage to cast a barrier on his brownies." 

"Indeed." He gave her a satisfied smile and crossed his arms, content he uncovered the cook's plans. 

Elluin licked her lips as she waved her hands to cancel the spell. She reached for the tray and gulped down with gluttony, her mouth watering at the chocolate covering the brownies. She grabbed one, the tray dangerously balanced in her left hand, and bit it. A moan escaped her lips as the chocolate poured from inside it. Solas eyed her, the sound leaving her mouth causing his fingers to twitch as if pushing him to touch her. 

"Vhenan," he intervened, taking the tray from her and setting it on the table. "How do you plan to eat twelve pieces of chocolate filled cake without getting sick?"

"That's why I asked you to come here with me, I need your help." she gulped down the food, hitting her chest with her fist as it refused to go down. "Those bastards don't deserve all this chocolate. It's been years since I tasted it, not gonna let it go to waste," she bit down on another, humming with pleasure and licking her fingers. "Take one, you're going to love it." 

He gingerly took a piece from the trail, admiring the perfectly spread layer of chocolate, the soft texture reminding him of satin. He smelled it, the hint of vanilla tempting him to take a bite. The chocolate melted in his mouth, wrapping his tongue in a thick layer of pure pleasure. He closed his eyes, and a sigh of satisfaction escaped his throat. 

"Delicious, isn't it?" Elluin remarked, smirking at him. "I knew you'd love it." 

He opened his eyes and offered her a small smile. "You were right."

She winked at him and grabbed another piece, shoving half of it in her mouth. He laughed and shook his head at her, worried for the integrity of her jaw. He watched as she devoured three more brownies, baffled by her ability to swallow the food barely chewed. 

A feeling of weightlessness cloaked his soul as she beamed with happiness, her cheeks rosy with delight. Her joy was contagious, and he smiled at her, grateful she chose to spend this moment with him. She picked him over the hundreds of people around her, over the men and women who craved for her love. She offered her heart and joy to him, a man who hid the truth, a man who had no right to receive this pure, untainted happiness. His shoulders dropped, and he averted his eyes from her smile. 

She came closer to him, her fingers reaching for his chin, gently encouraging him to face her again. "You're doing that again," she whispered, her breath tickling his skin. "Getting lost inside your head. Don't. Stay here with me." 

His gaze still avoided her face. "I apologise. My thoughts distracted me from the present."

"Is that so?" she murmured." I know the perfect way to keep you here."

Before he had a chance to ask more about it, Elluin grabbed the collar of his robe, pulling him down towards her to meet her chocolate cover lips. His lips instantly parted, as her tongue darted out to lick them, eager to explore his mouth. His muscles relaxed, hands resting lazily on her butt. She was right, he thought as his fingers curled into her hair, gently tugging it. When she kissed him, nothing mattered anymore, just the taste of her lips and the faint scent of lily of the valley coming from her hair. 

Her hand moved to the nape of his neck, slipping under his robe. The touch of her skin against his sent a shiver of pleasure down his spine, and he moaned, raw and insatiable lust replacing any thought.  He pushed her against the table, and her knees gave out, her butt hitting the tabletop. She wrapped her legs and hands around him, as if afraid he will pull away. 

He wanted her. Right here and right now. He wanted to taste her skin, to follow the path of her freckles with his lips, from the top of her forehead to her toes. To make her sing as his tongue played with her folds, to finally taste her. He wished for nothing more than his nighttime fantasies to transform into reality. And right now, he couldn't care less they were in a kitchen, where anyone could find them. 

A low growl left his throat as a part of his mind screamed at him, yelled at him to stop this foolishness, to remember his real purpose, his identity. He had no right to taste her body when he gave her only half-truths. He was wrong to take her fully when he hid parts of him. She deserved more than this, more than a man who was too afraid to speak the truth. 

With a draining effort, he broke the kiss, gently pushing her away from him. She whimpered as his body left hers and she opened her eyes, arousal and confusion blending in her gaze. 

He shook her head when her hands reached for him again. "No. This is not right." 

Before Elluin could answer, the door opened with a loud bang, and a woman entered the room, waving a cooking paddle and shouting at them. "How many times do I have to kick you out, you thieves, this isn't the place for…." she stopped in her tracks, eyes widening with shock as she noticed the two of them.

"Your Grace! And you!" she frowned at Solas, confused by his presence. He could see it on her face how the pieces clicked together in her mind, her eyebrows shooting up. "I'm sorry Herald, I had no idea you two--," she stammered, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. "I have to warm  the oven, but I'll come later," she left in a hurry, barely giving them another glance. 

Solas sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, his hopes for keeping the matters of their relationship private, shattered. 

"Well, this was bound to happen sooner or later," Elluin nonchalantly explained, getting off from the table and reaching for another brownie. "Until morning, every single person in Skyhold will think the Inquisitor had sex with the weird elf in the kitchen."

"Venan, I," he started, but she interrupted him with a wave of his hand. 

"Don't apologise. You told me months ago you aren't ready and now you weren't ready yet. I get it," she shrugged, shoving the cake in her mouth, slowly chewing it. 

Solas stared at his toes, cursing his mind for not stopping him faster. 

"But I did enjoy our intense make-out session," she giggled and winked at him as he raised his head to look at her. 

"C'mon, we still have a few of those. Let's be fast before that lady comes back and finds us here again. "

He watched her, eyes widen, once again awestruck by her kindness. Why? Why did she accept his explanations so easily? He had no idea, but he knew one thing: this fantastic, mysterious, infuriating woman would be his undoing. And he gladly accepted it because her love tasted like chocolate and brownies. 

[goodlucktkachuk]

Frantic -- Matthew Tkachuk (Pt.2)

a/n: And by popular demand we have part two. Hope you guys enjoy!

Part One

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

Instantly a smile covered your face as you pressed confirm. Your instagram was nothing of scandal, mainly  paintings or doodles, a few pictures of you and Emily, and some vacation photos from last summer in Muskoka that you knew Matthew will enjoy. When Mitch reentered the room he shot you a puzzled look.

“What’s got you so chipper mini?” He teased, using the nickname your mom affectionately gave you when you were four and in a phase where you followed Mitch everywhere.

Chuckling, you shrugged your shoulders, “Emily sent me a really funny video of Nick in a facemask.” He laughed at the thought and the topic was dropped.

Around 1am, Mitch was blacked out on the couch next to you so you took the blanket you had wrapped around you and you tried to place it as softly as possible on your sleeping brother. After turning off the TV, you headed into their bathroom to borrow Steph’s makeup wipes. As you stared at yourself in the mirror for the first time that day and you could really see how tired you were. The all nighters of  homework and the rush and fall of going to games had started to catch up with you. You quickly slipped into Mitches closet and grabbed one of his old London hoodies and a pair of boxers. Once you found yourself in your pajamas and the warm embrace of the guest bed you flicked your eyes on your phone once again.

*Matthew_Tkachuk has sent you a message*

Intrigued by what the boy has to say you slid over the notification and unlocked your phone.

Matthew: first of all, what the fuck? Had I know it was you I wouldn’t have said what I said

Y/N: what?

Matthew: You didn’t think to mention that you're a mini marnie princess?

Y/N: why does it matter matty? Not like I live with him anymore. I’m an adult now Matty

Matthew: You’re still Mitches kid sister Y/N! I can’t just brush that off

Your chest ran tight after hearing him call you a kid. You knew you were younger but didn’t see the big deal about it.

Y/N: Oh give me a break, I’m 19, I’m all grown up now Tkachuk

Matthew: prove it, move this to snap and put your money where your mouth is ;)

Your heart fluttered in your chest but before you could enjoy it you found yourself mentally scorning yourself. This was your brother's old teammate and a family friend. Hell, you and Tayrn were attached at the hip everytime you two were together. There was too much history. Even though everything in your mind screamed no you found yourself accepting his proposal anyway before drifting off to sleep.

The next morning you woke up to find there was a sticky note placed firmly on your forehead. Pulling it off slowly, you flipped it over and it read ‘Went out for lunch with some of the team. Text me when you wake up’ The fact he couldn’t have just texted you that made you roll your eyes. You slowly lifted yourself out of the bed and started your staggered walk to the guest bathroom.

The sight in the mirror this morning was actually pretty cute. Your braids were slightly a mess from the night before but it went nicely with how Mitches sweater fit you and how his boxers hung off your hips. You snapped a picture of you throwing up a peace sign and posted it on your story with some witty caption about stealing Mitch’s clothes and looking better in them before hopping in the shower.

After departing from the warmth of the shower you changed back into your jeans from the night before and kept the sweater on. You ordered yourself some food and pulled out your laptop to get some school work done. Before you dove into art history and marketing techniques you opened a snapchat from Matt.

It wasn’t anything groundbreaking. He was sitting in a restaurant somewhere in a nice polo shirt. You could see half his face and his curls were pushed up with a red bandana. You stared at it for so long that you almost forgot to read what it said. ‘Snazzy hoodie you got there mini marnie, too bad it has the wrong name on the back’

You followed suit with your response, only sending half your face with a smirk plastered to your lips. ‘See Marner suits me so much better than Tkachuk so I think I’ll stick with this one!’

Matthew smiles at his phone. He was at a team lunch with the Flames and a few Leafs to catch up before they had to head back to Calgary. It was nice to see all the boys again, especially Mitch even though he had a different Marner on his mind. The lunch was overall pleasant even with all the dirty looks he had got from Auston any time anyone mentioned Y/N. As hard as it was for him not to spew endless chirps, he knew if he ever wanted a shot with you he knew he had to bite his tongue.

Deciding taking photos wasn’t the smartest way to hide what he was doing he texted you back instead. “Ouch Y/N that one hurt a bit. Hopefully in a few years you’ll change your mind ;)”

Y/N: In your dreams, Tkachuk. The team already has me destined to be with Aus so you gotta get in line.

Seeing those words made a fire erupt in his body. He knew you were probably just joking around but the idea of Auston getting to hold you made his blood run cold. Maybe that friendly warning wasn’t in the best interest of Y/N but Auston being selfish.

Matty: Auston has nothing on me sweetheart.

His words stopped you in your tracks. You never thought the juvenile feelings you had for Matthew would ever be reciprocated but here he was playing the game right back.

Y/N: I don’t know Matty, I’ve seen what Austons packing

As soon as Matthew read your text he slammed his phone down with a ‘Fuck’ that was a bit too loud making all the guys look at him.

“What’s your deal?”  Johnny asks, confused at his sudden outburst.

“Nothing.” Matthew says before he picks his phone backup and answers his text.

Matthew: I’m sorry what?

Before you answered, your mind drifted back to the previous summer. Mitch had invited the team and their girlfriends up to your cottage for one of the long weekends. It was a really fun weekend filled with drinking, boating, bonfires and even more drinking. On the last night there, Auston had a bit too much and proceeded to take off his swim trunks and run full force into the lake. Thinking it was hilarious, a few of the other boys followed suit. Unfortunately, because of where you were sitting when this happened, you saw a bit more of your brother's teammate than you would like to.

Snapping back to realted you messaged him back.

Y/N: you read what I sent

Matthew: tell me how good he was and then let me show you something better princess.

A mad blush crossed your face at the thought of Matthew showing you what he could do. You pushed those thoughts out of your head and began work on the lecture notes you were avoiding. Trying your best to push the thought of him having his way with you out of your head.

A few hours passed and the boys all crashed into Mitches apartment. Mo, Jake, and Zach set up shop on the bar stools across from you as Auston draped himself over your shoulders. Mitch leaned over the edge of the counter, all of them talking over each other. You missed having a house full of players all having fun. Matthew texted you again and you quickly turned your phone over before anyone could see it but you weren’t fast enough. Hearing your phone go off and seeing Auston look over your shoulder, Jake shot him a look to which Auston just shook his head and they both frowned knowing it was Tkachuk. Still typing away on your computer, Aus reached down putting his hands on yours and the pressure alone messed you up. As you went to scold him Jake interrupted you.

“So Y/N did you hear the Sandman and his girlfriend broke up?”

“I didn’t actually, I thought they were gonna get engaged?” Not looking up from your screen you tried speaking with as little interest as possible.

He shrugged his shoulders then continued “Guess it didn’t work out” He took a slight pause while Auston nodded at him  “Maybe you two should go out. Mitch mentioned at lunch you aren't seeing anyone.”

“I’m not sure dating another leaf is a good idea.” You responded still trying to feign interest.

“I think that would be a great idea.” Aus chimed in from behind you.

“I don’t remember asking what you thought, Auston.” You bite back.

You could cut the tension between you and Auston with a knife. After about a minute of no one saying anything, Mitch clapped loudly to catch the group's attention before he spoke.  

“Alright boys I think it's time for some Modern Warfare” The boys all nodded and headed towards the living room.

Auston leaned in close, whispering in your ear before going to meet the others, “It’s cause he’s young right? I know guys my age are more your speed these days.”

You flinched slightly, “I don’t know what you're talking about” You tried to say as smoothly as possible.

“If you say so, pest.” The last word basically being spat at you with a hostility you had never felt from him before. He finally let go of you and headed for the living room.

With that comment you had had enough and excused yourself to head back to your apartment. On your way down to the lobby knowing you were safe from the watchful eye of Auston and Jake you decided to answer Matthew.

Matthew: Y/N? Did I say something that's going to get me in trouble?

Y/N: Sorry, got distracted by some homework. Since when is Matty Tkachuk afraid of causing a little trouble ?

Part Three

[stellarstarwarsimagines]

Jealous?

Pairing - Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Summary - Obi-Wan Kenobi Request: Never before did you think you would see Obi-Wan Kenobi jealous, but when he catches you agreeing that a certain Jedi Knight is attractive, you find yourself having to assure him that there’s only one man you have eyes for. 

Word Count - 1,468

Warnings - None!

From your years teaching at the Jedi Temple in Coruscant, you knew a group of Padawans gathered together giggling was never a good thing. When you approached them, ready to berate them for not working on their own training, you discovered what had caused the distraction. 

And weren’t surprised. 

One Jedi Knight, Anakin Skywalker was working on combat training with his Padawan, Ahsoka Tano. While it was true that Anakin was one of the most talented and powerful Jedis in the Order, the Padawans weren’t admiring his combat skills.

“He’s just so cute.” One of them sighed. 

“Ahsoka is so lucky she got him as her Master.” Another added. 

You had to fight back the urge to roll your eyes. “I don’t believe Padawan Tano thinks she’s lucky to have Anakin as her Master because he’s cute.” You interrupted, crossing your arms over your chest. 

The Padawans all jumped, and turned their sheepish gaze to you, embarrassed at being caught. 

“Now, what were all of you doing? I would think this would be an appropriate time to be training for your own trials that are approaching.” You asked, looking around at each of them.

“We were Master! We were admiring and learning from his technique.” The one that had called him cute spoke up. 

You raised your eyebrow. “Oh? Can you tell me what form he was favoring then?” 

Your question was met with silence. 

“That’s what I thought.” 

“We were just looking! You can’t deny that he’s attractive, Master.” Another one spoke up. 

“I’m not, but allowing yourself to focus on something as trivial as how attractive someone is will allow you to get distracted. None of you even noticed me approaching, and mistakes like that in the field will get you killed. Isn’t that right, Anakin?” You asked, as the man appeared behind the Padawans, startling them once more and making them even more embarrassed. 

“Correct, Master.” He replied, a signature smirk on his lips as he bowed to you. 

“Thank you.” You told him. “So I suggest you all go attempt an hour of meditation. Help you focus on your surroundings and the Force instead of whoever is cutest in the Temple.” You said, watching all of them nod and leave the room before turning back to Anakin. “How long have you known they were there?” You asked him. 

His smirk didn’t waver even now with the Padawans gone. “The whole time.” 

“And you didn’t say anything to stop them?” You asked. 

“I thought it might be a good learning opportunity.” He replied. 

You rolled your eyes. “I’m sure you did. Never hurts to have someone admiring your appearance, does it?” You teased him. 

“You said it, not me.” Anakin said, then something over his shoulder seemed to catch his attention, and it didn’t take much probing through the Force to realize what it was. “I’ll see you later, Master.” Anakin said, his voice much less teasing now, but still with a smile as he departed. 

“Finally decide to wake, Sleeping Beauty?” You asked, turning back around with a smile of your own as you found Obi-Wan standing there, watching you with a look on his face that you couldn’t quite place. 

“I thought you only had eyes for me?” He replied, raising an eyebrow at you. 

It took a moment for you to match his words and the look on his face to an emotion. Even then you were surprised. “Obi-Wan Kenobi.” You took several steps towards him, your eyes wide in realization. “Are you jealous?” 

Glancing around, he grabbed a hold of your arm, and pulled you to the closest door. After checking to make sure it was empty, he tugged you inside. “Of course not.” He replied, but you had heard him sound more convincing before. 

“Good, because that would be ridiculous.” You told him. 

To your astonishment, he didn’t say anything, but avoided your gaze. 

You couldn’t believe your eyes. Never did you think there would come a moment when Obi-Wan Kenobi, the most confident man that you knew, would be jealous. Even though part of you thought it was attractive, you knew that you couldn’t let him continue to feel this way. Reaching for his hands, now covered in his gloves, you tugged him forward until the two of you were chest to chest. “Because you know that I like my men intelligent, strong, and stubborn.” You teased, giving his hands a tight squeeze. 

“I assure you that Anakin possesses all of those qualities.” Obi-Wan replied, but there was now a small smile on his face. 

“Mhmm, maybe I should be with him then.” You replied, pulling away from Obi-Wan and pretending to leave the room. 

Before you had even turned the doorknob, Obi-Wan had grabbed you around the waist, spinning you around until you were trapped between the wall and his hard armor. Your breath caught in your throat as his nose traveled up your neck in a slow line, stopping when his lips touched your ear. “He doesn’t like sand.” He whispered.

“Oh, now that’s a deal breaker. You know how much I love the beach.” You replied, a little breathless as the sweet scent of his soap washed over you, and his lips brushed your cheek. 

“I do,” he replied, pressing a gentle kiss there. 

“Clearly we would be a terrible match.” You added, taking a hold of his armor to keep him close. 

You felt his smile against your skin. “Clearly,” Obi-Wan agreed. 

“Good thing I’ve already got someone I’m rather fond of. I guess I’ll have to stick with him.” You said, your hands sliding up the smooth chest plate and around his neck. 

He moved to rest his forehead against yours, his fingertips brushing up and down your back in a slow motion that had you arching into him. “Is that so?” 

“I do,” you replied, tilting your chin up so your lips brushed against his. “Can I trust you to keep my secret, General?” You asked him, waiting until he hummed his assent before continuing. “He was in my room all night.” You pulled back, biting your lip as you looked up at the ceiling as if lost in thought. “I do hope he slept well.”

His gloved fingers moved to grip your chin with a gentle but demanding pressure until you turned your eyes back to him. “I don’t believe he recalls much sleeping going on.” Obi-Wan teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes at your words. 

Your hands slid up and down his chest plate, your eyes filled with admiration as you took in what you could with him pressed against you so. It made you wonder how anyone could be focusing their attention on Anakin when Obi-Wan was walking around in this as if formed by the Maker himself to test your resolve. “It’s not my fault I can’t control myself when you’re wearing your armor. Besides, I don’t seem to remember any complaints last night.” You added, raising your eyebrows at him. 

“I wouldn’t dare sweet one.” He replied, a softness in his smile and tone that had you almost melting into his strong arms. “Perhaps an hour of meditation would do you so good as well though.” Obi-Wan teased, smirking at you. 

“I’d rather spend an hour doing something else -” But before you could have the chance to tell him what you would like to spend an hour doing, the comlink at your side interrupted the two of you. You frowned as Obi-Wan stepped away and let go of you as you answered. “Master Windu. What might I help you with?” 

“We need you in the Council Room as soon as possible. We need your expertise on an upcoming mission.” He replied. 

You had to bite back a groan. There were about fifty things you would rather be doing, forty-nine of them involving the man watching you, but you knew duty came first. “I’m on my way.” You flipped the device off and then looked back at Obi-Wan. “You better not leave for a mission without saying goodbye, Kenobi.” 

He took your hand and butterflies erupted in your stomach as he brought it to his lips for a soft kiss. “I promise.” He said. 

You smiled at him, holding onto his hand for as long as possible before you let go. Once your hand touched the doorknob, you hesitated for a moment. “Just so you know,” You turned back to him, finding him watching you with a curious expression and raised eyebrow. “I was once one of those Padawans, giggling and watching another Padawan training with Master Qui Gon, wondering how I was supposed to be getting anything done when he kept smiling at me.” 

The surprised, but clearly pleased expression he had almost made going worth it.

[hotchley]

because no is a complete sentence.

hi! so @m0rcia is amazing and has been talking about a spencer hotchner au, which sounds like a really cool thing. it also sounds very chaotic given that diana is still his mother, which would lead to a lot of different parenting techniques. however, she was an absolute angel that answered my asks, which kinda? maybe? hopefuly got me out of my writer’s block. so even though the spencer hotchner au isn’t a complete fic yet, i wrote a really short drabble about it. because it’s amazing. like seriously, you need to see the posts about it.

@m0rcia: thank you. i hope this is okay- i wanted to surprise you because i only followed you recently but your blog always makes me laugh and it’s just really nice okay? and you’re also really nice. right i’ll stop ranting.

this is basically spencer learning that he never needs to justify himself after saying the word no. to anyone. regardless of who they are.

trigger warnings: references to child abuse

Spencer Hotchner is four years and three months old when he first learns that the word “no” is a full sentence.

His mother had often taught him about linguistics, and the way that sentences were formed in different languages. She taught him lots of different words- some of them his dad thought were not appropriate for him to be saying. Why, he didn’t know, because adults said those words all the time with no repercussions.

His dad struggled with the explanation. Spencer still doesn’t understand, but what he does know is that when he goes to stay with his mom, he can say what he wants, so long as he isn’t rude or disrespectful to anyone else around. Dad is more traditional- something to do with his southern upbringing- and he seems a bit different when he uses the so-called bad words. Sometimes they slip out.

But his dad doesn’t shout at him when he uses them. He just takes a deep breath and explains why he doesn’t like Spencer using them. Spencer starts to understand that his dad doesn’t like hearing them, but his mother thinks it’s okay. It’s still a bit confusing for him, but he thinks he grasps it.

Mom doesn’t have a lot of friends that want to touch him. He likes that, because there are only some people who he doesn’t mind touching him. Mom is the first person on that list. She always avoids the places that make him feel weird- his stomach and the back of his neck. Dad is also allowed to hug him. Most nights, he can’t sleep without his dad holding him close. He knows that the two of them are safe people, that’s why he likes them. And Dad is always gentle with him, never holding him too tightly.

Well, he did one time. They were in the shop and it was busy and all the people were so much bigger than Spencer. He found it overwhelming and started crying. Dad dropped the shopping right there in the aisle and took him to the toilets until he was able to explain through their hand signals what it was upsetting him: the lights, the tightness of Hotch’s touch and all the people.

After that, his Dad started taking one day a week as a work from home day. On those days, they would do their grocery shopping in the morning, when it was quiet and less colourful, and then Spencer would spend the afternoon with his Mom whilst Hotch did his work.

So Spencer had never really felt uncomfortable with touch. There were certain fabrics that he hated, but neither parent ever made him wear them. Mom let him wear whatever he wanted. Dad wanted him to change out of his pyjamas in the mornings when it was a weekday, but on weekends, they both spent their time in their pyjamas. It was really nice.

Dad’s family were less so. His dad didn’t have a dad anymore, nor did he like talking about him. Mom said that Dad’s dad was dead, which meant he no longer existed on this planet. Mom told him all sorts of theories about what happened to people after they died, but Dad said the conversation made him feel “icky” so they didn’t speak about it much.

But Dad took him to meet his family one weekend. Or the family he had left. Spencer knew all of their names. There was his Uncle Sean, his grandmother, two grand-aunts and three granduncles. One of his cousins was going to be there too, but they were much older than him.

When Dad rang the doorbell, he was doing the thing with his hand. Spencer had learnt he did that when he had sick feeling in his stomach that people described as butterflies.

“Why are you nervous?” he asked, staring up with wide eyes.

“I don’t really get on with most of my family. But you might like them, and you have a right to know who they are, which is why we’re here,” Dad answered.

“If it makes you feel icky then why did you do it?”

Dad did not answer. Spencer wondered if it was an impolite question. In reality, Aaron was trying to find the words. No had never been a good word in his house. At best, it meant he was being a difficult child, refusing to eat their vegetables. But most of the time it meant his father was refusing to have mercy or listen to him.

The door was opened before he could formulate an answer that wouldn’t terrify his son.

“Aaron! I was wondering when you would get here!” his mother said, kissing him on the forehead. Aaron didn’t let go of Spencer as he entered, remembering to slip his shoes off and put them to one side.

“Well, I’m here now, so,” he said.

Spencer shifted so he was slightly hidden.

“Is this Spencer? Hello, I’m your dad’s mommy, but you can call me whatever you’re most comfortable with. I prefer Nanny, it makes me feel less old and more loved. I have no idea what it is about it, it just does.”

“Mom, we talked about this. Please don’t overwhelm him,” Aaron said, already exasperated.

“Oh I am so sorry. Sean! Your brother is here!” she yelled.

Sean came rushing down the stairs. “Hey Aaron. Hi Spencer, I’m Sean, Aaron’s brother.”

Spencer gave him a shy wave. He wasn’t sure he wanted any of these people hugging him. But it was okay, because his dad understood that and kept them distracted to the point that they didn’t even realise.

The problem came when they were leaving. His dad had gone to get both of their coats, and Spencer was alone in the living room. Dad’s relatives were looking at him strangely as he was mesmerised by the art on the walls. He wondered if his Mom knew where it came from, and what it meant. The colours were muted, but pretty to look at.

“We’ll be off then,” Aaron said, once Spencer was all zipped up.

One of the grand aunts held her arms out. Spencer looked at his dad, who was engaged in conversation with his brother. He didn’t know what the woman expected her to do, so he stood there, watching her. Her face had an expression that he didn’t recognise on it.

Before he could register what she was doing her arms were wrapped around him, in a hug, that he did not want.

He let out a shout and Dad turned around.

“Spencer?” he said, trying to work out what was going on.

Spencer was squirming, trying to get away, but the woman just tightened her grip as he frantically shook his head, not knowing what he was supposed to say. He didn’t like the smell of her perfume, or the scratchy material of her dress. He wasn’t a baby anymore, but he could feel tears forming in his eyes.

And then suddenly he could breathe again. Dad had pulled him away. He buried his head in the soft material of his coat. It was nice and familiar and safe.

“Did he say you could hug him?” Aaron asked, his voice cold.

“I’m his family member, he should just do it,” she snapped.

Aaron swallowed. He wasn’t going to make the same mistakes his own family had. He couldn’t. “No, he shouldn’t. If he doesn’t want you hugging him, then you don’t. Understood? Mother, I’ll see you soon, hopefully. Spencer, we’re going home.”

Spencer nodded. He didn’t speak the whole journey home.

“How are you feeling now?” Dad asked, when they returned.

Spencer shrugged. “I didn’t like her hugging me.”

“That’s okay. When you don’t want somebody doing something, you say no. Okay? That’s all you have to say. No is a complete sentence. You don’t need to explain yourself. Ever. To anyone. Even to me. If you don’t want me to hug you, I won’t. And if that person makes you feel bad then they’re silly. Do you understand me?”

“Yes Dad.”

“And if they don’t stop, you hit them as hard as you can, and then you tell me. Or your Mom. Whichever one of us you see first.”

Spencer nodded. No was an interesting sentence. He’d have to ask his Mom about it. She then said it was one of the most important words a child could learn, and she was glad that his dad had taught him how to use it. They even practiced using it. It was much more fun to say: no I do not want to hear your opinions on Moby Dick again than it was to say: no I do not want a lollipop- which is what dad had made him say.

He was six years old when his dad first saw him use it.

They were in the playground. Dad was talking to Haley Brooks, who was there for her nephew. His Dad was not very good at disguising his attraction to her. Spencer thought it was a bit silly that he didn’t just say he was interested in her. He’d told his mom about what he thought was going to happen. She’d listened attentively and eventually deemed this Haley a good person.

Spencer had gotten bored and wondered over to some of the other kids, who were also waiting for their parents to finish their conversations. He was actually taller than one of them, but the rest were slightly bigger than him. They were playing a more gentle game of tag. Although he’d never met any of them, they quickly let him join the game.

When it was over, because one of them had to go, they asked to hug everyone. All the other children agreed like it was nothing.

Spencer didn’t want to hug him. But he didn’t want it to be like the other time, with Dad’s aunt. He hesitated and tried to see where his dad was. Dad had one eye on him and the other on Haley, ready to step in if he was needed.

No was a complete sentence. It always had been, and it always would be.

So when the little boy turned to him and asked if he could hug him, Spencer knew what to say.

“No,” he said.

The boy looked a little saddened, but shrugged and said bye to him anyways, before going over to his mom and leaving. Spencer used that moment to go back to his dad, who was done talking to Miss Brooks and smiled at him.

“Hey buddy. How was your little game?”

“It was nice. The boy wanted to hug me, but I didn’t want that to happen, so I told him no. And he just said okay and goodbye.”

Aaron smiled, holding his hand out in case his son wanted to hold it during their walk home. “Well done buddy. I know it can be a bit difficult to say it sometimes, but you did good. Shall we go home now?”

Spencer nodded. “Goodbye Miss Brooks.”

“Goodbye Spencer. See you soon Aaron.”

Aaron blushed and turned away, leading his son out of the school. His son that had no problem taking control of his own body or making his needs and wants known. He smiled to himself. Him and Diana may have not agreed on a lot of things, but this? This he was going to tell her all about. Because this was both of them.

Aaron Hotchner may not have grown up knowing that no was okay.

But Spencer Hotchner never had any problems using the word. Because in the Hotchner household, and everywhere else they went, regardless of who or where it was, no was a complete sentence. As it should be everywhere.

[cyhyr]

KakaIru Maze 2021: Cursed Places

Fandom: Naruto

Rating: T

WC: ~4400

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Additional Tags: Devil's Bridge, Ghosts, Demons, Curses, Established Relationship, Love Confessions, Oaths & Vows, Presumed Dead, Pet Names

A/N: Hey y'all I'm back on my bullshit and writing nonsense again ;)

This is based on the legends of Devil's Bridges. The one I referenced is the Rakotzbrücke in Gablenz, Germany. The curse, however, I made up, after reading all of the other legends of other listed devil's bridges I could reasonably find.

Read on The Archive

~

“What a gorgeous bridge!”

“Careful, now; it looks rather old,” Iruka says, cautioning Kakashi’s genin as the three of them run up to the stream’s edge. They’re busy ooh-ing at the perfect circle the bridge makes with its reflection in the water, and Iruka’s watching them closely and is distracted.

Kakashi takes the opportunity to sneak behind Iruka and wrap his arms around his waist, to rest his chin on Iruka’s shoulder and press his nose into the soft skin behind Iruka’s ear. One of Iruka’s hands reaches back and snags his hair, pressing Kakashi’s face closer into his neck. He glances up—the kids are still distracted—and quickly shifts aside his mask and presses his teeth to the back of Iruka’s neck, kisses him, delights in the soft gasps he draws out.

“Kakashi,” Iruka's voice is warm and smooth, and he chuckles, “not now.”

Kakashi pulls back and replaces the mask. He shifts so he’s standing beside Iruka; drops one arm but keeps the other around his waist. He presses one last, masked kiss to Iruka’s hair, and then they begin walking again.

“Iruka-sensei! Are we crossing the bridge?” Naruto asks.

“There's no need,” Iruka says. He’s right. Even if their group wasn’t shinobi and knew how to walk on water, the stream is shallow enough that they could cross to the other bank with little problem. They stay on the path beside the water and approach the bridge, but don’t veer off to cross.

There’s a statue where the path turns off, and a sign in the arms of the stone figure. Sasuke is the one to stop and read it aloud. “Cursed Bridge: Do Not Cross.” He turns to the rest of the team and shrugs, “Guess it’s good we’re not going that way.”

“What? You scared, Sasuke?” Naruto taunts.

“No, he’s just smarter than you!” Sakura says. “It’s not a bad thing to avoid curses.”

Sasuke ignores her. “I’m not scared, idiot. I’ll be the first to cross the bridge and prove that the sign is a hoax.”

Before Naruto can get another word in to continue the fight, Iruka interrupts. “Our destination is another two day’s walk,” he snaps. “Admire the bridge’s architecture all you’d like, but we’re not tempting fate by messing with a clear warning.”

Kakashi, beside him, tamps down on his jumping heart. Iruka’s so cute when he gets worked up.

The kids think otherwise. All three of them fall back in line and keep walking. Sasuke hangs back a bit and mutters, “Sorry, sensei,” quietly enough that only Iruka and Kakashi can hear. He then joins Naruto and Sakura up ahead.

Kakashi takes a few steps to follow, but then notices that Iruka isn’t moving with him. His hand has slipped around and settled on Iruka’s back, and he calls out softly for his partner. “Iruka?”

Iruka is staring at the sign, head tilted. His feet are rooted, a defensive technique taught in order to withstand earth and lightning attacks. Kakashi takes Iruka’s hand, surreptitiously slips his thumb against Iruka’s pulse and frowns.

It’s really slow. They’d been walking since dawn. If anything, Kakashi expected his pulse to be faster than usual.

He tries again, a little louder. “Iruka? Love?”

“A fate worse than death awaits those who cross this bridge, lest their souls be theirs to lose,” Iruka mutters. He looks back at Kakashi, his eyes wide and a tremble creeping down his spine. “You—none of you heard it, did you?” he asks.

Kakashi turns to the genin and calls, “Stop where you are! Don’t come back here, but don’t get ahead!”

Naruto, Sakura, and Sasuke all turn at once and look back at him. Naruto looks, for a moment, like he’s going to disregard his orders, but the other two helpfully keep him calm and hold him back.

Kakashi faces Iruka again, and says, “No, I don’t think they heard anything like that either. Love, we need to get you out of here. Can I move you?”

Iruka's dazed, his eyes unfocused and glassy. His breath is coming slower, and he sways to either side. "It said it as soon as Sasuke started talking about proving it wasn’t a hoax. I don’t—Kakashi, it’s sad.”

“We need to leave.”

“It sounds like a child. Can’t we—oh fu—”

Kakashi catches him as Iruka drifts to the side, his rooted feet laxing and tripping underneath him. He slips his arms under Iruka’s knees and back, picking him up easily. He relishes the soft, even breaths against his neck as he flash-steps away from the bridge and closer to his genin.

“Iruka-sensei! Is he okay?”

“You three set the pace,” Kakashi says, “but we need to move as fast as possible. Don’t stop, don’t look back—not even at me and Iruka. Not unless I tell you to stop. Do you understand?”

He gets three nods of different speeds of hesitation. He has to stare down Naruto before the kid gives him the affirmative.

“Good. Go.”

Then they’re off, leaping through the trees and keeping the path by the stream on their right. Kakashi keeps a tight hold on Iruka, who slips further and further into a comatose state. His breath comes slower with each branch Kakashi kicks off of, and his eyes finally close half an hour into their run. He goes fully limp within another hour; Kakashi has to pause to adjust his grip and pulse his chakra so as to not drop his partner.

The genin stop when he does. He doesn’t yell at them. He knows he should, but he’s too worried by what could possibly have happened to Iruka to bother.

~

There’s a village up ahead which is in their itinerary, but which they hadn’t expected to reach before tomorrow morning. Kakashi calls for the genin to slow down, to flank him, and to keep up defensive positions until they have more information. This village is the closest to that supposedly cursed bridge; if there are legends or stories about the place, they’ll find them here.

Team 7 enters the village at a gentle run, and stop in the first business they see. Helpfully, an apothecary.

“Jii-san! Can you help?” Naruto asks the man at the counter with no preamble.

The old man looks up from his mortar and pestle, and takes in their appearance—specifically, Iruka’s. He narrows his eyes and stands, coming around his counter.

“You lot passed the Devil’s Bridge, didn’t you?”

Kakashi asks, “What's wrong with him? The sign said it was cursed, but only warned against crossing. We stayed on our side of the stream.”

“That’s… well, then this is just incredibly unfortunate, son,” the apothecary says. He gestures for Kakashi to set Iruka down on a futon, set up alongside one of the walls. “He went and stood before the statue for a bit then, didn’t he?” the man continues once Iruka’s settled.

“He said he heard a child’s voice,” Kakashi says.

“A child’s? That’s new,” the apothecary checks Iruka’s breathing and pulse, his temperature, and then finally lifts up his eyelids briefly and nods. “The curse is set. You lot are shinobi, aren’t you? Just passing through, or staying a while?”

“No, please; what’s wrong with Iruka-sensei?” Naruto pipes up behind them. The other two, for once, are silently backing him up. Kakashi, too, wants more information than what’s been given.

“What is this curse, and how do we break it?” he asks.

The apothecary sighs heavily. “Son, there ain’t no way out of this one. He got caught up in a pact that was supposed to be settled a long time ago, but…” His gaze is distant, watching the world outside the window over Kakashi’s shoulder. “He ain’t getting better, ‘less he crosses the bridge. And even then, after that his soul is forfeit. It’s a kinder fate to say your good-byes now and—”

“NO!” Naruto shouts, falling forward and kneeling beside Kakashi on the floor. He puts a hand on Naruto’s back and pulses his chakra to check in on the Kyūbi seal; it’s holding fine. “There’s gotta be another way! Please, Jii-san, there’s another way?”

The apothecary shakes his head. “I have a drug for this situation,” he says quietly. “It won’t hurt. He’ll slip into deeper and deeper sleep until his body simply shuts—”

“If you want your village to remain standing by morning,” Kakashi says, voice low and threatening, “you won’t finish that.” He pulses more chakra across his connection with Naruto to keep the seal steady, but can already tell the signs of the kid’s protective anger rising. “You mentioned before, it was new that Iruka heard a child’s voice. What do you mean by that?”

Sasuke and Sakura come to kneel around Naruto as well. Naruto reaches out and takes Iruka’s hand between both of his own.

The old man clears his throat. “Well, see most people who get the curse hear the voice of a deceased loved one, or a… hmm.” He strokes his beard with two fingers. “Did he say what the voice said?”

Kakashi recites, “‘A fate worse than death awaits those who cross this bridge, lest their souls be theirs to lose.’”

The man looks up, shocked. He stands up quickly for someone so old, and crosses the shop to a bookshelf. “‘The bridge waits for love to cross unhindered, for death can be a fairer fate to choose.’ Did he say that, too?”

“No, he didn’t. What is it?”

“The rest of the inscription,” the apothecary says, taking a book down and thumbing through it. He holds it open in his palm and frowns down at the pages, flipping back and forth, and finally settling. He brings the book back to them, and hands it, still open, to Kakashi. “My daughter,” he says slowly, sadly, “she also heard the call of the bridge. And the statue spoke to her, and it said the same thing. She said… she said she heard her mother, at the time. She told me what she heard, before the compulsion grew too much.”

“Kakashi-sensei,” Sakura says, reading over his shoulder, “look there. It says that the curse compels its bearers to—”

“I see it, Sakura.” He sighs. “How long do we have before he wakes?”

“Before he tries to cross that bridge,” Sasuke grunts.

“Considering his condition, a few hours,” the apothecary says.

“Is there any way you know to wake him before then?”

“No. All we can do is wait, and see how the curse manifests.”

~

Kakashi sends the genin out to find dinner when the sun starts to set. It’s difficult to convince Naruto to leave Iruka’s side, but he takes him aside and murmurs, just for him, “I won’t leave him. I won’t let him leave. Iruka is safe with me. Go eat something; he’ll kill me if he finds out I’m not taking care of you when he can’t.”

Naruto follows after Sakura and Sasuke.

The apothecary, who eventually introduced himself as Natsu, putters around his shop, putting together poultices of wet salt and herbs—like it’s going to help. Kakashi holds Iruka’s hand tight and watches as the dying sunlight crosses his face.

Finally, he starts to wake.

“Iruka, love?”

Iruka opens his eyes and sits up at once. Kakashi keeps hold of his hand and stares at the new color his eyes gleam in the evening light: cold red, just like the sharingan.

“I have to go back,” Iruka says.

From behind his counter, Natsu winces. “If you go, you’ll die,” he says.

“If I don’t, the child…” Iruka looks over at Kakashi and asks, “What else am I meant to do?”

“Stay,” he pleads quietly. “Be selfish for once and stay. For me, for Naruto, for the village, I don’t care but—”

Iruka laughs—three barks of horrible, defeated laughter. “If I don’t do this, am I really me?”

Kakashi softens. “No,” he admits. “No, you… but gods I wish…”

“There’s a child who needs me, Kakashi. Who am I to deny them?”

“You have a child already, and he needs you,” Kakashi tries one last time. “At least let us go with you.”

“Absolutely not. If any of you cross, you’ll die too. Better one of us than… than all.”

Then Iruka makes a few hand seals and presses his free palm to Kakashi’s cheek. “I’m sorry, my love.”

This is what he gets for falling in love with a fūinjutsu master. A sleep seal to his face, without the seal master needing ink or paper at all. He slumps forward, and Iruka catches him and trades places with him on the futon. He’s asleep before his head is placed on the pillow.

~

Iruka drifts his fingers over Kakashi’s slack face. The seal won’t hold for long; it’s not strong to begin with, and he purposefully weakened it so as not to even risk any harm to his partner. He turns to the old man behind the counter, still packing herbs into a silk poultice with wet salt. “Are you going to try and stop me, too?”

“No,” the man says tiredly. “I tried that once before with my daughter. All it did was prolong both our suffering.” He finishes the poultice and ties it closed with a piece of string. “You’ll want these. If the demon takes you, and it more assuredly will, they’ll keep you safe.”

“Herbs and salt?” Iruka shakes his head. “Thank you, but I’m not going to a demon. I’m going to a child.”

“That blond boy was concerned about you. You should reconsider, try to fight.”

“You just said—”

“I know what I said,” the man snapped. “I won’t stop you. That doesn’t mean you won’t break that man’s heart when he wakes up and you’re gone.”

Iruka leans over and kisses Kakashi’s forehead. “I have to do this.”

“That’s what my Naomi said, too,” the man muttered, suddenly tired again. “Go, if you must. But please, for my own peace of mind?” He holds out two of the poultices, one in red silk and the other in blue. Iruka gives Kakashi’s cheek one last touch and then stands, crosses the room, and takes the blue poultice.

“Give the red one to Kakashi, when he comes after me,” Iruka says. He doesn’t look back, tucking the poultice into his weapons pouch and striding out the door. Once outside, he turns back to the forest, to where the stream skips and flows, and he dashes away.

~

Natsu is kneeling beside him when Kakashi wakes up. He scrubs at his face to get rid of any lingering traces of the seal, and sits up. Natsu silently hands him a red silk bag which smells of salt, sage, rosemary, and—

“He left not ten minutes ago,” Natsu says. “If you hurry, you should be able to catch up. Get your last words in before he’s gone for good.”

Kakashi puts the poultice away and stands up. If the sleep seal is good for one thing, he at least feels refreshed and able to run, even after carrying Iruka and running along the trees for hours earlier.

“Shinobi-san,” Natsu continues, “if today is your last day with him—”

“It won’t be.”

“Shinobi-san—”

“Iruka is strong. He’ll make it past this. We’ll make it past this.” Kakashi stands, pats himself down to assure himself his weapons are in place, and then asks, “Is there an inn I can send my team to settle in for the night?”

Natsu sighs, and waves him off. “I have spare rooms. Your children can stay in the patient quarters, and if—when you come back,” he grins sadly, “my daughter’s old room is made up for guests.”

Kakashi nods. “Thank-you, Natsu-sensei. Please, keep the genin here until dawn as best you can.”

He doesn’t wait for a response. He’s wasted enough time. Once he’s on the street he bursts his speed like he used to in his ANBU days, back to the bridge. He should check in with his team before leaving them behind, but he feels he knows them enough to know that they won’t stay back if they know the situation.

So he runs. And when he catches Iruka’s scent his heart flutters. And as he comes closer to the bridge he can sense Iruka’s chakra—warm and steady—and he sighs.

Iruka

Don’t leave me. I can’t take another heartbreak.

He stops in front of the statue, really looking at it this time. It’s grotesque, depicting a monster with fangs and horns, feathers and fur alike. But the more Kakashi looks at it, the less frightening the statue seems and the more he gets the feeling of longing from the wide eyes and wrapping limbs.

It’s still holding the sign. Cursed Bridge: Do Not Cross.

Kakashi looks out at the bridge, and wants to be surprised to see Iruka standing at the crest of the bridge, looking off the side downstream. He’s not surprised, but he does catch his breath, because a glance in the water shows the reflection of two figures, even though Iruka is alone on the bridge.

“Iruka!”

His gaze turns away from the water and back to the bank, and Iruka smiles. He says something to the invisible figure beside him, and then comes back down the arch of the bridge.

He stops before he steps off, though. “Kakashi,” he holds out his hands.

“Your eyes are brown again,” Kakashi says, helpless but to step forward and put his hands in Iruka’s.

“Den-chan says the red eyes were always temporary.”

“Den?”

“The little girl who’s stuck here,” Iruka says. “She had been offered to the bridge as a guardian, but… oh, Kakashi, she’s so young, I can’t imagine she ever learned how to do this right.”

Kakashi brings Iruka’s hands to his face and kisses them through his mask. “If anyone can teach her, it’s you. Don’t lose yourself.”

Iruka sighs. “I think… but, I have to cross the bridge all the way, to see her home. It’s part of the curse. Den-chan doesn’t know how to undo it, but she knows she needs to be led across the bridge to be able to leave it.”

“And if you cross? This ‘fate worse than death’?”

Iruka nods. “I walk into the land of demons. And once one does that, the only way to leave is to become a demon yourself, a process which takes centuries.”

“You’re prepared for this, then.” Kakashi knows his voice is cold and his hands tighten around Iruka's. “Please, please reconsider.”

“If I don't try,” Iruka leans his forehead onto Kakashi’s and closes his eyes, “then my life energy, my chakra, will wane with the night and I’ll be dead at dawn. Den-chan unconsciously uses the chakra of those who refuse her in order to sustain herself.”

“You can’t,” Kakashi stops. Breathes. “Please. We’ve had so little time together. I want—I want, Iruka, and that’s more than I’ve felt in so long.”

Iruka kisses his cheek, his forehead, and then pulls his mask down and presses their lips together. The kiss turns hungry and desperate in a blink, and Kakashi tries to step into Iruka’s body to hold him, but is held back by Iruka’s hands flattening on his chest. He put his hands on Iruka’s hips, torn between grasping him tight or reaching back and groping—

“She’s still watching,” Iruka groans. There’s a smile in his voice. “Behave yourself.”

“Never,” Kakashi murmurs against his lips. “If this is the last time I get to hold you,” he takes a chance and grabs a handful of Iruka’s ass, groaning deep in his throat.

Iruka laughs, loud and clear. But still, he takes Kakashi���s hand off of his backside and presses a kiss to his fingers.

He still smiles, but is more subdued as he says, “I want… Kakashi, my love, I need you to do something for me before I—”

“I’ll take care of Naruto.”

Iruka shuts his eyes and ducks his head. He hisses a breath through his teeth and sniffs, “Gods, how did I get so damn lucky?” He lifts his eyes and strokes the side of Kakashi’s face, still bare from their kisses. “I love you. And I would be yours forever if fate would let it be.”

“Fuck fate,” Kakashi presses their foreheads together, kisses him again. “Let the earth become sallow and the oceans dry up—death will not keep me from you.”

“Kaka—?”

“My life,” Kakashi says emphatically, “my soul, is yours.”

Iruka looks back over his shoulder to where the little demon is, and then he kisses Kakashi quickly. “Will this work?” he mutters.

“Who cares? I’m not lying, Iruka. I am yours.”

Iruka swallows a sob and fights back tears. “Oh, gods I love you, Kakashi. My soul, my life, is yours. Death cannot keep me from you.” They share one last deep, searching kiss, and Iruka tears himself away from Kakashi’s arms and back to the crest of the bridge.

He stops once there, speaks to the air like there’s someone there, and then offers his hand like he once did for Naruto when the boy was six years old. The figure shifts into sight as they cross the bridge, a little girl in red pigtails, who looks back at Kakashi and smiles sadly at him before she fades out of view over the crest.

Iruka doesn’t look back.

~

Kakashi sits beside the statue with his eye closed, his mask back up around his nose, and his arms resting on his drawn up, spread knees. He had stood at the bank of the stream for an hour, not daring to cross after Iruka; he has a promise to keep, one of them has to stay alive to care for Naruto. But the hour passed and midnight came and went and Kakashi is trying not to sob for the unfairness of it all.

Iruka hasn’t come back.

The book Natsu-sensei gave him said that there is a theory that one whose soul belonged to someone else could cross unburdened. It would seem that a declaration of undying love and a mutual claim on each other’s souls isn’t enough to subvert the curse. He’ll have to tell Natsu-sensei about it later.

The night wind blows cold. Kakashi wonders if Orochimaru ever figured out that eternal life shit; maybe then, Kakashi will be around when Iruka comes back as a demon.

Kakashi

There are no animal noises in the forest tonight. He’s stuck somewhere between denial and depression. Bargaining is useless and anger… Well, maybe the animals have the right idea in leaving him alone.

Kakashi

Kakashi!

“Kakashi, my love, please look at me.”

He does—he opens his eye and here, kneeling in the dirt between his legs, is clearly a hallucination or a spector and fuck Kakashi doesn’t know which is worse. Iruka’s eyes are warm and brown and worried, and his hands are braced on Kakashi’s arms, over his knees. Before he can start crying again, he shuts his eye and tips his head back against the statue.

“If you’re going to haunt me, please—”

“Oh, my Kakashi, I’m here.” Iruka shuffles forward on his knees and places a palm on Kakashi’s neck. He-he can feel it. “Don’t count me out so soon.”

He throws himself forward, wrapping each of his limbs around Iruka’s body just to feel how solid he is. And he is, solid, warm and laughing and real and—

“How?” he sobs into Iruka’s hair.

“You,” Iruka says quietly. “It’s you. ‘Lest their souls be theirs to lose.’ Remember? It was your brilliant idea, my love.”

“I. But it took so long. You—you were gone for hours.” Kakashi pulls him in tighter (as though it were possible) and nudges his mask down with his nose so he can kiss every bit of Iruka he can reach while still being wrapped around him.

“I had to make sure Den-chan would be okay. And then find my way back.” Iruka kisses his temple, long and soft. “Your soul is beautiful, Kakashi,” he murmurs. “Thank you for giving it to me. It was the perfect beacon.”

“Iruka,” he whines. “Fuck, you’re really here.” He pulls back, enough so he can slip his hands up to frame Iruka’s face and press his thumbs into the scar bisecting his face, his lips, the corner of his eyes; beautiful, brown, perfect once more. He leans in and kisses Iruka again because gods he can’t help it.

“I came back for you, my love,” Iruka says against his lips. “You made sure I would. And Den-chan isn’t attached to the bridge anymore. She’s been trapped on this plane for centuries and you let me go so I could lead her to where she belonged. I can’t thank you enough. I can’t love you enough.”

Kakashi doesn’t let him keep talking anymore. He pulls Iruka down on top of him, still kissing, and together they spend the rest of the night reaffirming that, yes, Iruka came back—and yes, Iruka was real.

~

In the early morning rays, Iruka leans against a dozing Kakashi and watches the sun’s reflection on the water. He sees the spectors of dozens of people cross the bridge, fading away as they reach the opposite bank. Each one is led by the hand of a little girl in red pigtails, dressed in white.

He breathes easy. Den-chan knows her role now, and is helping all those she had accidentally hurt over the years. She had never wanted to be known as a demon, cursing the bridge; she just wanted to go home and needed a specific kind of person to bring her there.

Iruka turns his head into Kakashi’s collar and sighs. If he had to tie his life, his soul, to anyone, he’s glad it’s Kakashi.

Den brings a young woman to their side of the bridge and lets her leave, waving to her spector as she leaves the bridge and steps onto the path. The woman takes a few steps before vanishing, crossing into the next life. Den notices him sitting by her statue and smiles, giving him his own wave before going back to the crest of the bridge for the next soul.

Iruka lifts a hand in a subdued wave.

The sun rises.

The lovers sleep.

[buckbarnesjames]

Prologue

Pairings: Bucky x reader

Summary: The one where your boyfriend breaks up with you.

Word Count: 1357

A/N: Taglist is OPEN! Feedback is appreciated!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

The punching bag swings away from your body at your fists contact and as it swings back towards you, you round your foot towards it pushing it back again. The next time it swings towards you, you side step it, practicing your avoiding techniques. “Nice, Y/N!” Steve's voice breaks the silence of the gym as you push your fist forward into the bag again. You were currently partaking in a performance review, having had to take a few weeks medical leave due to an injury sustained on your last mission. “Told you I was fine” you say, catching the bag with your hands as it slowly swings back and forth from your last hit. “I know but we all have to follow protocols,” Steve says as he hands you a bottle of water and a towel, “With that being said, I’ll have your clearance paperwork drawn up and you can officially return to active duty” he says and you beam at him, excited to get back to work. You wipe the sweat from your brow and take a sip of your water as you walk over to your gym bag. “Agent Y/N, an agent Miller is requesting you” Friday’s voice sounds over the intercom as you’re slinging your gym bag over your shoulder. “Tell him I’ll be right there” you reply as you and Steve walk towards the entrance of the gym. “Have fun!” Steve says excitedly and you go your separate ways.

A short walk later, you find yourself outside in the main courtyard. “Hey, you” you smile, bounding over to Agent Miller - better known to you as your boyfriend, Brandon - and kiss him on the cheek. He tenses up at the contact of your lips on his cheek and you try to ignore the nagging feeling that something was wrong. “Walk with me?” he says, motioning with his head for you to follow him. You do, and you end up walking around the compound grounds with him. He says nothing for a long time, you can see him mulling something over in his mind and your stomach twists with nerves. “Is everything okay?” you finally ask when you can no longer take the awkward silence. He sighs deeply, stopping in his tracks and turning to face you. “Y/N...I’m so sorry to do this but...we need to break up” Brandon says and you feel as if the ground is falling from beneath you as you process his words. “I...I don’t understand” you whisper, holding back tears. You didn’t want any of the other agents to walk past and witness you in a moment of weakness. “I just...I can’t deal with worrying about you every time you leave for a mission...this last one was a really close call and it made me really think about things” Brandon says, taking a hold of your hands as you stand there frozen, a stoic expression on your face. “Did you wait until I was healed before breaking up with me?” You ask, your voice steady - giving no emotion away. When he takes his time to answer you snatch your hands away from his grip in anger, “Oh my god! You did. I can’t believe you!” you seethe, folding your arms and staring him down. You watch as he slightly wilts under your expression, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as he thinks of his next words. “It’s not like that…” you raise your eyebrow at him but don’t say anything, “okay, it’s a little like that...I just...I’ve thought about this a lot over the last few weeks and I just think this is for the best...for both of us” he explains, looking down at the floor once he finishes speaking. “You’ve thought about breaking up with me for the last four weeks...that’s...nice. Real nice, Brandon” you spit at him, turning on your heel and starting the walk back to your private quarters. “Y/N, wait!” Brandon shouts after you. You ignore him and continue walking but hear as he jogs to catch up to you. He grabs you by the shoulder and spins you around but you shake of his hand with a hard shrug of your shoulder. “I love you...I really do but you can’t tell me that it isn't distracting when we’re out there on the field worrying about each other.” On one hand, you knew he was right. It was distracting when you spent most of your time worrying that one of you might not come home one day. On the other hand, you knew that it was just part of the job and had learnt to compartmentalise pretty well throughout the course of your relationship...you guess he didn’t. “Y’know what...do what you want, Brandon. Thanks for finally being honest with me” you snap at him before storming off. He watches as you disappear out of view, running his hands over his face.

You’re seething with anger as you make your way to your quarters. You couldn’t believe Brandon had waited four weeks to end things with you and still had the nerve to say that he loved you. You scoff at the thought. If he loved you then why was he doing this? Why was he breaking your heart? It had taken you so long to trust anyone when you’d arrived at the compound - including the Avengers with whom you worked closely - and you’d finally let him in, trusting him with your extremely fragile heart and this was the end result. Six months spent breaking your walls down only for him to throw it all away when things got a little bit difficult. You’re deep in thought as you walk down the hall towards your quarters, so deep in thought that you don’t see the person walking towards you until you’re crashing into a wall of muscle. “Woah! Careful there, doll” the person says and you look up to be greeted by Bucky’s steely blues. “Sorry, Buck” you say, running a hand through your hair and offering him a tight-lipped smile. “Everything okay?” he asks, voice laced with concern. Bucky was your closest confidant on the team, maybe even your best friend, but right now you just wanted to be alone so you bite back your tears, put a smile on your face and say “Everything’s fine” before giving him a small wave and continuing on your way to your room. Bucky watches you as you continue down the hall. He knows you’re lying but he also knows that you’ll come to him when the time is right and so he leaves you be.

Once you make it to your room, you slam the door shut and lean back on it, taking deep breaths as you fight back the emotions running through you. When you’re sure you’ve got your feelings in check, you push yourself off the door and head towards the bathroom, throwing your phone on the bed and peeling off your gym clothes as you went. You shower quickly, tiredness filling your body as you fight against the sadness and anger bubbling inside you. Once you’re showered and changed into an oversized shirt and sleep shorts, you make your way over to the mini fridge you kept in your quarters. You pull the door open and stare at the contents, your eyes landing on the bottle of wine you had originally saved for date night. You yank it out of the fridge and make quick work of the lid before gulping down several mouthfuls, deciding not to bother venturing out of your bedroom for a glass. You grab your phone from the bed and unlock it as you continue to drink the wine. You open the spotify app and type in ‘breakup songs’ looking for something to set the mood for your pity party. You scroll as you drink before your eyes land on a suitable playlist, you click play and place your phone on your bedside table allowing the music to play as you continue to drink, numbing yourself to the pain you were pushing down.