#The mental image of reaching a hand out as if to touch their heart with your fingers

[novorehere]

Fun fact: The section of the stomach closest to the esophageal sphincter is named the “cardia” (as in cardiac) because it’s the closest part of the stomach to the heart.

The bottom portion of the esophagus passes directly by the heart. But the stomach itself is separated from the heart by the diaphragm, which separates the digestive organs and the respiratory organs into different body cavities.

But even with the diaphragm in between, endoscopy footage shows that our heartbeats are clearly visible through the stomach wall in the “cardia” area.

Do with this information what you will ;)

[fangswbenefits]

Reading Session

Summary: Astarion walks in on you reading a rather suggestive book, and far be it from him to interrupt your learning process. 

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Innuendo. Edging. PiV. Creampie. After care. Precum.

Word count: 3.5k

Author's note: Yes. The book exists in BG3. Thank you to @hmdeath for helping me find it 🩷

You flipped through the last pages of chapter four of ‘The Quarta Sune: A Guide to Sexuality, Eroticism, and Emotional Fulfilment’, your eyes widening slightly from all the intricate and rather impressive positions illustrated with some notes on how to maximise pleasure for both parties involved.

Needless to say, it had your heart racing as the faintest of throbs settled between your thighs. You bit your lip, pressing your legs together as the thought of putting some of these pointers in practice gradually took over.

You flipped back to chapter three, taking mental notes and humming softly as you rolled onto your stomach, placing the heavy book on your pillow.

‘If one is to indulge in the ‘Waterdeep Caress’, it is mandatory that the one on top sets the pace, looking into their lover's eyes.’

It seemed simple enough.

‘...one arm should be wrapped around their neck as the other is set on their chest, caressing a nipple with gentle fingers…’

You nodded attentively.

The images drawn across the pages had your undivided attention to the point you didn't even notice you were no longer alone in your room until a swift hand snatched the book from your grip.

You were about to voice out a protest, but ended up deciding against it once you realised who the perpetrator was.

Astarion.

Of course.

He looked as amused as ever, inspecting the cover before his gaze travelled down the page you had been so focused on.

“Reading ‘The Quarta Sune’?” he tutted with a knowing smile. “My, my… feeling naughty, are we?”

You were on your feet in an instant with both hands reaching out in a pointless attempt at retrieving the book.

“Give it back!”

He held it aloft, effortlessly keeping you at bay. “I don't think keeping secrets from me is very nice, is it?”

A rush of heat flooded your cheeks as you let out a groan of frustration. “Please. Just… give it back.”

“I am merely wondering why you'd need to resort to this in the first place, darling,” he asked, feigning hurt. “I'm an open book in these matters – you need only ask.”

And that was precisely why you had bought a copy from Nansi Gretta at The Blushing Mermaid. 

Astarion was a very considerate lover, and you found yourself wanting to surprise him, too. To have a few tricks up your sleeve that he couldn't see coming his way.

But now you just felt disappointed as your plan vanished into thin air.

He was still holding your gaze, now with a hint of delight.

“This is not fair…” you eventually said, flopping onto the bed with a prolonged whine.

“Now, now, darling,” Astarion began, the mattress dipping under his weight as he sat down on the edge, caressing the nape of your neck. “Far be it from me to interrupt your studies.”

You groaned against the bedsheets, feeling the urge to throw a tantrum from having had your hopes crushed.

“Go on,” he said, shifting closer. “Tell me why you were so enthralled by it.”

Oh, he was goading you.

Of course he was.

He excelled at riling you up and smearing it in your face.

So you chose silence, scowling deeply.

His hand moved to your back, toying with the clasps of your nightdress.

“Pouting? Really?” he said with a click of his tongue.

But his taunt was only met with more silence.

He then began to tug gently, undoing each clasp with an expertise that only his level of dexterity could provide.

A chill ran down your freshly exposed skin, fingers pushing the fabric apart in their wake and travelling down your back.

That persistent throb in between your legs from before threatened to quicken as you caved under his touch.

You flinched away from his grasp, throwing him an irritated glance.

He held the book in his other hand, and extended his arm to you. “Feisty today, sweetheart? Here, have your book.”

With a pout, you promptly retrieved it.

Astarion chuckled, his eyes dropping to your chest. “Do carry on being a tease – I am rather enjoying the view myself.”

You followed his gaze, suddenly made aware that the sudden motion had caused your nightdress to come apart and roll down your arms, exposing your breasts.

“Shit,” you hissed, dropping the book and fumbling with fabric to regain your modesty.

But the damage was done and you were left all flustered under his unwavering gaze.

“Will you tell me why you were reading this book?” he insisted, offering a coy smile. “Was it a fit of depravity that overcame you?”

“No!” you said, the impending feeling of defeat looming over you. “I just… I wanted to see if I could find something – anything – to surprise you with.”

He cocked an eyebrow at you. “Surprise me? How come?”

Your face was swallowed in heat as your eyes darted to the book. “Well, you've probably read it, haven't you?”

“I haven't, but I reckon it's a pile of utter rubbish.”

What?

“But… I got it at The Blushing Mermaid.”

An understanding smile curled his lips. “All the more reason. See, darling,” he said, bringing his knuckles to caress your arm, “you don't learn these tricks from books.”

A frown settled on your face. “But…”

His hand found yours and he rubbed each finger with the pad of his thumb. “Experience is still the best teacher.”

“You're no fun,” you said, sticking your tongue out before rolling over on your stomach and snapping the book open to continue your reading.

For a moment, you chanted victory inwardly as not another teasing remark was heard from him.

But Astarion wasn't easily silenced.

Not for long, anyway.

You tried to focus on erotic drawings in front of you, ignoring how the bed shifted slightly under you.

And then each of his legs was on either side of your thighs, caging you under him.

“Very well, then,” he said, hiking the hem of your nightdress up until it was resting at the small of your back, exposing your backside to him. “If you're so adamant about this, who am I to deny you?”

You glanced over your shoulder and were met with the most devious grin ever.

What was he up to?

His hands settled on each cheek, groping the rounded and taut flesh underneath.

Oh…

He alternated between soft and firm squeezes for a long while, and you had already lost any semblance of concentration.

You felt him pat one cheek twice before his cool lips were suddenly at your ear, drawing a shiver from you.

“Astarion… what are you doing?”

You felt a soft kiss being pressed to your neck. “You're obviously eager to learn a few tricks from this book,” he whispered, as his hands travelled down your sides before gripping your waist rather firmly. “So teach me, darling.”

Inevitably, your eyes widened at his proposition and you immediately propped yourself on your elbows, turning your head to meet his eyes.

The new angle gave him the perfect opportunity to steal a kiss from you.

It was fleeting and clearly not his main focus, so he pulled from your lips.

“You are going to read to me your favourite passages.”

“What?”

“I am sure you've managed to find something interesting by now,” he carried on, pecking the tip of your nose. “And I don't mind being proven wrong about this book.”

It would have been easier to dismiss his request if his hardening cock wasn't so firmly pressed against the swell of your backside.

“I can just tell you…” you said, swallowing hard.

He simply chuckled. “You said I was no fun, so I am making sure this is fun.”

You gazed down at the open book in front of you, wetting your lips with the tip of your tongue.

“And, darling?” he called from behind you. “If you stop, I stop.”

And suddenly, the sound of fabric being ripped filled the room.

Your underwear had been effortlessly torn apart, granting him exclusive access to your now soaked core.

You shuddered under him, tilting your head to meet his crimson eyes. “What do you mean?”

“If you stop reading, I stop fucking you.”

The crudeness in his words was enough to draw a gasp from you, and mainly because you knew he meant what he said.

Astarion wasn't one to hand out empty warnings.

It soon dawned on you that he had caught a glimpse of the page you were currently gripping, providing him with enough material to use as leverage against you.

Fuck.

“Isn't this the one you want to try out?” he cooed, pressing his erection against your backside once more. “It seems like we are already halfway through.”

Instinct guided the next few rolls of your hips, yearning for more friction, not at all interested in wasting time reading anything from this book, when the subject of your desires was all you wanted to focus on.

But Astarion disagreed.

In fact, it was the loud tapping of his fingers next to the explicit diagrams of the ‘Prone Delight’ position that snapped you out of your lust-filled haze.

“Read it out loud.”

You groaned, frustration evident in your voice. “But you can see it…”

He pressed his strained cock harder into you and you yelped from the sudden pressure.

“Read. It.”

Somehow, you found the will to fix your gaze back on the now crinkled page, fingers quivering as you skipped the first steps of the visual guide, darting your eyes down until you found what to read out loud next.

The urge to arch your back nearly overtook you as you read through the instructions.

You cleared your throat. “‘As soon as your partner is flat on their stomach, proceed to place a firm pillow under their hips to elevate them to place them at an ideal angle.”

Astarion quickly darted to his side, launching forward to grip a pillow on the far end of the bed.

You glanced to your side as soon as you heard the sound of laces being unfastened, freeing his cock with a hiss of pure relief.

He pumped it twice as if urging it to harden even more.

“Why did you stop?”

You jolted from how harsh he sounded, but his tone had an immediate effect on your clit, causing it to pulse more intensely than before.

The bed dipped and creaked under his knees as shifted before patting the side of your waist. “Up.”

You immediately complied, raising your hips high enough for him to place the pillow under them, effectively causing you to gasp.

Astarion smacked your backside softly, urging you, and you felt a gush of wetness spill down your folds as you clenched again.

“‘The legs must be pressed tightly together to further increase the tightness’,” you said, but your voice faltered as soon as his firm hands were suddenly on your thighs, ensuring you followed the instructions, which caused your swollen clit to be squeezed in between your soaked folds. “Gods…”

He pulled away at once. “You stop, I stop, darling.”

You immediately clenched hard around nothing, your body yearning for his cock.

“Please…” you pleaded, wanting nothing more than to tear the page apart and spread your legs to invite him in.

Tough luck.

Astarion was in no mood to cooperate with your request.

“You wanted to surprise me, didn't you?” he cooed, lovingly stroking your plump cheek before giving it a squeeze. “Then go ahead and show me how you can keep your pretty head focused whilst taking my cock.”

Another clench.

A more violent one this time.

Followed by a groan of frustration as you desperately clawed at the book, knowing you'd have to carry on.

“‘The other partner must straddle their legs from behind and…’” your voice cracked when he positioned himself atop your thighs, his cock already nudging at your entrance. “... and…” Astarion stilled right away and you groaned. “... and slowly initiate the act of p-penetration’.”

He seemed satisfied enough with your performance as proceeded to drag his tip along your folds, coating it in your wetness.

“Like so?” he then asked as he slowly began to stretch you open, earning a sob from you from how thick he was. 

“Yes…” 

His thighs caged yours, preventing you from parting your legs as he struggled to bottom out.

“Gods… why do you have to be so tight,” he hissed in frustration, probably realising this position wasn't all that favourable. “Keep reading.”

You wanted to protest, but you just couldn't speak as you tried to take all of him in spite of your tightness.

And before you could feel full with his cock, Astarion withdrew from you in one swift motion, causing you to almost cry out.

“No! No…no…” you sobbed, feeling your walls squeeze as if that would magically bring him back inside. “Astarion… please…”

He had the nerve to chuckle. “Trust  me. I want nothing more than to sink all the way in, but we had a deal. Now, read.”

This was pure torture.

He was too good at making you crave him.

And you were too weak to resist him.

With newfound strength, you managed to move to the next step, sniffling. “‘A gentle pace should be initiated first, before setting for a more forceful one, with long and deep thrusts’...”

Just as expected, he was sliding back inside you once again, rewarding your perseverance.

“‘If there is any sign of discomfort, it is advised to halt at once’,” you managed to say in between throaty moans.

Astarion bottomed out before you could initiate the next sentence, letting out a delicious groan of pleasure. 

You needed more.

You needed him to roll those sweet hips of his.

“‘It is advised to alternate the pace according to…’” A sobby moan left your throat as he slid all the way out before plunging back inside and setting a relentless pace. “... ‘...according to the partner's body language and vocal cues…’” You paused again as creamy lewd sounds filled your ears. It was getting harder and harder to keep your vision straight as he fucked you so good.

But, as soon as you failed to deliver an unwavering diction, Astarion stilled inside you, causing you to instinctively clench around his cock, silently urging him to move again.

“What's the matter, darling?” he mocked, caressing your backside with both hands, fingers digging into your flesh. “You wanted to teach me, so do it.”

There was nothing in this godsdamned book you could use to teach him.

And he knew it.

Astarion knew your body like the back of his hand. He knew what made it tick and what had you beg for more.

But still, you endured, as your lust for him overcame everything else.

“‘This position has been described as one that allows the partner on top to get as deep as possible whilst experiencing unprecedented tightness.’” 

You weren't sure how you managed to say all of it in one go, but it was enough to have him slam into you harder than before.

It was almost embarrassing how easily soaked you got from being told what to do, but you didn’t care anymore.

And it seemed that Astarion was too lost in his own pleasure to notice you had stopped, so you allowed yourself to enjoy each thrust and groan you squeezed out of him.

He always sounded so pretty buried inside you.

His hands gripped your hips firmly, holding you in place as he rammed hard.

As expected, his pace never faltered, but you wanted to give him more incentive and flipped the page, ready to commence your diction.

“‘The suggested position after–”

But before you could continue, Astarion snatched the book in front of you and sent it flying across the room with a growl.

“Enough of that idiotic book,” he snarled, lifting your hips. “On your hands and knees.”

He kicked the pillow from under you, without sliding out.

Your muscles were slightly numb from the previous position and it took you a moment to adjust yourself.

Once he was sure you were ready for more, he pressed a hand down your back, causing you to arch for him.

“You're too soaked for this to last much longer,” he said, sliding all the way inside, his balls hitting your swollen clit. “You don't need a book to have me come undone for you, sweetheart.”

You shuddered.

It was almost criminal how good this man was with his words and body alike.

Your mouth dropped open as soon as he began to speed up once more, wet and creamy sounds being heard in between the snap of his hips against yours.

The familiar coil in your lower abdomen signalled how close you already were with each slap of his balls against your clit. Judging by his grunts and less spaced out hisses, you could tell your own climax would trigger his.

But you needed more.

You needed the sight that would have you topple over the edge.

So, you looked down along your body, almost whimpering from the view: a single thick strand of precum mixed with your own wetness was dangling from your swollen clit, swaying with each thrust.

Gods…

You took a deep breath, embracing the wave of pleasure that was about to hit you as you struggled to keep your eyes open.

It came all at once and your arms quivered under you until you had no choice but to fall forward on the side of your face as your climax violently tore through your entire body, initiating a sequence of contractions that further had you tightening around his cock.

It was almost blinding and your mind blanked at once a string of moans spilled from deep without you, breath taken away from your lungs.

Astarion cursed loudly and you knew then, even through your haze of pleasure, that he had reached his peak.

Each contraction aided him in spilling himself deep inside you, your body craving his seed.

You couldn't tear your eyes away from your clit and how swollen it was, parting your folds. Then, you shot a brief glance at his handsome face, wanting to witness it contorting in pleasure and relief as he rode out his own climax.

As you came down from your high, you began to see the first drops of thick cum dribbling down his balls as he began to pull out. 

By the time he was fully out, a gush of cum leaked out, coating your folds and dripping from your clit.

It never ceased to amaze you how hard he always came… the amount of cum was obscene to say the least. 

He nearly lost his balance and you saw his cock completely covered in cum as he growled through clenched teeth, his fangs fully visible.

Somehow, your knees hadn't quivered and you remained in the same position for a while, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

Eventually, you found your voice again. “You… shouldn't have thrown it away… it has some post-encounter care suggestions…”

Astarion was on his knees, his cock still hard and thick as his half-hooded eyes met yours. “Lay down.”

Was he not done ordering you around?

You chuckled weakly, but did as you were told.

He slid from the bed at once and you admired his backside as he sauntered across the room, taking a towel in his hand before returning to your side.

“On your back, darling,” he said, voice soft and caring as he placed a kiss on your flushed cheek. “Allow me to properly take care of you.”

You offered him a smile, eager for what was to come.

“You know, that was mean of you…” you said in between shallow breaths.

Astarion pressed a kiss to your forehead, parting your legs. “But was it fun?”

You chuckled, feeling your muscles sore. “No.”

He feigned hurt as he dabbed the soft towel along your folds, earning a jolt from you when it reached your oversensitive clit. 

“Do not lie.”

A thick layer of his cum slowly dribbled from you, which he promptly wiped clean.

“It was mildly entertaining,” you groaned as he kept on pressing adoring kisses along your cheek. “I'm surprised you were able to hold back.”

“Oh, darling… I didn't.”

And for the next few minutes, you enjoyed the comfort that came with the silence of being next to the person you adored the most.

Astarion was a dedicated lover.

He would have you come undone for him, but he would ensure the after care was just as rewarding.

As such, he would clean you up and offer you water and even a bath. And if you couldn't walk? He would simply carry you.

But you never wanted it to be a one-sided courtesy.

He deserved to be taken care of just as much and you would often be the first to pat his cock clean with a soft piece of cloth. 

Sometimes, you would aid each other simultaneously in between tired kisses and hugs, finding bliss in the trust that held you together. 

Masterlist

[wifeofasith]

Loved inside and out ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

ׁ ֶָ֢ ⏤͟͟͞͞☕️ ׁ ࣭ warnings ! ۪ ׁ ⊹ || Dom!Anakin × Sub!Fem!Reader, cockwarming, brief pinv sex, creampie (mentioned), pet names MDNI !!

Not bothering whatever Obi-wan was so immensely discussing with Ani was practically impossible when your head was swarming with tingling thoughts about your unsuccessful day. Feeling miserable, you didn’t even try to participate in the ardent conversation the two Jedi had. Your only resolve turned out to be to linger around, trying to gain Anakin’s precious attention, which you were so desperate for.

“What’s gotten you so dull?” Your grand-master’s voice pulls you out of your head, making your eyes settle on his humble white robes. “You’re traipsing around like a youngling.”

Feeling embarrassed about the comment, you glimpse at Anakin, expecting to be defended from Obi-wan’s sharp eye, but instead you are greeted with another curious stare as his arms cross over his chest.

"Just a bad day.” You mutter, struggling to define the intense feeling of weariness you woke up with.

Not pleased enough with the description, they glance at each other concisely, as if sizing up your negativity. Anakin’s arms drop lower with a sigh.

“How about another session to put your mind off things?” He insists, making you wonder what kind of session he was talking about while hoping Obi-wan’s imagination only darts to the possibility of you dueling with Anakin instead of anything wicked.

"Go; I’ll finish on my own.” Your master’s master nods approvingly towards Anakin, reassuring you two about his oblivion to what happens in your little nests when his prying gaze is elsewhere.

Anakin’s eyes gleam briefly before he tilts his head upwards towards you, encouraging you to move alongside him.

“What’s wrong?” A soft voice reaches your ears as you two are far enough. “What bothers your pretty little head?” He speaks gently, but his eyes still stare forward, careful not to drop the cloak you two were wearing.

“It’s nothing, really…” You pause, but unable to come up with a better excuse, you shortly continue. “I’m just blue.”

—

“It’s okay. It’s okay, my angel.” Anakin coos, tugging a strand of your hair behind your ear as his chest presses against your back, firm arm grabbing you closer. “I’ve got you now.”

In the safety of your own quarters and Anakin’s embrace, you felt completely tranquil, even with your panties pulled to the side and the gentle nudge of his cock brushing against your entrance. His tight grip enveloped you perfectly, filling your heart with comfort, opening an escape from the dullness of your routine.

“You’re so precious, always need my cock to soothe you.” He coos, nudging your slit with a wet tip, eager to fuck into your guts.

“Mmm…” You nod silently, not wanting to be bullied about it.

Anakin’s lips gently touch your cheek as if to reassure you that he’s there to ease your mind instead of making fun of your disheveled mental state. He props himself up on his forearm, leaning over you slightly to reach the plum of your lips as he slowly starts pushing inside your warm tunnel.

“Open up, darling, you know you need it.” He hooks his hand under your thigh, raising it just slightly. “Relax and let me in.”

Your walls flutter open, trying to accommodate him in a not-so-aroused hole. It’s irritating and uncomfortable at first, but once his stomach is nicely pressed against your lower back, your body grows limp into the sheets. Finally comforted, finally full of love.

Anakin grunts, fighting the urge to buck against you. He neatly spoons you close to himself, pressing his knees into the back of your legs while his hand gently rubs your abdomen.

“There we go, nice and sheathed in your little pussy.” He pats your hip softly before resuming his soft caress.

You close your eyes, savoring the way your walls molded around him. The feeling of him pulsing inside you like a second heartbeat made your body swell with warmth. Your brain became fuzzy, filling with images of Anakin’s veiny shaft enveloped within you.

“Feels so good, Ani. So warm.” You utter, taking a deep breath of air, of his scent, more of Anakin inside you.

He lets out a low chuckle, his hand creeps its way under your belly button, teasing the skin above your pubic hair with his fingertips.

“Do you want to come?” He asks in a breathy voice, his lips pressing against the shell of your ear. “Want my angel to be happy. Want to make you squirm in pleasure. Do you want to?”

You pause for a second. It was true that your insides were quickly flooding themselves when Anakin was loving you so good, when his hands felt so gentle on your skin, his cock numbed the sadness in you so perfectly… But you didn’t actually need an orgasm; you just wanted him, his presence, his sweet, comforting body, and soft voice that always grounded you. You didn’t want to come, but...

“No...”

“Of course, sweet thing.” He coos and kisses your shoulder gently, pulling your body against his. “Let me just hold my angel, nice and tight and wrapped around me. Just like you should be.”

He continues pressing feather-like pecks across your arm, softly tugging on your robes to expose more of your skin, which he so longed to adore, while you braced yourself to finish the sentence and reveal your need.

“But I want you to.” You mutter in a shy voice, heat spreading across your cheeks, making your muscles clench.

“Want me to what, love?” He pauses his loving kisses, locking his eyes with yours in a gaze that tells you that he knows exactly what you mean.

Having no energy to argue with his teasing nature, you only sigh to express your unwillingness to entertain him. You lay still for a moment, waiting for him to comply and finally amuse your wish.

“Gotta explain it to me, pretty angel, can’t do anything unless you tell me what you want.” He tickles your neck with his hot breath once more, beating you entirely by being sneakily right.

“Ani, please…” You turn to him, your glossy eyes making his heart swell and cock twitch inside you. “…please cum in me—”

“Atta girl.” You can’t even finish your filthy sentence when he grabs your hips and retreats from your warmth. “Gonna fill that pussy up, make a little creamy mess...”

Once his hips snap back, your eyes roll, and you know that soon enough, you’ll be begging to cum.

[suashii]

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ 𝐿𝒪𝒱𝐼𝒩𝒢 𝒴𝒪𝒰, 𝐿𝒪𝒱𝐼𝒩𝒢 𝑀𝐸

info ⭑ gojo x reader. 1.7 wc. sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ college au ﾉ navigating relationships

“did you miss me while you were at work?”

you jokingly roll your eyes, having expected the question. gojo asks you the same thing over the phone each time you’re making the walk home. he expects a certain answer, one you usually give to him but you’re feeling a little playful tonight. even though he can’t see it, you smile with your next words. “mm, i was a little too busy to think about you.”

there’s a slight pause on the line before gojo replies. “not even a little bit?”

you can hear the pout in his voice and picture the expression in your head—his fluffy white eyebrows pulled together in a frown, bottom lip petulantly poked out. the mental image makes your smile grow wider.

“i’m kidding,” you assure him, adjusting the phone in your hand. he may ask the same question after all of your shifts, but your actual answer never changes. “of course i did.”

his crackly laugh sounds through the speaker and in the chill of the night, it sparks a warmth within you. it’s a sound you’re sure you’ll never get tired of hearing.

“good. i missed you, too.”

you bite your cheek to keep the smile from overtaking your face. it’s been a few months since the two of you started dating but you’re still not used to the unabashed affection gojo continuously shows you. 

you can’t seem to find the right words to respond to his sentiment but the end of your commute gives you the opportunity to change the subject.

“hey, i’m almost home,” you tell gojo as you approach the stairs leading up to your apartment. “i’ll text you when i get inside.”

“sure,” he hums, “talk to you later.”

“bye,” you draw out the vowel before pulling the phone away from your ear and ending the call. you stuff the device in your bag and your hands in your pockets as you make your way up the stairs that’ll take you to your apartment. the cold air nips at the exposed skin of your face, making you pick up the pace in hopes of quickly getting somewhere warmer. as you reach the final step, something catches your attention.

there’s a figure on the wooden platform a few feet from your door. 

it should startle you, but you’re beginning to grow used to the sight. just like his calls, gojo has made a habit of showing up outside your place on nights when you work late. you can’t lie—there’s a certain level of comfort you’re met with each time you’re greeted by the back of his head.

you clear your throat as you walk up to him. “my neighbors are going to start thinking you’re a stalker if you keep showing up like this.”

your voice alerts gojo of your arrival and his head swivels so that he can meet your gaze. there’s a smile tugging at your lips that makes his own curl up at the corners. “can you blame me for wanting to make sure you get home safe?”

bright blue eyes follow you as you come to stand in front of the man. despite the iciness of the air, his coat is left unbuttoned. you’re able to see that he’s wearing a suit underneath his outerwear—he must have come straight here after finishing his internship for the day.

“i just got off the phone with you,” you tell him through a short laugh, pulling your hands out of your pockets to pull his coat closed, though it doesn’t stay. you wonder how long he’s been waiting but you know he won’t tell if you ask.

he leans forward into your touch with his next words. “maybe i want to see you walk through the door with my own eyes.”

“gojo—” before you can get the rest of your sentence out, the man holds a hand out to stop you.

“i told you, it’s satoru.” he’s been persistent about reminding you to call him by his first name ever since the two of you started dating. now is no different and he even goes as far as placing his hands on your waist, sounding out each syllable for you. “sa-to-ru. got it?”

the way he stares up at you with those sparkling eyes and that charming grin makes your heart jump in your chest. expectation lingers behind his gaze and you can sense his anticipation by the way his lithe fingers tap at your waist.

“fine… satoru.” the name still feels foreign on your tongue but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the taste of it. you clear your throat before sliding your hands up onto his shoulders. “you don’t have to keep doing this. it’s starting to get cold outside and you’ll get sick sitting out here.”

he shrugs. “i don’t mind.”

you sigh, readying to drill into him how important his health is when you notice, feel, that his shoulders are trembling with shivers. under a more attentive eye, the redness of his ears and cheeks also make themselves known. despite his carelessness, you can’t find it in yourself to scold him when his actions were so well-intended.

with the click of your tongue, you grab gojo’s tie and give it a gentle tug. “come inside and warm up.”

you weren’t sure it was possible, but gojo’s smile spreads even wider upon hearing your invitation. as if saying “don’t mind if i do,” the man stands to his full height. he towers above you now, but his presence is far from imposing. “after you.”

you lead the way, digging around your bag for your keys. they jingle as you pull them out and the click of your door unlocking sounds throughout the night air. your apartment is dark and as you reach to flip on the light switch, you wonder if you cleaned up this morning. gojo has been here before but you worry about embarrassing yourself with a mess.

though, you can’t stand around in the darkness forever. hoping that the unit is presentable, you turn on the main light. brightness floods the area and, to your credit, nothing more than a misplaced jacket dirties the room. you give yourself a mental pat on the back while you hang up your keys. when you turn to look at gojo, he’s in the process of shedding his coat. you mirror his actions but remind him, “you can’t stay long. i have an early shift tomorrow.”

he doesn’t stop taking his coat off but his smile is traded in for a frown. you’ve all but kicked him out before he’s even gotten settled, and because of work, at that. he’s beginning to think your coworkers see you more often than he does. he drapes his coat on the back of one of the chairs in your kitchen. “you know, if you moved in with me, you could quit your job.”

you almost laugh before you realize he isn’t joking. gojo has always been direct—since before you were dating and when the two of you got together—so his suggestion shouldn’t be surprising. still, every offer he makes to pamper and spoil you tends to catch you off guard. it’s not the proposals themselves, no, but the way he brings them up so casually as if they should be a given—expected.

everything about dating gojo is different from past relationships you’ve had. he expresses his love in ways unfamiliar to you, ways that are sometimes difficult for you to accept—not because you don’t want to but because you aren’t sure how. it doesn’t seem to bother gojo but you wonder when the time will come when you’re comfortable enough to consider taking him up on his offer.

“tempting, but no. ask me again in a couple of months,” you tell him over your shoulder from your place at the kitchen counter. you know he will. “want some tea?”

outwardly unaffected by your rejection, gojo hums in confirmation as he takes a seat at your table. it doesn’t take you long to prepare the warm beverage and place a cup of it in front of the man. you plop down across from him with a mug of your own.

“how was your day?” you ask him before taking a cautious sip of your tea.

“same old, same old,” he replies, propping his elbows on the table and resting his chin in his cupped palms. it squishes his cheeks and gives him a youthful appearance.

under the fluorescent lights of your kitchen, it’s impossible not to pick up on the dark crescents below his eyes. now that the cold isn’t keeping him alert, you can tell just how exhausted he is.

“really? you look kind of tired.”

he brushes off your concern. “i’m fine.”

the phrase is one that gojo utters often but you’re having a hard time believing him tonight. it wouldn’t be safe for him to drive home in his current condition. even though you had been pretty adamant about him taking his leave earlier, you reconsider.

“why don’t you stay here tonight?” you suggest, holding the mug in your hands up to your mouth.

that much seems to capture gojo’s attention as his eyes widen in curiosity. you hide the smile threatening your lips behind your mug.

“are you sure?”

it’s at this moment that you realize—maybe the way you love is unfamiliar to gojo, too. maybe your invitations come as a surprise in the same way his do to you. and maybe, just like you, he’s wary of accepting your affections, nervous to get too comfortable.

the thought makes you want him to stay even more.

so, without hesitation, you nod. “you look like you’re two seconds away from collapsing. just sleep here.”

“well, if you insist, how could i say no?” gojo grins. it’s a sleepy one that doesn’t reach his eyes but it’s obvious that he’s grateful—for the gesture, of course, but even more so that he’s finally able to spend more time with you, even if that time will be spent sleeping.

you giggle at his response, gathering the cups and putting them in the sink before jerking your head in the direction of your bathroom. “come on, sleepy-head. let’s get ready for bed.”

hey there! thank you for giving this a read! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment! much love from me to you ❤︎

[cntloup]

Fem!Reader angst, hurt/comfort, body image issues due to pregnancy

He walks into your shared bedroom after he finds the living room empty and the lights off, “Love, you in here?” he asks, noticing you’re not asleep either as he previously thought.

He makes his way to the bathroom when his eyes land on the line of light at the foot of the door.

His eyebrows furrow in concern when he hears your hiccups and sniffles from the other side of the door, “You ok, lovie?” he asks worriedly, “Yeah! I’m fine!” you try to sound convincing but to no avail as your voice comes out weak and shaky.

“Can I open the door?” he asks and you wrestle with the thought of letting him come in or not. Do you want him to see you like this? “Yeah.” your mouth answers before your mind does.

You immediately regret it, but it’s too late now as the door opens and your husband sets his eyes on you, your body completely bare and trying to hide yourself, the parts that you hate, with your hands as best as you can.

“What’s wrong?” he asks with concern, walking up to you. You look like a deer caught in the headlights. In an instant, you hide behind the curtain.

“N-nothing’s wrong. I'll be out in a few minutes.” you try to get him to leave but he persists, “You know you can tell me anything, love. Please tell me what’s wrong. I'm worried about you.” he says from the other side of the curtain.

Within seconds, you burst into tears, not being able to control yourself anymore. “I-I fucking hate it. My body has changed so much. Nothing fits any more. I hate the way I look!” you finally blurt out to him through sobs and he can’t believe the words that reach his ears.

All this time, you were a goddess in his eyes. How could you not see it? How could you not feel beautiful? Didn't he show you enough how he felt?

But this is not your fault. Your body has gone through drastic changes due to your pregnancy. And it has taken a heavy toll on you, not only physically but mentally as well.

“Love, you’re beautiful, mesmerizing. You're a goddess. Please don't let these awful thoughts get into you.” he responds softly.

“Can I see you now please?” he questions, eager to see his beautiful wife after a long day, but more eager to get you to believe him.

“Y-yeah.” you reply weakly, hesitant. He slowly pushes the curtain away and steps in front of you. His eyes land on your naked form and he can see nothing but sheer beauty.

“Do you really mean it?” you ask shyly, still trying to hide. “ ‘course I mean it, love. You're drop-dead gorgeous.” he reassures you, “But I've changed so much!” you retort, on the verge of tears.

“Dove, you’ve been carrying our child for nine months. Of course that would cause some changes. But that doesn’t mean you’re any less beautiful now than you were before. You're so fuckin’ beautiful, love.” he responds, getting closer to you.

“How can I fight these thoughts away?” he murmurs only inches away from your face, feeling helpless, desperate to make you feel better.

Your heart swells with love as you look at your loving husband and a soft smile forms on your lips as you begin to feel secure.

You slowly remove your hands from your body, making his breath hitch in his throat, his eyes sparkling with love.

You take his hands in yours to pull him closer and he leans in to plant a loving kiss on your lips.

His hands find their way to your body, tenderly caressing the plush of your hips, slowly moving to your belly which is where you’re the most insecure about, making you gasp against his lips.

"It’s ok, love... It's just me." he reassures you in between kisses, his touch lingering, "I love you." he whispers into the kiss.

His sweet and tender touch, his loving words and his soft voice make you feel fuzzy. You feel safe in his arms.

His lips travel down to your neck and slowly lower and lower, kissing all the areas that you feel uncomfortable with. And you close your eyes, lost in a haze, savoring the feeling as he dotes on you.

He peppers soft kisses on your tummy, making you giggle. His heart flutters at the sound, happy that he managed to make you feel even a little better.

He wraps his arms around your waist, his head resting on your belly, “Better, love?” he asks, loving eyes looking up at you. “Yeah. Thanks, Si!... I love you too.” you reply with a warm smile, nuzzling his cheeks and buzzed head.

“Wanna take a shower?” you ask him, smirking. “I’d love to.” he responds, grinning widely.

comments/reblogs are greatly appreciated ♥ 

[bimbo-baggins86]

Just A Fantasy?: Sam Monroe

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CW: 18+ MDNI!!, porn with no plot, smut, masturbation, use of pet names, oral (m receiving), slight dacryphilia, degradation, throat fucking <3<3<3

A/N: For the lovely anon who said I should write more Sam Monroe smut…hope you enjoy <3 //not proofread\\

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Sam’s eyes are screwed shut, his plump bottom lip pulled between his teeth, the labret piercing clicking against them as he fists his dick with feverish desperation. It gets more difficult for him to contain the whimpers and groans threatening to spill out, causing him to bite down harder on his lip.

“Fuck..fuck..c’mon please..please..” He whimpers pleadingly to the mental image of you, his best friend, that he’s conjured up. The porn pulled up in his browser isn’t spurring him on like it usually does.

“Sam? Sam!”

“Yeah baby…y-yeah..just like that..” He grunts, tugging his cock faster, chasing his climax. He’s right there..right there..

“Oh my god! Sam!”

His eyes shoot open in surprise as you walk through his bedroom door, but it’s that extra little jolt he seemingly needed, hot cum spurting out with a loud groan. It dribbles all down his hand, some of it getting on his shirt since his trajectory changed with the surprise. Apparently the calls of his name weren’t just all a fantasy.

Sam’s face instantly goes beet red with embarrassment as he sees you standing there staring at him wide eyed. It’s silent. Minus the over acting moans still coming from his laptop speakers. Quickly he pauses it and slams it shut before reaching for a tissue to clean himself off and tuck himself away. “Sorry,” He mumbles, “you weren’t supposed to see that.” He’d rather you scold him than stay silent. He risks taking a peek at you. Your expression is unreadable to him.

A few more moments of silence pass before he can’t take it. “Say something at least. Please.”

“What were you thinking about?” You ask.

His eyes snap up to your’s immediately. Thats definitely nowhere close to what he expected to hear from you. He had numerous ideas and that didn’t even come close. He knows he’s taking a risk if he answers honestly but you just walked in on him humping his hand like a bitch in heat so all shame is out the window for now. And the fact you haven’t left running for the hills is a good sign.

“You.” His voice nearly cracks with the admission.

The grin that makes its way onto your lips is enough to make his dick twitch again.

“Really?” You ask softly, stepping closer towards him.

He swallows thickly, his eyes trailing over you for a moment before landing back on your face. He nods his head. “Really.”

He has to be hallucinating or maybe he passed out from embarrassment and this is all just a dream because he watches you close the distance between you both and drop to your knees in front of him.

“You could have just asked for my help..” You murmur, eyes admiring the outline in his pants. You look back up to his, “Think you can cum one more time?”

His heart nearly stops. Did he hear you correctly? He doesn’t trust his voice right now so he just nods, his breaths coming out shaky. “Mhm..”

There’s that grin again. He feels like he could explode just watching you pull his dick back out of his pants. He watches how you gaze at it like you’re in awe or something. He whimpers pathetically, wanting to feel your touch finally, now that you’re so close. He strokes your jaw with his thumb gently, “Please baby,” He croaks out, not able to wait any longer now that what he’s wanted for so long is being dangled in front of him.

He watches as you spit into your dominate hand before you delicately wrap it around his thick shaft. His eyelids flutter at the feel. Your pumps start slow and almost torturous drawing it out while pulling more mewls from him. When your hand starts to move faster, his head falls back to rest on his desk chair earning a satisfied groan.

Sam jolts when he feels you run your tongue along the underside of his length over the prominent vein, all the way to the tip, swirling the muscle around it. “Fuck baby,” He breathes sharply through his teeth.

You smile up at him, your tongue still teasing his cock. The sight of you on your knees in front of him is something he’s dreamed about countless times. He makes sure to burn the image into his memory just in case he never gets this again.

He lets out a choked moan as you wrap your lips around his tip, teasing the slit. “..need more..please..” He begs.

You oblige and start to slowly envelope him into your warm mouth. He lets his head rest against the back of the chair once again, letting out a hiss of air.

The pleasure is ripped away just as quickly as he got it though. He shoots forward frustrated, whining. “You’re such a fucking tease.” He growls out.

Before you have time to react he threads his ringed fingers through your hair and forces your mouth down around him, bucking his hips forward at the same time to make you gag around him. “..fuck..” He grunts, your nose is buried in his pubic hair.

His large hands keep your head in place as he continues to snap his hips up into your mouth, bullying your throat. Your drool dribbles out and down his shaft catching in the curly hair at the base. The sound of you gagging on his cock only encourages him further, along with the tears he can see catching in your eyelashes.

“Shouldn’t be such a tease baby,” He grunts, his hips not stopping their assault, “..fuck..I know you can take it though..”

Your hands find their way to his thighs, bracing yourself, nails digging into the flesh. The tears slip down your cheeks, ruining your makeup.

“‘M right there…’nd you’re gonna take it all..” His movements grow sloppier as he reaches climax. “Fuck baby,” He moans right before pulling your head down so his cock is buried in the back of throat, draining his cum right down it. The way it flexes as you gag milks every last drop from him.

“Shit..” he breathes out, pulling you off his overly sensitive length, whimpering. He admires the mess he made of your makeup while caressing your face sweetly with a shaky hand, a stark contrast to his actions seconds ago.

“Was that okay?” You ask, looking almost angelic to him even with the clear evidence of what you just did on your face.

He can’t help but chuckle at your question and he nods his head. “You really have to ask that?” He holds up one of his hands, showing how it’s trembling.

You beam proudly up at him. Sam strokes your bottom lip affectionately with his thumb before leaning forward and capturing them in a kiss, tasting himself on you. It’s safe to say you two are no longer just friends.

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Liked this? Check out my other work here

[twstowo]

I noticed that you opened the ask box, so I came to ask for Floyd x Yuu with the scene from "The Little Mermaid", in which Ariel saves Eric from shipwreck, like it was an au where they met like that

I hope i'm not being too picky with my order ♡

♡OMG, I literally thought about this but with Azul, but then I was like, "Would Azul be able to save you?" because I have this mental image of him not being able to swim very well/being really slow. Lmao

♡Warning: Drowning

You'd always been a wanderer at heart, eager to explore the world, discover new places, and connect with people. Your adventure began when some sailor buddies welcomed you aboard their ship. Days at sea were filled with chants, parties, drinks, talks, and lending a hand to everyone. Once on land, you made the most of each day, wandering through cities and villages, documenting your experiences, and sketching landscapes. Your circle of friends in these new lands expanded so much that monthly, you'd receive a flood of cards and gifts, making it a challenge to find a spot for them all. Life was easy-going, a privilege granted by your birth into a well-off family, affording you the means to sustain yourself in these faraway places.

As you wrote letters to your distant friends, the sea's scent became a comforting constant, making you feel more at home on the waves than on solid ground. With night approaching, you finished the last letter and stepped out for a walk before dinner. It was then that one of your sailor friends, looking pale and alarmed, rushed towards you. "A storm's heading our way!" The wind had already picked up, and though storms at sea were nothing new, the urgency in your friend's voice unsettled you. "This one looks really bad, we might need your help," he said, and you nodded, following him.

With the wind intensifying, tasks on the ship became more challenging. The wind seemed determined to push everyone off the deck, and as you struggled to secure the unruly sails, your hands felt the sting of the rope. Panic spread across the crew, and for the first time, you feared this might be your last adventure. Looking at the encroaching storm, escape seemed impossible.

"Look out for that barrel!" you screamed as you watched the object land on someone's head, sending them tumbling down the ship. You ran towards them, grabbing their hand and holding it with all your strength to prevent the man from falling into the wild sea. The boat waddled with the strength of the waves, and you started to fear it would turn around at any moment.

"Don't let go!" you told him as you tried to pull him back up. You watched the fear in his face fade as he placed all his hope in your confident words. However, uncertainty crept in as the strength drained from your arms. The biggest wave you had ever seen approached the boat. You feared you'd never see your friends and family again as you said your last words before the wave hit all of you. "Fuck!-"

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

You felt so cold, your body shivering as you slowly opened your eyes. It was mainly dark, but you could see some strange light from above reaching towards you. Nothing made sense as your brain tried to process everything around you. Strange wood started sinking around you, and the bodies of the crew members slowly sank by your side in a slow rhythm. You tried taking a deep breath, but your brain didn't allow it as you realized that you were underwater, having fallen off the boat after that huge wave hit it.

You finally grasped the situation as you started flapping your arms and legs around, trying to reach the surface. Wood pieces hit you along the way, sending you tumbling repeatedly. You feared the oxygen would not be enough for you to save yourself. Your throat burned as you tried holding your breath, unable to swim back to the surface. Everything started to become dark as you dared to breathe in the water. Then, you felt a strange touch on your shoulder. The lack of oxygen was surely playing tricks on you as you watched a strange creature look at you with a curious glance. You closed your eyes, awaiting death to take you.

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Floyd observed your sleeping form on the sand. He had brought you to the nearest land he could find, ensuring that your chest's gentle rise and fall indicated life. It was the first time he had come in contact with a living human, finding you strangely intriguing. Although he had seen some humans at rock bottom underwater, encountering a living one was a different experience.

Attempting to wake you, Floyd shook you gently, his fin hands reaching for your shoulders. However, your eyes gave no signal of opening. Annoyed, he sighed and lay back on the sand, half of his long tail submerged in the water.

Minutes passed as he lay there, gazing up at the sky. Strangely, after saving you, he felt in a remarkably good mood. He wanted to talk to you, for you needed to thank him, and he had questions about the inland people. Your head leaned against his shoulder, your cheek touching him, catching him off guard. He grinned as he gently arranged your hair.

When your eyes started to open, Floyd watched as you struggled to comprehend the situation. Weak and almost unable to move, you stared at his face, just a finger's distance away. You had never seen someone like him—strange ears, unnatural skin colour, and vibrant yellow/brown eyes. "Wh-Who are y-you?" you weakly whispered, and he quickly glanced behind, sitting down on the sand with his arms, reaching for the water.

“Oh My! Y/N is that you!” a voice shouted, and you tried to sit down, looking in the direction of the man who had vanished. You swore you had seen a tail—had you been saved by some sea creature? "We need to take you to a doctor!" a friend's hands reached for your arm, trying to help you stand as you continued gazing toward the ocean.

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“A human? I wasn’t expecting you to take such a strange liking to one of them,” Jade mocked his brother with a grin.

Floyd wasn’t enjoying Jade's tone as he swam away. He had been interrupted by another landwalker just when he had the chance to talk with you, not even learning your name. Though he'd never admit it to Jade or Azul, Floyd occasionally returned to that beach, hoping to meet you again. Perhaps one day, the two of you would get to talk properly, and Floyd could finally learn your name.

[mrsjellymunson]

That Was You?

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader; Eddie Munson x gn!reader

Summary: A meet cute in a record store. That’s literally it.

WC: 1.6k

CW: SFW, FLUFF, swearing, flirting, awkwardness, reader relives an embarrassing situation. Reader’s physical characteristics are not described. Brief mentions of the devil’s lettuce and non-consensual touching. This was supposed to turn into a story but never did, and it was too cute to waste. IDK how homemade volcanoes or US schooling years work so if I’ve messed up let’s all just pretend I didn’t 😂 The gorgeous Eddie edit in the banner is by the utterly fantastic @jqmunson 🙏👏

I have a general taglist now, just ask if you’d like to be on it 😊

My Masterlist

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You’d first become aware of him in High School. You were a freshman and he was, theoretically, in his final year. But then you’d unexpectedly had two extra years in which to ogle observe him and commit his form to memory.

‘Crush’ would be an understatement. ‘Obsession’ would be more accurate. You’d doodle his name in your notebooks, covering the characters with pictures of roses or skulls, or hearts done with thick markers, before anyone saw. You’d always sit where you could watch him across the lunch hall, wondering what it would be like to hear one of his world-changing rants up close, or join in with that game he played.

But he was four years older than you, practically a lifetime in High School terms. So you always kept your dreams to yourself, not once even daring to catch his eye, let alone talk to him.

So when you see a familiar-looking, black-clad silhouette as you enter Hawkins’ only record store, you’re pretty sure it’s him. Eddie Munson.

You freeze. You’d come in to browse their ‘Rock/Metal/Indie’ section to look for a gift for your cousin, not that you really had any clue about what to look for, but a figure was already there. His presence somehow pervades the entire aisle, despite there being numerous bins of discs to look through.

The shoulders are broader than the ones you remember. The deep chestnut hair is longer, down to the figure’s mid-back, and by the looks of the shiny and softly-defined waves, it’s benefitting from a decent product regime. The hands that reach out to browse the cardboard sleeves make you shiver; tattooed and strong-looking, with prominent veins. The rings and bracelets that adorn them are less gaudy and more modern in style than the ones you recall from school; they look fantastic. And those biceps fill the sleeves of that tight, black shirt better than those of the skinny teen you once idolised. And even if it’s not him, you’re still enjoying the view, because those faded black jeans fit whoever it is really, really well…

You stand there gaping for a few moments, the hand nearest to your messenger bag clamping and releasing around the strap.

You swallow hard. You must look like an idiot, standing there in the middle of the aisle like a startled deer. But by the way your legs are shaking, you kinda feel like one.

Okay, just walk forwards. You need to look at the records anyway. Just… move your legs. There you go! See, that wasn’t so bad, was it? Just go and stand next to him. If it is him, he’s not gonna bite. Okay, maybe you wish he would, but that’s a mental image for another time…

You slowly meander up to the racks of records, trailing a finger along them hoping it makes you look like you know what you’re doing: a knowledgeable music fan just casually browsing for new tunes. Yeah, that’s it, you can totally pull this off.

You stop short of where he stands, leaving a gap of a couple of bins between you. It’s close enough for you to catch his scent: cologne, cigarettes and a hint of the subtle earthy sweetness of another smokable.

You flick a couple of the records back and forth and inhale half a breath and huff it out, as if in thought. Not loud, just enough to let the figure know you’re there.

He turns his head towards you, and it makes the waves of his hair sway slightly. They shimmer and settle around his shoulders as he cracks a polite but friendly closed-mouth smile in your direction.

Fuck. You’d know those deep pools of melted cacao anywhere, and the merest hint of a dimple appearing in the cheek closest to you seals the deal. It’s definitely him.

As you make eye contact with the boy you had a crush on for practically your entire High School career, you offer a slight half smile back to him. At least, that’s what you hope you do, as you suppress a squeak that threatens to leave your chest. You acknowledge that it’s entirely possible you just look like you need to pass wind.

After what seems like a millennia, but in reality is probably only just slightly longer than is necessary, the figure turns back to the records in front of him. He continues to browse, but you think you see his eyes flick in your direction occasionally as he makes a show of checking out the album artwork of some band you’ve never heard of.

You’re nervous as all hell, but something inside you can’t risk losing this opportunity. You’ve got the chance to actually talk to him for the first time ever, and you really wanna take it.

Bravely, you take deep breath, and mutter,

“Hey, is it…?”

Your voice dies in your throat. He cocks his head slightly towards you, a quizzical look on his face.

God, he’s still so pretty.

Okay, that didn’t go well, but in for a penny, as they say…

“Are you…?”

Again, the words dry up in your mouth. Flustered, you almost give up, huffing out a breath and slumping your shoulders.

You close your eyes for a moment, before deciding to give it one more go, quickly blurting out, “Is your name Eddie?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m Eddie.” He looks at you fully now, lifting a brow and quirking one side of his mouth up in a smirk.

Shit. This is so embarrassing. He obviously doesn’t remember you. Why would he, you never spoke. Plus, you’ve changed a lot since school so why would you imagine he’d recognise you even if he did?

“Sorry. I’m- Ah fuck, I shouldn’t have bothered you, I’m just gonna take what few shreds of dignity I have left and just, y’know, go.”

You turn on your heel and take a couple of wide strides, planning to hightail it out of there, move away, leave the state, maybe even leave the country. But a gentle hand brushing against your upper arm stops you.

He’s quickly closed some of the distance between you, and is looking at you with a soft smile and genuine interest.

“No, wait. Please! You can’t leave without giving me at least some clue as to how we know each other.”

You slowly turn back to him, to find him cocking his head to one side in contemplation.

All you can do is blink at him, so Eddie starts speculating.

Warily, he begins, “Do I owe you money?” His eyes flash with mischievous excitement, “Do you owe me money?” Wincing, ”Do you have an older brother who beat me up in high school?” Then finally, more discreetly, “Do you maybe, um, need weed?”

You’re finally able to speak.

“No. No. It’s none of those. But we did go to high school at the same time. I was even more of a nerd than the guys you hung out with, if I recall.”

You tell him your name, like it would make a difference.

It’s your turn to wince now. Eddie still looks blank, registering zero recognition. You sigh, knowing there’s one thing he might remember. Bashfully, you continue,

“I’m the one who made the blood volcano disaster at that end of year science fair…”

Your most mortifying High School memory. Oh god, why the hell did you bring that up?

But it’s something that Eddie remembers.

His eyes blow wide and his eyebrows disappear into his bangs. Grinning maniacally, mouth wide open, he almost yells,

“Oh my god, that was awesome! The chemistry accident that made the hall look like that scene from The Shining? That was you?”

He looks amazed, and takes half a step towards you. It’s like he’s meeting one of his favourite celebrities.

He furrows his brow a little as he squints at you, looking you up and down. Pinching his chin between his thumb and first knuckle, he remarks,

“Wait, you do look kinda familar now… But- also a lot different…”

“Yeah, I suppose I do. Not all of us nail down our personal style in high school, y’know”. You gesture to his all black outfit.

Eddie looks down at himself, before looking back up at you and responding with faux seriousness, “Hey, I’ll have you know this is timeless. Time. Less.”

You grin at each other. He continues,

“Y’know, people still talk about that. The giant volcano turned blood corridor thing. I bet you’d still find stains under the floor panels, if you looked hard enough!”

You bring a hand to your face, feeling its heat beneath your palm.

“Oh, please stop! It was embarrassing enough at the time. I really don’t wanna relive it! Besides, it wasn’t entirely my fault. I was distracted when I measured out the ingredients because I’d just given Tommy Hagan a black eye for touching my ass.”

“Really?”

He’s beaming now, his smile as broad as you’ve ever seen it, eyes wide and deep dimples fully on display.

“Oh, you gotta tell me all about that. That guy was such an asshole. But seriously, sweets, that was one of the greatest things I’ve ever seen! You know, it was almost enough to get me interested in science. Almost. You should always be proud of that, and I’m totally serious.”

As you reel slightly from him calling you sweets, Eddie takes you in properly for the first time. His gaze wanders your form, then briefly flicks back to the display of records before meeting yours again.

There’s a beat of silence before he speaks again.

“Hey, uh, I'm pretty much done here. It’s hot out and I was gonna, um, go get a cold drink. Youuu… maybe wanna join me? Reminisce a bit more about the ole’ high school experience?”

He screws his face up at that last part. You muse that he realises the reminder of the age gap and how you know each other probably doesn’t make for the most enticing offer.

But you smile and twist in your place a little, your face and neck heating as you reply,

“Yeah, Eddie. I think I’d like that…”

“Great! Uh, great.”

You both turn and start to amble out of the store, a lot closer than you were a few moments ago, arms almost brushing. You spot a slight pink tinge to his cheeks as he turns his head to face you again, and you return his smile as he says to you,

“Goddamn. Tommy Hagan, huh? I can’t wait to hear the rest of that story.”

Thanks so much for reading!

As always, if you enjoyed please support and reward your creators with comments and reblogs 💗

I have a general taglist now, so let me know if you’d like to see more ramblings like this.

My Masterlist

Tags: @joejoequinnquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @curlyjoequinn @madaboutmunson

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

you've been holding out on me (but I can't find a way to hold onto you)

comfort came against my will - series masterlist here

pairing: dick grayson x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.3k

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: dick is so insecure but he's trying so hard ok. reader is still mentally ill but it's all fine in the end

a/n: I don't know why I think it's ok to end with dialogue and just stop writing but here we go ig

You don't hear Dick come home; it's the perk (or curse in this case) of him moving so silently. And of course, he's extra quiet right now. It's past 3am and he's getting home from patrol. He thinks you're asleep. When he gently pushes the bedroom door open, then, to find you sitting on the floor by the foot of your shared bed and curling into yourself, his heart stutters as panic grips him. What's wrong with you? Are you hurt? What happened? And god, of course, the one time you're hurt he's not there, the one time you need him he's gone and he's failed you and of course of course of course -

He focuses, though, stilling the questions before they can pour from his lips as he moves swiftly to crouch in front of you, eyes trailing over your form. You're not visibly injured as far as he can tell, but you have your head buried in your hands so he can't see your face and he doesn't know what's wrong and -

"Baby?" he asks tentatively, clenching his teeth and willing himself to calm down while he moves to put his hands on your shoulders. You flinch at the contact, though, an alarmed sound leaving you as your face shoots up to look at him.

"Jesus Christ Dick, make a noise or something next time," you say, annoyance hardening your tone. Dick feels his shoulders drop in relief ever so slightly; you're upset, yes. You're snapping at him in a way that you never do, so something's clearly wrong, but you're safe. You're not, well, bleeding from anywhere or in any sort of immediate, alarming physical distress. There are tear stains streaking your cheeks, though, and you're curled into yourself like it's offering you some sort of protection, and the image makes Dick's gut twist. 

You're afraid, he realizes. Of him? His hands retract from their spots on your shoulders like touching you is burning him and he jerks back hard enough that he almost loses his balance. 

"Dick?" your voice is practiced, your worry for him taking over as you shove your own emotions aside - god, he can see you doing it. "Hey, it's okay. You didn't… I didn't mean to flinch like that. I'm sorry." Dick makes a strangled sort of noise at your words and reaches out to you before halting and pulling his hand back towards him.

"No," he says firmly, keeping his voice quiet, gentle, soft. "No apologies. This isn't on you. I'm… sorry for scaring you."

"You didn't…" you begin, confusion clear in your voice. "You - no. No, I'm not scared of you, Dick. I'm never - I'm never scared of you." You assure as you move towards him, pushing him gently so that he's sitting on the floor with his legs stretched out. He lets you - lets you arrange him however you like and feels something in him soften when you crawl into his lap and wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his neck. Usually, his arms would find their way around you, holding you to him. This time, though, they stay away, hovering unsurely.

"Dick," you whine. He huffs out an almost laugh. "Hold me… please." He doesn't laugh at that. He wraps his arms around you tightly, one anchored around your waist while the other tangles in your hair. The more he berates himself for how he acted, the tighter his grip gets. Here you are, clearly upset and in distress, and all he did was spiral and fall on his ass and make the whole thing about him.

"I'm sorry," he whispers into your hair as he presses kisses to the crown of your head. You squeeze him back reassuringly.

"You have nothing to apologize for, baby - you don't," you respond, bracing yourself with that voice he knows he can't win an argument against. It's the one he's seen you use at work, with lawyers and professional rivals and employees. He's only been on the receiving end of it a few times, usually with you telling him to take care of himself in some way.

No, you can't go out to patrol with broken ribs - the others can cover you for a few nights. No, you're not staying up any later than this - that case will still be there in the morning. No, you're not Atlas, my love - the world will not fall apart if you take a break.

He hasn't heard that voice directed at him many times, but it's enough that he knows to snap his mouth shut and admit defeat.

"Will you tell me what's wrong, at least?" He prompts gently. You slump against him.

"Just… a bad day. That's all."

"I've seen you have bad days, babe," he reminds patiently. "This is more than that. I know it is."

"Well, this is…" you begin, chewing your bottom lip. He reaches to smooth his thumb across your lip, a silent reminder to stop. "You've seen my normal bad days," you explain. "Sometimes I get… bad. You know. Mentally ill bad." Dick hums in understanding and squeezes you tighter to his chest.

"You've been holding out on me."

"What?"

"I told you," he explains, but there's no malice. He's kind and soft and gentle and you're reminded that that's why you fell in love with him. "I told you I'd be here for you, baby. I want to be here for you. Let me in, yea?"

"I didn't want to be too much," you whisper, and Dick feels his heart crack at the sad little warble of your voice.

"Never, honey," he soothes, smoothing a hand up and down your back. "I want all of you, okay? Every bit of you. Even when it's hard - especially when it's hard. I want to help."

"I know," you sigh. "I know, I know, I just… maybe you don't know what you're getting yourself into. Maybe you think you can handle it but you can't and you'll get overwhelmed and leave. Maybe you'll get tired of asking me to let you in and that'll be what makes you leave. Either way I - I just can't find a way to hold onto you."

Dick stills at that, breath catching in his lungs and an unpleasant feeling settling in his gut. How long had you been thinking this? How many of the moments where you held onto him a little tighter, reached for him a little more, told him you loved him a little louder - how many of those moments were born of fear? He straightens himself up and tenderly grabs your chin in his hand, guiding you until you're eye-to-eye with him. This has to be fixed, he thinks. Now. you're his. His love, his person, his everything. And you're, what, sitting here alone in a dark apartment worried about him leaving you? Terrified of him walking away while you need him? No. No, this has to be fixed.

"Honey," he says, an edge in his voice that makes you straighten up. It's the one you've heard him use while he's working, when he's donned his Nightwing gear and is commanding a room full of vigilantes and heroes. It's not a voice he's used many times with you, but you know it well enough to sit still and listen when he uses it. "I'm right here," he says. "Always. I'm here and I'm staying and I will never - never - walk away from you when you need me. I love you and that will never change, okay? I'm here. I promise, baby, I'm here."

[pearlywritings]

Finally... we’ve waited for so long

synopsis: tempting images fill your husband’s mind, when after yet another long day he is relaxing in hot water. He is aching and yerning for your caress, but instead it’s his hand reaching down, because he cares for your your well-being too much.

pairing: Diluc x fem!reader

tw: nsfw, established relationship, masturbating, fingering, bath sex

word count: 3.1k+ words

Diluc sighs in frustration, resting his chin in his open palm, elbow firmly planted on the side of a bathtub. He can faintly hear you right outside the door - moving around your shared bedroom, surely tending to his discarded clothes, sorting through what should be left for maids to wash, what can stay, and what will end up stored away in a jewelry box. Only the golden band around his ring finger is shining brightly, and upon catching how lights reflect in the metal, the guilt twists the heart in the man's chest.

He feels like he is failing you as a husband. Admittedly, it was a horrible couple of weeks, too much happening, with preparation for the festival weighing on his shoulders as well, and he was rightfully exhausted to even talk when his head hit the pillow far later than acceptable. But so were you. You were involved in all these business and preparation things because of him, coordinating and being a mediator in conflict arising situations, which wore you out mentally as much as it did him physically. Many nights only one of you made it to the Winery, the other staying behind in the city and crashing to the hotel room. Maybe you really should consider getting an apartment within the city walls for such occasions. Something small and comfy, enough for two people to spend the night. He'll need to discuss it with you.

Not today though. He groans, straightening his back and realizing how full of pent up stress his body is. Usually he'd ask you for a massage, not forgetting to give one in return, but right now he can do as much as finish bathing to get himself in an appropriate form and get in bed with you to cuddle.

Diluc's fingers twitch at the thought of wrapping his arms around your soft and warm body, burying his face in your neck, inhaling that ever-present scent of fresh fruits that sings of summer, so full and juicy, that one bite can make them leak. A sweet sugary droplet would run down your chin, your bobbing throat and maybe he could catch it on his tongue before it reaches your plump breasts-

Fiery eyes snap open. He didn't realize it but his breathing suddenly became labored, his lungs got into a frenzy, hungrily inhaling the air and almost choking on the bath products' aroma swirling in the air. Why would he have such impure thoughts about you? Of course you are his wife, his lover, the woman whom he's seen in her best and worst, and also neediest, whose body he wants to worship till the rest of his life and whose voice fills him with thrill every time your beautiful lips part open. But…why? Why now? Shouldn't he be too exhausted to even think of your bare skin, of how you'd prettily lay sprawled under him, back arched and fingers buried in his hair? Oh, the sinfully clear details of his thoughts.

The gaze shamefully falls down to the still hot water, temperature unchanged, due to how warm his pyro vision is making his body, and then crimson orbs widen. Shit, maybe those really were long two weeks, with not much but a brief kiss here and there, and even rarer hugs, replaced by holding hands for a few minutes when things got too overwhelming.

Just mere thoughts are making him hard, and it seems like his mind doesn't want to stop fantasizing about you. It's been awhile, he admits, he probably hasn't touched you intimately in a whole month, and it fired back at him with a hard on at the slightest image of your gorgeous body imprinted into his brain.

It wasn't fair to you either, but he wasn't going to ask you to help him now. You've already done so much, and the least he could do is let you rest properly. 

Maybe if he pictures more scenes of when you rocked your bed, it'll bring him to relief in a matter of time, to get out and let you use the bathroom for your own relaxation.

He could keep quiet. It will be quick.

His back meets the tub's edge. Hand immediately goes for the half-hard cock, grasping the pulsing length and applying the pressure. Diluc curses under his breath, when his thumb swiftly swipes over the sensitive slit and sends a jolt through his body. Archons, he is aching, stomach muscles immediately flexing when he moves his palm up and down, pushing the foreskin away, revealing a flushed head.

Another memory resurfaces of when you were helping him relieve stress after a long night at the tavern, kissing his lips and letting your hand play with his leaking length. He traces the starting to bulge veins the same way you did, and even if it's hard to replicate your godsent touch Diluc still shudders again. Flaming gaze turns hazy, glazed over, overtaken by the image of your pretty fingers drawing hearts on his pectorals while your hand never ceased moving, gripping and teasing the hell out of your husband, and the Dawn Winery owner tries his hardest to do the same. But it doesn't feel the same, not with his hand being so rough and calloused that it actually feels a bit uncomfortable without lube - no amount of hot water can soften the scarred palms toughened by hardships. You like them though. You like to hold them, kiss them, have them plunging and curling deep inside of you, soaked in your juices, rubbing again those spongy walls, fuck… 

He has to lift his hips a little to let the precum run down his fully erect cock, to have at least some form of lubricant. Oh, if only you were here…

No, he has to remind himself, you are tired, you deserve a break, not another hour of pushing yourself beyond your limits to deal with his aroused state. 

Just to cum once, he repeats in his head, speeding up the stroking, come once and get out. Just one release, and the bath is all yours, he'll pour new water for you while you take off all your clothes and when he turns around, you'll be standing there in all your naked beauty, folding the garments, hair undone and those plush thighs pressed together, ngh-

Diluc doesn't hear the door open. He doesn't see another person stepping inside, doesn't feel a slight chill entering the bathroom from a window cracked open in the bedroom. His long lashes are kissing the apples of his cheeks, his pants and quiet moans escape those glistening pink lips, and skin too hot with need to be bothered with a meaningless breeze.

He is so close, just a little more-

"Love, you forgot to bring a fresh towel with y-oooooh," your sweet voice and a loud gasp are like a bucket of cold water, making him choke on another prayer of your name. Flaming eyes are wild when they snap open and stare at you, cheeks heating up upon seeing the stunned look on your lovely face. The raging blush coating Diluc's cheeks is apparent on his milky skin, and yours are pink too, but not even coming close to the richest red taking over his face.

The hand, which just moments ago was roughly pumping his thick aching cock, is ripped away by its own owner, previously raised hips hiding under the water, and the big muscular body curling over in embarrassment.

"My flame, I-" it's not even his voice, so hoarse and laced with desire, having dropped half an octave lower. Your husband doesn't even have an explanation for this unbecoming behavior of this. Ah, how much he wishes to sink under this water and die.

"Did you touch yourself thinking about me?"

Diluc Ragnvindr, the sole nightly protector of Mondstadt, the businessman who monopolized the wine industry not only in his homeland but the whole world, almost cries out loud because of your bold question. Guilt infiltrates his body and soul, chewing at his mind, which is spiraling with thoughts of you thinking what a dirty pervert he must be. You've never caught him touching himself before alone, not like he did it often anyway.

He truly is an awful husband.

All he can do is nod, because he would never lie to the woman he holds dear in his heart, and prepare himself for the disappointment in your voice. But what you say next catches him completely off guard.

"Finally." 

Diluc turns his head just in time to see you tossing the towel on the vanity and turning around to close the door. When you return and get closer to him, the man is surprised to find your tired expression from half an hour ago being replaced by excitement, desire dancing in your previously droopy eyes and hands feverishly tugging on your clothes to get it off.

Almost in awe he watches your soft breasts bounce, not longer constricted by fabric. Your thighs are pressed together, just like he imagined, when you drag more clothes off, becoming completely naked in a matter of seconds. Archons he thinks with a lovesick look in his swirling eyes, she is a goddess. My goddess.

The love-stricken stupor ends only when you climb into the tub and in his lap, knees pressed to the white porcelain bottom on either side of his strong hips, arms wrapped around his neck and chests pushing impossibly close.

"Archons I missed you too…" You confess, pressing a searing kiss to the corner of his lips, and Diluc believes you. Muscular arms wrap around your waist almost desperately, drawing your body even closer. The low groan finds its way out of his strained throat when your pussy drags against his cock in the process, and is then swallowed by your eager lips, pressing against his.

Diluc keens on the feeling, immediately lost in it, throwing all the thoughts about letting you rest out of the window. Kissing you again and again, he can only wish for feeding both of your desires, giving you the satisfaction that was ripped away from you because of work.

When you gently tug on the roots of his hair, the man quietly moans, cock twitching against you, making you bite your lip and stop devouring his mouth momentarily, instead focusing on rocking your hips, riling not only your lover but yourself up.

This little pause gives you both an opportunity to catch your breaths. Diluc looks down to take in your shuddering form. From the waist down your skin has turned red from how hot the water is but you seem to ignore it, blissfully mewling and moaning, when the cockhead catches against your swollen clit.

"You are not ngh repulsed?" His question makes you tear your gaze from where you soon will be connected and look back at his face. There is clearly worry etched in his features and still some guilt hiding behind the crimson of his eyes. The strong urge to reassure him quickly blooms in your heart.

"Because you were masturbating while imagining me?" He nods, blush bursting onto his cheeks with new brightness. "Oh, firefly," you breathlessly giggle, cupping the side of his face and making him look right into your eyes, "if anything I am happy to know it's me you think of in the moment of pleasure. I am your wife, am I not? I'd take your horny state as a compliment, it is nice to know you are yearning for me. So don't stress yourself over it, okay? Besides…" your voice turns sultry and the smile seductive. "I didn't lie when I said I missed you much. I too did touch myself at the thought of you."

Something in Diluc snaps. Maybe it's the fact he was too stupid not to think that you are married and it's okay to imagine your partner while jerking off, or maybe it's you admitting he's been on your mind in your neediest times as well, or the notion he wasn't there to properly please you, but all his self-restraint is forgotten.

He kisses you again, this time with more vigor and persistence. Hands are all over each other, touching, caressing, groping, carefully scratching, digging nails in the skin of your thighs and his shoulders.

You don't think you can take it any longer.

"Stretch me, love, please" you murmur between kisses and before Diluc knows it a big hand on your hip pushes you up onto your knees, making you stick your ass out, and two of his fingers are already sliding into your hole. Celestia above you are tight. So neglected and horny, closing onto him with a vice grip, walls velvety under the pads of his long fingers, so warm and slick.

Your sounds though… Diluc thinks he is going to come undone just because of them. He picks a pace to thrust his fingers properly.

"I've waited for so lo-ooh, mmm to make love to you, but couldn't find a moment to initiate any-thi-," you shudder when he curls his fingers against that special spot. You almost collapse on top of him, burying your face in his neck and clinging to his back for dear life. "Didn't want work to interfere in an unfortunate moment. But fuck!" Your voice rings, jumping a few tones higher, sounding so much needier. "I wanted you to take me!"

"I will, my flame," he hurriedly promises you, kissing your temple and pressing a thumb to rub your clit. "I will make you feel so good, I will take care of you…"

"You are already doing it," your muffled cry and how your thighs clench together, sandwiching his hand tell Diluc that you are close. "One more finger, please, please, please, please-"

And he complies, adding one more, pumping three digits in and out, in and out, not forgetting about the sensitive nub. You kiss him again, burying fingers in his disheveled hair, wet strands streaming through your fingers like a river of fire, and Diluc feels that it's him who is being swallowed by the flames of temptation, but if you are the cause - so be it.

Just don't stop wanting him.

"Come on, dear," he whispers, taking his hand off of your hip and bringing it to hold the side of your face, "I need you to cum for me. Get all wet and slick for my cock, right?"

Your jaw goes slack at how fast he starts to fuck your pussy, eyes blown wide and cheeks red in response to his bold words. You might have initiated it, but Diluc is sure to finish it.

One last rough press to your clit and you burst, crying his name and convulsing around his fingers. Juices of your relief immediately coat them, making your pussy squelch as you are guided through your orgasm. Your husband gently shushes you, littering your face with sweet kisses, and carefully working the digits out of your gaping, gushing cunt. You tremble and whine quietly when he helps you lower yourself back in the water, head pressed to his chest and eyes closed, going a bit limp on top of him.

The room grows quiet, save for your shared heavy breaths, and Diluc hugs you tightly, kissing the top of your head. The small heart you draw on his shoulder, too breathless to speak just yet, fills his calming heart with pride and joy. There is no more worry in him over the unholy act you caught him in, not after you took his fingering so eagerly, reassuring him your want for him is just as strong.

Speaking of his want…

He was still painfully hard.

"My flame…" Your lashes tremble before you hum and shift yourself to be able to look up at him. The pretty gems of your eyes shine brightly as you gaze lovingly at the man who's just given you the best orgasm in the last month.

"Yes, 'luc?" 

He clears his throat, reaching to brush a wet strand of hair away from your face. You turn your head and playfully catch his thumb between your teeth, softly nibbling the digit. A smirk appears on Diluc's face. He pries his thumb out of your mouth and instead press with it on your swollen lower lip, locking the rest of his fingers under your chin and tilting your head back.

"Do you think…" he wonders, lowering his head to brush his equally swollen lips against the side of your neck, "...you could help me out?"

And with that he rocks his hips, making you aware of the still remaining problem.

This seems to sober you up, as you are suddenly pushing your body off of him.

"Of course, 'luc, I am sorry, I was so caught up in the moment," you sheepishly chuckle, grabbing the hand that was holding your chin seconds ago, and kissing the wide palm. "Your fingers are just that good."

"I am glad," he smiles, content with your praise and knowledge that he makes you feel this way. He lets you straighten up, wondering what you are going to do next. You wink at him, moving away and to the other end of the tub. He cocks his head in confusion, but it quickly dawns on him, when you turn around to face away from him and grasp the edge with both of your hands, bending your body in a delicious manner. His gaze turns hungry, when he sees your compromising position - legs spread the best the width of the tub allows, back arched, ass raised and lower lips shyly peeking from between your thighs and above the water surface.

"What are you waiting for, Diluc~? Why don't you put it in?" Your teasing voice and a wiggle of your hips spur him into action.

A soft gasp leaves your lips when a big hand slams on the edge near your own and hot lips latch onto your shoulder, sucking the very first mark tonight on your skin.

"Oh, Y/n..." You feel him smirk, clenching around nothing at the way he drags out your name in a rumbling growl. "I am going to take such good care of you… And don't you dare hide your sweet sounds from me."

"Only if- oh yes," you arch even more when a thick head pushes between the lips and nudges your hole.

"Only if what?" Diluc presses, grasping the base of his cock, and pushing the head past your rim, cursing under his breath something along the lines of how tight you are.

"If you promise me to not hold back anything you've got either," you turn your head to glance back at him, but he beats you to it, sliding the hand over your smaller one and threading his fingers between yours, leaning forward and indulging you in a kiss, which ultimately seals your deal.

"Never from you."

And he thrusts his hips forward.

[mononijikayu]

quiet eyes — geto suguru.

He took in the image of you, one that has matured, has grown, has changed over the course of a decade. Yet there was something in his eyes, a conflict, when he looked at you. You didn’t understand why, you didn’t understand where it came from but you didn’t say anything. You just let this moment stay as it was. You let your eyes quietly take in how he has grown in these years. And you know, he was doing the same with you.

GENRE: Pre-Hidden Inventory Arc to Post-Hidden Inventory Arc, 1997 to 2010;

WARNING/s: Alternate Universe ─ Canon Divergence, Romance, Young Love, First Love, Emotional Hurt, Domestic Life, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Pining, Friends to Lovers, Grief, Long Distance Relationship, Break-Up , Reconciliation, Closure, Past Lives, Emotional Turmoil, Trauma, Depiction of Physical Touch, Depiction of Mental Anguish, Depiction of Depression, Depiction of Parenthood;

masterlist

song: quiet eyes by sharon van etten

note: i wrote this after sobbing to a rewatch of celine song's past lives and i realized, its so suguru coded and this is what i came up with. my friend did the beta read and they said i should stop writing for their mental health cause they sobbed about it!!! anyway, i hope you guys enjoy it!!! i love you all~

YOU SOMEHOW ALWAYS GET LOST.  It was New Year’s Eve again, a night you eagerly anticipated each year. You wore your best winter coat, its soft, warm fabric wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. The streets were alive with festive energy, and your hand was firmly clasped in your mother’s as you navigated the lively crowd. This annual visit to the shrine was a cherished tradition—a time to pray to the gods for a good year and wish for a bountiful year ahead. 

The shrine was adorned with vibrant decorations, and the air was filled with the tantalizing scents of festival foods. Lanterns hung from every tree branch, casting a magical glow that made the snow glisten like a blanket of tiny diamonds. As you and your mother approached the shrine, you could hear the rhythmic beating of taiko drums and the joyful chatter of families and friends coming together to celebrate.

After making your way through the crowd, you and your mother finally reached the shrine. You joined the line of people waiting to offer their prayers. Your mother guided you through the familiar ritual—ringing the bell, clapping your hands, and bowing deeply. Together, you prayed for health, happiness, and prosperity, the wishes echoing in the silent spaces of your hearts.

Once your prayers were done, you and your mother decided to explore the festival. There were so many stalls, each one more fascinating than the last. You were particularly captivated by a booth selling colorful masks and another with a game where you could win goldfish.

Amidst the excitement, you noticed a beautiful display of kites. Entranced, you let go of your mother’s hand for just a moment, stepping closer to get a better look. When you turned back, she was nowhere in sight. Panic surged through you, and the festive sounds around you became a blur of noise as you called out for her, your voice lost in the sea of revelers.

Tears began to well up in your eyes as you frantically searched for any familiar face. It felt as if the world was closing in around you. One moment, you were holding her hand tightly, and the next, you were adrift in a crowd of unfamiliar faces. Panic set in as you called out for her, your voice swallowed by the cacophony of the celebration. Tears welled up in your eyes, and you felt a sinking feeling of helplessness.

Just as the world seemed to close in around you, a gentle voice broke through your anxiety.

"Hey, are you okay?"

You turned to see a boy about your age with kind and warm purple eyes and a reassuringly graceful smile. His dark hair framed his face, and he carried an air of calmness that immediately put you at ease. This young boy, his name was Geto Suguru, though you didn't know his name yet.

"I... I can't find my mom," you stammered, your voice trembling, wiping your tears away.

Geto's expression softened with understanding. "It's okay. I'll stay with you until we find her. Don't worry."

He took your hand in his, and together, you began to navigate the crowd. Despite the chaos around you, Geto's presence made you feel safe. He chatted with you, asking about your favorite games and food, distracting you from your fear. You found yourself laughing at his jokes and stories, the tension slowly easing from your shoulders.

As you wandered, Geto kept an eye out for anyone who might be looking for you. He was patient and kind, never letting go of your hand. His maturity and kindness were far beyond his years, and you were in awe of him. He seemed so composed, so generous, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration. There were stars in your eyes as you watched him interact with others, his gentle demeanor and thoughtful actions standing out amidst the bustling crowd.

You wondered if you could ever be like him—so good, so tender, so mature. The way he handled the situation with such grace and calmness inspired you. You admired his ability to stay composed and kind, even when faced with the daunting task of helping a stranger in distress. It made you aspire to be better, to embody those same qualities of compassion and maturity.

As the festival began to wind down and the crowd thinned out, Geto reached into his pocket and pulled out a small flip phone. With practiced ease, he dialed his mother's number, his fingers moving swiftly over the keypad. After a few moments, he brought the phone to his ear, his expression tense with anticipation.

"Mom?" he said, his voice soft but urgent. "I'm at the shrine. Can you come pick me up? I found someone who got separated from their mom."

As he spoke, you watched Geto's face, noting the concern etched into his features. Despite his calm demeanor, you could tell that he was worried about his own mother's reaction. But to your relief, his expression softened as he listened to the voice on the other end of the line.

"Okay, I'll wait here," Geto replied, his voice tinged with relief. "Thank you, Mom."

With a click, he closed the phone and slipped it back into his pocket. Turning to you, he offered a reassuring smile. "My mom is on her way. She'll be here soon."

True to his word, within minutes, a woman appeared in the distance, her face a mixture of concern and relief as she hurried toward you both. Geto's mother enveloped him in a tight hug, her eyes brimming with tears as she whispered words of reassurance.

"Suguru, are you okay? What happened?" she asked, her voice trembling with emotion.

Geto explained the situation, recounting how he had found you wandering alone in the crowd and stayed by your side until help arrived. His mother listened intently, her expression softening with pride as she looked at her son.

"You did the right thing, Suguru," she said, her voice filled with warmth and affection. "I'm so proud of you."

Together, Geto and his mother welcomed you both, offering words of comfort and reassurance. They stayed with you until your own mother arrived, her face a mixture of relief and gratitude as she hugged you tightly.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "I don't know what we would have done without you and your son."

Geto's mother smiled warmly, her eyes shining with kindness. "It was no trouble at all. I'm just glad we could help."

As the evening drew to a close and the festival began to wind down, it was time for you and Geto Suguru to part ways. You approached him, a mixture of gratitude and reluctance filling your heart. Geto turned to you, his gentle smile putting you at ease even as you felt a pang of sadness at the thought of saying goodbye.

"Thank you so much." you said, your voice filled with sincerity. "I don't know what I would have done without you."

Geto's smile widened, his eyes sparkling with warmth. "It was nothing, really," he replied modestly. "I'm just glad I could help."

Your mom whispers to you, that you should go home and get some rest. You nodded at her and you watched that boy wave his hand at you. You nodded back at him. You turn your back on him. But it was then, you gasp and turn around and run towards him, causing him to gasp as you lean against his personal space. 

"Hey, what's your name?" you asked, your curiosity getting the better of you.

"Geto Suguru," he replied, blinking as his voice responded softly.

You nodded, committing his name to memory. You introduced yourself too, extending your hand in friendship. He smiled at you, his purple eyes turning brightly back at you.

Geto shook your hand, his grip firm and reassuring. "It's nice to meet you," he said, a genuine smile lighting up his face. 

“It’s nice to meet you too.” You gleefully say back to him, grinning.

"I hope we meet again someday," Geto said, his voice tinged with sincerity.

You smiled back at him, your heart feeling lighter knowing that even though you were saying goodbye for now, there was a chance that your paths might cross again in the future.

"Me too," you replied, the words carrying a promise of friendship and possibility.

With a final wave, you and Geto went your separate ways, the memory of your chance encounter lingering in your thoughts long after the festival had ended. And as you made your way home, getting ready for bed, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the unexpected friendship. You think that this will fill your heart with joy for a long time.  One that had brightened your New Year's celebration and left a lasting imprint on your heart.

You lay in bed, moving to your side and closing your eyes.

You wonder if the gods would allow you one more wish.

You wish you could meet Geto Suguru when you wake up.

WHEN YOU MEET SUGURU AGAIN, IT WAS MIDDLE SCHOOL. The first day of middle school was a whirlwind of excitement and nerves, a kaleidoscope of emotions swirling through the air like leaves caught in a gentle breeze. As you stepped through the doors of the school, you were greeted by the lively buzz of students reuniting after the summer break, their voices rising and falling in a symphony of anticipation.

The corridors echoed with the sound of footsteps echoing on the linoleum floors, punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter or excited chatter. Lockers slammed shut with a metallic clang, backpacks were slung over shoulders, and pencils were nervously tapped against desks as students settled into their new classrooms.

Amidst the hustle and bustle, you couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation tinged with a hint of apprehension. Everything felt new and unfamiliar—the layout of the school, the faces of your classmates, the rhythm of the day unfolding before you.

As you made your way to your first class, you were met with a whirlwind of activity—a flurry of introductions, syllabus handouts, and icebreaker games designed to break the ice and ease the transition into the new academic year. The air crackled with energy as teachers and students alike embraced the opportunity for a fresh start, eager to embark on the journey that lay ahead.

In the hushed stillness of the classroom, amidst the shuffling of papers and the murmur of conversations, you found yourself unable to resist stealing short glances across the room. There, amidst the sea of unfamiliar faces, your eyes locked onto a figure that seemed oddly familiar—a flash of recognition igniting a spark of curiosity within you.

As the pieces fell into place, a realization washed over you like a wave crashing against the shore—it was Geto Suguru. The same Geto Suguru who had once been your companion in childhood, the same Geto Suguru who had shared in moments of laughter and understanding during that fateful New Year's festival all those years ago.

Your lips parted in silent astonishment as you stood there, a sense of wonderment enveloping you like a warm embrace. It was as if fate itself had intervened, weaving your paths together once more in a way that felt almost predestined—a serendipitous twist of fate that defied explanation yet felt undeniably right.

The realization that you and Geto were classmates filled you with a sense of awe and gratitude, the threads of destiny drawing you together in a way that transcended the boundaries of time and space. It was as if the universe had conspired to reunite you, stitching together the fabric of your lives in a way that felt both miraculous and inevitable.

In that moment of silent awe, a wave of comfort washed over you, soothing the fluttering nerves that had danced in your stomach upon realizing that Geto Suguru was indeed your classmate once more. It had been so long since you had seen him, since the days of childhood innocence and carefree laughter. And yet, despite the passage of time, the bond you shared felt as strong and immutable as ever.

With each step you took towards him, the distance between you seemed to shrink, bridging the gap that had separated you for so long. The morning light cast a soft glow upon his features, illuminating the contours of his face and the subtle changes that time had wrought. You couldn't help but notice how he had grown taller since you last saw him, how his frame had filled out with the promise of adulthood. His hair, once a tousled mop of unruly curls, was now neatly tied back in a bun, accentuating the angular lines of his jaw and the intensity of his gaze.

As you drew closer, you couldn't help but marvel at the transformation that had taken place—the way he had grown more beautiful and handsome with each passing year. There was a quiet strength in the set of his shoulders, a confidence in the way he carried himself that spoke of maturity and self-assurance. And yet, beneath the veneer of adulthood, you could still see traces of the boy you had known—the same warmth in his eyes, the same kindness in his smile.

In that moment, as you stood before him, the years melted away, leaving behind only the essence of your shared history and the promise of new beginnings.

"Geto–kun?" you uttered softly, the name slipping from your lips almost instinctively. 

Geto's gaze met yours, his expression mirroring your own sense of surprise and recognition. "Oh, it’s you!" he replied, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Fancy seeing you here."

You couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder at the serendipitous twist of fate that had brought you together once again. "I can't believe we're in the same class," you exclaimed, a hint of excitement in your voice. “After all this time, huh?”

"Yeah, it's pretty wild," Geto agreed, his eyes bright with a mixture of disbelief and amusement.

As the realization sank in, a flood of memories from your childhood encounter at the New Year's festival came rushing back. The shared laughter, the moments of quiet understanding—it all felt like a lifetime ago, yet here you were, reunited once again in the most unexpected of places.

"It's like fate brought us together," you mused, a sense of awe coloring your words.

Geto nodded, a thoughtful expression crossing his features. "Maybe it did," he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of wonder.

As you pondered the serendipitous nature of your reunion, a faint smile played at the corners of Geto's lips, mirroring the quiet sense of wonder that danced in his eyes.

"It's strange how life works sometimes," he continued, his voice soft and contemplative. "The way it brings people back into our lives when we least expect it."

You nodded in agreement, feeling a sense of kinship with Geto as you shared in the mystery of fate's guiding hand. "Yeah, it's like we were meant to find each other again," you remarked, a sense of certainty settling within you like a comforting embrace.

For a moment, the two of you stood in companionable silence, lost in the quiet beauty of the moment. The bustling classroom faded into the background, leaving behind only the warmth of shared memories and the promise of new beginnings.

"I'm glad we did," Geto said softly, his gaze meeting yours with a depth of understanding that resonated deep within your soul.

"Me too," you replied, a genuine smile gracing your lips as you felt the weight of the years slip away, leaving behind only the simple joy of reconnecting with an old friend.

As the bell rang, signaling the start of the day's lessons, you and Geto exchanged a knowing glance, silently acknowledging the significance of this unexpected reunion. And as you took your seats side by side, a sense of anticipation filled the air, carrying with it the promise of friendship and camaraderie that would endure far beyond the confines of the classroom walls.

You looked at him for a moment. 

His glance turns back at you too.

You smiled at him, he smiled at you.

You felt your face turn red for a moment.

Has his smile always looked this beautiful?

YOU BOTH WENT IN DIFFERENT SCHOOLS IN HIGH SCHOOL.Watching Suguru step into his new chapter at Jujutsu High filled you with a complex array of emotions. Pride swelled within you as you witnessed him embark on this journey he had long dreamed of. His determination, his dedication—it was inspiring to see him pursue his passion with such fervor and commitment. Yet, intertwined with that pride was a profound sense of longing, a yearning for his presence that tugged at your heartstrings with each passing moment.

The prospect of being apart from Suguru, even temporarily, casts a shadow over your excitement. The thought of not having him by your side, of not being able to share in each other's daily joys and struggles, left an ache in your chest that was difficult to ignore. As much as you wanted him to succeed and thrive at Jujutsu High, the prospect of being separated from him weighed heavily on your heart.

Every time you thought about Suguru navigating the challenges of his new school, facing dangerous cursed spirits and confronting the unknown, a wave of worry washed over you. You couldn't help but fret over his safety, over the dangers he might encounter in his quest to become a jujutsu sorcerer. The distance between you only amplified these fears, leaving you feeling helpless and vulnerable.

You had always known about Suguru's ability to see cursed spirits. You had witnessed firsthand the toll it took on him—the sleepless nights, the restless tossing and turning as his mind wrestled with the dark entities that plagued his existence. And though he always reassured you that he was fine, that he could handle it on his own, you couldn't help but worry about him.

As you sat together in Suguru's childhood bedroom, the dim glow of the bedside lamp casting shadows across the walls, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the air. Suguru had just confided in you about his ability to see cursed spirits, a revelation that sent a chill down your spine.

"I've always been able to see them," Suguru admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Ever since I was a child."

You listened intently as Suguru recounted his experiences, describing the terrifying visions that haunted his nights and the relentless whispers that echoed in his mind. It was as if he were living in a nightmare, trapped in a world where darkness lurked around every corner.

"And the worst part is," Suguru continued, his expression haunted, "I can't escape them. No matter where I go, they're always there, lurking in the shadows."

Your heart ached at the pain etched into Suguru's features, the weight of his burden evident in every word he spoke. You had witnessed firsthand the toll it took on him—the sleepless nights, the restless tossing and turning as his mind wrestled with the dark entities that plagued his existence.

"I'm fine, really," Suguru assured you, sensing your concern. "I've learned to live with it. But sometimes...sometimes it's hard to bear."

In that moment, as you gazed into Suguru's weary eyes, a surge of empathy washed over you. You couldn't begin to imagine the horrors he faced on a daily basis, the constant battle against forces beyond his control. Yet, despite the darkness that threatened to consume him, Suguru remained steadfast, his resilience a testament to his strength of character.

Wrapping your arms around him, you pulled Suguru close, offering whatever comfort you could in the face of his suffering. "You don't have to face this alone," you whispered, your voice filled with determination. "I'll be here for you, no matter what."

But amidst the whirlwind of emotions, there was a glimmer of hope—a deep-seated belief that no matter the distance, your bond with Suguru would endure. You clung to the memories you shared, the moments of laughter and love that had forged an unbreakable connection between you. And though the road ahead might be fraught with challenges and obstacles, you knew that together, you and Suguru could overcome anything.

So, as you watched him stride confidently into the halls of Jujutsu High, a sense of determination took root within you. You would weather this storm of separation, you would support Suguru from afar, and you would eagerly await the day when you could be reunited once more. For now, all you could do was hold onto the love you shared, trusting in its power to bridge the distance and keep your hearts connected, no matter where life may lead.

One thing that particularly concerned you was his aversion to the taste of cursed energy. Whenever he mentioned it, a pang of anxiety would grip your heart, knowing that he was enduring something unpleasant just to fulfill his duty as a jujutsu sorcerer.

Despite the distance between you, Suguru made sure to keep you updated on his well-being. He would send you messages whenever he had a free moment, sharing snippets of his day and letting you know that he was okay. And on his rare free days, you would make it a point to meet up with him, cherishing every precious moment you had together.

Your dates were a welcome respite from the challenges of long-distance, a chance for you to reconnect and strengthen your bond despite the miles that separated you. Whether it was a leisurely stroll through the park, a cozy dinner at your favorite restaurant, or simply spending quality time together at home, every moment with Suguru was a treasure to be cherished.

And though the distance between you was daunting at times, your love for each other remained steadfast and unwavering. Together, you navigated the ups and downs of long-distance with grace and resilience, knowing that no matter the obstacles you faced, your love would always endure.

As you and Suguru sat across from each other in a cozy café, the soft glow of candlelight casting a warm ambiance around you, you found yourselves catching up on each other's lives. Suguru had just finished recounting his latest adventures at Jujutsu High, regaling you with tales of intense training sessions and encounters with formidable curses. 

"It sounds like you've been keeping busy," you remarked with a smile, sipping on your latte. "How are things going at the school?"

Suguru nodded, his expression thoughtful. "It's challenging, but I'm managing," he replied, his tone calm and composed. "The training can be rigorous, but I'm learning a lot."

You nodded, though a hint of concern flickered in your eyes. "And what about the jujutsu sorcery? Is it... difficult?"

Suguru's gaze met yours, and for a moment, you thought you detected a shadow of hesitation in his eyes. But then, he offered you a reassuring smile. "It's not easy, but I'm okay," he assured you. "I've got some great teachers and classmates who help me out."

Despite his words, a knot of worry tightened in your chest. You had seen firsthand the toll that dealing with cursed spirits could take on Suguru, and while you trusted in his strength and resilience, you couldn't help but wonder if he was truly alright. 

"I'm glad to hear that you're getting support," you said, reaching across the table to gently place your hand on his. "But if things ever get too tough, if you ever need someone to talk to..."

Suguru's fingers intertwined with yours, his touch warm and reassuring. "Thank you," he said softly, his gaze sincere. "I appreciate that more than you know."

As you sat together in that intimate moment, the flickering candlelight casting dancing shadows across your faces, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together. With Suguru by your side, you felt a sense of strength and comfort that filled you with unwavering hope for the future. And as you leaned in to share a tender kiss, the worries of the world melted away, leaving only the warmth of your love and the promise of tomorrow.

As the year 2007 progressed, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss between you and Suguru. It started with small changes—missed calls, delayed responses to messages, and last-minute cancellations of plans. At first, you brushed it off, attributing it to his busy schedule with missions and training at Jujutsu High. He had a duty to that after all. You never questioned him about it.

But as time went on, Suguru's behavior became more pronounced. He became increasingly distant, avoiding your attempts to spend time together and offering vague excuses about being swamped with work. When you did manage to hang out, you couldn't ignore the noticeable shift in his demeanor. He seemed withdrawn, his usually vibrant energy replaced with a palpable sense of exhaustion.

Concern gnawed at your heart as you watched Suguru's health deteriorate before your eyes. "Suguru, are you okay?" you asked gently one evening, unable to ignore the worry that twisted in your gut.

He waved off your concern with a forced smile. "I'm fine, just tired from all the missions," he replied, his voice strained. "Don't worry about me."

But you couldn't shake the feeling that something deeper was troubling him. "Suguru, please," you insisted, reaching out to touch his arm. "You don't seem okay. Talk to me."

His expression darkened, and for a moment, you saw a flash of frustration in his eyes. "I said I'm fine," he snapped, pulling away from your touch. "You don't need to keep asking."

The tension between you simmered beneath the surface, unresolved and heavy with unspoken words. "I just want to help," you murmured, your voice tinged with hurt. "But I can't do that if you won't let me in."

Suguru's jaw tensed, his gaze hardening. "I don't need your help," he retorted, his tone sharp with irritation. "I can handle things on my own."

The words stung like a knife to your heart, leaving you reeling with a sense of rejection. "But I care about you, Suguru," you whispered, your voice cracking with emotion. "I can't just stand by and watch you suffer."

A heavy silence settled between you, thick with unresolved tension and unspoken fears. In that moment, you realized that despite your love for Suguru, you were powerless to ease his pain if he refused to let you in. And as the weight of his distance pressed down upon you like a suffocating blanket, you couldn't help but wonder if your relationship could weather this storm—or if it was destined to crumble beneath the weight of unspoken truths and untold secrets.

The air crackled with tension as Suguru's conflicted emotions waged war within him. He wanted to reach out, to grasp onto your comforting presence, but the weight of his burdens held him back like chains around his heart. Each moment spent in your company only served to amplify his guilt and shame, reminders of the facade he was desperately trying to maintain.

"I'm sorry," Suguru murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes cast downward in shame. "I just... I can't do this anymore."

Your heart clenched at his words, aching with the pain of impending loss. "What do you mean?" you asked, your voice trembling with fear.

Suguru shook his head, unable to meet your gaze. "I can't keep pretending like everything's okay when it's not," he admitted, his words heavy with resignation. "I need to figure things out on my own."

The finality of his words hung in the air like a heavy shroud, suffocating any hope of reconciliation. Tears welled in your eyes as you struggled to comprehend the sudden unraveling of your relationship, the dreams you had woven together now torn asunder by the cruel hand of fate.

"I understand," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion, though the pain of acceptance felt like a dagger to your heart. "I just wish... I wish things could have been different."

Suguru's shoulders slumped in defeat, his own anguish mirrored in the depths of his gaze. "So do I." he admitted, his voice thick with unshed tears. "But sometimes... sometimes it's better to let go than to hold on to something that's already broken. I can’t hurt you more than I already have.”

Your heart clenched at his words, each syllable a dagger piercing through the fragile remnants of your shattered dreams. The weight of his pain, his self-imposed exile, bore down upon you with suffocating force, leaving you gasping for breath in the wake of his confession.

"Suguru, please..." you pleaded, your voice cracking with emotion, reaching out for him as if to bridge the ever-widening chasm between you. "Don't shut me out. We can work through this together."

But Suguru's resolve remained steadfast, his gaze haunted by the ghosts of his past and the specter of his uncertain future. "I can't," he whispered, his voice barely audible above the tumult of your emotions. "I need to do this alone."

Tears welled in your eyes as you watched him turn away, his silhouette fading into the darkness with each step. The ache of his absence echoed in the hollow chambers of your heart, a void that seemed impossible to fill.

As the weight of his absence settled over you like a heavy blanket, you couldn't help but wonder if this was truly the end. If the love you had once shared was destined to fade into nothingness, swallowed whole by the vast expanse of time and distance.

But even as you grappled with the pain of separation, a flicker of hope danced in the recesses of your soul. Perhaps, in letting go, you would find the strength to heal, to move forward, to forge a new path untethered by the chains of the past.

Heavy heart and tear-stained cheeks, you whispered.

The sound of silent farewells shuddered in the cold air.

You try to live through the ashes of your broken dreams.

But you would be fine, you knew you would be one day.

Suguru loved you enough to bear the weight of the world.

THINGS CHANGED OVER NINE YEARS.  You couldn't shake the feeling that you'd never truly move on from Suguru. His presence lingered in the recesses of your mind, a constant reminder of what once was and what could have been. But life was relentless in its forward march, indifferent to your heartache and longing. You knew you had to move on, to carve out a path for yourself in a world that would keep spinning regardless of your pain.

In the days and weeks that followed, tears became a familiar companion, each drop a silent tribute to the love you had lost. But with time, you found solace in the gentle rhythm of life's ebb and flow. You learned to navigate the world with a newfound resilience, allowing the pain of your past to shape you into someone stronger, someone more resilient than you ever thought possible.

As the days turned into months and the months into years, you grew around the grief in your heart, like a vine winding its way around a sturdy tree. You became a new person—a version of yourself that your past self would hardly recognize. You embraced new experiences, pursued your passions with unwavering determination, and forged connections with those who filled your life with light and warmth.

And though Suguru would always hold a special place in your heart, you came to understand that moving on didn't mean forgetting or erasing the past. It meant honoring the memories you shared while making space for new beginnings, new adventures, and new love to bloom.

As you navigated the bustling streets of Tokyo, the weight of your responsibilities pressed heavily upon your shoulders. The city buzzed with activity, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions churning within you. In the nine years since parting ways with Suguru, life had taken unexpected turns, leading you down paths you never imagined traversing.

Becoming a mother had been the greatest joy amidst the tumultuous journey of life. The moment your son entered the world, a surge of indescribable love washed over you, eclipsing the pain of your past and filling your heart with boundless happiness. Holding him in your arms for the first time, you knew that your life would never be the same—that every sacrifice, every struggle, was worth it for the sake of this precious new life. 

You had always wanted a life like this with Suguru. You had always thought that you would end up having a lifetime together, to have children, to have normal lives — to grow old together. When you looked at your son, you thought about the life that had been robbed from you by fate, but also the hope that came with the birth of the most precious thing in your life. Your son was, after all, your pride and joy.

Parenthood brought with it a sense of purpose unlike anything you had experienced before. From sleepless nights to endless diaper changes, every moment spent caring for your son filled you with a sense of fulfillment and contentment you never thought possible. Watching him grow and thrive, witnessing his first steps and hearing his infectious laughter, became the highlights of your days, grounding you in the present and reminding you of the beauty that existed amidst life's chaos.

Despite the challenges of balancing motherhood with your career, you found moments of joy in the simple pleasures of everyday life. From bedtime stories and snuggles to impromptu dance parties in the living room, each day brought new opportunities to cherish the bond you shared with your son, a bond forged in the unbreakable bonds of love and devotion.

And as you raced through the crowded streets of Tokyo, your thoughts drifted to the little boy eagerly awaiting your arrival at school. In his laughter and in his smile, you found solace and strength, a reminder that no matter where life's journey took you, the love of your family would always be the anchor that held you steady amidst the storm.

Today, however, brought with it a new challenge—a decision that would alter the course of your lives once again. Your husband, a foreigner whose stint in Japan was coming to an end, had been called back to Europe. After much deliberation, you both had decided to accompany him, embarking on a new adventure in a foreign land.

As you hurried to pick up your child from school, a sense of urgency pulsed through your veins. His teacher had informed you that he would be finishing up his language lessons, buying you some much-needed time to make it there before his class ended.

Breathless and slightly disheveled, you finally arrived at the school, your heart pounding in your chest as you scanned the bustling courtyard for any sign of your son. And then, amidst the sea of unfamiliar faces, you saw him—Geto Suguru, standing there in a traditional geto-kesa, engaged in conversation with one of the middle school teachers. 

Your pulse quickened at the sight of him, a flood of memories washing over you like a tidal wave. It had been so long since you had last seen each other, and yet, in that moment, it felt as though no time had passed at all. Quiet eyes feasting upon him, relearning him after a decade of him disappearing from your world. 

As you approached him, your heart hammered in your chest, uncertainty and longing warring within you. Would he even remember you after all these years? And more importantly, did you still hold a place in his heart as he did in yours?

Summoning every ounce of courage you possessed, you called out his name, the sound barely audible amidst the cacophony of voices around you. And then, as he turned to face you, his expression a mixture of surprise and recognition, you knew that some things truly never change.

As Suguru turned to face you, his eyes widened in surprise, a flicker of recognition crossing his features. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you stood before each other, the weight of the years that had passed between you palpable in the air. The teacher seemed a bit flustered, but you smiled at them and bowed with an apology. They seemed to understand, they bowed and left.

"Suguru," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper, the name feeling both foreign and achingly familiar on your lips. “Hi.”

Recognition dawned in his eyes as he studied your face, his expression softening with a hint of nostalgia. "It’s you." he replied, his voice a quiet murmur that seemed to echo with the weight of unspoken memories.

He took in the image of you, one that has matured, has grown, has changed over the course of a decade. Yet there was something in his eyes, a conflict, when he looked at you. You didn’t understand why, you didn’t understand where it came from but you didn’t say anything. You just let this moment stay as it was. You let your eyes quietly take in how he has grown in these years. And you know, he was doing the same with you.

The years melted away in an instant as you stood there, lost in each other's gaze, the past and present converging in a bittersweet collision of emotions. It was as if no time had passed at all, as if you were once again the young souls who had shared secrets beneath the cherry blossom tree, bound together by an invisible thread that transcended the passage of time.

"It's been a long time," he murmured, his warm voice neutral as he looked at you. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

You nodded, unable to tear your gaze away from his. "Too long." you agreed softly, the ache of longing and regret threading through your words. “I just….this is a surprise.”

“I should say that.” He whispers back to you. “How have you been?”

“Good,” You smiled at him, fidgeting with your gloved hands. “I’ve just been busy with life.”

Suguru's gaze softened as he listened to your words, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I'm glad to hear that," he replied, his voice warm with sincerity. "Life has a way of keeping us on our toes, doesn't it?"

You nodded, a wistful expression crossing your features. "It certainly does," you agreed softly, the weight of the years weighing heavily on your shoulders. "But enough about me. How about you? How have you been?"

A flicker of emotion crossed Suguru's face, his expression momentarily guarded before he offered you a small, reassuring smile. "I've been... managing," he replied carefully, his words laced with a hint of uncertainty. “It’s been a lot.”

“I’m….I’m glad that you’re managing.” You mumbled back to him, unsure of what to say. “It’s rough to be an adult now.”

You studied his face, noting the subtle tension in his features and the guarded look in his eyes. It was clear that there was more to his story than he was letting on, but you didn't press him further. Instead, you offered him a gentle smile, hoping to convey your support and understanding without words.

"Well, if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here," you said softly, the sincerity in your voice unmistakable. "No matter what, you'll always have a friend in me."

Suguru's smile widened at your words, a flicker of gratitude shining in his eyes. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. "That means more to me than you know."

Silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. In that moment, you both stood on the precipice of something uncertain, the weight of your shared history hanging between you like a fragile thread.

As Suguru's gaze shifted towards you, his brows furrowed in confusion, a question lingering on his lips. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his tone tinged with curiosity.

Before you could respond, a familiar voice echoed across the hall, drawing your attention away from Suguru. You turned just in time to see your son rushing towards you, his arms outstretched in excitement. With a laugh bubbling up from deep within you, you opened your arms wide, ready to catch him in a warm embrace.

As your son leaped into your arms, his laughter filling the air, you couldn't help but feel a surge of joy and warmth wash over you. Holding him close, you pressed a kiss to his cheek, relishing in the simple pleasure of being reunited with the one who brought so much light into your life.

In the midst of the joyful reunion, you failed to notice the subtle shift in Suguru's demeanor. His gaze lingered on you and your son, his expression clouded with a mixture of emotions—confusion, disbelief, and perhaps even a hint of resentment.

As you finally turned back to face Suguru, his eyes met yours, his expression guarded and unreadable. It was clear that something had shifted between you, a rift forming between the two of you that seemed impossible to bridge. And in that moment, you couldn't help but wonder if perhaps some wounds were too deep to heal, no matter how much time had passed.

As the weight of Suguru's gaze bore down on you, a pang of sadness tugged at your heart. You had hoped that this unexpected reunion would bring a sense of closure, a chance to reconnect and perhaps even rebuild what had been lost between you. But now, as you stood before him, the distance between you felt insurmountable.

Summoning a smile that felt forced, you attempted to break the tension that hung heavy in the air. "This is my son," you explained, gesturing towards the young boy in your arms. "His name is Shouma.”

Suguru's eyes softened slightly at the introduction, a flicker of recognition crossing his features. For a moment, he looks at your son and sees nothing but you. He was you when you were younger. You when he first felt what joy, what life looks like in all its glory.

His eyes scan lower as the boy played with his nametag. Purple orbs widened slightly as he read the letters of the boy's name. 憧 for longing. 真 for genuine. He meets your gaze for a moment. It was the moment he knew. You pursed your lips into a flat line as you lowered your gaze, busying yourself with fixing your son's shoelaces.

Shouma.

Genuine.

Longing.

"He's... he's beautiful," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Looks exactly like you.”

“That’s what my husband said.” You responded, a tight smile on your lips as you said those words. You could see something in his face shift. Despite the warmth in his words, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of your stomach. There was something about the way Suguru looked at you and your son—a mixture of longing and regret—that left you feeling unsettled. “He is my mini-me.”

“He really is.”

When the bell sounded, the steps of children and the ringing of their voices echoed across the rooms and into the halls. It was then two children, twin girls, excitedly rushed when they saw Suguru standing near you. The two girls, Mimiko and Nanako, whose names were written in their name-tags, emerged from their classroom happily. You watched them embrace Suguru as they spoke and chattered. You take your son’s hand, who looks at the older girls in front of him.  

You couldn't help but notice the apprehensive mistrust in their gaze as they glanced at you and your son. Their eyes held a mixture of curiosity and wariness, as though unsure of what to make of the unexpected encounter. They’d never seen you in their entire lives before, you were a stranger. They didn’t know you. They clung closer to Suguru, as though to instinctively protect him. 

Suguru, sensing the tension, stepped forward to bridge the gap between his daughters and your little family. With a gentle smile, he introduced you and your son, his voice warm yet tinged with a hint of unease. "Mimiko, Nanako, this is an old friend of mine and her son," he explained, his gaze flickering between you and his daughters. “These two angels are my daughters.” 

As the introductions were made, you couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness wash over you. They seem to let their guard down slightly, as you watch them cling less towards Suguru and greet you cordially, almost shyly. You smiled at them. They seem to be polite girls. Suguru had raised them well, with all the love in the world. 

You were glad that Suguru had managed to build a family, a life beyond what you had—one that seemed to have escaped the grief, pain, and misery that had engulfed him when you last saw each other. Even if it wasn’t with you. But as you looked into each other's eyes, you saw the same mourning glint reflected in his gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the 'what if' that would forever linger in the shadows of your hearts.

The presence of Mimiko and Nanako, standing by Suguru's side, served as a bittersweet reminder of the life you were supposed to have together. A life where you imagined waking up beside him, raising children together, sharing dreams and burdens. But that future had slipped through your fingers like sand, and now you stood on separate shores, each tethered to a different destiny.

You knew you would never leave your husband. He had been your anchor, your partner through the ups and downs, the father of your cherished son. Your life with him was built on love and commitment, and you were grateful for the family you had. Yet, the ache of what might have been remained, a quiet sorrow that echoed in the moments of stillness and reflection.

Suguru’s eyes, filled with a mix of pride and melancholy, told you he felt the same. He too mourned the lost possibilities, the dreams that had withered in the wake of your separation. The shared sorrow created a bond, a silent understanding that no amount of time could erase.

Meeting Suguru's gaze, you saw the turmoil reflected in his eyes, mirroring the conflicting emotions swirling within your own heart. It was as though the ghosts of your past lives were living through your regrets, haunting you with the memories of what could have been.

"I’m happy for you, Suguru," you said softly, your voice tinged with genuine warmth. "You've built something beautiful."

He nodded, the corner of his mouth lifting in a bittersweet smile. "And you too. Your son... he's wonderful."

Before either of you could say more, your son tugged at your hand, his innocent eyes wide with curiosity. "Mom, who are they?" he asked, glancing at Suguru and his daughters.

You crouched down to your son's level, smoothing his hair affectionately. "This is Suguru, mama’s old friend. And these are his daughters, Mimiko and Nanako."

Your son smiled shyly at the girls, and they responded with slow, but tentative smiles of their own. The innocence of the children contrasted sharply with the complex emotions swirling between you and Suguru, a poignant reminder of the simplicity and purity of childhood. Somehow, reminisce about how you and Suguru met. 

“You raised them well, Suguru.” You smiled at him. “They got your kindness too.”

“And your son, he’s everything that’s you.” He retorts back, a quiet smile on his lips. 

As the conversation continued, you felt a mix of sadness and acceptance. Life had moved on, taking you down different paths, but the connection you once shared with Suguru remained, however muted by time and circumstance. You would always mourn the life that could have been, but you knew that the choices you made had led you to where you were meant to be.

Suguru’s voice broke through your reverie. "Take care of yourself, and your family," he said, his tone carrying the weight of unspoken words.

"You too, Suguru," you replied, your heart heavy yet resolute. “Thank you for letting me….relive a past life.”

He took a deep breath and smiled for a bit. “You too. Thank you.”

But as the sounds of the bustling city called to you, you knew that some things were better left unsaid.Some things were best left as they were — past lives. You took your son’s hand and kissed the top of his head. You looked at Suguru and nodded.  With a heavy heart and a sense of resignation, you offered him a small, bittersweet smile. 

"It's good to see you, Suguru," you said, the words laced with a quiet ache.

His gaze softened, a flicker of regret dancing in the depths of his eyes.  "You too," he replied softly, his voice barely above a softened whisper.

It wasn’t lost on Suguru, the irony of you being the last to walk away.

As he lay dying, his quiet eyes shifting to the ground of his past life,

He smiles, thinking about how good it was to see you one last time.

He hopes in the next life, you would live a long happy life together.

If the gods were kind, they'd let you love each other once again.

[neverinadream]

I Can't Say Goodbye

Summary: He was never going to be her happy ending.

Pairing: Ben Chilwell x Fem!Reader // Christian Pulisic x Fem!Reader (Briefly Mentioned)

Requested: Nope

Song Inspo: Happy Ending - Mika

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, smut, angst, pre-established relationship <- and i use that term loosely here, infidelity, one mention of biting, unprotected sex, ben crying, heartbreak, no happy ending, not edited

Notes: she's clearing out the drafts, everyone cheer for her!! this wasn't the winner of the poll but it's shorter than the other thing i'm writing. anyway, i'm about to break your hearts in like 1000 words or so, get ready. feedback is always appreciated

Reaching for her hands, Ben intertwined his and his lover’s fingers together, placing a kiss on the backs of them, before pressing them into the pillows above her head. Loose strands fall in front of his eyes, tickling them both from above as his face aligns with hers. It makes her head spin, him leaning over her like this, his body wrapped up in her legs, his cock nestled deep inside. "Give me a second, love," he rushes to get out as Y/N impatiently grinds her hips against him, trying to trick him into moving again, "I just want to look at you."

He studied her features like he was studying a piece of art, and with an intensity that made her face burn. He took mental images of every part of her that stood out the most to him. From her eyes and their colour to the shape of her lips, and every spot, her consolations of freckles, her dimples, and the scars that had a place to call home on her body. He tried to cement them all into his brain.

There wasn't a part of her that he didn't want to forget.

"I never want to forget how beautiful you are," Ben whispers, dipping to kiss her mouth, his tongue flirting with hers as she parted her lips. She squeezes his hands tighter, her cunt fluttering as he moves his hips, rocking his cock in and out of her. "And all those little sounds you make for me," he chokes, new tears pricking his eyes, “I'll never forget them.”

Y/N detangles their hands, quickly wiping the tears that dampened his cheeks, before threading her fingers through his hair, the brunette locks slipping through her fingers like soft strands of silk. "I love you,” she whispers against his mouth, meaning the words that came out her mouth.

“I know,” he utters back, his hand running down her naked frame. He hitches her leg higher over his hip, trying to remember the way she gasps his name as he thrusts deeper.

The moments between broken apologies and the desire to remember the other were filled with soft whimpers and ragged breaths. Neither of them wanted to say goodbye, but they knew this secret of theirs wasn't built strong enough to last. Eventually, one of them would slip up. And two broken hearts was better than three.

He wraps his hand around the back of her neck, pressing his hand into the base of her skull, pulling her closer as he sinks his weight on top of her. She could feel his heart hamming against her chest, mirroring her own. He forces his tongue past her lips, taking her mouth in a searing, dominated kiss. He kissed her like she was the oxygen that filled his lungs because without her, he wasn't sure if he would stay alive.

“I just wanted you to be mine,” he sobs, pressing his forehead against hers. He closes his eyes, wet lashes sticking together, as more tears trickle down his cheeks. “But he'll give you what I can't,” he adds, touching his thumb against her bottom lip. It trembles as she fights the urge to cry. She had to stay strong for both of them. “He'll give you the happy ending you deserve.”

She slides her hand over his jaw, his beard prickling the smoothness of her palm. “Look at me,” she pleads, wanting to look into his eyes for one last time.

Y/N knew she was in trouble the first time she looked into Ben's eyes. Two pools of the purest water. The deepest oceans known to humankind. She had gotten lost in them too many times to count. And when they flutter open, she gets lost in them for one final time.

She wraps her legs tighter around him, pulling him deeper. “One last time,” she withers beneath him, her body shaking as he reaches his hand down her body. He presses the tips of his fingers against her clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in a tantric rhythm, working in tandem with the slow snapping of his hips. “There,” she whimpers, the wall she had built up before coming here crumbling as she feels herself begin to let go, “that - yes - keep doing that.”

“I've got you,” he whispers, brushing his lips against her temple, “just let it out.” He groans, hot breath fanning her face, as she clenches around him, her walls milking his cock as she comes for him. “That's it,” he repeats like a chant, tearing his hand away and fisting the pillow beside her, feeling himself spilling inside her. His hips grind into her, soft pants of unintelligible sayings escaping Y/N's mouth as he pulls them both through their highs. “Fuck,” he bites down her shoulder, burying his face into her honey scented skin, “I'm still coming-”

After catching his breath, Ben rolls over, pulling her so she is half lying across his chest, his hand roaming the length of her back. She lifts up onto one elbow and strokes her fingers over his chest hair, sporadically kissing his body until she finally reaches his mouth. “Please, don't say it,” he begs, hearing enough goodbyes to last him a lifetime. He covers his face to hide another fresh wave of tears. “Just wait until I've gone to the bathroom.”

He rolls out from under her and she goes about searching for her clothes in the dark.

One by one, she pulls them on, saving her boots for last, before digging around in her bag for her phone. A picture of her and Christian flash up on her lockscreen, taken during the last summer break, and she has to swallow the guilt that sits on her tongue like a bad aftertaste. He thinks she's in London to see her family, homesick after their recent move to Milan. This, her seeing Ben for one final time, would have never crossed his mind.

No, Christian trusted her too much to suspect her of cheating.

With one final look at Ben's bed, all the memories they had made together under the comfort of his sheets, she exits his bedroom and then finally his home for the last time.

———————

Football Taglist: @shanoontje @maseandkepa @theblxefox @blueathens  @ofxinnocence @mrschilly @geek-and-proud @in-my-body-bag @laurasstufff1 @mountchilly @spicysainz @thoseboysinblue @kickinganddriving @lizzypotter14 @bracedes @chilwellspulisic @notsoattractivearenti @swimmingismywholelife @lovelynikol16 @masonsrem @landoslover @kathb59 @emcv1427 @gagaslonina @afterpills @pulisicsgirl

[ohtobeleah]

Bruises // Jake Seresin

Chapter Seven: [War Wounds in the Ward]

Summary: When help finally arrives, Jake believes it may be too late. The extent of both your injuries are finally revealed and the both you come face to face with the reality of just how long you’d been held in captivity for.

Series Warnings: Heavy themes of violence, sexual assault, torture. 18+ content. Minors DNI. Mature themes. Being held in captivity. Hostage style situation. Main character death! Whump, Angst. Conversations that discuss antisocial & antisemitism views.

Word Count: 7.4k

Author Note: THIS SERIES IS CONFRONTING, FICTIONAL, AND DEPICTS IMAGES OF TORTURE. DO NOT READ PAST THIS POINT IF YOU BELIEVE THAT THIS SERIES WILL BE DETRIMENTAL TO YOUR MENTAL STABILITY. CURATE YOUR OWN TIMELINE.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

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“We gotta move.” How this guy got the key to Jake’s cell he’d never know, but what was important was that he had it and he was here now. “We’ve got about ten minutes to get you both out to the medi-vac.” 

You never would have guessed how quickly Jake Seresin could still move in order to put his body on the line for you. At the sight of someone coming into his cell yet again, rescuer or not—he was shielding you with everything he had. No one was touching you, not again. 

Once the man was inside Jake's cell he took a knee to assess your current state. At the mere thought of anyone touching you Jake flinched and held you a little tighter. He wasn’t sure who he could trust, wasn’t sure if this was real or just some cruel joke. Another attempt to shatter any kind of hope. 

“It’s okay Lieutenant, you can let her go.”

“I don’t trust you.” Jake used his body to shield you as much as he could. He was done letting people hurt you, including himself. The man in the dark mask paused, but then in order to gain Jake's trust, he took that mask off, revealing his identity to Jake as he tried to reach out to gauge your pulse. “Please don’t hurt her, she’s been through enough.” 

“I’m not gonna hurt her Jacob.” The man with silver hair and a cocky half smile confirmed. “My name is Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS, I’m gonna get the two of you out of here.”

“Who was the woman, the one who gave me the note?” Jake couldn’t stop thinking about her and her lifeless body. Who was she? How did she get a note from Rooster? How did she know help was coming? There were so many unanswered questions he thought he’d never get answers to. 

“CIA—deep cover agent, she had sent out a coded message around the time the two of you went missing. Descriptions matched, your friend Rooster I believe?” Gibbs was still trying to find your pulse. “Yeah he told her to write a note out, give you something to fight for.” 

“Hold tight, Stay alive—“ Jake repeated to himself just under his breath, the agent who wasn’t happy with how weak your pulse was nodded too. 

“Which is exactly what she’s gonna have to do, let’s get her out of here before it’s too late.” 

“Gibbs!” Another man came racing down the hallway. “Gibbs we gotta move!” He was dressed in the same dark uniform as Gibbs was. “They’re angry as shit, like ants! A hive of angry ants.” 

“I thought I told you to distract and disturb?” 

“Yeah well, change of plans—we gotta get the hell outta dodge, now!” 

Jake wasn’t all that sure who to follow or what to think. He only knew two things for sure, one being he had to get you out of here while he still had a chance too. And two? He couldn’t run. He couldn’t come with you. He was damaged goods. 

“I can’t go.” Jake confessed with a deep sigh as he handed you over to the man who’s just come racing in. He ran his finger down your cheek and tried to hold it together. Was this the last time he was ever going to see you? “She’s in a really bad way, please take care of her, get her out of here.” 

“Lieutenant it’s now or never—“ Gibbs made sure to remind Jake. 

“They put a pacemaker inside my damn chest alright! I can’t let my heart rate get above one forty!” Jake explained as the older man helped him to his feet. “The Commander has a remote control for it too, and I gotta be honest with you, I’m not all that keen on the idea of my heart exploding inside my fucking chest.” 

“The Commanders dead.” Gibbs tried his best to bluff his way through this. He had to get Jake out of here, there was no backup plan. It was now or never and never wasn’t an option. “He’s gone, ain’t got no way to press that button.” DiNozzo knew as a matter of fact that Dennis Gervais was well and truly alive, because he’d just come from the same room that he was in. “So we focus on keeping your heart rate down and get you out of here.” All Jake did was nod as he looked at you just barely breathing, barely holding on for dear life. You’d been through so much—he owed you this much, to try till his dying breath to get you out of this hell. “DiNozzo you take Y/n, I’ll guard Jake here and we’ll get ‘em on the medi-vac before shit gets too out of hand.” 

“On it boss.” Tony acknowledged the plan and knew the risks involved as he bent down to pick you up and pull your nearly lifeless body across his shoulders so that he could carry you. “Okay ma’am, sorry if this hurts a little.” 

“We’re heading down the hall, taking the first left and making a run for the stairs that leads up to the ground floor—it’ll take us right out to the loading bay.” Jake couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Gibbs knew it was going to be a hard pill to swallow as the group started to make their way out of the cell. 

“You mean to tell me there’s been an exit door right down the hall this whole time!!” It made him sick to his stomach. Freeform was right there all along. It made things so much worse knowing it was right there. 

“We’re gonna get you home Lieutenant, just keep in step and don’t look back.” Gibbs commanded as he made sure his weapon was loaded. “Let’s get these two out of here DiNozzo.” 

Jake watched as DiNozzo took off running with you slung across his shoulders. His heart ached on two fronts, one being he knew you were about to be safe, about to be away from all this. The other being he hated whenever you were away from him. When you were with him you were safe in his arms. Apart? He couldn’t help you. 

There were guards slain in the hall from where gunfire had recently rung out, Jake tried his best not to get too caught up but he couldn’t recognise a single soul. None of them he knew from his time trapped. They were just foot soldiers. 

“Take a left DiNozzo!” Anthony corrected his direction promptly as Jake followed, he was being careful to pace himself. He didn’t want the beeping to start, not now. It couldn’t, he was relying on everything he had left inside him to keep it down. To breathe steady, In and out. 

“Right! Sorry!” Gibbs was the last one up the stairs, he was protecting his people, firing the odd shot at anyone who tried to stop them four of them from getting where they needed to go. 

“Jake?” It was the softest of whimpers that escaped from your lips as DiNozzo carried you up the stairs. “Jake?” You mumbled again, only this time a little louder and more confused. “What’s going on?” 

“You’re okay ma’am.” Tony tried his best to calm you before you had a chance to panic. “Jakes right behind me, I’m special agent Anthony DiNozzo with the NCIS.” 

“Oh.” Was all you could say as you dangled over Dinozzo's shoulders. “Oh god someone found us.” It was more like you were trying to convince yourself this was real. “Someone came.” 

“We did ma’am.” DiNozzo confirmed as he opened the latch on the door that led out to the loading dock. “We’re not out of the woods yet though, so just stay with us for a little while longer okay?” When he was finally able to unlock the heavy metal door, DiNozzo was delighted to see the medi-vac choppers coming in for landing. “Over there!” He shouted back at Jake and Gibbs before he took off running with you on his shoulders. 

The sunlight burned Jake's skin as he stepped out into the light. God how long had it been since he’d felt the warmth of the sun on his usually tanned skin. He’d never been this pal, this skinny, this unkempt. 

“There’s someone who wants to speak with you, Lieutenant.” Gibbs smirked as he escorted Jake across the snow and over to the helicopter that would be taking him back to the carrier. He handed him a radio, one of those sat nav ones. 

Jake held it up so he could talk just as five F-18 Super Hornets came racing past to pepper the building with ammunition. It was a full takedown if there ever was one. A covert operation to get you and Jake back. The signal had been given and it was go time. 

“What took you so long?” Jake wasn’t sure who it was going to be, but he knew they were all up there. All cheering that he was alive, that you were alive. That the pair of you were being rescued. Hey did however have a slight inkling as to who might answer. “What the hell has the Calvary been!” 

“Hey Hangman.” Rooster bellowed through the radio as he flew closer to the building just to drop a missile on the southwest corner. “You look good!” Jake couldn’t contain his laughter, this was really happening. 

“I am good, Rooster.” He remembered what he’d said all those years ago. “I’m very good.” Jake sighed as he watched his colleagues and friends dismantle the building you and Jake had been held hostage in for what felt like forever. “Now get us outta here!” 

“We better keep moving, Lieutenant.” Gibbs ushered Jake over to the other medi-vac helicopter, it had all gone according to plan. Jake had kept his heart rate below one twenty as his watch kept telling him. You were being loaded into the other helicopter, strapped to a medical gurney and fitted with oxygen immediately. Jake watched on as the building the four of you had just come out of went up in smoke and flames. Insurgents scurried out for their lives at any exit they could take. “Let’s get these birds in the sky!” 

“Yes sir.” The pilot copied just as Jake saw the man he’d been told was dead appearing out of the smoke, surrounded by insurgents with guns who aimed right for the two medi-vac helicopters. 

“Come on probie help me get her strapped in.” Tony grumbled as he fiddled with the straps around the wheels of the bed you were on. He didn’t want it to budge. “How the hell did you get the easy job anyway!” 

“Easy job!! I’ve been out here for ten minutes fending off enemy fire!” 

“I thought you said he was dead!?” Jake hissed as he eyed off the man who’d put you both through hell. He couldn’t help but to say as he thought about making a break from the helicopter just to get his revenge from n the man who’s done so much damage. But he couldn’t, Jake wouldn’t do that as the helicopter began to rise from the snow covered ground. He wasn’t going to, not for any amount of money, you’d told him when the pair of you were first captured to never play the hero again—but Jake was a villain. A hero would sacrifice anything for the greater good. He’d see anything ax expendable. 

But Jake would walk through fire and cross the seven seas for you, he had no such desire to want to play the hero. He just wanted to be safe again, with you. So knowing you were already safe, there was no reason to go back. There was no reason to want to be a hero. 

“I lied—“ Gibbs sighed as he aimed his weapon. “Get us up in the air!” Jake knew the moment he saw The Commander standing there watching him escape that he wouldn’t let him go without a fight, without causing enough damage that he might not make it out alive. As the helicopters took off you sat up just to watch the group below you get further and further away. 

You were safe. Jake was safe. You were finally getting out of this hell together. And then? Everything you thought you knew came crashing down around you as you watched what appeared to be Jake's lifeless body fall out of the side of the medi-vac helicopter. No. Not now, not after everything you'd been through. 

“NNOOOOO!” You cried out from behind the oxygen mask you'd been given. “JAKE!!”

Jake first fell to his knees as his hand gripped at his chest. The pain was all too real, too overpowering for him to stay steady on his feet. The Commander stood grinning ear to ear as he watched Jake fall out of the Medi-vac that was in the process of taking off. It would have been a solid hundred metres give or take a few. But it was surely enough to break Jake's jaw on impact. 

“You’re not going anywhere Seresin!” The Commander growled as he and his men ascended on Jake. Two of them pulled him harshly up by his forearms as they forced Jake to look up at the very man who had caused so many people so much pain. “Your girl might get out, but you–you won't ever see the light of day ever again. 

“Take us back to the carrier!” DiNozzo ordered the pilot who had carried on his way. You were in complete hysterics. You couldn't leave, not without Jake. 

“WE HAVE TO GO BACK!” With all your might you were trying to get up off the bed. “WE CAN'T LEAVE HIM!” You felt like you couldn't breathe, Jake had been your rock this whole time. You'd seen the worst in people but also seen the best in him. You couldn't leave him behind, you couldn’t betray him when he never once let you give up. 

“Ma’am, Ma’am you need to try and relax alright, Gibbs will figure it out.” Tony reassured you just hoping that his boss could pull something together. “We’re not going to leave him here, but we need to get you back to people who can help keep you alive.” 

“I’m gonna kill you, I’m gonna kill you dead just because I can and for what it's worth? Your name will be forgotten once we are one word and one people, Jacob.” It was the worst kind of pain, a pain unparalleled to no other, the kind of pain that takes your breath away. That kind of pain that stops blood in its tracks, that shortens ligaments and tendons as you seize. “If only you’d just stayed the fuck away.” The Commander spat as he stopped Jake's heart, he fried the pacemaker in his chest past the breaking point and when his finger finally came off the little button in his hand: Jake was just thankful to have gotten to hear you say you loved him. Even if you only said it back to even the playing cards. 

Jake knew you could never love him. Not after this, not after you’d gone through unspeakable agony all because of a split second decision he made. 

“You’re not, you’re not going to win this.” Jake struggled out as he looked up at The Commander. “Dennis—“ That struck a raw nerve as The Commander reached for a handgun one of his men held. He wasted not a single second before peppering three rounds into Jake's gut. 

“Maybe, but you won’t be around to see the outcome.” 

Jake Seresin laid dying in the snow surrounded by insurgents as five F-18 Super Hornets laid waist into the building you'd both been held captive in—destroying every crevice, every brick. But ultimately it was just a little too late. You’d be okay though, you had to be. Jake had to believe that as his blood stained the China white snow he laid in. 

The expected was always easier to accept than the unexpected. 

“Everybody get to the evacuation points, if you see anyone you don’t trust? Kill them.” Jake could hear The Commander ordering his men before he kicked the heel of his boot into Jake's face. “Goodbye Lieutenant Seresin—you really did your country proud.” The condescending tone in The Commander’s voice really drove it home that all this had been for nothing. He was going to die, killed in action his final report would say. 

The last thing Jake thought about as he laid in the snow watching as the medi-vac helicopters flew away, one of which had you finally safe on, was that he hoped you went on to live a beautiful life. Got back on your feet, healed from everything you were subjected to, went on to love and experience all the good the world had to offer. He thought about what kind of guy would be so lucky to marry you, have a life with you, raise your children, and watch you thrive. Because it wouldn’t be him. He was okay with that though because you were safe now, Jake Seresin was okay with dying so long as it meant you got the help you needed, that you deserved. 

“I love you.” 

Because you weren’t ever expendable. Not to him. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~**

People have scars in all sorts of unexpected places. Like secret road maps of their own personal history. Diagrams of all their old wounds. Most old wounds heal, leaving nothing behind but a scar, but some of them don't. Some wounds you carry with you everywhere, and although the cuts are long gone: the pain still lingers. 

“Where's Jake?” It was the only thing you could say as you fought off unconsciousness. “Where's Jake? Where is he?” 

“Lieutenant Y/l/n we need to get you into medical so we can start you on IV fluids and antibiotics–” It was a voice you didn't recognise that replied to you as you were being wheeled off the medi-vac and onto the deck of the carrier. “Someone let the Swaine know we’re on route!” 

“Where's Jake?” Why wasn’t anyone listening, why wasn’t anyone answering you? “Please someone tell me he’s okay, that he’s alive? Please?”

It truly was a spectacle on the deck, but in all the commotion of your big arrival no one was listening to what you were mumbling behind your oxygen mask. No one except for one sandy blonde aviator who was pushing past every person he had to in order to get to your side as they wheeled you across the runway. He’d barely shut off his F-18 before he was racing down the tarmac after you. 

“Hey!” Bradley beamed as he reached your side, his hand slipped into your as he walked with the team who were in charge of getting you where you needed to go. “Hey, Hollywood, holy shit–” He couldn't believe you were alive, sure none of them had ever given up hope and from the fleeting information they had been given during your time in captivity, he hoped that CIA agent was still alive, but still he couldn't believe you were actually back. It had been so long. “You’re safe now, we’ve got you.” 

“WHERES JAKE!” It came out as an agonising scream until Rooster could see your tears. “Where is he Bradshaw?” As far as Bradley was aware Jake's rescue Evac was still in the process. He’d fallen and that's all Bradley knew for sure. 

“He’s right behind you, they got him Hollywood, you don't have to worry anymore.” DiNozzo, the Special Agent in charge of escorting you back to medical, looked at the aviator across the gurney from him. He knew that Jake was still yet to be evacuated. He was still on the ground the last Tony saw. “You can rest now, it's alright, Jakes right behind you.” 

“Oh–” You sighed as your entire body relaxed, it was a weight you didn't realise was compressing your chest. “Oh good.” It was only then did your body allow you to go into complete rest. You fell into unconsciousness seconds after being told that Jake was okay, he was coming, that he was right behind you. 

“We’re losing her, we gotta move.” One of the officers informed Bradley as he stood still, watching as you were wheeled into the carrier. Not knowing if you were actually going to make it out of this hell alive. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~**

Jake swore the chill of the snow would take him before his heart gave out. He couldn’t move a single muscle as he laid there on his back in the silence—only burning rubble seemed to break through the deafening silence of his last moments on earth. 

He thought about you, the entire time. How your laugh would fill up the Hard Deck and how he’d roll his eyes in response. It was stupid really but Jake honestly thought if he didn’t get involved with you personally it would be easier to forget about the way you made him feel whenever you walked into a room. 

“Y/n.” Your name sounded so familiar to him, so alluring and all consuming. “Y/n.” It brought him comfort in death. To whisper your name to himself as his life drained from him. “Y/n.” 

“Not Y/n—“ Gibbs groaned as he pressed gauze into Jake's stomach and moved his hands to cover it. “Keep your hands on that.” He told Jake with a hushed tone, like he was trying to keep quiet. “Lift on three, one, two—three.” 

“AAHHH!” Jake couldn’t help the agonising whelp that escaped his mouth as he was lifted up onto a stretcher. Had they come back for him? Surely not—at this point he was dead weight. Why on earth would they turn back for him? 

“Get him on that medi-vac now!” Gibbs ordered as he stood and looked around, it seemed as though The Commander had been able to flee with a handful of insurgents. “Stop the bleeding as fast as you can.” 

What's worse? New wounds which are so horribly painful or old wounds that should have healed years ago and never did? Maybe old wounds teach you something, maybe they remind you of where you've been and what you’ve overcome. They teach you lessons about what to avoid in the future. 

That's what Jake liked to think. Because as he let his head rest back against the stretcher and thought about how beautiful the embers of that god awful building were, he couldn't wait for these new wounds to become valuable lessons that didn't hurt as bad as they did now. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~**

Every cell in the human body regenerates on average every seven years. Like snakes, we shed our skin. Biologically, we’re brand new people. It's imperative, change that is. You might look the same, you probably feel the same, but the change isn't visible. At least not for most people. 

“She’s waking up—“ You barely heard it, the husk of a familiar voice that came from beyond the darkness. “Do you want me to leave?” 

When people say things like ‘People don't change’ It drives scientists crazy, because change is literally the only constant in all of science. Energy. Matter. It's always changing. Morphing. Merging. Growing. Dying. It's the way people try not to change that's unnatural. 

“No kid, no—“ Again, another familiar voice echoed beyond the darkness as you were brought back into the light. A steady beeping droned in the background monitoring your vitals. “You stay, I’ll go check on how Lieutenant Seresin is doing after surgery.” 

The way people cling to what things were instead of letting them be what they are. The way you cling to old memories instead of forming new ones can be just as damaging as trying not to evolve. The way people insist on believing, despite every scientific indication that anything in this lifetime is permanent. 

“Okay, yeah—let me know how he is?” Bradley asked as your dad, Commander ‘Hollywood’ Neven, tapped his shoulder as he sat by your bedside. Watching over you as you recovered from what had been some of the most extensive and exhausting surgeries Rooster had ever seen. 

His mother had had a few operations in her battle with Cancer—but none of which came close to what he was told you were going through. 

From the complete orthopedic reconstruction on your shattered wrist to the skin graft on your lower back, to the plastic surgery repair made to damage done on your face. Some scars would remain—but your surgeon was pretty hopeful that the swelling would go down. It made Roosters heart break. 

“Roo—“ It was the first thing you managed to struggle out. Your throat was so dry as you tilted your head to the side just slightly to see him better. “Hi.” The light hurt your eyes, in a way it felt good to be out of the dark. 

“Hey Hollywood.” Bradley smiled as he reached out to grab your hand. “Tell you what you know how to scare us, don't you?” You couldn't help the oh so soft smile that crept across your face when you realised you were home, that you were finally safe. “How you feeling?” 

“Uh–” You didn't know what to say. Your entire body ached for various different reasons all the more painful to describe than the last. You were a plethora of injuries, a thesaurus of unspeakable acts of violence. And even though there wasn't a part of you that didn’t hurt, all your mind could think about was Jake. So you lied. You lied straight through your teeth. “I'm okay.” Bradley didn't believe it, not for a second. He had seen the state you were in when they airlifted you back to the carrier. And it seemed as though your number one priority hadn’t changed. “Where's Jake? Is he okay?” 

“Hangman's–” You interrupted Bradley quicker than he could explain Jake's current status. 

“I asked where Jake was Rooster, Hangman isn't Jake.” The man who had done everything he could to protect you wasn't Hangman. He was simply Jake. “So please, just tell me Jakes alive?” Bradley complied with your very specific request and told you what you wanted to hear first. 

“Jakes alive.” He nodded. “But he's critical, he's been in and out of surgery for a few days Y/n.” Rooster had collected a series of coffee cups on the table in your hospital room, ranging in size and kind. He must have been here with you for a while. “Your dads seeing to it that he gets the best care.” 

“How long have I been out?” You asked next, everything was blurry. You could remember bits and pieces of being rescued, but not many. You could hear the sound of the helicopter blades in your head, but faces were all distorted in your memory. You could remember Jake holding you, his warmth protecting you from all harm, but then you saw him fall. He fell. Over and over in your mind you watched Jake fall and then you heard your pain filled cries of pure heartbreak. “How long has it been?” 

“Since we got back here, a few days–you've been on some pretty strong painkillers and the doctors just kept telling me you'd wake up when your body was ready.” It was nice to fill in the gaps. But there was one gap you weren't sure if you wanted to fill. 

“And how long were Jake and I, you know, held for?” Bradley wasn't sure if he should be the one to tell you, but then again, if you wanted anyone else to tell you, you would have waited to ask them and not him. So he told you, point blank. 

“Almost Three months.” 

“Oh god.” Change is constant, how you experience change, that's up to you. “No, No no no it cant have been three whole months Rooster.” It can feel like death, or it can feel like a second chance at life if you open your fingers, loosen your grip and go with it, it can feel like pure adrenaline. 

“Y/n?” Bradley frowned when he heard your heart rate monitor start to beep at a faster rate than the machine was comfortable with. “Are you okay?” You felt like you couldn’t breathe as your brain tried to process the harsh reality that you and Jake had been held prisoners for three whole months. Your airways were tightening, like someone had their hands around your neck and was squeezing, holding you down, choking you. “Hey! Hey, I need someone in here! Nurse!” Bradley jumped up to his feet and hit the panic button as you began to cry, panicking as your body didn't feel like your own. 

“Oh god, I can't breathe!” You cried out. “Rooster, help!” Like at any moment you can have another chance at life. Like at any moment, you can be born all over again. Or die from the pure weight of it all. 

“She's having a panic attack or something.” Rooster explained to the nurses who were first into the room. “I don't know what to do.” 

“It's the Asthma, sir.” One of the nurses explained. “She needs ventolin.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~**

“You gotta wake up for me.” An induced coma, that's what the doctors had told you. That's what they said Jake needed in order to heal. In their words, his injuries were extensive, critical and very much life threatening. But while you watched Jake breathe through tubes and held his hand just to let him know you were there, you had to believe that he was going to be okay. That he’d pull through and you'd get to see his smile again. 

“You don't get to leave me now you son of a bitch do you hear me?” You leaned in to whisper in his ear. “I'll be so pissed if you leave me here.” You snarled right in his ear so that he could hear you. “I'll come and find you in the afterlife and when I get there? I'll rain hell down on you for all eternity.” You weren't expecting a reply, not with Jake being in an induced coma and all. The tubes alone would have stopped him from replying even if he was awake. “Please wake up soon, I really miss you.” With your good hand, you gently ran your palm up his forehead and moved the hair that had fallen across his face away. The bruises were dark and extensive, but Jake was still there under it all. Under all the swollen and bruised skin and bone. Jake was still there. Your Jake was still fighting with everything he had. “I love you, please don't leave me.” 

You sat back in your chair, the one you had been in since you were able to leave your own room during the day and visit Jake. You had to take your IV pole with you though, it was a non negotiable. You had to stay hooked up to antibiotics to fight off the infection in your lungs. It hurt to breathe, so the oxygen tank came too. 

“How are we doing today Kiddo?” You dad asked as he came to visit you like he did every day. He, like all the other aviators that came to visit you and Jake, had gotten used to finding you up in Jake's room up in the intensive care ward. 

“My lungs are on fire but it beats the alternative.” You only took your eyes off Jake for a second to acknowledge your father, who so far, hadn’t pried too deep into finding out details of your imprisonment. You knew he'd have to take off the farther figure hat and replace it with his Commander of the pacific fleet hat soon enough. “The doctors said they’re happy with Jake's stats, said he might be able to come out of the coma soon.”

“That's good to hear sweetheart.” Your dad replied as he stood at the end of Jake's hospital bed, eyes off the man who had kept you alive from what he could tell. “I've uh, i've organised for you to speak to someone, someone who might be able to help you start to process what you went through.” 

“I'm not interested.” It was as dismissive as it could be. You had no intention of leaving Jake's side for any longer than you had to. You didn't want to talk to anyone about any of it, they wouldn't understand and you certainly had no desire to explain all your trauma to a complete stranger. “With all due respect, dad, I don't have any intention of returning to active duty, so a therapist signing off on a clearance form that I’m mentally capable of returning to work, isn't needed.” You added the explanation at the end without so much as looking at your dad. You had a sinking feeling in your gut the more you thought about it. The more you were told about the people you had been tasked to take down. To dismantle. 

“Baby girl.” Your dad tried to reason with you as a father and as Commander. “You are a highly skilled weapons system officer, the Navy cannot afford to lose you.” 

“But yet I wasn't good enough to not be labelled as expendable huh?” The room was cold, but your heart was colder now more than ever before. It made sense but at the same time it didn't. Why? Why would the man you looked up to, respected so much–do this to you? 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Did you know that I was sent on this mission? Why I was chosen over Bob and Fanboy, two highly skilled, highly decorated WSO that Jake already worked with and had worked with for years?” Your dad was silent. Of course he knew, he had to have known considering the stakes of the mission. It just hadnt crossed your mind until you were sitting at that dining table with The Commander being told details you weren’t privy to prior to your file being selected. 

“I–” There was nothing your dad could say to change your mind about the situation. He knew, he had betrayed you. 

“I almost died, dad.” You barely spoke above a whisper all the while you kept your eyes on Jake's face. “And you signed off on this mission, knowing that we were going in blind with half a file that contained only basic information.” 

“We knew you were capable.” Your dad was firm with you, like a Commander would be. “I knew you were ready for this, and I knew you were capable of understanding the risks involved—none of us banked on Seresin not knowing how to let go.” So it was true. They all believed the same thing, that if push came to shove Jake would save himself, not his WSO, not his Wingman. No one. 

“You used me as collateral in case it didn't go according to plan!” 

“Darling, you cannot blame me for what happened—I signed off on the mission file, the admirals were given recommendations, your name and file happened to be one of many.” 

“I need you to leave!” You snapped with tears streaming down your cheeks. Now more than ever you wished Jake would just wake up. “I need you to leave and I need you to understand that I don’t have any intention of talking to any therapist or physician or anyone!” It was then you took your hand out of Jakes to pick up one of the empty coffee cups on Jakes bedside table, one of the many you had begun to collect, and threw it at your dad. “Get out!” 

He did. He did what you asked without a fight, knowing the consequences of his actions along with many others would come back to bite him. You and Jake were not letting this slide, not in a million years. 

“Where is it?” You mumbled to yourself as you fumbled around your pockets for your inhaler. You didn’t understand the panic induced asthma yet, but you had been told how to manage it. “Where is it?” When you finally found the little red inhaler in the pocket of your hoodie, you took a single hit of the ventolin and tried to calm down. 

“Miss Y/l/n, are you staying for morning rounds?” One of the doctors who had been looking after Jake asked as he came into the room. Followed by his interns. 

“Yes please—“ You sighed as you got comfortable and reached out for Jake’s hand again. “And for the love of god Doc tell me you’re gonna wake him up soon?” 

All he did was smile in return before looking over to one of his interns. A young female who looked all the more surprised that she was being called upon to present.” 

“Uh this is Lieutenant Jacob Seresin, sustained three gunshot wounds to the middle abdomen that resulted in severe blood loss, major cardiac trauma resulting in a heart attack that left his right aorta damaged.” It was nothing you hadn’t heard before, could probably resight it all yourself by now you’d heard it so many times. “A broken mandible as a result from falling one hundred meters and multiple other injuries ranging from minor to major abrasions, bruises and laceration that all seem to be on the mend.” Hearing it every day didn’t get any easier. Until the last part that put fresh hope in your heart. You hadn’t heard that part before today. 

“Due to be slowly woken from an induced coma as of today.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~**

“Today could be the day Y/n.” The first twenty four hours after surgery are critical. Every breath you take, every fluid you make, is meticulously recorded and analysed, celebrated or mourned. But what about the next twenty four hours? “You just have to remember that both of you went through hell, his body needs time.” Phoenix had brought your flowers. A kind gesture that put a sparkle in your eye for only a few minutes. You were back at Jake's bedside, curled up under a blanket in your chair with your IV poll still at your side. “You need time.”

“I just really need him to wake up—“ But what happens when that first day turns into two, three and four and then those days turn into weeks and possibly turn into months? “I’m starting to lose my mind—the longer he sleeps the more time I have to convince myself that they won.” You explained to Phoenix who fluttered about Jake's ICU ward room. Tidying up, making sure you had company. “That they broke him, me.” 

“They apparently picked the guy up on the coast of Positano—“ It wasn’t the first time you’d heard it but it still felt so surreal to hear. “And that CIA lady's body was recovered a few days after you were rescued.” You’d never met her, but Jake had. The CIA and the NCIS were working together to get this guy long before you were assigned your mission. “So was Captain Hewens.” Phoenix made sure to remind you. “I don’t think he won Hollywood—if he won I don’t think you’d be sitting here.” 

“He didn’t win.” The goal of any surgery is total recovery. To come out better than you were before. But for you and Jake? There was no certainty that the two of you could ever go back to the people you were before. “Ain’t no way he won.” Jake mumbled as he stirred slightly, his hand gripped yours back for the first time since you were able to visit. “He didn’t win—this is nothing I can’t handle.” 

“Oh my god Jake! You’re awake!?” You cried as you got as close to him as you possibly could. “Hi, hey I’m right here yeah? You’re gonna be okay.” 

“I love you—“ Jake needed to say that. He needed you to know. “You’re okay? I’m not dead am I?” 

“No, no you're not dead Jake.” You couldn’t help but to chuckle with utter relief. “You’ll know we’re dead, remember? when it’s just us, on a farm somewhere in the middle of nowhere, just the two of us.” You whispered as you pushed his hair up and away from his forehead. 

“Count me in for that version of heaven.” He’d barely opened his eyes, but Jake had missed your smile oh so much. He would do anything to see it, like a damn fool head over heels in love, he’d do anything. “So we made it? We’re out?” 

“We’re out, we’re home and we’re safe.” Some patients heal quickly and feel immediate relief. For others, the healing happens gradually and it's not until months or even years later that you realise that you don't hurt anymore. “You saved my life Jake Seresin—you never left me hanging.” 

“I’ll leave you two alone for a little while.” Phoenix politely excused herself to go check in with the nurses station about notifying a doctor that Jake was awake. You appreciated it—because now that he was awake you weren’t leaving his side. 

“Are you okay?” Jake asked as he just tried to focus on breathing. When he was finally able to open his eyes they were in you and never left. “Woah, I kinda forgot what you looked like without the dirt and grim, you’re beautiful.” 

“Apparently I’ve got a pretty serious infection in my lungs that gives me asthma attacks when I get worked up but other than that I think I’m okay.” You explain knowing Jake would honestly want you to tell the truth rather than just say you were okay. “And the last thing my body was focused on was maintaining its cycle so I lost my period.” Jake knew why you were mentioning it. “Guess my body just knew what it had to do and not drop any eggs.” Jake squeezed your hand a little tighter and brought your palm up to his lips. “So no need to abort any insurgent fetuses.”

“How long?” You’d asked Rooster the same question, it ended in a panic attack. But again—if Jake wanted to know from anyone else he would have asked them and not you. “How long were we in there for?” 

“Almost Three Months.” So the challenge after every surgery is to be patient. But if you can make it through the first few weeks and months? If you believe that healing is possible–then you can get your life back.

“Guess we’re gonna be pretty messed up for a while aren’t we?” Jake sighed as he fought back tears, this was hell on earth. His entire body hurt but not nearly as much as his heart ached looking at you with his head full of your screams. “But I’m so glad you’re alive.” 

“I’m really thankful you’re alive too.” But that's a big if. “And I know that isnt gonna be easy, it’s gonna really hurt—and be really hard, we’re gonna have to work at this everyday.” You were trying to keep yourself together for Jake’s sake as you let your hand squeeze against his. “But I want to do that because I want you.” 

“You sure about that hotshot?” Jake breathed in softly as his heart beat steady without any doubt that you were the love of his life. “I’m the one who got you into that mess in the first place.” When you nodded softly as tears fell freely down your cheeks, Jake knew one day he’d ask you to marry him. 

“I want all of you, forever, you and me, everyday.” You added, but then there was the pause Jake was waiting for. He knew it was coming because he was thinking the same damn thing. “But we have to heal first, recover—I think the worst thing we could do for each other would be to go into a relationship when we’re literally being held together by glue and some staples.” 

“Can we recover together? But unofficially?” Jake smiled softly as he reached out to cup your still bruised cheek. “Because I unofficially love you, and unofficially I think that I’m not going anywhere.” You let out a laugh, a laugh so pure it brought Jake back to life. He needed nothing but you, forever. 

“Unofficially that sounds like a pretty good idea.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

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[even-disco-baby]

COASTAL SHACK — You wake to find yourself lying in your bed, still very much alive.

PAIN THRESHOLD — Barely.

ENDURANCE — Don’t be dramatic. Aside from a headache and dry mouth, you’re fine.

PAIN THRESHOLD — It’s a *bad* headache.

ENDURANCE — You’ve had worse.

Ouch… No thanks, I’m going back to sleep.

[Try to sit up.]

ENDURANCE — You try to push yourself upright, but your head and your heart pound with the effort and your arms feel weak.

…Look, I said you’ve had worse, I didn’t say you should push your luck.

ENCYCLOPEDIA — It’s the blood loss. A common side effect of getting shot.

YOU — Thanks. Very helpful.

ENCYCLOPEDIA — You’re welcome!

PERCEPTION (Hearing) — As you drop back down to the pillow, you hear a familiar sound. A shuffle of nylon.

PAIN THRESHOLD — You force your eyes open just a sliver, squinting. Despite how dim the shack is, that hi-vis orange is unmistakable.

The lieutenant’s jacket is laid over you, the sleeve of it nearly brushing your cheek.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — You catch a faint whiff of Taiga Super Special.

+1 MORALE

Oh shit! I’ve always wanted to try it on!

Does that mean he’s out there somewhere *without* it? That mental image is just not right.

I wonder what he keeps in his pockets… [Snoop.]

INTERFACING — Blearily, you reach out and feel for the jacket’s inside pockets. Predictably, most of them are empty. Obviously, the lieutenant didn’t leave any of his essentials behind. His badge and notebook are nowhere to be found. Nor are his Astras.

But…

YOU — But?!

INTERFACING — But in his left breast pocket, you feel something small and flimsy.

PERCEPTION (Touch) — Feels like… photo paper.

YOU — [Pull out the photo.]

MIRACULOUS PHOTO — It’s you.

You, reaching out a hand toward the miracle— the Insulindian Phasmid.

INLAND EMPIRE — No. It said that *you* were the miracle… violent and irrepressible…

MIRACULOUS PHOTO — The phasmid unfolding its impossibly long limbs, its eyes fixed calmly on you, the foam and the sky and your small silhouette, wreathed in sunlight, reaching, reaching…

It’s a great photo.

EMPATHY — In his left breast pocket… The lieutenant keeps it close to his heart…

KIM KITSURAGI — “…You’re awake.”

COMPOSURE — You jump, nearly dropping the photo at Kim’s voice.

HALF LIGHT — He’s caught you red handed.

“I wasn’t snooping! It just, er, fell out of the jacket and I…”

“God, Kim, you scared me…”

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant stands in the doorway in a white tank, his silhouette strange and unfamiliar without the bulk of his jacket around his shoulders. In his hands, jugs of clean water from the well. He sets them down by the door and then comes to sit at the table by the window.

“Sorry,” he says flatly, glancing briefly at the photo in your hands, then away. “How are you feeling?”

“Like death.”

“Like there’s a little guy with a sledgehammer knocking around inside my skull.”

“Okay, I guess. Tired.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “Mm. You’ve been sleeping on and off for a couple of days now… I’m not surprised. You were bound to crash eventually, after everything your body’s been through…”

He glances again at the photo, his expression difficult to read.

EMPATHY — He didn’t mean for you to find it, but he isn’t upset, either. Strangely, he almost looks a little guilty.

“…Thinking about changing careers, Kim? You might not make such a bad cryptozoologist.”

“…Pretty scandalous of you to keep a photo of me. Whatever will they say back at the precinct?”

“…Lena and Morell let you keep the original?”

KIM KITSURAGI — “They did,” he says. And then, somewhat awkwardly, “Sorry. I should have offered to let you have it. It was your discovery, really…”

HALF LIGHT — He’s almost scared to let you take it. He doesn’t realize it, but needs it.

“But it’s *your* photo. You’re the only reason we got a picture.”

“That’s true. Does that mean I can keep it?”

“It’s okay. Something tells me you need it more than I do.”

KIM KITSURAGI — He raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t ask you to elaborate. Just stares at the little piece of paper in your hands.

COMPOSURE — It stirs something in him. Something he doesn’t know what to name.

KIM KITSURAGI — “…You said something about having a vision,” he says suddenly, frowning. “When we encountered it, I mean. Something about the… *khm*… the fate of mankind.”

INLAND EMPIRE — He would not understand, even if you told him…

“I say lots of stuff. For no reason. I was probably just goofing.” [Don’t tell him.]

“…I did. The phasmid spoke to me about it.” [Tell him.]

KIM KITSURAGI — His eyelids flutter, processing your words. “It… *spoke* to you?”

“Um, no, I’m just kidding, Kim. Don’t worry about it.”

“Yes. Those few minutes I was just staring at her, we were actually speaking… She said such beautiful things… Beautiful, but scary, too…”

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant’s mouth opens, as if to speak— and then promptly shuts again. His brows knit, lips pursed. He looks at you as if he isn’t quite sure what to make of you.

INLAND EMPIRE — I warned you. He cannot understand…

KIM KITSURAGI — But then his gaze falls back to the photo, and he seems to waver.

“…What did…” He pauses. Swallows. “What did it say…?”

EMPATHY — He is trying not to doubt you like he doubted the miracle held in your very hands.

“She said that our existence must be hell… The fire and the swirling glass and the agonizing awareness… It’s a madness unlike anything else on this planet.”

“She said that she loved me. That she would benefit from our closeness…”

“She said that there really was a Seraseolitic civilization! It’s waiting to be found… right beneath our feet… They really did exist. We just forgot.”

“She said that there was a nearly universal agreement between all other life on the planet that we will be the death of them all. We brought the pale with us… *We* shattered the face of god…”

“She said that we can’t forget anymore… We can’t look away… Or one day, we’ll blink, and find that none of this ever existed. How could that be? I didn’t really understand…”

“She said that the insects are all watching us, in awe of us. That *we* are the miracles… To be able to live like this…”

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant’s lips part in surprise. “We?”

“Yes. You and me. We’re a miracle, Kim. Don’t you think so?”

“Yes. All of us. Humanity is a miracle. That we persist at all is a testament to that. Don’t you think so?”

KIM KITSURAGI — He does not answer. He does not seem to know how to.

EMPATHY — He wishes that he did.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — Your faith is what’s miraculous, detective…

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant leans over and rests his arms on the table, his shoulders hunched and small.

“What else did the phasmid say?”

YOU — “A lot of things.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “I’ve got time.”

EMPATHY — He means it.

YOU — “She said that when we die, the insects… they will bloom from us like banners, raise us up from the ground and carry us into the sky, all in our honor…”

KIM KITSURAGI — “Mm…” He looks out the window, the light glinting off his glasses and making it hard to see his eyes. “Is that a… comfort to you?”

“Yes. It’s a comfort to know that something is watching. They love us for trying, even when the trying isn’t enough.”

“No. It’s not about comfort. It’s just a fact. We’re horrors, but we survive. Any creature would admire that.”

“No. It’s scary. Is that all that this amounts to? The admiration of *insects?* I don’t know what to think of it.”

“Sometimes it is and sometimes it isn’t. Right now, I just know that I’m not ready to die yet.”

KIM KITSURAGI — He nods silently.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — I’m glad to hear that. Truly.

KIM KITSURAGI — “Sounds like I missed out.” He gives you a wry little smile.

EMPATHY — And yet, deep down, there is a real disappointment that he doesn’t want to acknowledge. He wishes he could have heard her voice.

YOU — [Hold out the photo to him.] “Well… that’s what you’ve got me for, isn’t it?”

INLAND EMPIRE — You were born to detect her, precisely because no one else could.

KIM KITSURAGI — He looks at you, then at the photo. Then, he reaches out to take it back from you. He has no pocket to tuck it discreetly into, so he just holds it, his thumb creasing the margins of the paper just slightly.

“I guess so,” he says softly.

VOLITION — *That* is the miracle.

[the-kr8tor]

Epilogue

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CHAPTER 10 <<<

3 years later.

Hobie lounges on the roof of his boat, a thick blanket under him, sunset bearing down on his form painting him in an orange glow, the heat from the sun melting him. Sweat dribbles on his temple, arms in full display, savouring the last days of summer. Waves laps softly at the sides of the boat, rocking him to a sleepy state. He looks content with his arm under his head, eyes closed, hand cold with condensation from his drink.

There's still that missing piece in his heart, longing and waiting. It's practically painless now, a dull ache whenever he sees remnants of you.

Late night calls through bleary eyes and tired muscles help wade him through it. With Letters slowing down, he doesn't seem to mind as long as he knows you're safe and happy wherever you go. But he can't help it whenever his heart seeks you out.

Hobie's finger grazes the pockets of his leather vest laying next to him. it's well worn and loved, cloth having indents and scars, a proof that he lived through it all. His pinky instinctively feels for the polaroid tucked inside, crinkled and folded a hundred times. With a soft smile on his lips when the mental image of it appears in his mind's eye. He Memorized every detail of it, from your tight grip on him to your grin under the dim light of his bedroom.

"Heard you're looking for a roommate"

Hobie opens his eyes lightning quick, elbows sitting him up from his position. He thinks he's still dreaming of you. Frozen, eyes glued to your familiar form yet different from what he's used to, from what he's learned by heart. The pictures you've sent don't do the real thing any justice.

Hands on your suitcases, you drop it theatrically when he rushes towards you. Elated, Hobie jumps off the roof with the same finesse of a cat. Arms outstretched, you giggle when his body reaches yours with a thud. He sweeps you off your feet, clinging, twirling you around.

His arms fit around you just like how you remembered it. Fingers tracing the muscles on his back, you take a big whiff of his scent, leather and citrus with something you don't quite recognize from before, yet it calms you all the same.

The embrace lasts for a hot minute, hands roaming, trying to remember how the other feels. Heartbeats syncing together once again.

Hobie resists the urge to pull away but the heat makes it difficult. Eyes glossy, he pulls away, still holding you as closely as the warmth could let him without suffocating you. He takes you in, taking all the new details to heart. Your eyes crinkling to a smile, the same ones that's currently doing the same to him.

You notice new lines on his young face, tracing it carefully with your thumb, his ring still on your middle finger, dutifully watching over you the entire time you were away.

"Hi, Wallace" you say through happy tears. Eyes shining bright.

"What?–How?...You?" He fumbles with his words. Chuckling, you get the desired reaction from him when you intentionally didn't tell him about you coming back home.

You're back to old habits, teasing him. "There's this thing called a plane, invented years ago I think– oof"

He doesn't let you finish your sarcasm laced sentence, pulling you back to his chest, warm hand behind your head, caressing, reminding him that you're back and not just some mirage from the heat.

You sigh in his hold, cheek right next to his steadying heartbeat, arms wrapped around his torso just like before.

"I'm home" you say softly, eyes tightly closed, breathing calm at his mere touch.

"For a visit?" He hopes.

You look up at him, a grin spreading on your lips, fingers looped around his necklace. "For good"

Cupping your face, calloused hands soft against your skin. You hold his hands right on top of his, kneading and tender.

"Welcome home" Hobie closes the distance, eyes fluttering shut, you don't miss a beat to kiss him back, lips moving with him. The touch you've both yearned for finally satisfied.

"Sorry, for making you wait" you say in between breathless kisses. He kisses you deeper, already missing you from the split second unlinking of lips.

You pick up where you left off, both changed yet it seems like time hasn't passed with every caress and kiss.

Breath hitching, you're more than ready to continue spending your life with him by your side again. You seep back in his marrow, staying there as long as he's willing to have you.

He smiles blissfully, heart finally full again.

A/N: Again, thank you all for the love! If you want more TTN! Hobie feel free to request, I'm more than happy to fulfill it! (I will forever miss this story)

Let me know your thoughts! Ly ❤️

[moonlight-prose]

✧ FANTASY ✧

a/n: so out of all the fics i've written so far i particularly love this one a lot. probably because it's with fanboy and he continues to hold a whole section of my heart to himself. it's not as filthy as all the other prompts i have written, but i love it. enjoy!

day two - photos | kinktober 2023

summary: "but this—you dressed in all black and lace to match—was more than he could have hoped for. you were a dream come true—a fantasy he was lucky enough to have right in front of him."

word count: 1.3k+

pairing: mickey 'fanboy' garcia x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, dirty photos, face fucking, oral (m receiving), cumeating, mickey being cocky.

The familiar click of your Polaroid camera echoed through the room as you lay there. Remaining as still as humanly possible to achieve the perfect vision in his mind. A sight he claimed he could see clearer than he saw the clouds when he was mid flight. You wanted to tell him he was simply trying to flatter you. An act he always partook in. But this time was different.

This time…he knew how he wanted you.

The sheer black gloves you wore were pulled up to your elbows, matching your pretty and delicate thigh highs. The soft glow of the lamp illuminated you in the darkness of your shared bedroom—your body stretched across the bed exactly how he desired. Every minute detail in his head now displayed before him like a piece of fucking art.

“Mi vida,” he said softly, drawing your attention to him—your lips parting at the sight of his dark eyes now blown wide with lust. “Perfecta.”

You grinned, stretching your leg out, your shiny patent black heel shifting to press against his bare chest. Mickey swallowed thickly, his eyes drinking you in—struggling to hold himself back from finally taking you. He said he wanted pictures for when he was gone. When all he had was his hand and the mental image of you.

But this—you dressed in all black and lace to match—was more than he could have hoped for. You were a dream come true—a fantasy he was lucky enough to have right in front of him.

“Are you going to take the picture mi amor? Or are you going to keep staring?” you teased softly—your eyes trailing down to the gray sweatpants he wore that were slung low on his hips. The happy trail you’d kissed to lovingly an hour before now on full display.

He grinned. Positioning the camera back up to his eyeline, he gave you a moment to fix the lens with a stare that was proven to rile him up, before pressing down on the small button. The echo of the film being spit out—developing slowly—sent chills down your spine. Your body reacting in a way it hadn’t before. There was something about knowing what would happen to these photos that sent another wave of slick pouring into your already thin panties.

“Wanna try something,” you said softly, shifting to your knees and watching as he trailed his eyes down the length of your body.

If there’s one thing you knew for certain it was this. Whenever you were with Mickey, you felt like the only person in the world. As if everything faded away until eventually it was just you and him and your shared bedroom, existing on a plane away from everything and everyone. You wanted to stay there. Sink into the sheet, spread your legs, and feel him fill you as he’d done a hundred times before.

But the need to rile him up even further won the battle in your head.

Smiling softly, you reached for the waistband of his sweatpants, dipping your hand beneath the surface and watching him gulp in a lungful of air. His body shuddered when your hand slid along his already hard and leaking cock. You hadn’t even touched him completely, yet he was already this far gone. Entirely ready to cum with just a few gentle strokes and whispered words of praise.

“Ah fuck—” he sucked in another breath, his mouth parting—a groan falling past his plush lips. “Baby I won’t last if you keep—shit—”

Pressing a kiss to his chest, you grinned at the stain of red lipstick that was left behind on his already flushed skin. “You don’t need to last.”

“But I want to…”

“Shh,” you breathed, stroking him softly and allowing him to buck into your hand. “Just get ready to shoot, yeah?”

He nodded, fumbling with the camera as you tugged his sweatpants down until they were around his thighs. A raspy moan echoed in your ears when you leaned down, wrapping your painted lips around the head of his cock. Licking up what had started to bead up at the top.

“Oh fuck,” he panted, his eyes wide in awe—watching intently as you took him into your mouth, positioning yourself to show the expanse of your body.

Blinking up at him, you raised an eyebrow, seeing the understanding quickly spread across his face. If the photos were for him to find some semblance of release when he was away, then you would give him something to remember you by. An image that would no doubt be burned into his brain by the time he came back to you.

Mickey’s hands shook slightly as he held up the camera, the image of you sucking on his cock too much for his already lust addled brain. If you weren’t careful he would cum long before he even got a chance to be inside you. Yet the way you were pumping your hand, stimulating him in just the right way, told him that’s exactly what you wanted.

“Okay,” he muttered to himself, trying not to completely ruin this shot for either of you. He was a man who could handle high risk situations in mid air. Yet his cock in the wet heat of your mouth turned him into a complete and utter mess.

Mickey wasn’t sure how you did it. What spell you cast over him, but it certainly was working.

He clicked the button and both of you watched the film begin to slowly slide out of the bottom. The picture a blank white canvas for now. But he wasn’t concerned with watching it develop. Shit he could barely stand to not cum all over your hand at this moment. Gathering the photos and the camera, he shoved them over to the other side of the bed. He’d worry about them later. Right now you were doubling down on your efforts to bring him to a fast and mind numbing orgasm.

“Fuck baby,” he grunted, thrusting into your mouth and feeling your throat constrict around him. “Gonna cum if you keep that up.”

Your lips quirked up slightly, hand shifting down to cup his balls—tugging on them gently. The fact that you could barely breathe wasn’t a concern to you. Not when Mickey was gripping the back of your head, guiding your movements how he wanted—his pupils nearly swallowing the brown of his irises. A broken sound tore from his chest, his stomach flexing with every thrust, and all it took was you taking him just a little bit more down your throat to send him flying over the edge.

He spurted into your mouth with a pained grunt, his body arching forward into himself; a string of curse words spilling from his lips. And you swallowed every last drop. Sucking along his cock to make sure nothing remained, until he was pulling you up and slotting his lips roughly against yours.

“I should have taken a picture of that,” you gasped, smiling when his hands practically ripped at the lace of your panties. “Could have kept it for when you’re away.”

Something rumbled low and dark in his chest, his hands gripping your thighs painfully as he pushed you back into the mattress. The thought of you getting off to a picture of him made his spent cock twitch again—seeking out the warmth he could only find when he was buried deep within you. Grabbing for the camera, he practically shoved it into your hands, flipping the both of you until he was the one on his back.

A sly smile spreading across his lips.

“Yeah?” he taunted, sliding his thumb to your clit and watching in rapture as your entire body shivered. “Get ready to shoot then mi vida.”