#and yet she spent so much of her life alone

[serpentandlily]

congratulations on 3k followers!

would love to request Azriel x Reader (Fem!Reader if that’s okay with you), some good ole’ angst ending in fluff please!

Az knows reader is his soulmate and doesn’t say anything, reader either finds out because someone in the IC told her or the bond snaps for her, and she thinks Az didn’t tell her because he’s ashamed of her but really he’s ashamed of himself and thought reader wouldn’t want him.

I know this has been done before but I love seeing different versions of it and know yours would be amazing!!

The Shadowsinger’s Secret

Summary: After years spent trying to befriend the shadowsinger to no avail, you are finally ready to give up after accidentally overhearing him speak poorly of you. But when a gossip session exposes a life-changing secret, you realize you can’t let go of Azriel just yet. 

Warnings: some miscommunication, fluff

A/n: Hope you enjoy this! Thanks for sending in a request and for your kind words!

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Meeting Mor at Rita’s during the time Velaris was warded and locked down had completely changed your life. 

A close friendship had bloomed between the two of you. She introduced you to her two other friends, Cassian and Azriel, when she invited you to a dinner at the townhouse they all shared. After getting over the shock of meeting the fae so close to the High Lord, you were quick to make friends with them—or well, with Cassian at least. 

Although Azriel didn’t seem like much of a talker in the first place, you began to notice the extra ways he would go about avoiding you. Quickly leaving a room with lousy excuses when you entered, avoiding eye contact when he did address you—like when he’d ask you to pass the potatoes since that was really the only time he talked to you, or pretending not to notice you when you would see him out and about in the city. 

At first, you chalked it up to him being severely introverted and shy. Not to mention, all three of them were struggling with the fact that their brother and friend was stuck under the rule of Amarantha. It hurt your feelings, but you brushed it off, figuring he would open up to you over time. But that time never seemed to come even after Rhysand returned. 

The first few months after Rhysand finally came home, you were quick to form a friendship with him despite him being your High Lord. You two shared similar traumas. You both had terrible fathers growing up. He had lost his sister, you had lost your brother—the reason you’d moved away from home to live here. But perhaps the best and most silly reason you got along so well was the fact that the two of you loved to gossip. 

Even after making friends with both his brothers and Mor, Azriel did not warm up to you. He still avoided you. Still made sure to always sit at the other end of the table from you. Made sure to never be left in a room alone with you. And he would never be the one to offer to fly you up to the House of Wind, even when it would’ve been more convenient. 

You were beginning to think maybe he just didn’t like you. And then those feelings were confirmed with the appearance of the Archeron sisters. 

You had seen the way Azriel treated Elain, always offering to keep her company or escort her to places. He sat with her at dinners, listened to her talk about her hobbies, and even defended her when a bad word was said about her. Elain was easy to get along with, sure, but so were you. At least, you had thought you were. But Azriel was making you question everything you had ever thought of yourself. 

He even became friends with Nesta, who had been nothing short of a viper when she first arrived in Velaris. That was when you finally let go of the notion of ever being his friend, ever getting him to even so much as look your way. He didn’t like you. For whatever reason, a reason you were too scared to ask the others about, he didn’t like you. 

You had gone to such great lengths to be his friend. Gave him presents on Winter Solstice, brought his favorite treats from the bakery to leave in the kitchen for him every sunday, tried to converse with him during dinners, included him whenever you invited the group out for drinks. You had tried your hardest and it had been met with pure apathy. You eventually found out that he wouldn’t even eat any of the treats you brought, leaving them all for Cassian.  

That really drove the nail into the coffin. He didn’t even want to touch something because it had been from you. It hurt more than you’d like to admit.

You were currently making your way to Rhys’s office for a meeting about how your mentorship with Madja was going but more importantly, to share the hot gossip you’d heard when two voices caught your attention. 

You paused in your tracks when you heard your name mentioned, glancing at the closed door to Rhys’s personal library. 

“You should at least try and talk to her, Azriel.”

“You don’t understand, Elain.” You heard Azriel respond. “I can’t.” 

“It’s not fair that you're making judgements without even knowing her. She’s pretty, she’s kind—Y/n is a great girl!”

Your heart was wildly beating in your chest, both panic and nausea turning over your stomach. 

“I do know her and she’s not. She's not pretty or kind. She’s not a great girl, she’s—”

You fled before you could hear the rest of Azriel’s response, tears burning in your eyes, chest tight. 

So none of it had been in your head. Azriel truly disliked you. You didn’t know what you did to offend him or make him hate you.

You swallowed, thickly, wiping away the tears that had slid down your cheeks, trying to compose yourself before you entered Rhys’s office. The last thing you wanted was for him to ask you why you were upset.

But you could do nothing about the nausea in your stomach, or the hoarse feeling in your throat that made it hard to swallow. Maybe you’d just drop off the report and scurry home before anyone noticed something was wrong. 

You pushed open the door to his office, keeping your eyes on the floor as you entered and shut it behind you. 

“Ah, Y/n, just the person I was waiting for! You will not believe what I heard Nesta telling—” You looked up when Rhys paused to see him staring at you with concern. “Y/n, what’s the matter? Why do you look so upset?” 

“N-nothing,” you choked out, striding forward and setting your report on his desk. “I’m just a bit tired today. Think I’m going to head home and take a nap.” 

Rhysand stared down at the folder on his desk with a frown before leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “Bullshit.” 

“Excuse me?!”

“I’m calling bullshit, Y/n,” Rhys said, looking at you with a stern expression that was normally reserved for when Nyx acted up. “You stay out all night long with Mor all the time and you’ve never skipped out on our talks! What happened? Did someone hurt you? Who do we have to beat up?” 

You shook your head with a small laugh that sounded as hollow as you felt. “Seriously, Rhys, I’m fine. Nothing happened. I really am just tired.” 

He studied you before nodding at the chair in front of his desk with his chin. “Sit.” 

You bristled at him using his High Lord’s voice to get you to obey, reluctantly taking a seat in the armchair. He didn’t seem bothered by the glare you were sending his way. 

“This is hardly necessary,” you argued.

“You’re not leaving this room until you tell me why you walked into my office looking like a little, downtrodden puppy.” 

“Gee, thanks,” you scoffed at his comparison. “Like I said, nothing is wrong!” 

Rhys only quirked an eyebrow at you and you let out a noise of frustration. “Fine! Look, I just overheard some people talking about me and not all of it was…

pleasant, okay? That’s all.” 

“Who?” Rhys barked out. “What were they even saying? You’re the most harmless person I know.”

You rolled your eyes at his remark. 

“No one important and besides, people are allowed to have negative feelings about me,” you sniffed. “Even if it hurts to hear.” 

“If it was no one important then you wouldn’t be upset. And no one is allowed to have negative opinions about any of my friends except for me,” Rhys leaned back in his chair and kicked up his feet on his desk before giving you a very feline smile. 

You snorted. “Yeah, well, what if it was one of your friends I overheard?”

You regretted those words as soon as they came out of your mouth. 

Rhys perked up. “If it was Cassian, don’t pay him any mind. He’s just mad you beat him at poker last week.” 

“It wasn’t Cassian. It was Azriel,” you sighed. 

Rhys was silent for a moment before he burst into laughter. Your mouth dropped open at his audacity. 

“It’s not funny! I’ve spent years trying to be his friend! I don’t know why he hates me so much.” 

“It’s funny because I know Azriel would never talk shit about you. He doesn’t even talk shit about the people he does hate and he most certainly does not hate you,” he chuckled. “I don’t know what you overheard but it must be a misunderstanding.”

“It wasn’t!” 

“Alright, show me.”

You felt dark claws tap on your mental shield and you let him in after some slight hesitation, letting him view your most recent memory. 

“Hm,” Rhys mused when he was done. “I’m not convinced. You should’ve stuck around to hear what he said.” 

Hearing Azriel’s words in your head again caused a new round of tears. You tried to hold them back, sniffling but it was no use. Rhys sat up straight when he realized just how upset you were. 

“Y/n, please don’t cry. I promise you Azriel does not hate you. I know how awful that sounded but I really think—”

“He does! He’s never liked me! I’ve tried so hard to be his friend, Rhys, and he always ignores me or pretends I’m not there. Every time I try to talk to him he gives me one word answers and runs away with any excuse like he can’t even stand to be around me! I don’t know what I did to make him hate me so much or think I’m an awful person.” 

You wiped away the tears on your cheeks, bitterly. 

“Azriel’s just…shy,” Rhys said, weakly. “Give him some time to warm up to you.”

“I’ve known him for over fifty years now, Rhys! Hell, he’s already friends with Elain and Nesta and they’ve barely been living here for two years. I think if he wanted to be my friend, it would’ve happened already. He just doesn’t like me!” 

The door to Rhys’s office opened right after you finished talking and you stiffened as Cassian strode in. 

“Oh, hey, Y/n, I didn’t know you were in here,” Cassian greeted as he shut the door behind him. He stopped in his tracks once he noticed your tears and Rhys’s grimace. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?” 

You groaned, dropping your face into your hands with embarrassment. 

“Y/n is under the impression that Azriel hates her.” 

“No, I know he hates me,” you said, voice muffled. 

Cassian’s booming laughter filled the office, making you sink further down in the chair. What the hell was so funny about this? 

“You think Azriel hates you?” Cassian asked in between his laugh. “Y/n, that is ridiculous! He could never hate you. You’re his mate—”

“Cassian!” Rhys rose, slamming his hands down on his desk. 

Your head sprung up. 

“What…what did you just say?” 

Rhys let out a sigh, pinging the bridge of his nose. “Gods damn it, Cassian. Y/n…you weren’t supposed to find out this way. I’m so sorry—”

“Azriel is my mate and he knows? He told you guys but not me? Why…”

Why? Of course you knew why! He never told you because he didn’t want you as his mate. All the air in the room was sucked out, your face turned hot, your ears started ringing. Your mate didn’t want you. Your Mother-blessed mate didn’t want you. You shot up out of your seat, rushing to the door. 

“Y/n, wait!” 

But you didn’t stop.

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“It’s better this way,” Azriel sighed. “She deserves better than me. She deserves someone as good as her as a mate. She could never want someone like me—I’m not good enough for her.” 

“You should at least try and talk to her, Azriel,” Elain replied. 

“You don’t understand, Elain. I can’t.” 

Azriel sighed, running a hand through his hair. He couldn’t talk to you because the mating bond might snap in place and then you’d be chained to him forever and that was just not fair to you. You deserved so much more. 

“It’s not fair that you're making judgements without even knowing her. She’s pretty, she’s kind—Y/n is a great girl!”

“I do know her and she’s not. She's not pretty or kind. She’s not a great girl, she’s a saint. She’s not just pretty, she is the most beautiful girl in the world and she’s so much more than just kind. She’s good unlike me. I’ve…I’ve done so many bad things. I’m tainted and if I allow myself to be with her, I’ll ruin her.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself, Azriel,” Elain sighed. “Besides, shouldn’t Y/n be the one to decide for herself if you’re good enough for her? Me and Lucien didn’t get off to a great start but at least he was honest with me.” 

Azriel’s wings drooped to the floor. “You’re…right. It’s not fair to her that I’ve been keeping this a secret all these years. But I don’t want her to feel forced to be with me.”

“She is smart, Azriel, and can handle herself. If she doesn’t want you, I’m sure she’ll be honest about that. But you won’t know until you try. And as much as I love listening to you talk about her—I think I can speak for all of us when I say that you should stop saying this stuff to us and start saying it to her! She probably thinks you hate her with how much you avoid her!” 

Azriel’s chest ached at that thought. The last thing he wanted to do was upset you which is why he stayed away. 

“But—”

“No more buts, Azriel,” Elain said, sternly. “Tell her before she finds out some other way like Feyre did. You know how much that upset her. Rhys is lucky my sister is so forgiving.” 

Azriel swallowed thickly, but rose to his feet. It was about time he faced this, about time he stopped trying to hold his mate at arms length. Even if he felt like he didn’t deserve you, you deserved to know the truth. 

“Okay. You’re right. You’ve all been right and I’ve been a coward. She deserves the truth.”

Elain smiled, nodding her head. “Good luck, Azriel. Just remember if she seems reluctant at first, don’t take it to heart. It took all of us some time before we warmed up to our mates.” 

He gave her a dip of his head before leaving the library to start his search for his mate. What he didn’t expect was you to come barreling down the hallway with tears pouring from your eyes. His stomach turned over at the sight and he quickly stopped you in her path, grabbing you by the shoulders. 

“Y/n, what’s wrong—”

Your eyes widened as you stared up at him.

“D-don’t,” you cried out, shrugging out of his grip. “Please, don’t touch me.”

And then you were off again, disappearing around the corner. He stood frozen in place, debating if he should run after you. But you clearly didn’t want to talk to him. And it was all his fault—the distance he had put between the two of you. 

He made his way to Rhys’s office, pushing aside the urge to run after his mate and find out why you were so upset and who he needed to hurt for causing your tears. 

When he entered, he immediately knew something was wrong. Cassian was staring at him with pure guilt in his eyes while Rhys stood behind his desk, frowning. 

“Azriel, I’m so sorry,” Cassian choked out. 

“Sorry about what?” 

Cassian rubbed the back of his neck, looking like he wanted to ground to swallow him whole. “I might’ve told Y/n that you're her mate.” 

“You what,” Azriel growled. 

Cassian glanced at Rhys who decided to jump in before a war broke out in his office. “Honestly, Azriel, it’s your fault for keeping it from her. She was in here crying because she thinks you hate her. I was trying to convince her you don’t when Cassian walked in and let it slip.” 

“You’re one to talk,” Azriel spat out. “You hid your mating bond from Feyre too.”

“Not for over fifty years! I would’ve told her if she hadn’t found out. I withheld that information for a few months and look how that turned out. How do you think Y/n will feel knowing you hid it from her for over fifty years!” 

Azriel’s wings slumped, his shadows whirling around him in distress. Just the idea of you being hurt by him was enough to make him want to bash his head into the wall. “She deserves better.”

“You’re right. She deserves you,” Cassian said, gently, nudging him with his shoulder. “Maybe this was the push you needed, Az, to finally talk to her.” 

Azriel sighed, bowing his head in shame. “I know, I know. And I will—I will go talk to her.” 

“I recommend starting with an apology,” Rhys joked but Azriel was hardly paying attention, already sending out his shadows to find his upset mate.

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You were sitting on a hill that overlooked Velaris, running your fingers through the grass. This day had gone from bad to absolutely dreadful in the matter of a few minutes and now you were left reeling with the information that Azriel was your mate. A mate that had kept the bond secret from you. A mate that obviously didn’t want you.

He had said so to Elain. He didn’t think you were pretty or kind or great. It all made sense now, how much he had avoided you in the past. He didn’t want you to figure it out, didn’t want the bond to snap for you. You let out a sigh, drawing your knees up to your chest and resting your chin on them.

A light breeze of wind ruffled your hair forward as someone appeared behind you. You didn’t bother turning around, already recognizing that familiar smell of cedar and night-chilled mist. Cassian must’ve let him know that the cat was out of the bag and now Azriel was likely here to beg you to reject him.

“You know, I’ve lived in Velaris nearly my whole life but I’ve never been up here before today.” Azriel’s deep voice broke the silence. “That’s a beautiful view of the city.”

“I know,” you answered, quietly, your voice hoarse from crying. “It’s why I come up here.”

“Do you come here often?” His voice was closer this time and his shadows began to whisk through your hair and under your arms, much like they always did when in your presence.

“Only when I’m upset,” you sighed, blinking away more tears.

There was a moment of silence before Azriel spoke again. “I’m really sorry, Y/n. I did not intend for you to find out about the bond that way.”

“It’s alright,” you said, weakly. “It must’ve been hard finding out your mate is someone you don’t want. I know you’re here to ask me to reject it. I will do as you ask so you can continue on with your life.”

“No,” Azriel spit out quickly, stumbling closer to you. “No, I’m not here to ask you to reject it. I’m here to explain myself…I hate that this has made you so upset.”

He sat down next to you, mimicking your position. You kept your gaze forward, scared to see what you might find if you looked at him. “You don’t have to explain yourself, Azriel. I get it. I, um, I overheard you talking about me to Elain.”

“Rhys showed me what you overheard,” Azriel said, his wings flexing before the one closest to you curled around your form to block the wind. “I wish you had stayed just a second longer, Y/n, because I truly was not saying anything bad about you. I would never—”

“If that’s true then what were you doing? What did you mean when you said I wasn’t pretty or kind or great? What could that possibly mean other than what it seems to?”

“I said that because it’s true. You’re not pretty or kind or great, Y/n. You are beautiful, the most beautiful girl to ever step foot in this world. And you’re not just kind, you’re so much more than that. You are good. You have the heart of a true angel. You are so much more than those three words can describe. I never kept the bond from you because I didn’t want you. I kept it a secret because you deserve someone better,” Azriel confessed.

“And you don’t think you can be that someone for me, Azriel? You’re my Mother-given mate! You want to know something? I’ve always dreamt about finding my mate one day. Hoped that I would get to experience a love like that in my lifetime. And to find out—”

Your voice cracked, tears sliding down your cheeks.

“Please, don’t cry,” Azriel pleaded, taking your chin in his grasp, and turning your head to face him. He cupped your cheeks, his thumbs brushing away the tears. “I longed for the day I would find my mate. But when I finally found you after all these years, I…I didn’t know how to wrap my head around the fact that the Mother blessed me with you. You are so much more than I ever dreamed of. You are all that is good in this world. You bring happiness to every room you walk in. You’re smart. You’re beautiful. The last thing I wanted was to drag you down by shackling you to me.”

“What if it is you that I want? What if I want you to be that person? Did you ever consider that might be a possibility? Because let me tell you something, Azriel. You say I’m more than you ever dreamed of, but you are exactly who I’ve been dreaming of all these years. Someone calm, someone patient, someone good of heart. Someone I can feel safe around. Someone I can call home. What would you say to that?”

“Then I might say you’re an idiot for wanting me,” Azriel chuckled, still stroking your cheeks with his thumbs, staring down at you with those beautiful hazel eyes. “But then I’d probably get down on my knees and beg you for a second chance. To let me prove to you that you have my heart and soul. You have since the day I laid eyes on you.”

You stared up at him, eyes wide with your vulnerability. “And if I agreed to give you a second chance, what would you say?”

“I would say be ready by seven tonight so I can take you out and show you what a girl like you deserves,” Azriel breathed out. “What would you say to that?”

You laughed, the ache in your chest finally soothed. “I would say yes.”

Azriel smiled, a rare and breathtaking sight, before he stood and reached out a hand to help you off the ground. “Good. I was hoping you’d say that.”

You smiled back at him before finally taking his hand.

[gabatronnie]

I feel ya sis, with that said can you do "it" with crush!chaggie(Charlie and Vaggie). Reader and them aren't dating yet.

Reader is a strong overlord but suffer from depression, their insanely strong. (This part is my personal headcanon) reader has no limits shapeshifting, like they could shift into anything, lost an arm? Make a new one. Want different hair style? Just change it, something like that.

This takes place after ep 8. The hotel has been rebuilt and everything has settled down, and reader was still overwhelming stressed.

Reader resides in the hotel in one of the many new rooms, they had a anglic dagger(ordered from Carmine herself) and they just had the urge to do "it", and so they did it. But Charlie and vaggie had went to get them for an activity, and saw them do "it".

Basically i just want them to comfort me🥲

No need to do it if it makes you uncomfortable, and sorry if it's too long just thought you might want some extra details. The rest you can do as you please.

Thanks if you can do it, and no probs if you can't do it

chaggie comforting reader after they relapse (hcs)

this piece includes the following: self harm, blood, depressive (possibly suicidal) thoughts

it was vaggie who initially walked in on you whilst in the act, with charlie following soon after, and it’s safe to say that well… they were shocked.

charlie was confused more than anything, you seemed perfectly happy inside and out, and to say she was shocked was an understatement, and even if you weren’t all those things, she couldn’t understand why someone so amazing would do something so awful, especially if it’s to themselves

vaggie was more so personally upset with herself, as we see throughout the course of the show, vaggie can get hard on herself when she feels as if she didn't fufill some kind of quota on how much she's supposed to do for you

but aside from all that, vaggie will softly but sternly tell you to put the dagger down, as charlie softly mutters “what happened..?”

charlie and vaggie approach you slowly, a bit hesitant to push anything, but vaggie takes the dagger from you and softly places it somewhere safe before the three of you have a conversation

it may seem like your being scolded or lectured by these two, but you’re not, they just want to be safe and happy, that’s really all that matters to them

charlie will probably shed a few tears, she feels awful, and feels like she’s failed you in a way - like she hasn’t properly down her job

you three go over that your girls want you to be safe and happy and they understand life gets hard and people make mistakes, but that this isn’t the way to do it

once you three address the main issues and go over a few ground rules, they just wanna hug you, especially charlie

it’s safe to say that after this, charlie and vaggie both try their best to be more aware of your behaviors and emotions, charlie makes sure to include more mental health themed activities for the hotel residents, and vaggie ensures that you aren’t alone for an extended period of time on a regular basis

a/n: originally this was gonna be a oneshot but it didn’t save so i spent like almost all day writing this but as headcanons 😔 either way i hope it’s still enjoyable

© gabatronnie - don't translate, heavily inspire, feed my work to ai, or repost it on other platforms.

[overtaken-stream]

What's your opinion on Katakuri being a dad ^-^, ik he doesnt pull out

Father!Katakuri headcanons

This is all my brain can come up with. It's a bit short, and I'm not satisfied with this, I feel like I could have added more, thus this has been collecting dust in my drafts. I hope you like it anon.

Warnings: End of Wano spoilers, this is meant for F!Reader.

I imagine he had children after Big Mom passed. Or a few years before she died, and of course, the marriage was arranged once Big Mom realized that she might just be left without any offspring from her third child.

And as much as I'd like to get lost in Father Katakuri, I can not ignore the warning signs this road presents.

The man doesn't see his children often enough. He always wanted to spend time with his family, but in this job, that isn't possible. Big Mom often holds his family over his head, making empty promises about him having a week off to help take care of the children, only to call him back before the sun rises on the fourth day. He had the courage to ask her for more time at the beginning, or to not disturb him during that single week where he spends time in metaphorical paradise with kids whom he loves and his partner whom he tries to shower with affection. He asked that of her once and when Big Mom does not deliver, Katakuri learns to cope with the dissatisfaction, it's a song he has heard of all his life, he knows every word and note that plays, he wants nothing more than to stop listening so that his kids don't step away from him again. It's impossible, and he comes to terms that he won't have that fatherly privilege. He feels like a stranger around the kids. No amount of comfort will be able to hide the truth.

It isn't the first time Big Mom pushed away a father from his biological children.

Although his time with his kids is short, it's always full of adorable moments, Katakuri is trying very hard to be a father even with his mother standing in his way.

I see Katakuri as a father of 3. Two girls and one boy, who is the youngest.

The man loves sweets, donuts, chocolate bars, cinnamon buns, and all, so he will be DEVASTATED if one of his kids isn't a big fan of sweets. He'll try to make them change their mind, maybe persuading them to eat a different kind of dessert, but once it becomes clear that they aren't into it, he accepts the fact with great pain, since he cannot share the simple pleasure of eating sugar with his child.

Katakuri often can't get his emotions across to others, including his siblings, but with his children, he tries, he really tries. This can be seen in spending quick yet platonically intimate moments with them alone and making small talk that he isn't a big fan of.

He also hopes that when the children grow up, there won't be any distance between them, it's basically a death sentence for him.

The moment Big Mom dies, Katakuri is finally able to keep his promise to his family and breathe with no one holding his leash.

I also think of him as a laid-back father who's strict when needed. His behavior is the result of countless years he spent mulling over his future family and what type of parent he would be. So this led to him walking on metaphorical eggshels that he imagined every time he got close to his children. Which they definitely took for granted.

Katakuri is very careful with his children because of it, I'd say that he is so scared that the kids would build a wall and be mad at him for not spending enough time with them that the man unconsciously started constructing the said wall.

[hazbinhoteloc-ninlil]

Asking about Adam;

//A.N: This was originally going to be an RP, but due to burnout, paired with a desire to move the story along I have decided to progress the plot of Ninlil’s end Via a canon Story. Please know I will be doing my best to represent @theholyone-hh as close to his character as I can. However, I will never do as well as the original Mod who runs him so if he seems a bit OOC, I do apologize. //

TW: depressive episode, feelings of worthlessness, anxiety and yearning. Clumsy attempts at comfort, maybe some bad decisions. Some realizations Because of the topics discussed this will be a 16+ fic. If you’re feeling these types of emotions please go seek out proper help.

This isn’t going to be super long, but it is gonna be a longer story, strap in folks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Enjoy my story below the cut;

Ninlil had slowly been going mad, between the time that had been spent in her cage combined with her heartbreak of being left behind while others moved on, she had fallen into a depression.

Even now she laid in her bed, staring at the ceiling well into the day, yet to eat, yet to clean herself - not that such a thing was truly needed in heaven, though it still showed a lack of her own self care - and yet say hello to her keeper Host.

The winged woman started to question if what she had done was worth it… not even her sacrifice and subsequent soul selling, before that… when she was alive. Were her actions worth it?

She was always the care taker, always the protector. And yes, those she watched over never asked her to do so, she had done it because she loved them and didn’t know how else to show it…

The things she had done, the blood she had spilled, the lives she had prematurely ended for the sake of preserving her beloved…

Was it for nothing? Did she waste her time… did she waste her life?

Her breathing turned harsh as tears ran down her cheeks. A whine lodged in her throat that she simply refused to let out…

Had she truly being abandoned by those whom she sacrificed Everything for? Was she selfish for wanting them to care a bit more and not move on so fast?

But… she wanted them to move on, she wanted them to be happy, she wanted them to find peace… why did it hurt now that they were actually doing it thanks to her sacrifice…

Was she a bad person for hoping they’d still try to save her even though she knew that it was futile and if they dared to try it could result in them getting hurt? Or worse, their very souls being destroyed?

No… no, she couldn’t be selfish… she had given up too much to waste on such self-serving wishes…

But then why did it still hurt so much?

Her breathing turned harsh as she gripped the angelic fabric over her chest, the erratic and rhythmic beating of her heart a brand against her palm. Just like the warm golden hearts gripped in her hand with the fabric were a constant reminder of what exactly she had done.

She had died for love… twice…

Did that make her honorable… or a fool?

Her other hand covered her mouth as a sob forced it’s way out and she curled up into herself, laying on her side as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror…

Her eyes weren’t hers anymore…

They were His.

Haha! Pathetic!… I’m pathetic! She thought to herself with bitterness as she tried desperately to hold back her tears.

She didn’t hear the door click open as God stepped in.

“Birdy?”

His voice came out hesitantly.

“What is wrong? What ails you?”

Now,

God was very very old, God was wise and God saw all…

But, still, he was ill-equipped at dealing with emotions. Having been alone for as long as he has, his emotional maturity is stunted, and he didn’t know exactly what humans required.

They were little things to him. God looking at humans, as humans might a smaller creature, like song birds or squirrels or even ants at times.

True, his Birdy has taught him many a valuable lesson. She has taught him about how humans utilize Free Will differently, how humans had feelings and needed to be treated like people, how children make mistakes, how pride is a powerful thing, that 10,000 years is a long time…

She was patient and a good teacher, his sweet little Birdy, a child herself compared to his vast and endless existence, but still wise and gentle.

He liked her. It’s why he kept her.

Perhaps, in his mind, he was aware that he should release her from his sculptors cabin and allow her to Roam and Experience the heavens he had created to house the mortal souls… souls like her…

But he enjoyed her company too much.

And she never asked him to leave.

So why bring it up?

Still though, as he let himself into her private room, he still thought himself ill-equipped to deal with… whatever this was.

Part of him wanted to just leave the room, but something stopped him.

“Birdy… talk to me child. Why do you weep?”

He sat on the foot of the bed, his massive height making it creak, but it held under his weight because he willed it to.

“Did you hurt yourself?”

He awkwardly - but gently - patted her back in a sorry gesture of comfort.

But for Ninlil, it was enough to know he was trying, and it made her sob harder. Not in pain, but that someone cared, and it was the very person she had sold her soul to so that he’d stop hurting the people she had been growing to love… that she did love.

It’d be hilarious if it wasn’t so sad.

She cried for 30 more minutes before the sobs finally ceased and she just breathed manually and with steady concentration to force her body and her mind to calm itself. Still curled in on herself in a vain attempt at self-comfort.

During her sobs, her head had ended up on Gods lap, his hand - still awkward- petting her hair.

“What brought this on my Birdy? What has happened?”

God asked softly, seeing that Ninlil had finally calmed.

There was a tense beat of silence before Ninlil spoke, her voice raspy and thick from her sobs.

“…. Have I been good? Did I make the right call? Was my sacrifice not in vain?”

It was God’s turn to be silent. Mulling over her words and wondering if there was a correct answer. He settled on the truth.

“You, have surpassed all expectations I had for you… You have restored my faith in humanity and for your sacrifices and good deeds, I deemed it fit to restore your divinity. You’ve been a bit more than, Good.”

He paused as he thought over his next words.

“As for the outcome of your sacrifices… I suppose it depends on what you deem as a success… Lucifer has moved on with his damned bride. They seem to have re-found their happiness, the First Man and the Second Woman are moving on and finding their peace as well. Though Adam still needs to undergo his final two remaining punishments.”

His hand jerked as Ninlil flinched beneath him, having not expected that movement from her. He expected her next words even less, though, at this point he supposed he should’ve seen it coming. She was a loyal woman after all.

The dedication she had to the original duo and the Morningstar was indeed admirable.

“Is there anyway you can leave it at the nightmares he’s already had? Maybe as payment for the tail feathers you took?” Her voice pleading.

“Pet.”

He growled, his voice low and full of warning.

“Your feathers were taken as punishment for placing your soul and my Power in danger by allowing yourself contact with a damned soul before your divinity was properly settled…”

He eyes her until she shrunk beneath his gaze, surrendering to his presence.

“And you know the deal, 3 nightmares, and then freedom. You will not sacrifice more of yourself for him. As you’ve already mentioned so many times; We are all over 10,000 years old. He can handle himself.”

He ran a hand through her hair again as if to push his order into her head, both in comfort and a mocking reminder he saw her as just that… a pet.

“Yes sir…” she conceded, knowing there was nothing she could do. Not against him. Not when he owned her soul. She felt her desire to argue his words and plead her case for her beloveds die in her chest before it was even a proper thought. His hold on her complete.

“Good girl.”

He carefully pat her head again. Praising her and rewarding her obedience.

Indeed she was a good child. He had chosen well.

“Now. What can I do to make you feel better and forget about all this, sad nonsense?”

He waved a hand frivolously at the word, as if her depression was a minor inconvenience.

To him… perhaps it was…

Ninlil sighed as she sat up and began to comb her fingers through her hair, attempting to regain her composure and her appearance.

“I need to wash, I probably look a mess… afterwards… I’d like to rest in the sun for a bit if that’s okay with you Sir.”

She looked up at him, and she wondered if she looked as pathetic as she felt. Emotionally drained, physically exhausted, eyes red and puffy, skin pale from crying.

Though if she did, God made no mention of it. Instead, he simply nodded.

“I shall allow this, I will meet you outside, do hurry.”

Ninlil nodded as she felt obedience wrap around her, urging her to hurry and obey. The side effect of her deal.

Still she took care in her task, allowing herself to be a bit pampered after her earlier violent purge of emotions.

Still though; She was outside, laying in the sun-warmed grass in under 20 minutes, God beside her, joining her. Enjoying the basking rays of golden warmth.

———————————

There they stayed for hours. Sunbathing as though it could wash the darkness within her mind away.

Though, there were certain thoughts that still plagued her. Her mind still running.

She wanted to check on Adam, she wanted to check on Lucifer and check on Eve… she wished they were the ones beside her right now, enjoying the sunshine rays. And comforting her after her cries…

But alas, God wouldn’t permit that…

Her mind still wondered, thinking to other people she missed.

Her brother… Though, god was lenient enough to grant the siblings some free time together.

Yes, seeing Conner again after seven years had brought more happiness into her life than she could remember. She felt as though her heart was gonna burst. God allowed Conner over, and allowed her to leave with him… so long as she was back before sundown.

How she had missed him…

It had given her endless relief when she had learned that her long deceased grandparents had been the ones to take Conner in. He was still with family. And even better,

He was slowly growing. He would eventually have the chance to be an adult. He wouldn’t be a child forever.

She had wept with joy upon learning that.

Her thoughts wondered agin,

To another man she loved…

To a human she had loved…

Adam…

No not That Adam…

Her Adam, the human Adam, the brilliant doctor who was full of light and life.

The man she had ended her human life to protect…

The man she had condemned herself to hell for.

Her first love…

“Sir?” She found herself speaking up.

God lazily rolled his head to look at her, having been enjoying the sun’s rays.

“Hmm?”

“May-“ She hesitated, suddenly nervous.

“Well? Spit it out Birdy.”

God rolled his eyes impatiently as he adjusted so he was lying on his back. Still enjoying the sun.

Ninlil took a deep breath and asked. “May I see someone on earth?”

God froze. Before he narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

“Who?”

“There was a man I left behind a little over five years ago. I loved him very much…. He’s the reason I willingly damned myself to hell. I would like to check on him. See if he’s doing okay.” Ninlil would speak a little too quickly, needing to force herself to make sure her words were slow.

God thought about it for a bit before he sighed.

“I… suppose I can grant you this. You have been good lately and I suppose you deserve a reward.”

He raised a hand and with a crackle of pure divine energy, summoned a viewing sphere that glowed even in the bright daylight.

“Well, what was the mortal’s name?”

Ninlil but her lip. “Adam…”

God froze and slowly turned to look at Ninlil and Ninlil was quick to raise her hands in defense.

“Not that Adam! This Adam was a surgeon! A very talented one! They are NOT the same man! They just happen to share the same name I promise!”

God still started at her just long enough for Ninlil’s heart to drop before he sighed and shook his head.

“Oh child, what am I gonna do with you….”

He asked her. Before he turned his body to properly face her. The glowing sphere of divine light between them. And his face very serious.

“Do you love this man?”

The question gave Ninlil a pause…

She hadn’t thought about that in a while. And even a month ago the answer would been easy.

Yes, everything she had done was for him.

The deals, the murders, the monsterzation of herself, the burial of her peace, the always going, the never resting… EVERYTHING… was for him…

Even a month ago, his face alone was the picture in her mind when she thought of the word ‘Love’…

But now, so much has happened.

Now, three other faces flashed in her mind when she thought of that word… two in the forefront…

Lucifer… and Adam…

The former angel who she died for as she had her human beloved, the former angel who made her laugh, the former angel who carried her with a shocking strength when she was too weak to move on her own…

And the First Man. Adam. The man who held her safe as she took her last breath once again, the man who begged her to stay with him even as she bled out. Who held her safe when she wept through the anniversary of her brother’s death, who made her smile and laugh again, who made her feel important and baked with her. Who reminded her what is was to feel strong, yet cared for.

She did still love her Beloved… but she didn’t just love him alone anymore… she… didn’t know how to feel…

“I… don’t know….” She found herself saying, unable to help but feel like she was betraying her beloved in that moment. Tears welling up in her eyes again.

“Birdy, i would make another Deal with you. Because seeing you hurting does not please me.”

Ninlil gulped. “What would the deal be sir?”

“If whatever you see, causes you pain, and pushes you deeper into your sadness. I will remove this mortal from your memories so that you won’t hurt from them ever again…

But, if you are pleased with what you see, than I will ensure his safety for the rest of his mortal life…. If he’s as good as you say, He will know no hardships and can focus his energy on helping others.”

He holds out a hand.

“Deal?”

Ninlil started at his hand as her thoughts raced, her eyes wide and flowing with tears that left mini rivers down her cheeks as her head struggled to wrap itself around God’s words.

He would be safe… forever safe, free from any harm that may befall him. Just as she had sacrificed everything in hopes of accomplishing…

Or,

He would be forgotten, the reason for everything she had sacrificed, the reason she had gone to hell in the first place. The reason she had suffered as she had suffered and made the choices that had shaped her as a woman… simply… gone…

Was it worth it…

Was she that curious….

‘Yes’ She decided. ‘Yes she was, she needed to know that she hadn’t died in vain… she needed to see him…”

She placed her hand in his much larger grip and squeezed.

“Deal.”

The constraints of the deal wrapped around her like chains, and she felt a twinge of fear for a bad outcome. Suddenly aware that she was currently unable to lie to the ancient being before Her.

As the deal settled, the glowing sphere began to glow impossibly brighter. And images began to dance in the shadows before becoming clear.

She saw her beloved… the human Adam…

He was smiling, talking to a patient and giving what looked like a good diagnosis. The patient, who had been holding the hand of their spouse while listening to Adam’s words burst into tears and held their loved one in a tight embrace before enthusiastically shaking Adam’s hand and offering a load of sincere, tear-filled thank you’s.

Then Adam had gone through the rest of his day, conducting surgeries, talking to patients, and reassuring an old man who didn’t have enough money for his wife’s broken wrist that if he instead paid with some fresh venison, consider the price waived.

He was always like that. Ninlil remembered, So generous and kind, becoming a doctor not for the money, but for the pure joy of making others feel better.

That desire to help people no matter what is what had attracted Ninlil to him in the first place… how she would have done anything to protect that smile.

He was good… so good.

Perhaps it shouldn’t have come as a shock that when he ended the day, he went to his truck, and once he had slid in, and fished in his pocket and pulled out a ring…

Ninlil froze, not even daring to breathe.

She watched unblinkingly as he carefully slid that ring onto a very specific finger…

She sat in silence as she watched him drive home listening to the music she had long associated with him…

And she moved not even a muscle as she watched him eventually pull into a driveway, into a garage, only to step out and walk into his house.

And into the arms of a woman wearing a matching ring…

A breath left Ninlil lungs as she still continued to stare at the seeing sphere.

He had gotten married, he had moved on…

Of course he had, she reminded herself. It’s been over five years…

She watched as the couple chatted and laughed, sitting down to eat dinner before cleaning up together and dancing in the living room…

It was a picture of a perfect romance… homely, domestic and innocent…

It was everything Ninlil has never had… and everything she had wanted…

Everything she secretly wished to still eventually have one day.

When they settled in the couch to watch some movie, Ninlil found herself reaching to touch the sphere, murmuring to herself. Her eyes still fixed in the screen as tears continued to roll down her cheeks.

“He got married… he’s safe, he’s happy, he moved on… I…” She smiled, letting out a shuddering breath. “I didn’t die for nothing….”

She watched them for a few more minutes, fixated on their smiles and laughter… zoned in on their true happiness.

But when they decided to share a kiss and retreat to their bedroom, God shut down the sphere.

“Are you satisfied with what you saw my Birdy?”

Ninlil nodded, her eyes still on where the sphere was.

“I am…” Her voice broke, but not with anguish. With relief.

God nodded and carefully picked Ninlil up. The winged woman letting him. Abruptly becoming aware that the sun had set while she was focused on the visions within the sphere.

God took her inside and sat her on the crafting table before taking his own seat and grabbing a chunk of clay.

“True to my promise, I will make sure that mortal remains safe.”

He said as he shaped the clay in his hands into a great golden eagle. Molding the clay with the knowledge and skill of a master. The eagle as detailed as the actually thing before he gave it a spark and breathed life into it, making it become the actual thing and sending it to earth.

“He shall never know another day of hardship, not so long as he remains pure intentioned.”

“Thank you sir.” Ninlil responded, bowing her head in obedience. “You don’t realize how much I appreciate your generosity.”

He waved off her words with a huff. But was happy she was no longer crying as she had been before. Those sounds weren’t pleasant to him.

He kept his Birdy by his side, where they talked and learned from each other well into the night before he eventually retired into his room, and Ninlil was close behind to do the same.

As she laid in her bed, she stared at the ceiling and thought about what she had seen today.

Adam was safe, happy, and moved on… her chest hurt a bit at the thought, but more overwhelmingly, she was genuinely happy her beloved still wasn’t mourning a dead woman.

5 years… 5 years was long enough to mourn. He deserved this happiness.

Her mind filled with a sense of peace as she gave her blessing.

“May your cup always be full, your heart happy, your mind peaceful, and your wallet forever filled with prosperity, I loved you Adam…” she whispered as she stared at the ceiling in the privacy of her room. “But you’re no longer mine…My heart releases you. I wish you all the best of love and luck my former beloved”

She sighed and closed her eyes as other faces filled her mind…

How she missed them… how she wanted to be back in their arms…

In her mind, in her room, in the depth of the night. Ninlil began to formulate a plan. The last semblance of her whole, un-splintered mind grasping onto this hope. Given a purpose once more, she rattled against the chains of complacency, the Watchdog opening her eyes again.

She had to get back to them…

The only thing left to figure out was How?

————————————————

Authors note; THIS TOOK ME TWO DAYS! But it’s not proofread, please forgive any spelling errors! I hope you enjoyed!

Tagging list:

@hunters-trashblog @sinner-master-adam @chaoticmoron @rayhandle @first--woman @theholyone-hh @green-static @stampy-offical @lolmerfolk @god-the-lord

[blaithnne]

"I remember... everything." Hilda the Series | 2018 - 2023

[mars-ipan]

thinking abt natphi

[ohnonotthehorrors]

Can I... talk about the theory that winners help craft the next game?

Because, and I really can not say this enough, it puts So Much into perspective.

Everything starts out Normal. Three lives, simple, cut and dry, there hasn't been a winner yet. No one to help craft the game. (And there's something to be said about how simple it really was. Not even a real expectation of the world becoming pvp or combative. No idea of the war to come)

Then Grian wins. The green killer, the man who vowed his first life to the one whose life he took. The next game the boogie man is born. A mechanic that allows and, in fact, demands, a green kill. People can trade lives back and forth, currency and debt wrapped up in one. (can we still be friends? Said the red partner. A life time later and reds are hostile, alone. Maybe it's an answer: No. Not anymore)

Scott wins this time. He refuses to play the game. He will not kill his team, he will love and he will do so fiercely and with all of himself. The next game people are attached through to their very souls. Every bit of damage to one soul is done to its twin. There is no boogeyman. (There is no way for a widow to be left without their love)

Pearl wins and she wins a blood bath. Spent the game draped in red, only wolves for company. Sitting in her tower, shivering in ice, maybe she wanted it to end. To see where it would. Limited life rewards you for killing, limited life has a clock tick tick ticking down, you always no how long you have. A curse yes, but a blessing too.

Now It's Martyn's turn.

And what a turn it is.

Keep your secrets, says the disloyal man, keep them well. Everything hurts, everything Matters, says the man fracturing with every loss. (What if we could love each other without hurting? Says The Hand, who never wanted to be coated in blood)

More importantly, Martyn has always seen the watchers below the surface. Now, they're right here in front of him. Something that could almost... be rebelled against, no? Something that someone else could finally point to and say: hey, hey isn't that familiar?

[y2kuromi]

⭑ : 呪術廻戦 ❛ 𝗟𝗜𝗘𝗕𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗨𝗠𝗘 : satoru gojo x fem! reader

࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 synopsis: yuuji sees a completely different side of gojo-sensei !

contents: tooth rotting fluff w a dash of angst! established relationship (married), second person & told from yuuji’s pov. extremely whipped satoru! petnames, suggestive dialogue

summer isn’t over yet! collection, can be read as a stand-alone

yuuji was initially ecstatic about the prospect of living with gojo-sensei. he’d imagined lazing around, gorging on sweets and watching cartoons on tv — maybe a few training sessions squeezed in with gojo-sensei — ideally it would’ve been just the two of them.

his fantasies came crashing down when realised gojo-sensei’s “house” was actually a “home”. the walls in the foyer were riddled with picture frames. he felt like he was intruding on gojo-sensei’s personal life, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the pictures on the walls.

there was a woman beside gojo-sensei in most of the pictures. she had (e/c) eyes and (h/c) hair. a friend? or a girlfriend? — nah. according to fushiguro, gojo-sensei got zero play. though she had to mean something to him. it was evident in the way he looked at her.

his cerulean eyes entirely averted the camera lens, instead devoted to committing every inch of her to memory

“that’s my wife” gojo said softly,“she’s gorgeous isn’t she?” he laughed wryly as he stared lovingly at the smiling woman in the photo. yuuji nodded slowly, studying his teacher closely.

“is she okay with me hiding out here?” he asked tentatively, shoving his hands in the pockets of his hoodie.

“ahhh about that” gojo says sheepishly, “i haven’t had the time to mention it to her so you’ll have to wait here while i talk to her” he ran a hand through his hair, snowy white tendrils curling around his fingers.

classic gojo-sensei.

“oh” yuuji chuckled, the situation was amusing to him. he couldn’t wait to tell fushiguro — the sour reminder that he couldn’t had his laughter dying in his throat.

gojo-sensei shrugged off his shoes and patted yuuji’s shoulder, “don’t worry she’ll say yes , i’ve got her wrapped around my finger”

yuuji waited patiently in the foyer, amber eyes flickering over the expensive decor and woodsy frames of gojo-sensei’s family. he could faintly make out traces of your conversation

"oh? you're home early for once" you smiled, leaning into your husband as he placed a kiss on your forehead. "what's the special occasion 'toru?"

"do i need a reason to want to see my beautiful wife?”

“nope” you hummed, “‘m just surprised to see you” not that you were complaining. satoru was a busy man and you cherished the rare moments you spent alone together

“how was your day sweets?” he asked, taking your hand in his, his thumb stroked over knuckles, soft, loving.

“same old” you shrugged, “we’ve got some big case coming up next week, so i was pretty busy today. had a tonne of paperwork and meetings too"

"my busy bee" he smiles, "i missed you s'much, i hate going on these stupid business trips"

"you'd like them more if i came with you" you said teasingly, poking his rib with your free hand "i ran into kento the other day, you sure i shouldn't come back to jujutsu sorcery too?"

"nuh uh" he shook his head firmly, "stay at your law firm pretty, 'm gonna need someone to defend me when i kill all the higher ups"

"what have they done now?" you sigh exasperatedly, turning the knob on the gas cooker and reducing the heat. the faint clicking sound echoes in the kitchen as the orange-blue flames simmered quietly.

"what haven't they done" he grumbled, leaning against the counter. he gently tugged at his blindfold, lithe fingers unveiling the cerulean eyes that you loved so much. his snowy hair fell softly around his face, a curtain that failed to hide the anger he felt coursing through his veins.

"poor baby" you cooed, hands trailing up to his face and cupping his cheeks, your fingers smoothed over the frown etched on his face, pushing his lips together in a duck-lipped pout, "wanna tell me about it?"

"y'know yuuji? the new first year that's sukuna's vessel?"

you nod, allowing your hands to fall from his face and rest on the counter. his greedy hands make their way to your waist, rubbing circles on the soft flesh peeking out beneath your untucked dress shirt.

"well they sent the first years on a mission to rescue people from the detention center, after sending me on that stupid mission overseas mind you, and the kid had to fight a special grade curse"

"is he okay?" you ask, hands ghosting over satoru's bigger, veiny ones. he sighs, a look of mild irritation fleeting over his face at the memory. in retrospect, none of that mattered now. he was home.

"yeah he's fine" he shrugs, "sukuna ripped his heart out and he died, but he revived him eventually"

"your definition of fine is questionable satoru" you snicker, and he feels his heart melting at the sound of your laughter. "why'd they send them on that mission anyways?"

"they just want yuuji dead, he was supposed to be executed remember? and they're really scared of sukuna which is crazy 'cause he's kinda weak"

"someone needs to humble you" you say, amusement dripping from your words like honey, "pride comes before fall 'toru"

"you humble me all the time sweets" he grins, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead.

"i'm just doing the universe a favour" you tease, "what do you want for dinner? rice? noodles? or we could order food from that thai joint you like if you want”

"i'll eat anything you cook sweets,” he murmurs, “though i have something else i wouldn’t mind eating”

“satoru” you gasped, “you just got home and you’re already trying to get between my legs” you smack his shoulder playfully

“i’ve missed her too” he shrugs, “i’ve missed all of you”

you shook your head, “can’t believe i married such a feen” a languid smile tugs at the corners of your lips. you could try all you wanted to resist his charms, but he’d always win in the end

"so...about yuuji" satoru starts, testing the waters, "the higher ups really want him gone, i can't keep him at jujutsu tech right now"

"i can see why you wouldn't" you hum, leaning on the tips of your toes to reach for the salt. satoru had a habit of placing the things you needed in places you couldn't reach just so he could have the honour of retrieving them for you

“need help with that sweets?” he asks eagerly, pushing himself off the counter and sifting through the wooden shelves. he easily brings the jar of salt down and hands it to you

"you have to stop doing this, it’s such an inconvenience" you sighed, but you were grateful nonetheless.“you’re insufferable i swear”

“‘m still yours” he says suavely. satoru’s smile is unwavering though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

you can tell the thing with yuuji is weighing heavily on his mind. he’s more restless than usual. his lithe fingers run up and down the counter as he stares into space

“‘toru?” you prompt, nudging him with your elbow, “i can hear you thinking”

“i don’t know where to keep him” he exhales, “i would ask shoko, or kento but then i’d risk getting them in trouble with the higher ups”

“what about the secret room we found in our third year?” you asked, “you could keep him there, unless they found out about it”

“i would keep him there.. but i just...don't want him to feel alone," he says softly. you didn’t think it was possible to fall even deeper in love with satoru, but he never failed to surprise you. “he's just a kid, so i— i want to look out for him.”

he knows it’s a big ask. you can hear the gears turning in his head as he figures out how to possibly convince you to let sukuna’s vessel stay in your home.

"can he stay?" he pleads, "can yuuji stay with us please? it’s only until the kyoto goodwill event" he's clasping his hands together, imploring you with his infinitely blue eyes. you raise an eyebrow. knowing satoru, yuuji was probably waiting around in the foyer

"he's already here isn't he?" you ask, shaking your head fondly as a guilty look flickers across his face. classic satoru. although you would've loved for him to give you a heads up, you didn't mind a bit. it would be nice to have some company when satoru went on his missions

 “i didn’t really have time to plan all the details before bringing him with me” he says, sheepishly rubbing a hand behind his neck, his fingers brushed against the soft strands of his undercut, "are you mad? don't be mad baby"

"no" you laugh, "i'm not mad 'toru, he can stay"

it’s the little things like this that make you realise just how much power you have over him. within seconds your husband is whirling you around, hands gripping your waist tightly and pressing chaste kisses on your face as he sets you down

"yuuji she said you can stay" a wide grin blooms across his face as he bounds into the foyer excitedly. the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, reduced to the faint resemblance of a child getting their first sleepover approved

you set the jar of salt down on the marbled counter. trailing after your husband. true to your suspicions, yuuji itadori had been standing awkwardly, twiddling his thumbs together in his hoodie pockets and silently taking in the intricacies of your home.

he couldn’t help but feel out of place.

there were pairs of everything — shoes neatly arranged on the coat rack. umbrellas tucked in a corner in the foyer. coats hung up next to each other on the wall.

the pale blue wallpaper hung row after row of framed photographs. their wooden mahogany panels reflected the warm lights. yuuji’s light brown eyes flickered on the pictures in all their glory and glossy sheen.

the ones that caught his eye captured a young fushiguro’s trademark scowl, the irritated quirk of his brow and the curled spikes of his hair that defied gravity.

he was standing beside a girl who looked just like him, except she was slightly taller with long bone-straight brown hair. yuuji’s eyes lingered on her smile as your beanstalk of a husband shook him excitedly

he wondered what fushiguro would say if he knew he’d seen pictures of him as a little kid. ( he’d probably summon his shikigami on him )

“really?” he beamed, eyes momentarily drawn away from the plethora of frames. you feel your heart melt into a sickly sweet puddle of happiness and warmth, as you watch satoru drape his arm over yuuji’s shoulder

“yes really” you laugh, “it’s nice to finally meet you yuuji, you’re a friend of megumi’s right?”

yuuji nods frantically, his mop of pink curls bouncing enthusiastically . his mannerisms were nervous and eager. he wanted to fit in. he wanted you to like him. you could tell — he reminded you oddly of your husband ( they were practically the same person in different fonts )

“speaking of megumi, he doesn’t know yuuji’s alive so please don’t let it slip when he calls you” satoru murmurs, taking slow steps towards you.

he knows he’s asking for too much now. you practically raised megumi and it would be nearly impossible for you to keep something like this from him. satoru can see the cogs spinning in your head, the subtle anger in your heart and for the first time in years he’s afraid.

“we’ll talk about this later” you say through gritted teeth. he pleads silently with his eyes and you swallow your protests, you exhale loudly before turning towards yuuji again “c’mon yuuji, i’ve just started on dinner”

yuuji kicks off his shoes and nudges them neatly beneath the shoe rack before padding after you. satoru isn’t far behind

“it smells really good mrs. gojo” yuuji says politely, as he takes a seat by the kitchen island, legs dangling as he drums on the smooth marbled counter.

“thank you yuuji” you beamed, “do you prefer rice or noodles?”

“ahh i’m not really picky” he says, “i like all kinds of food really, but i suppose rice? if it isn’t too much of a hassle, i really don’t want to be a bother-”

“slow down yuuji” you said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder, “i’m really glad to have you here, it gets kinda lonely when ‘toru’s away on business trips so make yourself at home okay?”

no wonder gojo-sensei was always happy, his wife was an angel. yuuji thought as he nodded fervently

“i can make the rice baby” satoru offers, his hands make their way around your waist, he doesn’t miss the way you stiffen under his touch. you’re mad at him, and he knows you have every right to be

“thank you” you said, putting as much feeling into the words as you could muster, “come with me yuuji, i’ll show you around”

yuuji was positive he was intruding now, standing in the middle of megumi’s room while you stripped navy blue pinstripe sheets off his bed and replaced them with canary dressings.

“are you sure i can sleep here?” he asks, “ i don’t mind taking the couch..”

you seemed horrified at the idea of yuuji sleeping alone on the couch. he still hadn’t come to terms with the fact that you actually wanted him here. he was so used to being unwanted

growing up with his grandpa was something he wouldn’t trade for the world, yet he’d always craved the warmth of a mother. a mother’s love was the purest, and there was nothing more blameless than the softness in your (e/c) eyes when you looked at him

“i mind yuuji” you frowned” and i want you to stay in gumi’s room, his clothes should fit you since you’re around the same height”

“thank you again for letting me crash here” yuuji didn’t think he could say it enough. he didn’t deserve such kindness, not when the king of curses lived rent free in his head

“don’t mention it yuuji” you said, “i meant what i said downstairs, i could really use the company”

you ruffled his hair softly before resuming your ministrations of making the bed. you tucked crisp sheets beneath the mattress and fluffed up pillows with ease.

“you’re a really good mom, why don’t you and gojo-sensei have any kids of your own?” yuuji only realises the question is slightly insensitive after the words hang in the air and an unreadable look fleets across your face, “i’m so sorry that was really rude of me-”

“you’re good yuuji” you laugh, you sit down on the freshly laid duvet and pat the space beside you. yuuji hesitates but he sits down eventually

“it just never happened y’know? we adopted tsu and gumi a few years back, plus toru’s always seen his students as his kids, he cares about you guys a lot”

“even me?” it doesn’t seem plausible to him. all he’s seemed to do is cause problems for gojo-sensei ever since he ate that gross finger

“especially you yuuji” you smiled, ruffling his hair, “you remind me of him funny enough, even though i used to hate him back in our school days”

“really?” he gawked, he was practically falling over megumi’s bed with anticipation.

“really” you affirmed , “he was a real piece of work back then, i bet he’s the reason yaga has so many grey hairs”

“how’d you fall in love with him then?” yuuji enquires, brown eyes sparkling with immense curiosity “and how’d you meet?”

“are you guys gossiping about me?” satoru gasps, peeking around the doorway, “how mean of you yuuji, i thought we were friends”

“ahhh we weren’t gossiping per-say, mrs. gojo was about to tell me how you met”

“can i tell him?” satoru’s eyes sparkle, “the way i remember it i walked into the common room and cherry blossoms started falling, classical piano was playing softly in the background and-”

“that didn’t happen” you said, “he’s finally going senile” you tried and failed to push satoru out the doorway but he stood his ground.

he stood almost toe to toe with you, a pleased grin blooming on his face as he towered over you. yuuji’s eye’s flickered between you and your husband, cheeks dusted a rosy pink as he stifled giggles

“it did happen!” satoru insisted, “i’m sure shoko has a recording of it somewhere, now as i was saying.. she took one look at me and fell head over heels in love”

“you’re deluded” you muttered, “i didn’t love you until our second year, get your facts right”

“so you did fall head over heels in love with me” he grinned, “so early too? i knew you couldn’t resist my charms — owww!”

satoru feigns as you finally manage to shove him out the door after hitting his shoulder. by now, yuuji is a spluttering mess on the soft tatami mats lining megumi’s floor

“i’ll tell you what really happened one of these days” you said over your shoulder, “you can shower and settle in, take as long as you need, we’ll wait for you to come downstairs before we start eating”

your smile falls the moment the door clicks shut behind you. satoru feels his heart shattering. he’s so sure he’s going to die because his wife is mad at him. the universe might as well combust into nothing but ashes

“baby-” satoru starts, catching your wrist in his palm. he grips the bone loosely, careful not to hurt you “‘m sorry, you know that, but megumi can’t know”

you trudge down the stairs in silence, opting only to speak when you’re seated beside satoru in the living room. your cat natsu watches you wearily from her cat post, slanted eyes shooting satoru a well meaning glare.

“you can’t ask me to keep this from him” you said, shaking your head, eyes looking everywhere but your husband’s piercing blue gaze. “you’re taking things too far now”

“i know” his voice is a mere whisper, the words barely speak themself into existence, “i’m being selfish again, but you’ve gotta understand (y/n)”

“i can’t” you splutter, you feel tears treading your waterline “put yourself in his shoes, c’mon satoru we’ve seen him at his worst, why would we do something that could hurt him?”

“i’m not doing this to hurt megumi, i’m doing this to protect yuuji”

“just think about it please” you frowned, “if instead of executing suguru they kept him alive and let us think he was dead, you’d never forgive them”

he doesn’t miss the way your voice catches over the three syllables. he doesn’t miss the way your fingers tremble against his forearm. he hates this — arguing with you, he could think of infinite things he’d rather do than this.

“that’s different” his voice is wavering now, “suguru made his choice, yuuji didn’t ask for any of this” he winces as the words fall from his lips. to think he’d stooped to speaking ill of the dead. he doesn’t believe that, not really.

“you still wouldn’t forgive them” you prompted, “and i don’t want ‘gumi to go through any more, tsumiki being in a coma is hard enough as it is”

“i know baby, i know” satoru says softly, he cups your trembling face in his hands and places the sweetest of kisses on the tears that threaten to stream down your cheeks, “trust me on this okay? he’ll be fine i promise”

“okay” you nod, letting your husband, your one and only, wipe away the tears spilling over your lashes.

satoru could really kill the higher ups for putting him in this position. one where he nearly sacrificed his wife’s happiness for something as insignificant as jujutsu sorcery. with his lips still pressed to the corners of yours, he makes a silent vow with himself

it would be you before everything. it was you before everything

“you’re so beautiful” he whispers, his thumb grazing your bottom lip “you. are. everything. to. me” he punctuates each word with a kiss. his lips committing every inch of you to memory

they ghost over your cheek, your quivering lip, your shoulder, your wrist, and finally the silver wedding band encasing your ring finger. and they linger on the cool silver for what seems to be eternity before satoru speaks up again

“dance with me?” he prompts, although he’s not really asking. he’s already whisking you onto your feet and starting up the record player. the vinyl spins on its axis, as constant as his infinite love for you.

“what?” you sniffed slightly, “like we did in our first year?”

“like we did in our first year”

satoru’s hands were on your hip, drawing you closer, he felt your chest brush against his for a second as he leaned into you. you swayed gently side to side, keeping in time with the intricate melodies streaming from the gramophone

his six eyes tell him his student is watching, listening. curious doe eyes peeking from the stairwell. he doesn’t mind. satoru had never been one to hide his affection. you were his. and he was infinitely yours.

“can i tell you a secret?” satoru murmurs, as he twirls you back into his arms. he wishes he could stay like this forever. with you. he’d selfishly sacrifice the universe to keep having moments like this. he would kill for you. he’s positive he would. he’d do it without hesitation.

“i thought we didn’t have any of those” you quipped. satoru feels his heart melting. watching the sadness in your eyes fade into utter bliss was like watching the sun come out after a rainy day. maybe even better.

“it’s a good one i promise” he grins, you raise a brow sceptically but you’re listening “i was the one who fell head over heels in love with you. way back in our first year…and i didn’t even know what love was, i was so confused”

“when did you know?” you asked, “you always say you knew the moment you saw me, but you were an asshole then”

“it was the first time we snuck out together” he admits, “when we went to that night market. you were right, i was jealous of suguru but could you blame me? i wanted you all to myself”

“you’ve always been so greedy” you giggled. satoru doesn’t need the six eyes to see that you love him regardless. it’s evident in the tenderness of your tone and the way your (e/c) sparkle when you look at him

“cut me some slack baby” he groans “i’m trying to be romantic”

“you don’t need to try, i heard through the grapevine i can’t resist your charms” you hummed

satoru cracks a smile at the inside joke, a slow symphony of contentment.he kisses you again and it’s sweet and full of blind adoration. loving you is his religion. the only thing he’s wholly committed to. your hands looped around his neck, carefully avoiding the ever-so-sensitive scar that ran beneath his chin

your hands founds repose in the soft strands of his hair, carefully threading through the ivory curls. satoru could feel himself melting into you, he clung to you as if he was scared to let go and his calloused hands clutched at the warmth that radiated from your skin. he was so impossibly close you could feel his eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks.

yuuji peered at the scene with stars in his eyes. he knew he should look away. that this moment was sacred, strictly for the two of you. but he’d never seen gojo like this before — completely vulnerable, completely himself in the confines of your embrace.

here he wasn’t the strongest, the richest, the one-man clan, the one whose mere existence shifted the balance of the world. here, he wasn't satoru gojo, he wasn't gojo-sensei, he was just 'toru.

© Y2KUROMI 2024. please do not plagiarise, repost, or translate any of my works on here or any other websites.

[animexts]

Please don't die | Megumi Fushiguro

Sumarry: Megumi feels his world crumble when he sees Y/n on the brink of death.

Paring: Megumi X Mother figure!Reader | WC: 2.877

A/N: Well, I'm sorry for any mistakes I made here, I'll review it later. This story, the reader is Gojo's wife.

Main masterlist | jjk Masterlist

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Megumi feels her body freeze when she sees Y/n's body being thrown by the curse they were facing.

"Y/n-sensei!" He hears Itadori screaming in the background, but all he can pay attention to is Y/n's bleeding body lying unconscious on the floor.

“It's not your fault”

Is what she would say to him, and then she would give him that smile that manages to relax his whole body.

Y/n was a special grade sorceress, and to Megumi, she was not only the best sorceress, but also the best person.

She was smart, responsible, loving and just the best mother he could ever have.

"Why didn't you fucking take care of her?"

Megumi thinks, clenching her fists with all her strength.

He never thought he would want Gojo's presence as much as he does now.

As if his legs were moving by themselves, he was running over to Y/n and kneeling beside her body.

"Sensei please wake up." He says rocking her gently.

"Sensei please... please don't die mom." He says crying and rubbing his hand on her face.

If he was a little stronger, if he was faster, he never wanted to fulfill the promise he made with Gojo a few years ago so much.

"Listen Megumi, since we're going to share Y/n, you need to promise me that you'll take care of her with your life." Gojo says looking seriously at the Boy.

"She's strong, I don't think she needs my protection." The boy says with his arms crossed. "She's strong yes, but it turns out she'd rather protect those she loves than herself." Megumi looks at Gojo and sighs

"Okay, I promise to protect her"

And during her lifetime, Megumi saw how right Gojo was, Y/n put herself in danger several times to save him or some of the students, both first and second years.

"They're just kids"

Was what she always said.

And unfortunately, that's what was happening now, Y/n spent the day exorcising curses practically alone, as seeing how Itadori and Nobara were still hurt from the previous mission, it sure exhausted her.

"Please Mom, don't leave me too." Megumi says hugging Y/n's body.

He is so desperate, he didn't even notice Gojo coming and finally exorcising the curse.

The Shaman feels his blood run cold when he sees his wife covered in blood, it was even sadder to see Megumi in that state.

"Megumi, let's take her to shoko." Satoru says trying to take his wife from Megumi's arms.

"No! don't take her away from me!" He says holding tighter.

"Come on Megumi, if I take her it will be faster, please is my wife you're holding." Gojo says and Megumi, still reluctant, hands Y/n to Gojo, who immediately leaves.

"Don't worry, Y/n sensei Is one.of the strongest people I've ever met, well she and Gojo sensei." Itadori says putting his hand on Megumi's shoulder.

The strongest couple

Megumi remembers perfectly well only the day when Gojo introduced Y/n to him and his sister. Unlike Gojo, Y/n was responsible, more serious and easier to talk to.

"Here you are, my beautiful wife Y/n!" Gojo says putting his arm around her shoulders.

"I'm not your wife." Y/n says pushing him, and bending down to be at the children's height.

"You're not YET"

"Hi, don't worry, me and this idiot here will take good care of you two." Y/n says, and gives the kids a warm smile.

And that's what she's been doing since they met, Megumi thinks, no, rehash that, he KNEW he wouldn't be the man he is today if it weren't for Y/n's (and Gojo's, of course) incredible upbringing.

"You're worried about sensei aren't you?" Nobara says, as the three walk back to the school.

"I'm sure you don't have to worry, she's pretty tough!" Itadori says smiling.

"I hope you're right." Megumi says, and feels her palms sweat when they arrive at school, and see Gojo sitting on the stairs.

"Look who's here! It took you a while huh." Gojo says standing up and Megumi sighs in relief.

Even though he knows that his sensei is very good at hiding his feelings, he knows that the feeling of losing his wife, best friend, could not be hidden.

Gojo looks at him and sees the anguish on his face.

"She's fine, she's in there resting." He says, and Megumi's face turns red.

"I knew!" Itadori says jumping up.

"You two can go rest, Megumi and I are having a family reunion here with Miss Saves Everyone's Life." Gojo says, and he and Megumi head to their rooms.

"I'm sorry sensei, I couldn't protect her as I should have and as I promised you." Megumi says as the two walk to their rooms.

"I know how much you love her, and you tried to protect her, just like I know how stubborn my wife is, when she wants to protect someone, nobody can stop her." Gojo says and notices that Megumi has clenched her fists.

"I thought you were used to her craziness by now." Satoru says trying to lighten the mood.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to the feeling of almost losing her."

"Me neither" Gojo thinks.

Gojo knocks on the door, and opens it carefully, Megumi almost cries when she sees the state of the woman who always conveys that powerful and independent aura.

"Gumi!" Y/n speaks softly but with happiness in her voice when she sees the younger boy.

"Sensei..." He says quietly, as he doesn't trust his voice anymore.

"Oh Gumi, I was so worried about you." She says with teary eyes.

"I... I'm sorry sensei, I couldn't protect you like I should have." Megumi bows with her eyes closed, making Gojo and Y/n look at him in surprise.

"What are you talking about? I should protect you Gumi, I know I'm not your blood mother but-"

"Don't finish that sentence, you are my mother, and I owe you my life you've protected me my whole life, I want to protect you now... mom." Megumi says crying.

"Oh my love come here." Y/n says opening his arms, making the younger boy immediately fall into the woman's embrace, just like when he was younger.

"You'll always be my baby." Y/n says and kisses Megumi's head, you might think he wouldn't like it, but coming from her, he almost cries from her affection.

"I think for the sake of my sanity, and Megumi's, you better stop giving your life for others, because baby I swear that if you die, the world will gain two crazy mad sorcerers." Gojo says taking off his blindfold.

"And we don't want that right?" Y/n says laughing.

"No, definitely not." Megumi responds by laughing too.

Gojo and Y/n look at each other smiling fondly, they were doing a good job.

"Family hug!" Gojo says lying on top of Megumi.

"You're going to hurt Y/n you freak, get out of here." Megumi says trying to push Gojo away.

They weren't the most perfect family of all, but there was more love than many out there.

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[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 2 - Adjustments

Summary: You're struggling a bit in your adjustment to your new life, and you're finding some of them are easier to get along with than others. Luckily you're not in it alone.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, let's be real this is so unrealistic but it's a/b/o you're not here for accuracy.

Author's Note: I'm so just overwhelmed with the attention this fic has gotten, but not in a bad way I promise! I'm just surprised is all. Thank you everyone that has read and reblogged and commented. I love all of you and so, since I have no self control, here is Chapter 2. Lots more world building and dialogue in this part, but I promise good stuff is coming.

Also I promise Soap will get his time soon. He's just the hardest for me to write, and you'll see why in this chapter.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

“She was lying.” 

Price doesn’t bother looking up as a dark figure leans against the wall next to him. He stares out at the empty space between the barracks and the mess hall, not much traffic between the buildings during this time of day. 

“About how she got to the institute.” 

“Or at least not telling the whole truth.” Price says, turning to look at Simon. “Something tells me she’d talk if we asked.” 

“She’s soft.” Simon says, letting his gaze drift off into the distance. 

“She’s a civilian.” Price counters. “The CIA did a little training, but she’ll need some work. We can’t leave her completely defenseless...” 

Simon turns to face him again. “There’s something else.” 

Price pushes himself off the wall, heading back inside. Simon follows, the two of them making their way down the hall to his office. “There’s hundreds of American military bases across the world, thousands of regiments they could have chosen from, and yet, they sent her to us.” 

Simon closes the door behind him as Price sinks into his desk chair. “You think it was deliberate?” 

Price pulls open one of the drawers, pulling out the file Kate had given him. “Laswell said the CIA has had eyes on her for years.” He slides it across his desk to Simon. “There’s a lot of why's in this situation, and a lot of how’s. Like, if what she’s saying is true, how did a Staff Sergeant get his daughter into FIOT practically overnight?” 

Simon glances up at him over the top of the file. “You think there’s something else going on with this Initiative.” 

Price nods. “I do. I think there’s more than one experiment being run, and we’re the guinea pigs.” 

You stare at your reflection in the mirror as you run a comb through your damp hair. You look tired, the dark circles that have plagued your face for the last few weeks looking even darker now. It’s been a long day, so long it’s hard to believe it’s only been a matter of hours since you boarded the helicopter in London. 

Your new pack had made themselves scarce after dinner, leaving you to your own devices. You had been left alone after lunch too, and you had spent that time laying in bed, resting after the overwhelming scenting. 

You’d played back the last few hours in your mind. Leaving London in the helicopter, meeting your new Pack Alpha, Laswell leaving, meeting your new pack, the scenting. You had plenty to think about, to stress over, and you had been surprised when the knock came at your door for dinner. You were equally surprised to see Gaz and Soap waiting for you. 

You’d been sandwiched between them again as you walked to the mess. It was busier for dinner, and the eyes weren’t quite so quick to look away with the alphas missing. You know they have to be curious, with an omega on base following around two members of a SpecOps team, smelling like them. You know what they were probably thinking of you, what they were thinking your presence means. 

You’ve begun to understand Price’s rules a bit more. 

Price and Ghost had joined you as Soap said they would, coming in late from whatever they had been busy doing. You had been seated next to Soap, Ghost taking his other side while Price sat next to Gaz. It hadn’t gone unnoticed to you how close Soap and Ghost sat, and you remembered the look in Ghost’s eyes when Soap had approached to scent you. How his defensive stare had turned icy, threatening even, when he’d gotten close to you as if you were capable of hurting Soap. It had been a silent warning. If you tried anything, you’d have him to contend with. 

Ghost is territorial, more so than most alphas. You had seen it just a bit in Price, but only because you had been watching for it. Ghost was silent in his claim, but his gaze spoke of his territorialism. As you sat at the table with them, you slowly felt the stares lessen, the curious alphas and betas around you slowly turning away from your table until you were left in peace. You knew it was all thanks to a well-pointed glare from the second alpha at the table. 

They’d escorted you back to the barracks before disappearing again, leaving you alone. You’d opted for a shower to try and clear your head, exhaustion weighing heavy in your limbs but your mind was racing too much to really get any rest. You haven’t been told what their normal schedules entail or even what they look like, but you expect an early morning tomorrow. Since Price had said at least one of them needed to escort you around base, that likely meant you were going to be constrained to their schedules. 

You know even when they’re not away, their days are probably full of training and briefings, much like yours had been for three months. They’re probably up early, earlier than you’d like to be, and then they go non-stop all day. 

You wonder if they ever get a break. 

Maybe this is a break for them. 

You sit on the edge of the bed after you finish your routine, eyeing the pillows and blankets stacked at the end. They’re military issue, not as soft or as plush as you might have preferred. This is your new normal, though. Comfort isn’t exactly going to be a high priority. 

Tears prick your eyes as you run your hand over the comforter. You know it’s the exhaustion, the stress of the day beginning to weigh on you. You’re worn out, and that’s causing a slip in the tight reins you keep on your mood. Omegas and alphas were both prone to being moody, and those who were unrestrained could lose control quickly. Alphas were quick to anger, while omegas could get depressed very easily. Exhaustion drives both to being grumpy, though alphas will descend into irritability and anger, while omegas will get whiny and weepy. 

You hate it, how easily you can be driven to cry. How easily you can lose control. It makes you feel weak and helpless, but that’s partially by design. It was supposed to be your pack’s job to fix that, to give you that support and take care of you. 

Except you don’t know your pack. 

What would they do if you approached them like this, all teary and needy? Would instinct take over and snap them into their roles? Or would they give you an awkward pat on the back and leave you to take care of yourself? Gaz would help you, you think. He had slipped into that role so easily during the scenting. Your fingers twitch on the bedspread, your mind telling you to seek him out, track him down, even if it’s only to catch a whiff of his scent again.  

Your phone screen lights up where it’s sitting on the nightstand, drawing your attention from the door. Kate had given you the phone just this morning before you left the hotel. It had her number on it, as well as your pack’s. You’d half expected to find messages already from them when you’d turned it on, but there had been none. They had kept that boundary of meeting in person first. 

You pick up the phone, checking the message. It’s from Price. 

Breakfast is at 0700. I’ll take you to see the Omega Specialist after. 

Seven o’clock. It’s not terribly early. You’d eaten around the same time at the institute. You’ll get to meet the Omega Specialist as well tomorrow. You’ve met plenty of them in your time as an omega, but something about the idea of having someone there who knows, who understands is comforting to you. 

You send a reply in acknowledgement for tomorrow’s plan before setting an alarm for tomorrow morning. There’s an uneasy feeling under your skin, a tickling in the back of your mind that you can’t seem to relax. Your eyes are drawn to the desk where the shirts still sit, and before you know it you’re moving to the desk, letting your fingers trail over each one. 

You grab Price’s shirt, taking it back to your bed. You curl up with your back facing the door, holding the shirt against your chest, letting the scent of tobacco smoke and whiskey fill your nose. Silent tears slide down your cheeks, your face pressing into the pillow to muffle your sobs. 

As you try to muffle your tears, you miss the sound of boots pausing in front of your door, the person on the other side standing there for a moment before continuing down the hall. 

You let out a groan as your alarm pulls you from sleep. You had drifted in and out for a few hours before finally managing to get a couple precious hours of sleep. You’d woken when the others got up. You knew they were trying to be quiet but you had heard them shuffling around, talking quietly amongst each other. You’re normally a fairly deep sleeper, but in a new place you always struggle. 

A new place surrounded by almost complete strangers. 

You turn off your alarm, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. They’re burning a bit, the exhaustion still weighing heavy on your shoulders. You pad to the bathroom, splashing cold water on your face to try and make yourself at least look more alive than you feel. The last thing you need is them getting worried about you. That’s attention you’re not sure you want right now. 

You blink sleepily at your closet, trying to decide what to wear. Were you allowed to wear anything? You didn’t have much besides the basics, since the only thing you had been allowed to wear at the institute was its uniform and the clothes they provided. Then when you were with the CIA, they had provided clothes for you to wear as well. The things you have now had been bought by Kate before you left D.C. 

Everyone on base wore similar variants of the same uniform. You’re not military, though, so you don’t think those rules apply to you. No one had said anything about your state of dress yesterday. You opt for comfort, knowing you’d likely find out soon if you were going to be forced to dress differently too. 

You’re tying your shoes when the knock sounds on your door. You had heard the others moving around, footsteps in the hallway, opening and closing doors, quiet voices talking and Soap laughing at something. You know it’s one of them, yet the nervous tickle at the back of your head is back. 

Soap is leaning casually against your doorframe when you open the door. His face lights up in a smile as he sees you. “Morning, bonny. Sleep alright?” 

“Yeah.” You shrug. “Tossed and turned for a while.” 

“We didne keep ye up did we?” He asks, his smile faltering just a bit. 

You shake your head. “No, I never sleep well the first few nights in a new place.” 

“Well, our beds are always open if ye need something more comfortable.” He winks at you playfully. 

Your face warms at his words, the double meaning not lost on you. You were right, Soap was going to be the one to push your boundaries the most. 

Gaz elbows him in the ribs as he passes. “She’s been here a day, mate, don’t go scaring her off now.” He leans on the other side of your doorframe, giving you a smile. “Morning.” 

“Morning.” You say, your face still warm from Soap’s teasing. 

“You hungry?” Gaz asks. 

You nod. You do feel hungry this morning, likely a side effect from your emotional night last night. You step out of your room, the two betas stepping back to give you space as you close the door behind you. Ghost is leaning against the wall next to his door, his eyes watching with the typical cautious disinterest that seemed to be his default setting. 

Gaz and Soap sandwich you between them again, close enough their arms brush yours as you walk. It was almost as if they could sense your inner turmoil, the neediness still tugging at the back of your mind. If Ghost hadn’t been trailing the three of you, you might have been tempted to give in and grip their sleeves, or slip your hands into theirs. How would Ghost respond to such a bold move? The mental image of your body flying through the air as he punted you into next week almost makes you laugh. 

Price is already seated at a table frowning at his phone over a cup of coffee. Gaz and Soap load up your tray for you, something you’re getting used to rather quickly. It was expected from the alphas, or at least Price, to coddle you a bit, but it seemed the betas were more than happy to get in on it as well. 

The thought makes something flutter in your chest. 

You’re seated between Gaz and Price again once you reach the table, Price greeting you with a tired smile. “Morning. Sleep alright?” 

“Not really.” You say honestly. “New place and all. I’ll settle in eventually.” 

“Maybe the Omega Specialist can give you some ideas to help.” He glances at his watch before looking at you as you spoon a heaping spoonful of porridge into your mouth. “Take your time. We have until 8.” 

You listen to the conversation at the table as you eat, Gaz and Soap talking about a football game that’s on tonight. You feel eyes on you, your skin prickling a bit. You glance up, half expecting Ghost to be glowering at you again, but his gaze is focused on his eggs. You cast a quick glance around the mess, turning slightly to look behind you. 

Three tables over, you find the gaze of some soldier focused on you. You haven’t paid much attention to anyone else on the base, but then again you haven’t had much time or reason to yet. You can’t read the expression on his face as he stares at you, but you feel a shiver run down your spine as your eyes meet his. 

He stares at you for a few seconds before his gaze moves slightly past you, quickly dropping back to his plate. You turn around, finding Ghost staring just past your head. His eyes are narrowed, his scent coming off stronger than it had been. You can practically see his hackles raised, the warning clear in the air. You feel the urge to curl in on yourself, the threatening aura radiating from him makes you want to cower. 

It doesn't go unnoticed by those at the table either. 

“Easy, Ghost.” Price says calmly, Gaz turning to follow his line of sight. 

“Bloody wanker.” Ghost grumbles before rising from the table. 

You turn back around, but the soldier that had been staring at you is gone. 

You nervously pick at your sweatshirt sleeves as you sit in the plastic chair next to Price. You’re still on edge a bit from what happened at breakfast. It wasn’t so much being stared at that bothered you. After now three meals in the mess, you’ve almost come to expect it. It’s Ghost’s reaction that has your mind still reeling. 

“I’ve always hated the medical center.” Price says with a sigh as he leans his head back against the wall. “It smells too sterile. Makes my nose burn. Reminds me of too many close calls.” 

His words jar you a bit. You hadn’t even thought about that aspect of his job. He’s used to getting shot at, to getting into fights, running head first into danger that would send most running the other way. You wonder how many times he’s been the one with the close call, and how many others he’s had to watch have their own. 

You wonder how many times he’s had to make that trip to tell someone’s family. 

You’re pulled from your thoughts as the door across from you opens. Price pushes himself to his feet, and you follow as a kind looking woman steps out. You breathe a quiet sigh of relief. You don’t have anything against male Omega Specialists, but you were already surrounded by men. Sure you have Kate, but she’s half a world away. 

She’s tall, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. Despite being a doctor she’s dressed casually, no white coat or gloves to be seen. Her eyes are light green and crease in the corners when she smiles. 

“Hello, I’m Dr. Keller.” She introduces herself, shaking Price’s hand. 

American. You think, silently breathing another sigh of relief. Kate really had pulled some strings with this one. 

“Captain John Price.” He says. 

You introduce yourself when she turns to you, shaking your hand. Her voice is soft and gentle, the scent of beta coming off her in waves. 

“Come on in,” She says, leading you into the office. “Sit anywhere you like. Make yourselves comfortable.” 

Her office isn’t what you expected either. Instead of the harsh fluorescents, the lighting is softer, warmer. There’s paintings and posters all over the walls, along with several plants. There’s a desk covered in books and paperwork in one corner and a bookshelf with several books packed into it in the other. There’s a couch on one wall, and a couple plush looking chairs on the other. 

You move to one of the chairs, sinking down onto it. It envelops you in softness, and you feel as if you might sink into it and never be able to get out. After a day of hard plastic and stiff blankets, it nearly makes you weep. 

Price takes the chair next to you, Dr. Keller sitting on the couch across from you. The office smells good, a light, neutral scent in the air aside from the pure almondy scent of beta. 

“Alright,” She says, holding a tablet and a stack of files in her lap. “I always like to start by introducing myself and telling you a bit about me, then we’ll get into the important stuff.” 

She jumps into telling you about herself. Where she grew up: California. Where she studied: UC Berkeley. What institute she did her residency at: West Coast Training Academy. Where she worked last before Kate called her in: some poor inner city institute in LA. 

“Now, on to the more important stuff.” She says, turning on the tablet. “I got your medical records yesterday. You’re quite the healthy girl.” 

“Yes ma'am. I have good genes. That’s what my mom used to say.” You respond. 

Dr. Keller smiles. “Hardly even been sick. Your heats are all normal, too, correct?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” You say. “Except for a three month stretch two years ago.” 

“Yes, the heat sickness epidemic that hit America.” She says. 

You nod. “FIOT locked down completely and everyone was supposed to quarantine, but I heard a rumor that it was one of the beta food workers. She snuck out to see her alpha boyfriend and brought it in with her. We only think it was her because she disappeared not long after the first omega got sick.” 

Dr. Keller hums. “I know not everyone was so willing to take it seriously. You made a full recovery, though. No lasting side effects, I’m sure thanks to the state of the art medical facilities that FIOT keeps.” 

“Yes, ma’am. We were lucky it was just a mild case.” 

“That is lucky.” She flips through something on the tablet. “Your lab results all look phenomenal. I like to do checkups monthly, just to ensure everything is working as it should. I know the CIA gave you quite the cocktail of vaccines while you were with them.” She turns her gaze to Price. “Captain Price, I’ve sent in a request for your team’s vaccination records as well. I’m sure you’ve had everything under the sun, but I’d like to ensure there’s no risk of any accidental exposures.” 

“I don’t see a problem with that.” Price says. “If RAMC gives you any trouble, just let me know. I’ll get them for you myself.” 

“Thank you, Captain.” She says. “One last bit in this part and then we can move on. I see FIOT issued an implant before you left, as is standard practice.” 

You nod. “Yes, ma’am.” 

“Good. You’ve had more than enough time for it to take effect so we won’t have to worry about any accidental slip ups during your next heat.” 

Your cheeks warm at her words a bit. You’ve been trying to avoid thinking about that inevitable side of things. 

“And your next heat is roughly six weeks away.” She says, looking at the calendar. “Don't be surprised if it comes a little earlier now that you’re being exposed to alphas again.” 

Your stomach twists nervously at that thought. It was common for heats to be triggered early after exposure to alphas, especially after such a prolonged period without exposure to them. It wasn’t likely to start tomorrow, but you knew it could jump a week or two due to the natural pheromones alphas put off, and the instinctual call for the alpha/omega bond. 

“You’re planning for the claiming to take place during the heat?” Dr. Keller asks. 

“Yes, that’s the plan.” Price says. 

“That is the most natural time for it.” Dr. Keller says. “Of course, it is always up to omega preference in the end.” 

You don’t miss the way her eyes dart to you for a second. 

“Now that that’s over with,” She says, putting the tablet to the side. “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to do this next part with just the two of us.” 

A beat of silence passes before you realize she’s asking you. Her eyes are on you, and so are Price’s. She’s asking you. She’s asking you what you want. 

“I-I guess...yeah.” You stutter over your words, not quite sure how to answer. Is there a wrong answer? Would Price be upset if you said yes? Would Dr. Keller be upset if you said no? Your eyes turn to Price, trying to gauge his reaction. 

“It’s up to you.” He says softly. “We’re here for you.” 

You sit up a little straighter at his words, nodding your head. “Y-Yes. That’s okay.” 

Price pushes himself to stand up. “I’ll be right outside.” 

The air inside the room seems to lighten as he leaves, Dr. Keller reclining back on the couch as the door clicks shut. She pulls out a stack of papers and a pen before she looks at you. Your palms are sweating, and you’re starting to think you’d like the chair to swallow you whole. 

“This next part can feel a bit personal, but I just want you to know that everything you say in here is as confidential as you’d like it to be. Captain Price is right. I am an Omega Specialist, I’m here for you. I’m not just a doctor, I’m here to help you in all aspects of being an omega. I know FIOT teaches a lot, mainly obedience and compliance. I want to make it clear that you can be honest with me.” She holds up the stack of papers. “No one is going to see these papers but me, alright?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” You nod. 

“You don’t have to be so formal with me.” She smiles. “You can call me Dr. Keller, or Doc. You could even call me an evil bitch if you want, it won’t phase me any.” 

You can’t help the small smile that forms on your face. 

“I’ve got some questions I’d like to ask you. They’re a sort of tracker to measure how well you’re settling in and bonding with your new pack. I’d like to meet once a week until your next heat just to see how well you’re settling in. After that we can meet as often as you’d like. Sound good?” 

You nod in approval. It sounds like a lot, but you also know you’re going to have a lot of downtime, even with your pack on base. 

“Alright, let’s get started. How are you settling in? I know it’s barely been a day, but I want to know how you feel here.” 

Your heart begins to pound in your chest. How do you feel here? How do you feel after being pulled from the institute and taken to a training facility where you found out you’d be moving halfway across the world to be a military pack’s omega. 

This wasn’t what you had expected when you reached the age where you became an available omega. Most omegas at FIOT came from rich, powerful, important families and your purpose there was to be groomed into the perfect omega to return right back to that world. 

You thought you would be chosen quickly. You had expected it. With your scores and your high ratings and your status, you were what most alphas dreamed of. Yet, the years had passed and though there was some interest, nothing had ever come of it. You weren’t alone in it. There were others like you, those who excelled at being an omega, but then seemed to stall in the selection once they came of age. 

Of course, now that you look back on it, you can’t help but think it might have been done on purpose. The Omega Initiative was new, you had been told during your first briefing explaining why you were taken to a remote building somewhere outside of D.C. and greeted not by your new pack, but swathes of CIA agents. Military packs were nothing new, but they wanted to utilize the naturally formed packs and make them stronger and more stable by adding in omegas. 

Only highly skilled omegas were considered for the program, but of course you had no say in whether you were going to partake or not. They chose the omegas and they decided where you would end up. 

It wasn’t that dissimilar from being chosen from an Institute. At FIOT there was a screening process packs had to go through to be determined eligible to have access to omega files. Then the pack would have to send a neutral emissary, usually a beta, to meet the omegas in person and choose on behalf of the alpha. Most institutes don’t have that strenuous of a process, and some don’t have a process at all. In some, alphas themselves could walk in and choose an omega without even so much as a background check. 

Omegas never got a say. As soon as you were handed over to an institute, the ability to choose was taken from you. Whoever your caretakers were as a pup signed over their rights to you and the institute became your legal guardian. They dictated your life up until you joined a new pack. 

You had hoped it would be someone rich. If nothing else, you’d get to live a cushy life and you’d never have to worry about anything. When they told you what was really going to happen to you, you had almost cried. You did cry, late at night curled up in your bunk after hours of training and briefings. 

Kate picked you for this pack specifically because she knew them and she knew you could handle them and their world. 

Maybe if you had been worse at being an omega, things would have been better for you. 

Or maybe they would have been worse. 

“It’s...different.” You finally say, picking at your sleeves again. “But in a lot of ways, it’s similar to The Institute. It always takes me time to settle somewhere new.” 

“Me too.” Dr. Keller says, writing some things down. “And with the time change, it’s just so much harder. I feel like I should be in bed right now, but it’s 8 AM. Have you started nesting?” 

You shake your head. “No. I don’t even feel the urge to.” 

“That’s fine.” She says, writing something else down. “In truth, I’d be more concerned if you were.” 

Your eyebrows raise a bit. “Why?” 

“During an adjustment period for an omega, especially in a new pack, there can be something that happens called false instincts. The sudden urge to nest, a drive to bond with pack members too soon, false heats. It’s usually brought on by a sudden change in environment, like when omegas are taken from a place where they’ve spent sometimes years with no exposure to alphas and are suddenly thrown into a space with a lot of alphas. It’s more common in larger packs where you have alphas, betas, and other omegas.” 

“Could it happen in smaller packs?” You ask. 

“It’s possible, though rare. It can cause some serious issues down the line when those instincts are actually supposed to begin to show up, like adjustment sickness. I’d say if you’re starting to feel the urge to nest or bond before the first week is up, then come talk to me, alright?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” You nod. 

She smiles, turning the page. “How far have you gotten with the bonding process?” 

“Just the scenting yesterday.” You answer. 

“And how did that go?” 

You pick at the loose thread on your sweatshirt. “Fine. It was...overwhelming.” 

“They can be.” Dr. Keller says. “The new members of your pack, how are you getting along with them?” 

“Fine, I guess.” You shrug. “I like Soap and Gaz. Price, he’s...he’s nice, and Ghost...” You trail off, not sure how to answer. If she’d asked before breakfast you might have said he doesn't like you. He doesn’t want you to be part of his pack, but after what happened at breakfast...

You can’t be sure he did it for you. He could have thought that soldier was staring at Soap or Gaz or even Price. He could have thought the soldier was staring at him and was annoyed with it. He had scared off the stares at every meal you’d eaten together, but how often did they get stared at? You couldn’t know if that was a daily occurrence and he was just growing sick of it. 

He could be annoyed with you because you’re drawing in the stares. 

“I don’t know what to think about him yet.” You answer. 

She writes something else down, going through a few more questions with you. How is your appetite? How are you sleeping? Are you taking care of your needs? Do you have any concerns? 

Before you know it the hour has passed and you’re walking out the door into the fluorescent, sterile hallway of the medical center. 

“Remember, you have my number. If you need anything, I’m here for you.” Dr. Keller says as you part ways. 

You walk with Price out of the medical center, glad to be out in the fresh air. It’s not particularly warm, and the sun is hidden behind a layer of clouds, but it’s better than the medical center. 

“What do you think?” Price asks as you follow him back to the barracks. 

“I think it went well.” You say, mind still reeling from an eventful morning. You’re beginning to feel your restless night. 

“Do you like Dr. Keller?” He asks, probing a bit. 

You nod. “Yes, sir. She’s nice.” 

“Good.” He says, opening the door to the barracks for you. “I have to leave to oversee training for the next few hours.” He glances at his watch. “One of us will come get you for lunch.” 

You nod. Of course you’d find yourself alone again between meals. You’re beginning to notice a pattern. “Yes, sir.” 

His hand is warm as it settles on your shoulder, squeezing gently. You’re surprised by the touch, as small as it is. Were they too fighting the urge to get close to you, like you had this morning? 

You can still feel the warmth of his hand even after it’s disappeared and he’s gone. You head for the rec room, deciding to avoid the constricting feeling of being shut in your room for the time being. 

The TV is on when you enter, but the room is empty, playing some morning talk show. You move to the bookshelf against the wall, letting your eyes scan the titles. There's a surprising lack of military-based books shoved into the packed shelf. Of course there's a handful of old manuals and handbooks, nothing that you're particularly concerned about needing to read. You let out a sigh, standing on your toes to reach a Brandon Sanderson novel. 

You look around the room but the remote for the TV seems to be missing, and it’s too high on the wall for you to reach the power button, so you leave it on, curling up on one corner of the couch as you begin to read. 

You’re not sure how much time has passed when something moves in your peripheral. The sun has come out briefly, shining in through the windows. You look up from the book, suddenly feeling very small under Ghost’s gaze. His eyes are narrowed as he stares down at you, a thousand things flashing through your mind. Are you in his spot? Is this his book? Had he come to the rec room hoping to be alone and here you are infringing in his space? 

“Come on.” He says, his voice rougher than it had been this morning. “Lunch.” 

He’s already turned and heading out the door as you scramble up, leaving the book on the coffee table as you hurry to catch up to him. His steps are quick and wide, and you find yourself having to almost speedwalk to keep up with him. 

Your thoughts are jumbled as you follow him out of the barracks and off towards the mess. Why would they send him to get you? Was he the only one available? Yesterday they had time before lunch to return to the barracks, or had that only been because of you? Or were they perhaps hoping this might offer a chance for the two of you to bond a bit? 

Or were they entirely blind to Ghost’s disinterest in your existence? 

Perhaps they were used to it. After so long together, perhaps they just thought it was normal. If you were brave enough to bring it up, would you get a “oh that’s just how he is” in response? 

You can’t see the others as you enter the mess, Ghost leading you to the line. He stands behind you like a hulking shadow, his scent covered by the smell of gunpowder and sweat. You fill your own tray for the first time, grabbing things that look appetizing. You’ll have to get used to it eventually, even though the others insisted on doing it for the time being. When they’re not here, you’ll have to do it yourself. 

Ghost leads you to an empty table, and you opt to sit across from him. You begin to eat, taking big bites to avoid the need for conversation, not that you really thought Ghost would strike up a conversation with you. Your eyes flicker around the room nervously, glancing over the entrances time and time again, waiting for the others to arrive. 

“Stop twitching. They’re on their way.” 

The words cut straight through you and you snap your head around to face Ghost. He’s got his mask pulled up to his nose, your eyes immediately drawn to the exposed pale skin. There’s light stubble on his chin. You remember how that had felt on your own skin when he’d scented you. He’s blonde, you think, or at least has light hair judging by the color of the stubble. There’s a scar on his chin, almost hidden by the stubble. 

Your face warms as you realize you’ve been caught in your nervous fretting. Of course, you should have known he would take notice. There’s not a lot they don’t notice, you think. Though, when your survival depends on noticing even the smallest detail of anything or anyone...

You jump as a tray is set down next to yours, your eyes snapping up to see Gaz with a smile on his face. You turn back to look at Ghost, his mask pulled back down but you see a slight shake to his shoulders for a second.

Was he...laughing at you? 

Your attention is drawn from him as Gaz takes a seat next to you, sitting close enough his arm is almost brushing yours. Price and Soap taking their usual spots as well. You’re beginning to pick up on the patterns that existed around them, and their own patterns. Perhaps that will make it easier for you to fit yourself into their lives. You knew from the start they weren’t going to change to fit you into their lives. They couldn’t. You were going to have to find a way to fit into their lives. 

Gaz walks you back to the barracks after lunch, abnormally quiet as he watches you warily. He walks you to your door, leaning on the doorframe as you step inside. 

“You alright?” He asks, big brown eyes shining with worry as he looks you over. 

“Yeah.” You nod, shifting on your feet. “Just tired. I think I might take a nap.” 

He nods, and you’re sure he doesn't quite believe you, but he doesn’t press any. “Alright. Happy napping.” 

You close the door as he leaves, sinking down onto the edge of the bed with a sigh. It’s been a long day and it’s only lunch. Between the probing questions from Dr. Keller and the few minutes you had spent alone with Ghost you feel exhausted. It was good to know you weren’t entirely broken in your lack of nesting instincts, and perhaps your turmoil with belonging in this place wasn’t quite as abnormal as you thought. 

What to do about Ghost.

He’s said more words to you today than he did in the entirety of the previous day. In fact, you think today might be the first time he’s spoken to you at all. You know he doesn’t approve of you, and you’d go so far as to say he doesn’t like you. You can imagine he fought the hardest against you being added to the pack. They were fine without you. It didn’t take a genius to see that. 

You’re an outsider. A civilian. A risk. 

An unneeded disruption to their lives. 

You pull your phone out of your pocket, staring at the dark screen. You know Ghost might never accept you. He won’t want to claim you, he won’t mate you, but...perhaps you might just get him to tolerate you. 

You unlock your phone, sending a quick text to Kate. 

“Can you get a book for me?”

You regret your decision momentarily as you step into the rec room. Gaz and Soap are lounged on the couch, beer bottles open on the coffee table. The TV is playing ads, their attention on each other. You almost feel as if you’re infringing upon a private moment as they laugh, half tempted to race back to your room and hide until your hunger draws you out or someone breaks down the door to get to you. 

“Hey!” Gaz’s face lights up when he sees you, Soap turning to look at you.

“Hey, bonny!” His face lights up with a smile. 

“Do you mind if I join you?” You ask, shifting nervously on your feet. 

“Not at all.” Gaz says, patting the empty spot on the couch next to him. “You want a beer?” 

You shake your head. “No thank you. Never could get past the taste.” 

Soap throws his head back as he laughs, slapping Gaz’s shoulder. “I keep tellin’ ye!” 

“Yet you keep drinking it!” Gaz attempts to defend himself. 

“Cause it’s th’ only thing we got!” Soap argues, leaning around Gaz to stare at you. “So, ye a football fan, bonny?” 

“Well, I watched the World Cup a couple times as a kid.” You say. “My household was more of an American football and baseball household. Two of my older brothers played soccer, though they never were very serious about it. Mostly just did it to fulfill my dad’s physical activity extracurricular requirement.” 

“What did you do to fulfill that requirement?” Gaz asks as he takes a sip of his beer. 

“Softball. I was...not good at it.” You laugh. “I could catch and throw, but I don’t think I hit the ball a single time I was at bat.” 

Both of them chuckle, turning back to the TV as the ad ends. “Don’t worry, we’ll turn you into a proper football fan yet.” Gaz says. 

You watch the game with them, and it doesn’t take you long to realize they’re rooting for opposing teams. They explain things to you here and there in between yelling at the TV and each other. Despite how loud they are, you find yourself relaxing further and further, the tension from the last two days easing away, even as the two betas yell at each other over a soccer game. 

Gaz tenses for a second as he feels a sudden weight on his shoulder. He turns his head slightly, noticing you’ve fallen asleep, your head drooping onto his shoulder. His lips quirk up in a smile as he gently nudges Soap. 

“Wha?” Soap asks, turning to look at him. 

He jerks his head to the side, leaning back just slightly so Soap can see. A grin breaks out on the younger man’s face and he pulls out his phone. “Aww, look a’ that. Think we should wake ‘er and get ‘er tae bed?” 

“Nah.” Gaz says. “Let her sleep for now. She probably needs it.” 

You sleep soundly through overtime, Gaz not moving until the post game is over, letting you sleep as long as possible. He knows you have to be tired, after the last few days and the time difference. You looked tired today, with dark circles and droopy eyes. He hates to wake you, but he knows you can’t sleep on the couch. 

He nudges you gently, trying to rouse you. “Hey.” He nudges you again, your head finally lifting off his shoulder. 

You blink sleepily, rubbing at your eyes. You make a quiet sound in protest of being awake, eyes drooping closed again. 

“Come on, love.” He says, keeping you upright. “It’s time for bed.” 

You cover your yawn with your hand, blinking at him sleepily. “Bed?” You murmur sleepily, Gaz smiling softly at how adorable you are in this state. 

“Yeah, you’ll be more comfortable in bed.” He pushes himself to stand, hands on your arms to pull you up. 

You make another sound in protest, nearly falling against his chest when he gets you on your feet. He wraps an arm around you, letting you lean on him as he guides you back to bed, Soap cleaning up the mess they had made. 

You’re more awake once you get to your door, blinking up at him with bleary eyes. “‘S fun.” You murmur, rubbing your eyes. “Should do that more often.” 

“You’re always welcome to join us.” He says. “Get some rest. You’ve had a long week.” He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Night, love.” 

He waits until your door is closed before heading back down the hallway towards the rec room, a small smile on his face. 

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[imagine-knowing-a-name]

Spies and Secrets

Summary: Natasha has never met her handler, she couldn’t give you their name or identify their face because she doesn’t know it. When she rants about this to you, her wife, you have to laugh... because you are her handler.

Word Count: 2048

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, lying in the relationship (not in a bad way, just in a spy way), but otherwise it’s just fluff!

A/N: I went back and wrote this idea since it seemed semi-popular. Hope you enjoy :)

»»————-　★　————-««

"Will you finally tell me who they are?"

"This again, Romanoff?"

"Just a first name?"

Fury sighs to make his vexation clear, but that's not enough to dissuade Natasha; she remains determined as ever in her mission and smirks boldly in the face of her exasperated boss.

"Just an initial will get me off your back," the spy continues through his silence.

Fury scoffs and Natasha knows she needs a different approach.

"If it's you, you can just say, Sir."

"Me? You must be losing your touch if you think I have the time for that, Romanoff. Should Hill be taking your next mission?"

Natasha stops and stares with faux hurt while Fury continues on, grinning to his own amusement. He wasn't going to let her keep the upper hand for long.

"If you want to know, ask them yourself!" Fury calls over his shoulder, "Mission debrief. C12-2. 10 minutes. They won't tell you though; above your clearance!"

Natasha groans. As much as she hadn't expected a substantial answer from Fury – she'd been asking him the same question for years – she thought she might be getting somewhere, but no matter which trick she tries, Fury doesn't budge.

On top of that, he'd reminded her that it wasn't home time yet, her mission isn't over until she's briefed her mysterious handler. So Natasha sighs and makes her way to the conference room, still wondering why only her handler chose to shroud themself in mystery. All the other agents meet theirs directly, while Natasha sits in a room alone, waiting for a shadowy silhouette to call in.

The first few years went by without a comment – it wasn't her place to ask – but as she rose the ranks and found her role, her handler, too, remained just above her clearance. Even now, as one of the highest ranking agents, her handler was higher still. Curiosity built like a dripping tap; manageable and menial to start, only to provoke greater displeasure the longer it went on.

"Hi Agent!" the disembodied voice crackles through the speakers. That's the other thing driving Natasha towards irritation, her handler's tone. It's nothing like Fury's commanding orations. No, her handler speaks with an eagerness and informality reminiscent of a junior agent meeting their hero, rather than the commanding officer that they are, and have been, since Natasha first joined SHIELD almost a decade ago.

"Officer." Natasha replies. She had never been told her handler's surname, or even a title she could use to address them. Any attempts she made to learn had been properly shut down, forcing her to stick with the appellation of Case Officer.

"Always so formal," her handler laughs. "As far as I'm aware, the mission was successful, so what's got you so grumpy today?" they continue, noticing an uncharacteristic clarity to Natasha's mood that day.

"If you told me your name, I wouldn't have to be so formal, would I?" the spy snaps back. "And I'm not grumpy."

"Natasha, we've worked together for nearly 10 years now. I know when you're grumpy, and I can throw in an educated guess that my identity is the cause?"

"I've spent my life working in secret," Natasha shrugs, then pauses in search of the right words. "I'm well accustomed to dubious legalities and taking orders from the shadows. I'm also well aware that I would be a risk to security from the moment I joined until I gained the trust of this organisation, so I understood your secrecy."

Natasha stops again, noticing the silhouette begin to fidget; whether out of boredom or discomfort, the assassin can tell the time is right to make her final argument.

"We've worked together on hundreds of missions over this past decade, enough for you to know every detail of my life and mind, while I still know nothing about you. Have you thought about how that might hurt, officer? because it does! to believe I still haven't gained your trust after all this time. That hurts."

The room stills to a silence as fragile as Natasha felt. Her handler's reaction would dictate the situation; any information given could redefine the relationship between the two spies, just as another brush off would leave Natasha spiralling further into this curiosity.

A sigh finally echoes through the speakers; its long pause circling the sole inhabitant of the room. "It's above your clearance," the voice admits. Natasha slumps; she should have known better. "But-" The speed at which Natasha perks up draws out a small chuckle from her handler, before they continue with an audible smile, "I'll talk to Fury. See what I can reveal."

Natasha settles in her seat, unable to keep the broad smile from her face. "I do trust you, Romanoff, I hope you know that… I just don't think I'll be who you expect."

As a trained spy, Natasha wouldn't let that last line slide, immediately thinking of its hidden meaning. But before she can ask further questions, her handler clears their throat. "I think it's time we actually start the mission debrief."

»»————-　★　————-««

Natasha can't wait for the meeting to end. She understands the need – giving her side of the story, answering questions, sharing the intelligence she'd gained – but it drags on without incident and without any further comments on her handler's identity, so she'd much rather be at home. 

What reason was there for her not to do this from home? Her handler calls in from wherever they are, so realistically, Natasha could also pick up from wherever she is. Ideally at home, after a relaxing shower and a little time with her wife. Natasha supposes that's where the issue may lie: you, her wife, who has been led to believe Natasha is a security guard and nothing more. If you overheard a debrief, not only would SHIELD's confidentiality be compromised, but you might never forgive her lies. Natasha's home office was soundproofed though and, because of that, the assassin would take the risk if it means extra time with you.

Throughout Natasha's homeward journey and all through the mission debrief, you are the only thing to occupy her mind. Her mission finished in late afternoon, so she had planned how she would surprise you and spend the evening together upon her return, but then the debrief cropped up, and by the time her key is in the door, the sun has long since set, leaving her to wonder if you're even still awake.

You are. Just about. Your pyjama clad figure appears in Natasha's sight and you rush down the stairs to meet her by the door.

"You're home!" You beam as you wrap your arms over her shoulders and take her cue for a kiss.

"I am."

"How was your mission?" you tease. You know how seriously she takes each assignment, always doing prep work in her office ahead of the trips; she treated them akin to a secret mission and you never missed your chance to rag her for it. 

One of your favourite methods of teasing is to liken her to James Bond, which only gets more realistic when you catch her mouthing along to the movie lines.

"Top secret. Can't tell you," your wife jokes back, her smile threatening to burst off her face.

"No injuries this time?"

"None at all."

"Good girl." She preens. "Have you had dinner?"

"Not yet, I came home as soon as I was done. Couldn't wait to see you."

"Sweet talker," you laugh and kiss her again, then take her by the hand, "I put some leftovers in the fridge, you clean up, then you can eat and share your 'top secret' thoughts."

The evening's plan formed just like that; you reheat the noodle dish while Natasha takes a shower, before the two of you come back together to sit at the dinner table.

"So, how was it really?" you ask her.

"The job itself was alright, no problem." Natasha replies, but by the way she's stabbing the noodles with her fork, you can tell something else is coming. "But my bosses…they just won't tell me all the information. Say it's 'above my clearance'."

"The cheek of them."

"Don't mock me."

"I'm not, I'm not! I promise, love," you say, though you can't hide your barely contained laughter thanks to the prominent pout on your wife's face. You school your face back into an expression of neutrality before you talk again, "that sounds annoying. Do you need this information?"

"No," she sighs, "it's just a matter of trust."

"Well, you must be working with idiots for them not to trust you after all this time."

"Mm, you reckon I should tell that to them?"

"You definitely should."

The smile comes back to Natasha's face as she shakes her head, "you're going to get me fired, sweetheart."

"You're too good for them to do that. Just keep it up, you're going to be leading them one day, I'm sure of it. Then all the secrets are yours."

»»————-　★　————-««

Another week, another mission. And with another mission comes another mission debrief. Natasha asked for her handler's identity three weeks ago and still knows nothing more. With how poorly her recent mission went, she doesn't even feel like asking the question again.

"What went wrong, Romanoff?" that same anonymous figure asks her, and Natasha can only groan: what didn't go wrong?

"We were ambushed to start with; whoever gave us the heads up got their information wrong, or someone sold us out. Either way, the plan went to shit the moment we arrived and the team went to shit by throwing mole accusations around. Splitting up only made it worse; nobody trusted their teammates to do their parts and it resulted in a mad scramble. My orders were ignored, but my team members were injured and I take full responsibility."

"That won't be necessary, Agent," the voice hums, "as leader, the responsibility falls on you, yes, but it is each agent's responsibility to trust in you and follow your plan, and you will not be faulted for working with idiots who don't trust you."

Natasha starts to defend her team, before the familiarity of the phrase has her searching through her mind for a recollection. What she does remember is a long shot, but she'll lose nothing by asking.

"Do you have a wife, Officer?"

"I do," they reply.

"Is she a redhead?"

"She is."

"Works for SHIELD?"

"Why, it's almost like you know her," the handler goades. If one had an illustrated list of all of SHIELD's employees, they would know that the short game of 'guess who' still left a couple dozen potential employees in the running, but the teasing and testing tone is the final clue Natasha needs to make her assumption.

"Y/N/N?"

"Hey love," you reply, with as much adoration as you can muster, glad to finally be rid of the voice modulator while you talked to your wife.

In front of Natasha, the screen flickers before the silhouette that had become so familiar to her is replaced by another familiar sight in another familiar location: the smiling face of her wife…in her office.

Natasha's face falls at once, striking you with panic that this wouldn't be the gleeful revelation that you'd expected; that is, until the assassin speaks again. "Is that my desk?"

"It's your whole office, my love. I'm not taking these calls from our bedroom."

"Is that why it's sound proofed?"

"I gave the approval for that, if you remember, and it's certainly not because you're taking SHIELD calls at home; you haven't even had one while we've lived together!"

"That's because you organise it straight after the mission so I don't have time to go home!"

"Because that's where I am! you'd be suspicious otherwise."

Natasha falls silent for a moment. You know her well enough to leave her to her thoughts, only twiddling your thumbs as you watch her through the screen.

"So can I do debriefs at home now?"

"I don't see why not," you shrug, "remember I still have to take notes though, so I get the desk and no cuddling until after."

"No chance of that."

"Come back now, Romanoff, and we can put it to the test," you challenge.

She accepts. "I'll be there in 30."

"I know."

»»————-　★　————-««

Tagging: @supercorpdanbeau (since you mentioned you’d like to read it on the original post!)

[xveenusx]

Guilty

Paring(s): JJ maybank x fem!reader

Summary: it didn't matter that she did everything for him. it didn't matter that she loved him. insecurities ruin a great thing, love can't fix these problems

Authors note: angsty angsty angsty, bad JJ

Song rec: grave by tate mccrae

Part 2: Wanted

Perfect.

Everything had to be perfect. 

The perfect dress. The perfect makeup. The perfect boy. 

The past several days were borderline catastrophic with JJ getting arrested for sinking Topper’s boat. I begged and pleaded with my parents to help me get him out, promising them anything they wanted. They asked for the one thing I couldn’t give them. JJ. 

And yet, I said yes. I said yes because the thought of him sitting in a cell all alone, stuck with nothing but his thoughts made my stomach turn. He’s always thought that nobody needed him. Maybe that was something his drunken father drilled into him but it was far from the truth. I needed him.

Everything had spun out of control and it all started the minute I met JJ Maybank. But I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Being with him was like walking for the first time. Nerve wracking yet exhilarating--freeing.  

My life before him was just that, a life. Everything revolved around being the perfect little daughter to my parents. Debutantes, charity dinners, polo matches, and country clubs filled my schedule to the brim but they were rarely there. My mother was running a successful fashion line, working on her latest release while my father was a shark in the courtroom. While I loved every second of splurging on clothes, lavish trips to Europe, brunch at my favorite restaurant, I was missing something. I always felt like something was missing in a world where I had everything. 

That’s not to say I’m ungrateful for every opportunity my position and family has afforded me. But when you spend enough time with people you realize are only conversing with you for money or to step on you to increase their social capital, nothing seems genuine. 

Everything interaction was superficial and it became isolating. But with JJ, each and every moment we shared was intimate and unfeigned. 

He taught me how to surf the swells he spent hours in daily. I learned the slight touch of hand in the art of being a mild kleptomaniac. After several failed attempts and many loud complaints, I could finally balance on his dirt bike. 

None of these moments could be bought with money and maybe that’s why I cherished them so much. I cherished them so greatly that I refused to let them go.

And in turn, I couldn’t let him go. Despite the ever growing distance that's wedged itself between us the moment he was released from jail. Maybe it was a pride thing, or maybe it could have been the condescending jabs my dad threw his way, but JJ had pulled away. 

My father's threats to revoke the bail money hung heavy above our heads. So tonight, I was going to try and change that. I needed to bridge the gap that had us so far apart. Midsummers was how I was going to achieve that.

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and held it for several seconds to calm my racing heart. I open them slowly, dragging my gaze along my reflection on the floor length mirror at the entrance to the club. A silky number drapes my dainty figure in the softest brush of yellow with threaded pearls as straps. Ivory satin Jimmy Choo heels from their latest collection decorated my feet. 

The familiar rumble of a truck had a grin pulling at the corners of my lips. My parents were somewhere in the building, having been on the board and needed to sign off on some last minute details. 

I didn’t mind the constant abandonment. The loneliness that once clung to me had slowly evaporated the moment JJ entered my world. 

Grabbing my Chrsitian Dior clutch, I headed for the entrance of the Island Club. A familiar mass of shaggy blonde hair had my feet moving quicker. The minute his face came into view I knew something was wrong. 

His lips were tight in a grim line as he continuously shook his head. I quickened my steps, apologizing swiftly to several people who were trying to get my attention. 

“I’m sorry, sir. Are you a member here?”

“Well, no, but my girlfriend-.” 

“Then I’m afraid you're going to have to turn back around. This is a private club.”

“Listen dude, my girlfriend invited me and-”

“Sir, you need to get back into your vehicle before I call security.” The coordinator, who went by Ryan, dismissed JJ without a second glance.

JJ’s eyes narrowed. “If you’d let me speak-”

“This is private property.”

“Bro, calm down. You’re not protecting the president.” JJ huffed, shoving his hands into his pocket. His cheeks tinted a slight red which had my blood boiling. 

He was person. Period. One that didn't deserve to be treated like that especially in such a public setting. I was livid at the thought of Ryan managing to make JJ feel embarrassed. 

“You’re not a member-”

“No, but I am.” I snapped coming to a stop beside him, causing the event coordinator to rear his head back in surprise.

“Hey, baby. ” The familiar pull of his voice coated me like the warmest honey. A smirk tugged at his lips at the obvious irritation on my face. 

Pausing to give JJ my attention, I placed a soft kiss on his lips and pushed back a wild strand of blonde hair. “Hi.”

The smile he gave me was like a sudden beam of light that hit me square in the chest. 

“I am so sorry. I didn’t realize he was with you-”

“Add JJ Maybank to my member account,” My words were sharp and left little room for argument, though they were dripping with the sickeningly sweet tone I mastered at the young age of twelve. “Consider yourself up to date.”

“I’ll get it done.” With that, Ryan tipped his head and left quickly. 

I bristled once more, muttering under my breath, ”Dick.” My chest was heavy with guilt at his treatment, wondering if this was actually a good idea. I gnawed at my bottom lip nervously.  

This was not how I wanted our night to start. 

“I’ve never been a member before.”

Not bothering to conceal my giggle, I turned around and allowed my eyes to drift over every inch of JJ. The black suit I bought him was fitted and hugged every muscle in a way that had my stomach clenching. 

Sun kissed hands reached for me the moment I was within his reach. My arms wrap around the mass of lean muscles, my nose buried in his neck. Taking a deep breath, salt and sex wax filled my senses and I let myself relax. 

Home. He felt like home.

“You look very handsome.”

A rumble left his chest. “My sugar mama bought it for me.”

Hiding my face in his chest, a loud laugh slipped past my lips. JJ shushed me almost immediately, “People are looking. We can’t have them thinking we’re together.”

I pulled away, trying to keep a straight face at his antics. “We are together.”

“Shit, we are?” He held out his hand, amusement and mischief dancing in his eyes. “My sugar mama can’t find out or she’ll cut me off.”

How could I not love him when he made me laugh so hard my stomach hurt?

I hit his arm with my purse in mock outrage before taking his hand while his other touched my bare back. The feel of his rough calloused hands from all his hard work has me suck in a breath. Those rough hard hands knew my body intimately, inside and out. 

“Do that again and I’m finding the nearest bathroom.” JJ leaned down, his lips brushing against the top of my ear. 

A clearing of the throat had us both turning our heads. My father stood there with a stoic face, his eyes promising retribution later. 

Looking at my father directly in the eye, I place my arm in the crook of his, lacing us together. 

“I see you brought a friend.” The last word is spoken with clear disdain. 

My grip on JJ’s arm tightened. “I brought my boyfriend.”

“We’ll talk about this later.” 

As if they’d actually be home, I thought but decided to keep that to myself.

Deciding that this entire conversation was pointless, I was dragging JJ away from the pair when my father grabbed JJ, whispering something in his ear.

My stomach shrunk and apprehension filled me as the light look of JJ’s face fell, replaced with a flat look and hardened eyes. 

“Duly noted, sir.” His mouth curled in a sarcastic snark. 

I shot my father a disappointed look. Curling myself into JJ’s side, my arm wrapped around his waist and I tugged us into the party. “Ignore him, please.”

“Already forgotten, princess.”

My eyes watch his face for any sign of distress, but find nothing. Guilt ebbed aways at my walls.

“Let’s go find Mr. Adams. He owns a chain of surf shops. I’m sure if we schmooze him, we can get you a solid job or maybe even a board.” I tossed him a wink that had him grinning. 

“I like the way you think. Lead the way, gorgeous.”

Despite his hand on my back, all the warmth we had a mere moments ago was gone. I couldn’t help but notice the small distance he kept between us. One that didn’t exist until my father opened his mouth. 

Several hours later, the sun had begun to set and a cool breeze now caressed my bare back. I embraced the cool breeze due to the several glasses of champagne I had. 

Despite my love for the warm buzz it gave me, it did little for my bladder. “I’ll be right back.”

His eyes widened in alarm. “You can’t leave me here with these people.”

I smothered my laugh with my hand. “Did you want to come with me?”

“To the bathroom? Kinky, I’m in.” JJ responded, clutching my hand in his before expertly pulling us through the crowd. 

Nothing could peel off the cheesy smile that bore my face. Despite the slight hiccup at the beginning of the night, JJ charmed most of the members with his charm and humor. I was hoping with some networking, I could help JJ get some security. I believed he was capable of doing just about anything. He had such determination and never let failure keep him down. 

JJ knew how to hussle and I wanted everyone to see his potential, even if at times he didn’t see it himself. 

My heels clicked along the granite floor, our hands swinging in the air. A shriek escaped my lips as JJ twirls me around, my dress swishing around my ankles. “Gorgeous.” He puffed out his cheeks, his gaze boring into mine.

Our matching grins were nothing short of radiant. Being with him was easy in a world filled with difficult people. 

“Well this is disgusting.”

JJ went rigid. That wouldn’t have concerned me if he hadn’t muttered panicked curses under his breath. “If someone says one more thing to me..”

JJ never let Rafe intimidate him before but for some reason JJ seemed a little more hesitant with this exchange. Realization dawned on me. The boat. Fuck. 

I let my hands fall while rolling my eyes and turning to face Rafe. There he stood in all his stuck up glory, not a hair out of place and his suit neatly pressed. He looked every bit of a country member as one could possibly be with the light blue suit paired with a white undershirt and blue bow tie, brown dress shoes on his feet. 

“Don’t you have another line to snort?” I asked.

Sure, Rafe was conventionally attractive, if you didn’t pay attention to the blown pupils and the constant brush of his nose or the foggy look in his eyes. 

JJ snickered beside me, his hand softly tapping my ass twice in support. 

“JJ, go get me a drink.” Rafe cocked his head.

“I’m actually a member here now.” JJ responded, his hand caressed my cheek softly.

Shocked painted Rafe’s face. “That’s not poss-”

Kelce and Topper stood beside him, both in colored pressed suits as well. They kind of looked like the-”You powerpuff girls have fun.” JJ said with a crooked smile and a tip of the hat.

He seized me by the wrist and strode over to the exit. Relief at his plan to avoid a fight was fleeting at Rafe’s next words.

“If I knew a trailer home and food stamps was all it took for you to open your legs, I would have tried a long time ago.”

JJ jerked around in seconds, ripping out of my grip. He stalked towards Rafe, drawing his arm back before connecting with his jaw. 

A shout passed my lips, my hands covering my mouth in horror as JJ struck Rafe twice more, one blow hitting him directly on the nose. Blood began to gush out of Rafe’s nose, staining his dress shirt a deep crimson. “Say that shit again. Say it.”

Rafe let out a mirthless laugh, his lips pulled at the sides revealing his red stained teeth. “Once a pogue, always a pogue. Isn’t that right, JJ?”

Kelce jumped into action, his arm wrapping around JJ’s neck, pulling him off a Rafe into an effective headlock. That’s when I noticed two more hulking figures and suddenly we were surrounded. 

“Five on one, Rafe? Really?” JJ choked out, tugging at Kelce’s arm. 

Without thinking, I walked behind Kelce and slammed the metal clasp of the bag against the side of his head. Once. Twice. Three times. “Let go of him!” 

Kelce let out a yelp and jerked back, causing his grip on JJ to loosen just enough for him to get free. I went towards him in an instant, but he pushed me behind him as he surveyed the remaining men in front of us. 

Whispers dragged my attention from the scene in front of me as I locked eyes with several members who had poked their heads into the locker area. Shit, this really wasn’t good. I needed to get JJ out of here as soon as possible. I didn’t want to give my father any more ammunition against him. 

Clutching his arm, I tugged him once more towards the exit. I could hear more activity outside the locker room which had me pulling at him harder. I wasn’t going to let Rafe make him look bad in front of all these influential people. Over my dead body. 

“People are coming. We have to go.”

His chest rose and fell with quick breaths, his steele blue gaze not leaving Rafe’s.

“I’m serious. For me, JJ, please?” My final plea seemed to have pulled him out of his angry haze. Without wasting a second, he let me pull him further and further away from the group. Lacing his hand in mine, I made quick work of fixing his suit and his hair, pressing soft kisses as I went. 

“Whenever you’re done slumming it, you know where I am.” Rafe called out from behind us, earning us enough leers from fellow members. 

He tore his hand from mine. “Fuck this.” 

Apprehension coursed through me.

I could feel the storm brewing with each step he took. I trailed behind, my small steps nothing to his long strides. Rafe hit a nerve. One that JJ refused to acknowledge and let fester for months now. It was the elephant in the room any time I offered to pay anything at all. It bothered him, all the money my family had.

“Ignore him, Jayj.” I called out from behind him but his steps never faltered. “Rafe was just trying to get a reaction out of you.”

I could hear the soft melody of the music drifting over the wind from the party that was supposed to fix all our problems. Perhaps I was sticking a bandaid on a gaping wound. 

His shoulders were tense as he stopped a couple feet in front of me, shaking his head. Nerves had my stomach in knots. I only had one shot at trying to fix this. Feelings were never JJ’s thing. He spent months fighting our attraction before he finally gave in. Dating a Kook was never something JJ considered. 

Unfortunately, it was something others thought as well because they never failed to remind him. My father included. 

So here we are. JJ was backed into a corner and like any wounded animal, he had two choices. He could concede or attack and I knew JJ like the back of my hand. He would never give up, so instead he’d go for the throat. 

Too bad it was my throat he went for. 

“I understand-” I stopped speaking the moment JJ whipped around, his eyes cutting me deeply.

“You don’t.” I didn’t respond. My eyes lingered on his busted lip and bruised chiseled face. “You don’t understand so please don’t try to make me feel better by pretending that you do.” 

I pursed my lips. JJ was right, I didn’t understand what it was like to be in his position, but that didn’t mean I didn’t care. That I didn’t want to take away every ounce of pain if it meant he would be happy. 

“You’re right. But Jayj, it’s Rafe.” I argued softly, not wanting to draw attention to us. “He always says shit like that to rile you up but you’ve never let it bother you before. Why now?”

JJ’s face flushed. “Because he’s fucking right. That’s why it bothers me.”

My lips wobbled and I pressed them together. I had gone out of my way to ensure he’d never feel this way. I guess I failed. 

I moved closer, my steps unsure and clumsy. “You never said anything.”

My hand rested against his chest, and I could feel the familiar pounding of his heart. 

“That’s nothing new.” He lifted his shoulder in a half shrug.

That did little to ease the emotional storm brewing within me. Every interaction since he was little was nothing short of violent and negligent. 

He wasn’t used to softness and kindness. We were trying to navigate in uncharted waters but we’re thrown off the boat every time the water got choppy. 

“We can go. Let’s just go, baby. Let me just say bye to my parents-“

“Stop.” He demanded, his tone serve. So unlike JJ. 

I dropped my hand and instead chose to focus on the sound of our breathing. I had to keep my head on straight, because I could tell he was already building up his wall so high, making his fortress impenetrable. 

JJ had never had a consistent thing in his life and I’ll be damned if I let that happen to us. 

Squaring my shoulders back, I faced his heated gaze head on. If he wanted an argument, he’d get one, but we’d both be leaving together. 

I had no intention of going anywhere. 

“Stop?” I echoed, raising my brow.

His eyes were as cold and hard as obsidian. “Yes, stop. How is leaving going to solve any of this?” 

“You’re picking a fight with me for no reason. I’m not the one you’re mad at.”

JJ raked his fingers through the sun bleached golden strands causing them to fall along his forehead. “Maybe I am.”

My eyes widened at his words. What had I done? He’d shared every bit of his world with me and I only wanted to do the same. 

Was that not what people do when they’re in love? Aren’t you supposed to share your interests with your partner and aren’t they supposed to want to know them? 

“For what?” 

He tugged at his shirt collar. “Why am I here?”

My brows furrowed in confusion. Why would he even ask that? 

“Why am I here, at this Midsummer's bullshit?” 

“Because I wanted you to be.” I smoothed out my hair to give my trembling hands something to do. “It’s something that matters to me, it’s not bullshit.”

I had spent months planning this party since my parents were on the board. I wanted everything to be perfect for them and for him. It all seemed silly now. A part of that stung deep in my soul. Bullshit was never a word I used to describe any of the interests he showed me, yet he so easily spouted it at me.

JJ stayed quiet but continued to fidget with the silver ring on his finger. I wanted to close the distance between us but didn’t know how. 

“Don’t let Rafe of all people ruin this. His opinion means nothing.” 

He lifted his chin. “It matters to your dad.”

I barely held back my wince. “He doesn’t get a say in who I date, JJ.”

“Oh, are we lying to each other now?”

“W-What do you mean?”

“Are we going to pretend that you don’t care about what your parents think?”

I took a step back as though he hit me. “Stop talking before you say something you’ll regret.”

“Everything you do is to get their attention. You’d die without their approval.”

In a manner of speaking, he was right. My parents barely paid me an ounce of attention and it was hard not to think it had to do with me. There must have been something wrong with me for my parents to not want to spend time with me. I spent the majority of my life trying to live up to their expectations hoping to be the daughter they always wanted, but nothing worked. I couldn’t get them to love me.

And he threw it all in my face.

I stared at him with tears in my eyes, hurt and stricken. 

At the sight of my tears, he looked away with his jaw clenched. 

“Why are you with me?” He hissed, holding out his arms. “It’s not like I can take you to dinner in Paris or buy you the clothes you like so much.”

Insecurity was a cruel thing. It had the power to turn someone as confident and sure as JJ into a puddle of irate nerves. And as his insecurity continued to dig its hooks further into his skin, he continued to rip into me, piece by piece.

“Because I love you. Because you make me laugh.” My voice raised, my hands clenched into fists by my sides. “Where is this coming from?”

Anxiety wound its way up my throat clocking off my air. 

“You’re fucking shoes are four grand. Do you know what I could do with four grand? I could get the power turned on in my house, or better yet, pay for the house.” The look he shot me had me wanting to be six feet under. He’d never looked at me like that before. He made me sound vapid and superficial. Like I didn’t spend most of my time on his side of the island. 

The guilt I felt early came back tenfold. Guilt for my position. Guilt for the money my family had. Guilt for the things I enjoyed buying, both for him and myself. 

Maybe I was just as bad as Rafe. 

Pain sliced my chest as his gaze continued to penetrate me like bullets.

“The other side of the island is starving and everyone here is drinking champagne and gambling a mortgage for fun. It’s disgusting.” JJ began to pace, shaking his head in disbelief. “You had me kissing ass to all these people, and for what? A job? Stop trying to turn me into something that I’m not.”

I wrapped my arms around my waist. “That wasn’t what I was doing. I was trying to open doors for you so you had options. All I wanted was to help give you a fighting chance.”

“I didn’t ask for your help.” The words continued to pelt at me, hitting my heart every time. The pressure in my chest only tightened further.

“Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do for the person you love?” My voice shook, matching the trembling of my body. “It never mattered before.”

I'd never been in love before him. I didn't have anything to compare it too since the most affection I get from my parents is a card on my birthday. I thought by doing everything they didn't do for me, supporting and comforting and physical touch, would somehow translate into love.

“Of course it mattered. You’re a fucking Kook.” The raw and angry words seeped into my veins, the audible crack of my heart echoing for all to hear.

My throat constricted. Enough, I couldn’t hear anymore. No, no, no. But JJ seemed to have other plans.

“I mean, I’m standing here in a custom Tom Ford whatever that could have fed me for months. I’m out of my element and it makes my skin fucking crawl. John B is getting sent to CPS and Pope is getting jumped and I’m here at some stupid dinner with the people that did it to him. What does that make me?”

My chest cracked open and my heart caved in. I finally saw the broken boy in front of me. Bruised and broken, completely uncomfortable and unsure of himself. 

“Kiara’s a kook.”

“Kiara’s different and you know that.” It remained unsaid but I knew what he was referring to. Kie was a hippie rich chick who didn’t enjoy all the things I did: designer clothes, luxury dinners, expensive food. In other words, I was a self absorbed kook princess that didn’t care for those around me. 

It didn’t matter that I spent most of the summer with JJ helping him fix homes in the cut. It didn’t matter that I donated to charities or helped send care kits to those on the cut after the hurricane. It didn’t matter that I spent almost all my free time with him and the pogues just as Kiara did. 

To him, I represented everything he hated. It didn’t matter that I loved him so deeply I defied my parents. It didn’t matter that I upended my life and chose to be with him. He could never see past the money, something I had no control over.  

I may have been standing in custom Christian Dior and Jimmy Choo, but I’ve never felt more cheap as JJ continued to cut me down with each word. 

“Do you want me to apologize?” My pulse spiked as a burst of adrenaline had me spouting the truth. “I had just as much a choice of being born on figure eight than you did on the cut.”

He looked at me like he hated me. “I don’t know how we deluded ourselves into thinking this could ever work.”

“You don’t get to stand there and make me feel guilty for who I am. Just because I have money and like nice things, doesn’t make me an asshole. I’ve treated everyone in my life with kindness. Don't group me with them.” 

JJ scoffs, pointing at the crowd on the dance floor. “Them? Them--means your parents, baby”.

“I’ve never treated you less than me.” It was a last ditch effort.

“At least I know what Kook pussy tastes like.” He went for the kill. “Money and daddy issues.”

I stilled. The world stilled. Vicious hurt curled its way into my soul, etching every bit of it until I no longer existed. 

Like I said before, I had no intention of going anywhere. But, I guess to JJ, he always had one foot out the door.

I think I stopped breathing. I blinked at him, hoping cameras would pop out and the whole thing came out as a prank. But, no cameras appeared. 

Just him and I stood, in a field, an arms length apart but a universe away. 

“You don’t mean that.” The words came out strangled. “Take it back.” 

He said nothing. I had to bring a fist to my mouth to try and block out the harsh sob that threatened to escape.

“JJ, please.” I begged, my hands catching his arm. “Let’s just go.”

His normal vibrant eyes regard me coldly, a muscle jumping his jaw. I was drowning in my emotions. Everything had escalated to a level I couldn’t fix, because he wouldn’t let me. The bathroom seemed forever ago in the scheme of things. I can see the battle in his eyes of whether to give into his self destructive behavior or to come back to me. 

Any hope I had of him coming back to me dissolved in a matter of seconds. A security guard came up behind him, gripping JJ by the forearm and tugging us towards the front of the party. My eyes widened in horror as I realized they were going to parade him around in front of everyone which would just humiliate him more.

“Jeez Daryl, could you loosen up your grip,” JJ complained, attempting to jerk out of the large man’s grip. He didn’t so much as flinch at each of JJ’s gripes either.

"What do you think you're doing?" I snapped, "Let him go, Darryl."

Darryl shook his head and gave me an apologetic look. "No can do. Mr. Cameron complained."

JJ Scoffed. “I can let myself out. I have two legs.”

“JJ, please stop.”

“I appreciate the discretion, Daryl.”

He self-destructed right in front of me. JJ grabbed a drink off an unsuspecting member and chugged it down before tossing the glass on the floor.

In the end, JJ was always going to be JJ. I saw the moment he decided to destroy everything we had. It was a slight shift in his body and that penetrating gaze of his hardened into a cruel amusement. JJ shrugged my hand off his, before his eyes flitter across the crowd as though he's looking for someone. Then I watched as they landed on a familiar brunette. 

“Hey, let him go. I’m a member of this club and I invited him.” Kie shouted at Darryl who paused for a brief moment. I could see her parents trying to discreetly get her to stop but Kiara refused. At the sound of her words, an appreciative grin tugged at JJ’s lips.

It didn’t matter that I had said the same thing hours ago. It didn’t matter that I not only defended him but made him a member. I liked shiny flashy things and she didn’t. Apparently, that made her better than me.

“Mandatory power hour at Rixon’s, Kie.” He shouted, pointing at where she stood in front of her parent’s. “Pope, you as well, alright?”

I had a disposition for loving people too much, no matter how they treated me. And for the first time in my life, I didn’t care that I wasn’t presentable. I didn’t care that tears were falling down my face or that my hair was a mess. I didn’t want to be left behind. He promised.

“Let me come-”

Exasperation filled his features. "Take a fucking hint. You can go be with someone like Rafe now. You two deserve each other."

“Alright, Kie c’mon.” He didn’t spare me a second glance. I had to watch as Kie took off running towards him with Pope in tow. JJ held out his arms to catch her, arms she happily jumped into. John B lets out a humored shout while JJ spins Kiara around and they take off.

Leaving me all by myself. My parents nowhere in sight. 

And suddenly everything hit me at once. My dress was too tight, my heels were pinching at the skin on my feet, the music was too loud, my hair was a mess. Nothing I did was right. Once again, I was left alone. Abandoned by the one person I thought would never leave. All because I loved him too much and he hated everything I couldn’t control.

I stood there, feeling like a silly little girl in a silly little dress I spent hours looking for, urging him to look back. He never did. 

Authors note: I hope I hurt your feelings because I hurt my own writing this :) pls let me know what u think!!! I love hearing from you guys

Tagging my favs: @maybankslover @sipsthecoffee @alyisdead

[puranami]

✿ It's The Little Things ✿

A/N: My first time writing! Admittedly I'm very nervous, but also so excited!! Kept it simple with a small headcanon list to start, but I tried to write a decent amount for each point, and I hope that everyone is in character :0 Posting at 4am because I have no control over my life...

Summary: Little relationship things with the Strawhats. Can be interpreted as the anime/manga or the live action version of the character.

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Nami, Usopp, Sanji

Content: SFW, G/N reader, slightest hint of angst in Sanji's part, but otherwise, pure unadulterated fluff! ✿

(Part 2 - Buggy, Shanks, Mihawk) (Part 3 - Franky, Robin, Law, Kid, Killer) (Part 4 - Crocodile, Rosinante/Corazon, Doflamingo)

Luffy

✿ He absentmindedly draws shapes on your leg, back, or whatever part of you is there as you sit together, whether you are watching the waves, or listening to one of Usopp's stories. He is almost magnetic in the way he ends up attached to you. If you're not feeling it, he will do his best to keep his hands to himself, but as soon as his focus shifts onto anything else, they're back on you, drawing little clouds and hearts. He tried, he really did!

✿ This bottomless pit inhales food like it's going out of fashion, but, much to the bewilderment of the rest of the crew, he will actually feed you from his plate as he eats, even though you are eating your own food. It may be a case of "1 for you, 5 for me," but it's almost instinctive for him; he's sharing something he's passionate about with you, and making sure that, in his eyes, you are happy, healthy and strong. He values your wellbeing more than food; you are one of the most important things in his life.

✿ Despite how chaotic he is in every aspect of his life, his presence brings you to a state of complete peace, even when he's yelling about whatever currently has his attention. Just knowing he is there comforts you in a way that nothing, and no one else can. As long as Luffy is there, being the same old Luffy he always is, you know everything will be alright in the end, and if it isn't alright, well, it isn't the end yet.

Zoro

✿ He always places a comforting hand on your head when he passes by, or ends up in the same general space as you. It's his version of a hug, a reassuring touch that he is there, and that he's happy to see you. Zoro is very subtle with his affection, at least in public, but even when it's just the two of you, he automatically defaults to the head pat. It comforts him as much as it does you, and the simple action alone conveys his feelings far better than he ever could with words.

✿ You both love silently observing everything going on around you, and it's such a comfortable silence. You just enjoy each others company while watching the world go by, with Zoro also keeping an eye out for any threats, as he does. Sometimes you end up passing silent judgement on what you see, and you have both developed this uncanny ability to gossip without saying a single word. It's honestly unnerving at times, but you are just so familiar with each others micro-expressions that it's second nature.

✿ Insults are terms of endearment. If anyone else called either of you such things, all hell would break loose - swords drawn, blood spilt, bodies hit the floor, the whole song and dance. It actually started out as a form of deflection, with both of you being far too stubborn to admit any feelings were there, even to yourselves; "No, I don't like you, shitstain, I tolerate you." - "Whatever helps you sleep at night, arseface." As you connected though, it just became your thing, and you love seeing who can come up with the funniest insults. Zoro is surprisingly creative in this regard.

Nami

✿ Nami has a habit of fixing your clothes and hair if something is out of place. It can seem overbearing to others, but she knows you appreciate the gesture. She spent years putting up walls to defend herself, and this is a safe way for her to have a little moment alone with you, giving you gentle little touches without revealing to the world just how important you are to her. It is a very grounding experience for both of you, and you end up doing the same for her on the rare occasion that she isn't completely flawless. She may purposely put things out of place so you have the opportunity to fix something too.

✿ She has an eye for the finer things, and loves getting you little trinkets, and especially pieces of jewellery, which often match or pair with hers, like pendants that fit together to make a whole shape, and such. Just don't ask her where she got them; "Shhh, you don't need to worry about that." All that matters is that you now have a tangible connection to each other, no matter how close, or far apart you are.

✿ Another person who relishes in comfortable silence. Of course you love chatting with each other, and often do so later into the night than you intended. Nami is very quick-witted and your shared snark is always so enjoyable! But it's the moments when you are doing your own thing together, basking in the warmth of that closeness that brings the most joy. Every so often, you will share something interesting or amusing, depending on what you're doing, but you always return to that silence. It's very domestic.

Usopp

✿ You both end up in regular fits of giggles, that grow into raucous laughter, before devolving into the sounds of various suffocating wildlife, which only fuels the hilarious fire. He doesn't even have to say anything at times; he just has a look, and as soon as he catches your eye with it, you absolutely lose it. The amount of nonsensical inside jokes you have is absurd in itself.

✿ Ever the storyteller, Usopp will wind down the day with you relaxing under the stars, telling you fantastical stories about the impossible feats of the great 'Captain Usopp.' His creativity and imagination are something you greatly admire, and as much as you try to stay awake to appreciate those qualities, the comfort he brings has you dropping off every time. He'll carry you to bed most nights, but sometimes he can only manage to drag you around like a corpse he's trying to hide, and he'll end up waking you up laughing about it.

✿ You automatically link your little fingers whenever you are close enough to. It doesn't even register half of the time, only realising when you need that hand or try to go your separate ways. When this happens, providing there isn't anything that needs your urgent attention, you like to dramatize your parting, playing up that this is the most painful moment of your lives! "Don't you dare let go, Usopp! We can both make it out of this alive!" - "I'm so sorry, I can't hold on any longer, and I refuse to drag you down with me." - "No! Don't say that!" - "I love you so much, but you need to let me go..." Leading to you unlinking your fingers, and exaggerated fake cries of anguish. It annoys everyone around you immensely.

Sanji

✿ You shamelessly flirt with each other, making everyone around you uncomfortable, groaning at how painful it is. You weren't together when you started playing this romantic game of chicken, giving back everything Sanji threw at you, and then some, but once you figured your feelings out, you actually developed it into a legitimate game where you attempt to be as sickening and obnoxious as possible. If there is no one grimacing, angrily telling you both to pack it in, or simply leaving the room; you aren't flirting enough. There is a points system, and you're currently in the lead. Sanji ends up caving over the things you say, and his brain loses the ability to form words, let alone string them together in a coherent sentence.

✿ Sanji always leaves a drink and a bite to eat for you to wake up to, since he isn't there in person, having to wake up much earlier to prepare the food for the day. Growing up in a restaurant, early starts are just part of his natural rhythm, so it doesn't bother him, but sometimes you try to wake up with him to at least watch the sunrise together, before going back to bed for a couple more hours. He cherishes those mornings, and there is always an extra spring in his step on those days.

✿ He takes every opportunity he can to share a glance and a warm smile, a gentle touch of your hands, or a chaste kiss with you. They are agonisingly brief moments, but Sanji needs them to get him through the day, otherwise he would just cling to you, and neither of you would get anything done! Unknown to you, these moments are also his way of reminding himself that you chose him over everyone else, that he is loved unconditionally, and that he is enough, without having to, in his opinion, burden you with his insecurities. He'll open up to you one day, and you will be able to give him verbal affirmations along with everything else~

[morgana-ren]

I DONT KNOW IF YOU WRITE FULL FICS BUT IF YOU DO PLEASE WIRTE ONE ABOUT TGAT LAST ASK.

Just about Astarion sitting in his throne of sorts, in the palace, with tav sitting in his lap. He’s bored, tav sits there- dissociating and wishing they were anywhere else. He asks them if they’d like to do something fun and they say something like “Only if you do my lord” and he saddens some, expecting them to come up with something fun like they used to but they can’t think of anything that he would approve of them doing after so many years of breaking them down and he realizes it’s gotten so dull because tav was the person that brightened his life

"Awfully dull today, hmm? How would you like to do something fun, my love?"

It's an oh-so rare quiet day in the Crimson Palace, and his favorite source of amusement sits placidly on his lap, silent as the grave and still atop him. Content as he is in the peaceful quiet with solely her company, he'd spend the day with her doing– well, something, surely. It’s been a while since they’ve had any time to themselves to truly enjoy each other’s company alone. In fact, he cannot recall the last time with any distinct accuracy.

It seems so terribly long since they've had any time to themselves. Being a Lord keeps you awfully busy.

In a tender moment, he reaches forward to brush a stray strand of hair out of her face and behind her ear with a long, pale finger. She doesn’t react save a slight instinctual flicker of her lashes. Not a hint of expression on her face. He expects her to lean into his touch as she used to and is almost shocked when she does not.

Odd, he thinks. She hardly even seems to notice anything at all.

It’s almost like she isn’t entirely present.

Still, before he can chastise her, she responds to his bid for her attention.

"If that is your wish, my lord,” She responds to his question, lifeless and monotone. Perfectly obedient, just as befits her, and yet—

He frowns, just a little. It irks him, but now that he thinks about it, he cannot recall the last time he saw enthusiasm on her face– or much of anything at all aside from the blank, hollow mask she has now. Completely impassive and unresponsive in a cruel sort of practiced indifference. 

He studies her for a moment and comes to the conclusion that it reminds him of the robots they found in that strange tower in the Underdark so long ago. Programmed to respond to the right things and make the right moves, but utterly incapable of acting on her own whims. Eternally awaiting instruction. 

Empty. Robotic. Precise and yet disingenuous somehow. Eerily so.

Has she been like this before? Has he simply not noticed?

Perhaps she just needs to awaken a little more. It was such a long night, and he had kept her remarkably busy. She must be exhausted, but surely, she will perk up. She always does. 

Doesn’t she?

“Come, darling. What would you like to do?” He jostles his knees, dandling her on his legs like one might a small, particularly grumpy child. She bumps up and down, only reaching to steady herself on the sides of his throne. 

“Whatever would please you would please me, my lord.”

He groans, rolling his red eyes, a very sudden burst of irritation bubbling in his gut. Always with the My lord, My lord, scraping and bowing like some sort of indentured serf. Proper respect is important, of course, but for the first time in a while— longer than he can honestly think back on, to be honest— they are entirely alone. He is her Lord, yes, but she knew him by another name once– did know him by another name. She knows better than to tease him in front of his vassals but surely—

He can’t remember the last time she said his name. 

His real name. 

How long since he has truly sat by her side and talked with her? Spent time with her? He's been so busy, laying plans and waste, conquering and shedding blood of those who oppose him. The Lord Tyrant, come to rule over his dominion of Eternal Night. She is always by his side, never straying and yet— 

(“I love you, Little Star,” She’d laugh, planting a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose, which would promptly crinkle in annoyance. 

“I’m not ‘Little Star,’ and I’ll never understand why you insist on calling me that.” 

“That’s what your name means, doesn’t it? Little Star? Or perhaps Little Starlight– I don’t really remember.”

“Then why make that my pet name?" He rolls his eyes, annoyed at the use of his own childish moniker that follows him like a shadow to anyone who speaks even a lick of his native language. "Of all the things your brilliant little mind can concoct, you give me a child’s handle? I’m strong, dashing, capable, handsome, fearsome– but instead you choose that absurdity” 

“Because you’re my little star!” And she would smile so brightly that it seemed impossible in the darkness, and he could not help but smile himself. “My light in the darkness. My Astarion, for as long as you want to be. And I love you.” 

His expression would soften once again and he would simply sigh, pulling her close to kiss her temple. The night was cold, but she was so impossibly warm against him, somehow fitting perfectly in his lap and into his heart, where she’d wormed her way in against his own will. The dim firelight reflects in her eyes as she tells him again that she loves him forever if he’ll have her, and he can think of nothing he’d desire more than to ride out the endless night of eternity with her here on his lap, cradled close.)

Something gnaws at him. Something raw and edged with a vicious sort of misery he’d done so well to avoid in ages. He cannot place it but as he looks at her, his stomach is as a dark, abyssal pit, circling and swelling like a maelstrom. 

Something is wrong.

He cannot place the negative emotion, and so he does as he always does now, making the strange yearning her responsibility to soothe. 

He lashes out at her. 

“I’m growing bored,” He says with a cold, cruel edge to his voice. “You know how much I dislike boredom, don't you, darling?"

What he seeks is a reaction. A sudden spark of life from within her. For her to grab his hand and take him to do— to do something. Surely—

And yet, with a motion so fluid that it implies an aged and practiced skill, she slides from his lap down to her knees before him, reaching towards the laces of his breeches. There is nothing behind her eyes as she extends her hand forward to unlace him, hardly even seeing him. Nothing at all. 

“What are you doing?” He slaps her hands away, scowling down at her, taken back by her brashness. 

“You said you were bored, my Lord.”

“And why would you think–” 

Because that is what he’d taught her. 

That her body was built for his amusement; his temple to defile at will. Because of the cold nights in the castle after so many years where he would reach for her, and she would quiver and shake her head with eyes rimmed red and puffy and beg to be left untouched and yet he would speak the words without thinking and she would bend for him any way he wished. 

Because even as she would obey, she would cry and turn away, and he would give it little thought until one night the crying and protesting simply stopped. He thought she had learned. Made peace with her duties and loyalty to him and what it entailed. Mayhaps she had come to realize that her theatrics had little impact on him and surely, he wasn’t so wretched to her now that these waterworks were necessary. His touch could not repulse her so that her weeping was remotely acceptable. She loves him, surely she—

Because he would command her until she would kneel, and so now, she kneels without command.

He sighs, breathing the fire from his lungs, reaching down to pull her back up into his lap. She does not respond, only obeys in kind to his guiding instruction as he settles her back down on his legs. He finds a semblance of patience from within himself which is a strange and unusual feeling, mustering it up to once again ask:

“My dear, what is it that you would like to do?” 

Her head cocks. She does not understand. 

"What would you enjoy? If you had the freedom to do anything, what might it be?"

It takes a moment, but for the first time, a reaction: Confusion. It is slow to take hold but becomes blaringly apparent as it does. It is not as if she doesn’t know the answer, but almost as if she doesn’t understand the question. 

“Whatever you would like to do, my Lo–”

“No, no, darling. What is it you would like to do?” He impresses, harsher this time, and she flinches, recoiling from… something. 

From him.  

If her heart was still capable of beating, he'd be able to hear the way it pumps into overdrive. As it stands, he cannot, but he is aware no less. Her scent changes entirely around him to something that has his brows furrowing. Shortness of breath, dilating pupils, hands beginning to quake— Adrenaline. Steel-edged anxiety. As if this is not a question at all, but rather a test and she does not know the answer, and failure means his displeasure and his displeasure means–

"I— What would you—" She hard-swallows, harrowed by the open-endedness of the question. "—I want what—"

("Come to the meadow with me, Asto," She would grab his hand with a mischievous smile when their compatriots were fast asleep, tugging him up from the comfort of his bedroll. "I want you to come with me."

"It's late, darling. Wouldn't you rather come here and lie with me?" He would try to tug her back down playfully, but would fall against her aggressive temerity, being pulled to his feet through her sheer will. She would stifle her giggling with a hand as she guided him past their slumbering companions, through the tree line and deep into the forest. 

"Come on, lazy boy, come! Come with me!"

"Well, I'm trying to—"

She would hush him and yank him by the wrist, out into the field where he'd first had her, down once more into a bed of wildflowers and long grass. Her melodic laugh like a strange song as she yanks him to the ground despite his weak protests until she would lie her head on his chest and trace gentle patterns on his white shirt against his flexed chest. 

"We don't have to come all the way out here to make love, darling—" He would move to try to kiss her, but she would adamantly press her head against his torso, insisting he stay down in the dirt with her. 

"I'm not trying to seduce you," She would giggle, pointing at the star-spangled sky. "I want to lie under the stars with you." 

"But… why?"

"Because I know we'll have eternity to do it, but it's my favorite moon tonight and it reminded me of you."

He squints, struggling to find anything different about it at all. "I don't notice anything, darling. It looks very much like the moon we see every night." 

"It's so full and bright! Look at the rays!" She holds her hand out as if to cradle a silvery moonbeam in her palm. "It reminds me of the color of your hair." 

She reaches over him to delicately pluck something from the grass, tucking it gingerly behind his ear after she does so. "These poppies are the same beautiful deep red of your eyes in the moonlight. I feel safe here; home, with you. I just wanted to enjoy it for a moment. Just the two of us."

He would wrap his arms around her waist, squeezing so tightly that she would gasp and worm about, trying to return the favor, and yet he would not relent. 

"I want you to feel safe with me," he would whisper into her hair, desperately trying to memorize the scent of it, as if expecting Bhaal himself to come and steal her from his frantic embrace. "Now and forever, I want to feel home in your arms, with you.")

He thinks, for a moment, to return to that meadow, and that perhaps his love— the one he remembers— will return to him. As if her ghost still lingers there, trapped and waiting to be rescued. 

He can’t. 

It is not a meadow any longer, but a battlefield, not unlike the vile destruction left in Ketheric's wake at Raithewait; another one in a million places sacrificed in his conquest for glory, littered with bodies and bones. A graveyard tribute to his power, scorched soil and dead grass. No flowers bloom there anymore— there is nowhere for them to bloom between the suffocating aura of death. 

All that is left is a beautiful memory buried beneath a river of dried blood, and you cannot water flowers with dried blood or wean them on bone dust. That meadow is one moment suspended in time as trapped in amber, impossible to claw free from its temporal prison. He cannot remember the last time he saw that jovial smile she had saved just for him in that damned meadow. 

He cannot recall the last time she said the words "I love you" and cried his name as a preternaturally beautiful siren song without being commanded. 

He frowns, feeling something strange and haunting in his chest. Something viciously clawing up his throat as he looks at her: at her empty red eyes that were once the most beautiful color, full of love and life when she looked upon him; at her contorted expression that used to be as radiant as the sun and he could have sworn that her light could have sustained him through the dark, miserable nights of his eternal curse if only she was by his side; at the frailty of her body that almost seems to creak and break beneath his weight. 

"My love, look at me."

And she does, if not by command, then by instinct. 

"Smile for me, will you? Can you do that for me?" 

And she does, her lips turning upward and raising to reveal two sharp teeth— and nothing more. It's uncanny and revolting and wrong. There is nothing behind her eyes, nothing at all. No light, no life, and certainly no love. 

He used to be able to see himself in her eyes. How her heart sang for him, cheeks blossoming with blood at the sight of him. He could hear her heart rabbit behind her ribs, her hands quaking with excitement to touch him even in the most innocent of ways. Through her eyes, he found his own value— his own worth— and finally began to understand that he deserved love; he deserved happiness. She had healed him, giving almost all of herself to do it, selflessly and without asking for anything in return even as he despised himself and refused his own agency—

And she stares at him now with soulless eyes, he is left to wonder if he has taken too much from her in his quest to take everything. Wonders if she will ever be that lovestruck, moon-eyed girl again, wanting nothing more than to lie under the moonlit meadow with him. If she will ever kiss his eyelids as a delicate butterfly and whisper eternity in his ear. If she will ever feel safe and home and loved around him again in his embrace–

Save she is no longer quaking with anticipation at his touch, but trembling from fear, lost and terrified at the posing of a simple question. Her scent is foreign even as it is familiar and he cannot recall when it began to change. There is something in her eyes that haunts him, and though he can see himself within him, what stares back is not him. A terrible realization rakes knives down his soul, a gaping maw threatening to swallow him whole. A tightening in his lungs, and even as he does not breathe, he does not believe he could even if he tried. 

“Darling?” 

“Yes, my Lord?” 

Her face is impassive once more. Perfect porcelain expression. Not a crack in the mask. Not a wrinkle in the facade. Practiced day in and day out until it becomes real. He remembers it well.

How long has it been? How long since he has looked at her? Truly looked at her? Spoken to her? Told her he loved her? 

Showed her he loves her?

When was the last day he did not command from her that which she begged not to willingly give?

He cannot remember. He cannot recall. 

He demanded and she had no choice but to give. More and more and more. He drained her dry and now where was once his sacred oasis, there is nothing at all. No matter how long he looks, there is never a flicker of anything in her glassy eyes. 

He wonders if even as he has gotten everything he has ever wanted, he lost the one thing he needed. 

It paralyzes him. For the first time in an ageless eternity, he feels something: Panic. 

Even his endless power cannot bring her back. His beloved is dead, and he has killed her. Upon him sits a pretty corpse, empty and devoid of all that made her her. A doll with her face. A doll with barely even that. 

Her laugh, her smile. Her passion and desire and love. The tenderness inside of her and the warmth she once held. Everything that pulled him from his shell and showed him how to love once more. He bloomed in her light– and then snuffed it out entirely. 

How long has it been? How long has she been gone?

Though she may be undying, he realizes with horror akin to a dawning sun that she is gone– and has been for some time. 

“You seem stressed, my Lord? How can I make you happy again?”

Second part of the story HERE

[eggluverz]

Dan Feng's disciple! Reader x Dan Heng IL Synopsis Idea: She tried to stop them from taking him away from her, she really did. But Jingliu and Jing Yuan were quick to stop her. She spent so many nights alone... Until she saw him. The man she loved and would give up her life for. She's not letting him slip away from her this time. Thank you~~❤️

AFTER ALL THIS TIME

PAIRING. dan feng x f!reader; dan heng x f!reader

WORD COUNT. 3,741

SUMMARY. you were the great imbibitor lunae's disciple. he trusted you with his life and you with his. but when the time came, you weren't able to save him. what happens when you run into his reincarnation years down the line?

SOF'S NOTE. i had so much fun writing this!! i wrote it 2 days ago now but i just haven't had the time to post it t-t but i'm finally moved into my new place and managed to squeeze this post in <3 i rly rly enjoyed writing this so i hope y'all enjoy reading!! and special ty to the anon who requested this!! ^-^

The art of cloudhymn magic was difficult to master. Even as a high elder yourself, there were intricacies you could not figure out on your own. But you trained daily, practiced in seclusion, and read all the books passed down from the most renowned masters. 

Each day, your knowledge grew. Your natural talents aided you in perfecting your own personalized form of cloudhymn magic.

Still, Dan Feng noticed flaws in your execution. Movements that should be more precise, patterns that should flow more intricately. You noticed him silently watching you on the vast training grounds. He wasn’t much older than you, yet his magic was already intricately refined— The makings of a leader to the Vidyadharas.

He saw great power within you, he told you in passing as he took you under his wing. There was much you could gain from him, he promised. 

Years went by as you studied under Dan Feng. He has many supporters and people who looked up to him, but he only allowed you as his disciple. You were the only one who could rightfully address him as master. 

As he grew in his status as a member of the High Cloud Quintet and later the Imbibitor Lunae, you too grew in your mastery of cloudhymn magic. You were able to learn Dan Feng’s signature combat skill of deflecting iron, making arrows of most enemies fall flat at your feet. But your skill shined in the illusions you were able to create. Not even the Imbibitor Lunae was as skilled in that art as you. 

Your power grew and as such, Dan Feng recognized you as more of an equal than a disciple. Out of respect for all the teachings he imparted on you, you still called him master. There was no way you would reach your level of strength in this short amount of time without someone like him fostering your talents.

Along the way, you found yourself viewing him as more than your master. When he began treating you as someone who matched his power rather than someone with much to learn, you were able to feel confident in all your abilities.

One late night, Dan Feng took you to his sacred training grounds for a sparring session. He had just returned from a stressful battle and while the casualties were low, they were more than he felt comfortable with. 

“If anything happens to me, at least I will know the Vidyadhara will be in good hands,” Dan Feng commended as you blocked the tip of his spear from grazing the base of your neck. 

You quickly shifted your gears from defending to attacking, knowing if you let Dan Feng get too many attacks in, he would be almost unstoppable. Spinning your spear in your hands, you imbued the weapon with water and launched it directly at your master’s chest. 

A normal man would have fallen dead before even realizing you attacked him, but not the Imbibitor Lunae. He sidestepped, the scene appearing like a mirage due to his speed. 

“Nothing is going to happen to you, master,” you scoffed. “You’re the strongest Vidyadhara alive. Not even I could defeat you in battle.”

He hummed, tapping his spear to the back of your neck, signaling you lost this spar. “Battle is not the only way someone can fall.”

Wiping a bead of sweat off your forehead, you sighed, sauntering away from him and back inside his living quarters. “Continuously speaking of your self-proclaimed inevitable downfall is unbecoming of you, master. What would the people think of a disciple who follows someone without faith in his own ability to live?” 

Dan Feng chuckled softly. “A pitiful disciple, is what outsiders would say.” You nodded and he stopped you in your tracks, running his index finger against your jaw. His fingernail dug into the bottom of your chin to lift your head until your burning gaze met his sharp one. “But we never cared much about what outsiders think, did we?” 

You placed your palm against his chest, feeling the detailed fabric of his garments. They were thick yet light, a sign of great craftsmanship that only the highest of elders could afford. You allowed your hands to roam along his body before Dan Feng grabbed your wrist, his long fingers wrapping easily around its circumference. 

He smirked. “Wait until we’re indoors, my beloved.” 

“Yes, master,” you complied with a roll of your eyes before releasing the front of his outwear. You held complete respect for the Imbibitor Lunae, and you revered him as such. But those moments when it was just you and Dan Feng—just you and your partner—you weren’t one to shy away from meeting his biting remarks. 

This night, like many, led to moments of passion on the silken sheets draped over Dan Feng’s mattress. It was a mixture of love, respect, and the intense craving for more. 

Your master, the Imbibitor Lunae, a member of the High Cloud Quintet— Dan Feng was many things. But most importantly, he was yours. 

Until he wasn’t. 

No good thing was meant to last, Dan Feng once said during an endless night of reflection as he laid in bed beside you. Friendships, relationships, entire civilizations, built to be destroyed from the start. 

No good thing was meant to last. But he would fight his damned hardest to ensure they did. 

And for once, his hardest wasn’t enough. 

It was the middle of the night when your living quarters were barged into. You woke with a start and noticed Dan Feng quickly wrapping your robes around your naked body. 

The noises weren’t at the bedroom yet; you heard the thuds from outside and you immediately called for your strongest weapon. Noticing even the slightest of your movements, Dan Feng softly placed his hand on top of yours. Almost imperceptibly, he shook his head. 

Your eyes widened, wanting to ask what he could’ve possibly been thinking. There was a large group of men outside with hostile intent, did he not want to protect himself from an attack? 

“I am going to see what they need,” he said calmly, pulling you into his arms and leaving a kiss on your forehead. “Please, stay here for me.”

A few members of the High Cloud Quintet—Dan Feng’s closest friends that easily became yours as well—were staying at the guest chambers at the Imbibitor Lunae’s invitation. At the commotion outside, Jingliu came in with a groggy look on her face, tired from being woken up, but not an ounce of surprise in her. 

Dan Feng nodded to her and a silent Jing Yuan that filed in behind her. “Jingliu, Jing Yuan… Make sure she stays out of harm’s way.”

“Of course,” promised Jing Yuan, a soft smile painting his lips despite the sad look in his eyes. 

As he spoke, the doors to the bedroom burst open, a trio of Vidyadhara Preceptors breaking down the defenses you and Dan Feng had set. Your spear was in your hand in an instant and you tightened the knot on your robe with your other hand. 

Dan Feng stood straight in high alert, though his expression remained as one of nonchalance and arrogance. “Can I help you?”

Without a single moment spared for niceties, the Cloud Knights charged in to grab the Imbibitor Lunae. The Preceptors sent chains of rope instead of metal to wrap around Dan Feng. Your eyes blazed as you immediately called upon your cloudhymn magic. Water danced around your spear in sharp droplets, and you pointed it directly at the Head Preceptor. 

He narrowed his eyes in your direction. “Stand down, or you will face the same punishment.” 

“That’s only if you can beat us,” you laughed with disdain. Despite the big group, you were certain you and Den Feng had the ability to hold them off together. 

“Don’t,” Jingliu called out, gently placing her hand on your shoulder. “We can’t help him anymore, Y/N. Not after what he did. Don’t get hurt in the crossfire.” 

You knew what Dan Feng had done. For Yingxing. And you both knew the crime he would have to commit to help his best friend, but you never imagined the punishment would be so severe. A crowd of Cloud Knights and even a group of the Vidyadhara Preceptors here, together, all to subdue the Imbibitor Lunae. 

But it didn’t matter the crimes he committed or the consequences he may have incited through his actions. None of it mattered because he was your Dan Feng. Your master and your lover who you would protect with your entire life. 

Unfortunately, Dan Feng seemed to know that, having gotten Jingliu and Jing Yuan here to hold you back.

Before you could move, Jing Yuan held your arm back and prevented you from using your spear. Your eyes widened in shock. 

“Jing Yuan…?”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. It’s too late for Dan Feng, but not for you.”

The Cloud Guards briefly turned their attention towards you and the members of the High Cloud Quintet. Their swords raised as they noticed the fire in your eyes. 

Dan Feng snarled when he saw their focus on you. “If you hurt her, you will all pay,” he warned, his voice a low growl that would’ve made an ordinary man quiver. He began to move his arms in a way that could only be described as the start of a cloudhymn spell and in an instant, all eyes were on him. The ropes tightened, restricting his movement in a way that caused immense pain. 

“I love you,” were Dan Feng’s last words as he was forced out of his own estate. “Take care of yourself, my beloved.”

“Why do you speak as if you’re going to be gone?” you cried, refusing to believe someone as strong as your master could be subdued even by a group as large as this. “I’ll come get you—!”

You felt the sharp point of a sword on your neck as you summoned your spear. The nick was only a warning, but it was enough to draw blood. Your eyes widened and you stilled under the mercy of Jingliu’s weapon. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “You cannot.”

Feeling helpless and pathetic, all you could do was fight to not lose consciousness as Jingliu swiftly knocked you out. 

Your eyes drifted open and shut, your hand that was wrapped around your spear instantly loosened and the weapon that contained so much power fell at your side like a dull needle. 

The next time you woke, you were at your own residence. You had left this place to have a sanctuary with Dan Feng. Your sanctuary that was invaded, attacked, and taken from you. 

You went back on forth between two states of mind. One was complete and utter numbness at the loss you suffered. The other was uncontrollable pain and sadness. 

You spent your days and nights crying, refusing to see a single soul. You turned your meals away even when your loved ones begged you to take a bite. There was a hole in your heart at the thought of your master’s punishment. 

In your eyes, Dan Feng’s own best friends betrayed him, betrayed you. And after that night, you knew you would never want to be in contact with any of them again. 

To save a life, to save a friend who no longer regarded Dan Feng in the same light… You never could have imagined the punishment would be forced reincarnation. 

Uncontrollable sobs racked through your body, throat hoarse from the amount of crying you’ve done for weeks straight. It wasn’t only forced reincarnation, but also torture and imprisonment you knew he was facing. 

You had the strongest Vidyadhara alive as a master, yet you failed to learn enough to save him. When it mattered most, you couldn’t help.

Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months, and months turned to years. Those thoughts ate you alive before you were able to finally continue on with your life. 

You were no longer a Xianzhou resident. You refused the help the Vidyadhara with any advances in medicine and combat, keeping any profound knowledge of cloudhymn magic that Dan Feng shared only with you to yourself. The Preceptors couldn’t be trusted with anymore power. They had made themselves and enemy to you. As did the Cloud Knights, and inadvertently, the Cloud Knight General himself. 

Still, you tried not to let the hatred consume you. Vengeance would only breed insanity. Your mind would be consumed with sorrow and pain and you would never be able to heal. 

Dan Feng wouldn’t want that. 

You had to continue to live, for the both of you. 

Using your privilege as a Vidyadhara, you were able to travel around to different planets with relative ease. There were so many things to experience, such beautiful things to see—when you weren’t tangled in constant politics and battles. Your only wish was that Dan Feng was here to explore the universe with you. 

There were places where he didn’t need to have the pressure of the world on his shoulders. He wouldn’t be Imbibitor Lunae. He wouldn’t be a member of the famous High Cloud Quintet. Instead, he would just be Dan Feng, and you would get to explore the world as such. 

You wondered if his transition into the modern world would have been as smooth as yours. As you reminisced about your past, a nostalgic smile formed on your face. 

As you walked around this new city, you stared up at the flurries of pink and purple in the sky. The scenery was amazing here. With vast bodies of water and a bustling area of commerce and entertainment on the shorelines, you couldn’t help but look around in awe. Amidst your sightseeing, you felt yourself run into someone, dropping the map you held in your hands. 

“Oh!” you gasped in surprise. “I wasn’t looking at where I was going. I apologize.” 

“I wasn’t looking either,” the stranger said in response, picking the paper map up for you before the wind could sweep it away. “Here you go.”

As he handed you your belongings, you finally managed to get a good look at his face. Surprised by what you saw—what you felt—you accidentally dropped the map once more. 

The man gaped at you before hesitantly reaching down to pick up your map once more. This time, he held it instead of giving it back.

“Would you like your map back?” he asked slowly, this expression unsure.

The memories of the past slammed into you as you looked into his turquoise eyes. The bright green burned into yours. This man in front of you did not have the characteristics of a Vidyadhara. He did not don horns, a tail, or sharp ears like he once did. But there was no doubt in your mind— This was Dan Feng. At least, the person that emerged from Dan Feng’s forced reincarnation.

Tears started flowing down your face as you wondered what to say. Should you even say anything? You didn’t want to lose him again, but you wondered if the man in front of you would even want to get to know you. Dan Feng was a high elder, a powerful one at that. This man must’ve had some dreams about his past life— What if they were bad? What if they were all of the punishment? The crime? What if no part of him remembered you?

As you stood there, stuck in your thoughts, you noticed the stranger staring at the horns on top of your head. Then, at your tears. 

Without saying a word, he seemed to understand. “I’m not him.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you felt choked up. You knew that. Of course a reincarnation wouldn’t be your Dan Feng. But would it be close enough? 

Shaking your head, you scolded yourself internally. This man is not Dan Feng, he said so himself. And it would be twisted to project the qualities of your lover onto him without even getting the chance to know him.

“I know,” you said sadly, a disdainful smile on your face. “I just…sensed some of him in you.”

He nodded, a guarded look on his face despite the tilt of curiosity from his neck.“What were you to him?”

You smiled sadly, clutching the map in your hands and relaxing again. “His disciple. A close friend,” you said. You gazed into his eyes with an unwavering look. “His partner.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

He hesitated for a moment, looking around the area. You were at the beachside with patches of sand, grass, and pavement lining the ground. “Would you like to sit somewhere and talk?”

Deciding it would be rather tiring for you to stand and talk all day, you agreed with his suggestion. Silently, you walked over to the sand with Dan Feng’s reincarnation in tow and took a seat. The ground was warm and soft as you ran your fingers through the rocky granules.

As you watched the waves crash against the shore, you felt your body relax. Cloudhymn magic often   well with the element, and you found you had a natural affinity towards it yourself. 

After a few moments passed, you figured that, since he wasn’t Dan Feng, it would be rather rude of you not to introduce yourself. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

He gazed out into the water before turning his head to you. “Dan Heng.”

Although you attempted to hide your amused grin, you felt the corners of your mouth lifting upwards. “Creative.”

He shrugged, fighting off a smile of his own.

“So, Dan Heng… Do you remember anything about your past life?”

“Some things,” he admitted, resting a palm on the sand behind his back. “None of them are good.”

You frowned. There was no doubt you blamed the Preceptors for that. Dan Feng lived years and years of life, love, and even sorrow. But for his reincarnation to only know him as something negative? That didn’t sit well with you. 

“Although, I have to wonder,” he continued, gazing at you with an inquisitive look in his eyes, “if he was capable of love and partnership, could he be more than the arrogant criminal my memories have painted him out to be?”

You softened. Any hatred he felt towards Dan Feng wasn’t his fault. And he was certainly struggling as Dan Feng’s reincarnation. 

“He was certainly more than a criminal,” you promised. “More than the Imbibitor Lunae, even. Dan Feng was a real person who experiences emotions and feelings, like any other.” 

Dan Heng’s brows furrowed, but he said nothing. 

“If you want to learn more about him, I’ll always be here for you to ask.”

“And if I don’t?” 

You smiled sadly. “As much as that pains me, it’s your right. Each Vidyadhara can choose how much of their past they want to remember or embrace— Or if they want to start anew completely.”

“I do.”

A long exhale escaped your mouth as thoughts of your past filled your memories. You made no mistake— The man in front of you was not Dan Feng. Dan Feng was deceased, and holding on to any hope would only be futile and lead to more main. 

Instead, the man in front of you was Dan Heng, a reincarnation of Dan Feng. A Vidyadhara who deliberately chose to not incorporate his past life into his current. And that was okay.

“I am remorseful,” you admitted. Dan Heng nodded in understanding. “However, I am comforted knowing his reincarnation is here, and he looks happy. Dan Feng would be happy for you.”

He laughed quietly. “I find that hard to believe.”

You gave him a look. “You don’t know him like I do.” 

“Yes, you’re right.” 

Dan Heng sighed in contemplation, conflict evident in his expression. You weren’t sure what exactly what he was thinking, but you sensed deep turmoil within him. It was only natural, you assumed, after something he had such conviction for was shaken at its very foundation. 

“Do you want to board the Astral Express with me?” he asked hesitantly. 

You blinked at the sudden question. “Pardon?”

“Sorry,” said Dan Heng, clearing his throat. “That was impulsive.” He paused before continuing. “From talking to you, I gathered that maybe you’re being held back by your past, too.”

Your eyes widened in surprised. You didn’t except him to be so blunt. Perhaps he had some similarities to Dan Feng after all. 

“If you’re lost or want a place to call home, maybe you can pay it a visit,” he offered nonchalantly. “We travel the universe and occasionally assist some planets. I have a feeling you’d like it.”

The Astral Express? You wondered how a place like that would be. For so long, you’ve been traveling alone, avoiding the Xianzhou and even some Vidyadhara who might know of your existence as Dan Feng’s disciple and lover. 

A part of you longed for a social connection again— A place to belong. 

After some thinking, you asked, “Do you want me there?” 

“Yes— As Dan Heng though,” he reminded firmly. “Not Dan Feng.”

You laughed in amusement. “Good. I’m interested in getting to know your new life, Dan Heng,” you said, extending your hand out for him to shake. “Thank you for inviting me in.”

He took it gently, his hand lingering on yours even after the handshake was over. “Maybe you can tell me more about Dan Feng once we arrive at the Express. The parts that aren’t so bad.”

The look on his face told you he was genuine. You smiled. “I’d love that.”

Understanding passed between the two of you as you sat there in contentment. The wind whirled around you and the steady sound of the waves soothed your soul. 

“I want to learn about Dan Feng’s life,” concluded Dan Heng, unwavering. “Still, I think it is best if we look forward to making new memories of our own more.”

You nodded in quiet agreement, eyes never leaving his. 

The past was something you held near and dear to your heart. Dan Feng was someone you would always love and respect. But perhaps the future would have more in store for you, if you only allowed it. 

And as Dan Heng smiled his small smile and offered you a hand up from the sand, you thought, This time, you would. 

[justauthoring]

the trees told me about you.

the trees whisper to you and gojo thinks that makes you special.

a/n: i just started watching frieren and i NEEDED something fantasy okay???? also, i love him <3

pairing: prince!gojo satoru x f!elf!reader

The trees whisper to you.

Whisper words that ghost past your ears and leave your eyes sparkling with warmth, staring at the twinkling green leafs that bristle in the wind. 

No one else can hear them, except for you. 

Some think you're mad, others just don’t like you cause you’re different – either way, you’ve long ago learned not to care.

Because the trees speak to you, tell you secrets of the world and bring you the love you’ve never felt elsewhere. They don’t judge you because you look different, and they make you feel included – loved.

So even though you’re glared at and cruel words are whispered behind your back;

She’s not right. Spending her days talking to trees…

They say her parents abandoned her when she was young… you don’t have to wonder why.

What a lonely life… but no one wants to talk to a girl who thinks trees speak.

You’ve learned that there’s no point worrying and no point in trying to change their minds. 

A life of solitude is one you’ve accepted for yourself. And besides, you don’t feel all that alone in the first, shrouded by trees, protected from the small, the feeling of the dirt and grass and earth beneath your fingers as you smile and laugh and talk.

Yeah, you don’t feel alone at all.

At least, until you meet him.

-

“You know they all think you’re insane, right?”

A moment ago, you’d been positive you’d been alone. You hadn’t heard him walk up, the crunch of his footsteps along the forest floor or even the rustling of his clothing; so when you hear his voice, so much louder, harsher, sharper than the voices that whisper in your ears, it makes you jump.

You’re startled, incredibly so. You lose your footing beneath you, your bum hitting the ground harshly as you turn your head to face the voice, worrying just who it was that had snuck up on you.

It’s a boy. Roughly your age, or at least you assume so. He’s tall. Even though you’re on the ground, you know he’d tower over you. He’s got bright white hair that shifts to a purple hue when the sun hits him just right. And his eyes are a striking blue that rivals even the sky and unlike anything you’ve ever seen.

You’d lived in your small village all your life and you’re positive you’ve never seen this boy before.

“Who… who are you?” Your words come out shakier than you want but then again, you’re not all that accustomed to speaking to others. Most of your time is spent listening… and even you know there’s a difference between listening to trees and real people. You’ve never had someone speak so directly to you before – most of the time, they opt for whispering behind your back even though both you and them are aware you can hear them.

Still, you force yourself to speak; “what are you doing here?”

He’s grinning. Ear to ear. And it’s wide and it’s bright and there’s a twinkle in his eyes that seems some sort of mischievous, yet, the smile feels real and genuine and almost… kind(?).

Then, he’s crouching, moving so he’s more level to you and his head tilts to the right. “Gojo Satoru,” he introduces, saying his name with pride. “And I am going for a light stroll in the woods.”

Gojo Satoru…

Gojo…

That’s… that’s last the name of the king—

Your eyes widen, instantly shifting to meet his gaze while he continues to just smile at you, bright and happy, hands clasped in front of him without a care in the world. You take in his clothes properly then, the detailing and the quality of the fabric, hemmed with laces – clothes you’ve never even had half enough coin to buy.

Clothes you’d never be able to buy.

You’d heard the King had a son but you’d never seen him or any drawings of him either.

A boy that looks like this though? Looks like he could be the King’s son.

“I ventured through the village beforehand,” he gestures over his shoulder. “You are not well-liked.” 

You blink out of your daze, frowning at his words.

Shifting, you move so you’re sitting straighter, straightening out your blouse as you glare at him. “That’s rather rude.”

He shrugs, still grinning. “You didn’t deny it though.”

And you frown because you know he’s right.

“Okay, so, what’s the King’s son doing taking a stroll in the woods well outside of the castle grounds?”  

He pauses, raising a brow; “so you did recognize me…” He hums lightly, pointing at you. 

You nod; “yes, I did.”

You’re well aware that your lack of respect for the King’s son could get you arrested, or worse. But, you don't care all that much. You figure that Gojo would’ve done something by now if he was really bothered by it, and… well, he’s the one who snuck up on you in the first place.

Laughing lightly, Gojo shrugs; “couldn’t stand being there anymore.”

You raise a brow; “the castle?”

He nods. “It’s so… stuffy! Gods, no one knows how to have any fun in there! And I'm constantly getting reprimanded for trying to liven the place up a little.” His words are dramatic, doubled by his actions as he wildly waves his hands around, rolling his eyes as he sulks. “You’d think royalty, with all the money we have, would know how to make things at least a little exciting… but no! They’re dreadfully boring.”

He finishes his rambling with a loud huff, and a second passes before you burst out in laughter.

Gojo blinks at you, once, twice, stunned before he’s grinning once more.

“That’s funny?” He asks, watching you amusedly.

Clutching at your stomach, you shake your head; “sorry,” you gasp. “I just never expected the King’s son to be so… un-princely?”

Chuckling, Gojo’s eyes trail your figure as you continue to laugh; “no?”

“No,” you snort, calming yourself down. Then, a second later, you glance at him; “so you ran away?”

“For now,” he agrees. “And you?”

You blink; “what about me?”

“What are you doing here?”

Your smile fades. “Well… you heard.”

“So, you really do talk to trees?”

You pause, bewildered. “You believe me?”

“Why would you lie?”

And it’s the first time you’ve heard someone say that to you… because, yes, why would you lie? Why would you make all this up?

And yet he’s the first one who believes you.

“I’ve never seen someone like you before you, you know,” he shuffles closer and your breath halts, eyeing him as he leans in. “I thought you all died out.”

Subconsciously, your fingers move to touch the tip of your pointy ears that’s hidden by your hair. “We did,” you whisper, “it’s just me.”

Resting his head on his crossed arms, Gojo fidgets in the spot. “That’s unfortunate.”

You hum, not sure how else to respond. It was unfortunate and sad, but no one else had ever seemed to think so. At least not anyone in your village. Scorned and judged because of your smaller stature and your pointy ears… you were a freak amongst humans in your village and they constantly liked to remind you of the fact.

“You think the trees talk to you because you’re different?”

Wide eyed, you turn to Gojo. “What?”

“I don’t hear them,” he frowns, and he strains his ear, cupping it for emphasis as if that’ll help. “And I’m royalty. They should talk to me… but they don’t. I bet it’s because you’re an elf. Makes you extra special then.”

Lips parting, you glance around, taking in the trees, hearing the whispers that have softened, before turning back to his blue eyes. “More special than the prince?”

He smirks; “I guess,” he obliges, chuckling. “Just this once.”

You smile. A real, genuine smile.

“You shouldn’t hide them, either.”

“Hm?”

“Your ears,” he explains, reaching forward. You barely have time to react before he’s brushing back your hair, the tips of his fingers brushing against the skin of your ears as he tucks the hair behind, revealing your insecurity to his eyes. He doesn’t look away, and panicked, you watch him, overwhelmed by how close he suddenly is, breath stuck in the back of your throat.

But he doesn’t look disgusted or freaked out.

He looks… amazed.

“You shouldn’t hide them,” his gaze shifts back to yours, grinning again but this time it’s softer, more demure. “They’re what make you you.”

“They make me look strange. Different,” you mumble to yourself, lowering your gaze as you attempt to pull your hair back out from behind your ear.

Gojo grabs your wrist, small in his own grasp, halting your movements.

You turn to him with parted lips.

“No,” he whispers and it’s the softest he’s sounded, but yet, it’s still so confident. Like he doesn’t doubt a single word he says. “No, they make you special.”

You stare back at him, stunned. But you don’t pull away and you don’t move. You like it, having him this close. This boy who you've just met. This boy who is the King’s son. The prince. Next in line for the throne.

This boy who’s made you feel more normal than you ever have your entire life.

But then he’s pulling away, despite the disappointment that burns through you, standing up straight as you crane your head up to look at him. He’s grinning, ear to ear again, as he takes small steps back.

“I should go,” he explains, laughing. “My father is probably throwing a fit. But, come back tomorrow okay?”

You raise a brow, tilting your head in wonder.

He just laughs.

“I plan to run away again.” 

Is all he says and then he’s turning, offering you a short wave before disappearing through the thick of the trees, leaving you to yourself and the whispers.

You stare at the place he left, undeniably grinning from ear to ear yourself now.

“Yes,” you nod to the whispers. “I think I like him too.”