#its stared me in the face for nine damn years | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

haveatthee83 · 1 month

Text

Mr. Greatness (Gojo Satoru/Reader) Oneshot

Inspo: I just wanna hug this poor mary sue.

ONESHOT 1/1

Word Count: ~10k

Warnings/notes: Angst, fluff, smut, sad Gojo, no one is dead, fuck you Gege you damned sadist, biting, love at first bite (of food, I swear), face sitting, funny Nanami.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Gojo Satoru was bored. He was so bored he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Hell, he’d started to think about messing around with infinity and seeing what happened. That’s when you appeared.

When you first came around, Gojo didn’t think much of it. In fact, he all but ignored you the first two weeks you were at Tokyo Jujutsu High. When you two were introduced, all he gave out was a “hiya!” and a joke about you being a fan-you weren’t. You were hired to help teach the first years when Gojo was out on business, and act as a school nurse of sorts, being very well versed in healing with your cursed energy as well as fighting. You were there to help them on missions and keep up their training in his absence. Afterall-as much as Gojo would like to think it does-the world doesn’t revolve around him. So started a little game of hearing all these tales of the wonderful new teacher and how powerful she was, even how much better than Gojo she was from the first years-more than once. No matter how little he cared about how they were delusional enough to think anyone was better than him, Gojo’s curiosity peaked.

One day, all three first years came to a mission with Gojo all equipped with large, fancy bento boxes. All filled to the nines with homemade food with cute designs throughout. They even had personalized notes in each. It was enough food for two meals plus dessert EACH! How was Gojo not supposed to be confused, intrigued, anything?!

“Isn’t Nurse-sensei just the best?!” Kugisaki exclaimed to the other first years, giddy as she fawned over the fresh sushi and homemade strawberry cream cake.

“Put that food away, and let me explain the mission,” Gojo sulked, jealous. ‘I wish someone would make me homemade bento…’

Itadori perked up and smiled, “You have one to, Gojo-sensei!” he said, presenting the intricate, stacked bento. Gojo was taken aback, staring at the bento as Yuji handed it to him, noting the blue fabric wrapping it, and the sleek, navy chopsticks on top.

He gently grabbed the note on top, “I hope we can be friends, Mr. Greatness <3 -Nurse-Sensei” Gojo stared at the note longer than he probably should have, a weird feeling in his gut.

Itadori nudged him with his foot, “Hey, you in there?” Gojo looked back up at the boy, nodding before shoving the note in his pocket, and swinging the bento box over his shoulder.

“About those cursed spirits, eh?” he smiled.

It was an abandoned building next to a hospital. A serial killer had come through and systematically tortured and killed multiple homeless people, so it was a breeding ground for cursed spirits, one of which sat gluttonous on the top floor, growing rounder and larger by the day by eating the lower spirits around it, and becoming more powerful.

Gojo and the kids were fanned out in front of the cursed spirit, its gaping maw almost bigger than its head. What it lacked in mobility, it made up for in brute strength. Itadori proved that by taking a hit to the back and practically bouncing like a basketball before scrambling back to formation with the others. Megumi summoned his dog to attack, going for the thing’s limbs to distract it, while Kugisaki and Itadori attacked its flanks. Gojo came in for the final blow. Nothing too hard, but the three students had their fair share of wounds at the end. So, they waited for Ijichi to take them back to the school.

As they sat on the curb, awaiting their great chariot, Gojo couldn’t help but fiddle with the note in his pocket.

“What’d Nurse-sensei make you, Gojo-sensei?” Yuji muttered through a mouth full of noodles. Gojo’s eyebrows furrowed, but as he looked at the three first years and noticed that all three had different foods in their lunches, all customized to their tastes.

Megumi swallowed a bite of shogayaki, “I wonder if she made something you actually like. I don’t think you’ve talked that much.”

Gojo wondered too, so despite himself, he opened the bento only to find it full of a variety of sweets and rice balls of different flavors and combinations topped with teriyaki sauce and sesame seeds. The bottom layer was full of sweet mochi and macarons of all different colors. Gojo’s eyes practically sparkled behind his blindfold as he took in the beautiful food laid out before him. Taped to the bottom of the lid was another note “The kids told me you have quite the sweet tooth, so I made some guesses. I hope you like it! <3 -Nurse-Sensei”

Kugisaki laughed into her hand before putting another piece of sushi in her mouth, readying a piece of watermelon. “I think you’re in love, Gojo-sensei!” She sing-songed. Gojo waved her off, his ears getting warm, before diving into the rice balls. The savory-sweet flavor with the flaky fish and the delicious sauce could bring tears to a man’s eye.

“You might be right, Nobara,” giggled Yuji. Megumi even cracked a smile. Gojo gave a quick thwack to Yuji’s head as Ijichi’s black car turned the corner.

In the passenger seat of the car, Gojo once again found himself messing with the now two notes in his pocket as he antsily waited to get back to the school and finish his meal.

Megumi stretched uncomfortably in the back seat, “I think I should pay Nurse-sensei a visit. That big curse snagged me good on my side back there.” The other two students quietly agreed, Kugisaki getting a mischievous grin.

“Gojo-sensei?” she asked, leaning up in between the two front seats.

“You should really sit back, Miss Ku-“

“Shut it, Ijichi. Why don’t you come to her office with us? Make sure we get there safe?”

“But we all know-“ The girl shut Itadori up with a jab to his bruised side.

“Please?” she begged, puppy dog eyes in full effect.

Gojo was suspicious but agreed. It gives him a chance to say thank you for the delicious lunch.

When they all got back to the school, Gojo felt ridiculous when he realized that your office was just down the hall of what was supposed to be his. As the motley crew approached your door, a small bundle of nerves spawned in Gojo’s chest and it took him a moment to think of the last time he’d truly felt nervous like this, nevertheless here he was two steps away from hyperventilating if he wasn’t careful.

“Nurse-sensei!” The three first years chimed, squeezing into your room. Gojo could hear you before he could see you. Your laugh chimed around the frame of the door, and he could feel his ear twitch and a smile creep onto his face. But the gulp of nerves bit through it a bit. As he turned the corner and stood in the doorway, he caught view of you beginning to dote on the high schoolers already. When you glanced up at him, your eyes stuttered a moment, flicking to scan him.

You gave him a bright smile, “You must be Gojo Satoru, huh?”

He gave you an ear-splitting grin back, “What happened to Mr. Greatness?” your ears went a little hot, and you let out a little chuckle. “Thanks for the food, it’s really tasty.” He said, holding up the bento box and bouncing off the door frame.

You patted the medical bed and told the three first years to hop up, “How was my guess-Yuji stop touching that.” You said, smacking his hand away from a slash that started to scab around the edges.

“Spot on,”

“The kids helped a bit.”

“We’re not kids, Nurse-sensei!” the three muttered. You rolled your eyes and continued cleaning their wounds, making quick work of them. Before Gojo even had a chance to notice, their wounds were all three completely gone. And they all looked reenergized to boot.

“That’s really something,” Gojo mumbled, sitting backwards in your unattended rolling chair. He put his elbow on its backrest and set his chin on his fist. He lightly licked his bottom lip as he analyzed your cursed energy. It flowed in a way that intrigued him, it loved to concentrate in your hands, and it moved smoothly, avoiding the rapid fiery flow of most energy. It seemed that everything about you was piquing his interest. He had to know more, he had to get you on his side. Surely you have reservations with the old man higher ups, and he could see you being an asset to his cause.

“Thank you, Nurse-sensei!” the highschoolers chimed, getting up and giving you a brief hug, Megumi staying back and merely patting your shoulder.

“Why don’t you three get on back and rest up. I have a pretty intense training session lined up for tomorrow” you said, laughing at their appalled faces. “Besides, I’ve been meaning to get to know your Gojo-sensei!” The three got up and sulked out of the room towards their living quarters, and you turned, hopping up onto the medical bed, looking down on Gojo who was still sat with his chin in his hand, admiring you a bit.

“So, this is who’s been taking care of my little protégés when I’m gone, huh?” Gojo said, “I guess they’ve been in good hands.” You scoffed playfully, grabbing your tea from the side table you laid it on before he’d come in.

“You could say that again,” you said before sipping from your now lukewarm tea. You made a face before smirking at Gojo and wrapping both hands around your mug and slowly a wisp of steam started to pour from the top of the liquid. “Never liked my hot tea cold.” You almost on reflex offered Gojo a sip of the tea.

He almost refused out of habit, but the thought popped into his head ‘Did the cursed energy affect the taste?’ so he nodded slowly and reached out a hand for the mug, rolling a bit closer so he could reach it. He grabbed the top of the mug, the tips of his fingers brushing your hand, a spark of static spooking you. He just laughed and took a sip.

“When I use my cursed energy like that, I can get a little static-y” you said, rubbing your neck and pulling at your skirt’s hem. The tea tasted good, great even. The sugar adding to the full, bitter flavor of the black tea, and the touch of milk made it creamy and smooth. The tea filled him with warmth from the inside out, and he felt a tingle in his fingertips, from the tea or touching you-he couldn’t tell.

“Hm! Still tastes good,” he said, almost to himself.

You nodded enthusiastically, “I’ve been experimenting with infusing my cursed energy into food, especially to heal people in battle when I can’t be there!”

“You could use that as a weapon too, couldn’t you?” You nodded again, leaning down almost eye to eye with Gojo.

“It would be perfect for covert missions, assassinations, anything like that! With those cursed spirits getting smarter, if we were able to use this while suppressing my soul signature we could do so much!” you had wide, thrilling eyes glimmering with ideas.

“Always loved a mad scientist,” Gojo joked.

You blushed a bit and waved him off, sitting up straight. “Not crazy, not a scientist.”

He sat up, pushing himself even closer to you in the chair, handing you your tea back, “You gotta be a little crazy to be in this line of work.”

You nodded, taking a sip of your tea and setting it back down. “Not crazy enough, sometimes.” You crossed your legs, and leant your chin on your hand, resting your elbow on your knee and looking at Gojo at eye level again. “I’ll protect those kids with my life. Those crusty old men won’t touch Yuji if I’m alive-got it Satoru?”

Gojo’s eyes widened, nodding in understanding. “Yes ma’am.”

You suddenly slid off the bed, gently taking Gojo’s face in your hands at your middle, “Let me check you out, Mr. Greatness.”

Gojo’s ears turned red at the tips, and he choked up. “I-I don’t get hurt, I’m okay,” You smiled and rolled your eyes, patting the bed anyway.

“Now,” you lightly demanded. He got up and switched places with you, sitting on the paper covered bed, “We all have scars, little wounds that never healed right.” You worked quickly and nimbly, working your fingers over the crevices of his face and torso, your eyes glowing slightly as your cursed energy flowed. Gojo could feel your energy flowing through his body-a foreign but not unwelcome feeling. It felt like a rush of cold water over his muscles and in his bloodstream, rinsing his systems and refreshing him from the inside. You moved to flutter over his legs starting over his strong thighs and over his lithe calves and he could feel his muscles relax, and the mild joint pain of a long day fade away. “See? We all could use a little refresh once in a while.”

Gojo smiled for the umpteenth time since he’d met you, “You really are something.”

And you smiled too, biting your lip and smacking his arm.

That’s how it started, you two made a little routine. You’d make Gojo and the kids bento boxes that they’d take on missions, Gojo’s you’d begun to infuse with your cursed energy to experiment with its healing properties. He’d come back with the first years, you’d heal them up, and you two would talk about the merits of the food and would talk for a while.

---

One day the pattern of course had to shift. One day Gojo was called on a mission. No kids. Just him and Nanami Kento. Clearly whatever it was, was powerful. It was going to be intense. And intense it was. Gojo came out fine, as expected, but lugged Nanami into your office with heaving breaths and his eyes uncovered, full of tears.

“Help him!” he begged, shoving Nanami onto the medical bed, not even giving you a chance to stand from your desk. In desperation, Gojo grabbed you by the arm, slamming your hand onto an uninjured part of the blond’s body. He was bleeding from multiple gashes and was fading in and out of consciousness.

You shook off the shock and got to work, letting your cursed energy flow into Kento’s body. You felt the energy move through his veins, finding all the gouges, cuts, bruises and began closing the blood vessels and redirecting it where it belonged. His wounds were severe, so it took longer than it usually did when you were just healing up one of the kids after a run-of-the-mill mission.

“What’s taking so long,” Gojo shakily asked, gripping your medical coat, and shoving his head in your shoulder.

“He’s coming along, Satoru,” You muttered, leaning your head back into his. “Sit down, your tea is on my desk on the warmer.” After this became routine you bought a tea warmer for Gojo and a mug for him to keep in your office so you could share a cup while discussing your students. Gojo just gripped your coat harder and dug his head in your shoulder, wrapping his other arm around your waist and shoving his head in the crook of your shoulder. “Please, hon. I promise I’ll tell you the second I’m done.” You felt a rush of cold against your neck as he got up, his tears cooling your skin.

Gojo sat in your chair and grabbed the tea off the warmer and shakily took a sip. The warm, sweet liquid flowed down his throat and almost made him take a deep breath, his hands steadying just that little bit more.

You were hard at work for what felt like hours still, and if he wasn’t so wrecked by nerves, Gojo would have probably fallen asleep.

“He just needs to sleep now,” you said, slumping against your desk next to where Gojo had laid his head. You gently threaded your fingers through his stark white hair, quietly sighing as you took a sip from Gojo’s tea-yours long gone cold.

“I wish you could heal my brain,” Gojo whispered.

You took a start, looking down at the invincible man under your fingers. You thought for a moment, chewing on your lip before shaking your head and sinking down to the floor, able to see Gojo’s eyes clearly, now dry but hollow almost. “Beautiful…” you whispered, it was practically ripped from your lips, while placing your hand on his cheek. His eyes flicked to yours, taking you in again. “I can’t heal your brain the way you want. You know that, but I hope my being here for you helps…whatever little it does.” Suddenly he could really take in your paled face and your dark circles under your eyes that weren’t that way this morning.

His jaw clenched, and suddenly he felt selfish. Gojo Satoru felt selfish. Here you were, tired after constantly waiting up for him, helping him, healing everyone else, and here he was again-crying, drinking your tea, and making you sit on the fucking floor. But still, he couldn’t help but be a little more selfish. “Stay with me tonight?” the words spilling out before his brain could stop them.

Your eyebrows raised, but that was the extent of your shock or rejection, because before he could even try to backtrack, you were rubbing his cheek with your thumb and nodding with a soft smile. ‘Of course, you said yes.’ He thought. He shouldn’t expect any different at this point, that’s just who you are.

“Your place or mine?” You asked with a chuckle. His eyes squeezed shut with a pained grin at the innuendo. He’d love that, but that’s not what tonight is. That’s not what tonight should be either.

“Mine?”

“Nanami will be okay through the night. He’s just exhausted now and needs to reenergize himself. He’s been through the wringer, poor guy.” You said, grabbing Gojo’s hand and leading him towards the door. You stopped in the doorway only to take off your medical coat and hang it and other equipment on pegs next to it. You turned off the lights with one last look at Nanami and padded down the hall with Gojo in tow, still holding tightly to the tall man’s hand. He couldn’t help but stare down at your conjoined limbs, and he subconsciously reached into his pocket with his free hand, gently rubbing the edge of today’s note. “Come home safe, Mr. Greatness <3-Nurse-sensei” you had stuck to the sign-off even though you’re on a first-name basis, saying it’s just something you’d gotten used to, with signing the kid’s notes the same way. Gojo kept reassuring you he wouldn’t be hurt and not to worry, but you couldn’t help but wait with bated breath for the day he gets rolled into your office and you’re pouring all your energy into healing him until the sun rises. It was comforting sometimes, someone not thinking Gojo was immortal. Even if it meant you were worried about him.

When the two of you reached his door, you looked back at him expectantly, seeing as he would have the key, and he stumbled with the ring, almost missing the lock. You chuckled and pushed the door open as he turned on the light. You whistled softly, looking around the room.

“So, this is where the great Gojo Satoru lives?” you scanned the space, taking note of the offshoot bedroom and the small-spotless-kitchen. “Looks an awful lot like mine. Except I actually cook in my kitchen,” you teased.

Gojo closed the door behind you, heat creeping up his neck, both of you kicking off your shoes.

“Guess you don’t have to do much of that with me around, huh?” The white-haired man started to grumble about how he shouldn’t have invited you over when you whirled around with a smile and asked what he needed right now, “Sleep, food, rom coms and ice cream?”

He shook his head and started to feel how deeply sleep was settling into his bones, “As tempting as that last one is, I really want to go to sleep,” he watched you smile, like you always did, and reach behind him, turning off the light, and grab his hand again, leading him towards his bedroom. When inside you went over to the lamp, tuned it on, and made Gojo sit on the mattress.

“Where are your pajamas, Satoru?” You said as you began to head towards his dresser like a woman on a mission, he panicked but wasn’t fast enough, you opened his top left drawer and inside you saw a small basket full of all the notes you had written Gojo. No matter how torn up they’d gotten in the heat of battle, or food stained by his own mistake, he kept them. He had every single one. He’d look at them, read them on rough nights alone, and they helped him through a lot. More than you’d ever know. You slowly turned to him, a soft gasp on your face, and a note in your hand. “You kept them all?”

Gojo put his head in his hands and nodded, “You weren’t supposed to see that…” You couldn’t drop the massive grin on your face, but you dropped it for now.

“About those pajamas,” you said.

“Second drawer from the top on the left.”

You nodded and opened the drawer, grabbing out a soft shirt and pants set, throwing them at Gojo. “Go get cleaned up and changed. I’m guessing that’s a bathroom?” gesturing to the door attached to the bedroom. Gojo nodded and got up, trudging to the tiled room.

‘Bossy’ he thought, ‘I like it.’ he shook his head and splashed his face with water from the sink. When he was done changing, he looked himself over in the mirror, staring at his own eyes for a moment. Looking at the thing that defined him to so many, ‘but not her.’ He thought. You never were even interested in his power most of the time. He always thought he’d want someone who’d worship him. Someone who would make him feel like the god he is, but then there’s you. Someone who made him feel like…him. Like a regular person, on the same level as each other. He liked feeling equal to you. Could he take you in a fight? Probably, yeah. Did that matter-oddly no. Not with you. He filled his lungs to capacity and threw his soiled uniform in the laundry and turned off the bathroom light.

When he opened the door into his bedroom again, he was confused to find you with a few spare blankets and pillows from the hall closet, setting up on the ground.

“Hurry on to bed, Gojo! I’m almost through setting myself up.”

“Oh no you don’t!” he exclaimed, grabbing you around the middle, and tossing you onto his bed. “You are absolutely not sleeping on the floor! I know how to share, weirdo!”

You squirmed, standing on your knees on the bed, grabbing onto Gojo to steady yourself on the mattress so you could look him in the eye, “I don’t want to intrude on your spa-!“

“I invited you, stupid.”

“Why would I have just assumed that you’d let me sleep in you-“

“Why would you assume I’d make you sleep on the floor?”

You paused, ears running red, but you couldn’t resist the joke, “Are you trying to get in bed with me, Satoru?” he sighed in exasperation, shoving you backwards onto your back.

“Will you get ready for bed already?” he muttered as he moved over to find a t-shirt and gym shorts for you to wear. “Here,” he tossed the set at you over his shoulder, them landing on your head.

“Jeez, now you’re trying to get me out of my pants!” Gojo whirled, exasperated and shoved your laughing frame into the bathroom and shut the door. When he was alone, he ran a hand through his hair and decidedly flopped onto the bed over the blankets. Finally, after muffled yelling into the covers, he brought himself up to sit against the headboard. ‘Why did I do this to myself?’ he thought.

“Ta da!” You sarcastically sang, posing in the door, wearing Gojo’s clothes. You’d even stolen one of Gojo’s pairs of sunglasses he had left in the bathroom to complete the look. They didn’t exactly fit, but Gojo couldn’t help but stare with a smile. He loved the sight of you in them.

You chuckled your way over to the bed, hopping up next to Gojo, and dropping your clothes folded onto the ground. He took in the sight of you, right next to him, your scent mixing with his cologne-his new favorite smell, your eyes hidden by his sunglasses, and your hair haphazardly put out of your face from your day’s work. And while he stared, he could feel his heart skip a beat. You were staring back-inches from his own gaze.

“Let’s get some sleep, Satoru,” you whispered, sliding his sunglasses off your nose and gently shoving them onto his head. He nodded, putting the glasses onto his side table and turning off his lamp. They both slid under his blankets, laying on their backs.

“Thank you,” Gojo whispered, grabbing for your hand. You brought it up to his and turned on your side, facing him. “You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met- “

“-and I’ve met me.” You both chimed, you mimicking Gojo with a grin he could just feel.

“I’m serious.” He said, bring your hand up to his face and placing it against his chin, now grabbing it with both of his hands, “I think I’d do anything for you,” he mumbled, gently pressing his lips to your knuckles-not quite a kiss, but not not one either. He’d leave that up to you.

You reached up with your free hand and stroked his cheekbone with your knuckles, brushing his fluttering eyelashes with your pointer finger. “I’d burn the world for you, Gojo Satoru. And I’d bring it back if you just asked.” You whispered, resting your forehead against his hands holding yours, and curling your body into him, tangling your legs together. He responded by wrapping his arms around your neck and pulling you ever closer, half onto his chest, stroking your hair.

---

And that’s how you woke up, wrapped in Gojo’s arms, tangled beneath the sheets as the sun shone through the curtains. You glanced at the man’s alarm clock and a jolt of panic shot through you when you read the time. You were both late for training the kids. And you knew it was only a matter of time before they came looking. It was one of their favorite days, after all. A training day with “mom and dad” as they’d dubbed the two of you.

“Gojo!” You whisper yelled, tapping his chest rapidly, “Satoru!” you whined. He didn’t budge, his eyes closed tight. You felt horrible disturbing his peaceful sleep, but you really didn’t want to explain to the first years that no, you and Gojo weren’t sleeping together, you just slept together. “Satoru-kun! Baby, come on!” Still, the man was like stone!

Finally, you gave up, gently banging your head against the man’s chest. You tried gentler methods, you really did! “Here goes,” you rested your pointer finger on his nose and channeled a strong static shock to his unsuspecting face.

His eyes shot open, and his hand practically slammed into his face to get rid of the sensation. “The hell-“

“GOJO-SENSEI! NURSE-SENSEI IS MISSING!” Itadori’s brash yelling could be heard from far down the hall. You and Gojo shared a wide-eyed look of panic as you both scrambled to look presentable.

“Bathroom!” Gojo whispered, violently gesturing you to hide in the bathroom, unceremoniously throwing you your clothes from your side of the bed. You caught them as best you could and rushed into the bathroom, locking the door. Gojo whipped the sunglasses from his bedside table onto his face and rushed to his dresser to grab out his normal training attire, shoving off his night clothes. He could hear the kids banging on his front door, scared for their precious Nurse-sensei. Just as Gojo shoved his pants button in place and zipped up, the three broke through his front door.

“Gojo-sensei!” the first years were shocked to find their sensei in a state of disarray. Huffing breath, wrinkled clothes, no shoes, and instead of his usual blindfold, he had on one of his pairs of civilian wear sunglasses.

“Kids!” he welcomed, shoving his bedroom door closed. The three eyed him with obvious suspicion. Itadori in particular kept a wide berth from the tall man, but inched closer to the door Gojo was clearly trying to protect.

The first years shared a shifty look and a nod before jumping to action. Kugisaki and Megumi jumped to grab Gojo’s arms and hold him down as Yuji ran and burst open the bedroom door, frantically looking around every surface before resorting to opening the dreaded bathroom door.

“Itadori-no!” Gojo yelled, tempted to use cursed energy on the kids, but last minute decided against eviscerating the brats. Unfortunately, that meant that Itadori opened the door.

“Nurse-sensei!” Yuji yelled, appalled. He had caught you, still in Gojo’s clothes, trying to sneak out the bathroom window.

“Hi, Yuji…” you muttered, trying to cover up the obvious fact of your bra not being on you, and still on Gojo’s floor with your clothes from yesterday.

“Explain!” Kugisaki exclaimed, following Itadori into Gojo’s bedroom. That’s when she saw your bra. Because of course she did. She let out a squeal at the sight, “You two had sex!” she yelled.

“No!” You and Gojo yelled, you trudging in to stand by the man who had recovered physically from the kids’ tackle but not emotionally and gently pat his shoulder.

“Then explain this!” Kugisaki exclaimed, holding up your bra for all three males to see. You flushed red, snatching it from her.

Gojo’s cheeks also began to flush, “You weren’t wearing a bra last night?”

“No! They’re uncomfortable to sleep in!” you swatted Gojo’s arm with just enough cursed energy to sting.

“You’re that cruel, Gojo-sensei!” Yuji shook his head, ashamed of his mentor.

“Why would she even be with such a guy,” Kugisaki joined the head shaking.

“Such a selfish lover,” Megumi agreed.

Gojo was confused, hopelessly. So, you had to clear the fog in his poor little brain, you took a deep breath as you leaned up to quietly state, “Satoru, they think you don’t…you don’t um…”do foreplay”.” You explained with quotes around some of your words. “They think you don’t give head.” You giggled out, whispering in his ear.

Gojo’s jaw dropped lower than you thought it could, and his face got redder than you’d ever seen, “I’ll have you children know, I am a very generous lover, and I give excellent he-“you cut him off by slapping his mouth closed, doubled over with laughter.

The three looked grossed out, but still unconvinced.

“We really didn’t do anything like that, we just decided to have a sleepover while Nanami Kento is resting in my office since we were both so stressed. Satoru was kind enough to not make me wear my work clothes to sleep. Really.” You explained, hoping the truth would seep through their thick skulls.

They nodded suspiciously, but allowed the two of you to properly get ready, waiting outside the building Gojo lives in.

“Very generous, huh?” you chuckled with warm cheeks.

Gojo’s face flushed again, the tips of his ears bordering crimson, “You were supposed to find that out on your own, Nurse-sensei,” He purred with an air of comedy, “Guess now you can at least test the theory.”

You rolled your eyes, but never one to back down, you grabbed Gojo’s sunglasses and put them on your own face again and gripped him by the collar and pulled him close, so close your lips brushed his as you spoke, “Why don’t you show me, Mr. Greatness.”

---

Unfortunately for you both, that had to wait until later. Much later. The kids were in for a grueling day of conditioning and combat training, going Justu-less for hand-to-hand combat against you, which proved to be a daunting challenge. While Gojo’s Jutsus were immense and overbearing at how powerful they were, you were a fierce melee combatant who could use any environment to your advantage, your knowledge of the human body an immeasurable asset in disabling the kids, even the formidable Itadori Yuji wasn’t much fuss to defeat for you. In fact, you expected better from the three, which you let them know. In spades. When you two were done with them at sundown, they were exhausted, and ready for you to heal them up and make them feel better.

“No!” you said. The three high schoolers looked at you in horror, “You three were being rude, poking into my, and Satoru’s business! If you wanted nice Nurse-sensei today who’d heal you all up and make sure you didn’t go home sore tonight, you should have been nice this morning! Our business is our business, and if we let you know it, that’s the only time you should become privy to our private information. Got it?” they sluggishly nodded. “May your soreness be a lesson to you!” you exclaimed, ushering them up for the long walk back to their dormitories.

“Look at you, miss mean teacher.” Gojo chuckled.

You made a face, “Leave the nicknames to me, hon.” He nodded, brushing your pinky with his. “Check on Nanami then rom coms and ice cream?” you asked, grasping his hand. He nodded.

---

“Matthew McConaughey is doing Kate Hudson so dirty in this one,” Gojo mumbled through a large bite of the tub of white chocolate raspberry ice cream. He found out when he came to stay the night at your little slice of the world that you also make homemade ice cream! Like who does that? So, when he picked out this flavor out of the mix of options you had on hand, you were ecstatic to share.

“It’ll end well though,” you insist, “always does in these.”

Gojo nodded, noticing you beginning to lean his way a bit. “You can lay on me if you want,” he urged, moving the ice cream off his lap to the coffee table. You looked hesitantly between him and his lap, covered by your plush blanket. He laughed, “here,” he readjusted himself, so he was laying against the corner between the couch arm and the back, his legs sprawling behind you, and gestured you to lay on top of him and cuddle. You bit your lip with a small grin before pulling back his end of the blanket and slotting yourself on top of him, facing the television. He wrapped his arms around you and tangled his long legs with yours. You settled, intertwined with him and began to softly stroke patterns into his wrist and arms.

“You’re pretty comfy.” You muttered, straining your neck to look at Gojo, who’s upside down face gazed onto yours fondly.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhmm. I slept like a baby last night, and I’m already feeling a bit sleepy now,” you huffed out with a smile.

Gojo gave you that handsome smirk, and urged you to flip over, now laying on him chest to chest. “Want me to keep you up?” he joked, nudging your nose with his.

You again just barely brushed your lips with his as you spoke, “Buy me dinner first, Gojo. Satoru.” You punctuated your words just enough to apply slight pressure to the almost kiss.

He couldn’t take it anymore and ran his hand through the hair at the base of your neck, coaxing you forwards into a tender, brief kiss that felt so not him. So, when he pulled away to gauge your reaction with those big, beautiful eyes, you gave him only a moment to see your wide grin before closing the gap again. You kissed him with a fervor one would expect from himself, but he was so scared of ruining this, he let you take the lead. Your lips slotted against each other like long lost puzzle pieces, and you both could taste the cold, creamy remnants of the ice cream on each other’s tongues as you gained access.

You pulled away for a second, him following your lips, leaning up to chase where you had left. You weren’t going to leave him hanging, though. You pulled away, gesturing for Gojo to readjust to a sitting position so you could straddle him, still resting on his thighs, not broaching too far. But as you kneeled above him, legs on either side of him, holding his face with your soft hands, so close to your breasts, Gojo swore he saw a goddess above him. In that moment he swore he saw heaven, earth, and every realm between. He wasn’t using his cursed energy, but he swore he saw infinity. That’s when you leant down and captured his lips again, and his world came crashing back, here you were, his personal goddess to worship, and he your god. Fuck what he thought about you making him feel normal, you merely made him want to worship the way he knew he should be and that’s all the better. And god was he ready to make an offering.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and fiddled with his hair with a tug that shot a soft moan from his throat. You swallowed the sound with a grin, tickling the roof of his mouth with your tongue, and biting his lip as you pulled back so you could begin kissing his jaw, pulling his head back ever so softly with your grip on his hair. You began to nip on the sorcerer’s taught throat column, feeling the rush of his pulse beneath your lips, kissing over where you might have gotten a bit rough. Gojo moved his hands over your sides towards your hips, beginning to thumb the waistband of his shorts you had put back on for relaxing together tonight.

“God you’re amazing,” he whispered, uttering your name like a prayer. “Better than I ever dreamed,” You nipped his collarbone in response, diving your hands under the hem of his shirt, feeling the nimble muscles beneath his smooth skin. “Yes ma’am,” he muttered, letting you sit back on your haunches so he could rip off his t-shirt, and toss it somewhere towards the kitchen. You devoured him with your eyes and hands, eventually with your tongue as well, tasting your prize. You ran your mouth over his chest and abdomen, sliding lower and lower as you went, kissing every piece of him in your path. When you finally reached your destination, you looked up at Gojo through your lashes, grabbing his waistband in your teeth and snapping it.

“Another time, for now I have a point to prove!” he jokes, using what little leverage he had to grab you and shift his hold to under your thighs and stood. Bringing you with him. “Bedroom?” he asked. You nodded towards the short hallway off the living room, the door on the left. Gojo grinned and started over towards it, carrying you with ease. You busy yourself with leaving a hickey on this one spot of Gojo’s neck that almost made his knees buckle, much to his chagrin, and fuel for your actual grin. When he got into your room, he made quick work of laying you down on your mattress, taking in your appearance under the moonlight that filtered through the window opposite the door. As he took you in, your face flushed, and he began stroking his hands over your legs from knee to hip under those damned gym shorts. It should almost be illegal for you to look that good in his clothes. Almost.

“You always do that, Satoru,” You trail off, averting those pretty eyes from his.

“What?” he teased, leaning down over you, face inches from yours again.

“Stare.” You stated, pecking him before nudging him off with your foot, sitting now, but still in your spot where he laid you. “Makes me feel like you’re…scrutinizing me or something.” You said with a wrinkled nose.

Gojo kneeled on the floor in between your legs, dragging you forward by your hips, “Just looking at how beautiful you are, I mean, I can look all I want now. Can you blame me?” he asked, kissing the inside of your knee, wrapping his arms around your thighs, and resting his head on the plush of one, his big blue eyes filtering through those white lashes, still staring at your godly face.

“Where’d you come from, Gojo Satoru?” You asked, love clear in your gaze, an emotion Gojo only hoped to see from you days ago. “You really were made just for me, weren’t you?” you muttered.

“I was just thinking the same thing about you, love.” He said, beginning to tug on the waistband of those purely criminal shorts. “Now please take these off before I rip em off.” You grinned and lifted your hips so he could take them off and look at your beautiful legs all on their own. He ran his hands up and down the sides, taking in every bump, freckle, and curve. “And the underwear? Or at least the damned shirt.”

“How about both?” Gojo lit up, ready to help, he started pulling down on your waistband with one hand, and the hem of your tank top with the other. “On one condition,” you surmised, placing a finger under his chin. He deflated, resting his head against your leg again. “You’ll like it.”

He perked back up, kissing the inside of your thigh, and giving a gentle bite to the meat there, “Whatcha need, baby?”

You sat back on your hands, arching your back a bit. “You need to show me exactly what that dirty little mind has been dreaming of Satoru. How exactly you want me, okay honey?” you finished by dragging your top town a bit by the top hem, not enough for them to pop out, just enough to show you weren’t wearing a bra again. Gojo could feel his mouth watering at the sight, and lord was he willing to fulfill your request.

“Okay, you have to trust me,” Gojo muttered, rising to his feet again, laying a deep kiss on your lips, all his blood rushing south from his brain. You didn’t help when you broke the embrace to finally take off your tank top, placing his hands just under your breasts, encouraging him to explore as he liked. Explore he did. He mouthed over your chest, his cool hands pebbling your nipples, and grasping the mounds beneath them. “Let me lay down, alright?” he whispered, pecking your lips, before taking off his sweatpants and hopping on top of your mattress, head resting on your plush pillows. He settled down, gesturing for you to straddle him again. You obliged, and he rested his hands on your hips again, grinding your core on his length, concentrating along your clit, dragging as many huffs of air and low whines he could from you until he could feel a wet patch forming on his crotch from your arousal.

You moaned, and nipped under his ear when he made you stop, trying to let you continue the delicious friction. “Please, Satoru. Don’t be mean.” You muttered.

“How I want you, remember?” he trilled, nipping you back on the base of your neck. You nodded and stilled your squirming. Ready for his next request. “Now come on up. Take a seat, love.” He chuckled, gently trying to coax you to hover above his face so he could devour you from beneath your comforting weight.

Your ears burned red hot, “I’ve never done that before. You sure you’ll like it?” you asked, looking down to his smooth chest, hands still on his shoulders.

He squeezed your hips reassuringly, “Oh yeah, baby.” He said, taking your left hand in his right and leading it to his mouth and leaving a kiss on your palm. “Been wanting to since I saw you in that damned nurse’s skirt.” He kissed your thumb and gently nipped the tip of it between his teeth.

You raised yourself up and off him, he was scared he’d messed everything up, scared you off, but that’s when he saw you were maneuvering your underwear off your legs. As you were about to toss them in the dirty laundry in the dark, Gojo grabbed your wrist, “Since we’re getting risky with these requests on my part, what’s one more? Can I keep those?” he laughed at the ludicrous question, but the glint in your eye told him you were by no means turned off by it. You agreed and while holding his gaze, you hung the pair on the side of your headboard, so he knew exactly where they were tomorrow morning. His face hurt he was smiling so much, “You’re heaven-sent,” he assured, gripping a handful of the dough of your ass as you straddled his chest, knees on either side of his head.

“If you’re having trouble breathing, or you need me off for any reason, tap my leg twice.” You said, “Show me what you’ll do if you need me off, Satoru.” Gojo’s smile softened, tapping your left thigh twice. You took a deep breath and hovered yourself fully over his head, he looped his arms around your legs from below and pulled your core down onto his face, “Holy shit-“ you exclaimed, cut off by a moan as Gojo got right to work, lapping at your little bundle of nerves, making you shutter and you found yourself resisting the urge to ride the man’s face. But like the outrageous man he is, he read your mind. Using the leverage he had from his grip on your hips, you felt yourself being shifted back and forth, he was fucking you on his tongue. The muscle slid over your slit, urging its way inside while your clit continued to run along the length of his nose. You braced yourself against the headboard with one hand, and the other you used to grip Gojo’s hair at the root as a lifeline.

Gojo moaned into your core, and you found yourself throwing your head back, begging for more. He happily obliged, reaching one of his hands around to reach in one of his fingers into you, moving his tongue back to your clit, circling it with precision. ‘Better than the damn ice cream.’ He thought as he continued his torrent on you. Just that thought made the man rut into the air without even realizing. But you did. Next thing Gojo knows, he’s forced to withdraw his tongue in his mouth and come up for air because you reached down one of your lithe hands and grasped him through his boxers. You drew a long groan from the man’s throat, his eyes screwed shut. You shifted your hand under his waistband and began to gently stroke the tip with your thumb before grasping his shaft and pushing his boxers down far enough to give you full access to his length. Gojo pinched your thigh. You almost got off him before you remembered that wasn’t the signal. He doesn’t want you off. “You first, love.”

You pouted, “But you look so pitiful down there like that,” you said, eyeing his weeping tip. “Let me help?” He was tempted to say yes, but merely tempted.

“You put those hands back up here and ride my face like a cowgirl till you’re red in the face. Then, we can solve my little issue, okay?” Gojo demanded, once again pinching your thigh. You reluctantly put him back in his boxers, but that reluctance disappeared when Gojo added another finger and amped up the intensity. You had both hands supporting you from behind as you braced them against his abdomen, your breasts bouncing with the movement of Gojo rotating you along his tongue. You couldn’t help but peer down at Gojo with the new angle and was quickly finding the peak a lot faster than before as you stared into his blue eyes, tears pricking on the edges from denial to himself and yet hazed over from rendering himself pussy drunk under you.

“God, you’re perfect, Satoru.” You babbled, unable to tear your eyes off his, them staring straight back. “Made just for me, all mine.” He barely was able to nod in agreement, adding another finger-three now-into you, stretching you beautifully and bringing you ever closer to jumping off the cliff into the deep waters of pleasure below. Still, he kept up his same speed, his stamina relentless as he continued to fuck your clit against his tongue and pump is fingers in and out of you at a ruthless pace. You grew ever closer to the edge, but not quick enough for Gojo’s liking, so he changed tactics for a moment, maintaining his fingering, but adding suction to your clit, grazing the hood with his teeth, and that did it. You all but screamed, white knuckle gripping Gojo’s hips from above, sure to leave a mark if he’ll let it. And as he continued to finger fuck you through your high, you thought he just might.

When he finally gave you a chance to catch your breath, he took out his fingers and began to slowly lap up the remnants around your core of your orgasm. Only when he was satisfied did you feel two taps on your thigh. You obliged, sliding down Gojo’s torso, resting your head in the crook of his shoulder, wrapping your sweat slick arms around his head, again threading your fingers through his hair.

“Point proven,” You muttered, kissing his neck and whispering “Now about your little problem,” in his ear, nuzzling his earlobe and grinding your sensitive core against his clothed length.

He groaned and wrapped his arms around your middle. “Two minutes, baby. Sensitive, keep going and I might jizz in my pants like a highschooler.” Gojo huffed, gnawing his lip. Your eyes sparkled at the assertion, peering in his eyes with mischief.

“You really got off that hard on eating me out?” You asked, sitting up on his waist, ass grazing the tip of his cock through the thin fabric of his boxers.

His cheeks ran red, bleeding blush onto his chest. His pretty blues avoided your hunting gaze. Only when you shifted backwards a bit did he look at you again, and it was brief as he squeezed his eyes shut tight, gripping your shoulders tight. “Please, baby, wanna cum with you, not like this,” He gasped, pawing at your heartstrings. Unfortunately, you’re not heartless so you softened, laying back down and resorting to kissing his neck, leaving marks along his collarbone, and feeling up his sides with featherlight touches. This kept his heartrate up and his lashes fluttering as he kneaded your ass and gave you access to everything you wanted in the meantime.

“Always wanted to make a guy cum in his pants,” You mumble, nipping the shell of his ear.

His grip on you tightened further, as he let out a whine. “Two damned minutes, love, that’s all I ask for!”

You huffed a laugh, “I can’t even talk?” you teased, tracing circles around his pebbled nipples.

“Not like that!” he asserted, throwing his head back in frustration and letting out another whine of denial. “Let me catch my damned breath, you minx!” You giggled, and asked if you should leave the room, which he immediately shot down with a deep, hard kiss to your lips and a grope of your ass.

You pulled away, pecking him on the lips before moving on to pecking him across his face. “How can I when you’re just so perfect and hot, and you’re right here like a big, beautiful present for me?” you queried between your barrage of pecks. You expected a laugh but when you peered into his crystal eyes again, he looked at you like you had hung the moon, like you were the sun itself warming him and giving him life. And in some ways, you were to him. Sometimes he found himself straying from where he should on his path to power, success, and happiness, but ever since he’s had you, he’s found his way back quicker and quicker. You are by far the best thing that has come into his life, and he’ll be damned if you don’t know it.

With that breather, you could feel his drive picking up underneath you, no cursed energy required. So, you tested the waters again, gently grinding your core across his length. His breath hitched but he grinned and nodded ‘Game on.’ You thought, reaching over him to your bedside drawer for the box of condoms you had stashed there. He eyed you when you brought out the wrapper and as you sat up you gulped down your nerves and admitted that “I bought them a little while after we started getting close. I had high hopes, I guess.” He outright belly laughed at that one, nodding and admitting to the same thing. Leading you to do the same, smacking his arm. Regardless, you got your wits about you and moved between the man’s thighs as he still chuckled away, palming him in his boxers to quiet him down. And quiet down he did, his eyes shooting open and rolling back in his head at the feeling. You made quick work of his boxers, freeing his aching cock and marveling the sight. His gaze was piercing as you gently stroked him up and down, spreading his precum along his length and working your nimble fingers over him to roll on the condom.

“How do you want me, Satoru?” you asked, idly stroking him around his shaft, avoiding the tip now. Call him cheesy, but Gojo wanted to go traditional missionary for your first time, maybe put you on top at the end. There’s plenty of time to try new positions and techniques later. Right now, he wants you close and he wants you now. So, he rolled you off him, onto your back, and after making sure you’re comfortable, him insisting on putting a pillow under your hips for your back and him doting on you some more, you grabbed Gojo’s face and shoved your lips against his, your tongues clashing immediately while you reached down and aligned his tip with your entrance.

He took the hint and braced himself above you, one hand next to your head and the other against the headboard for support before pushing in, only making it halfway before you both needed a brief pause, he could feel you clenching around him with the stretch, and it made his hips stutter at the feeling. See, you don’t know this, but it had been a while for Gojo. He was in a dry spell for a good while before you came along, and when he laid eyes on you, he couldn’t look at another girl the same way, even when the opportunity popped up, he couldn’t bring himself to. All he kept wishing was that they were you, so he had to decline, the thought of seeing you the next day too enticing for him to even want to sleep with other women. And anytime he found himself hot below the collar, he could only think of you again, but it felt wrong to touch himself to you, so he resorted to thinking of gross, or simply the least arousing things he could, to cope. So, Gojo was sensitive. And that fact was hitting him like a bag of bricks as he buried himself to the hilt in your heat.

You clenched and fluttered below Gojo as you clawed at his hair and wrapped your legs around his waist, holding him in-bottomed out. You both began to pant as the throbbing heat continued at your join. You bucked your hips on a reflex and both of you moaned out wildly, Gojo gripping the pillow next to your head like his life depended on it. “God, I don’t know how long I’m gonna last,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

“Just seeing you like this has me close, Satoru,” you muttered, nuzzling his ear, “Just go for it, whatever happens, happens.”

He nodded, and dragged his length out slowly and shoved it in, gasping at the sensation. But he soldiered on, chasing both of your highs as best he could, pistoning into you. You moaned your encouragements, leaving long drags of your nails across his back. Gojo was spurred on further by the sting and he kept on, grabbing your left leg and pinning it up, holding it by the knee. The new angle gave him access to that wonderful spot inside of you, and you cried out, digging your nails deep into his skin.

He let out a deep, guttural groan and kept hitting that spot, over and over like it was all he knew how to do, and sure enough you were running towards that cliff again, this time hand in hand with Gojo Satoru when suddenly you could feel his resolve faltering, and he gripped your hips fiercely, flipping the two of you without losing a beat. The mere action enough to make that run a dead sprint, but the way he helped you bounce on his length, now digging into his abs with those piercing nails, him still reaching all the best parts inside of you, it was divine. You kept pace now, letting the man beneath you almost bliss out as you took the reins. Him merely stroking your thighs as you rode him all the way to the finish line. You looked down at him properly, and again, eye contact with the beautiful man was enough to send you tumbling, along with him. You both cried out, tears pricking the edge of both of your eyes as you came, vigorously riding off your highs. You could feel Gojo filling the condom inside you, sad you couldn’t take the risk to have been completely connected.

When you both caught your breath, you slowly pulled yourself off him, collapsing next to Gojo on your bed. He reached down and took off the condom, tied it off and threw it away in the trash next to your bed.

“Wow,” you muttered.

“Wow,” Gojo agreed.

“The kids are gonna see these marks, aren’t they?” you muttered, looking the man next to you over.

“I’m not letting you heal them, so yes. Absolutely.” He rasped, cuddling you closer to him.

“Not it” You called, raising your hand. Gojo frowned, sticking out his tongue at you, “Now that I know how you can use that thing, you better put it away or be ready for round two Mister.”

Gojo felt a laugh rip from his chest, and he couldn’t help but grab you around the middle and pull you on top of him for another kiss.

---

“A cat attack, Gojo-sensei?” The first years questioned as the group mowed down their bentos for the day.

The man nodded resolutely, “Of course, what other kind of ferocious beasty could have done this?” Gojo chuckled.

Nanami was sat beside the white-haired man, peering over his shoulder at the note that you had left him in his lunch that day, and nodded, “Yeah, some pussy really got him good.” He agreed, a slight smirk on his face. The kids began to realize, noticing the dark hickies under Gojo’s collar. Gojo’s eyes widened behind his glasses, and he thwacked Nanami on the arm. Nanami whispered quieter, “A nursing pussy, has three little kitte-“ Gojo kicked Nanami off of the chair next to him with enough force to send him flying a good ways.

“And I’m not getting you healed this time!” Gojo yelled.

“You owe me a new pair of undies, Mr. Greatness. <3 -Nurse-sensei”

116 notes · View notes

peachdues · 1 year

Text

VOW BETWEEN MAN AND STAR

A/N: not me starting a new WIP. All my current works are staring at me with the surprised Pikachu face rn. As you all know, I do most of my fic planning in the shower, and last night, I was wondering whether I'd ever write anything as angsty as Phantasmagoria. My brain said "bet," and lo and behold, Vow Between Man and Star was born.

CW: This story will be extremely NSFW/18+. It will be incredibly violent, angsty, tragic, (but funny), and of course, smutty.

I will upload a synopsis later today, but I don't want to dull the impact of the prologue, included below.

Without further ado!

Tokyo

July 1, 1995

The early morning air was already thick with summer's humidity when he felt the mark form.

Giyuu shot up in his bed with a gasp, blankets sticking to his sweat-slickened body. His good hand instantly seized around his right forearm as he felt a phantom blade carve a single mark into his skin, right beside the others.

Though covered by his rigid grip, the mark burned a bright blue, its glow seeping through his fingers like a siren light on a police cruiser; a warning.

All of his marks had emitted the same, blue light when they'd first appeared, though the tally's nine siblings had long since faded to silver, nearly blending in with the pale skin of his arm. But they'd scarred nonetheless.

Scarred to remind him of the nine times he'd failed his comrades; failed humanity.

Failed her.

In making that vow, he'd doomed not only himself and his seven fellow Pillars to walk the years of the earth alone, never changing or aging, but he'd doomed her as well. He'd damned her to a repetitive loop of birth and death, fated never to age past twenty-five -- the same age she'd been that first time, when, on the precipice of death, he'd begged for the life she'd already lost. And his desperate wish had been granted; he'd secured her ten lives for them to try again -- to try and find the King of the Demons and rid the world of his and his monstrous creations.

Ten lives, the disembodied voice of a star had told him as his heart slowed, all those centuries ago, when he'd cast that last, feeble plea out into the ethos. Ten lives, in exchange for ten Moons.

Nine had been wasted; in nearly every life, he'd found her, and he'd loved her, and he'd lost her; always too late to save her before some calamity, or from Kibutsuji cornering her, this woman who possessed the knowledge to destroy him, and tearing her limb from limb.

The closest they had come to defeating him had been some seventy-odd years prior. They'd been at the pinnacle of their strength, and they'd just managed to breach the gates of victory when Muzan Kibutsuji pulled one final trick; he'd merged with the young Sun Breather -- Tanjiro -- and managed to rip her head clean from her body right before she'd been able to excise him once and for all.

Giyuu's eardrums had burst from how hard he'd been screaming as he watched his beloved's head thud uselessly to the ground, while his former friend licked her blood from his fingers.

He wondered when he was finally permitted to die, if he would even be allowed into heaven, for having damned the woman he loved to suffer, time and again, each death more violent than the last.

Giyuu spied the early hour of the morning displayed on the small alarm clock resting on his bedside table -- 4:07 AM.

Time had begun for her once more, somewhere in the world, where she'd arrived with a mighty cry, only to be quickly bundled in soft, standard hospital blankets and handed to a relieved and exhausted new mother.

He would have to alert the others; as he'd come to learn over the previous nine cycles, she wasn't even guaranteed to reach adulthood, let alone the level of power she'd need to take on Kibutsuji. She would need her watchers.

So, as the hot, relentless burn of the newest mark faded to a sharp sting, the blue glow winking out beneath the press of his hand, Giyuu found himself kicking the covers off his trembling, clammy form, as he prepared to dress for the day.

Because that tenth mark signaled his last chance had arrived.

His last chance to destroy Kibutsuji.

His last chance to help save humanity.

His last chance to save her.

The sand in the final hourglass was already pouring; and they had work to do.

Someone ask me how I decided to make Giyuu the love interest bc I find it hilarious.

LIKES / REBLOGS/ COMMETS ALWAYS APPRECIATED!

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #giyuu tomioka #kny #kny x reader #kny fanfic #tomioka giyuu #kny giyuu #kny smut #demon slayer hashira #hashira au #hashira fic #demon slayer smut #giyuu x y/n #giyuu x reader #giyuu tomioka x reader #giyuu smut #demon slayer fic #fanfic

344 notes · View notes

here4kpopfics · 2 years

Text

Coming Home | Joshua

Pairing: Joshua x (f)reader

Genre: smut, fluff

AU: established relationship, idol!au

Wordcount: 4.4k

Summary: Your boyfriend’s flight is delayed and he won’t be home for Valentine’s Day. Your boyfriend is also a notorious liar.

Warnings: Language, pet names (pretty girl, baby) oral (f receiving), fingering, overstimulation, squirting, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), Shua’s a little shit but we love him

Rating: M/18+

AN: HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY @baljinciaga I hope you enjoy Shua loving up on you. Thank you @playmetheclassics for beta-ing & @classicscreations for the banner. 💜

Masterlist | Taglist | AskBox | Coffee?

“Say that again?” Your voice trembles just a little, enough to let him know you’re upset. You almost drop the moisturizer container on the counter.

“My flight is delayed until tomorrow evening.”

“You can’t just take another flight?” You’re being irrational, and you know it. You’re fully pouting, and although he can’t see your childish behavior, he can picture it correctly, so he lets out a breathless laugh.

“I’m sorry, baby. The weather got worse, so they delayed every flight until tomorrow.”

“But this was gonna be our first Valentine’s Day together, Joshua.” The container makes its way safely to the counter as you scoop out enough moisturizer, staring at it in your hand, still pouting.

“I know, y/n. And it’s killing me that we won’t be together. But hey, I remember you saying you never liked the day anyway. So we can have Valentine’s Day the day after. We’ll get all the chocolate for half off, and make a day of it. We’ll go out when there’s not a million people with reservations. We’ll go for a walk, come home, have a spa night, I’ll tell you how much I love you over and over. It’ll be perfect.”

It does sound perfect, but you’re still an irrational child right now as you huff a breath out in annoyance, rubbing the moisturizer across your face.

“I only said I didn’t like Valentine’s Day because I didn’t have someone to spend it with. Now I have you, and I was looking forward to it…” you take a deep breath, temper tantrum dying as the moisturizer melts into your skin. “It’s okay. You can’t change the weather, and you’re right. We can have the day after be our day.”

“I’m sorry, pretty.”

“It’s fine. But next year. Next year, you are doing the whole nine yards of cheesy Valentine’s Day.” The laughter from the phone’s speaker makes your heart flutter. You love that laugh so much. You love everything about Joshua. It’s a little sickening.

“I promise, my love. The whole nine yards.”

“Good.”

“I gotta go, but I’ll see you the day after tomorrow, okay? And then we can celebrate in our own way.”

“Okay. I love you, Shua.”

“Love you too, baby. Bye.”

“I also bought a sexy lingerie set for tomorrow. Sucks you won’t see it. Okay byyyyeeeee.” Your words stick together as you say it all in one breath, leaving just enough time for him to start saying what before hanging up on him. You go back to getting ready for bed, giggling at the influx of text messages from your boyfriend.

Shua🧸: you bought a what now?

Shua🧸: I wanna see.

Shua🧸: Pretty Girl.

Shua🧸: Answer me pls. 🥺

Oh, the damn pouty emoji with the nickname wins every time.

You take the set out of the bag, laying it on the bed and instead of getting into it like you know he probably wants you to. But it’s late, and that’s just too damn bad.

You send the picture of the set off to him, and not even a second later, your phone is a mess again.

Shua🧸: …

Shua🧸: Baby please put that on and let me see.

Y/n: no

Shua🧸: 🥺

Y/n: nah nah nah. The pouty face won’t work twice in a row. Come home and maybe you’ll see it.

Shua🧸: I’ll fucking fly the plane myself if it gets me home sooner.

Y/n: good luck with that, Shu. Goodnight 😘

You silence your phone, getting settled into bed with a smile on your face. You’re bummed about not seeing him in the morning, but it’s always fun to tease your boyfriend. Maybe you can wear the set and send some photos tomorrow.

You fall asleep thinking of ways to make a shitty situation better.

The next morning, you decided to follow through with the plan, getting ready for work and wearing the pretty little lace thing you bought underneath your pencil skirt and a flowy blouse. You took a few photos before finishing getting ready and sent them off to Joshua, and left for work.

Work sucked, however.

Until today, you were unaware of how many of your coworkers were in relationships. And until today, you were not aware of how horrifically stereotypical some people could be about Valentine’s Day. It really wasn’t that many, but it felt like every hour, a flower delivery would happen for a few of your coworkers at a time. But it grew more confusing each time because it was almost always a dozen roses for each coworker.

Except when the delivery person comes by your cubicle with a small vase with a few beautiful sunflowers in it and a tiny card attached.

“We’ve been trying to reach you about your car’s extended warranty.”

~🧸

The sputtering laugh was completely unintentional and surely scared some of your coworkers, but you didn’t care. You whipped out your phone and took a photo of the flowers and card arranged nicely on your desk and sent it to Joshua with a few heart emojis. As it was sending, however, you noticed he never responded to the lingerie photo. It just said it was seen.

You toss your phone in your desk drawer, feeling self-conscious, and ignoring it the rest of the work day.

The bus ride home sucked more than work did, with couples holding hands on their way to their crowded dates, and couples on their way back home and being a little too handsy with one another. You stay seated, annoyed with yourself for forgetting and leaving the sunflowers at work.

You check your messages again to find nothing from Joshua. The stupid read receipt shows under the photo but no replies. You put your phone away, instead focusing on the city outside the window the rest of the way home. You start to zone out until you hear a small voice.

“Excuse me, lady?” You turn away from the window, finding a little boy, at least five or six years old, smiling ear to ear.

“Hi?” How the hell do you respond to children? Especially stranger children?

“This is for you!” He exclaims, handing you a single rose.

What?

“Oh?” You hesitantly take the rose from him, eyes scanning the rest of the bus until you find what you assume to be his mother sitting across from you, smiling at you and her son. You smile back, nodding your head to her before looking back at her son.

“That’s so sweet of you. Thank you!” You grin, nodding your head to him as he does to you.

“I don’t have a Valentine. Will you be mine?” He asks, and you have to bite back a laugh, sharing another glance with his mom, who just shrugs with a laugh.

Well, he did give you a rose.

“Sure! What’s your name, Valentine?”

“Min-su!”

“Ahh, nice to meet you, Min-su! My name is y/n!”

You two talk for another ten minutes. Or, rather, you let him excitingly tell you about his day at school and all the things he and his friends did while you and his mom share looks of amusement. When it’s time for them to get off the bus, he quickly reaches in his backpack and takes out a small pack of Sour Patch Kids, shoving them in your hand.

“Thank you for being my Valentine!!” You laugh, thanking him back and waving at him and his mother as they get off the bus. You sniff the rose, holding it close to you and smiling the rest of the way home.

You climb the stairs to your apartment, still playing with the rose in your hand, and come to halt at your doorstep once you unlock the door.

You didn’t leave the lights on, did you?

Why does it smell like the oven is on?

Why are there candles lit?

Before you can do or say anything, someone rounds the corner from the kitchen and into your living room.

“Ah, crap! I thought I had more time!” Your boyfriend. The boyfriend that said he wasn’t going to be here until tomorrow. That boyfriend. Is somehow standing in your living room, wearing a simple white shirt loosely tucked into his jeans.

“I don’t suppose you can, like…go back outside for ten more minutes so I can get everything set up, right?”

You glare at him, still not moving an inch as you try to figure out what the hell is going on.

“No. I can’t. It’s like 10 degrees outside.”

“Right, right. Okay…then uh…” he looks around the room for a second. “How about your room? Wait, no. I didn’t finish setting up in there. Please don’t go in there.”

“Setting up?”

“Maybe the bathroom?”

“Josh.”

“Yeah, the bathroom…”

“Shua.”

“It’ll only be like a few minutes, I promise.”

“Joshua!” You yell, finally silencing him. His mouth parts in shock, switching back and forth on his feet, hands playing with one another.

“What the hell is going on? You said your flight was delayed.”

“Oh…uh…” he fidgets in place before looking at you nervously. “I lied!”

“You lied?”

“Yeah?” He can sense you getting mad, remembering how much you hate when he lies, even if it’s as a joke or surprise, and switches into defense mode to quickly explain himself.

“But it was part of the surprise! I was gonna have all the cheesy Valentine’s Day stuff ready to go when you got here. I have your favorite meal going and your favorite wine. I was gonna put out a bunch of rose petals leading to the table and the bed. I was gonna light more candles, but then it got too stuffy in here, and I know you hate that. And then I got you a teddy bear, one that looks exactly like the emoji one you use in your phone for me. And I got a heart-shaped box of chocolates, I sent you the flowers…whe- where are the flowers?”

“I accidentally left them at work…” you both look down at the rose in your hand.

“Oh. Why do you have a rose?”

“My Valentine on the bus, Min-su, gave it to me and a pack of sour patch kids.” You pull the candy out of your pocket, placing it and the rose on the table by the door.

“You’re cheating on me?” You roll your eyes, kicking your shoes off.

“He’s like five, Shua.” You groan, hanging your purse and jacket by the door.

“You’re cheating on me with a five year old?”

You scowl, giving yourself a moment to calm down.

He’s here. On Valentine’s Day. He lied to surprise you.

Your heart’s going to burst.

“Shut up and hug me before I start crying.”

“Say less!” He rushes over to where you’re still standing, wrapping you up in his arms.

God, you missed this feeling of his arms tightly around you, keeping you safe. You tuck your face into his neck, breathing in the scent of him, and you don’t want to cry, but when you take another breath, a soft sob escapes you.

“Is this why you didn’t respond to me all day?” Your question gets muffled against his skin.

“Yeah, my love. I’m sorry.”

You pull away from his neck, quickly wiping the tears from your cheeks. His hands drop to your hips as he kisses your forehead.

“Okay. I was worried you didn’t like the photo.” You hiccup, face flushing in embarrassment.

“Oh, pretty girl,” his fingers dig into your hips, pulling you flush against him.

“That was the first thing I saw when I got off the plane,” his hands riding up your waist, “and it took everything in me not to just go straight to your office and have my way with you there.”

Your breath catches in your throat when his hands stop, his thumbs pressing against your rib cage just below your breasts. He can feel the wire lining of the bra and he sighs almost in relief.

“Are you still wearing it?” You nod slowly. “You wore this even though you thought I wouldn’t be here?”

“I wanted to feel good. My boyfriend wasn’t going to be home to do it.” You smirk, and he’s the one glaring now.

“I really want to take this stupid skirt and blouse and throw you on the bed, but I made your favorite meal and so it’s gonna have to wait.”

“What a shame.” You joke when he gives you a quick kiss, letting him lead you to the kitchen.

He makes you wait at the table for him to finish preparing everything. You smile watching him dart from one room to the next and back and forth to the kitchen to make sure everything is cooking correctly. You offered to help various times, but he ignored you, telling you just to sit and be pretty while telling you how he planned this whole thing and the shit he had to go through to travel here unnoticed.

When he wasn’t looking and fiddling with the Bluetooth speaker in the kitchen, you snuck away to your room, trying not to look at the over dramatic Valentine’s Day set up he made and just heading straight for the dresser, pulling out a little fabric bag, stuffing it in your bra, before quickly returning to the table before he noticed.

The dinner was amazing, and you insisted on helping him do the dishes, saying you could go to the bedroom a lot faster if he let you help.

Of course, that worked, and he was soon practically dragging you to your bedroom, no shame in being ready to rid you of your office attire.

The room is straight out of a romance movie. Valentine’s Day decorations everywhere, rose petals leading to the bed that form a giant heart across the mattress. There are a few candles lit, both real and fake, but most of the light is coming from the fairy lights you had painstakingly put up when you moved in.

He doesn’t give you much time to admire his work, hugging you from behind the moment you step into your room. His lips attach to your neck while his hands wrap around your middle, teasingly pulling your blouse from your skirt.

“I’ve missed you, pretty girl.” He pants in your ear, “I’ve missed being able to touch you, I’ve missed the sounds you make when I do, I’ve missed this fucking body and the way it reacts to only me.”

You whine when one hand grabs one of your breasts, pulling you closer to him. You rest your head back against his shoulder as his hands continue to wander your body, slowly unbuttoning your blouse. It’s when he gets to the last button that you remember the bag.

“Wait. I have. A present for you.”

“What?”

“It’s in my bra.”

You look up at his confused expression with a grin, your hand pulling the little bag out from your cleavage and handing it to him.

“It’s not much, but I thought you might like it. It’s subtle enough that you can wear it without suspicion.”

His hands leave your body, opening the bag and letting a small bracelet fall into his palm. It’s thin, silver, and has two very small gems on it that you would only notice if you actually looked.

“Are these?”

“Our birthstones? Yes. It’s crazy amounts of cheesy, but I suck at getting gifts, so I don’t know. I thought this would be cute? You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to. I can try to get a refun—”

You’re cut off by suddenly being turned around and lips crashing against yours. His big hands, still holding the bracelet, cradle your cheeks as he deepens the kiss, backing you towards the bed.

Your body is eased down onto the bed, one of his hands quickly scattering the rose petals from under you, laying you down in the center as he positions himself over you, lips barely leaving yours for more than a second.

“It’s perfect. And beautiful. Thank you, my love.” He peppers your face with his lips, both of you being sent into giggle fits as he sits up, straddling you as you help put it on his wrist.

“I have a matching one, see?” You raise your wrist, shoving off the matching bracelet as he puts it on.

“I didn’t even see it earlier.”

“Exactly. It’s perfect for us.” His fingers wrap around your wrist, bringing it to his lips to kiss where the bracelet sits. He looks down at you, lying underneath him, your blouse unbuttoned, and finally showing him the bra you sent a photo of earlier today. A small groan escapes as he leans forward again, pinning your arm above your head, your other arm naturally following without being touched or told.

“I like the sound of that.” He whispers above your lips.

“What sound?”

“Us.” He kisses you deeply, nipping at your lower lip before leaving a trail of kisses down your throat. “You. Me. Us. You’re mine, and I’m yours. I like it. I love it.”

You don’t fight back the moan he coaxes out of you when he finds the sensitive part of your skin between your neck and shoulder. You arch your back to try to get closer to him, desperate for his touch against your skin.

“Shua.” You whine, feeling his lips curve into a smile.

“What do you need, pretty girl?”

“You.”

“You have me.”

“Touch me, please.”

“Only because you said please.” He lifts himself from you, sitting up and finding the zipper to your skirt, slowly pulling it down.

“You know your hands aren’t actually tied up, right, baby? You’re free to move.”

“No,” you shake your head as you lift your hips. “You get angry when I do.”

He smirks, harshly tugging your skirt down your body, tossing the fabric off the bed.

“Only when you’re being bad. Right now, I just want to love you.” He hums, ripping your stockings and laughing at your gasp.

“I’ll buy you new ones.” He quickly says before you can yell at him.

His hands slowly slide up and down your thighs, gently pushing them open. His eyes dart straight to the wet patch of your matching underwear.

“Baby, you’re soaked.”

“Please.” You rasp, your hands no longer above your head as you try to reach for any part of him. He notices your grabby hands and offers one of his, and you take that perfect opportunity to pull him back on top of you.

“Just fuck me. Please, Shua. I need you inside me, or I’ll lose my mind.” It’s almost embarrassing how fast he reduces you to begging as you bring his lips to yours, molding together perfectly.

“You don’t want me to prep you?” He asks with a hint of nervousness. “I don’t want to hurt you, pretty.”

“I’ll be fine,” you shake your head, completely ignoring one of his hands sliding between you both, “just want you right now, plea- fuck.” You curse when two of his perfectly long fingers move your underwear to the side and immediately start to finger you roughly, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit.

“I’ll give you whatever you want, pretty. Just fall apart for me once first.”

His fingers curl inside you, pressing in exactly the right spots to make you shake underneath him. Part of you thinks it’s embarrassing how fast he can make you come, but then you see how happy and proud it makes him. How that cockiness makes him a little less gentle with you because he knows his pretty girl can and will take it.

A jumbled mess of words and curses escapes your lips as he continues his attack with his fingers.

“Too much, Shua. Too much,” you whimper, but he doesn’t stop, his open mouth hovering above yours, the evil smirk barely showing.

“You can do it, baby. One more for me.” You lift your head up to kiss him, but he leans back just far enough.

“Nuh-uh. Come on, baby. Focus.” He chuckles when you whine again, leaning down to kiss your neck again, his fingers hitting inside you a little harder.

“You said only once first,” your voice raises in pitch, your fingernail digging into his biceps.

“I’m feeling a little greedy tonight.” He rasps against your throat.

“So just one more, and I promise,” your back arches as his fingers somehow get even deeper inside of you. “I promise I’ll give you what you want.”

This orgasm hits harder than the first and without warning. He has to smother your screams with his lips, fingers leaving you, quickly rubbing the tips of his fingers against your clit, coaxing you to continue to squirt. Your hips raise, desperate for his touch to continue as the rest of your body shakes.

“You’re okay, pretty. You’re okay. Come back to me.” His fingers slide back in, slowly pumping as you come back down. “You did so good for me.” He leaves a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Shua,” you pant, grabbing his wrist and pushing it away from you. “Please.”

“Okay, okay.” He chuckles, bringing his fingers to your lips. You lock eyes with him and wordlessly open your mouth, allowing his fingers in, and suck the taste of you off him, your tongue swirling around his digits. His other hand slides under your back to unhook your bra, pulling it off you and tossing it aside.

“Fuck, you’re everything and more, my love.” He murmurs, quickly kissing you after removing his fingers and then shedding his clothes. You reach out for him, letting out a small groan when your arms start feeling heavy.

“Hold on.” He laughs, crawling onto the bed, fist stroking his hardened erection, smearing his precum along the way.

“Can you get on your knees for me, pretty?” You make a fuss, both of you smiling as you flip yourself over. Your arms and knees wobble slightly, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Joshua. He grabs two pillows and tucks them under your stomach, and hands you another to hold onto.

He leans forward, kissing the spot where your neck meets your back.

“Just relax, baby. Let me take care of you.” He murmurs against your skin, sitting back up when you relax more in the position, the pillows helping keep you up.

He pulls your underwear to the side again, one of your arms reaching back to hold it. You moan at the feel of his tip sliding against your folds, gathering your slick and rubbing against your clit. He doesn’t wait for you to beg for him before he’s sliding in in one thrust.

“Fuck, Shua.” You cry out, the feeling of him stretching you so perfectly adding fuel to the fire burning inside you.

“You take me so well every time, y/n. Such a perfect pussy. And all for me and just me, right?”

“Just you.” You think you say it coherently, but it’s more of a muffled moan into the pillow as you try to raise your ass to meet his hips.

His fingers dig into your hips when you press against him, trying not to come already and letting out a low groan. His grip loosens as his pace picks up, one arm reaching around your waist, the other reaching for your throat, pulling your body up to him.

“You okay, baby?” His lips find your ear, his panting making you clench around him. He hisses in your ear, adding a little pressure to the hold on your neck. “Talk to me, pretty girl.”

“I- ah, I’m okay. Feels so good, Shua.” You whine, reaching behind you to grab his hair, your other hand’s nails digging into the forearm around your waist.

“Gonna come all over my cock, right baby? Give me a third?”

You nod, biting your bottom lip to stop yourself from being too loud.

“Come with me, Shua. Please, baby.”

“Where do you want me?” He growls in your ear, but he already knows your answer, his hips snapping to yours a little harder when you mutter the word inside.

“If that’s what the pretty girl wants.” He grins, kissing the space under your ear.

A few more thrusts and you're warning him of your impending third orgasm.

“Let go.” He whispers, and you do. You lean your head back on his shoulder as he buries his face in your neck, and you clench around him. It takes three more sharp thrusts before he buries himself deep inside you, groaning against your skin as he fills you up, your walls milking him for everything.

You feel yourself go limp in his arms, allowing him to maneuver you to lay back down on the bed. You both groan as he pulls out of you, his fingers quickly taking over to shove any escaping cum back inside.

“You keep that in there for me, so I can taste it later, yeah?” You grunt in response, an exhausted smile forming as tired arms reach for him. He’s quick to give you what you need, laying beside you. You run your fingers through his hair, caressing it softly at the base of his neck and giving him goosebumps.

You adore him. You love him. He’s yours, and you’re his. There is no better feeling than being loved by Joshua.

“I love you.” A whisper escapes your lips, and he hums, his head leaning into your palm.

“I love you, too, pretty girl.”

“I’m still mad that you lied, though. Don’t think you’re getting away with that by being a perfect boyfriend.”

“Oh, I’m aware. And I will do whatever you need me to do to make up for it.” You scoff, pulling your hand away from him.

“Oh, you will. Later though. For now, I want my Valentine to cuddle me.”

“Min-su? He’s a kid. I don’t think that’s appropriate, y/n.”

“Ugh. You’re the worst.” You grumble, flipping over on your side so your back is facing him. He doesn’t hesitate to respond, curling up against you and kissing any part of your face he can reach, making you giggle.

“I’m the best, and you know it. Min-su could only dream to be even as close to the best as I am.”

You don’t respond, not wanting to entertain his bit. You reach behind you for his wrist, the bracelet wrapped around him perfectly and hold his hand close to your chest, enjoying the visual of the two pieces of jewelry connected.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” He whispers it in your ear as you fall asleep, the happiest and most in love you’ve ever been.

584 notes · View notes

anarchiii · 1 month

Text

World’s apart-9 —ACOTAR x TOG AU

Part nine | warnings: mentions of blood!! Angst, kissing | Azriel x Celaena Sardothien

Summary; Pain and suffering one after the other, Azriel decides that maybe he’s not meant for this world, but maybe he is meant for another…

Note: this is an AU it’s not in the books.

Masterlist / Series Masterlist

Celaena’s POV

The shuddering of her breath and the whirling of an unnatural cold wind were the only sounds she heard, the feeling of blood trickling down her forearm was a familiar feeling, no longer did she wince from the sting or the ruby liquid, now, she embraced it, just as she did the freezing stone floor that she traced her fingers across, drawing the shapes she had seen in the Walking Dead, Wyrdmarks. Just thinking the name made a shiver go down her spine.

It was only when a steady hand laid on her shoulder did she stray from her thoughts, turning around, she met eyes with Azriel, she cataloged every mark and blemish on his face, saving it to memory, for this could be the last time she saw the Shadowsinger, perhaps forever.

Celaena didn’t want to admit it but she had grown fond of Azriel, he produced a silence she liked, a silence so different from the one in Endovier, she didn’t think she’d had any nightmares since he had arrived, no one else had done that before, not Sam. Not even her mother or her nursemaid. Until now, she hadn’t even thought of those things, perhaps when the Spymaster left—her life would once again become damned and meaningless. That scared her. She didn’t want that.

She had come to love reading with him, watching him coddle Fleetfoot, seeing him bicker with Chaol, pretending not to notice the small smiles he gave Dorian.

Tears welled in her eyes but she blinked them away before the male from her thoughts noticed, she cleared her throat, stating, “it should be done soon,” Azriel was opening and closing his mouth multiple times, like he wanted to tell her something but he wasn’t quite sure, she didn’t know if she wanted to know what he was trying to say either.

“Cel. . .” He finally said, she turned to him fully now, “I’ve been thinking. . .” She waited, he did that thing with his mouth again, like what he was trying to say could ruin everything, she nodded once, silently telling him to spit it out, “w-would you—” he tried again, she had never heard him stutter or be so lost of words before. It was an odd sight.

He seemed to get lost in his thoughts so she turned away again, continuing her precise lines of blood, the book had said a single mistake could ruin the whole thing or change the entire portal, Celaena was a perfectionist and she’d be damned if she messed this up—literally and figuratively.

“What if you came with me?” He asked finally, she whipped her head around, staring at him incredulously, “what?” Go with him? That was a horribly irresponsible and dangerous decision, what about her friends?—but did it really matter if she left them? She had no family. Chaol and Dorian should understand and they could just go on with their lives. . . What was really holding her back from accepting his offer? This place was her home, but, was it really? She had so many bad memories and experiences, she could have a fresh start, stay with Azriel, love Azriel.

But could she do it? Really leave everything behind? Everything. . . It was enticing, but, she didn’t know, she wished he had asked her sooner.

Azriel seemed to notice her hesitation and shook his hand, curling his fingers into her golden locks, “the offer will stand for a while, whether it be a year or five, I want to be with you more, Cel, I need to. You’re my salvation.” He said, she was going to say something, because no one had ever said such a thing, no one, but then the portal appeared, the Wyrdmarks flashing a bright green as it took form, the ground seemed to shudder in its wake. She could slightly make out trees and the smell of flowers, had it gone where she had wanted? It was supposedly a place in Prythian, supposedly.

She turned to the Shadowsinger, and in that moment, he knew the truth in her eyes, she wasn’t ready, maybe on day but not now, he swallowed harshly but nodded, he took her face in his lovely hands then, looking deep into her eyes, they knew this was the last time they might ever be together again, she had to make it worth it.

So she kissed him, hard.

Azriel’s POV

He had never felt anything like it before, the kiss—it was magical, no one else had ever felt this way, it was perfect, Celaena tried to pull away but he grabbed her and kissed her back, it was a stupid idea, to do this right as he was leaving but he couldn’t stop, she tasted exactly how he had thought she would, it was exquisite, she was exquisite.

A loud, hard knock rattled a door in the distance and the Golden one ended the kiss, turning lustful eyes into worried ones as she look up the staircase to the door, like she could see who was behind it, he knew it wasn’t Chaol or Dorian this time, fuck.

It couldn’t end like this, not when he hadn’t had a chance to properly feel her, taste her.

Her beautiful cerulean eyes met his own, so bright, even though she had seen the darkest things, he was so proud of her for getting through all that, would he get to see anymore of her accomplishments? Or would her achievements go unnoticed?

“Go,” she whispered, “go Azriel,” “no,” he answered, he couldn’t, not now, he heard the door upstairs slam open, hitting a wall, “go!” Celaena cried, “please,” her voice broke then, he shook his head sharply, she pushed him then, closer and closer to the portal, “I’m so sorry. Azriel. I wish we had more time, it was all borrowed time anyway, but I wish we had more of it,” tears fell in rivers down their faces, he couldn’t leave her, “I love you, I wish I got to know you better, love you better,” she continued, his vision turned blurry from salty tears, he heard loud stomping, they were coming, and he couldn’t do a damned thing about it.

She pushed him again, and this time, he went right through the portal, everything started fading but all he saw was her face, gold-ringed blue eyes in agony, her full lips parted in pain, her lithe body tense and stressed, her fingers reaching for him. Just as his did.

Reaching for a star too far up in the sky, fitting, for star-crossed lovers.

The End.

Note: oh man, guys, I was getting a little teary-eyed writing this 😣 did you get the little EOS Easter egg? (:

-Taglist

@cynthiesjmxazrielslover

@aelincaddel

@shadowsingercassia

@azrielslittleslut

@yashiw

32 notes · View notes

iamknicole · 7 months

Text

Chapter Nine

A/N: Its finally here! First chapter of 2024! To those who have been waiting so patiently THANK YOU! Enjoy! Comment, reblog & share!⭐⭐ PART OF THE CHAPTER WAS MISSING! I ADDED IT!

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of abortion, excuse any typos, MINORS DNI

Masterlist

Chapter Eight

Christmas Excerpt

Following the new year, things were buzzing and busy. Zilla was in demand, working hard on the road to the company's biggest show of the year. Moriah on the other hand was being shuffled around due to a shortage but presented to her as praise for the good work she does. By the end of the shuffle, she landed in Pediatrics, the last place she wanted to be. The couple saw each other less but they tried to make the best of it.

“Fat,” Zilla called out softly. He chuckled hearing her whine. “C'mon, Fat. Get up for me, please.”

She shook her head, trying to pull the covers over her head but Zilla snatched them before she could.

“Nooooo,” she whined, “You already kept me up all night. Uhn uhn.”

“I'm not waking you for that this time. I got something to show you.”

After another ten minutes of struggling with her, Zilla finally got her up and out the door. He walked carefully behind her with his hands over her eyes, leading her to the complex's parking lot. When he stopped, he kissed her cheek lovingly.

“I forgot to bring one of your gifts with me to Texas, Fat. You ready to see it?”

“You woke me up out of my sleep, you damn right i’m ready to see it,” she joked.

Counting to three, Zilla removed his hands revealing the gift. She stared with a wide smile on her face.

“Isayah Fatu, you did not.”

“I did,” he answered softly.

“You did not buy me a car!” She squealed not caring about waking their neighbors up this early in the morning. She jumped into his arms, kissing his face repeatedly. “I didn't need it but I’m glad you got it!”

“Of course I did. I couldn’t be in my new shit and not have my lady in some new shit too, Fat. It’s only right. Plus. baby, you deserve it. I told you that I was gonna take care of you. This just the beginning, Fat.”

At that Moriah pulled back to look at him, laughing at the sneaky smile on his face. Knowing what was coming next, Zilla turned them to the side so she could look at the cars. She was so focused on her own car, she didn’t realize there was a car beside hers with an identical red bow on it.

“You got your Challenger!”

“I did. You tryna go for a ride before I gotta go?”

Moriah tilted her head and raised her brows. “Out here? Somebody might see, Zay. well … the windows are tinted. Let’s do it.”

He laughed loudly, dropping his head to her chest for a second. “I ain’t mean that kinda ride, Fat. I meant in my car.”

“Oh,” she said shyly. “My bad.”

“No need. If we got time for that then I’m aight wit it but if not you know I’ll still make it happen for you.”

“In both cars?”

“Yeah, Fat, in both cars. And you stay talkin bout me.”

After taking her for a ride around the block, Zilla dropped her back off and went to the performance center. While he waited for his class to start, he tucked himself away to work on the promo he had been working on for the next show.

“Big boy! Where you at, man?”

Chuckling to himself, Zilla put his phone away and stood from the corner he sat in.

“You bigger than me, boy.”

Bronco laughed, slapping hands with him. “You still big boy either way. What's up though? How was the holiday?”

“Shit it was good, got to spend time with my family. My niece had shit everywhere.”

“I bet. My brother did too,” he laughed, “Soooo.”

Zilla squinted a little, chuckling under his breath. “What, man?”

“Did you see Rye's family?”

“Yeah, she tried to go to her mom's by herself and you know I couldn't let that happen so I went too. Her aunt and umi was there.”

“Umi?”

“Grandma.”

“Got it,“ he nodded, “Her mom said anything out the way to you?”

“For once not really, she said like one slick thing but Umi shut that down quick. We only saw her that one day.”

Bronco figured if Zilla knew he wouldn't be as calm as he is and safely assumed his friend had no idea what he knew. The two moved into a different conversation

“If I tell you again to get away from me, I’m going to HR. Get out of my face, Thomas.”

“I just wanna have a conversation with you, Mo. Is that so bad?”

Moriah looked up from the chart she was completing and rolled her eyes. Two months into this year and she was contemplating whet or not she would spend the rest in prison. “Yes, it is. And this is the last time I’m gonna tell you to stop calling me Mo. Nurse DeBreaux and nothing else.”

He chuckled to himself. “I know you in the biblical sense and I gotta call you Nurse DeBreaux? That seem right to you?”

“I slept with you one time in that whole time we were together so I wouldn’t say that you know me but in any case if you repeat that again, I’ll kick your ass myself and then I’ll call Zilla to do it and you don’t want that.”

“Oooh, I struck a nerve I see. Listen, I just got one question and I’ll leave you alone.”

“Spit it out.”

“Why did you even bother to make me use a condom?”

Dropping the pen on the table, Moriah slowly looked up at him with an infuriated expression. “What did you just say?”

He titled his head still smiling. “You heard me. What was the point?”

“Explain what you’re asking me, Thomas and do it quickly.”

“Oh now you wanna talk to me? I think I’ll keep the rest to myself for another time.”

Not wanting him to know that she already knew about the partnership between her mother and him, Moriah thought of something quickly to throw it off. She knew if she bought it up, he would tell her mother and Zilla would find out before she herself had a chance to tell him.

“Stay out of my medical files, Thomas.”

“Medical files,” he repeated with a chuckle, “Sure thing, Mo … I mean Nurse DeBreaux. I’ll see you later.”

Watching him walk away, Moriah counted backwards from 100 in her head trying to calm herself down. When she realized it wasn’t working, she let the other nurses know that she was gone for a fifteen and hurried down to the ED. As soon as Toni saw her face, she handed her device off to one of the other nurses and guided the younger woman into the break room, locking the door behind them.

“What happened?”

“Can you call Bronco to beat Thomas’s ass please?”

Toni chuckled, “I’m sure he would love that but why? Tell me what happened.”

“I’m filling out paperwork for a child that just got admitted and he comes over trying to talk to me and I tell him to leave me alone. Of course his ass doesn’t listen, never fucking listens.” She groaned.

Toni put a calming hand on her shoulder, “Breathe, Rye. Breathe.”

She took a few deep breaths before continuing on. “So he looks at me and says what was the point of making me wear a condom. And he’s smirking, so happy and proud of himself. Fucking bastard.”

“He said what? Why would he say that to you?” She asked, frowning.

“Because apparently my mom told him more after they talked up here. I had to play it off like he had been in my medical records even though I know he wouldn’t be able to get into them.”

“You don’t want him to know that you know about him and your mom because he’ll tell her that you’re onto them and she’ll tell Zilla before you can.”

“Exactly.” Moriah sighed hard, rubbing at her nose. “I fucking hate them. Especially my mama. Why won’t she just let me be? She’s done enough already.”

Pulling her into a hug, Toni rubbed her back and let her cry on her shoulder. There was a question she was dying to ask but she wasn’t quite sure how to ask it in Moriah’s given state.

“Some people aren’t happy with themselves so they take it out on other people, especially the people that love them.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get over the shit she’s done.”

“I’m not gonna tell you how to feel, what to feel or what to do with those feelings, Rye. I’m here for whatever you need. You call, text or come over anytime. Okay?”

Moriah nodded, pulling away from the hug. She wiped her face, trying to give a small smile. “I know you wanna know what he meant but I just can’t have that conversation right now. I’ll tell you at some point though. I promise.”

“No rush. I’ll be here when you’re ready to talk. I do have another question, though.”

“What’s up?”

“When’s the next time Zilla has a day off?”

Moriah thought for a moment, rubbing at her eyes. “I think Thursday.”

“Okay, so you’re gonna be off on Thursday and Friday so you take that time to talk to him. It seems like you’re running out of time to tell him yourself especially with how out of hand Thomas is getting. And while I’m sure Zilla will not leave you for any of this, I know how important it is for you to tell him yourself. And I know he would much rather it come from you.”

Moriah stood quietly, replaying Toni’s words in her head.They were pretty much the same words she had been saying to herself.

“I know it’s gonna be hard,” Toni added interrupting her thoughts, “I know it’s gonna be scary but you can do this. If you want me and Bronco can be there for you both.”

“No … no. I can do it alone. But stay by your phone please.”

“Of course and remember that boy loves you a hell of a lot. He’s gonna be pissed, not at you but he will be and you have to allow him to feel and process things the same way you did.”

Quietly, Moriah moved around their apartment to gather the few small boxes she needed and sat them on their kitchen table. She fixed breakfast for her boyfriend knowing that after she told him what she needed to tell him that he probably wouldn’t have an appetite. She had been texting back and forth with Toni to talk about her plan.

“Damn, it smell good out here,” he called out in between his yawning. “Mornin’, Fat.”

She chuckled, going to hug and kiss him. He held onto her a few seconds longer than he usually would then released her with a smack on the ass.

“How’d you sleep, Zay?”

“Like a rock. I ain’t realize how tired I been.”

Moriah led him to the table then went to get his plate and juice. “I’m glad you got some rest. You deserve it after throwing them people around every day.”

“Thank you,” he got quiet for a moment to say grace, “You right. You ain’t sleep good though. Not all that tossin and turnin’ you did.”

“Was I?” she asked, avoiding eye contact with him.

“Yeah you were. Had to hold onto your lil ass to get you to stop.”

“That was the plan all along,” she giggled. “I sleep better in your arms.”

The couple ate their food, having small conversations here and there about their upcoming week and schedules. Zilla finally noticed the boxes on the table after he was done eating. He glanced between her and the boxes.

“What’s that, Fat?”

She hummed, quickly taking their dishes in the kitchen.

“The boxes. What in em? What you ordered now?”

Going back to the table, Moriah sat across from him and pulled the boxes closer to her. She pulled the top box open just wide enough to slide a manila folder out of it. Zilla waited quietly for her to say something, his eyes darted between the folder and his girlfriend.

“What you got?”

“You remember when you told me that whenever I was ready to talk about what my mom did to me while you were gone that you would listen and be here for me?”

“Yeah and I meant it.”

“Well,” she sighed out, “I’m ready to talk about it now. I need to tell you before she does.”

He frowned a little. “What you mean? Why she wanna tell me?”

“Because she knows that if she tells you that you’ll leave me and that’s what she wants.”

“Fat,” he called out, reaching across the table for her hand, “Look at me.” He waited for her to look up before he continued. “Whatever she did to you, you didn’t have no control over that. I love you and whatever she did or said won’t change that. Aight?”

Moriah sighed. “I know you told me that but you don’t know yet.”

“Fat, baby … just tell me. Zilla ain’t goin nowhere.”

She held his stare for a few moments, trying to figure out how she wanted to start telling him.

“When you got sentenced and stuff, I was distraught as hell. It was pitiful,” she chuckled. “I spent all my free time at your moms, in your bed and stuff. Then like three weeks after you left, I got sick on and off. Figured it was just cause I wasn’t eating like I should or a cold but three

weeks later I was still sick. Arthur came over to see me and him and mama gave me a pregnancy test.”

Her heart dropped a little, feeling his grip on her hand loosen.

“The test was positive. Um, my parents and Mama were upset at first but they realized that there was nothing they could do you know and we went from there.”

“You was pregnant? And nobody told me?” He asked, trying to keep his tone calm.

“We were gonna tell you, Zay, but we were trying to figure out a way to tell you because you were gonna miss 10 years of the child’s life. That wasn’t gonna be easy.”

“So everybody knew but me?”

She shook her head. “No. Only me, my parents, Mama, Arthur, Auntie Kami and Umi. It didn’t go beyond us because we didn’t want anyone telling you before we figured it out.”

“Keep goin,” he demanded softly.

She sighed softly, slipping her hand from his momentarily. Flipping through the folder for a moment, Moriah pulled out her sonograms and slid them across the table.

“My first appointment was at 10 weeks. I heard the heartbeat and the doctor said that the baby was fine. My mom kept saying smart shit but me, Mama and my daddy were happy. Mama cried when we found out the due date.” Moriah chuckled softly remembering.

He stared at the images in front of him, his thumb slightly grazing where the baby sat in the sonogram. “Why did she cry?”

“The due date was March 24th.”

Zilla looked up from the sonogram, locking eyes with his girlfriend. “4 days before Pops birthday.”

“Yeah,” she answered softly.

He huffed loudly, placing the sonograms on the table. His hands went to cover his face for a moment, taking slow, deep, long breaths. It was hard but he was trying to keep his promise.

“Clearly none of yall figured out how to tell me cause I’m just now findin out. So what you do with our kid? The only kid I’ve seen is Sisi and she ain’t old enough to be ours.”

Moriah wiped her tears away with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “I don’t wanna tell you, Zay.”

“Nah, nah, nah. You can’t start then stop, Moriah. Where’s my kid?”

“You’re gonna be mad at me, Zay.” She cried holding the folder tightly to her chest. “I don’t wanna tell you. She made me do it.”

“Moriah,” he called out sternly. “Just tell me!”

She jumped from his voice booming through their apartment which he immediately regretted. He stood from the table wiping his hands over his head and face.

“I’m sorry for yellin’ at you, Fat but just … please just tell me.”

Sitting the folder aside, Moriah played with her fingers trying to get her mouth to cooperate with her brain.

“When I was 12 weeks, my mom told me that she had made another appointment for me to make sure the baby was okay. I was skeptical but I still went. Your mom was skeptical too.” She said between sobs. “It wasn’t a regular check up for the baby. She had scheduled an abortion. She let them take my baby and then she gloated about it.”

Abortion.

The word replayed over and over inside Zilla’s head. He was trying to wrap his mind around it but it wasn’t connecting. Feeling his anger start to rise well above what it should have been, Zilla started to pace back and forth.

“I didn’t want to but I was a minor and I didn’t have a choice, Zay. And afterwards she made me go tell your mom that ‘it’ was gone so yall would leave us alone.”

“Our kid is dead?” He asked softly.

“Yes.”

“That bitch killed my fucking kid?” He yelled, not able to keep the rumble inside of him. “She killed my kid and got the nerve to act like mother of the fuckin year?”

Moriah wanted to hug him but she knew he would probably push her away so she stayed where she was with the table between the two of them. Her eyes followed him as he paced back and forth, mumbling to himself. Going into the other box, she pulled out a small baby blue box holding that tight in her grasp.

“Afterwards, I kept asking her what did they do with the baby and if they had told her if the baby was a boy or a girl but she wouldn’t answer me. I kept asking and asking,’’ she explained softly, “And finally she told me that she had them cremate the remains and that she had the gender. In order for me to get both and my sonograms, I had to do something else.”

His pacing stopped but he didn’t look at her.

“I had to get my tubes tied. I had to agree or she was gonna destroy all of it.” She took a moment and approached him with the box. She took one more look at it then held it out to him. “I did it because she had already killed my baby, I couldn’t lose the rest of the only pieces of him I had.”

“Him?”

“Yeah,” she said softly, “It was a boy. I know it probably doesn’t mean much but I named him Angel.”’

Slowly, Zilla took the box from her, his thumbs caressed the letters etched into the box. ‘Angel Fatu’. Hot tears rolled down his face uncontrollably as he cradled the box to his chest. Taking a chance, Moriah moved closer to her boyfriend and he took a step back, shaking his head.

“If your tubes are tied, why are we using condoms and why are you on birth control?”

The second time she’s heard this question, this time she felt more comfortable answering.

“I’m not on birth control, Zay. The condoms … it was easier to just keep using them because if we weren’t I know you would wonder why there hadn’t been any pregnancy scares.” She explained. “Nobody knows that my tubes are tied except you and my mom. I was ashamed.”

“The condoms that she gifted us at the going away party?”

“A sick joke. She’s been torturing me for years. She made me get a job in a daycare not more than six months after Angel. I was in the infant room. Whenever her friends or co-workers needed a babysitter, she made me do it.”

Taking a short glance at his girlfriend, Zilla moved around her with the box still in hand and grabbed his keys from the kitchen counter. He didn’t say another word to her, he simply walked out of their apartment slamming the door behind him.

Hours and hours passed without Moriah receiving a response to the texts she'd sent to her boyfriend. Ultimately, she was worried about his safety and just wanted to know he wasn't on the side of the road somewhere. The radio silence on her phone also let her know that he hadn't called his mom because she would have called or texted by now. He was angry and he had every right to be.

By the time she got in bed there was finally a ping from her phone, alerting her to a message. Her heart dropped a little when she saw Bronco's name instead of Zilla's.

Bronco

11:43pm

Couldn't text earlier but he been with me all day. I got em, he good, sis. Get you some rest. He love you, he been sayin it all day. He just upset. Lock the door and call if you need us.

Moriah

11:46pm

Thank you. Good night. I love him too.

She laid back staring at the ceiling debating with herself. Deciding she needed to know, she sent another text.

Moriah

11:55pm

He has the blue box, right?

Bronco

11:58pm

Of course. Angel chillin next to moms. Don't worry ya pretty lil head, sis. They good.

Letting out a soft sigh, Moriah plugged her phone up and put it on the dresser then moved to Zilla's side of the bed, cuddling his pillow. She said a soft prayer before drifting off to sleep.

“What's this smile about? Who are you texting?”

Hassan pulled his phone to his chest away from his younger sister, Gabi's wandering eyes with a chuckle. It was their weekly visit and so far he had been splitting his time between entertaining her and texting.

“I always smile, thank you very much.”

She laughed still trying to get to his phone. “Not like that you don't. Fess up. What's her name?”

“Why you always in my business? I need to call my brother in law on you?”

She shrugged playfully, trying to start the phone. “Call all you want, I'm still gonna ask. Now who is it? Or I'm gonna call my niece and ask her. I know she knows.”

Hassan rolled his eyes dramatically. “I thought you would grow out of being nosey. But if you must know, I was texting my friend, Tamara.”

“Friend Tamara? You mean your girlfriend!”

“Not my girlfriend,” he chuckled, “We've been seeing each other for a little, seeing where it goes.”

Gabi raised a brow. “Is this the same friend you've been going out with since before Thanksgiving?”

“It might be.”

“Uhuh so that's your girlfriend! When do I get to meet her?”

“Whoa, whoa. Slow down, speedy. It's not time for that yet.”

“You've been seeing her for almost five months and yall are grown. It's time. Does Moriah know about her?”

He nodded, smiling a little. “She was with me when Tamera approached me. Rye wanted me to go out with her. Even offered to be my flower girl.”

Gabi squealed, hugging her brother. “Yes! So she's in. I'm so happy because I was terrified you were gonna go back to that bitch of an ex wife.”

“Gabriella,” he called out sternly.

She put her hands up defensively. “I didn't lie, she is a bitch but fine I won't say it again. I don't even know what you ever saw in her evil ass.”

“We're not discussing Nadine, we're discussing Tamera.”

“So tell me about her? You obviously like her with all this smiling and texting.”

His smile widened, starting to think about Tamera and the time they'd been spending together. When they first went out, Hassan honestly wasn't planning on taking her out again. He was simply going so Moriah wouldn't be on his back about not going but that first date pulled him in.

“Tamera is a good person. She's a realtor, has been for quite some time. She has two kids, one boy and one girl. Not too much older than Rye.”

“Uhuh, keep going.”

Hassan laughed. “That's all I'm telling you, nosey. Whenever you meet her, you can ask her all the questions you want.”

His phone ringing interrupted Gabi, he held a finger up as he checked to see who was calling.

“Is that your girlfriend?”

“No, it's Leata.” He responded sticky before putting the phone to his ear. “Hey, what's up?”

“I'm not interrupting you, Hassan. Am I?”

“Nope, you actually saved me from Gabi.” He laughed dodging his little sister's hit.

“Oh tell her Hey for me. I'm sorry to bother you guys.”

“I'll tell her but you're not bothering us. Everything okay? Was it Nadine?”

Leata laughed softly. “No, no, not Nadine. Haven't talked to her since Christmas. It's about the kids.”

“What about them? They okay?”

“Well I was checking to see if you had talked to either of them. I haven't talked to them in three days and that's not like either of them.” She sighed softly. “I'm probably just being paranoid but one of them would at least text, ya know?”

“Uuuh I talked to Moriah Thursday morning I think it was. She was cooking breakfast and just called to talk for a few but not since then.”

“I'm worried about them. I think I'm gonna fly there to check on them, this isn't like them.”

Hassan thought for a moment. “I have Rye's friend's number for emergencies so I'll call her and see if she knows what's going on then we'll go from there. Deal?”

“Okay, let me know as soon as you do.”

After agreeing Hassan disconnected their call and started to go through his phone in search of Toni's number. Gabi watched him, although she was only able to hear his side of the conversation she could put two and two together.

“You think they're okay? They probably just went on a lil trip and forgot to say something.”

“Yeah,” Hassan said softly as he put his phone back to his ear, “Hopefully so.”

The phone rang all the way to voice-mail, Hassan figured she didn't recognize the number and didn't answer so he shot her a quick text. A couple minutes later his phone was ringing.

“Hey, Toni. It's Hassan, Rye's daddy. How are you?”

“I'm good, running some errands. I didn't realize that was you calling. Everything okay?”

“No worries. I just wanted to see if you'd talk to Rye in the last few days.” He took the phone from his rear to put it on speaker so he could text Leata. “Zilla's mom hadn't heard from them since Wednesday and I haven't talked to Rye since Thursday morning so we're a little worried.”

Toni sat on the phone quietly for a moment trying to decide how much of what she knew Moriah would be comfortable with. While she hadn't directly talked to either of them, Bronco had kept her in the loop and she did call and text Moriah but got no answer.

“Toni? You there?”

“Yes, I'm sorry. I've talked to her and a mutual friend of ours has talked to Zilla in the last couple days so they're okay.”

Hassan let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding as he sent a quick text to Leata.

“Good, thank you.”

“I tell you what … I'm near their apartment so I'll swing by and lay eyes on Rye for you. Let her know that yall are worried.”

“I would greatly appreciate that, Toni. Thank you so much.”

“Oh it's no problem at all.”

After getting off the phone, Toni carefully switched labs so that she could get off the exit closest to Moriah and Zilla's apartment. She was thankful that Hassan called because now she had even more reason to go check on her friend. Bronco had been telling her that he had Zilla and Moriah would respond to his few text messages everyday and that she was fine to give her space. But space isn't something Toni thought Moriah needed especially not after three days. Zilla went to his friend and Moriah's alone. She's isolating herself.

Getting to the apartment, Toni carefully climbed the stairs with their bag of food in hand. She knocked on the door then pressed the ring doorbell and bent over a bit to talk into it.

“You know you hear me at this door. It's hot and I'm melting, Rye. Let me in, please!”

A few minutes and a few knocks later, Moriah let her in. Toni sat the food on the coffee table then went right to Moriah pulling her into a tight hug. Although she tried to hold it, Moriah couldn't stop her cries. She cried on Toni's shoulder as her body shook from how hard she was sobbing. The older woman held onto her and rubbed her back while she whispered soft encouraging words. Minutes later, Moriah pulled away wiping her face on the sleeve of what Toni assumed to be Zilla's hoodie. Toni pulled her over to the sofa so they could sit.

“I've been calling and texting you, Rye. Everybody has.” Toni spoke softly.

“I know,” she sniffled, wiping a stray tear away, “I'm sorry. I didn't wanna talk.”

Toni started to take their food out of the bag, setting it up on the coffee table.

“I understand but a text to let people know you're alive would've been great, Rye. Your dad called me to see if I'd talked to either of you. Apparently him and Zilla's mom are worried about you two.”

Moriah sighed, playing with her nails. Leata had been calling and texting, his brothers had as well but she didn't answer because she knew she wouldn't be able to hide any of this from them.

“You should at least text them back. Cause it sounds like the two of them were ready to come do a search party.”

She nodded, pulling her phone from her pocket. The screen is filled with notifications. “I don't know what to tell them.”

“Just tell them you've been working doubles at the hospital so you've been sleep when you're not working. It's a lie but it'll work for now.”

“Yeah. Thank you,” she mumbled. Her fingers moved back and forth on her phone while she tapped out her messages. To Leata's she added that she would call when she got a free moment. “I'm sure Bronco told you but he left after I told him. I knew he would but I was hoping he wouldn't.”

Toni gave her the plate of food and her utensils. “Eat. It's jerk chicken and rice, you like that. He didn't leave you, Rye. He left the situation. That was a lot to find out after all this time.”

Moriah pushed the food around her plate before taking a bite. “He could barely look at me and when he did he looked disgusted. Like he hated me.”

“He was not disgusted with you and he does not hate you.” Toni reassured. “The situation and your mother, that's where those emotions are directed. You gotta give him time, Rye. Have you healed from what she did?”

“No, not entirely.”

“Okay so it's been almost ten years since she did it and your not healed so just remember that Zilla's only had a few days and there's no way he's gonna heal in those three days.”

The friends sat quietly for a few minutes eating their food.

“That boy loves you to death, you don't need to worry. He left because he felt like that was the safest thing for him and your relationship. He didn't want to misdirect his anger at you. Okay?”

“What if he can't get over it, Toni? What if it's never the same again?”

“Hey, no … we're not doing that. Breathe,” Toni paused to take a few deep breaths with her, “You and Zilla are gonna be fine. Okay? Your mom will not win. You and him got this.”

Moriah nodded solemnly. “Okay, T. I just … I miss him.”

“I'm sure he misses you too. Sometimes space isn't a bad thing.”

“He hates space,” she chuckled softly, “He tells everybody the same thing. If he could live in my skin, he would. He loves being up under me all the time.”

“Trust me, I can tell with how much he interrupts my ED,” she joked. “Speaking of the ED, I'm tired of not having you there so I'm working on getting you back. That replacement of yours is working my nerves.”

“And Thomas is getting on mine,” Moriah added. “I used to wanna be in pediatrics but he's ruined it for me. I swear if I have to work with him any longer he's gonna need a colon repair surgery.”

They laughed loudly.

“I'm sure Bronco and Zilla would more than agree with you. But I'm working on it, I need my girl back in the ED with me.”

Constant buzzing during their workout was starting to annoy Bronco. He knew Zilla was tuning it out and he was trying to as well but he couldn't take it. Setting his weights down, he went over to the treadmill Zilla ran on and turned it off earning a confused glare from his friend.

“What's up? What you doin?”

“Your phone, man. Either answer it or put it on silent.”

Zilla glanced over at it, seeing it light up and vibrate again. “Nah, I'm good. It'll be aight.”

“If you not gon answer it, put it on silent for the sake of the rest of us in here.”

He shook his head as he wiped his sweat with his towel. “Can't. Just in case.”

Bronco sucked his teeth and stared at his friend like he had the heads. “What? Just in case? Just in case what? Cause I know not an emergency with the way they blowing you up, Zilla. Or you mean just in case with Rye? Yeah that's what you mean. Right?”

Zilla didn't answer but he didn't need to. Bronco knew him well enough to know that's what he meant.

“Look I get it, you're upset and you got every right to be but you shutting out the wrong people. And if you really cared about Rye being okay, you would've at least texted her to check on her.”

“She straight, man.”

“How you know? I mean I know she straight cause I check on her but how would you? The crazy shit is, you not even mad at her, bruh. I get you don't wanna take some shit out on her that ain't her fault,” he fussed, hitting his hands for emphasis, “But communicate that shit with her. You left y'all spot three days ago and ain't said shit to her. You think that shit sound right?”

Zilla rubbed his hands over his face. He knew his friend was right but he was scared to talk to Moriah. After he yelled at her when they last spoke, he didn't want to do that again and hurt her.

“And moms been calling you and she damn sure ain't do shit wrong but try and protect you, Rye, and Angel. But here you are not answering and stressing her the fuck out. She did the best she could, bruh. You putting a wall up with the wrong people, Isayah. You my boy and I love you but you doing the wrong shit.”

With a shake of his head, Bronco turned away from his friend and went back to the weight bench. Zilla too wanted to go back to working out but the lashing Bronco had just given him writhed heavily on him. Nothing that was said was wrong but he still didn't know what to do. Grabbing his phone and his towel, Zilla left the gym area and went to sit outside the Performance Center to get some air. He fiddled around with his phone trying to decide if he was going to respond to any of his notifications.

Zilla

1:45pm

I love u, Fat

Moriah

1:46pm

I love you more, Zay.

Not able to decide what else he wanted to say to his girlfriend, he exited their thread and called his mother. She answered on the second ring.

“Isayah, I've been worried about you and Rye.”

“My bad. Been busy,” he murmured, holding the phone to his ear. “We straight.”

“Yeah she texted and told me she's been working doubles. You don't sound like yourself, I need to see your face. Facetime me.”

He forced out a chuckle to throw her off. “Zilla aight, Mama. I'm at the PC supposed to be in class but wanted to check in with you.”

“Okay but I still wanna see your face so facetime me tonight.”

“Aight, Mama.”

“I mean it, Isayah. Don't make be come to Florida.”

He chuckled forreal this time. “Zilla got you, Mama. I promise. Zilla love you.”

“Uhuh,” she chuckled, “I love you too.”

He hung up with her then sent his brothers a message in their group chat and a picture of him. Proof of life so they would leave him alone for the moment.

“You're a mama's boy, huh?”

His eyes snapped up from his phone to the woman talking to him then back to his phone.

“Yeah, you can say that.”

“That's cute,” she smiled, sticking out her hand, “I'm Gia. Nice to meet you.”

Zilla stared at her for a second then shook her hand, briefly. “Zilla.”

“Oh I know who you are,” she laughed a bit, “Since I got hired, you're all anyone talks about. I'm one of the new backstage analysts.”

“That's cool, congrats.”

“Thank you,” she smiled watching him get up from the ground, “I think you're gonna be my first interview on Tuesday and I was little nervous.”

He started to squint at her but remembered he was at work and she was probably more than a little nervous.

“Why?”

“You know you hear things about asshole wrestlers and stuff so just a lil weary but thankfully,” she paused to put a hand on his arm, “You don't seem like one of them.”

Although her touching him felt strange, he let her keep it there for a moment until she got the hint. When she moved her hand, he took a step back from her.

“No, I'm not. It'll be cool.”

“Good to know. So what do y'all do around here for fun? I literally just moved here last week and know nothing about this area.”

“Wouldn't know. I don't go out much.”

Her smile widened and her hand found its way back to his arm. “Well how about we go find out together?

Gently, he moved her hand off of him and gave her a small smile. “Ima have to decline, Gia. I'm good plus I don't think my lady would like that.”

“You girlfriend don't let you have friends, Zilla? We're co-workers, it's fine.”

He tilted his head to stare at her briefly. The door to the center opened revealing Bronco.

“Aye, Book wanna talk to us, Zilla. Let's go.”

Thankful for the intrusion, Zilla nodded at Gia then jogged to the door letting it close behind him. Bronco stared at him.

“What the hell was that? Why she kept touching you and shit?”

“I thought she caught the hint the first time she did that shit but she didn't,” Zilla explained, “But she didn't. And she asked me out I think.”

Bronco squinted. “And you told her about sis.”

“Man,” Zilla sucked his teeth, “Of course I did but then she hit me with that ya girl don't let you have friends and then you saved me.”

“Sis let you have friends but not her ass.”

“Right. Fat will take my head off and hers. Ion play them kinda games with my life.”

Bronco nodded slapping hands with him. “As long as you know it. Watch that girl though.”

“Gotchu. Ain't nothin to worry about though.”

#aao #zilla & Moriah #zilla fatu #the samoan dynasty #the bloodline

69 notes · View notes

piratefishmama · 1 year

Note

OK, au where Eddie survived,

Its 1990, Steve hears this song and decides to drunkenly serenade Eddie with it

https://youtu.be/wv-34w8kGPM

Steve had had maybe… four beers, maximum, maybe one little fruity cocktail, and a shot of something that tasted like apple but that was it.

He wasnt even thirty yet and already his alcohol tolerance had gone to shit.

It was new year’s though! They’d hit the big Nine-O! The kids were allowed to be there, to celebrate with them as adults! They’d made it to ADULTHOOD, They’d, against literally all odds, survived the eighties and all the horrors that came with them.He was allowed to get a little white girl wasted in his and Robin’s apartment.

He was allowed to be free and silly in his own space surrounded by only his people.

No strangers to be seen in that apartment. Sure there were a few friends of the family, but he knew them, he knew them well enough that they knew him. The new and improved him, not the douchey high school him they once sort of knew. There were no strangers.

The music was loud, the track list riddled with cheesy pop, glam metal, rock, one or two reasonable metal tracks that the CC boys wouldn’t ridicule because Steve had been adamant that he wanted them (Eddie) to enjoy themselves, a few Madonna tracks, Queen, Bowie, plus, Dustin had brought a karaoke machine, in the hopes that Jonathan would capture something stupid on the fancy video camera Hopper got him for Christmas.

Wasted Steve was happy to accommodate as the something stupid.

Happy to be the first person brave enough, or drunk enough, to turn that silly little machine on because he was the only one just drunk enough to not care about embarrassing himself for fun. He was happy to peruse the list of songs Suzie had managed to acquire for it like a wine list at a fine restaurant, feeling excited eyes drawn to him. It was happening. Someone was going for the Karaoke.

Who better than Steve.

Who better than the King?

Who could switch from kegs to karaoke so seamlessly that it felt effortless, Steve. That’s who.

They had a projector screen for the words, but Steve didn’t need them, he’d been humming that damn song under his breath for weeks, having heard it on the radio driving to work. He related to it is all. Having a stupid crush that wouldn’t go away on someone who clearly didn’t seem to feel the same, but he couldn’t get over it.

He didn’t want anyone else.

Who else could say they’d understand the trauma they’d been through? Who else could be woken up in the middle of the night by screaming nightmares and just get it without having to ask? Who could he even talk to without breaking several NDA’s?

That issue alone had lost him a few partners since ’86. Who wanted to be with someone who couldn’t tell them the truth?

He hadn’t gone through a whole goddamn bisexual crisis in ’88 when he REALISED his crush was an actual sexual sort of crush and not a ‘he’s just pretty Robin, it doesn’t have to mean anything!’ appreciation of another man’s ridiculously pretty face. Honestly what the fuck was up with his big doe eyes, his laugh, those lips, he made facial scars look so damn good, and—

The music was starting, he found Eddie’s eyes from across the room and locked on them, laser focus, go big or go broke! Worst case scenario Eddie punched him, he could probably take Eddie in a fight.

Maybe. Eddie was scrappy. But Steve had back up. At least a fight would probably shut his crush up.

“I love myself, I want you to love me When I'm feelin' down, I want you above me—” Jonathan’s camera was ON him.The kids mortified, like they were watching a train wreck in motion, unable to look away. Eddie was just staring at him, wide eyed and flush cheeked. Or was that his usual big ol doe eyed stare and the alcohol hitting his cheeks? Steve was too drunk to know for sure, but he felt seen. He felt warm, full of liquid courage!

“I search myself, I want you to find me I forget myself, I want you to remind me” Eddie wasn’t moving, so Steve, in his infinite white girl wasted wisdom, decided to take a step from centre stage, to cross that distance and hope those pesky bandmates of Eddie’s didn’t get in the way. They didn’t. they moved out of the way actually. Leaving Eddie to gaze up at him from his seat while onlookers stared in amazement.

And maybe a little horror on the kids part, Dustin especially.

Those were his dads. His male role models. His big brothers. His dudes.

One of which was damn near sensually lowering his pretty self down into the other man’s lap, straddling it as if they were the only two people in the room. They were not. Steve didn’t care. “I don't want anybody else, When I think about you, I touch myse—”

“Alrighty that’s enough of that!” And the music was gone. Leaving Steve to awkwardly look over his shoulder at the culprit who’d turned off his thing. Eddie’s hand had landed on his hip to steady him, which was nice. Warm. Big. Grounding. He liked it.

Didn’t mean he was gonna focus on that instead of the culprit. “Dustin you shit! That was my big MOMENT!”

“That was horrifying beyond anything I’ve ever seen in my life, and I’ve seen. Some. Shit. No dry humping our DM at the GROUP New Year’s party! Do that in your own private time! In your own room!” At least he wasn’t saying not to do it. just. Not in public. Got it.

“Boy you have no idea what dry humping is, you’re like twelve.”

“I do TOO!”

“Do not!”

“Do too!!”

Robin chose that moment to turn the normal music back on to drown their bickering out so the party could continue around them. It did. There were no strangers at that party. No matter how surprising Steve Harrington serenading Eddie Munson with a sexy song was, there were no strangers at that party. They were family.

Even the other Corroded Coffin boys were family by association. Nobody would start shit in that apartment.

They’d be outnumbered.

That hand was still on his hip. Squeezing to get his attention back from where Dustin had managed to claim it. Whatever words he’d been yelling in a failed attempt to get over the music dying in his throat when he looked down at the man he was still straddling. He knew that look. Recognised it from days long since passed. Want.

Desire, lust, need, Steve swallowed his own saliva, then licked his lips to dampen the drying skin.

“You touch yourself a lot, Harrington?”

“Mmnhm, I’ve been needing a hand with it actually, you offering, Munson?”

“Bedroom, now.”

Nothing quite like bringing in the new year with one hell of a bang.

#steddie #pirateanswers #piratewrites #the shitpost is strong with this one #THANKS FOR THE ASK THOUGH!

200 notes · View notes

shy-urban-hobbit · 4 months

Text

Not long after he and Lambert start working together, Aiden stuffers from the effects of his mutagens.

C/W slight ableism from Lambert and suicide mention.

Damn those fucking experiments. Aiden was perfectly willing to sell his soul to the highest bidder here and now if it meant he could just sleep. Something which had eluded him since that day they'd injected him and his class with some untested mutagen bastardisation all those decades ago. He supposed he should count himself lucky really - at least he was able to rest in a fashion. Meditation could only do so much though and he knew of at least two others who had ended it themselves before they'd even left the caravan, the exhaustion finally driving them to madness and another who'd wandered straight into the open jaws of a wyvern their first year on The Path, thinking it was just another hallucination (so the rumours said. Aiden had a feeling that one may not have been completely accidental either).

He could feel the signs creeping up on him. The bone deep exhaustion, the black spots creeping into his vision with increasing regularity. He wondered how much longer he could keep it from Lambert. It hadn't reached the point where he was a danger to himself - not yet - and he'd learned the prickly Wolf wasn't overly chatty anyway (at least, not with him) so any extended silences between them were probably counted as a blessing. It had taken so long for him to convince Lambert it may be mutually beneficial for them to work together (he'd been right) and now that tentative arrangement was perilously close to going tits up. Maybe they'd get lucky and hit a lull between jobs and travelling soon.

No such luck. Aiden felt himself stumble again as the griffin descended, barely keeping his footing this time. It's tail grazing the top of his head.

"What the hell was that, Cat? A fucking trainee could have made that shot." Lambert yelled as he fired another sign at its retreating form.

Lambert's voice sounded far away

"hey! Answer me!"

The world tilted and went black before Aiden could even open his mouth.

Aiden opened his eyes and found himself staring at the wooden beams of a ceiling rather than the sky. Lambert must have got him back to their shared room. He groaned a little as he turned his head to look around. The sound and movement alerted the other witcher, who was reclining on the other bed flipping through a thin volume Aiden couldn't see the title of.

"How long have I been out?"

The sun was still up. If he was lucky it had only been a couple of hours.

"Just over a day." Lambert replied, putting the book to one side and planting both feet on the ground. Aiden felt his stomach lurch. Shit.

"Healer said the only thing wrong with you was that you'd dropped from exhaustion. Funny that, considering I feel absolutely fine and dandy."

That's probably because you've been able to actually sleep."

"So what, the delicate little pussy cat has a couple of bad nights and goes to pot? Fuck me."

Aiden scowled, rubbing a hand over his face, "It's more complicated than that."

"Wait don't tell me. The ground's been too hard, that rabbit the other night gave you a funny tummy-"

"Oh, either let me explain or fuck off!" Aiden snapped.

The Wolf inclined his head, his expression telling Aiden that his explanation better be a good one.

"It's my mutagens, alright? Cats are a little more...liberal with the mixing process. They'd been working on a batch which was supposed to reduce the amount of sleep we need and thought my class were the ideal candidates when the trials came. Nine of us in all, three of us left last I heard."

Aiden gave a wry smile he didn't feel, "You can guess it didn't work quite how they expected."

Lambert's expression was one of calculating sympathy, "So, you don't need to sleep?"

"Oh I need to. I just can't." Aiden stressed, "What you saw today was me at my limit. Past it actually. My mind will just push my body over and over and over until." He clicked his fingers, "The longest I've been out before now is four days."

"So what? You talked me into working with you so you'd have a minder? If you're stupid enough to go into a fight when you can barely stand you shouldn't be on The Path."

Aiden gave a growl which would have made a werewolf proud, "You condescending prick! Shockingly, I was managing just fine before I met you. I suggested working together for the exact reasons I gave, and have I ever made a mistake before today?!" Aiden flopped back down onto his back, suddenly exhausted again, "I usually do manage it better. People having to drag me away from a job because I passed out isn't a regular occurrence."

"So what was different this time?"

Aiden raised an eyebrow, "Are you saying you would've taken me seriously if I said I needed to stop because I was tired?"

The silence from the other was answer enough.

Aiden turned to face the wall, his back to Lambert, "If you want to split ways, I get it. But don't ever imply that I'm a liability again when I've survived just as long as you."

Minutes passed and Aiden fought the urge to look over when he heard no sound or movement from the other occupant.

"How long?" A quiet voice asked.

"Hmm?"

"Before you...need to rest, how long is it usually?"

Aiden thought for a minute, "Usually about a month with meditation."

"Alright. So a month from now we hunker down for a couple of days. If we're low on coin, I can still go out on a couple of quick jobs while you sleep."

"If you're doing this out of pity-"

Lambert snorted, "I'm doing this because usually my brother's are the only ones to call me on it when I'm being an ass. You were right. It took until you were beyond your limit for me to realise something was wrong in the first place. And it's sort of nice only having to put half the effort in on jobs every now and then."

Aiden gave a small laugh at that, "And you said I was lying about the benefits. Hey Lambert." Aiden turned to look at the other, "Thanks. For not leaving me behind."

Lambert grumbled something that might have been "Don't mention it." Before turning his attention back to his book as Aiden let sleep pull him back under.

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #lambert/aiden #lambert x aiden #aiden x lambert #aiden/lambert #lambden #witcher aiden #lambert #witcher lambert

31 notes · View notes

deandoesthingstome · 1 year

Text

Walk with Me - Ch 1

Pairing: FBI Agent!Syverson x OFC, Drug Czar!August Walker x OFC

Chapter Summary: The stakeout, some revelations, a takedown of sorts. We're just meeting everyone here, folks.

Chapter Warnings: Drug use, mention of drug trafficking, mention of blow jobs, light dom/sub behavior, past relationship pining, cheating (-ish?)

Word Count: 3.1K

Masterlist: For full series Summary and Warnings

Spotify Playlist: Usually a song per POV section

Syverson

"He's on the move."

Agent Syverson watched all nine monitors with an intensity felt throughout the surveillance trailer. He had two agents inside the posh Miami nightclub wearing cameras and his tech had hacked into the security feed for views of the bar, near the DJ, and over the entrance to VIP. Through an earpiece, he advised Agent Ramos to shift right while he motioned for Agent Baylen to swap camera views on the top three monitors. Something had caught Syverson's attention and he wanted confirmation before deciding the next moves for his team.

When Ramos had panned far enough onto the dance floor, Syverson called for her to stop and had Baylen zoom in on the screen. Coupled with the cameras from the DJ booth, Syverson had what he needed.

He watched her body move with what seemed like reckless abandon, but if this was who he thought it was, those moves were anything but careless. There was a point and purpose to every swing and wave, every roll of her hips, every toss of her head.

"Sugar?" Syverson wasn't sure how the word slipped out because he was positive he only whispered it to himself in his head. But suddenly, eyes were on him and he felt his ire growing. He did not need this attention or the distraction.

"What was that, sir?" Agent Moore asked.

Did he ignore it? Wave it off? Pretend it never happened? If only one other person had heard it, maybe he could get away with it. But as it stood, all three agents in the trailer were looking at him expectantly.

"Could I get some damn sugar for my damn coffee?" he barked, a little harsher than even he meant it to come out.

"I thought you took your coffee black, sir," Moore spoke.

"Well not tonight, I guess." His stare shut them the rest of the way up and everyone put their focus back on the task at hand, which was all he wanted in the first place.

Now he could watch her in peace.

Her moves told him she was hunting and the poor sap desperate enough to stand next to her was going down. He knew exactly how it would feel, too, because he remembered those nights with her like it was yesterday.

Even so young he had fallen fast and hard. Maybe he was mistaken, but she acted like she couldn’t be without him, too. So he spent any free time he could find between farm chores, football practice, and family responsibilities to hold her close and kiss her as deep as he knew how at the time.

She seduced him right away, but prom was something special and he thought for sure she was the one forever. He never got the chance to tell her how he felt, however, because it had taken him the rest of senior year to figure it out and by then, she was gone, moved away with her family to take care of an ailing relative far enough away that long distance felt like never again.

He called, she wrote, they managed one clandestine meet up on borrowed funds, and then it was his turn to disappear when he enlisted, not knowing what else he wanted to do with his life when sports didn't pan out and farm life lost its appeal.

But he never stopped thinking about her and the way she moved. On the dance floor and later that night in the cool sheets of the bed at the hotel room he sprang for. And now here she was, all these years later, like a cold splash of water to his face.

"Sir?" he heard like a faraway dream in his ear. "Do you want us to take him?"

Suddenly, she wasn't alone. Sure the dance floor was crowded, but until that moment she hadn't been dancing with anyone in particular. When his real mark for the night stepped into view, Agent Syverson almost broke the back of the chair he was leaning on.

August Walker, one of Miami's most notorious drug kingpins, was standing in front of his high school sweetheart and watching her with as much intensity as Syverson was. Only, August Walker could reach out and touch her if he wanted to.

Syverson watched as she danced around Walker, who simply stood stock still on the floor, not giving one single fuck if he was interrupting anyone's flow. And when Walker grasped her arm the next time she moved in front of him, Syverson almost broke.

"Anyone know who this is?"

"It's in the file, sir. This is Francesca Beaumont. We think she's his newest mule."

His throat went dry as Agent Moore finished her statement and he couldn't scramble for the file folder on the table in front of him fast enough. Sure enough, there in the report were the name and the details in black and white. Her photo was stuck behind those of a few other known mules and he cursed himself for missing it. That's not the way he liked to start off when taking the lead on a long running case.

And no wonder the name didn't stick out for him. In school, she went by Frankie. And her last name was Malloy. Had she married somewhere over the years, he wondered to himself.

Fuck.

"Stand down. I know we want this guy, but have any of you actually seen him do anything illegal tonight? Some rule out there about not dancing on a dance floor?"

He watched as cameras panned to follow August Walker who was now leading his Frankie away from the flashing lights of the DJ booth and up the stairs to his secured VIP lounge.

"Someone get me everything we have on her."

August

Francesca wasn’t supposed to be in the club tonight, August knew that for sure. He’d been very clear with her.

In the weeks since he’d activated her, she’d usually taken his direction so well. If she stepped out of line unknowingly, she was always willing to take a note and do whatever he asked of her to change her behavior. She was so pliant. Just like he liked them.

Her first test trip was to Amsterdam. She didn’t question it when he told her had to fly out early, but he’d meet her there. The morning of her flight, he had called to let her know his assistant was dropping off an extra suitcase he needed her to bring. And when she arrived, she didn’t even bat an eye when she discovered he had already left.

At least he assumed she didn’t mind because he didn’t get a scathing voicemail or fuck-off text message and she had apparently followed the directions on the letter left in her suite to a tee. The bag was delivered without a hitch exactly where he’d asked her to drop it and as far as he knew, she’d enjoyed the rest of her weekend, albeit alone. She’d just been so excited to experience a new city, she told him when she got back and he visited her apartment in the very late evening hours, slinking in by the alley entrance and slipping his key in the lock.

That had actually been his first request of her. A key to her apartment, so he could come and go as he pleased. After the few dates he’d taken her on, treating her to lavish meals and luxury car rides, she hadn’t resisted at all. What would he possibly care to take from her place, not the lowliest of studio apartments, but certainly nothing he would normally let himself be caught dead in.

She was something else, though. She had a presence that did not fit her surroundings. She didn’t have the kind of money he did, hell she didn’t even have the kind of money some of his lower employees did, hence her meager living situation. But she glowed with the grace of a celebrity. Someone who deserved so much more than the hand he thought she’d been dealt. If she kept up the good work, he’d reward her. Bring her along in a more official capacity. Give her a larger stipend, move her into a place he wouldn’t mind being seen in. Maybe even replace one of his current regulars with her.

Yeah, he really wanted to replace one of his current regulars with her. If he let himself think too long about it, maybe all of them.

As it stood now, she was on probation with him, whether she knew it or not. The Tokyo trip had also been a success, but she almost blew it for him when she started asking Hideo too many questions over cocktails. Later in the hotel room, he made sure to remind her who was in charge and when she was allowed to speak. She had liked that, too, he could tell.

So her showing up like this just before their trip to Spain in a few days was a surprise. When he caught sight of her, he had Mateo drive Candace home. Candace wouldn’t have known Francesca from a hole in the wall, but since he was going to put his newest carrier in her place once again, he couldn’t have Candace watching.

Once he was sure they were gone, he rose from the plush velvet couch of the roped off VIP lounge area, taking note that the new guy, Will, had stepped into Mateo’s spot without hesitation. It pleased August to know that his employees knew exactly what he wanted and needed, and when.

Usually.

August headed down the steps leading to the dance floor. The music was loud, bordering on obnoxious for him but this is what the club scene called for and here is where he did most of his original business which had led fortuitously to his new business. So he ignored the cacophony and stalked across the floor, not so much pushing the revelers out of his way as willing them to step aside.

When he reached Francesca, he stood still in front of her and let her keep moving in that way that left him no choice but to stiffen. She smirked like she’d won some unspoken competition and twirled again, bouncing to the beat and stepping around him. He didn’t look back, just waited for her to return, because he knew she wasn’t dancing away from him. Not after breaking rank and showing up uninvited like this.

When she finally did appear in front of him again, he grabbed her arm and pulled her quickly into his chest so he could speak directly into her ear. There was no way he was going to shout over the music at her.

“What exactly are you doing here, pet? Get a little lonely?” He pulled back to stare down into her face, pleased to find a small hint of terror. If he couldn’t will his women into submission, what good were they?

He bent again, “Do you want to walk with me somewhere private where you can tell me what this is all about?”

She nodded and he turned to leave the throng, still gripping her arm tightly.

Francesca

I wanted to make sure he hadn't forgotten about me. I knew it was risky, showing up when I'd been specifically warned to stay away until our upcoming trip. But on top of my worry about that trip, I missed him. As much as I hated to admit it.

He awoke such a fire in me. Feelings that had been missing for so long. Lovers had come and gone. But no one ever measured up to my first young lustful love. Not until August.

He made me crazy. Made me second guess everything I knew about myself.

The first night we were together, I was on my hands and knees in front of him faster than I ever thought possible. Most men were careful with me. Handled me with kid gloves, like I would break if the wind blew wrong.

But not August. He'd approached me at this very club, in much the same way he did tonight. Walked straight up to me and waited for an opportunity to speak to me when he was ready, whether I was or not.

I probably would have come right there on the dance floor if he had touched me that night, but he didn't. Not immediately. He just watched me. I could feel his lustful gaze as I circled him on the floor, and I made sure to turn back to him over and over again. Every time I turned away, I'd remember the look I saw in his eyes, and I'd spin right back to him.

He knew, too. Knew the way the hunger in his eyes was affecting me, no matter how hard I tried to resist. I didn't want him thinking he had the kind of control over me I imagined giving him, even from that very first night.

When I finally let myself dance for him and him alone, I saw the self-assured smirk of a man who knew who his conquest was for the night and I closed my eyes like that would keep him from knowing every thought that crept in.

I wanted him, and he was going to have me.

He didn't even touch me as he led me off the dance floor that first night. I followed him gladly, excitement buzzing through me, electrifying my core. He only turned back once to make sure I was following him to his personal lounge on the upper level of the club.

I didn't care if every person in that club knew I was about to get fucked by August Walker.

I was proud of it. There were plenty of girls vying for his attention that night, and I needed to make sure I was who he wanted. But no matter how much I wanted him to take me then and there, he kept me on a hook.

Oh, I tasted him that night for sure. Felt his lips against mine and his tongue as it slipped inside my mouth after he showed me the tip. He was gentleman enough to get permission before he put the ecstasy tab in, so I can't even claim coercion of any sort. I can't claim disappointment either, though I thought he'd let me feel his cock in my pussy that night.

Instead, he kissed me until my head spun, and then he watched me drop to my knees before him. I could see from the bulge in his pants, he was hard, and because I still had yet to figure out the game he was playing that night, I thought pulling his zipper down and releasing his engorged cock was just a preamble to the main event.

But for that night, August only wanted to fuck my mouth and I let him.

The filthy words he called down to me while I slathered my saliva all over his dick only made me wetter, and my mouth watered for him, too. He knew the effect he was having on me, coupled with the drug that coursed through my veins, and I loved every second of it. How could I not?

I worshiped his cock for what felt like hours. Licking up and down his shaft, circling my mouth around his head, stroking his base with my hand and jerking him off into my mouth.

Every time he wove his fingers into my hair, I willed him to pull, begged him through the tears in my eyes to hold me fast and move my head however he wanted to. I almost cried when he let go, but as soon as he was done spooning the coke into each of his nostrils from the tiny vial on the chain around his neck, he put both of his hands right back on my head and pumped his cock deep down my throat, coming with a roar that told me I'd satisfied something he'd been missing for a while. I smiled internally with that knowledge.

The next few weeks had been a whirlwind of seduction, and I was having a hard time differentiating just who was doing the seducing. When he invited me to Amsterdam, I was so excited. I imagined what fucking him in a foreign country would feel like.

But it was like he knew just how to keep me hanging on, giving me just enough of a taste of him before the trip to keep me wanting more. He completely avoided me for the entire trip. Sent word the day before our scheduled departure that he had to leave early and then put me in charge of that extra suitcase. When I arrived, our hotel suite was empty, with not one piece of his belongings left behind for me to hold on to. I never even saw him there. To say I was disappointed would be an understatement.

I kept my wits about me, though. Kept my disappointment to myself. I wasn't about to let him know how much I had ached for him for those days I was alone. And I'd been away from him often enough here in the States. But there was something about missing the opportunity to have his cock deep inside me while watching the light of a sunset in a different sky that had me questioning just how deep I was with this man.

I made sure to keep him close in Tokyo. And there was no way I was giving up an opportunity to fuck August in Japan. I may have offended his business partner, but I really didn't care. I wanted that dinner meeting over and done so I could pour myself over him and take his mind off the women who were serving us.

I knew Hideo had chosen those girls for particular reasons, and I wasn't about to sit idly by and let them whisper and giggle and tease and taunt his attention away from me. They weren't the kind of woman August truly desired anyway; they were mousy and timid, even with their advances.

I knew he was angry with the way I comported myself in front of his associates, but it didn't stop him from letting us both work out our frustrations on one another for the rest of the trip.

So when he told me to stay away for a few days this time, I knew something was up and I was right. I knew her name was Candace, but I still didn't know much about her other than I was worried he was about to hand my seat to Spain over to her, and I couldn't let that happen.

Taglists

And so here I was, being led by a firm grip on a walk to his private office. Exactly where I wanted to be.

Chapter 2

Everything Henry: @sillyrabbit81 @kittenofdoomage @mayloma @kebabgirl67 @fvckinghenrycavill @geralts-yenn @raccoon-eyed-rebel @beck07990 @itsrubberbisquit @feelmyroarrrr @sweetdreamsofgelato @liveoncoffeeandflowersss @dedicated-to-a-brit-and-a-scot @alexakeyloveloki @marantha @aireraume @angelmather1 @enchantedbytomandhenry @omgkatinka @littlefreya @avengersfan25 @lizzystuffsthings

Walk with Me only (I added you if you reblogged or asked and Tumblr would let me): @kingliam2019 @valacircareads @sofiebstar @cardierreh15 @cavilllover @firstcashheroathlete @ylva-syverson

Missing Tags: If you asked and you aren't here, believe me when I say I tried. I still don't know how to fix it when Dumblr won't let me tag someone. You can always turn on notifications or follow #walk with me.

#henry cavill #fbi agent!syverson x ofc #drug czar!august walker x ofc #syverson #syverson au #august walker #august walker au #syverson fanfiction #august walker fanfiction #captain syverson #walk with me #mine #deandoesthingstome

190 notes · View notes

positivelyruined · 4 months

Text

and I don’t give a damn about your tattoos

‘cause my heart is yours

so don’t you worry your pretty little mind

people throw rocks at things that shine

life makes love look hard

the stakes are high, the water’s rough,

but this love is ours

Yours. Yours. Yours.

His words resounded in Feyre’s ears, reflecting off the forgotten memories within her mind.

Safe. She was safe with her High Lord. Finally, she knew that she could rest in the arms of someone who cared. Care was a different kind of love. It was not passionate, or soul possessing — but the quiet strength that Tamlin carried was a bandage to her fraying heart.

Yet, Feyre could not rest. Before she’d even settled in his arms, intense pain shot through her core. It felt like she was ripping in two. She let out a strangled cry, clinging to his very bones as he carried her up three flights of stairs and into a tattered, but clean bedroom.

Her vision blurred.

“Wrong…” She murmured, hiding her face in his chest. “Something — wrong.”

Her skin returned to its clammy, cold state. Why am I so hot? Why is it all…so cold.

“ALIS!” Tamlin’s voice boomed around the walls of the manor, even as he knelt by the bed, protectively covering her body with his own. He conjured up a long, soft cotton gown and carefully pulled it over her head.

She was in critical condition — heavily with child and in the process of laboring. One of the last serious conversations that he remembered having with his mate was over her fear of childbirth. They’d been taking serious precautions. Clearly. Not everyone cared to do the same.

Rhysand. Tamlin felt anger pool in his fingertips. He forced himself to be gentle, resting a hand on her tense abdomen. She was right — something was wrong. Feyre was not Illyrian. Yet, he was eighty-nine percent certain that the baby she carried within her had some form of wings. Her body was not equipped to handle this task.

I have to shift them. He was grasping at straws trying to comprehend what was happening. There wasn’t much time. If it had taken her four years to break her bond with Rhysand, he did not have long before the dark daemanti showed up at his doorstep.

Tamlin pressed both of his hands against her stomach.

“This is going to hurt.” He whispered. “But then it will get so much better.”

Feyre was sweating and tears poured down her face. She was in no state to speak. Especially, as another contraction began and her stomach twisted. It felt like something was tearing its way out of her.

“T—T—Tamlin.” She stuttered. “What is happening to me?”

“You’re in labor.” He said calmly. “Try to breathe.”

“Labor?” Feyre was not in the present. She was lost. The last thing she remembered was their wedding day. “Tam — we promised. We promised.”

Her face contorted in pain.

“I know.” Tamlin smoothed her sweaty hair away from her face. “I’m so sorry.”

He knew Rhysand would never apologize. She deserved one.

“We…” She gazed up at him, her eyes swimming. “We’re having a baby?”

A part of Tamlin’s shattered heart pierced his mind. This should be their baby. If things could’ve gone differently, it would be. Could’ve been ours. Should’ve been ours.

Ours.

Accepting offspring whom your mate bore with another was no easy task — it went against the very nature of the bond; but Tamlin had fought enough for the bond. He wasn’t going to start living by its rules today.

He concentrated, carefully smoothing his hands across her and mitigating the damage with a soft shift of the little Illyrian inside. Almost instantly, both mother and child relaxed, falling back into a daze, against the pillows.

Alis came scurrying in the doorway, breathless. “Good gracious, Sire. It took me seven tries to find you. This house has too much space for —“

She stopped, staring at the bed. “Lady Feyre? Did you — Tamlin? What is this?”

“She winnowed here.” He whispered. “The last place she remembered safety.”

“And she’s —“

“Yes, yes —“ He began pacing the room. “I cannot take back time. Despite that she does not appear to remember.”

“This is…his child?” Alis knew better than to say Rhysand’s name.

Tamlin shook his head. “She is my mate...”

What did that mean for their future?

“He’ll come after her.” Alis shuddered. “That man always was relentless.”

“Not this time.” Tamlin pressed his lips into a firm line. “Watch her, please; I need to put up wards.”

With a flick of his hand, he disappeared, warding the bedroom with anti-winnowing spells. The rest of the manor…the rest of Spring…if he did not protect it now, everything would slip from hands and into the darkness — again.

He wasn’t going down without a fight.

Feyre awoke to a deep seated ache in her back. She blinked, heavily — trying to remember where she was now. Memories of her wedding day flitted to the forefront of her mind. She yawned, expecting to see a horrifically puffy dress awaiting her, hanging from the wardrobe.

There was nothing and no one. The room was dusty and silent.

I have clothes. A strange relief flooded her as she saw regular cotton garments stretched across her skin. I…I am with child. How?

I must be dreaming.

We swore —

Feyre sucked air in, quickly, as the contractions began again. I am in labor.

Tam. Tam. Tamlin. Her brain repeated his name, urging her towards the only person who could make sense of this mess. TAMLIN.

Tamlin was in tune to Feyre’s daemanti calls. He heard his name and instantly winnowed back to her side, only to be slammed away by the barrier of his own creation.

The High Lord unlocked the door the human way, closing it behind him with the a rapid firing of protective spells. No one was getting in here — not if he had any say in the matter. “Feyre?”

She was lying in the same place, grasping at the bedsheets, as pain gripped her body. “Tam…Tam — what’s going on?”

It was like a broken record. Tamlin took a seat on the edge of the bed and took her hand.

She strangled his fingers.

Damn. He winced, sending a pulse of pain relief in her direction. “You’re struggling to remember. It’s not our wedding day, Fey. But it is your son’s birthday.”

“Mine?” Feyre whispered, looking lost.

“Our son.” Tamlin swallowed, correcting himself, and carefully placing his pain on a high shelf to be dealt with later. Right now, he had to focus on her. “Our son. You can’t fight this anymore.”

Feyre met his eyes, broken trust burned between them, but she slowly nodded. “Don’t leave.”

“I’m right here.” Tamlin brought her hand to his lips. “I’m right here and I swear that I will never let anyone touch you again.”

Closer together contractions pulled her attention away from him, as Alis hovered nearby monitoring every moment.

“Push, Feyre.” The old faerie urged.

She did and she screamed — the broken, terrible sound of a cracked soul slowly merged with the innocent cry of new life.

A baby boy — Tamlin felt his heart drop into his stomach. He’d only just shifted him. What would he look like?

Alis placed a healthy baby on his mate’s chest. The small Illyrian was bright pink. Thankdully, gis eyes weren’t purple. They were gray. He looked almost entirely like a mini Feyre. Only, his mother was brunette and his true father was raven haired, so why did this baby have soft…blonde…curls?

“By the cauldron.”

His shifting was just what Feyre needed in order to bond with her child. She looked at Tamlin — and then her son.

I did the right thing. Someday, they would explain. This was never going to be his own child, but he was not about to give up a single moment of being a father.

“His name?” Tamlin whispered, hoarse.

“Nyx.” Feyre mumbled, closing her eyes. “I focused on one star to bring me home to you. My lucky Nyx.”

Nyx. Tamlin crawled up on the bed, sheltering his sudden, found family in his arms. Welcome home.

#pt 3 #will post on Ao3 after editing #pro feylin #feylin #tamlin #pro tamlin #angst and comfort #angst and fluff #angst with a happy ending #pro feyre #pro feyre archeron #Feyre Archeron deserves better #nyx archeron #whump writing #pregnancy whump

27 notes · View notes

thethreeeyed-raven · 1 year

Note

I humbly submit this request, as I was on character ai and started playing with this prompt, but the damn ai is...so bad at story aspects or...boundaries xD.

If you're cool with doing it, could you perhaps do something with morpheus having been trying to follow the advice of his sister death, I randomly pops into the waking world to try and...socialize with humans. Where he knocks into y/n, who profusely apologizes and offers him a cup of coffee.

She leads him to her bakery that she owns and works at. Letting him sit wherever he wants, she grabs him hsi coffee of choice before starting to bake a new treat, not really following a recipe, but the smell attracts the endlesses attention. He requests some treats and y/n offers him to try out these that they're making. And when they're finally done morpheus's face just melts with delight. And every night he keeps coming back enjoying her baking and voice.

ITS COMPLETELY COOL IF YOU DONT WANNA, PLEASE HYDRATE AND REST

the bakery

navigation | warnings : none? | a/n : i did change it a little bit, and i didn’t add the last part, i could make a part 2 for the last bit, pls lmk if that’s something you want, enjoy! | dream of the endless playlist | tags : @knight-of-flowerss , @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom

The dream lord was bored.

He was hardly ever bored, except when he was trapped in that fish bowl for one hundred years...

Once again, Morpheus was sat pondering about what he could do. It was when he remembered his sister, Death's advice.

"So go out there and find a new one."

The 'new one' which she was talking about was a 'game'.

Dream liked to play games. And now it was over, he needed to find a new one.

The time was half past nine at night when you were walking down the street with a mountain of boxes in your arms.

The boxes were far too large for you to see over the top of them.

As you continued your walk, you didn't notice the man that was walking the opposite way in front of you.

It seems neither did he as his gaze was fixed to the floor before there was a loud crash.

You groaned as you looked at all of the spread boxes of pastry samples and then you fixed your attention on the man knelt in front of you.

Forgetting about the boxes, your stare was fixed on the elegant creature in front of you.

It owned soft, pale skin, with eyes that held all of the universes and galaxies within its twinkling irises.

It owned delicate, blood red lips, and dark, midnight black, unkept hair.

The creature was a man, but his aura was other-worldly, as was his graceful beauty.

Finally, you came to your senses, muttering apologies as you scampered to collect the fallen boxes. Morpheus analysed you carefully, you seemed like a normal person, but something about you was pulling him in.

"You needn't apologise." His deep, raspy voice stirred something inside of you.

"I...no, really, I should" You paused, before letting out an awkward laugh. "I should've got someone to help me with these."

The both of you rose to your feet. "Perhaps, I could help you." Dream seemed hesitant, but Death's words kept playing in his head.

"Really? Thank you so much!"

He grabbed the top box that was blocking your vision, and your eyes met.

It felt like the world stopped, and you could finally get a good look at them. As you both gazed, you took notice of the ring of cold blue, and the stars that shined inside.

Morpheus stopped to get another good look at you too. He liked the way you looked at him, like you had never seen something like him before. You probably haven't.

Your eyes widened when you realised you'd been caught. "I-It's this way."

"I'm really sorry for wasting your time..." You looked at him expectantly.

"Morpheus."

Strange, you thought.

"Morpheus." You smiled before feeling around your pockets for your house keys. You grabbed onto them before reaching back into your pocket.

"I have a bakery just down the road, if you'd like to visit one day." You handed him the pale blue card. "I could bake you something, as a thanks for helping me."

The silence was loud as Dream just held the card, looking at it. This kindness was new to him, you were just a stranger.

Why were you being so nice?

"Maybe."

Giving him a small nod, you unlocked the door and went inside, placing the boxes in the hallway. "Thank you again!"

Interesting, thought Morpheus.

97 notes · View notes

legobiwan · 1 month

Text

Now that we know Ford owned Beethoven records, there's a part of me that's imagining Stan on his birthday, getting drunk and skeet-shooting his brother's classical music collection. Every time he picks up a record, he takes a swig of cheap whiskey, reads the title, making certain to insult it before hurling the thing into the sky and blasting it to bits.

"Egmont?" Stan slurs, frowning at the wild-haired, stony countenance glaring at him from the cover. "More like egghead."

With a wild, staggering movement, Stan slings the disc, cover and all, into the starry night. It takes him a few tries, the pop-pop of gunfire piercing the veiled, shadowy horizon of trees teetering dangerously from side to side, like one of those rickety pirate ship rides on the Jersey boardwalk. Stan takes another large swig from the bottle, some cheap shit he liberated from behind the bar of the only watering hole in Gravity Falls, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve as the shotgun in his other hand weaves a shaky figure eight before finding its mark with the satisfying crunch of vinyl.

"FORE!" Stan yells, flinging his arms out to the side with a maniacal cackle. The exaggerated movement overbalances him, Stan wavering on his toes for a suspended moment before crashing to the ground, shotgun and bottle still firm in his grasp, any pain from the sudden impact buried under thick, gauzy layers of fourth-rate booze.

"Ugh, that's gonna leave - it's gonna - " Reality spins on a crooked axis as Stan claws his way to his hands and knees, dirt settling into small crevices under his fingernails, khaki paints splotched in various shades of earth.

Stan lets his head droop, the accumulation of a miserable, muggy summer's eve coalescing like tributaries on tip of his nose, sweat dripping from his face in large globules onto the pile of remaining records. The young, dark-haired Beethoven staring back at him almost looks like he's crying.

"Stupid nerd. Stupid poofy nerd hair. Stupid nerd frown. I bet you wore glasses, too, you arrogant son of a bitch."

The lettering at the top of the record cover is worn, Stan squinting at the dated font superimposed over a dark triangle-shaped hat adorned with three tall feathers.

"Erotica Symphony," Stan incorrectly reads, picking up the record as he struggles to his feet. "That's some real fucking culture, Sixer."

The man on the cover is long dead, his story kept on life support by a small cottage industry of nerds and wealthy elite. This man with the curly brown hair and dour expression who was supposedly a genius but was now nothing more than a distant memory copied onto aging skin and a coded message etched into vinyl grooves.

Twenty-nine years.

Stan gulps down the last of the whiskey with a vicious swallow, hurling the empty bottle towards the Shack where it shatters into a thousand jagged pieces. He stares at scene, effect taking the circuitous route to catch up with cause, Stan swearing under his breath as he realizes he's going to have clean that shit up tomorrow.

"What do you think, Beethoven?" Stan asks the record, exhaustion rushing into the space adrenaline left vacant. "Is it even worth having a tomorrow?"

No answer is forthcoming. Stan takes a few minutes to reload his shotgun, Beethoven's surly countenance his only unwilling conversation partner, the record perched against a tree trunk as if it were a child's doll or a puppet.

"No opinion, then. You just don't care, do you?" Stan swallows over the hard lump in his throat, grip tightening around the shotgun in his hands.

The record has no response.

Stan gives a humorless laugh as he lurches to his feet, taking the record in one hand, holding it up to his face to look it eye-to-eye.

"Well, it's a damn good thing I care enough for the both of us."

With that, Stan launches the record into the air, the summer's midnight symphony a passing, crackling storm of plasticine showers.

#hello there #i was not expecting this to turn into a semi-story #oh well #stanley pines #so...go look up young and old beethoven and you can see why a drunk stan would start talking to him this way #also - it's the eroica symphony and was originally dedicated to napolean #and yes the last sentence is a passing reference to the pastorale #writing #the eternal struggle #now that i know ford was a classical music nerd the IDEAS that i have #ohhhh boi

16 notes · View notes

drunkewok · 1 year

Text

Tiger Inside

Chapter Nine

Stray Kids Mafia (ongoing)

Masterlist

Likes, reblogs and feedback always greatly appreciated

WC: 2.2k

Pairing: Lee Know x reader

Genre: Series, Enemies to lovers, non-idol AU, Mafia AU

Synopsis: After years spent away from the family, two strangers start frequenting your place of work, only to bring daunting news. Flung back into the world of the mafia, you try to adapt to your new normal and work alongside a team of eight skilled members to uncover a mystery and take down an unknown enemy.

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, drinking, swearing, violence, weapons

Disclaimer: Any portrayal of Stray Kids or any other idols in this story is purely fiction and do not at all reflect their own personalities or how I view them as a person, it is purely for the sake of the story.

Please do not copy or repost my work

My legs dangled over the side of the counter, feet swaying as I watched the freckled boy frantically make his way around the kitchen. He was already onto making his second batch of baked goods, a dozen cookies already enveloping the house in a delicious smell as they rose in the oven. Felix closed another cabinet in frustration with a huff, his search for cocoa powder still proving unsuccessful.

Upon my first arrival at the house, Felix was the member that I quickly started spending the most time with. Our movie nights together in the living room providing some source of normalcy in the chaos of each impending day. His company felt like that of an old friend, our conversations flowing so naturally like we had spent countless time by each other’s side over the years.

Since the shipment codes started raising red flags and alarm bells, Felix had spent most of his time locked behind his door, Seungmin occasionally by his side while they attempt to identify what types of chemicals were being carted in and their potential uses. It was just nice to see him out from behind a computer screen, in his element, drowning himself in sugary concoctions. He had already been in the kitchen for quite some time before I had made the decision to join him, and I wasn’t sure if he had plans to stop any time soon.

“I can’t say I’ve ever seen anyone so panicked over brownies before.” Felix let out another flustered huff, eyes meeting mine as his shoulders dropped and his irritated demeanor quickly melted into one of exasperation with a groan.

“I just like to bake when I’m stressed, okay?” He brought his hands to his face, rubbing it in a fruitless attempt to calm himself. I wasn’t sure when the last time the poor boy had gotten a decent night's sleep, his choice to stay in front of a screen littered with 1’s and 0’s clearly starting to take its toll on him and probably putting his eyes on route of going blind, or at the very least leaving him permanently cross eyed. I hopped down from my seat on the counter, patting him on the head before crossing over to the fridge, peeking inside in search of a bold green bottle of soju. My fingers wrapped around the target once located, Felix’s eyes following me as I grabbed two shot glasses from the cabinet and filled them before us. His gaze broke from the glass as I handed it to him, giving me a quizzical stare.

“We’re gonna add another variable to help you chill out, and you’re gonna let me help you make the best damn batch of brownies this house has ever tasted.” His smile broke through as I raised my shot glass in a toast, Felix turning to the side as we downed the clear liquid. I placed the glass onto the counter before clapping my hands together. “Okay. Where’s my apron and where do you want me boss?” Felix slung an apron around my neck, wasting no time barking commands as I tied the strings around my waist.

Our dance around each other in the kitchen started to devolve into fits of laughter as we quickly started to adorn the counter with multiple bottles of empty soju. We had lost the object of our mission, the act of making brownies taking far longer than it should as we continuously let ourselves get distracted.

One might say leaving two inebriated idiots in a kitchen alone and unsupervised isn’t the best decision, but I’d say it’s a phenomenal one. Felix had finally switched on some music, prompting a full setlist of a karaoke performance, the mic of choice being that of a batter covered whisk dripping a mess onto the floor.

Our laughter echoed throughout the house as I quickly shuffled around the kitchen island, gripping to the counter for support as my feet slipped across the tiled floor. Felix’s chase with the batter covered spoon keeping him close on my tail, ducking my head quickly with a squeal as I avoided his messy attacks. Using my hand to slingshot me around the corner with a nyoom leaving my lips, I dunked my hand into the flour, turning on my heels to catch Felix off guard as I closed the distance between us just long enough to reach out within the distraction and give him a flour coated light smack to the face. Felix froze, hands out to his side as his brain computed the turn of events, my surprise attack successfully declaring me victor and leaving the poor boy frozen in his spot with his lips pressed into a firm line.

“I was worried that someone was getting attacked when I heard the screams, but apparently the kitchen is the only one under fire.” Our eyes crossed to a chuckling Chan in the doorway, arms crossed as he surveyed the mess around him, Minho planted quietly next to him.

“You two better be cleaning this up when you’re done” Minho scanned the condition of the kitchen, eyes landing on the empty bottles and slowly rising to meet my gaze with a silent crooked brow. Felix’s limbs started to thaw as he set down the spoon and began to pull the hem of his shirt up to wipe the powder from his face.

“What? Are you feeling left out?” I stepped over to Minho, my mischievous grin spreading cheek to cheek. “Let me assist '' I drug my fingers down his nose, spreading the remainder of the flour onto his skin. His eyes slightly crossed as he looked down to the tip of his nose, his gaze slowly raising to mine as I stifled a laugh. I watched with a smile as Chan slipped over to the cookies, grabbing one for himself and taking a bite. As he exited with a grin, he stopped next to Minho, scratching the tip of his own nose with a whispered You’ve got a lil’ something before patting him on the arm and leaving in his own fit of laughter.

Minho’s eyes met mine as they deepened, the overwhelming feeling of predator vs prey overtaking my body as I struggled to scamper out of his arms reach with a squeal of fear. He sprung into action immediately, directly on my heels as he effortlessly wrapped an arm around me from behind, pinning me to his chest as his other hand dipped into the flour container and smeared it across my face with a chuckle as my hands flailed in an attempt to fight him off. Minho settled me back on my feet, wiping his hand off of a towel before reaching up and tapping under my chin.

“Don’t be drinking too much if you’re gonna start something you can’t finish, dear.” He fought to hide his smirk as he left me dumbfounded in place, now my turn to stand frozen in contemplation. As Minho’s figure disappeared into the hall, Felix released claps of amusement before doubling over in laughter, supporting himself on the edge of the counter. I slowly blinked, head slowly rising to scan the room, brain functioning on a lag as it attempted to catch up. I wiped the flour from my eyes, clearing my vision before staring at Felix, who was still gasping for air through his laughter.

“What the fuck just happened” I stared down the now empty hall that Minho had retreated down, the connections in my brain waves fried from the multiple bottles of soju in my system. On one hand, I got him to loosen up for a moment, even if it did make my heart drop into my stomach. But dear? Dear? What the hell was that?

“I don’t know, dear, what did just happen?” Felix’s emphases on the term of endearment came out choked within his laughter, clinging to his abdomen, clearly finding too much amusement in my embarrassment.

“You little-” His eyes grew with a gasp as I lunged at him from around the island, our game of chase as cat and mouse once again resumed as he continued to spew out his teases.

“What? Do you want me to come give your chin a little scratch? Would that make you feel better?” Felix’s giggles maintained as he slipped away from my hands, keeping himself just barely out of my reach.

“I’ll wring your neck if you don’t shut up right now” As I rounded the corner of the counter, my foot slipped on a wet patch of floor, forgetting the drips of batter scattered. I tried to brace myself on the counter to prevent my fall, instead my hands failed to make a grip as I tumbled to the floor with a crash. Felix collapsed onto the floor as well as his laughter took over him completely, hiccupping through the pain. I groaned as I rolled onto my back, arms splaying out on the floor beside me.

“I’m gonna get you back for this.”

I chucked a piece of popcorn in the air, steadying myself below it before effortlessly catching it in my mouth. Felix continued to flip through options on Netflix, our legs sharing heat under a shared blanket with our feet propped up on the coffee table in front of us.

Our brownie debacle cleanup did end up taking longer than expected, the splatters of batter strewn across the cabinets and floors proving the lack of intelligence in running around a kitchen with whisks and spoons. Not to mention the dusting of flour over every possible surface. We were now freshly showered, all evidence of our battle washed down the drains, and wet hair sticking to our necks.

Felix bent forward, placing the remote on the table with a final movie decision. He gestured to the bowl next to me, eyes still glued forward on the screen before us.

“Pass me the popcorn would ya, dear?” My eyes shot daggers in his direction as I slowly passed the bowl over me, Felix’s chorus of giggles being his only response. He popped a few pieces into his mouth before letting out a small amused huff. '“But actually though, what was that?” I scoffed with a shake of the head.

“Your guess is as good as mine, I have no idea where that came from.” I dug into the bowl in his lap, grabbing myself a handful as Jeongin plopped onto the adjacent couch and leaned back into the cushions with his hands resting behind his head.

“What did you guys decide on tonight?” I slowly started sending popcorn gliding across the room, each one landing perfectly onto his chest. His gaze settled on each piece as another flew through the air. “Excuse me?”

“If you make another mess, I’m not helping you again.” Felix said flatly beside me, a subtle grin peaking through that he was making a poor attempt at hiding.

“Ya!” My fist made contact with his arm. “The kitchen was your fault too!” he giggled as he massaged into his bicep, then offering the bowl over to Jeongin as the beginning credits started to roll across the screen. Felix’s comedy of choice left the three of us with sore abs, quickly followed by the trio quickly spewing different predictions of the outcome of the storyline, leaving heated debates on the different possibilities.

In this moment, it didn’t feel like I could have been catapulted back into the mafia world, it felt like I was blissfully hanging out with new friends. The ever looming threat hanging over our heads was absent as Felix hopped up from his spot on the couch, returning with plates of fresh brownies and cookies. I finally was beginning to feel like I could find comfort among the members. I could find solace in the fact that I had the ability to finally be reunited with my brother, obviously the situation leading up toward our reunion was less than ideal, wishing our father could be by our side as well and completing the family. But now I had the opportunity laid before me to create my new family, make bonds that I had felt I had been robbed of for so many years.

Now I get to sit and happily observe the two younger boys bickering beside me, a sliver of joy within the darkness the house was currently sitting in. Their argument of potential plot twists seeming so mundane, the exact feeling that I craved. I grinned in silence as I allowed myself to soak in the stupid joy that was filling the room. I hooked my arms around Felix’s, resting my head on his shoulder as I relaxed into him. His sentence was cut short as he noticed my action, his attention finally pointing towards me.

“You good?” His amplified voice from the debate calmed, a softer tone as he spoke to me, his words gentle. I smiled up at him, just glad that I felt welcome in the home.

“I’m doing great.”

Next Chapter

42 notes · View notes

sesshy380 · 5 months

Note

Okay here's a prompt for you

Have you seen that comic strip on Tumblr where life and death are sitting together and life is baffled why everyone loves them and everyone hates death

And death be like "you are a blissful lie and I am a painful truth"

I'll let you pick the ygo characters but I want to see an AU of that from you - honda

This only took me *checks notes*...about 3 weeks to get to. I honestly had a hard time trying to figure out how to write this, then over the course of the past few days it just all poured out. I hope you like it!

-Blissful Lies and Painful Truths-

He stood in the shadows, watching the small boy with ashen hair as his loved ones fought over who’s turn it was to shower him with affection.

On occasion, one of the faceless entities would turn its head, acknowledging his existence and nothing more, before returning its focus on the child. This continued on and on…and on……and on…

Time meant nothing in this place.

At some point the small boy took notice of him, his innocent gaze appearing curious. He hopped down from the arms of the one currently holding him and approached the Shadow.

“They don’t seem to like you very much. Why is that?” the boy asked.

He crouched down, looking at the unmarred face before him.

“It’s because you are a blissful lie, while I am a painful truth,” he stated.

The boy’s curious expression only intensified.

“I don’t understand?”

He smiled softly while moving a few untamed hairs away from the child's face.

“You are the beloved innocent child, free of all wickedness. You can, and never will, do any wrong. That is the blissful lie.”

He looked over at the faceless, hearing nothing more than their whispers just as he always had.

“The moment they demanded vengeance, you died…and I was born. That is the painful truth.”

The boy stared up with the saddest expression.

“If I’m dead, then why are you here?”

He stood and looked back down at the child.

“I am bound to these shadows; damned to spend all eternity watching you have what was stolen from me.”

The child's head fell.

“I suppose you hate me then.”

The Thief King crouched before the child again, a grin spread wide across his face.

“I could never hate you without hating myself, because we are one in the same. You are Life cut short, and I am Death eternal. Life is Death’s beginning, while Death is Life’s end. It’s a vicious cycle that doesn’t end, even in this place. You will always be aware of me, because I will always be watching.”

He stood and stretched, then patted his younger self on the head.

“You should run on back. You’ve been absent from their presence for a few thousand years too many, and they’ve missed you.”

Younger him didn’t question; just gave a simple nod before running back to the outstretched arms that were waiting for him.

The grin on the Thief King’s face faded. He’d done what was necessary, not regretting it one bit. If having to endure barely being acknowledged for what he’d become in the process of freeing them, then so be it.

Ninety-nine people had been slaughtered that day, but one-hundred lives had been ended. The unjustly reaped souls clutched onto their beloved child, turning a blind eye to the fact that the child was no more. From the carnage, Death had risen and taken the child’s place; wielding in his hands the twisted blades of Vengeance and Justice. No one stole from the Thief King…or from Death.

#ygo #my writing #prompt ask #tkb #thief king bakura

9 notes · View notes

earthsc1ence · 10 months

Text

Hi!

ENHYPEN x reader

synopsis: Your family dragged you out to see the Thanksgiving Parade. You were originally just semi-excited until you actually got there. Little did you know, you’d be seeing a popular kpop group your friend love.

warnings: some cursing, lightly edited, WAY too long

requested: nope

word count: 1.9k

i’m delulu, don’t judge pls :)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・。

“WHY DID WE HAVE TO LEAVE at 5:30 if we had to be here at 7?” You groan, leaning into your father’s shoulder dramatically.

Because it’s Thanksgiving and everyone gets time off, you decided to stay with your parents and visit them for the holiday weekend. Though, they practically forced you to visit so you could accompany them to the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade (they had an extra ticket and had no one to give it to).

After a very boring train ride, you and your parents finally made it to your seats alongside the road where the floats would be going down in about 2 hours.

Your father sighs and pushes you off his shoulder. “You could have slept on the train, you know.”

You send him a tired glare. “I don’t sleep in public, you know that. And don’t avoid the question!”

It seems as if he doesn’t hear you—thought you know very well he did—, suddenly finding your mother’s hat very interesting and he starts up a conversation with her about it—as if he wasn’t the one to gift it to her for their anniversary.

You fight back a fond smile and plop down onto the bench, pulling out your phone with a yawn. You quickly google when the parade starts—

“Nine? …It starts at nine!?” You loudly exclaim, drawing a few curious stares. You can feel your face burning, causing you to keep your head down.

You feel a light hit to your head, causing you to let out a muffled grunt. “What was that for?” You whine childishly, rubbing where she hit you.

“Don’t complain, we generously offered you these tickets. Try being thankful—it is Thanksgiving, after all.” Your mother’s sharp voice cuts into your thoughts. You’re tempted to roll your eyes, but you know that’d only earn you another hit.

“Thank you very much for inviting me to accompany you to the parade.” I give my mother a shit-eating grin and she just sighs, though I catch a hint of a smile.

You turn your attention back to your phone and decide to see what floats would be up this year. You smile when you see the picture of Snoopy’s float, but don’t really pay enough attention to remember what any of the floats would look like.

“Get off your phone and look around; we’re in New York City, after all!” Your mother exclaims and your hands quickly find their place on top of your head, scared she’ll strike again.

When she doesn’t, you roll your eyes. “Yeah, not like I grew up here or anything.” You mutter under your breath, somewhat surprised your mother didn’t hear you.

You sigh, and it’s so cold you can see your breath. A smile works its way onto your face—you always found it fascinating how you can see your breath when it’s cold.

Deciding to finally take a page from your mother’s book, you pocket your phone and stretch your arms above your head, admiring the sky as the sun rises.

The sky is a beautiful orange to pink gradient, though you can really only see it above the buildings. The sky above you is a nice baby blue, not a cloud in sight.

It’s a lovely morning, however much you despise being out and about at 7am.

You bite back another sigh, silently wishing you got up just a little earlier to make yourself a cup of coffee.

After around 10 minutes of sleepily looking around, you pull your phone out once again to check the time.

7:18 am.

Damn.

You find yourself putting on your headphones and scrolling TikTok, getting hopelessly lost in whatever the hell your FYP is.

After a while, you check the time again.

7:42 am.

You should be surprised at how much time you passed scrolling on TikTok, but you aren’t.

You sigh and pull off your headphones, leaving them around your neck.

Your mom is scrolling on her phone—“hypocrite”—and your father is nowhere to be seen.

“Hey, ma.”

No response.

“Mama.”

A slight nod of her head in your direction is the only indication you get that she’s listening.

“Where’s dad gone?”

After a moment, she shrugs.

You sigh and stand up, stretching. “I’m gonna walk around.”

No response.

You roll your eyes and walk alongside the edge of Central Park, careful to map out your path in your head so you can make your way back to your seats.

As you walk, you hear quiet quacks come from your pocket. You frown and pull out your phone, curious to see who’s calling you.

maxie is calling…

You frown, confused as to why your best friend would be calling you so early when she normally wakes up at noon.

Then again, it is Thanksgiving.

You accept the call and bring your phone to your ear, not ready for your eardrums to be blown out.

“(NAME)!? (NAME)! DID YOU HEAR? OH LORD, PLEASE TELL ME YOU HEARD—“

“AH!”

You shriek, ripping the phone from your ear like it’s on fire.

“Don’t yell, you idiot! You practically made me go deaf!” You whisper-shout into the speaker before bringing the phone back to your ear.

You hear Maxie giggling sheepishly across the line.

“Sorry, (Name). Anyways, did you hear?”

You frown. “Hear what?”

You can practically see her usual shocked and slightly offended expression whenever you happen to not know what she’s talking about.

“About ENHYPEN, of course!”

You blink.

“…What?”

“ENHYPEN! You know, my favorite boys?”

You sigh. “No. No, I don’t know.”

“You know them—sort of. Well, whatever. The point is, they’re going to be performing at the parade! Isn’t that amazing?”

Her voice is laced with so much excitement and energy that you almost want to go back to sleep.

“…Um, yeah.”

Maxie sighs through the phone, leaving you to only imagine her eyeroll.

“Well, the point is, promise to take pictures! And send me them! And say hi for me!”

“…Uh?—“

“Great? Great! Love you! Talk later!”

“Maxie, wai—“

The familiar beep of a phone call hanging up sounds from your phone, and you stare at your phone incredulously.

“…She really hung up on me,” You mutter in disbelief before shrugging. “…Whatever.”

You think an hour passes—especially because you can hear people cheering.

Your eyes widen and your gaze moves to the road.

A golf cart drives along the road with a woman dressed in white waving to the crowd.

You frown, not recognizing the woman—then again, you only got a brief glance of her.

“Must be a reporter for the parade.” You mutter and start making your way back to your seat.

You’ve never really watched the Thanksgiving Parade on TV very much; not in a few years, at least.

You pass by much larger crowds of people sitting on the bleachers lining the road than earlier as you retrace your steps until you manage to find your parents talking with another.

“Hey, I’m back.”

Your mother immediately looks to you, her gaze piercing and accusatory.

“Where did you go? You disappeared!”

“I literally told you—“ You start, but think better of it and stop yourself midway. Your mother huffs when you shrug.

“Just make sure to let us know when you leave next time, okay?”

“I literally did,” You think to yourself as you manage to put on a rather strained smile. “Yep.”

Your father just pats your shoulder sympathetically as you sit down and goes back to his conversation with your mother.

You pull out your phone and check the time.

8:44 am.

Damn.

You’re about to start scrolling through TikTok once again until your eardrums are practically blown out from the cheers around you.

Your head snaps up and you eagerly look down the road to your right, seeing a giant acorn float slowly make its way down the road.

You snort.

“Oh, this is going to be fun.”

Around a half hour goes by, and you’ve already taken millions of pictures of various floats and celebrities in the parade.

You’d decided that waking up at 4:30 was worth it—this morning has been magical, and it’s barely even gotten started.

“…Snoopy was amazing!” Your father muses, smiling childishly.

You nod along, about to speak, until you hear some music—Baby Shark?—playing from down the road.

Your eyes widen and you look to the street, only to see two people carrying a sign with an all-too-familiar name reading from it;

ENHYPEN

“…Right.”

You remember how badly Maxie wanted pictures of them, so you immediately pull out your phone and start to snap photos of the men on the float.

However, after around 10 pictures, you lower your phone to actually get a good look at the group.

There are two on your side—one in a red jacket and the other in a rather warm looking purple coat.

In fact, the one in the purple coat is… beautiful.

There’s no other way to describe him.

He looks almost like royalty, waving daintily to the crowd.

Your gaze shifts to the man in the red jacket who’s grinning excitedly.

You snap out of your trance, only to realize there aren’t particularly a lot of people cheering for them.

To be honest, you didn’t really expect anyone on your side of the road to recognize them—they’re mostly older folks, after all.

However, you expected people who didn’t have reserved seats to cheer—or at least recognize them.

You find yourself frowning at the lack of excitement for this group.

They came all the way from South Korea, so they should at least get some cheers, right?

You don’t know what comes over you—a curse? A demon? Maxie’s fangirling?

It doesn’t matter, because you find yourself standing on top of your seat and cupping your hands over your mouth.

“…And say hi for me!”

Is one of the things you recall Maxie telling you—jokingly, of course—but of course you take it just a bit too seriously.

You take in a deep breath, and yell at the top of your lungs:

“HI!”

It feels like the world stops moving. Suddenly, everyone is staring at you.

Heat rushes to your cheeks and you swear if there was one moment in your moment you truly wanted to die, it’d be right now.

The man in the red jacket looks to you, shock adorning his handsome features.

Then, the man in purple is looking at you, too.

And all seven men on the float are looking at you, too.

“…Shit.”

Then, one particularly resembling a happy puppy, grins widely and waves his arms above his head in a way to wave at you.

“GREETINGS!”

You blink.

Suddenly, they’re all grinning at you as if you were an angel sent from above.

“HELLO!”

“HEY!”

“WHAT’S UP!”

A chorus of greetings are shouted from the float, all of them smiling brightly.

Your embarrassment fizzles away, and you’re overcome by an exhilarating sense of happiness.

You wave madly, now smiling so hard that your cheeks would surely cramp later.

However, as soon as it begins, it ends.

Down the road, you can hear screams and cheers of excitement as the group’s float rounds the corner.

One by one, they all move their attention from you to the cheering crowd.

Just as you think they’ve stopped waving at you, the first one to greet you back waves.

“BYE!”

You smile.

“LATER!”

You shout, waving madly. He slowly turns away from you and back to the crowd as the float disappears behind the corner.

You’re still smiling, your cheeks hurting just as you’d predicted.

You turn back to your parents, staring at you in shock.

Your father is dumbfounded while your mother has her phone pulled out, but her attention is all on you.

“…I got all that on camera.”

#enhypen #thanksgiving parade #macy’s thanksgiving day parade #enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #enhypen x y/n #new blog #kpop x reader #x you #fluff #enhypen fluff #cute fluff #fanfic #too long

12 notes · View notes