#his bangs simply hide the scar/skin..

[possuminnit]

he also has a zombie scar. btw..

click for better quality + flats in undercut

no overlay/shading vers ^_^

[damn-stark]

Chapter 16 The last supper

Chapter 16 of Sugar

A/N- Hakari and Kirara are in this chapter, they’re the best kids, the best.

Warning- Swearing, angst, FLUFF!! Talks of death, smoking and alcohol, spoilers, slow burn, long chapter.

Pairing- Choso x fem!reader, Suguru Geto x Gojo!fem-reader

Takes place during- 2x06, 2x07, and only the very beginning of 2x08

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

The water droplets feel cold when they hit your skin, they’re hard and fall fast enough that they create a soft and pleasurable rhythmic song as they fall.

Normally there’s people who tend to run and find cover or hide under an umbrella as soon as the rain trickles down, but you’ve never minded the feeling of the rain; even if it can be cold, and you don’t like being cold, so. You don’t mind getting yourself soaked either even if it means drenching your clothes.

The sound of the rain relaxes you, the sound of waves crashing brings you comfort, and the view of the rain droplets dancing down from the sky has a way of bringing you ease. And that’s probably due to your connection with water.

However, today the sound of the water and the sight of the clear droplets doesn’t help the stupid ill-feeling brewing inside your guy. Maybe it’s the mission Itadori and his friends got sent to today to capture the mole; that same mole that helped the curses sneak into the school, and the same mole that is leaking information to curse users, but you can’t seem to find pleasure in the rain’s song or its view.

Something doesn’t feel right, but here’s hoping that you’re wrong. You want to be wrong.

“Hey…Geto,” the sound of Fushiguro’s voice catches you off guard, not because he called you by your…husband's name, but because ever since you met he doesn’t really make conversation with you like the others, he’s really quiet and reserved. Something that his father never was in that short interaction you had.

“Yes,” you give him your attention.

Fushiguro briefly meets your gaze before he looks at the parking garage where you’re supposed to meet Utahime. Hopefully, Satoru let her know you were coming or else you’re going to get a startled reaction, which honestly looks funny on Utahime, she’s so dramatic. It’s funny and adorable.

“That day we met,” he continues. “You said that I looked like him…were you referring to my father?”

Oh? No. No. Has Satoru not told him?! Please kid don’t ask about your father.

“I remember Gojo mentioned something like that when we met,” Fushiguro adds and finally lifts his head to meet your gaze.

You hold his gaze for a moment with confusion, but you can’t help but nod softly. “Yes, I was…why?”

Fushiguro shrugs and blinks to look at his friends ahead of you. “I was just curious…did you meet my father too?”

You nod stiffly and try to avoid anything too informative because this is Satoru’s kid, not yours. If he hasn’t told him then it’s for a good reason, you won’t be the one to break that.

“Once,” you tell Fushiguro. “Or twice, I guess. He came to see my brother once when we were children, and I guess I passed by him and I didn’t know. We met again years later, but that’s it.”

Please don’t ask. Please don’t ask.

Fushiguro hums and you try to read his face for his reaction to what you just shared, but he keeps on that nonchalant expression that’s always painted on his face and simply nods stiffly. You don’t dare and try to further this conversation, it’s not your place.

And luckily before he could try and ask or say anything else you reach the parking garage that connects to some storage units? Or some kind of storage things. And the first person your eyes land on is Utahime.

She looks older, her hair is longer and she has longer bangs. You also notice a scar across her face which makes her look badass. And just like you predicted her expression upon seeing you is different; whereas she’d be content seeing you before, now you receive a bitter and hardened gaze.

“Utahime,” you greet with the same warmth that you’d greet her with those many years ago. “Long time no see, you look nice.” You grin.

Utahime lets out a soft sigh and her shoulders tense. “I’d say it’s a pleasure,” she counters spitefully. “But it’s really not.”

You can’t help but shoot her a smirk and nod in comprehension. “Understandable.”

“Don’t patronize me,” she says through gritted teeth.

You laugh softly and when you reach her you simply pat her shoulder before you step aside to let them work. After all, you’re basically a shadow.

“This way,” Utahime moves on with the mission and leads you and the students about halfway down the garage before stopping and interjecting with a question. “You’ve heard from Gojo about the person leaking intel, right?”

“Yes,” all three students answer at the same time.

“There’s probably two or more people in contact with the curse users,” Utahime adds, “one would be a higher-up, well above the principal.”

You scoff with amusement under your breath, but Utahime hears you and shoots you a warning glare before continuing.

“I won’t be able to do anything about that one. The other would be someone passing the information up to the higher-up,” she explains as she lifts a finger from both hands. “That one is our current target. They’re only a suspect at this point, so we’ll capture them and then interrogate them.”

You fold your arms over your chest and lean back against a pillar, whilst Nobara speaks up with a question. “So who from Kyoto is it?”

“Oh?!” Itadori exclaims in surprise.

“That’s why you asked those of us from Tokyo, right?” Nobara adds and only seems to impress Itadori more.

“Kugisaki, you’re incredible.”

“The mole is…” Utahime pauses and as you drift your eyes over to her you see that she looks uncomfortable and displeased. “Mechamaru.”

One of her students you assume? A wrinkle forms between her eyebrows, and a small frown is formed on her lips.

You can’t imagine it was easy hearing that one of your own students that’s right under your nose is the mole. Then again a student being hidden away from the rest of the world is a perfect mole. They could’ve manipulated him, and even if they didn’t you wouldn’t blame him for taking the path he chose.

You do put all the blame on the higher-ups though. They like to act all high and mighty like they’re above it all, but they’re not, and what’s worse but not surprising is that they turn out to betray what they’re supposed to be protecting.

“And they say I’m the bad one,” you try to get in a conversation with Utahime, while she continues to lead the way towards a single door nearby. “A higher-up working for a curse-user…can’t say I’m surprised.”

“You are bad,” she quips. “You’re a cult leader and a curse-user.”

You shake your finger. “Ah, ah,” you quickly interject loudly so she can hear you. “Retired curse-user and it was not a cult. That word is so…” you pause and stick out your tongue in disgust. “…wrong. It was a religious facility. And! It was Suguru’s, I helped build it up, sure, so it was like, uh, 20 or 10 percent my baby, but I wasn’t the founder or the leader. He was.”

Utahime twists her head back and her displeasure and

anger for you only deepens, making the corner of your lips pull to a deeper smirk.

“Not like it matters now though,” you add quieter and with a hint of sadness in your tone. “It’s all done.”

Utahime answers with silence and stops by the door to open it and step inside. Itadori and Fushiguro let Nobara pass before them, and then they try to make you walk first, but you’re here for Itadori, you’re his shadow, not his partner right now, so after some passed and pointed glances both guys walk inside in a room, letting you walk in last and close the door behind you.

However, that turns out to be a mistake because the only source of light inside is an ominous red light over a single metal door. That’s all, no ceiling lights, no bright natural light casting in.

“Mechamaru’s real body, Kokichi Muta,” Utahime breaks the tension that you alone feel as this place gives you the creeps. “Is in this basement here. Now, it’s not like he’s suspicious. It’s more that everyone else wasn’t. So the process of elimination leaves with Mechamaru.”

When Utahime slowly opens the door, Itadori is the first to barge in as if nothing. You then all follow after him, which, by the way, this hall you walk into isn’t any better. It smells like mold, the light above is a dim and dull white-green color. And the further you walk in the worse it seems to get. At least to you anyway.

“Mechamaru’s technique is puppet manipulation,” Utahime continues to inform the students and you because this is all new to you too. “Though, thanks to his heavenly pact, the range he can manipulate puppets extends throughout Japan. If he has any unregistered puppets then he could do the work of the mole as much as he wanted.”

“Really?” You probe curiously even though you know you shouldn’t right now.

“That kid stood out a lot to me,” Itadori mutters.

“Even if the puppet was the size of a fly or a mosquito,” Utahime interjects.

“I see. But those are options too, huh?” Itadori asks while Utahime begins to slow down as you all approach a door.

“We’re here.” She points as she comes to a stop.

You draw in a deep breath and fist your hands as Utahime slowly turns the knob just in case this kid tries to tackle all of you with his puppets.

However, when she opens the door and everyone rushes inside you come to see an abandoned room. A smelly abandoned room.

“Uh,” Itadori rolls out awkwardly.

“He got us,” Utahaime mumbles out.

“Though,” Fushiguro breaks his silence. “On the other hand…”

“Now we’re certain it’s Mechamaru,” Nobara finishes saying for her friend.

No signs of struggle to indicate that he could be taken. All that’s left is tubing hanging off the ceiling, and a horrendous stench. It’s almost too calm, too quiet.

“Well,” you sigh and pull out a cigarette box to swiftly push one in between your lips. “Nothing to do with this but look over our shoulders.” You put your box away and light the cigarette with a flame you summon to your finger. “Something's brewing and we just lost our foot inside.”

You walk out of the room and everyone quickly follows.

“Don’t you have contacts?” Utahime finally addresses you. “Friends? It’s said that one of the curses might be someone dressed as a monk.”

You suck in your cheeks as you take a drag and shake your head. “No,” you breathe out as you pull the cigarette out of your mouth. “What? Just because Suguru dressed as a monk means I know them? It was an act to get the non-sorcerers curses, that's all. We didn’t actually know anyone who was a monk.”

Utahime picks up her pace to fall beside you, but as she walks in the cloud of smoke she tries to quickly wave it away.

“Can’t you just ask around?” She insists.

You look away to think while you take in another drag. Just as you’re about to take it out, Utahime reaches over and pulls the cigarette out of your mouth for you and stomps it out, making you pout softly.

“It’s not a habit,” you defend yourself as puffs of smoke escape out of your mouth. “I do it occasionally.”

“That doesn’t matter, can you?” She presses.

You let out a deep breath and nod stiffly. “I have friends. And if there’s a sketchy sorcerer then perhaps someone at the fighting club knows…” you mumble to yourself before you look at her and nod with an assuring smile playing on your lips “I’ll ask around for something, but what is it that I’m looking for exactly?”

Utahime shrugs. “All these curses, Mechamaru, and the higher-up work for someone, a curse-user who installs some kind of authority and fear. They’re up to something so they probably need any help they can get. Start there.”

You scoff and nod slowly. “All right. I’ll ask.”

She nods softly. “Thanks,” she mutters.

You steal a glance at her and hum. An idea comes to mind but you quickly shoot that down since what you have planned is for people you’re closer with, family and closer friends.

She was a friend, but you can sense the tension, and you see the way she looks at you, you’re no friend of hers. Not anymore.

Thus, you just leave it be and stay quiet. You bask in that silence and just think about the mess that’s spreading as you return to the school with your hands empty.

If only Suguru was here to help. To at least calm down your nerves even if everything isn’t okay. Why can’t he be here too? Why did he have to die and why do you have to face all this alone now?

You exhale and before you know it Ijichi parks the car to let you and the students off at the school entrance. Before you can get out though, you lean over towards him.

“Hey, I’m having dinner at my house tomorrow since the kids want to go see the community, come,” you invite him too. “I invited Nanami and my brother, of course, Ieiri will be there.” You wiggle your eyebrows playfully. “So come, yeah? Make sure my brother gets there in time.” You laugh softly.

Ijichi blinks in surprise and his cheeks begin to grow red. “M-me?” He questions.

You nod. “Yes, you. Why not? We were good friends once when I was in school. So you better come!” You pull back and slide off your seat to get out of the car. “Be there!” You shout over your shoulder one last time before you look over at the school entrance and see the woman you hoped you’d see.

“It better be something good,” she throws out as you change your pace to a jog to meet her with an embrace.

“Well, I’ll tell you now,” you tell her and step back. “It’s not a bar. I do have to go home for dinner.”

“You smell like cigarettes,” she points out and follows after you as you lead her to your motorcycle.

“Stress cigarette,” you mumble. “And I’m sorry about the ride. I didn’t plan to have passengers.”

“Ah, just something else that makes you look cooler;” she teases.

You flash her a smile. “It was part of my training. Yuki and I built a motorcycle.”

“Exactly how does that help?” Shoko probes as you hand her an extra helmet.

You stop what you’re doing to tap your chin as you think. “I don’t remember why exactly, but I remember it working.” You drop your hand and wink at Shoko. “Don’t worry, baby, I’m an excellent driver.”

Shoko looks at you with hesitance as she debates whether to believe you or not. But then again she has no other choice so she sits behind you and lets you take her to a place you only vaguely explained.

——

*LATER*

“Where are we anyways?” Shoko finally gets the chance to ask.

You put the helmets away and lead her to a multiple-story building. “Fight Club,” you finally let her know.

Albeit she doesn’t believe you so she scoffs and retorts. “I’m serious.”

You peer back and nod. “So am I. This is a fight club.”

You walk up to the door and knock once before the slit on the door opens and grey eyes peek out. They don’t say anything when they see you, they just look back and then close the slit again before they open the door for you.

“Come on,” you invite her in. “It’s early so it’s quiet right now.”

Shoko looks at you with a puzzled look, but she doesn’t hesitate to trust you and follow you at your side. After you ride the elevator to the top of the building she finally continues on with the questions you felt her wanting to ask.

“So this is what you do now that you don’t run a cult?” She asks as she studies the hallway. “Fight clubs?”

You scoff. “The word cult is so wrong. It was a religious facility. And second,” you motion with your fingers. “This isn’t really my fight club, I just, uh, financially support it. Think of me as a godmother of this place,” you say with a cocky half-smile.

Shoko hums and continues inquiring. “Then who owns this place?”

You reach the private parlor room and simply shoot her a smirk before you knock on the door just in case. You don’t want to walk into some nasty stuff.

“Come in!” You hear a happy familiar voice welcome you in.

You smile and open the door, and the moment you walk in you’re greeted with a warm and happy welcome. “Master!”

You beam. “Hello my star children,” you greet Kirara and Hakari.

Rather than coming to greet you by the door, they stay seated on the couch as they watch Shoko walk in.

“Don’t worry we can trust her,” you assure them while you close the door behind your friend.

“Kirara? Hakari?” Shoko asks quietly in disbelief.

You walk further in and nod with glee. “Yeah. Didn’t my brother tell you? I’ve been training them for the past year. They’re the owners of this club.”

“Secret club,” Kirara blurts. “So don’t be going around and talking to anyone at the school about it.”

You sit on the expensive chair behind the expensive dark wooden desk and sit back smugly. “I just wanted to show off to someone our work here,” you add. “All the investors that invested in Suguru’s facilities now invest here in exchange for us to do their dirty work of course.”

“So,” Shoko rolls out and slowly makes her way to the seat across from the pair. “You’ve brought students in to do your dirty work now? You sound like your brother.”

You chuckle dryly and shake your head. “It’s nothing they don’t want to do. We all work for something, Ieiri, it’s how the world works. They wanted something so I gave it to them, but they know that in order to keep it and be on top, they have to work for it. Besides, staying at home would bore me half to death. I need to stay busy while I’m still young.”

Shoko hums and watches you for something in particular, when she can’t find it due to the wall you put up she just stays quiet.

“Now do you want something to drink? Water, snack? You get it for free.” You laugh breathlessly.

Shoko shakes her head. “No. Now why am I here exactly?”

“I told you,” you say and lean in towards the desk to pick up a file. “I wanted to show this off and I wanted you to get out of the school for a while. God knows you work too much for them. But I will have to ask you not to go on and talk about this. This club is a secret underground kinda thing.”

“You’re not looking for a job now are you doc?” Hakari breaks his silence. “We could use a good doctor here. And you’re great.”

“We’d pay you double,” Kirara pitches in.

Shoko laughs and shrugs before sitting back. “I’ll think about it.”

“Now,” you change the subject and open the file to take out one photo of a blond ponytail guy. “Is this it?”

Hakari gets off the couch and walks to your side and nods. “Yep. No one else has stood out, just that scrawny pathetic-looking thing.”

You pick up the photo and study the skinny guy with a black cloth that covers half of his body. You also notice that he has three marks under his eyes, but that’s all that stands out. He’s pretty average-looking.

But you can’t be fooled by that.

“He simply wrote Haruta at the entrance and that’s it. He didn’t fight either, the cameras just picked on him watching the fights.”

You let out a deep breath and sit back to think.

“Probably scooping place,” Shoko interjects.

“Did security detect any extra cameras or any other stuff he carried?” You ask.

Hakari shakes his head. “Asked and he said no. He only came that one night too. Hasn’t returned since.”

“Alone?”

“Yep. Or so that’s what he made us believe.”

You look up at the ceiling and try to figure something out even though this piece of information is practically nothing.

“No one suspicious has come to visit either,” Kirara adds. “But remind me again why you’re working to look for this mole, master?” They ask with concern. “You’re practically working for the school and the higher-ups if you help them.”

“The mole thing is leading to something bigger,” you explain. “Something bigger means danger to all of us, not just the school. We’ve worked hard for what we've built, this potential threat can endanger that. So it’s not for them, it’s for me, you, Harkari, my community, and my girls. That’s what.”

“Besides she doesn’t work for anyone,” Hakari says in your defense, making you smile and look over at him. “So this labor is just a hobby.”

You chuckle and put your fist out so he can meet it halfway with a fist pump. “Nicely put.” You compliment.

“Suck up,” Kirara coughs out.

“Aw I get it now,” Shoko adds with a sly laugh. “You’re a mobster. My own little mobster.”

You pick up the landline phone and shoot her a smirk. “Got to keep the money coming somehow. Plus this is a way to keep tabs on sorcerers around Japan. You’d be surprised how many sorcerers I have tabs on. I work to piss my family off. And this,” you point at the desk to refer to all your work. “Would make them livid.” You roll your head down and begin to call up a number.

“Now what would your high school self say about you now?” Shoko teases.

“She’d be surprised but proud.” You say and throw a hand out to display your excitement as the phone rings.

“Hello?” The voice that belongs to an old business partner answers.

“Kong,” you greet sweetly. “Long time, yeah?”

You hear him draw in a deep breath before he scoffs shakily. “Y/N.”

You tilt your head down and rest your elbow on the desk to lay your head on your palm. “Now I hope I didn’t interrupt anything. You’re a very hard man to find. I hope you weren’t avoiding me. You know what happens when someone does.” You taunt.

“Why would I?” He mutters. “We’re old friends, so I know you want something?”

“Oh,” you breathe out. “Looking for work,” you lie. “Without Suguru here I’m growing bored, I need to find work to do. Do you happen to know anyone in need of any sorcerers for hire?”

Kong doesn’t answer for a few seconds, letting you pick up your head and turn on the computer to check his last location a friend gave you. “You’ve gone quiet, what is it? I wouldn't want to go to the States to ask in person.”

“I—”

“Don’t,” you cut him off abruptly and in an intimidating voice. “I know where you are, Kong. You’ve been avoiding me since Suguru died. So I know you’re hiding something, spill it or I’ll tell my friend in the red cap next to you to make this the last call you ever take.”

Kong shares a nervous laugh that makes the frown on your face deepen. “We’ve been friends for a decade, y/n,” he stammers. “I went to your wedding—”

“And I don’t care,” you interrupt and begin to tap your manicured nail against the wooden surface. “You stopped being my friend the moment you stopped talking to me, even then you meant nothing to me. I won’t blink an eye to give the command. Spill it or I’ll lose my patience.”

Kong exhales deeply before he answers a bit quieter. “My life is at stake here okay? But I’ll tell you this because you are my friend because I care. Manami and Toshihisa are hiding something. Unfortunately for them, they haven’t let go of the goal Geto put in their head.” He sighs. “This should be enough right?”

You clench your jaw and grow cold and stiff. “Yeah,” you deadpan and hang up.

“What is it, master?” Kirara asks right away since the confused and suddenly hurt look on your face is obviously clear.

“Maybe nothing,” you answer honestly. “Or maybe something important. I think Manami and Toshihisa are betraying me.”

The room falls silent and your mind begins to run rampid.

Yeah, you’ve always known that the two that were just named have been a bit more motivated about what Suguru preached. And after he died they wanted to continue with his work, but you didn’t exactly egg them on. You had no purpose for the religious facilities since you couldn’t store curses like Suguru, and you just hurt too much to try and continue his goal at such a big scale, so you just gave up his dream.

It seems like they didn’t though. And it shouldn't be surprising, not really, but they were still family. For a long time, they were all you had, so that’s why this feels like getting shot in the back. You’re supposed to be close, you’re supposed to share stuff like that with each other, so why didn’t they? What are they hiding?

“So what does that mean for our problem?” Shoko queries.

You continue to tap your nail against the surface and shrug. “I don’t know. I doubt they’ll talk to me…they’ve been distant…I should’ve known, damn it.”

“There’s no way you could’ve known,” Kirara tries to assure you. “You had faith in them.”

“Who’s the suck-up now?” Hakari rebuttals softly. “But in any way, master, Kira is right. There’s no way you could’ve known so don’t beat yourself up over it. Let’s look for them and beat the information out of ‘em.”

You laugh softly and nod stiffly. “Yeah, you’re right, Kin, no need for more stress. I'll just accept it as it is, a betrayal...” You sigh loudly and sit back lazily. “What a pain in my ass! I should’ve never taken this favor for Satoru.”

“Now look at you,” Shoko retorts. “Now you’ve got your head stuck in that hole. With no way out.”

You fold your arms over your chest and mumble. “I should…I should get my head out. Give me a good reason why I should stay, Ieiri?”

Said woman sighs and you hear the leather seat she’s on shift as she moves in her seat. “Your kids' lives could be on the line,” she puts it simply, making you lower your head and steal a glance at Kirara and Hakari before you look at your hands and think of your girls.

She’s right. Whatever’s going on isn’t just a drizzle with the sun poking out, it’s a brewing storm with no sun, just darkness.

“And,” Shoko adds. “You won’t leave Satoru to deal with it on his own, no matter how much he fights for you to stay behind.”

That’s also right. She’s right.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” you mumble.

“Always am.”

You manage a faint smile and have to just drop your head in your hands to take in what was dropped on you; another weight to your already heavy and tensionful chest. You’re not drowning anymore, Hakari and Kirara saved you from that, but this weight? Oh, that weight.

You can’t breathe again. It’s getting hard again.

“If that’s what you want,” Hakari says. “Then there’s nothing you can do about it at this moment.”

You hear feet hit the ground before someone comes over. As you lift your head you see Kirara finally joined Hakari and you by the desk.

“What?” You probe as you notice that they’re up to something.

“Just doing our thing,” they simply put it out before they lean over and get on the computer to put on music.

“Ah,” you laugh breathlessly and can’t help but tug a happy smile on your face. “I see.”

“What’s going on?” Shoko asks as she sees all of you smile.

“She smokes when she’s stressed,” Kirara explains. “We’ve found an alternative. We dance it out. When he can of course.”

Yet no matter how much you danced it out at that moment, no matter how much fun you did have. At night after you put Satori to sleep, after the twins began to get ready for bed, all that you ran away from comes back and you’re reminded of that heavy weight, and you can’t help but think of the man that can’t come and comfort you, the man you can’t hold.

All that stress transforms to longing and you feel lonelier as you’re embraced by the cold fall bitter air under the starry sky. You try to find comfort in his stupid gojogesa you always hated seeing on him, but it no longer smells like him, it’s not warm after his use, it’s cold and holds nothing but agony.

You try to maybe find comfort in one of your many favorite pictures you have with him to try to relive that moment in your head and see him at least as a distant memory, but you can’t bring yourself to feel an ounce of happiness at the sight of the engraved memory on the piece of glossy paper. And when you play that day of him trying to make baby Satori look at the camera in your head, all you see is a faded day, and all you feel is longing for a moment you can’t share with him anymore.

So you put the picture down and press your hand on the empty spot next to you on the dock, and close your eyes to try and picture him here with you in such a vivid way that perhaps you’ll be able to feel some ounce of his presence. But again only the cold air keeps you company, and the only warmth you feel is that of your tears running down your cheeks.

Nevertheless, you still open your eyes and expect him to be looking right back at you with that sweet and charming smile of his, but he’s not here. Not even the ghost of him.

Albeit there are a pair of eyes watching you. Two to be exact, but you don’t catch them since they keep themselves away from your eyesight, so you don’t catch them watching you cry for the man they saw you love with your whole heart. They just watch you with pity and sympathy, and a bit of guilt since they can’t do anything to get him back for their little sister, for them, or for you so you wouldn’t be so lonely anymore.

——

*THE NEXT DAY*

“Welcome, friends, family.” You greet the guests that are coming here for the first time, and the guests who are already familiar with this place. “Some of you have already set foot in our fine establishment, but those who haven’t, welcome to the community…”

The name is still a work in progress, so for now, that’s what it’s going to be called.

“…Our community for sorcerers.”

“Boo get on with it,” Satoru pretends to haggle.

You look at him surprised. “You’re here early,” you respond kindly. “Did Ijichi really drag you out?”

“N-no—”

“No,” Satoru cuts Ijichi off. “Nanami came over and basically did.”

You offer your friend a thankful smile and then point inside before you begin to lead Shoko, Ijichi, and the first-year students to your house through the community. “As I said, we try to be as self-sufficient as possible. We grow our crops, we have a greenhouse; cows, goats, chickens, and horses.”

“You eat horses?” Itadori dares to ask almost a bit horrified.

You look back and shoot him an offended look before you shake your head rapidly. “No! Horses are great therapy, we use them to help sorcerers who struggle. And taking care of them is fun, they’re beautiful creatures, so no we don’t eat them!”

Satoru walks over to Itadori and throws his arm around his shoulders before leaning close to him to add a comment with a mischievous smirk. “My sister here is like a hippie, she’s into meditation, and a connection with the earth. She’s a weirdo. Don’t mind her.”

You glare at him and huff.

“Actually,” Fushiguro cuts in nonchalantly. “Meditation is proven good for your mental health, and in our case, it’s good to improve our mental strength for our techniques. So I wouldn't say it’s weird.”

You spin around and face your brother with a taunting grin. Whilst he lets go of Itadori and looks at Fushiguro amused.

“You sound like my sister,” Satoru teases his student—or protege, or adopted son? From what your brother mentioned he’s been looking out for Fushiguro ever since Toji died; Toji who happens to be his father. So they’ve been in each other's lives for eleven years now. So yeah he’s probably like a son or a little brother.

“That’s actually right,” you defend Fushiguro and then turn back around. “Anyway, we don’t eat horses, and there’s not a lot of people living here, but we are a scarce few, but,” you clap your hands. “Those who do live here are from all around the world. For the most part. Right now,” you say and look around at the semi-empty streets. There’s only a couple of people roaming around, but for the most part, everyone seems to be in their homes. “It seems it’s down time, earlier in the day though, it’s very lively.”

“Satoru!” You hear someone yell.

“Hey, Satoru!”

You glance over your shoulder and see women waving and flirting with your brother from afar. And of course, he doesn’t leave them hanging.

“Hey, ladies!” He flashes them a flirty smile and waves back. “So good to see ya!”

You groan in disgust and just move along. “We have a school for the younger kids, a daycare, and a training facility here too,” you continue to share happily.

“Can I ask what people do for money? And rent?” Nobara asks.

You nod. “Some people go to work outside, but I don’t make anyone pay for their housing, people have chores. But no rent,” you laugh softly. “And utilities are covered by me, but we do have solar panels, alternatives. We just—”

“Have you ever heard of communism?” Satoru butts in. “Well, this is it. My sister is a model, sorcerer, and a communist. Hefty resume.” He grins and turns his head to face you.

“Well,” Shoko interjects and lets out a deep breath. “I'm tempted to come here to retire now. This sounds like a treat. And looks nicer than I expected considering it’s all in the middle of the woods.”

You offer her a smile and steal one glance at the students observing the place with curious and slightly awe-struck faces.

“Dinner is ready, but the twins will give you a more thorough tour of the place after. That way you’re not stuck with us oldies for so long.” You giggle and grab Shoko’s arm to drag her along with you. “Come on, come on, I want you to meet her already.”

The tour is short since you didn’t take them to any of the barns, or any other minor location in your community, but you just can’t help it. You want Shoko to meet Satori already, plus it’s getting late so everyone must be getting hungry. You know you are.

And once you approach your house, the door gets thrown open and your daughter comes running out to greet one person. “Uncle Satoru!”

Satoru walks past Nanami, Shoko, and you to meet Satori halfway with an embrace he had to give her while on his knees so he can be at her level.

“Satori!” Satoru greets with the same energy.

“I missed you,” Satori says and pulls back to face him. “I haven’t seen you since…forever ago. Like, last month.” She exaggerates.

Satoru snickers. “Sorry I’ve been busy, but,” he adds and pulls his hand away to pretend and grab something from her ear. She giggles and watches him as he swiftly maneuvers his gift between his fingers before he presents her with a little golden key. “This is for you.”

Satori looks at the key slightly confused, and then glances at you to seek help for what she’s seeing.

“A key?” She asks and takes the small golden key from his hand. “What for?”

Satoru pulls his shades off and winks at her. “You’ll see.” He then leans in and whispers something in her ear before pointing at Shoko.

Satori follows his finger and when she sees the stranger before her she shuffles closer to Satoru. After all, out of everyone here, she’s the only one she hasn’t met. She met the students and Ijichi after Satoru insisted that he wanted to take her to meet his students, so they’re not strangers to her, she actually really likes Fushiguro for some odd reason. But Shoko? They’ve never met until now.

“Geez,” Shoko muses. “I guess there’s no need for a DNA test, she looks just like him.”

You blink and slowly look at her with a pointed look. “Why would you say that?” You mutter.

Shoko shrugs. “I don’t know, I’m seeing her in person now and all I see is a girl version of Suguru.”

You hum in agreement since she is right, but why did she have to say it like that?

“You sure she’s yours?” Shoko jokes, making you shake your head.

“Hello,” your daughter's voice cuts in. And when you look down you see her with an arm draped around her uncle, and her cheek pressed against his.

“Shoko, this is Satori—”

“Satoru,” you try to cut in so the girl can introduce herself.

“Satori, this mine and your mom's oldest friend, Ieiri Shoko!” He completely ignores you.

“Hello,” Shoko greets your daughter kindly and crouches down so Satori can see her warm smile. “You look just like your dad, you know that?”

“You were my daddy’s friend too?” Satori queries as she stays next to your brother.

Shoko nods. “Yeah, he was my best friend.”

Satori smiles. “My uncle Satoru said that. You’re very pretty,” she says

Shoko grins and touches her chest. “Aw thank you. So are you.”

Satori blushes and grabs harder onto Satoru as she grows timid.

“This is for you,” Shoko shares and offers her a small pink gift bag.

Before your daughter can take it though she meets your gaze for reassurance.

You quickly give it to her, and she slowly steps away from Satoru to take the bag, letting Shoko stand up to her given height.

“Thank you,” Satori tells her before she puts the bag down to open it and pulls out a box that she strains to take out. “It’s heavy,” she mumbles and turns to you. “Mommy, can you help me?”

You walk over and crouch to hold the box for her so she can open it. She then puts her hands inside and sticks her tongue out as she slowly pulls out a small, beautiful black and golden orb music box that’s adorned with delicate designs, and small white paintings on the lid. Of course, though, Satori can’t identify what it is right away.

“What is it?” She asks with an amused smile tugging her lips.

“You have to use your key,” Satoru lets her know, making her glance at the golden key in her hand before she does as she’s told and carefully turns it a couple of times. When the key stops, Satori pulls her hand back and glances at you with slight confusion. However, before she can ask what follows, the lid opens and a sweet melody begins to play, causing the fairy in the middle to begin dancing along gently.

Satori’s eyes soften and a big and happy smile grows on her face. “Aww, look Mommy! Look!”

You nod softly. “I’m looking, now what do you tell the sweet lady.” You say and flash Shoko a teasing smile.

Satori snaps her head over towards Shoko and her eyes basically gleam with how excited she is. “Thank you!”

Shoko offers her a smile and a soft nod. “Yeah, you're welcome.”

Satori offers Shoko one more smile before she takes her box and walks over to Nanami.

“Look, maybe we can play a song for my daddy,” she tells him and grabs his hand to begin pulling him inside with her. “You like it, uncle Nanami?”

Said man smiles softly and nods. “Yeah, it’s very nice. Do you love it?”

“Yes! Do you think my daddy will like hearing it?” She asks.

“I think so,” Nanami agrees and goes along with Satori. “I think he’ll love it just as much as you do.”

Finally, without more interruptions, you continue to finish this tour inside. “Come on, let’s get in, dinners ready!”

“Hey, yeah I’m starving!” Itadori exclaims and skips forward to be ahead of the group, letting Satori glance at him as she continues walking at Nanami’s side.

“Hey, Itadori,” she addresses him with a very serious and curious look. “If you’re so strong how come you don’t have any muscles?”

Your eyes widen in disbelief even though you’re fighting the need to burst out laughing.

Nobara on the other hand chuckles and hits Itadori’s back. “Nice one Satori!” She tells your little girl.

“I do too,” Itadori argues. “They’re under my jacket.”

Satori's eyebrows furrow and she looks unconvinced. “Hm.”

Itadori gasps and then hits Fushiguro's chest. “He doesn’t have any either. How come you don’t tell him that, huh?”

“She’s 6 years old, Itadori,” Fushiguro mutters in annoyance. “Leave it be.”

“Well…” Satori pauses and glances back at Satoru, and then at Nanami next to her, and doesn’t bother bringing Fushiguro into this. “My Uncle Satoru and Nanami have muscles. So does my uncle Miguel and my uncle Larue. How come you don’t?”

“I’ll show you—”

“He’s just younger…” Nanami interjects to inform your daughter, but you lose track of what they’re saying as they walk inside the house first.

When you get inside you all take your shoes off, and you then rush over to the living room and thankfully find your other daughters lounging on the couch without as much excitement as Satori possessed over this dinner.

They only decided to join because you mentioned that Nanami and other people besides your brother would be here, otherwise, they probably would’ve left or stayed in their room if it was just you and your brother.

“Get up, just an introduction and we’ll go eat,” you try to move them off the couch.

Mimiko is the first to get up, while Nanako groans and has her sister help her off the couch.

“Nice bunny,” you remind her as you caress her head before you push them along with you towards the kitchen where everyone is heading.

“Everyone!” You cut in, making them stop one more time. “Just some last introductions. This,” you point at Mimiko by grabbing her shoulder. “Is Mimiko.”

Said girl takes everyone in and then offers everyone a gentle bow. “Hello,” she greets and stands up to hold her stuffed creature tighter against her before you notice her eyes fall on one teenage boy in particular; the nonchalant, urchin head, Megumi Fushiguro.

He seems to meet her gaze and hold it for a moment before you cut it by introducing someone else. “And this is Nanako.”

This greeting is a bit more stiff and cool compared to Mimiko’s warm and timid one. “Hey.”

You laugh dryly and introduce the others quickly. “Girls you know Ijichi.”

Nanako giggles and nods.

“Hello girls,” Ijichi greets them stiffly. “Nice seeing you again.”

Nanako simply smirks, letting you move on. “These are my brother's students, Megumi Fushiguro, Yuji Itadori, and Nobara Kugisaki. And Lastly,” you roll out more upbeat as you move over to take your friend's arm. “This is Doctor Ieiri Shoko, the girl I told you about. My best friend!”

“Nice to meet you girls,” Shoko greets them warmly before Nobara steps forward and points at them with a slightly surprised look on her face.

“Is that Chanel, the 1995 spring collection?”

Nanako and Mimiko share a quick look before Mimiko nods.

Nobara gasps and her jaw drops. “Where did you get it?!”

“Y/n’s closet,” Nanako shows off. “She has a lot of cool clothes.”

You groan softly in protest but they just ignore you and continue to interact, making you smile proudly nonetheless and watch them for a lingering moment before you walk to the dining room with Shoko, your brother, Ijichi, and the boys.

“We’re back,” Satori announces without her box and with Nanami following behind her. “I let Daddy hear the box while I eat.”

“That’s very nice my girl,” you tell her sweetly as you walk to the end of the food-filled table that makes Itadori’s eyes basically pop out of his sockets.

“This all looks so good!” He exclaims and rushes over to get a seat as if they would run out.

“My mommy and Belinda made it,” Satori announces as she takes a seat next to Satoru.

“Oh if that's the case,” Satoru jokes around. “Get your fake smiles and a napkin ready.”

“But mommy is a good cook,” Satori defends you, making Satoru lean towards her to whisper something that makes her giggle before she looks at you and changes her response. “I mean she’s not!” She giggles along with her uncle.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t joke around like that with her,” you try to advise him sweetly.

“Relax, she knows it’s just a joke.” He waves you off.

You sigh and just ignore it for now and wait for everyone to gather around the table.

“Oh, yeah where’s Hakari and Kirara?” Shoko queries as she grabs a bowl of food to serve herself.

“Busy,” you tell her. “They couldn’t make it.”

You look around the table and watch everyone settle down with a growing smile. Your brother sits across from you, and the twins choose to sit beside you so as to avoid being near your brother, Nobara sits beside them and they seem to carry on their current conversation, while Fushiguro tries to pull Itadori from overfilling his plate. Nanami sits next to Satori, and Shoko sits at your other side, making Ijichi sit next to her and make himself small as if to avoid bothering her.

You watch everyone fill their plate and talk amongst themselves with admiration that turns to longing for only one man. He would’ve loved to see this moment here, he would’ve been enchanted having his friends and his family dining together like a close united front. This would’ve been a glimpse of that life he dreamed of, or maybe it would’ve been enough, but he would’ve loved all this.

But he’s not here, and all you can do is be happy for him.

“I just wanted to thank everyone for being here,” you cut in as everyone begins to eat. “It really means a lot. It’s been a long time since we’ve been gathered like this, and I know there’s a couple of people missing, but we’ll carry them with us today, and welcome the new faces that accompany us.” You smile at all the kids. “Thank you.”

“Cheers!” Itadori muffles as he chews his food, making Fushiguro and Nanami look at him with disgust.

“Exactly,” you counter sweetly. “Actually feel free to serve yourselves wine made with organic grapes from Italy. It’s homemade by Miguel, a member of our family. And don’t worry it’s light on the alcohol, so Itadori, Nobara, and Fushiguro, you can have some. And don’t worry,” you snicker. “I’ve made a non-alcoholic one for you Satoru, you and Satori can share.”

Satoru clenches his jaw and folds his hands over the table as Shoko and you laugh at him.

“Who would’ve thought,” you add smugly. “That the strongest sorcerer can’t handle his liquor.” You chuckle. “So if you kids ever want to defeat him just give him a cup of alcohol and he’ll go down. Like that one time on Shoko’s birthday, do you remember when he…” you pause and laugh hysterically along with Shoko to the point you can’t finish your story as you recall that day.

“He fell—“ Shoko snorts, and you wheeze.

“Poor Haibara man,” you gasp for air.

“Hilarious,” Satoru deadpans. “I hope you both choke on your food.”

“It was pretty funny,” Nanami joins in too with a tiny smile before he takes a bite of his food.

You slap your chair and wipe away your tears.

“So are you going to tell us, or?” Nobara asks.

Shoko and you look at each other again and burst out laughing. And you in fact don’t end up telling the story, you just can’t muster up the strength to do it without laughing. It was just too much of a funny night, so it goes untold and the night carries on great. No better than that, it’s perfect in your opinion. You have fun. You smile and go on not thinking about Suguru for a while.

Games are played, and more stories are told, the older kids go out and get shown around the property by the twins, while Satori has no other choice but to be with you. Not like she minded though, she enjoyed Nanami and Satoru’s company.

The night transcends almost like old times, you acknowledge the big hole left by a couple of people, but you feel that same bliss. So simple and so warm. And it doesn’t get knocked down by the loss you still mourn deeply every day. Eventually, you end up catching the twins and the other three hanging around a bonfire they built by the lake, and rather than feeling sad as you recall the fact that it reminds you of your youth and that he can’t see this moment, you smile to yourself and admire from the older kids afar with a drink in your hand.

This, this moment is what you've worked so hard for. Watching Nanako, Nobara, and Itadori laughing about something they said, noticing Fushiguro and Mimiko smile timidly at each other as they seem to discuss over a book in her hand without a worry, is what you dreamed of. Of course, this is a fraction of it, but it’s the next generation of sorcerers living a simple moment that you longed to see.

They deserve to live it for as long as they live.

“What’s going over here?” Satoru breaks your silence.

You blink and watch him take the empty next to you on the patio swing. “I was just watching the kids,” you point out and shift your body to face him. “Admiring them. And hoping their lives are just filled with moments like the ones they’re living now.”

Satoru drifts his eyes to watch them now too and a soft smile tugs on his face. “They will. That’s what we’re fighting for aren’t we?”

You hum in agreement and continue to watch him as a question forms in your head unrelated to what you just spoke about. It’s an old question really, one that always lingers in your head. And you don’t know why you have the burning desire to ask it now out of all days; maybe it’s the quiet moment, maybe it’s the alcohol in your system, but it comes to your lips, it forms tears in your eyes and makes your heart race before you start it.

“Why?” You ask quietly.

Satoru hums and lifts his head to slowly turn and face you with a questioning look. When he sees the tears welling in your pleading eyes it’s not hard to know what this is leading to.

“Why did you leave that day?” You plead for an answer again. “Why did you break my heart that day?”

Satoru blinks repeatedly and glances down as he brushes his fingers through his hair.

“And don’t avoid it,” you press sharply and breathlessly as if you had been out of breath. “Don’t rebuttal with a question, tell me. You owe me that at least because I don’t think I can go on pretending I’m okay with it. I can’t live like this anymore, so please, Satoru tell me why you left me behind in that damn house with those horrible people we call our family.”

Satoru smacks his lips as he draws in a deep breath, and nervously licks his lips as he slowly breathes out through his nose. “I…thought I was making the right choice.”

You scoff. “The right choice? The right choice was trusting me,” you argue. “I don’t know if I would’ve left with Suguru if I did leave with you, there’s no way of knowing, but you had to trust me. And you didn’t, you betrayed me in the worst way possible and it hurt…” you inhale sharply and grab your chest to let out that shaky breath.

“I just didn’t want you to leave too,” Satoru finally shares, making your breath hitch. “He had left, I thought I could prevent you from leaving if you stayed there. I didn’t think they’d try and make you do anything, you know?” He says and his gaze never flickers away from yours. “So I left. And I knew you’d be angry by it, but I was convinced I could make it up when I took you back to the school. I just didn’t want you to leave…” he trails off and swallows back thickly before he exhales deeply.

You look at him with your eyes glossy and with a soft look of disbelief and full of pain.

“I’m sorry,” he says and makes you freeze and look at him blankly as you progress words you didn’t think he’d say, at least you thought you’d need to drag it out of him.

“I’m sorry that I ended up hurting you,” he whispers in a soft voice you rarely hear now. It’s so genuine and vulnerable.

But it’s not enough. Five days were a few, but those five days were torture and they happened because he left you that day.

“It’s not that easy,” you mutter as the shock passes and contentment laced with deep cemented pain takes its place. “But…I want to try and forgive you. I…miss you. I hate feeling this tension between us. I hate not talking like we used to when you come over. But it’s not easy forgiving you because I really looked up to you…”

Satoru huffs softly and his eyes fall.

“I really thought you’d never hurt me and you did,” you whisper. “I can’t forget that, but I want to try. I do.”

Satoru inhales sharply and meets your gaze with a softened look and nods softly. “Yeah that’s a start,” he says.

You laugh softly and nod in agreement. Silence follows after that, but it’s not awkward, it’s not full of tension you can cut through with a knife, and there’s genuine contentment and relief over this new beginning.

However, that slowly crumbles as you feel that longing and that gap left behind by a man you both cherished and cared for.

“I really miss him,” you break the silence in hopes he feels the same.

Satoru draws out a deep breath and nods. “I know,” he mutters and notices you holding back your tears as you stare at the ground so he slowly, and carefully puts his hand on your back to very gently caress it.

He didn’t need to say anything else, you heard the softness of his voice, and you detected the grief you feel every day. And this time the silence that descends over you lingers for a while, up to the moment he grows cold.

“It’s cold out here,” he tells you and gets out of the chair. “Why don’t we head inside?”

You look up at him and nod, but you don’t move. “I’ll be there soon. I just need to collect myself a bit.”

Satoru hesitates but he doesn’t fight you to leave. This is your home after all. “All right. Just don’t freeze to death out here because I will gloat.”

You let out a soft laugh and watch him walk inside before you take a chug of the alcohol you still have and then let your body slide to the side as you rest your elbow on the armrest, and lay your head on your hand as you stare off blankly while you think about him.

It doesn’t seem like you were there for so long, you didn’t feel time pass, but apparently it did because suddenly Nanami comes out to join you.

“Y/N, you’ve been out here for a while, why don’t you come inside? Get to bed and sleep it off, yeah?”

You sigh and shake your head. “No…n-no, I just need to collect myself. I don’t want her to see me like this,” you mutter and put the bottle down before you sit up to swing your legs back and forth. “Just a…bib more,” you slur your words.

Nanami sighs and slowly takes a step closer. “Satori asked Satoru to put her to bed, and the twins took the students to their room, so come on,” he says and closes the space left between the two of you by gently grabbing your arm and picking you off the porch swing.

You swallow thickly and try to argue, but you actually don’t have the strength so you just muster something else that slips out of your mouth. “I’m sorry…I’m a terrible host. Suguru…he was better at it…I’m sorry.”

Nanami pulls you inside to the warmth that fills the house, and you sigh as you finally feel embraced by the warmth.

“You did pretty well,” Nanami tells you. “Up until you didn’t come back inside.”

You roll your eyes and nudge him gently. “Oh, come on you're being too nice. What happened to you? You used to be mean.”

Nanami scoffs softly. “I was going through a phase,” he rebuttals. “And I didn’t say you were good, I said you did well.”

You laugh softly and then hiccup, making your friend look at you with worry.

“How much did you have to drink?” Nanami asks, considering you tend to be erratic when you’re drunk like you are now.

You shrug and pinch your fingers together. “A little”

At least you were erratic, Suguru’s death changed you; you’re a lot quieter now too, more serious than he was used to from you. Perhaps if it wasn’t for Satoru asking you to train Hakari and Kirara, you would have locked yourself away in your community only tending to your people and daughters.

Yet even if you had a reason to pull yourself up, Nanami could still see all that pain you like to hide. He can see it now so clearly in your glossy orange-red eyes, he can see it through your silence as he helps you to your room.

“I’ll bring you some water, and a bucket,” Nanami whispers softly. “Just in case.”

You lift your blankets and crawl into your bed. “Okay,” you mutter and think about the fact that you’re in your clothes, but your mind doesn’t actually give the command to change, you just lay and think about it while Nanami disappears.

That is until it’s like you forgot that Suguru has been gone for almost a year and turn to your side in search of Suguru. You expect to see him sleeping on his back, with his long hair draped over his shoulders while some other strands are spread about his pillow wildly. You expect to see him with his head tilted to the side, causing drool to dribble down the corner of his mouth. Alas, the moment your eyes fall on an empty spot next to you your heart shatters and you’re slammed with the urgent need to cry.

However, before you can shed a tear, footsteps approach your bed and once again you grow illusioned with Suguru, so you flip around and call out to him in the darkness of your room. “Suguru?”

But it’s not him, your eyes land on Nanami.

That’s right…it’s just Nanami.

“Uh,” Nanami breathes out awkwardly. “Here’s water, a bucket, and pills on your nightstand.”

Tears slip down your cheeks as you feel a ripping pain inside your chest. You don’t say anything on the matter, nor does Nanami add anything else, he just puts his hands in his pocket and glances at you one more time before he announces his leave.

“Goodnight, y/n, I’ll check in on you tomorrow.”

You avert your gaze and stay quiet, he takes this as his confirmation and turns to head out, but before he can you reach over and take his arm. “Kento, please don’t leave,” your voice breaks. “Please…I don’t want to be alone...I’m so lonely,” you cry quietly.

Nanami sighs and walks back to you to crouch by your side, and proceeds to slowly pull your hand off his arm to tuck it back under the blanket.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I am. I don’t know what else to say but that…” he trails off and exhales deeply. “I’ll just—”

“Nanami,” another voice cuts in. “It’s okay I got it from here.”

You look over your shoulder and see Shoko walking in.

“Are you sure?” Nanami queries.

She hums and once she reaches the bed she shoves your legs back and throws the blanket aside before she lets her slippers fall off her feet. Nanami stands up and you completely forget about him as you’re filled with confusion and glee.

“What are you doing?” You ask Shoko as you turn to watch her climb into your bed.

“Spending the night,” she says mindlessly.

The confusion you just felt completely vanishes and you’re filled with overwhelming joy that makes you cry. You didn’t want to cry, but the liquor has you all loopy so happy tears roll down your cheeks now.

“Is that okay?” Shoko makes sure to ask even though she’s tucking herself in like she used to when you lived together.

You nod and quickly throw your arm around her before you snuggle up beside her. “Of course,” you assure her. “It’s better than okay…thank you,” you muster through your drunken state.

Shoko slowly wraps her arm around you and responds with a simple gentle squeeze before lolling her head on yours. Your smile softens at the feeling of her warmth embracing yours and you can’t help but close your eyes to find peace in this moment.

——

*SOMETIME LATER. OCTOBER 31, 7:30 pm*

“And here is Satoru’s juice box,” you tease your brother as you set the drinks down by their respected person.

“And you get two drinks?” Satoru rebuttals. “Feeling ballsy? I’m not carrying you to bed.”

You smile sweetly and bat your eyelashes. “The bartender gave me a tequila shot on the house because he says I make a cute birthday girl.” You shrug sweetly and sit back in your seat.

Satoru raises a quizzical brow and scoffs. “Sure you do. Anyway, for someone who hates non-sorcerers, you surely do spend a lot of time around them.”

“Well,” you sigh and pick up your shot glass. “Ieiri wanted to take me out for my birthday, and the sorcerer-only club is lame, so I’m sucking it up. Here. At this fun bar.” You grin and twist around to face your friends who came to celebrate your birthday with you; Shoko, Nanami, Larue, Satoru of course, and Mei-Mei. “Let’s all raise our cups to a fun night.”

Your friends' eyes fall on you, and they all raise their drinks.

“And to your birthday!” Shoko adds with a soft smile.

“Yes, happy 28th, Y/N,” Larue says from the far end of the table so as to not sit next to the man that killed the man he looked up to. He wouldn't have come if your brother was coming too, but it is your birthday so he made an exception. “May you continue to age just as gracefully as you are now my beloved friend.”

You push your drink towards him and flash him a warm beaming grin.

“Happy birthday y/n,” Nanami interjects softly.

“Happy birthday, little sister,” Satoru surprises you, making you drift your gaze across from you to express that surprise in a soft manner—“May you continue to live on so I have someone to annoy.”

You groan softly and lower your cup as you narrow your gaze.

Satoru chuckles and leans over the table. “Happy birthday,” he says softer.

You draw out a small breath and offer him a sweet and genuine smile.

“To y/n’s birthday!” Mei-Mei says, making everyone raise their cups in the air before you pull them into your lips and start off the night.

When you finish your shot you slide that cup aside and pull in the original drink you ordered. “Now to change the music to something actually listenable, and then we should start our first game of the night!” you interject joyfully. You can’t have yourself feeling any other way today even if it’s your first birthday without Suguru. Because if you sit and really feel what you want to feel then no one will be able to take you out of that dark place called grief.

So you’re determined to feel nothing but gratitude for those who came to celebrate with you, and joy for being able to celebrate another year. And when you get so drunk that you begin to cry about your man then it’s whatever because you will already be drunk and partied out. That will be a good way to end the night!

Nevertheless, just as you take your first step, your phone begins to ring and threatens to ruin the night just as it started.

“How come you made all of us shut our phones off, but you get to have yours on?” Satoru complains.

You peer back at him with a pointed glare. “Because I have kids at home, and you all don’t, you guys get calls from work, so no phones for any of you until the night is over.” You shoot him a sweet smile and take a look at the screen, but realize the number is an unknown one.

Thus you hang up and waltz over to the jukebox and flip through the variety of music. It takes you a minute to click through all the music and find something you like, but you eventually find the right song, and just as you’re about to click on it your phone goes off again.

“Damn,” you hiss in annoyance and pull your phone out again to check. And once again it’s that same unknown number so you answer impatiently this time. “Hello!”

“Gojo,” a familiar deep voice greets you almost distastefully.

“Yaga?” You scoff. “Isn’t this a surprise?” You laugh. “I can't imagine you’d call to wish me a happy birthday, so,” you roll out almost with a hint of nervousness in your tone because a call from him doesn’t mean anything good. “What do you want?” You ask and press on the song to play overhead.

“Are you with your brother? He doesn’t answer his damned phone.”

You blink and feel your joy begin to fade away, and that brewing storm only grows darker and more dangerous. “Yeah,” you mutter and slowly turn around to give your back to the jukebox. “Please don’t tell me you’re also looking for Nanami, Shoko, and Mei-Mei?”

“Yes, I am! Are they with you too?! Why aren’t they answering their damn phones?! I get why Satoru wouldn’t, he’s a slack-off, but them?!” He shouts, causing you to pull your phone away from your ear. “Put me on speaker, Gojo, what I have to say concerns all of you.”

No, no.

You rush back to the table and slam your phone on the table to catch all of your friends' attention. “It’s Yaga,” you announce and put him on speaker.

“Oh,” Satoru begins to say playfully as he folds his arms over the table. “Yaga? Don’t tell me you feel hurt you’re not invited to my sister's birthday bash. Well, I would’ve told you but you know, it’s for young people only, you—”

“Shut up,” Yaga cuts him off, causing you to snicker. “Since none of you are answering your phones, listen well, there’s trouble brewing in Shibuya.”

Your amused smile falls and that joy you have been entertaining completely vanishes.

“I’m sorry I have to end your night, but all sorcerers, including allies, students, and staff alike have been summoned to deal with what’s going on.”

So not you? Please not you.

“Are you going to stop edging us on already?” Shoko cuts in as she rests her chin on her hand.

“Non-sorcerers have been trapped by a veil in Shibuya and are not allowed to go out,” Yaga finally shares, making everyone around the table except for Larue, to frown and grow serious and stiff. “Come to Shibuya now, I’ll explain everything else on the way. And before you say anything, y/n, you are being summoned too. Literally, the people inside the veil keep asking for the same things, we think it’s a condition by who made the veil, they say that in order to go out Satoru and Y/N Gojo need to come.”

You groan and drop your head on the table.

“Why should I even go?” You rebuttal. “I don’t help non-sorcerers.”

Yaga huffs out and sneers through the phone. “Because your brother will be here, and all your friends will come too. Don’t they matter?! Don’t do this for non-sorcerers, do this because the lives of the people you care about could be at risk!”

You groan softly in defeat and don’t say anything now. Instead, you actually end up entertaining this mysterious invitation sent by the curse-user, or special-grade intelligent curse, much to your dismay.

You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t listen to the plan they bombarded you with on your way to Shibuya, you shouldn’t change out of your cute birthday outfit, or take off the pretty and glittery birthday crown Satori made you.

You should be home eating more cake the twins made you, and watching a movie with your family snuggled up on the couch, or you should still be at that damn bar celebrating with your friends and your brother.

But no, you’re here. You’re with your brother a few miles away from the veil trapping non-sorcerers in, and sucking in others that were towards the middle of the veil. You’re in your sorcerer outfit and about to search for whatever is seeking you and your brother.

“They’ll probably be in the center of the veil,” Satoru says as he taps his chin. “And if it’s just us we should come at them from opposite sides and at least spook them since they’re already waiting for us.”

You blink repeatedly in disbelief and roll your eyes at him to retort. “Opposite sides? So you’re going to make me go all the way around?”

Satoru looks at you amused. “Why, I can float you there if you want. Or you can fly there, Satori says you can fly.”

You shake your head and look away. “Flying is an overestimate. I glide with the wind. You know? It supports me, I don’t fly.”

Satoru laughs softly. “Well, then I’ll go to the other side, just because it's your birthday.” He says.

You can’t help the smile tugging on your lips and nod. “Thanks. Or whatever.”

Satoru sighs and sounds serious now. “I am sorry that we had to leave the bar. Maybe we can make it up for Shoko’s birthday, hm? You two can go out and celebrate together.”

Without any other option, you nod. “Yeah. I’ll tell her about it.” You exhale and begin to notice how close you’re getting to the black veil. “At least the entire day wasn’t ruined though. I had a good day up until now. Breakfast with you and my five children was good…even if it was late,” you mumble and shoot him daggers.

Satoru chuckles and doesn’t add anything in that respect.

“So I’m grateful,” you finish in a whisper

“Good.”

You hum and just as you’re about to reach the veil you both come to a stop. “I’ll see you in there then,” you force yourself to change the subject before you want to ramble on to avoid this insidious problem.

“You know whatever happens in there, when you get out meet up with Yuji,” Satoru interjects as you both watch the black veil as if waiting for something to come out of it. “I don’t know if he’s connected to whatever’s happening here, but people still want him dead, so meet up with him.”

You place your hand on your hip and look down. “You’re acting like you won’t make it out of here.” You mumble.

Satoru scoffs. “It’s just in case things get crazy in there. Precautions.”

“Oh? You take those?” You ask sarcastically.

“I’ll meet up with you when I can, all right? So say you understand.”

You exhale deeply and roll your head up to meet his gaze with an assuring look. “Understood.” You reassure him.

Satoru nods and steps back. “It’s 8:30, I want to see you inside at 8:40.”

“I want to see you at 8:40!” You counter lightheartedly. “You’re the late one. Like this morning.”

Satoru scoffs. “8:40, or I’ll beat you up. Don’t care if it’s your birthday.”

You scrunch your nose with discontent and hum. And now without wasting another second, in the blink of an eye, he zips away. Now you have to go through the veil alone.

So much for a joyful birthday.

“Fuck this,” you grumble and let out a deep breath before you walk to the edge of that stupid veil. When you’re close you hesitantly reach for it with your hand.

And the moment the tip of your fingers touch the cold gooey texture you wait and stare at the black shield with discontent.

You’re not supposed to be here. You’re fucking semi-retired. You should be at home! Damn it!

You draw in another deep breath and finally step inside. Once you see the fucking calamity of people you huff out and groan.

A hood at this very moment would be excellent. But no, you didn't think of including one in your outfit. Now you’ll be recognized for sure. Damn it. Damn, damn!

Whatever, there’s nothing you can do about it now but keep your head low and push through.

Of course, as you do push towards the center where a second veil is trapping non-sorcerers inside and holding whoever is looking for you both, people begin to recognize you when they manage to catch glimpses of you. You do your best to ignore them and keep yourself to the least crowded sides.

Alas more and more people recognize you and those who do have genuine interest, and those who just want a picture for likes, begin to follow you and crowd you, so you begin to run to avoid having them distract you and escape through a backdoor in the station.

That’s one thing you can be grateful for that the school provided for you, knowledge of secret entrances through buildings and stations!

You imagine there’ll be more people, but for now, you’re in the clear.

Or at least you thought so, because just as you were about to exit the building and walk out to the tunnel, you hear footsteps approaching, so you stop and wait. In case it’s some enemy then you’ll fight them, if it’s another sorcerer or a starstruck fan then you’ll shoo ‘em away.

“Go away,” you break the silence as the footsteps find you and stop a few paces away from you. “Or I’ll make you.”

“Y/N.”

No.

You spin around on your heels and come face to face with Nanako and Mimiko.

“Wh…” you gasp and take long strides to reach them and grab them forcefully by the shoulders. “What are you two doing here? Go home!” You say without any sense of endearment. “Now!”

Nanako pulls her arm away from your grip and rebuttals for her and her sister. “No, we…” she pauses and glances at Mimiko nervously and then looks back at you and continues. “We want to help you, we’re old now. We know how to fight, we came to help.”

You shake your head and push them back. “No,” you counter sharply. “I don’t want your help, I have enough help. Go home, go to sleep, and when you wake up I’ll be there. Just go home.”

Nanako digs her heels in the ground and swats your hand off her before taking your other hand off Mimiko to argue back. “No! We’re not going home, and if you find some way to make us then we’ll come back because the truth is that we want to help you.”

You blink with surprise and swallow back nervously.

“We just want to help you,” Mimiko adds softly. “Geto and you taught us a lot. We’re strong because of the two of you. So we can do this, trust us just like how you trusted us last year.”

You step back and drop your head to let out a frustrated breath and think.

You did trust them last year, but the curses that invaded the streets were under Suguru’s control and they worked with the twins. There may not be curses here now, but there’s a chance they’ll appear, and they don’t work for them this time. This time whatever is here won't spare them because they’re young just like how they would’ve been spared last year by the opposing side. They’re in real danger now.

But they’re right, they’ll come back if you send them away and they’ll probably face more danger because of it, so…

You have to trust them. You have to trust that they’ll do the right thing and be smart. You have to let them spread their wings so they can learn to fly on their own.

So if they want to help then you’ll let them. You’ll trust them.

“Fine,” you sigh and face them. “Fine. But get out of here and wait if there’s trouble. Don’t get in the way, and run. There’s nothing wrong with running away, okay? Go home and just let me know. Yes?”

Nanako and Mimiko share a surprised look before they smile at each other and then at you.

“We will,” Mimiko assures you.

You draw out a nervous deep breath and walk over to them to embrace them. “Be careful. Keep your phone on, and answer me when I call.”

The twins wrap their arms around you and you squeeze them tighter against you.

“You be careful too,” Nanako says. “Don’t be stupid.”

You laugh softly. “Yeah, I’ll try not to be. You don’t be stupid either.”

“You’ve taught us to be better,” Mimiko praises you.

You smile and pull back to take one more look at them. “Careful. Run. Get out of the way, and if there’s trouble and you can’t reach me and need help, call Nanami. Or one of the kids, you became friends with Nobara, Fushiguro, and Itadori, they’ll be more than happy to help. Okay?”

Mimiko nods and you return the nod and step back. “I’m late to meet up with my brother, so I’ll trust that you will get out of the station. Be careful, and I love the two of you.” You shoot them one last smile before you turn and jog out to the tunnel.

Now back to this mess. Fuck. It, or whatever the fuck better be here.

And your gut better be right, you’re just following your gut as you jog through this dimly lit tunnel. Whatever invited you here could be anywhere through the second veil you easily passed through.

And! No curse better jump out while you’re in the dark.

Please no, please no, you keep muttering to yourself until you hear voices echoing as you approach the light at the end of the tunnel. And as you get closer you make out your brother, thankfully.

However, before you can be seen, or heard, you change your jog to a stride and stop just before you can step out of the shadows to examine the area.

You see your brother. He’s too tall not to spot right away. He’s going on about something you tune out for now.

You also see that tall and white curse that has twigs for eyes, the nature curse, or whatever. Next to it is volcano head, the curse Satoru said he beheaded. And next to volcano head is a person. Not a curse, an actual person.

He’s new and has not been mentioned by Satoru, or reported by the students. He’s not patch face either; this guy lacks blue hair and that raggedy black shirt Itadori said he wears.

No, this guy across from you is wearing a robe underneath a tight purple vest thing that covers his robe and sinches his waist. This guy has dark brown hair and wears buns on his head. This guy is new. And this guy is turning his head!

Shit, shit!

You back up, but his brown eyes still meet your gaze hidden in the shadows. This guy…this guy with a black mark over his nose, and light purple circles over his small eyes notices you first. You’re basked by the shadows of the tunnel, but he still sees you. And as he keeps his tired-looking gaze on you, you see his thick eyebrows furrow, and his eyes slowly narrow on you, and your heart suddenly skips a beat.

He doesn’t say anything though, he slowly begins to turn his body, and you stay there and hold his gaze as you feel as if you’re unable to move from your spot. The thought that he’s mesmerizingly attractive crosses your mind, but maybe that’s because you need to get laid; it’s been too long.

Whatever the case, you ignore the thought and your crazy beating heart and finally find the will to move and step out of the shadows. Without letting go of that guy's dark and threatening gaze the entire time.

.

.

.

.

A/N- I felt butterflies writing that scene with Choso hehe…

Tagged- @deniseabad1928 @secondary-character-25 @starlightanyaaa @notsaelty @d4rno @moonnime @kodzukein @yozora7154

[heya-but-better]

Dabihawks prompt

———————

The afterlife isn’t simply a blank white void that one people hoped it would be, no.

When you die, there’s a hand with black sin-tinted nails that reaches out to you. You only get to see the ghoulish purple scars that wrap like leather around it’s wrist, the metal glint of golden metal keeping healthy flesh and marred skin together.

The limb is almost floating, dismembered form the rest of it’s vessel, but it doesn’t take long to notice it comes from a shimmering split in reality.

The portal to the afterlife.

It waits patiently, palm up, until you take it. It pulls you through, and suddenly the ground under wobbles.

You’re on a boat, stumbling and falling into a chest shrouded in thin black cloth.

You look up to meet bursting blue eyes shadowed by black bangs.

The reaper tells you to sit down.

You learn his name is Dabi, though the little chit chat you manage with him on the boat. He stands and moves the paddle through the silver-black liquid of the river of Styx. Ghastly moans and wails echo across the fog around you.

Sometimes you see things in the water, things your mind can’t quite comprehend. You sail on the unfathomable infinity until Dabi steps forward on the boat and snaps his fingers. The sound is sharp, your dead gaze snaps in the direction.

Blue hellfire sprouts from his fingers, lighting a lantern. He raises it and you notice that for the first time, the scarred and dark flesh of his face, stabled together with the only color other than blue, is twisted into a grin.

You’re almost tempted to ask what’s going on, but you don’t. He splits the water with the oar until the boat bumps against wood. The fog clears enough as he swings the lantern around like the sloshing of the water around you to see an old wood dock.

“Up.” He commands, being the first to step up, clearing the gap and bringing the boat close enough so he can tie it to a post.

Numbly you follow, stepping up, taking the offered hand as support for the second time.

You and your company lapse into silence, walking, walking. You peek up at him, his eyes are trained forward, sparkling with something you can only explain as eager. He’s been struggling to keep his expression neutral ever since he picked up the lantern.

And soon, you realize why.

The fog clears almost all at once. Suddenly the dreary greys are replaced by beautiful marbles cream and gold. There’s a gate up ahead, red roses curing around the golden metal bars of it, the vines are as black as the death around you.

Dabi leads you quicker, strides spreading to approach the gate as fast as normal walking could get him. You look to his face again, it’s stoic again, but his eyes are still excited. It’s obvious he’s hiding this passion though.

And soon, the second you and the reaper step onto a white cobbled path, a blur of red falls from the sky.

It catches your breath in your throat, you step closer to Dabi in panic, eyes flickering nervously to gauge his reaction, but his mouth is barely quirked into a smile. It struggles against the urge to get bigger. His eyes shine with an awe you’ve never seen on a mortal human.

Blue is trained on the red as it spans out and blows dust and wind around, landing elegantly in front of you and the reaper.

You look forward, seeing the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen through the red feathers.

An angel with bloody wings straightens, smile relaxed and cheerful.

You ease, the friendly face… trained on Dabi.

It takes you a moment, again, a lot of things have suddenly changed. Noticing small details has been difficult ever since you’ve been overwhelmed with the fact you’ve died.

The angel and the reaper stare at each other with reflected adoration.

Dabi says nothing, but he bows his head to break the unspoken and unseen spell between them. It makes the angel break out into a laugh, one soft and loving. He understands the message though, because that warm golden gaze is swiveled to you.

“Welcome to the afterlife, little bird.” The angel waves his wing once and suddenly a golden staff is in his hand, he turns and starts walking towards the gate.

You glance to Dabi, he motions you forward mutely.

You go, nothing else to do but listen.

“My name is Keigo! It’s lovely to have you in my care.”

Your shoulders relax at his cheery tone, you trace the marks on his face with your eyes as he opens the gate with two taps of the staff, swinging it open for you to go inside.

“Follow the path, don’t stray from it, alright little bird?”

You manage to nod, not knowing what else to do in response to a voice so soft it sounded like honey.

Slowly, you step across the boarder, but you can’t help but look back as the gate closes behind you.

Those golden eyes aren’t on you anymore, they look back to the ferryman, Dabi.

Keigo grins softly, Dabi smiles back, he lowers his lantern and takes one step forward. For every stride, Keigo matches him until they stand in front of each other.

As that ghoulish hand that first welcomed you into the afterlife caresses the honey angel’s cheek, you realize this was never your story.

You watch the angel lean forward, heels raising so he stood on the tip of his toes, kissing behind the curtain of black bangs.

This was never your story. It could have been you or any other lost soul that had been guided by the reaper to have seen this.

The narrator didn’t matter, but the story remained the same.

The reaper of death and the guardian Angel of the gate were in love, and you just so happened to see a glimpse of it.

———————-

//bonus

———————-

Keigo felt the brush of a food against his territory, flying down from his perch to investigate.

The sight of a man dawning black robes and purple scars wet his eye, the gate keeper had to resist fluttering his wings in his free fall in favor of catching himself, snapping his wings open to glide and gently land in front of the ferryman.

Dabi—or Touya, only Keigo knew him by that name—lowered his lantern and met the angel’s eyes. Blue worshipped gold with a simple gaze and Keigo couldn’t resist the flutter of his feathers.

Keigo pried his eyes away from the man as to not fall into the temptation of kissing him, turning his attention to the passenger.

…or at least he tried.

“Dabi?” Keigo tilted his head, gold eyes glancing around the space. “Where’s the soul?”

A gentle hand reached out, pale knuckle guiding the guard’s chin to tilt upward.

“There is none.”

Touya’s voice was low, but soft. It reminded Keigo of the rumbling purr of a cat.

His wing twisted in confusion, he tried not to melt into the ghostly cold touch of the man he wanted so desperately to love. He new the feeling was mutual, but work made it impossible to fall into love.

So he ignored it, focusing on work.

“What?”

“There is none.” The ferryman repeated himself, taking a step forward, hand smoothing over the porcelain skin of Keigo’s neck. “I just wanted to see you.”

“…Touya..” Keigo’s expression melted as the hand on his skin moved back up to his face, but this time cupping his cheek. “You *know* that—“

“—we can’t.” Touya finished in a whisper, the shine in his azure depths saddening.

The angel commission would have their heads.

It didn’t stop the small touches, the soft caresses, the whispered words.

“But, I wanted to take you onto the river.”

Keigo felt his heart clench, the soft need of Touya’s expression already sealed his fate. There was no saying no to him.

“…fine.”

The ferryman of death smiled. They were rare, and the angel always couldn’t help but stare, burning it into his memory. They were rare but he *loved* them.

“I’ve only dreamed of having your company, my dove, I won’t disappoint you.”

——————

I definitely don’t already have like all the plot and the shit already written out in my head not at all none nope

Anyway this was inspired by a little doodle I made during my Greek mythology lecture lmfao

[noodleskeleton]

2 Halves Of The Same Whole

Chapter 1

An original work based on mine and 8moon’s spidersonas. Co-written by my absolute best friend @8m00nl1ght8 <3

Ao3 Link, Wattpad Link

Word Count: 1738

Summary:

David and Mireya are about as different as you could be from someone else, but when a series of events brings them to the same abandoned building on the same night they’ll need to rely on each other to get through the new hurdles in their lives.

A.K.A

We made some spidersonas together and now we’re writing about them cause we’re a tad obsessed :)

PREV // NEXT

Chapter 1 - Before The Big Bang

'Do I miss Russia?' He thinks bringing the cigarette up to his lips, inhaling deeply. David stares up at the bright full moon as he leans on the cold windowsill of a windowless window frame, the moonlight making his snow white hair look so bright and his gray eyes even lighter almost as if the grey is not there. He tilted his head back exhaling the toxic smoke, his hair parting to reveal the scar on his forehead, it was a big brown mark spreading across the left side of his forehead, the thing that changed his life forever. For better or worse you ask? Debatable.

The stars, that is one thing he certainly missed about Russia. New York has hardly any stars due to light pollution unlike his home-village surrounded by miles of woodland, the view of the sky was so beautiful David would lay taking in it's beauty for countless hours every day for so many years wondering how he could escape his prison, his "home". 'What even is home?' He thought to himself, taking one last drag of the cigarette before flicking it out of the window. One would think at 18 years old you would understand what home means, but not David. He has heard many opinions on what home is, some say it is where your family is and others say it's simply where you live or where you feel safe, and yet David feels uncertain still to what 'home' really means. He walked across the empty room filled with cans and other trash, covered floor to ceiling with lousy graffiti made by David himself, exhaling the toxic smoke once again as he leaned against a wall sliding himself down to sit against it. He tucked in his knees hugging them to his chest and pulling his sleeves over his hands in an attempt to warm himself up a little before closing his eyes to try to get a good night's sleep.

He felt a pinch on his hand slightly making him jump. He swiftly opened his eyes and inspected what was wrong when he saw the most disgusting, monstrous, foul creature to exist, David's number 1 enemy, a spider. He gasped, swiping it off, getting up in a hurry. He looked around the moon-lit room, eyes wide in panic, but it seemed as if it vanished into thin air. Everybody knows it is worse to lose the spider than to find one but right before he could collect himself and calm his breathing someone burst into the room. A girl? She seemed young, at least a couple years younger than himself. She had short brown hair with honey coloured skin and these fierce dark brown eyes that looked right through you like daggers. By the looks of her tidy clothes she was not homeless like him, so what could she possibly be doing here?

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

Mireya sighed as she finally left the run-down building people called a school. It was hardly holding itself together most days and it most likely wasn’t safe enough for human habitation, yet every week day she still trudged her way through the streets to spend 7 hours wasting away there. She felt a glare form on her face as her complaints about her school grew in number but she did nothing to hide it. She was already known as the weird goth kid at school and if her anger kept people away from her then she was more than happy to play the role people gave to her.

She put her headphones on as she made her way to the daycare where her younger siblings currently were. Fabian and Juliana were too young to go to kindergarten yet but with both her parents working they couldn’t stay at home. Luckily, the daycare was only a 15 minute walk away from her high school so it wasn’t too much effort to walk there everyday. As she reached the gates of the daycare she turned her music off and hung her headphones around her neck. A few parents waved at her kindly and she waved back, praying to whatever higher power was out there that none of them tried to start a conversation with her.

Thankfully, none of them did and 20 minutes later she was at home with Fabian and Juliana, looking through the empty cupboards for a snack to give them. There were two packets of Cheetos so she pulled them out and gave them to her baby siblings. Usually now would be the time she would quickly rush any homework she had before she got too busy babysitting the kids but before she could even reach her bag, the door opened with a loud bang and her half-sister Lucita swayed into the house.

It wasn’t unusual for her to do so, despite having moved out 2 years back when Juliana was born, but it still brought a scowl to Mireya’s face. The only reason Lucita came round anymore was to take money or food, things the Perez family had little of, and it was almost a guarantee that her sister was either high or drunk. Mireya stomped over to the inebriated 22 year old and crossed her arms, blocking her from getting into the living room where the two toddlers were playing.

“What do you want, Lucita?” She made sure to point her fiercest glare at her. “If you’re looking for food then you're out of luck.” Lucita giggled at her, swaying as she leaned against the wall.

“Hiiiiii Reya!” She slurred, “What’re you doing here?” Mireya sighed, already preparing to kick her out the house. “Anyway, never mind that, do you think you could lend me a few dollars?” Lucita stumbled forwards, almost knocking a painting from the wall.

“No, Lucita. I cannot lend you anything, we’re barely getting enough for food as it is.” Mireya raised her eyebrow, hoping the woman would get the hint and leave.

“Awww, come on! I just need a tenner to get some food tonight.” Lucita whined, doing her best attempt at puppy dog eyes, the look ruined by her drunk smile and tired red eyes. “After that I’ll leave you alone forever I promise, please don't make me go hungry Reya.” Mireya sighed again, knowing already the only outcome of this.

“Wait there,” she ordered and went to the kitchen to grab 10 dollars from the rent jar. She slapped it into her sister’s hands and all but shoved her out the door, ignoring the slurred thank you’s and promises of leaving them alone after this. They weren’t true in the slightest, Mireya had given up on getting Lucita to leave them alone but she could never quite bring herself to refuse the woman. It just made her even angrier at everything.

She shoved all her emotions down, knowing she had to focus on Fabian and Juliana for now. When it was dark she could go out and deal with her anger and other emotions, but right now, she had to make sure the two babies didn’t kill themselves until either her mum or dad came back from work.

It ended up being 10pm when her dad finally came back, the kids already in bed and fed. Mireya said hi, expecting the lack of reply that her dad gave her before she moved to the door to put her shoes on. As expected, her dad didn't mention anything and Mireya slipped out of the house and started walking, finally digging up the anger that had been building all day. She started running, her thoughts solely focused on how unfair everything was as she let her feet take her somewhere else.

As expected, she ended up somewhere she didn’t recognise, surrounded by run down shops and abandoned buildings. It was dark, and crumbling and down right creepy. She loved it. She wandered around the street, taking in the broken architecture and thinking of ways someone more artistically gifted than her could paint it. Perhaps they would try to use bright colours to make it seem more friendly, afraid of the connotations of darkness and ruin. Or maybe they would make it hazy, emphasizing the dark and dangerous atmosphere that surrounded the street.

However they painted it, Mireya was sure that it would look cool. These types of landscapes always took her fancy, the ruined buildings and abandoned houses looked almost gothic in their decay. It always interested her, the beauty of death. The way that even as they crumpled and rotted, flowers still managed to look pretty. Perhaps it was strange to think that way when blossoming flowers held so much more value, looked infinitely more vibrant, but thinking that she was strange was self centered and narcissistic. It was so much better to just say that she was goth and leave it at that.

Her philosophical thoughts were interrupted however, by a high pitched scream emanating from one of the abandoned buildings. She froze her lazy wandering and looked around for a sign of a struggle, finding nothing but empty pavement. She started running towards where she heard the scream and came upon an abandoned building covered in graffiti. Lines of various widths and colours encapsulated what looked to be an old corner shop, bubble writing standing out harshly against the dark brick and concrete of the 70’s architecture.

Mireya slowed her steps as she entered the building, seeing more signs of someone living there as well as muffled grunts. The graffiti only grew more frequent as she ventured inside, words in both English and what she assumed to be Russian covering the walls in stylistic lettering and pretty colours. She almost stopped to take in a masterpiece of a mural covering one of the walls when she remembered the scream and forced herself to the back of the building.

She looked at the door leading to what was probably a staff only room, seeing light under the door and a shadow moving about swiftly. Cautiously she reached for the handle, turning it impossibly slowly to avoid creaking, and pushed open the door. She stepped inside and looked around.

The first thing she noticed was a massive stack of various spray paints. Whoever lived here was probably the artists responsible for the colours infecting this decrepit landscape, and they were extremely good at it.

The second thing she noticed were the startling grey eyes staring directly into her own.

[casspurrjoybell-18]

The Vanilla Scented Rogue

*Warning Adult Content*

Chapter 9: Scarred

A S H T O N - B L A K E

I leant my head against the concrete wall, a headache forming as I pressed my head against the hard, cold surface.

There wasn't any light coming from the small window above me or most of the days we were stuck in here.

The only light that helped me see in this small cell was the ceiling light in the hallway that helped the guards see.

I'm also almost absolutely positive that the only reason they put the small ceiling light in was so the guards could be absolutely positive that the prisoners weren't trying anything by looking into our cells.

The guards seemed to look into our cells a lot.

Some of the guards were okay.

The okay guards made small talk with us sometimes before abruptly walking away but they left us alone when we were sleeping which I was grateful for.

The other guards made sure to spit nasty words at us when we were awake and made sure to bang their flashlights or their gun against the thick bars to wake us up if we were asleep.

A day or two ago, a guard even went as far as to comment on Aaliyah.

He said she looked like a whore and had... quote on quote... 'cock-sucking lips'.

When Adam went to defend her, banging on the bars and growling loudly, the guard only laughed before walking away.

It took awhile to make him calm down but he still claims that he'll rip the guard to shreds as soon as we get out of here.

Aaliyah simply hugged him and said 'no need, as long as you continue to think the world of me, I don't care what that guard says.'

I remember smiling at their devotion to each other, before leaning against the wall for support and examining my stab-wound.

It looked a lot better than all those days ago, well not 'better' but at least it didn't look infected.

I sighed as I shifted in my spot, my bum was starting to hurt from how long I had been sitting on the dirty, cold concrete floor.

I wish we had a clock in here or a little bell that would ding when it was a certain time.

Time seemed to pass away so weird down here, only days were counted by the light from the little window.

I closed my eyes as I continued to press the back of my head against the concrete wall, wanting the thoughts that were invading my head to go away.

I didn't tell Adam or Aaliyah that the Alpha was my mate or how the Alpha was currently filling my mind to the brim.

All I could think about was how my mate's touch had affected me.

His muscular chest had touched mine which had sent sparks flowing throughout my body but that was over four days ago and the sparks were long gone and so was my mate.

He hasn't come down in the past four days, nor has his sister Beatrix, so Adam, Aaliyah and I were left sitting on the concrete ground debating whether or not we were actually able to get out of here.

Adam didn't think we would ever get out, while Aaliyah, ever the optimist, claimed the angry Alpha would let us out soon.

I didn't believe her sanguine claims, I think we'll die here. We haven't been given food or water which left our stomachs rumbling and our mouths dry.

I assumed that it was part of my Alpha mate's plan, to make us weak by not giving us anything to eat or drink.

If we were weak, we would be more expectable to questioning and then they could kill us easier afterwards.

I pressed my dirty hand against my side as I leaned against the wall, wincing as the usual pain that invaded my body when I touched my wound quickly filled me.

I groaned as I moved my hand away from my side, wincing once again as I pulled my shirt away from the bloody mess that was hiding under my bloodied shirt.

It was always so painful when my shirt stuck to the drying blood that was escaping from the injury.

I held my shirt away from my side before letting it drop against my damaged skin a few moments later.

I bit my lip as I looked around the small cell again, trying to focus on anything but my wound that I'm sure is already infected.

Aaliyah and Adam were sitting across from me.

Aaliyah was sleeping on Adam, her head lying on his lap.

Adam was awake as Aaliyah slept, his head leaning against the wall, as he stared up at the ceiling.

I looked at the two before sighing as I raised my shirt enough to see my wound again.

It looked the same as it did a few seconds ago but every time I looked at it, I was awed.

My werewolf healing and the nurse Beatrix took me to go see, weren't helping it heal at all, it still looked and felt nasty.

When the nurse saw what happened to me, she rubbed a cream on the wound that she claimed would help heal it before wrapping it up.

I don't know why she didn't think I needed stitches.

The wound was obviously very deep but she just said to keep it covered so it didn't get infected.

Sadly, I'm sure it was already infected.

She didn't have any bottles or jars of the cream that she could give me.

She just took some out of a half used jar and put that on me before saying I would need to go buy some, which I obviously couldn't do.

I didn't blame the nurse, she was nice and made small talk with me throughout the appointment.

I just don't think she knew I was a prisoner because Beatrix made sure to remove the handcuffs, while I was being examined.

The nurse wrapped it up after she put the substance on it but after literal days down here, I took the wrap off since my blood was starting to leak through it and the dirt from the floor was dirtying it.

I swallowed a lump in my throat as I looked down at the stab-wound.

There was blood smeared on my skin from my shirt constantly covering it.

There was also a wide opening in my skin that seemed to go very deep and it was excruciatingly painful.

I looked over at Adam and Aaliyah who were now both sound asleep in their partner's presence and I pressed my lips together as I looked at the two of them.

They both acted like nothing bad could happen to them as long as they were together.

I was envious of that.

I wish I had someone to hold while being locked in this damn cell.

They were locked in here, unable to escape but here they both were, sleeping comfortably and contently as I studied my puss-weeping wound.

I looked away from them, my eyes once again focusing on the bloody mess on my thin, dirty body.

The knife that I was stabbed with, was made of pure silver and that meant that the wound would stay on my body, even if I was somehow miraculously healed by the Moon Goddess.

I would be scarred for life.

[plush-rabbit]

Aphrodisiac Induced Villains

Request: im obsessed with your aphro induced brothers !!! can i request the same scenario with the leave of villains + overhaul and chrono?

Word Count: 1K each

A/N: Sorry for it being so late!! I love aphrodisiac plots and I think I’ll never stop thinking about them. (esp moth shig and spinner during a heat)

-

Every breath is like water that fills his lungs, suffocating and one step closer to some hellish end. They aren’t usually so clumsy, so blindsided by rage. They’re tactical, able to evade heroes for as long as they live and yet- here they are, slumped over some alleyway, dirt sticking to their clothes and the noise of the outside so deafening that they can’t even hear their own blood rush in their ears. It’s horrific, even more so than anything they’ve ever endured in their life; this need to feel so cold and hot at once, their body so off putting that you’d think he’d shed his skin and become a new man simply because they are unable to think of anything coherent at that very moment.

Their hand cups over their face, bumping and squishing their nose and the scent of the damn quirk is still strong, still heavy against their body. It’s sweet like vanilla, and strong like peppermint, sticking to their skin and invading their body. His eyes flutter to a close, thinking of the scent that is consuming them, burning them from the inside. The sweet aroma that filtered out of the hero’s body like perfume. The way that their defenses dropped, how their mouth salivated, and the only thing on their mind was primal, something so animalistic that has now taken over. What type of fucking hero even has an aphrodisiac quirk? What good is it unless you want a bunch of salivating and aroused villains in your custody? The other hand clutches over where their heart should be, where they hold on so tightly to their shirt that they stretch the fabric and ruin it. His heart beats erratically, pounding and bruising their ribs, and this quirk truly is ruining them from the inside and out.

Slowly, their hand falls from their face, bumping into their other hand that falls from their chest and they rest heavy on the ground, weighing him down like anchors. He can’t think straight, not with this burning desire inside of him that makes it so impossible to think. With a groan, he stands from the floor, uncaring of the dirt and mess that has stuck on him, uncaring of how sweat falls and drips from their nose and chin. The only thing on his mind right now is to rid himself of this quirk, to ease the ache between his legs and stomach, to finally think straight. At this very moment, the only thing on his mind is to go to you, to stagger and kiss your lips and have his own desires just flood out of him.

Bubaigawara Jin:

There hasn’t been a time in his life where he hasn’t had to fought for survival. He’s been in desperate situations before. Clawed and fought his way through and for survival, for the sake of not only him, but for his sanity. He’s been through the worst of it all. He’s felt betrayal, felt blood rush and blind him as he stayed strapped to a chair, unable to even realize if he was real or not, and yet, it’s the aphrodisiac that makes Jin fall to his knees just before your door. He’s knocking rapidly against it, banging the end of his fists against your wooden door and your name is a godforsaken cry that tears through his throat. He can’t think of anything else but you at this very moment, to collapse onto you and rest his weary head on your shoulders. The only fear that courses through his body is the fear that you won’t answer the door. Jin is at your door, his erection bulging against his suit and every movement is sweet friction that his heart racing and blood rushing. You open the door to him and he does just as he pictured- he falls into your arms and holds you tight while he kicks the door close and pushes you further into your home.

When you bring him, your hands wrapped tightly around him, it doesn’t take much for the man to confess what happened. All the details told to you without question- the scent of the aphrodisiac, the strong sensation, the way that he feels so pulled apart and grounded all at once. He is a weak man at the very end of it, wanting nothing more than to bring you and him down to your knees, as he;s held in your arms. You pull him to your room, telling him to not worry as you’ll be here for him and he knows that you don’t know the severity of the aphrodisiac. The way that it pains him, how nothing is on his mind but the way that your lips look so cute when in a pout, the way the soft pink muscle flashes out to wet at your lips and he can only nod. The back of his knees hit the bed and your hands are coming up to his neck, peeling off the mask and he’s so drunk on lust, that he doesn’t even realize that the simple graze of your knuckles against his neck is enough for him to fall to his back on the bed.

Depravity is not the thing that ails him. It’s the burning desire to be by your side, to continue to feel your hand knits through his and the gentle way that you call his name. He can’t remember when his name was said with such adoration, and now, it just makes his cock throb and he’s thankful for wearing black or there'd be such an obvious stain on him. The bed creaks under his weight and the scent of you on the sheets is enough to replace the scent of vanilla and peppermint. It’s much sweeter, stronger and much more intoxicating. You reach over and your hand is curved over his forehead, the scar pressing against your palm and when you pull away, he grabs your wrist. He can’t be alone. Not right now. Not when his erection is aching and causing the worst pain that he’s ever felt. Everything is too much at this moment. Coming to you was a mistake, but it was the best mistake that he ever made. You’re the only thing keeping his grounded at this very moment.,

With your wrist in his hand, he pulls himself up, and pulls you closer to him, your knees bumping against the edge of the mattress and he pulls you down. His lips are on yours and it’s messy, spit slipping between the corners of the lips, his hands clawing and tugging off your clothes and he doesn’t have the patience to take off his. His bulge is pressed against your thigh, rocking back and forth. It’s a steady motion at first, something so sweet and slow that it leaves him groaning out your name filled by a lovely curse. Soon, everything becomes filthy. Heavy rocking motions that leaves him panting and drooling over your shoulder as his hands palm over your breasts and tease at your nipples and his face i flushed, a deep red that paints him in a heavenly glow and he’s begging for you to remove his suit, to touch him and kiss him. You cry underneath him, try to latch onto him for another kiss but his eyes are half lidded, his hips thrusting until he’s he’s crying your name and holding you close, his breathy moans echoed into your ear and it’s the sweetest thing when he looks at you, and his first thought is kiss you once more as he shudders above you.

Jin wonders how he must look to you. So desperate enough that you’d listen to him without another command. You’re quick to pull his clothes off, the black suit leaving nothing to the imagination already exposes his muscular body, but without it, he stands proud with a dark blush over him. He’s beside you, and his cock springs free, pre-arousal drooling onto your stomach as he rises above you. Sweat is already on his body, faded scars that curve around him and he’s toned, sharp and rugged while you are soft and everything nice. It makes his heightened arousal feel all that much filthier. He’s a gentleman no matter the situation, his lips on yours as he shares a passionate kiss with you, sucking on your pink tongue as he fingers at your hole and he’s so close to spilling when he hears you squeal and open your legs, stretching your hole to fit more of his thick fingers and he spills over your stomach in hot seed, painting you white. His fingers leave you and he can feel your hole flutter against the tip of his cock and it takes just a single push to bury himself inside of you, your back arching and hands clamping down on his biceps as you call his name. His smile is wide, charismatic and holds all the charm of the world as he ruts against you.

Dabi:

Dabi is burning, his body is hot and it’s absolute torture. His erection is pressed against the inside of his jeans and His body is hot and it’s not in the way that it is, so consuming so heavy, full of dread and he goes to you because in the end, he has you all to himself. The man who tries to hide all his emotions is breaking, ripping apart- figuratively- and he’s racing towards you, running and pleading to make it you and he’s knocking on your door, trying to fight the urge to seem so desperate and pathetic when you don’t answer. He can’t seem desperate, not when you’re so close, not now. He’s lasted for this long, he can last for just a few more seconds. The moon is high above him, and his clothes smell like vanilla and peppermint mixed with cheap alcohol and smoke and it makes his stomach churn and acid laced on his tongue. He knocks once more, his nails scratching at the door and he doesn’t beg, but the plea is so thick in your name, that he might as well be on his knees and ask for forgiveness if it meant you’d welcome him into your arms.

The door opens and half his face is shrouded in shadows and the other is illuminated by the dodgy street lamps in your neighborhood. You welcome him inside and he brushes your touch away and he’s never been so thankful before to wear a jacket. He isn’t sure how he would react to having you touch his bare skin, not when it's painful enough for him to touch himself. Concern is laced thick in your words and he shakes his head, trying to fend off your worry as goes to your bedroom. His straps are staggered, his hand on the wall as he walks to your room, and in the room, the scent of the aphrodisiac shifts into else- something more than the basic churning in his stomach and into him having to sit down and remove his jacket, the heat finally catching up to him. Your shadow stretches into the room and when he looks up, you’re already walking towards him, kneeling before him and grabbing his hands in yours. He isn’t sure how to tell you that he got hit by a quirk that’s making him lose his mind, that’s making him picture you dressed in nothing, and when your hand slips from his to cup gingerly at his jaw, he leans into your touch. It takes nothing more than for you to call his name, a soft whisper that he can barely hear through his beating heart that echoes and pounds in his ears, to confess what it is that's making him act in such a way. It’s embarrassing for him. He doesn’t want your worry, he doesn’t want your gentle touches and the way that you coo his name. He can’t stand how you sit beside him and refuse to leave him. It's making him feverish and you gently nudge his face so he’s looking at you.

Even looking at you proves to be too much. It’s too hard for him- his erection pulsing in his pants, the lack of air in his lungs, and his mind so foggy that the only thing he can do is stare at your lips that move in soundless words. He can’t focus. Not one bit, not with the quirk and you being so prevalent in him when he’s this close to you. There is nothing he can do but to kiss you. His lips meld against yours, his hands twisting into the shirt and staining the fabric with his hands, and he keeps you close, not wanting to pull air for air even if his lungs really are starting to burn. You’re so close to him, so soft and delicate under his touch and he’s lowering himself, bowing before you just to kiss your lips. You’re beside him, the bed dipping under his weight and you’re just here with him, so real and touchable, he can’t help but rush to touch you.

Clothes are removed, limbs entangled and knees bumping into each other. It’s sloppy and rushed, and it’s enough for him to climax and leave his thighs in white and dark purple and peach. His hands hold onto your body, never once leaving your body without his touch. His body burns and there’s a stinging pain in his abdomen, and he isn’t sure if it’s the aphrodisiac or his quirk that’s making him so feverish. Your hand wraps around his cock, massaging at his balls and slipping upwards to the base. Your thumb slides the arousal down, slicking it around his cock until he’s pleading in your ear to touch him. Everything is just too much- there’s too much emotion that is bubbling inside for him to even fathom, the sensations making his head spin, and the taste of you fading from his tongue. He wants you, he wants you in a way that is dependent and obsessive. Ever so needy, he’s kissing you harshly, sucking on your bottom lip and orgasming from a simple handjob. He pulls away from the kiss, his eyes half lidded as he nudges you with his shoulder, falling into his back, his cock still erect and bubbling with semen that drips off of him in shining pearls. He’s naked on your bed, his climax strong and enough for the lights to blind him and he can’t think of anything else when you climb above him.

You run your hands against a trail of staples, and it’s enough to make goosebumps appear over his body as you lower yourself onto him. His entire body is sensitive and sex fills the room and he can taste just how sweet you are, and he’s deep inside of you. He smiles sweetly, and you feel so good on him, so nice and soft, and he’s swiveling his own hips, aching to feel you deeper and deeper. His climax is flush, his body burning and hands reaching for your thighs, holding you close to him. When you lean down, he captures your lips in a kiss, smiling against you. Dabi’s own climax is burning against his skin, his scars tingling under your touch and your lips pressed against his jaw and his eyes are wide, his hands clawing around you and he pushes himself deeper, and even with you on top, he’s doing the work. Deprived of everything sweet and overflowing with bitterness, he can’t help but keep you close to him. Scarred and muscular, his arms wrapped around you and keeping you close to his chest, as he just soaks his cock in you. There is nothing but pain that feels, and yet, he feels all of you, so warm and soft compared to him.

Iguchi Shuichi:

With the aphrodisiac settling inside of him, he rushes towards you, eager and fearful of all the arousal that is bubbling and consuming him. Shuichi is running through the night, his legs sore and muscles begging for rest, but he can’t stop, not until he’s by your side, not until he’s safely nestled in your arms. The burning desire inside of him is making his lungs burn, more so than all the running he did. It’s a chill that enters him and makes every breath sharp, a chill that runs through his body. He stands in front of your door, and he’s catching his breath, hands on his knees as he breathes in and out, his claws digging into his knees and when he stands, he’s already knocking at your door. He’s shakily grabbing and jiggling at the handle as he calls your name in a hushed whisper. There isn’t much that he can say other than he needs you to open the door, quickly, before someone other than you sees him in such a shameful state.

There’s many advantages to having a mutation quirk- especially one that’s a variant of an animal, and that is that most, if not all, your senses are heightened. He can hear your careful steps before he can see your shadow between the door and the floor. He can faintly smell your dinner, the sound of the television in the background and he can smell you, something mixing with the aphrodisiac until it’s just you at the very end of it. You’re the one filling his lung with the shape and painful scent, replacing the vanilla and peppermint, something so thick and wonderful gone in just a simple breath, only to be replaced by you. The effects of the aphrodisiac are still in effect when you open the door and they're heightened even more. You stand in front of him, the light illuminating you in a heavenly glow and with worry creasing your features and he’s the one to take the first step and lean into you.

It’s the gentle look that you give him, his name on the tip of your tongue, and already so weak, he falls into you, letting you hold him as you struggle to close the door and he’s little more than dead weight against you. His hand already having snuck to cup his sex in an attempt to avoid having you feel it, but the pressure is more than enough for him to hiss. You ask what’s wrong and he doesn’t know how to tell you what happened to him, but when you run your hands through his hair, the words are already rushing past his lips. He speaks faster than he can think, the story mixed with events as he rushes through it, while he palms himself through his jeans. He can’t look at you while he does something so humiliating, but he can't pry himself away from you either, his snout pressing against the soft curve of your neck as he presses the heel of his hand further into himself. He’s gasping, and whimpering, acting so painfully shy that he even whispers your name is something perverse. You continue to stroke his hair, and it’s panting, whining and humping against your leg that he can’t take it, that the sensations are just too much at the moment. He needs for you to touch him, to just do something more than pet him.

The points of his teeth nips at your shoulder and he’s struggling to keep his moan muted as his body shakes against yours. He’s apologizing and he’s ashamed of his actions to palm himself in front of you, that he can’t look at you. When you cup his face and have him look at you, he’s apologizing, and telling you that it just felt too good and that he can’t think with you so close to him. You pull him onto the couch, the television shutting down and for a brief second, silence fills the room. You sit on the couch, the cushion soft underneath you and your hands grab at his as you pull him close to you. The aphrodisiac is making his mind muddy and slow, and he can only watch as your hands carefully and tantalizingly slow undoing his zipper and he’s flustered. With tears in his eyes as his own shaky hands grabbing at your wrists but it does nothing to stop you. You undo him, and you're so soft against his cock, freeing it from the confines of his pants. Your warm hand is wrapped around the base, giving it a few slope strokes where the friction makes his leg jerk. His head is thrown back, hands covering his mouth as you wrap your lips around his cockhead. Soon into the rhythm, his hands are on the back of your head, pushing you down to the base of his cock, your spit soaking him and something salty and thick squirting down your throat. The soft feel of the inside of your cheeks press against his side, hollowed cheeks as your hand grip onto his thighs and your little whines and whimpers make him thrust haphazardly into your open mouth. He keeps you there until you pat against his thighs and when you look up at him with tears in your eyes and drool running down your chin, his eyes go dark.

Shuichi goes for you, pinning your back down on the couch as he captures you in a kiss, his tongue thick and slimy inside of you, and he’s pulling your shorts down, rubbing his coarse fingers against your slit, spreading your arousal around the entrance of your hole. He’s animalistic, holding the traits inside of him, dominant and needing to breed, the want to push himself deep inside you overtakes him and he muffles your moan with a kiss as he unsheathes himself in you. Your sex pulses and throbs under him as he frantically ruts himself against you. He’s nipping at every exposed inch of skin, ripping your clothes off and suckling on your sweet breasts, his head buried in your chest and when he rises, your chest is covered in a thin layer of drool. Your hole is soft, gummy walls that wrap around him, twitching when he hits a certain spot and he can’t think, can’t even make out a sentence, and only your name is the most coherent thing that is said as he fills your hole with his seed.

Sako Atsuhiro:

There is nothing worse for Atsuhiro than what is happening now. He holds an image to the public, to his comrades, to you- and that is that he is composed, he’s a showman and when in the public eye, he maintains his appearance. Yet, the quirk, something like a perfume that wrapped around him, has stuck. The aroma was- or rather is- sweet and no matter how far he runs, it just won’t leave him. It’s humiliating. This is one of the worst things that has ever happened to him and he’s seen and participated in his own share of hell. His pants have become too tight, his cock straining and begging for release and even just the idea of pleasuring himself leaves him with a hot face. Without a second thought he rushes to you, his steps quick until he’s running and sweat beads and makes his clothes stick to him. He doesn’t want you to see him in such a disheveled state, but then again, you’re the only one that can see him like this, that can see him as anything less than him. He’s running and breathing roughly and his heart is pounding against him and there is nothing more that he can think of than to go to you, ignoring the stares and fighting his way through his own personal inferno just to be near you.

The lights are on and it gives him all the motivation to rush to your door and knock frantically; he’s begging to be let inside like it’s death that is chasing him. The lock clicks and when you open the door, he’s quick to rush past you, removing his mask and giving a kick to close your door as he captures your lips in his. Everything is so easy with you, and yet, standing just in front of you and kissing your lips proves to take his breath away, it drains him, and he’s drowning all over again. Peppermint leaves his lungs burning, and with your lips on him, it’s replaced by sweet hibiscus, flooding and sprouting from his lungs and he never wants to let you go. He holds you close, his hands on your waist and when he parts from you, you look at him stunned and he can’t help but laugh. It’s soft, a simple chuckle that grows as he buries himself in the curve of your neck as his laughter grows. Your hand rests at the nap of his neck and your fingertips tease at the edge of his balaclava. The simple graze of your skin against his has him press his weight against you. His hands haven’t left your sides and with a tired voice, he tells you what happened- the quirk, the scent, the way that his only thought was to be with you. It’s all so draining to just be in front of you, and with his erection tucked in his pants, he isn’t sure how much longer he can wait until he’s creaming and staining the inside of his clothing, to be so humiliated in front of you as he pleasures himself, but he can’t hold back, not when you’re in front of him and the feel of your tongue is making his length throb in his palm.

Your nails scratch along his neck, trailing over the bumps of his spines and a shock runs down his body, his breath catching in his throat and his hands squeezing down on your sides. Slowly, he lifts his head as his balaclava is lifted and removed, his hair is left ruffled and curls left messy. He leans towards you, trying to capture you in a kiss once more, but when you pull away, he lets out a groan, bowing his head and resting it on your shoulder. He’s begging for you to touch him, to just let him kiss you one more time. It's too much heartache to go without you for a second longer. You coo his name and lift his head, brushing back his hair that is stuck to his face. It’s too much to feel your gentle and cool touch against his burning body and he’s shaking his head, grabbing your hand and pressing it to his chest where his heart beats against your palm. It’s too forward of him. He knows that this isn't him whatsoever. He’s a gentle lover, your needs are put first because even just seeing your blissful expression is enough for him to feel the familiar knot in his stomach. This, however, is just too much, to have you touch him so softly, a ghost over his skin and your lips brushed against his, he’s dying and gasping for breath, reaching towards you as a hand unbuttons his pants and he’s massaging his cock over his briefs.

It doesn’t take much for him to spill in his briefs, to his hand moist and sticky and his body shaking and moans filling your mouth as he continues the motions. He needs the sweet friction that is making everything much too sharp and too powerful for him to just lay there. He’s dying and pulling you close and the way to your bedroom is messy. You’re already on his lips and he won’t lose that feeling again, not until the bed is underneath you and his hands are on either side of your head. The covers are wrinkled and his clothes are discarded as he eagerly touches you, having them disappear into nothing but glass in his palm. You’ll pout and reprimand him for ruining your clothes, but for now, he’ll muffle your annoyance with a kiss as his lust clouds his mind.

Nimble hands tease against your slit, spreading your nectar around and massaging at your entrance, the tips of his fingers slowly spreading you and familiarizing the stretch of your hole.. The feel of your plush walls has him tight, his muscles tense and body feeling as if it were about to curl in on itself. His cock is erect, standing at attention, his tip tinted with red, blushing and bashful as milky white pours from him and drips against your entrance. He enters you with a euphoric moan, so sinful and depraved, that he stills for a moment, his muscles rigid as he tries to not to ejaculate so soon. Atsuhiro has just entered you, he can’t waste this opportunity when your hole is cushioned around his cock. The moans that leave your lips are rich in lust, his own muddled with sobs as if entering you is pure ecstasy. Ever the gentleman, he's always made sure to give you the first orgasm, but he can’t now. He’s already taken away that first pleasure, and as greedy as it is, he can’t stop. His hips move faster than he can think, skin slapping against skin as he moans your name, filling you with his seed and continuing even when you squeeze around him and claim that you’ve already reached your own climax.

Shigaraki Tomura:

It’s terrifying to know how much control one can have on another. Tomura is upset, a frown on his lips and the anger in him is quickly snuffed out, replaced as soon as it came with lust. It wraps around him in a thick smoke, encasing him and filling his lungs until he’s unable to breathe. An aphrodisiac is such a cheap trick, and he hates it. Embarrassment courses throughout him and he’s left doubling over, his hand so close to his erection until something metallic is on his tongue. He’s a man of many depravities, but he’ll be damned if he touches himself in an alleyway simply because of a quirk. He already has you and he’s chasing you, running through the street with you on his mind and his hand outstretched as if he could actually touch you. The friction of the seam of his pants has his breathing more rugged than if he were just running. He knocks, and he tries to avoid raising his voice, but the pressure is building, and he’s already undoing his jeans and reaching past his briefs to release his erect cock.

The door opens and you stand there with a smile to greet him only to recoil in surprise when you see what he’s in the middle of. You make a joke and if it were any other day, maybe he would laugh and reply with something of his own, but he can’t. He pushes past you, kicking off his shoes and removing his clothes, sweat so heavy on his body and his body so hot that the cool air of your air conditioner is leaving him in goosebumps. It’s cruel how you touch him, your hand over his bicep and when he looks at you, his cheeks are pooled red. Every touch is electric, his mind numb and body moving on its own before he can register what he’s doing, he leaves your touch behind him. He goes to your bed, collapsing and removing his clothes on the way, leaving a trail for you to find in your home. You follow him, his name on your lips and hearing you call for him just leaves him laying on your bed, removing his briefs and fisting his hand around his cock. Your hand curves over his forehead and you tell him how he is burning as if doesn't know that. You date a killer, and you’re still so naïve and it’s adorable in a way that makes him want to ruin you. He doesn’t waste time- he tells you what happened and grabs your hand, moving it beside to touch the side of his face and he watches how your lips part ever so slightly, commenting on how red his ears are. He laughs and moves your hand closer to his mouth. You’re real, touching him and there is worry laced into your features and words, and it’s so genuine that he feels a heavy hand wrap around his heart.

Time is ever passing, continuing on and never returning and he’s hot, and begging, his cock erect and balls full with unspent semen. Pain is etched around him in scars and bullet holes, and he’s telling you in a broken whisper how it hurts, how he’s in pain and with how reddened his cock is, you have to believe him. Your fingertips touch against his chapped lips, his tongue peeking out to lick at the tips before he slides your hand down. Your hand curves around his neck and you linger for a moment where his heart is beating eagerly, rapidly as if threatening to pound out and leave him bleeding before you. Lust is clear in his eyes, his mouth parted and you kiss him, and he eagerly returns the gesture, releasing your hand to grab your face and deepen the kiss. Your hand moves on its own- sliding down his chest, brushing against his pebbled nipples and lower against his stomach and falling to his crotch to wrap around his pulsing cock and tug on it, spreading the pearling bud over him until he’s panting with his head resting on your chest and mouth open.

Thick ropes of white coat your hand and your name is sung out in a groan, depraved and everything bad. It isn't enough to just have your hand wrapped around his cock, to be given a handjob, he wants more. He craves it like a sinner to their vice. He’s erect, and his breath fans against your lips. Begging has never been so immoral as it is right now when he pleads to you, begging for you to touch him more, to let him do more than kiss you. It’s you that he cares for you, and even with your kiss and his climax, he wants something more, he needs to feel you underneath him. He pulls you close to him, your body clad in just your underwear and he's grinding above you, his spent cock over your underwear, his mouth latching on a breast and toying the nipple with his tongue. He grinds and it’s harsh, your underwear slick with your and his arousal, a string of semen connecting him to you as he pulls away and hastily removes your remaining clothes.

Your face scrunches in pain and you let out a whimper when he grabs your legs and pushes them to your chest, his cock aligned with your fluttering entrance. He watches as your expression changes from pain to pleasure, your sex tightening around him. Clicking fills the room, your entrance allowing him to slip in his body twitches in response, every nerve and hair on it’s end as he feels your insides wrap around him. It’s animalistic, his hips moving on their own, the rhythm barely there and he’s only interested in his own climax. His mouth is slick with saliva and he’s above you, with your legs bent on your chest and his hips rocking back and forth. The inside of you is gummy, molding around the shape of his cock. It’s as if he’s going to leave your sex in the mold of his cock, never to have you forget who it is that is making your heart beat and sex tighten. Your hands entangle in his hair, threading his hair together as he buries his cock inside of you. He’s chasing his high, mouth open in a moan as a thick trail of drool drips from his mouth and coats over your collarbone. It’s filthy and degrading, but to him, seeing even a small portion of you covered in his spit has him spilling his seed inside of you. Tomura kisses you and it’s wet and messy, but it’s perfect as his lungs are deprived of oxygen and he gets to feel your hands claw at his back.

Chisaki Kai:

Filth clings to him so easily, that painstaking amount of time that he wastes to keep himself pristine is all for naught at the end. All ruined because of a simple quirk. His mask is lost, a casualty of the fight and all that he can breathe in is the air of the sick and depraved, the air of something sweet and intoxicating. Kai hates it all. When the drug is perfected and in the masses, he’s sure of who will get one of the few. The damn reminder of what and who it was that brought him to the floor of some alleyway so rotting that it makes his anger boil, his face hot and whether it’s from frustration or anger, he isn’t quite sure. He covers his mouth and nose, and the poor attempt at a mask is just that- a poor attempt. He can still breathe in everything, still taste the air that is filled with smoke and the dewy weather of the night. It’s horrific. He forces himself to go to you, because at this point, it’s either touch and ruin people and risk getting himself covered in more filth, and go to you and do what the quirk is making him do.

The cheap paint touches his knuckles as he knocks at your door. He doesn’t want you to be late in answering the door, you have to hurry up. Hurry up and get him out of this sickness outside. Hurry up and bring him inside where he can shower and rid himself of these clothes that have been sullied by everything but you. You open the door the second he raises his palm, a frantic and desperate attempt to let himself inside, to fix some cheap wood just as quick. Why he hasn’t moved you in with him yet is unbeknownst to him, but after today, he’ll start to push for it. When you open the door, he walks inside, kicking his shoes and ridding himself of his clothes before you can lock the door behind you. You call his name and his eyes snap towards you, bright golden irises that hold the fury of the sun behind them and he’s breathing heavily. He’s not in the proper state of mind, but damn it all. He tells you, and with every passing second, he becomes angrier. Stalking and following you throughout your home, until you’re backed up against a wall. At this very moment, he has lost his control.

You’re scared and that should be his top priority but he can’t think. He can’t focus on you when his erection is strained between his pants and your breath that smells like mint is against his own. Your eyes flutter to his crotch and when you catch a glimpse of his erection, his name a soft murmur of your lips, he pushes himself into you. His erection presses into your thigh and he can feel the shift of your muscles, the tightening and the jump, the feel of your breath changes into a shaky gasp and exhale and he’s in front of you, silent and face spoiled red. You reach out to touch him, your hand slowly going upward but just as you're there, just as he can feel the warmth of your hand hover against the side of his face, you retreat. He reaches for you immediately and places your hand against his face and he’s out of his mind, too consumed with lust to ever focus on the filth that once touched him, and too focused on you and the way your fingertips flutter against his cheekbones.

It’s an intense moment where you touch him without the feel of the mask or gloves, and he’s so soft. And when you blink, his mouth is on yours. Everything about him is all about control and precision, and yet, with this simple act of kissing, he’s sloppy, too forward and bumping his teeth against yours, trying to nip at your bottom lip only to give up and focus on your neck. Your hands have moved, cupping his face to curving against the back of his head and knotting your fingers into his hair, your own body grinding into him and pressing against his erection. His own hands wander through your body, touching underneath your shirt and cupping just the underside of your breasts to leave and trying to undo his own zipper, aching to release his dripping cock. Exploring your body in such a drunken state is new to him, every movement slowed down and leaving his knees weak and body filled with needles and pins- he can’t get enough. Your hands bump against his and the friction is enough for him to spill onto your shorts, staining it with a pearly white that is thick like cream and drips onto the floor.

His cock is in your hands, slick with his cum and just the right amount of friction to leave him moaning into your mouth. Clothing pools around you and him and his bare skin is touching yours. It’s rushed, knuckles bumping into each other, his cock teasing against your sex, and the sensation is elevated with the aphrodisiac of the quirk and it’s making his mind blurry and jaw wet with saliva. Your body and his are sticky with sweat, sweat pooling in joints and crevices and he’s disgusted but when he pinches around your pert nipple and you let out a sweet moan that has your nails digging into his biceps, he ignores all of it and focuses on you. Kai is high with lust, elevated and drunk and his lips are on yours as he enters your hole. It takes nothing more than a few pumps to get him to spill, to fill your sex with his cream and let it drip onto the floor as he pounds into you, too focused on his release and your quivering sex to focus on how you call his name. His face is flushed, sweat that curves down past his cheeks and drips onto your body as presses you deep against the wall and lets the aphrodisiac take control.

Kurono Hari:

There is no time to waste as he rushes to your home. The heel of his shoes click against the concrete and he must look like a madman as he runs through the night. The night is humid, sweat causing his clothes to stick to his body and the mask is held in his hands, the confinement of it all making him unable to breathe. Hari needs to go to you now. He needs to see you before his legs give out and he collapses onto the ground before him. It’s the damn quirk that is making him act so unlike himself, ruining his image and tainting his composure with such filth that perhaps there is truth behind eradicating quirks just for being wicked. He’s lost, his mind hazy with lust, corrupting the very essence of him, and it’s perverse. He doesn’t know how to take it. He reaches your door and he stands, catching his breath, his heart beating against the confines of his body, and he’s standing there, willing for the door to open, and unable to move his hands. It’s just then, that he notices his cock that throbs in excitement. He takes a deep breath and reaches for the key to your home in his pocket and quietly, he opens the door.

The inside of your home is cool, and it feels as if he’s been transported somewhere else, everything moving in slow motion as he walks through it, wading against the pool that is your home, his hand touching and never leaving the wall as he follows your singing. It’s loud and at certain points you mumble, but it's you. He’s growing closer, and closer until he finds you with your back turned, undoing a blanket and laying it down on the bed. You don't hear him as he walks behind you, and when he wraps his arms around your torso, you yelp and laugh when you realize that it’s just him. He isn’t sure what the aphrodisiac did to his mind to make it feel so out-of-body, but he enjoys how you press against his erection, how the sensation is doubled and when you give him a cheeky smile, he captures your lips in a kiss.

His hands are clawing at your body leaving lines in its wake, removing your shirt and grabbing a hand that cups his face to his erect cock. His lungs are burning, the kiss hasn’t broken since you’ve removed your shirt and he’s currently kneading at your bum, his hands removing your shorts and when you step out of them, he only pulls you closer to you. His fingertips tease at your rim, and you’re already dripping with arousal, staining the tips of his fingers with your sweet essence. You’re the one to pull away first, gasping for air and falling to rest on the bed, and you look up at him, your eyes wide and body naked as you glance down to his erection giving him a kitten-like grin. His hand reaches upwards and wipes at his lips, thick with saliva and full of the taste of you. Slowly, he removes his clothes, not wanting to waste time on such little things and he lets them fall onto your floor. His lungs crave for air, taking in as much oxygen as they can fill, and he’s leaning towards you, his hands on either side of you as you rest on your forearms, your grin now a mixture of nervous and excited as you ask what’s gotten into him. It's true, he's not so obvious in his advancement, not so needy to touch your body, much rather having you beg for him and grind yourself on his thigh, but with the aphrodisiac coursing through his veins, his composure is lost and damned to hell. His smile is sadistic, eyes piercing into yours and his answer is simple, as he whispers it to you, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear- “the cause of an aphrodisiac quirk.” He’s above you, jerking himself off in front of you and within just a few tugs, he’s spilling his seed over your stomach, watching it spurt out of his cock and slowly end in a drool that falls onto your pelvis.

It’s so damning to see him as anything less than who he is and how he presents himself and yet before you is a degenerate who gathers his semen in two fingers and pushes it inside your mouth, letting the taste fall onto your tongue. His grin is wide and he’s above you, pushing you down on your back and he captures you in another kiss. He wants you. He needs you at this very moment, more than he needs air, more than he needs anything. It’s just you that he wants. He ended you to kiss him and to run your hands down his body. He’s a degenerate, but he’s desperate, whining for you and grabbing your hand and letting it curve over his breast. He says nothing, but it’s a big enough clue to let you know to inch his nipple between your index and thumb and pull on the sensitive bud. His whine is echoed in your mouth and his erection is drooling on you once more. A blush creeps from his chest and onto his face, coloring him pink as his lower half is tipped with red and pearls that adorn his shaft. He aligns himself until his erection is pressed against your thigh, warm cream dripping and sliding off of you.

Your pillowy thighs pinch around his cock, and he hides his face in your shoulder, his hands gripping at your biceps as he pleasures himself using your thighs. Soft clicking sounds sound from him using you, his orgasm shaking through his body as he leaves open-mouthed kisses on your neck, grabbing you and pulling you close to him. To lose himself in pleasure is something he’s never allowed himself the pleasure to do. Hari would much rather prefer you with a drunken look of ecstasy on your face, your face in a heavenly blush and your hole leaking with his semen, but now he realizes the pure joy of it all. To mindlessly hump at your body and kiss your mouth and touch your warm body that squirms for him. Your hand curves over his cock and he moans your name, arching his back and hiding his face as you press it to your entrance. He slips inside, and the feel of your gummy insides makes his mind go blank, only the need to release is clear in his mind. He rocks himself inside of you, and the degenerate is gone, only a desperate man who wants to orgasm remains with a blissful flush and your name on his lips.

[threepointseven]

hellooo this is my first time requesting, and i was wondering if you could do unrequited love with diluc and fem! or gn! reader ? like for example: reader is in love with diluc but he likes jean? sorry if this was already requested/ or is too unspecific, you can always delete this req if it bothers you!! take care <3

🌺summary!🌺- you’ve had a crush on diluc for 8 years, and he ends up falling inlove with jean. What will he do when he’s force to pick one or pay a ridiculous ransom or death, by the fatui?

Type- Fanfic 🌻

Flowers included!🌼= Diluc x reader, diluc x jean

Note🍀= I AM SO SORRY IF I GOT THIS WRONG 😕😕😕 I DIDNT KNOW IF U WANTED HC’S OR A FIC SO I MADE A FIC PLS FORGIVE ME IF I GOT IT WRONG

Genshin masterlist

💐Your bouquet has been delivered <3💐

You watched as the red haired bartender talks to jean from a table in the corner, taking a sip of your drink as you see the smile painted on Diluc’s face. Ever since you came to mondstat youve been head over heels for him. Your feelings were most definitely there hut you suppressed them until you were sure he felt the same, you guess that day wont ever come as you overhear the conversation of the blonde and the tavern owner

“Ah, you should maybe come over today. I have no work for a day or 2”

“I’ll think about it..”

His sigh of annoyance says otherwise by the red blush he’s trying to hide. You’re so inlove with him. You thought as the two exchange flirty jokes.

Ever since that night at the gates of mondstat youve been head over heels for him, youve tried your absolute best to make him look your way. Even if it was just the slightest glance youve tried it. He knew you, you’re one of his closest friends, but not as close as Jean.

It was such a waste, all your flirts and all the times youve helped him, all of it was a waste as you see the pair talk like newly fucking weds everyday.

He knows you have a thing for him, right? Theres no way he doesnt.

But.. youve been friends with him for so much more time than this woman right? Why wont he look at you. Just one glance…

Your friends were no help, clearly since as you rant about your love for diluc they seem to take Jeans side.

“Well…even if youve been friends with him for longer, quality over quantity right?”

It was a tuesday morning, 3 am when you were suddenly abducted by a group of men, seemingly fatui men. You wake up to the squirming of the grandmaster jean.

What is she doing here? What am i doing here? Where am i?!

The panic set in as the 5 fatui men discuss among eachother.

“Who are you and what are we doing here?!”

The grandmaster speaks up firmly.

“Isnt it obvious? We’re taking you hostage. Diluc ragnvindr will happily pay the ransom dont you think?”

“What does diluc have to do with this?!”

The blonde screamed as she sweat, you could see the panic set in her eyes.

“We told him that we’re holding you two hostage, simple.”

Your eyes widen as your eyes threatened to tear up. The seconds turned into minutes and the minutes turned into hours before you heard a loud bang on the building before catching a glimpse of dilucs fiery eyes, his greatsword painted with crimson.

“Diluc! So you’ve decided to pay the rans-“

Before the man could fully speak he was hit by flames along with the group of men. The entire group supposedly knocked out before he attempted to rush to our side.

He was an inch away before a beat up fatui laced with burn scars weakly stood up and put a gun to my head.

“P-pick one or pay the ransom pretty boy.”

He stuttered but he wasnt kidding as he loaded the gun and pressed it further onto my skin.

The fatui’s reflexes too fast, and the gun was simply too close. A ransom of 10 million mora wasnt impossible for Diluc but it was insane.

You stared wide eyed as Diluc freezes, staying put as he silently panics and attempts to decide.

Sweat rolls down his face as he sighs shakily and quickly wraps his arms around Jean, kissing her as an extra.

How cruel.

Love is cruel.

Tears well up in your eyes as your mind races at the feeling of the gun to your head, the fact the man youve had the biggest crush on for more than 8 years is now kissing the woman he met 12 months ago.

Your heart shattered to pieces as you see the pure sorrow in his eyes as he runs away into the fire with jean in his hands.

“Quality over quantity right?”

[super-predictable98]

Worth Your Time (Aizawa x Reader - A Familiar Face collab)

Warning: sexual content, strong language, smoking and drinking, mention of death (18+)

a/n: Heeey @myherokatsuki I’m so sorry I’m late, but you know my mind has been all over the place. I just wanna say congratulations and you deserve all the success in this or any other fandom. Even though I’m not writing that much here anymore, I had a lot of fun creating this Idol AU for Aizawa and I hope everyone likes it.

(Masterlist)

"You have five minutes," the manager said as you stood next to the dressing room door. The entire place was dark and it smelled like beer and cigarettes, nothing you weren't used to working for a magazine about rock. 

"Five minutes? How can anyone do a decent interview in five minutes?" you gaped, but it seemed like your protests were ignored, as the huge security guard simply opened the door to let you in without another word. 

You were used to that sort of situation, egomaniac rockstars who were constantly drunk or high, blabbing about themselves and their incredible talents while you tried to fit 25 questions in five minutes. Sloppy interviews that happened just before the show, answers you had to discard or edit because they were so stupid you couldn't possibly include in a magazine, and never enough time to have a normal conversation.

"Hello, I'm y/n from SDRR, I'm sorry that we have to do this in such a hurry-"

"Hurry? Why?" a deep voice called before his silhouette appeared from the corner of the room, a cup of whiskey in his hand and his long hair tied in a messy ponytail. 

"Your manager said I have five minutes?"

With an eye roll, the tall gentleman banged his fist on the door. "The interview is over when I say it is," he growled, something telling you it wasn't the first time something like this had happened.

As he sat at the other end of the couch, you noticed the scar under his eye, but tried not to stare. He clearly couldn't bother shaving and probably didn't get much sleep, judging from his dark circles and bloodshot eyes, information you were carefully writing down on your notepad. 

"Aizawa Shouta," you cleared your throat, trying not to focus on how tight his leather pants were, or all the tattoos on his biceps, showing under his long sleeve fishnet shirt. "After leaving UA following the death of one of your best friends you ventured into music..."

"Right," he nodded, looking at the same time bored with the question, but interested in your delivery.

"Why music?" 

"Well, I started playing guitar when I was a kid, it was basically the only thing I knew how to do besides being a hero. I really didn't wanna stick around after what happened, but I still had to eat, so..."

"I s-see," you didn't expect that sort of answer, you thought he was about to go on a tangent about how his love has always been music and his dreams were to be famous worldwide or some bullshit idols say. "I'm sorry for your loss by the way."

"Thanks, but that was a long time ago," he took a deep breath as he grabbed a cigarette and a lighter from the coffee table. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all, make yourself comfortable," you mindlessly waved. 

"Would you like one?"

"No thank you, I don't smoke."

"Smart girl," he groaned. "Would you like a drink then? Some scotch? Or a beer? I can try to make a cocktail, but I don't guarantee it'll be drinkable."

"Uh, water maybe?" you tilted your head.

"Oh, yeah, sure," Aizawa stretched himself to grab a bottle from the minifridge behind the couch, his shirt exposing even more the strip of skin right where his happy trail started. The sight made you swallow thickly, why was that so attractive?

As you took a sip of your water, your eyes roamed the pages with questions, trying to prioritize the best ones since you knew your time was limited, despite what he had to say to his manager.

"You are notoriously single, but unlike other rock stars, you never seem to appear next to groupies or beautiful models... Are you not interested in relationships or are you just better at hiding them?" you finally asked.

"Neither, I don't like meaningless sex for the sake of it. I'm very pragmatic, I only do something if it adds to my life, if there are real benefits to it. When I find someone I actually would like to have a connection with, then we'll see."

"Things that add to your life and have real benefits? Like smoking?" you teased.

"You caught me," he nodded. "It helps with my anxiety, but I've been trying to quit. I'm gradually switching to nicotine patches, not very rock n' roll, but..."

"I think it's very rock n' roll to stay healthy," you offered him a smile before looking down at your notes. "Being a sex symbol-"

"You think I'm a sex symbol?" he smirked, leaning back with both hands behind his head.

"It's what it says here..." you blushed as you pointed to your notepad.

"But do you think so?" he pressed, wetting his lips as his gaze travelled around your body appraisingly.

"I- You're asking if I think you're sexy?" you chuckled nervously, trying to keep your cool for the sake of professionalism.

"Yeah, do you?"

"Y-Yeah, of course, I'm not blind... But anyway, being a sex symbol-"

"You know, you're pretty easy on the eye yourself," he mused, spreading his legs on his seat, almost as if trying to show off his bulge. "I've never been interviewed by such a cute reporter, why did you become a reporter?"

"Well, I'm not the one being interviewed."

"Okay, okay, fair enough. I think I might've misread what was going on here," Aizawa cleared his throat, respectfully backing off.

"What do you mean?" you quickly set your notes aside, more interested in what he had to say off the record than your 'five minute interview'.

"I thought we were hitting it off, that you were attracted to me like I'm attracted to you."

"Are you telling me I'm the person who you want to build a connection with?" you stared at the man in front of you incredulously. He was a walking contradiction, but you couldn't help but want to know more, to solve the mystery. 

"Why not? You don't smoke or drink, you have a stable job you can do from home, meaning you can follow me around while touring. You are beautiful and sweet, and you seem smart. So, would you like to go out to dinner?"

"Dinner... You know, I'm very pragmatic myself. I don't like wasting my time, how do I know you're a good investment? I know you're handsome and you're trying to quit smoking, you make shitty mixed drinks, you are heroic even if you're not a hero, and you care about your friends. I also know that every girl in Japan wants to wake up in your bed. What else?"

Aizawa seemed to take your question as a challenge, he bit his lip as he tucked your hair behind your ear and leaned closer slowly until your lips were connected. His tongue firmly took control and guided your movements firmly but gently. You couldn't stop asking yourself 'why me?' but part of you also screamed 'why not me?'

Before you realized it, your jeans were on the floor next to his lowcut pants while Aizawa brought you into his lap. You looked down at his growing bulge and couldn't resist tearing his underwear off, freeing his rather impressive cock.

"Is that what you want? Wanna sample the goods before you go out on a date with me?" he chuckled deeply next to your ear, his husky voice sending shivers down your spine. "Cause I'm happy to show you I'm well worth your time, y/n."

"Shouta!" A loud knock made you two break apart. It was most likely his manager or someone from the staff, you two had been talking for way longer than you were supposed to. "If you don't get on stage in two minutes, I'm canceling this thing and you deal with the fans!"

Aizawa huffed and rolled his eyes once again, pinching the bridge of his nose before taking a deep breath. "I'll be right out!" he shouted back.

"I'm sorry for making you late," you murmured, getting back into your clothes. What on earth possessed you to do something like this? "I'm going..."

"Hey," he grabbed your wrist and wrote down a phone number using the pen you were taking notes with. "Hey, why don't you come watch my gig and then call me so I can give you a tour of my hotel room? I'd really like to finish the interview."

[moralesispunk]

In his eyes (Blacksmith Pero Tovar AU)

Pero Tovar x Female Reader

Part 1 of a short Pero Tovar Blacksmith AU

Summary: when a handsome and mysterious stranger enters your village as the new blacksmith you are drawn to finding out more about him.

Masterlist here under Pero |

Part two here

When the handsome, stone face stranger entered your village a few weeks ago, every head in the village was turned. You eyes and mind were his from the moment he walked in and soon your heart would belong to him as well.

You were at the market when he came in atop his beautiful horse, trotting between the stalls. If his wide shoulders and scowl did not entice you, his dark brown eyes with a scar down one of them did. His hair was messy on his head, choppy in length but stopping enough above his eyes to show them to the world. He wore armour of a kind you had never seen before, dark silver and grey starting high up on his neck covering his body all the way to under his heavy boots. His hands gripped loose at the reigns of his horse, in full control without much effort.

For a moment, as he went by your bakers stall you ran for your father, your eyes met. His scowl did not lift but his eyes widened and seemed to soften slightly. You managed to curl your lips into a smile as you kept eye contact with him until he had moved by.

You had seen him every other day since. He was taking over from Mr Williams the old blacksmiths after he passed away a few weeks ago. You hadn't learned too much about him in the weeks he had been here other than he came from another land and didn't talk more than he absolutely had to. Oh, and his name was Mr Tovar, having heard it mumbled by patrons of the local inn.

You had only spoken to him a few times before when you ran your market stall on Saturdays. The first time he did not utter more than a grunt as you sold him a loaf of bread, the second he managed a "thank you" letting you hear his beautiful accent the landlady of the local inn had told you about, every time after he would compliment your baking in few words before buying another.

Other people in the village seemed to stand a little further away from him, his standoffishness not being aided by his scowl or scar down his face. They moved out his way quickly as he made his way through the market and put their head downs while he looked through their items on their stalls. You could see why they would want to do this but rather than stand away you wanted to stand a little closer, often moving round to the front of the stall as you helped him. There was something underneath all his armour and stony expression that you wanted to learn more about.

As you worked today in the bakers shop with your father in the back and you dealing with customers at the front, you heard footsteps enter your shop with your back turned. 

"I will be there in one moment," you called over your shoulder, finishing stocking the freshly baked bread.

"No rush," the voice replied.

It was him. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks already as you knew he would be watching your every move. When you turned to face him, his hands were held together in front of his body as he waited patiently for you.

"What brings you here today, Mr Tovar. One of our fresh loaves, perhaps a sweet pastry?" you smile at him and see one tug at the edge of his lips.

"It’s Pero, please. My name. And just a loaf today.” 

Your eyes stayed on him for a moment, repeating his name back with a smile. It was unique for your village and sounded beautiful as it fell from his lips, a perfect name for him.

You work a little slower than usual as you wrap one of the freshest loaves for him, enjoying spending this time in his presence even in silence. As you handed the bread over to Pero, he passed coins over in his other hand letting his fingers linger over your palm for a moment before gently tracing back over your fingers before he pulled his hand into a fist at his side.

Your eyes stayed on his for a moment, your mind going blank of anything other than the thousand words that were swimming around your mind to describe his eyes, when a loud bang from the back pull both your attentions away.

"Papa?" you shouted as you ran into the back.

"I'm fine, sweetheart,” his voice called back but you still moved into the back.

The tray from the oven had collapsed into the fire, pulled out just in time before being melted by the flames. The old pole that had been creaky for years had finally given out. You hadn’t realised that Pero had followed you into the back until you heard him grunt behind you. He walked by you, gently placing his hand on your back to move you out of his way as he did so. His hand had stretched across the whole of your back, his warmth only touching you for a moment but lingering after his palm had moved away.

He lifted an old cloth to pick up the tray and pole separately, inspecting the parts.

“I can fix this,” he huffed, looking at your father.

You father’s eyes were wide at the man standing in front of him. He had heard of the man from another land who had moved to the village with a scar down one eye and dark eyes. 

“Papa, this is Pero- Mr Tovar. The new blacksmith,” you introduced them to one another. 

“Mr Tovar, thank you. I will pay you generously in coins,” your father offered but Pero shook his head.

“No. It will be free,” he huffed before walking away with the metal wrapped in cloth in his hands.

You and your father waited for a moment, not sure what to say of the exchange before your father laughed.

“Everyone is right, he is a man of few words.” 

When you walk back to the front you notice his bread is still sitting on the counter where you left it but there are customers waiting to be served. You sell it on to the next customer, deciding to take him a fresher one once the shop quietens down. The day goes in quick and with sun lowering and you do not get a chance to take a new loaf of bread to Pero. Your heart grows heavy knowing you will not get to see his face again today but you make sure to remember to bring him one in the morning to thank him for his kindness.

When you got into bed that night you dreamt of him. While you had dreamt of him before, of serving him at your stall and listening to the few words he said, this night was different. It was of the two of you sitting by a fire, your head resting on his shoulder as he told you stories of his travels before he reached your village. His voice was warmer than the flames in front of you, surrounding you in a secure embrace as he told you about the scar on his face. Suddenly, his lips were on yours and moving down your neck to your chest, undoing your bodice as he kissed every piece of skin that touched the air.

You woke, chest heaving and mind racing over the dream. You could feel his lips on yours if you concentrated hard enough, the dream from the night before feeling so real.

As the sun was already rising and as the silence echoed around your house you realised your father must have already been down at the bakery. Quickly getting dressed, you pulled the front of your hair back into a loose braid and walked down to the bakers. 

You heard the clanking of metal as you walked by the blacksmiths, slowing your pace to look inside. 

There was Pero, his body bent over a piece of metal he was working on. One hand gripped the metal in his hand while the other raised and slammed down the tool with a clang. You watched as his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, the sweat dripping down his brow from the heat of the roaring fire in front of him.

Thoughts of your dream crept back into your head, imagining his warm body against yours. Your lips fighting over one another and the sweat of your bodies mixing together.

As his hand came down one more time, his head turned to face you, catching your eyes in his. A heat was sent through your chest and neck to your cheeks as you bowed your head and quickly moved on. You didn’t lift your head until you reached the bakers, quickly walking through the back to find your father.

He was working with the oven, a new tray and pole in his hand.

“Look at this,” your father called, “he didn’t fix the old one he made us a brand new one! And look how quickly it turns.” 

Your father moved the tool easily in and out of the oven to show you it in action. It moved a lot smoother than the old one, holding more loaves of bread as it did so. You couldn’t stop the smile from reaching your face at the thought. Pero would have been busy catching up with all the blacksmiths work needing done since Mr Williams had left but he took the time to make a completely new one for your father. Despite his rough look you could see the kindness in his soul that many would not realise it with it being wrapped up in dark eyes and a frown.

“You should take Mr Tovar some loaves for his trouble. This was far too kind.”

You looked down at the thought of going back to see Pero again, trying to hide your blushing cheeks from your father. When you look back up your father raises his eyebrow as he studies your face for a moment before a smile reaches his mouth.

“Maybe throw in one of the sweet pastries I made this morning,” he adds.

You nod and head to the front, wrapping up the freshest loaf and sweetest looking pastries in the brown paper and placing them in your basket. You shouted to the back, telling your father that you were leaving and he came out to wish you goodbye. His hands were behind his back, asking you to close your eyes. You felt a tug on your hair slightly before your father tapped your shoulder to open your eyes. He had a metal pan in his hand, moving it to show you the back of your hair. 

There was a lily in your braid now, placed in simply. You smiled and hugged your father. The two of you had been close with your mother dying not long after you were born and no other siblings.

“Beautiful, sweetheart,” he opened the door and watched as you began your walk to the blacksmiths.

On the way there you pass by the patch of lilies your father must have picked the flower from this morning, stopping to reach down to them. You place the basket on the ground next to you before plucking another and placing it underneath the string that is wrapped around the bakings for Pero. 

You stand up and brush the dirt off your skirts before finishing your walk to the blacksmiths. The heat from the shop is astounding and you can feel it warm your skin before you have even reached the steps inside.

The same beautiful sight as earlier is before your eyes as Pero continues working on the metal. You take the steps slowly so not to startle him before knocking gently at the wooden door. He looks up, his dark eyes meeting yours once again, and stops in his work. He quickly moves his hands causing the fire to cease from roaring as wildly.

“S-sorry to interrupt Mr T- I mean Pero,” you see a smile play on his lips as you stumble over your words, “you forgot your loaf yesterday so I brought you a fresh one. Some sweet pastries too to say thank you for helping my father, the new bread tray works wonderfully.”

Pero walks over to a bowl of water by the other side of the wall, thoroughly cleaning his hands before walking over to you. As you hand over the basket his hands grip the handle on top of yours, grunting a thank you as he places it on the table next to you both. 

He reaches for the contents of the basket, stopping when he notices the lily. His large hands, although rough and calloused, lift the flower out with such care as he holds it in one hand.

“I’m sorry I- I don’t know why I-” your voice trails away suddenly embarrassed by your inclusion of the flower in the basket.

Pero turns to face you and for the first time he has a real smile on his face. One that shows the crinkles at the side of his eye and dimple at the side of his cheek. He reaches to the back of your hair, touching it gently. 

“El lirio.”

“Sorry?”

“That is their name in Spanish,” he explains.

“And that is where you are from?”

He nods, the smile still on his lips. He looks younger and softer and although it lasts for only a moment before his usual scowl take over it makes your heart stop in your chest. 

He turns back to the basket, lifting out the carefully wrapped sweet pastries before moving to the steps outside the shop. He sits down, moving so there is enough space next to him for you to sit as well. He takes out both pastries, handing you one as you sit down before taking the other for himself. 

You eat in the quiet for a moment, watching wide eyed as Pero swallows the large pastry in two bites before starting your own. The stable boy passes by, stopping to say hello. He asks how your father is and you his before you introduce him and Pero to one another. The boy’s smile is wiped off his face when Pero grunts in response, ignoring the outstretched hand. You offer an apology with your eyes as he leaves.

“You know, you might make some friends if you aren’t so rude,” you tease, nudging him with your elbow.

He looks at you, grunting again and rolling his eyes.

“There are nice people here. People who like to help one another.” You begin to tell him about some of the villagers, like the landlady who serves extra large portions of soup to people who can’t afford the biggest bowls or the farmer who lets the children run through his field as a shortcut to the river and the same children who take every step slower than usual to make sure they don’t accidentally stand on the crops.

Pero listens carefully, his eyes on you the whole time as you smile and tell him about the villagers. 

“I think you will fit in well here. It is a kind village and I can see the kindness in your eyes, Pero.” 

You look down the street and see your father’s head poke out of the bakery. You give him a wave letting him know you will be there soon and stand up.

“Sorry for distracting you,” you wave inside at the fire that is near dying out.

“No,” Pero quickly stops you, “don’t be sorry.”

He had not spoke to someone this long in a while. Well, he had not listened to another speak to him this long in a while. He liked hearing you speak, noticing the way you smiled extra wide as you spoke about the children who splash down in the river before it dries up in summer. You were soft and gentle, your voice almost so quiet he would not be able to hear unless he leaned in slightly. He didn’t know why you were paying him such mind but he liked it. And he liked you.

You turn to look at the fire one more time before you leaving, taking in all the tools surrounding his workshop. You notice a board on the table with small discs covering it.

“What is this?” you ask as you step in and reach to pick up one of the black circles.

“Checkers.”

“A game,” you ask and he nods.

He watches you play with the disc in your hand before gently placing it back down where it was.

“Thank you again, Pero,” you stop by the door turning to face him.

He is standing close enough that you can feel the heat radiate off of him and your senses are filled with his smell. Fire and smoke with a hint of sweetness from the pastries. You can’t stop yourself as you stand on your toes, placing a hand on his upper arm to brace yourself as you place a kiss to his cheek choosing to place it on his scar below his eye. You hear his breath stop for a moment, his eyes closing upon the feeling of your lips on his skin.

As you step back he nods shakily, standing by the door and watching as you walk back to the bakery until he can’t see you any longer. When he turns back the fire has completely died down, grunting as he moves to relight it.

When you walk inside the bakery, your father is waiting behind the counter a smug smile on his face.

“Did Mr Tovar enjoy the pastries?” 

“Yes,” you nod as you wrap an apron around your body to protect your shirt and skirts from the flour.

“And the company?” your father raises his eyebrow.

“Papa,” you groan and your father chuckles

“He seems like a good man. I can see it in his eyes,” your father gives you a kiss on the cheek before moving into the back again.

You nod to yourself. He is a good man and you hope to see more of him.

//

Permanent tag list //  @phoenixhalliwell @asta-lily @hb8301

[daydreamingatnight209]

Part 2 of my Azriel Fic.

Please see the first part of content warning and remember, minors please do not engage or interact as this is a 18+ post!

“Alpha- Male Bullshit”

Part 2

Azriel x Female Reader - part 2

Warnings- See part 1 for all warnings. All parts will be available on my Masterlist, Soon 💞☁️

——————————————————

Azriel was dumbfounded. What had happened?

Had you felt the mating bond? Did you reject it? His head was buzzing, he couldn’t get his thoughts in a straight line.

He made his way back up to his own room but found Lucien waiting outside the door, grinning.

“You know for someone who’s supposed to be her mate, you’re sure a lousy one. She doesn’t even KNOW it. She needs a real man in her life”

Azriel sneers. His blue Siphon’s glowing in warning under the low light.

“And I suppose that’s you?”

Lucien laughs.

“Well obviously”

At that, Azriel didn’t hold back. A loud crunch! echoes through the landing as his hand connects with Lucien’s jaw.

Bruises form as he tackles him to the floor, skin breaks and blood oozes down the delicate fae’s face.

Azriel continues to pummel Lucien, all sense of control lost, even his shadows had disappeared.

Azriel didn’t even feel Rhysand appear behind him with Cassian and Feyre.

Feyre gasps as it took both Cassian and Rhys to pull the shadowsinger from Lucien, who was now completely unrecognisable.

Azriel let out a low nasty growl. A warning.

“Let. Me. Go.”

Both of his brothers had him pinned up against a wall, as Feyre attended to the injured male on the floor.

“Get him out of here” Rhysand commanded his wife, the rare tone of authority evident.

Feyre wastes no time removing Lucien from the scene, taking him far enough so that the others could release their brother in arms.

I leave you two alone with my son for a night and THIS HAPPENS? What the hell Az?!”

Rhys exclaims.

“He treats her like she is his property! It’s wrong. He can’t go around thinking he can just help himself!”

Neither Rhys nor Cassian could find the right thing to say. They knew exactly how Azriel felt. The bond clicked in place for him, he was just out here on edge, waiting for a response...

———————————————

When I awoke the next morning, I was surprised to see what I slept through. Lucien’s face was filled with shades of blue and purple, his only working eye was swollen and there was a majority of cuts slowly healing.

I stood still, taking in his appearance, trying to hide the shock.

“What the, erm, what the hell happened?”

My mouth was dry. What had I missed?

“Your mate, that’s what happened. Your precious Azriel” Lucien growls.

Lucien wasn’t happy. He had spent the night with Rhysand discussing the lady that now stood in front of them both. Rhysand needed to keep the spring court ties available but that didn’t stop him from telling Lucien that he needed to keep his toe in line. What he did was wrong, and Lucien knew that. He didn’t have a leg to stand on.

“10 on him lasting two thrusts” Rhys whispers to Cassian.

Cassian scoffs “50 that he comes the moment his dick is in her mouth”

But for me, the word Mate just spun around and around in my head.

I felt my throat close up as I spun around on my heel.

My body lunged forward, and I begin to sprint up the staircase.

I found myself outside the spy masters bedroom and I was knocking rapidly on the door.

It flung open and I lost my footing. I landed in a familiar pair of arms.

Tears well up in my eyes as I stare into his own. It was like peering into another’s soul.

“You’re, you’re my ... my mate” I whisper.

I felt a sudden nudge and was pressed against his body.

Those pesky shadows.

Azriel places his scarred hands against my soft rosey cheeks. I lean in but I’m hesitant.

I try to pull away but Azriel brushes his thumb over my lip. He has his own glossy tears falling.

“Please” he begs.

It didn’t take much convincing.

“Okay” I mouth, slowly wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders.

He kissed away the stray tears from my face before our lips joined, they were damp, and the kiss was gentle.

I run a small hand through his raven hair, he pulls back, and I rest my forehead against his, eyes closed tight.

I felt his breathing become steady, matching my own.

I didn’t have to speak for him to know.

“I accept you as my mate forever and always shadow-singer, just as you accept me”

He lifted me with very little effort and carried me to the king sized bed in the middle of his darkly lit room.

I felt him harden against me, causing me to groan, just as he drops me smack bang in the middle of the mattress.

I immediately wrap my legs around his waist bringing him back to me.

He leaves a trail of harsh kisses down my face and travels to my neck. He stopped in the middle and bites down gently, just piercing the skin slightly, as a trickle of blood slides down, he licks it and sucks on the wound causing me to gasp.

He laughs ever so softly as I reach to undo his belt and wrestle with his top. Azriel mirrors my actions, ripping away the satin nightgown, leaving me exposed.

I felt the sudden urge to cover up, but he stops me.

“Don’t” he whispers.

“Do you trust me?”

I couldn’t do anything but nod.

He pinned my hands above my head and let go. When I try and pull them back down, I am met with resistance.

I look at him for a moment slightly confused until I take notice of his missing shadows.

I look back up to my wrists and see that they are keeping me in place.

Azriel is smirking proudly and if I didn’t sound crazy, I’d say his shadows were laughing at me.

Azriel looks down, surveying every inch of me, like he was committing it to memory.

I was suffering from the lack of contact and released a small whimper to alert him of my needs.

His fingers dance down my body as I wait in anticipation.

The first lick of his tongue sent a chill down my spine. I moaned in approval as he continued to tease me while I remained unable to do anything.

Soon his fingers replaced his tongue and the first pump almost had my eyes rolling to the back of my head.

My body arched, completely at his mercy as my climax neared.

“Your mine” he snarled, just as I went over the edge.

“I’m yours” I whispered, half sobbing at the intense pleasure I was feeling.

I ride out my orgasm and his shadows release me, hiding within my lover, as if they didn’t want to spoil this moment.

My arms shoot up towards him and a wicked gleam enters my eye.

I stroke his right wing and watch as he shudders.

He gives me a look of warning dominance, but I just continue my actions.

His cock twitched.

I caress his body as delicate whimpers escape him. I wanted to play the long game, but it looked like Azriel couldn’t wait any longer.

He nudged my entrance and looked at me for reassurance.

I nodded and he slid in.

I could hardly breathe as he slowly filled me. It burned slightly but that soon disappeared as he begun to play with my breasts. Taking his time with each nipple as he moved carefully inside me. My eyes fluttered shut and once I had adjusted, I’m opened them to see him smiling down at me.

It was a vulnerable smile; one I doubt anyone else would ever see.

The pace quickened as I let out a series of moans, each louder then the last.

He thrusted deeper and faster each time and that’s when I felt it.

That familiar sense of euphoria I experienced that night in the kitchen, I knew it wasn’t just a climax. It had to be the bond. With each pound into me the sense of euphoria grew ever more intense and the bond became clearer and clearer.

My body lifted from the bed as release tore through me, Azriel following suit shortly after, a low rumbling roar that definitely echoed though the house, escaped him.

Our bodies were damp and limp by the time we had finished, I curled into him for the night.

I felt at peace lay upon his chest, holding his wounded hands in mine. He was reluctant for me to hold them at first, but I just kissed them softly, words weren’t needed but I said then anyways.

“Never be ashamed Azriel for I love every part of you, no matter how scarred, no matter how damaged. I love you”

That night Azriel slept, a true deep sleep, for the first time in long time.

——————————————————

I awoke the next morning with Azriel’s arms wrapped tightly around me as memories from yesterday evening came flooding in.

I smile and cuddle back into him, only to find him awake.

“Morning” I mumble.

“Morning”

His voice was husky, and his chest was bare. I tried to ignore the pooling wetness between my legs but to no avail.

I sat a top of him and slowly move down to his shaft. I lick slowly and watch him as he tries to show restraint.

I continue the slow and tortuous pace before a series of bangs on the door scare me enough to fall back into the bed.

I roll my eyes as Cassian’s voice travels through the wall.

“Good morning lovebirds! Let’s get up and out, we have training”

There was a pause and I could practically hear his smirk in the next sentence that left his mouth.

“Oh, and Y/N if he didn’t make you scream loud enough, I sure as hell could”

I didn’t even see Az leap from the bed and throw open the bedroom door.

A wild snarl ripped itself from Azriel as he whirled on Cassian.

Cassian laughs as Azriel’s fist clashed with his jaw, but before it could get any further, I grabbed a pillow and launched it at both of them. It caught their attention long enough for me to say, “Cut it out with the alpha male bullshit already”

Rhysand’s voice boomed from the bottom of stairs.

“Y/N is right, take it to the bloody training ring. Stop ruining the house”

It was two hours later that Azriel returned looking like he had just faced death itself and survived.

I look up from my seat in the bed where I had been reading my book and simply said.

“I don’t even want to see the state of Cassian”

[memes-saved-me]

No mirrors. That was the rule if Billy was going to stay with Steve after being discharged from intensive care. Gone or covered up for when he got there. A demand that threw Steve because Billy had always had mirrors around, looked for his reflection in car windows and television screens. Not anymore.

It wasn't until Steve saw him walking out of the hospital exit that he understood why, he knew himself that he would feel exactly the same way. His hair completely gone, hia hands shaking as he opened the passenger door and slipped inside carefully. That was when he truly understood the reasoning, his face.

His once perfectly even tanned complexion replaced by a scar running across from his left cheek, over his nose and just missing his right eye splitting his eyebrow in half. Raw and red contrasting with his now pale skin, still healing like the rest of him. His cheeks more hollow than Steve remembered, his shoulders smaller and the fire in his eyes completely gone.

This was the shell of the boy who once beat him half to death. The same boy who challenged his every move, watched him for a year at a distance. Except, it wasn't him. Not anymore.

It wasn't like he was the first option for where he would go. Joyce had left town before he was released, Hopper gone and Max refusing to let him return home. Her reasoning being a valid argument that Steve couldn't disagree with.

They weren't enemies, just not really friends but at a mutual understanding. The kind of understanding that somehow leads to a very confusing hand job in the toilets at prom, which would have definitely went further if someone hadn't banged on the door needing a drunken shit.

Steve had thought of visiting, for that moment's sake but Max had turned him away. Explained he didn't want anyone to see him, something he now understood. So he stayed away, asked for updates and eventually offered his spare bedroom for him to hide in until....well whatever was next.

A hey and a thanks were exchanged before Steve took off for home, nothing else being said until Billy followed Steve through the front door with his hood thrown up, eyes glued to the floor.

"Thanks for this," He said, almost whispered as Steve put his bags down.

"No problem, man."

The Mindflayer had swallowed up Billy Hargrove, a boy filled with fear and rage only to spit him back out barely recognisable. He'd had a run down of his medical file, chlorine and bleach to the stomach means so strong foods for a long time. Temporary brain damage that faded but could reoccur if he has an episode caused by some sort of trigger or PTSD. Damage to his lungs causing asthma and frequent attacks. A list of medication and appointments up until next year.

It was a miracle he was standing there. Different but alive.

On the third day into his stay Steve caught a glance at his body as he climbed out of the shower with the door half open. Scars running up his sides, an explosion on white tissue on his chest and back. What looked almost like white vines crawling up his arms to his elbows. No mirrors made more and more sense the more Steve saw.

Billy didn't sleep, if he did he woke up yelling for help. Causing Steve to instinctively come running along the landing to see if he was alright, only to find him curled in a ball with streams of tears down his cheeks.

It was gut wrenching to see him like this, his life now a living nightmare he couldn't escape and all Steve could do was feed him and check his meds. That was until one night as he turned to leave he heard; "Wait."

"Do you need a drink or something?" Steve replied.

"Stay with me. Please," For the first time since he had picked him up their eyes met.

"Okay."

At first he crawled in beside him and turned over to face away from the boy, the feelings he was still trying to figure out. Then he began sleeping in his bed every night, running his fingers down his back to calm him. Eventually their fingers entwined, bodies getting closer and closer until their faces were mere centimetres apart in the darkness of the spare bedroom.

"You know prom?" Steve asked, Billy eyes fluttering open.

"Yeah."

"I think about it a lot you know?"

"Really? I thought you were too drunk to remember all that," Billy replied and Steve shifted his body closer.

"I wanted it to keep going."

"Oh," Billy breathed and looked away for a second.

"I think I like you.. a lot."

There was a silence, the kind that makes you want to shove whatever you had just said right back into your mouth and run away to Spain.

"I've liked you since I got here. I was just drunk enough to actually try it at prom so when you went with it I thought it was going to happen again but," This was the most he had spoken in two weeks. "Then summer happened and well..."

"Really?" Steve asked. "Do you still like me?"

"Yeah."

It was as if his body moved before his brain could process it. Their lips met soft, gentle. Just long enough to remind Steve of that toilet stall. "Wow."

"But my face...my body..it's-."

"It's what? Scarred? Injured and healing? So what?" Steve interrupted him.

After that Billy began to smile every so often, at dumb jokes or whenever Steve walked past him. Billy moved into Steve's room, their bodies now pressed up against eachother to help stop the night terrors. Which it somehow did, expect for the odd few that nearly sent Steve flying out of bed with his heart in his throat.

The scars didn't fade but the idea of their hideousness did, ever so gradually with Steve's help. Every late night lying entwined half naked and exhausted as he traced the white lines on his chest helped more than he would ever know. Every nice word used to describe them, every sharpy line making them into pictures of badly drawn animals making Billy laugh. Smile.

Still no mirrors. A rule that fully added itself up when Billy confessed it wasn't just his appearance but the memories of staring at himself trying to figure out what was happening to him. Watching the reflection of himself put Heather into the bathtub, catch glimpses of himself in the rear view mirror of his car. So no mirrors it was, at least for now.

But that was more than fair considering how far he bad come, his hair growing in patchy and awkward but neither of them cared because it really didn't matter. His doctor explained it would simply he up to his body how long it took to fix itself, a fact Billy nodded along to and later groaned about during the ride back home.

Domestic bliss at times, horrible and scary at others. Some nights filled with laughter, others with tears and worry. Highs and lows but the lows becoming less and less frequent as time went on.

A whispered I love you so much and a returned I love you more than anything I could have ever imagined shared under a blanket in the dark. Followed by slow and careful sex. The only kind Billy could manage but this was different. A moment to remember. Just another in the many they had already shared, along with the many to come.

[momocicerone]

Rush

Fandom: Detective Conan / Case Closed

Pairing: Miyano Shiho | Haibara Ai / Kudo Shinichi | Edogawa Conan

Genre and Rating: Romance/Supernatural; T

Summary: “And you’re either terribly cruel or incredibly naive to ignore the imminent repercussions. You’re a walking feast in front of a starving predator, Miyano-san. This can’t end well for either of us.”

A/N:  Written for the Coai Mysterium Fanzine back on June, you can download it for free on :coai.itch.io/mysterium-fanzine

Support me on ko-fi: @ momocicerone

.

-

.

“ Breathe. ”

The word that was meant as a demand comes off sounding like a plea, ragged and desperate as the subject twists his body uncomfortably, the hard edges of his leather restraints painting deeper shades of purple in his paper-white skin. 

Shiho casts an inquisitive look at the creature tightly strapped to her examination chair. The once tall and menacing figure is now curled up on his shoulders, his dark disheveled hair falling over his face and hiding his eyes away. A subtle quivering has taken over his scar-struck body, turning his breathing into erratic, strained puffs of air. 

Pushing back the urge to sweep the bangs off his face so she can meet his gaze, she manages to swallow through the knot in her throat and ask in a somewhat calm tone. 

“I beg your pardon?”

The creature lets out a faint groan, slowly raising his head to look at her with those mystifying blue eyes that draw her in like a moth to the fire. She clutches her writing board tighter to her chest, his voice broken velvet in her ears.

“When you hold your breath like that, your blood— it rushes like mad. I can feel your blood pressure going up.”

“You can feel it?”

He hazards a slightly condescending smile through his discomfort. 

“Does that bother you?”

Shiho holds his stare for a long second before pushing her reading glasses up the bridge of her nose. 

Deep breaths. 

She scribbles something intelligible into her notebook. 

“What else can you feel?”

He seems to consider for a brief second if he should answer at all, then purses his lips in a dismissive pout before elaborating.  

“Your heartbeat. Every vein pulsing in your body… the surge of blood that rushes through your neck— and now you’re blushing .” He observes with amusement, the smile now turning into a smirk. His blue eyes shine with mirth, curiosity written all over his features. “Alas, you aren’t very qualified to be doing this, are you? Or is that why you’re here… did they handpick you to test me?”

She straightens her back, her pen furiously carving her embarrassment into her papers. If for whatever reason he’s trying to rile her up, he’ll have to try harder.

“You’re deluding yourself, Kudo-san,” the scientist simply answers.

Inexplicably, he chuckles. A resigned, tortured sound that’s devoid of amusement.

“And you’re either terribly cruel or incredibly naive to ignore the imminent repercussions. You’re a walking feast in front of a starving predator, Miyano-san. This can’t end well for either of us.”

“Well, it won’t for you, if you don’t cooperate,” she reminds him coldly. He sure seems confident for someone who’s tied up to a chair with tubes coming out of them. “So I suggest you cut the bullshit right now. Your intimidation game is pitiful, if that’s what you’re trying to do.”

“Yet you’re still blushing. I wonder why.”

Her lips purse into a frown.

“It’s called aggravation.”

Shinichi tilts his head as a lopsided smile spreads lazily on his lips.

“Look at that, you’re actually cute when you lie. Who would have thought?.”

The strawberry blonde rolls her eyes, taking a deep breath that turns into a sigh. 

“How’s the synthetic blood working?”

The sudden change of topic seems to work in her favor, she notices as he makes a face of absolute disgust, all condescension gone.

“Horribly, thanks for asking. Can we go back to chicken blood before I die of food poisoning?”

Her eyes wander from his messy dark hair to the dull-white skin of his face, the dark circles under his eyes augmented by his hollow cheekbones. She concedes.

“You do look terrible, I’ll give you that. ”

He snorts in good humor and deadpans.

“Gee. Thanks for noticing.”

And the simple gesture shouldn’t make her want to laugh in response — it’s unprofessional and frankly speaking, a bit heartless of her. But the man has always managed to trigger the most unexpected reactions from her since he was brought into her lab half a year ago. She should know better than to break the unspoken rule number one — she should know better than to get attached to her test subject.

Shiho nibbles her lower lip, trying to ward off the intrusive thoughts as she doodles some words into her notes.

“But we can’t give up this early, no. I’m sorry, but you’ll just have to endure a little longer before we can evaluate changing your treatment.”

A pained, angry expression distorts his face.

“It’s futile. You know it. There’s no cure.”

“We can’t be sure unless we try.”

“You can’t treat this like some sort of illness!”

She closes her notebook and looks at him with genuine curiosity.

“You don’t think you’re sick? Kudo-san, you’re barely human anymore.”

He breaks into a derisive laugh, so loud and sudden it takes her by surprise.

“Well, so are you,” he wheezes, bitterness dripping off every word. “We aren’t that different, you know. Or are you going to pretend that you don’t know what happens here, what they do to us? Where’s your humanity that you speak so highly of? So full of yourself, when you don’t even have the guts to stand by when they cut me open. You aren’t any different from them or from me, Miyano-san. So you might as well choose a side.”

The accusation burns like hot steel on flesh, her conscience charred with guilt and embarrassment. She’s quick to brush those thoughts aside, telling herself she shouldn’t fall for his mind games. 

“Choose a side?” She scoffs, finding the thought nothing short of outrageous. “What do you mean by that?”

He leans as forward as his cuffs allow him to, his voice a solemn whisper.

“Let me go. I can protect you.”

She forgets how to breathe, which is maybe the reason why his face twists into a painful wince. Gathering herself, she feigns nonchalance.

“ Tempting . I’m afraid I shall decline your offer, though. You see, eternal damnation isn’t currently on my list.”

Their eyes meet for the longest couple of seconds before he lets himself fall back into his seat with a resigned sigh. However, the daunting smirk never leaves his lips.

“ Eternal damnation, huh?” He chortles with levity. “What was that about science and cures again? You can’t have both. And for the record, I wasn’t asking for your soul.”

“It was a rhetorical statement.” She snaps, irritated by his condescension. “Besides, if you really are what they say… why would you still have a heartbeat?”

“I’m cursed, not dead.”

“Well, I’d like very much to un-curse you, then. If you would kindly stop complaining.”

Shinichi laughs again, and the sound makes her insides twirl with an unknown feeling she’s starting to get used to.

“If breaking the curse is what you want, shouldn’t you try doing it the old-fashioned way?” He has the gall to joke, cheeky attitude and all.

Shiho’s face turns as red as her hair, and the man in the chair anguishes at her reaction — but that’s his own damn fault for making such outlandish jokes! She raises her chin, shooting him a disdainful, evaluating look.

“Last time I checked, you resembled a bat, not a frog.”

“ Ouch. ”

“...And for the record , I wasn’t offering.” 

“Your soul?” He grins brazenly. “Or a kiss?”

“Neither,” she remarks curtly.

Although, judging by the way his laughter starts a turmoil of fluttering butterflies in her heart, she’s starting to suspect either offer would inevitably lead to the other. 

[absurdthirst]

Kinda personal request but idk okay so :"with loving eyes he said "that's my biggest regret, not being able to save you from her. and I know I didn't know you, but still." "" with mando, reader from abusive home, mum mostly. Mando maybe getting her the reader away from there, but like its "too late" in a sense idk 🤷

**Ouch my heart. Don’t worry, Mando will protect you, always. 

Safe

The first time he had seen the scars on your body, you were unconscious. He hadn’t been concerned with much beyond getting the bleeding to stop and applying the bacta spray. Only when you were no longer in danger and he was cleaning you up did he realize that the small, silvery lines on your body were scars. Whip marks, crudely healed and marring your skin.

He wasn’t unused to scars. He was a Mandalorian. Under the beskar and fabric that hid his entire body from the galaxy, his skin was littered with scars. Ragged and sometimes ugly, each one of them telling a story of violence. It was expected with his religion, his entire way of life was being a warrior. And you were no warrior, those marks weren’t earned in battle.

The first time Mando had seen you was on a tiny planet. A skughole that he was trying to get the Crest repaired enough to limp towards a planet with a decent mechanical bay. You had timidly offered your services. At first he had been about to dismiss your offer, but then he had looked at you.

You were trembling, obviously terrified of him but still offering to help him. You were jumpy and he had learned that sudden movement or loud bangs made your nerves freak out. Still you stood in front of a man covered in head to toe armor and offered kindness.

You hadn’t talked much, but he knew that you were in a bad spot. He couldn’t leave you behind. Telling you he needed a mechanic and a babysitter for the kid, his heart had broken at how quickly you had to hide the tears that sprang up in your eyes. Claiming you had nothing to gather up, you had refused to leave the ship for even a moment once he had shown you what the conditions were like on the inside, making sure you were okay with the living arrangements.

After you had come to, he had waited for a few hours before he asked. You hadn’t said much but he could read between the lines. You had a rough upbringing. Your mother had not been the type of mother that she should have been. In Mandoa, he would have called her ori’dush. In Basic, the word was simply evil.

Since that day, he had done everything he could to make you feel safe. You knew that he had a dangerous job, made even more so by the addition of the Child. He was a wanted man, by both the New Republic and the remnants of the Empire.

But even with half the galaxy after him, he tried to make life better for you. He learned that you were fine with the silence, enjoying it even. When he did speak, he made sure that his tone was light, his voice soft as he joked with you. Maker, he had never tried to tell so many jokes before, but the sight of you lighting up with joy was worth it.

Right now you are asleep. Curled up into a small ball on the cot that he had bought for you in some market on Arkon 5. Your blankets tightly bunched around your body protectively. You had at least stopped having nightmares, although he missed having you join him up in the cockpit when you had woken up. The urge to pull you against him like he does with the child and comfort you was overwhelming at times.

He kneels down next to the cot, tugging the cover just a bit higher and watching as you snuggle into it. Gloved fingers reach out and tentatively brush back the hair from your face. He never touched you often, always afraid you would flinch back from him. Never wanting to see the trapped expression in your eyes and know that he put it there.

Tonight though, he was drawn to you. You had opened up a bit more about the life you had before him. About the inability to escape until he had shown up. You couldn’t have known it because of his helmet, but he had tears in his eyes as he listened to what you had gone through. He had lost his parents in war, but while the Mandalorians weren’t the most emotional, he had never felt unwanted or unloved.

“I wish you knew how much I regret it. Not being able to save you from her.” He murmurs, stroking your hair gently. “I know I didn’t know you, but still….” He imagined a time before he had sworn the Creed, coming out with the Death Watch and finding you. Having you cling to him while he swept you away from your previous life. Maybe you wouldn’t shy away from him like you do now.

He sighs, unclipping his cape and draping it over your sleeping form. His eyes softening as he watches you turn towards the warm material, burying your nose against the fabric that smelled like him and sighing in your sleep. For now, keeping you safe was good enough. Maybe one day he could help heal old scars. Not the physical ones, but the ones that had been burned into your heart and mind.

MasterList

Permanent Tag List:

@synystersilenceinblacknwhite @thewaythisis @thisis-theway @hanelijoy @readsalot73 @ah-callie @cable-kenobi @roxypeanut @arrowswithwifi @badassbaker @javierpenaspinkshirt @wickedfrsgrl @lilangeldevil006 @fioccodineveautunnale @jade10077 @getinthepoolkeanu @kirstiehenderson29 @fleurdemiel145 @thirsty-flygirl @random066 @pascalisthepunkest @whataenginerd @tangledlove27 @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @gamingaquarius @the-baby-bookworm @jaime1110 @yamaktaria @perksofbeingivyy @earl-01 @gooddaykate @emesispo @deathlife97 @dindisneydjarin @a-ghost-in-the-tardis @veil-of-time @dornish-queen @theocatkov @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @sheerfreesia007 @apples-of-february @talesfromtheguild @visintaes @mandolover86 @whiskeyxinxaxteacup @immortalstarme @promiscuoussatan @takemepedropascal @katheriner1999 @nerdypinupcrystal @artemiseamoon @paintballkid711 @sirianisrock @engineeredfiction @frietiemeloen @mstgsmy @lilkermit14 @mrschiltoncat @dearspacepirates @starwarswh0re @thatgirlselectryc @lark-cale @hayley-the-comet @phoenixhalliwell @pedroepascal @501theory @spacegayofficial @thegreenkid @chicken-nugget-puta @corrupt-fvcker @im-just-here-for-cake @dindjarinscape @ohpedromypedro @moonlightburned @flightlessangelwings @f0rever15elf @kenedyybrooklin @mrsparknuts @lonelystarship @awessomness @chibi-liz05 @ilikechocolatemilkh @babybelou @melon-eyes @arabellathorne @aeryntheofficial @the-wishmonger @onabouteverything @goblinqueen95 @ladytrashbird @awhiskeywithawinchester @thirstworldproblemss @66wookies @luvzoria @xxidontwikeitxx @jedi-mando @castiel-barnes @20skai @rach7 @wanderlustmags @barnes-dameron @neontonberry @artsymaddie @andriecastana @kyberpoe @wigwitch @corellians-only @honeymandos @edencherries

Mando Tag List:

@inforapound @ellvswriting @hp-marvel-starwars-kotlc @i-am-sleepy-as-heck @vesperstalksclones @kiwibaekie @breezey @thekingofthegoats @altarsw @iwasbusybeingdead

[aelingalathyniusrailme]

my attempt at fanfiction it is smutty

(also in azriels perspective)

azriel was leaning against the ledge of the balcony at the river house, a glass of wine in his hand and his gaze far away. he stared out at the city he loved and the sidra beneath him when he heard a shuffle of feet , a small bang and a nasty curse.

“hi love,” he said into the air, putting his glass down. gwyn blushes and bites her lip, sliding underneath him so his arms are wrapped around her. he is content to just stand there as they watch the humming city. his head quieted and his swirling shadows calmed as they tended to do in her presence. az could feel the mating bond glowing between them strong but soft and sweet like an endless melody. he heard the song between their soul’s mine, it seemed to say, you are mine and I am yours.

gwyn breaks the silence asking what he’s doing out here and he tells her “it’s funny I’ve been doing this for 500 years and even now it can be overwhelming.”

she nods “every so often I feel like it would be so much easier to just go back into the library and hide from all this.” she gestures to the lit-up city in front of them.

“gwyn” he turns her head around so she’s looking at him “you know that if you wanted to go back I would fully support you. I’d miss you like crazy but I’d support you.” and she gives him a broad smile, the one that makes his heart pound and his head dizzy.

“I know but I am ready to live and I want to do it with you.” he smiles but words don’t feel like enough so instead he grabs her hand, spins her around, pulling her close to him, and kisses her. letting his actions tell her everything his words can’t and when she kisses him back his head is dizzy and he knows he could get drunk on the feeling. like he’s the question and she’s the answer, as if he had been singing the same hopeless song for 500 years and than she came and gave it life. gwyn let out a soft gasp and with that single sound, he knows he could come undone.

they break apart for a second and she looks at him in a way that only she, ever has, with her hands around his neck, face rosy with a healthy flush “I love you az.” his heart strains and he understands now, that this is love, this is real, and he had never been in love before. not in a way that mattered. azriel knows they should stay but can’t find it in himself to waste this moment so he wraps them in his shadows and winnows them to his secret apartment, the one that not even rhys knows about. he turns them and pushes her against the wall with a scarred hand pressed against the stone and the other stroking her jaw. he moves it up and with the barest whisper of a touch, traces the constellations in her freckles. getting lost in the intensity of her teal eyes and the feeling of her skin he forgets to respond so she tilts her head expectantly.

he laughs, the sound deep and real “I love you too.” gwyn raises her eyebrows as if to say go on and azriel can’t believe he ever felt a fraction of what he felt for her, for anyone else “I love the way your nose scrunches when you get excited. I love your smile and the way you light up every room you walk into. I love that you’re a competitive asshole.” she looks at him with mock hurt and he brushes a hair from her face. “I love the face you make when I catch you reading smut and you pretend you aren’t. I love how brave you are.” his voice turns huskier and drenched with arousal. “I love how you taste.” he licks his lips. grazing her ear with his teeth “I love the way you moan when I’m inside you.” gwyn lets out a whimper. az smirks “yeah just like that.”

“Are you sure we should’ve left?” gwyn asks halfheartedly, her eyes avoiding him. he grips her chin softly but firmly to make her look at him. he brushes a finger over the curve of her mouth and she brings her tongue out to meet it. the sight makes his cock strain against the confines of his pants. he can smell the change in her scent, the sweetness of her arrousal and his pants tighten further.

his eyebrows raise full of amusement and lust, “oh yeah this is much more important.”

she bites her lip “mmm”

“now will you let me go back to listing all of the reasons I love you,” he says as he trails kisses from her jaw going lower and lower. he lifts her shirt to reveal her chest.

“we might be here a-ohh” she moans not getting a chance to finish her sentence as az traces her nipple with his tongue. gwyn began to squirm but az held her arms tight above her head keeping her pinned as he sucked her tit while squeezing the other, feeling them go hard. he sucked and sucked, never wanting to stop hearing the sound of gwyn moaning, of her beneath him. she manages to get a hand free and immediately it goes to her slit but az bats it away. he lets out a low snarl, looks her in the eye and shakes his head.

“az” she pleads

“someone’s greedy today” he hums, still sucking. finally, he lifts his head only to capture her mouth in a possessive kiss as he carries them to their bed. he lays her down, gets on his knees, and purrs “I am going to worship you like never before”

“you better get to it then” gwyn tries to smirk but instead it comes out breathy. az chuckles as he trails his fingers up and down her thigh, every time getting closer and closer to her slit. finally, he moves his hand up and traces it as lightly as possible, emitting a shutter from gwyn. he starts to stroke her, avoiding her clit, wanting to enjoy gwyn’s reaction before tasting her because he knows once he starts he may never be able to stop. all at once az brings his head toward her and licks that one spot while simultaneously slipping a finger inside her. his tongue making deliciously slow circles while his hand pumps to the same rhythm. slowly but surely he begins to build up speed and pressure, going faster and faster, in and out and in and out. gwyns breath quickens and one hand grips the sheets while the other runs through his raven black hair, pushing him into her, desperately trying to get more friction. he happily obliged and then with a final push she jumped over the edge and climaxed, cumming on his expert tongue. he continued to flick and pump her past completion. her body squirming on the bed, her back arching in pleasure.

finally, he stood up with an expression only an arrogant cocky male could make “satisfied” the question was laced with a challenge he knew gwyn could never ignore. he unbuckled his pants ready to take control but instead, gwyn stood up with newfound energy. her stealth and speed could rival the spymaster in front of her.

she slipped in front of him enjoying the shock on her mates face. in his eyes, she read the question and with a devilish smirk, she responded “I guess you taught me well” and she pushed him down on the bed. he fell back with ease, az would swear that everything about this amazing female made him go weak in the knees. just one look, just one sniff of her amazing scent, just one taste and he could crumble. gwyn looked at his shadows pointedly as if she was speaking to them. his confusion must have shown because her smirk only broadened. suddenly he felt his hands being whipped back towards the headboard. he turned to look and it had seemed his shadows had pinned his hands, leaving him at her mercy. he felt his cock stiffen. holy shit he thought, the fantasy suddenly a reality. she walked to a dresser to the side of the bed, swinging her hips in the way she knew made him crazy. his eyes tracked her every movement as he licked his lips. she opened the doors and pulled out two colorful bands that seemed to shimmer in the moonlight. one blue, the color of his siphons, the other a vibrant teal, the color of her eyes. ribbons he realized with no small amount of delight, they were ribbons. his shadows released his right hand only for gwyn to replace their grip. she took it into her own and kissed the scars, as though to remind him he was no longer alone. gwyn then took the cobalt blue ribbon and tied his hand to the post. instead of going around, she straddled his waist to get to the other side of the bed. his breathing hitched.

az licked his lips, his throat going dry. “oh the things I would do to you if my arms weren’t pinned”

gwyn hopped off his lap as quickly as she hopped on going to his other arm. “like” she teased back.

“well I would fuck you until you couldn’t walk straight,” he said simply.

gwyn felt the increasing wetness begin to drip down her thighs but she refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction, “that is a very enticing offer, one that I will happily reclaim later but” she drawled

“but” he repeated.

she waited a moment, basking in the anticipation, then she trailed her arm down his toned body brushing it against his cock. she felt it twitch and heard az groan, gwyn grinned sweetly

“but today we play by my rules”

az felt it twitch again, the competitive asshole in him prayed she hadn’t seen but of course she noticed and her smirk was nothing short of feral. this, of course, did not help his raging hard-on and only managed to make him somehow want her more. now on the other side of the bed gwyn took his left hand and repeated the same steps she had taken on his right. kissing his hands and then tying it to the post with the teal ribbon. gwyn looked over him with a satisfied glance, “my ribbon” she teased in a sultry voice. she moved to the end of the bed, her body emitting a slight glow while azriel's shadows arranged themselves atop gwyn’s head to form a crown of shadows. she looked like a goddess, his goddess. gwyn ran her hand up and down the front of his pants, slowly undoing and pulling them off. she bent down and looked up at her mate, and said “try to last will you” azriel barely heard her as all he could think about was his throbbing cock and the female tormenting him. he tried to come up with a witty retort but then gwyn leaned in, took her tongue, and licked up the startling length of him, circling the head, shocking him from his thoughts. she teased and teased always going just a tad too light and slow. az tried to lift his hips but found he couldn’t. gwyn must have spelled the ribbons. his head was proud but his cock was pissed. gwyn smirked as if she knew what he was thinking. azriel let out a deep groan. the sound snapped her self-control and she took him into her mouth while using her hand to stroke the shaft. she bobbed her head up and down. az bucked knowing he couldn’t last much longer, one more stroke, one more lick and he knew it would have been over but instead, gwyn hopped off him, just stopping. he let out a complaint but it was muffled by gwyn seizing his lips with her own. the kiss was sweet but deadly and took azriel’s breath in a way he never knew was possible. gwyn lifted her head, grazing her teeth along his ear while her hand found its way to his dick. she stroked once as she whispered “cum for me”. with those dirty words from the cruel mouth of the female he loved more than life itself azriel exploded. released hit him like an avalanche, pleasure unlike any he’s ever known. he groaned her name and couldn’t remember his own. gwyn winked and said “I win” the magic holding him back broke and he smiled and flipped gwyn over holding her gaze.

her breath hitched and he smirked “not just yet.” gwyn laughed, her smile shining as he looked into his mates eyes, her hands around his neck. he lined himself up with her and slowly pushed in, letting her adjust to his length and girth. she bit her lip but a little moan still managed to escape.

“az” she groaned. he began to move inside her, forgetting where she ended and he began. he moved at a leisurely pace as if they had all the time in the world. gwyn wrapped her legs around his waist and flipped them over putting her on top.

“dominate little creature” he purred. she rode him fast with his hips lifting to meet hers, the mating bond a living breathing thing between them. it was a never-ending song between their souls, glowing. his shadows swirled around them, entangling themselves in gwyn’s hair and up and down her arms and legs as if they were home. as she rode him, she took his hands into hers and brought them up to her chest.

she looked him in the eye and said the words he had been waiting for 500 years to hear

“you’re mine”

together they came in ecstasy. pleasure racing through their conjoined bodies leaving them nothing short of fulfilled. azriel gripped her waist while gwyn arched into his touch. each other’s names, the only words they knew. both of them drunk on happiness.

gwyn jumped off az and fell back onto the enormous bed. they turned to look at each other. az ran his fingers through her soft flaming hair, twirling it between his fingers as though he was content to do so all day. he leaned with his lips hovering above hers and whispered “you’re mine too.”

[kaibacorpintern]

the wound

word count: ~2500

summary: kaiba has some pointed thoughts about yuugi’s recent cooking injury. platonic rivalshipping. post-DSOD

a/n: a woman has too many unfinished one-shots in her google drive so i’m making time to finish them instead of overthinking them (and never finishing them.) yes this is about cooking and yuugi and kaiba and depression. yes i have already written about this. whatever man. enjoy.

++++

Same time as usual. Two in the afternoon, on Saturdays. Same place as usual. The picnic table under the massive oak in the park, two blocks away from the Kame Game Shop and twenty minutes by subway from the station under the Kaiba Corp tower. Seto took the subway mostly out of scientific interest, taking a professional curiosity in the world Atem had wanted to live in, and because Atem had told him to enjoy it. What had he seen here, in the faded orange seats and bright pastel advertisements and the quiet scattering of human-not-Puzzle bodies? What had he felt, as the subway swayed around the curve in the tunnel, unseen in the darkness and known only by its momentum, making everyone sway with it? Hands curled around handrails and books. Fingers on phones. The train burst into daylight. The side of that girl’s head against the glass, watching Domino slide by with an equally glassy look in her eyes. Two layers between her and the city. Missing someone? Or just bored of life? 

He slunk off the subway, unnoticed and unknown, in an immaculate white hoodie and aviators, stainless steel water bottle dangling from one hand. Yuugi was waiting for him at the park entrance, as usual, wearing some kind of fashionable belted dark purple romper, with the usual tote bag full of games hanging from one hand. On the other hand, something unusual: his fingers stuck out from a half-formed mitten of gauze, giving his slender hand a clumsy, snub-nosed silhouette. He was having trouble holding his iced tea, thumb and fingers alligator-clamped around the lid. Someone had drawn a pair of flowers in pink marker across the back of the mitten, a bumper sticker of cheerful admonition: 🌺 BE CAREFUL! 🌺 Not Yuugi’s handwriting. 

“Hey,” Yuugi said. “How’re you doing? You sleeping better?”

Seto pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head, over his bangs, crown-like. 

“On and off,” he said, which was true. His nights were now vast, tossing oceans of insomnia between shores of just good-enough sleep. Last night he’d simply given up trying to swim and instead, for the first time in years, read a book for amusement instead of education. Some sci-fi novel Yuugi had mentioned and Seto bought on a lark from the bookstore in the subway station. Most of his amusement came from correcting the bad science in the margins, until he woke up at dawn with his glasses bent and his bed linens blotted like calico cats with black ink. “What happened to your hand?”

“Oh, this?” Yuugi said, lifting his mitten-hand. “So, I was making a ceviche yesterday…”

He told the story as they walked through the park to the oak tree: the protagonist was a ripe avocado, its tough, disingenuous alligator hide concealing a soft, buttery-green flesh. The arc of the conflict: avocado against knife, a natural antagonist. The climax: the knife, ignorant of its own bluntness and made arrogant by the shine of its own steel, slid off its trajectory like a failing rocket and plunged at speed through plant skin and plant flesh straight into human skin and human flesh. The resolution: two identical cuts, a half-opened avocado and a half-opened hand. Man versus fruit. 

"There was so much blood Otogi almost fainted," Yuugi said, thumping the tote bag onto the wooden table and straddling the bench sideways. "So we went to the ER and they stitched me up, and then when we got back home I finished making the ceviche. What game? You pick."

"Hive," Seto said. He couldn’t stop looking at his bandaged hand. It drew his attention like a glitch on a screen, an inescapable aberration. “Does it bother you?”

“I mean, it hurts, but whatever, you know?” Yuugi said, digging into his tote bag for the drawstring bag of wooden tokens. He spilled them onto the table in a clattering cascade of wood against wood. They rapidly sorted them out. “It’s not my first cooking accident.”

Seto raised his eyebrows. It was a testament to the amount of time they’d been spending together lately - every Saturday afternoon for a handful of hours, until he made some excuse to leave, and Yuugi accepted it not because he was gullible but because he knew Seto had a battery and it ran low - that he didn’t even need to ask a question, and Yuugi simply provided an answer, with examples.

“So, here, I was frying onion rings for Jounouchi, and I splattered hot oil all over my arm,” Yuugi said, lifting his hand and pointing out a haphazard constellation of white scars over his forearm. “Then here - I was baking cookies for Shizuka’s birthday and touched the tray fresh out of the oven with my bare hand, like a moron, I dueled Jounouchi after and drawing my cards was like, ow - ” he waggled his fingertips - “and this one is another burn - ” a long white ink-stroke across his wrist - “from when I was making ramen for Anzu, ‘cause she was home from New York. And this one - ”

More interesting than how and what were who. This burn for Honda’s birthday barbecue, that cut for Otogi’s game night. A violent kiss between blade and fingers behind a frothy veil of soapy water, cleaning up after a movie night. Another spray of oil splatters, frying tempura for his mother. A lot of meals for her, his grandfather, Jounouchi. Every scar Yuugi showed him had a name attached, almost all of them below the elbows, as though collected there for easy reference. Seto frowned as Yuugi's fingers flew over this map of friendships and family, their routes landmarked by midnight breakfasts, lazy brunches, beautifully-wrapped bento boxes. Something about it tasted sour to him, his tongue held tight and bitten between his teeth. All of his own scars had only one name.

“You probably think I’m a klutz,” Yuugi said, with a sheepish smile, sliding one of the wooden tokens into place around their hive. 

“I told you to stop doing that,” Seto said briskly. “I’m not some dumpster for all your insecurities. You think you’re a klutz. You have no idea what I think.”

“I - ” Yuugi started, and huffed, with another smile, his chosen defense against causing offense. “Sorry, force of habit - ”

“Forget it. You don’t ever cook for yourself?”

“Duh. Of course I do. And I eat what I make with everyone else. It’s not like I make a pizza for all my friends and just sit there watching them while they eat it,” Yuugi said. “But I like cooking for people. I love... nourishing them. Knowing they’re not going to go to bed hungry or anything, and I can make something for them that makes them feel good.”

Seto tapped a wooden token on the table, under the guise of thinking about the game but really thinking about the kind of friends Yuugi made, and how he made them. Jounouchi. Honda. Atem. Himself.

“Did you ever cook for Atem?” he said, because he couldn’t help it, and braced against the soft look that came his way, with a default smile, a pre-emptive look, I'm fine. this didn’t hurt me smile.

“Yeah,” Yuugi said. “I did.”

Like what? Did he like it? Did he help cook or did he just watch? Just the two of you or with everyone else? Tell me. What did you nourish him with? What do you think he’s eating now? I ate pomegranates when I was there. Bread and honey and figs and garlic and beer. Nothing I ate makes me spend six months with the living and six months with the dead so instead I trade off day and night. Sometimes I leave for a few minutes, mid-afternoon, and I can hear my own name clattering through me as Mokuba calls me back. Seto kept all these comments to himself. There was only so greedy he could get with Yuugi’s grief; only so much he could share of his own.

He slid his wooden token into place around the honeycomb of pieces. Yuugi swiftly countered. Seto lapsed back into thought.

Yuugi took a quiet slurp of his iced tea, gave it a shake, rattling the ice until it settled, and took another, watching ducks paddle into the reeds at the edge of the pond and paddle out, a portrait of calm patience. It had taken him some time to get comfortable with Seto’s long silences. In concession, Seto made the effort to shorten them.

It was the kind of day where stepping into the shade made a difference. The air was darker and cooler under the trees and the flowering bushes that lined the park paths, while the rest of the earth baked in a cloudless dry heat. Seto made his move and pushed the sleeves of his sweatshirt up to his elbows.

“How about I cook for you sometime?” Yuugi said brightly, nudging another wooden token against the others with a single fingertip. 

Seto scowled, not at the suggestion but at the way his thoughts splintered apart, like two halves of a wooden log split by an axe. He had no doubt Yuugi would pull out the stops for him, slave and sweat for hours over some seventeen-course feast of modern art finger foods. Or maybe something cozy that made him feel like he was just nineteen instead of nineteen and exhausted. Whatever it was, Yuugi would put in the effort. But.

“No,” he said, and made sure to clarify this refusal before the clouds finished gathering over Yuugi’s face in a dejected overcast grey: “I don’t need one of your scars named after me.”

“I - what?” Yuugi said, flashing him an uneven, sideways smile, and Seto felt a flicker of irritation. Atem would’ve understood immediately. But, in fairness to Yuugi, he was being a little obtuse.

“You have a way of suffering for your friends,” he explained. “And I think part of you likes it.”

Yuugi straightened up in his seat, suddenly electric. 

“What the hell? It’s just cooking,” he said, with a stormy flash of lightning in his violet eyes. “You’re reading into this way too much. I cook because it’s fun and artistic and I like feeding people, not because I like… self-flagellating or something. Seriously, you can’t just spout off - ”

“You misunderstand me,” Seto countered. “There’s no reason to… hurt yourself on my behalf. If you want to eat together, I’d rather go to that kitschy little ice cream place down the block and get a fucking waffle cone. I don’t want you unable to duel because you burned your hand trying to pan-fry a steak for me.”

Yuugi opened his mouth, brows furrowing together… and scoffed, a surprisingly affectionate sound.  He rolled his eyes around the park, his gaze swinging across the sunlit grass, and looked back at Seto. 

“Okay. First of all, I've mastered the art of the pan-fried steak, and you should try it,” he said. “Second of all, what makes you think you’re not someone worth suffering for?”

Seto snorted, masking his inwards flinch. Mokuba already suffered enough, thank you. And for what? A ghost of a brother. A black hole, a perpetual collapsing. Things went in and they crossed the event horizon and the pressure squeezed them for eternity without ever letting them reach the center and nothing ever came back out, as much as it wanted to. The scientific term for such distortion of effort, stretched to an immeasurable length without breaking, was spaghettification. Even a black hole needs to eat! 

He slid one of his tokens back and forth with his fingertip, short, scraping jerks of wood against wood, thinking. 

“Direct attack on my life points,” he muttered.

“Yeah, you also got me pretty good,” Yuugi chuffed. “Let’s call it even. But relax. It’s just cooking. I love the process, and I love the result, and I love doing stuff for my friends. It’s not some big… metaphorical… symbol of something. This - " he lifted his mittened hand - "doesn't mean anything except I mishandled a knife. It’s not like… you and Duel Disks.”

But Seto also loved the process and the result and more than once he'd injured himself, machining parts or fiddling with wires that, like all wild living things, bit back in fear of his touch. He splayed his hand over the table, watching blood drip onto his work station, knowing he should get up, clean it, bandage it. But it was only two in the morning and there was work to do.

“The Duel Disk is a symbol of Kaiba Corp’s future,” he said, closing his hand into a fist. "I know what you've done for your friends. I’ve seen it. Doesn't that merit the same... mythology?"

Yuugi gave him a funny look, half skeptical, half knowing.

"That’s nice of you, thank you," he said, and an uncomfortable blush crawled up Seto’s neck. Sometimes he did understand. “Are you sure you don't want me to cook for you?”

Seto opened his mouth, closed it, folded his arms on the table. He felt like he was trying to explain the feeling of the color blue, or the arguments for why numbers do or don’t exist, or what it was like to dream. Well, you see, the last time I saw Atem, he told me - correction: the last time as in the most recent link in a chain of time, not the last time as in the end of the line, because he also told me we’d see each other again - he told me to enjoy this, and you know me, I never do what I’m told. And I can’t do what he told me to do because he was my friend, and if friendship is just getting caught in a great sticky web of small cuts and large cuts and burns and bruises and tears and suffering because they’re here and suffering because they’re not, then just go ahead and let the spider drink me up and dump what’s left of me in the dirt. I am so sick and tired of pain. Mine. Yours. Ours.

But he did enjoy these afternoons. He was enjoying the process of making this: he had more with Yuugi now than he ever had before. He reached across the table and took Yuugi’s bandaged hand between his own hands, running his thumb carefully over the inked warning. Yuugi's hand relaxed in his. Yes, Yuugi was wrong. It was the same as Duel Disks. In any act of creation there was pain, there was power, and there was glory. What difference was there between a hologram of a dragon and a steaming bowl of soup? Both nourished something. Both were an answer to hunger. Discovering an emptiness and filling it.

“Okay,” he said, releasing Yuugi’s hand. “Alright. Cook for me.”

“Yeah?!” Yuugi said, with rising excitement, beaming. “What should I make? What do you like?”

“Make me a steak,” Seto said, smiling. It felt good to see Yuugi smile. His hypothesis neatly undermined. See? It’s not all damage. “No. Surprise me.”

[myfearless-love]

The Wildest Place You Run (1/?) - Better Safe Than Sorry

It's finally here! My contribution to this year's CSSNS! This is my first time participating in this event and I couldn't be more excited to share my story with you! Recently I watched a lot of supernatural/fantasy TV shows on Netflix and so the concept of this fic was born. It has all kinds of creatures, mixed with adventure, drama, mystery, suspense, and of course, most importantly CAPTAIN SWAN.

Huge thank you to my beta and artist, @thejollyroger-writer for clearing up my mistakes and help me get this story to you. Check out what gorgeous art she made for the fic!! ☝️

I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Summary: Vampires, Werewolves, Mages, and Elves. For centuries, they kept their existence a secret, but the constant rebellions against the strict laws of the Guild had led to a terrible tragedy. In an open clash, it became apparent to humans just what kind of monsters lived among them. Emma Swan loses the love of her life in the first battle of the war. A few months later, while still trying to process what happened, a mysterious and terrifying figure worms his way into her life. But the man is hiding far more terrible secrets than he reveals to her, pulling them both into a horrible situation...

Chapters: 1/? - Better Safe Than Sorry

Fandom: Once Upon a Time

Rating: M

Relationships: Killian Jones/Emma Swan

Read on: FF.net or AO3

Words: ~1.7k

.

The cobbled streets of the city were dripping with rainwater, and the light from the tall lamps hung like balloons in the cool, misty night air. The harsh wind tore at the branches of the balding trees, a vast amount of withered yellow and brown leaves stirred up a path on the uninhabited sidewalk.

The weather had cooled down more than she’d expected. She pulled up the zipper of her red leather jacket and quickened her steps. She knew it would have been wise to get home on time, she was sure David was already working up an ulcer, marching up and down in the living room.

Somewhere nearby, the clock tower struck ten and she shuddered, accelerating her pace as the curfew had just taken effect. Her hand instinctively slid onto her bag where her Glock 19 lay safely.

She dug into the satchel, and the startled hammering of her heart subsided somewhat as her fingers touched the barrel of the gun. She very much hoped she wouldn’t have to use it. In this world, bandits and robbers were the least dangerous kind, as it was enough to just simply shoot them…

When she finally emerged from the cover of the trees in the park, she opened the heavy wrought-iron gate and hastily crossed the narrow street to continue on the main road. Her footsteps echoed emptily on the deserted avenue, not a soul in sight.

Her destination wasn’t far off, and she fought the urge to run the last few yards. She turned around the corner and into a narrow alley, rushing toward the last, albeit slightly shabby, apartment building.

At the front door, her nearly frozen fingers rummaged awkwardly for her keys in her pocket. But before she could slide the key in, she heard the click of the lock, the massive iron door slamming open with a bang.

As she had suspected, she found herself face to face with a seething David, who, for the moment, was still silent. She risked an angelic and rueful smile and quickly slipped into the house beside him.

All her hopes were dashed when the door crashed back into its frame behind her and David turned to her vigorously. He put both his hands on his hips, a move she found rather comical despite the situation - it reminded her of an agitated lunch lady before scolding a kid in the cafeteria. Still, she couldn’t laugh at it. At the sight of his flashing eyes, she squared her shoulders and waited.

Come what might.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

Her only brother never cursed unless he was furious.

“I was just taking a walk in the park,” she replied quietly, and by that time, all her humor was gone. David was right. What she had done was really stupid. “I’m sorry. I should’ve kept better track of time.”

“Didn’t you even notice it got dark in the meantime?” David grew angrier by the minute, and her face began to burn with shame.

She hated arguing with him, so when the opportunity arose, she tried to heed his advice. Today’s case was an exception. “I’m really sorry,” she muttered, lowering her gaze to the pave-stone.

After long seconds of no response from him, she looked up cautiously, only to see him disappear behind the door that led to their apartment.

“David!”

She took off her boots and rushed after him, but as soon as she caught up with him, she grimaced. In the living room, on a mahogany-carved coffee table, David’s nearly complete arsenal of weapons lay spread out. Pistols, knives, rifles, magazines…

“What happened?” She dropped her bag on the couch and walked over to her brother, who was lounging in front of the window.

“A pack of werewolves in the middle of town in broad daylight! That’s what happened!” he hissed between clenched teeth, he was still trembling with fury.

“In the city center?” she repeated, stunned. That was a new one. Plus, it was happening during the day? It was getting weirder and weirder.

David took a deep breath, but it didn’t help much. He was still too upset.

“What happened? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. Although, it wasn’t up to me. If Killian hadn’t intervened, I would've certainly kicked the bucket," he shrugged as if it was incidental.

"Jesus…" She reached for David's shoulder, but he pulled away.

"At least fifteen people died. We weren't fast enough."

"Stop it," she admonished him. She grabbed im vigorously by the shoulder, turned him to face her, and urged him to look her in the eye. "And tell me, how many people did you save? A hundred? Two hundred?"

He expelled an angry breath. His tousled, sandy blond hair almost resembled a crow's nest, and his five o'clock shadow made his handsome face look unkempt. His light blue eyes stared at her with mixed despair. Meanwhile, he involuntarily stroked the small scar on his jaw.

"David, for God's sake, you’re a Hunter. I understand it's a shitty feeling, but you can't mourn every single person you can't save."

"I know," he whispered hoarsely, finally raising his head, then he shook it slightly, staring up at the ceiling dotted with tiny cracks. Emma could see his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. I was just afraid something had happened to you. I was about to call Killian and the others to search for you."

"I understand and I'm really sorry. I’ll be in my room if we’re done here."

"Alright. I'm going to pack up my things then," he signaled with his head towards the pile of weapons adorning the table.

Emma nodded and picked up her bag, marching across the living room, and heading straight for her room. But before she could peel off her coat, someone outside their apartment started frantically knocking on the door.

"I'm coming!" David's voice was calm, but Emma could still see him securing his favorite rifle as he strode toward the entrance.

"David, open up! It's us!"

When she recognized Robin’s voice, her lips twisted into a relieved smile and she hurried to the front door as well.

"Hey, mate. Are you happy to see us?" Robin laughed at the troubled expression on David's face and the gun in his hands.

"Very funny." David pursed his lips, then stepped aside to let their friends in.

After Robin, Mary Margaret entered, followed by Ruby and Killian.

"We heard Emma had wandered away, so we thought we should sniff around town and look who we found!" Laughing, Ruby flicked playfully at Mary Margaret's back who grimaced as she walked away from the long-haired brunette.

Ruby wasn't exactly your average type of girl. She wore her waist-long chocolate brown hair in wild curls mixed with pink streaks. She invariably wore her favorite black leather garments: military boots, pants, and her signature black studded leather jacket. She looked like a rock star of the nineties.

"I need to make a call,” Mary Margaret said, nodding toward the kitchen, fishing her phone out of her pocket.

"Of course,” David nodded, kissed her on the cheek, and quietly closed the door once everyone was inside.

Robin, Ruby, Killian, and David took a seat in the living room while Emma joined Mary Margaret in the kitchen. Her friend walked over to the counter, unlocked her phone, but her fingers were trembling so badly that she was unable to dial.

“What’s wrong?” Emma anxiously stepped next to the brunette, who just shook her head violently, but her chalk-white face suggested the opposite.

“Didn’t David tell you?” she lifted her troubled hazel eyes to Emma. Her rain-soaked pixie-cut dark hair clung to her forehead, a stark contrast against her alabaster skin.

“What was he supposed to tell me?” she asked carefully.

“Leo was in that run-in with the wolves this afternoon, too. I just found out from Robin that he had to be taken to the hospital right after,” her voice trailed off and Emma could see her shaking.

“He’s probably fine,” she said firmly, trying to give her friend the hope she so often received from her.

“Yeah,” Mary Margaret nodded profusely, then feeling ready, she grabbed the phone and made the call.

While Mary Margaret talked to the hospital receptionist, Emma walked over to the refrigerator and returned to the counter with an unopened orange juice in her hand. She snagged two glasses from the kitchen cabinet and filled them both almost to the brim while tactfully not eavesdropping on Mary Margaret’s conversation because judging by the few words she could pick up, she was already talking to her cousin.

And it was rude to listen in.

“So, how’s our little lion?” Robin entered the kitchen with a grin and plopped casually down on the chair at the dining table.

“Fine,” Mary Margaret replied, not even reacting to Robin’s mocking tone.

It remained an eternal mystery to Emma why they disliked each other so much, but as long as they behaved in a relatively civil manner when they were in the same room together, she didn’t particularly care.

“Anyway, we need to get going soon. Someone saw some of Vampires near the nightclub. So far, they haven’t done anything that would violate the Guild’s rules, but better safe than sorry. They ordered us to look around.”

“And what about the curfew?” Emma raised an eyebrow.

“Humans are stupid. They don’t take Mages seriously. A lot of people aren’t willing to accept the existence of Werewolves and Vampires, even after what happened…”

Robin fell silent at Emma’s expression. He coughed sheepishly, then ran his fingers through his rich brown hair. “I didn’t mean to… I apologize,” he muttered and walked out of the kitchen with his head down.

“Emma…” she felt Mary Margaret’s hand on her shoulder. “Neal wouldn’t want to see you like this. You have to let him go…”

“I know… But… he shouldn’t have been the one to die…”