#or else i am GOING to do it myself instead of the million other things i need to do

[yea-baiyi]

can someone do a painting of penelope at the loom but instead it’s lan wangji with his guqin

[snekdood]

i really try to understand why my fellow progressives are so avoidant of actually introspecting on why they think its still cool to bully. im sorry but thats just an inherently conservative thing to want to do.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 18: Hole in None

Summary: During your bridal shower, Steve takes Javi golfing. When they return, the way Javi is acting has you questioning everything you knew about your relationship.

Word Count: 12.1K (getting back to my roots of a short chapter LMAO)

Warnings: SMUT(18+) unprotected p in v sex (wrap it up irl pls), oral (f receiving), creampie, praise kink, breeding kink (if you squint?), makeup sex and getting caught (The Murphy's will never catch a break) ANGST (I'm so sorry!!), Hurt/comfort, Javi being super insecure, you being confused as hell, Steve being an absolute idiot

A/N: HELLO. IT'S ME! I DO EXSIST! I am genuinely SO sorry that this chapter has taken a million years to happen. December has been so busy and I have had no time to write, so I really, really appreciate all of your patience 🥺 This is a lil different than any other chapter we've had so far in the NTL universe, it's a lil angsty-er than normal but ya girl only believes in happy endings so don't fret!!! Also poorly beta'd bc I have the stomach flu and I am 100% there are mistakes in this chapter that I'm sure I missed 🫠

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“Do I really have to do this? This thing hasn’t even started yet and I’m already exhausted.” 

“Yes, Hermosa, I do think that most people do expect the bride to be at her own bridal shower.” Javi laughed, staring into the bathroom mirror as he ran his hands through the dark curls of his hair, fixing them into place as you stood next to him, finishing the rest of your longer than usual makeup routine to prepare for being the center of attention against your will for the next several hours. 

It wasn’t that you weren’t grateful that your co-workers wanted to throw you a bridal shower before your wedding, now only a few weeks away- the sentiment of the whole thing was incredibly thoughtful. Your 3rd grade teammates had even found a way to get in touch with your family to make sure that your mom, aunts and cousins felt included in the event, too. You should have been thrilled about the fact that the people who loved you most in the world were coming together to celebrate your upcoming wedding and quite literally showering you with gifts, but if there was one thing you hated more than anything else, it was the social exhaustion that came from having a party planned for no one but you. 

You had really tried to convince Maria, Estelle, Linda, and now, your mom that you didn’t need a bridal shower- your wedding was going to be small, and since you had already been living on your own, there weren’t a lot of things you needed as you started married life together. Unfortunately, neither of those arguments were going to stop those ladies from going all out for you, leaving you feeling like your bridal shower was turning out to be even bigger than your actual wedding. 

“Don’t you think I could just get a cardboard cutout of myself and use that instead? All these ladies love to talk so much that I don’t think they would even know the difference.” You sighed, giving yourself a once over in the mirror before putting away the rest of your makeup as Javi snuck behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, planting a soft kiss into your shoulder as he pressed his chest against your back. 

“I have a feeling that someone would notice.” Javi chuckled, a soft grin spreading across his face as your eyes met in the mirror, his smile and sweet eyes enough to calm your nerves for at least a moment. “I would definitely notice.” 

“Well that’s easy for you to say, you don’t even have to be there.” You huffed, letting a little pout fall from your lips as Javi playfully shook you in his grasp, trying your best not to smile as you tried to keep up your unenthused facade. “It’s not too late to trade. You can go to the bridal shower and I can go golfing with you and Steve.” 

Even though Javi had insisted he was more than happy to stay at the shower with you, Maria had insisted that Javi find another way to spend his time so the spotlight of the day could be on you, and not him being distractingly handsome to everyone else there. Lucky for Javi, that meant extra time to spend with Steve while Connie was at your shower- not so lucky for you that Maria had banished your future husband from attending an event for your own wedding. 

“I honestly may have to take you up on that. Steve must have needed an ego boost when I let him pick what he wanted to do while you and Connie were at the shower because he knows I can’t golf for shit.” Javi’s overdramatic sigh and roll of his eyes was enough to make you break into a little giggle, turning your head enough to press a quick kiss onto his cheek before reaching your hand under his chin, giving his jaw a little jiggle. “It’ll go by fast, Osita, I promise. And then, when we get home,” he paused, pressing another kiss into your shoulder and up towards your neck, digging his fingers a little tighter into your sides as he rasped into your ear, “I’ll take as much time as you want to destress you.” 

“As much time as I want? Bold of you to assume that the dog is gonna give us that long.” You snickered as a happy Bear trotted into your bathroom right on cue, his tail loudly thumping against the bathroom cabinets from his happy wags as he wedged himself between you and Javi. 

The newest furry member of your household had been a well loved addition, but if there was one thing Bear had no concept of, it was privacy. Your dog had become a constant shadow to you and Javi anywhere and everywhere in your house, including your in your bedroom, even when you were, well, not sleeping. It hadn’t helped that Javi had already formed such a soft spot for Bear, and had let him on your bed from the moment he stepped foot into the apartment, and now, your dog and his clingy personality had become a new obstacle to try and navigate in your sex life. 

“Someone needs to tell his dad that he’ll survive if he gets left out of the bedroom for a half hour, huh? That he’s adorable, but that he can be a little cockblock, can’t he?” Squatting down next to Bear, you wrapped your hands around his face, scratching behind his ears as you mockingly serenaded him, raising an eyebrow at Javi. 

“He just sounds so sad when he whines and he’s trapped outside the door.” Javi grumbled, kneeling down to join you, patting Bear’s stomach, now much thicker and fuller than it was a few weeks ago after you had first brought him home, skinny and neglected from his lack of care from his previous owners. 

“You say trapped like we're kicking him out to the streets when we close the door on him. He’s adorable and sweet, but he’s a dog, Jav, he’ll be okay.” You smirked, playfully scolding Javi as you peppered Bear’s head with kisses, making his tail thump even harder as it wagged back and forth. “Tell your dad you’ll be just fine, won’t you?” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” Javi groaned, knowing damn well you were right, even though he couldn’t bring himself to admit he had become an absolute softie for your new dog. “Alright, Hermosa, we gotta get you to this shower before Maria yells at me for making you late.” Pushing his hands against his knees, Javi let out a little grunt as he pushed himself back up to stand, checking the time on the silver watch wrapped around his wrist. 

“Wow, so eager to get rid of me, you must really be excited to go get your ass kicked in golf.” You teased, now following suit and straightening out your dress as you stood, throwing your arms around Javi’s neck, pressing up on your tiptoes to plant a little kiss on his lips. “Sure you don’t want me to golf for you?” 

“I’m sure, you dork.” 

After Javi had insisted on giving Bear more than his fair share of treats before the two of you left for the day, you were on the road to Maria’s, Javi insisting that he drop you off, instead of letting you take the treacherous 2 minute drive by yourself. As you drove down Maria’s street, you couldn’t help but smile at the memory of walking up to her house for an end of the school year party almost exactly a year ago. A party that had ultimately turned a handsome stranger from the Laredo Sheriff's department into your future husband, now sitting in the driver’s seat on the way to your bridal shower. You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself at the irony, leaning your head over onto Javi’s broad shoulder as you pulled up to Maria’s house. 

“What’s up, Osita?” Javi asked, a twinge of confusion in his voice at the content and calm of your demeanor as the two of you arrived at the event that you had been seemingly dreading for days. 

“I just- It was probably a year ago to the day the last time that we were at Maria’s house. Crazy to think that a year later we’re getting married and here for my bridal shower. I don’t know, a year ago I never would have thought I would have met someone I love so much, let alone be getting married, building a house, owning a dog, I- I’m just really happy that the department made you come to do that stupid presentation. You’ve made this year the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I love you, Jav.” 

A tender silence hung in the air as Javi leaned over the center console, gently bringing his palm to cup the side of your face, his thumb tracing circles along your cheek, letting his sweet brown eyes lock with yours as a soft smile spread across his face. “I love you too, Osita.” His words barely left his mouth above a whisper, bringing his lips to yours. The two of you could have stayed like this forever, lost in the moment of your love for each other, but unfortunately, the world had other plans. 

“JAVIER. DIOS MIO. CAN YOU KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF OF HER FOR 3 SECONDS?” Maria shouted, banging at the driver’s side window, the aggressive thumps of her hand against the glass making the two of you practically jump out of your skin. 

“Jesus Fucking Christ….” Javi whispered, clutching his hand over his chest, trying to steady his heart rate back to normal, the two of you looking at each other in pure terror. 

“If you’re going to drop her off and make a scene in my driveway, the least you can do is help an old woman out before you leave, Javier!” Maria demanded, still rapping her knuckles against the glass, the two of you trying to keep from dying of embarrassment as you exited out of the car. 

“Sorry Maria…” The two of you grimaced, still trying to avoid direct eye contact with her before she decided to scold you more. 

“Chucho is right, you two are no worse than a pair of teenagers. Come on, we only have an hour before everyone arrives and I need you and that wildly blonde haired boy to help me move chairs.” Shaking her head in disappointment, Maria was already halfway up the driveway and into the house as you and Javi trailed behind her, glancing at each other in confusion as to who she was referring to, until you noticed the Murphy’s car parked on the side of the street, realizing that Steve and Connie must have beaten you there. 

Before you even had a chance to make it a foot into the house, you were greeted by an overbearing swarm of people rushing to say hello and give you a hug, already feeling overwhelmed 30 seconds into the start of your shower, and these were all people you knew. Your mom was the first to make her way through the crowd, squeezing you in a death grip hug, even though you had just seen her last night after picking her up from the airport and dropping her off at her hotel. 

“Oh my god, I can’t believe the day is almost here! My baby girl is finally getting married! Ugh, you look beautiful sweetheart!” Your mom beamed, planting a chaste kiss on your cheek before making her way over to Javi, squeezing him just as hard. “C’mere, don’t think that you get to escape hugs from me too, Javi.” Javi looked over at you, trying his best not to laugh at everyone’s dramatics, knowing how stressed you already were, and that no one’s overly excited attitude was doing you any favors. 

“Ouch on the finally there, Mom. What do you need help with?” You asked, noticing that your mom had been holding on to Javi for a touch longer than what was probably appropriate while everyone else continued to hustle and bustle around Maria’s house. 

“Does he always smell that good? God, I wished your father smelled like that, the man smells like a sweaty sock. Javi, what kind of cologne do you-” 

“Mom! Jesus Christ.” You interjected, burying your hands in your face.

“Sorry, sorry! Honey, you don’t need to help with anything, it’s your shower!” Your mom swatted her hand at you, shaking her head in disbelief that you would ask to help, even though she knew better than anyone it was not in your nature to sit back on the sidelines and let other people do the work for you. 

“Why don’t you come help me set up decorations?” A soft voice replied behind you, making you whip your head around as their hand rested on your shoulder. 

“Connie!” You grinned, throwing her arms around her, relieved to find someone who wasn’t going to drive you absolutely crazy for the next hour of party prep. “It’s so good to see you, thank you so much for coming!” 

“Hey, Sweetheart!” a lower voice grunted from behind a stack of folding chairs making its way to the backyard. 

“Wow, Maria put you to work too, Steve? Yikes, she’s running a tight ship around here.” You and Connie snickered as Steve set down his stack of chairs, revealing his already sweaty and frustrated face, considering Maria had probably made him carry 6 trips worth of seats up and down the stairs since he and Connie had arrived. 

“You’re tellin’ me. Hey, make yourself useful and pick up some of these chairs, lazy ass. Sooner we get this set up, the sooner I kick your butt at golf.” Steve smirked, gesturing over at Javi, still standing in the doorway with his hands on his hips. 

“In that case, I’m taking one chair at a time.” Javi sighed, pressing a quick kiss to your temple in stride towards Steve, giving him a swift hug and a pat on the back before being interrupted by a shrill and demanding voice. 

“JAVIER. I HEARD THAT. IF I DON’T SEE YOU WITH A STACK OF CHAIRS IN YOUR HANDS THE NEXT TIME YOU’RE OUTSIDE, IT’D BETTER BE BECAUSE YOU ARE DEAD.” Maria shouted from across the house, making everyone’s faces freeze in fear. 

“You heard the woman. Chop, chop, Peña.” Steve chuckled to himself before passing off half of the chairs over to Javi, and walking towards the back of the house as Javi picked up his share, begrudgingly trailing behind Steve. 

“Alright, we should probably get to work on decorations before Maria finds us standing around for too long. I know you’re the bride, but I have a feeling that holds very little value to her until everything is set up.” Connie shrugged, nodding towards the backyard where the shower was being held. 

“You’re definitely right, and I would prefer to live through my bridal shower in order to make it to my actual wedding.” 

With all of the helping hands around the house, and Maria’s commanding dictatorship over shower setup, all of you had finished with time to spare, leaving your mom and co-workers to happily chat and gossip amongst themselves as you and Connie found your way to say goodbye to Steve and Javi, one of whom was looking much more excited about departing for golf than the other. 

“Have fun, ladies. Any last words for your future husband before I absolutely obliterate him on the golf course?” Steve snickered, giving Javi a soft punch on the shoulder. 

“Shut the fuck up, Murph.” Javi groaned, rolling his eyes as he braced himself for the next 3 hours of harassment from his former partner. 

“Don’t be too hard on him, okay Steve? He gets grumpy when he loses, so just a reasonable amount of ass whooping, nothing too drastic.” You teased, now playfully punching on the other side of his arm, you, Steve, and Connie laughing to yourselves at Javi’s fed up frown. 

“Says the one who literally pouted for hours after insisting we play "Sorry" and then she lost.” Javi smugly murmured, raising an eyebrow at you, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well someone wasn’t very sorry about it, were they… You know what, Steve? I changed my mind, go ahead and kick his ass for me.” A mischievous grin grew across your face, bursting out into giggles as Javi flung his arms around you, giving you a squeeze and shaking you in his grasp. 

“Pendejo. Alright, you need anything else before I go get my ass kicked, Hermosa?” Javi asked, pressing a kiss into your hair. You were about to speak, but stopped yourself for a moment, looking Javi up and down, admiring how handsome he looked in the khakis and navy blue polo he had picked out this morning. You’d been so worried and worked up about the day that you hadn’t really had a chance to get a good look at him until now, and God, part of you wished you hadn’t taken the time to really take it all in as he stood next to you. You knew there was nothing you could really do about it now, but that wasn’t about to stop you from at least getting a little taste. 

“Uh yeah, I uh- actually um, I uh, I scraped my finger earlier on one of the banners I was setting up and I think I got a papercut. I forgot to ask Maria about it earlier, but um, can you show me where the bandaids are upstairs again?” You tried your best to sound as casual as possible, but Javi knew just as well as you that there was no way in hell that you actually needed a bandaid. His brow scrunched in a slight confusion, head cocked to the side as if to say “I think I know where this is going and I’m not really sure it’s going to work” before giving you a little shrug, gesturing up towards the bathroom at the top of the stairwell, trying to keep his smug grin hidden between his lips. 

“Yeah, I uh- here, let me show you where they are and I can get you one before we go.” Before Steve or Connie could even muster a word in protest, Javi was already dragging you halfway up the stairs, barely letting you make it to the top of the stairway before closing the bathroom door behind you. 

“Band Aid, really? That was the best you could come up with?” Javi laughed under his breath, letting his hands roam down your sides and under the hem of your dress as his fingers dug into the meat of your ass, the heat of his breath tickling your skin where his lips met your neck, gently sucking at your pulse point, making a tiny moan escape from your mouth. 

“I needed to come up with something to get you alone for long enough to give you a proper goodbye before you left.” 

“And a Band Aid was the way to do that?” 

“Oh shut up.” You giggled, draping your arms over Javi’s neck, letting your hands roam through the curls at the nape of his neck before pulling him in tighter to let his lips crash into yours with an electric intensity, his fingertips gripping deeper into your flesh. 

“I don’t think-” Javi muttered between kisses, “I don’t think a bandaid is gonna buy us enough time to do anything, Hermosa.” 

“I know. I just needed this. Just needed to kiss your stupidly handsome face. I needed something before you left me to fend for myself. Plus,” you paused, pulling back to see the lovestruck grin spread between Javi’s cheeks, “only fair that I get a chance to recreate our first kiss.” You snickered, gesturing to the interior of Maria’s bathroom, where you had found yourself with Javi almost a year ago to the day, your lips meeting for the first time as you sat on the ledge of the sink after Javi had came to your aid when a shattered beer bottle had landed in your leg. 

“Fuck, I forgot our first kiss was in Maria’s bathroom. Real fucking smooth of me, huh?” Javi grumbled, rolling his eyes at his past self for letting your first kiss be in the bathroom of his Mom’s best friend’s house. 

“Smooth enough for me to wanna marry you, so I guess it all worked out okay, didn’t it?” You teased, planting one last kiss on his lips before shooting him a wink and slipping out the bathroom, your face warm and tingly from the rush of excitement tucked away with Javi in your impromptu makeout session. Javi ran his hand over his face, taking a moment to try and compose himself, shaking his head to himself in shock and delight at how he found himself falling more and more in love with you every day. 

“Okay, uh- sorry, sorry about that. Just didn’t wanna have to bother Maria for anything.” You sighed, darting your eyes away from Steve and Connie, their arms crossed against their chest with almost comically smug smirks on their faces as they watched you shuffle back down the stairs, Javi reluctantly trailing behind you. 

“Yeah? How’d that bandaid work out for ya?” Steve smiled with a shit eating grin, nodding to your hands, neither of them with a bandaid anywhere in sight. You let out a gulp, trying to quickly tuck your hands behind your back, your cheeks flushing pink with embarrassment. “Goddamn, you two gonna make it 3 hours without touching each other, or am I gonna have to bring him back here after hole 4 for a mid-round makeout?” 

“Jesus Christ, Murph, really?.” Javi grumbled, rolling his eyes. “Bye, love you. Have fun and I’ll see you soon.” Leaned over, snaking his arm around your waist to plant one last kiss in your hair. 

“Not soon enough, apparently…” 

“Murphy…” 

“Stop makin’ out and I’ll stop givin’ you shit.” 

“Touche…” You muttered under your breath, just loud enough to make the 4 of you burst into laughter, easing the uncomfortable tension that you had brought upon yourself from your antics. “Love you too, have fun getting your ass kicked.” 

“Yes, yes, out, out, out! It’s only 10 minutes until guests arrive and your truck is taking up all the room in the driveway! Out!” Stampeding into the living room, Maria waved her hands at the boys, quite literally shooing them out of the house after overhearing your goodbyes. Giving a quick wave to Javi as Maria kicked him and Steve to the curb, you caught Javi’s head whipping around for one last glance at you before you left, giving you a once over with his eyes and a soft smile on his face as the front door shut behind him. 

Truth be told, your shower ended up being way less painful than you expected it would be. In all honesty, it was actually somewhat enjoyable. The fact that your mom, co-workers, and Connie had put into helping everyone come together to celebrate you filled your heart with so much more joy than you could have predicted- your friends and family had bought you and Javi so many more gifts than you knew what to do with, had so many kind things to say about the two of you, and Connie had even gone out of her way to make sure that there were fun games planned for everyone to keep the need for constant socialization at bay. It really had ended up being a fun afternoon, even if it meant having to answer the same questions about your wedding, house and honeymoon plans more times than you could count. 

Javi, on the other hand, could not have been having a worse time on the golf course, getting his ass thoroughly handed to him by Steve hole after hole, wondering to himself how anyone could bring themself to genuinely enjoy the torture that had been the past two and a half hours of hacking his club into chunks of grass and loosing his golf balls in the brush. The only consoling factor was that Javi was grateful to spend time with Steve, even if it meant being berated by endless questions from him on top of his painful performance while he played. 

“You feelin’ ready for the big day?” Steve grunted, after smacking his driver against his ball from the tee box, Javi relieved that the pair were finally on the 9th and final hole. 

“Yeah, I mean- Oh fuck me-” Javi grumbled, hitting his club and watching his ball fly into a patch of trees, the opposite direction of where he was trying to aim for, “I still can’t believe I’m getting married.” 

“You and me both, Jav. I never thought I’d live to see the fuckin’ day, that’s for damn sure. Javier Peña, a married man.” Steve chuckled, slipping his club into his golf bag as Javi followed behind, grabbing what must have been the 57th golf ball from his bag this round. 

“Shut the fuck up, Murph.” Javi chuckled, shaking his head at his friends’ jab, the two of them hopping into the golf cart together to try and scavenge for Javi’s long lost ball. 

“I’m just given’ you shit, Jav. I’m fuckin’ happy for you man. Really happy. She’s a great girl. Best thing that’s ever happened to your sorry ass, I’ll tell you that much. Guess you don’t have to worry about really followin’ through this time?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You’re actually gonna get married this time? You’re not leavin’ her at the altar like Lorraine, huh?” As Steve laughed to himself, Javi could practically feel his stomach drop, his heart beginning to race as a wave of terrible guilt and panic washed over him at his friend’s ironic question. 

To his own shock and surprise, Javi hadn’t thought about his last lack of a wedding once since the two of you had gotten engaged. He had been so head over heels excited to spend the rest of his life with you, that the failures of his past engagement had been tucked far away in the back of his mind. But then again, no one had been so gracious as to bring up the knife to the chest that was leaving Lorraine at the altar, and no one had been so gracious as to bring it up in classic Steve Murphy fashion. 

Javi could audibly hear himself gulp, his heartbeat pounding so loud he could hear it ringing in his ears as the terrible reality of the past he had so glady forgotten about met him in a head on collision, instantly re-opening all of the cuts and wounds he had finally managed to sew together. 

The last time he almost got married, Javier Peña had astronomically fucked up the lives of every last person who cared about him, leaving nothing but chaos and heartbreak in his wake.   

Rationally, Javi could tell himself that his upcoming wedding was the polar opposite of everything that was once planned between him and Lorraine. Javi couldn’t have cared less about Lorraine. From the moment he had wearily accepted his fate, he had dreaded every moment of his future from that point on. But you were not Lorraine. 

Javi loved you. 

Javi cared about you. 

Javi wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with you and give you everything in the world you could possibly want. 

But, one mention of that 8 letter name had Javi’s brain flooding with every single doubt, regret, and painful memory of his past that he had fought so hard to forget. It had his mind reeling with every uncomfortable feeling of remembering the man he had been before you had come into his life and changed him for the better. He knew he was a better man. A stronger man. A man who was worthy of the love and compassion you had shown him from the moment you two had met. 

Or was he? 

“Earth to Javi? Hello? Anyone home?” Waving his hand in front of Javi’s face, Steve stared at Javi in confusion as to why it seemed like his friend had suddenly become lost in his own world as they pulled up to the patch of trees where his ball had most likely landed. 

“Uh yeah, uh- what, sorry, um, what did you say?” Javi asked, visibly trying to shake the thoughts from his head, painfully scrunching his face and running his hand through his hair before looking back over at Steve. 

“I asked if you were gonna go get the ball or if you just wanted to add to your +200 score and drop one here instead. Hey, you okay, man?” Steve questioned, pausing for a moment before asking the later half of his statement, seeing the color flushed from Javi’s face. 

“Uh, yeah- Yeah, sorry, I just, I’m good. I’ll um, I’ll just drop a ball.” Javi muttered half to himself as he stepped out of the cart, barely paying attention enough to even remember what in the world he was even looking for in his golf bag. 

If Javi wasn’t already thankful to be on the last hole before Steve’s comment, he sure as hell was now, mindlessly whacking his golf club with no regard as to how his ball made it to the green. Any thoughts about golf, let alone any previous attempts to even try to play well had now flown out the window, creeping thoughts of self doubt and resentment crawling through Javi’s mind. The rest of the round and the entire car ride back to Maria’s were spent in an internal battle ranging in Javi’s brain, the fight between the man he used to be and the man he’d thought he’d become rearing its ugly head with a painful intensity that absolutely felt like it was consuming him whole.  

Steve, who was just as oblivious to his friend’s distraught state as he was to the idiocracy of his sarcastic question, had chalked Javi’s quiet and somber mood up to being an overly sore loser after getting mercilessly crushed at golf. Little did he know that his one silly comment had sent Javi spiraling down a trail of crushing self-doubt. 

As the pair pulled into the driveway and made their way to the backyard where a few straggling party goers still lingered, trying to monopolize their time with you to get the details of your upcoming plans for the future. Being the attentive and patient person that you were, you were trying your hardest to seem enthused and engaged with in the conversation with who you thought was Javi’s Aunt’s Cousin (at this point, you had been introduced to so many new people, you were questioning your own name), but it wasn’t long before your future husband’s big, broad body entering the backyard had you more than distracted, your face instantly lighting up at the sight of him. Peeking over his Aunt’s cousin (or cousin’s aunt, you weren’t really sure) shoulder, you bit down on your lip to try and contain your excitement, letting a little wave shake from your hand in his direction. 

Javi wished that your sweet smile and beautiful self were enough to snap him out of his funk, to see how you beamed in excitement just at the sight of him and shot him that lovestruck look he’d never get sick of- but for some twisted reason, it only made him feel worse. 

You were everything- kind, smart, funny, the most breathtaking woman he’d ever seen. But what was he? Tired? Broken? A shitty guy who had done even shitter things, who had left nothing but destruction in his path for years and years, with no regard for who it hurt, or even worse, left for dead? How was he supposed to give you everything you deserved when he sure as fuck didn’t deserve you? 

Before you had even said a word to him, you could already sense something was off about Javi’s demeanor that was due to more than just losing to Steve in golf. Even from across the backyard, his forced smile and tired brown eyes had a worried pit swirling in the bottom of your stomach, politely excusing yourself from your conversation to make your way over to Javi. 

“Hi! You guys have fun at golf? Steve didn’t kick your ass too bad?” You grinned, wrapping your arms around Javi’s waist, pressing up on your toes to plant a kiss on his lips, his mouth barely ghosting over yours in return. 

“Yeah, it was um- yeah, it was fine.” Javi nodded, trying to make a smile appear between his pursed lips. “How was the shower? You uh, you ready for Steve and I to start putting things in the truck to bring over to the new house?” 

You immediately frowned in response, cocking your head in confusion at him. “Yeah, it was great, but hey, are- are you okay? You seem really off, like more than just Steve kicking your ass at golf off. Did something happen?” 

“No, I’m- yeah, I’m good, Hermosa.” Javi’s eyes darted towards the ground, trying his best to stifle his sigh before another fake smile spread across his face, his response making you even more concerned than you were before, seeing he was clearly lying to you. As much as you wanted to problem solve right then and there to figure out what had Javi so distressed, the calls of one of the last groups of party goers wanting to say their goodbyes rang across the backyard, you flashing them a quick smile and a wave to signal you’d be over in a second. Before you could try and get anything else out of Javi, he had already backed himself away from your hands still tangled around his waist, nodding towards the group of women who were not so patiently waiting for you. “Go say goodbye, I’ll start loading stuff up.” 

“Um, I- uh, yeah, o-okay. Thanks.” You murmured, half to yourself, as Javi had already begun to walk away to find Steve to help him start carrying things out to the car, leaving you more anxious and confused with every passing second. 

With goodbyes finished, and decor and party setup cleaned up just as fast as Maria had demanded it to be put up, you and Javi made your way to your now packed car, followed by Connie and Steve, who had asked to see the progress on your new house while they were in town. You figured you’d kill two birds with one stone, inviting them over and having them help to unload gifts in the same trip, but now, given the strangely somber mood that Javi couldn’t seem to shake, you really wished it was just the two of you so you could figure out what the hell was going on. 

You and Javi piled into his truck, Steve and Connie hopping into theirs and following you down Maria’s street towards your new house. A stark silence filled the car, praying to yourself that maybe Javi just wanted to be alone before he said anything about his current state, but 5 minutes down the road without a single word falling from his lips, you had a devastating feeling that wasn’t going to be the case. 

Your leg bounced against the seat, fingers nervously drumming in your lap, letting out a quiet sigh to yourself before looking over at Javi and mustering up the courage to try and interrogate. 

“Sooooo, golf was fun? I love ya, but I think it’s probably safe to assume Steve won?” You quietly snickered, trying your best to stay nonchalant. 

“Yeah, it was good, Steve won, but that’s no surprise because I suck at golf.” Javi mumbled to himself, barely glancing your direction from behind the yellow tinted aviators perched on the bridge of his nose. Normally, if either of you had something that self-deprecating to say, it was at least followed by some sort of a joke or laugh, but his comment ended with nothing but a stoic silence as his hands gripped tighter around the steering wheel. 

“Hey, babe, it’s okay, you don’t ever golf, so it’s hard to expect yourself to be good at something you rarely ever do.” You reached over to grab his arm to reassure him, that unsettling and anxious pit beginning to grow in your stomach again with the way Javi was acting. All he could muster was a half hearted huff in response, signaling to you that whatever was happening was much bigger than a poor game of golf. 

“Javi… Baby, what’s going on? Did something happen with Steve?” 

“It’s nothing.” 

“It’s clearly not nothing, Jav. Did I do something wrong?” 

“No, I told you, it’s fine.” 

“Javi, it obviously isn’t fine if this is the way you’re acting about it. Why won’t you talk to me about it? I just wanna-” 

“I told you, it’s fine, okay!? Jesus, I don’t need you to solve all my problems.”

Oh.  

You and Javi had been in arguments before, hell, you’d been in fights before, but never once in the time that you’d known him, had Javi snapped at you like this. You could practically feel yourself recoiling in your seat from the harsh tone of his voice, fighting back the tears that had instantly begun welling in your eyes. You could feel your heart in your throat, choking down a heavy gulp as your lip quivered to try and keep from crying. 

What had gone so wrong that Javi was acting like this? 

You wish you had it in you to dig it out of him, but as you pulled up the driveway of your new home, Steve and Connie right behind you, ready for a tour, the best you could muster was a quiet, “O-okay.” As soon as the car was in park, Javi was unbuckling his seatbelt and slamming the door behind him, leaving you behind in the car, trying everything in your power to not become a startled, sobbing mess. 

Wiping away the wetness pooling behind your eyelids, you swiped the back of your hand against your cheeks, taking a few deep breaths before following behind, mustering up as much courage as you could to keep your cool for however long Steve and Connie were planning to stick around before heading back to San Antonio. 

You had hoped that Steve and Connie hadn't picked up on the palpable tension brewing between you and Javi, trying your best to put on a brave face as you paraded the Murphy’s through your nearly completed house. To be quite honest, you couldn’t have recalled anything that had happened in the time that they were there, your mind racing in torment as you watched Javi brood around your new home, barely saying a word to you, let alone make any eye contact, or look in your general direction. 

As the four of you made your way upstairs, your attention was finally caught by the low lull of Steve’s laughter as he situated himself between you and Javi, grabbing you both by the shoulders and shaking you in his grasp. 

“Well I’ll be damned. Y’all got enough rooms up here to house half a baseball team! You want that many kids driving ya nuts, huh?” Steve chuckled, making his way down the hallway, peeking into the empty bedrooms of your 2nd story. 

“Steve!” Connie scolded, slapping the back of her hand against Steve’s stomach for his comment. 

“What?! I’m just sayin’! I thought y’all would want like, 2, but there’s enough room for way more than that. I mean, I guess you two are fuckin’ goin’ at it like rabbits all the time, so I can’t really be shocked.” 

“Steven Edward Murphy! Jesus Christ!” Connie snapped, shooting Steve a dangerous glare, aggressively raising an eyebrow at her husband as she gestured towards you and Javi. 

“No, it’s okay, we don’t know for sure how many we want, but we figured if we had the space we’d add the rooms and even if they’re not bedrooms, they’ll still get used.” You had it in you enough to force a half smile across your face, flashing it at Steve and Connie before looking over at Javi. 

While you hadn’t expected much of a response from him given the current situation, what you weren’t expecting was the panic stricken look painting Javi from head to toe. 

If you weren’t already worried out of your mind about what the fuck was going on with Javi, you sure as fuck were now.  

“Uh, I um- yeah.”

Those were the only words Javi was able to choke out through the audible thumps pounding in his chest as his face went ghost white, eyes peeled to the ground. 

“See, Steve? You’re making them uncomfortable! You have absolutely no filter, I swear! I’m so sorry, you guys!” Connie frantically apologized, giving Steve another hardy slap in the stomach, making him wince. 

“I’m just jokin’, Jesus Christ, sorry!” Steve grumbled, holding up his hands in defense from his wife’s accusation, sheepishly looking over at you and Javi with a little shrug. 

“No, it’s uh- no, it’s fine, don’t worry about it.” You had given up on trying to be convincing at this point, your voice quietly shaking as you stared at Javi, now looking like a terrified, ragged shell of himself. 

What the fuck was going on? Did Javi want to wait to have kids? Did he not want to have that many? Was he having second thoughts about kids all together? Fuck, was he having second thoughts about getting married? He’s literally never acted like this before. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

You were sure at this point, you probably looked just as much of a mess as Javi did, letting your thoughts race wildly throughout your brain, the silence now lingering between the four of you now seemed to feel deafening, Connie beginning to pick up on the uneasiness festering between you and Javi and knowing she had enough common sense for her and Steve to pick up her cue to see herself out. 

“Well, still, I’m sorry. We should probably get going anyways, we told the sitter we’d be back around 6 so we should probably hit the road. Thank you so much for the tour! The shower was beautiful and I’m so glad I could be there for it. We’ll see you guys for the big day soon! Just let me know if you need any help with wedding stuff between now and then okay?” 

“Uh yeah, yeah of course. Thanks for all your help, Con. I’ll um- I’ll let you know if we need anything.” You stammered as Connie pulled you in for a hug goodbye, followed quickly by Steve, who planted a few pats on your back mid hug. 

“Bye sweetheart, thanks for letting me steal this asshole for golf today. See y’all when you’re gettin’ ready to get hitched! Adios, loser.” Steve chuckled as he pulled away from your hug to tug Javi into another, giving him an even harder pat on the back before letting Connie say her goodbyes as well. 

“Do you want me to walk you guys down to your-” 

“Nah, we’ll find our way out, no worries. Bye lovebirds, see ya soon.” Steve grinned, giving the both of you one last wave farewell before disappearing down the stairs, their hushed bickers about Steve’s unnecessary comments quietly trailing behind them. Before you could even get a word out to Javi now that the two of you were alone, he was already halfway down the stairs behind the Murphy’s, not even bothering to look back at you as he mumbled under his breath. 

“I’m gonna get the gifts out of the car and go sit outside.” 

“Jav, wait, I-” 

You could feel the lump beginning to swell in your throat, your bottom lip trembling with tears welling in your eyes as you watched Javi storm down the stairs without even so much as an attempt to care about what you had to say, leaving you with nothing but yourself and 5 empty bedrooms that now had you questioning everything you thought you knew about your future with Javi. You felt your body begin to collapse like a sad pile of jello as you melted into a sobbing puddle on the floor, bringing your knees to your chest as you cried into the flowy fabric of your dress, leaving wet stains behind from your tears. Your breaths were rapid and shaky with each muffled sob, trying to rationally grasp on to something, anything, as to why Javi was acting this way. But the more the gears frantically turned in your brain, the more irrational and terrifying your thoughts became. 

This all happened so fucking fast. It’s only been a year since I’ve known him. Is he realizing it’s too much? Am I too much? This was all too fucking good to be true, wasn’t it, you fucking idiot. 

Taking a few more minutes to collect yourself enough to at least stop full on sobbing, you wiped your wet cheeks with the back of your palm, inhaling a trembling deep breath as you mustered up every ounce of courage you could find to face whatever fate was waiting for you downstairs with Javi. 

Each step down the stairs felt heavier than the last, leaving your fingers anxiously drumming against your legs as you saw Javi’s broad body hunched over the side of the unfinished back patio, staring out to the tall grass of your backyard swaying in the warm summer breeze. If it were any other time, you would have rushed up behind him, wrapping your body around his back and attacking him with kisses until the two of you were wound up in a fit of laughter and giggles, happily tangled in each other's bodies. 

Right now, you were terrified to even step too close to him. 

Carefully and quietly sliding open the glass door to the porch, you prayed with every bone in your body you weren’t going to do anything that set Javi off enough to even let you attempt to have a conversation with him about what was going on. The new wood softly creaked under your shoes, making Javi turn his head just enough to acknowledge your presence as you wearily approached him. Taking one more deep breath, you opened your mouth to speak, but with your jaw hanging open, Javi’s words filled the stark silence before yours could. 

“I don’t know if we should get married.” 

Fuck. 

You could practically feel your heart sink to the bottom of your stomach, like the weight of 1,000 bricks had been dropped on your body all at once, hearing that come out of his mouth. You could have mentally tried to brace yourself for a lot of things, but hearing Javi tell you he didn't want to get married anymore sure as hell wasn't one of them.

“Javi, I- baby, what- I don’t- I don’t-” 

“Why the fuck do you even wanna marry me?” 

Your brows scrunched in pain and confusion at the sharp tone of his words, desperate to try and understand what point he was trying to prove in this gut wrenching game he seemed to be playing. 

“Because I- Javi, I- Javi I love you, that’s why.” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you sat down next to him on the edge of the porch, leaning over enough to see the tears glistening down his cheeks, his eyes red and puffy as he tried to stifle the sobs rumbling in his chest. He shook his head back and forth before his gaze fell into his lap. 

“You shouldn’t love me.” 

“Javi… what the fuck are you talking about?” you plead, feeling the pain and hurt creeping through your body as you watched the tears he was so desperately trying to fight. With a scornful scoff, Javi shook his head, pressing against his knees to stand, taking a few paces around the porch, burying his hands in his face, his words muffled and muted by his palms covering his mouth. 

“What the fuck am I- I’m not- I’m not what you deserve. I don’t understand how you don’t fucking see that.” 

You followed suit, bringing yourself to stand with your arms crossed tightly across your chest, staring at Javi in bewilderment, biting down on your tongue so hard to keep from bursting into tears you thought you were going to make it bleed. You could feel the storm of pain, anger and confusion brewing deep in the pit of your stomach, your body numb and mind blank. 

“Javier. What the fuck is going on? I don’t understand why-” 

“Because last time I was gonna get married I fucked up everything. For everyone. I hurt everyone I cared about. I went half way around the world and I spent a decade fucking things up even more. How do you know I’m not gonna fuck everything up again? I love you too much to let it happen to you. The thought of ever hurting you even half as I much as I’ve hurt anyone else because of my choices fucking kills me. I can’t do it. I can’t hurt you like I’ve hurt everyone else. I’d never fucking forgive myself. I love you more than anything, Osita. I love you more than anything in the world. You deserve someone who isn’t going to hurt you. Someone who will do right by you, by your family, your future children, I just- fuck- I don’t think that person can be me.” 

A deafening silence hung in the air as you stared blankly at Javi, tears streaming from his tormented brown eyes, his body trembling with devastation and regret. You had no doubt your body mirrored his as the guilt and heartbreak flooded you from head to toe, wondering how in the world you had ever let the man you loved and cared about more than anything feel like he wasn’t enough for you. 

You wished you could speak- to find the words to tell him that he was your everything, the glue that had put you back together when you were convinced there was nothing else that could mend the broken mess that you had become. You wished you could express to him that there was no one on the face of this earth that you would rather spend the rest of your life with than him- that there was no one else you wanted by your side through every moment of your life, the good, the bad and the ugly, more than him. You wished there was a way to tell him that you loved him more than anything, but in that moment, all you could do was grab him and wrap your arms around his waist, squeezing him as tightly as your body would let you, letting your wet face rest against the familiar warmth of his chest as you whispered into the soft fabric of his shirt. 

“Javier Peña, you’re the only person it could be.” 

You could feel his chest begin to rumble with heavy sobs as his arms draped around you, pulling you against his body so closely, it was like his life depended on it, like he couldn’t bear the thought of ever letting you go again. One arm stayed wrapped around your back as the other slid up the back of your neck, his broad palm cradling your head in his grasp, his fingers practically digging into your skin to keep you close as the two of you let yourselves do nothing but hold each other in your teary silence. 

You let one of your hands reach up towards Javi’s face, cupping his jaw and forcing his gaze back on to you, as your thumb traced back and forth along his cheek, wiping away the wetness that had been welling in his eyes. 

“I need you to listen to me, okay?” You asked, waiting until you felt Javi’s head gently nod up and down in understanding in your palm before you continued, “The man you were before doesn’t scare me. If it did, I would have been gone a long time ago. The man you were before has turned you into the man that you’ve become. The man that I want to spend everyday with for the rest of my life. Every good day, every bad day, every painful, hard and shitty day, and every day in between. And I promise that I will spend every last one of those days until the day I die trying my best to convince you that you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And if I die trying, then so be it. I love you, Javi. Don’t you ever think for a second that there is anyone out there that I want to spend the rest of my life with more than you, and I won’t ever let you forget it.” 

It was only moments before both of Javi’s hands were cradling your face, gently trembling as they cupped your soft, wet skin as you locked eyes with his, watching his face shift from terrified to bewildered, thinking he must have misheard what you had just said to him. 

“Osita, I-” 

“Promise me.” 

“Promise you what?” 

“Promise me that you believe me. Promise me that you know I love you more than anything.”

There was a part of Javi’s brain that wished he could find something to prove that he couldn’t. To prove he wasn’t worthy of keeping the promise you had made to him. To convince himself that he had no reason to believe he was worthy of the love you had given him.

But the truth was, for the first time that he could remember, as he looked down at you, the woman who had taken his life and forever changed it for the better, who had helped to heal him in ways he didn’t know he needed, who had cared for him in ways he never thought he deserved, and who had stood by him even as you learned about the ugliest parts of him he never thought he’d forgive himself for, Javier Peña finally realized he had learned what it was like to be worthy of love. 

You had made him realize he was worthy of being loved. 

A small gulp slid down his throat between his shaky breaths, taking a moment to soak in everything about you, before letting his lips ghost across yours as a quiet whisper left his mouth. 

“I promise.” 

And just like that, his lips crashed into yours with a ferocious and tender passion, soaking in every ounce of the sweet flavor of you, a taste he knew he would never tire of, one that he craved like nothing else. 

“I love you, Osita. Fuck, I love you so much.” Javi moaned between your kisses, praying with every bone in his body you knew how much he meant it. 

“I love you too, Javi.” The hot breath of your words danced across his lips before they were crashing together once again, his tongue swiping between your parted mouths as he ran his hand down your back and around your waist, pulling you so close you were convinced your bodies were going to melt into one as you pressed against his broad chest, now needily grasping at fist fulls of his shirt. 

In that moment, it was like the two of you could feel something in the air change. The tension lifting, the frustrated fog fading, the both of you desperately needing the other to know how much you loved them. The Javi you knew and loved had come back, returning home to you. All of the fear and sadness was replaced by a rampant desperation to know how much you needed him, almost as much as he needed to show you how hopelessly he craved you, too. 

With your bodies still tangled together, your kisses became messier and sloppier as you backed your way towards the door that lead inside, stumbling and trampling over each other’s feet without any regard for where you were headed until you felt your back bump against the kitchen island, the rounded edges of the countertop stopping you in your tracks as Javi caged you between his broad figure and the island. 

Both of your hands were now feverishly roaming across each other’s bodies before Javi had run his hands down your thighs, hoisting you up to sit on the countertop, planting hot, wet kisses across your neck and collarbone while his fingers crept under the hem of your dress, his palms sliding up and down your legs, digging his fingers into your flesh. 

“Javi…” You whimpered, letting your eyes close and head fall back as he sucked at your pulse point, leaving you with one hand bracing yourself against the edge of the counter and the other with your fingers wrapped around the navy fabric of Javi’s shirt, clinging on for dear life. 

You eyes opened, and gaze shifted downwards as you felt Javi pull away from your grasp, watching him drop to his knees, slotting himself between your parted legs and kissing the inside of your thighs while his hands tugged at the waistband of your already soaked underwear, hastily shuffling them to fall down your legs and pool at your ankles. His needy kisses up your thighs crept closer and closer to your core as your legs draped over his shoulders, kneeling before you like you were the altar of everything he worshiped as his deep brown eyes looked up at yours, like he was begging for forgiveness for his sins. 

“I’m so sorry, Osita. I’m so sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean it. Fuck, I love you so much. Let me show me how much I love you. Please, baby. Please let me show you how much I need to be yours.” 

Your response was nothing but a ragged moan as you felt his hot breath hovering over your cunt before letting long, flat licks of his tongue drag through your folds, each swipe pressing firmer than the last, lapping up the arousal dripping from your entrance like a sweet nectar. With one hand still white knuckling the edge of the countertop, the other shot down to bury itself in the dark curls of Javi’s thick locks, tugging at ends to find some place to ease your tension as he began to flick and swirl his tongue relentlessly against your clit, lapping you up like a man starved. 

“Oh fuck Javi- fuck- you feel so good, baby.” You moaned, raking your fingers along Javi’s scalp as you watched his head bob nestled between your legs, feeling the low hum of satisfaction thrumming in his throat as he began to suck your sensitive bundle of nerves, latching his lips around your clit as his mouth worked feverishly against your cunt. You could already feel the tingle beginning to grow at the base of your spine and spread to your legs as Javi found every sweet spot that he knew made you lose all control, desperate to make you feel how much he needed your love and forgiveness. 

“That’s it, sweet girl. Let go for me baby, I’ve got you.” Javi hummed before diving back between your legs, tightening his grip around your thighs as his tongue danced around your clit relentlessly. It wasn’t long before you could feel your orgasm begin to flood your body, pleasure crashing through you as you cried out his name, a death grip clutching around the counter and Javi’s dark locks. Javi worked you through your high, drinking up the juices of your slick as you came, feeling your legs tremble as they stayed slung over his broad shoulders, not stopping until your body was shaking and your whimpers and moans had become so wrecked, he had no choice but to stop to relish in the blissed out, dripping mess he had made you. He would have loved to stay like this forever, watching you become more and more wrecked beneath his tongue, the want, no, need, to be buried inside your heat, getting lost in your wetness and warmth, savoring in the way no one else would ever be able to have you like he did, to know that you were his. 

Javi worked in a determined silence, rusting with his belt buckle until the metal clangs of it opening had his pants and boxers in a puddle around his ankles, splaying kisses across your neck as he slid you towards the edge of the counter, his fingers digging into your hips with a bruising intensity. He stroked himself a few times as he lined his cock up with your entrance, guiding his tip through the glistening arousal covering your folds, leaving his dick shiny with your slick as you whimpered into his skin. 

“Javi… Please, baby. I need you.” You whimpered, instinctively bucking your hips towards him, desperately craving him to ease the achy emptiness between your legs. 

Resting his forehead against yours, the dark, damp curls of his hair brushed your skin, the hot and heavy heat of each of your shaky breaths melting into one another’s as your lips ghosted his, only fully meeting yours to catch the moan that had escaped your mouth as he pushed himself into your heat, letting himself bottom out, his tip brushing against your cervix. You couldn’t help but wrap your legs around the small of his back and drape your arms over his shoulders, desperate to have your bodies needily tangled and intertwined together as you savored in the sweet sting and stretch of his fullness. 

He began to rock his hips, letting his cock drag in and out of your cunt, taking his time with each stroke, the movement making you dig your fingernails into the fabric of his shirt stretched over his muscular back, in turn, making the grip he had around your waist even tighter, his fingers buried in the soft flesh of your stomach where his hands had crept under your dress. 

The way he punched up into you, perfectly pounding against your g-spot with each thrust, combined with the way the hairs at his base rubbed along your clit, already had the inevitable coil beginning to tighten in your belly. You dug your nails deeper into Javi’s skin, grasping for the damp curls at the nape of his neck, your whimpers growing louder and more desperate with each stroke as you could feel yourself beginning to crumble beneath him. 

Each stroke seemed to become deeper and fuller than the last, Javi’s pace now climbing in speed and intensity as he felt your cunt clench tighter and tighter around his cock, knowing that familiar feeling meant you were coming closer to your end. You could barely muster anything but a whimper, your soft pleads and begs going straight to his dick as he slid and out of your wet heat. 

“Fuck baby, don’t stop- ahhhh- please don’t stop, I’m so close.” 

The lewd sounds of skin hitting skin and low, ragged moans echoed against the bare walls of your unfinished kitchen as Javi fucked deeper and deeper into you, singing sweet, soft praises against your skin between locking your lips with yours. 

“Fuck- Dámelo, Hermosa (Give it to me, beautiful). Need to feel you soak my cock before I fuck you full of me. It’s okay mi amor- mierda- té tengo. (my love- shit- I’ve got you.) I’ve always got you. Forever.” 

You could feel your legs lock even tighter around Javi’s waist as heat began to bloom in your belly, only needing a few more thrusts as you rolled your hips against his before your mind went blank and vision went white, your orgasm crashing through your body and flooding every inch of you with pleasure so intense, you could feel yourself going limp in his grasp. 

“Fuck, Javi, fuck, fuck, fuck, oh my god-ahhhhhhhh-” You whimpered as Javi fucked you through your high, now desperate to chase his own as his thrusts became rushed and sloppy, pounding into you as your walls gripped around his cock like a vice. Your warmth and wetness consumed him, only needing a few more pumps before he could feel himself following suit, hissing through gritted teeth as incoherent babbles spilled from his lips. 

“There it is, baby. Fuck- fuck, you’re so fucking perfect. I love you so much, Osita. Con todo mi corazón. (With my whole heart). Oh fuck- I’m yours forever. Oh shit, I’m gonna cum to, oh fuckkkkkk.” 

With one last thrust, Javi finished buried deep inside you, hot ropes of his cum coating your walls as a slick mixture of spend leaked down your thighs, leaving him panting while he slumped into your shoulder, his chest heaving with labored breaths, trying to compose himself. Bracing himself with one palm flat against the counter next to your hip, his other hand reached up to your face, brushing away a piece of stray hair back into place before gently cupping your cheek as he spoke. 

“Osita, baby, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I love you so much. I didn’t mean what I said earlier, I just- fuck- I’ve never been so sure of anything, but when we were at golf today, Steve brought up Lorraine, and I- I just was so scared I was gonna fuck everything up again, and I-” 

“Oh God, he brought up Lorraine?! Jesus. I knew it. I knew this was Steve’s fucking fault.” You sighed, quietly laughing to yourself as you shook your head. 

“Wait, how did you-” 

“Because it just seemed so strange that you were acting like this all of a sudden. You got back from golfing with him and it was like you were a different person. I mean, I’m not gonna lie, I was freaked out and panicking wondering what happened because you’ve never acted like that before. That, and because I love Steve, but he’s an idiot.” The two of you were both now laughing, Javi rubbing his hand over his face before rolling his eyes, wondering to himself how he had really let his friend’s stupid comment get the best of him. 

“I’m so sorry, Osita. I should have just ignored it, I just hadn’t thought about it in so long and I was so terrified to mess everything up again. It would kill me to hurt you like that.” His thumb circled around your cheek as he tilted your gaze to meet his, sincerity and remorse swirling in the dark pools of his chocolate brown eyes. 

“Javi, listen, if this is moving too fast, or it’s too much for you, I want you to be able to tell me, I understand if-” Before you could finish your sentence, Javi’s lips were planted tenderly against yours, pulling away from your mouth with a goofy grin and satisfied sigh. 

“I promise you, I’ve never wanted anything more. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you. I can’t wait to marry you,” he leaned in, pressing a quick kiss on your cheek, “I can’t wait to live in our new house with you,” he grinned, planting another ticklish kiss on your neck, “I can’t wait until we can finally start filling up these empty rooms with little baby Peñas” Javi chuckled, now peppering kisses all over your body, making you erupt in a fit of laughter and giggles, squirming and flailing in his grasp, playfully swatting at him. “I can’t wait to spend every day for the rest of my life with the most beautiful, amazing woman I’ve ever met.” He smirked, tilting his head to let your mouths meet again, this kiss filled with a tender passion and intensity unmatched by his previous playful ones. 

It was the kind of kiss that said all of the things that words couldn’t. The kind of kiss that had butterflies fluttering in your stomach like the first kiss you had shared in Maria’s bathroom almost a year ago. The kind of kiss that made you fall even deeper in love with him, even when you thought you couldn’t. 

It was also the kind of kiss  where everything else in the world seemed to melt away and make time stand still, a kiss that you could have stayed lost in forever… unless a certain someone hadn’t forgotten his wallet at your house and needed to come back and get it. 

You were so oblivious to anything else happening around you, that neither you or Javi had heard your front door open, followed by the rushed, impatient footsteps of Steve and Connie, arguing about where Steve could have left his wallet, and how on earth he could have left without realizing it was missing from its usual home in his back pocket. 

“Seriously, Steve, I can’t believe we’re gonna waste a whole hour having to turn around and come back here because you couldn’t remember your wallet!” 

“Con, I told you, it’s right on the counter, I know where it is, lemme just go grab it really quick and then we ca- Oh Jesus fucking Christ!” Steve shouted, walking into the kitchen to see you and Javi making out on your island, your dress pushed up well past your legs, and Javi’s bare ass on display from his pants still pooling around his ankles. 

“Ahhhhh!” You and Javi shrieked, practically jumping out of your skin to see Steve’s tall and lanky frame frozen in your kitchen, now scrambling to try and fix your clothes and hair to try and save yourselves at least some dignity. 

“What the hell are you two doin’?!” Steve grimaced, trying not to cackle to himself as Connie rushed up behind him to see what was happening, only to very quickly cover her eyes and turn away from you and Javi. 

“Us?! What the hell are you doing here? Jesus, you ever heard of fucking knocking, Murph?!” Javi groaned, shuffling his pants back up and fixing his hair before helping you off the counter, trying your best to hide your beet red, embarrassed face. 

“I forgot my wallet! Forgive me for thinkin’ you two would keep your hands off each other for long enough to let me come pick it up in peace.” Steve frowned, raising up his hands in defense. 

“I’m sorry! I told him to call you to let you know he was coming to pick it up, but he seemed to think it wasn’t a big deal.” Connie scolded, giving Steve a forceful nudge of her elbow before finally turning back around to face you and Javi, knowing you were at least halfway decent. “God, I love you, but you are an idiot.” 

“You can say that again…” You snickered under your breath, just loud enough to make Javi and Connie join in your laughter, leaving Steve with his arms crossed over his chest, rolling his eyes in annoyance. 

“Hey, listen. Call me what you want, but I don’t think you’ll be callin’ me an idiot when you need me to come babysit your 47 kids so the two of you can get some…” He paused gesturing to you and Javi’s disheveled state, “... time to yourselves. Like I said earlier, y’all gotta lot of rooms to fill, and I don’t think you’re gonna have any problem doin’ it.” 

And for as much as you wanted to give Steve the ten pounds of shit he deserved, as you looked up at Javi standing next to you, you couldn’t really even bring yourself to be mad. Because in the end, the only thing that mattered was him- the man you were going to spend the rest of your life with. The one who was your future, the one who stood with you through every twist and turn, the one who was your home. What started as a day that had you questioning everything had turned into one that had never made you feel more assured. You knew that Javier Peña loved you more than life itself, and you knew that you were so lucky to spend the rest of your life getting to prove to him over and over that you loved him just as much. 

Taglist:

@cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

[pan-flute-skeleton]

Winter Wonderklok 2023

Welcome to the first ever Winter Wonderklok! A holiday Metalocalypse themed event leading up to Christmas. Twelve days of prompts instead of gifts for your true love. How zazzy is that! You are free to create anything you want. Make art, write stories, put together playlists, design moodboards and overall, take the time to have fun with it. I know this coming out a smidge early, but I want to make sure everyone has time to relax after kloktober, think and create. I made it a point to try and be as broad as possible because I know not everyone celebrates Christmas. Please feel free to adjust to your standards. As a fan creator myself, I do these things for the fun of it and in a way that fits my style. I encourage you all to do the same. Don’t feel like a certain prompt? Do something else entirely! 

There are a few things I would like to clarify and they go as follows:

What do you mean by ‘Rankin Bass?’ Rankin Bass is the production company that produced all of your favorite Christmas movies like Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer and Santa Claus is Coming to Town. Beautiful puppetry and stop motion pioneers that are cherished to this day. I challenge artists to attempt the style in their own way. Or simply have your character of choice enjoying the specials. However you want to tackle the iconic figures.

What do you mean by ‘Saran wrap ball?’ It’s a type of grab bag game that involves…saran wrap! Who would’ve thought. I will attach a video below for reference on how it’s made and how it’s played. I will say that each house has their own rules so feel free to adjust anything you’d like.

What do you mean by ‘OC Special?’ I am an OC (original character) writer. Many of my friends are too. The few prompts that are labeled ‘OC special’ are meant to encourage use of OCs, interaction with other OCs and even creation of new OCs. I would love for people to take the opportunity to create someone or something new or try something they’ve been meaning to for a while. Challenge yourself! But if that isn’t your style, that’s okay too. If you do not want to use or make an OC, you’re more than welcome to use a canon character of choice instead.

What do you mean by ‘Toys for Tots?’ This is a charity program run by the U.S. Marine Corps Reserve which distributes toys to children whose families cannot afford to buy them for Christmas. Ongoing for over seventy five years and common enough, but just in case anyone needed a reminder.

I encourage you to use #WinterWonderklok2023 when you post your work. Love keeping things organized. Good luck everyone! Can’t wait to see what you can come up with.

I also want to give a huge shout out to @papabigtoes for all the visuals for Wonderklok. I really could not pull this off without her insane art skills. Thank you a million times over my friend!

Plain text list:

Dec 13 Improvised snowman decoration 

Dec 14 Baking cookies

Dec 15 Hot tub in the snow

Dec 16 Black friday*

Dec 17 Everyone gets socks

Dec 18 Lighting candles

Dec 19 Saran wrap ball

Dec 20 Secret Santa with another character*

Dec 21 Dethfam holiday

Dec 22 Rankin Bass

Dec 23 Homemade gift

Dec 24 Toys for tots*

*=OC Special

[thedeviltohisangel]

All The Things I Did (2): It's All Around, It's All The Time

a/n: wanted to end with angst but i'll save it. send in blrub reqests for these idiots falling in love

The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like a good idea. All he had to do was ask. He had asked plenty of girls and women out on the town before. All of them had blushed and giggled and obliged with a twirl of their hair and a bat of their lashes. But this one. Cass. She was something else entirely. 

John didn’t ever think about deploying overseas resulting in him standing outside the mess hall, hat in hand and a bouquet of flowers sweatily gripped in his hand, pacing and muttering self-encouragement under his breath. You’ve done this a million times. You just ask. So what if she says no? There are a million girls trotting around here you’ve already charmed.

“Major Egan?” Shit. He had thought she was already in there, now he looked panicked and not at all manly. “Am I late?” She checked the watch on her wrist, knowing she would never not be on time down to the minute.

“No I thought you’d be early so I was out here talking myself into asking you to dinner.” There was no better way to say it than to just say it. He expected her to look shocked or abhorred. Anything but the look on her face that made it seem that is exactly what she was expecting. 

“Are those supposed to go with the offer?” she asked as she motioned to the grouping of wildflowers he had tasked the children who followed Lemmons around to help him pick. He held them out sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as she lifted them to her nose.

“They’re not much-”

“They’re lovely.” She smiled, a real smile, and he felt a weight lift off his chest and his own smile spread across his face in kind. “Is dinner here or somewhere else?”

“Was thinking somewhere off base. Show you the John Egan worth knowing.”

“You’ll pick me up?” He nodded emphatically. “Then I will see you at 6.” That would give her enough time to finish her work day and get physically and psychologically prepared for whatever John Egan had in store.

“I’ll see you then,” he spoke with a hint of reverence in his tone, unable to even blink as she held the flowers to her nose again and damn near floated past him into the mess hall. Yes. Something else entirely.

----

She was nervous and she hated it. Hated that she was fretting over a fly away piece of hair only visible if the sun hit it just right. Hated that she only had two tubes of lipstick to choose from and neither of them were the right color. Hated that she had only reconciled breaking the rules to sneak out in anything other than her uniform to avoid Major Egan looking at any other girl in a pretty dress.

“Lieutenant Cooper, Major Egan is here for you.”

“Thank you, Mary.” Cass squared her shoulders and took one last steadying breath. She had faced down much worse. German border guards. Handsy bankers. Her mother when she enlisted instead of marrying Sidney Landry.

“You’re out of regulation,” were the first words out of his mouth when she finally stepped outside. 

“Astute.” He opened the Jeep door for her, helping her in before rushing to his side.

“You look lovely.” He meant it sincerely. One of the most beautiful sights he had seen even before the war. And he was sure she would be even for long after.

The ride to a local pub was pleasant enough, John laughing at her earnest attempts to keep her hair in place in the breeze, making her laugh with her whole heart as he sang along to something on the radio. Sang or yelled, the verb was up for debate. He was a perfect gentleman, opening doors and pulling out her chair. 

“You’ve given me plenty of grief over my debutante manners all in the hopes of covering up your own,” she mused as he returned from the bar top to their table with a couple of glasses. Coca-Cola for her, a pint for him.

“I’m not a neanderthal,” he quipped back. John went to raise his glass to his lips when he stopped, her hand resting lightly against his wrist.

“Not before a toast.” She cleared her throat. “To kicking Hitler’s ass and looking damn good while doing it.” The beer almost couldn’t get between the lips of his smile. 

“You’re very surprising.” Cass hummed in acknowledgment. “I like it.”

“Like it? You like an ice cream flavor over another or you like the color of the tie your parents buy you for Christmas.”

“Well, love is a bit presumptuous, Lieutenant, but if you’re that taken-”

“Smitten. Tell me you’re smitten with me.” There was a dare behind her eyes. Daring him to dip his toes into shark-infested waters. 

“I’m smitten with you,” he relented. John thinks she blushed. But before he could tease her about it, a pile of fish and chips was being placed between them.

“Miss Cooper, I wasn’t expecting you tonight! I got a fresh batch of my sponge in the back. Make sure you save room.” 

“I will, Patricia, thank you.” John smiled at the interaction, enjoying this version of Spook. She was much more free off base. Captured the attention of everyone she came into contact with. He could only assume these were natural attributes for her job. Alleged job.

“How do you do that?”

“Do what?” she asked with a pop of a chip into her mouth. 

“Wrap everyone around your finger in an instant.” He reached for her hand halfway across the table, Cass offering it instantly, filling the gaps in between her fingers with his own to emphasize the point. 

“I could give you the same answer I told an empty suit in Washington a few years ago but the answer you want, it’s something I think you have to answer yourself, Major Egan-”

“John, please, Cass.” He was drowning in whatever this was. Needed her to give him an inch just to stay above water.

“John.” He brought her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles one by one.

“Again.” She swallowed, mouth running dry and eyelids feeling heavy.

“John.” He could feel her pulse in her wrist. Flickering quicker ever so slightly. He thinks he could lose himself in this game. Willingly go insane if it meant having her look at him like this. “I’m smitten with you, too.”

----

Somewhere between the fish and the chips and the sponge and the more than a few pints, John had decided those two bikes out front were going to be his. And they weren’t for sale. So he had to earn them. Why not have some fun in the process?

“Aren’t you going to tell him he doesn’t have to do this?” Cass had thought about it but enjoyed the look on Bucky-no that was too much-John’s face to stamp out the fire.

“Major Egan, it’s just a stupid bet,” one of the British soldiers tried to reason with him. 

“I have to do it now. Can’t look like a man who doesn’t follow through on his word in front of my girl.” My girl. That had slipped out when he was refilling his pint glass two or three pours ago. She was still tingling with the warmth it had provided. 

“Who’s it gonna be then, Major?” Everyone echoed the call. 

“I’ve played everyone,” he paused to hiccup, “and you Irish are about as good as hitting that bullseye as you are hammering your nails.” He pointed at a gentleman named Tommy and called him the best darts slinger in all of East Anglia, grabbing the apple to ready himself for the shot. Cass had resigned herself to the corner, content with watching John from afar. 

“You two have been so cute together all night! Why don’t you go give him a good luck kiss?” A group of girls, around her age, had been at the pub either with their own soldier or hoping to find one. They had been longingly admiring the interactions between Cass and John. Like they were in their own little world in the corner of that pub. 

“I don’t want to distract him,” Cass protested but she was already rising from her chair and smoothing her skirt. 

“I’m sure he will find it a worthy distraction.” The cacophony of giggles followed her to her Major, Cass plucking the apple from his hand purposefully. 

“Don’t go losing an eye,” she whispered. 

“Fond of them already?” Her lips pressed together to block her words of agreement from slipping out. “Tell you what. I win those bikes from him but I want a kiss from you.”

“A kiss? That’s hardly a prize. Last I counted, you’ve kissed me plenty.” It was true. When she hadn’t rebuked his lips against her knuckles, he had moved to her palms and her wrists and had taken on the habit of kissing the top of her head every time he stood to refill their drinks. God, he had even allowed himself a sinful press of his lips to her forehead when they had swayed to the record playing in the corner only a handful of moments ago.

“A real, proper sweep you off your feet and make your head spin kind of kiss.”

“Then I guess that is worth playing for.” She handed him the apple and pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek either way. 

“Alright, Tommy, just not the eye.” Cass held her breath as the dart sailed through the air and let it go once it lodged neatly into the apple on John Egan’s head. The whole place erupted and she watched with a smile and a shake of her head as he hoisted Tommy into the air. He caught her eye and smiled like a champion, straightening his jacket before walking towards her. Her arm extended to hit his chest once he was within reach. 

“Outside.” The air inside was suffocating, especially under John’s lovestruck gaze. Her head already felt like it was spinning and he hadn’t even tried to kiss her yet. 

“This seems sturdy enough,” he said with a wave of his hand towards a stone wall lining the road.

“Sturdy enough for-” she gasped as his hands grabbed her waist and lifted her on top of it. Their height leveled within a few inches. Instinctually, her fingertips found the hair at the nape of his neck and found purchase. He leaned forward until there was no moonlight between them.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispered. She chased his question with her own answer, her lips meeting his and a symphony echoing in her head. John met her in kind, cupping her cheek in the palm of his hand and stroking his thumb once, twice, three times. 

“John.” It was a near moan. She wanted more, more, more. Her shoes fell off her stockinged feet, heels digging into his back to bring him closer. 

“You’re going to be the fucking death of me.” He said all the words with one breath to minimize the interruption to the havoc her lips were wreaking on his heart. His arms wrapped tighter around her waist, lifting and turning so he was on the wall and she was on his lap. Cass relished the change in position. Mewling when his hands slid up from her ankles to her thighs and settled at the hem of her dress.

“I need to catch my breath.” She pulled away slightly and pressed a teasing kiss to the tip of John’s nose. 

“That feels nice.” She giggled and kissed him again. “You all caught up on your breath?” Cass nodded and with a smirk, she crashed against him over and over again. And if he whispered again how he was smitten with her. And if she rubbed her nose against his with something more than smitten in her intention. And if John Egan looked back on that night from the confines of a POW camp in Germany, that was just between them, the moon and the stars.

[chrissturnioloshoe]

Hate - C.S

Fluff - Y/n has had a shitty day and when she sees how much hate she’s been receiving on social media it just makes it worse but luckily her boyfriend Chris is there to make her feel better.

Recently I’ve been getting a lot of hate online mostly because I’m very close with the Sturniolo triplets. Chris and I have been dating for a few months now after being friends for a few years but we’ve decided to keep that away from the public despite the many rumours and speculations about us.

I’m used to hate at this point I’m a social media influencer so of course I’m going to get the odd hate comment or message but recently ever since I’ve appeared in more of the triplets videos the hate has been getting out of hand.

I don’t usually let the hate get to me, it’s just obsessive jealous teen girls but today I’ve had such a shit day and when I opened my tik tok my comments, they were just full of people commenting on everything I do and leaving unnecessary hateful comments, making my day even worse.

Chris and I have spoke about this situation briefly but he knows that I usually don’t give a fuck so we’ve never really addressed it properly.

I trail inside the triplets house and walk upstairs to the living room to find Chris sitting on the couch watching a movie, Nick and Matt no where to be seen. I think the expression on my face just says it all about how my day has been. Fucking shit, to be upfront.

“Hey” I say to Chris as I take my jacket off and place it on the dining table.

“Hey” Chris replies with a smile as he looks over to me, his eyes only catching the back of me. I yawn as I look around the room, looking for Nick and Matt.

“Where’s Nick and Matt?” I ask as I turn around to face Chris.

“They went out to target” Chris says as he watches me slump into the couch next to him. He could immediately tell something was off with me by the way I was acting.

“Hey is everything okay?” Chris asks as he gently rubs my thigh. I don’t respond instead I lean back to stretch whilst rubbing my eyes, praying not to cry. I literally never cry, but sometimes I just get so overwhelmed that I don’t know what else to do.

“Y/n?” Chris says whilst scooting closer to me, his hand still drawing gentle circles on my thigh. I let out a shaky breath as I look Chris in the eye, his eyes full of worry and love. Tears begin to fill my eyes, Chris immediately wraps his arms around me and pulls me close. I lay my head on his chest as tears begin to uncontrollably pour down my cheeks.

“Hey it’s okay” Chris reassures as I sob into his chest, his hands gently rubbing my back. “What’s wrong Y/n?” He says before placing a sweet kiss on my head.

“Fucking everything” I cry, not knowing how to express my emotions. “I’ve had such a fucking shit day, I literally could not bring myself to even get of bed today and then when I did, I went out and everything was just going so wrong and everyone was being so fucking rude to me and then I open my fucking phone to like a million fucking comments and messages saying this that and the fucking other about me and I’m just so fucking sick of it” I say ranting on to Chris.

Chris looks down at me, meeting my teary eyes. He swipes away my tears with his thumb as I continue to sob.

“It’s okay Y/n, I’m here for you and you know I love you and I’m sorry you’ve had such a shitty day and I’m sorry that people are saying all this nasty shit to you online but they’re just fucking jealous and it’s pathetic” Chris says as I sniffle away my tears.

“Thank you Chris, I love you too” I say as give him a weak smile. Hearing his reassuring words really helped me and made me remember that he’s right, they are just jealous and pathetic. And yeah, I probably am just overreacting right now but it’s so hard sometimes trying to stay positive and not let things get to me when it’s constant and never ending.

“Fuck them” Chris chuckles as he cups my face with his hands. I let out a small giggle as Chris kisses the tip of my nose. “They’re just jealous cause you’re beautiful and successful” He says, making me smile. “And you’ve got a fat ass” He adds making me laugh.

“What can I say, I really am just the full package” I say jokingly, making us both laugh.

“You really are” Chris says before placing a soft kiss on my lips.

“Now come on let’s go get some food, I’m hungry” He says as he pulls me up with him.

“Yeah me too, I’m fucking starving” I say, my tears completely disappeared and a new sense of confidence in my body, all thanks to my wonderful boyfriend Chris.

Short and sweet just like me hehehe 🤭🤭

But seriously this is my first time writing anything on tumblr and anything to do with the Sturniolo’s so hope you guys like it please request anything I’m literally up for fucking anything. Like cl I’m so ready to write smut 😭

[ruershrimo]

take me back (take me with you) | f. megumi x fem! reader | chapter 6: beginning

ao3 link for additional author’s notes | playlist | prev | next | m.list

chapter synopsis:

'“Why else do you think I am the way I am? I may be shy and scatterbrained, or a horrible woman with a muddled sense of morality or what I think should and should not happen, when in reality it’s just what I want to happen. But this is why I’m so resolute, and so stubborn. This is why I love you so fiercely. All mothers are like that to some degree, even if my own would never let me bear witness to it.”

You haven’t told her you love her too in years.'

'And Itadori seems… like a good person. I think it’s good, that… you were able to find a friend like that.”

“It was. He’s a really, really good guy.”

“You love him a lot,” Megumi says.

---

You and Megumi set out to prevent an emergency involving Yuuji and a cursed object. Unfortunately, that doesn't happen. But at least everyone is fine in the end, even if it means you'll have to walk away from almost everything (or maybe it's the other way around).

You're going to be all on your own. Still, now it seems like this will hurt less now.

word count: ~8k; tws: none for now :)

17-6-2018 

The two of you walk down the lane. It’s midnight. There’s a loitering silence in the air, no words exchanged between you and him, and it twists your heart in brief moments of hurt when you’re not trying to keep your mind occupied with other things. Your legs move subconsciously without you caring to think of them, the route to the hospital ingrained in your mind as if intrinsically there. 

At some point, you think your hand with its sweat and its grip is going to leave imprints like a marring on his skin, but it’s of your own selfishness that you choose to hold onto his wrist anyway. 

There’s a million things you could say to him right now, things you’ll forcefully push to the very back of your throat, things you’ll keep under lock and key in a mangled mix of quiet anticipation and sombre anxieties. Right now you’re holding his wrist and that’s enough for you, to have him walking behind you if not beside, to be two people near each other— not together— in silence since any conversation is not an option; any conversation could lead to the last spark needed to be fanned into the flame for it to erupt bigger and brighter than ever before. 

If you asked about Tsumiki right now, or why either of them never bothered to speak to you since 2016, it could break you apart, of that you’re sure. And even without words it threatens to do so to you like a chandelier of melting wax candles hanging above you being suspended precariously from the ceiling or light lightning soon to be thrown down mercilessly from the sky. 

“The turning to Sendai Hospital is on the right.” 

“I know the routes better,” you let out, and rather disappointingly it sounds brasher and more derogatory aloud instead of the unobtrusive tone you were aiming for— you hope it doesn’t hurt him but then wonder why you still even cared that much about how he felt about what you said or did anyway, “I got myself accustomed to taking the one on the left that leads you through. Quick shortcut and all.” 

You’re not looking back, but the light pull of his hand from the hold of your wrist seems to suggest his slight reeling back in a small sense of surprise and an equal amount of shock, as if suddenly remembering the fact you were your own person, that you had your own autonomy as one, because somehow everyone thought you weren’t. 

It’s strange to look back at how you were before: meek, timid. Too shy to speak up. Too innocent to be angered by anything. Always dreaming, mind bleary as if on a cloud in blurred skies, hiding behind the backs of others like a petrified forest critter. 

And now you’re this— this person who frowns and disagrees and retorts at every little thing, and as much as you have to, as much as it was nearly inevitable the way you turned out, all you can think you share with the person you were when you first met Megumi and Tsumiki was your need to be useful— and even that has been exacerbated by how you’ve grown, how you’ve become this person you grew into. And a part of you— no, just you as a whole— doesn’t like yourself at all. 

Your father was right. That little girl was hopeful, obedient, kind, caring— you don’t know why even then you were dissatisfied with the way you were, or why your dissatisfaction would matter because at that time you’d cared so little about everything besides caring for people and having fun with the pair of siblings that you were so rarely bothered by it, that it was still just a slight whisper from the back of your head that could be shushed or tuned out with library visits and nights in front of the TV and the glow of old cartoons. Your father was right and this is proved even more by the fact that the whole situation just infuriates you on the surface, and just makes you feel like an empty, hollow shell left behind when you reach deeper into yourself. 

That little girl had potential, potential to be useful but kind, obedient and close to the people who raised her even if it meant abandoning her own ideals. But you’d been so devoted to them, you think, that she was killed and destroyed in the world she grew up in, and now there’s a space for her that’s left vacant due to the way she wasted away. You miss her, the girl you once were, you miss being her, how easy and lighthearted everything was and how all of you felt so content in every sense of the word. But you don’t want her back. Now that’s just what makes you miserable sometimes. 

Self-reflection just made you feel revolted by yourself. You keep your eyes on the road. 

“It’s here,” you state, pointing at the building in front of you. 

Sendai General Hospital is an institution made out of bare concrete. Its walls are yellowed and close in on its wards like a prison, coloured using old paint that hasn’t been repainted over and is as pallid-looking as the skin of the people sitting on the beds it is inhabited by. Just being in it feels like a hit to the body and the brain and the senses, too. There are old-fashioned tiles on its floors, their pale beige hue muted yet the blinding shine on them harshly mopped clean. Inside it reeks of an imminent presence of sickness or death or illnesses and conditions never to be able to be defeated and sterile sanitisers. Looking at the latex-blue curtains in it feels like a blindfold unwantedly, forcefully pulled over both your vision and your ears. 

“You and that Itadori seem close.” 

“We are,” you say, then you add, not really knowing why, “He’s my best friend.” Maybe you’re trying to make him jealous, rile him up a bit. But even then you wouldn’t want him to be riled up, nor would you be satisfied if he were to keep silent. Maybe you just wanted to hurt him, to hurt him back or something, if only for something small, even if you’d already resolved not to do so. 

You’ll make sure not to do that again, though. 

Instead he does something else, takes another route instead. “Then it seems you visit his grandfather often.” 

“Uh-huh,” you nod as the two of you enter the hospital, and you have to blink a few times as always in order to adjust yourself to the light and how it reflects off the detachedly clean floor. “My mother’s here, too.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry— is she alright?” 

“She’s okay, I… think. She… she got sick a while back and stays here now,” you explain, “Let’s not talk about that…—I mean, I… don’t really want to.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t have to keep saying that.” It just makes people feel worse. 

He doesn’t push further and you suppose that’s okay. Your chest hurts a bit, like phantom pain on a wound that’s still there. There’s not really a way to explain it but almost everything makes you feel that way these days. Everything makes you feel horrible to some degree. Maybe it’s being a girl, maybe it’s being a teenager, but it’s not quite either, you guess. 

“He won’t be here for a while,” you say, “He’s either still in the room where his grandfather is or he’s buying flowers for him.” 

“Then I’ll just contact them and let them know the whole situation first.” 

Who’s ‘them’? 

“Okay.” You turn your back on him, “—wait.” 

“What?” 

“Do you have any emergency contact or something? Like, a trusted adult who could help you with any of this? In case things go really bad?” 

“...why would you need one?” he questions. 

You roll your eyes, “Just give it to me, damn it… if there’s anything I have nowadays, it’s probably foresight for stuff like this. For emergencies.” 

He gives you the number, albeit a bit begrudgingly. Why’d he have to be so pissy about anything and everything? 

“Okay, thanks. I’m going to visit my mother now.” 

The air and the colour from it seems distant as always, the ward she was basically imprisoned in smelling of the indistinguishable mix of sanitiser and sickness. There her body chains her to her bed, and there is little she can do besides rely on and weakly cling to the nurses who assist her, a frail shadow of what she once was. 

“Hi, Mummy.” 

She turns to you, and your chest constricts. Her hair, once much longer, the type that you dreamed to have as it billowed in the wind, the type that invited you caressively to bury yourself in and take in that heady scent of roses that emanated from it— that hair is now replaced with a cloth wrapped around her head. Radiation. Chemotherapy. 

The wrinkles on her face make the difference between her now and her years ago all the more stark. Every visit you come back here, you’ve forced yourself to be acclimated to this new reality, one where she isn’t waiting at home no matter how tedious the fights get or how exhausting it was eating with someone who remained silent, someone who chose to continue suffering if it meant she could hurt and turn her daughter to guilt (as if that would change anything). At least she was there. 

Cancer is a terminal illness, especially the type your mother is facing— regardless of how much chemotherapy she would struggle through and how much you didn’t want to acknowledge a truth so plain and conspicuously bare, she would be confined to this bed until her final days, her illness like gyves tying her limbs and forcing her earthbound; the bed a cage she could never be liberated from. 

Sometimes she made it a point to you that she didn’t want to liberate herself from it anyway, and you’d never been so depressed yet irked by anything else. (You’d regret everything— not spending time with her, not appreciating her nearly enough— except for your decision to be involved in the Jujutsu world, if not as a sorcerer then as a doctor. That was, and is— your ultimatum. Your end all be all of this whole situation.” 

“Hello. Where’s that Itadori boy?” 

“Not here today, he’s still with his grandfather— maybe later.” You swing your bag over your shoulder, rummaging through it a while before pulling it out. “I’ve something for you, by the way.” 

“Oh! These,” she exclaims, and she smiles faintly, bits of colour rushing back to her face like watercolour dots on moistened paper. “I used to make them for you, sometimes. They used to be your favourite when you were really little.” 

“I know,” you explain, “That’s why I made them. I don’t like them anymore, but… I can’t remember your favourite food or if I ever asked, and I know you don’t like the food they give you here as much as… I don’t know. Your own cooking, I guess.” 

“It’s not my favourite,” she states, matter-of-factly, bluntly, “But thank you for the effort. My favourite will always be my own mother’s cooking.” 

Silence. 

“Now that I look back at everything, there are so many things I regret. Things I should have done but never did out of fear; things I should not have done and never apologised for out of pride. I’d like it if you could be different. Your grandmother went out the same way. At least, even if you had the same illnesses as we did, which I hope the genes for which have been curbed by your father’s— at least you would not leave the world with regret,” she looks down at her hands, staring down at them solemnly like a shadow, an excluded figure. “But it was a good life.” 

“...then maybe you can tell me more. While you— while we still have time. What was your childhood like? What was your mother like?” It feels strange, imposturous, maybe— to be referring to someone basically a stranger as “grandmother”, to name someone so far away from you so intimate, even if the only generation between you, tying the two of you together, was your mother’s. If you had a daughter it would be the same for her, most likely. There’s a part of you that would find honour in becoming your mother once you’d grown, but there’s a part of you that would think being such would accost you horribly, for all time. 

She sighs, “I’ll tell you later. There would be so much to say, like compressing all my words into one tiny paper. The stories have weight in them the same way letters and words in handwriting can be firm and large. But if I were to start,” she begins, “I’ll say that I was born as the daughter of two very powerful sorcerers. Now, I know how much this would sound like some nonsense spouted by your mother, but I think you should listen anyway. 

“My parents loved each other a lot, but my mother had come from an obscure clan whose name I can’t remember, but who had high hopes in them having a child with a powerful cursed technique as their last resort, since, if I recall correctly, there had been a crisis within the clan for it to keep surviving. 

“I still remember when they found out I had no cursed technique and how terrified they were. In me I had a bit more than the relatively normal amount of cursed energy most people have, and so I was expected to have techniques as powerful as they did. They loved me and treated me preciously, like a fragile object, so long as I was quiet and demure— and I guess to some extent I still was and still am today. They wondered what they could do to run from the clan, as if they didn’t have enough power when they were supposed to protect me despite my father’s bullheaded industry and my mother’s patience-formed strength. They lacked grit to grapple against them, and only in this did they lack it, I think; only against my mother’s family did they not have the ability to resolve things whether peacefully or violently. And eventually they just gave up and thought they would just… surrender me over when I entered my adolescent years. I was their daughter. I… suppose they didn’t love me enough. I know it sounds awful— thinking that they should have always protected me, through and through—” 

“No, it wasn’t.” 

“—when it could have been the clan itself that would have been mostly to blame.” 

“But they were still supposed to protect you! They were your parents—” 

“Why else do you think I am the way I am? I may be a shy and scatterbrained or a horrible woman with a muddled sense of morality or what I think should and should not happen when in reality it’s just what I want to happen, but this is why I’m so resolute, and so stubborn. This is why I love you so fiercely. All mothers are like that to some degree, even if my own would never let me bear witness to it.” You haven’t told her you love her too in years. 

“But then when I was an adult I met your father, who was a bit like a country bumpkin, but a formidable sorcerer and a kind, honest person, and I couldn’t help but fall in love with the person he was both inside and out. And for the next few years we struggled to have a child until I found out I was pregnant with you,” she continues, “Even though by that time I was well into my late thirties, we were overjoyed and decided to keep you.” 

Suddenly you wish there had been more time before things were ruined. Time for you to know her better, the beginning of your existence. You would have begged her for old photos, stories, mementos of her and your father. 

“And now the clan’s faded into obscurity, finally. The younger members left and the older ones passed away peacefully. Happy story, right?” 

“...yeah.” It all ended well, but you don’t know if you can say the same for your mother’s. At least, you hope, when she goes away, it can be swift and peaceful like the way her relatives did. 

Then suddenly there’s a buzz in your pocket. An inconvenient one, out of the blue. 

“You should go get that first,” she says. 

“...okay.” 

You lift it up to your face and feel like crushing the damn thing. Old number. Stupid number. Number you haven’t called in months because you’d given up on that bastard— oh. The two of you were working together now. 

You turn away from your mother, creeping to the edge of the room. “What’s wrong?” 

“I just talked to him, but I think it would be easier if you came back and was there with him too since you know him better than I do. And he… doesn’t seem like the brightest. He may think that it’s not important enough to hand over unless you ask him to or something.” 

You muffle your voice with your hand and whisper, “Hey, you shut up, you know nothing about him. He’s way smarter than people give him credit for. But I’m— I’m with my mother right now. Wait for a second. Just ask him to wait for me first; he wouldn’t need any of my help for all of this yet. Make a friend or get a life or something.” 

“...fine. But you’ll have to join us later. He’s bound to ask about you.” 

“Then just tell him I’m with my mother!” you snap, still whispering. 

“I’ll see what I can do.” 

“Wh— you little— oh, don’t you hang up now—” 

Weird thing is, he probably wasn’t even being so infuriating on purpose. And you wouldn’t have burst out at someone for being that way anyway. It was only because it was him, specifically. 

You’d sworn to put that past you. 

Your immaturity strikes once again. 

“If you have to go now,” your mother says, “You should. Just come back again next time. I can tell you the rest. Thank you again for the food, [Name].” She doesn’t call you ‘darling’ anymore, doesn’t she? Just your name. 

“Okay. Sorry.” 

You swing the bag back over your shoulder, wearing it this time instead of taking it off, easing your way out of the room. 

“It’s okay,” she assures you, “Goodbye. I love you.” 

“...I love you, too,” you say, but it’ll mingle with all the other sounds in the hospital, and it’ll be drowned out like a ship in the middle of nowhere, your voice soft and thoroughly soused by the cacophony of bleak noises like telephone rings and beeps from electrocardiographs outside of her deafeningly quiet hospital room. 

“Hi, Yuuji,” you greet them in the dimly lit waiting area, “...and Megumi. Sorry to keep the two of you guys waiting for so long.” 

“Oh, hey; it’s okay!” he goes, although in his voice it seems that there’s been some of his usual energy seeping away from him. “Didn’t know the two of you knew each other until just now or that you were a part of some magic curse society. Are you guys childhood friends who met because of all that cursed stuff or something?” 

“Something like that,” Megumi explains. 

“It’s a long story,” you say, not exactly denying him nor conceding his words anyway. Once again, there’s a trace of anger despite your promise to be untethered to your puerility like this. “Anyway, are you okay, Yuuji? How’s your grandfather?” 

He pauses. “Oh, about that… he just passed away.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Yuuji…” you hold the fabric of his jacket (sometimes it still feels wrong to try and hold his hand— it just makes your heart ache again like a scab being clawed at) and pull him into a brief caress, patting his back as gently as you can manage. 

“It’s okay, I’ll be fine,” he smiles as you pull yourself away, “Grandpa wouldn’t want me to be crying right now anyway. So don’t worry.” 

“Okay, I won’t. But if you’re sad, just know you can always talk to me.” 

He laughs, softer than the boisterous manner he usually does so in, “Yeah, I know.” 

Megumi clears his throat, pointedly trying to make a sound, “Anyway. Itadori Yuuji—” 

“Just call him Itadori. You don’t have to be so uptight.” 

“Nah, [Name], I’m fine—” 

Megumi sighs. “Anyway, we need you to give the cursed object now.” 

“Oh, yeah, that,” you start, “So, Yuuji, do you have the thing that Megumi would have explained to you? The cursed object? We need it for everyone to be safe, and all.” 

“Yeah! Hold on, let me get it. I told you I didn’t have it already, but here’s the box,” he says, tossing it over to Megumi. 

He retrieves the box. It’s ancient and wooden, the craftsmanship behind it elite and adroit, and the paper on it has the words for a buddhist sutra written on it like an inscription. You’ve heard of it before, the kind of curse it was meant to seal, but it definitely couldn’t be— 

He opens the box. 

Holy shit. 

“Where is it?” 

“It’s empty…” Megumi panics, “Wait— hold on!” 

Things are bad— as in, they couldn’t get any worse— not only was the school doomed by the loss of its cursed object, the cursed object was Sukuna Ryomen’s finger itself. 

You blame your inadequacy, your inability to have stopped everything sooner— if not for that nobody would have gotten hurt. If not for that there wouldn’t even be a risk of anything happening anyway. You should’ve tried harder to sense it, and you should’ve focused more on it to keep the student body safe and sound. 

It was your fault. No one else was to blame but your useless self, and even if that were wrong, you’d still have the most to be blamed for. 

Megumi has a hand on Yuuji’s shoulder, keeping the other boy from moving, his breathing erratic and his eyes wide in frantic shock. 

“...well, they were saying, ‘let’s open it up to see what’s inside it tonight’,” Yuuji clarifies, standing a few centimetres away from the door, “Why? Is that bad?” 

Sasaki and Iguchi? 

The air in the hospital feels particularly chilly tonight, gooseflesh terrorising your skin all over, and for all the kinds of reasons that would cause anything like such. 

“It’s way worse than bad,” Megumi declared, fear and grim so thick in his voice they were tangible enough to be cut through with a knife. “Your friends are going to die.” 

“We’ve got to go,” you rush, “Now! Quick!” 

It passes by like a blur, as if you’re in that moment and out of it simultaneously. Your mind has been bombarded with and pressed so thoroughly onto the moment, like tissue on a wet surface, that it seems it’s being blanked out, while your legs continue to run despite your mind nearly forgetting, at this point, why you’re running— as if your legs moving so frantically to help them was something intrinsic, something you didn’t need your mind for. 

Sasaki and Iguchi are in danger. Sasaki and Iguchi are in danger. 

You didn’t know them all too well, really— just through Yuuji, and Yuuji himself wasn’t as close to the two of them, being their junior and all. And although a part of you was doing this just because you could, like the way you did when you first discovered your cursed technique, you knew that another was doing this for Yuuji. If in any way they were hurt or could not survive, he would blame himself to no end. He possessed such a kindness within him, so much that it hit the depths of your soul sometimes; shattered your heart so gently a million times over or heated it in the kindly way mothers heated pans on stoves despite the heat of it being greater than that of blue flame. If anything happened to them, no matter how much or how little he knew of them, he wouldn’t be able to live after that. 

The two of them are near the barrier separating the school from the street before you (you struggle with catching up to them— one’s a star athlete and another has been training for much longer than you, you’re sure), the gates tall and enveloped in darkness. You didn’t think much of school except for when it came to your grades and being with Yuuji, thinking of these gates— the ones that you and Yuuji use when you’re running super late— in particular as just a shortcut entrance you paid little attention to, just something treated with indifference as you passed through them whenever you were late. Yet now they echoed denial, refusal, and slim chances— it was unlikely that they’d be alright, especially since this cursed object in particular was the finger of Sukuna Ryomen. 

“Is that the building?” Megumi questions, “Where are they?” 

“Fourth floor— guh!” Yuuji seems to come to an abrupt halt, nearly slamming into what seems to be an invisible wall. A veil. 

“Yuuji!” 

“I’ll handle this,” Megumi declares, hopping onto the metal wires, more directed to Yuuji than you. So even he can tell how selfless Yuuji is, even after only having just met him. 

“I may not know those two that well, but—” Yuuji starts, “But they’re friends! I have to help!” 

“You’re staying here,” Megumi commands, “[Name], if you could— get your father or any sorcerers you know to come here and help.” 

He climbs over the gate. 

He’s going away from you again. Slipping away from your grasp. And now, all you can do is watch. There’s nothing else— nothing else you can do, at all. If you went inside now, you wouldn’t be able to help except— what?— tend to their injuries? Manipulate your own cells into weapons? The former wasn’t possible with how much you’d strained yourself from running so quickly earlier, and the latter was too dangerous: you hadn’t even started with the basics of that yet, on your father’s obstinate insistence that even if he’d let you play doctor he wouldn’t let you manipulate any of the cells in your body into any kind of usable weapon. Any simple wrong move could make things turn south in the most drastically terrifying of ways. If you went in there, you’d just die, and there’d be more casualties, more trouble, more problems caused by you and you alone. 

You can’t even call your father, either. That would always be your last resort— because even if you fought, you still needed him to rest. You didn’t want him overexerting himself by using his cursed technique at all. 

(You were selfish. You didn’t want to lose your father. You didn’t want to have to visit not one but two parents lying sick and tired and grey in matching hospital beds.) 

“Yuuji?” you start, turning to him. “You’re…deathly quiet. Are you okay?” 

His lips quiver slightly, a faint whimpering noise coming out of him. Is he crying? 

“Yuuji, look at me. Are you okay?” you ask, as gently and softly as you can right now, despite your ragged, unsteady, unathletic-addled breaths. You place a hand on his shoulder, slowly rubbing up and down from his shoulder and crook of his neck to his back. “It’s okay. …Megumi’s a good and… capable, strong person and jujutsu sorcerer. He’ll be okay, and they’ll be okay too. Just… just put your trust in him, okay?” 

“I’m sorry, [Name], but I’ve got to go,” he tells you, “You stay here, and call for help or something. I’m sorry, but I’ve just really got to do it!” 

He hugs you, quickly, deftly. And then he crosses the gate, leaving you all alone like Megumi did. You wish he’d hug you longer, that you could take care of him for a little longer— it was your last way to be useful now. 

Still, there’s someone you could call, now that you remember him.

The emergency contact. 

You snatch your phone out, resolute. 

“Hello! Gojo Satoru speaking,” the voice on the other line says. 

You’ve heard it plenty before by accident. 

When Gojo and Megumi are back, Yuuji’s in the form of a figure slung over Gojo’s shoulders like he’s been reply entrenched into slumber, his body seemingly limp and his torso completely bare. There’s barely an ounce of movement in him, except for slow exhales and inhales you can see on his chest. Sasaki and Iguchi are both nearly the same, the former covered in bruises and in a deep, panicked haze, and the latter as asleep as Yuuji seemed to be while harbouring injuries he may never recover from. 

The only non-roughed up one here is Gojo, it seems; Megumi has a stream of blood running from the top of his head in rivulets, staining his sweaty, scraped forehead. 

“Wh— you two, what happened? Why are they all asleep? What happened to Yuuji? Are they okay? What—” 

“Calm down, kid,” Gojo says, “They’ll be fine. I mean, there’s a 100% chance that your friend can be executed, but…” 

“Executed?” you almost scream, “What the hell happened? You said things would be okay!” 

“Uh-uh, again, calm down. I mean, we don’t even know when they’re gonna make him kick the bucket! He ate Sukuna’s finger, by the way.” He holds his arms up in faux surrender. 

“Gojo you ignorant slut! Don’t you fucking dare tell me to ‘calm down!’ He ate Sukuna’s finger? Why weren’t you able to stop anything? What’s going to happen to him now? You know what— give him to me!” 

“You know, it’s not like I’m scared of being hunted down by your father if you use your cursed technique— I mean, I’m leagues stronger than him— but the stuff was too strong. It’s not like you’ll be able to get rid of the finger in your little boyfriend.” 

“He’s not her boyfriend!” Megumi interjects.

“Thank you, Megumi!” Your face is going hot like a campfire fanned by the wind. 

“Oh?” Gojo adds, a teasing lilt in his voice. “Anyway, we’re going to get him to a place where we can cover everything with talismans to surround him.” 

They’re going to execute him at Jujutsu High after.  

“I’m coming with you.” 

“You sure?” Gojo asks, “Your father isn’t going to like you travelling so far away without telling him.” 

Megumi shifts, a little sombre. “[Name], you don’t have to.” 

“...I’m doing this for Yuuji, not for you.” 

“You okay?” Gojo asks while the three of you are back in the hospital. (You hate this building so much.) Iguchi’s been transferred to a ward, Sasaki having woken up and insisting on staying with him. “I’ve got kikufuku if you want some. You must be really tired since it’s so late, huh?” 

The whole situation is so incredulous you’re unsure of whether you want to burst out laughing or dismember someone. 

“...nothing. Wait, let me see Yuuji again.” 

Everyone is asleep, it seems— all except for you and Gojo. Yuuji’s been knocked out, and Megumi’s stuck in the world of his dreams. 

You can’t sleep. There’s just nothing to put your mind at rest. 

At least if there’s one thing you can do it’s this. 

Gojo picks him up by the sides of his torso (now temporarily clothed with a spare white shirt) like a child with a heavy book. “Woah— he’s pretty heavy for a fifteen year old kid.” 

You lay Yuuji face-up on the line of hospital chairs. There are thin scarlet marks right under his eyes— Sukuna’s eyelids, you’ve been told. 

You should’ve done more to protect him. 

Slowly, reticently, you kneel by the side of the chairs. You press your fingertips onto that pair of thin tiny lines. 

Nothing happens. You can’t picture his cells being able to grow back. It’s as if there’s been a slit on his face and its outline has been replaced with brand-new skin. His cells don’t budge. 

“Why don’t you help Megumi? I bet he’s got plenty of healable injuries.” 

“…I don’t think I’ll be able to help much. I could faint if I try helping him now. It’s better to leave it to Dr Ieiri or something.” 

“Pft,” he scoffs, “Shoko? She’s definitely not going to heal all of him. It’ll just be a waste of her time. You can just help him with the tiny scrapes and bruises first. And I’ll even tell her that you did it. She’s really fond of you, you know.” 

You give him a shy, modest smile. “Thanks, then.”

It’s time to get to work. 

Megumi’s skin is smooth like a baby’s just like the last time you felt it, though the frown on his face, ever-present, is bound to cause wrinkles there in less than a few decades’ time. You place your hands on him, bruised and bloody, watching in your mind and directing his cells as they work. 

Once the smaller injuries have been dealt with, you stop. “I can’t really work on the one on his head, since then you’d get another fainted person to carry around, but he should be fine with some bandages and patching-up there, because I’ve already kind of catalysed the start of that area’s healing process a little. Other than that, he should be completely fine. I’ll give it, say… two weeks or so for it to get better completely.” 

“Good work!” he smiles, the outline of his cheeks visible on his blindfold. 

“By the way, Mr Gojo…” 

“You know, I appreciate the respect you’re giving me now, but just Gojo is fine.” 

“Okay, Gojo. Do you think Yuuji will be okay?” 

“I mean, I’m pretty sure. And I’m going to ask them to suspend his sentence. I’ll just see whether he wants that or not once he wakes up.” 

“That’s the thing. I’m not sure if he even will.” 

Gojo laughs. “Don’t worry. He was really strong, and able to switch between being possessed by Sukuna and being himself at will. We haven't seen that kind of talent in a millennia! I’m sure they’ll listen to me, anyway.” 

“Thank you,” you sigh. Thank goodness. “If you need any type of payment, um… teleport to my house whenever you get inconvenient little cuts like bruises and stuff. I can help.” 

“Nah, reverse cursed technique’s got me covered.” 

“Oh, wait— I forgot about that— um… I can…”

“Just leave it to me! No payment required,” he exclaims, holding both thumbs up. “And for the record, the one who wanted to save Yuuji was actually Megumi.” 

You wouldn’t have imagined that would happen. Megumi— pragmatic, serious, unkind when he needs to be (no matter how kind of a person he actually is— no, was— at heart), different from Tsumiki in so many ways. There was no way he would have been the one vouching for Yuuji, someone he’d only just met, to be spared. 

“Really?” you ask, “I… wouldn’t have thought he was the one who would do it. I thought, maybe, you were just… really kind tonight or something…”

“Well, maybe it was because he saw how much you cared about Itadori and did it for you, or maybe he had met Itadori, liked him, and just wanted to save a good person,” Gojo suspects, “But if there’s one thing for sure it’s that your old friend saved your new one.” 

“...oh.” 

You’ll have to bring it up with him next time— maybe, if he’s still there tomorrow…

“I know you’re mad at him, but a lot has happened,” Gojo states, voice lower, softer like a schoolteacher’s, “Still, I won’t tell you that you have to give him a chance or any of that. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to thank him or anything. I’m sure he did it out of his own volition without expecting anything from you. He knew he probably didn’t deserve to if it were you.” 

You pause. “No, it’s just… I’ll talk to him again the next time I see him. Alone, most likely. And I can figure something out. I think that would be the best way to go around things. Thank you, Gojo.” 

18-6-2018 

The aftershocks are still there, although you’ve come out unscathed. 

Last night was a mingled mess, a blur. You’d tried your best to help Iguchi by the time Yuuji was placed in the room of talismans and you could come back to the hospital and visit, but in the end he still needed better help than that. His injuries were too large of scale for how you were at that moment, already tired after healing some of the numbers done on Megumi. 

(You were useless. You couldn’t help anyone. You couldn’t prevent Yuuji from being hit with such soul-striking guilt., couldn’t help Sasaki from being traumatised, couldn’t help Iguchi enough for him to be back at school soon—) 

Sasaki’s injuries were limited to bruises and scrapes, but though you could help her physically, there was nothing you could do to assist her emotionally. 

You stayed with them for a few hours in the ICU and then one of the hospital wards (a floor under your mother’s), your father calling you once the sun had risen. 

“Gojo Satoru told me about everything that happened.” 

“Yeah. I know you’ll scold me, but… not now. I’m sorry, I’m just really tired.” You hang up. 

For all you spoke of wanting to be useful, the night when your powers were needed the most was when you were at your most useless— you couldn’t help them, you couldn’t help attack the cursed spirits, and the only thing you could do was call for an adult’s help like a little, scared and helpless girl. 

You needed to train, and train harder than you had been doing for the past few years. 

There’s a knock on the door, a dot-dot-dot-dot-dot. dot dot. It’s Yuuji, you know it is. How ever could you not? 

Timidly, movements quiet like the room itself, you pull the door knob, seeing him there, relatively unscathed. You sigh in relief, a moment’s respite before you return to the panic you had been living in before since you deserve the respite less than other people do— no, you don’t deserve such a break at all, you’re absolutely sure of that, not after what you pulled, how horribly and utterly useless you were, you’ll remind yourself of that again and again and again— the heart-piercing guilt and the worry and the constant need to care for the people around you, almost like a mother, maybe, but you don’t like that thought as much as you think you should. Maybe if your own mother knew, she’d disagree— maybe she’d tell you that you should be a mother, maybe she’d ignore that you were also a child at certain times— the most convenient ones, probably. When she thinks it good that you, a child, were someone’s caretaker because women should take pride in and appreciate that, she would encourage you to be one; when she thinks it bad that as a caretaker and a so-called ‘adult’ you can have your own autonomy, agency and opinions, then maybe she’d remind you that in her eyes you knew nothing of the world. But maybe, just maybe, there was also a chance that she wouldn’t be like that in any way. 

But you wouldn’t put it past her. 

“Yuuji, are you okay?” There are questions about to spill out of you, tears about to fall like gushing rivers, but you’re just happy he’s alive at this point. 

“Yeah.” His voice is soft. Your chest twinges; it hurts like an awful, intransigent little bruise. “Hi, [Name].” It feels so unignorable, the way it’s filled with such sorrow and worry that it weighs his usually loud and boisterous voice down. 

“I thought that—” you start, lips trembling, “I thought there was a chance I couldn’t lose you. The only thing I could do was—” you sniffle, “Hope that they could delay it or something.” 

“Yeah. I’ll explain it later,” he says, his voice sincere. 

You squeeze the wrist of his sleeve. “Don’t do things like that ever again,” you plead, “Promise me that at least.” 

“I promise.” 

“And keep your promises.”

“I will.” 

“...want to come inside?” 

He walks inside, and you step back to make way for him. 

“Sorry I came so late,” he says to you and Sasaki, who shakes her head in reassurance. “Hello, Sasaki,” he greets, “Is Iguchi okay?” 

They speak for a while— you don’t feel like it’s much of your right to join their conversation, since you did nearly nothing at all when they were most in danger, so you leave them be for a while. It would be better not to bother them right now, anyway. They’ve both been traumatised until it reached beneath their bones within the past twenty-four hours. 

When you leave the hospital, Sasaki tells you that she’s going to stay. You tell her to take care, squeezing her hand one final time. 

You let her, patting her on the back. You’ll call them later— she’d given you her contact— just to check on the two of them. 

“Where’s Megumi?” you ask Yuuji. 

“Oh, Fushiguro? I’m not too sure, but that Gojo guy said he’ll be there soon.” 

“Where, though?”

Sheepishly, in peak Yuuji fashion, he scratches the back of his neck. “Actually, another reason why I came here was also because… I mean, I know you and him weren’t close, but I’m going to the place where they’ll keep Grandpa’s ashes, and I think… you know, you could come with me. I… I don’t think I’d be able to do it really well alone, even though he had definitely made it clear he seriously didn’t want me moping around after his death and all. Gojo and Megumi will probably be there, but I thought it would be better if you were there because I know you better than those two, and you’re my friend. So… could you come with me? I know that he never really showed it, but I think he had always liked you a lot. Like, he was happy we were friends and stuff.” 

“...mhm. I’ll always be happy about that,” you tell him, before pulling him into a hug. The guy must need one right now. You’ve never hugged him before. Your heart hurts. 

The air is hot and humid with the breath of summer, bundles of mosquitoes bound to be breeding new ones these next few weeks. Up in the sky is the sun, bold and bright, glaring down harshly at the two of you. 

“Before he passed away, Grandpa actually said something. He… kind of cursed me, if I’m being honest,” Yuuji starts. “He said I was a strong kid, so I should help people. And I’m going to do that. So that was why when Gojo asked if I wanted to be executed immediately or just eat all the fingers before dying, I chose the second option. I… I think I want to help people that way.” 

‘You’ve already helped people enough. You helped me,’ you almost tell him. 

You frown, because that’s the only thing you can do right now. You search for words to say the same way you do looking for dog books in libraries chock-full with those of other genres. “I’m… disappointed, I— I know I should be grateful, grateful that you’re still going to be alive and all, but… you’re still going to be in danger, and you’re still going to be executed one day. I mean, again, I know I should be happy you’re going to have more time alive and that I can still see you, but what if things don’t go as planned? What if you lose control of yourself once you reach, like, the fifth finger or something?” 

You’re selfish like that. In a way, you’re just the way your mother is. You should’ve always known— you were her beloved daughter after all, and the people you know would be loved the same way she did you since the day she knew of your existence, and maybe even before that. 

“Don’t worry,” he grins, wide as always. Even in an over-enveloping darkness he still manages to be the light. “I’ll be just fine. I’m a strong kid, after all. And we’ll always be friends!” 

Gojo asks if he and Yuuji can talk in private for a while. You wonder if this was how your mother felt as she had to give the person she loved most away (but you will have to go away, one day), because you can briefly tell what Gojo is going to ask. You wonder if she felt this twice. 

Yuuji can’t stay with you forever. In the same way you can’t remain by your mother and father’s sides for all eternity. 

This won’t be the last time you’re here, you think. For a place of death, it’s quite a bit beautiful how there’s such large masses of grass and plants surrounding it. 

Megumi nearly walks past you, his eyes on the old photographs of the deceased all around him. 

“Megumi.” 

He turns around. 

“I just wanted to thank you for wanting to save my friend, even if you may not have wanted to do it for me, specifically… um… I didn’t expect that you’d still be here. Are your injuries okay?” 

“I’m okay,” he answers you. “And also, I…” he hesitates, the first time he’s talked to you for something actually related to the two of you in a long time— nearly two years if you’re counting correctly, but the thoughts in your head are a bit too jumbled to count at the moment. “I didn’t really do it for you, though. It… it was for Tsumiki.” 

“Oh.”

“Wait! I’m sorry, that didn’t… come out right. But I should also apologise for something else. You wouldn’t have been thrown into this world anyway if not for my own demon dogs years ago.” 

“No, no, it wasn’t your fault. And I would have wanted to be in it anyway. There’s not many who can heal other people and all, so I just thought… even if I can’t do as much yet, since I don’t have reversed cursed technique and the drawbacks that come from mine are really bad, I can still help people sometimes if they’re dealing with relatively minor injuries. I can, um… make things easier for people. I can be useful like that. I’d keep to it anyway, because I’m stubborn, but… yeah. It wasn’t your fault, really.” 

“Okay. That’s good to hear.” 

“Yeah. Anyway, I’m happy to know that Tsumiki is okay.” 

Silence again for a while. The air turns a little more sombre, and a lot more awkward. 

“She is. And Itadori seems… like a good person. I think it’s good, that… you were able to find a friend like that.” 

“It was. He’s a really, really good guy.” 

“You love him a lot,” Megumi says. 

“I do. He’s a really good friend. If there’s something I’ll always know I know that, at least.” 

“I can see that. It doesn’t seem like he loves you back in the same way, though.” 

“...wow. Way to be blunt, Megumi. And yes, I do know that, too.” 

“Let’s just… change the subject.” 

“You’re the one who introduced it in the first place.” 

“Okay. How… how are you?” 

“I’m good. Wait, I think you should… go back to them. Maybe they’ll need you there right about now. He’s probably going to have to go to Jujutsu High, right?” 

He pauses. “Yeah. I’m sorry, [Name].” 

“No, no. That’s okay. I expected it. It’s just that I’ll miss him a lot,” you tell him, “He took care of me, kind of. You know I’ve always been a bit of an awkward or shy person, but he still approached me since I was new and we ended up hitting off as friends, kind of. We did a lot of stuff together.” 

Sounds pretty familiar, huh. 

“If you want I can make sure he’s safe for you.” 

“...you should be able to do that regardless of whether it’s my wish for you to do so or not…” you state, “But that would help, I guess. And I’m sorry for my attitude towards you for the past few hours or so. Thank you again.” 

“...I’m sorry I never spoke to you for so long, by the way,” he says abruptly. ‘By the way’? Classic Megumi… 

“I could tell you were. It’s… it’s okay. The two of you kind of have a habit of doing that.” 

All your rage, your loneliness, your feelings of abandonment— and this is all you can do. This is all you can say. You can only just let it go, in the end. 

“I’ll explain it all one day.” 

“You don’t have to if it’s hard.” 

He stays. “No, I will. I promise. And I promise I’ll start to talk to you again, as well. I was just… scared of a few things, maybe.” 

“That’s okay.” 

The two of you aren’t quite friends again yet, but it’ll happen soon. Maybe. And even if it doesn’t, you’re finally able to say, with an open, honest heart, that that doesn’t matter as much anymore. 

“I guess this is goodbye again, then.” 

“Not really.” 

“Oh, right— promise to keep in touch, okay? My patience is running thin with you,” you chuckle at that last part, attempting to joke and make things lighter again. 

“Promise.” 

“I’m going to go home now, by the way. Please tell Yuuji that I wish him the best and I’ll visit when I have my own money to visit Tokyo and all.” 

“I will.” 

“And help me say goodbye to him for me,” you add, “Hope that’s not too much for you to do. Sorry for the trouble. It’s just that I’d actually just about cry if I had to do it in real time right in front of him. Be good to him and be good friends, okay? Keep that promise, at the very least. That’s the one thing that I wish for the most.” 

“Bye, Megumi.” You turn back in the direction opposite of his. 

“Wait—!” 

His hand is on your wrist. Now you’re in front of him, like yesterday, and he’s holding your wrist, albeit a bit gentler than the way he used to pull it a whole eight years ago. 

His eyes are cast away from you, slightly avoidantly and in a way that’s a bit abashed. “I’ll miss you, [Name].” 

“It won’t even feel like I’m not there,” you say. Though his grip is slightly tight, he loosens it as soon as you try to slide it up, as if he’d let you be free of it if you want him to. 

You squeeze his hand instead, turning to face him. It feels warm. It feels like there’s blood coursing through you, the sensation more tender and tangible than it’s ever been. 

“Goodbye.” 

“Goodbye, [Name]. I’ll… I’ll call.” 

“Thank you.” 

Now you’re the one slipping away from his grasp. You move your hand away and walk back. The door slides open. 

2010. Springs, summers, autumns, winters. Hands on wrists, a back faced to your eyes, wide with innocence. Warmth and laughter and happiness and love. Days coloured with vibrant hues and time spent with dog books and in libraries. Frowns were greeted with smiles. Hesitance was non-existent. You didn’t feel a need to compensate for your uselessness. You were a child. You didn’t feel useless at all. You just felt this: a constant leaping in your heart, the corners of your mouth twisting up into a juvenile grin, braiding someone’s beautiful brown hair and tying it with a pretty cherry hair tie. 

You want to cry as you walk back home. 

You’re pretty sure you do. 

taglist:

@bakananya, @sindulgent666, @shartnart1, @lolmais, @mechalily, @pweewee, @notsaelty, @nattisbored

(please send an ask/state in the notes if you'd like to join! if I can't tag your username properly, I've written it in italics. so sorry for any trouble!)

[gaystayzennie]

I Did Everything I Was Supposed To Do (pt.1)

Haechan x male reader

Summary: Finals week turns out to be the final breaking point for y/n, but luckily Haechan is around right when you need him

Warnings: fluff, some angst: homophobia, allusions to panic disorder, stress

“Fuck. I can’t believe I forgot about the final on Monday. Fuck fuck fuck” Y/n cursed under his breath as he walked as fast as he could toward the entrance to his boyfriend’s place. Y/n had a million things to do the next few days already, and now he had a final to cram for on top of it all. “One thing at a time” he told himself knowing it’s what Hyuck would tell him if they were together right now. He didn’t really listen to this advice of course… especially coming from his own mouth instead of his cute adorable boyfriend.Oh God. I wish he was here so bad. But Haechan was still at the dance studio and would be for the next several hours. That’s why y/n was even entering Haechan’s apartment right now in the first place; Daegal needed to be taken out while Haechan was gone.

He HAD to have his stupid extra long dance rehearsal today of course. On the day where he already had to finish a ton of assignments and now cram for a test. Y/n quickly threw his backpack on the ground and sprinted over to daegal scooping her up before she even knew what was happening. While he waited for Daegal to do her business and walk around a little, y/n got back to planning his study schedule in his head. If I start by studying for the exam… I can trade every 45 minutes from cramming to working on the lab report for my other class. Fuck! That depends on whether the others ever filled in their data. Ok so I’ll save that for the end and work on the PowerPoint instead even though it’s due the longest from now. As long as I cut myself off at around 1:00 am, that should be enough sleep to take the exam at 9:30 the next day. It was going to be a rough night, but y/n decided he’d just have to work away and hope for the best.

Y/N went back inside and scooped his backpack up again to go work in Hyuck’s bedroom. He found the smell of his boyfriend clinging to the room to be extremely comforting and he hoped it would help him stay calm and focused on his work. He opened up his laptop to the lecture notes for the exam and began skimming them for any confusing topics that jumped out at him. What the? I only know like 2 of these concepts?? I’m screwed. Y/N new from plenty of old tests that it would only make things worse if he worried about it now, and feeling himself start to panic, he decided to work on the PowerPoint instead. He figured he should just finish all his other assignments so that he could then spend the entire rest of the night studying.

An hour into working on the PowerPoint y/n’s phone buzzed. He opened it to find a message from one of his lab partners that read “hey y/n I’m really sorry but I’m actually boarding a plane right now so I’m not gonna be able to finish my part of the lab. Maybe you can ask [partner name 2] for her data? I think she got mine down too.”

Y/n: “I’ll ask her.”

Partner 1: “KK.”

“Gotta go, sorry again!”

Partner 2: “Shit. I don’t have her values either y/n. I’m pretty sure that part of the lab was online though, so one of us can just do the lab at home right now.”

“Oh wait actually, I have to take both of my finals on Monday. It’s due Tuesday right? So I won’t have time to do her part. Y/n any chance you can do it?”

Y/n: “ I only have one midterm tomorrow… I guess I can do it if no one else can.”

Partner 2: “Ur the best bro! Tysm <3”

Y/n: …

.

.

Fuck me. How am I supposed to do [p/n 1]’s work for them on top of everything else? Y/n barely had enough time to do all his work as it was. And he had done all of HIS work on the lab already too. He thought he’d just quickly analyze his partner’s data and then turn it in… but no. This is totally unfair. I have more work than either of them, and I’m doing their work for them too on top of it all. Y/n’s eyes grew misty for a second threatening to turn into tears, but y/n shook his head hard and the urge to cry went away for now. He had to get back to— wait no. He needed to cook dinner. With no Hyuck home to cook dinner like usual, he was going to starve if he didn’t make something for himself. Standing up quickly y/n smacked his arm on Hyuck’s dresser skinning it in the process. Great. Now he was bleeding. And it had gotten on his white shirt too. Except it wasn’t his shirt, it was his boyfriend’s shirt that he had borrowed. Y/n was this close to screaming in frustration, but stripped off the shirt quickly and made his way to the bathroom to clean the spot before it stained. And of course, he needed to throw it in the washer if he really didn’t want it to stain, and that meant he should really just do all of Haechan’s laundry now. So heart now racing in a slight panic, y/n gathered the laundry and started the cycle as quickly as possible so that he could start on dinner.

Opting for the most time efficient option, y/n grabbed some pasta and left it to boil while he got back to work for a few minutes. There sure was a lot on his mind now between the pasta he was cooking, Daegal (who he suddenly remembered needed to be fed as well), the lab report, the final exam in a day, Haechan’s laundry that still needed to be dried, folded, and put away, and the millions of other things he needed to get done before going home to his family at the end of the week. And the trip home would be another ordeal that required a lot of planning and prep work. Y/n had a lot of problems at home due to his conservative family and their recent discovery that he was dating Haechan. But that’s silly. I shouldn’t worry about that right now. And it’s not like it’s anything new knowing they all disapprove of my “lifestyle choice”. That’s old news, and I need to focus on this. Y/n went back to his multitasking and eventually got Daegal fed, the laundry in the dryer, and got a good portion of the lab done.

At 10:30 y/n finally felt satisfied with the PowerPoint and had finished collecting most of the data his partner was supposed to do. So he went to wash all the dishes he had left out at dinner and put away the leftovers as a quick study break. He smiled at the pasta he’d saved for Haechan knowing it would make his boyfriend’s day to find food ready for him after a long night of dance practice. When he walked back into Hyuck’s bedroom to finish the lab, he noticed several notifications on his phone again.

Mom: Hey you’re coming home on Wednesday right? You’ll be done with finals week by then?

Dad: Hey y/n you better have a gift ready for your mother when you come home on Tuesday. She’s still pretty upset about Haechan, so you should really try to make her feel better.

Bro: Dude mom and dad are pissed cuz dad thought you were coming home Tuesday after your final, and then mom told him you said Wednesday. So he flipped and said you were probably staying longer to fuck Haechan or something

Y/N: I told them both Wednesday. I AM spending Tuesday night at Hyuck’s place. But I just wanted a night to relax before immediately coming home

Don’t tell them that… just say I’m busy or something

Bro: sorry bro, that’s not gonna work. You better come home Tuesday or they’re gonna make the trip absolute hell for you

Y/N: fuck ok fine, I’ll make it work

Y/n was getting more and more stressed by the second. And now he wouldn’t even get any sort of buffer between finals week and seeing his family. And fuck he had that feeling in his head- that feeling of anxiety setting in- making him slightly dizzy and his chest tight. Fuck. Fuck. I’m gonna have a panic attack. I know it’s coming. Should I call Hyuck? He should be on his way home by now anyway right? Ok fuck. Yeah he should call his boyfriend. Maybe he could talk him through it. He prayed he was right and Hyuck would actually answer his phone, and to his relief, Hyuck answered right away.

“y/n! I’m on my way home and practice went pretty well! I think the show is going to be really good this quarter. Have you made dinner yet? And how’s the studying going?” He was so excited to hear his y/n ie’s voice on the phone. “Hyuck.” Y/n felt the lump in his throat form and wasn’t able to get out the rest of your words as he broke into tears. “Y/n? What’s wrong love? Are you ok?” No words came out of y/n as he began to hyperventilate. Haechan could hear y/n’s shallow breathing and put together that he must be having a panic attack. He assured y/n he’d be there in the next ten minutes and stayed on the phone with him until he rushed through the door exactly ten minutes later, Immediately making his way over to y/n huddled in the corner of his bed crying and hyperventilating. From past experience he knew y:n liked him to stay close until he was able to calm down and talk.

Haechan slowly climbed into the bed, sliding his body between your back and the bed frame, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting bear hug. “I’ve got you y/n. I’ve got you, and I’m not going anywhere.” Y/n began shaking in Haechan’s arms unable to fully process what was happening with his mind completely taken over by panic at this point. Haechan rested his chin on y/n’s soft hair and hummed a song. Y/n did his best to focus on the light vibrations on his head from Haechan’s tune. “I’ll just talk about my day a little too ok y/n? Squeeze my hand if you’d like that.” Y/n’s eyes remained squeezed tight, and his body was still trembling, but he gives Haechan’s hand a light squeeze back. “Ok love. Let’s see… I saw Jungwoo today! I know he’s your favorite dance major right? He was really cool to watch, you were right! He might even be more charismatic than me” he teased. Y/n didn’t laugh out loud or acknowledge him, but he appreciated Hyuck trying to lighten the mood. “I spent most of the night working on my duet with Mark though. They have us doing this really acrobatic hiphop song and it’s a lot of work. I’ve memorized all the footwork though. It was kind of funny watching Mark struggle with it more than me for once honestly. Next time you should tag along and watch. When it’s not finals week of course!” He adds, giving a small pec to your forehead.

“Is that why you’re stressed by the way? Finals?” He doesn’t really expect y/n to give any responses yet. But much to his surprise you shake your head in response. “No. More.” Y/n says quietly, starting to breath a little more evenly. “What else baby? What’s stressing you out.”

“Everything!” Y/n exclaims. “So much. TOO much” y/n squeaks out bursting into more tears. Haechan gently shushes you and squeezes his arms tighter around your body and begins planting little kisses all over your head to comfort you. “It’s ok y/n. It’s ok.” Hyuck can feel y/n’s body body relax a tiny bit despite his sobs. Y/n spins around melting into Haechan and burying his face in his chest

To be continued…

[letraspal]

Simon Snow journey to queerness

A compilation of quotes of Simon Snow thinking/talking about his queerness through books.

Book 1: Carry On

He’s not a villain. He’s just a boy. I’m kissing a boy. I’m kissing Baz.

And then I think about whether this, what’s happening right now, means that I’m gay. But Baz and I are hidden in the trees, and no one can see us, and I decide I don’t have to answer that last question right now.

I wonder how long he’s wanted this. I wonder how long I’ve wanted it.

I’m not sure why I’m so happy. Nothing’s changed. Has anything changed? The kissing. That’s new. The waiting to kiss.

I want to kiss a bloke. That is a change, but no one I’m prepared to think about right now. …Again. I want to kiss him again.

“Why, then” he asks. / “Why did I kiss you?”/ “Yeah.” / “I guess I wanted to,” I say, shrugging. / “Since when?” / I shrug again, and it pisses him off.

“I didn’t think you were gay,” I say. Quietly. He shrugs. Half of Snow’s sentences are shrugs.“What does that mean?” / “I don’t know,” he says, closing his eyes. “I guess I’ve never thought much about what I am. I’ve got a lot on my plate.” That makes me laugh.

“Are you gay?” he asks, looking over at me, still laughing. / “Yeah,” I say, “completely.” / “So you do this all the time?” / I roll my eyes. “No.” / “Then how do you know you’re gay?” / “I just do. How do you not know?” / “Dunno,” he says.

But apparently, I can also solve things with my mouth—because, so far, every time I lean into Baz, he shuts up and closes his eyes. If Penelope were here, she’d make me explain myself. Thank magic she isn’t here yet.

What would Agatha say if she knew about the kissing? “You’re not even gay, Simon.” […] “you’re not even gay,” she’d say, “and he’s not even alive.”

“You’re not even gay, and he’s not even alive, and that isn’t even the worst part of this idea—what will the Mage say?”

“And I don’t think I’m gay,” I say. “I mean, maybe I am, at least partly, the part that seems to be demanding the most attention right now…”

He leans in like he’s going to bite me, then he kisses me instead. It’s so good. It’s been very good every time.

“We don’t have to do this” […] “No one has to know.” / “Know what?” Snow asked softly. “That I’m obsessed with you? That horse left the barn a long time ago”

“They’ll know,” I (Baz) say. “They’ll talk about it.” / “What?” He’s a million miles away. He’s always a million miles away lately. / “They’ll know that we’re gay.” / “There go my job prospects,” Simon says flatly. “What will my family say?” I’m not sure where the joke is.

“Baz, you’re actually, literally the only thing I have to lose. So as long as doing gay stuff in public doesn’t make you hate me, I don’t really care.” / “We’re just dancing,” I say. “That’s hardly gay stuff.” / “Dancing’s well gay,” he says. “Even when it isn’t two blokes.”

He will call me Simon now, occasionally, but only when we’re being soft with each other. (All that’s still happening, too. I suppose I am gay; my therapist says it’s not even the top five things I have to sort out right now.)

And sometimes I feel like someone else died, like someone else sacrificed everything, so that I can have a normal life. With wings. And a tail. And vampires. And magicians. And a boy in my arms, instead of a girl. And a happy ending—even if isn’t the ending I ever would have dreamt for myself, or hoped for. A chance.

[wantsobadminsung]

Bittersweet. 😢 💔 🧊

I take a deep breath, my heart pounding in my chest as I muster up the courage to confess my feelings. The room feels tense as Minho and Jisung sit across from me, unaware of the turmoil brewing inside me. They've been together for a while now, and I know they care about each other deeply. But this secret has been eating away at me for far too long.

"I need to tell you something," I stammer, trying to steady my trembling voice. Minho and Jisung exchange curious glances, leaning in closer to listen. Their eyes fixed on me, waiting for my words.

My hands twist and knot together nervously as I continue, "I... I'm in love with both of you. I don't know how it happened or when, but it's true. I can't hide it anymore."

Silence blankets the room, and I can feel their shocked expressions burning holes in me. The weight of their disappointment settles heavily in my chest. Minho's face contorts with a mix of confusion and anger, while Jisung's eyes grow distant and cold.

"You can't be serious," Jisung snaps, his voice laced with bitterness. "You expect us to believe that? This is just your excuse, isn't it? You're trying to steal Minho away from me."

My heart shatters into a million fragments at his accusation. I never intended for any of this to happen; I never wanted to come between them. The tears begin to well up in my eyes, and I desperately search for words to make them understand.

"No, Jisung, that's not true," I plead, my voice wavering. "I never wanted to hurt either of you. I would never do that deliberately. I'm just... confused, and I needed to be honest with you both. I can't keep pretending anymore."

Minho sighs, running a hand through his hair. His face remains unreadable, his eyes not meeting mine. "YN," he says calmly, "We're all adults here. Emotions are complex, and sometimes they don't make sense. But this situation isn't fair to anyone involved. We can't continue like this. You need to find someone else, someone who can give you what you truly need. It's best for everyone."

Every word that falls from his lips feels like a dagger to my heart. I had hoped they would understand, give me a chance to explain, but instead, I am met with rejection and dismissal. The tears finally spill over, rolling down my cheeks as I realize that my confession has cost me not only their love, but also their friendship.

"I... I'm sorry," I whisper, my voice cracking with sorrow. "I never meant for any of this to end like this. I'll go now; I'll find my own way."

As I leave their house, the door closes behind me, and I can't help but feel a sense of emptiness. The weight of rejection and loneliness hangs heavy upon my shoulders. I find solace in the night sky, allowing myself to grieve for the love I lost and the friendships that were shattered.

In the darkness, I vow to heal and find my own path, taking the hard lessons learned from this painful experience. And as the tears continue to fall, I remind myself that even amidst heartbreak, I am strong enough to rebuild, to find happiness again.

The nights grow colder as I navigate through the aftermath of my confession. The pain lingers, haunting my thoughts and infiltrating my dreams. Each day feels like an uphill battle, as I try to heal the wounds that Jisung and Minho's rejection have left behind.

I push myself to keep moving forward, to find solace in things that once brought me joy. But it's not easy. Every familiar place and every shared memory with them seems tainted now, reminding me of what could have been.

Loneliness envelops me, seeping into the depths of my soul. But amidst the despair, I remind myself that I am stronger than I believe. I refuse to let the darkness consume me entirely. I search for the light, even if it's just a flicker.

Days turn into weeks, and weeks into months. Slowly, I begin to find solace in the company of friends and family who offer unwavering support. Their warmth helps to thaw the ice that had formed around my heart.

Through self-reflection and introspection, I realize that my confession was not only an act of courage, but an act of self-love. I had to honor my own feelings, despite knowing the potential consequences. And although the outcome was painful, I remind myself that I deserve love and happiness too.

The wounds start to heal with time, and the tears become less frequent. I learn to forgive myself for the pain I caused, understanding that sometimes love doesn't align in the way we hope.

In the midst of rebuilding my life, I cultivate newfound strength and resilience. I rediscover my passions, pouring my heart into creative endeavors and pursuing my dreams with a renewed fervor. The pain will always bear a mark on my heart, but it no longer defines me.

And as I take each step forward, I remember Minho's words, reminding me that we are all adults. Life is a journey filled with unpredictable twists and turns. I allow myself to cry when necessary, to mourn the loss, but I also embrace the resilience within me to move on.

Love, in all its complexities, remains elusive. But I refuse to let fear hold me back. I know that one day, when the time is right, love will find its way back to me. And until then, I will continue to grow, to heal, and to cherish the lessons learned from this bittersweet chapter of my life.

[stateswscarlet]

i want to manifest my desired face whenever i dont see a movement i go crazy and the cycle starts again, i just wanna get my df but im tired of this cycle i always go back and nothing happens, i feel like all that thing is waste of time but at the same time ik its true cuz i've manifested a lot of things. but whenever it comes to my df i cant stop wanting it and after fulfilling myself i feel like it's done, but after 10 mins it happens again. i start to get mad at 3d again and its just so .. i cried becaus i want my df and 3d makes me crazy. i feel like nothing happens im so desperate i dont wanna read 823823 loa posts anymore i just want to be pretty as like others. i hate that feeling of 'trying so hard' hope u answer

<3

this genuinely makes my heart hurt :(

this is what i told another anon:

“unrelated, idk what youre desiring to change about your face but make sure you’re approaching it from love and not hating/disliking your current self. it makes me so sad whenever people tell me theyre manifesting a whole new face thinking itll make them happy, prettier, attention from people, etc and it wont at all. changes starts within and you are more than worthy of being just the way you are and treating yourself with love and compassion.”

please understand that “getting” a physical change will never ever ever ever take away your insecurities or make you happier, fulfilled, nor will it make you feel pretty from the inside. literally look at all the supermodels and stars who are drop dead gorgeous who we pine after who are incredibly insecure and are constantly hyperaware of their insecurities and flaws.

PLEASE i beg you the best thing you can do for yourself is practice self love RIGHT NOW the way you are. stop waiting for some ideal face before you chose to love yourself, as that day will never come. you will find more and more reasons to feel insecure and upset at the 3D and be running in an endless cycle “manifesting” things to change but you’ll never be satisfied.

you need to remove your dependence from the 3D/outer world by understanding it can never give you anything. go within and instead of focusing so much on your face changing focus instead on the feelings of being secure, safe, etc regardless. stop chasing shallow things like pretty privilege and attention and anything else you THINK your df will give you (spoiler: it wont give you any of that).

coming from someone who isn’t conventionally attractive and used to hate herself and her looks, it is SO important to love yourself and accept yourself the way you are first before expecting others to do that. i learned to love myself exactly the way i am. my inner shift changed my attitude and how i viewed myself which led to others reflecting that. i started getting attention, pretty privilege, etc (which now i know are just shallow things) without a single physical change.

i really hope you understand where im coming from anon. its not that you cant have your df, but if youre unable to love yourself right now you wont be able to love yourself with your df bc youll find a million other reasons not to. once you remove this from the pedestal you have it on (thinking itll make you pretty, etc) it will be much easier to focus on the feelings of security and anything else you desire.

[hoes4hoseok]

enhypen as folklore

i enjoyed writing this so so so much and i had forgotten how much i liked writing these! the last few i churned out from a sense of obligation but i had a lot of fun with this one :) i hope you like it!

ni-ki as my tears ricochet

"cursing my name, wishing i stayed, look at how my tears ricochet"

i'm so sorry for this...we sure are starting with a bang because the lyric "i can go anywhere i want, just not home" physically makes me ache when i'm thinking about ni-ki 😭

1. he's literally far from home irl & 2. if you were with ni-ki...he'd feel like home & any end to the relationship would make you feel lost

overall, i just associate that type of hurt with ni-ki (yikes🤧💔)

jay as mirrorball

"i'm still on that tightrope, i'm still tryin' everything to get you laughing at me"

oh my goodness jay is such a mirrorball.

i'm not saying that he's desperate for attention or that he doesn't get any, (that's not what the song describes, anyways) but rather that he's trying. his best.

i get it if you don't understand the vision at first glance but after i gave it some thought i can see it so clearly

jungwon as seven

"we can be pirates, then you won't have to cry, or hide in the closet"

this song is so sweet & innocent in how it describes a childhood perspective of things & how simple we thought problems were then

i think that jungwon maintains a little bit of that innocent optimism even though he's older now :)

what really seals the deal for me is that he's the leader & literally solves problems for the group all the time (presumably)

i don't mean that he solves them like a child would, but the nostalgic comfort that the song brings is similar to the comfort i feel you'd get talking to jungwon 🤧

jake as august

"august slipped away into a moment in time 'cause it was never mine"

jake is wouldn't hurt you on purpose, & i think that goes without saying because he seems like such a sweetheart

but man, if you catch him at a vulnerable moment when his heart resides with someone else...he will break. your. heart.

the whole idea of not being able to call the end of a relationship what it is in your heart because you were never really together & he never really cared the way you did...CHILLS. terrifying. (my heart goes out to those who have experienced that irl, i'm so sorry).

jake fits the idea because i think he's trustworthy. like,, he could smile & you'd probably be sold (no offense)

again, at the end of the day, he didn't mean to hurt you. maybe that's what hurts most 👊

heeseung as illicit affairs

"you know damn well, for you, i would ruin myself a million little times"

i've always heard this song in two ways: a very literal sense of having a physical affair in secret && a more emotional version of it

personally, i can picture myself getting my heart broken by heeseung in both senses! might just be me though 😀

the thing is, he seems so charming & falling fast for him would be so easy that if you did, it's very possible that he wouldn't fall in the same way you did (i'm crying the song has been playing on loop for ten minutes now)

i was originally gonna give this one to jay & mirrorball to heeseung!! lmk what you think

sunoo as betty

"the only thing i wanna do is make it up to you"

sunoo would 100% be willing to serenade his apology...that being said, i do not think he's a cheater!

i feel like if he hurt you he'd want to make it up to you & apologize at the same time instead of hoping you just take the apology alone...like this man will make you feel WORTH IT

AGAIN he'd never cheat though ✋ (i think) but if he made you feel bad he's gonna fix it,, he isn't leaving you feeling like an old cardigan under someone's bed

for the record, i'm a 'betty takes james back' truther though.

sunghoon as the lakes

"i'm setting off, but not without my muse, no, not without you"

i am so passionate about preaching how this song & sunghoon are perfect for each other EEK

i love assigning songs about heartbreak to sunghoon because i just see him as a heartbreaker (whoops) but whoever he DOES end up with (if anyone) is one lucky mf

the idea of "all you need is each other" makes me melt because it's so so so romantic

it's not realistic for all couples & that's okay but i can see sunghoon wanting that kind of relationship someday :)

but beyond that he's also private & not very social (by his own description) so he just generally seems like he'd resonate with it 🥰

txt version ☆ evermore version ☆ masterlist

[icey--stars]

Stories To Be Told: PART 22

Series Index

A shadowsinger, a warrior, an Illyrian, that's what she was. Trained by one of the most formidable female warriors. Escaped the Illyrian camps and her clipping when she was barely sixteen and is now the holder of 6 siphons. What happens when she tries to sneak into the City of Starlight? And starts down a whole new road of chaos?

a/n: ya’ll. let's just admit we need an azriel. because i certainly do. also we’re going to pretend fae have modern things like tampons and shit.

WARNING: mentions of a woman's menstrual cycle. (blood, and everything else that comes with a period)

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

When I awoke the next morning… I honestly didn’t know what was worse. The pain in my abdomen or the blood that was seeping into my undergarments, and making me feel disgusting. My cycle was usually like this, coming on with absolutely no warning. And then terrible for the entire time. Absolutely just miserable.

“Fuck,” I groaned, curling up a little more to a position that ever so slightly alleviated the pain I was in.

A few more long minutes went by and I tried to stop dying-

“Y/N?” Azriel asked from behind my door.

I rolled my eyes. “What?!” I called back, cringing painfully as another wave of cramps took over. Why didn’t I count the months?! Why did I forget about this stupid biannual cycle bullshit?

“I was wondering if you were coming to training. It’s been an hour since you usually wake up,” he explained.

An hour?! Maybe those long minutes were more than just minutes. Or I just woke up later because of this stupid dumb natural cycle.

“I’m not,” I replied. “Not in a million years with this stupid pain-“ I added with a whisper to myself.

“Are you alright?” Azriel asked, sounding more concerned now.

“Perfectly fine,” I answered, probably failing horribly at keeping my voice even. “Just go on without me!”

“Can I open the door?” He asked.

I glanced back at the rest of the bed. No blood stains just yet, so… “Fine.”

I tried to move into a position that extenuated exhaustion instead of pain. But something on my face must’ve given it away. Azriel opened the door and saw me laying there, and then immediately rushed over to the bedside, hands raising above me, but not touching.

“What’s wrong? You look like you’re in pain.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s because I am. I’m skipping training today, I might see you later.”

His brows furrowed, confusion evident on his face. “What’s wrong?” He asked, kneeling down to meet my gaze easier. “Can I help?”

I groaned, both hands reaching under my stomach in a useless attempt to alleviate the pain. “No, you can’t help,” I said, turning my face back into the pillows. “Nobody can, now go off and do your thing-”

“Can you at least tell me what it is? Should I get Madja?”

“I’m fine-” I cut myself off with a groan, wings curling up over my back as every muscle in my body seemed to tense at once. Like fuck- couldn’t they have made this process pleasant!?

Azriel’s hands went to rest on the bed, inching closer. “Angel? You alright?”

“No,” I answered honestly. “It’s my cycle- completely normal, just fucking awful-”

I turned my head to see his reaction, His eyes were flickering with immediate recognition. He winced visibly as well, as if feeling the sympathy pain. Which honestly? With this odd bond? He might just be able to feel it. Which in that case, he’s leaving me right here and getting out of range as quick as fucking possible. I might wish I didn’t have this, and sometimes wished males also had some occurrence as well, but I wouldn’t wish this upon Azriel, who, in most senses, had been quite kind to me.

“Oh,” he hummed. He sniffed the air experimentally, snapping his attention back to my gaze. “I should’ve smelled that. Sorry angel. How can I help you?” His voice was so soft and comforting. Fuck, it just rolled off his tongue so easily and settled across me like a fuzzy little ball of happiness. There was no other way to describe it.

“I’m fine,” I lied, lifting the blanket off of my back using my wings. It was starting to get just slightly too sweaty under it. “Just need to get some things from town once the cramps die down slightly. Go to training.”

“You need–they’re called tampons right?” He questioned, staring at me. I nodded, confirming his statement. “Right, how about I go get them for you then?”

I lifted a brow. “I think everyone would stare at you weird.”

“Like I care. I’ll be right back, alright angel?” Azriel said, standing quickly.

I opened my mouth to protest that I could do it myself, but Azriel had already walked out the door, closing it so it was left only cracked.

I sighed, rolling my eyes at his antics. Really, I would’ve been able to get it myself. It just might’ve taken a while until I had the will to battle against the pain stemming from my abdomen, thighs and lower back.

Azriel returned not too long after, holding a box of tampons in his left hand, which he set down on my bedside table before kneeling down to be eye level with me. “How are you holding up? How long do these last again?”

I cringed as another wave rolled over me. I crushed my hands to my stomach, clenching my jaw tight to stop a groan from escaping. “I’m fine,” I lied. “And about a week, at least for me. Some get longer and some get shorter.”

“Your lying skills might need to be brushed up on,” he chuckled. “Do you want me to talk to Madja about some sort of tonic for the pain?”

“First tell me if you can feel it,” I ordered. “Because if you can, yes and then you’re leaving.”

“It’s very weak, but a little,” he admitted. “But not anything compared to what I imagine you’re feeling.”

“You do not deserve any sort of pain when I’m the one supposed to be dealing with it, leave and go to training,” I ordered, closing my eyes as another wave came over some sort of wall that was the threshold of pain.

“I already told Cass I wasn’t going,” Az chuckled. “Now, how can I help? Would the tonic help?”

I groaned in both frustration and pain. “Fine, go get the stupid tonic.”

Azriel smirked, clearly proud of the fact I’d given in. “Be right back sweetheart.” And then he left before I could question him on the next new little name he’d given me. How many do I have now? Angel, baby and then sweetheart?! Fucking hell.

My trail of thinking was cut off again as the pain came to overwhelm my senses again. Gods, I really just needed to find a good book to dive into. Maybe a distraction would work? Right? If I managed to get the damn energy to do anything. A bath, a book and then suffering. I didn’t have the patience for any of those right now.

Azriel returned after gods know how long, holding a small bottle of amber liquid that looked suspiciously like alcohol.

“Is that whiskey?” I asked, eyebrows scrunching up as I looked at the bottle.

Az scoffed. “No, Madja claims it's something to help with pain.”

I rolled my eyes, pushing myself to sit with my back against the pillows and wings splayed out on either side of me. I held out a hand and Azriel dropped it into my palm. I gave another look at the liquid inside before popping the cork off and swallowing it down. Bitter as fuck.

I opened my mouth as soon as the liquid was down, face scrunching up against the bitter taste. “Fucking hell,” I swore. “Madja needs a damn warning on that thing. I’ve never tasted something worse.”

Az wordlessly took the bottle back, putting it beside the tampons on my bedside table. “Do you need to…” he hesitated, gesturing towards the box with his scarred hands.

I sighed, still holding a hand to my stomach. “Look away, spymaster,” I ordered. “Don’t need you scandalized with the blood.”

“I’ve seen much worse than blood,” he replied. “But very well; I will turn away.” He shifted on his feet, body facing towards the door now.

With a silent wince, I pulled myself out of the bed, and quickly grabbed a second set of undergarments, night pants and then the box of tampons before running into the bathroom.

After dealing with that, I almost just laid down on the cool tile floor. I felt nauseous as hell, black spots entering my vision as I washed my hands and attempted to walk straight toward the bathroom door. All I had to do was make it to the bed and then I could pass the fuck out again, and pray to every higher being out there that when I woke up, it wasn’t worse. It probably still would be, to be honest.

Azriel had turned back to face the bathroom door, eyes narrowing as I stumbled out of it and toward the bed. I felt my foot trip over the other just as my vision went almost completely black. I spread my wings, hands flying out automatically, but I never hit the ground.

I groaned, and Azriel slowly lowered me to the ground, knees bending so I was sitting on my calves instead.

“Y/N?” Azriel asked. “What’s wrong?”

I held a hand to my forehead, feeling the sweat coming off of it.

“Can you hear me?” He asked again, sounding more urgent with each passing second.

“I’m fine,” I growled, looking around the room. It was spinning less with my lack of walking. My wings had slumped to the ground, one of my claws at the apex was laying on Azriel’s knee. I could distantly feel the fabric of his pants, but I could barely see straight, much less try and think about that.

“Y/N,” Azriel stated, a warning tone entering his voice. “You are not fine. You almost just blacked out.”

“I am fine,” I insisted. “This is normal.”

“You normally pass out while walking on your cycle? Are you sure?”

“No,” I answered. “I don’t normally pass out. I just trip a bit when I’m dizzy is all.”

“That amount of dizziness isn’t normal,” he insisted. “You should be able to at least walk straight.”

“Whatever,” I dismissed.

He sighed, head dipping down. I noticed now, that his hands were still grappling onto each of my upper arms, still holding tightly as if he was afraid I was about to faint and fall over or something. Which I wasn’t. I would be fine. I had dealt with these before. This one might be one of the worst ones in a while, but that didn’t mean shit.

“Let me help you onto the bed,” he murmured, moving his arms to support me as I stood. He looked at the distance to the bed once I was standing before literally sweeping my feet off, and settling me down on the sheets again. I was damned lucky they hadn’t gotten stained. Must’ve been the way I’d been laying that saved them.

I curled up with my knees to my chest against the pillows, looking at Azriel with a lifted brow. “I could’ve walked.”

“And I wanted to carry you,” he chuckled. “Now, tell me, how can I help?”

Well, he was certainly determined.

“And don’t claim you’re fine,” he said quickly as my mouth opened to deliver the same lie as before. “You almost just fainted.”

I rolled my eyes. “I don’t think there is anything you can do to help,” I replied instead. “This is kinda a thing that happens and is dealt with alone.”

“Well,” he hummed. “You keep putting your hands to your abdomen, so I’m assuming that at least gives the illusion of helping. You’re shaking like you're cold, and sweating like you're hot, so something to help even out that temperature might help.”

My brows furrowed, concerned on how the hell he’d gleaned so much information just from being here for such a short period of time.

“So, angel, how would you like me to help?”

I rolled my eyes, sighing. He wasn’t going to give in, and I was in too much pain to fight on this for very long. I didn’t want to get some weird emotional response or something. The other symptoms that followed this bullshit. “What do you feel like doing?” I asked. “Like- suggest something. You’re being too open ended for me to answer.”

Azriel smiled softly at that. “How about…” he hummed. “You move over slightly on the bed, and I sit next to you, or lay behind you and lay my hand on your abdomen, and keep you at a normal temperature at the same time?”

I swallowed, but internally, my heart swooned. He truly did care. My mate cared. And that just made me swoon even more, heart aching pleasantly at the thought.

“Okay,” I coughed out finally. “Yeah.” I shuffled my wings at the same time as moving my body down the bed so that my head was on the pillows and farther over on the bed. I didn’t really want to face him, because the emotions I was feeling were likely already playing out on the bond for him. So if I saw his reactions, likely it wouldn’t end well.

“You okay with me brushing against your wings, angel?” He asked, the bed pitching downwards as he crawled onto it.

I nodded. “Just don’t-” I cut myself off, unable to form the proper words to describe what I was forbidding him from doing.

Luckily, he seemed to understand well enough. He pressed against my back and wings, but didn’t let his hands linger anywhere, or move too drastically to cause some reaction from the touch. It was gentle, and caring. Careful, but also freeing. He looped an arm over my middle, laying his palm against my abdomen.

“Where’s it hurt?” He asked, his other arm coming up under the pillow my head was on. I simply lifted my head so he could move it under my neck for a more comfortable position. Cuddling was a foreign concept, but I knew enough from books.

I reached down to position Azriel’s hand gently with mine. “Mostly right there,” I answered, setting my hand back against the bed. Another wave washed over and I winced, jaw tightening as my eyes closed of their own accord.

Azriel’s hand began to gently rub over the fabric of my shirt. It gave the illusion of help, and also felt… immensely comforting actually. My mate pressed up against me. The male who I apparently had grown to love, caring for me oh so gently. Azriel, the idiot, cuddling up close to me. This wasn’t a sexually enticing position in the slightest. It was just comfort.

“Is this helping?” He asked, breath brushing against my neck.

I wordlessly nodded, pushing my head down more before settling where I was. I yawned, unable to contain the sound. Fuck, these things really just made my entire sleep schedule, emotions, and body just… wacky.

“You tired?”

“A little,” I admitted. “I should get up and do something.”

“No,” he chuckled. “You shouldn’t. Rest sweetheart.”

“Should I call that a new name unlocked?” I joked, eyes still closed, but my mouth curved into a big smile.

He scoffed, but I could almost feel his grin from here. “I can call you many more things, add to the list if you’d like.”

I rolled my eyes beneath my lids, but that smile only grew.

“Rest darling,” he commanded. “I won’t leave you.”

I grinned a little before taking a deep heaving breath of air, and letting relaxation fill me.

As sleep came to claim me, I started to wonder about what would happen if I did accept the bond, and decided to fall in love with Azriel. What would the future be like? I could imagine Azriel just like he was now, cuddling up close to his lover and assuring them that he loved them every moment he could. With a short flare of heat, I also wondered what Azriel would be like… in bed. Would he be rough? Gentle? Kinky as fuck? Sleep claimed me before I could continue that trail of thoughts completely.

Azriel continued to refuse to leave me alone. He did go back to his own bed during the night, but only for the beginning. By the third day he was staying the night because we’d passed out so early in the evening. Waking up felt surreal the next morning.

I started to tease him that if he didn’t train, he was going to lose all that handsome muscle. Of course, I accidently said it exactly like that, and he had smirked so fucking big it looked like it hurt.

Now, the entire thing was entirely too unpleasant to deal with. Back pain, abdomen pain, muscle soreness, headaches, nausea and dizziness, emotional instability… all of it. It was worse being around actual people too. People who could get hurt by some impulsive words of mine, or I could hurt them by accidently getting too emotional—

“Stop thinking,” Azriel ordered, hand running through my hair. “Just relax.”

I felt better than usual today, so I would probably try to go to training tomorrow. Even if it would be miserable. I didn’t train this week. 2 times a year, I didn’t train once. Because I’d always have trouble recognizing those limits, and it’d only make me feel more like shit when I realize I can’t do something because of the pain, or I’m weak, or something.

“Baby…” Azriel complains. “I can see your little upset face from here. Stop it.”

A smile curved onto my face.

Azriel had been so, so soft during this. Cuddling, so unlike the deadly spymaster I’d heard stories of, and gentle reassurances and check-ups so different from the figure I’d heard could kill so easily with just a flick of his wrist. It was both unnerving and reassuring. Azriel was softening up. I distantly wanted to know how long he’d felt the damn bond. How long had he’d been holding himself back from these soft little intimate moments? He’d argued with me enough that I didn’t have a damn clue.

But I enjoyed it. The softness. It felt like something I’d been craving for so long, finally given to me. It felt like another home, within a home. And Azriel knew me better than anyone alive right now. He knew my story, knew my tendencies. He even knew the face I made when I was upset. He knew. And I knew him as well. It was companionship at its best level. It was friendship at its closest. It was… it was a mate who cared oh so much. And one I cared for in return. These soft moments hadn’t just been for me. I’d attempted to scratch his head too, even if he waved me off. I’d tried a bit more innocent touching. A hug, leaning into his scratches, letting him near me in a way nobody had ever been.

Maybe I didn’t need as much time to think as I thought.

“Sleep,” Azriel complained. “If you want to go to training tomorrow, you’re going to sleep.”

I scoffed. “Bossy spymaster,” I admonished with a grin.

“Stubborn rogue,” he replied cheekily.

I rolled my eyes, but they fell shut momentarily as I settled into the soft embrace of love.

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

TAGLIST (see post for getting added)

@mis-lil-red, @bunnymallowo, @judig92, @biblophilefox82, @azzydaddy, @thegirlintheshadows101, @whatupmydudes01, @feyres-fireheart, @elizarikaallen, @xenlynn, @panzees-bizarre-adventures, @starswholistenanddreamsanswered, @baebeepeach, @nyctophiliiiiaaa, @brekkershadowsinger, @officiallyunofficialperson, @bookslut420, @margssstuff, @bluephoenix908, @goldentournesol, @rebloggiest-reblogger, @inpraizeof, @ladylokilaufeyson5,

[bi-bard]

Against the Current Songs That Would Describe a Relationship with Jason Todd - Jason Todd Imagine [Titans]

Title: Against the Current Songs That Would Describe a Relationship with Jason Todd

Pairing: Jason Todd X Reader

Word Count: 1,952 words

Warning(s): yelling, mention of violence/attack

Author's Note: I love that I am using this little run of Jason Todd parts to this series as an excuse to talk about music that I don't get to talk about much. Like Against the Current, who I have been listening to for a very, very long time. Like close to a decade, if not longer.

**Not intentionally written in chronological order**

-------------------------

Blood Like Gasoline

Baby those lips like fire My blood like gasoline Sparked the fire That burned down everything

It was a bad decision.

I knew that.

However, considering that Hank had a bomb in his chest and the rest of the team was focused on completely the wrong thing, I thought it was the only choice I had.

After some careful sentences, I managed to get Hank to tell me exactly where he had met with Jason. Without a word to anyone else, I left.

My goal was to talk to him. To get through to him and get him to stop this. The team didn't need another loss right now. They needed all the help that they could get.

I walked most of the way into the room, looking all around for any sign that someone was staying there.

"I knew you'd show up."

I immediately turned around, hand going for my weapon.

"What? Are you gonna shoot me?"

I dropped my hand as soon as I saw it was Jason behind me.

"You showed up earlier than I expected," he continued. "Thought Hank would see through your attempts to find me."

Was I really that predictable or did Jason just know me?

"What happened, Jason," I asked.

"Do you mean how did I come back to life or why I'm doing this?"

"I'll take either."

"They hated me," he explained. "That whole team did. In the end, especially."

"Gar didn't... Dick didn't," I took a step forward. "I didn't."

"You never did, huh?" he chuckled. "Always wanted to save me. From Deathstroke, from the team, from myself..."

"How do I stop the bomb, Jason?"

He ignored my question, instead deciding to walk closer to me.

I finally had to tear my eyes away from him. There was something in his eyes that was just too intense for me to continue looking at. I couldn't do it.

I heard Jason chuckle. "Aw, do I still make you nervous?"

He stepped forward, smirking at me. I felt my eyes jumping between his lips and his eyes. I thought I had better self-control than this, but this was Jason. He had a different effect on me than most other people. Even now.

I took a deep breath. "Jason, how do I save Hank?"

"Oh my God!" he rolled his eyes before stepping away from me. "Why do you care about helping him anyways? He treated you like shit!"

I shook my head. "That doesn't mean that I'm gonna let him die."

"Oh, please! You don't care about him!"

"I care about Dawn!"

"Who was more than happy to turn her back on you because Hank told her to?"

"That's not what happened."

"Isn't it?"

I closed my eyes and shook my head, letting my head fall so I was facing the ground. I never liked fighting with Jason. I thought that I would be more willing to now that Hank was in trouble, but Jason was right. Hank treated me like shit. And Dawn did nothing to stop him. God, I hated when Jason was right.

"(Y/n)."

He had walked back over to me at some point. I looked back at his face. I saw his eyes scan every part of my face. It was like he was trying to commit every detail to memory.

Slowly, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine. I think some part of him expected me to pull away. But I couldn't bring myself to do that.

Even after everything had happened, the kisses still felt the same as they had before. Annoyingly right.

I felt a fire burning in my chest. Mostly love but there was this small spark of anger. A spark that being with Jason only encouraged.

He pulled away first. "Stay. With me."

I paused. A million thoughts hit me all at once just because of three words.

"Come on," he pushed. "None of them treat you the way that you should be. None of them value you. Please."

After a few more seconds of hesitation, I leaned forward and kissed him again. I couldn't leave him. Not when I just got him back.

All I wanted now was to do anything I could in the hopes of keeping him.

No matter what that may have meant.

I Like the Way

It's not a lot but it's sweet when it's simple Don't overthink it, just dive in and let go Don't complicate, I like you babe

When Jason and I first became friends, I was in a situation that was eerily similar to his.

Spent a long time with a bad family, fell into what was mostly a bad crowd, and then was taken in by a rich family. The big difference was that I had spent much longer in that rich world than he had.

We had met at some fancy event that I don't remember the purpose of. I didn't really care to find out anymore.

We were fast friends. Telling old stories and comparing our new lives to each other. It was nice.

Being friends with Jason led to a lot of trouble.

When we started dating, there was even more.

For example, him sneaking in through my window.

I spotted the light from the motorcycle through my window. I jumped up and made it over to look out at him. I couldn't see him until he had shut off the bike and made it closer to the house. He waved at me.

I opened the window. I would've yelled down at him, but I knew that would've alerted someone. He climbed up a part of the building to get to my window.

"What the hell are you doing?" I whispered as he pulled himself in through the window, closing it quietly behind him.

"Why are you whispering?" he replied. "Your parents' room is on the opposite side of the house."

"And yet they seem to hear every single thing I say," I shrugged. "You can't be in here."

He chuckled as I pushed him toward the window again. "Then, come with me."

"I can't."

He turned around to face me. He was much closer than I expected him to be. I froze where I was.

He seemed amused about me freezing when he spoke up, "Why? Do I make you nervous?"

He stepped even closer to me. He had this smirk pulling at his lips as he raised an eyebrow at me. I felt ridiculous for how nervous I got around him sometimes. We were already dating. I had no reason to be shy around him anymore. But I couldn't help it. I just rolled my eyes and shook my head, looking away from him for a moment.

"Come on," he pushed. "We both know you have far more fun with me."

He was right. Spending time with him was usually far better than whatever else I had planned.

"Just not tonight, okay?" I replied. "I'm pretty sure they're still pissed about our last night out."

"Fine, fine," he held his hands up. "You owe me."

"Owe you?"

"Yup," he nodded. "You think sneaking out of Wayne Manor is easy."

"Alright, alright," I said. "What do I owe you?"

"A kiss."

I scoffed. "That was... disgustingly cheesy."

"Shut up."

I chuckled before leaning forward to kiss him gently. "Good enough?"

He sighed dramatically. "For now."

Jason finally relented and went to climb back out the window again. I stepped back as he did, looking over at the door to make sure it wasn't open at all.

"Hey," Jason was basically hanging out the window when he spoke up again. I looked at him. "Love you."

I felt my face warm up as I smiled. "Love you too."

Maybe being with Jason brought quite a bit of trouble, but he definitely made it worth it.

weapon

I seem fine But I can't take the highs and the lows All I am is a weapon I shoot 'em down 'til I end up alone

If I hadn't lost my notebook, none of this would have happened. I wouldn't have been digging around in Jason's stuff and I wouldn't have found something that I didn't want to see.

Jason had first talked me into following him to San Francisco. Following him back to Gotham after everything went to shit felt natural. I stayed with him in the manor because of a strong blowout fight before I left the first time.

I don't remember how I found it. I feel like I just kind of nudged and stumbled onto it. What I could remember was looking for my notebook one minute and the next, I was holding some oxygen mask with a vial of some green or yellow liquid in it.

I sat and stared at it for a moment. I hadn't heard anything about... whatever that thing was. I turned it over in my hands, looking for any identifying markers.

"What are you doing?"

I froze for a moment when I heard Jason's voice. I took a deep breath. "I was looking for my notebook. Thought I may have thrown it over here."

"That fancy one that Bruce got you?"

"Yeah, that one," I nodded as I stood. "Jason?"

"Yeah?"

I turned around and held up the contraption I had found. "What is this?"

I saw his entire face shift as he saw what was in my hand. It was enough for me to assume it was his.

"What is it, Jason?"

"It's nothing," he replied.

"Jason-"

"Give it back."

"Not until you tell me what it is."

"It... It doesn't matter," he shrugged. "It's none of your business."

"We are a little past that, don't you think?"

"It's nothing!" he insisted. "It's just to help me get back to normal."

I furrowed my eyebrows.

"No more nightmares or fear. I can be Robin again."

"Does Bruce know about this?"

"Why should he?"

"Oh my god," I mumbled.

"I need to be Robin, you know that! I... I can't just be forced to the sidelines! I need to be able to fight and work without all of this shit!"

"I don't give a shit about Robin!"

The tension in the room after that was thick enough to be cut with a knife. I closed my eyes for a moment before taking a deep breath and looking at him again.

"I... I care about you, Jason. Not about Robin. You are more than Robin. And you shouldn't need to do... whatever the fuck this is just so Bruce will care about you! If that's the case, then I'm sorry, but he's a piece of shit!"

It was a strong accusation, but one that I had grown more confident in over the course of the last several weeks.

Jason closed his eyes and looked away from me.

I walked over to him, tossing the contraption on the bed as I did. I reached up and cupped the sides of his face. He looked at me again.

"I can't force you to do anything," I said. "I know that. I am just asking you to not do something that'll get you hurt. I want you to be happy, and if being Robin makes you happy, fine. But I don't want you to think that being Robin is the only thing giving you value."

His hands reached up and touched mine, trying to hold them in place. I grinned at him. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to mine.

"I love you," I mumbled. "I... I need you to know that."

"I love you too," he muttered.

I smiled a little bit wider. That was enough for me for the time being.

-------------------------

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[aleksanderscult]

Hello!! I love your analysis sm 🖤🖤

Also happy birthday!!

I was wondering if you could analysis the scene in the first book when Alina and the darkling are in the queen's sitting room? Also, in the second book the scene where the darkling impersonates Mal through the tether? I am curious to know your opinions on these scenes!! Thank you!!

Hello!! And thank you so much, anon, for the birthday wishes!💛💛😍

And I'm so glad that you like my analyses. Really you can interpret the Darkling's scenes and his scenes with Alina in one million ways. He's such an interesting character. And the fact that you enjoy this too makes me so happy🥰🥹

Anyway, back to business. Another anon commissioned me to analyse the tether scene where the Darkling impersonates Mal and kisses Alina, so here I'm gonna analyse their winter fete make out. (Everybody in this fandom have such good taste and it's 🤌👌)

(random but, in the beginning, I thought you wanted me to analyze the scene where Alina and the Darkling talk after the former had her first audience with the Queen. And at the last minute I realized you mean their make out in that room. I'm stupid💀. If you mean the other, former scene tell me 😊)

I already feel this is gonna take two parts as well🥲 (I hope the people that follow this page don't mind me overanalyzing things)

(Part 2 here 🖤)

I'm gonna start from here because this is the moment where the Darkling gives up his hundred of years well-thought-out plan and gives in to desire. After what happened to the lake and realized that his feelings for Alina have taken an unexpected romantic turn, he left. Vanished. Firstly, because he's the Darkling and he has duties to fulfill and secondly because he tried to ignore them, push them out by staying away from her. But, apparently, it was impossible for him and in that moment we see him giving in to his feelings.

From the way he abruptly takes her hand, pushes her fast through the crowd and makes them invisible so no one can see them or interrupt them we can see how much he wanted to do this and for how long. He's like: "Fuck it. I'm going to do it now 'cause I've held myself back a looong time".

I want to comment two things here.

1) I think he brought her to the Queen's sitting room because it was the first room available. The closest one and since he was in a hurry to get it on, it was the first room he thought of. And because he knew that no one else would be there or get there since everybody were too busy crying, laughing and partying *insert screaming remembering how they interrupted them afterwards*

2) He really didn't miss not even one second 😭The moment the door closed he let out his bottled desire. Seriously, for how many months he was holding himself back??😭

Well, my dear Alina, it was nothing like any kiss before because the man you have before you has had centuries of practice. Really his life has been full of this as the author has said.😌

And it's very interesting to notice that even before Alina wore Morozova's collar, she and the Darkling had already a deep connection. "Like calls to like" had already applied to them long before the stag was killed.

See what I mean?

Alina could feel his emotions even though no one else could. So there was already a type of bond, a connection that united them. Their powers and emotions were already entwined before even Alina got the amplifiers.😏

In case you want to know my opinion in this, I believe he's honest here. Morozova's herd was found after so many years of search and the Darkling is in a dark room making out with Alina. His priority, people😏😏

On one hand, he enjoys what he's doing right now because he can finally express his desire after so many months of avoiding her. But, on the other hand, he doesn't like it AT ALL. He even hates saying that line. Because he admits something that he wishes wasn't true. He should desire to go to the war room but instead he's here pinning Alina to the wall.

(Also the GROWLING! He wants to eat her, guys😭. But also he's angry with himself)

Alina, girl, you got it right 👍

Btw, what is it with him and his throat fetish??😭

(Not that we, the fandom, mind)

It's kind of interesting how honest he tries to be. In the beginning of their meeting he wasn't that much but here, I think, he wants to be truthful to her. He tries to open up a little. But still not completely. This is a moment of weakness for him. And he's torn between making her his and going after the stag. Between opening himself up to her and closing off. (He's struggling for real🥲)

Alina can you please shut up with the questions and let him do his job we're dying here😭😭

No hate to Alina, really. But for God's sake just continue smooching without talking.😩

The Darkling taking his time exploring that black kefta. A gift from him to her, a sign that he already feels possessive of her. And here in one of the greatest celebrations of the year, he wanted to show everyone who she belongs to.

No lies detected here, my dear people.😊

But there's something he mentions here that is very interesting.

"I should be planning our trip north".

That says a lot. He planned to take Alina with him to the north and then he would give her Morozova's collar as a gift. With joy and willingness from Alina's part. That was his plan.

But then everything fucked up.

Alina easily believed Baghra's words and run away, so that proved to the Darkling that she's not to be trusted. Add to this that Alina reunited with Mal and started a romance with him and we have the Darkling going feral and forcing Alina to wear the collar and control her powers without her permission.

Back in the tent scene we can see how this analysis is confirmed since the Darkling:

A) doesn't celebrate the fact that he found Morozova's stag after centuries of searching and took its antlers. Instead he sat sulking in a chair and drinking kvas silently.

B) he said to Alina "that was never my intention" when she accused him of making her his slave.

Conclusion: he wanted the both of them to go north together, kill the stag, Alina wearing the antlers happily and then, I think, he would reveal piece by piece his true plans to her.

You know what? I'm about to say it.

I'm about to say it.

Aleksander Morozova has a throat fetish and is a butt guy.

There. I said it.🙂

And it's canon (at least for me🤷).

Also, this moment alone is ten times sexier and more sensual than the Malina sex scene. Change my mind.

The way he wants to dominate her.🫠

One line. One thousand meanings. One iconic moment.

Translation No 1: "The problem with wanting you, is that it makes me weak" a.k.a. she makes him weak and Alina is his weakness.

Translation No 2 is kind of intriguing (and random) 'cause Aleksander always wanted a safe haven for the Grisha. Prestige and respect. So that made him kinda weak too. Vulnerable to the wars he fought and risks he took in order to provide that haven to them. And in the end it killed him (twice).

After this he lets out all his emotions through the next kiss and makes it more intense. He just let go (rip my feels).

Guess what? I need a second part again. 🥲

It's gonna be the last one I promise ❤️

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

hoping this isn't a ~weird request but i would love to read your takedown/opinions of the failures of TRC as someone who was also reaaaally underwhelmed with how it handled an interesting setup/cast of characters and was left feeling very blah about the whole experience, and i'm having no luck poking thru your tumblr archives if it already exists :) no pressure ofc, enjoying your opinions on the new series regardless! (i personally deleted the ebook after struggling thru the first chapter oops!)

i was going to say "you have caught me on a day when i am crazy exhausted even after sleeping 12 hours so sure why not" but tbh i think that's giving myself too much credit re: my ability to resist this particular flavor of haterade, although it provides a nice justification. disclaimer that i haven't read anything from the original series since right after the raven king came out so i don't remember it super well. but like basically the problems with the raven cycle are two-fold: (1) the first three books are not very good (2) the raven king is the dumbest and most hateful piece of shit masquerading as a novel i have had the misfortune to encounter in my life. like you have to understand i went into this series having had it pitched to me but Dumb But Fun and for the first three books i was having a good time. i was often like "lol this is stupid" but i would say equally often i was like "aw my kids :')" in particular i remember that something clicked for me with BLLB where the books didn't get better but i suddenly like legit loved and cared about the characters and was invested in their relationships in a way where the flaws jumped out a lot less and i appreciated a lot of things stief had done and i made a pynch playlist and started drafting some fic and blah blah blah. and then the raven king came out and it was just, i can't emphasize enough, the worst book in the history of the printed word.

on point the first: the books are not great. stief comes up with some decent lines (funny similes, the occasional spurt of something pretty), and one of the things i will give her is that she can definitely set an Atmosphere (although this skill seems to have gone missing for CDTH) - monmouth manufacturing and fox way both feel like places that are just a bit too interesting to be real but in a nice way. overall though i find her prose weirdly stilted and artificial and tryhard. i think at some point i called her what taylor swift would be as a novelist, back when our most recent taylor albums were red & 1989, and i more or less stand by that - "losing him was like driving a new maserati down a dead-end street" feels like something stief could write, but instead of a 3-minute country-pop song, it's 350 pages of that. also i have genuinely never encountered an author worse at plotting. there's a weird and almost baffling shapelessness to the books that is truly like nothing else i've read in a bad way. like i said this a couple days ago but i felt like it gave me a new respect for every other bad to mediocre novel i had read in my life, because apparently those authors did all have some kind of basic skillset so fundamental i hadn't appreciated it until i read one who absolutely does not. and also the thing i have said before of, every book has a million chapters about the villain who has nothing to do with anything, and every single one of those chapters is boring as absolute fuck. the whelk chapters in TRB are sort of retroactively justified by the noah reveal, which on reflection i think remains the most successful thing she's pulled off, but the others are interminable and completely without reward for the reader.

even fans of the series seem to concede that plotting is not her strong suit, and the things people tend to like her for are (1) her writing, which... sure. i don't think it is good but you do you. and if i am forcing myself to be fair i will say that at the very least she does have a distinct voice and doesn't have that horrible flat YA Novelist Affect that has taken over what i sometimes feel insane swearing used to be a much more vibrant and stylistically diverse genre at least in terms of the things that made their way to my sphere of awareness. so. fine. and then (2) her characters. and like yeah the TRC crew is cute. they're fun. i liked that gansey was kind of insufferable and the books made no attempt to pretend otherwise. i did love classic scorpio depresso bean trauma freak ronan lynch, and i loved how as the series went on he was both a snarling anger machine and an idiot teenage boy with the most embarrassing crush in the world. i liked blue's ambition and her imperfect but passionate feminism. i loved adam parrish's teeth-gritted determination.

and i did absolutely fall for the pynch of it all. ronan lynch, who could have anything he wanted, desperate for the affection of the one guy who had no patience for his bullshit! adam parrish, who saw himself as so lowly, falling for this almost ethereal creature who dreamed beautiful things! the way ronan's main hobby was wallowing in self-pity but the person he was attracted to was the guy who refused to act like it wasn't time for ronan to grow the fuck up. the way adam had such a fraught relationship with anger, his own anger and that of other people, but he saw so keenly through to who ronan really was that while ronan's anger exasperated him, it never scared him or made him feel like he had any obligation but to be his honest self. the way hard-edged ronan dreamed adam lotion for his hands and labeled it in freaking LATIN, the way tense adam started finding a new respect for ronan without ever feeling a need to become more deferential or apologetic. i mean it was good shit. it was such good shit that i really and truly believed that while she was not the greatest writer in the world, stief must have built this particular dynamic between these two people on purpose. she must have deliberately planned for their slow-burning mutual attraction and deepening care to communicate these exact things about what their value was to each other - ronan giving adam space to dream, adam tugging ronan into reality - and while i was pretty sure the last book would be dumb, because all the books were dumb and she'd thrown a lot of balls into the air that she was not gonna catch, and especially because i had the sense she was going to want a neat happy ending which meant either gansey wasn't going to die (boring) or gansey was going to die but everyone was somehow going to be okay by the end anyway (stupid), i was also like, well at least pynch are gonna get together and it's going to be this really nice culmination of both their arcs.

hahahahahahahahahahahaha

the short version of why TRK made me feel so wild with rage was that it made extremely clear that everything i had enjoyed about the books up till that point had happened 10000% by accident. pynch is a good example of this. all that stuff i talked about above, all the push-pull dynamics of them, all the stuff that made them a good ship - it turned out that none of it mattered. none of it was relevant. none of it was even worth mentioning. because none of it, actually, was on purpose. adam and ronan get together by making out, which i respect. they do not have a conversation after that happens. not like, they hook up and don't took about it right away. i mean they don't have a post-makeout conversation IN THE ENTIRE BOOK. there is no moment where either of them says or even thinks, like - why this person. which is dumb for ronan because he has been so horny about adam, but hateful for adam because he is out of ronan's league unless we're being very clear about why this is a good fit! the stuff about ronan helping adam normalize his relationship to anger, lmao. nowhere to be found. instead we get gansey telling adam, "don't hurt him." repeat: we get gansey telling adam, who tries the hardest all the time of all people ever and who is half convinced he should be in jail for having feelings, to make sure he is nice to ronan, whose ENTIRE BRAND is "huge fucking asshole all the time for no reason." because ronan is "fragile." which like, sure. he's a half-orphan [at that point] with a fucked up life whose brain tried to kill him two years ago. but adam is an 18 year old paying all his own bills who moved out of his parents' house the day his dad DEAFENED HIM IN ONE EAR, and somehow this does not grant him any kind of special dispensation for care in the ganseyverse. and this is not ever in any way contradicted or challenged or complicated or even referred to later by the text. crime!

meanwhile, ronan... [pinches nose, sighs heavily]. again i said recently that the dream thieves should have told me her hand was not steady on the steering well. because what happens in the dream thieves is ronan meets someone who is like him but bad, and learns from him, and then figures out how to be himself but good. which is a fun sexy idea for a story, but the book fucks it up because ronan is too aware at all times of what a dirtbag kavinsky is and too untempted by his wild ways. there's no real fall, so there can't be a real rise. he fucks up his best friend's car, which he knows is also his best friend's number one most prized possession on earth, and the resolution to that is: hey dude my bad i killed your car but it's okay i dreamed you a copy of it. ???????? that's like parent who runs over your cat and says it's okay because they'll take you to the pet store tomorrow logic [realized in the middle of that i stole that image from sandman sorry]. i mean, in a vacuum, i guess it's not exactly. but like: ronan doesn't address the situation by learning anything about how not to be the kind of person who destroys something of great emotional value to someone he cares about. he addresses the situation by learning how to do his superpower good. this is not emotionally satisfying fantasy writing. it's hollow and stupid. and it's extra stupid because the book's attempt at an emotional resolution later down the line is that ronan needs to... hate himself less. which he can do by... realizing he doesn't hate himself. ??????? once again: empty. unbelievable. stupid. there's no connection there to, like, "now that i hate myself less, i can and should be less of a dick to everyone all the time," much less "one way of hating myself less might be to stop doing things that make me extremely unlikable." just: he hates himself less, he's no longer alone, he can dream whatever he wants, he's cool with his big gay crush now. weak. and like it was weak for me at the time, but reading BLLB i did think: well, the hand lotion. well, the trying to dream up a soul for the dream people. well, the big hug with blue at the end. ronan is growing and changing following his experience. it's kind of a shame we don't get his POV on any of this. but we'll probably catch up with him in the next book.

and again: no. i mean, we get ronan's POV, yeah. but none of it is reflective of someone like consciously trying to break the destructive and harmful (to self and others) habits he had forged in his grief. none of it conveys any awareness on the part of character or text that, like, deciding on purpose to be a decent human being matters. that maybe it's the kind of thing you should commit to before falling into a long distance relationship with someone who probably has PTSD from their abusive parents. that it can be hard, that it's rewarding. none of that. instead - i don't even fucking remember what. at one point he feels guilty about holding adam back and then he thinks, i'm not asking him to stay, just to come back, like ok that makes it so much better. you're just asking adam parrish, a steel whirlwind of ambition, to go to the ivy league college he has just about killed himself getting to because of how desperately he wants to escape the shithole town where he had his traumatic childhood, and then move back in four years' time. which again is not discussed. it's just taken for granted that ronan wants to stay at the barns forever. he tells declan he wants to drop out of high school [a choice being made by an eighteen year old two years after the traumatic experience of finding his dad's murdered corpse] and be a farmer and drive a tractor in circles on the property, which would be kind of funny given that his family farm is populated by dream creatures, except that like the book takes him weirdly seriously and also this is not intended as a metaphor. like his endgame in that series is that this traumatized teenager is living by himself on the barns fucking around and dreaming forever with like 3 friends all of whom are leaving town and zero ties to human reality or goals or desires of any kind and this is treated as a happy ending. even though by the way his mom got brutally murdered eight months before the stupid epilogue. but he's doing fine [stief hates women so bad]. [again it's SO funny that the first dreamer book opens with "ronan realized that his life was totally pathetic and depressing so he decided to move." like there was not this level of complexity present when you wrote the dumb epilogue!]

i keep forgetting about how ronan dreams into existence a weird little feral fawn creature/person and is bizarrely chill about it. also how his mom is his dad's dream and his little brother is his own dream and it's really explicit that his mom in particular does not have a personality of her own but just responds by giving whoever she's talking to whatever kind of person they want to interact with, which is the moooooost fuuuuuucked uuuup thiiiiiing eeeeeeverrrrrrrrrrr, and the books are just like. yeah this is normal and fine. [again sooo funny that in the dreamer trilogy declan is like "unbelievably fucked up that my little brother and mom are dreams." like yeah it is! where did you get that idea maggie. was it in the tumblr tags.]

what else. she ruined blue liking space, which didn't seem possible. blue doesn't like space and want big things because she's a smart spunky girl in nowheresville virginia feisty enough to dare to believe she can make her own life. no. it's because her dad is a tree person and trees like the sky because they grow upwards. whenever i tell people this i have to emphasize how much i'm not exaggerating or making it up. this is what it says in the text. she's like "oh that makes sense." ???????? i dwell on this one a lot because it's soooooo so so so stupid, but also because i think it really encapsulates the thing that makes TRK not just stupid but actively repellant to me, which is that you get the sense reading it that stief thinks it's better when things come from weird magic shit instead of from like real human characteristics and psychology. like for a series about friendship it winds up feeling to me weirdly and grossly misanthropic - none of these people are special or worth caring about because they are human people, it's all because of their magic Stuff. it's all because oh they actually WERE more special than everyone all along, not because of the choices they made but because they were born to it (why is ronan the only one who can take from the ley line without stealing? is it because of the kind of person he is? no. it's bc he's Special). ronan's dreaming, blue's treeness, and then gansey being actually all along a time-shifted resurrected friendship amalgamation creature who felt an instant kinship with his friends, again, not because he was a lonely teenage boy seeking out fellow weirdos to care about, but because they literally had met him before. adam, the only genuinely human character left by the end, meanwhile still is constantly asked by the text to apologize for his existence, not just in the "don't hurt him" scene but in the absolute nightmare section in the end where he goes back to his abusive parents' house for closure(????) and reflects primarily on how ugly and small his trailer was (?????????) and feels startled to discover an instinct in himself to help other adams who might be stuck like he once was, and then immediately conceptualizes this as something blue or gansey would think, which is so hateful i can't even process it. like adam at no point in this last book is acknowledged to have had a positive influence on anyone else even though he's better than the lot of them put together, but he has to kowtow to blue and gansey in his own brain for teaching him (a poor abused kid) that he might empathize with poor abused kids???? when to my sincere recollection NEITHER of them has ever like on the page demonstrated any kind of do-gooding impulse? their hobbies are myth-hunting and unskilled clothing manufacture? perfectly acceptable hobbies for a pair of teens but like? why does she hate poor people and victims of abuse so bad...

the big bad demon that is destroying the town is shaped like a wasp. gansey has a bee/wasp allergy and one time died from bees. these two things are never connected. henry cheng is upgraded to a main character because maggie heard you like diversity and now has a completely different personality than when he was an amiable preppy dbag who happened to be asian. now he has a mother in the mob and a tragic backstory about being kidnapped that taught him that you can't let fear rule your life and if you're scared you should be scared and then do it and be happy anyway, which is pretty good advice for things like an irrational fear of closed spaces that can't actually hurt you but really not applicable to someone who both does literally have a deadly allergy to bees and also has spent the past four years traipsing willy nilly all over the place not even bothering to keep his epipen with him. it turns out gansey's big moral lesson has nothing to do with for example his obsessive desire to control his friends but actually like ronan he just needs to love himself better and realize that his friends care about him after all. please notice again that ronan and gansey, rich boys acting out, need to love themselves more. this is dumb but if this was like the thesis of the whole series i would be like, that was stupid but whatever. but what of adam parrish, a poor abused kid who was abused so hard he is now a poor abused disabled kid? does he get self-love? no. he gets to realize that his rich friends have made him a better person, and be relieved that he's escaped from poverty because of how the aesthetics were bad. I MEAN IT'S SOOOOOO CRAZY AUGHHHHHHH

i forgot when i was talking about henry cheng the scene where blue and gansey go to the asian kids' house and are like "wow such diversity so culture," which is like a nightmare edward said had once. like they're just so excited to have discovered this exotic exciting new world and to learn about things like how henry cheng makes asian jokes because if he says all the bad things about himself first then other people won't say them. and i shit you not, the entire sequence is done in narration, with spoken lines appearing in italics in the middle of descriptive paragraphs, not rendered with dialogue as an actual scene, a technique she doesn't use anywhere else that i can recall and which really serves to just be like... here is this Mass of Asianness, as opposed to being normal about it and being like "here's some asian kids having a party." i haven't seen anyone comment on this technical feature but i think about it all the time because it makes me feel insane. it's one of the few things i've read in the past however many years where i read it and was like "i guess i was naive before about racism." like it's not that i didn't know but i was like, wow in 2016 you can still just transparently have your entire ability to conceptualize scene and narrative totally warped by an attempt to feature non-white people and no one will be like, hey we're all unlearning a lot of stuff but maybe let's rethink this before we go to print. there's a scene where ronan jokes about henry's mixed-raceness by saying "which half" which i do think is stief being unaware of the optics bc she's dumb but still comes across real bad and then there's also a scene where ronan does a "vaguely offensive" imitation of henry's voice which i truly have no fucking idea what the hell that is supposed to mean on a literal concrete basis other than making fun of an asian kid's accent. in both of these cases gansey and blue are disapproving and adam snickers and it's like, ok so pynch is racist now. cool. who asked for this, maggie. and also see above re: i really gaslit myself into thinking that one of the points of this series was that ronan learns to be a better person. my bad! (he sort of attempts at one point to make up with declan about how ronan has treated him so bad and also ronan was obviously his dad's favorite. but like his way of doing this is he gives him a toy he dreamed called a Orb. if i were declan i would throw his Orb back in his face. but like that's how broken the ethos of these books is. a heartwarming reunion between two brothers torn apart by the death of the father that they both equally lost hello declan is also a teenage orphan - and it's just. here's some garbage i got you. i didn't even spend money on it. it just happened.)

in addition to ronan's mom the lady bad guy also dies a horrible bloody death that feels a lot more gratuitously fucked up than any of the man deaths in the series. oh i forgot about how blue's mom is dating a hitman who killed ronan's dad and ronan just like doesn't care about this after the first five minutes at all. and neither does anyone else. and then he wanders offscreen... i forget why. we never get any intel on why blue is destined to kill her first love if they kiss or if that would have happened with anyone but gansey or if she and gansey can kiss after he's resurrected or what. like the prophecy that kicks off the series, and just: nada. gansey sells his beloved home to bribe aglionby into letting ronan graduate and the two of them never talk about this and the text never clarifies whether ronan bothered to graduate or not (and in CDTH it turns out he didn't). like another way this alleged series about friendship is weirdly misanthropic is i really was not convinced by the end of it that these people were friends. none of them are seen ever enjoying each other's company or thinking well of each other outside of the two romantic pairings and gansey going apeshit about how awesome henry cheng is. also gansey's whole big quest for meaning blah blah, like i don't super care that glendower is dead, i think you could write a good book with that moment working thematically even though it does fuck with your continuity because who the fuck were the three sleepers. what was with those birds. (there's a lot of mysterious/spooky shit that never gets addressed and like... again i think you could write a book where that works, i don't like to be prescriptive about this stuff, but again: play stupid games win stupid prizes. write a dumbass book that invests a lot of time in the importance of its magic and worldbuilding, and i will get annoyed when your magic and worldbuilding is dumb as fuck and/or totally pointless.) but it's like ok so then the idea should be that the whole point of gansey's glendower quest was actually an internal one, that the payoff of SIXTEEN HUNDRED PAGES of this is some kind of life lesson or emotional shift or whatever. and the payoff is that gansey realizes his friends love him (which again: but do they though? like do they really?), and that he and blue and henry take a gap year. that's the big exciting finale. a year off before gansey goes to college, with his true love and a guy he first hung out with eight months ago. HELLO? like who gives any kind of a shit about that. about any of this. what the fuck was all this for. this all happened so that two rich teenagers could like themselves better. are you fucking kidding me maggie? hateful!

anyway. i'm sure at the time there was more i was forgetting because this book was sooooo boring and every single thing that happened in it was stupid. i feel like this was very incoherent but in my defense these books are hard to critique coherently because they are, again, so stupid. CDTH from what i remember reading it through the first time and continue to pick up now like hangs together as a book better certainly than TRK did but my experience is such that every time she does something passably right i truly can only be like, wonder how she's gonna fuck this one up to kingdom come.