#if you know you know why it's going in those tags

[screampied]

plz write a domestic toji fic

៹ content tags. ៹ fem! reader, pure fluff, house husband toji, reader is pregnant, toji attempting to cook, petnames.

wc. 1.8k

toji quirks an arched brow in frustration. with a concise glance at his broken watch you bought him for his thirtieth birthday, it reads three am. sighing, the back of his wrist smears a sheet of sweat off his forehead as he gets a good sniff of the cuisine. like always, he stayed up all night, watching those random cooking mom videos on youtube. trying so hard to mimic their recipes and methods but failing anyway. “tch. fuckin’ shit,” he grumbles under his breath, covered in nothing but flour. the sizzling of the pan was quite loud. the smoke detector went off at least four times. he was wearing another thing you bought him. an apron that had the words of ‘kiss the cook’ imprinted near the front in bedazzled little sparkles. “why does it keep stickin’ to the pan.”

as his annoyance grows, he hears familiar little footsteps approach the linoleum kitchen floor. it’s you, his shoulders lower and his mood softens at the sight of you in comfy silk pajamas and a grouchy expression. “toji? ‘s like three in the morning,” and as you take a whiff of the air, you furrow your own two brows. “are you . . cooking?”

“yeah yeah,” he gruffly grouses, going back to whisking the flour. “go back ‘ta bed, baby. almost done. ‘m jus’ practicing.”

“at three am,” you deadpan, a hand rubbing against your plump growing tummy.

so cute, you were a few weeks pregnant yet everything was moving at such an rapid speed. with the way your body was changing so quick, he could barely keep up. toji hears the sass in your tone as you speak and he knows good and well he should be back in bed with you. you wondered why the left side of the mattress felt empty. you waddle over beside him, hugging him from behind. his bulging muscles rub against you and you let off a playful little whine. “tooooji, you need sleep. come back to bed.”

“princessss,” he plays along with a fake pout, his entire hands covered with piles and piles of doughy flour mix. “but ‘m makin’ breakfast for us two,” and with a brief notion of turning the fire down a bit, he utters last minute. “er— three.” and you smile at him not forgetting to include your unborn child.

toji never cooks, it’s always been just you.

it’s not like he was incapable or anything. he’s always found a liking to watching you cook though.

you always prepared him the best of meals, so good that it had his mouth watering, licking the tips of his tongue in sweet sweet relish.

right before you’d got pregnant, you’d pack him the most divine lunches for work, always with such loving care. you’d never forget to leave him a little adoring note or two, wishing him the best of shifts. so the moment you ended up getting knocked up, he wanted to try.

try to do better,

for you.

sacrificing his sleep wasn’t really an issue—he didn’t mind if it wasn’t for you and his unborn baby. and if toji had to learn how to cook simple meals, he’d do that.. despite the struggle it was.

giggling, you stretch your arms over his torso.

“toji . . making pancakes is easy,” you hum, and his muscles relaxes from your gentle touch.

he’s missed you dearly, even though he was only out of bed for at least a good hour now. hearing him swear vulgar curses underneath his breath at messing up the instructions was quite near adorable. peering at the mess in front of you, you take the cerulean blue mixing bowl from him. “you could’ve woke me up if you needed help, you know.”

“i know,” he grumbles, his voice softening a bit.

you pause—toji’s body language seems a bit different. it shifts. he looks a bit ashamed.

once toji turns off the stove, he deeply sighs. “i just wanted ‘ta learn how to cook for us— you know, like as a family. so when the baby’s here, i’ll uh- be prepared. don’t want ya to be doin’ everything, darlin’. y’er gonna be limited to do lots of stuff soon ‘n i jus’ wanna help out a bit more.”

with a smile, you stroke a thumb against your husband’s chin, right near his little scar. “awww,” and there’s an immediate embarrassed scowl stretching against his thin lips.

toji wanting to try more for you made your heart swarm up with a variety schools of butterflies. it flutters and flaps as he spoke. speaking in a soft tone, a thumb swipes a few remnants of flour near the crevices of his lip. “you’re sweet, toji. but i don’t want you stressing out over cooking. ‘s okay, besidessss we can always do it together.”

“eh,” his eye twitches at your smug growing grin. “that’s… not what i meant, mama.”

“don’t eh me. yeah it is, you want me to teach you how to cook like me,” you simper, planting a kiss against the back of his arm. “you wanna learn how to be a househusband?”

toji groans, turning to face you. verdant eyes leer at you for a long time—but he could never stay too vexed at you, you were so adorable, especially whenever you were this enthusiastic.

“that’s not the term i’d use for myself, but i guess,” and he wipes a few pounds of flour off his apron. “don’t worry ‘bout the mess. i’ll clean that up too.”

“i like this new toji.” you tease, leaning up close to press a wet kiss against his temple.

toji buries his hands in his pockets, staring off to the side and trying to ignore the incoming flush setting against his skin.

oh, you had him weak,

weak everywhere—weak in the knees.

he was feeling himself getting soft as the seconds pass. toji couldn’t lie, he was starting to like this new side of his too. he’d never in a million years admit it though. “baby please,” he grunts, switching the sink on to wash his hands. as the water screams out of the faucet, he lathers everywhere with soap before grumbling. “been watchin’ so many of those damn mom vlogs of cooking. was so annoying, wanted to pull my hair out.”

“you could have just asked me for help, silly,” and your arms securely wrap around his beefy body once more. toji’s frame was a lot more broad and built compared to you. he sucks his teeth, leaning into your touch before staring at the kitchen counter. “okay, good. you have all the ingredients . . eggs, flour, milk, umm sugar..”

and as your words continue and you observe his unkempt handiwork, toji clears his throat. “i gave up once the things kept stickin’ to the skillet.”

you let off a pretty laugh that makes his ears twitch. “welllll that’s probably because you didn’t add enough oil or butter to the pan,” and he watches as you grab a nearby stick of butter. you cut near the end part it with a butter knife before spreading it on the middle of the pan.

toji cutely stays quiet, staring intently and taking in everything you’re doing. he’s attentive, he doesn’t wanna miss anything because he’d soon be doing this for you and his soon-to-be baby.

after a few long seconds, you turn on the stove and it starts to sizzle again. “okay, so you mixed the batter, that’s good. now all you have to do is just pour a good amount into the pan and flip it once it’s a brownish color.”

“ehhhh.”

“toji, you wanted to cook so you’re gonna cook.”

“yes ma’am.” he sighs, his tone playful.

some minutes pass before you both finally finish making a fresh, scrumptious batch of pancakes. with your arms wrapped around him, you showed him all the steps slowly. you were patient with toji, helping him pour the batter and mix it. every time he messes up, you’d kiss the edge of his arm, reminding him that he can just try again. he calms down after a while, and you step away to watch him make a pancake of his own. he flips it over, and he has a sly grin—glancing back toward you, hoping you caught that. you did, giving him an encouraging smile before showering him with praise.

it was almost four am and toji was desperately trying to stay awake—you could tell he was struggling to keep his eyes open with how he’s swaying a bit. turning off the stove for the nth time, you set the steaming hot spatula aside before looking in toji’s direction. “we can always eat them when we wake up.”

“we?” he grumbles, combing a hand through his messy strands, giving it a solid scratch.

“yes, we,” and you wrap the heated pancakes with plastic wrap, tucking the undersides of the plate with the material before putting it in the microwave to preserve heat. you then grab onto toji’s hand. “we’re going back to bed.”

with a sigh, he knew he wasn’t gonna win this little spat. toji squeezes your hand back, yet before the two of you could go back into bed, he bends down.

raising your brow, toji gets on his knees before bringing a chaste kiss toward your tummy. “hey little one,” he whispers, rubbing a palm gingerly against the front of your stomach. dark, tired eyes meet yours and he bedaubs a thumb near your the print of your navel poking through your his oversized t-shirt. the cold, frigid texture of toji’s fingertips almost tickles. as he softly runs a finger down the center of your growing belly bump, a bit of flour gets against your clothes. “how are my girls? any cramps or pain i should know about?

girls,

the gender was still too early to determine but toji always pondered about how it might be a girl.

“n- no,” you breathe, moving a few raven strands of hair out of his face. everything felt different, it was as if you were walking with volumes of water stored within you. toji’s always been supportive during your pregnancy, he was trying. he stands up again before kissing the crown of your head. “you still think ‘s a girl?”

“kinda, yeah,” he utters, and a strong arm slings around your shoulders.

toji guides you to bed, not minding your cute slow waddle of a walk. “up we go, c’mon,” and he helps you up the steps, lowly chuckling into your neck at your adorable state. toji was always patient, the moment you finally reach the bed, he pulls down the fat cover so you could climb in. “…. thank you baby.”

“for what?” you slump against the cushioned sheets, slipping off your baby blue socks. toji crawls in beside you, leaning in to switch off the lamp. he still had a bit of flour on his face—and he spots you swiping some of it off with your thumb.

toji groans, acting as if the next incoming sentence was gonna kill him.

“for . . teachin’ me how ‘ta be a good househusband,” he pouts, giving you a quick kiss on the lips. “i love you.”

“i love you too toji.”

“i love ya more,” and he lowers his neck to kiss the middle of your stomach. “oh, ‘n papa loves you also, little one. love my girls so much.”

[cripplecharacters]

Hi! I’m working on an original character project that I want to include a lot of casual representation in (“casual” meaning that the characters don’t need a justification for being disabled/fat/POC/etc, they just are because people can and do exist that way in reality!)

I was wondering if you had any suggestions for finding resources for drawing facial differences(and maybe other visible disabilities), especially in a cartoony style. I’ve looked through the Facial Equality Week tag but would like to see more examples, and since my art is so… goofy, for lack of a better word, I would love any help I can get in integrating differences without being offensive or upsetting.

Sorry if this is a bother, and thank you for all that you do!

Hi!

I'm not aware of any guides for drawing facial differences specifically (or at least, good ones. There's 1 billion tutorials telling you that scars are just a Singular Line, always, but that's not... correct), but perhaps someone in the notes could help out?

For my own advice, you could check out this old post I made. Because you mentioned your art being cartoony, I would specifically urge you to not overexaggerate facial differences the way they often are. Prime example would be how a lot of cartoons portray strabismus;

It's just a funny gag to them rather than, IDK, how some of us look like. Not to mention that one of these is also a mockery of intellectually/developmentally disabled people with "Derp" in the name, but that's beside the point here.

It's the whole "the character is crazy/stupid/wild/whatever and that's why they have it" that's the problem with how it's often shown. You can also see it in how characters who don't even normally have it will be shown with it for a scene where they're saying something nonsensical, etc.

Another example that's nowhere near as rampant is the like... split-face thing with various facial differences being used. Mostly vitiligo but sometimes also facial palsy. I'm talking about this weirdly perfectly halved face that looks extremely different on each side, often used to signal that a character is two-faced or that the author doesn't know how vitiligo looks like.

[note: vitiligo also shows up on lighter skin. I wanted to make sure it's visible here for tutorial clarity purposes.]

This one is just weird because it straight up doesn't look like that? I have no idea where it came from, but it should go back there. Facial palsy doesn't make someone look like the antique comedy/tragedy theater mask.

Unless I'm forgetting some other annoying cartoon trope, these would be the big ones that you should stay away from.

Outside of that, it's really on a case by case basis on how a specific FD should be drawn because they're so different! A birthmark can just be a differently colored patch of skin, but a craniofacial difference would require some more changes to be included. Alopecia is well, lack of hair, and can be done very easily but ectrodactyly can be more complicated to show properly because of the limitations of a cartoony artstyle when it comes to hands. And while I do think it would be great to see more of those facial differences that tend to not be included in art at all, there's nothing wrong with deciding to go for the things you can represent more faithfully, especially if you're just starting.

I will say that if you're making an honest attempt at being respectful and trying to get it right, most of us will still be excited to see your work. Even if it's not perfect or has some inaccuracies. I will take a "'yeah more or less' correct with a happy, human character" over a "Very Technically correct but tagged as #tw burns and with blood splattered on them" any day.

Lastly, I wanted to share some art featuring characters with facial differences (and other visible disabilities) that are done in a cartoony, or at least somewhat simplistic artstyles (I'm using both terms very widely here, but like. Not Realism) - maybe it will give you some ideas!

Man with Treacher Collins syndrome (also one of the first pieces online where I saw a character with an FD portrayed in such a lovely way! A fav of mine) Girl with Pfeiffer syndrome Too many characters to count! Woman with burns Woman with a limb difference Multiple characters again Animation featuring people with Down syndrome [youtube] Multiple characters, including a girl with neurofibromatosis, a burn survivor, a girl with a cleft lip and another with TCS! [twitter]

If you have a more specific art question ("how do I draw a person with XYZ facial difference?") you can send me an ask on @saszor! I prefer to stick to the writing theme on this blog but would still like to help if you need it:-)

Hope this helps!

mod Sasza

Edit: apologies for the lack of alt text on one of the images, it has been fixed!

[prettyboykatsuki]

HELP ME FIND A WAY TO BREATHE | M. FUSHIGURO

♡ tags ; afab + fem!reader, aged-up characters (20s), mutual pining, friends to lovers, canon-typical violence, canon divergent, sex pollen, dubious consent (they are both very enthusiastic to fuck but it is still sex pollen), brief one bed trope lol, light femdom, praise kink, penetration, unprotected sex / creampies, making out, not beta'd we die like [REDACTED MANGA SPOILERS] 18+

♡ wc ; 14.1k (???)

♡ a/n ; hello! happy june, and welcome to my first of three installments part of my @ficsforgaza intiative. please go check them out and join us in fundraising for the people of palestine.

no other really notes on this one other than it's egregiously horny and even more sappy. a super lovey-dovey pining fic. title from sleep walking by bmth

♡ synopsis ; megumi has loved you for as long as he's known you and then some - which is why he avoids going on overnight missions with you at all cost. he's going to kill gojo-sensei when he gets back.

“You should be more firm with Gojo-sensei about stuff like this,” Megumi leans back, eye twitching as he voices his complaints. “You know he always puts it on you because you won’t say no.”  

You’re sitting next to Megumi reclined in your seat. He doesn’t even have to turn his head to know what face you’re making - a forgiving smile, your eyes crinkled at the corner as you shrug unbothered.  

“It’s fine with me,” You turn your head to look at him a little better, pulling your eyes way from the window. “Just how it goes sometimes, you know? Plus, Sensei was nice enough to upgrade us and sending us on these expensive seats. When else are you gonna ride in one of these?”  

Your smile reaches your eyes, light filtering through the windows in quick motion bursts as you speed along the rails. Megumi knew that’s what you were going to say. He shakes his head.  

“Don’t make excuses for him,”  

“Don’t be so prickly,” You reprimand, a long sigh leaving your lips. You reach across the armrest and pat Megumi’s shoulder “If we finish up early, we should go sight-seeing. There’s lots of temples in Sendai I’ve never seen before.”  

Megumi doesn’t say anything to that. You haven’t moved your hand from his shoulder either. The touch is subconscious and friendly - and makes Megumi want to light himself on fire. He’s almost sure this is one of Gojo’s famous schemes, since there’s little to no reason he couldn’t handle a request like this one by himself. Or at least, Megumi could’ve gone alone and prevented himself from being alone with you on a trip for several consecutive days.  

(He’s got a special talent for avoiding this exact thing - always planning ahead and switching things around so this kind of incident never occurs. He’s had a ninety-nine percent success rate. Without Gojo’s meddling, it’d probably be one-hundred) 

There’s not a lot of information about the mission at present. The case files were barely filled out when he got them - only three papers tucked away neatly in a manila folder. On those pages are a few reports of cursed energy in the area and a map - outlining the general perimeter. From what intel the two of you do have, the concentration of said cursed energy in an abandoned commune. Megumi thinks it spells trouble, but some part of him is holding onto hope that it’s an easy to deal with curse. Something quick - so the two of you can be back on the next train ride to Tokyo.  

Pitiful yearning fills him when your hands float away from his shoulder and settle back into your lap. You’re lost in your own thoughts, eyes lidded as you stare outside of the window. He doubts you got much sleep last night. You always stay up before long trips. He sighs a little.  

“We’ve still got,” He checks his watch. “At least another hour and fifty minutes. Now’d be the time to get some rest.”  

You startle at the sound of his voice, a yawn escaping you. “No,” You whine, lips formed into a soft pout that makes the corners of Megumi’s lips twitch. “Won’t you be lonely without my company, Megumi-kun?”  

He gives you a long suffering sigh. “No. I have a lot to read. Get some sleep.”  

Your frown deepens but Megumi doesn’t budge. The both of you make prolonged eye-contact until you final give in after another yawn interrupts your protesting. Your eyes are barely open as is. How stubborn of you.  

“Wake me up like fifteen minutes before we’re there, please?” You relent.  

Megumi just nods. You smile at him and his heart beats loudly at the sight as you close your eyes and succumb to exhaustion. He starts scrolling on his phone, opening his library app to read when your head falls onto his shoulder. He goes stone stiff - body locking up and blood pressure sky-rocketing before he regains control of his senses and loosens his muscles so you don’t end up waking. He leans his head back against the cushion of the seat and takes a deep breath.  

His phone buzzes in his hand, mood dropping as soon as he sees who it’s from.  

don’t respond: my dearest megumi-chan ! have the two of you arrived safely? 

Megumi thinks about not responding, quickly reminded of the fact Gojo-sensei would not only keep texting him but abuse the ‘Notify Anyway’ option given half the chance. Ignoring the oncoming migraine, he types back carefully in order to leave you undisturbed.  

(sent 6:58pm) we’re on the train now.  

The reply is instant.  

don’t respond: oh my… how late. was there a delay.  

(sent 6:58 pm) yeah.  

don’t respond: tsk…why pay all that money for the good seats if this was the outcome... 

don’t respond: well. nothing you can do now. get a hotel in Sendai and check out the location during the day. 

Megumi squints at his phone, scowl forming instantly.  

(sent 7:02) a hotel?? what for??  

don’t respond: megumi-chan… i raised you better than this. you are going to let a beautiful young maiden walk around the dark unknown at night?  

He makes a face of disgust at the phrase. Not that Megumi thinks you aren’t beautiful, but hearing the sentiment from Gojo-sensei’s mouth is truly nauseating.  

(sent 7:02) … we’ll get the hotel. 

don’t respond: wonderful ! and if i may offer you some advice my dear boy  

(sent 7:03) please don’t.  

don’t respond: do not miss your chance ! this beautiful gift your sensei has bestowed upon you to make progress in your youthful love 

Megumi scowls. He knew that was it.  

(sent 7:04): You disliked “do not miss your chance ! this…”  

dont respond: [IMG ATTACHMENT]  

Megumi stares at the attached meme (a dog gyaru posing) with a grimace - no doubt borrowed from Itadori or Kugisaki. He frowns, disliking that one too before putting the messages between them on mute and opening the app to read his book. He’s been reading a lot of his usual nonfiction. Lately it’s an autobiography of a famous Japanese author - Soseki, the father of all modern novels. He’s gotten farther into it than he thought he would since he’s only had it for a few days. The writing is engaging.  

He bought it per your recommendation too, so he wants to finish it. The sudden memory of that makes Megumi blush again, his skin prickling under the fabric of his uniform. 

 You’re still sound asleep beside him, your breathing even and steady. If he focuses, he can see you clearly from the corner of his eyes. The soft plumpness in your lips, and each of your lashes sitting against your cheek. 

He keeps focused on reading, though - and prays that the train ride goes a little faster.  

__ 

“Hey,” His arm feels stiff as he moves it away from you gentle, making sure to keep your head upright and steady on the seats headrest as he wakes you from your sleep. “We’re almost here.”  

He sees your eyes stir behind your lids, nose crinkling as you regain consciousness. He’s grateful you can’t see him smile at you as you wake up. Quickly getting his face back to it’s baseline neutral, he waits for you to wake up as you pull away from him and sit up. You let out a long yawn, rubbing underneath your eye as to not smudge your makeup. Blinking the sleep away from your vision, you finally open your eyes. Megumi watches on in silence, trying not to look too endeared.  

“Good morning,” You say as a half joke. Megumi doesn’t bother hiding his laugh. 

“Morning.”  

You smile at him, pleased by his response. You pat around your body looking for your phone, visibly relieved when you find it. Megumi continues watching you as you pull it up, resting your hands on the pull-out table in front of you. You chuckle at your screen. Megumi raises his eyebrow in interest.  

“Did you talk to Gojo-sensei?”  

He nods. “Couple of hours ago. Why?” 

Instead of replying, you pull your notification center down and show Megumi the barrage of texts sent two hours-ish prior. Your phone must’ve been on DND while you were asleep since Megumi hadn’t heard them either. There’s at least ten messages. Megumi scowls in displeasure, and you break out into a terribly lovely laugh seeing it.  

“See what I mean? If you give sensei an inch, he’ll take a mile. Why is he texting you this student this much?” 

You can’t suppress your giggles. “Don’t be so hard on him. He’s a little lonely now that you’re old enough to do things by yourself - that’s all.”  

“Then he should bother me instead of you,” Megumi grumbles. Your smile doesn’t fade.  

“He texted you afterwards, so I guess it’s a start.”  

“Stop being so nice to him.”  

You laugh again. Megumi tries not to smile and ultimately succeeds.  

You study him for a brief moment before reclining a bit.   

“Guess I’ll have to be extra nice to you, then.”  

A blush crawls up the back of his neck almost instantly. Your grin has a crooked edge, a touch of mirth and amusement that makes Megumi want to crawl into somewhere dark and disappear. Warmth and restless makes home in his ribcage, your perception endlessly tormenting. You don’t tease him more than that, allowing Megumi catch his breath.  

“I don’t even know how that’d be possible.”  

“Really?” You say without missing a beat, not even looking at him as you gather up your things. “I can think of plenty of ways to be even sweeter to Megumi-kun, though?”  

He can feel the blush deepen. His cheeks are undeniably crimson by now, he’s sure - and he can barely stand the soft quality in your voice long enough to breathe. You’re still calm, the words genuine but undeniably tilted along the axis of teasing. If Megumi were any less stubborn, he might even beg you for mercy. He is, of course, incredibly bull-headed and refuses to do so. He huffs a little instead. 

“You make it sound like there’s some quota for it.” He says, kind of lamely. Your eyes flutter, something passing in your gaze - gone before Megumi can get hold of it and know what it is. You make an impassive noise, but don’t say anything in reply. Your non-answer makes him think that you might really have one. He tries not to blush any more than he is now and shakes the thought off.  

“You all ready to go?” You ask finally. He lets out a sigh of relief.  

“Yeah. Should be.” Megumi replies, looking down at his phone for the time. It’ll be closer to 9:30 by the time you get out of the station. “Dunno if you read Sensei’s messages but he told us to stay the night at a hotel first since it’s already this late and it’s nothing urgent.”  

Your brows raise in surprise before you nod. “That’s probably smart. As much I’d love to be done sooner, probably not the best idea to go lurking around in the night. We’ll do that, then.” 

“I’ll start looking at hotels,” Megumi adds.  

“Thanks for being so helpful, Megumi-kun.”  

He rolls his eyes. “Uh-huh. You’re welcome.”  

__  

“This is…really the only place with available rooming for tonight?”  

Megumi looks at you with an absent grimace, affirming you with a curt nod. You glance at each other, sharing mutual disbelief and basking in the solidarity of your absurd situation for a bit. A long silence stretches over you both, a weighted quiet that makes Megumi wish a giant curse would literally swallow him into the ground.  

He wishes he had some explanation for this. His name meaning blessing feels like a spit in the face given how deeply unlucky everything about this mission has been so far. 

Of all the hotels in Sendai, the only one within reasonable distance of your mission site that is accepting last minute is a love hotel. A love hotel is something of a non-issue. It’s a tourist misconception to view them as kinky paradises. More modern love hotels are usually just short stays - last minute bookings with cheap prices and always adult. The full blown kinky stuff tends to stay in the several entertainment districts scattered across Japanese metropolitans.  

It’d be nice if that was the case here, but based on various reviews and the neon flashing blue sign at the top of the building - this is definitely the kind of love hotel for couples. The kind used for sex. It’s the only one in proximity accepting last minute bookings, and the only hotel for miles. Megumi lets out a long suffering sigh. He can see you smiling sympathetically from the corner of his eye.  He pinches the bridge of his nose as a new wave of regret settles in his bones.  

“I’m sorry,” Megumi says, unsure of what else to say. He is truly and deeply sorry for the level of misfortune he seems to have around you. You shake your head in reply, shrugging.  

“Let’s make the best of it,” You respond, pausing before going on. “Sensei is going to be really annoying about seeing this charge on his card, huh?”  

Megumi must look as distraught as he feels because you laugh immediately at his expression. You squeeze his shoulder sympathetically, though you clearly find it funny. “Sorry, sorry. It’ll be fine. Maybe he won’t notice.”  

 Gojo-sensei tends to keep tabs whenever people are away on missions. It’s a common precaution for sorcerers, and when more experienced sorcerers relegate their own work - they are solely responsible for that task. Megumi can only hope he’s too busy to keep watch on it for the night. Realistically though, it means Sensei will definitely see.  

Megumi decides to overlook this information as best he can. At least for now. 

You trek into the hotel with your away bag, Megumi in-step behind you with his head hung low. 

It sounds corny to him retroactively (he can’t help but cringe when he says it aloud), but Megumi had foolishly hoped he could be somewhat useful to you in this mission. Every fight the two of you have been in together, you’ve saved Megumi’s skin at least once. He’s incredibly aware of the increasing debt between you. Thank you’s and paid dinners stopped being enough a long time ago. He wasn’t…hoping to be a knight in shining armor or anything like that - but he really wanted to do more this time since you’re already going together.  

You probably understood that talking to the front desk in these conditions would give him a hernia and took the responsibility on without complain. You make these acts of consideration look easy and natural - smooth like the flow of water. Megumi has yet to learn how to swim against the tide instead of getting swept up in its motion.  

Despite Megumi’s countless attempts at repaying your kindness, he’s never been able break even. He reflects on this as you speak to the woman at the front desk.  

The lobby of Hotel:SAPPHIRE is exactly what someone might expect from an actual love hotel. The lights are dim even up front and there’s a lot of glittery, mildly gaudy decor. Aside from the front desk, the first floor hosts some kind of amenities store and a lounge or bar.  

 Megumi’s awareness of his surroundings is making his blush worse. He’s not concerned by being seen in a love hotel, as much as he’s hung up on the idea that people are assuming you’re both a couple. Rationally, he knows that means nothing. You’re two people of the opposing gender and similar age - of course people would think that.  

Still, it makes him so…ugh…shy, he could genuinely die of misery.  

He tries his best to zone out, but ultimately can’t. He tunes in to listens to you talk to the woman at the front desk instead.  

“There’s probably no double beds here, huh?” You ask. The woman at the front desk gives you a confused look of both sympathy and apology. You shake your head with a pleasant smile.  

“Yeah. I thought so. What’s the nicest room you have?”  

“We have a queen room, with a queen bed, couch and a jacuzzi. It has one of our more spacious bathrooms as well.”  

Megumi closes his eyes. Your reply is chipper. “Sure! We’ll take that one.”  

“And how long will you be staying?”  

“About five days?”  

His eyes snap open. Megumi gives you an incredulous look from where he’s standing. You turn back with a small smile as if having predicted it and then shrug again.  

“I still wanna go sightseeing.”  

He can’t say anything to refute you in the moment, despite how much he’d like to push back on the idea. You’re definitely enjoying yourself, at least. Maybe he should’ve expected that. You’re not exactly the type to get easily embarrassed. Even getting the words of complaint out feel too humiliating given the context. He sighs.  

“Whatever,”  

The woman at the front desk, increasingly baffled by the nature of your relationship, puts you down for five days before handing you two room cards.  

She briefly explains some of the perks, and gently points you to the small store which freely offers things like lube, condoms, scented lotions and oils, and bath products. It’d be great if some meteor hit Earth right now and killed him (and only him) instantly. You give her your kindest thanks and take the two room cards, turning around to pass one over to Megumi. He gives you a long look. You reply with two thumbs up and goofy grin.  

“Let’s go to the little store place!”  

“Why the hell would you want to do that” Megumi hisses, blushing profusely. You are predictably nonplussed by his reaction.  

“I want to see the scented lotions. A souvenir. If you will.” 

It’s truly imperative to to him in that moment he remembers how often you’ve saved him from mortal peril. He relents easily after that, trailing along behind you.  

It’s less of a store and more of a display case of possible lewd items on four sides of a centered wall, with just enough space to walk around. Megumi stonewalls as soon as the two of you are within five feet of it. You take your time looking through the different thing and snickering at the display case.  

At one point, you tug Megumi’s sleeve and snap him out of his trance. He begrudgingly follows your gaze, eyes widening at the display case of condoms. There are so many condoms. He didn’t even know they made that many kinds.  

“Maybe we should bring one? You know, just in case.” You do a stupid wiggle with your eyebrows. Megumi is painfully aware it’s just jokes, closing his eyes with a deep sigh, elbowing you lightly.  

“Fuck off.” 

Your voice is sing-songy as you continue your tirade.  

“You never know, Megumi! What if end up in a condom emergency trying to fight curses?”  

“Please shut up.”  

Your laughter sounds again behind your closed fist, but you’re merciful and turn the corner to look at everything else.  

You indeed pick up two scented lotions and a bath bomb before you finally agree to retire to the room.  

__  

Megumi is rendered speechless when you finally unlock the door to your room.  

He isn’t sure why. He should’ve expected much worse.  

The room is big as promised. Probably three times the size of his own dorm at Jujutsu Tech. There’s one bed in the middle (certainly king-sized, not queen) - with a couch and glass table adjacent to it along the back wall. The couch is upholstered with a creaky, gold fabric and the walls are painted mostly white with the exception of one wall being painted sapphire blue, decorated with a rose mural. The throw pillows and complimentary blanket share a familiar loud pattern, incorporating all three colors and stitched with gold threads.  

There’s rose petals everywhere. On the bed, floor, and the table. The glass table accompanying the couch even has two champagne flutes and complimentary bottle to go along with it. There’s a present box on the bed, wrapped in shiny white wrapping paper and a sickly sweet, red bow.  

Megumi doesn’t want to know what’s inside.  

You shut the door behind him after dragging in the rest of your luggage.  

The two of you take in the view together for a minute before Megumi hears you break out into a long fit of laughter, making him jolt. He looks over at where you’ve dropped down into a squat, giggling hysterically beside him. He feels suddenly winded from the days events as you break the tension.  

After you gather yourself you stand to your feet and look at him warmly, wiping tears from the corners of your eyes. Megumi wishes he could take it as easy as you.  

“Ahh…hehehe..” You put a hand over your mouth trying to suppress the sound as you turn away. “Okay, sorry. Uhm. Hah. Do you want to shower first or should I?”  

Megumi responds reflexively. “You can shower first.”  

You nod, yawning as you stretch your arms up. He forces himself not to look at the way your shirt rides up over your stomach. Patting his shoulder after collecting yourself, you shoot him a tired but reassuring smile. At least he knows you’re both exhausted.  

“Thanks, Megumi-kun. Do me a favor and order room service, please? I’m starving.”  

He nods. “Do you want to look at the menu?”  

You wave your hand dismissively, taking your bag and turning to the bathroom. “I trust you know me well enough to know what I want.”  

The instant preening internally makes Megumi want to crawl in a hole. He’s glad you can’t see him.  

“Yeah. Go shower, already.”  

“Mm,” You make a noise as you stretch. “Will do.”  

__  

The room is unnaturally dim.  

There’s a movie playing in the background as both you and Megumi sit on the bed. You’re doing some work on your laptop - typing in short bursts every few minutes. Megumi has no idea what you’re working on. You’re oddly meticulous with paper work but aside from the disaster of finding room and board - there isn’t anything to report on.  

Whatever it is though, you’ve been working on since you finished dinner an hour ago - nursing your beer while typing away.  

Megumi glances at you from the corner of his eyes, heart unfairly racing at the lack of distance between you. He really should be past this. Your skin is damp from the shower and you smell like the scented lotion from earlier which makes him feel weird and warm. He decided to drink with you, but his tolerance is much worse than yours so he feels a little tipsy. He isn’t sure if that’s better or worse. Dealing with everything sober hasn’t been very fun.  

He’s staring at you openly but you’re too preoccupied to take notice. He’s kind of grateful. His fingers tap the sides of his can as his eyes flits up to the cheap action movie playing on the TV.  

After a little longr, you stretch your arms over your head and shut your laptop. 

“All done with your work?”  

You blink rapidly, momentarily taken aback before smiling. “Yeah. Finally.”  

“What were you actually doing?” 

“Started on the report and then dug around some old archives for information on the commune.”  

“Did you find anything?”  

You laugh humorlessly. “More or less? But nothing we couldn’t have figured out on our own. The commune was more like a curse cult but it ran functionally for almost ten years. They did some type of curse breeding.”  

“Curse… breeding? As in like…?” Megumi asks, making a face.  

“It’s what it sounds like? I think. There’s not really any more information. The uploaded documents were barely legible. How it works, why they did it, and if it was effective - we have no information on that. Just that there was some powerful curses in the area in the late nineties.”  

“In the nineties? So it’s been what, decades since any activity? Why now?”  

You shrug. “Best guess is that the sudden uptick in tourism caused it. You know, Sensei had some business in Sendai a few years back. It was right before Itadori-kun got hold of Sukuna I think. It’s not impossible for all of it to be connected.”  

Megumi sighs. “Don’t know if that makes it better or worse.”  

“I want to look into Gojo-sensei’s case right now but,” A yawn interrupts your train of thought. “We’ll need to be up and at ‘em early tomorrow.”  

“Right,” He says, immediately preparing to sleep on couch and praying you won’t notice. “Goodnight, then -“  

His plans are foiled fast of course. Before he can get up, you tug at the sleeve of his robe. Your face is flush from beer and sleep. You’re so effortlessly alluring to his brain he’s irritated. The motion picture casts a soft glow on your features, picturesque in how pretty you seem to be with no effort.  

“Where are you going?”  

“To sleep on the couch.”  

“I can’t let you do that,” You shake your head. Megumi says nothing. “I’ll take the couch.”  

He purses his lips. “Did you think I was gonna say yes to that?”  

You press your lips into a flat line. “No…not really. But.. I can’t let you sleep on the couch. It’ll be a long day and you need rest,” You smile at him sleepily “I don’t mind sharing the bed.”  

“Absolutely not,” He replies instantly. You pout at him. Damn it. 

“Megumi-kun, please? We can just put one of the pillows between us.”  

Megumi stares at you with a hardened brow. He knows from experience that a pillow would barely resolve the issue. A lesson he learned at fifteen where a similar incident had you both sleeping in the same tent.  

You move in your sleep. A lot. As a result, fifteen year old Megumi spent an entire night with you, paralyzed by the lack of distance and missing an entire night of sleep. Every muscle in his body in his body had set rigid like early onset rigor mortis from stress that night.  

He barely slept. Worse, the next morning Sensei had practically harassed him about his disheveled state. Megumi couldn’t look you in the eye for the rest of the mission, though he got over it eventually. Only because you seemed very troubled when he didn’t talk to you.  

You’re making a similarly distressed expression now at the thought of making Megumi sleep on the couch. He winces, swayed with embarrassing ease. The feeling fades after he sees how brightly you smile.  

“Thank you,”  

He wants to ask why you’re thanking him, but doesn’t know if he can handle hearing the answer so he says nothing. You turn the TV off and finish your beer and toss the can before returning to bed and undoing the covers. Megumi sits on the edge, watching as you rearrange the various pillows. You place a body pillow in between the both of you and fluff up another pillow to give to Megumi. You smile as you hand it to him, and he takes it with a soft blush.  

He reminds you to go brush your teeth and watches you pad off to go do it, sighing and trying to meditate before it’s his turn to do the same. The alcohol is wearing off quicker than he hoped.  

The room is nearly pitch black except for a single dim light when Megumi comes back from the bathroom. You’re already in bed, and you smile when Megumi emerges with a stupidly cute giggle following. He’ll never get used to you, he’s sure.  

Megumi craws into bed beside you. The bed is wide and spacious - and there’s plenty of room seperating you. He isn’t any less self-conscious of the fact he’s still sleeping in a bed next to you though, for better for worse.  

“Night, Megumi.” You mumble, barely awake. You’ll fall asleep fast. Megumi reaches over and turns off the lights.  

“Night.”  

He lays in the dark, facing the other wall and waiting for your breathing to go even. Compelled to turn towards your back, Megumi does so as quietly and unobtrusively as possible. He can make out your silhouette in the dark, tracing the outline of your shoulder with his eyes as he continues to feel incredibly nervous and lovesick. He’s been pining like this for so long, he finds it pathetic.  

 You’re less than a few feet away but he can barely bring himself to look at you. Oddly overwhelmed, he lets his eyes close and tries his best not to think too much about the next few days.  

__  

Against all odds, Megumi sleeps well and wakes up feeling better.  

You, of course, moved around a bunch in your sleep - ending up on his side of the bed with a single arm thrown across his waist and your face in his chest. He woke up earlier than you, thankfully - and carefully pried himself from your touch to take a cold shower in the bathroom and not die of embarrassment at the resulting morning wood. 

You were awake by the time he got out. After you were both ready for the day, you ate breakfast together and had coffee before leaving the hotel. The whole situation was more embarrassing during the daylight.  

Your hotel is a twenty minute drive from the site location of the mission. A quick taxi cab ride to a small temple. Navigating isn’t exceptionally difficult. The temple itself is somewhat obscured, not marked on any online maps. It’s well known locally though, enough that a taxi driver could take them towards the bottom of the hill where it’s located. It’s listed as a temple, but on further inspection it’s a small and worn shrine. The details about the shrines origin or history are unclear even.  

After arriving, you were both relying on the provided map. The commune itself is away from civilization. A couple hundred meters Northeast from the temple sight is a path through the forest - leading out to the clearing where the commune is supposedly located.  

The communes ruins are a one straight distance after that. If someone was taking a short hike, it wouldn’t be hard to find.  

So it isn’t difficult to find for the two of you either.  

Megumi’s shikigami follow along side him, divine dog sniffing along the trail. You’re up front, checking the path and making sure the trail is correct, as well taking notes for your report later on.  

You turn your head and share a look with Megumi - no doubt feeling the same thing he does. There’s cursed energy around here, but it’s weird and hard to trace. Neither him nor the Shikigami can make sense of exactly where it’s coming from.  

Eventually, you come across stone - laid deliberately like a pathway, and glance at Megumi with hopeful eyes.  

A clearing comes in view. Ruins, with cursed energy brimming somewhere within them fall into his sightline. It’s a bigger location that Megumi thought it’d be - stretching out far despite hosting so few residents. There are dilapidated cabins and other buildings, the place filled with overgrowth and ivy. Shattered windows, graffiti, and trash affirm to Megumi that this place was found by other people at one point or another.  

Megumi stands besides you as you assess the situation, silently taking the lead. You step forward, further in. A sigh leaves your lips as you turn to Megumi.  

“We’re here but,” You scratch the back of your neck. “What to do now is…”  

“What are you thinking?”  

You sigh. “Part of me wonders if we should split up to check the buildings, but the information is so vague that I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”  

“It’s fine.” Megumi assures. He’s not thrilled but splitting up for now is the best course of action. He can handle himself. He’s sure you’re worrying about that. “As long as we can hear each other, it should be fine.”  

Your concern muddles your features, brows drawn together as you frown. You relent eventually though. Megumi feels the corners of his mouth twitch up at how long you think about it.  

“Okay then,” You use your fingers to point towards the left half, right at what looks like an abandoned dormitory. “I’ll go look in there. Megumi-kun can go that way. And if anything sticks out, call for me immediately.” 

“Don’t worry so much.”  

“If it’s Megumi, I can’t help but worry,” Your reply comes in the same beat. He feels himself blush, casting his gaze to his Divine Dog with a frown.  

“I’ll be fine so let’s hurry up and look around already.” 

You still hesitate to part ways with Megumi, but you budge eventually. He waits for you to summon protection for yourself, watching in awe as you unzip a deck of cards from the side pocket of your uniform. Beautiful, steel enforced hanafuda cards shine in the daylight. You shuffle them with your eyes closed, feeling along the backs for the right one before sliding the set back into your uniforms compartment.  

You make a gesture to follow along with the command two-handed tanzaku, ten points - and Megumi watches the curse manifest around your arms. A strand of bi-colored tanzaku paper appears in your hand, razor-sharp with cursed energy. You coil it around your wrist before turning to Megumi with a small smile.  

Despite how often he’s seen you do it, the appreciation in your face at the newly summoned curse make his emotions bubble and swell with impossible longing.  

“Let’s meet back here if we get lost,” You say precariously. Megumi huffs.  

“We won’t get lost. It’s barely that far.”  

You pout at him. “It’s better to be safe then sorry.”  

He wants to ask when you’re doing when you drop down to your knees - but the words die in his throat as your hand comes up to pet his shikigami affectionately. You give it a small smile. “Please take care of Megumi-kun in my absence.”  

The Divine Dog lets out a pleased chuff that makes you smile.  

“….We’ll be fine,” He says - because as much as he would like to make fun of you for it, he finds it all terribly cute. You stand back up to your feet, seemingly more reassured. That’s good at least. “I’ll go ahead, then.”  

Megumi turns to leave before you can get another embarrassing word in edgewise, blush crawling up against his skin. Once he hears your foot steps fall lighter and lighter in the opposite direction, he takes moment to steel himself and prepare for the mission.  

It’s easier to tear his mind away from you when the threat of mortal peril looms - so for once, Megumi is just a little grateful to be a sorcerer.  

He takes a better look at his surroundings, shikigami sniffing along the crumbling pathways of the ruined commune and searching for a scent. It’s a strange place with a strange aura, aside from the curse. There’s not much way to describe other than tiny village. The half you’ve gone to explore seems to be nothing but houses and communal living - with some kind of central house if Megumi had to guess based on it’s layout.  

Where Megumi is walking along though seems to be amenities. On the right is open space - rustic wood stakes stuck into the ground with clothes-wire with a rotted fence separating it from another big patch of dirt. There’s signs tacked onto some of the structural poles along the outside, but they’re too dirty for Megumi to read. It’s easy to tell from how crude everything is that all of it was hand-made.  

On the left of him are storage sheds and old-crates that have somehow stood the test of time - covered in dust and dirt and moss. One of the storage sheds has a completely collapsed roof 

It’s entirely uninteresting, and that feels unsettling. The cursed air still lingers, but the familiar acrid scent doesn’t seem to be there. It’s something else, something new - and it’s simmering under the surface. Neither he nor his Shikigami seem to pick up on anything clearly. 

After a few minutes of walking, Megumi thinks they start to close in on the end of the trail. His shikigami suddenly comes to life. He looks forward.  

At the end of the trail, obscured by more forest and trail is a greenhouse. It’s made with all glass, and there’s moss and condensation surrounding it. Something about it feels alive, but Megumi can’t tell if that’s just his well-developed paranoia.  

“Go find her,” Megumi says. The shikigami makes an affirmative noise and darts off in the opposite direction as Megumi closes into the building and surrounding structures.  

The front door of the structure is pried open and pushed against the wall. It’s an interesting shape - a half-dome and much bigger than how it looks from the outside when Megumi steps in. Too big. It’s weird.  

All of the hair stands on the back of Megumi’s neck as he stands inside of it. He fits with plenty of space to move his limbs. There are raised beds along both sides of the facility - the material boxing them in now covered in dirt and dust. Overgrowths and some kind of small plant crush underneath his feet and surround him. It smells… sweet. Very sweet but distantly. Megumi can’t figure out what it is. Towards the back are gardening tools and a table with things on it.  

It’s here. This is the center of whatever unusual cursed energy he’s been feeling since they’ve been within one-hundred feet of this place. It’s in here, surrounding him.  

His skin starts to feel hot. He figures the presence of the glass might be concentrating sunlight and brushes it aside.  

He doesn’t get much time alone in his assessment of the place. A few minutes pass before you find him again, smiling at him upon your return. Megumi’s heart does a soft pitter-patter as you enter, his shikigami proudly behind you. There’s a sudden leap in his affection laying eyes on that doesn’t make sense. It’s unusual and unprofessional for him to get so caught up on it during a mission. He’s had enough with you to know how to tamp the feeling down. He has a hard time with it this time thought but shakes it off.  

“Did you find anything?” Megumi asks. Your tanzaku is wrapped around your wrist like a bracelet, Megumi notices.  

“Yeah, actually. Notes. I didn’t get much time to check and a lot of them were too water-damaged to read, but I think curse breeding might’ve been an inaccurate,” You say, scratching the back of your neck. “It seemed like something else. With different kinds of cursed energy, or something to create more output.”  

Megumi doesn’t know what that means, and it must show on his face because you laugh in understanding. “Yeah. It wasn’t clear to me either but I haven’t seen everything yet. I thought I should come here first so we can expel whatevers here.”  

“That’s the problem, though.” Megumi says. “Can’t figure out what exactly is here. The cursed energy is…”  

“Obscured,” You say easily. Megumi nods.  

“Exactly,”  

“Never seen anything like this before, honestly.”  

Megumi is surprised by that. You’ve been a special grade for a long time, the extent of your abilities equal to Okkotsu-senpai He doesn’t know how worried he should be. You’re focusing hard as you look around. 

He tries to do the same, wants to contribute more to the conversation but his mind feels strangely cloudy. He slept well he thought. Maybe the heat is bothering him more than expected. The uniforms have always been stuffy during summer.  

You step around around him to look at your surroundings better, but find the same problem.  

After a minute or two of aimlessly searching, something seems to click in. You drop down to your knee. Your fingers caress whatever is sprouting in the ground underneath you. Plucking one from the soil, you bring it up to your face and frown. You’re gentle with the petals. It looks like a clover of some kind, but the color is too bright - more like a small flower maybe. He’s never seen anything like it.  

Megumi feels his skin go hot again watching you touch it. It’s odd. Too sudden and almost nonsensical, how much magentism he feels towards your innocuous gesture.  

There’s another shift in the air, deliberate - and something moves underneath Megumi’s feet. Your voice is panicked as some sudden realization dawns on you, his shikigami barks loudly.  

Everything moves around him in a daze. His ears are ringing suddenly, heart thumping hard against his chest as the flowers beneath him move and distort into tendrils, curling around his ankles.  

“Megumi-kun, we have to get out of here. We have to—“  

Your words are cut short before he can heed them. A scream rips from his chest as the ground opens up and swallows him whole. 

__ 

He falls for a long time. It seems endless.  

His voice is trapped in his throat, despite his attempts to scream. His body weightless, crashes through empty space for what feels like hours. Despite the situation, all Megumi can worry about is you. You aren’t falling beside him though he’s sure you came in together. The whole that ripped the ground was too big for that not to be true. The thought of you dying is so familiar, but it makes Megumi want to throw up mid-air.  

The crash comes eventually. Bracing himself for impact as he falls backwards , he lands onto something like grass. It’s not painful in the least. His skin prickles at the sensations surrounding him. Saccharine sweetness distorts the air, an artificial scent clogging his lungs as he gasps and opens his eyes.  

He senses a presence next to him and turns to find you beside him in the grass. His body aches, both wanting to find relief in the fact you’ve appeared beside him and feeling uncertainty at the same fact. Cursed energy seeps through every inch of this place, and part of him worries you’re some kind of illusion or mirage. Regardless, he calls out for you and hopes you’ll answer.  

“Hey,” He tries saying your name but you don’t budge. He nudges your arm but retracts just as quickly, hissing - the sensation making his skin burn at point of contact. A hole sears in your uniform where he touches you. “Wake up, shit. Please wake up.”  

After another minute, your eyes open. Megumi lets out a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding. You groan as you sit up. Megumi sits up with you.  

“Fuck,” Your voice is thick as you sit with one leg up, a pressing a knuckle to your temple. “My head is pounding.”  

Megumi makes a noncommittal noise. “Yeah. I can’t tell what kind of domain this is.”  

“These were just apart of the curse, then. I felt something off of them but..,” You pick a flower up from the grass and it..moves. He frowns. “They must just be apart of the domain. Which means there’s a special grade behind this.” 

Right. Megumi has been too hung up on everything else to make proper note of that. He rubs the back of his neck as he tries to absorb his surroundings. The air around him is hazy pink. He can’t acclimate to it, breathing shallow. From the flower-curse you picked, to the plants on the trees nearby. It’s lush and humid, but the makeup in the surroundings is dreamlike. A woodland forest of some kind, maybe. There’s a waterfall and round body of water, a short distance away and trees on every side. It’s alarming in how beautiful it is, disconcerting since the cursed energy inside is potent enough to make all the hair on Megumi’s neck stand straight.  

“My, my. What delicious sorcery I’ve stumbled upon,”  

Megumi looks around to try to find the source of the voice but comes up with nothing. You and Megumi share a look in silent understanding.  

“An unregistered Special Grade in the underground of Sendai.” Your voice is resolute. It sounds so different to how you usually speak, firm and cold. “How did you obscure your cursed energy like this.”  

“So many questions. Don’t be so hostile to your host,” The voice is soft and feminine but deeply distorted at the same time. Grating. “I’m a benevolent spirit, little sorcerer - so I won’t kill you right away. Keep in mind you are in my domain. To attack me would be unwise. And I promise, you’ll feel good until the very end.”  

You quiet, assessing the situation. There’s so little about the curse that either of you can make out. The curse is intelligent enough to bargain - to reason, which means the danger you’re both in is substantial enough to be incredibly cautious. You realize it quickly, Megumi is sure. He shoots you a look, your brows furrowed as you try to make everything make sense.  

“What are you after?”  

“You must know, little sorcerer. Human desire is filthy thing. Money, power, fame.” The air changes around you - flowers besides you blooming higher and higher until you’re all but surrounded. The sickly sweet scent becomes stronger and headier. Megumi’s lungs fill with the strange gas, burning the back of his throat. He coughs, trying to expel it. “What beautiful curses are born from pent-up and unspoken wants.”  

“Fuck this is so irritating,” You seem to be in a similar condition, holding up your first to your mouth as you cough along side him 

“Human beings are so foolish in the face of lust, so inducing such a fever is easy. But the results can be so lackluster.” The curse is taunting, giddy at the prospect of you. “How lucky and I to come across such talented jujutsu sorcerers with such ripe energy, hm?’ 

“An underhanded method like this,” You talk mostly to yourself. “Your physical form must be weak, then. To obscure yourself inside of your domain.”  

Megumi can feel the cursed energy amplify, a sneer in the Special Grade’s voice.  

 “How clever.” It remarks sarcastically. “But not clever enough. It’ll be staring any minute now. Fight it to your hearts content, little sorcerer. I’m looking forward to the show.”  

It’s only a split second before the heat starts to sink into Megumi’s body. He burns so intensely, so suddenly - it makes every other sensation feel trivial. It’s painful, searing, and all-consuming. Breathless, he feels his vision blur as a strong wave of physical arousal completely dominates him. It’s like an injection, nerves on high alert as he pulls at the neck of his uniform and gasps. The flowers surrounding you bloom into something grotesque, an open mouth in the center hissing out more of the pink hazy gas that’s surrounding you before turning again, until you can barely see a few feet away from each other. Megumi can feel the cursed energy course through his body, like pure fire in his blood stream. His cock is hard as steel, makes him feel like he’s going to pass out if he doesn’t touch himself.  

Forcing himself to remain steady for as long as he can, he searches for you. Your condition isn’t better as you lean back on your palms - your chest heaving in out as visible arousal paints your face. You share the same pain, the same lust, the same fever. The thought of it makes Megumi’s cock stir again shamefully.  

“I’m sorry,” Megumi can barely make out his voice. It’s so painful. His entire body feels like it’s screaming but  he can’t bear the idea of forcing you to touch him. These conditions, this situation - this terrible heat. Whatever loose threads of rationale are keeping him afloat in these few minutes are begging him to find a way out of this. 

He knows it’s the circumstances. No one understands things like this more clearly than him but he feels deep resentment anyway. Mostly towards himself. “I’m sorry.. aah, fuck - I don’t want to force this.”  

“Megumi-kun.” You manage to voice some of your lucidity like he has, the brunt of it closing in. He feels like he’s only deluding himself, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood. “Come here.” 

“No,” He almost screams it. He wants too. But he can’t find his voice to speak to you like that. He hopes the urgency reaches you. “I’m sorry. Shit, shit—”   

He doesn’t want to shatter the thing he’s so desperately protected - to ruin the relationship he’s felt so precious about so many years of his life. He doesn’t want it to happen this way. He can feel the self-loathing as he bites his tongue. 

 He’s dreamed of it so often, to touch you and kiss you and hold you. But at the hands of a curse feel so unfair.  

“It’s okay,” Your voice is so soft - a salve to his nerves. A balm to ache of his whole life, calm and smooth and so kind. He burns so deeply he wants to scream.  Your expression is somber but still assured. “It’s okay. It hurts right? So it’s fine.”  

He closes his eyes. Such a pure despair. Fuck. Tears well up his vision. The pain is unbearable without you. Perhaps it’s always been that way.  

“Please,”  

A desperate attempt to no one to wake up from this.  

“Megumi-kun,”  

It’s the sound of your voice, calling his name so assuredly even in the face of death, that finally makes Megumi shatter. The heat overtakes him. Posesses his sense and forces  him onto you like a lifeline.  

He throws himself at you in the grass, almost knocking you back with the force of his body. Both hands clasp your face as he presses his lips with yours with nothing but desperation. It’s less of a kiss and more of crash landing. He can feel his own conflict stirring inside of him but the relief of your touch drowns out his surroundings. All else in the world becomes silent except the taste of your mouth and the feeling of your face. How much he’s longed to this very thing, dreamed of it. Years. Over a decade of his life hiding in your beautiful shadow.  

You pull away from Megumi with a gasp and your face makes his entire body jolt. A flush dusts along your cheekbones as your hands reach for his shoulders. His head feels light. He can feel his cock twitch at the contact, suddenly gaining awareness of just how hard he is.  

“Megumi-kun,” You sound so serious it jolts him awake. His eyes open wide as he watches you undress hastily. You’re stumbling in your movements as you take everything off as quickly as you can - grabbing Megumi by the collar as he sits stiffly. “Take it off. All of it. Now, please.”  

At his wits end, he does. His hands tremble. His rational mind is fighting him at every gesture but his clothes feeling so constraining, binding him. His skin prickles, an itch skipping over his whole body as he takes everything off as fast as his hands allow. His vision is distorted from the heat. His uniform is sticky as he peels it off, drenched in sweat. He doesn’t see where they go, only feeling the relief as they come off his body. He looks for you unconsciously, immediately wanting to pull away from you as he finds you naked. The feeling is so primal it strikes fear in him. Another wave of unimaginable want pours over his skin like magma spilling across rock.  

He can’t count how much time he’s spent shamefully wondering what you look like naked. You exceed his expectations just like always, unbearably gorgeous. Soft edges and curves, scars and stretch marks - so unfairly enticing to his senses. He groans at the sight of you, eyes lidded in unadulterated, carnal want as you crawl over to him.  

Your hand pushes his shoulders back lightly towards the bed of grass underneath you both, until he’s flat on his back. He’s overwhelmed  when you crawl on top of him. You’re fever-sick just like he is, and Megumi is sure that you’re in just as much pain. 

But the face you make when you look like you want him is so fucking unfair.  

You’re beautiful and tricky and cunning and Megumi wants and wants and wants. Wants so fucking bad he might die, wants you so bad the heat in his body threatens to kill him without you. He needs you to touch him. Needs to feel your pretty hands slide across his body and touch whatever you want. 

 You lean forward to kiss him again much harder then before. Desperation makes kissing feel so pleasurable, so good. You feel so damn good. His mind is a blank slate, your tongue carving his wants into, rewiring his conscious to pine after you until the end. Your lips are soft - pillowy and plush against his own despite how much the kiss feels like little more but tongue and teeth. He wants to forfeit it all for the sake of this lasting a little longer, just as he has his entire life.  

Your existence a proof of his namesake - tongue and taste a blessing.  

Your body is soft and hot against Megumi’s skin but together the temperature cools comfortable. It’s sensual how slippery the sweat makes your bodies as you rub against each other. A mutual oasis, your tits squish along his abs and chest as Megumi holds you tight. Each time your nippls brush, his cock floods with precum.  

You slip your tongue into his mouth, and kiss Megumi sloppily. His cock pulses awake at the wetness, a strong wave of arousal backing him into a corner. Your pussy is barely hovering against his cock but Megumi strains. It gets pulled from him, an involuntary reaction. Cum spurts out of him, splashing up against your skin - dripping as it sticks to your pussy in hot spurts. He groans into your lips.  

“Did you cum from us kissing?” You ask, your voice completely gone. It’s you but it’s not. It matters but it doesn’t.  

He makes an affirmative noise and you giggle into his mouth, teeth bumping together as you kiss more. “Megumi-kun is cute.”  

He’s still so painfully hard. Electricity flares through everyone of his nerves as he slides just barely against your cunt. Fuck. You’re so wet. It feels so good it makes Megumi want to buck his hips and be inside of you already. Impatience makes his grip on your hips tight. His brain feels like it’s weighted with lead. He’s losing himself, losing his fucking mind like this. You taste sweet against his tongue as you sink your pussy down and grind against his length. You’re throbbing so hard Megumi can feel every pulse, the desperate spasming of your sex approaching orgasm.  

The filthiness of your arousal mixing together makes Megumi’s cock twitch against your clit hard. You moan loudly into his mouth and the sound sends him over edge, a life-time of pining make it hard to breathe as you take initiative and pleasure yourself with his body. He’s incredibly eager to allow you. Over and over, you slide your soft pussy over the length of his cock and balls - aimlessly covering it with slick, hips rutting and shivering with motion. Drools drips along the corners of your lips as you kiss him.  

He already wants to cum again, wants to take you in such a primal way it makes him dizzy. He feels whole thinking about what it might feel to cum so deeply inside of you. He’s thought about before, but the thought holds so much more weight in the state of his fever.  

But now it’s the only thing he wants. His teeth ache at the mere prospect. Of filling your pussy with his cum until it overflows and drips. Wants to see it pulse and push and spill and fuck it into you at your request. He wants to hear you praise him for it just like he always does, the desire much stronger than ever. Easier to admit in this curse induced sex.  

You’re breathless as you orgasm above him, on top of him - sliding along his cock and soaking his lower half with stickiness of your pussy. You pull away from his mouth to laugh delightfully. He’s so hard. He wants you so much he doesn’t know how to express it other than kissing you desperately - still restraining himself.  

It’s so much easier to catch his breathe now that you’ve both cum. Even painfully highstrung from the high with such a horrible temperature, something settles before it builds back up again.  

The relief is burdensome almost.  

“So we,” You’re breathless, more yourself and Megumi has never been happy yet so sad to see this glimpse of you again. “We both have to…haah.. cum. For the fever to slow...That’s something to work with.”  

Your expression is more serious as you lean forward, sweaty forehead touching his. It’s you doing it, not the curse forcing you both and that makes his body react. “Megumi-kun. Everything will be okay.”  

“I’m sorry. I didn’t,” He screws his eyes shut hard. “I didn’t want this to happen. This is..”  

He wants to say the worst possible outcome, but he doesn’t. You smile at him. “It’s okay because it’s you.”  

Even in the middle of all of this, you manage to get his hopes up in the worst possible way. He can’t do anything but laugh at that, genuine exhaustion starting to make him lose sense. Another wave is coming quickly, steadily. Taking a serious look at his face, you hold him close to you.  

“We’ll survive this. We’ve fought worse.”  

“You’re comforting me at a time like this,”  

You just smile at him. The heat spikes again, even more intensely than before and both of you stare at each other as the lust glosses over your expression. A pit forms in his stomach, the arousal spiking so high he chokes on it. You’re kissing again - no build up as you slide your tongue sloppily against his mouth and rub against his cock. It’s not enough this time, not even close. His chest is tight as he gasps the words against your mouth.  

“Inside.” He breathes the word between kisses, spit and saliva dripping down the sides of his face. “Need to be inside. Please, shit. Please.”  

“I want it inside.” You say and Megumi groans as your hands reach between your bodies - sticky from the mess. His cock twitches as soon as your hand wraps around the base of his shaft. You pump it twice as you sit up completely to get better accesses to it. The absence of your body makes him needy again.  

Pre-cum dribbles pathetically from the tip as you guide his cock to your pussy. Without any prep at all, you lean back and slam your weight down onto him with full force. It slides with no resistance - as you take him all the way down to the base with complete ease. Your body collapses into a shiver when you take him inside. You both cum at exactly the same time, your pussy sucking him in with a vice-like grip as he shoots another load into you. Inside of you so deep he’s aroused all over again. His cock is still hard as he fills you - and you ride your mutual high out before another brief moment of sobriety takes you. He’s briefly sated as you pas back down against him, littering bites along his neck.  

You smile at him when you pull back, suddenly lucid - bending down to meet his mouth in a kiss sober. He can feel himself blush as he joins you in the brief lucidity.  

“Megumi, you’re so big.” You say with breathless laughter. He almost wants to scream he loves you but buries it immediately.  

He groans. “I can’t believe you’re being like this given the situation.”  

You hum pleasantly and Megumi feels his heart tug.  The moment lingers to briefly before it’s interrupted again. It’s abrupt and makes you lean into his chest.  

“You sorcerers are boring me to tears,” The curse starts again, making you both stand to alert almost immediately. “Don’t be so shy now.”  

The Special Grade repeats the incantation of a technique.  

Cursed Technique: Hidden Desires.  

The air around Megumi changes suddenly. Instead of the lush oasis, he’s surrounded by a vague, all encompassing darkness similar to when he had been falling. He’s standing in it though he can’t see anything, not even himself. The fever has subsided despite him being inside the domain. Hidden Desires…from the speech the Special Grade went on earlier, he’s sure it’s related. He stands still, unsure of what to do before something appears in front of him.  

A sphere of cursed energy, a memory of some kind - at the brush of his fingertips. Despite his attempt to retract his hand, an outside force makes him touch it.  

Several emotions course through his entire body at one, passing through his mind steadily. He connects to your body, your cursed energy seeping into him as he touches whatevers in front of him. His skull throbs from the exposure of someone elses memories, the fever returning to his body one-thousand times hotter than normal. A life time breaches his mind but he doesn’t get to sift through any of it. 

 It comes to a sudden halt, and Megumi hears a whisper in his subconscious. He can’t make the words out properly.  

Arousal spikes into his body as what seems to be your desire manifests in his head. 

He does not know what reaction to have when memories and images of himself appear. Himself from your perspective, in perpetual motion - memories over the course of years crossed over with manifestations of your desires. All of it is him. Tied up, blindfolded, all other things. But him, always. Some visions are more tender than the rest. He can barely process the information, increasing stimulation making his brain fog once more.  

Fever spikes through him again. Confusion, embarrassment, and uncertainty make his stomach flip. He remains cautionary and assumes it’s another trick of the light.He doesn’t get to recover when he’s thrust back into the domain in the same position he was before he left. You look just as confused when he comes back.  

There’s not a moment to speak to each other, as the curse gets amplified ten-fold the minute he steps back into the domain. His entire body breaks out in a cherry red blush as arousal twists through his gut, curling up his neck. Claims his whole body all in on forceful gesture. The sensitivity is cranked so high, he can barely feel your hand your hand on his chest without his cock spilling pre-cum.  

Furious lust overwhelms him as you lean forward and meet his mouth again. It feels different somehow, the kiss. You press your tongue against his lips as Megumi’s cock twitches inside you. 

“Megumi-kun,” Your voice is shot. “Want you to fuck me. Fill me up. Be good and do it, okay? Fuck me so good,”  

The words alone are enough to break him from his state of mind. He takes one more look at you after you’ve granted him permission before flipping you over onto your back. He shudders as you wrap your legs around his waist - hands on either side of your head staring down hard, as he positions himself as deep as he can go inside of your cunt. It’s indescribable, the sensation of needing to fuck you. He’s never been one to chase his base instincts like this unless it’s life or death - but it feels so fucking good to let go. It feels like life or death to sate you with hi cum. Megumi is used to sitting on his hands and playing at indifference, but right now you let him take and take and take. Your hands cup his cheeks, your expression hazy with pleasure. He drops his head down to your shoulders and fucks you with every ounce of strength in his waist - animalistic and desperate to scratch the skin deep itch. He bites into your shoulder as you hips slam, the sound of wet-skin slapping against each other ringing in his ears - cum frothing white at the base of his cock and dripping down your ass each time. He needs to cum again, until the heat subsides.  

He barely gets a few thrusts in before his body strains in the familiar wake of an orgasm. The words to warn you come out choked as his hips slam against the backs of your thighs harder than ever- cumming inside of you again in what feels like seconds. It goes forever, balls emptying as he pumps his seed inside. You cum alongside him, at the same time - pussy throbbing hard around his shaft as he fills you with spend. It’s not enough, doesn’t give him the same relief this time. He needs more.  

“Fuck that’s so good,” You praise making him groan. “You’re so good, baby - fuck, Megumi.”  

You moan his name against his neck. Possession settles itself into his chest at the sound as you tell him to give you more, your hands on his ass to push his cock further into you. He fucks into you again - harder, faster, deeper - cumming every time. Pure adrenaline sends him careening down a cliffs edge, unspeakable fervor making it all but impossible to part from you. Scorching like the desert sun along his spine, a solar flare inside of his stomach as you cum together in constant motions.  

He can’t stop fucking you. He can’t. His body wont allow him even a minute seperated from the euphoria of your swollen cunt sucking in him like it needs his cum more than anything in the world. His brain feels like liquid matter in his skull, thrashing uselessly when he tries to will himself away from you. Delirium drives his every movements as Megumi fucks his cock into you over and over and over.  

You goad him with every thrust of hips - wrapped tight around his waist, fingers tugging at his hair. Praise bubbles from your mouth - champagne light against his skin but so impactful each time. His dick throbs every time you call him good, call him perfect as he fills you with his cum again and again and again.  

“My perfect fucking boy. Fuck me, that’s it.”  

It goes on like that for what feels like forever.  

He loses track by the time the heat starts to subdue again. The curse still simmers under his skin but he finds grounding after unloading a few more times. By then, he can feel how much he’s cum in you and can’t help  but blush. The hint of another wave tingles in the back of his head, and he can’t pull away from you without feeling sharp pain.  

But he does sober again eventually. He waits for you to join him, and tries not to feel sick at the intimacy of it. He’s back to his senses enough to feel utter embarrassment.  

Your voice is soft and exhausted. “Megumi-kun,” You’re so gentle to him. “What did you see?”  

He knows what you mean immediately, sensing you must’ve seen the same thing. “I think it might be another illusion of the curse.”  

“Why do you think that?”  

He can feel his blush darken all over his body. “It was uh, me. In the technique. Tied up and uhm. Anyway. I thought it might be something to provoke the other party into sex.”  

Your eyes go wide at the confession. “….Yours was me, too.”  

Oh. He blinks. You look at him again, too suddenly - peering at him through your lashes.  

“It wasn’t wrong,” You say. You seem scared, just a little. He’s never seen you like that before. “…If you saw yourself and some… kinkier stuff. It wasn’t wrong about that.”  

His throat suddenly feels so dry. 

 “What was…what did you see?” He asks.  

“It was me,” You say bashfully. “Mostly romantics and stuff. And some other stuff, but I don’t know if I should tell you, hehe.”  

He finds the action mercifully. He wonders if this whole thing is made-up when it dawns on him. Some type of fantasy. Maybe he was the only one down here from the start - and that’s why everything has felt so alarmingly right. 

Otherwise. Otherwise it would mean that you…  

“Megumi-kun,”  

He can’t breathe, but it’s for an entirely different reason. He wonders if he’ll die from his heart beating too fast.”Hm?”  

A bated breath follows a sweet smile.  

“Love you,” You mumble it against his mouth. The air is so vulnerable - more fragile than the wings of a dragonfly, more fragile than blown glass. “In that way….have for a long time. So long.”  

His reply is reflexive.  

“No you don’t,”  

You pause before bursting out into giggles. So beautiful and clever. He loves you with painful devotion. “That’s your reply to my love confession?!”  

“Shut up,” He hisses, though he can’t bring himself to make the words sound any meaner. He feels high.   

“I love you, Megumi.” You say more clearly. Your eyes shine with familiarity he’s adored for years. Even with all the fog and haze surrounding you, they’re clear and gorgeous. “More than anyone else in the world, I think.”  

He buries his face against your neck, struggling to get it out. He’s afraid to say it. Afraid if he confirms it that everything is going to collapse here. Like a dream that’s gone on too long. Megumi doesn’t want to wake up.  

He wants more than anything, for all of it to be real - even if it means he ends here.  

He won’t curse you after death, that way.  

He can’t find his voice.  

“Me too,” The weight of one thousand deaths, a thousand days of longing and loving and pining. It’s too burdensome to say. He’s afraid of what will happen to him - mind and soul, should he let himself admit what he kept so well-hidden. “I love you. You…”  

When he manages to meet your gaze, your eyes are welled up with tears. He panics. “Don’t cry. Sorry,”  

“You too. Don’t cry,”  

“I’m not—“ His vision blurs. Damn it.  

“I love you,” You say again and Megumi feels something inside of him mend. “I’ll say it as many times as you want.”  

He doesn’t sense a fever this time. But he braves himself to kiss you one more time. It feels more intense than all else. He kisses you soft and slow, lets himself melt into your affectionate touch and gaze. There’s love behind it so obviously it makes him want to cry. He might really start sobbing, but he’s distracted by your mouth.  

He feels boneless, throat tight.  

“I don’t feel any fever.” You tell him when you pull away from him. He presses his forehead to yours. “I like kissing you.” 

So embarrassing. “Yeah…”  

“Let’s make love one more time.” You offer, and Megumi looks at you in disbelief. Just as always, you’re collected but ridiculous. It’s oddly comforting. Megumi wants to believe in you, so he does. “Just one more.”  

The fever is no longer there, but the sensitivity is still strong in his body. Your mouths meet in a chorus of affection. Megumi is still hard, somehow. But he can feel everything much more clearly. Can understand the taste of your lips and the feeling of your pussy pulsing - that it’s for him and he feels so elated he wonders if it will ever go away. He kisses you gingerly and lets himself slide out as your hand goes to his nape.  

“You’re so good to me, Megumi,” Your words make him ache. A whimper leaves his lips. “My beautiful boy. It must’ve been lonely, huh?”  

“Yes,” His words meet a thrust, slow but deep. A communication of needs so raw he can barely show them to you without feeling shy. “So long. Loved you for so long.” 

“Me too,” You mutter. The praise pierces his heart, suffocates him in such a euphoric feeling he can’t help but gasp at each reminder. “I love you so much, baby. And we’re gonna get out of here and be together, right?”  

He feels his head fill with nothingness. Relief like cold air brushes along his skin. Like being bathed in cool water. You’re his cure - but that’s always been true. “Yeah. Please.”  

“You can’t run away, okay?”  

“I won’t,”  

“Even though I want to monopolize you?”  

He blushes but grunts with affirmation following another slow roll of his hips. “I want to be with you. Nothing else matters. A-and I didn’t hate it… or anything.”  

You smile at him. He loves you. He loves you, he loves you, he loves you. It’s all he can come up with - watching your eyes crinkle in the corners with nothing but delight. “Mm.” You slide a hand between your bodies, rubbing your clit soft as you moan a little. “Sensitive. Gonna cum soon.” 

“Me too,”  

He’s barely holding it together as is. It takes a little more to push him over the edge one last time. This orgasm feels different. Feels rooted in reality. The mutual pleasure grounds him completely, relieving his ailment despite the remaining hints of fever. He kisses you as he cums inside of you one last time, shuddering as you cum right alongside him. He whispers the words against your lips as you let go. He loves you. 

The fever cools down. It takes a while for him to slip away from you after everything, but he manages.  

“Sorry,” He mumbles, watching the cum leak out of you in embarrassment. You just laugh, patting his cheek.  

“It’s okay, promise.” You stand to your feet as Megumi tries not to be self-conscious about the way it’s dripping down your thigh. “I can’t feel the presence of the Special Grade. It must be watching from somewhere inside the domain.”  

“Yeah,” Megumi says, trying to find his clothes.”No idea how the curse broke. Maybe since we’re already curse users?” 

You hum noncommittally. “Yeah. Let’s… clean up best we can and get outta here, yeah?”  

Megumi smiles, soft and relieved. “Yeah.”  

__  

“Are you interested in hearing the details of the curse, my dearest Megumi-chan?”  

Megumi grimaces.  

“No. Why are you even here?”  

Gojo-sensei feigns a look of offense that makes Megumi want to strangle him. He wants to go home and bathe properly already but there’s always a lot of hooplah with unregistered special grades. He’s relieved in one sense of the word, though it’s not like Gojo’s appearance made any difference since you two defeated the curse together and promptly passed out.  

He woke up clothed, and not as sticky as he was during the fight. Apparently Gojo had found you both first and once you were awake, you cleaned him. 

He sits on a tree stump in the forest nearby, his eyes flitting over to to you. You’re debriefing an archivist for Jujutsu when he catches your eye. His heart pounds, blushing at the happiness on your face. 

He feels six-eyes on him and glares at Gojo, who’s currently hiding his mouth behind his hand.  

“How long have we been out?”  

“Mm,” Sensei holds up three fingers. “About three days? I only got here on the third and found you. I was here before, several years ago - for a related case. It took some time, but we fond information of the curse in one of the houses. Are you curious?”  

He’s surprised for a minute, groaning right after. “Just tell me.”  

“Special Grade Kuroyuri uses a technique called Fever, to induce what’s essentially heat - forcing all  parties into extreme physical discomfort that can only be alleviated by sexual contact - no matter the party,” He spouts off, pretending to push his glasses up. Megumi frowns at him.  “Fever works by inducing conditions related to inner  desires and producing cursed energy that way. However, as a result, should two people experiencing Fever - be capable of sating the others desire deeply, they are able to break free from it. As the condition is vague and difficult to achieve, it’s very rarely met which is what has allowed the domain to get so strong.” 

Megumi makes wide eyes. “So you’re saying…”  

“Megumi-chan, the stairwell to adulthood and true love saved you! How wonderful!”  

Megumi blushes as Gojo giggles, glaring at him. He should kill him someday.  

Gojo-sensei pretends to wipe a tear from his eye. “The painful years of pining were worth something Megumi-chan. To think your desires were so pure…” 

“Shut up! I’m going to kill you!” Megumi groans, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing. “Do we have any idea why the curse was created?”  

“Seems the cult worshipped cursed energy as a measure of human experience. A curse intending to induce more cursed energy as evidence of their belief. Something like that. The details are vague, but we’re still looking.”  

Megumi sighs again. “Right. Thanks,”  

He puts a hand on his shoulder  as Megumi feels the exhaustion tamp down on him. He feels better and embarrassed as you pad over to him after you’re done.  

“Megumi-kun,” You smile at him before nodding to Gojo-sensei. He smiles back.  

“I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone,”  

Megumi shoots one last glare at Gojo before looking towards you. You sit down beside him on the ground, resting your head on his lap in a way that makes his whole body break out into a blush. He’s happy though.  

“I love you,”  

“What are you saying?”  

You look up at him. “Just want to make sure you know.”  

He looks down at you from where you lay and frowns. “How could I not?” And then, a little softer. “…It’s mutual.”  

You reach a hand towards his as you giggle to yourself. “That’s good.”  

Megumi squeezes your hand and closes his eyes. Better than good, maybe.  

__  

PROLOGUE:  

[ SEPTEMBER 4TH, 2018 | 4:45pm] 

Megumi waits a while before going into the courtyard, hoping that you’ll move and practice elsewhere if he waits long enough.  

He’s been sitting behind the wall for the last half-hour at least. No luck.  

He feels bad about avoiding you, but it’s the only course of action he thinks helps both parties.  

He doesn’t exactly like you. It’s easier to say he finds it difficult to get used to you is all. Your personality eludes him, and you remind a little too much of Sensei in how you act. Not to mention you’re already so strong. You get along well with everyone else, especially the other first years. You’re a nice girl so it’s obvious Kugisaki-san would favor you, and Itadori-kun can get along with basically everyone.  

But you and him have been at odds since your arrival to the Tokyo branch months prior. Megumi can’t figure out how to bridge the gap between you, and finds it hard to force himself to like you. He doesn’t dislike you, either though. It’s not something he can put words too.  

He feels guilty about it since you haven’t done anything to him to cause his discomfort. He just… doesn’t know what to do.  

Lost in thought, he nearly jumps out of his skin as someone stands over him where he sits, casting shadow on him from above. He opens his eyes to see you standing over him, an unreadable look on his face.  

“How long did you plan on waiting here, Fushiguro-san?”  

Megumi stares up at you before frowning, rubbing his neck awkwardly. “Sorry for disturbing you.” 

You’re hard for him to read, though you’re smiling. You seem amused as you step back, allowing Megumi to stand up at full-height and glance at you.  

“I don’t mind. I know you don’t want to train with me, but it’d be kind of pointless to try and find somewhere else so it’s better to just bear with it a bit.”  

He stares at you. You smile knowingly.  

“You’re surprised I know you were avoiding me?” 

He nods.  

“No offense Fushiguro-san, but it’s hard not to notice something like that when our grade is four people,” You’re a little smug but it’s not mal-intended, though it kinda pisses him off. “No hard feelings.”  

You say that then sit next to him behind the wall. He stares at you feeling more uncomfortable - but can’t will himself to get up.  

“What are you doing?”  

You smile again. 

“Messing with you,”  

He stares at you. You stare back until you break out into laugher.  

“Pfft, I’m sorry. I really am. You make it so obvious on your face when I make you mad..hah.”  

“It’s that part of you I really don’t like.”  

“Mm, yeah - thought so.” Your reply is nonplussed but not unkind. “You’re the moody, serious type. Sensitive.”  

Megumi watches you shuffle through your deck of cards - the ones you’d been practicing with for the last few hours. You peruse through the thick boards of your Hanafuda deck, silently stacking them into different matching suits and using them with your cursed energy. Megumi watches on as you manifest different thing. He wants to ask you about it but can’t find the wil. You’re so strong, despite how you act. The strongest of the first years even outclassing him.  

“It’s fine if you find me hard to be around, but don’t avoid me so blatantly.” You reason coolly. “It’s best we get along.”  

“…Do you want me to get along with you?”  

You laugh at that but he isn’t sure why. It’s nice.. the sound of your laugh when it’s sincere. This is the first time he’s ever properly talked to you, he realizes.  

“Of course! I like getting along with everyone, even someone as brooding as you.”  

“Why.”  

“It’s good for my public image.” You say seriously. He deadpans as you perk up and laugh again. “Kidding, I’m kidding!”  

“I’m going to leave.” He threatens flatly.  

“Fine, fine. Do you want to know the real reason?”  

“I don’t really care,” He responds. You smile at that.  

“I’m more than happy to tell you,” You say, completely ignoring him. “Despite your various character flaws, I think Fushiguro-san is kind of innocent.”  

“Huh?”  

You smile warmly. “Your philosophy to only save people you think are good I thought was cute. It’s a very simple way to think about jujutsu. I like that part of you, I guess? You were raised with a lot of love, I think. Since it’s a difficult way to live.”  

Megumi thinks of his life - thinks of Tsumiki and his sensei with some begrudging. He doesn’t know what else to ask you. He’s a little uncomfortable that you seem to know him so well with the little information you have.  

“Why are you a sorcerer then?”  

Megumi watches you stack your cards into a card house and collapse them, humming to yourself. You seem deep in thought for a while. The sunlight moves away from the clouds briefly, a beam of line brushing against your skin. Your lashes cast shadow on your cheeks. He’s never seen you so clearly.  

You answer with utmost clarity and confidence - all shiny grin. “Ah, well why not, you know? Since I’m super talented.”  

He stares at you, dumbfounded before the corners of his lips twitch. Somehow he understands you a little better than before, and he thinks that might’ve been what you wanted.  

“You’re an idiot.”  

Your grin goes even wider.  

“Let’s be good friends, Fushiguro-san. Okay?” 

“Sure,” He relaxes his back against the wall and shuts his eyes with a small laugh. “Why not.”  

[gloomwitchwrites]

Locker Room: Simon's POV

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: swearing, possessive behavior, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), dirty thoughts, multiple creampie

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: originally for @glitterypirateduck 's Ghost Writing Challenge, this is Simon's POV follower parts ONE & Two of Locker Room.

A/N(2): Remember how I said I was in the emergency room and have been feeling like absolute shit? Well I slept for 48 hours and I felt well enough to write this. Enjoy!

Part One // Part Two

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist

A bloke shouldn’t have his wank interrupted in the shower.

Simon had been in his head, his hand around his cock, stroking himself to the image of the woman he’s been thinking about for the last few fucking months.

He had heard the silence first, all the banter in the locker room ceasing. That pulled him right out of it, and in seconds Simon stepped out of the shower with a towel around his hips. Your voice drifted in, demanding an audience with him.

And he knew why.

He left that little note on purpose.

The reports are just fine, sweetheart.

Simon wanted to rile you up, to push you a bit, but he didn’t think you’d barge into the men’s locker room just to confront him.

When he appeared, and everyone cleared out, Simon didn’t expect such fire from you. He thought you would fold. That with one look you’d melt into him, but you did the opposite. And then you grabbed him by the fucking dog tags and kissed him.

Simon was done for.

The moment you left, he returned to that shower and jerked himself so fast it almost hurt. He had to have you, but Simon wasn’t going to go after you right then. He made himself wait, and that was the hardest fucking part. Simon desired nothing more than to follow you out of that locker room, toss you over his shoulder, and carry you off.

He’s glad he waited. Simon took you in your office, and yet it wasn’t enough. Not for either of you. Worse, Simon could tell that you were going to end it right then, leave everything nice and tidy. And Simon wasn’t having that.

Now, you’re here, in his home.

Naked. Bare. Skin glossy with sweat. Pussy full of his cum.

You’re fucking beautiful like this, and the sounds you make are even sweeter.

With arms outstretched against the bed, you arch your back, pushing your ass up into the air. Simon fills his hands with those perfect cheeks. He squeezes, leans forward, and gently bites, pulling forth a moan from your lips that goes straight to his dick.

You’ve been milking him all fucking night. You keep demanding more, and Simon is happy to give it. He doesn’t want to go into work. He wants to stay right here. With you. In his bed.

With your knees digging into the top of the bed, you spread them a bit, exposing your pussy to Simon. He cannot help himself when he sees the mess he’s made there. Removing one hand from your ass, Simon runs his fingers over your slick pussy. The sound of his fingers sliding through you invades the room, and it is all Simon can focus us.

It’s a gorgeous sight. A gorgeous sound.

“You want more, love?” asks Simon gently.

His gaze sweeps over your body as his fingers play with your pussy. You shiver, inhale sharply, and then moan a reply that sounds like an agreement. You’re almost twitching with need. You can’t stay still. Every part of you is asking for more, opening for him, but Simon needs to hear those sweet words on your lips.

“Tell me,” he says again, this time leaning over your body to grasp your face and turn your gaze on him. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you inside me, Simon.” You’re begging, almost pleading, and Simon will happily oblige.

Gently, Simon releases you from his hold, only to press you into the position he wants. You’re flat on your stomach as Simon runs his hands up and down your back. It’s a soothing gesture, but it’s mostly to comfort you than him.

Simon is burning beneath his skin. He desperately wants to be inside you, but he also knows that he’s exhausted you, and while you’re not entirely satiated, he doesn’t want you to push it.

His hands fall upon your hips. Simon eases them up a bit, urging your thighs apart with his knees. You comply, and the obedience is delicious to him. You’re demanding—full of fire—and yet for him, you’re melting before his eyes. It’s so different from the Locker Room and from your office.

Slowly, Simon drapes himself over you, flexing his hips back to line the head of his cock up to your entrance. The moment he starts to push in, you groan loudly, body starting to lift from the bed. But Simon relaxes his weight, trapping you beneath him. He props himself up on his left elbow and forearm. While is other hand pressed into the bed next to your waist.

There is no escape. You cannot wiggle out from under him or even buck against him. Simon likes it like this. Like you beneath him. Likes you sweaty. Panting. Begging.

Simon retreats and thrusts forward, sliding in to the hilt. Even now, you’re so fucking tight it’s smashing his brain into mush. He needs to fucking control himself, to make this pleasurable for you as much as it is for him.

He starts slow, finding a rhythm that has you moaning in just the way he likes. It’s almost a tell. Even now, Simon is reading your signals.

Simon brushes his lips against the curve of your shoulder. His tongue darts out to taste the salt. “You’ve been so good for me,” he murmurs. “Taking me well all night.”

“Simon,” you groan as he hits that sweet spot.

Simon grins against your shoulder blade. His hand slips from the bed to slide underneath your body. With each stroke, Simon stimulates your clit. He doesn’t change pace. He knows better. Soon you’re melting. Shaking. Each breath of yours quickening until it’s a guttural groan that even has Simon questioning his sanity.

You vibrate and shake. There is victory on Simon’s tongue. He slips his hand from beneath your body only to tangle it in your hair. He holds firm and then he rocks his hips faster, grunting his own need out above you until his lower-half tenses, and then he’s gasping, his release flooding your pussy.

Simon almost collapses.

He is worn out. Fucking tired. How many times have the two of you fucked tonight? At least five. And this might just be the last of the evening.

Simon runs his hand over your hip and waist only to dip to your stomach. With one fluid motion, Simon curls onto his side, bringing you to rest against his chest. Brushing your hair out of face, Simon kisses a trail from the curve of your shoulder to your lips.

You greet him with a smile.

Simon’s hand roams upward, only to lightly wrap around the front of your neck. You do not protest or push back at this, and something primal within Simon awakens.

This is not a one-time thing for him. You are his, and if that means he needs to mark his territory, he fucking will. Any man at work that even looks at your wrong is dead.

Well—not dead. But Simon will make damn sure they know to back the fuck off.

You’re his. Even if you haven’t agreed. Even if you haven’t decided anything.

You are not walking away.

This isn’t over.

taglist:

@km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath @sapphichotmess

@saoirse06 @haven-1307 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @lialacleaf

@unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett @ravenpoe67 @tulipsun-flower

@sageyxbabey @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @umno-yeah

@mudisgranapat @ninman82 @webmvie @blackhawkfanatic @contractedcriteria

@talooolaaloolla @rogerrhqpsody @sadlonelybagel @cinnabeanz @aykxz98

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @daemondoll @iloveslasher @yawning-grave81

@voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff @azkza @ash-tarte @sammysinger04

@certainlygay @soapyreaper @hantheconqueror @dakotakazansky @jaggersinclair

@suhmie @kidd3ath @lovely-ateez @marispunk

[thinkingaboutjaedyn]

privacy | m.leon x reader

summary: you decide to prank mapi.

author notes: this is my way of fighting back against my horrible writer's block. hopefully i can write regularly instead of hardly. enjoy 💞

contains: mapi leon x influencer!reader, fluff!, lesbians being cute.. that's all, badly translated spanish ☹️

playing hasta cuando by kali uchis 🎵

there has been this trend going around on tiktok that you have been wanting to try for a while. it's quite simple, just ask your partner to leave while you change and see their reaction. most of the reactions were quite cute and you found the trend fun. thankfully harmless which is why you want to try this prank on your girlfriend.

mapi doesn't want to admit it but she is quite clingy. always wanting to be around you whether you two are doing something together or separate. she just needs your presence to fully function and you aren't any different. having the spaniard around is comforting like constantly having your favorite song playing. you would never get sick of being around mapi even if to others you two seemed a bit co-dependent; maybe you guys were at some points.

you decide the perfect moment to strike is the morning of the brunch date you planned. there's this new cafe open that you have been meaning to bring mapi to, but with her rehab and tagging along with the team then your own work related duties, the thought of the cafe was really lost in between all that. with the season particularly being over, mapi has way more free time and she has been happily basking in all of it. spending most of it with you, so when you asked to go on this date she immediately said yes.

"baby, i'm about to record my get ready with me," you say to the tattooed woman as you pass by her to go to the bathroom attached to your bedroom. she's laying on the bed, reading a new book she picked up recently. she has always been into reading and tried to get you into it, but you almost fall asleep everytime she reads to you. it's not your fault that her voice is so soothing.

"okay, bonita," mapi gives you one of those cute smiles of hers. she gestures for you to come out of the bathroom, you have hardly stepped into it anyways. smiling brighter when you come back over to the bed. you can already tell what she wants by the time you make it back over to her. she puckers her lips, awaiting her most deserved kiss.

you giggle before indulging her. pecking her lips, once, twice before pulling away.

"don't want to go too far now, hm? i have to film," you push a few strands of hair behind her ear. there is a pout on her lips that almost makes you give in and just kiss her a bit longer but the thought of the prank hangs in the back of your mind. you straighten up, giggling when mapi says, "but can't you just make up some kind of excuse? just say your lips are all swollen because you used that.. lip plumper you showed me some girls use."

"a lip plumper? babes, i don't use those. my fans will easily call bluff," you peck her forehead before fully moving away. you can just vision the pout on her lips as you step into the bathroom. closing the door behind you, so you don't catch a glance of how cute she's being because if you do then you would have given in easily.

you think of the best way to execute the prank in a way that won't make your girlfriend suspicious. she could be quite oblivious, but you telling her to leave would definitely raise some questions. you decide to just wing it, knowing how mapi will probably come into the bathroom soon enough since she can't seem to survive five minutes without having you near her. even though the only thing separating you two was a door.

you set up your phone on the counter. clicking on the record button and making sure you look good before the ten seconds timer goes off.

"hi guys! i'm back with another get ready with me. this time around, mapi and i are about to go out for brunch.." you continue to explain to your phone how you have been meaning to take mapi out for a while. at the same time, you tie back your hair then slip on a cute fluffy hair band to keep away any strands.

the more you said mapi's name while doing your makeup, the more you knew she would eventually come into the bathroom. just like a cat, she appears. coming into the room after the fifth time you mention her.

"you already look good, mi amor," she says as she comes behind you. wrapping her arms around your waist then leaning close to your face for a kiss. you playfully roll your eyes but kiss her back. you didn't have any lipstick on anyways.

"thank you. i was telling them how i was taking you out for the first time in forever. are you excited?" you say softly. smiling when mapi giggles. she pulls away to let you finish your makeup, opting to lean against the counter.

she pauses to think then says, "siempre estoy emocionado cuando se trata de ti." the barcelona player blows you a kiss afterwards, very cheesy. you roll your eyes but blow one back. you shift the phone slightly to get more of her in the frame; it's going to be needed when you do the prank.

you decide to not do it straight away or she would get all suspicious, so you just continue with half of the video. doing some of your makeup before cutting, doing the rest and then continuing to record. you do the same with your hair.

mapi stays pretty quiet during the whole first part of your recording. she just lets you do her thing while she also gets ready.

once it was time for you to change out of your pajamas, you start the prank. looking at your phone before turning to mapi.

"hey baby. i'm about to change, so can you like get out of the bathroom for a quick minute?" you say casually. trying not to laugh when your girlfriend nods in slight confusion before walking over to the door. she almost leaves but stops herself and turns back to face you.

"wait.. why do i have to leave? siempre te cambias de ropa delante de mí," she blinks at you in her confusion. crossing her arms across her chest as she comes closer to you.

"i just feel like having some privacy right now. i won't take too long, maybe seven minutes at the most," you shrug. trying to play off the situation. mapi nods but there is a frown on her lips.

"okay but baby, it's not like i'm staring at you. i'm trying to get ready too. we are both doing our own thing and who's going to zip up your dress? who's going to hold your hair out of the way?" her frown grows as she continues, "do you still love me? what did i do?"

you laugh, pulling her arms away from her chest so that you can hold her hands.

"of course i still love you and no you didn't do anything. i just want some privacy, i'll just change in our bedroom, okay?" you explain. you fight off more of your laughter as she looks at you like you're crazy.

mapi is quick to say, "siempre respeto tus deseos.. but princesa, i don't get it. i have seen every inch of you, what is there to hide? ¿te sientes inseguro? you know i think you're beautiful."

she's being so adorable that you almost feel bad about pranking her. however you do end up cutting the prank off here, the obvious confusion on her face was too much for you to handle.

"awe, you're too sweet. i'm sorry, it was a prank," you let go of her hands to go grab your phone. stopping the recording before setting your phone down on the counter.

"a prank?" she laughs, moving to pull you back close. "you're mean.." she pouts before kissing you. it takes you a minute to respond but you kiss you back even though you will have to redo your lipstick afterwards.

it's okay, it's worth it.

author notes: this didn't turn out as bad as i thought 😣 still not as high quality as i want it to be but we ball. hopefully y'all liked it 💖

© THINKINGABOUTJAEDYN

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Quiet Ones 8

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live a quiet life, but your peace is fractured by a chaotic man.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, short!shy!reader

Note: it's hump dayyyy.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

Lloyd drags you away as you hear the disgusted muttering of his parents. You try to tug free but he’s too strong. Even if he did let go, where would you go? Your ankles nearly bend in the heels as he urges you to the stairs and you stumble into his back. 

“Aw, baby,” he faces you, “don’t get ahead of yourself. We’ll get there.” 

Before you can react, he scoops you up. You cry out, the dregs of your bile burn your throat. You make a face at the smell. He’s hardly bothered as he turns to continue up the staircase. 

“Damn, jelly bean,” he snarls as you feel his heart racing, “I knew you were a freak underneath it all. The way you just dug right in. Like an animal. Feral,” he snickers and kisses the top of your head as he gets to even ground, “we’re more alike than you know, aren’t we?” 

You gulp and say nothing. You’re disgusted as much by yourself as him. All that and for what? You’re still stuck with this madman. How on earth did he even notice you? By his parents’ suggestion, you’re far from his type. 

“Urgh, I don’t feel good,” you rub your stomach and wriggle in his grasp. It would be a good excuse to get away, or at least some space.  

“That’s alright, jelly bean, you let me take care of you,” he carries you breezily down the hall, his footsteps jaunty. You put your hand on his shoulder to steady yourself and his blue eyes flick down to the diamond ring, “fuck, that looks amazing on you. I’ll look just as good on you.” 

He laughs at his slimy joke but it only unsettles you. Even with barf on your breath and steak in your teeth, you can’t deter him. You’ve tried everything; ignoring him, waiting him out to the point of starvation, and making a fool of yourself. Your hope dwindles to a single strand, ready to snap. 

He takes you into the bedroom and through to the adjoining bathroom. The shining marble and gleaming golden accoutrements reflect the overhead light in a pristine sheen. He places you down on the counter so your legs dangle over the edge and he puts his hands on your shoulders. 

“Don’t take it to heart, bean, mom and dad are just like that. You’ll always be good enough for me,” he winks and shifts over to the sink.  

You watch him, helpless. You know better than to hop off in those heels and twist your ankle. He fills a clear cup with porcelain and wets a toothbrush before adding minty paste. He holds them out to you and you accept them wordlessly. The sparkle of the ring makes you wince. 

“I’m their son and they don’t really like me. Sometimes I wonder why they even had me...” he sighs and flicks the cup lightly with his finger. 

You put the brush in your mouth and scrub your teeth. It’s a good excuse not to reply. You don’t really get this man. He’ll kidnap a woman then spill his heart out like you care. Still, knowing how his parents are, you can piece together how he got to this point. 

“You get me, jelly bean. I know you got no parents and sometimes, I feel the same--” 

You choke and pull the brush from your mouth. You swig with the cup and lean over to spit into the sink. You sneer at him, a genuine wave of anger rising in you, “how do you know that?” 

Surprise washes over him at your reaction. He shrugs and hooks his thumbs in his pockets, “well, of course, I had to learn everything about you, honey. To take care of you. Tie up any loose ends hanging off of you--” 

“What the... you...” you scrunch your brow up and shake your head. You feel even sicker. “You’re not going to stop, are you?” 

“Stop?” He smirks, “stop what?” 

You sigh and put the brush back in your mouth. You scrape away the taste of vomit and rinse your mouth again. He takes the cup and brush and puts them aside for you. He comes back to stand in front of you. 

“Your special, bean. I gotta keep you safe. I mean, look how easy I just waltzed in, imagine what a really bad guy could do,” he frames your face with his hand, “just look at you...” he squeezes your jaw tightly so you can’t pull away, “so small and cute and... delicious. I bet you taste as sweet as a jelly bean, huh?” 

His other hand tickles your side and he steps closer, wiggling his way between your knees your legs splay wide. The skirt strains around your thighs as he grips your hip more firmly. He purrs and leans in, his nose tickling yours. 

You press on his chest, "your parents." 

"They can see themselves out, they always do," he slithers, "baby, I only need you." 

"Wait, I'm not-- I--" you babble as his hand slips down and his fingers curl under your ass to grope you, "Lloyd, please, we-- we aren't even married yet." 

He pauses, hovering before your lips and draws back. His mouth slants. 

"Are you an old-fashioned girl, huh? I shoulda known," he purrs, "well, I can get with that," he drops his hand from your chin, "we don't gotta go all the way." 

He brings both his hands to your hips and pulls you towards him. You fall back with the suddenness and barely catch yourself on your elbows. You squeal as he keeps your legs wide and yanks at your skirt. 

"Please, I'm not-- I'm not ready," you plead. 

"Don't worry, babe, I'll get you warmed up," he rasps as he shoves his hands up your dress, bending over you as he exposes your panties. 

"Ah, gosh," you sputter dumbly, writhing as he bows down to bury his nose against your underwear. He takes a big whiff and you exclaim, embarrassed. "Ayeee, Lloyd." 

"You smell like heaven," he lowers himself to his knees, "and I'm not a religious man, mind you." 

You clutch the edge of the counter as you slip down, propping one elbow as you fight the slipperiness of the satin. He nuzzles you, dragging his nose along the trim of your panties as his breath dampens your skin. He nips at you playfully and snarls. 

You squeal in surprise once more. The rippling sensation that radiates from his touch has you as off-kilter as your position. He feels along your thigh and hooks his hand around your other leg. He flutters his fingertips against your panties and tugs them to the side, a waft of cool air dancing over your bare lips. You wriggle again. 

"It's okay, baby, I'll be nice, just a little appetizer," he coaxes and swipes his tongue along your cunt. As you gasp, he rears back and does the same, "jelly bean, you lied to me. You are ready," he licks his lips and you look down at him, his lips already glistening. 

As he dives back in, you gulp and shut your eyes. You turn your head away as he spreads his tongue wide and laps you up. He rocks his head, tickling you deliberately with his mustache, humming into you. You whimper and slap a palm onto the marble counter top. 

He flicks up and down, swirling as you squirm and pant helplessly. As in all things, you can’t resist. Your head falls back against the mirror and you whine. How is he doing this to you? Why is he making you like this? You don’t like him, you don’t want him! 

He tilts his head all around, garbling into you hungrily as he smears your wetness all around his face. His shamelessness spikes your arousal, a new flame razing up your spine. You heave and reach down to latch onto his hair, tugging on it as he seals his lips around your clit and sucks. 

You cry out, legs quivering against his face as you try to close them. He growls and snarls eagerly, devouring you as the pressure wells up to the brim. You huff and puff, curling your spine as you try to fight the pulsing in your core. No, no, no. It’s so intense you feel the tingle in your toes. 

Your voice grows louder as your spasm and the spring overflows. You feel yourself spill into your mouth. He hums again, laughing into you as he drinks up your orgasm. You throw your arm over your face, thoroughly ashamed of your desecration. 

You slide limply down, head tilted up against the mirror, as your legs open and hang loosely. Lloyd kisses your cunt before he pulls away, making a slurping sound as your eyes slit open. You can see the wetness in his mustache. He grins proudly and sighs. 

“Fuck, jelly bean, you’re just like candy,” his eyes drift back to your exposed cunt. 

You try to close your legs and he catches your knees. Holding them open. He tuts and pokes his tongue out, once more licking up the slickness around his lips. You cringe and push yourself up on your elbows. 

“You want me to wait for all that?” He growls, “damn, baby, you must be a sadist, making me hurt so much.” 

He traces his fingers up your thighs and pinches until you squeak. He clucks and reaches past you to the counter. He pulls himself to his feet and you see the bulge in his pants. He rubs his hand across the obvious outline and he shudders. 

“You don’t gotta do anything, just let me look at you while I play with it, how about it?” 

He doesn’t wait for your permission. In that moment, you can’t speak. Even if you could, you don’t even know what you would say. He unbuckles his belt and pushes down his zipper. He’s trembling as he frees himself, his swollen top poking out of his fly. He crumples the top of his pants as he shoves them down impatiently. 

“Show me your ass, I just wanna see it,” he grabs himself and groans, “ah, shit, please, jelly bean, I’m begging you. You want me back on my knees?” He kneels again, stroking himself slowly, “please, turn over, baby, promise I won’t touch.” He moans, “can’t you hear how much pain I’m in? For you?” 

You slide down, feet touching the cold tile. You flutter your lashes, legs shaking. You’re weak and senseless. You can’t look at him. You turn and he groans again. He sounds agonized. 

He chuffs out air as you hear him pumping himself. You hang your head, leaning on your arms as he pulls up your skirt. He whines as he reveals your bare ass around the slender string of the thong. You’re roiling in humiliation and something else. 

“Shit, shit, shit, baby, you are... immaculate,” he grits, “where-- where do you want me to come?” 

“Huh?” You utter. 

“Fuck, too late,” he lets out a roar, punctured by deep huffs, petering out to a pathetic panting that leaves him droning. 

You stay as you are, hiding as your heartbeat slows and the coil inside you loosens little by little. You pull your skirt down, skin scoured in shame, and face him. He sits on his knees still, head down as his dick twitch and slowly softens. You try not to look at it. 

He lifts his head to you, his cheeks flush and his hair askew. He looks around with his foggy eyes and chuckles, “well, it’s good we’re in here, huh? We can get cleaned up.” 

You just stare at him. You’re mortified. You can’t believe what he just did. To you. Then after. And you just laid there. You think... you think you had an orgasm. 

“Let me...” he begins and wobbles before he can plant a foot on the floor. He stands stiffly, not bothering to hide his dick. You ignore the way it flops.  

He turns and goes to the tub. The top of his ass peaks out of his crooked pants. He’s absolutely ridiculous. He the last kind of person you would ever associate with. Not that you talk to anyone, but he is not anyone you would dare to speak to. Yet he has made himself your personal pest. 

He bends over the large tub and cranks it on. You peek over at the door. How loud were you? Were his parents still there to hear you? You frown and raise a foot then lower it again. Your instinct to run fights with your logic. You know you won’t get far, not on jelly legs and not from him. 

The water spills out and he stands, backing away as he rubs his lower back. He strips off his jacket and rolls his shoulders. He turns back and lays it across the other end of the counter. He unbuttons his shirt and looks over at you. 

“Come on, jelly bean, unless you like a bit of zest, I don’t mind it,” he pokes his tongue out at you, “extra flavour and all. 

You let your disgust singe through and curl your lip. He laughs. He drops his shirt and nears. He turns you to face him as your skirt drapes back over your legs. He guides the straps down your shoulders. He shimmies the sheath down your body, his fingers grazing your skin cloyingly. You shiver as bumps raise on your skin. 

“You been hiding, jelly bean, well I’m about to bring you right out of that shell,” he smirks, “if there’s one thing to know about Lloyd Hansen, there’s no walls that can keep him out. I’m gonna tear yours right down.” 

[scoonsalicious]

With Friends Like These...

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, Lies, Machinations.

Word Count: 1.5k

Previously On...: Bucky found the envelope you were sent. And he did not take it well. He went running to Lily.

A/N: I have a job interview this afternoon! Wish me luck (although, by the time this posts, it will be over with already, but, you know, good vibes!)!!

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Lily couldn’t believe her luck. When she had arranged to have that envelope sent to The WarZone, she expected Major to freak out, to be frightened and disturbed, maybe even disgusted, by everything Bucky had done in his past and decide to stop seeing him. 

But for Bucky to think that Major was running background on him without his knowledge, and for him to run out on her? Lily couldn’t have planned it better. And he’d come to Lily for comfort. Everything was going perfectly. She was even willing to eat this disgusting pineapple on her pizza, she was in such a good mood.

Currently, Bucky was sitting on the floor, back leaning against her couch while she massaged his scalp, the television playing some mind numbing comedy in the background.

“I don’t get it, Lil,” he said with a groan. “If she had questions, she could have just asked me. I would have told her anything she wanted to know.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, wishing he would move on to a different topic, any topic, other than that harlot. “I did tell you she was a bitch, Jamie.”

Bucky leaned his head back. “But why would she do it?” he asked her with a sigh. “She made such a big deal about saying I didn’t have to tell her anything until I was ready. So, why would she go digging?”

Lily scratched at his scalp, trying not to let her annoyance come through her ministrations. “She obviously lied to you, Jamie. Apparently, your past mattered more to her than she claimed. I hate to say this,” she said, struck with a jolt of inspiration, “but maybe she’s attracted to that kind of thing. Some people are sick, Jamie and, well, it wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened.”

She eyed him, hoping the memory would hit the way she had intended it to. She had been particularly proud of orchestrating that breakup. Bucky had been devastated, of course– but when he had confided to Lily that he had been planning on asking Jessica, his girlfriend at the time, to move into his room at the Compound with him, she had to take action. What else was Lily supposed to do, honestly?

So, she'd fabricated search histories on Bucky's laptop for all kinds messed up Winter Soldier porn while Bucky was away on a mission; the nastier, the better; and then conveniently "discovered" the history after asking Bucky to borrow his computer. Since Jessica had, "technically," been the only other person, aside from Bucky, with access to the device, convincing him that she had been the one to search for it all hadn't been difficult. Despite Jessica's pleas that she'd done no such thing, it was hard refuting the evidence Lily had manufactured, especially since Bucky was so technologically illiterate and never thought to check for dates and times of the searches, and Jessica had been out of their lives by dinnertime. Lily would be eternally grateful to Rule 34.

“Is this how it’s going to be from now on?” Bucky asked her remorsefully. “Girls are either going to be terrified of the Winter Soldier, or weirdly turned on by him? There’s no in between where they just see 'Bucky'?”

Lily rolled her eyes. Was he always this fucking dramatic? “Jamie, you’ve barely been dating her. Be thankful you found out about her now, before you got in too deep.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “It could have been a lot worse. At least now, you know the truth about her, and you can move on.”

“I don’t know why I’m surprised,” Bucky lamented. “I’m a fucking monster. How can I expect any good woman to fall in love with me, after all the shit I’ve done?” 

“Maybe,” she began, playing with the chain of his dog tags and hoping to get him off his pity train, “the problem is that you’re too caught up with girls who don’t really know you. Maybe you’d be better off with someone you already have a solid foundation with, you know?” Lily gently tugged his tags out from underneath his collar and began running her fingers across the metal, as she’d done hundreds of times before. It always made her feel connected to him, grounded.

Except, this time, they felt… wrong, somehow. The metal engraving where his name should be felt foreign, not the embossing she was so intimately familiar with. She felt her stomach plummet. 

“What’s with your tags?” she asked, not even giving him an opportunity to respond to her previous statement. “They don’t feel right.”

Bucky pulled away from her, reaching up to gently take the tags from between her fingers into his own. 

“These are Major’s,” he said softly as he ran his thumb across the engraving, looking at the tags almost longingly. 

“Why–” Lily fought for composure, “why do you have her tags?” she asked him. “Where are yours?”

“We traded,” Bucky confessed to her. “Fuck, now I’m going to have to figure out how to get mine back.”

“You gave her your tags.” Lily did her best to cover her disgust and disbelief by making it a statement, not a question. In all their years of friendship, she’d never, not once, known him to ever take those tags off, let alone allow someone else to wear them– and lord knows she’d tried to get him to let her. Bucky nodded.

“You just let some random slut wear your tags, Jamie?” There was no hiding the distress in her voice now as she stood up from the couch, the action so abrupt that it knocked Bucky forward on the floor. 

“You barely know her! That’s so… so… ugh, that’s so gross!” 

“Why are you so upset about it?” he asked her, standing up and looking at her with a curious expression. “They’re my tags, but you’re freaking out about them worse than I am.” 

Shit. Cover, cover, cover.

“Well,” Lily hemmed, “because, obviously, she’s awful. I mean, she did all that shady recon on you. I gotta say, I think you should probably be thankful for whoever sent her that envelope. They did you a favor in showing you her true self, right?”

Bucky froze, his expression staring off into the middle distance as if he’d just realized something of vital importance. “Shit,” he whispered.

“What?”

He made a beeline for the kitchen, picking up his discarded leather jacket and shrugging it back on. “I fucked up, Lil. I fucked up, big time.”

“Where are you going?” she asked as he made his way back toward the front door, and she could hear the desperation in her own voice. “Jamie, we’re having such a good night.”

Bucky paused to turn to her, his hand on the doorknob. “She was upset when she got that envelope, Lil. I was so taken by surprise when I saw the contents of it, I completely forgot about her reaction when she first recieved it. She didn’t even know where it had come from. There’s no way she was doing background research on me.”

Lily could feel all her opportunities slipping between her fingers like fallen sand. “Maybe she was lying to you. Covering her tracks so you wouldn't suspect,” she said, knowing the excuse was flimsy, but not being able to come up with anything else in the moment.

"But she didn't know I would even still be there," Bucky protested as he opened the door. "I got held up having a conversation with Nat. Major was surprised to see me still in the building. There's no way she made that bit up for my benefit."

“I don’t see how that changes her motives in the least. Maybe she saw you still there and came up with the lie on the spot.”

“Because that’s not who she is!” Bucky practically shouted, taking Lily aback with his tone. “You said she did me the favor of showing me her true self, and that’s just the thing– I don’t believe that’s who Major truly is. If, and that’s a big ‘if,’ she did look up information about my past, she probably had a damned good reason, and I–fuck– I never even gave her the chance to explain! I just stormed out of there like a fucking toddler! I have to go make this right while I still have a chance. I’ll let you know how it goes!”

And with that, he was out the door, running, once again, back to her, and leaving Lily all alone, and heartbroken. How could things have gone from so spectacularly wonderful to so awful, in such a short span of time?

More importantly, if, for some reason, Major did decide to forgive Bucky, what was Lily’s next step going to be to break them up for good?

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[moonpie016]

Somewhere in Whole's head.

---

(The Heart thinks of an idea to mess with Mind, by beating him up, when that plan partially fails. He thinks of something else he could do and finally, he got it!)

The Heart squad.

The Heart would like to welcome any and all Hearts to this probably dumb plan he has.

Any are welcome, just no violence or anything too concerning.

Like a group event, per say.

Like one of those ask blogs, except it's Heart wanting to form a group to fight Mind.

More explanation/ info in the rest here.

---

I don't know what I'm doing.

Been thinking about making this Heart squad thing for days, and well, it's a start here! :D

Basically a group meet for (obviously/lh) any of you guy's Hearts to join in whatever this whole thing is. This is my first time doing anything like this, so if it's not too organized, that's why.

---

I'm already nervous yet hopeful and excited about this. And scared.

---

To join this creature's/(positive) basically social event for himself. I will make a tag to go with it.

#The Heart Squad/Heart's social event

Hopefully that'll work.

And that's all, for now at least.

[babybluebex]

venus pt.2 | angus tully x fem!reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: you and angus pilfer from the chapel on your first night alone together at barton, and, after angus gets hurts and drags you into his lie, you're reminded of the worst moment of your life. not to worry, though; angus manages to soothe your sorrows, while simultaneously confusing the hell out of you. PART 2 OF ? (14k words) 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: angus tully (the holdovers, 2023) x fem!reader 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: canon compliance (this is a complete rewrite of the film, just with the added reader insert), lots of swearing, 70s ideals about feminism (which YES is a warning), mentions of grief/loss, drug use and drinking, graphic descriptions of injuries, a tiny little morsel of fake dating yum yum, is anyone else familiar with the spider game grumps bit? spider punch! spider kick! spider...? 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: icymi, i'm splitting this fic up into several smaller parts, just bc i'm not sure tumblr will actually let me post one big chunk of text the way i wanted to (it might exceed the character limit eesh) ((also i didn't wanna make yall wait forever for another part of this hehe)) if i missed any warnings/tags, pls dm me and let me know if you think i should add something! other than that, thank u for ur patience and enjoy!

The first evening of just you and Angus alone felt like an extended stint in hell. He was still cold and bitter, hardly speaking at all at dinner, and it made your skin crawl. You hated the silence, the feeling like you had done something wrong, even though you knew that you hadn’t, and, after dinner, in the television room, you sat next to Mary as Angus sat away from everyone else, trying to pretend like he was reading. You knew better than that, though; every time you chanced a look at him, his eyes weren’t following the lines on the page and he looked… Tired. Staring off into space, obviously lost in thought. 

He only spoke when Hunham mentioned something about writing a monograph, inquiring why Hunham didn’t just write a full book, and Hunham laughed at him. “I’m not sure I have a whole book in me,” Hunham chuckled, and Mary gave you a forlorn look, reading your mind. 

“You can’t even dream a whole dream, can you?” Mary mumbled, and Hunham fixed his jaw firmly but said nothing in return. 

The room at night was cold and lonely. You put on a sweater and two pairs of sweatpants before you slid into bed, looking out the window at the inky black night. Every so often, you would hear the wind howl outside and see fat snowflakes pass by the window, and eventually your eyes slipped closed, and you drifted off into an uneasy, blank sleep. 

It felt like moments later that you heard a whispering shuffle, and a sudden hiss of your name roused you. You winced at the light that streamed through the ajar door from the hallway, and you squinted to see Angus’s silhouette. “What d’ya want?” you mumbled groggily. 

“Come on,” Angus said, jerking his head towards the hallway. His hair was messy, wearing his winter coat, and your sight drifted down to his hands to see him carrying a large, silver flashlight, and— 

“Are those— Why do you have Hunham’s keys?” you groaned. 

“Just come on!” Angus huffed. 

You reached over to the little table beside your bed and snatched up your wristwatch, and you squeezed the button on the side to turn the little light on to see the time. “Fuck, Angus, it’s like four in the morning!” you groaned. “Fuck off!” 

“C’mon, you won’t regret it,” Angus told you. “Put on your coat and shoes, let’s go.” 

For some reason, you did as he told you, lacing up your sneakers and shrugging on your jacket, and you followed Angus as he led you out of the infirmary, sneaking past Hunham’s open door. You heard his snoring from inside, but you didn’t stop, catching up with Angus’s long-legged stride. He shined the flashlight down the dark hallways of the school, not speaking a word to you as he led you to the kitchen. It was pitch-black in there, even with the flashlight, but Angus moved with certainty, taking you to the big freezer towards the back of the room. You almost wanted to question him, ask exactly what the fuck he thought he was doing, but you stayed quiet as he wrenched the freezer door open. 

“Go grab a spoon,” he told you as he winced in the fluorescent lights inside the freezer. 

“What for?” you asked. 

“You remember that ice cream they gave us at the start of the semester?” Angus asked. You nodded slowly, remembering how dinner on the first day of classes had included individual scoops of vanilla ice cream; it was unusual and special, but you remembered not having eaten it and turning it over to Teddy. You followed Angus’s gaze into the freezer, and you spotted the cardboard tub of vanilla ice cream, sitting and waiting. 

You furrowed your eyebrows, but you slinked back into the kitchen and used the light of the freezer to find a single spoon, an oversized serving spoon. “Won’t we get in trouble?” you asked, passing the spoon to Angus, and he pulled the tub of ice cream into his grip and wrestled the lid off. The carton itself was frosted over, freezer-burnt to all hell, but Angus still attacked the mound of ice cream with the spoon. He scooped it into his mouth, and he wrinkled his nose as he shook his head. 

“I doubt it,” he replied. “How will they ever know? And by the time they figured out someone’s eaten out of here, they’ll never be able to trace it back to us.” 

“Woah, us?” you repeated. “What ‘us’? You’re the one going to town on that right now.” 

Angus looked at you with those almond-shaped dark eyes of his, and you scoffed at the little white splotches of ice cream on the corner of his lips. “We can change that,” Angus said, offering you the spoon. 

You shook your head. “I don’t eat ice cream,” you told him. 

“So, that’s what your fuckin’ problem is,” Angus chuckled. “You’re not judgmental or anything like that; you’re just low on joy.” 

“Fuck off,” you said as you rolled your eyes. 

“C’mon,” Angus said. “Blood oath or whatever… Except it’s vanilla ice cream.”

Your chest roiled. It felt like a petty thing, not to eat ice cream anymore, but you couldn’t help it. It just felt too bad. The memories were too hard, and even the experience of eating what you had been in that dreadful moment was too much. You remembered it like it was yesterday; your dad had taken you to Dairy Queen, which wasn’t unusual in itself, but the fact that your sisters weren’t with you was odd. After all, you supposed with hindsight, he wasn’t their dad; just yours. He had his typical ice cream sandwich while you had a cone, and he had walked on eggshells as he explained to you what the word “draft” meant. It was hardly two years ago, you were old enough to know what it meant. You chose not to remember the rest of that night, but you stayed steadfast— you hadn’t eaten ice cream since. 

“What sorta blood oath?” you asked warily. 

Angus shrugged. “If you don’t kill me over the next two weeks, I won’t kill you,” he said. 

You quirked your mouth for a moment, trying to convey to him that you were considering it. “I told you, I don’t eat ice cream,” you said as you crossed your arms. 

“Is this some kinda girl thing I don’t get?” Angus asked. “Depriving yourself of dessert or whatever?” 

“I’m lactose intolerant, you dick,” you fibbed quickly. “Sorry if I don’t want an upset stomach at four in the morning.” 

“Suit yourself,” he said, going back for another bite. “It’s really mediocre.” That got a laugh out of you, and Angus smiled. 

He gave up on the ice cream soon after that, putting it back and washing off the spoon (“Getting rid of the evidence”, he said), and you dug your hands into the pocket of your coat. “Is that it?” you asked, and Angus laughed. 

“No, man,” he said. “I got more.” 

“Jesus,” you groaned, but, for some reason, you followed him out to the hall and down the corridors. It was still dark outside, and Angus fumbled with the keys and flashlight as you approached the door to the chapel. “Alright, whatever you’re planning to do in here, I’m nearly certain I don’t wanna be a part of it.” 

“You know they’ve got wine in here?” Angus asked, passing off the flashlight to you so he could find the correct key. 

“Duh,” you said. “Catholics really buzz off wine in communion.” 

“Didn’t your old church use wine?” Angus asked. He tried a key on the door, then frowned when it didn’t fit, and moved onto the next option. 

“No,” you said. “We didn’t go to church. Only when we visited my dad’s mom, which wasn’t often, but her church used Fanta Grape.” 

“What sorta church did your grandma go to?” Angus scoffed. “Church of the High Fructose Corn Syrup?” 

“It was mostly flat by the time it got to us, anyway,” you said. “Dad and I usually sat in the back, so he could slip out and smoke mid-service.” 

“Smart man,” Angus said. He tried another key, succeeding this time, and the heavy door swung open. It was dark inside the small room, a sort of storage room for the chapel, and the beam of the flashlight hit various pieces of junk scattered around, boxes or whatnot, before it landed on a small credenza pressed against the wall. There was some sort of ceremonial tapestry on the surface, a large ornate goblet on top with a dusty bottle of wine sitting next to it. “Bingo,” Angus mumbled, and he went to the lightswitch on the wall, flicking it on so he could turn off the flashlight. The overhead light crackled and buzzed as it came on, and Angus ushered you inside before shutting the door again. 

He was quick to fill the goblet partways with the wine, and he offered it to you silently. At first you hesitated— did you really feel like drinking wine with Angus?— and you quickly grabbed the goblet from his hand and took a sip. You held your face stony, not offering a reaction, and you passed it back to him. “Well?” he asked, and you shrugged. 

“It’s fine,” you replied. “Are there any of those Body of Christ crackers in here?” 

Angus gestured towards the heavy furniture against the wall, a sorta “Look for yourself” movement, and he went for the wine as you started through the cabinet. He gave a little shudder at the bitter sourness, then shrugged for himself and took another sip. “Not bad,” he mumbled. You quickly found the tub of little round wafers, and you worked the lid off as you sat down on the floor. You offered him one, which he shook his head at, and he took another sip of wine as he sat down next to you. He leaned up against the side of the credenza while you settled against the wall, and you put a wafer in your mouth, letting it melt a little against your tongue. “What would your body and blood be?” you asked. 

“Huh?” Angus grunted. 

“Like, Jesus’s body are these rice paper crackers, and his blood is cheap wine,” you explained. “So what would yours be?” 

Angus furrowed his eyebrows as he thought. “Well, blood is easy,” he said. “A beer.” You scoffed, and Angus quickly said, “No, no, listen, hear me out. You’ve had a beer before, right?” 

“Of course,” you replied. 

“Well then, you understand,” Angus sighed. “A nice beer on a hot day… The glass of the bottle is all cold and everything and it’s sweating a little and the weird foam label is tearing from the condensation… Isn’t that, like, a godly experience?” 

“Sure,” you giggled. “So, beer for the blood. And the body?” 

Angus screwed up his mouth as he considered it, and he finally said, “How about, like, a cheeseburger?” 

“Really?” you asked, popping another cracker in your mouth. “Why?” 

“It works good with the beer,” Angus said. He reached over to you and stole a cracker, and he chewed on it as he said, “Beer and a burger? What’s better than that? Brings you closer to God and shit like that, right?” 

“I mean…” you mumbled. “Yeah, that makes sense. So, taking communion, you do a shot of beer and… What? Take a bite of a burger?” 

“Sure,” Angus snickered. “Or a slider, like at a barbeque.” 

You laughed, and you reached out to grab at the glass of wine in Angus’s hands. He passed it to you, and you took a sip of it as Angus exchanged for another cracker. “What about you?” he asked. “What’s your body and blood?” 

“Hmm,” you murmured. Your body shuddered at the warm bitterness of the wine, and you coughed a little. “A hot coffee.” 

“Ew,” Angus sneered. “You drink coffee?”

“Not always,” you said. “Only when I need to warm up. It’s too bitter. But, like, the way your beer is relieving to you, a hot coffee is relieving to me. The same, but different, y’know?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Angus said. “Like, coming in from playing in the snow and your fingers are all stiff and cold or whatever… My mom always made us hot chocolate that was pretty much just heavy cream and cocoa powder and some sugar. We’d dip graham crackers in it and sit by the fire and listen to Christmas records…” He trailed off then, and you caught onto his train of thought— used to. Not this year. 

“Us?” you asked. “You got a sister or something?” 

“No,” Angus said. “My, um… My dad.” 

“Oh,” you mumbled. “Right. Sorry” 

“What do you mean ‘sorry’?” Angus said. 

“Well, a few days ago, when everyone left,” you started in confusion. “You said your dad died.” 

The room was quiet for a beat, and Angus shifted as he sat, pulling one of his legs underneath himself. “No,” he said carefully. “No, um… Dad’s still hanging out, but he’s… He’s in the hospital. For, like, the past four years. He’s as good as dead.” 

“Shit,” you mumbled. “What happened?” 

Angus shrugged, quirking his mouth. “He got sick,” he said simply. “And Mom thought it would be better to have professionals take care of him instead of us…”

“M’sorry,” you whispered. “I didn’t mean to pry or anything.” 

“You’re fine,” Angus said. “So, your dad…?”

You nodded solemnly. “His number came up,” you said softly. “He… Had something to prove, I guess, and no reason to try to get out of it. Told me he was gonna go and make me proud of him…” Your throat got thick then, and you trailed off for a moment. “January’s gonna be one year since…”  

“Jesus Christ,” Angus said under his breath. “Sorry.”

You quickly wiped at an escaped tear, trying to get rid of it before Angus could see it, and you choked down a cracker. “It’s whatever,” you said. “These things happen, y’know?” 

“Yeah, they happen,” Angus said. “But that doesn’t make them any less sad.” 

“I don’t care about sad,” you said. “Been too sad lately. All I want is to stop feeling sad.” 

Angus tilted his head at you, watching for a moment, and he started to dig into the pocket of his coat. Quietly, he extracted something, a sort-of crushed up cigarette that looked like it had fallen out of the pack and had been jostled in his pocket for months, and he held it out to you. You clocked it immediately, though— the paper too thin, the contents too packed in. You scoffed with a watery voice, twisting at a loose thread on your jacket. “Wow, you really are a Barton boy, huh?” you said. “Getting high and drinking holy wine in the chapel.” 

“If it makes you feel better, it’s not mine,” Angus said. 

“Whose is it, then?” you asked. “And how did you come to have it?” 

“Ah, well,” Angus shrugged. “Kountze the Cunt’s always had it coming for him. I steal his cigarettes, he steals my picture, I steal his last joint out of his bag before he leaves to go ski. What’s that called? Quid pro quo?” 

“That’s not really what quid pro quo is,” you laughed. “But I don’t have a lighter. And, furthermore, I don’t smoke weed. Especially not Kountze’s shit.” 

“I’ve got the lighter situation covered,” Angus said. He went back into his pocket and extracted a small matchbook, and he added, “And, yeah, you don’t smoke weed, but I’m not even sure this is weed. Knowing Kountze, it’s probably oregano or tea leaves or something. So, smoking this isn’t smoking weed, because there’s a fair chance it’s not weed.” 

You pursed your lips as you considered Angus’s offer, and you looked at the ornate goblet in your hands, still a little full. “Fine,” you decided. “But not here. We’re not gonna hotbox the chapel storage room.” 

“Aw, we’re not?” Angus whined jokingly. “I really think that’ll give us God points.” 

“Yeah, sure,” you chuckled. “Get enough of them, and you can redeem them for a free large soda at the check-out counter.” 

You helped each other drain the last of the wine out of the cup, and you pocketed a handful of crackers as you exited the room. Angus did well to lock up behind him, to make sure nothing seemed awry or unusual on the off-chance that Hunham checked the grounds, and Angus led you through the school to the main interior entrance to the chapel. It was as cold in there as it was outside, and still just as dark, and your eyes adjusted to the low light as Angus took a running leap at the raised stage, hopping up there with ease. You followed suit, though not as quickly or gracefully as Angus, and you settled on the piano bench next to him. His long, thin fingers worked to strike one of the matches on the edge of the matchbox, and he brought the flame to the joint nestled between his lips. 

You had never really noticed before (because when would you have ever noticed it before?) but Angus had a tiny scar on his upper lip, not really that raised or any different color than the rest of his lip, but it shifted as he puckered his lips around the joint. Come to think of it, Angus’s lips looked… Good? Wrapped around the joint, his lips looked plush and soft, just a hint pinker and darker than the golden-olive tones of his face. And the middle of his top lip poked out a little bit, a bit more pronounced because of his scar. Angus pulled at the joint for a moment before removing it from between his lips, and he offered it to you, and you fixed your expression from focusing on his lips to looking him in the eyes. “Well?” you asked. “Is it marijuana?”

“No,” Angus said. “Well, yes, but it’s Kountze’s ditch weed. So, technically yes, but you’d need to smoke a lot of it to get high.”

“Lemme see,” you said quickly, reaching out for the joint, and he passed it to you. You had only ever smoked once before, back when you went to Central, and you had gotten dizzy and sick, but, as you pulled a toke on this joint, you felt nothing of the sort. Sure, there was that weird herby taste in the back of your throat that made it unmistakingly weed, and you cringed as you blew out the smoke. “Oh, this is shitty,” you chuckled. “Like, super shitty. God, Teddy, where’d you buy this?” 

“He only has it to sell to eighth-graders,” Angus shrugged. “Make a quick buck to buy Playboys with.” 

“Ew,” you snickered. 

“What?” Angus said. “Not a fan of Playboy? Are you more of a Penthouse fan?” 

“No,” you said. “I mean, like, no, just… Thinking of Kountze doing that is… Just gross.” 

Angus took a drag on the joint, and he said “I guess you’ve kissed a guy before, huh?” 

“Excuse me?” you sputtered. 

“I mean, there’s not an elegant way to ask if you’ve had sex before,” Angus started quickly. “So, like, gotta build up to it, right?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Fucking hell,” you mumbled as Angus quickly muttered out a “Sorry, forget I said anything”, and you slowly added, “No. If that answers your wildly-invasive question.”

“‘No’, you’ve never had sex before?” Angus asked. “Or ‘no’, you’ve never kissed a guy before? Or a girl? Are you gay? I don’t really care if you are, but like—”

“Shut up,” you huffed. “Both.” 

“Oh,” Angus said. “Not even at your old school?” 

“Not even at my old school,” you echoed mirthlessly. “Guys just never really cared about me. There was always some girl who was prettier or funnier, smarter, richer, whatever. I’m nothin’ special.” 

“Hm,” Angus grunted. 

“What about you?” you asked, taking the joint and pulling at it. 

“Oh, I get it regularly,” Angus said. “Yeah, my girlfriend’s a Playboy model. I sneak her into the dorm once a week and— Be serious, of course not.” You laughed as Angus smiled at his own joke. “I’m the same. When I wasn’t going to all-boys schools, girls just never liked me. I’ve always been a weirdo.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows. “I thought you’ve always gone to Barton?” you asked. 

“No,” Angus said. “I’ve been kicked out of a ton of schools. S’why I’m still a junior and I’m about to turn 18, I’ve been moved around so much that I ended up falling behind.”

“Why?” you asked. 

Angus shrugged. “I’m what they call a ‘troubled youth’,” he said, reciting the title like he didn’t believe it but had been told it too often. “I cheat and steal and get in fights. In fact, Stanley says if I get kicked out of Barton, I’ll be going to Fork Union.” 

A shiver ran down your spine. You knew Fork Union; you hadn’t ever been or knew anyone who went there, but its reputation preceded itself. Whoever Stanley was really had it out for Angus. “Fuck,” you hissed. “That’s… Intense.” 

“Yeah,” Angus nodded in agreement. “So I gotta be on my best behavior.” 

“And smoking weed in the chapel is what you consider good behavior?” you asked. 

“Of course not,” Angus scoffed. “But it’s fun, and that’s what I care about.” 

You nodded slowly, and Angus pulled at the joint again before pressing down on one of the keys of the piano with his outstretched pinky finger, hearing a single little chime sound. He seemed to drift off then, going off in thought in silence as he absently passed you the joint. After a few moments, his eyes slid off to the side, and you followed his gaze over to see a small table set up just in front of the stage with a single picture frame on it. You knew the picture: Curtis Lamb. It was something that you and Mary could commiserate on, and you held the utmost respect for her and for the late Curtis. 

You declined the joint and got up to go sit in front of the picture. You had never chosen to sit in the front row of the chapel, always trying to be as close to the back door as possible, just like with your dad, and you had never seen that picture of Curtis that close up before. He was handsome, his uniform spotless without a wrinkle, the skin on his face smooth and shiny. He was young— 19. 

Angus slowly joined you on the pew, pressing his back against the arm and pulling his legs up to his chest, and he let out a gentle sigh as he too examined the picture of Curtis. “That’s why you like Mary so much,” Angus whispered eventually after a long and heavy bout of silence. “‘Cause you both…” 

You nodded. “You can say it,” you mumbled. “S’not the Boogeyman or anything. Saying it doesn’t make it more powerful.” 

“I know,” Angus murmured. “But thinking about it… Dying, being killed…” He shook his head, trailing off. “I used to think about it a lot. Back when Dad first got sick.” 

“Oh, yeah?” you asked gently. 

Angus hummed. “Then Dr. Gertler put me on some pills… They help a little, but sometimes I still… I dunno.” 

“Gertler?” you repeated. “That’s your psychologist or whatever it’s called?” 

“Yeah,” Angus said. “He used to be my dad’s doctor too, but then Dad went to the hospital, and they’re better for him there. Not that The Gert isn’t good, he is, just… Not what Dad needed.” 

You fell into silence then. The purples and blues of the morning began to bleed in through the chapel windows as you and Angus sat still, looking at the picture of Curtis but not seeing it. You were each lost in your own heads, and you found yourself sinking down to the thin, threadbare carpet and settling on your ass, and your head leaned back just so to touch Angus’s hip. You didn’t know him too well— you were clueless about what his favorite color was, but you knew the surface level of his worst trauma— and you wanted to comfort him, but something like holding his hand or hugging him seemed like a bridge too far. So, the slightest contact, a sort-of “I’m right here” seemed like the way to go. 

At long last, you heard the heavy creak of the chapel doors opening, and Angus turned to look. You couldn’t see from your vantage point, and the person nor Angus said anything, but you heard the groan of the old wooden pew in the very back row as someone sat down, and, based on the silence and the fact that Hunham was a staunchly non-Christian man, you could deduce that it was Curtis’s mother back there, coming in for her morning prayers. 

You all sat quietly, ruminating on your own thoughts, and finally you heard Mary’s smooth and smoky voice, not a yell but not a whisper: “You two better get back in your beds before Mr. Hunham decides to wake up.”  

You passed through the aisle towards the front doors of the chapel, and you and Mary locked eyes for a brief moment as you walked by. She gave you a small nod, then closed her eyes and went back to her prayers. 

Angus wasn’t a chatty guy to begin with, but the silence as you made your way back to the main building and the infirmary felt suffocating. It was cold as hell, somehow feeling even more biting than the 4AM chill you had felt before, and you nudged away a few slushy snowflakes as you walked up the steps to the doors. “Thanks,” you said finally. “That was, umm…” 

Angus shrugged, tugging the key ring out of his pocket carefully to keep the keys from jingling together. “Don’t mention it,” he said. “And now we know where they keep the good wine.” 

You managed a halfway-decent smile, and you dug into your jacket pocket and handed Angus a few Christ crackers. “Not a cheeseburger,” you said. “But it’s something.” 

-

You were sleepy throughout the entire day. Even though your excursion only lasted a few hours and didn’t give you any less sleep than a typical bout of insomnia did, you kept yawning throughout your library time and jog around the campus. Angus seemed to be in better shape than you were, his usual sullen self but not in any way looking tired, and you envied him. 

The day only brightened by a bit at lunch. You sat next to Angus as you quietly ate, chancing glances at him every so often, and he seemed… Normal. Drinking his Coke, looking past Mary and out the window to the snowy expanse outside. Not attempting any conversation or showing that you had shared a moment just a few hours earlier. Of course, you didn’t expect him to really do that, but the point held true that it was infuriating. When your eyes met, he could have at least smiled instead of averting his eyes like you were Medusa or something. 

The brightening came in the form of Hunham setting a large ceramic plate in front of him, covered by a napkin. “I have a surprise,” he announced. “These were a gift to me, and I would like to share them with all of you.” 

Quickly, Hunham tugged off the napkin, and you saw a plate of cookies. Sugar, with hard, shiny frosting decorating the different shapes with vibrant Christmas colors. “Look at them,” Hunham added. “Look at the… Festive shapes. Snowflakes… Gingerbread men… A tree… Oh, a little mitten!” He picked up the pastel blue mitten and bit off the thumb, and he contemplated the taste for a moment before looking back up at you and Angus. “And they’ve got frosting!” 

Angus’s eyes slid to you, unimpressed, then back at Hunham. “May I go to the bathroom, sir?” he said flatly, already getting out of his chair as Hunham excused him, less of a request and more of a “I’m leaving, here’s my sorry excuse as for a reason why”. You watched Angus stalk out of the dining room, his hands bouncing limply at his sides, and Mary sighed, taking a sip of her coffee. 

“Well, I’m trying,” Hunham mumbled half-heartedly, and Mary scoffed out a laugh. Obviously, this was a continuation of a conversation that you had not been privy to, and you kept your thoughts to yourself as you stuck a green bean in your mouth. 

The three of you sat in silence for a few moments, long enough for the tick of the second hand on your watch to bore under your skin, and Hunham looked back at the door, as if expecting Angus to come back in. “Where the hell is he…?” Hunham mumbled, and he scooted out his chair noisly. 

His shoes clicked across the polished hardwood, and you nudged a few French fries around with your fork. “You’re not eating,” Mary said as the door closed behind Hunham, and you tore your eyes up from your plate to look at her. Her cigarette clutched between her manicured nails, her dark mug of coffee in her palm, she looked every bit of a mother as she should, especially with the soft, sad look in her eyes. She wasn’t admonishing you; she was worried. 

You shrugged. 

“Do you not want this?” Mary asked. “I’m sure I can find something else back there for you.”  

“No,” you said quickly. “I-I’m fine, Mary. Just… Tired, I guess.” 

“Mm-hm,” Mary hummed. “Which has nothing to do with your little excursion with that boy earlier, right?” 

You shook your head, closing your eyes. “That wasn’t…” you started. “We were just…” But you stopped yourself before you could tell her why. Why had Angus dragged you out of bed to galavant around the school? From what you could tell, he didn’t particularly like you. “Huh. Weird.” 

Mary ashed her cigarette. “All I’ll say is, I’m not your mom. Whatever you and him get up to isn’t my business and I don’t want it to be, but… Don’t let him do too much to ya.” 

“God, Mary, we don’t…” you started softly. 

“That’s not what I meant,” Mary said coldly. “I meant, don’t let that boy into your head too much. He’s a boy. And boys are, for the most part, dumb assholes. So, whatever he does, don’t let it affect you too much. After all, he’s just trying to—”

The hallway outside the dining room suddenly echoed with a cacophonous “Son of a bitch! That’s another detention!” and a sudden metallic crashing, and you nearly snapped your neck with the speed at which you turned to the door. Before you could even think not to, you got up out of your seat and made your way out the door, just in time to watch Hunham disappear down the corridor. Angus was already on the far side of the hall, the metal trash can tipped over with the lid rolling beside it, and you spotted Hunham’s pink detention pad sitting next to the payphone. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened, and you trailed after Hunham and Angus at a quick walk, staying a few steps behind Hunham. 

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, Mr. Tully, but you are courting disaster!” Hunham called after Angus, and you watched Angus hook a corner, but peek back out at Hunham. 

“Without sufficient exercise, the body devours itself,” he said with a cheeky smile, and his gaze landed on you. The smile dropped from his face for just a moment before he disappeared around the corner once more, and Hunham turned to see you. He wasted little time with you, though, going back to his huffing-puffing pursuit of Angus. 

“You are careening towards suspension!” Hunham shouted, and you sped up your steps to overtake Hunham, but there was no way you could keep pace with Angus. He was standing in the middle of the doorway, waiting for Hunham to catch up, and you breathed heavily. 

“Angus!” you shouted after him, but he picked up the chase once more, allowing you to get within grabbing distance of him before he sped off. “Ang— What the fuck? You— Fork Union!” You couldn’t process your thoughts efficiently, let alone in a good enough way to express what you needed to, and you hoped that the mere mention of the military school would make Angus rethink his decision. 

But it didn’t. In fact, he seemed to pick up speed as he ran from you, and you skidded into the trophy room to watch Angus pull off a clumsy cartwheel. The fucker was enjoying himself. Your chest burned with agitation as Angus came to a stop at the open doorway, and an acid bile rose in your throat. The gym. 

Before he had fucked off to Haystack, Jason had mentioned how Senator Osgood had paid for a brand-new gym to allow his son Jordan to graduate from Barton, and that apparently Hunham was the one who had failed him and forced the gym to happen. You knew nothing of Jordan Osgood and even less about his right-wing Republican father, but you (along with everyone in Senator Osgood’s district) knew that they had money. And the money seemed to have gone a long way, a basketball court with bleach-white nets hanging from the goals, straight and even hardwood floors with the Barton lion mascot expertly painted on them, tall and high windows that let in a blinding amount of sunlight. But the gym was obviously unfinished, only half of the floor shiny and waxy with lacquer. 

You saw what Angus did, and you huffed out a breath. “Angus, please,” you said through labored breaths. “Don’t— You can’t—” 

Before you could say more, Hunham came up behind you, in a similar winded state as you. You watched Angus’s back straighten, and Hunham held out a warning finger to him. “Don’t even think about it, Mr. Tully,” he said. “You are a hair’s breadth from suspension. I’ll wash my hands of you. You hear me? Wash my hands!”

Angus took half a step forward, the toe of his shoe touching the gym floor, and Hunham said, “Stop right there. You know the gym is strictly off limits. This is your Rubicon. Do not cross the Rubicon!” 

Angus slowly turned to look at you and Hunham, a coy smile on his scarred lips. He gave a light, taunting shrug, then flicked his eyebrows, and said something in Latin. If you had been in a better mindset, you could have translated it in the moment, but you weren’t, and you watched Angus wink at you, then charge across the floor into the gym, towards that fucking gymnastics vault. 

You had never watched someone get seriously hurt before. You hated the idea of it— even watching a scary movie was a little too extreme. But time seemed to slow down as you watched Angus bounce off the springboard and go ass-over-head over the vault, landing with a thundering thud and a sickly sound of flesh against the thin mat. Not a snap, but definitely the sound of an injury. The air was still and stagnant for a long second, a second that felt like a lifetime, before a shrill scream cut through the air. 

“Oh, fuck! Mr. Hunham!” 

The next few minutes felt like a blur. You ran into the gym and helped Angus to his feet, holding down vomit at his limp left arm— not that it would have mattered; Angus had already taken care of that for you. You pawned him off to Hunham, then somehow, you mechanically went back to the infirmary and gathered your coat, Angus’s coat, and Hunham’s coat and keys. You felt numb, out of your body, listening to Hunham and Angus bicker back and forth the whole car ride to the nearest hospital. You were quiet, letting Angus lean into you and sniffle and cry at the pain, and you saw his eyes all red and glassy as he choked back his tears. He was scared. You grabbed his hand— the good one, not the one he had raised and trembling with the effort— and his sniffles quieted down to pathetic whimpers. 

“This is the end,” Hunham said, and you snapped back into your head in an instant. You don’t remember having gotten to the hospital, let alone maneuvering Angus inside and to the emergency room, but somehow you were there, Angus wedged between you and your teacher on the bench, his hand still clasped in yours. “They’ll inform the school, who’ll inform your parents, and then it’s curtains. You are gonna get me fired. You!”

Angus sniffled. “I’m the one who might lose an arm, and all you can think about is yourself.” 

You sighed. “That’s dramatic, Angus,” you mumbled. 

“When I get my arm chopped off, will you help me carry my books to class?” Angus asked. 

“I’m not helping you with shit,” you snapped. 

Before Angus could snark back at you, a nurse came, dressed in white, and she handed a clipboard and a plastic ballpoint pen to Hunham. Her eyes glazed you, then Angus, and she said, “If you could just fill this out, please. Admissions and insurance.” 

Insurance. Fuck. You hadn’t even thought about that. Hunham’s face went sour and pale, and he slowly started to fill out the first box, putting A-N-G in block letters, but Angus spoke in a clipped voice. “Excuse me,” he said, and the nurse turned back to him. “Is there any way we could skip this whole insurance thing?” 

The nurse sighed. You recognized that sigh; your mother did the same one with her customers at the diner. The ‘I don’t get paid enough for this’. “It’s just standard procedure,” she said. 

“I understand. But look…” Angus started. He chewed his lip at Hunham, then looked at you, then turned back to her with a breath. “We were over at Squantz Pond playing hockey… And I slipped on the ice.” 

“Angus,” Hunham said in a hushed tone. “What’re you doing?” 

“My mom told him not to take me, but I made him,” Angus continued, and Hunham looked past Angus to you, seeing if you had any idea what stunt Angus was pulling now. You were just as lost as him, though, and you watched Angus with a curious enrapturement as he spun his yarn. “My folks are divorced, and we don’t get to see each other very often. She’ll be mad as a hornet if she finds out.” 

“Okay, that’s your business,” the nurse said, sighing again. “But we just have certain protocols.” 

“Y-Yeah, protocols,” Hunham protested weakly, but Angus bulldozed right over him with more lies. 

“Please,” Angus said, his eyes going all glassy again. “I never get to see my dad, a-and I just wanted him to meet my girlfriend.” A hot shock ran down your skin, blazing in your cheeks, as you understood that you were the supposed girlfriend. God, you were going to strangle Angus Tully when this was all done. “It was my fault, all mine. I don’t want to get him in trouble.” He gave Hunham a pathetic little glance, his bottom lip wobbling, and his voice was all broken as he added, “I don’t want her dragging you to court again.” He sniffled and squeezed your hand, and you pulled his hand into your lap, stroking his soft skin with your thumb. “Can we skip the whole insurance thing? We can pay cash. Right, Dad?” 

Angus didn’t drop your hand the entire time. He held onto you as the three of you were led to an exam room, and he shied away from the nurse (she never told you her name) as she tried to take off his sweater. He mumbled something about his shoulder, how he couldn’t move it right, and you carefully nudged in front of where he sat on the exam table, flexing your hand to get him to let go. Quietly, you tugged Angus’s maroon sweater up as far as it would go before he groaned in pain, and you swallowed thickly. “I know, Ang,” you said gently. “It’s alright, baby.” 

His eyes got all big at you as you played the role he had assigned to you, and with gentle encouragement from his beloved “girlfriend”, you managed to get the sweater off his right arm and have it slide off his left arm. Next came his robin’s-egg-blue buttoned shirt, and you sighed as you focused on the small plastic buttons, not able to look Angus in the eye. As calm as you seemed on the surface, you were screaming and cursing and spitting like a possessed woman inside. You were so angry at him, for everything— for disobeying Hunham, for getting himself hurt, for roping you into his kinda-sorta insurance fraud. If you could have slapped him across the face, you would have. But you couldn’t, so you settled for a sweet kiss on his cheek and a whispered “There you go” as his shirt came off. That left him in his thin white undershirt, and you balked at his pale skin, but particularly the way his shoulder stuck out grotesquely. You could tell from a glance— dislocated. “Jesus…” you whispered, and the nurse moved you aside. 

“Yeah,” she said. “Sometimes the things you see here are a little sickening. But you’ve been more than enough help; thank you, sweetie.” 

“Guess you’re not going to nursing school, huh?” Angus chuckled, trying to lighten the heavy mood, and you folded his sweater and shirt over your arms. 

“You know how I get with blood, Ang,” you said softly. “Nursing school was never gonna be for me.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Angus hummed, as if he knew anything about you and was just being reminded of this fact. “Hey, remember back in August, at the football game against Choate, when Jason got flattened by that linebacker?” 

You had never gone to a single Barton football game, but obviously Angus had a point to why he brought this up, so you nodded. “Yeah,” you said carefully. “Umm, i-isn’t that the same day Kountze invited us to that bonfire?” 

“Yeah,” Angus nodded along with your addition. “I think you were somewhere else, bathroom or something, but Jason just got pummeled by this dude that was twice his size—”

“I was with his girlfriend when that happened,” you said. “She was hysterical.” 

“But he got up and went back to the sideline, and I went down to talk to him,” Angus said, wincing as the nurse worked his undershirt over his head. “And his mouth was all full of blood, but he was laughing ‘cause he said Jenny was gonna be doting all over him for the next week.” 

You nodded. “And she did,” you said. “That was… Kinda gross to watch, actually.” 

Angus shrugged, but immediately regretted it, hissing in pain at the involuntary action. “That’ll be us,” he said in a tight voice. “I’m all injured and everything, and you get to take care of me.” 

“Get to?” you repeated. “You make that sound like a privilege.” 

“I took care of you when you got your wisdom teeth taken out last year,” Angus said, and your hand went lightly to your jaw. How in the fuck did he know you didn’t have your wisdom teeth? Had he seen it? When? “Now it’s your turn.” 

“I didn’t sign up for that,” you chuckled. 

“Sure you did,” Angus said. “That was in the fine print when I asked you to go steady.” 

You rolled your eyes. “I think the pain’s making you delirious,” you said. 

“We’ll get him some pain medication soon,” the nurse said. “First, we’re gonna have to X-ray your shoulder. Your dad and girlfriend are gonna be right here, we’re just going down the hall.” 

The silence in the exam room once Angus left was deafening, and Hunham stood opposite you. Every so often, he looked like he wanted to say something, then would change his mind, and he finally settled on “I can hold Mr. Tully’s things.” 

“I-I’ve got it,” you said softly. You held his clothes a little closer to your chest and chewed your lip nervously, and you mumbled, “I guess we’re lucky… It could be worse.”

“We don’t know how bad it is yet,” Hunham said, and you shrugged. 

“At least he’s not, like… Dead,” you offered. “His arm’s just a little messed up.” 

Hunham sighed but said nothing else, seemingly agreeing with you. You let yourself shift your weight as you waited, and your fingers itched in Angus’s sweater. It was soft, and still a little warm from his body, and you buried your cold hands in it. 

Angus returned soon after, and the air was prickly with silence until a doctor walked in. Dressed in a white lab coat, he carried a thin piece of plastic, and he smiled thinly at Hunham before he threw the plastic sheet onto the lightbox on the wall and flipped it on. There, as clear as day, was an X-ray of Angus’s fucked-up shoulder, the ball-and-socket joint clearly not ball-and-socket anymore. “The good news is nothing’s broken,” the doctor told you, and Hunham audibly sighed. 

“Thank God,” he said. 

“But you did dislocate your shoulder pretty badly,” the doctor added, eyeing Angus down. “That was quite a tumble you took, kid. What happened?” 

You saw Angus look at the nurse out of the corner of his eye, and, knowing that he had to stay with the fib he told, you chimed in quickly. “We were playing hockey,” you said. “Or, rather, Angus was playing hockey, and me and… His dad were watching. The ice was slippery, and Ang just… I don’t know, one second he was up, the next he was down.” 

“Was trying to impress you,” Angus mumbled, and you lovingly brushed down his messy curls. 

“I know,” you said. “It’s okay. Just don’t do it again.” 

“I take it you’re the girlfriend, then,” the doctor said.

“It would seem that way,” you said lightheartedly, but you gave a secret, harsh tug to the bottom of Angus’s hair as retribution. He winced and sucked in a tight breath, and the doctor nodded a bit. 

“What’s that mean?” Angus asked. “Like, I know what dislocating is, but what does that mean for me?” 

“That means your arm has popped out of the socket,” the doctor said. He moved away from the X-ray and went to join the nurse at the side of Angus’s exam bed, and they wordlessly began to move him onto his back. “And we just have to pop it back in.” 

“Is it gonna hurt?” Angus asked, and you watched panic fill his eyes as the nurse’s hand brushed the skin of his upper arm, and he winced in pain. 

“Not if you relax,” the doctor told him. He turned around to the small counter behind him, where the nurse had laid a bundled-up bedsheet, and he started to shake it out and loop it around Angus’s torso as he added, “The key is to relax. Deep breaths.”

You watched the doctor and the nurse expertly wind the bedsheet around Angus, and you furrowed your eyebrows at it. “What’re you doing?” you asked. 

“We are making a sort-of slipknot,” the doctor told you. “We’re going to pop his arm back in, and then he’ll be right as rain, with only a little discomfort afterwards, but the Percodan we’ll give him will take care of all of that.” 

Angus said your name, his voice a little shaky, and, even though you had never heard him talk like that before, you knew that he was scared. You stepped forward just a touch, close but not too close, but, as the medical professionals began to gently pull his arm back, readying it, Angus’s free hand shot out like lightning and gripped your fingers. His eyes were squeezed shut, holding his breath, his neck and ears red, and you looked at the doctor for a moment before you said, “Ang, baby, it’ll be okay. Just one second where it hurts really bad, then it’ll be over. Can you do it for one second?” 

“...Think I’m gonna puke again…” Angus mumbled. 

“That’s okay,” you said soothingly. 

“Don’t wanna puke on you,” Angus added, and you frowned. 

“I’ll just throw everything in the washer when we get back,” you said with a shrug. The doctor made eye contact with you from behind Angus, and he flicked his eyebrows at you in a way that told you to keep talking. Distract Angus, so he can’t see it coming. “How about, when we get back, we can watch TV?” you started, trying to find anything to blabber about for long enough. “I think a new episode of Bonanza comes on tonight. But, God, I missed the last few weeks, I have no idea what’s going on anymore. Is Hoss still courting that fancy lady? I thought maybe that was done, but I heard something about it on the radio the other day, so who knows—”

At that moment, the doctor and the nurse yanked the bedsheet in opposite directions, and Angus writhed and wormed as he let out a guttural gurgle and hiss, then a pathetic yelping scream as his shoulder went back right with a wet pop that made your neck hair stand on end. You heard Hunham behind you give a scoff of “Jesus!”, and then the ordeal was over. 

Angus moved his left arm slowly as the doctor rattled about the medication he was prescribing, something where Angus couldn’t drive while on it or drink alcohol or mix with other medication, and you nodded along as you listened. Angus worked himself into his undershirt and threw his buttoned shirt on, and you took over doing up his buttons. He frowned at the sight of his sweater, though, and you knew that lifting his arm to get it into the sleeve was maybe asking too much, so you held onto it as they fixed a sling around his neck and looped his left arm in it. 

“Take care, young man,” the doctor said. “And keep her around. Hard to find someone who cares about people like that nowadays.” 

The first significant thing Hunham said since arriving at the hospital was spoken as the three of you approached the pharmacy counter, prescription in hand. “Barton men don’t do that.” 

“Do what?” Angus asked. 

“Barton men don’t lie,” Hunham clarified. 

“Yeah, well,” Angus sighed. “I had momentum.” 

Hunham passed the paper prescription across the counter to the pharmacist, and he mumbled, “Hello, we have this, uh…” 

The pharmacist looked over his glasses at the paper, then up to Angus, then Hunham, and finally you. “Percodan, huh? Gimme a few minutes.” 

He went off in search of the requested medication, and Hunham paused for a moment before adding, “You too, Miss, you’re included in this.” 

“What, was I supposed to refute all of that?” you asked. “We were already committing insurance fraud, might as well play along as best we can.” 

“And you said that if Woodrup finds out, you’re screwed,” Angus interjected. “So now he won’t find out.” 

“What happens if your parents inquire?” Hunham asked, and Angus’s face darkened for a moment as he scoffed flatly.

“Never gonna happen,” he said. “Trust me.” 

Hunham looked obviously confused at the certainty of Angus’s words, but nevertheless said “Okay, then. This all remains entre nous. Got it? You know what entre nous means?” 

“Oui, monsieur,” Angus said, screwing up his face mockingly. Then, a coy smile crossed his lips, and he said, “Now you owe me.” 

“Owe you?” Hunham repeated, glaring at Angus. “Oh no, do not try to leverage me, Mr. Tully.” 

“All I’m looking for is a little thank you that I did something nice for you,” Angus said. “That’s all.” After a moment, he flashed Hunham a cheeky smile. 

You swallowed thickly. “You look real stupid with your hand dangling out of the sling like that,” you said quickly. You don’t know what possessed you to say that, and Angus scoffed.

“God, you’re mean,” Angus said. “What happened to the little kisses and the ‘baby’s and shit?” 

“You think I enjoyed doing that?” you asked. “Fuck, Angus, grow up. I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” You didn’t wait for a reply before you turned heel and made your way to the nearby bathroom, adorned with a silver plaque with a little stick woman on it, leaving the boys in a confused dust behind you. 

Lucky for you, it was a single stall situation, a big room able to accommodate a wheelchair or walker, and, once inside, you quickly flipped the lock on the door and sighed. Your heart was racing, your cheeks hot— in honesty, you did enjoy all of that. Something about it felt almost cathartic, pretending to have a healthy and loving relationship with someone, like you were acting out your greatest fantasy. Whether or not Angus was a part of that fantasy or just a placeholder until David Cassidy paid Barton a visit, you weren’t sure, but your heart ached and cried. You didn’t want to pretend— you wanted the real thing. And the fact that you’d never get the real thing, at least not anytime soon, made your eyes burn with tears. Just more evidence to the fact that your life was doomed from the start— nobody wanted you, plain and simple. 

You slammed at the tap, turning it on to run cold water over your hands, and you pressed your hands to your burning cheeks, trying to calm down. You took a deep breath, then another, and you shucked off your jacket and tugged Angus’s red sweater over your head. It smelled like him, clean but also a little sharp from the sheer boyishness of it all, and you slid your jacket back on.

By the time you left the bathroom, Angus had worked himself partially into his coat, a small paper baggie in hand that rattled with pills against the glass bottle. “We’re getting dinner,” Hunham told you, his tone indicating to you that he and Angus had had a battle while you were absent and he was the loser. His eyes swept your frame, obviously catching Angus’s sweater on your body, but he said nothing about that.“There’s a small place in town.” 

“I-I didn’t bring my pocketbook,” you started to protest, but Angus dug into the pocket of his corduroy pants and produced his own wallet. 

“I’ve got it,” he said simply, and gave you the same smile he had given Hunham. 

The chosen dinner spot, a small pub called the Winning Ticket, was surprisingly bustling with activity. Music played from the bar portion of the place, competing against Nixon on the television and the dinging of pinball machines, and the air felt warm but not thick, the way some restaurants could feel. You slid into the booth first, then Angus settled himself next to you, nudging your arm with his slinged elbow (he had shifted his arm backwards after your comment about his hand, so now only his fingers spilled over the edge), and Hunham sat across from you.

“I think I’ll start with a beer,” Angus said, and Hunham scoffed. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mr. Tully,” Hunham told him. 

“We’ve had a hard day,” Angus continued. “We deserve to loosen up a little.” 

“You’ve had ten milligrams of Percodan,” Hunham said. “You’re plenty loose already.” 

He was right. Angus had swallowed down two of the pills in the backseat of Hunham’s Nova on the drive over, and already he was acting differently, just a little lighter and less reserved. It wasn’t a dramatic change, and you might not have noticed it, but Percodan Angus almost reminded you of Holy Wine and Joint Angus. 

“They’ve got Miller High Life!” Angus said, looking down at the laminated menu that lay waiting on the table. “‘The Champagne of Beers’!” 

“Oh, yeah?” you asked. “You and what identification, Mr. Seventeen Years Old?” 

“Hey, if you could have a beer, you would,” Angus told you.

“Oh, I can,” you told him. “If the bartender’s a guy, I just gotta flutter my eyelashes at him, and I’ll get whatever I want.” As soon as the words left your mouth, you became very aware of your teacher’s presence across the table from you, and you cleared your throat. “O-Or so I’ve heard.” 

Before anything else could be said, a waitress approached, and your face lit up. Dyed ginger hair, fun earrings, a soft face and kind eyes. 

“Miss Crane!” Hunham beat you to the punch, and your Secretarial Studies teacher glowed. “As I live and breathe! What are you doing here?” 

“Hi, guys!” Miss Crane laughed. “And our sweet Barton girl, how’re you, darling? Uh, yeah, I always pick up a little extra work over Thanksgiving and Christmas.” 

Hunham took a moment to respond, still smiling at Miss Crane, and he stammered out, “Oh, this is Mr. Tully—”

“Oh, sure, I know you,” Miss Crane said, and Angus gave her a smile.

“Angus Tully,” he introduced himself. “We met outside Dr. Woodrup’s office. I was wrongly accused of blowing up a toilet.”

Miss Crane gave you an amused smile, and you shared a laugh. “I didn’t know about the ‘wrongly’ part,” she said. 

“And, of course, Miss Y/N,” Hunham added. 

“It’s good to see you,” Miss Crane cooed. “I was worried I wasn’t going to see you before you moved back to Boston. Barton sure is gonna miss you.” 

“Oh, I’m…” you started. The real story was far too long and messy to get into right at that moment, so you swallowed down the truth in exchange for a grin. “I’m glad to see you too.” 

“Yes, well,” Hunham started. “He’ll have a cheeseburger.” 

“And a Miller High Life, please,” Angus butted in as Miss Crane began to write the order down, and Hunham grunted. 

“No, you will not.” 

“Where do you stand on Miller High Life, Miss Crane? Quality-wise, I mean,” Angus asked, and you groaned. 

“Christ, give it up,” you said. “He’s on pain meds, Miss Crane, don’t—” 

“Well, like they say,” Miss Crane started with a scrunch of her nose. “It’s the champagne of beers.” 

“And she’s a professional!” Angus said, looking at Hunham as he gestured to her, and Hunham rolled his eyes, unamused. 

“Okay, one cheeseburger,” Miss Crane started, and Angus sighed. 

“And a Coke,” he added reluctantly. 

“Umm, same for me,” you told her. “But, umm, if you can have them do no pickles, please?” 

“Sure, sweetie,” Miss Crane said softly. 

“I’ll have a cheeseburger as well,” Hunham told her. 

“Three cheeseburgers,” Miss Crane recited. “Hold the pickles on one—”

“And a Jim Beam,” Hunham added, and Angus gaped in awe, the audacity of Hunham to say no to a beer but yes to a drink for himself washing over him. “On the rocks. Please.” 

Miss Crane smiled and left the table, and you watched as Hunham watched her leave. You looked over at Angus with a smile of disbelief, and Angus grinned— Did Hunham have game after all? 

“Ouch,” Angus laughed, shaking his hand like he had gotten burned. “You two have chemistry.” 

“That’s the Percodan talking,” Hunham grumbled. 

“No shit, Mr. H,” you giggled. “That was something. Who knew you were such a Casanova?” 

“I don’t know, seeing her like this,” Angus started. “I think she’s pretty attractive.” 

You snorted so loud with a laugh that you almost missed Hunham saying “Listen, you hormonal vulgarians” as he leaned into the table. “That woman deserves your respect, not your erotic speculations.” 

Angus looked at you with a smile, and you tamped down more laughter. “May I at least go to the bathroom?” he asked. “Sir?” 

“You mean the payphone?” Hunham asked, and Angus’s face fell stony. You watched the staredown, seeing who would break first, and eventually Hunham bested Angus, because the younger peeled away from the tufted booth seat, and you rolled your eyes. 

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” you groaned, and you got up just as Miss Crane was coming back, her tray ladened with your drinks and Mr. Hunham’s Jim Beam. You tailed Angus towards the bathrooms, but paused at the corner of the bar, watching him disappear into the mens’ room. You stayed behind, looking around at the televisions mounted on the walls, and your mouth went sour at footage of the war being shown on the news. You looked away before you could even properly read the headline, and your fingers nervously went to fiddle with your necklace. 

The bartender gave you a look from down the way, expecting an order out of you, and you shook your head. He (of course it was a male bartender) tilted his head with a smile, a sorta “You know you wanna” look, and you pushed a small laugh out of your nose. Driving, you mouthed simply, making a little steering-wheel motion with your hands, and he nodded and smiled, then turned back to his marginal work. 

The door to the mens’ room swung open, and you watched Angus slink out. He didn’t look at you, or back in the direction of the table— he looked around the bar, and found his focus being pulled in by one of the pinball machines. You watched him approach and dig in his pocket for a moment, and he watched the guy play his game as he set his dime down on the edge of the machine. 

You foolishly almost thought that the night would pass without any more incident. You’d eat your dinner, get back to Barton, and go in your room and ignore everyone and everything until the sun crested the snow in a few hours. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve. If you were back home, your mom would let you and Rachel and Anna open one present from underneath the tree, which was always a pair of pajamas that somehow coordinated with everyone else’s but never matched, then you’d fall asleep on the couch while your mom listened to her favorite Nat King Cole Christmas record. Well, that’s what had happened every year up until now. Up until Richard and his daughter (you still didn’t know her name). You wondered what their traditions were. You wondered how they were changing the fabric of your family. You wondered if your mom had bothered to keep up the picture of your dad that hung in the hallway, or if it had come down when Rich moved in. 

Yet, incident came. Over the din of the bar, you heard Angus’s whiny little voice say “‘Cause I don’t wanna shoot the other fuckin’ machine.” You looked over at him, and recognized his body language, tall and looming, as the guy playing pinball stepped back with a huff. 

“Thanks for fuckin’ up my mojo,” he said to Angus, and you started forward as he called, “Kenny! You’re up!”

“Bullshit,” Angus said as you came up behind him, laying a hand on his shoulder. “I put my dime down, so I’m up next.” 

“Angus, let it go,” you told him firmly, but a voice stopped either of you from splitting the scene.

“What was that?” 

You turned to look at who spoke, presumably Kenny, he of the next round of pinball, and your heart sank. Young— older than you, but still young as hell— wearing a heavy jacke with jeans and a chain dogtag, and your throat closed up. A hook at the end of his right hand. There was no mistaking where he lost it, and a flash of fear and dread washed over you. It was too much— first the news, now this. You felt sick. 

“Ang, c’mon, let’s just go,” you mumbled, but Angus was too busy staring down the hook that swung at Kenny’s side. 

“Hey, sport,” Kenny said, his voice low. “My eyes are up here.” 

“Look at this kid,” the pinball wizard chortled. “Spoiled little fuckin’ Barton boy. And his bitch too, huh?” 

“Yeah, he’s a fancy little prick, isn’t he?” Kenny said, and he looked at you. “Why the long face, honey? Look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

“I-It’s fine,” Angus stammered, and his arm snaked around to you, pushing you back just a touch behind him. Something in your chest tightened, thinking that Angus thought he needed to protect you, but there was also a warmth— Angus was protecting you.“You can take my dime.” 

“Take it?” Kenny repeated. “You want me to take your dime? Like it’s charity?” 

“N-No,” Angus breathed. “What I meant is we can play together.” He lightly jostled his left arm in the sling, and he added, “You can be my left arm.” 

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” Kenny asked, taking a step forward, nearly nose to nose with Angus, and you felt Angus freeze up. 

“Hey,” the pinball wizard started. “You. Prom Queen over here. You gonna let your little boyfriend talk like that?”

Your eyes darted from him to Kenny, then to Angus, then back to Pinball Wizard. You stammered for a moment, trying to find anything to say, and the only thing that came out of your mouth was “I-I—” 

“No wonder he’s got a big mouth,” Kenny chuckled. “She doesn’t have one at all.” 

You felt dizzy, and you tugged on Angus’s sleeve to leave as you examined Kenny for anything you recognized— a patch on his jacket, a logo on his t-shirt, anything would suffice to ground you. Finally, you saw it: a little appliqué of a purple ribbon with a heart at the end, looking just like the real thing that, last you knew of it, was stashed in the back of your mom’s closet. “My dad’s got one of those…” you mumbled. You couldn’t even think about self-preservation anymore; you were fixated on it now, saying everything you could about it to anchor you in your head and not the stratosphere. “...Got it during Green River…” 

“Oh, yeah?” Kenny asked. “And why hasn’t he knocked some fuckin’ respect into your boy here?” 

Your mouth felt stuffed with cotton. “He-He didn’t…” you started, and stared at Angus. “He’s an asshole… Socially inept or whatever. Didn’t mean anything by it.” 

You couldn’t add in anything more before Angus was peeling away from you, hot-stepping it back to the table, and Pinball Wizard and Kenny made chase as you took up the rear. “Angus!” you shouted, and Hunham and Miss Crane both looked in your direction as Angus walked up to the table. 

“Mr. Hunham, can we go, please?” Angus asked urgently. 

“Why?” Hunham asked, looking back at the two men and you. 

“I’ve just been called a fancy little prick,” Angus said as Kenny called after him. “We should go,” Angus added, and you passed Pinball Wizard and Kenny to get to the booth, once again taking up your assigned place behind Angus. 

“Why’d you run off?” Kenny asked with a fake smile. “We were just talking to you. Don’t they teach you manners at that school?” Kenny closed in on Angus, and he brought his hook up to his chest, poking Angus in the sternum with it, and Miss Crane jumped as Hunham jostled in his seat. 

“No, no, no, Kenneth!” Miss Crane pleaded. “Leave him alone, they just came in for some food!”

Kenny seethed at Angus, and you squeezed your eyes shut. You could tell that mayhem was a moment away, but then Hunham began to speak.

“Kenneth! Is that right?” he started, holding up his hands placatingly. “I don’t doubt that he did something to offend you, it’s his specialty. Perhaps I could purchase you gentleman something to imbibe, and we could let whatever this unfortunate incident is go the way of the dodo.” 

“The what?” Pinball Wizard sneered. 

“The dodo, it’s an extinct bird,” Angus grumbled, and Kenny put force behind his hook again, causing Miss Crane to butt in once more. 

“What he’s saying is he wants to buy you guys a beer!” She exclaimed, hoping that her explanation would ease the situation as quickly as possible. 

Kenny stared Angus down, then looked at you, cowering and scared. Maybe he took pity on you, the poor little Purple Heart’s daughter, or maybe he realized that what you had said about Angus’s social ineptitude was right, because he finally stepped back, lowering his hook. “Yeah, okay,” he nodded. 

“Same here,” Pinball Wizard said. “I’ll have a Miller.” 

It’s almost like he couldn’t help himself: “Champagne of beers!” Angus chuckled, and your arm shot out, smacking him across the stomach. You glared at him, and the smile fell off of his face.

You couldn’t even enjoy your food. Not that you were worried about Kenny or Pinball Wizard coming back for round two, but you couldn’t keep your mind off of your dad. Seeing everything had affected you for some reason, and you kept your mouth shut the whole time as you ruminated on it; the images of the newscast swirled in your head, and your least favorite but most common nightmare stayed in your mind— the Army claimed they couldn’t locate enough of your father’s remains to even send back a body, and you could only see remnants of your father in some field. Mostly, you saw his tattoo, big on his chest, the same one he had had since you were a baby, needled in as an homage to you— your father always called you his miracle, and he had a starburst right over his heart. You could only envision the starburst, charred and detached, laying in the grass somewhere in Vietnam, never to return home to you.

 You saw Hunham looking at you every so often, maybe checking if you were alright, but nobody said anything until you were gone and out the door. The energy had turned prickly and stiff, and even Angus’s voice cutting through was enough to make you jump.

“Why’d you buy those guys beer?” Angus asked. “They’re assholes.” 

“That’s one way to look at it,” Hunham grumbled, digging in his pocket for his car keys. “Here— catch.” He tossed his keys over to Angus, and his right hand raised and caught them deftly, almost reflexively. “How many boys do you know who have had their hands blown off?” He paused to give Angus a moment to respond, despite it being obvious that there was no answer, and he continued, “No, Barton boys don’t go to Vietnam! They go to Yale or Dartmouth or Cornell, whether they deserve to or not.”

“Except for Curtis Lamb,” Angus mumbled. 

“Except for Curtis Lamb!” Hunham exclaimed. It wasn’t hard to figure out the implication, and Angus swallowed thickly at you. 

“Were you ever in the military?” He asked Hunham, obviously looking to somehow change the subject.

“I tried to enlist in ‘41, but was rejected,” Hunham began, pointing at his eye, then tugging at his door handle, consequently mumbling something about “I have to get in over there”.

“They made me an air raid warden,” Hunham continued, breezing by you and Angus to slide into the passenger side door of the Nova, and both you and Angus wrinkled your noses at the sour smell that followed Hunham. “Gave me a whistle and everything… Helmet, arm band…” Hunham slid into the car, scooting over to his seat, and Angus sorta shook his head. 

“Before we get going, can I be candid with you?” Angus asked, leaning down to peer at Hunham through the open car door. You settled into the backseat, slightly thankful that you wouldn’t have to share space with Angus again (not that you minded on the ride up here), and Hunham grunted out an affirmative. “You smell.”

“Angus,” you frowned admonishingly. You were struck by the sheer and blatant rudeness, and you saw Hunham’s face fall sadly in the rearview mirror.

“Like fish,” Angus continued, getting in his own seat and shutting the car door. He wasn’t wrong, of course, but you never would have outright said anything like that. “And it’s really noticeable towards the end of the day; I can even smell it on your coat… Mind if I crack the window?”

Hunham sighed as Angus worked to turn the window crank, and Hunham said, “Trimethylaminuria.”

“Huh?” Angus grunted. 

“Trimethylaminuria,” Hunham repeated himself. “Means my body can’t break down trimethylamine. That’s the smell…” He paused for a moment to uncomfortably wipe his nose, and he added, “And, uh, yes, more towards the end of the day.” 

“Wow…” Angus said. “Your whole life?” Hunham nodded, and Angus perked up for just a moment. “No wonder you’re afraid of women!” 

“I am not…!” Hunham began, shaking his head. “Afraid of women!” 

“Sorry,” Angus mumbled as Hunham continued with an under-the-breath, “Jesus H. Christ.” 

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Angus added. “Dr. Gertler says I don’t always give consideration to my audience.” 

“Ah,” Hunham began. “And who is Dr. Gertler?” 

Angus looked back at you silently for just a moment, the tiniest acknowledgement of the fact that you were privy to this information, and he snapped at Hunham, “My shrink.”

“Has Dr. Gertler ever tried a good, swift kick in the ass?” Hunham asked, and you couldn’t help the scoffing giggle that left your mouth. 

“Okay, all right,” Angus chuckled mirthlessly. “Now your turn. Go ahead, tell me something about me. Something negative.” 

“Something negative about you?” Hunham asked in fake-shock. 

“Sure,” Angus shrugged. “Just one thing.” 

Hunham rolled his eyes. “Just one?” He paused for a moment, thinking about his answer, and he turned to look at you. “Anything to add, Miss?” 

You kept your mouth shut and shook your head quickly. “Nothing nice, anyway,” you said softly.

“I concur,” Hunham said, and he cranked up the Nova.

The rest of the ride back to Barton was quiet, listening to the wind whistling through the open window as nothing was said, and words were only finally exchanged as you and Angus parted at the doorway to your separate infirmary rooms. Hunham’s room was off down an adjacent hallway, and you had already heard the door shut by the time you spoke. 

“Oh,” you started, tugging at the bottom of the maroon sweater. “Here, sorry, I forgot—” 

“S’fine,” Angus said. “Don’t worry about it.” 

You nodded slowly. “I’ll run it through the wash and get it back to you,” you said, and Angus shook his head. 

“Keep it,” he said. “Looks better on you than it does on me.” 

“O-Oh,” you stuttered. “I mean, i-it looks pretty, um, expensive, are you sure you don’t—” 

“I’m sure,” Angus nodded. He looked down at his feet for a moment, and he softly added, “Thanks for taking care of me today.” 

You shrugged. “No big,” you said. 

“Big to me,” Angus mumbled. “I’ve never had a girl— or anyone, really— um… Make me feel like that.”

“Like what?” you asked. 

“Cared for,” Angus said. “Cared about. I was, umm, so nervous in there that I thought I was gonna shit and die. But you… You were so gentle, and so nice, it really helped me.” 

“S’what I’m here for,” you said. “See you tomorrow, Ang.” 

“Wait!” Angus said quickly as you put your hand on the doorknob to your room. “Can I, umm… Can I give you a hug?” 

You wrinkled your eyebrows in confusion but nodded all the same, and you stepped closer to him. His good arm wrapped around your middle, a little slow and stiff, like he had never even touched a girl before, let alone hugged one, and your arms went around his neck, holding him tight. He took a deep breath and settled his cheek against your temple, letting himself enjoy it, and your heartbeat picked up. 

You weren’t sure why, but you had a sneaky feeling that Angus had motives behind the embrace. Was he going to try to kiss you? A kiss was just a kiss, it didn’t mean that much in the grand scheme of things, but it would be your first kiss ever. Did you want Angus to be that for you? For the rest of your life, your first kiss would be with Angus Tully, some kid you went to boarding school with who was an asshole ninety-eight percent of the time and a genuine sweetheart the other two percent. Was two percent nice and caring enough, though? 

“Ang,” you whispered, stepping just a touch away from him to see his face. The lights in the hallway were half-turned off, only every other fluorescent bulb lit, and it left you and Angus in a slightly darker alcove of the hallway, and the dim light made shadows play on Angus’s thin face. His eyes looked half-lidded, like he was sleepy, but you could feel his heartbeat and heavy pulse— he was wide awake. “How’d you get that scar?” you asked softly, letting your fingers go to his lips and lightly trace his scarred and puffy upper lip. 

“Got beat up a few years ago,” Angus told you. “Busted my lip.”

“Ang,” you sighed in a hushed tone. “You’ve gotta stop giving people reasons to beat your ass.” 

Angus chuckled. “I can’t really help it…” he said, and trailed off for a moment, then added, “B-Babe.” 

“Are you nervous?” you whispered. “There’s no reason to be.”

“V’just…” Angus started. “I’ve never…” 

“Me neither,” you reminded him. “But I want it to be you.” 

Silently, Angus shifted forwards, pressing his body fully against yours again, his arm going tight around your waist, and he helped you rise up on your toes to fully reach him. Then, before you could even think about what you were doing, you leaned into him and, your eyes slipping closed, touched your lips to his. His lips were warm and soft, and his fingers itched in the back of your shirt. You really had no idea what you were doing, but it felt right, and you tilted your head a bit as Angus put force behind his kiss and held you even tighter. 

You felt lightheaded as you slowly pulled out of the kiss, touching your forehead against Angus’s and sighing. A smile slowly slipped across your lips, and a laugh escaped while your fingers tangled in the curls at the very bottom of his neck. “Um, thanks,” you whispered. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that all day… Since this morning, y’know…” Angus admitted. “I just, um, didn’t wanna do it in front of Hunham.” 

“I understand,” you told him. “Thanks, Ang.” 

“Are you okay, by the way?” Angus asked. “You got really… I don’t know. Upset. Back with those guys.” 

“Oh,” you mumbled. “Y-Yeah, just, um… That guy was in Nam, and after the stress of the rest of the day, kinda just seeing that and remembering was…” 

“Fuck,” Angus sighed. “I’m really sorry. I should’ve stood up for you.” 

You shook your head. “That’s not your job,” you told him. 

“Well, yeah, it’s not,” Angus started. “But that doesn’t mean that I can’t stop it.” 

You bit your bottom lip as you thought, and you mumbled, “Sure. Alright. Umm, I’ll see you in the morning, Ang.” 

“One more for the road?” Angus asked, and you rolled your eyes at his little cocky smile. 

“I’m not even ten feet away from you for the rest of the night,” you chuckled. “Some road there.” 

“But there’s a wall,” Angus whined softly. “I’m also trying to act cool here, and ask for another kiss without asking—”

You leaned up and gave him one more kiss, quicker and less emotional than the first time, but Angus still locked eyes with you and badly contained a smile when you parted, just like before. “I’m trying to not, umm…” he started, looking back down at your feet. “Not get ahead of myself here, but um… No, we can-we can talk about that tomorrow.”

“Talk about what?” you asked, but Angus shook his head. 

“Nothing,” he said quickly. “We’ll... Tomorrow. Get some sleep, okay?” 

Even though you were confused by his trepidation, you agreed anyway. “You too,” you told him. “If your shoulder starts to hurt, just… Let me know. I’ll see if I can help.” 

“Sure,” Angus nodded. He hesitated to step away into his own room for a moment, and he leaned in and kissed your forehead before scurrying away, like he was afraid of the consequences. 

You went into your own room and closed the door, taking a deep breath. You had kissed Angus. You weren’t sure if you were more excited about it being Angus or just the kiss itself happening, but you felt giddy and you bit your cheek as you smiled. Carefully, you went about undressing from the day, slipping into pajama pants and doubling up on socks, and your fingers brushed down the front of the sweater. It was soft, wool, and the stitching on the cuffs and around the bottom and neck proved it to be more expensive than anything you could ever dream of. 

Angus told you to keep it. Were you like those girls who wore their boyfriend’s jackets now? The girls at Central wore their boyfriends’ varsity jackets when it got cold, the ones with their names across the backs, showing everyone who they were dating. You had never really cared too much about the varsity jackets, but, then again, there had never really been anyone that you would have considered even trying to wear their jacket. First, you’d have to figure out if Angus was even your boyfriend before you started to get all giddy about having one. 

Was that what he wanted to ask, but held off for tomorrow? Did he want to ask you to be his girlfriend? It was exciting, but you understood why he had chickened out of asking you then and there. You would be his first girlfriend, and that was intimidating. Maybe he didn’t want to be your boyfriend, and just wanted to be able to hug you and kiss you whenever he wanted. 

Your mind began to race. Angus wanted to kiss you, but what else did he want? Did he want to have sex? Did he even care about that? Had he even thought that far out yet? Certainly, he had. He was a boy after all— boys’ brains are made up of 50% sex and 50% violence. Maybe you were just overthinking it. It was entirely possible that Angus didn’t even want to be your boyfriend, and just got caught up in the moment and kissed you. 

Your head hurt from being too analytical, and you slipped into bed and pulled the blankets to your chest. Tomorrow, Christmas Eve, you and Angus could talk about everything you wanted. Maybe, you thought with a sleepy smile. Your Christmas present would be a boyfriend. 

[virgincels]

WHITE BOY WASTED !

ft. og4!leon s. kennedy x fem!reader x og4!ashley graham

tags. intoxication, dub-con/non-con idk atp, ffm threesome, unrequited love (leshley), leon is the one that gets dub-conned, very unsatisfying sex and smut, oral

note. @rigorwhoring hi you beautiful beautiful girl happy birthday sorry this is so late!!! i hope u enjoy this and i hope u have the best day ever!!! not my best work but forgive me im writers blocked to hell and back… this is edited but if u see a mistake please ignore… my excuse for excessive repetition and simplicity is 😇 ashley pov 💪💯 I LOVE U EM <3 this got so long winded and boring I’m sorry I didn’t mean for all of this 😓😓

When Leon lets it slip that he’s got a girlfriend, Ashley thinks her life might be over amidst this sweaty crowd with her nose powdered in more ways than one. Her smile breaks in half, the plump of her bottom lip taken between lipstick-smeared teeth as she tries to put on her big girl face.

“I’m so happy for you,” Ashley says with eyes too wide to be genuine, her voice cracks and her hands drop from his shoulders where they fit so nicely, the initial excitement of him showing up tonight dims. She’ll have to retire those fantasies and rely on that hairbrush she calls Leon for the rest of her life.

“Ashley—“ Leon’s voice is muffled, it might be the bass or the blood rushing in her ears.

“No, this is totally so fun, Leon, this is—Like, gosh, I’m so happy for you, you wouldn’t even believe how happy I am, I’m like literally squealing to myself, oh my gosh, like, like—“ She thinks she’s going to cry.

“Ashley.“ His scowl deepens, the severity in his eyes is wounding her, like, oh my god, doesn’t he know not to look at her that way? Gosh, the way Leon breathes could set Ashley off, like, why are you huffing at her? Why did you use that tone of voice? Why, why, why? She’s not stupid, Ashley is like a master at reading body language.

“Why did you show up, Leon?” Ashley cuts him up once more, she feels light on her feet all of a sudden, it could be the high or it could be enlightenment. “Like, you never—you never come when I ask you to show up.” Did he come to rub it in her face? That he’s got a girlfriend and that means Ashley has even a less of a chance with him than she did before.

“You called me,” Leon tells her, and he’s trying to be loud over the music, but it feels like he’s shouting at her. He is shouting at her. He’s using this party invite as an excuse to be mean, to get away with how he truly feels about her. Leon never shouts so he must be mad—He wants her out of his life, that’s what he’s going to tell her.

Ashley, you’re an annoying little bitch, and nobody actually likes you, they stick around because you pay for everything and that’s the only real reason anyone would ever want to be around you. Anyway, I have a girlfriend and she’s a hundred times hotter than you, and she’s not a kid, she’s my age. By the way, I remember when you kissed me in my sleep on the flight home from Spain, you’re a fucking creep and I would never waste my time with a little girl like you, can you even wipe your own ass or wild your boyfriend have to do that for you too?

Yes, Leon, I can wipe my ass! Do you want to watch? It’s a date.

With this newfound clearheadedness clutched at her side like a holy book, Ashley stills her quivering lip. “I always invite you to parties,” she points out, “so why did you show up today?”

“You called me,” he repeats, “I don’t answer texts ‘cause I don’t get what you mean, I thought—I mean, I just thought you were pressing the buttons—I didn’t know they meant anything.“ Leon shakes his head to reset his jumbled thoughts. “You never call, I got worried, I thought you needed help.”

“Oh my god, don’t do this to me right now, Leon!” She struggles to get away from him, the walls are closing in on her and there’s too many people to move an inch.

“I’m not trying to do anything, I thought you were hurt—“ Leon follows her movements closely. He’s good at that - shouldering past whoever’s in Ashley’s way, parting a crowd like the Red Sea just so she can make her way through. It’s only because she’s his responsibility—well, not anymore, Ashley hasn’t been his responsibility for six months, but still, it makes her feel special.

It’s so unfair, it’s so not fair. This is like emotional cheating, she read about that in the cosmopolitan. Like, where your mind says one thing and your heart says another, if Leon seriously liked his girlfriend, would he be chasing around after Ashley right now? He’s leading both of them on—They’re in this together, personally victimised by Leon S. Kennedy.

“Yeah, well, I’m not,” Ashley sniffles, she is so hurt his stupid boy brain couldn’t even comprehend the spiking levels of hurt inside of her right now, “so, like, can you go now?”

“Ashley,” he says her name again, is that all he has to say to her? Ashley, Ashley, Ashley—If he gave her the chance, he could be saying it in bed. Please, Leon, she could pop his hip out of place if he let her get on top. “Are you drinking?”

“Yes, duh, Leon, oh my gosh, I am doing a lot more than that!” She recalculates her path to the nearest possible exit, skin going pink with the gust of wind that has her skirt flying up. Leon smooths it back down for her, and then he spins her around to face him. And it’s so dangerous to be this close to him, Ashley really might do something bad. Like, like, she might have to get her dad to cover up a criminal record if Leon doesn’t get off of her right now. Every governing body is made up of sex pests anyway. It’s not like it would be a big deal.

“What is up with you?” His brows are knit with concern. She counts all of his freckles.

You have a girlfriend and everything is ruined. You have a girlfriend and everything is worse now. You have a girlfriend and now I can’t get off to you without feeling guilty and jealous and sick to my stomach. Did Spain mean nothing to you? You hugged me and you held my hand. Why don’t you answer my texts? How can you pretend nothing happened between us?

Instead of saying anything mildly intelligent or moving, Ashley hiccups and then keels over to vomit on his shoes. She narrowly misses them. Leon makes it all worse by rubbing her back and telling her to let it all out. Because he’s just like that. He’s a really good guy and it’s way too easy to fall in love with him.

When he offers to drive her home, Ashley whimpers out a ‘no’ but clings onto him anyway. Leon does her seatbelt up, and he puts the heaters on to warm her up. He switches the radio station from rock to KIIS-FM and then he squeezes her hand over the gearshift.

Leon gets out to talk to security even when they recognise his car as he pulls up, and he insists on dropping Ashley right inside even when she brushes him off and says it’s fine.

Really. It’s so fine, Leon. This is embarrassing enough as it is, I don’t want you to see mom and dad scold me like I’m a kid in front of you—Like, seriously, Leon, there’s no need to do that, or drop me off to bedroom—I’ve got it from here, I don’t want you to see my bedroom, I still have stuffed toys and I can’t even make my own bed and I can’t even pick my clothes up off the ground.

Of course, Ashley says none of this, and she doesn’t have the energy to lift her head and see her daddy’s fallen face, she just lets Leon take her to bed. He doesn’t come in thank god, but he kisses her forehead at the door and then leaves for good.

“Wow,” is all Ashley has to say when she meets you for the very first time. She hasn’t seen a skirt that short since daddy pulled her out of that Catholic boarding school. She hasn’t seen tits like that since she checked hers out in the mirror this morning.

Why are you cool? It’s not supposed to go like this. Ashley isn't ready to face someone like you. Oh my god, it’s like the universe is against her, you look like the whole world rolls over when you ask it to.

Neither you or Leon have spotted her yet, so she hides behind one of her casually dressed security guards. Ashley looks at the text she sent.

Ashley: HAI LEON !! u still up 2 meet 2mrw?? :3

Ashley: OMG vry excited 2 c u 2day. LMK if u want 2 cum over 2! BYOB though !! *laughing emoji*

Ashley: Only jk Leon :3 We have W/E beer u like! Anyway G2G TTYL wen I c u there ^-^

Ashley: OMW RN leon B4N ;)

Ashley: Oops >_<

Ashley: :)****

Leon: Okay, Ashley.

Leon: :)

Oh my god, desperate much? He didn’t even respond to her prior texts and she just kept going. The smiley face must mean he’s not mad.

Her phone beeps, she dreads to open it.

Leon: Hey, you here yet?

Leon: :)

Ashley blinks at her screen and wonders if it’s worth showing face. But, her dad is so going to ask how it went down later, and Ashley is awful at lying and she’ll burst into tears and get sent right back to that awful therapist with the stuffy nose. So she takes whatever insecurity she has and shoves it up her ass, it can fix itself like intestines after a surgery.

“Leon!” She springs herself on him from behind, and he’s not much taller than her, but he manages to not topple over, his hands settle over hers as she squeezes his middle tight.

“Ashley.” That’s a smile in his voice, she hopes. She traces a heart on his shoulder blade before she removes herself from his space. It’s very hard to have self control when you’ve never been told no.

“Sorry I’m late, Leon, there was traffic, and then I lost my handkerchief and then I dropped my phone and it wasn’t working for a minute and—Oh.” She lies to Leon ‘cause it’s easy to lie to a guy you want to look cool in front of, someone you want to impress, it’s not easy to lie in front of daddy. “Is this your girlfriend, Leon?”

She pretends her heart doesn’t lurch when he wraps an arm around your waist to draw you closer to him. “Yeah, uh, babe this is Ashley.”

Ashley looks you up and down for anything she can pick on, anything that she does better than you. But her data scan finds nothing of the sort. You’re perfect and Ashley has never felt more homicidal in her life—Apart from that time she was plagas-riddled.

Unfortunately, you are really fucking cool, and you make her feel more comfortable than Leon ever has, you take the edge away and she’s finally able to relax in front of him.

You work at an office part time, but you spend most of your time out and about, making connections that get you free designer handbags and you have acrylics and ankle-breaking heels and a lip combo she would die for. You are everything she wants to be if it wasn’t for this presidency bullshit. Ashley wants nothing more than to wear a skirt that covers less than half her ass, that flashes everyone in a ten mile radius anytime she takes a step.

“I thought he was ignoring me, I didn’t know he couldn’t read them!” Her texts aren’t that bad, she knows people who don’t even leave a space between their words.

“I wouldn’t ignore you,” Leon mumbles, his lips pressed together in what might be the closest thing to a pout

“Oh em gee, you’re like not even that old, Leon,” she giggles, covering her mouth because she has never liked the way her two front teeth are a little bigger than the rest, and she doesn’t need Leon to pick up on that.

“He doesn’t even know how to make a smiley, I did it for him,” you tell her, “he barely answers my texts, I have to call him every single time.”

You tell her insider info about Leon that she couldn’t even get if she stalked him everyday for the rest of her life. Ashley really likes you, and she can see why Leon really likes you too, and she can’t lie, it kind of makes her really distraught, but if Leon is happy, Ashley is happy.

Oh, who is she kidding?

It doesn't work like that.

Ashley’s selfish. It doesn’t matter if you make Leon happier than he’s ever been, she still wants him to be hers. Not that he would ever even consider anything between the two of them, but him being happy won’t stop Ashley from being unhappy.

“We should go out tonight,” you offer a little while later, and Leon shakes his head immediately.

“She’s twenty,” he murmurs into your ear.

“So?” You seem to do that a lot - ignore everything Leon says in favour of what you want. “You drink, right, Ashley?”

“Yeah, duh, of course I do!” Ashley nods so fast she gives herself whiplash.

You give her a time, place, dress code and a kiss on her cheek. Ashley promises that she’ll be there on time, fake ID in hand.

Ashley finds both of you huddled in a booth, your arm is around Leon’s waist and his face is pressed into your neck, looking awfully small as he speaks. “She’s a kid, it’s illegal.”

“Everyone drinks, Leon, have you never been to a party? Nobody waits until they’re twenty-one, I mean, only you did that.” You use your free hand to card your fingers through his hair. “She really likes you, y’know?”

“Yeah, I know,” Leon huffs like a pouty toddler, “it drives me crazy.”

She holds in a noise. While Ashley has made her attraction to Leon clear, while he rejected her attempt at flirting, at what might’ve been solicitation when she looks back at it, he’s never expressed annoyance at it. Oh god, he finds her annoying. Mega annoying. Like one of those silvery bugs college dorms can’t get rid of. Or rats in the New York subway.

Oh my gosh, she’s a fucking bed bug!

“I think it’s cute.” You kiss his forehead tenderly, and Leon’s light lashes dust your cheeks like spiked plumes. “She could be fun, I bet she’s a virgin too.”

Ashley’s cheeks warm. Is it that obvious? Why is her virginity a topic of discussion anyways? Biologically speaking, like, like hymen-wise, Ashley tore that shit up like a sheet of baking paper the moment she got back from Spain. So she’s not technically an actual virgin, just by, like, modern day standards. Like she’s never let another guy touch her ‘cause they’re not Leon, and it might be childish, but she really wants it to be Leon. She’s kissed a couple girls, but only at sleepovers and only in a friendly way.

“No, god, no fucking way.” He sits up, and she watches him shrug off his jacket like he’s started to overheat. Ashley wishes she could see his face from here. “She’s a kid, babe, I’m not… I can’t do that to her.”

“She’s not a kid, Leon, kids do not have tits like that, I promise you.” You pluck the cherry from his drink. “And she likes you, I don’t see the big deal.”

“She’s… She trusts me, it doesn’t matter if she likes me, she trusts me, and if we do that with her—I can’t have her thinking that I want to date her, I can’t do that to her, she’s a kid, man.”

Ashley wonders if the two of you are looking to find a cute, young girl to kill.

“You’ll change your mind,” is what you tell him, and then you knock back only half of your drink before passing it off to Leon. It’s either that he can’t say no to you or no to a drink, but he takes it and he doesn’t leave a drop.

She hesitates to make herself known. But when else is she going to get the chance to see Leon? He’s busy, and so is she, well, sort of, with parties and sorority and daddy nagging at her.

“Hi.” Ashley slides into the booth and faces you, Leon’s back straightens and he nods at her. Too pissed off to even give her one of his cute smiles.

“Ashley, you look so cute, oh my gosh.” It’s kind of scary how you’re able to fall in and out of speech patterns, putting on your best airhead voice to communicate with Ashley.

“Thanks, so do you!” Ashley thinks brand clashing is tacky, but you pull off Baby Phat jeans and a Von Dutch top pretty effortlessly. You press the sole of your heel to her shin and give her a smile worth dying for.

You don’t dance because Leon refuses, and you say that it’s boring to go on your own, and Ashley knows she’ll be in dire trouble if anyone catches her out here. So you talk, and Ashley listens, and Leon dozes off with his eyes closed. He accepts every drink you give him, and he finishes off all of Ashley’s too. By the end of it, his cheeks are pink and his eyes are glassy like two blue marbles. You make her feel like she needs to fit in, like she needs to keep up and Ashley has never felt that way before.

“Have you fucked a girl before?” You ask her like you’re asking about classes or something so mundane—Not if she’s a fucking lesbian or not.

“What? No, oh my gosh, I’m not like a lesbian,” she mouths the word ‘cause, y’know, that’s weird.

“Have you fucked a guy then?” You tilt your head to the side like you know something, and when Ashley goes to lie she makes the mistake of looking into your eyes.

“No…” Ashley shakes her head slowly, she plays with the hem of her pleated skirt. “I mean like, like, like—“

“It’s totally okay, Ashley.” You wave off her nerves. “Do you want to fuck me?”

“What?” Her eyes bulge out of her skull so fast she gives herself Graves’ disease. “What? Oh my god, like, what?”

Leon is completely disengaged at this point, using a pink straw to stir around melting ice in his cocktail glass. His eyes are dropping, and when he looks up, he gazes at her through his lashes.

“Okay, well, do you want to fuck Leon?”

What is this, like, an interrogation? Ashley hasn’t done anything wrong, not yet at least. Lord, she promises, she hasn’t tried anything funny on Leon—Only once, on the flight back to Spain, and it barely qualifies as a kiss, like she just brushed his lips, it wasn’t anything major.

“Well, well, like, well—“ Ashley stammers for a minute or so, and you look at her all like, ‘take your time’ ‘cause you’re weirdly calm when you say weird fucking things and make her feel weird.

“I don’t mind if you want to fuck him, I’m asking because I think he wants to fuck you.” You’re lying to her face, ‘cause Ashley heard what Leon said, a very clear no, but she believes you anyway ‘cause she wants to believe that Leon wants her. “And I want to fuck you too.”

“I’ll drive,” you tell Leon who doesn’t even look coherent, he slumps back in the passenger seat and looks like he did on the way home from Spain. With his hair falling in his eyes, his lips parted and his hands curled into tight fists. Babies sleep like that.

You make eye contact with Ashley in the rear view mirror and give her a smile so pretty the reflection is blinding enough, she can’t imagine what it looked like up close. She feels like an ant under the burning glow of a magnifying glass. She feels your teeth in her neck. She’s going to feel Leon’s dick inside of her tonight. It might not be entirely legal, but when you’re a girl in a male-dominated world, you have to do what you have to do.

Leon’s house, Ashley thinks as she walks inside, her heels clacking in time with yours.

Leon’s house, Leon’s coat rack, Leon’s plain interior design, Leon’s couch. Leon’s bedroom, Leon’s bed, Leon’s pillow, Leon’s scent. Leon’s girlfriend. Leon Leon Leon.

He’s on his front in bed, still fully clothed, boots and all. You take them off for him and put them to the side, you hang his jacket in his wardrobe, and you begin to take off his jeans. Leon makes a noise of protest in the back of his throat, it’s soft and whiny, the sort of noise a distressed dog makes, and it’s so unlike him she feels something thrumming between her thighs.

“C’mon, baby, lift your hips, it’s just me,” you hum, slipping your hands up his shirt and rubbing circles into his sides, “don’t make a fuss, Leon.”

A second or two pass, and Leon lifts his hips, you wrestle with his jeans and toss them on the floor. No fucking way. No fucking way. There is no way in hell Leon has a nicer ass than her. There is no way in hell Leon doesn’t wear boxers under his jeans, and there is no way in hell this is Ashley’s real actual serious life right now. Like, none of it adds up.

“Oh,” Ashley says softly when she sees his dick. It’s small. Not big. Just—It’s just sort of there. Maybe it’s the angle he's at. Laying on his front, dick laid out on the bed like it’s a toy or something. He would look cute in a jockstrap.

“It’s cute, right?” You pinch his thigh and Leon’s toes curl in his socks. She doesn’t know if you mean his ass or his dick or his balls, they’re pretty cute too. Like. Round and everything balls should be. It’s just—It’s just a little underwhelming. “Roll over, baby.”

He listens like a good dog, rolls onto his back and pants into your mouth when you kiss him. He’s fucking out of it—This isn’t even Leon anymore, Ashley’s not sure if she likes this or not.

She’s not sure if this is how she wants him. It’s not how she’s thought about him on top of her, guiding her, holding her hips and slowing her down when she got ahead of herself.

“Do you want his face or…?” You gesture to his dick and her lust rears its ugly head, she’s willing to overlook the state she’s in to get that dick inside of her. Where it belongs. All four inches tucked away for no one to find. “Ash?”

“Oh… I don’t really know.” Ashley’s bottom lip juts out, because she has always known what she’s wanted, and she always gets what she wants—And now that it’s right in front of her, she can’t even verbalise that yes, she wants his dick so bad, she wants to die and come back to life on that tiny little thing.

“Hey, it’s okay.” You pat the space beside you and she sits, curling into your side as Leon sucks on the tip of your thumb like he's a pin-up girl. “I know it’s not much, but it’s not his fault, I was upset too when he showed me for the first time—“

“No, no—It's not that, oh my god, I’m just, like, nervous.” Ashley shivers as you trail your fingers up and down the jagged edge of her spine, like you’re swiping a credit card. Like you’re trying to open a locked door from the outside.

“Aw, Ashley, you don’t need to be nervous,” you coo, and then you grope her tit so hard she doesn’t have the time to feel nervous, she just feels out of her wits, “he totally likes you, like, I promise, just lay back, ‘kay?”

“Um, okay, I just don’t feel like I should be doing this if Leon is, like, really drunk—“ Ashley yelps as you push her back into the pillows, they’re both flat and blue and they smell like Leon.

You bunch up her skirt above her belly button, toying with the waistband of her panties as you urge Leon to press his face against her puffy pussy. When he sort of slumps into her, head flopping onto her padded thigh, you take him by the hair and force his face into her panty-clad cunt. He’s a fish hooked on a line.

“Good boy,” you praise, hooking your fingers in Ashley’s pink panties and sliding them over the swell of her perky ass and down her legs.

His tongue flicks over her swollen clit, and Ashley lets out a quiet whimper, muffled into the cupped palm of her hand, like she’s trying to keep a secret.

You busy yourself with her tits, telling her that you’ve been waiting to get your hands on them since she wandered into your peripheral. That you noticed them first, and that she shouldn’t be ashamed to show them off. It doesn’t matter what her daddy says.

You’ve got ‘em for a reason, Ashley!

She’s never had her tits played with. Duh. Like, she’s tried pinching her nipples and it’s never done much, but this—Her pussy flutters each time you pop off her hard nipples, leaving your mouth both pinker than they went in.

When her back bows off the bed, none of it is Leon’s doing, his sloppy tongue in her sloppy pussy, giving languid licks up and down her slit from her clit to her hole—It’s you and your quick tongue and your hands on her tits and oh my god, what is wrong with her?

Ashley is not a lesbian and she really likes Leon. She doesn’t know much, but she went into this threesome knowing that, and now you’ve gone and thrown it all up into the air.

She wants someone firm, and you’re giving her all that she needs. You’re kissing her mouth, dribbling your spit onto her tongue and she’s eating it up like a fucking baby bird—What is she doing?

What is Leon doing more importantly? He’s using her pussy as a fucking pillow.

“Baby, are you kidding me? Again?” You whine as you roll him over. “Leon, hello? Leon?” He’s passed out cold, and his fists curl tightly, like a baby. “You always do this to me, Leon, it’s so embarrassing, get up!”

With your spit coating her lips, and the faint tingle of aftershocks, the ghost of Leon’s lips on her clit, Ashley thinks she has a lot of things to figure out. Like, is she a lesbian? And is Leon really like that in bed? Does he even know how to, like, do things without your help? Would she have to guide him?

Ashley’s, like, so not experienced enough to guide him, and she doesn’t even know how lube works. Like, do you put it on the pussy or the dick? And is she meant to put the condom on Leon, or is he meant to do it for her?

All she knows is that you’ll be there to help her along the way, but she’s totally not a lesbian and she totally still likes Leon. Like. Seriously. Cross her heart and hope to die.

(Are all guys like that in bed? Or is it because he’s drunk? Is this legal? Is legal sex better? Would legal sex with Leon make him a little better at it?)

[twilightclouds]

LOVE BEYOND A SCREEN !

[🎧] a series of headcanons about your streamer boyfriend, kaedehara kazuha.

featuring: streamer! kazuha x gn! reader

content warnings/tags: modern au, fluff(?), gn reader with no pronouns specified.

rin's notes: yes, this is a throwback to ctrl+alt+delete... let it stew in your minds if i'm revamping the series or not :D! also i think i'm sick (again) sos

kazuha is definitely the type of streamer to play cozy games (ie: stardew valley, animal crossing, etc.), but he also enjoys playing horror games on occasion with his streamer friends, and for some reason is always the only one staying calm

he’s often known for his calming voice, whether it be raspy when it’s late at night or soothing for his fans during all times of the day

he also sometimes has a surprisingly chaotic personality, often sleeping late at night to stream and plan out some future stream ideas of his

he doesn’t show his face in his streams, making it rather mysterious on what the streamer actually looks like behind the screen

for his partner, though? depending on whether you’re a streamer of not, it really depends.

if you’re a streamer, your fans would probably notice from the not-so-subtle flirting (or aggression, who knows what your relationship dynamic is) and you two would probably be the last people to actually announce the relationship.

if you’re not a streamer, depending on how comfortable you with a public-ish relationship he’ll either mention you on occasion (always with a gentle voice and loving tone) or kazuha will stream with you, playing various different games and helping you out.

his fans of course love the relationship and dynamic between you two, and there are probably those “kazuha being in love with [name] for 20 minutes straight” videos all across the internet

kazuha would totally play horror games with you while he’s being calm and you’re screaming your head off and be like

⤿ “love, playing a horror game was your idea.”

“well guess what, I’M REGRETTING THAT IDEA!”

he also sometimes randomly confesses his love for you while doing mundane normal activities or during his streams, it always manages to catch you off-guard even when you’re expecting it though

he would totally post some photos of you two together (those faceless ones though for privacy) and his fans go crazy over it all the time

[number 1# [name] x kazuha shipper]: OMG they’re so cute together i’m crying !!!

[kazu’s gf]: DID YOU NOTICE THAT THEY HAVE MATCHING BRACELETS??? WHY CAN’T THAT BE ME??? 😭😭😭

[dove2394]: when do you think that they’re getting married ⤿ reply: [sleigh-the-day]: that's wild bro

he prob holds your hand sometimes while he’s streaming (he’s so amazing that somehow he can use a mouse and keyboard with one hand while the other one is holding yours)

you’re a often guest in his streams and kazuha’s fans are all for it. they can’t wait to see you guys get married. /lh

©twilightclouds. do not repost, plagiarize, feed my works to AI, or republish my works onto any other site without permission. my works will only be posted on tumblr unless written otherwise.

[quin-ns]

The blue VIII (JJ Maybank x Reader)

Series summary: JJ has a secret, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold onto it. He discovers his breaking point when his best friend starts to show interest in you, his step sister, who he’s already fallen hard for

Series tags: step brother!jj, dual pov, jealousy, one sided john b x reader, drinking, inappropriate relationship, public sex, oral sex (f receiving)

A/N: the final chapter. I had a lot of fun not only writing but sharing my first series with you guys 🫶

Series masterlist + OBX masterlist

You hadn’t planned on JJ following you inside, but a part of you knew he would anyway.

You were glad he did, because when JJ took you into his arms, you felt a wave of comfort that you desperately needed. You had so many days to prepare for this, but it still didn’t feel like enough. Thinking and talking about how to tell your friends versus actually telling them was very different.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized.

You tilted your head up and found JJ looking down at you. You wondered if he could see your guilt as the thought of backing out crossed your mind.

JJ leaned in after a moment. His lips ghosted yours as he muttered, “It’s okay.”

Someone cleared their throat, and it wasn’t JJ. The sound that filled the room came from near the doorway. You tensed and even though anxiety made you want to bury your face into JJ’s shirt, you turned your head.

John B stood a few feet in the doorway, a look of sheer embarrassment on his face. He scratched the back of his head, eyes not meeting yours or JJ’s directly.

“Was just coming to check on you guys…” he said awkwardly, gesturing to you and JJ. You swallowed and parted from JJ, even if it was the last thing you wanted to do. You failed to speak and so did JJ. “So is this a thing, or…?”

“We can explain,” you said, not even knowing how to begin.

“Yeah, we were gonna tell you guys, we just”—JJ shrugged and looked at you—“we just didn’t know how.”

Kiara and Pope picked that moment to come into the house. A spotlight might as well have been shining down on you. You’d probably be sweating in a minute.

“What’s going on?” Kiara questioned, looking between the three of you. “If you’re back to arguing—“

“Kie, stop,” JJ interjected, lifting a hand. “No one is arguing, okay?”

Kiara pouted at being interrupted. “Well what is it then?”

You locked eyes with John B. Your heart stammered in your chest, even as he deferred to you. You looked up to JJ and found him looking at you as well. They’d follow your lead, you could see it in their eyes. They had different tells, but you knew them well enough to figure this out. It was up to you.

You gave JJ a light nod. No backing down now.

“We have something to tell you guys,” you blurted out, facing the group.

JJ reached for your hand, and you saw the moment it clicked for Kie and Pope. Confusion set in, Kie with wide eyes and Pope with furrowed brows. John B’s smile was tight lipped as he attempted an assuring look.

“You… you um…” Pope began, like he wasn’t sure how the sentence ended.

“Yeah,” JJ said. “We’re together.”

You weren’t sure what was worse, the dead silence or the stares you were receiving. Time passed so slowly in those quiet seconds.

“How long…?” Kiara wondered cautiously.

“About a month,” you admitted. “We weren’t sure how to bring it up.”

“I can see why,” Kiara muttered. You heard JJ suck in a breath. “Sorry,” she apologized, actually sounding guilty.

John B shoved his hands into his pockets, shoulders slouching. “Well it explains a lot,” he decided. His brows raised in JJ’s direction. “That's why you got so mad at me, isn’t it?”

“I was jealous,” JJ confessed. “I didn’t handle it well ‘cause she didn’t know and I didn’t think I could ever tell her how I felt.”

“I had no idea,” you added, hoping it was the right thing to say. You were at a loss for what the right thing was, truthfully. There couldn’t be a right thing to say in a situation like this. There wasn’t exactly a blueprint for how to explain your step brother was no longer that in your eyes, and that even more than that he was also your boyfriend. “This just sort of happened, but it’s working.”

There was a sense of relief that intertwined with your anxiety. At least you got the words out. They left your mind and now existed in open space. It wasn’t a secret anymore.

“I still have a lot of questions,” Pope commented awkwardly.

It was fair, you would too. So whatever they asked, you and JJ answered. Eventually the nervous energy in the room wore off and you were all able to move back out to the porch, where you continued the little Q and A. You and JJ told them everything. It was uncomfortable at first, especially when JJ started talking about the fact he’d struggled for so long with his feelings before you knew. You held his hand and couldn’t fight your frown as he voiced his former anxiety. It seemed like such a long time ago. You couldn’t imagine a world where JJ looked at you full of love and desire and you didn’t meet his gaze with the same emotions.

They finally got the truth about the night John B and JJ argued, about the movie, about the party—although, the detail about you and JJ sleeping together was one you consciously left out. The two of you were often on the same wavelength and silently agreed they didn’t need to know that much. The fact you both admitted feelings was information enough. Your friends could only digest so much in one night. Eventually JJ would tell John B and Pope on a guys day, and you’d have to tell Kie on a girls night, and they’d all talk to each other, and it would be a thing… but then it wouldn’t. That was usually how things went with this group. Everyone always found out everything eventually.

You and JJ took turns talking. It was the most you’d seen him open up in a while when it wasn’t just the two of you. Even though the looks on your friends' faces read like they were still unsure of how to react, your confidence grew. With every word of admiration JJ said with your name to follow, and how easily amazing moments with him appeared in your mind, you were certain you’d made the right decision. Your friends could understand that with enough time.

“I know—we know—it’s gonna take time to get used to,” you began, fiddling with your hands. They’d have to. They loved you, and they loved JJ. They’d have to accept the way you loved each other. “But do you think you can?” Wouldn’t they?

You looked between John B, Kiara, and Pope, and they exchanged glances between one another. You were sure JJ was doing the same as you.

“Yeah,” John B finally said. “You guys are our friends and if you're happy, then we’re happy for you.”

He sounded like he meant it, and as Pope and Kie nodded along, you could only hope they really did.

Your head hit the pillow with a giggle. JJ was all over you, pressing kisses to your lips, your cheeks, your neck, your chest… He slid down your body, lips leaving a trail down your stomach. His hands bunched in the dress you’d worn to dinner—your first official date out in the open—and pushed it up around your waist.

“You’re such a tease,” you said, face feeling warm as he pressed a kiss to your navel.

JJ looked up at you through his lashes and you just about passed out right there.

The day had been perfect. You needed a perfect day after telling your friends about the nature of your relationship.

You woke up with JJ’s arms around you and stayed in bed until you felt like getting up. Making breakfast wasn’t something you usually did, but Luke was absent from the house so you seized the opportunity to enjoy it. After that you and JJ went to an old movie theater you loved. He actually paid for your tickets to the first movie and the popcorn, but then you each got a thrill out of hopping between screening rooms, trying to see as many movies as you could before you got caught (which you didn’t, maybe they didn’t care enough to watch the cameras).

After, JJ took you to the house and you both changed into something nice. You didn’t even know he owned a pair of pants that went down to his ankles, and you laughed when he emphasized what a big deal it was that he was putting them on for you after you commented on it. You found a white sundress you’d been meaning to wear for the longest time but hadn’t had the opportunity to.

“It’s the perfect time,” he had said, voice full of admiration. “You look amazing.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you had tossed back, taking his arm as he led you out to his bike.

There was something about being dressed all fancy on JJ’s motorbike that felt as if you were in a scene from a film. Fear didn’t dare to creep in as you held onto his waist from behind—it knew it would be crushed by your joy.

The place you went was still on the Cut, but it was one of the nicest restaurants that your side of the island had. You would’ve gone to The Wreck, but today was just for you and JJ. Kiara wouldn’t have interfered, but you two wanted to be alone. Besides, you didn’t need Mr. or Mrs. Carerra giving you questioning looks when you and JJ ordered one slice of pie and two forks.

You weren’t even sure they had pie on the menu at The Wreck honestly, but the nice place you went did. Key Lime became a new favorite.

You talked, and laughed together, and flirted of course, and forgot the rest of the world existed. You’d never had a real boyfriend, but you could get used to this. That fact that it was JJ made it a hundred times more special. He was the one for you, you never could’ve sat across from anyone else and enjoyed yourself as much as you did with him.

You could hardly keep your hands off of one another when you got back to the house—which you still had to yourself. JJ guided you back to your room, eyes full of hunger and hands moving with intent. The fond recent memories collided with the sensations he inflicted upon you now.

You gasped when his fingers tugged at your underwear. You let him remove them without a hint of protest, and your lungs contracted when he dove between your legs without a word.

His mouth was heavenly, his tongue skilled as he ran it between your folds. You finally caught your breath when his nose rubbed against your clit.

“JJ, please,” you whined.

You felt him grin against you as he lifted his head just long enough to ask, “What is it, baby?”

Truthfully you didn’t know. Words failed you and that seemed to amuse him as he returned to eating you out like it was his favorite thing to do. It might’ve been, you wouldn’t put it past him.

Your hand tangled in his hair, tugging a little when the pressure began to build. He gripped your thighs in his strong, rough hands to keep them from squeezing around his head. JJ still needed to breathe, but you forgot that sometimes. He was so fucking good you didn’t even have to guide him. You just needed something to hold onto as he devoured you like a man starved.

His tongue worked magic between your legs, lapping at you in a way that had you tensing and shivering.

When your orgasm finally hit, you let out a moan of his name, thighs quivering around his head as he suckled at your clit. He didn’t even need to use his hands.

“I love it when you do that,” he complimented, voice heavy with arousal. Coming down from your high you couldn’t place him for a moment, only trying to catch your breath, but then he was above you. You smiled when you saw blue eyes and pink lips grinning down at you. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you managed, pressing up on your elbows to capture his lips. JJ sunk into you, giving you enough leverage to get him beneath you. You straddled him, your lips leaving his to say, “Your turn.”

Your legs laid across JJ’s lap as you laughed along with your friends. It was early in the morning, and you’d all decided to meet up at the Chateau to hang out for the day.

A couple weeks had passed since you and JJ told them all about your relationship. It was going better than you had hoped, which was an immense relief.

Not too long ago they couldn’t control their expressions—you’d catch the curious gazes and side eyes between them. Now, though? They hardly bat an eye when JJ reached for your hand or when you leaned on his shoulder. You tried to keep the PDA to a minimum, but it was easier said than done when JJ looked at you the way he did.

You honestly didn’t understand how you never noticed before.

Right now his hand rested on your thigh, his thumb gliding across your skin as you tried to keep up with what was being said.

“We’re still down to go to the beach, right?” Kiara looked around at everyone.

It wasn’t a particularly sunny day, but the plan had already been made and a few clouds weren’t going to hurt anyone.

“I've been needing a beach day,” you agreed, to which everyone nodded along.

John B clapped his hands onto his knees. “I’ll pack the cooler.”

Once that was done, you all loaded up in John B’s van and headed for the beach. He took the front and Kie took the passenger side, while you, JJ, and Pope hung out in the back.

JJ sat on the ground, his back against the wall. You sat between his bent legs, leaning your back against his chest. His arms locked around you, just holding you as you chatted to Kiara and John B up front.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Pope watching you and JJ. When you looked at his face, a hint of old nervousness threatened to appear. Then you noticed the smile. Just the slightest half smile with the corner of his lip tugged up.

“You good, Pope?” you wondered.

“Yeah, just…” He shrugged. “I don’t know if I’ve said it, but I’m happy for you guys.”

His sweet words almost brought tears to your eyes, which surprised you a bit. It was the first time any one of your friends had said something like that. The verbal acceptance made your heart skip as you tilted your head back to meet JJ’s eyes. Sure enough he was looking down at you, a smile on his face.

“Thanks, man,” JJ said to the boy across from you both.

“You guys are good together,” Kiara added from the front. She turned her body in her seat to face the two of you. “I don’t think I’ve seen either of you this happy.”

As she said this, you noticed the way Pope watched her, while she seemed none the wiser. Had that been what you and JJ looked like from an outside perspective? The fact that no one suspected anything was nothing short of a miracle on his part. Things could’ve been a lot different if he had been asked too many questions at the wrong time.

You decided at that moment you wouldn’t mention anything until Pope or Kie mentioned it. It would likely be the former, it really seemed like Kiara had no clue. The thought crossed your mind that he could’ve talked to JJ, or if he hadn’t, that he should. JJ wasn’t someone anyone would think to go to for well thought out advice—he was a bit of a wildcard—but in this scenario he had been successful. It couldn’t hurt.

Although that could be saved for another time, another place. Right now you focused on what John B was saying, his head turning between the road and the back.

“Yeah, I mean, you’re not as handsome as me, but”—John B’s teasing was cut off when Kie swatted at his arm. “Hey! I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he assured quickly. You laughed while Kie shot you a wink and sat back right. JJ’s chest shook as he chuckled behind you, but his arms still tightened around your body. “Seriously though, what they said. You guys make a good couple.”

“Thank you, guys. That’s so sweet. It means a lot,” you said to the three of your friends.

“Of course.” John B threw a glance back towards JJ. “You got lucky, don’t let her go. ‘Cause she could do better.”

JJ took the taunt with a laugh. “I don’t know how she settled for me,” JJ joined in at his own expense. “But you’re not getting rid of me now.” That last part was directed at you. He rested his head on your shoulder and despite the odd angle, you managed to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Good,” you said. “‘Cause I’m not letting you go.”

The beach was in sight in a matter of moments out the window. Since it was a random weekday where the sun wasn’t all that clear, John B found a place to park his van with no problem.

You hummed in content as you and JJ walked hand in hand into the sand. You managed to lay down a towel for yourself before the light breeze kicked it up. You laid out on it with a content hum. A lazy smile spread across your face as bits of sunlight managed to beam down onto you from behind the clouds. Nothing was going to keep you from enjoying the beach. JJ took his place beside you while the others made a mad dash for the water. It was probably colder than usual, but you knew you’d get in eventually.

Comfortable silence hung in the air for a while until out of the blue JJ asked, “You remember the last time we were here?”

“It’s been a while.” You tried to recall the last time you were on this beach, but nothing specific came to mind.

The clouds moved a bit, so you shielded your eyes from the sun as you looked up at JJ. He had his knees up and leaned on them. His thoughtful expression nearly had you sitting up, but you just got comfortable, and the look in his eyes was one you came to recognize. It told you not to worry.

“You and John B were chicken fighting with Pope and Kie. And I...” JJ chuckled in spite of himself. “I was so jealous.”

You turned to lay on your back. Memories that felt like ages ago resurfaced, but they really weren’t all that distant. You recalled the chicken fight, and how you’d all gone back to that Chateau. You fell asleep on the couch talking to John B and woke up to JJ in the chair across from you. That morning filled you with just enough suspicion that you guessed something was up.

“What made you think of that?” you wondered. “‘Cause we’re back here?”

JJ shrugged. He looked out at the water, then cast his eyes down to meet yours. A light smile appeared on his lips

“I just didn’t think this was ever gonna happen. Us, I mean.” JJ let his legs fall flat and you pulled yourself to lay your head in his lap. God, you loved his smile. “But I’m really fucking happy it did.”

You grinned, unable to help yourself. “I’m really fucking happy too.”

End.

if you’d like to be added to the taglist, just an ask or reply to lmk 🫶

The blue taglist: @empath-bunny @juniebugg @lashay28 @redhead1180 @mariaeirhnh @wearemadeofstardust0 @obxwatcherficreader @echobx @rafeinterlude @rubixgsworld @niyahnotnia @enchantingstarfishrebel @aphroditesblunt @spideysimpossiblegirl @ifilwtmfc

[the-beaten-and-the-damned]

third post today because it's been on my mind for a while and since we're back in business anyway

to all nontraumagens, you know why systems are against you?

cuz you aren't systems, but trying to invade system spaces. AND NO, SIT THE HELL BACK DOWN, let me explain. just for you, i will mark the keywords in different colours this time :)

you see, "system" is initially a medical term. "multiplicity" is a word associated with a medical condition, which happens to be basically synonymous to "plurality". which isn't medical. i don't support the usage of this word by systems, but i'm merely explaining why it happens

let's just hypothetically say, you can be plural without trauma. spiritually, religiously, by the means of taking substances, etcetera. that's still not a system. because it's a medical term. and one medical criterium for being a system (out of many) is that you are multiple without any of the above.

call those entities in your brain a joint, a commune, whatever you want! but not a system. please.

let's say i believe your plurality. i won't either say i 100% do or 100% don't, i never looked into that and this mutual aggression i see between systems and plurals doesn't make me wanna do it one bit. you say it yourself, it originates from something other than trauma! then it's different in nature. WHY are you trying to get into the spaces of traumatised people that aren't going to understand your experiences anyway? WHY are you trying to wage a war on the said traumatised people? Why do you come after those trying to make, in your words, their "endo-free internet bubble"? you can't shove acceptance down someone's throat, especially when your community acts like this.

have your own community. make terms that aren't medical. make flags, i see many of you are passionate graphic designers anyway. here's a couple of basic terms for you i just came up with! entity (part/alter), nucleus (host) walk-in (introject), guardian (protector), warden (gatekeeper), and so on. MAKE YOUR TERMS. PLEASE

tl;dr: endos, you don't belong in the system community only because our experiences differ. make yourself a new one, that won't touch people with severe trauma. this way, you won't have to harass and get harassed back.

sincerely, a traumascum.

to anti endos here, i get the fun you're getting from reclaiming the terms that endos make. do it with those that are based on medical and sys community exclusive ones. DON'T take the terms that are made by them to separate, for the love of god, you're prolonging this war. if you see them making an attempt at separating, leave them be. EVEN IF you don't believe in their experiences, EVEN IF you think you can't be plural without trauma, period, DON'T TOUCH THEM. they'll be in their own space we won't need to invade, and we'll be in ours. isn't it what we all want, for endos to get out of the system spaces?

upd.: a simple solution to systems that DO support nontraumagens! don't post about them in spaces exclusively made for traumatised people. because these spaces aren't about non-disordered plurals. post about them where it's appropriate, not wherever you want to. personally, i think you're still allowed to use your community tags, #systempunk included, but don't drag what doesn't belong in it in there.

nontraumagenics are welcome to interact only if they're being civil and understand my point. and only with this post. otherwise, if you decide to be a little shit to us, we will be meaner to you tenfold, just a warning.

our inbox doesn't have anon asks turned on anyway :3

[imjustreadinglmao]

BLUE

Paring: Azriel x Reader (soon? or maybe not…)

A/N: posted this drabble/idea on my old account but somehow it doesn’t appear in the tags 🤷‍♀️

this is just an idea. if you want me to follow up with more parts, let me know! let me know who reader should end up with.

TW: lil bit of angst, unrequited love, not proof read

I stir my black tea as Rhysand skips through the report I handed him just seconds ago. The steam from the tea rises, carrying with it a sense of fleeting warmth that I desperately cling to.

I rarely do missions, but when I do, l'm always eager to return home, cook myself a nice meal, cuddle my cat, and pass out in my bed.

Missions used to be exciting, but nowadays I prefer the comfort my room provides. The sense of security it brings is a balm to my soul, now more than ever.

"I have to say, l'm impressed you were able to convince Devlon so fast. The Mother knows how difficult he is."

I look up at Rhys and chuckle, the sound hollow to my own ears. "It does help if you threaten to cut his balls off and stake them to the wall for everyone to see."

Rhys lifts a brow and barks out a laugh. "I see."

I take this as a sign to stand up and lift my bag off the floor. I sling it over my shoulder and make my way to the door.

"Don't forget tonight's family dinner," Rhysand calls after me. “And no surprises this time,” I don't look back, just give him a thumbs-up and close his office door behind me.

As I make my way downstairs and through the foyer, I spot Lucien strapping on his sword.

Presumably getting ready for training or another form of torture he wants to inflict upon himself.

"How did the mission go?" Lucien doesn't need to look up to see that it's me approaching. I let out a sigh and rub my temples.

"Good." I stop beside him and flop onto the recamare right next to the front door. "Well, as good as paying the camps a visit can get.”

Lucien cracks a smile at that. He knows exactly how difficult it is to convince Devlon of something he isn't particularly fond of.

"Are you coming to the family dinner tonight?" I ask, my voice betraying a hint of reluctance.

Lucien sheaths his blade and nods. "Feyre will have my head if I don't show up. I already missed the last one."

I cringe at the mention of the last family dinner.

The memory alone sends a sharp pang through my chest.

————————————

I walked into the dining room, ready to face yet another family dinner. I spotted Mor right away, radiant in her blood-red gown. The sight of her was one of familiarity and comfort.

"Hey, got another one of those?" | pointed to the wine glass in her hand. She arched a brow and handed me one filled to the brim.

"Are we so exhausting that you need liquid encouragement to get through the night?" she mused. I shot her my best you know exactly why I need this' look.

Right as she opened her mouth to say something, the back of my head began to tickle. He was here.

I turned around to see Azriel walk through the door, and he was not alone. Elain was beside him, their hands intertwined.

The sight hit me like a physical blow. I looked back at Mor, her expression as shocked as mine. "didn't know," she whispered, her face now bearing a look of worry and pity.

I forced myself to let the anger and embarrassment fade away. I took a deep breath and replied, "It doesn't matter. If he wants to court her, he can."

Even though he was my mate... Even though every fiber of my being screamed in protest.

To say the dinner was awkward would be an understatement. Nobody really knew what to say after Elain and Ariel walked in holding hands.

I just shoved the potatoes on my plate around, too nauseous to eat anything. The lump in my throat made swallowing impossible.

Cassian cleared his throat and pointed to Azriel and Elain. "So how long has this been going on?" Nesta jabbed her elbow into his ribs, which earned her an "oww" from her mate, and threw me an apologetic look.

Besides Mor, only Lucien and Nesta knew about me and Azriel's mating bond. Their concern was palpable, a constant reminder of the bond I tried so hard to ignore.

"Well... Azriel coughed, noticeably uncomfortable with being put on the spot. "It all happened very quickly. We spent a lot of our nights up and talking and realized we didn't want to hold back anymore."

He gazed down at her, smiling. I recognized that look. That's how one looks when they're deeply in love. The realization twisted the knife in my heart.

That's how I look at him.

————————————

"Are you even listening?" Lucien waves a hand in front of my face to snap me out of my haze.

His voice pulls me back to the present, but the ache remains. I rub my eyes. "Uh... sorry. What exactly were you saying?"

He crosses his arms and looks down at me. "I was asking if you wanted to go training with me. But it seems what you really need is some sleep."

I roll my eyes and stand up. "You know me so well, Lu."

I pat his shoulder and walk out the door. "See you at dinner tonight."

Velaris is most beautiful at night, but nothing can beat the quiet and peace of the early mornings.

I walk down the high street, greeting some of my favorite vendors with a smile, until reach the familiar townhouse.

After I officially became part of Rhysand's inner circle, he offered me to stay at his townhouse.

It had many perks: no rent, right in the heart of Velaris, and an endless wine supply thanks to Rhysand's "secret" wine cellar.

The only downside was...

"I didn't think you would be back so soon."

Azriel sits at the dinner table eating breakfast, dressed in his fighting leathers, probably on his way to the House of Wind for Valkyrie training.

Cassian and Azriel still train the Valkyries every morning. Sometimes I join, but only when Nesta drags me up there.

"Well, sorry to disappoint. I laugh awkwardly.

"I'm going to head upstairs to rest. Say hello to Nesta for me." The words taste bitter, a poor attempt to mask the hurt.

I turn around before he has the chance to say something else, the lump in my throat threatening to choke me.

Yes, that was the downside. The constant reminder of what I had lost and could never have.

Him.

[evanpeterspeter]

AN: In celebration of me being on my period, (yay being a woman..) I figured, why not there be head cannons of the Evan’s response to you being on that time of the month. It’s something small but why not. Theres also a little bit of NSFW, so fair warning.

Ps. It is my birthday today 😽🫶

TW: Blood, NSFW, oral, fingering, unprotected p in v and stuff

———————————————————————————

Tate Langdon

———————————

Tate would set up a heating pad for you and

Grab you your favorite book to read

.

Play your favorite music and rest his head on your lower stomach, in hopes the weight of him might help the cramps.

.

Would pepper kisses everywhere to help distract the pain

.

He would sit criss crossed on the bed facing you and will rub your clit to help ease the pain, until you finish

Kit Walker

——————————

Kit would kiss your lower stomach and give you a deep massage where your uterus lays

.

Would buy you chocolate and your favorite desserts

.

Would do all the house work and chores for you, whilst you get plenty of rest (He'll be wearing your frilly apron while doing all the work)

.

He would dick you down so good, it'll cure those cramps by how deep he hits in you, completely bottoming himself out

Kyle Spencer

—————————

Kyle would take you out for a nice dinner

.

He would take you shopping and even surprise you with flowers

.

He doesn't know what exactly the difference is between pads and tampons, so he buys them both.

.

He is very respectful when it comes to sex on your period and no matter how horny he is, he'll always respect your boundaries. Which turns you on.. so now you guys are going missionary

Jimmy Darling

———————————

Jimmy would take care of you like as if you were sick

.

His mom would also make you some soup and home baked buttered bread, then he would hand feed you

.

He'd make sure that nothing and nobody would bother you

.

Would finger fuck you so hard, that your legs would shake and quiver afterwards.

James Patrick March

——————————————

James would make everything romantic no matter what

.

Would set up a warm bubble bath with candles, with rose petals on the surface of the water and with a glass of wine on the side

.

Would pamper you and caress you up and down, leaving kisses and love bites all over

.

Would kiss up your thighs and eat you out. Even when it's all a bloody mess, he loves the taste. Especially since it's you

Kai Anderson

——————————

Kai isn't really the kind to pamper you. He thinks it's being vulnerable

.

You're only allowed to skip one meeting for cramps/major discomfort, but you would have to make it up to him later

.

He also gets irritated when you're PMSing, but will soon apologize, not by words but by showing physical touch, such as in hugging behind you, nuzzling your neck and much more

.

Kai's idea of curing your cramps is to fuck you with a vibrator hard and fast. Your whole body and core will be shaking after, and once you finish he'll rail you to the bed. No protection, no towel, he'll leave the blood everywhere to show what mess he created from you

Warren Lipka

——————————

Warren would let you lay in his flannel and will spoon you in bed, placing his warm hands over your lower belly to cradle

.

He would pass you a blunt to ease the pain and to help you relax

.

He's too lazy to cook, so he'll probably make you a bowl of cereal

.

He would let you ride him all much as you wanted. Until of course when he finishes in you.

Peter Maximoff

——————————

Peter would do anything for you, no matter how crazy the request might be

.

Would "buy" you junk food in seconds

.

He would let you sit on his lap while you play one of his video games on the tv, while rubbing your lower tummy in a circular motion

.

Sure he's fast, but you don't know fast until he finger fucks you and using his other hand to rub your tender aching clit like a vibrator

———————————————————————————

Tag list: @evansonlylove @xrag-dollx @warrenlipkaswife

[jeankluv]

The forgotten boy - Suguru Geto | Chapter 01

Words: 3k

Summary: He made a deal with the devil, over 1,000 years ago. Just for the sake of his loved ones but the deal came with a condition. Everyone he met from now on, would forget about his existence within minutes, and will be like that for the rest of the eternity

Like that Geto Suguru has lived for the last 1000 years being forgotten but everyone he met, not being remembered by anyone and being alone.

"You remember me?"

You nodded. “Of course I do.” You smiled. “You have been coming here for a few days now. Always at the same hour and always asking for the same coffee.”

ac: _3aem

Tags: fantasy au, modern settings and historical settings, angst, fluff, eventual smut, hurt/comfort, magical themes, use of y/n, no physical appearance except for some freckles reader has.

Notes: first chapter of this new Suguru fic. A few things I have to say about this fic is that it has more text, more inner dialogues and information. Flashbacks. It’s also dual pov or more like external pov, we will be able to see what both main characters think. Also sorry if there are any mistakes or typos, English is not my first language. I hope everyone enjoys this story.

materialist | next chapter

"In any lifetime, I swear I will find you. I swear."

˖✧˖°.✶₊ ⊹ ⋆˖✧˖°.✶₊ ⊹ ⋆

Suguru got out of the bus and walked across the street. He always took the same route. And for some time now he had always come across the same faces, whose names he did not know but he did remember his faces. Unlike him, those people could meet him a million times and never remember his name or his face.

But it was the price he had to pay for the sins he had committed 1,000 years ago and would continue to pay until the end of the world.

His feet stood in front of the coffee shop that had recently opened its doors. The coffee they served was the best he had tasted in the city, and today he had decided to go there again to drink that same coffee again and feel like he belonged to that reality.

He waited in line, like a mere mortal, and when a boy of only about twenty years old arrived at the counter, he was greeted with a smile. Suguru without saying another word asked him for a coffee and retired to wait for it to be served. He sat at one of the many tables that the cafeteria had until his name came over the speakers.

"Kento"

It wasn't his real name, but with the curse besides from not aging and being forgotten by everyone. It also happened that Suguru could not say his name, nor say it, nor even write it, if he tried it would disappear as if nothing had ever been written on the paper. That is why he changed his name constantly.

"Enjoyed it"

You with big eyes and freckles crossing your face smiled at him, Suguru smiled back and took the coffee from you.

He sat back down at the table he was before and looked out the window. It was April, a month that brought back distant, very distant memories of his childhood. Where the snow had already disappeared from the roads of the village where he lived and the flowers were beginning to bloom, ushering in spring and the beginning of his countless afternoons of fun with his best friend. But those were just memories now, nothing more than that. Memories that only he remembered and that those who appeared in them had long since left.

The world continued to rotate, change and evolve, while he continued to hope that one day he would once again be the boy who went to the banks of the river to hunt tadpoles.

He finished the coffee and left the tip on the table and then left that cafeteria. And he began to walk, aimlessly and without any rush, since what mattered least to him was time, because he had plenty of that.

He had returned to what had once been his home village and had now become an urban metropolis, just a few years ago. After being cursed, Suguru decided to leave his beloved home behind, nothing and no one needed him there anymore and the only thing he could bring was bad omens. And that's why he traveled the world, using different names always being forgotten on the same day. He had spent the last hundred years in the UK, but he had decided to return to Japan after so long and see how it was.

His blood ran cold when he got off that plane and began to walk the streets that once seemed familiar to him. Everything was different, everything except a hill where he used to go with...

Suguru shook his head and turned to look in the direction of the hill, which remained the same. As if nothing had changed. People who were going for a walk or run, walked by there, and with his hands in his pockets, he went up and up. He remembered the hill being much bigger, but that was probably because everything seemed so much bigger to him as a child. He sat on the bench there and simply watched the horizon as the hours began to pass.

Something that the curse brought is that he did not feel tired, hungry, or sleepy. The first time he noticed it, he stopped eating for too long, a time where no human being could continue living. It was then that he understood that at that very moment he made the deal, he had stopped being like the rest of humans.

The sun had set hours ago and those who were walking or running on the hill had long since left. He got up from the bench and began to walk with a specific direction, this time. He entered the luxurious building and clicked on the floor where he was going. When he reached it he walked down the hallway, dragging his feet until he reached the door. He entered the code he borrowed months ago (as he liked to say) from that “friend” of his and entered on that apartment.

He knew the apartment would be empty, he knew the owner's schedule well. He considered him a friend, if that was even possible. But Suguru didn't care, or at least that's what he told himself.

Shortly after arriving in Japan he had met a man named Nanami Kento, he was a businessman and they had met in a cafeteria, the conversations flowed normally and safely. The next day when Suguru found him there again he showed up again and had another different conversation. Perhaps under different circumstances Nanami would have also considered him his friend.

Suguru sat on the couch and closed his eyes. He knew that Nanami wouldn't be coming home for the next two weeks, so he might have a place to rest for at least two weeks. You might think that what he did was low, but he had lived for more than 1,000 years and during all that time he had had to find ways to live, like a normal person. Even if that meant lying and manipulating others, but it didn't matter because they would forget about him.

He looked up at the ceiling and felt the comfort of that apartment. It was warm there but he couldn't call it a home. When was the last time he had a place to call a home?

Probably around 450 years ago. He was living in Italy, in a remote house that was long abandoned, it was just him and the dog that welcomed him the first time. He always wondered if animals could remember him or just like anyone else they would forget about him. He didn't know but that dog would always show up in front of that abandoned house and move it's tail whenever he welcomed him.

But soon enough, the dog died and he was left alone once again. He lived in that house for another 100 years, a lot of time for many, short for him. It was then when he decided to move to America and lived there, in different places, different countries and then he moved back to Europe, to England to be exact where he witnessed the changes of the world and cruelty of the humanity.

Suguru had lived too long, he had learned different languages, known different cultures, and heard thousands and thousands of stories. But he was tired, living so much and not having anyone to share his experiences, or moments, was exhausting. And frankly, it crossed Suguru's mind more than once to end everything, he even tried it, but when that demon appeared before him the first time he tried, he warned him.

"If you end the contract we sealed, you will become a curse and for the rest of the centuries, I will make you torment the reincarnations of those you once loved."

He never tried it again.

˖✧˖°.✶₊ ⊹ ⋆˖✧˖°.✶₊ ⊹ ⋆

"I will give you anything, but please grant me that wish, let me save them."

"Anything eh?"

˖✧˖°.✶₊ ⊹ ⋆˖✧˖°.✶₊ ⊹ ⋆

Suguru opened his eyes to the sunlight that slipped through the window, announcing a new day in the world. He stretched his stiff muscles and headed to the kitchen of the apartment. He took one of the fruits that Nanami had and ate it and then went to the bathroom and took a leisurely shower. They were those small moments that made him feel completely human again.

He left the bathroom and went to the closet. He was lucky to be wearing a size similar to Nanami's. He grabbed a white shirt and a black knit vest for the top and black pants for the bottom. Walking to the couch she grabbed the long jacket and some coins from the counter. Was he an asshole for doing that? Probably, but after so much time it was easy for him.

Just like the day before and the day before, he took the same bus, greeted the driver with a smile and sat in the same seat as always. Where he contemplated the city that dawned. He got off at the same stop and took the same route to the cafeteria.He waited in line for his turn to arrive. And he began to think about his current life, monotonous, gray and rotating.

He ordered the usual thing again and sat down at the same table again, until he heard that new name that he had chosen, because his could never leave his lips.

"Kento!"

The same girl, the same smile, the same freckles. All the same.

"Here you have." You said, hanging him the coffee.

"Thank you." Suguru took his coffee and smiled back at you.

He sat back down at the same table and watched out the window for who knows how long. But what difference did it make, right? If when they became aware of his presence again they would think that he had just arrived. The cafeteria went from being crowded in the early hours of the morning to being calmer.

"Do you want more coffee?" Suguru could feel his heart beating out of his chest when he felt the voice next to him. "I have noticed your cup is empty." You with your freckles crossing your face and a smile on you shiny face, pointed at his cup. "You want more?"

Suguru looked at his, now empty cup and then back at you. "No, it's okay."

You hesitated for a moment. "But are you sure? It's in the house, so please accept it." You smiled.

Suguru handed you the cup. "Alright." He knew that once you disappeared from his sight, you would forget him and a new cup of coffee would never return.

You smiled at him and ran to the bar counter. Suguru looked outside again and mentally told himself that he would wait 5 minutes and then he would leave.

Five minutes passed and Suguru turned to look at you, who were talking to your coworker. Suguru sighed and stood up from his seat. He didn't understand why after so much time he still had a modicum of hope.

He walked to the exit and left the small cafeteria. And again the same routine as every day, walking aimlessly until his feet got tired, even a little, sitting down to observe the landscape and returning to his "friend's" "borrowed" apartment.

And like that another day went by and another one began. Same routine. Wake up, shower, eat something, take the same bus, walk, wait in the queue for his morning coffee, wait at the table.

"Here." A voice he already heard before spoke. Suguru looked up meeting the smiley face of the same girl he met yesterday, you. "I'm sorry for yesterday. I got busy with my coworker Yuji and when I was going to give you your order, you were already gone." Something inside Suguru reeled. "That's why, this one is on me."

Suguru still didn't say a word. Was his mind playing with him? It was not possible that you remembered him? It was not.

"Is everything okay?" You tilted your head looking at him with curiosity.

"You..." He swallowed, trying to moisten his dry throat. "You remember me?"

You nodded. "Of course I do." And smiled. "You have been coming here for a few days now. Always at the same hour and always asking for the same coffee."

It wasn't possible, it wasn't, you couldn't remember. No one in 1,000 years had been able to do it. How come you were capable now? No no no. Suguru's head didn't stop spinning. Too many questions had accumulated.

"You are okay?" You moved closer to him with clear concern on your face.

"I..." Suguru tried to catch his breath, he felt like he was out of breath and in any moment he was going to pass out.

"Hey!" You touched his shoulder and kneeled in front of him. "Tried to follow my breathing okay?" Suguru nodded. He followed your instructions until he could feel the air entering his lungs normally again.

"Thank you." He whispered.

"It's nothing, but you scared me." You stood back up. "Kento..."

Suguru looked at you in confusion and then remembered that was his new fake name. "Yeah, that's me... You haven't told me your name."

"Y/n." You said with a smile to him and Suguru smiled.

Your name was called by the boy that Suguru had seen behind the counter, the days he had been coming, he had pink hair and was always smiling, just like you.

"I'm coming Yuji!" You shouted and turned around to look at him once again. "My coworker is calling me. But stay here as much as you want."

"I will." He said your name once again to say goodbye.

"Bye Kento!"

Suguru waved at you and stayed in silence, was he dreaming? For the first time in 1,000 years he was feeling alive. But he was also terrified. What if this was just a coincidence and everything would vanish as soon as he left that coffee shop? No, you said you knew him from the previous days, which means the curse didn't happen when he left the other days.

His knee moved up and down, nervously, he didn't want to leave, but knowing that you remembered him it would seem strange if he stayed there for many hours. You'd think he was crazy or something.

An hour passed by and then he stood but before leaving he went searching for you. He wanted to see you, wanted to know you, he wanted to feel alive like he felt when talking to you.

He swallowed and turned to the pink-haired boy behind the bar. "Excuse me."

The boy turned and gave him a smile. "Good morning, would you like something to drink?"

Suguru for a moment felt like a bucket of cold water was being dumped on him.

"Oh Kento!" There you were, once again smiling at him and remembering him.

"Hi." He whispered only you being able to hear him.

"Y/n, you know him?" The boy wondered.

"Yeah! He comes here every single day, at the same hour and orders the same thing." You kept on looking at him. "You literally attended to him all these days!"

"Did I?" He titled his head. "I'm sorry I can't remember."

"Don't worry." Suguru smiled. "A lot of people come here, it's normal that you don't remember me."

"With that face it is hard to forget about you..." Suguru heard you whispered for yourself.

When you noticed the gaze of him looking at you, your cheeks started to grew red.

"Oh." You covered your mouth. "Did I say that out loud?" Suguru nodded, trying to hid the smile that was forming on his lips. "Sorry! That was very inappropriate! But I think it's true...You are really handsome and a face like yours is not easy to forget."

"Thank you. I think you are the first person that has ever told me that." Suguru noticed you nervously looking around, like trying to hide somewhere after what you said. "I wanted to talk with you." You looked back at him. "If you have time."

You looked around and nodded. "Yeah, there isn't a lot of people around, so it's fine." They walked to the side, so they wouldn't disturb the people. "What did you want to talk about?"

"I was wondering when do you finish your shift."

You opened her mouth, forming an O in surprise. "In..." You thought for a moment. "An hour and a half."

"Great." Suguru nodded. "Then I would like to invite you to a coffee, if that's okay with you of course."

Suguru felt nervous for the first time in ages, but he liked it. He liked it because that made him feel more human, more real.

"I..." You hesitated.

Suguru wanted to slap himself, of course you would say no and think he was a freak. "Sorry, I probably made you uncomfortable."

"No, no it's not that." You shook your head. "We can go and grab a coffee without a problem." That made Suguru smile. "But I will have to leave early, I have other things to take care of." Suguru nodded, it was okay for him.

"It's fine by me."

"Then... I will see you once my shift is over."

"Alright."

Suguru said goodbye to you and left the cafeteria, it would be too strange to stay there so he decided to walk to that hill and wait. For the first time in a long time he felt truly alive. And happy.

Notes: end of first chapter, I hope everyone enjoyed it. Sorry if there are any mistakes, also if you see a “she” or “her” please let me know, bc the fic at the beginning was written in the third person so there might be a mistake there.

Also I will try to be as historic accurate as possible when talking about Geto’s life during those 1,000 years. My notes on my phone are completely mess with names and dates, not to mess anything 😅

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