#people will say things like you should let go of your past WELL WELL WELL BITCH LOOK WJAT JUST SAVED MEEE đđâźď¸âźď¸âźď¸
looking through your eyes + seventeen
authors note: this chapter covers the aftermath of solana's attempt in the previous chapter. please heed to content warnings in order to make an informed decision regarding reading this chapter.
i'm going to handle solana's experience in the hospital as realistically as i can, but there are creative liberties taken as well. and don't come for me for the ending either. :/
cw/tw: angst, discussion and coverage of the aftermath of a suicide attempt, mental health discussions.
song inspo: âlooking through your eyesâ by leann rimes
masterlist
words: 15k
Roman has a long to-do list. He always does and always will. But, this is by far one of the last things he wants to do.Â
Heâs going on 24 hours of no sleep, which isnât the first time heâs done as such, but itâs the first time heâs done as such and actually felt the impact of the sleep deprivation. And truth be told, deep down he knows the exhaustion that he feels is more mental than anything.
Itâs the result of the toll that finding out Solana tried to kill herself has taken on him.Â
Is taking on him.
But, he canât deal with that shit right now. He canât deal with it because heâs got his Wise Man, Rikishi, Solo, Jimmy and Jey all sitting around him, wearing various levels of confused expressions. Which only irritates Roman more because Rikishi and Paul are the only ones who should be confused. The twins have been with him dealing with all of the shit the past 24 hours.Â
Solo too.
Rikishi is the first to speak, studying Roman. The Tribal Chief is more than sure he noticed the grimace on Romanâs face as he went to roll his shoulders, remembering yet again of the wound that probably wonât heal as quickly as predicted given the fact heâs done the complete opposite of âtaking it easy.â
âYou gonna tell us what happened orââ
âThere was an assassination attempt on Solanaâs life last night.â Romanâs sentence is matter-of-fact and to the point, nevermind the fact that his right hand forms into a fist at just saying as such.Â
Rikishi and Paul share shocked expressions, Romanâs older cousin being the one to ask, âis sheââ
âBullet hit me instead. Didnât lodge. Iâll be fine.â Roman only adds that last part because of the horrified look on Paulâs face, already knowing his Wise Man will bombard him with questions about his injury. âXavier Miller and his boy were behind the attempt. Iâm handling them now.âÂ
âBut sir, why would Miller want his own daughter dead?â
Roman closes his eyes and rolls his neck, working to settle his rising temper. He hates talking about this shit. It only spikes his eagerness to get his hands on Miller and rip him apart limb by limb. âBecause she didnât go along with his plan.â
Rikishi speaks up again. âPlan?â
Romanâs jaw clenches. âHe wanted her to kill me.âÂ
The rest of the men look equally shocked, Paul gasping loudly, asking, âsheâs a traitor?â
If looks could kill, Paul would be six feet under. Roman has to mentally restrain from acting out on his suddenly murderous urges. âSheâs my wife.â
Rikishi, however, seemingly tosses his longtime friend a lifeline, trying to reason with his younger cousin. âUce, that doesnât mean she canât be bothââ
âWhat Iâm hearingâŚ.â Solo surprises the men around the table as he sits forward. ââis that she canât be trusted.â
Roman isnât sure just how much of his anger and rage at the accusations being slung against Solana is showing, his Solana, but it must be enough for the twins, of all people, to try and de-escalate.
âCome on now, this is Soso we talking about.â Jimmy is the first to kick off peacemaking. He looks at his father, âpops, you was there when we first met her. She was nervous as shit. Ainât nothing about that girl dangerous.â
Jey chimes in, handling Solo. âAnd you of all people should definitely know thatâs not Solana. She would never hurt nobody, let alone kill nobody.â
Solo, however, simply scoffs. âLike she ainât hurt her brother?â
âWhat was she supposed to do? Let him beat her?â Jimmy is the one to snap, shouting back with a suck of his teeth, âman, that bitch deserved it!â
Rikishi jumps in, defending his younger son. âI think what Solo is trying to say is that it proves she is, in fact, capable of hurting someone if she wanted to.â
âWhy would she want to hurt Roman? That donât even make noââ
âEnough!â Romanâs fist slams down on the table. âThe next person to say one more negative thing about my wife is getting a bullet in their fucking skull.â Thereâs a blanket of silence, all of the men knowing that Roman would absolutely carry through on this threat. A promise, really.Â
Roman swallows, both from anger and something else he canât pinpoint. âSolana tried to kill herself last night. What in the fuck about that presents a danger?â He doesnât care enough to observe the reactions of that news. Doesnât give a fuck. âThe only person sheâs a danger to is herself.â
Paul is the brave soul, or perhaps just stupidly and naively asking, âis sheâokay?âÂ
âI said tried, didnât I?â Roman snaps, forcing the pudgy man to recoil back in his seat. Roman clenches his jaw yet again, directing his statement to the next older man. âRikishi.â He runs a hand over his face. âMeet with the Elders. Tell them about the assassination attempt. That it was Miller. Nothing about the plan. And leave it at that.â
Rikishi removes his glasses, sitting up at the table. âRoman, the Elders should knowââÂ
âThe Elders know what I want them to know, and I want them to know that someone tried to kill my wife, and Iâm handling it. Thatâs it.â Incapable of dealing with any more of this shit, Roman stands up from the chair, turning his back on the rest of his family. âWise Man, letâs go.â
The obese man also shoots up from the chair, nearly tripping over his feet as he wordlessly follows Roman out of the room.Â
Left alone is just Rikishi and his sons, the patriarch asking, âshe tried to kill herself?â
Jimmy and Jey wear similar frowns, recalling the horrific truth they learned about their âSosoâ just hours prior. Jimmy shuts his eyes, unable to push away the memory of a hysterical Naomi throwing herself into his chest at the memory of finding Solana unconscious.Â
âItâsâŚ.itâs a long story,â Jey answers in a low voice, wanting to be respectful. Aware or not, Solanaâs story is hers to tell and hers only.Â
Truthfully, heâs slightly surprised Roman even disclosed that part of the past 24 hours.Â
âYeah, thereâs a lot of the story that Roman left out,â Solo suddenly finds his voice again, sharing directly to his father and brothers. âLike the fact that Roman took that bullet for her.â
âWhat?â Riksihi asks, shock stamped all over his voice.Â
âI was right there. I saw the whole thing. He pushed her out the way.â
Jimmy shrugs. âHe protected his wife. Whatâs wrong with that? We all would have done the same.â
Jey nods in agreement. Rikishi looks torn.Â
Solo continues, pointing out. âBut, Roman ainât like us. Heâs the Tribal Chief. He needs to act like it.â
âCareful, son,â Rikishi cautions, seemingly breaking from his conflicted state. âYour Uce sits at the head of the table for a reason. His ways may be unorthodox at times, but his reign wonât be questioned. We wonât disrespect him.â
Solo scoffs. âBut youâll disrespect the other Elders by lying for him?â
Jey jumps in, chiding, âman, whatâs up with you tonight?â
Solo scoffs, pointing to himself. âMe? Iâm not the one whose judgment is clouded. We all know if this was one of us and the roles were reversed with our wives, Roman would want them executed. Heâs not thinking straight.â Solo looks around the room, noticing thereâs a brief second of silence. âYaâll see it too. Iâm just the only one whoâs willing to say it. Roman is losing focusââ
âThatâs enough, Solo.â Rikishi raises his voice, firmer, that of a father. âYouâre out of line, son.âÂ
Solo looks around the room, halfway waiting for his older brothers to jump to his defense, to agree with what they have to know is the truth. But, when that doesnât happen, he also shoots up from the table, rocking it in the process, leaving the room without another word.
Once gone, Jimmy motions with his thumb. âMan, he is tripping.â He shakes his head, asking his father, âyou want us to talk to him?â
âNo.â Rikishi answers almost immediately, sighing heavily, running his hand over his face. âIâll do itâŚ.you all justâŚ.watch Roman.â He stands up, as Jey mutters something about having the hard job. âAnd sonsâŚ.this conversation doesnât leave this room, understood?â Jimmy and Jey look slightly confused and taken back, Rikishi explaining, âI know youâre both closer with Roman. But, heâs just your cousin. Solo is your brother. Heâs definitely tripping, but heâs still your family too, and thereâs nothing more important than brotherhood, alright?â
________
Roman awakens with a heavy sigh thatâs followed by his eyes closing.Â
His sleep has been shit the past few days, and itâs been solely because his bed is cold and empty on the other side. Because heâs sleeping alone, something he once cherished but now can barely tolerate. He didnât realize just how much he enjoyed Solanaâs soft body pressed up against him, the satisfaction he felt waking up to her every morning.
Now, he just awakens to silence or the sound of Dulce whimpering or barking.Â
Dulceâs whimpers on the side of the bed remind him of the fact that sheâs still sleeping in his room. In their room. On Solanaâs side.
Her empty side.
Moving the blankets off, Roman swings his big body over the side of the bed and walks over to motion for her to follow him. âCome on.â
He knows she has to empty her bladder, but heâs grateful for a reason to leave the space that reeks of Solana, a constant reminder of her absence.Â
ItâsâŚ.an experience, to say the least.Â
Picking her up, he carries her down the steps, through the house, and out the back sliding door by the kitchen. Roman places her in the grass, letting her do her business as he goes to sit down on the edge of one of the chaise lounge.
He closes his eyes.
Love.Â
Suck a weird fucking thing. Something heâs never really understood.Â
Or felt.Â
NotâŚ.not in this aspect at least.Â
Heâs always been confounded by the emotion that makes people act so outside of their character, clouds their judgment, and seizes their brain in crippling ways. He never saw the appeal in it. Never wanted it.
And then came Solana.Â
If someone had told him four months ago that heâd not only be married to a woman he actually cares about let alone would end up loving, heâd probably knock them flat on their ass. Harshly criticize their stupidity at the very least.Â
Falling in love with Solana was never the plan. He never wanted this for himself. He just needed to marry to create an official heir. And that was it. She would do her thing, taking care of the kid and whatnot. And he would still do him, continuing his life of commitment free sexual relations with whoever was his flavor of the week. Or day.Â
And yet all of that, just the thought of it, sours his expression.Â
He doesnât want anyone other than Solana. Doesnât desire to be intimate with anyone other than her. Itâs her he wants to wake up to every morning, her he wants to make happy. He just wants her. Nobody else.
Because he loves her.
And itâs a shocking, life changing realization he finally stumbled into while sitting at her hospital bed. An epiphany heâs certain was heavily transitioned from subconscious to conscious given the events that transpired that night.
She almost died, was almost shot, and thereâs not a fucking part of him would do anything differently. Heâd take that bullet and any other bullet for her anytime.Â
Because he loves her.
He stood between her and her piece of shit father, not thinking twice about it, only knowing that decision would forever negatively change her life. Thinking how he promised her he would never let her end up in that position.Â
Because he loves her.Â
And he sat at her hospital bed, holding her hand, pouring his heart out to her because the second those infamous words left Jeyâs mouth, his world nearly collapsed. He couldnât think straight as he rushed to the hospital, uncaring and uninterested in anything except being with her, holding her, catering to her. Whatever she needed. He just needs her to be okay.Â
Because he loves her.
Romanâs head tilts back, the weight of all this lying on his chest.Â
He canât deny it. Canât deny he loves her. Not to himself, at least. He just doesnât know what the fuck to do about it.
ThereâsâŚ..thereâs no room for love in his life. No place for it. Love is weakness, and Roman has never and can never be weak. Heâs the Tribal Chief. The Head of the Table. The leader of the Bloodline and Cosa Nostra. There is no space for weakness.
Or love.Â
And yetâŚ.itâs there.
Itâs there for her.Â
Dulce walking over to the chaise lounge that Roman realizes is usually the one she sits on when sheâs writing brings him back to the sadness that creeps in at her absence. Dulce must feel the same as she lays down, ears also down, whimpering.
Roman beckons her over, watching as she slowly walks over to his feet, ears still down as he picks her up and places her on his lap. Itâs something not even a week ago he would probably do. But, that was then, and this is now.Â
And now, he almost feels a sense of duty to Solanaâs puppy.Â
Because itâs this same puppy, heâs learned, that barked nonstop at Bayley and Naomi, running over to Solana and starting to cry, effectively alerting them that something was wrong.
Very wrong.
With an uncharacteristic level of emotion, Roman gently strokes the top of her head. âYou saved her lifeâŚ.â For his own mental sanity, Roman chooses not to think about what the alternative could have been. What his reality would be if this small, five pound animal didnât have such a close, protective bond to her human. âThank you.â
Dulce whimpers in response, laying her body on his lap, staring at the empty pool chair.Â
Roman sighs, eyes shutting again.Â
The emotion is undeniable as he acknowledges in a soft voice. âI miss her too..â
This shit is much harder than he realized.Â
________
Roman: How are you doing?Â
Solana glances at her lock screen at hearing the familiar, personalized notification sound. The sound she set specifically for texts from her husband. Her smile is already set on her face but settles into something deeper as another message slides in.
Roman: Do you need me to come home?
Placing the pencil down on the nearest surface, she swaps out her task at hand for a brief break to respond to the question she anticipated would be proposed at some point in the day.Â
Just not this soon, perhaps.
Solana wipes one hand on her shorts, the other unlocking her phone to open his thread. Preparing to reply, her gaze shifts over to her sweet baby boy, sleeping peacefully in his infant pillow. Low, relaxing music plays from her Alexa on the nightstand, lulling and keeping him in his slumber. Similarly, Dulce lays peacefully in her bed on Solanaâs side of the bed, curled into a little ball.
The smile somehow grows deeper.
Solana: Iâm okay. You donât need to come home, really.
Solana quickly snaps a photo of the baby and includes it with her next message.
Solana: Weâre good. :)Â
Solana brings her finger to gently caress her sonâs cheek. He has such a calm disposition about him. Even at 6 weeks. She can just see heâs taken on more of her demeanor than his dadâs. Granted, she also noticed the same thing about her oldest twin, only for her to gradually be morphing into the female version of her father.
Roman hearting the photo captures her attention once again followed by his reply, which seems to be the result of long distance mind reading.
Roman: Heâs been a lot easier than the girls were. But, time will tell.Â
Roman: Where are they?
She giggles, imagining his elongated sigh as he considers what could be in store for them once their son starts to get bigger and older. Can move around and get into things with his sisters. Itâs more likely than not bound to happen.
Solana: In their playrooms. Theyâve been surprisingly quiet tooâŚ.for now. Lol
Solana knows her girls well enough to know silence with them, mostly when theyâre together, isnât usually long lived. The quieter of the two is very much like Solana, able to stay and keep to herself just fine without making much or any noise. Her sister, however, older by 6 minutes exactly, is not.
She is rambunctious and loud and loves to be moving. And when theyâre together, that adventurous nature rubs off on Solanaâs twin, usually resulting in them getting into something. More often than not.
Roman: I talked to them last night. Reminded them it's important they listen and help you out.
This is something she already knew, having overheard as he put them to bed while she catered to their newborn. Heâs done that a lot since the birth of their son. Really taken over as much as he can with helping the girls, when itâs something he can do. And if he canât do it, like them wanting to do art with her or bake something, usually the youngest vs the oldest, heâs on baby duty.Â
Whether he realizes it or not, he truly is great at being a dad. Though something tells her, always has, that even three kids deep, he struggles with that insecurity at not being good at it.
Not being good enough.
Roman: I still think it was too early for me to come back to work and leave you alone with everything.
And there it is. What Solana already knew he was thinking but is happy to see him finally admit. Romanâs been working from home the past six weeks, since the birth of their son. And while sheâs appreciated having him home, helping her out with managing their growing family, it was time for him to return back to the âoffice.âÂ
She knows he worries about her, worries about her feeling overwhelmed, but sheâs been good the past few years with being open with him. That hasnât and wonât change.Â
Solana: You were going to have to go back eventually, Ro. Iâm okay, really. The girls really donât cause me any issues. And heâs easy.
Solana: Outside of when heâs groping and squeezing the mess out of my breast. đ
Breastfeeding has never been much of an issue for Solana. And, while it was definitely a bit of a challenge breastfeeding twins, there was never a pressing enough problem for her to not consider doing the same for her third child.
Granted, unlike the girls who, at most, felt around her breast while getting their fill, her son is more handsy. His little palms often slapping, squeezing and even scratching with his nails she makes sure to try to keep cut low.Â
She chuckles, thinking about how this could very much be another small sign sheâs in store for yet another energetic child. It lines up though. Even when heâs sleepy, little scowl on his face, she sees Roman. In all of the children, really. But with him, the way his little lips dip and light eyebrows cave into a look of unmistakable disapproval, usually when she takes too long to pick him up or feed him, thatâs all Roman.
Roman: Smart kid.Â
She giggles, sending out a reply thatâs a result of years of growing more comfortable with teetering the lines of risque topics and innuendos.
Solana: Your kid, clearly. đ
Roman: Damn straight.
Chewing on her bottom lip, she keeps the conversation going with another risky text.Â
Solana: Just two more weeks until IâmâŚ.cleared.Â
Over the years, and as sheâs continued to heal, Solana has found herself with a sexual appetite thatâs nowhere near her husbandâs nor most women her age, but itâs there. Coming and going. Ebbing and flowing. And lately, itâs been on the flowing side.
Roman: We should wait longer.Â
Roman: Iâm not taking any risks.
She sighs at his reply thatâs not entirely unsurprising. He absolutely would want to go past the recommended 8 weeks that she was told by her doctor that they would need to wait to resume intimacy. An extended period of time than the usual 6 weeks due to the second degree tear she sustained while birthing her third child. A thing that can happen during childbirth and wasnât anything too serious, but something she knows her husband sees as just that.
Thus him wanting to not âtake any risks.âÂ
Solana: I understand.
Understanding is different from agreeing, but she wonât push him on it.Â
Solana: Besides, donât want to risk another baby.
Solana: Just yet anywayâŚ.
Having this conversation over text probably isnât the way to go, but she has no doubt heâll talk with her about it more in person when he comes home tonight, after all three kids are down for bed.
That doesnât mean they canât start it now, at least, though.
Roman: Seriously? You really want another baby?
Roman: He isnât even a year yet.
Roman: You forget Iâm 10 years older than you. Iâm getting too old for all these kids, Solana.
Itâs true they just welcomed their baby boy not even two months ago. And Roman is aging. Heâs older, the gray in his beard spreading by the day, but heâs still just as active and fit into his forties as he was when they met years prior. Thus, heâs exaggerating.Â
Solana: No, youâre not.
Solana: And that wasnât a noâŚ..
His reply comes in a bit quicker than she was anticipating.Â
Roman: It wasnât.Â
She smiles. Solana has learned her husband well over the years. Knows him well enough to know that if there wasnât a part of him also interested in maybe having another child, he would be clear about his standpoint. He would express his disagreement.Â
So his comment would suggest heâs not team no. That heâs open, and his following texts confirm as such.
Roman: But, this would be it. Four is more than enough.
She smiles, knowing that this definitely will still be discussed in person tonight but happy that heâs unwilling to deny himself. Solanaâs love for him has only deepened since seeing him step into the role of fatherhood.Â
She just wishes she could get him to see how good he is at this. The girls wouldnât adore him as much as they do if he was bad at it, per se.
But, heâs not.
If only he could see it.Â
Solana: Unless we get another set of twinsâŚ.đ
Roman: Jesus ChristÂ
Solana giggles, imagining the look he must have on his face. Probably similar to when they found out about the girls. She wasnât entirely surprised given how strongly twins run on his side of the family.
But, he most certainly was.
A quiet knock pulls her from the conversation as she lays her eyes on the twins who are waiting by the door with hesitant expressions. She waves them over, placing her finger over her mouth to remind them to be quiet to avoid waking up the still sleeping baby.
They tip toe over to her, moving to her side of the bed, leaning over and looking at him. The oldest is the one to ask, whispering, âwhy does he sleep so much, mama?â
Solana chuckles. âThatâs what babies do. They need a lot of sleep to grow big and strong.â
The quieter of the two of them deviates from her usual silence to predict, âheâs gonna be big and strong like papa.â
The oldest, however, doesnât hesitate to reiterate. âIâm still gonna be the tribal chief though.â
Solana has such a torn reaction she does well at hiding. As much as she loves how much her technically first born admires Roman and wants to be just like him, she also has no idea just what it is that Roman really does. The true weight that comes with wearing the Ula Fala.Â
Or the fact that by his familyâs laws and traditions, their son is the true heir to the Bloodline. Granted, she also suspects itâs those same laws and traditions Roman will fight tooth and nail to change should their daughter, even after knowing the truth about the Bloodline, still want to pursue taking his place when the time comes for him to step down.
Roman would do anything to give her just as much a chance to the keys to the kingdom as her brother.
But, thatâs so far down the line, and Solana doesnât like thinking about it too much. She just wants to enjoy her children as they are now, innocent and oblivious.
Ms. Quiet stays on her talking streak, asking quietly, âcan we still go to aunt Bayleyâs house today?â
Solana nods. She briefly forgot about that, but itâs still very much doable. âOf course.âÂ
The girls gasp and look at each other, Solana already knowing another request is about to follow. Romanâs little twin ends up being the one to ask, âmama, can we go see papa at his office before?â
She shouldnât be surprised. One of their favorite things to do is stop by and see Roman while heâs at work. Something she hasnât done in some time, not since the birth of her son and even then, it had been a few months.
Solana starts to text and ask him if heâs busy, but one look at the happiness on the girlsâ faces at being able to see their dad, and she knows she doesnât need to.
She knows thereâs no way on Godâs green earth that he would turn them away, even if he stopped or canceled a meeting just to interact with them.
Thatâs just the kind of father he is.
His kids come first.Â
With excitement bubbling in her stomach at seeing her husband, Solana takes a glance at her son, smile growing as he stirs, clearly just as ready to see daddy.Â
She then looks back at her just excited girls, sharing, âtime to go see papa.â
âTime to get up.â
Solana has to blink a couple of times to reorient herself, almost entirely due to the shocking nature of her dream. A dream sheâs now had every night since being admitted to the hospital, glimpses, and what feels like peeks, into the future.
Her future.
But, at the same time, itâs a distant thing that seems unattainable and unrealistic given where she is now. On a legally mandated psychiatric hold after attempting to die by suicide.
âYou up, sweetie?â
Solana nods and sits up in the bed, accepting the water and pills in the small medicine bowl. She doesnât hesitate to swallow all three, offering a small smile to the nurse whoâs been assigned to her, making sure she takes her medication as prescribed.
The nurse, Carol, she thinks, reminds, âbreakfast starts in twenty.â
Solana nods, pushing back some of her hair, waiting for the older woman to leave before she lays back down on the bed.Â
She shuts her eyes.Â
The past few days have beenâŚ..an experience. An emotional ride unlike any sheâs been on in years. The last time she can recall struggling and feeling as heavy as she was was when she woke up from her coma and had it confirmed that her mother was dead. Something she knew but held onto the invisible string of hope that Nina somehow survived.Â
Even though Solana still recalls the moment she heard and saw her mother take her last breath.Â
Itâs a weight thatâs lessened tremendously over the past couple of days, since she woke up yet a second time, less irrational, not as hysterical. Part of her reaction was most definitely due to still feeling suicidal, still believing that being dead would be better for everyone. But her reaction was exacerbated by the fact that two male nurses moved to restrain her as she tried to move from the hospital bed. Having male hands on her like that was triggering and made her emotions that much more difficult to manage in an already tense situation.
But the second time she awoke, Solana saw nothing but women. Truth be told, sheâs only had women on her care team since being admitted. Itâs made such a big difference.Â
All of it has.
Being in this space, so separated from the outside world. Itâs been both difficult and welcomed. A nice escape from a recently draining reality but also a heavy separation that sheâs brought up a couple times now in her individual therapy sessions with her therapist, Gail.
That is the difficulty in being separated from Roman. Itâs a dichotomy. As much as she wants to see and talk to him, she wants to hide and avoid him. She wants to explain yet also never have to discuss it again. An avoidance behavior that is typical for survivors of suicide attempts, another thing sheâs learned in therapy thus far.Â
But more than anything, Solana just wants to talk to him. She remembers from when she was admitted as a teen following her first attempt that communication is typically cut off from the outside. She just didnât realize it would be the same protocol as an adult.Â
Something intended to avoid patients from being re-triggered. She gets that, but it doesn't make her miss him any less.Â
This is the first time theyâve been separated from one another since before the wedding, and itâs not a fun experience.Â
But yetâŚ.
Itâs not a horrible experience either.
No one wants to be in the hospital. And no one definitely wants to be in the hospital on a legal hold because theyâve been deemed a danger to themselves and thus needs 24/7 supervision.
That part sucks, but what hasnât sucked for Solana is being able to be as honest and vulnerable as she needs to be. To cry and fully acknowledge the extent of her feelings, to be as raw as sheâs been in her therapy sessions thus far with Gail. The woman whose kind smile, non-judgemental and self-disclosure of also being violated has created such a safe space for her.Â
Solana knew, knows, that she can talk to Roman. That heâs made it clear thereâs nothing she canât discuss with him. But, thereâs something about speaking to another woman, someone whoâs also sadly been through something similar thatâsâŚ.thatâs healing, almost.Â
Knowing Carol will be back for another reminder about breakfast, Solana pulls from her thoughts and leaves her bed to start her day.
Everything in the hospital is planned, time cut out for everything from meds, breakfast, group therapy, individual therapy and more. Thereâs only so much time in the day thatâs reserved as âfree time,â though being hospitalized doesnât present a ton of options for one to choose from during said âfree time.â
However, Solana has always been able to occupy herself and keep herself busy, and this is no different.Â
Later that day, sheâs in one of the common areas, utilizing her free time with one of her favorite coping mechanisms. One sheâs recently revisited and brought back to lean on. Pencil in hand, Solana uses the sketchbook she was given by Gail. No particular drawing in mind, itâs not missed on her how the bare bones outline of the face sheâs drawing has very similar features to that of her husband.
âHey.â
Solana lifts her head from the page, landing on two women who sheâs seen in passing and up close in her group therapy. Both are brunette with similar heights yet different builds. The shorter one looks like she keeps herself in the gym, slender muscles visible even with the hospital provided clothing they all wear. The other is a few inches taller and curvier, her breast stretched against the material. The shorter one is the one who spoke. One looks amenable, the other does not. The one who spoke is, unfortunately, not the one with the friendly expression.
Solana swallows, gaze somewhat traveling as she sees one of the orderlies already watching the interaction. Closely. Heâs a big man whose size looks disproportionate to the job he holds here, and sheâs noticed him watching her a couple of times. Yet, itâs never been a predatory gaze. AlmostâŚ..protective.
âSolana, right?â She nods as the two women plop on the other sofa adjacent to the one Solana sits on. âIâm AJ, and this is Candice.â She gestures to the other woman with her thumb, the brunette waving and smiling almost giddily. Before Solana can say anything else, AJ is leaned over, asking in a low voice. âYouâre Romanâs wife, right?â
Solana tenses. For some reason, that rubs her the wrong way, sends an unfamiliar chill up her spine. Something in her tells her to lie, but itâs no use in denying the obvious. âYes.â
AJ snorts and sits back, arm lazily lounged up on the top of the sofa. âWell, I was gonna ask you howâd you end up here, but I guess thatâs an obvious answer.â AJ laughs darkly, making her comment to Candice but directing it towards Solana. âIâd try to off myself too if I had to be married to that son of a bitch.â
Clearly, Solana has not been in a good place recently, hence her current situation. Her emotions have been all over the place. Thatâs why she chalks up her next actions to the fact that sheâs still coming down from her relapse.Â
Closing up the sketchpad, Solana sits up and doesn't stutter as she states clearly and concisely to AJ, âyou have no idea what the hell youâre talking about, so why donât you just shut up and leave me alone?âÂ
Candice's shock matches that of Solanaâs, but the former doesnât back down. Doesnât suddenly regret her statement. Maybe itâs adrenaline. Maybe itâs the fact that Solana feels the anger stirring inside her at even the insinuation that Roman could ever be the cause of her trying to end her life.
When heâs the one that saved it.Â
AJ, however, doesnât look shocked. She looks pissed off.
And then sheâs smiling.Â
âOh, sweetie, you have no idea who youâre messing with.â AJ starts to stand up, Candice following suit though she looks more confused and dumbfounded than anything. Like sheâs there but not here. âYour psychopath husband isnât here to save youââ
âYou lay one hand on her, and Iâll snap your fucking neck like a twig.â
Three sets of eyes land on the figure whoâs way too big for them to have not heard his footsteps, but thatâs exactly whatâs happened. The orderly who Solana has noticed watching her since her admission is standing almost protectively beside where she still sits on the sofa. His gaze and voice are hard as steel, focused on AJ and Candice. âI suggest you leave. Now. And stay the hell away from her.â
Solana looks between this man who, for some reason, is defending her and AJ, who still looks more amused than anything. She scoffs. âOf course.â Frowning, Solana is still stuck on the fact that this orderly whoâs working in a psychiatric wing for women whoâve tried to kill themselves just threatened to kill another woman when AJ simply turns to walk away, Candice hot on her heel.
And as soon as they're out of the vicinity, the man steps back, as if wanting to grant Solana space. He then exclaims, further deepening her shock, âyouâll be safe here, Mrs. Reigns. You have my word.âÂ
Mrs. ReignsâŚ..
Solana is suddenly taken back to her birthday trip, the way she was addressed by the pilots, the chef, and anyone else that Roman hired to assist them on their vacation. And thatâs when it hits her.
âBloodlineâŚ..â It makes so much sense. Why heâs always seemed to be around when sheâs not in her room, the way heâs watched her almost nonstop since she arrived, the way he intervened just now. âYouâre Bloodline.â
âDave.â He offers a small, respectful smile thatâs all the answer she needs. âBut everyone calls me by my last name, Bautista.â
________
âHey.â
Itâs interesting how a simple word can bring on such a reaction.
Just yesterday, the same word was said to her and followed up with a not terrible but strange interaction.
She can only pray this time around is different.Â
Solana takes a second to pause and shut her eyes before she looks up from her inner arm where she works on the assignment given in her first group therapy session.
Her eyes land on three women, all familiar faces because theyâre all in her group. However, sheâs never directly spoken to them prior to now.
Solana swallows and offers a small smile. âHiâŚ.âÂ
Solana studies all of them, different in skintones, builds, hair colors and even facial expressions. The one who spoke first pushes her raven hair over shoulder and clears her throat, asking, âis itâis it true that your husband had the orderlies and security replaced with Bloodline members?â
The question takes her back, Solana unsure of how to respond, not because she doesnât know the answer. She does. Baustista indirectly confirming that he was sent by her husband to watch over her has made Solana realize that itâs not just him who she catches watching her whenever sheâs not in her room. Itâs other men as well. Big, strong, much too in shape for a job like this.
The only logical thing that makes sense to her is that Roman is, once again, looking out for her. As he always does.Â
âThatâs pretty fucking cool. If so.â Another one comments, her brunette pulled to the side of her neck as she sits down on the sofa opposite Solana. âIt was even better seeing AJ put in her place.â
Solana swallows, quite unsure just how to respond to that. âIâI donât want to cause any problems.â
The first woman scoffs, also sitting down next to the other lady. âYou might not, but AJ does. I honestly donât know why they donât put her in the other wing with Victoria.â
âThe other wing?â
The third woman breaks her silence, explaining, her voice quiet and typical for her equally unassuming demeanor. âThereâs two psychiatric wings here. The one weâre in and another for moreâŚ.severe cases.â
âI.e. the really crazy bitches.â
âMelina!â The woman with brunette hair shakes her head, smiling a little as she formally introduces everyone. âIâm Mickey. This is Melina, and thatâs Cameron, but we call her Cam.â
For some reasons, the names fit all of them, Solana moving to the side as Cam gestures to the space next to her and takes an almost apprehensive seat.Â
âSolanaââ
âOh, everyone knows who you are, girl.â Mickey snickers, leaning back into the sofa and crossing her legs over one another. âYou might just be my new favorite person.â
Solana frowns, completely lost at this seemingly random title. âI donâtâ-I donât understand.â
âAJ thinks she runs shit around here. Her and that dumbass friend of hers, Candice Michelle.â Melina explains, shaking her head. âAJ definitely should be in the other ward with Victoria. Sheâs the psychiatrist that runs it. Doesnât put up with shit. Almost polar opposite of Dr. Stratus.â
Solana doesnât know much beyond whatâs being said, but something tells her sheâs most definitely in the better of two places. Even if just getting to have Dr. Stratus manages her meds. She really likes her.Â
However, this conversation brings up a very valid question that Solana doesnât exactly know how to word very well but finds it in her to ask. âSo you allâŚ.youâve been here before?âÂ
Itâs obvious, given the fact that theyâre all so familiar with each other and dynamics. Same with this AJ and Candice person, but Solana doesnât want to assume.
Thereâs a silence that falls over the women, and Solana instantly feels bad, feels silly for not recognizing how invasive that question is. However, before she can apologize, Cam is the one to speak up.
Shrugging, her smile is tight and undeniably sad as she says so simply, âdemons are hard to kill.â
And just like that, Solana has never related to something more.
Feeling overcome with an almost duty to share, her eyes drop to her arms, the intricate outlines of butterflies camouflaging the scars that will never fully go away. âI get thatâŚâŚI really do.â
Looking up, Solana feels the set of understanding gazes on her, instantly knowing without any of them needing to share specifics that they just get it. They understand the specific and tragic ways one can end up in a place like this, oftentimes due to demons beyond their slaughtering capabilities.Â
Mickey clears her throat, gesturing to Solanaâs arm. âYouâre really good.â
She glances down at her still unfinished art, a small smile falling on her face. âThank you.â An idea crosses her mind as she notices each of them attempted to follow through on the assignment as well but clearly struggled. âI canâI can help, if you want?âÂ
Cam gasps, obviously excited by the idea of it. âReally?â
Solanaâs smile grows as she explains, âIâI love art.â
Mickey squeals almost and pulls out a black sharpie from her bra, shrugging with a playful smile.Â
âWe were kinda hoping you said that.â
________
âYouâre quiet today.â Gailâs assessment continues as she asks in a gentle voice, âare you nervous?â
Nervous is an understatement. Solana fidgets on the sofa, running her hands down her sweats. âIâI havenât seen or spoken to him sinceâŚ.you know.â
Gail presses her lips together, nodding. âYou donât know what to expect.â
Solana nods, eyes starting to water. âI donâtâI donât want him to be upset with me.âÂ
Itâs officially been a week since Solana has been admitted into the psychiatric ward. An interesting experience, to say the least. Sheâs made enemies, made âfriendsâ, worked through and started to process with a professional so much of her trauma, and more. And while her longing for seeing and speaking to her husband has only continued to grow by the day. The day finally being here where sheâs allowed a visitor, where he will come to see her this evening feels almostâŚ.it feels too soon.
Sheâs just so nervous, unsure of what that reunion is going to look like.Â
Gail sees the thoughts brewing in her clientâs head as she asks in an attempt to redirect, âare you responsible for his emotions?â
âNo, butâŚ.but Iââ When she struggles to get out a coherent response, Gail presents a thought provoking question.
âSolana, based upon what you know about Roman, whatâs more likely? That heâll be upset with you or that heâll just be happy that youâre alive?â
Itâs such a good question, one that has the emotion bubbling in the back of her throat, emotion she shows as silent tears begin to fall. âIâI want him to be happy, butâŚ..â
âYouâre still struggling with feeling like a burden to himâŚ.â Itâs an assessment by her therapist that is wholly correct, but one Solana canât verbally comment on, only offering her agreement with a silent head nod. âDo you remember the exercise we did a couple of sessions ago about faulty thinking? About the ways your trauma influences your thinking.âÂ
Solana reflects back on that session, so heavy yet so helpful. It provided her such insight on just how deeply her experiences have painted her view of so much. Of everything, really. Including how she so lowly views herself sometimes.Â
âI want you to think about that and compare it to the thoughts that youâre having nowâŚâŚwhere are they coming from?â
Solana closes her eyes and blows out a breath. âMyâŚmy fear.â
âAnd if your fear was a living, breathing entity sitting opposite beside you right now, how would you combat it? Think about the cognitive challenging we discussed.â
Keeping her eyes shut, Solana travels back to that session, utilizing the skills and tips and knowledge sheâs learned since her admission.
She takes an âefficient breathâ, as Gail calls them. âIâd tell my fear thatâŚ.that you donât get to control me anymore.â
Gail smiles softly, gently encouraging the young woman to continue. âWhat else?â
Silent tears continue to fall, but Solanaâs voice remains firm and unwavering. âAnd thatâŚ.that Roman cares about me and just wants me to be okay andâŚ.and get better.â
Gail hasnât felt so proud and pleased with a clientâs response to the empty chair exercise in quite a while. âExactly.â She sits back in her own chair, jotting down some notes. âCan I ask what youâre feeling right now?â
Solana finally opens her eyes and wipes at her eyes, scoffing quietly. âAâŚa little better, actually.â She motions to her chest. âIt doesnâtâŚ.it doesnât feel as heavy.â
âGood.â Gail makes note of this and starts to ask a follow up processing question when Solanaâs soft voice beats her to it.
âCanâŚ..can I talk about something with you?â
Gailâs grin is warm and welcoming as she offers genuine assurance. âSolana, thereâs nothing we canât discuss here.â Sheâs pleased to see Solanaâs smile grow at this reassurance. âWhat would you like to talk about?â
Feeling on the spot all of a sudden, despite being the one who initiated the conversation, Solana does her best to manage and push through her anxiety. âIâIâve beenâŚ.Iâve been having dreams since I got here.â
Gail is mindful of her expression as she asks in a soft voice, âdreams orâŚ..â
Sensing what sheâs asking, Solana quickly shakes her head. âNo. Not those. Not nightmares. TheyâŚ.they really are dreams. Good dreams, IâI think.â
Studying her, Gail assesses. âYou seem unsure.âÂ
Deciding to bite the bullet, Solana shares in a low voice, âtheyâre dreams of me in the futureâŚ..asâŚ.as a mother.â
Gail nods. âI see.â She makes note of one of Solanaâs nonverbals. âYouâre smiling right now.â
Sniffling, Solana continues to share and exhibit so much vulnerability, most of which is solely because of how safe and non-judged Gail has made her feel. âIn the dreams, we have three kids. Twin girls and a baby boy.â She wipes at her nose and swallows deeply. âIâI want to be a mom someday, but I donâtâŚ.I donât want to be a bad mom.â
If these dreams have shown her anything, itâs that she wants more than anything to be a positive influence in her future child, or children's, lives. She doesnât want to cause them even a fraction of the parental trauma sheâs experienced.Â
And deep down, Solana knows that sheâs absolutely nothing like her father.
But, she knows sheâs very much been deeply impacted by her fathersâ abuse. By all of her trauma. And the last thing she wants is for any of that to negatively influence her children.Â
âSolana, what makes you think you could ever be a bad mother?â She shrugs, shutting down a bit. Gail sighs lowly, offering words of affirmation and support. âYou are not a bad person. You are not a broken person. Not a damaged person. Just a person whoâs been dealt some not so great cards, but youâre here, working on these things. Working on becoming a healthier version of yourself.â Gail chuckles, pointing out, âthat doesnât sound like a bad future mother to me.â
Really sitting on the words of encouragement and doing her best to not let the self-doubt creep in, Solana asks in a voice barely above a whisper, âdo youâŚ.do you really think I could be a good mother?â
Gailâs response is almost immediate, not a thought to be had as she answers honestly, âSolana, I think you could be a damn good mother.âÂ
Solana laughs, emotion seeping in as she nods, utterly grateful for such kind words. âThankâŚ.thank you. ThatâŚ.that means a lot to me.â
âOf course.â Gail would like to process this more, maybe get into some additional trauma work, but thereâs another important thing on her agenda for this session. âSolana, as you know, your hold will be up exactly one week from now, meaning youâll be officially discharged and allowed to return home.â
Solana eyes lighten up at that, an expected reaction as Gail gently slides into a deeper conversation pertaining to her release. âBut, thereâs something I would like to speak to you about.â
________
Roman doesnât think twice as he walks into the room thatâs suspiciously quiet to be located in a hospital, decorated just as one would expect a therapistâs office to look. He only briefly takes a look around before plopping his big body down on the sofa.Â
He didnât even pay any attention to the fact that Gail was attempting to extend an olive branch, offering a handshake that he so rudely ignored, clearly ready to get this over with.
She keeps her togetherness, offering a verbal introduction. âThank you for comââ
âThis has to do with Solana, right?â
Gail makes a face, pressing her lips together as she chuckles quietly. âOf course.â
âThen get to it.â Roman is quick with the demands, asking, âhow is she doing?â
Gail offers a tight smile. âIâm Gail Kim, the therapist on staff whoâs been handling Solanaâs individual therapy sessions.â
âDid I ask you who you were?â His stare is cold and uninterested. âI asked you how sheâs doing.â
Sighing, Gail refers to the tablet on her lap, opening up the notes sheâs happy that she prepared ahead of time. This is going exactly as she predicted it would. âYour wife is no longer endorsing suicidal ideation which means sheâs denying any thoughts and plans to take her life, which is significant progress considering itâs only been a weekââ
Thereâs a hint of hopefulness in both his expression and voice as he asks, âso, sheâs ready to come home?â
Gail hesitates. âNot exactly.â
The previous hopefulness melts into something cold and harsh. Roman is visibly and understandably irritated. âYou just said sheâs not suicidal anymore.â
âYes, but itâs not that simple. Solana isâŚ.sheâs an interesting case. Her trauma history is significant. Though she seems to be on the way to stabilization, thereâs still a lot of work that needs to be done. She needs continued professional help.â
âIsnât that why sheâs here with you?â His tone is cruel and condescending. âIf youâre too fucking incompetent to help her, let me take her home, so I can.â
Gail bites the inside of her cheek. If this was anyone else, she would set them straight on the importance of mutual respect. But, this isnât just anyone. This is Roman Reigns, and sheâs well aware of the fact that one wrong statement or sign of disrespect could very well end her life, so she does her best to remain calm and professional. And she tries an alternative approach.Â
âYou know, one of the exercises she did in an individual session asks about what safe spaces she has, sources of support and whatnot. And you know what she put down for almost every answer?â Gail gives a small, closed mouth smile. âYou.â Well trained in reading nonverbals, she picks up on the brief giveaway sign of emotion that flashes in Romanâs eyes at this. âShe put down that you are her number one reason for wanting to live.âÂ
Thereâs a good minute of silence before Roman asks in an uncharacteristically low voice. âSo why did she do it?â
Gail's smile shifts into a solemn frown. âIâll leave that discussion to the two of you. Sheâs expressed wanting to talk with you about that directly.â
âIâm asking you.â
Gail leans back in her chair and goes a different route. âItâs okay to be upset with her. To be angry at her. To be angry at and blame yourself.â Gail catches just a glimpse of surprise in his eyes at the last part. âTo actually feel your feelings.â
Roman, however, is uninterested in any of this. Offended even. âWhy the hell would I be angry at her?â
âWhy wouldnât you be? She tried to leave you. Thatâs essentially what suicide is. Escapism. It provides the patient with the peace theyâre looking for but leaves the loved ones left behind with a world of questions and emotions.â She explains, mindful of her tone and voice. âTwo truths can exist in the same universe. You can be happy she wasnât successful and still angry at her for trying in the first place.â
Roman is quiet for a good two minutes, Gail wondering if she should transition to another topic when he breaks said silence in that same low voice.Â
âI donât understand why she didnât call me. I told her to tell me ifâŚ..if those thoughts ever returned.â
âBut she didnâtâŚ..â Gailâs voice softens as she adds, almost empathetically. âI think youâll find talking with her will give you some of the answers youâre looking for. But, they truly should come from her.â
Roman wonât push. He wants to, but wonât. If this is something Solana wants to discuss with him herself, heâll respect that. So long as itâs not triggering to her, which it seems, surprisingly, itâs not.Â
Gail clears her throat and transitions to the next section. âDr. Stratus started her on a medication regimen of Sertraline, 50mg and Wellbutrin, 100mg, once a day in the morning as well as Hydroxyzine, PRN, which means as needed. The Sertraline and Wellbutrin are antidepressants, and Hydroxyzine can be taken when she starts to feel overwhelmed or triggered. So far, sheâs responding well, though it typically takes 4 to 6 weeks for patients to truly notice the full benefits.âÂ
Roman nods, as Gina or whatever her name is, continues to explain whatâs otherwise obvious.Â
âWeâve been administering her medication and given how she attempted to take her life, Dr. Stratus and I strongly advise that you or someone else take over that administration upon her dischargeââ
âDo you honestly think Iâm stupid enough to allow her to have unmonitored access to pills again?â Roman doesnât even try, not that he was before, to hide his frustration and irritation. Sheâs acting like heâs stupid. His degrees may be in business, but one doesnât need to have a degree in behavioral health to know thatyou donât give a formerly suicidal person free access to the same method they used to take their life.Â
Gail, however, decides to not feed into it. âYou know, anger is sometimes just anger. Just people mad as hell. But sometimesâŚ.sometimes itâs what we call a blanket emotion, meaning there are other feelings hiding beneath it, being presented as anger.â
Roma sits forward. âJust what the hell are you trying to insinuate?â
âNothing at all, Mr. Reigns.â A small smile falls on her face, and that only pisses him off even more. Is this bitch trying to patronize him or something? âBut, you should know that we offer support for spouses and loved ones like yourself who are supportingââ
âThe only thing I need for you to do is to help my wife, so I can get her the hell out of this place and home where she belongs.â
Gail takes a deep breath.Â
It was worth a try.Â
âI want to show you something.â She stands up from her chair, moving to her desk as she pulls out a key to unlock the drawer. âSolana signed a full release authorizing us to share all details regarding her care with you. But, there are some things sheâs explicitly expressed you not being okay with knowing and seeing. This is not one of them. And I think you would find it interestingâŚ.â
If not for the fact that the therapist already made it clear that safety concerns and suicidality are exceptions to confidentiality, Roman would be concerned, wondering just what exactly Solana doesnât want him to know.
But something tells him sheâs perhaps opened up in therapy about specifics regarding her trauma more than she has with him, and if thatâs the case, his only hope is that this woman knows what sheâs doing and doesnât trigger Solana further.
She walks back over, handing him a set of sheets. Roman takes them, immediately noticing the handwriting.Â
Solanaâs handwriting.Â
He gets to reading the bolded question that each has answers of varying length.
Who is your safe person? What makes this person safe?
My husband. Heâs the first man in my life to not hurt me. The first man Iâve ever trusted.
On a scale of 1 to 10, how much do you trust this person with 1 being none and 10 being absolute trust?
 10
How does this person make you feel safe?
Heâs patient with me and listens to me and makes me feel beautiful.
How does this person serve as a member of your support system?
He listens to me and always checks on me.Â
How long have you experienced thoughts/urges/practices of self-harming behavior including suicidal ideation and/or attempts?
The first time I felt like I didn't want to be alive anymore was when I was ten. I woke up from my coma and realized my mother was dead. I just wanted to be with her. But itâs my brother constantly telling me I should kill myself after my momâs murder that made me seriously think about doing it.Â
He would tell me that it should have been me who died, and I should just kill myself because no one wanted me.
And I started to believe him.Â
Itâs been on and off since then.
Has there been a point in time where you have not had these thoughts/urges?
Yes. For the past four months.Â
If you answered yes to the previous question, what caused or contributed to the cessation of these thoughts/urges?
I met my husband. I had real friends for the first time. I found myself having a real family for the first time in a long time.Â
I was happy.
Prior to this gap, when was the last time you experienced any of these thoughts? What triggered them?
The day of my wedding. This was before I got to know my husband. I was scared he was going to beat me like my dad and brother.
What happened to re-trigger you? If uncomfortable sharing, list the emotions you felt during this episode.Â
Sadness. Anger. Confusion.
Do you remember what thoughts you were experiencing before the suicidal and self-harming ideation returned? What were they?
I couldnât stop thinking about my rape and my motherâs murder. It was like I was reliving them over and over again, and I couldnât get the memories and flashbacks to stop. It felt like all my progress was reversed, and Iâd have to start over, and I didnât want to put my husband and family through that, as theyâre the reason I even started to heal.
I just didnât want to be in pain anymore, and I thought everyone would be happier if I was dead. I didnât want to be a burden to my husband.
Looking back and reflecting on your thoughts, have they changed? And if so, how?
I donât want to die. I still donât feel as good as I was feeling before I found out the truth, but Iâm not thinking or wanting to kill myself anymore. I still have a lot of things I want to do. Iâm not ready to be done here. Just want to get better.
 Do you wish you would have done something different? What could you have done differently?
Yes.
Called my husband.Â
Can you identify at least one reason your life is worth living?
RomanÂ
Roman has oscillated through so many different emotions reading through this worksheet from beginning to end. Anger seems like the dominant emotion, his jaw clenching as he learns how close to the paternal tree Solanaâs bitch brother remained..
Heâs not much better than Xavier.Â
If not worse.Â
And Roman is determined to find even more, additional ways to make that fucker suffer the way he made Solana suffer for so many years.
Heâs also livid and something else unknown that on a day that should have been special for her, she was considering taking her own life.
And he hates himself for putting her in that position in the first place. He was the one who wanted to speed everything up, not even considering how traumatic that process could have been for her.Â
But he especially doesnât know how to feel reading just how highly Solana views and feels about him. She hasnât been very quiet regarding how much she cares about him, but reading her words, her writing, her honesty, it makes him aware of just how much she cares.Â
âYou mean a lot to her. And her healing and progress moving forward will require your support.â Gail cuts in, voice calm and almost soothing. âOne of the things I ask clients all the time is who their support system is and is there anything else they need from this person or personsâŚ.she couldnât tell me a single thing she needs from you that you donât already give her.â Roman says nothing, not even offering a nonverbal gesture or movement for her to analyze. Thus, Gail continues, reviewing her notes of topics she wanted to touch on with him prior to his seeing Solana in a few hours. âNow, I will say, Solana does exhibit strong codependent tendencies. Specifically with you. Sheâs extremely attached to you, and while that should probably be addressed at some point, her stabilization is the priority.â
Roman doesnât pay much, or any, mind to that last part. He doesnât care what this woman says. Whatever Solana needs, sheâll get.Â
Especially if what she wants is him.
Cause he wants her just as much.Â
________
Roman doesnât get nervous.Â
Ever.
But, heâs certain what heâs feeling in his fucking stomach is some level of nerves.
And he hates that shit.
Cause why the fuck is he at his grown age feeling anxious about seeing his wife? Perhaps itâs the fact that itâll be the first time in a week that heâs actually laid eyes on her, seeing her not lying unconscious in a hospital bed. That heâll be able to have her big brown eyes focused on him. Hear the sound of her voice, so soft and light.
He shuts his eyes.
Fucking nerves.
He decides to pull out his phone as a distraction while security escorts her to him in the visitors section, remembering a text from Paul that he should probably respond to. Not that he wants to, but itâs better standing here feeling fucking stupid andâ
âRomanâŚâ
He wasnât sure just sure how he would respond or react or even feel seeing her for the first time in a week, but Solana is barely able to get his name out of his mouth when Roman snaps his head up from the phone in his hand to the direction of which the voice came.Â
It happens a bit too fast for him to even process. The rise and easy falter of her smile, the gloss of her eyes, the tiny scoff of disbelief that leaves her mouth before sheâs running toward him. Roman wastes not a single fucking second to pick her up the minute she throws her body against him. And just like that, almost every trace of irritation, of vexation, of anger melts away.
Romanâs eyes shut as he holds her close against him, noticing how tightly sheâs holding him back.Â
Her voice cracks followed by a sniffle as she murmurs against his shoulder. âIâve missed youâŚ.â
For a brief second, heâs angry again. Angry because has she been asking for him? And if so, why was he not informed? Stratus has been texting him frequent general updates. That sheâs been consistently opening up in individual therapy, not as open in group sessions, often writes and draws during their designated free time, etc.
But nothing about her asking for him.Â
He makes a mental note to ask Stratus about that shit, but not now. Now, his focus is entirely focused on the woman in his arms.
âI missed you too.â Saying he missed her feels like an understatement. Roman has been fucking miserable without her around, but what good would it serve her to share as such? So, he keeps it simple but still accurate.
He ignores the small part of him that dislikes when she finally pulls away, but that dissatisfaction is easily shoved to the side when he sees her eyes watering. âIâm so sorry. IâI didn't mean. I justââ
Romanâs focus is now solely honed in on stopping her from crying. He canât see her upset. Not after what happened. He moves his hands to her face, gently cupping her cheeks and brushing away her tears. âLetâs talk, okay?â
She nods, stepping back, forcing his hands to drop but easily sliding her hand into one of his as she leads them in the direction from where she came. Roman wonât lie. Heâs not paying attention to much in passing. Just her. Itâs like thereâs a blurred lens on them, distorting everything around them except his wife.
And he has zero issues with this.Â
He has zero issues until theyâre walking past a group of three women who seem to notice that Solana is crying and stop her, the one who almost looks like she could be Hispanic asks Solana, âare you alright?â
Who the fuck is this? Roman would most definitely ask as such as well as tell her to stay out of their damn business if not for the fact that Solana answers almost reassuringly.Â
âYes, of course.âÂ
To make matters worse, this irritating ass stranger has the audacity to almost send a suspicious damn near glare his way. Just who the fuck does she think she is?Â
The woman on her right suddenly asks, her quiet voice strangely reminding him of Solana. Right off the bat, he can see they have similar demeanors. âYouâre still joining us for breakfast, right?â
Solana answers right away, shaking her head. âOf course.â
Joining for breakfast? What the fuck is this? A psychiatric ward or summer camp?
The women all seem to give Solana that âcall us if you need anythingâ nod before finally leaving him alone with his wife. Roman has to keep his sigh to himself.
Only Solana would make âfriendsâ at a damn hospital.
She finally leads him into what he would guess is her âroom.â Heâs instantly not impressed and annoyed because he directly instructed Stratus to make sure she had the best this place has to offer.
This clearly ainât it. He adds it to his list of complaints to bring up to the psychiatrist. Heâs also annoyed by the âsheetâ that serves at the door, irritated that they wonât have total privacy. But, he understands. Itâs a psychiatric ward. Not the Four Seasons.Â
Roman allows Solana to guide him over to her bed where she motions for him to sit down. He does as such, partially surprised when she climbs onto his lap, legs on either side. He doesnât protest though, simply holds her by his hips as he shifts so that his back against the wall.Â
Solana, however, keeps her head down, her hands scrunching the bottom of his shirt as she seems to force out, âI donât want to talk about thisââ
Thatâs an easy thing, Roman quickly moving to remind her of her autonomy. âThen donâtââ
She cuts him off. âBut, I need to.â She finally lifts her gaze, and my God, heâs missed staring into those pretty eyes, seeing her pretty face. âI canâtâI wonât avoid it.â She takes a deep breath, asking, âwhat do you want to know?â
Heâs partially surprised by how direct sheâs being, but in his defense, the last time he spoke to her directly, she was in such a different place. A much darker place.
That doesnât seem to be the case anymore, but he knows looks can be deceiving, so he remains cautious. His voice is surprisingly gentle, as he answers, âI think you already know the answer to that, Sol.â
Her eyes shut again, and he canât tell if itâs because of his use of his nickname for her or the emotionality of it all.Â
Both, probably.Â
She brings her gaze back on him, and he hates seeing the emotion building back up. Logically, he knows that thereâs no way to have this kind of conversation and emotion not be present. Doesnât mean he has to like it though. âI justâŚ.I couldnât think straight that night, Roman. I just kept reliving every bad thing thatâs happened to me but now with the knowledge that it was my own father that was responsible. And I justâŚ.I couldn't handle it.â
This is the part he can barely handle. The knowing of the role, a large role, he played in what landed her here. He feels like shit about it and prepares to take ownership when she continues.Â
âAnd I thoughtâŚ.I felt likeâŚ.I felt like all the progress I had made was now gone and that Iâd have to start over, and I justâ-I couldn���t fathom going through all that again.â She swallows, tears starting to fall. âI felt like I would just be a burden to you and thatâŚ.it would just be easier for you if I was dead.â
Gutted. Reading it was one thing, but hearing it is an entirely different experience. To know this is truly how she felt, the thought process that led to her making the decision she made. The most likely reason she didnât call him.
Because she thought she was a burden.
It kills him.
She drops her head, and he moves his hands back to her face. âSolana, look at me.â When she continues to keep her head down, he repeats himself, voice still low and gentle. âLook at me.â She seems to hesitate but follows through, Roman hating how devastated she looks. âNothing about my life would be easier without you in it. You are never a burden to me. You never have been, and you never will be. I want to help you. Listen to you. Whatever it is you need, Iâll do. I just need you to tell me.â This time, heâs the one swallowing back unfamiliar and uncomfortable emotions. âI just need you to not leave me, alright?â She seems slightly taken back by his honesty and vulnerability. Truthfully, so is he. It was one thing to be so honest with her while she was unconscious, but itâs another when she sits before him, aware and conscious and hanging onto every word. âIâm sorry I didnât tell you about your father. I should haveââ
âNo. Pleaseâplease donât.â She shakes her head, interrupting him with that same small voice. âIâm glad you didnât.â The âshockedâ ball is back in his court as she explains, âI donâtâŚ.I donât think I would have ever wanted to know the truth. ItâsâŚ.itâs been too hard to have to deal with that.âÂ
Clearly. He canât even begin to imagine what thatâs like for her. To be stuck with the knowledge that her own flesh and blood could be so cruel, so hateful, so evil as to do what Xavier has done to his own daughter.
âThe therapy hasâŚ.itâs helped.â He believes it. Roman has noticed the sheets of paper that have positive affirmations and what he would guess are coping skills taped to the wall opposite her bed. She cracks a small, sad smile. âItâsâŚ.itâs been good for me.â
He believes that, too. He can see that. Thereâs a stark difference in her appearance, even with her being emotional as she is with the conversation at hand. She doesnât look as fractured as the last time he saw her.
She looks stronger. Happier, even. It makes his chest swell with yet another unfamiliar sentiment.
Love, perhaps?
Just thinking about it has Roman clearing his throat, needing to focus on something other than that right now. âHave they been treating you okay?â This has been pretty high up, if not the highest, thing on his priority list.
She nods, Roman noticing and grateful that her tears are starting to dry up. âYes. IâŚ.how many Bloodline men do you have here?â
âEnough.â She doesnât need to know the full extent of just how above and beyond he went to ensure no one on staff at this hospital could be questionable about their intentions towards her. âIâm always gonna look out for you, baby. Always.â
Her eyes shut, not from feeling overwhelmed but something else. Something that seems less heavy and more comforting.Â
Solana moves around on top of him, Roman somehow sensing what sheâs trying to do, and he has zero hesitations.
He shifts his body, so heâs laying on her bed, his feet dangling off the edge of the bed, but it makes no difference to him as soon as she lays on top of him, her head cradled in his neck, her arms around him.â
âIâve missed you.â Her arm laid against him, Roman reading to close his eyes when he catches onto something for the first time. He doesnât know he missed it either, because it stands out. Roman gently takes her arm, turning it over.
On her inner forearm are a set of beautifully drawn butterflies of various sizes and colors, the largest being a dark blue color and the smaller one next to it, different shades of red and pinks. There are three much smaller butterflies under the two larger ones, two of them pink and the smallest also that same dark blue.
She looks up at him, offering a small smile. âItâs something they have us do in group therapy. They call it The Butterfly Project.â She shifts her body to show him her other forearm, revealing additional butterflies before she lays back down as she was. âYou draw butterflies that represent the people in your life you care about and every timeâŚyou think of wanting to self-harm, you remember that youâre killing the butterflies. Itâs likeâŚ.like a reminder that people care about you.â
Itâs an interesting concept, and judging by the emotion in her voice, a concept she resonates with deeply. Romanâs long index finger ghosts over the larger blue one as he asks, âwho is this one for?âÂ
Solanaâs smile deepens. âYou.â Heâs grateful that she continues to explain so he doesn't have to think much about that sentiment very similar to love that comes up at that admission. âAnd this one,â she gestures to the pink and red one. â--is me. My future self.âÂ
That doesnât help the building emotion, so he again goes for distraction, motioning to the remaining three, asking, âand those?â
She swallows, something flashing in her eyes he canât identify, answering gently, âIâll tell you when Iâm ready.â
Her answer confuses him. He doesnât know what to make of it, but he doesnât want to push her either.Â
âHow is Dulce?â She asks suddenly, the sadness in her voice returning.
Roman wonât tell her the way her puppy sometimes sits by the front door around the time she usually gets home from work or the way she whimpers at night every so often, clearly missing her owner. Heâll spare her that, offering only a morsel of the truth.Â
âThe usual. Sleeping most of the day. You can tell she misses you.âÂ
Solana frowns. âI miss her too.â She licks her lips, asking almost nervously, âhow are Bayââ
Roman is quick to shut that down, a hint of harshness in his voice. âI donât want to talk about them.â
Truth be told, heâs not sure if heâll ever be able to look or view them the same ever again. It may be a bit irrational and unfair, but itâs how he feels. And truthfully speaking, heâs got ten million other things on his mind and in his heart heâs trying to sort through.Â
âRomanâŚ..â Solana sits up a bit, and heâs taken back for a second by how fucking beautiful she is. Even with the sadness in her eyes. âIt wasnât their faââ
âNot now, Sol.â His tone takes on a gentler tone as he adds on, for good measure, âplease. I just want to enjoy you.â
He knows sheâll bring it up again. She cares too much about the two women who Roman will never trust her with again to just let it go permanently. âOkay.â She lays herself back down on top of him, and Roman kisses the top of her head.
âHow are you?â
Heâs not quite sure why her question surprises him. But, the answer is an automatic, âfine.â
Heâs far from fine, but she doesn't need to know that.
Again, Solana sits up, that frown almost deepening. âAre you sleeping?â She reaches over and caresses his beard. âYou look tired. Hâhave you been taking your medicine?â
Roman is truly dumbfounded. She is the one who is currently a legally mandated patient in a psychiatric ward because she was actively suicidal only a week ago, and yet, sheâs laying here worried about him.Â
Roman has to push back that love feeling thatâs returning.Â
âI keep telling you not to worry about me,â he reminds, once again wanting and almost needing to stress to her that worrying about him should be the last thing on her plate.. âI just want you to focus on yourself.â
Her retort surprises him, bold and almost uncharacteristic of her. âAnd I keep telling you that Iâm always going to worry about you.â
Roman chuckles, commenting, âyouâre becoming more outspokenâŚ.â
She gives him a small smile. âI told you the therapy has been helping.â
Roman scoffs. Sheâs right. Maybe that Gemma woman does know what sheâs doing.Â
âDo you need anything?â
Solana says nothing, just lays back down against him, her hand moving over his chest, resting on his heart. âJust you.â She must glance at the clock on the wall as she comments, âwe only have 40 minutes leftâŚ.â
He knows sheâs referring to the one hour time block allotted for visitors. Something he absolutely couldn't give two shits about. âIâll stay as long as you want me to.â Heâd stay the whole night if that was what she wanted.Â
âRomanâŚ.â Itâs funny how he already knows what sheâs going to say. âThe rulesââ
His interruption is sharp, but itâs not aimed towards her. And she knows that. âI donât give a fuck about rules when it comes to you.â She sighs into his chest, offering no protest, saying nothing else.
Conversation is intermittent over the next two or so hours, Solana eventually falling asleep on top of him. He doesnât mind. As much as he enjoys talking to her, having her body on top of his is an easy, acceptable alternative.
Heâs missed this. Missed being with and around her. Roman is just now realizing just how much he benefits from having her around. Heâs been a complete nightmare for everyone around him outside of Dulce, even more temperamental than his usual default setting.
But the minute he laid eyes on her, saw her innocent smile, had her in his arms, everything suddenly felt so better.
Thatâs what she does for him. What she is for him.Â
Medicine.Â
An antidote. Something he never knew he was missing until he met her. It seems like it was almost impossible for him to not fall in love with her.Â
LoveâŚ.
Thinking about it again brings a frown to his handsome face, forcing him to face a reality thatâs so easy to escape when heâs with her.
Roman may love Solana, butâŚ.he can never act on it. Not really. Can never tell her he loves her. That makes it official. That confirms that he finally has something his enemies can use against him, a distraction, a weakness.
Loving her openly would make him vulnerable, would put her at risk, and he couldnât do that. Not just for himself but most definitely not to her.Â
To be with her like this, open and vulnerable, behind closed doors is one thing. Itâs an entirely different ballpark though to make that visible and public, even with just telling her.
Feeling her stir against him, Roman kisses the top of her head, tugging her closer.Â
He wonât deny that he loves her.Â
But, he canât act on it either.Â
Heâs just going to have to find someway to push that down, tuck it away for safekeeping.
Itâs just better that way.Â
________
Roman stays for about two hours, Solana waking up and reluctantly expressing her okayness with him leaving. Itâs not what she wants, definitely not what he wants, but itâs whatâs necessary.
If even for the fact that Dulce canât be left alone for too long. Â
Solana holds onto his arm as she walks him out, Bautista not too far behind to escort her back to her room.
But, itâs when he turns to tell her bye, Roman about to ask her when she wants him to come see her again (fuck visting days), she surprises him by reaching behind her back and pulling out a sealed envelope.Â
Brows furrowed, Roman is curious just how the hell he missed that when she presses it against his chest. âPromise me you wonât read it until you get home.âÂ
Now heâs extremely confused. Itâs been a while since Solana has written to thim. Theyâve progressed way past that, and it does concern him a bit that she didnât just talk to him about whatever lies between the lines of this letter.Â
But, he also knows sheâs been working hard in therapy and even in being able to open up to him about what happened that night had to have been a lot for her, so he wonât push it and will respect it.
Accepting the letter, he simply says, âokay.â
She offers a close mouthed smile, a sign of appreciation and moves to hug him once more, mumbling something in Spanish against his chest that he canât make out. When she pulls back, he doesnât hesitate to cup her cheek, reiterating, âyou need anything, you let me know, alright?â Theyâd already briefly discussed how she had picked up on the fact that he had his men stationed strategically all over this place, and any of them were able to get a message to him.Â
She nods, repeating to him, âokay.â Solana tugs on his shirt and leans up to kiss his cheek, murmuring against his ear, âbye, Roman.â
It seems saying goodbye is difficult for her just as much as it is for him, Roman unable to reciprocate it, only letting his gaze follow her retreating form until Bautista gives him a nod and closes the door behind them.Â
He stands there for a good minute or two before actually leaving.
Fuck. Leaving her seems to be getting harder and harder.Â
Roman is barely in the SUV, door not even shut when his long fingers are moving with all the determination to open up the envelope. He unfolds the piece of paper, unsurprised to find her neat handwriting.Â
Roman,
I need to ask you to do something for me, but I need you to please hear me out before you settle on an answer. And please know I wouldnât be asking this of you if I didnât believe itâs something I really need.Â
Iâm so sorry for putting you through this. I never want to cause you any stress or create any problems for you.Â
I wasnât in a good place, and this experience has made me realize thereâs still a lot of parts of me that still need to heal. I still have a lot to work through.Â
Thatâs why Iâm asking.
Gail mentioned a treatment facility she runs about an hour away. Itâs a 6 week program for women coming out of the hospital like I will be.Â
Roman, I think I should go.Â
I donât think I should come home just yet.
I donât feel ready. Iâm not having those thoughts or urges anymore, but thereâs still things I think I need to work through. I donât ever want to put you through something like this again. I donât ever want to end up back here again, but the only way I can do that is by making sure Iâm good before I leave.
And I donât know if another week can do that.Â
I miss you. So much. Itâs been hard being away from you and Dulce and everyone else. But, I feel like I have to do this. I need to do this.Â
For us.Â
But mostly for me.Â
I want to get better.
Please let me.
Te quiero mucho,
Solana
BTW, Iâm saying âI love you very muchâ in Spanish.Â
Because I do.Â
I love you, Ro.
And I donât need you to say it back or feel the same. With what youâve been through, Iâd never expect or ask that of you.
I just need you. Your continued support. Thatâs all. Thatâs enough.
With all my love,
Solana
________
âIâm so sick of your bloody fuckinâ shit, Seth! Itâs the same fuckinâ thing over and over again, and Iâm done!âÂ
The cadence, melody, and even tone of his wifeâs rant serves as the perfect resources for Seth who is lazily sprawled out across their sofa, beer in one hand, the other hand moving as if conducting an orchestra.Â
And he is.
Because this has become a song and dance with his fiery tempered, Irish wife.
Seconds later, sheâs practically stomping in the living room, their daughter in hand who is most definitely old enough to remember this little spat. He cackles to himself. How unfortunate.
However, Beckyâs enraged gaze is focused on him, disgust plastered all over. âWere you even listeninâ to me?â
He makes a sound, unbothered eyes falling on her, that infamous smile growing. âOf course, dear.â
Becky, however, knows better. Has been with this man long enough to know better. And sheâs done. âYa know, I thought you were getting better, yeah? But then that bloke Breaker comes over here looking for you, and Iââ Becky cuts herself off, refusing to start yelling with her daughter in her arms. Her accent is even thicker, as she shares while adjusting the bag on her other shoulder, âIâm gonna go stay with Charlotte tilâ I can figure out just what Iâm gonna do.â
What sheâs not saying is that sheâll stay with her closest American friend until she can find the funds and resources to move back home.Â
Sheâs just done.
Seth, however, seems unconcerned by the fact that sheâs leaving with their kid. âOkay, dear.â He snorts, falling into that all too familiar maniacal laugh. The one that typically accompanies the reckless and dangerous behavior that has her packed and ready to go. It was one thing when it was just the two of them, but with a child now, Becky has a responsibility to keep her daughter safe.
And there is nothing safe about her husband rekindling ties with the Nightmare Factory.
Not wanting him to see the pending tears, Becky kisses her daughterâs cheek and heads for the door, not allowing herself to hesitate as she rips it open only for her jaw to drop.
She scoffs. Unbelievable. With even more support for her decision to leave, Becky looks over her shoulder at her husband who climbs to his feet. âFirst the Nightmare Factory, and now the fuckinâ Bloodline?â She shakes her head. âYeah, you dig your own fuckinâ grave, Seth.âÂ
And with that, she moves past the figures, determined to not look back this time.
Meanwhile, a massive smile grows on Sethâs unshaven face, delight dancing in his dark eyes.
This is certainly proving to be such an eventful day.Â
He practically stumbles over but manages to stand firm as he takes a swig of his beer, burping loudly and then asking with all of the excitement, evil smile on his face.
âHow can I help you?â
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Everything Ryan says is so considered and interesting Iâm obsessed with him!
His language is so loaded - and gives so many clues about is arc! Machismo and not talking about feelings - ties back to hero complex and his relationship with his father - but also his mother - especially his mother - because she was actually a big part of creating that culture in the diaz house - because Ramon was ânever thereâ
Him saying Eddie has spent the last few seasons trying to re-navigate and take new directions but whilst still being the old version of himself - so loud and informative. The play on the Shannon of it all - and the repeating mistakes in new ways. The not allowing himself to actually move on and let go of his ghosts.
Thatâs also loaded in the other direction as well - this idea that itâs not just him still stuck as this old version of himself - itâs not just him thatâs not allowing himself to move on - that the people who represent his past are still holding onto the old him as well - his parents - itâs a statement about how they view him - and ties into the theme of Eddie begins - the idea his parents think they know best and want to dictate how he lives his life - the insistence he should come home or that they should take Chris. Something thatâs been brought back into focus with Chris leaving to stay with them. Itâs the idea that Eddie us work to do about getting them to recognise and accept the person he is and wants to be - and not to keep treating him as they always have done.
reworking his idealisations of the past brought up with his learnings of the present - and the earlier reference to the 118 and the firefam teaching him stuff. This especially implies what heâs learnt about love - and that what he sees of that with the firefam is vastly different to his experiences of it back in Texas - and with Shannon as well. The Shannon part of it Particularly - it all speaks to Eddie having been wearing rose tinted glasses and putting his relationship with Shannon up onto a sort of pedastal.
Implement is an interesting word choice as well in connection with this. It indicates slow change rather than drastic change - the idea of growth and of not rushing to be fixed and healed.
Idealisation is a direct play on the catholic faith - itâs a play on idolism and
Learnings of the present is also a choice - present can be taken to read all of Eddieâs time in LA - but it infers especially the more recent past - so season 7. Why would Eddie be prepared to implement learnings of the present now at this point. Itâs not just the loss of Chris from LA and his home. Itâs a big part of it yes, but Season 7 is when so many things converge. Itâs the glasses being removed when it comes to Shannon - the break through thatâs been brewing. Itâs also being confronted with religion and its long lasting impact on who he is. Iâve always found it to be particularly interesting that they chose to have Eddie start dating a diy-er who was a former almost nun. The idea of faith being something under construction (yes the construction on sunset metaphor never goes away) and something you build for yourself rather than how Catholicism is a prefabricated and built by others faith. The juxtaposition of the church - something with the weight of history attached to it and an inability to move with the times and change - and the concept of diy faith being something you construct and build to suit you - the updating of something so that it fits with where you are at now. Marisol is a lesson in choosing to not stick with the status quo if it doesnât fit, and instead building what you want your life to look like from the foundations that pre-existing faith has given you. It gives rise to the idea that eddies present learning is in part that he can construct a life that fits him and he doesnât have to mould himself to what someone else prescribed. That he can take the bits of his faith that he does like and build those into something that suits him.
But itâs also Buck - Buck making his own break through and figuring out this big part of himself and choosing to embrace it in season 7 is a part of giving Eddie the confidence to do that for himself. Itâs not just about the buddie of it all. The very deliberate decision by the writers to have Eddie be the one Buck is the most concerned about coming out to - the one he intentionally tells in a 1-1 situation and have that be much of the focus of bucks arc in the immediate aftermath of his bi awakening is as much about Buck as it is about Eddie. Buck coming out to Eddie allows the spiral heâs in about his catholic guilt to take on a different direction and ultimately spiral out much further into something that blows up his life. Itâs Eddieâs subconscious - his repressed inner self beginning to break free.
This quote also backs this up - the implication being that his relationships have all failed because they were built on a version of religion and spirituality that doesnât fit with who Eddie is at his core. Referencing that Latino culture is built on Catholicism and that isnât the actual bedrock of Latino culture is interesting. He also references the Mayans when talking about this and pre colonialisation mesoamerica. (This shows that Ryan is well read and thinks deeply on his heritage). That in combination is interesting as a concept for Eddie. The idea that who he is at his core is actually different to the person he has ended up becoming - implying that the true Eddie is hidden beneath a history that has been imposed on him - in the same way that the culture and faith of the mayans was buried and repressed when the Spanish invaded and conquered Mexico and much of South America.
Using the word âwronglyâ infers that Eddie is going to choose to reveal and embrace that repressed version of himself - the version of himself that is his truest form. I already made a post about the Mayan aspect of Ryanâs interview, but I will point it out here as well. The Mayan culture embraced homosexuality, it was an accepted way of life and largely viewed in favourable light and it was in fact a major part of many religious ceremonies and in the healing of people by shamans. So along with everything else Iâve said above, thatâs hinting pretty heavily at Eddieâs arc leading to him embracing his queer identity.
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The Other Shoe (Waiting for it to drop)
Written for @bucktommypositivityweek Round 2! Today's prompt is "Coming Out Scenes!"
Read it on AO3 here.
âI, uh, I think itâs time to face the music,â Buck whispered, tugging on Tommyâs sleeve. His eyes wandered over to his parents, who had watched him and Tommy like hawks throughout the entire reception, though Buck had a hard time predicting what they were thinking. On one hand, therapy had been going well, and while The Buckleys would probably never be the big happy family Buck had wished for as a kid, Mom and Dad were trying. They had been nothing but supportive about him being Connor and Kameronâs sperm donor last year, and Buck would be lying if he said he hadnât felt a pang of appreciation when they had stood up for him against Chimneyâs father and stepmother.
On the other hand, well, these were his parents, and old fears die hard. While they had apologized for how they had treated him and Maddie and become better, there was a little voice at the back of his head that told him theyâd just be disappointed again. The fact that his mother hadnât managed to get rid of the bewildered look on her face since he had dragged Tommy into Chimneyâs hospital room didnât help.
âShould I be scared?â Tommy asked, raising an eyebrow.
Buck chuckled, though it sounded more like a nervous exhale. He stole another glance at his parents, then shifted his gaze to the floor, kicking at an imaginary speck of dust. âNah,â he said, though he admittedly wasnât even able to convince himself of that. âNot scared. Just... prepared.â
Tommy followed Buckâs gaze across the room, where Buckâs parents stood stiffly by a wall, half-empty champagne flutes clutched tightly in their hands. Buck knew they had been mingling just a few minutes ago, but he still couldnât help but feel that they looked, well, out of place. While they were nothing but polite, they didnât really mesh with anyone else, and always seemed a little awkward.
âThey donât seem like they bite,â Tommy observed, in that casual, dry tone Buck had grown to appreciate over the past few weeks. In an instant, a part of his anxiety evaporated and bubbled to the surface in a barely held back snort.
âNot literally, no.â Buck ran a hand through his hair with a shake of his head, the slight smile Tommy had brought to his face staying on his face. âItâs just... history, you know? Theyâre trying, and I get that, I do. But sometimes itâs like...â He trailed off with a shrug, struggling to find the right words. âItâs like Iâm still waiting for the other shoe to drop.â
Tommy nodded, his hand reaching out to squeeze Buckâs. Buck had told him the basics, how Maddie had practically raised him, how their parents had been neglectful and controlling. He vaguely knew about Daniel, too, though Buck hadnât delved into the whole Savior Baby thing yet. The subject wasâŚtouchy, to say the least, and while he knew he had to breach it at some point, he wanted Tommy to have as neutral an opinion on his parents as possible. They were putting in the effort, so Buck figured they deserved that much.
âWell,â Tommy said, squeezing Buckâs hand again, a bit firmer this time, âif things get weird, youâve got me for backup. Just say the word, and Iâll distract them with my fake mouth static.â
Buck couldnât help but let out a genuine laugh at that, which surprised even himself. Tommy had a knack for diffusing tension, and Buck was grateful for it. It was one of the reasons he had gravitated toward him in the first place. He tightened his grip on Tommyâs hand, drawing strength from the contact, before letting go and straightening up.
âGood idea. Youâre renowned for your fake mouth static after all.â
âDamn right I am.â
They stood there for a moment, neither quite willing to take the first step towards the inevitable conversation. The reception was starting to wind down, (because the nurses were kicking people out now) so at least if this developed into a scene, not too many people would end up seeing. Chimney, now recovering well after the whole viral encephalitis debacle, was in high spirits, chatting animatedly with Hen and Karen. Maddie was close by his side, smiling brighter than he had ever seen, seemingly refusing to let go of her new husbandâs arm.
The love between them gave Buck a tiny surge of courage. If Maddie and Chimney could find happiness after everything they had been through, then maybe things could work out with his and Maddieâs parents too.
âAlright,â Buck said, straightening his posture, bracing himself for impact. âLetâs do this.â
They crossed the room together, Tommy a step behind Buck, offering silent support. Buckâs parents straightened as he approached, their faces neutral masks. They clearly didnât know how to react, and Buck could hardly blame them for that.
âHi,â Buck said, forcing a smile. âYou probably have a few questions.â
His motherâs eyes softened, but there was still a glimmer of uncertainty in them. His father cleared his throat, his grip on the champagne flute tightening just slightly. The atmosphere was stiff, and the air felt thick enough to cut it with a knife.
âHi, Buck,â his mother replied, her voice wavering just a bit. Buck was actually (positively) surprised that she used his nickname, though he had to admit it sounded almost foreign in her voice. âYes, we, uhâŚâ She glanced at his father, who nodded, urging her to continue. âWe do have some questions, butââ
âWe donât want to push,â his father interjected, his tone uncharacteristically gentle. âWeâre just⌠trying to understand.â
Buck nodded slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. They werenât throwing accusations and bad faith arguments around, so that was a good start. Still, Buck knew that they werenât out of the woods yet. He hadnât spoken about the big B yet, after all.
âYeah,â Buck said, rubbing the back of his neck, a nervous habit he hadnât quite outgrown. âI figured. And, uh, itâs okay to ask. I know this is⌠a lot.â
He could see the moment his mother tried to put on a brave face, her lips curving into a smile that didnât quite reach her eyes. âWe were surprised, thatâs all,â she said. âWhen you came into the room withâŚâ
She trailed off, her eyes moving over Buckâs shoulder to where he knew Tommy stood just a foot or two behind him. He took a deep breath. This was it. No going back. He had thought about it for weeks at this point, had said it out loud to himself in the mirror, but not to anybody else, not even Maddie or Tommy.
âTommy.â He turned slightly, reaching out his hand out to Tommy, who took it into his own with a smile as he stepped up. âMom, Dad, this is Tommy Kinard. Heâs my date. He, uh⌠heâs the reason I figured out that Iâm bisexual.â
The words hung in the air for what felt like an eternity. Buck could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the sound of his blood rushing through his ears almost deafening. He knew this moment was pivotal (one of the most important in his life, probably) and the weight of it pressed down on him like the world on Atlasâ shoulders.
His parents exchanged glances, and Buck could see an onslaught of emotions flitting across their faces: surprise, confusion, and perhaps a flicker of something that could be hope. His motherâs fingers tightened around the stem of her champagne flute, and his father took a small step closer to her.
Tommy, for his part, stayed by Buckâs side, his presence a quiet but powerful anchor. He gave Buckâs hand a reassuring squeeze, a silent promise that he was here, and that he wouldnât leave. Buck was grateful for that; it reminded him that no matter what was going to happen, he wasnât alone.
His mother was the first to speak. âBisexual,â she repeated, as if testing the word on her tongue. Her brow furrowed slightly, but there was no trace of anger or disappointment in her tone. Instead, she seemed...curious. âIâŚwell, I didnât expect that.â
Buck could see his fatherâs jaw tighten momentarily before he let out a slow breath. âBuck,â he began, his voice careful, deliberate. âThis isâŚthis is a lot to take in. But I want you to know that weâre listening. Weâre trying to understand.â
Buck nodded. This wasnât a rejection, not outright. But it wasnât exactly acceptance either, not yet, at least. Still, it was something, and in this moment, something was better than nothing.
âI know itâs a lot,â Buck said, his voice quieter now. âAnd I donât expect you to get it all at once. I only figured it out a few weeks ago, too. I just wanted you to know, becauseâŚbecause itâs who I am. And Tommy⌠heâs important to me.â
His motherâs eyes softened at that, and Buck could see her shifting, recalibrating her thoughts, trying to process this new piece of information about her son. âTommy,â she said, as if tasting the name for the first time. She looked at him then, really looked at him, and there was something in her gaze that was almostâŚgentle. âItâs nice to meet you, Tommy.â
Tommy smiled, his usual confidence replaced by an almost shy nervousness. âNice to meet you too, Mrs. Buckley. And Mr. Buckley,â he added, nodding respectfully toward Buckâs father.
Buckâs father gave a small nod in return, though his expression remained unreadable. âTommy,â he repeated, his voice a bit more measured. âYouâre⌠Buckâs boyfriend?â
Buck sucked in a sharp breath. Obviously that question would come up. He shouldâve been prepared for it, but he wasnât. He and Tommy hadnât even really had that conversation. Heâd certainly like for Tommy to be his boyfriend, he just wasnât sure if Tommy was at that point yet. It had only been a few weeks after all. They had been on four dates, one of which was a complete disaster, and another that hadnât even been a date at first, but an apology for the date that had been a complete disaster.
âYeah,â Tommy said, his tone steady. âIâm his boyfriend. And I know this might be surprising, but EvanâŚhe means a lot to me. I care about him.â
Buckâs breath hitched in his throat. He hadnât expected Tommy to say it outright. He had expected a lighthearted âNot yetâ or âWeâre seeing each other.â That heâd gone right ahead⌠Buckâs heart swelled just a little bit. He squeezed Tommyâs hand a little tighter, grateful beyond words. Tommyâs answer made Buck just a little braver.
Finally, his mother spoke again. âIâŚI see,â she said, her voice softer now, almost hesitant. She looked at Buck, her eyes searching his, as if trying to reconcile the son she knew with these new things she was learning about him. âAnd you⌠youâre happy?â
Buck felt a lump rise in his throat. It was such a simple question, but it carried so much baggage. She wasnât asking if he was happy with Tommy. She was asking if he was happy with himself, something that wouldâve been absolutely unthinkable just three years ago.
âI am,â Buck replied, his voice growing more assured. âIâm happy, Mom. Iâm happier than Iâve been in a long time.â
His motherâs eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and she nodded slowly, as if coming to a decision within herself. She reached out then, tentatively, her hand hovering in the air for a moment before she placed it on Buckâs arm. âThatâs all we want, Buck,â she whispered, her voice wavering a little. âWe just want you to be happy.â
His father, who had been silent for most of the exchange, cleared his throat again. âItâs���a lot to adjust to,â he admitted, his voice gruff but not unkind. âBut if this is who you are, and if this man makes you happy, thenâŚwell, weâll do our best to understand.â
Buck felt a surge of relief wash over him, so powerful that it nearly knocked him off his feet. It wasnât perfect, not by a long shot, but it was something. Something good. It was yet another step toward healing their relationship, and for that, he was grateful.
âThank you,â Buck said, his voice barely above a whisper. âThank you for not, like, freaking out.â
His father gave a small nod, and his motherâs hand tightened on his arm, a silent reassurance that they were, in fact, trying. Tommy smiled and wrapped his arm around Buckâs shoulders, Buck leaning into his side almost automatically, enjoying the warmth of their connection.
His mother glanced over at Tommy, her expression softening further. âYouâre welcome to join us for dinner before we fly back to Hershey, Tommy,â she said, a small, tentative smile tugging at her lips. âWeâd like to get to know you better.â
Tommyâs eyes widened at the invitation, and Buck didnât blame him. It was already unusual that Tommy had met his parents this early, but getting invited to family dinner? That was big. âIâd love to, Mrs. Buckley. Thank you.â
Buckâs father gave a curt nod, not quite ready to add anything further, but his stance had relaxed just a little. There was still a long way to go, a lot of conversations to be had, but in that moment, Buck knew they were moving in the right direction.
As the reception continued to wind down, Buck stood there with Tommy by his side, his parents before him, and for the first time in a long while, he felt a cautious sense of optimism. The journey ahead would be challenging, there was no doubt about that, but they were all still here, still trying, and that was more than Buck could have hoped for when he first approached them.
As they exchanged a few more words, lighter now, less fraught with tension, Buck realized that this was what he had been waiting for all along. Not just acceptance, but the willingness to grow, to move forward together. And maybe that was enough to help the wounds of the past heal.
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"Enemies - Pablo Gavi (Part IV)"
Pairing: Pablo Gavi x OC!reader
A/N: And finally, we have the fourth part. I hope you enjoy it. Itâs so hard to write them, but I feel so happy seeing the path they take. I hope you like it.
Gavi realized he still hated the cameras, and the media side of football was something he had carried with him since he was just a kid. Yes, he was only 17 years old, and as he grew, people always said that his shyness around cameras would eventually pass, but it wasnât. He still got embarrassed during interviews, felt equally uncomfortable in photo shoots, and, above all, it was still strange to see his name in newspapers and gossip pages. Thatâs why he had mentally cursed the person responsible for the chaos he had been dealing with in the past weeks.
Journalists kept speculating about the nature of his relationship with her, weeks after the confusion during El ClĂĄsico. He had hoped it would have blown over, but on the contrary, people loved talking and making things up. What comforted him was that maybe she was also suffering from the incident, as she had locked her Instagram account, which was previously public.
"What are you thinking about?" Pedri asked. Gavi looked up at his friend, who had an inquisitive look on his face. That was another thing he had to deal withâPedri had been a little annoying lately, especially when the subject involved the MadrileĂąa.
"Don't you think this should have blown over by now?" Gavi asked. "Iâve already made it clear that I was just helping her, and people keep making things up. Itâs annoying," Gavi huffed.
"Well, itâs a hot topicââBarcelonaâs son and Madridâs daughter,â" Pedri said dramatically, referencing a magazine headline. Gavi's scowl was immediate as if the title itself had struck him. He hated the way those words sounded like they were trying to tie something between him and Florence. It was ridiculous and infuriating. Not just because it was a media invention, but because there was something uncomfortably real about how people insisted on placing him next to the girl. Gavi huffed, frustrated with himself.
"Why do I care so much about this?" he asked almost unconsciously. It was just a stupid phrase from a magazine, but his mind kept returning to his interactions with Florence as if trying to decipher something beyond his understanding.
"So, whatâs your thing with her, anyway?" Pedri pressed.
"Thereâs no thing," Gavi said quickly.
"Thatâs not what it looks like. You get all worked up about her," Pedri pushed further.
"I donât!" His voice came out louder than he intended, but he couldnât let Pedri think he was right. Not when even he didnât fully understand what was going on. The silence that followed made his stomach twist. He glanced at Pedri, who had raised his eyebrows.
"Your reaction proves my point," Pedri laughed, and Gavi rolled his eyes.
"Why are you being so annoying about this?" Gavi asked defensively.
"Iâm just worried. You get too affected by what she says." Gavi abruptly stopped his workout, his mind flashing back to a similar accusation Florence herself had made.
He didnât care that much about what she said; she was just... Boring, and someone had to tell her. Now that he knew who she was, she probably didnât hear it enough. So, if the task fell to him, he would make sure she knew.
"If it were just a back-and-forth of insults, I wouldnât be worried. But the problem is, it bothers you. Iâm concerned it might start affecting your game," Pedri said with honest concern. Gavi swallowed hard. To him, Pedriâs worry was exaggerated. He didnât care about what she said, quite the opposite, so he didnât see how it could affect his performance. "I think you should ignore it if you want my advice."
Gavi thought about it and suppressed the urge to say he didnât want the advice, but he didnât want to be rude to Pedri. He understood his friendâs concern, but it was unwarranted. He wasnât affected, and he wouldnât let it impact his performance on the field.
"Yeah, I think Iâll just ignore it," Gavi said, avoiding Pedri's attentive gaze. Gavi remained silent for the rest of the training, lost in his thoughts.
******************************************
Florence used to love parties and gala dinners. Since she was a child, she was used to attending these events with her grandfather. They were her playground, where her favorite charactersâfootball players from all overâwere the main stars. She was always walking around, paying attention to conversations and taking photos.
But since her grandfather had turned it into a professional obligation, the events had become dull. Especially now, Florence felt he was still punishing her for the mess she had caused during the last El ClĂĄsico, which had drawn the kind of attention Florentino hated.
The King was hosting a special dinner for the Spanish national team, a sort of good luck in advance for the Nations League finals.
Florence was accompanying Carvajal, the Real Madrid player who had been called up. Both were greeting the royal family and had engaged in conversation. Florence listened carefully to what the princess was saying, but she wasnât paying attention. There was something about her that got on her nerves, though she couldnât explain what it was. Thatâs why she internally celebrated when others approached, allowing her to step aside.
"A little more of your visible irritation with the royal family, and I think weâd be kicked out," Carvajal whispered as they sat at their assigned table. "Princess rivalries," he joked, and Florence laughed.
"Iâm not in the mood to be social tonight," Florence shrugged.
"Is your grandfather still making your life difficult?" He asked with concern, knowing well the expectations the man placed on his heir. Florence shrugged, choosing not to respond so the conversation would end quickly. She didnât want to be there, and she didnât want to talk about her grandfather.
Carvajal started a conversation with other players sitting at the same table, and Florence looked around the room, noticing a few important people. Her grandfather always said these events were about being noticed and building connections, and she was sure that when he saw her, he would ask for a summary, so that's why she walked gracefully around the room, greeting some important people.
But before she could venture further into the hall, she stopped as some speeches began, including one from the king. The man and his family loved sports and were always present when the Spanish national team was playing, so there was always a higher level of formality. Florence sighed in boredom; at other times, she would have loved all of this. As she watched the kingâs speech intently, she felt an irritatingly familiar presence beside her and didnât suppress the urge to roll her eyes. As if she had developed a sixth sense for noticing the playerâs presence, she could use that to avoid running into him. After all, Florence was furious; because of him, she was at odds with her grandfather and had to deal with stupid, baseless rumors.
Gavi stopped next to the girl, and though she didnât bother to look at him, the way she took a deep breath showed that she had noticed his presence.
"Is your mood bad because your team is doing poorly this season?" Gavi teased, and she finally looked at him.
"Weâll eventually find our way back, unlike you guys, who start well and then itâs a complete disaster." Gaviâs expression hardened, and a smile appeared on the girlâs face as he rolled his eyes and looked forward again.
"Have you figured it out yet?" Gavi looked at her again, his brows furrowed.
"What?" He asked, confused.
"The last time I saw you, you had that same confused look on your face. Have you figured out what it was?" She asked with a shrug, and Gaviâs mouth dropped in surprise at how well she had read him. Gavi quickly glanced back, seeing that Pedri had a watchful eye on him. Gavi gave a small smile to his friend and turned his attention back to the girl beside him, ignoring the memory of the conversation he had with Pedri.
"No," she concluded, turning to face forward with a smug smile.
"It wasnât anything important." Gavi replied, trying not to lose face, and she looked at him, surprised.
"Are you sure? You seemed really bothered," she insisted.
"Oh, querida, is this concern for me?" Gavi joked, watching Florence grimace.
"Never," the girl quickly retorted. Gavi nodded with a smug smile, raising his glass to his mouth.
"Why arenât you over there with your girlfriend?" Gavi choked on the liquid he was drinking, drawing attention from a few people, and felt his face heat up. He looked up at the girl in front of him, eyebrows raised and an amused smile on her face.
"What are you talking about?" Gavi asked, clearing his throat. Florence tilted her head in a direction, and Gavi followed it, seeing the king and his family in the distance. This time, Gavi's face twisted into a grimace.
"Your fans attacked me for days, claiming I was ruining their couple," Florence said humorously, remembering the numerous hateful messages she received after the confusion in the last El ClĂĄsico. Gavi had seen some fan pages sharing things along those linesâit was funny. The player looked at Florence, who remained focused on the royal familyâs table, and then looked back at him.
"Would you leave your career for her?" Gavi resisted the urge to choke on his air.
"What are you talking about?" He asked indignantly.
"For you to date someone from the royal family, you wouldnât be able to be a football player anymore. Because of all the rules they have to follow and everything," Florence explained. Gavi scanned the girlâs face for any sign of mockery, but she was serious. For the first time, they were having more than just teasing conversations, and it stirred an odd sensation deep in his stomach.
"Iâm not going to stop being a football player," Gavi said impatiently, just thinking about it gave him a headache. Florence tilted her head, analyzing him.
"So how are you going to be with your princess?" Gavi rolled his eyes.
"Stop it," he said, feeling frustrated, his face heat up. A mocking smile appeared on Florence's face.
"Or, sheâd have to stop being a princess to be with you, which honestly would be a mistake. Imagine, giving up being a princess for you." Florence looked him up and down, and the action deeply infuriates Gavi.
"Have you stopped being a disappointment to your grandfather?" Gavi asked all at once. The words flew out of his mouth so quickly that even he was surprised. Here's the thing: she pushed a nerve in him, something that drove him crazy, something he only felt at the height of adrenaline in a tight game. Gavi had seen that her grandfatherâs approval was important to her, and the silent, hidden crying he had also witnessed, told him that he had hit a sensitive topic. The girl looked at him in shock, her eyes wide for a moment as if he had just struck an exposed nerve. Anger flashed across her face, hardening her expression. For a moment, her lips trembled as if she were about to say something, but the words failed to come out. Instead, Florence clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms, and with a sharp motion, she pushed Gavi. She spun on her heels, her legs rigid as she marched toward the exit, each step echoing on the floor like a relentless beat. Involuntarily, Gavi found himself following her.
"Leave me alone," Florence said over her shoulder, visible irritation in her voice.
"Youâre losing your talent for insulting me," Gavi said, more annoyed than he wanted to admit. Florence turned to face him.
"Donât worry about that. Youâre an idiot, a terrible player, with a huge ego," Florence said all at once, and Gavi laughed.
"If Iâm such a terrible player and I still beat your team, what does that make them?" Gavi asked humorously, and Florence rolled her eyes.
"You got lucky. You canât rely on luck forever, Pablo," she said with a shrug, and Gavi was a bit shocked because up until then, she had never mentioned his name.
"Oh sure, when you lose itâs the other teamâs luck, but when you win, youâre extraordinary, practically a Renaissance masterpiece," Florence furrowed her brows and let out a small laugh at the insult but quickly tried to hide it, turning away and continuing her escape from the hall. Gavi promptly continued following her to a distant area. On the way, they bumped into someone. An older man, accompanied by what was probably his family, looked familiarâsome director of one of the leagues or something like that, Gavi couldnât quite remember.
"Miss Perez, your grandfather hasnât replied to my emails," the man said bluntly. Florence took a step back, bumping into Gavi, visibly uncomfortable.
"Heâs busy," Florence said simply, ignoring the manâs outstretched hand, and then he turned his attention to the player.
"Gavi, youâre having a brilliant season."
"Thank you, sir," Gavi replied, returning the gesture. The player couldnât see Florenceâs expression clearly, but he was sure she was rolling her eyes.
"My daughter is a fan, Charlotte," the man turned to the shy girl behind him, who took a step forward. Gavi extended his hand to greet the girl, who blushed. Florence rolled her eyesâseriously, what was it with girls and their fascination with him? Florence impatiently poked him, and the player quickly turned, seeing a disapproving look on Florenceâs face.
"Oh, so the rumors are true," the man pointed to the two of them. "I thought Florentino Perez would never allow it, but itâs good for the new generations to understand that rivalry is only on the field." Gavi frowned, trying to decipher the directorâs words. Gavi turned his attention back to the man, visibly confused by the direction of the conversation. "A beautiful couple."
"Yes, we have to go," Florence quickly interrupted, grabbing Gaviâs arm and dragging him away from the conversation before he could process what was happening.
"What was that?" Gavi asked, his voice filled with irritation and confusion. "You just implied weâre together. Have you lost your mind?"
Florence gave him an impassive look. "He was going to ask for a picture, and believe me, you donât want to be associated with that man. I did you a favor."
"Favor? Youâre just making everything more complicated," Gavi shot back, his eyes fixed on Florence, searching for an explanation. There was something more behind that gesture, something he couldnât quite grasp but that made him uncomfortable.
Before he could press her further, Pedri appeared beside them, a mischievous smile on his face. "Hey, arenât you going to introduce me to your friend?" He asked, clearly curious about the tension between them.
Gavi averted his gaze from Florence, his blood boiling with frustration. "No, sheâs leaving," he responded brusquely, his tone colder than he intended.
Florence raised an eyebrow, defiant. "Iâm not. Nice to meet you, Iâm Flo..." She extended her hand to Pedri, but before she could finish the introduction, Gavi grabbed her hand and dragged her away, his touch firm and decisive.
As they moved away from Pedri, Gavi led her to the table where a player from her club was sitting, but when they got there, he hesitated. There was a palpable tension in the air, a heavy silence that neither of them knew how to break. Florence looked at him, perplexed, her expression shifting between confusion and frustration.
Gavi abruptly let go of her hand, the warmth of the contact still pulsing on his skin. "Why do you feel the need to disrupt my life?" he muttered, more to himself than to her, but Florence heard him.
She took a step closer, narrowing the distance between them, her eyes shining with an intensity that made him hold his breath. "Isn't that what we both do?" she replied quietly, her voice laced with something deeper, something Gavi wasnât ready to face. "Why are you so upset about this?" Her eyebrows furrowed in clear confusion.
Gavi stared at her for a long moment, lost in the intensity of that gaze. He opened his mouth to respond, but the words failed him. The strange sensation in his stomach that he had felt earlier was now almost unbearable. He knew he should say something, anything, but all he could do was shake his head and walk away, leaving Florence behind, unsure if he was running from her or himself.
Gavi walked away, the feeling of disorientation growing with each step. As he moved further, he realized that contrary to what he had imagined, Florence's presence still lingered in his mind, like a persistent echo. He tried to convince himself that the discomfort was just irritation, but the image of her intense gaze wouldn't leave his thoughts, her voice was imprinted deep in his mind. It was deafening and maddening, the space she had occupied in his head, and he couldnât understand or control the effects she had on him.
**********************************************
Gavi walked quickly through the hallway leading to the box where his family was. For the past few weeks, he had been avoiding the people who knew him so well, especially his sister, who could read his mind with just one look. With the mess inside his head, he decided he didnât want to face them, which is why he hadnât been going to his family house. Instead, he hid away in his apartment in the city center, so he could be alone with his confusion without anyone asking him about it.
He hugged his family quickly and exchanged a few words, a slight discomfort hanging in the air. Then he said goodbye just as quickly, but not before his sister Aurora stepped in front of him and looked at him intently.
âWhatâs going on?â she asked directly. Gavi frowned and grimaced.
âNothing, Aurorita.â Gavi forced a smile and saw the frown deepen on his sisterâs face.
âYou only call me that when you want something or are hiding something from me,â she concluded.
âIâm not hiding anything,â Gavi shrugged.
âBut something is going on. Youâve been avoiding us, you look exhausted, and according to your friends, youâre more annoying than usual.â His sister looked at him with concern. Gavi swallowed hard, feeling the anger rising within him, but he knew it wasnât fair to take it out on his own family.
âI swear, itâs notââ Gavi didnât finish his sentence, because the voice he heard echoing from the hallway caught his attention. He looked back so fast he felt a strain in his neck, but there was no one there. Great, that damned voice was stuck in his head.
He turned his attention back to his sister, who was watching him curiously, but before he could continue speaking, the voice echoed again, this time louder. âI have to go,â he said quickly, kissing his sister on the cheek before pulling away.
He walked fast down the corridor, but his steps were cautious, once again that feeling that a monster might jump at him at any moment crept in. In an involuntary gesture, Gavi clenched his fists, a growing anger, a strange sensation burning in his chest. As he rounded the corner in the hallway, he saw the monster that had been haunting his mind.
She was leaning against the wall, her phone pressed to her ear, one hand on her hip. Florenceâs eyes were closed as she listened attentively to the voice on the other end of the line. She seemed completely absorbed in the conversation, her face drawn in visible frustration. Gavi, leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the hallway, watched the scene with a sick satisfaction. Seeing her suffer comforted him in a way he refused to admit. It was a relief to know that, like him, she was also under pressure.
âWhat do you want me to do?â she said in a louder tone, breaking the bubble of concentration she was in. Gavi narrowed his eyes, realizing she hadnât yet noticed his presence. A sly smile formed on his lips as he impulsively decided he wanted to interrupt whatever was happening.
âYouâre not at your home to be yelling like that,â he said casually, not caring if the person on the other end of the line could hear him. And there it was, big blue eyes, looking straight at him. Florenceâs response was an eye roll as if his presence was insignificant.
âNo, Iâm not,â she said into the phone, completely ignoring Gavi, which instantly irritated him.
.âI canât do that, and I wonât,â she continued, her eyes now fixed on his. He saw impatience growing in her, but he also noticed something deeper, something he rarely saw: her eyes began to shine with a repressed emotion. She was becoming emotional, and that bothered him more than he wanted to admit.
Without thinking twice, Gavi crossed the hallway with firm steps, snatching the phone from Florenceâs hand and ending the call without ceremony. The gesture was brusque and impulsive, but seeing the surprise and anger in her eyes made him feel... Something.
âWhat did you do?â Florence practically shouted, her voice filled with disbelief. Gavi froze for a second, only then realizing what he had done. Her expression grew even more perplexed when, out of pure reflex, he covered her mouth with one hand.
âI already told you, youâre not at your home to be yelling like that,â he said quickly, trying to maintain control. She frowned, and with a swift movement, pushed his hands away, her blue eyes sparkling with fury. Gavi felt a current of electricity run through his body at the brief contact, and he hated how that kept happening. His eyes locked on hers for a second longer than necessary, and he found himself wondering if she felt it too.
âHave you gone mad? Heâs going to be furious,â she muttered, more to herself than to him, which only increased the tension. Florence made a desperate attempt to retrieve her phone, but Gavi lifted it out of her reach.
She grunted, frustrated and visibly exhausted. âCan you stop being so annoying?â she asked, almost in exasperation. For a brief moment, Gavi let his eyes wander over her face, and suddenly he understood. The weight of the conversation. It was about her grandfather. Of course it was about him.
Florence rarely showed vulnerability, especially not in front of him. But whenever her grandfather was involved, it was like an invisible wall came crashing down around her.
âWhy are you looking at me like that?â she asked, her voice lower now, but still full of tension. Gavi frowned, confused.
âI donât need your pity,â she snapped, crossing her arms in front of her body in a gesture of self-protection. Gavi noticed the movement. It was subtle but clear. A barrier. He knew that gesture; he had seen it many times. Maybe she wasnât as impenetrable as she wanted to seem. And knowing that made him feel a mix of power and discomfort.
âI donât pity you,â he replied, letting out a short laugh. She rolled her eyes again, but this time, without the same force. When she didnât throw a quick retort, he decided to press her. âQuite the opposite... Iâm just making sure you behave. Like I said, youâre not at home.â
âThank God Iâm not,â Florence shot back. âIâd be extremely upset if this were my house.â
Gavi narrowed his eyes. âAre you ready to lose?â he asked, his voice dripping with provocation.
âVinicius is going to destroy you today,â she replied confidently, making Gavi laugh out loud.
âYou wish, querida,â he said with disdain. At that moment, Florenceâs phone vibrated in his hand, and without thinking, Gavi glanced at the screen. The sight of a photo of Florence with the other player, he felt anger someway...
âOf course...â he muttered to himself before tossing the phone back to her, his irritation now evident.
Florence caught it in the air and looked at him for a moment before shaking her head, clearly exhausted from the exchange. Gavi, on the other hand, felt something shift inside him. He was eager for the game, not just because it would be the last El ClĂĄsico at Camp Nou before the stadium renovations, but because, somehow, something else was consuming him from within. Something he couldnât name.
When the ball started rolling, Gavi played with unmatched intensity. He was truly having the game of his life, but his teammates didnât seem to keep up with his pace. Misplaced passes, missed goalsâit all piled up. He was furious.
"You need to tone down your intensity, or youâll end up getting sent off," Xavi warned during the halftime break.
Gavi let out a sarcastic chuckle. "If the rest of the team was playing, I wouldnât have to," he muttered. The locker room fell silent for a brief moment. He waited for some reaction, but nothing came. Xavi kept talking, and everyone started getting ready for the second half.
As he put on his jersey, he felt Pedriâs gaze on his back, watching his every move.
âWhat?â Gavi asked, frustrated.
âI thought we agreed youâd ignore her,â said Pedri, reminding him of the last conversation they had. Gavi rolled his eyes.
âI am,â he replied, frowning.
âThen why did Aurora text me asking what you had with her?â Pedri turned his phone, showing a picture of Gavi and Florence in the hallway.
âAurora are being nosy. And so are you,â Gavi said, his patience running thin. âAnd why are you so interested? Are you interested in her?â
Pedri laughed. âAs if youâd let that happen.â
That phrase hit him in a way he hadnât expected. It bothered him deeply. âMan, Iâm not trying to push your buttons,â Pedri started, but Gavi cut him off.
âThen donât,â he shot back, his voice cold. âYouâre annoying me with this. Nothing is going on, so stop getting involved.â
Pedri raised his hands in surrender, stepping back. But Gavi was already at his limit. He stormed out of the locker room, bursting with pent-up energy.
In the second half, his intensity only grew. The frustration with Pedri, the confusion about Florence, the teamâs mediocre performanceâall of it boiled inside him. When Vinicius Jr. ran down the left side of the field. Gavi didnât think. He slid in, taking the player down aggressively.
Chaos ensued. Real Madrid players rushed at him, and Gavi, of course, didnât back down. He shoved Benzema, who was yelling in his face until the referee intervened. Vinicius got up with a mocking smile, and Gavi tried to go at him again, only to be held back by his teammates.
The red card was inevitable.
Laughing in disdain, he walked off the field. His eyes drifted toward the box seats as if trying to spot Florence. The anger boiled inside him. As he shrugged off Xavi, who was both trying to confront and reprimand him, he headed straight for the locker room, ignoring everything and everyone.
When he turned the corner, there she was, sitting on a bench. He huffed, frustrated.
He huffed, frustrated. "Not now, Florence. Iâm not in the mood for your provocations." His words came out harsher than he intended, but it was the truth. Her presence stirred something in him that he didnât know how to deal with. She slowly raised her gaze from her phone, with an expression he couldnât read. The air between them suddenly felt heavier, as if something unspoken hung in the space between them.
"Not everything I do is about you, querido." Florence shot back, but this time, there was no teasing. The absence of mockery in her tone threw him off. It was rare to see her like this, without her usual wall of sarcasm. And for a second, he felt an opening, a crack in the wall she kept so high. "But if you want some advice..."
"I donât," Gavi said sharply. What was it with the people close to him today wanting to give him advice and tell him what to do? Florence stepped forward, closing the distance between them, and Gavi felt his throat go dry at the sudden closeness. His eyes ran over her faceâthere was no sign of irony, no sign of irritation, but still, Gavi could see that lingering glimmer in her eyes, the one he had promised himself he would strip away so he could see it more clearly.
"Your intensity and provocation on the field will be appreciated up to a certain point. But at some point, itâs going to get annoying, to the point where even your fans will start to hate it," she said in a surprisingly calm tone. That caught him off guard. Florence rarely spoke with such gentleness. She looked him straight in the eyes, and Gavi felt a discomfort growing in his chest.
That was new, and he didnât know how to handle it. His mind immediately went back to when he saw her at the gala dinner hosted by the king, and she stopped him from taking pictures with a guest, someone Gavi later realized wouldnât have been a good association. He looked at her, confused.
Florence raised her eyebrows, waiting for a response. He wanted to speak, but he didnât know what to say. Could she be right? The doubt appeared quickly and annoyingly, but he pushed it away. No. He was playing well, and giving it his all. There was nothing wrong with that. Still, the uneasiness grew.
Ignoring how he felt, he turned his back on her and headed for the locker room. But no matter how hard he tried, her words echoed in his head. The discomfort increased. Why was this bothering him so much? Maybe she wasnât wrong. Maybe he was so surprised by the calm and honest tone that he didnât know how to react. That wasnât her, that wasnât them. The player stopped on his heel and turned back. Immediately, a smirk appeared on the girl's face.
"You know what, I donât need your advice. You canât just sit on your pedestal and think you have any superiority to talk to me." Gavi snapped, completely annoyed.
âOkay...â she replied with amusement. âI told you I wasnât your good luck charm.â She raised her brows. Gavi furrowed his, confused, and then his mind recalled when he had made that connection. There it wasâthe provocation, the irony. That he could handle, that he could push back against. Gavi chose not to respond, so he turned and continued on his way without saying another word.
Gavi had declined his usual ride with Pedri, still embarrassed by the way he had treated his friend. He also didnât want to go with his family because they would ask questions about his mood and his expulsion, especially his sister, who would bombard him with comments, and the last thing he wanted was to be rude to yet another person that night.
So now he was with his friend Chris, about to enter his friendâs girlfriendâs house. It was funny how Chris had a key to her parentsâ house and everything, for someone who swore the relationship wasnât serious, it was at quite an advanced stage.
âBaby,â Danielle said as soon as Chris walked in, kissing and hugging him. Gavi quickly looked away from the scene, feeling awkward for a few minutes. âOh, you brought company,â Danielle said, stepping away from her boyfriend and greeting Gavi with a quick hug.
âYou're okay with it, right?â Chris asked, and Gavi wanted to kill him because he had sworn he had already talked to her.
âYeah, itâs just... well, I had to bring someone too,â Danielle said, somewhat hesitant.
âOh, itâs fine, itâs not like weâre short on rooms. If itâs a cute girl, they could even share a room, and Gavi could finally get out of his rut.â Gavi flipped his friend off while Danielle let out an overly loud and awkward laugh. Chris looked at her, confused.
âTheyâd kill each other before that happens...â she muttered under her breath, but Gavi heard it, which confused him until he heard footsteps coming from the stairs and a familiar voice that had been haunting him everywhere.
âDani, are these the only towels you have?â Silence fell when the figure appeared at the top of the stairs, distracted by something on her phone, not even bothering to look up. Danielle quickly glanced between her boyfriend and Gavi.
âFlorence, darling, I told you we donât have 500-thread Egyptian cotton towels or anything like that. Weâre mere mortals. My mom was hoping youâd bring some so she could steal them from you,â Danielle said, walking toward what Gavi now realized was her friend. The girl finally lifted her eyes to her friend and then noticed there were more people there.
âOh, hi, Chris...â She came down the last step and then got a full view of Gavi. âYouâve got to be kidding me...â she said, shocked. Gavi rolled his eyes.
âOh, right,â Chris said, finally catching on. âYou guys are enemies and all that,â he said, moving to stand next to his girlfriend. Gavi was in his bubble of shock. He quickly glanced around and realized that Danielleâs house was the same one where Chris had hosted his last party, where he had also ended up running into Florence. Gavi had always wanted to ask how his friend knew Florence but had never had the chanceâor needed to.
Florence crossed her arms in front of her body and raised an eyebrow at Gavi. If she expected him to greet her, she could keep waiting. All he wanted was to end the night in peace; she had already disturbed his life enough that day. He must have seriously offended the universe with how it was playing tricks on him. With the distance between Madrid and Barcelona, and considering the teams only had four ClĂĄsicos that year, their encounters were becoming strangely frequent.
It was almost as if his hatred for her had the power to transport her directly into his reality.
Gavi looked at his friend and saw him whispering something to Danielle, who was watching the scene, concerned. Before anyone could say anything, the doorbell rang.
âThank God...â Danielle exhaled. âIt must be the pizza.â She laughed awkwardly and walked past everyone to the door. Before Gavi could see who it was, he noticed Florenceâs eyes widen, her mouth dropping open in shock, which made him turn quickly, seeing a tall man dressed in a suit.
âIâm not going back,â she said, her voice rising, with something Gavi couldnât identify as anger or disappointment.
âCome on, Florence, your grandfather told me not to leave here without you. And if necessary, to carry you.â The man sounded impatient. Gavi looked back at Florence; her eyes were bright, and her face was turning red. That strange feeling inside Gavi returned.
âWell, tell him you didnât find me,â Florence said simply.
âYour grandfather knows this is the only place youâd come. He asked me to remind you that youâre still a minor, and heâs responsible for you when your parents arenât around.â The man continued. Florence let out a bitter laugh.
âWell, youâll have to carry me then because Iâm not going voluntarily,â Florence retorted, defiant. Gavi glanced at the man by the door. Despite his cold posture, Gavi could sense worry and hesitation in his face.
âHe said if you donât come with me, heâll disinherit you, and youâre fired from your club duties.â Silence fell over the room to the point where even breathing could no longer be heard. Gavi lowered his eyes to the floor, somewhat shocked by the direction the conversation had taken, and also refused to look at Florence because he knew if he did, that strange feeling inside him would return to haunt him.
âIncredible,â she said with a shaky breath, and it was impossible not to look at her. She swallowed hard, her eyes briefly falling on Gaviâs, and he saw her face turn red again. Gavi wanted to make some sarcastic comment, maybe smirk at the situation, but he just couldnât. He couldnât bring himself to; he just kept his eyes on hers.
âFlorence, your grandfather will disinherit you when he finds out about this,â the man said more firmly, noticing the exchange of looks between the two. Gavi looked at him, confused about what he was referring to. Florence sighed heavily and walked past everyone, grabbing the bag that was on the couch. She quickly hugged Danielle.
âIâll see you in Madrid,â she said, kissing her friend on the cheek and heading out the door, bumping into the driver.
Danielle quickly closed the door and then turned to Gavi.
âI know you love provoking her, but if you tell anyone about this or use it against her, Iâll kill you myself,â she said firmly to Gavi, who widened his eyes. He didnât know if he was more shocked by the way she had spoken to him or by the fact that Florence had talked about him with someone and even blamed him for their situation. If it was her who provoked him, ironically, Danielleâs words had no effect, as Gavi couldnât suppress the internal laugh at the thought that he now had something to continue his exchange with Florence.
**********************************************
a/n: I hope you guys have like this one, let me know... We probably won't have the same scheme as it was with pedriii, with three chapters, and bonus ones.
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Wolfstar Microfic - Floo
Words: 996 đŽâđ¨
@wolfstarmicrofic
đâ¨đâ¨đ
It was like James had a sixth sense of when Sirius brought a man home, because the last eight times, heâd tumbled through the floo, needing help with something, or wanting to hang out or to check in on Remus. Each time Sirius had been utterly cockblocked by it.
The ninth time it happened, heâd had enough.
âHow do you do it?â He snapped when Davey suddenly remembered that he had an early start in the morning. âHow do you do this every time?â
James, to his credit, played dumb, âDo what? Iâm just here to return Moonyâs book.â
âWhere is it?â Sirius said, looking at Jamesâ empty hands.
âWhereâs what?â
âThe book.â Sirius growled, âThe book that youâre returning to Moony, Prongs.â
âOh, would you look at that? I left it at home.â James chuckled, âOh well, no harm no foul.â
Sirius strode past him into the hallway and James heard his bedroom door slam. Remus poked his head into the living room a few seconds later.
âI think heâs onto you.â He said wearily.
âNo idea what you mean, Moony.â James sat down on the sofa.
âWhat is it?â Something in the wards?â
âNothing gets past you, does it?â James smiled as Remus dropped into the armchair.
âI just donât understand why youâre doing it.â Remus frowned, âIâd ask if you fancy him, but youâre getting married in three months so I almost donât want to.â
âNo, I do not fancy Padfoot. Jesus.â James groaned, âBut you do.â
Remusâ face dropped, âDonât know what youâre on about.â
âMoony.â
âProngs.â
âRemus.â
âJames.â
âLook, I know sometimes I can be⌠unobservant, letâs say. But not this time.â James pointed at him. âI saw the two of you at our engagement party.â
Remusâ face suddenly went from very pale to very red. âAh.â
âYes, ah. It looked like the two of you were finally getting your shit together.â James looked at him over the top of his glasses. âSo what happened?â
âWell, we came home, we⌠spent some time in Siriusâ bed. I woke up alone in Siriusâ bed and weâve just⌠never spoken about it.â Remus shrugged, but James recognised that sad look in his eyes.
âWould it kill the two of you to have a conversation?â James sighed.
âPossibly.â Remus said, âItâs definitely been too long to bring it up now, though. And he clearly has no intention of doing so. If anything heâs bringing more men home than he was before.â
âBut theyâre not staying long are they?â James feigned confusion. âFascinating.â
âThis wonât end well.â Remus couldnât help but smile. âI'm going to deny all knowledge. Wait, would me bringing people home trigger the same thing?â
âWouldnât you like to know?â James smirked.
âAnd thatâs why I go to their place whenever the opportunity arises, instead of bringing them here,â Remus said.
âWell, that, and youâre not an asshole.â Jamesâ smirk dropped. âI donât get what heâs doing.â
âOh, believe me, Iâve been over and over it in my head.â Remus said quietly, âIf he regretted it, he could just tell me. It would suck for a bit, but Iâm not a dickhead.â
âMaybe you just need to get drunk together again.â
âThatâs a stupid idea.â Remus curled in on himself, tucking his feet under him. âMaybe I should think about moving out.â
âNo!â Sirius stood in the doorway, wide-eyed and covering his mouth. James and Remus stared at him. âI donât want you to move out.â He said quietly after an awkward silence.
âBut you understand why heâd want to?â James frowned at him. Sirius nodded. âSo, why?â
âI met Emmeline.â Sirius mumbled, âThe morning after the party.â Remusâ mouth dropped open.
âOh, fuck.â His head was in his hands, âOh shit, oh fuck.â
âYeah. She turned up for your coffee date wearing less than I enjoyed seeing on a Sunday morning.â Sirius came and sat on the arm of the sofa. âI may have been a bit snippy with her, honestly.â
âWait, whoâs Emmeline?â James asked, looking between them.
âSheâs the woman that Remus brought home three days before your engagement party,â Sirius said, not looking at Remus, who was trying not to smirk.
âOn a Wednesday, Moony?â James was bewildered.
âSometimes trivia night is a good way to meet people,â Remus muttered. âI completely forgot that we had plans. Well, that explains why she blocked me.â
âThat, and Sirius playing jealous boyfriend,â James added.
âI was notâ I didnâtâ Shut up, Prongs.â Sirius looked at Remus, âI figured it out afterwards that it was arranged before we⌠you know. And then I just felt gross for how I reacted.â
âYou could have said something, you know.â Remus sighed, âYou didnât have to pretend it never happened and return to your carousel of men.â
âYeah.â Sirius nodded, âIt was shitty, and the shittier I felt about it, the more I spiralled, and then I thought youâd arranged this thing with Prongs to cockblock me, and then I was petty about it. And then I felt guilty about how petty Iâd been, and then I spiralled some more, and yeah. Iâm sorry.â
âMoony had nothing to do with it,â James confirmed.
âYeah, I know that now.â Sirius pointed to the door. âMoody would have something to say about your awareness of your surroundings.â
âMoody can kiss my arse.â Remus shook his head, âWe probably should talk about it then?â Sirius nodded.
âWell, thatâs my cue.â James stood up. âYouâre welcome. Iâll be around to fix your wards tomorrow. Please be clothed.â
âYouâre lucky we love you, you know,â Sirius said as James waved before stepping into the fire.
âSo at what point do we tell him that weâve been together for six months?â Remus said as Sirius came to squeeze into the armchair. âHe really thought he was onto something.â
âHe means well.â Sirius kissed Remusâ forehead. âLove you, Moons.â
âLove you too.â He said, âTell Davey we owe him a pint.â
Notes:
ha.
Also my headcanon (is it a headcanon if it's your own fic?) is that the first time it happened it was completely innocent, Sirius was just bringing a friend round for a drink or something, but then James showed up and was so pleased with himself that they concocted this plan
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âĄâ Newcomers, Announcements, & Exclusive.
âďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďšďš
Hi everyone! Welcome back to our second article posting of 'TSOTH'. It's an honor for many to be interested in what I have to write! We have multiple students to introduce, so let's get to it!
(click keep reading to see the rest of the article)
Coming into the new year, I am proud to say that we have multiple new students that we should welcome into our school! I got a chance to interview a few of them, so I'm here to give everyone a warm welcome with some personal information that I received from each of them. :)
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Let's start off with Cassie Sandsmark. ( @cassandra-e-sandsmark )
Cassandra Sandsmark is fifteen years old and goes by the pronouns they/she. She is from Gateway City, California (what a long way from home!), and they prefer to have people call them Cassie or Cass.
In the past, she has been to over 5 boarding schools! So let's hope she sticks to the landing with this school and does not get expelled like she did in her past schools. If you bump into them in the hallway, beware! you may end up fighting!
In other good news, they're interested in Soccer and Football. Make sure you go out to those games to support her!
Up next we have Moss Verner! ( @moss-loves-dinosaurs )
Moss Verner is a sixteen-year-old foreign exchange student from New Zealand! They're nearly seventeen, and have been enjoying being in a new country so far! They use the pronouns they/he and go by Moss. Feel free to stop them in the hall to say hello!
So I was informed by a little birdie that Sir Moss Verner had superpowers... However, when I asked about them directly, they had left no comment on the sudden address asking if it was true or not. We may have a new vigilante on our hands, everyone!
Moving on from that little rumor, Moss wanted me to let everyone know that they would be making a new club! A D&D club! Go ahead and message them with any questions you may have about it! I'm sure Moss would greatly appreciate it.
Up next is Jaime Reyes! ( @jaimereyesbug )
Jaime Reyes uses he/him pronouns and is from El Paso, Texas. He's sixteen at the moment but turning seventeen next month! Make sure to wish him a happy birthday once the month hits!
Jaime, unfortunately, is very far away from home. He says he misses his family, but he's glad he got away from that state due to it being extremely homophobic. Good thing he's able to text his family members in order to cure his homesickness!
Speaking of sickness, I think Jaime must've caught the love flu. Considering that notion, be aware of your surroundings as the love flu strikes more victims!
Second to last, we have Corus Lim-W! ( @corus-lim-w )
Corus Lim-W is a sixteen-year-old who uses any pronouns! He requested that people try not to use only one set of pronouns for her, so keep that in mind! They are from Gotham (another one!), and he does not really have any nicknames for people to call them. She did mention that people from their old school called him "Cor'! They're really interested in art so maybe you can bond with him over art classes!
Taking note out of the interview, Corus has been able to tell what would happen before it's happened. I'd say that's some amazing deja vu or far-seeing sight if you asked me!
Now, I have to mention this, but does anyone else wonder what the 'W' stands for in their username? Well, I have a theory.... and I think it fits. The W stands for Wayne! See! Hear me out, he's from Gotham AND who has the biggest name in Gotham that starts with the letter W? BRUCE WAYNE. Could Corus be Mr. Wayne's secret love child?
Finally, we have Mikael (no last name. unfortunate. :'( ) ( @mikael1256 )
Mikael is seventeen years old and was born in New York. I never received what pronouns they prefer so for the majority of this writing process, I will be using they/them strictly due to this fact.
Mikael lives in a family that travels! They traveled all over the place until their father decided to reside in Gotham. While talking about the traveling they did, they mentioned that their favorite place to travel to was Montana.
Now... I'm totally not one to start rumors, but throughout that entire interview, Mikael did not blink once. I promise I am NOT crazy bruh.
Anyways, that wraps up introductions! Let's move on to announcements.
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ANNOUNCEMENTS;
Journalism Club is having a meet & greet event on Thursday @ 4 pm! Come visit and learn more about Journalism. We're recruiting AND free snacks & drinks. Anyone is welcome to come!
The Dance Team is having tryouts on Friday @ the dance studio! Make sure to practice a dance routine so you're able to showcase it on Friday! If you have any more questions, feel free to message Morgan Drew! ( @midrew )
That's all for Announcements. Moving on to our exclusive of the week. :)
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I have been submitted a writing piece to publish in this week's issue! I believe it's written over the newfound popular ship that's been going around called "DukeJay" (so silly).
Here it is and feel free to leave your feedback about it in the comments!
Hands cling to toussled pink hair as brown eyes widen. "Duke..." Jay whispers, pressing his fingers to the other's lip.
Once upon a time his voice would have incited anger in Duke. Irritation, annoyance.
But something about the way the other stared at him with those warm brown eyes sparked something within him. A flutter he struggled to push down.
Wow! That was.... interesting to read!
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Thank you all for reading this week's "The Stories of Tripolis High" issue! I hope you enjoyed reading it! Anyways, Jay Nakamura is out until next time... ;)
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Venting
@kittenfangirl20
@things-arent-what-they-seem66
@yurnu
@lilacwriter07
@fanofstuff01
Sorry if this might seem like me bitching but I've really needed to bitch lately. I keep thinking about these two fanfics I stopped reading a while ago, it claimed it was adamsapple but all it really is is that Lilith is written like a bitching cunt and yet the authors claim that she is a fucking victim because Adam didn't know how to react when he found out his wife CHEATED on him!!! UGH and then they make Lucifer a fucking dick asshole to Adam EVEN AFTER ALL THE FUCKING SHIT HE DID TO HIM IN THE PAST!!!!!!!!!!! ARGH and then after one fake ass apology all is well and good and apparently, Lucifer is a fucking victim, and we should get on our knees and pray to them like fucking gods even though they fucking allowed sin to enter to the world even though I'm sure they were told numerous times NOT to do it and that there would be DIRE.FUCKING.CONSEQUENCES
Then there is this one person who I feel bad for even getting mad at! Because they seem like they're going through a lot, and they seem like a nice person in real life it's just UGH I HATE HOW THEY FAVOR LILITH!!!!! AFTER EVERYTHING SHE'S DONE AFTER EVER FUCKING THING HOW CAN ANYONE LIKE HER!!!!
OHOHOHO AND THAT'S NOT EVEN MENTIONING THIS ONE LILITH LOVER ON YOUTUBE WHO LITERALLY SINGS LILITH'S PRAISES I AINT GONNA SAY THEIR NAME BUT I THINK WE ALL KNOW WHO IT IS!!!!!
OH, AND BY THE WAY THEY ONCE TECHNICALLY STATED IN A COVER THAT ALL EXORCISTS ARE WORSE THAN A SINNER, WELL GOOD TO KNOW ANGELS ARE APPARENTLY WORSE THAN FUCKING VALENTINO OR A PEDOPHILE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
GOD WHY DON'T THEY ALL JUST GO TAKE LILITH AND LUCIFER AT MAKE-OUT POINT AND TAKE TURNS THREE-WAYING WITH THEM IF THEY LOVE THEM SO MUCH!?!?!?!
OK OK OK OK OK OK OK OK OK!!!!
I know I'm bitching and I know I probably sound like a fucking cunt believe me I hear it but I just really, really, really, really, really needed to let that out
Oh, and by the way
NOT ALL SINNERS CAN BE OR EVEN SHOULD REDEEMED, LIKE SAY FOR EXAMPLE I DON'T KNOW MAYBE A FUCKING NAZI!?!?!?!
Yes, there are some down there that can be redeemed, at least in the show, but there are many demons who don't even WANT salvation, not just because they don't think it's possible, but because they don't WANT to change for the better
I just wish these people would understand that, ESPECIALLY since it pertains to real life, there are just some people you can't save
Anyway, glad I finally got this off my chest I've been holding this in
Oh! Also @taradiddled if you're seeing this, I swear to the holy father this post IS IN NO WAY about you or your fic, I actually like it. Sorry if you ever got that conclusion
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ohâthese young people! lifeâs gone on as if iâve never lived
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I have a longing to be understood more than anything else i think
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áśťâđâđ° .á ENHA REACTING TO YOU SUDDENLY STUFFING YOUR FACE IN THEIR NECK
đ
airing âż maknae line! enha x f!reader á° đ˝eadcanons ; fluff, established relationship đ: skinship, kissing?, pet names đ đc 811 á°.á đoro's note. tysm for all the love on the first part omg!! enha my loves >.<ďš ę° đibrary ęą + đ˝yung ver á°
KIM SUNOO
âahh what are yo-â sunoo cut himself off when he broke out into a fit of giggles, finding the feeling of your breathing hitting his neck ticklish. you hold back your own laughter and try to move closer to your boyfriend who was moving away from your touch, the blanket draped over the two of you moving with him. âstop movingâ you whined playfully as you tighten your hold on his waist trying to keep him close.Â
âI can't help it, it ticklesâ sunoo laughs, giving you a triumphant smile as he detangled himself from your hold, your arms dramatically flopping down on your bed. âjust say you don't want to cuddle meâ you pouted dramatically as you moved to lay on your back, looking up at sunoo who was now sitting up and looking down at you with a smile.Â
âwow and people say I'm dramatic,â your boyfriend teased you, adjusting his position so he could lay down on his side facing you, not ready to leave the bed and go on with his morning. He opened his arms for you âcâmere cuddle bugâ he chuckled at how fast you moved to cuddle back into his side, this time you were careful not to tickle him. sunoo wrapped his arms around you in a hug, pulling you closer to him, mumbling into your hair as he felt you yawn against his neck âahh cuteâÂ
rest of the maknae line members below >.< !!
YANG JUNGWONÂ
âdo you think you are close enough?â jungwon teased you once you settled in his side, your body flush against his. your boyfriend wasn't surprised by your sudden touchiness, he knew you all too well and he could tell by the eyes you were giving him for the past ten minutes meant something, so he continued to look for a movie for the two of you to watch. your nose rubbed against his neck as you nodded gently, your hum sending chills down his neck âmmhm you smell niceâÂ
âthanks, i used your body washâ as soon as those words left your boyfriend's lips you were quick to remove your face from his neck and sit up on your elbow, looking at him with an incredulous look. he looked away from the tv when he felt move away, giving you an innocent smile once he noticed the look on your face. âwhat? you should be honored that I want to smell like youâ jungwon smiled sweetly as he pulled you back down, this time you laid on your stomach with your feet in the air.Â
âstop trying to sweet talk your way out of thisâ you narrowed your eyes at him as you poked his chest, a cute noise leaving him at the feeling. jungwon took your hand in his and rested it on his chest, caressing your hand with his fingers as he gave you a flirty smirk âwe both know you love it when i sweet talk youâ your roll your eyes and let out a loud groan of disgust at your boyfriend's poor excuse at trying to flirt. you rested your head down against his chest, hiding your flustered smile from him. jungwon laughed and held you closer, an identical smile gracing his lips.Â
NISHIMURA NI-KIÂ
âoh â uh are you okay?â he awkwardly chuckled, a red hue on his cheeks at your unexpected touch, his fingers freezing on his switch, the last thing on his mind now was his game. you mistook his awkwardness for him being uncomfortable, so you quickly let go of his arm that you were holding and retracted your face from his neck, mumbling shyly âsorry, i just wanted to be close to youâ he quickly found himself missing your touch and warmth that came with it.Â
âwait no come backâ ni-ki rushes out as he drops his switch on the bed and pulls you back against him, eager to have you back in his arms, this time moving to lay on his side as his arms hold you flush against his chest. your eyes widen slightly at the sudden and quick movement, but you find yourself just as quickly relaxing in his arms. he tangled his legs with yours, a shy blush decorating his from having you so close, he muttered deeply âand don't ever apologize for thatâÂ
âokayâ you whispered with a smile, your eyes fluttering close as you snuggled your face into his clavicle. you slipped your hand under his shirt, softly scratching at his back. he let out a pleased hum at the feeling, his own eyes closing âi guess i could get used to thisâ you missed the teasing lovesick smile on his lips, and pulled away to look at him with a raised eyebrow and a playful pout, repeating his last words âyou guess?â ni-ki chuckled and leaned down to place a lingering soft kiss on your forehead âdefinitelyâÂ
đoro's note. I will have a enha taglist, so send in an ask or comment if you would like to be added, or to my perm taglist!! i am so excited for my journey on this new account âşď¸ this was glitching so muchh in my drafts so I hope it looks better when I post it!! so Iâm posting the links down here just in case if the donât work on top!! á° ę° nav ęą
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astro thoughts - short n sweet <3 pluto in the house
Pluto in the 1st house - Very strong auras. Could deliberately see through bs a mile away. Not gifted in being friendly, lol just kidding. Their not 'nice' though. And they don't have to be. They don't like faking the funk so this pretty much gives them an interesting outlook on people and they way they see themselves. Can shift the whole room with just their magic. Can be very intimidating to some, but very inspiring to others.
Pluto in the 2nd house - Could have financial issues from time to time. Not likely to say the same thing twice, if they said it once they meant it. Dont bother them again about it. These individuals can use their psychic senses to make money if that is what they wish, they could be very therapeutic to say the least. Give em a chance, they really wouldn't hurt a fly.
Pluto in the 3rd house - There speech is very compelling. They could hold a room with just their words and it could open the minds of a few listening to them. They have a gift in impacting you with just the way that they think, making you beg for more each day at a time.
Pluto in the 4th house - Could of had a transformative experience at home and I don't mean that nicely. There are somethings that should be left unsaid but sometimes things need a reawakening. They don't seem to let things go here.. but why would they? There past is like a haunting story awaiting to be unraveled just so you can piece together the puzzles that we're left unfinished. They are quiet when it comes to their personal life and hide themselves from the world so that you won't get an inkling of what truly is masked behind the bushes.
Pluto in the 5th house - Very deep bonds with their art work and can do a performance like no other. They will have you feeling every bit of emotion in their vibration just to help you feel what the character is feeling. I noticed there are a lot of good actors with this placement. Anywho, they have a powerful presence and when it comes to dating them or even just experiencing them for a little while it can be a transformative, healing experience for people involved with them.
Pluto in the 6th house - Like their martians mates in the 6th house, these people can have a pretty interesting experience here. They have a tendency to be obsessive over what they want so they work as much as they can until the wheels falls off. This could become a problem if they don't think to chill out on working and sacrificing their well being for something out side of themself.
Pluto in the 7th house - Deep, penetrating raw auras. Could be self-reflective on the way they see things, themselves , others and just the world at large. They have a gift of discernment but most of them never use the gift and can get caught up into the wrong things sometimes. There is more than what meets the eye with these individuals. They never let others in so easily, sometimes they're worth the wait. ;)
Pluto in the 8th house - Really good at seeing through things that others just can't seem to pick up on. Really gifted in occult sciences. Have issues with commitment and could have trouble with individuals because of traumatic experiences in past lives or current one. Could have people who want to be around them just to unravel them, but not really want to be with them. Have a very mysterious presence, hard to read.
Pluto in the 9th house - Very interesting and their thoughts can penetrate the mind in so many ways. They will leave you speechless when its all over. They travel to different places all the time but they are pretty good at finding places that match their flow, and love ot bring anyone along for the ride. There just a different layer to them that no one really knows how to explain, but its a gift that keeps giving.
Pluto in the 10th house - Woah. Thats the word to describe em. Its their touch and raw auras that keep you on your knees. VERY strong personas and do not like being talked down on. Could use their experiences/circumstances to their advantage. Gifted and seeing beyond what no one wants to believe is true. They can have the world if they know they got it in them already. Hard headed but gets to the bag with just their two feet. No one else can beat them at their own game.
Pluto in the 11th house - Whew. These people have a spell on the people that no other pluto house placement can compete with. The issue is these people don't know how to use that power but thats not all that bad. They can have people do things for them because something about them just makes people want to do things for them.
Pluto in the 12th house - very odd things comes out of the mind with these individuals. The subconscious/dream world is the most important part of their day to day because it rules the present in a way that cant be controlled but must be felt. How are you doing living a life that no one seems to live? It seems like they are all alone, but the world is calling for them to give them all the answers.
Talk to me in the comments, let me know how yall feelin! <3
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Infinite Rewind
Gojo Satoru x reader
Synopsis: Instead of dying, you are sent 13 years in the past, but this isn't your face. "Let's cut the shit." The white-haired kid grins. "Who are you and what're you doing in Suguru's body?"
Part two: Rewound Infinitely
Word Count: 18.1k
(Warnings: slight yandere, death, murder, inaccurate Tokyo geography, blood, violence, mild gore, obsession, unhealthy relationships, child abuse/neglect, time looping(?), fem!reader) Ageless blogs that try to follow me will be blocked
First, you saw a monster.Â
It was big and horribleânasty teeth. You heard screaming. People. Running as fast as they could away from the creatures. Pain.Â
And then, you saw a bright, clear sky.Â
The sun was blaring down at you. It was so hot. Wasn't it December? How was the sun out at night?Â
"Hey, you good?"Â
A girl is looking at you. Short brown hair. She's peering down at you, wearing a high-school uniform. How is she wearing all black when the weather is so hot?Â
When you don't respond, her eyes squint.Â
"Suguru, are you okay?"Â
That's not your name; your mouth moves faster than your brain.
"I-I'm fine." That wasn't your voice. It was deeper. More masculine. What the fuck happened to your voice?Â
The girl gives you another strange look but you're too busy freaking out over your new voice. Your hands are different too. A completely different skin tone, larger.Â
And then you're fumbling with your pockets, clothes you know you didn't buy. The girl is calling for you again but you're too busy pulling out a fucking flip-phone and looking into the black screen, the only thing you have for a mirror.Â
Purple eyes stare back. These aren't your eyes. This isn't your nose. This isn't your hair. This isn't your face. You blink. He does too. You open your mouth. So does he. You pinch your cheek. In the reflection, he winces.Â
Oh, you just fucking bodysnatched someone.Â
â´ľ
Ten minutes later, you conclude that your name is Geto Suguru, you are a 16-year-old boy, the year is 2006, and you attend a religious academy.Â
"You're finally acting normally again." The girl-newly discovered as Ieiri- says. "No more weirdness."Â
You don't blame her, considering you grabbed her by the shoulders, asking ridiculous questions like: what year is it, who am I, why am I here, who are you, am I dead, is this Hell, etc. For a teenage girl, she took your outburst well.Â
"Sorry," you say and by now you've gotten used to your voice, "it must have been the stress from studying."Â
She just hums, continuing to walk beside you. Though, Ieiri had a point. You were definitely calmer, and it was mostly because you figured it out.Â
You were dreaming.Â
You were lucid dreaming, to be more precise. Your brain was conjuring up a weird setting and you just happened to be placed in another person's body. You heard about this happening before. You were just so freaked out because this was the first time anything like this had happened to you.Â
An impulsive part of you wants to tell Ieiri that this is just a dream, but you've heard weird things happen after a lucid dreamer tries to break the illusion. It's best if you just let it just play out and see where this goes.Â
âExcited?âÂ
âHm?â You ask. And Shoko rolls her eyes.Â
âFor the mission you have this evening. Special grade. Sounds scary.â She says, her sarcasm evident.Â
Mission? Special grade? You donât know what those words mean but it sounds like a school field trip. Shoko takes your hesitance as something else.Â
âAh,â she says, âso you forgot.âÂ
âI didnât.â You reply on instinct.Â
âI expected this from Satoru, not you. You should stop hanging out with him, heâs starting to rub off on you.â
You give a sheepish laugh, and itâs enough to quell her questions.Â
She leads you into the school, all through the winding halls and through an office door. You couldnât be more grateful, itâs not like you would have known where to go. Itâs a teachers room. Two people are already inside.Â
âWait, for once, Iâm early?â The boy with sunglasses asks, voice dripping with amusement. Heâs leaning dangerously on a chair. You stare at him. Youâve never seen someone with white hair before. It canât be real.Â
âHe forgot.â Shoko pipes up and the boy cackles.Â
âThatâs hilarious. Iâm starting to rub off on you.â Ah, this must be Satoru.Â
You give a nervous smile. âHaha, yeah.âÂ
The boy stops rocking in the chair. Three pairs of eyes look at you. Your uniform feels itchy.
âGojo, stop making such a ruckus.â The man, presumably his teacher, gruffs. "You two got the briefing yesterday. Do your job and for the last time do not leave your assistant manager behind again."Â
Gojo groans, and you delve into more confusion. Before you can say anything, the kid is hopping out of his seat before lazily striding out the door. Shoko and the teacher look at you expectantly.Â
Oh, you were supposed to follow him.Â
Not wanting to make a scene, you catch up to Gojo. He's tall, his footsteps are long and wide. But you're tall now too, so it's easy to keep up with him. This new body of yours has a lot of pros.Â
"Yaga's so annoying," Gojo suddenly says, "constantly nagging us like that. It's not our fault the assistants can't keep up."Â
What should you say? You clear your throat.Â
"He just wants what's best for us."Â
Wrong answer.Â
"Where'd that come from?" He snorts. How charming. "I know you agree with me. You're just tryna' act like the nicer one, again. It's starting to get a little old."Â
Is that how 16 year-olds talk? Rude, but also strangely off-putting, like he can see straight through you. Or more accurately, he can see straight through Suguru. How close are these two, anyway?Â
Why did any of these questions even matter? This is a dream! You need to wake up already.Â
On the campus grounds, a sleek black car waits outside for you two. Along with a miffed man in a black suit. This must be a very rich school for a field trip to have a chauffeur. Where were you two going again?
Gojo hops in the back, taking one of the window seats. You take the other. In your own body, you would've fit nicely. But Suguru's legs are long, and the spacious car feels cramped. You should've taken the passenger seat. How do tall people live like this?Â
The ride is quiet. Out the corner of your eye, you catch Satoru type away on his flip phone. A moment later, yours beeps. You still have no idea how to use Suguru's phone or his password, so you ignore his message. Satoru groans.Â
Quickly, you learn that Satoru has a very low attention span. When looking out the window gets boring, he bugs the chauffeur. When the chauffeur ignores him, he starts bugging you.Â
"Hey heyyyy," Satoru says, "when this is all over, we should go to that new ice cream place. Like you said, we should."Â
You look at him. "Uh, sure." You say.Â
"And you should pay for it, 'cuz you said you owed me last time."Â
Fine, whatever. "Sure thing."Â
He grins. You can't see his glasses, and it makes his smile even more unnerving. This kid.Â
This doesn't feel like a normal field trip at all. Why did you stop in front of some rackety house that looked as though it were about to collapse? You turn back to the only adult in the vicinity, but he's out too. He takes out a lighter and a cigarette. In front of impressionable children, too. Wonderful.Â
"I'll wait out here." He says, though his tone is uncaring. "Since we're out in the country, there's no need for a veil. Do your best."Â
Veil? What? Gojo's already going off again and you've already decided to be his chaperone, so you follow. You reluctantly trail behind him. Feet crunch the leaves. The house grows bleaker and bleaker.Â
"Okay, I have a plan!" Gojo exclaims when he gets through the squeaky door. He's so loud, can't he be quieter? "I check upstairs and you check the ground floor and the basement. Got it?"Â
Check the house? Were he and Suguru electricians in training or something? That still wouldn't explain why a grown man decided to drop off two teenagers in front of a creepy mansion. And why in God's name did Gojo want to split up?
"I-I don't think that's a good idea," you say, "shouldn't we try to stick together?" Or, better yet, leave.Â
He clicks his tongue. "Ugh, you're so lame. Not like Suguru at all."Â
Wait, what did he say? You're about to call out to him when he climbs up the stairs, disappearing from view. Unbelievable.Â
This kid was starting to get on your nerves. Enough, you were leaving. You could have a nice dream where you met and fell in love with Zendaya, not babysitting some teenager, whilst possessing another person's body. You were going to wait outside with the man and hope your dream finally came to an end.Â
Except, you couldn't go outside. The door was gone.Â
It-it was right behind you, right? The entrance was right behind you. You couldn't have gotten turned around so quickly? What the hell happened? Or maybe you had gotten turned around? Considering how distracting that Gojo kid was, you might not have realized it.Â
You look around the house. Looks like it'd been abandoned for a while. There's dirt on the shelves. Chairs were toppled over and left to rot. The wooden floorboards dangerously creaked beneath you. Just what had happened here?Â
There's no patio door. No door leading to the outside. At the same time, you hadn't explored everything yet. Each door led to a room. The only door that didn't, led to a basement. And no, you weren't going down there.Â
When you got back to where you started, you noticed something had changed.Â
There was a person. Seated right at the base of the stairs?Â
Gojo? Was he done with urban exploring? Maybe he knew the way out. He stands up, reaching to his full height, then higher, then higher.Â
Gojo was tall, but this thing was taller. Gojo was human. This thing wasn't.Â
What the fuck you can only mouth because your voice is stuck in your throat when it takes a shaky step towards you. It's a black husk of a figure, too skinny but too tall and twitching fingers. You don't know how you could've mistaken this for the kid.Â
Another step. You're running, back into the house, leaping over the fallen shelves and creaky floorboards. It gives chase, and you can hear it groan behind you. It's deep and rumbly and terrifying. It just motivates you to go faster.Â
It's slower than you. That's good, but it seems to realize this. You can barely celebrate your advantage before something heavy is smashed into your back, sending you toppling to the floor. You and wooden chair crash on the ground.Â
It hurts.Â
Everything hurts.Â
Dreams aren't supposed to hurt. Because this wasn't a dream.Â
This was real. You were stuck in the year 2006, stuck in another person's body, about to get mauled by a monster.Â
You were going to die.Â
You aren't even fighting anymore. How pathetic is that? The shock numbs your body as the thing grows closer and closer, all you can do is reach your hands up, protecting your face.Â
And then the creature explodes.Â
An implosion. It's skin and bones twist in a way no one should. There's a shriek, something wrong and high and inhuman before it's gone. Like it never existed in the first place.Â
After all that, he's still smiling. Like the cat that just caught the mouse.Â
"I guess we're not pretending anymore, are we?" Gojo asks, stretching his arms. "That's good. That game was starting to get a little boring, anyways. Now, then."Â
He folds his glasses, tucking it on his uniform. Blue, his eyes are. As blue as a clear sky.Â
"Let's cut the shit." The white-haired kid grins. "Who are you, and what're you doing in Suguru's body?"
â´ľ
Contrary to your belief, Gojo Satoru is a good listener.Â
There's never an interruption. Not even once. Every once in a while, he nods, a hand on his chin. It's probably because he can't interrupt. You just keep going on and on. Word vomit.Â
He only speaks when you pause to catch your breath. "So you are from the year 2017, and you went back in time to body-snatch someone. I had a feeling your technique had something to do with possession."Â
You look at him warily. "Wait, you knew this entire time?"Â
You two hadn't moved from your earlier spot. You were still sprawled on the floor, still feeling the adrenaline surge through you. Gojo had transitioned to squatting on the floor. He scratches his neck, still so casual.Â
"I have good eyes. Don't worry about it." He shrugs. "Anyway, you seem pretty harmless, and as annoying as it is not having Suguru around, I doubt killing you would do any good." Why is he being so nonchalant about murder? Is this kid really sixteen?
"I think we gotta' just wait around until your technique reactivates." Gojo whistles. "2017. That's like a decade away. I wonder what happened for your technique to show up."Â
You blink, trying to remember the date.Â
"It was Christmas Eve..." You glance at him. "And then I was here."Â
He thinks for a moment. "Yeah, I got nothing." Of course.Â
He sighs, before sprawling on the dirty floor, belly up. You grimace at his antics but choose to keep your mouth shut.Â
He doesn't seem very worried. At the most, he looks mildly inconvenienced. Why isn't he worried about his friend?Â
When you ask him, he just snorts.Â
"Sorry, but you're not that scary. Besides, I don't have to worry about Suguru. He's strong."Â
Well, that's nice to know, but one other thing still bothers you.Â
"You speak so casually to me," you mutter, "You know I'm older than you, right? I'm 22."Â
He laughs. "22? Damn. You're old, man."Â
"That isn't old!" You argue. "You have no concept of age since you're just a teenager."Â And why did he assume you were a man? Oh right, you were trapped in a teenage boyâs body. Of course.
"I mean, technically, I'm older than you, right?" Gojo ponders with a grin. "If you're 22 in 2017, that makes you whatâ11 in 2006?"Â
You say nothing because you have a feeling that if you continue to argue with him, he'll just drag you down to his insanity.Â
"Technique, you've said that a couple of times." You look at him. "That's what you call your 'powers', right? Does Geto have one too?"Â
"Yeah," Gojo says, "but you can't use it. You have zero cursed energy. Honestly, it's at the same level as a plant. A bit lower than regular humans. It's a little impressive, actually." For one second, could he stop being so condescending?Â
"What's his technique?" You ignore his comments. "Could it be related to how I got here?"Â
He gives you a look over. "I doubt that, but Suguru's technique is curse manipulation. Uh, you remember that thing you saw earlier." You nod. "Yeah, he can control and absorb them."Â
He sounds pretty awesome. You look at your hands. Not your hands. Geto's hands. They're paler than yours, and a lot longer. This isn't your body. Your soul can feel it. You can feel the guilt too.Â
'I'd give it back if I could,' you think, 'I just don't know how.'Â
Gojo's getting up. He stretches. He was lying on the ground but you can't see a speck of dirt on his uniform.Â
"Okay, then. No use mopping around." He grins down at you. "Maybe Yaga can do something about you. Let's get you back to jujutsu tech."Â
You blink up at him. His hand is outstretched, reaching out to you. He's still grinning that insufferable grin but his eyes have slightly melted.Â
"Okay." You say, barely touching his fingertips. "Let's-"Â
And then Gojo's gone. And then, you're standing. And then it's cold.Â
You're wearing a coat; weren't you wearing a uniform before? There's no clear sky. It's nearly dusk.Â
You were standing on the sidewalk, where people bustled all around you. You fumble through your jackets, putting out a phone. An actual iphone. You flick on the screen.Â
December 24th, 2017, 7:06.
Holy shit, you were back.Â
Was it because you touched Gojo? That makes no sense, but how could you explain anything else that happened so far? God. You rake a hand through your hair. Your hand. Your hair. You can't believe how much you missed yourself. It felt so good to be back.Â
Your mind is spinning, you had no idea what the fuck just happened.
For now, you just wanted to turn your mind off and grab a drink.Â
You know there was a bar not too far from your location. Along the way, you pass by the bustling town. There's a couple walking side by side, giggling over something you couldn't hear. Right, it's the 24th. You remember your empty bed with no one to share it with, and you cement your desire to drown yourself in alcohol today.Â
Your self-pitying session is almost how you nearly miss him. His shoulder brushes past you. You're about to apologize when you hear his voice. It's familiar.Â
It used to be your voice.Â
It's all there. Black hair, but it's longer this time around. Of course it is, he's had years to grow it out. He's tall, he must've grown since highschool. His broad back is the only thing you see, you're almost afraid to reach out to him.Â
"Suguru...?"Â
He freezes like you've shot him. When he turns around, it's like looking into a fractured past. He looks older, no longer a youthful teenager. You should have paid more attention to his eyes, how scrutinizing they were, how condescending his fake smile was. All that you could think of was that it was actually him.Â
"Do I know you?" He tilts his head. "Apologies, but my girls and I are quite busy."Â
You don't notice the two young ladies beside him until Geto points them out. Teenagers, maybe just around the age when you first met him. He was a father now.Â
You're so swept up by the emotions that you barely notice they've continued walking. You stumble behind, ducking behind the alleyway they went into.Â
"Wait! Geto!" You call. "Please! We need to talk!" You still needed your answers. You didn't know care how desperate you came off as.Â
In hindsight, you should have noticed that they looked more annoyed than worried about a stranger chasing them across the street.Â
The one with the ponytail scoffs. "This one talks an awful lot. How annoying."Â
Geto sighs. He leaves his daughters, finally standing in front of you. This is what you wanted, right? A chance to talk to him.Â
Still, you can't help but feel wrongness within you. His smile is off.Â
"Most monkeys are just that, unfortunately." You don't move. You can't. Not when he places a hand on your skull. "I suppose it'd be humane to put this one out of its misery."Â
Geto Suguru crushes your skull. And then you die.Â
â´ľ
Again. You died again.Â
This is the second time Geto has killed you. Fuck, you should've realized.Â
"Back again, Greeny?" Gojo asks.Â
He and Suguru were sitting outside in the grass. Satoru's holding up a few playing cards. You look at Suguru's hands and find yourself doing the same.Â
Not again.Â
"What year is it?" You ask warily. "And what did you just call me?"Â
Gojo grins with teeth. You remember he compared you to a plant before, didn't he? He's so clever with nicknames; someone should give him an award.Â
"Welcome back to 2006!" Gojo beams. "It's only been a couple of days since you left. And why are you so grumpy? I'm the one who just lost a player."Â
You weren't grumpy, you were pissed. You figured out what's been going on with you, and it's all because of the asshole you're possessing right now.
The look on his face when he killed you. Like you were nothing more than an animal. A monkey. Now, you feel a lot less guilty about possessing his body.Â
At least you figured out two things. You know how your technique works. Whenever someone kills you, you are sent back in time to take over their body. But you can go back whenever you touch Gojo, or perhaps just another sorcerer.Â
Secondly, you have access to Geto's memories.Â
It didn't happen the first time you died. It must have been because the kill wasn't direct (from Getos curse, rather than himself), but milliseconds after Geto split your skull in two, your brain was overwhelmed by his past, his present, as well as his future.Â
Geto was set to die on December 24th, 2017. At the hands of his best friend, Gojo Satoru.Â
Fuck him. Let the bastard die. You didn't give a shit.Â
You reach over to touch Gojo's arm, ready to leave. He pulls back with a snicker. Ugh, the brat must've figured out your technique, too.Â
"Stop messing around." You tell him. "I need to go back to my timeline."Â
"Sure, sure," he says as though speaking to a time traveler is just another Tuesday. "But first, finish the game with me."Â
"No." You tell him before leaning out even further. He isn't moving away anymore, but you still can't reach him. Fuck, he must've activated his technique.Â
Despite your annoyance, you decide to keep the future away from Gojo's ears. He doesn't need to know that he'll be the one to kill Suguru. He shouldn't. Not at his age. He's just a kid.Â
"Just one game! I promise!" He pleads. "Then I'll let you go. Suguru never lets me beat him, I want an easy opponent to boost my ego."Â
You roll your eyes, but you settle down, picking up the cards. You already know the rules; you have Geto's memories, after all.Â
It's silent, save for Gojo's humming. When you place down your King of hearts, you ask:
"Hey, is my cursed energy different at all?" You ask.
"Not really." He squints. "Wait, it has grown a little. Aw, Greeny sprouted!"Â
So, every time you die, your cursed energy increases. That, or your cursed energy, increases every time you time travel. It doesn't matter either way. Does this mean you can use Geto's technique now? It couldn't hurt to try, right?Â
There's a demon-no, they're called curses you know that now- floating beside you, just a little ways away. Small. Barely fourth grade. You stick your hand out, calling out Geto's power. There's a pull, a rush of energy.Â
A blue ball drops into your hand.Â
"Holy shit." Gojo leans forward. "So you can use his techniques." Surprisingly, there's no wariness in his voice. Just awe.Â
"Yeah." You breathe before glancing up at him. "Shouldn't you be focused on your cards?"Â
He shrugs, tossing the cards away. "What cards?"Â
You sigh before staring at the ball. Well, you captured the curse. All that's left to do is swallow it, right? You can do that. You open your mouth. Gojo is still staring. You scowl.Â
"Look away."Â
He rolls his eyes. "It's not like I haven't seen you do this before. Well, not you, the guy that you bodysnatched."Â
Ass, you keep that in your head as you hold your breath. You swallow the ball down.Â
Instantly, you choke.Â
It's horrible. Like a rotten carcass on the highway, oozing blood and oil and pus. You start dry-heaving, suffocating, spit dribbles down your chin. Nothing comes out. You've already absorbed it. The taste of a cursed spirit no one knows. Like swallowing a rag that was used to wipe up vomit and shit. Exorcised. Ingested. Exorcised. Ingested. Exorcised. Ingested. Exorcised. Ingested.Â
"Is it really that bad?" Gojo observes you. "That guy swallows them down, no problem."Â
Because Suguru was used to this taste. He was used to the responsibility. The hoarding mass of distraught absorbing a curse comes with. It was a disgusting art. Something he'd perfected to mask for years. Until he couldn't take it anymore.Â
Fuck, you might have lost your mind, too, if you kept having to eat this. To protect people who were happy you failed.Â
You snapped out of it. Suguru's memories were affecting your own. That's probably a sign that you need to get out of here. No way would you be sympathizing with someone so monstrous.Â
"Hopefully, I never do that again." You slowly recover, wiping your spit away with your hand. You lean back on your hands, exhausted.Â
"Something I've always wondered." You call out to Gojo. "What did Suguru ever think about someone possessing his body."Â
Gojo laughed. "Funny thing. He never knew."Â
"What?" You look at him. "No gaps in his memory? Nothing?"Â
"Nope," Gojo said, "he remembered what happened in the house, but he thinks he did everything. And then he said something weird."Â
You perk up at that. "What did he say?"Â
Gojo tilts his head. Then, he shrugs.Â
"I forgot." Typical.Â
You pinch your nose bridge. "So, did you tell anyone else about...this?"Â You gesture to yourself.Â
"Wait, you're supposed to be a secret?" You look at him in alarm. "In my defense, I didn't know, but I haven't gotten the chance to tell anyone. After the mission, Suguru and I went to the arcade, and then I kinda' forgot about it."Â
Well, at least Gojo's arrogance works in your favor sometimes. You can't let anyone know, especially anyone connected to the higher-ups. From Geto's memories, you know they don't like anything new. It's best to stay under their radar.Â
"Good, well, from now on, we're keeping it a secret. Got it?"Â
"What are you two keeping a secret?" A new voice pops up. You jump.Â
You know himâat least from Geto's memories. Haibara beams at you. He looks so alive in the sunlight, smiling and with bright eyes.
He'll be dead within a year or so.Â
Gojo takes advantage of your shock. "The bodysnatcher wants me to promise that I won't tell anyone that a curse-user is possessing Suguru's body."Â
"What the hell? You just promised that you wouldn't tell anyone!"Â
"Uh, technically, I didn't promise anything yet." Gojo retaliates. "But okay, fiiiiine. I won't tell anyone....except for Haibara." You groan.Â
"What's going on?" Haibara's smile fades. "Wait, Gojo, is this not Geto? Is this person actually a curse-user!?"Â
"I'm not a curse-user." You correct. "I'm not a sorcerer either, for the record."Â
"You just used a curse technique to travel back in time to take over someone's body." Gojo enunciates. "Sounds like a sorcerer to me."Â
"Wait, you're a time-traveler, Mr. Not-Geto?" Haibara asks and you are genuinely impressed he's able to keep up.Â
"The nameâs Greeny, Haibara." Gojo supplements. Haibara nods, still a bit unsure.Â
"So...do we fight Greeny?"Â
"It's not my name." You get ignored.Â
"Nah, it's all good. Greeny's harmless. Just a weakling, donât worry about it."Â Rude, but you donât think youâd want Gojo to take you as much of a threat, not after knowing what he can do.
"Oh, okay!" Haibara instantly relaxes. The kid's really trusting, huh?Â
"Okay, fine, but no one else can know, got it, Gojo?" This promise doesn't matter. It's not like you're planning on returning to the past anytime soon. As soon as you return to the present, you are leaving Tokyo and escaping the night parade of 100 demons. Fuck that. You don't want to die again.Â
He waves you off. "Yeah, yeah."
He's so insufferable. You don't know who's worse: the genocidal maniac or this brat.Â
"Give me your hand. I want to go home."Â
Haibara looks confused. "Wait, why does Greeny need your hand?"Â
"It's how the curse technique works," Gojo explains. "Greeny gets sent back in time, and then my true-love's touch sends him careening forward into the future." You frown at his comment, but he turns to you before you can say anything.Â
"Which reminds me, Greeny: ever figure out how your technique works?"Â
No way are you telling a kid that their best friend killed you....twice. Instead, you just shrug.Â
"Haven't figured it out yet."Â
Gojo stares at you. "Huh." He responds. "Well, if you ever figure it out, lemme' know."Â
Sure you will. You hold up your hand. Gojo, finally holds his own up. Out of the corner of your eye, Haibara waves. And then you're back in your own body, on December 24th, 2017, 7:06 pm.
You waste no time. You push at the crowd, squeezing through the hoards of people. You need to get out. You need to leave before the death parade starts, before you're trapped in that terrifying cycle of death again.Â
You need to leave.Â
Exorcised. Ingested.Â
No no no. Shut up. This wasn't you. This was Geto's memories.Â
Exorcised. Ingested. Â
You need to leave.Â
Exorcised. Ingested.Â
You need to survive.Â
The taste of a cursed spirit no one knows.Â
You stop, right there in the middle of the sidewalk. People glare, cursing as they move around you. They don't know this place will be a bloodbath in a matter of minutes. They'd all die. But you could stop it.Â
If only if you hadn't accessed Geto's memories. If only if you hadn't eaten that damn curse. If only if you hadn't sympathized with a murderer. Maybe you'd have the courage to escape your future.Â
But you'd felt that taste. Horrible. If you eat enough, you could go insane. If you were lonely enough, that would do it too.Â
The taste of a cursed spirit no one knows. No one except for you.Â
At 8:06 the screams start. The monsters come out to play their song. You close your eyes, forgive Suguru, and you die once more.Â
â´ľ
For once, when you open your eyes, Gojo isnât there with you.Â
Youâre still on the campus of Jujutsu tech. Suguru was just about to grab his soda from the vending machine. You finish his job. The can feels cold. It feels refreshing on your tongue. Itâs a momentary distraction to the fact that you have no clue what youâre doing.Â
You understand your cursed technique, but you still struggle with the application. Fuck, what did you do? You were utterly fucked. Youâre playing a dangerous game. If you died- if Geto died- here, what would even happen?Â
 The worst part is that you canât even think of the hypothetical because thereâs no other choice. You needed to do this. To not only save the people in Tokyo from the Night Parade, but to also save Geto Suguru. The man who has killed you three times now.Â
Getoâs dissent starts to worsen at Riko Amanaiâs death. If you could prevent that from happening, you could probably change history. But Getoâs true fracture begins with the curses themselves. They were rotting him from the inside.
You grimace, but you have to do it. You have to eat every single curse that Geto couldnât swallow down himself.Â
One was coming up. In less than an hour, Yaga will call you and Gojo for a mission. Itâll be a special-grade grave-type curse. Dispatching it will be simple, but Geto would be the one to exorcise it, ingesting the screams of all that the curse devoured. You needed to prepare yourself for that.Â
Maybe you should save some of this soda to wash the taste off later.Â
âGeto!â Someone cheers, you jump, but Haibaraâs already poking his head around the wall. He grins.Â
âHey! Oh, youâre not Geto, arenât you?â He tilts his head. âGreeny?âÂ
âKeep your voice down,â you whisper, âwait, you can recognize me?âÂ
He nods, after checking to make sure no oneâs around, he says, âyeah, your eyes are different? Itâs hard to explain.â He tells you.Â
Huh. Interesting.Â
âYouâve been gone a while.â Haibara beams. âItâs been a few weeks. Iâm glad youâre back, Gojo was starting to get cranky.âÂ
Itâs probably because he had no one to mess with. Poor him. He has all your sympathies. Ass.Â
âIâm glad to return as his punching back.â You mutter.Â
Haibara shyly shuffles his feet.Â
âSo, are you really from the future?â He asks. âWas Gojo telling the truth?âÂ
You nod. âHaibara, you havenât told anyone, right?âÂ
âOf course not!â He instantly says. âNot a soul. Not even Nanami, and I tell him everything! Your secretâs safe with me.âÂ
âAnd Gojo, too! I know he doesnât look very trustworthy, but me and him have kept it under wraps.âÂ
Reluctantly, you canât help but agree with the kid. Gojo is annoying, but so far, he hasnât done anything super harmful.Â
âSo anyway, Greeny.â He clears his throat. âConsidering youâre from the future and all. Would you mind telling me what my future will be like?âÂ
You blink at him. He takes it as a sign to continue. âNothing much! I just wanna know what Iâll be doing in 2017. Will I finally be a grade 1 sorcerer?âÂ
You think of Getoâs final memories of Haibara. A child burying another child.Â
âSorry,â you lie through your teeth, âbut I didnât know you in my future. Again, Iâm not really a sorcerer.âÂ
Haibara nods, disappointed but still very excitable. He asks you about other things about the future, and you try to answer to the best of your ability, but you canât shake off his dead glass eyes, staring at you from the morgue.Â
âAnother thing, we should have a code word.â Haibara exclaims.Â
You blink. âA code word?âÂ
âIf we ever meet in the future,â he explains, âyâknow, in 'Groundhogâs day', he has to keep explaining whatâs happening repeatedly? In order to prevent that, we should have a secret word between eachother so I instantly know who you are.âÂ
Not the same exact situation, but it sounds like exactly something a child would come up with. You indulge him anyway.Â
âOkay, what did you have in mind?âÂ
âWell, it canât be anything too crazy, or we might attract unwanted attention.â Haibara puts a hand on his chin in serious thought. You smile.Â
âGot it! If you ever see me, just yell âbrocolli headâ really really loudly. Then Iâll know.â Haibara chirps.Â
âWait, why broccoli head?â
âBecause broccoli heads are green!â Haibara chirps happily.
Youâre starting to learn itâs best not to question his logic.
You nod, very amused. âSure thing, Haibara.â Â
Someone calls out his name. He jumps before he waves to you. You watch as he joins with Nanami. They talk about something you canât hear. Haibara laughs and you decide it would be a shame if his laugh was lost to death.Â
Gojo finds you eventually. You canât hide from him forever. You were walking into the school when he caught up with you. Heâd ran there. His breath was slightly ragged.Â
âGreeny, couldnât get enough last time, huh?â You shoot him a look.Â
âWhat are you talking about? Doesnât matter, we need to go, the missions coming up.âÂ
Gojoâs smile dips ever so slightly. âHowâd you know about that?âÂ
Itâs probably not a good idea to tell the guy's best friend that youâre possessing that youâve unlocked his memories.Â
âHaibara told me.âÂ
âAh,â He replies, âletâs go then.âÂ
The car ride is different this time around. Less tension. You arenât as confused. Gojo is seated quietly beside you, watching the scenery go by. The assistant is too preoccupied with belting the radio to notice Gojo's words.Â
âFigured it out yet?â He asks. âYour technique.âÂ
He's persistent about that answer, isn't he? You're sure the only reason Gojo cooperates with you is because he thinks you're inhabiting Suguru's on accident. How would he react if he knew you were doing it intentionally? It's best not to get on the strongestsâ bad side.Â
âOh, not really, but I think itâs random. I canât seem to find a set pattern. Maybe Suguru calls out to me, somehow?âÂ
âMaybe.â Gojo replies. His time is flat. Anxiety flips through your stomach.Â
âYouâre different this time around,â Gojo says.Â
âAm I?â You ask. âI guess Iâm just more determined today.âÂ
He gives you a look over. "Oh yeah? What for?"Â
"The curse. I'll exorcise it, today."Â
You don't know how you wanted Gojo to react to that, but you're still disappointed when he turns back to the window.Â
"Do whatever, Greeny."Â
In the end, you do swallow the curse. You manage to hold your gags in this time.Â
It's worse than before. It makes sense. This curse was first-grade. Stronger. In terms of taste, it was like curdled blood and mold. You were so grateful for that soda.Â
Gojo only watches with a tilted head.Â
"You're getting better at that."
You give a weak grin.Â
"Practice makes perfect," you reply, "do you think I'll get strong enough to absorb a special grade soon?"Â
He doesn't like your question. You can see it in his stiff expression.Â
"Maybe. Why do you want to swallow up curses, anyway? Last time you were here, you were practically begging to go back."Â
His response wasn't exactly hostile but far from his usual playful attitude. You knew you'd have to confront this eventually. Despite how nonchalant he acted, it's clear Satrou doesn't enjoy watching someone prance around in his friend's body like this. If he starts to dislike you, it could rupture your entire plan. You need his cooperation, more than anything, to save Suguru.Â
A little bit of the truth. Just a bit. It can't hurt, can it?
"Curses taste horrible," you say, looking at the ground. You can still taste the remnants of it, "it's the worst thing in the world. I can't even explain how wrong it feels to eat one. I thought...while I'm in his body...I could maybe help Suguru a little. I could ingest the curses in his stead, so that way, he still gets to absorb it." But it'll lessen the trauma it has on his mental state.Â
You can't see how Gojo feels about that. Those glasses of his cover everything. But you know he's staring at you. The six eyes are taking you apart, observing you whole.Â
"Did you know Suguru in the future?" He asks.Â
"I didn't." The man that killed you. The man that will keep killing you. And you'd forgive him each time.Â
Another beat of silence.
Finally, he just sighs. "You're the kind of person who'll jump in front of a truck to save a kitten, right?"Â
You give a sheepish laugh.
"That isn't a compliment, by the way. You're just really reckless. And maybe stupid, Greeny."Â His tone isn't mean.Â
"My name still isn't Greeny." You tell him.Â
"Oh yeah, what's your name, then?" He's reverted back to that teasing lilt, and it almost makes you relax if you don't note the curiosity underneath.Â
So far, you've been lax giving away information regarding the future, but you don't think you should continue that. What if you're too careless and the future changes in a way you didn't intend? A name, personal information, that could be way too dangerous.Â
"Actually, just call me Greeny. I like that name a lot better."Â
"You complained about it all the time, though?" Gojo argues.Â
"It's starting to grow on me." You grin. "Grow? Get it, because you compared me to a plant and-"
"Stop stop, you really are an old man." Gojo groans. You just grin wider. Then, you grimace.
âI can still taste it.â You complain. âIâd kill for a cigarette right now.â
âI caught our assistant manager smoking a while back,â Satoru suggests. âMaybe you could go and beg him for one.â
You toss him a look. âSuguru doesnât smoke, and Iâm not giving a teenager a nicotine addiction.â You have found lighters inside Suguruâs pockets, but you have a feeling it isnât for his own cravings.
"Hey, could you do me a favor?"Â
He gives a wordless hum.
"Maybe after this, could you take Suguru out to a cafe'? I can taste the aftertaste of the curse." You shudder. "Just get him something to wash it down."Â
Also, Suguru couldn't go back to his dorm after this. Suguru dissented because of his fractured relationship with everyone, not just with Satoru. You'd try to bridge the gap between him and his peers as much as you can. You go through Suguru's flip phone, asking Shoko if she wants to join the two.Â
When you're done with that, you snap the phone closed.Â
"Okay, I'm done here. You two have fun, okay?" You raise your hand.Â
Gojo just huffs, amused. "Sure sure. By the way, someone wanted to thank you."Â
You blink at that. "What?"Â
He shakes his head. "Don't worry about it."
He gives you a high-five, and then you're back in 2017 in your own body.Â
Temporarily. So far you figured out that you get sent back an hour before the night parade happens. 8:06. Considering you have a couple more minutes to kill before youâre killed, you reach into your pocket for that cigarette youâve been craving. You pick the first out of the box, cherry burns just out of corner of your eye.
You notice things now. The children giggled to their parents. Old couples gingerly held hands with sweet smiles. You'd save them, but first, you need to save Suguru.Â
And do really do that, you'd have to save Riko.Â
Easier said than done. You could go back in time, but you can't really control when to go back in time. It's been random, but your trips are typically two days away from each other. You can work with that.Â
But in order to get to Riko's death, you'd have to die...a lot. Absorbing curses made Suguru lose his mind, but how well would you fare with dying over and over again?Â
"Hungry?"Â
Someone looms over you. A woman. She's pretty, with short hair and bangs. In her hand, she holds a bag of chips.Â
"The vending machine gave me an extra." She gives a laugh. She kind of sounds like you. "Would you like one?"Â
"Oh." You take it. "Thanks."Â
"Don't mention it." She trots off into the crowd. You watch her.
A stranger's act of kindness. She didn't even know what would happen to her soon. You grip the bag, it crinkles in your grasp.Â
It didn't matter how well you'd fare with dying over and over again. You'd get over it. So many innocent people depended on you. You can't just abandon them like this.Â
You're the kind of person who'll jump in front of a truck to save a kitten, right? It's aggravating how accurate he is, honestly.Â
The screams start up again, and you forgive Suguru.Â
â´ľ
It takes a few cycles to finally reach the day Amanai Riko is assassinated. Whenever you deem yourself too early, you often accompany Gojo on a mission and exorcise a special-grade curse. Your overall plan is working, bit by bit. Each time you return, Suguru's memories swarm you. Each curse he remembers as less painful.Â
It's why you get worried when you get there a little too late.Â
"Something wrong?" Riko asks.Â
You've stopped in the middle of the hallway, and of course, they're looking at you strangely. You know this place. Tengen's barrier is just an elevator ride away. Suguru, Riko, and Miss Kuroi were all almost there.
Fushiguro Toji has already arrived.Â
In the first timeline, Geto leads the girls all the way down to Tengen's barrier. He puts his trust in Gojo. Of course, he would. They're the strongest. And in the end, Gojo does kill Toji.Â
But the kill comes too late. Riko still dies, and the fracturing happens.Â
You thought you'd have more time. If you had arrived a bit earlier, you could have fought with Gojo, and the chances of defeating Toji would have significantly increased.Â
What do you do?
"What's the matter?" Miss Kuroi asks. She's supposed to die today, too.Â
"Sorry, ladies." You smile. "But I need to go back for him."Â
You don't answer their calls, running back up the hallway. The sun's bright, shimmering beautifully in the sky.
It contradicts the blood dripping all over the stone floor.Â
Gojo's lifeless body is draped across the rubble. It's a horrifying sight. Eyes that were once like the sky are just this empty blue. A dead sea. He isn't breathing. You know, if you touched his wrist, you wouldn't feel a heartbeat.Â
"Hate to break it to ya', but the Gojo kid's dead." Toji's right behind you. You can feel him grinning.Â
You know Gojo isn't dead. At least, he won't be dead for a while, but seeing the boy who used to tease you, annoy the shit out of you, laugh at you, be so....it made you freeze. Falter.Â
You were wasting time.Â
"Sorceror killer." You say after a minute. You almost can't bring yourself to turn, to look at him. The man who kills Gojo. The man who could've killed Suguru, but chose not to. "You certainly live up to your name."Â
Toji's grin widens. The only man in the world with zero cursed energy. It'd be awe-inspiring if it weren't so terrifying.Â
It's funny. You weren't afraid of dying, not anymore. You were afraid of failing. Failing when you were so close, when victory was just a blink away.Â
"The flyheads." You mention to the swarms of curses all around you. "That's really smart." It gives you an idea or two.Â
You have Suguru's memories, but they aren't always concrete. You just have snippets. A general idea of what happened within a certain event. It makes sense. Humans can't remember everything.Â
But regarding the memories of Suguru and Fushiguro, everything is crystal clear. It's almost like you were there when it happened.Â
It also means that you know Suguru, at this current level, won't be able to defeat Fushiguro.Â
But Suguru doesn't need to beat the sorcerer killer; he just needs to hold him off.Â
Currently, Suguru's body contains 368 curses: 3 special grades, 24 grade ones, 33 grade twos, 103 grade threes, and 205 fourth grades.Â
You release all 368 of them.Â
In another timeline, these curses would look to you as something to devour. Today, these curses have a new target.Â
It won't stop Fushiguro. You're not dumb enough to think that. But it should give you time. Hopefully, it'll be enough time.Â
Your knees hurt when you collapse next to the corpse. Gojo's so beautiful, even when he's dead.Â
"Gojo." You shake him. Nothing happens. "You need to wake up. Gojo."Â
Nothing happens. You don't know what caused Gojo to become the strongest, Suguru wasn't there. For once, you are blind to the past.Â
"Riko needs you. Wake up. You-you need to go and save her and Miss Kuroi."Â
His body's so cold, and you know he's dead because when you touch his skin, you don't wake up in the present. You push against his body, and he falls limply right back to place. You're sure this sight will haunt you for the rest of your life.Â
"Satoru." You beg. "It's Greeny. Please, please, please wake up."
 Nothing happens.Â
Everything happens.Â
The brightest blue you've ever seen. It's heavenly. A glow that warms and chills your skin. It takes a while for you to see again. When you do, Satoru is standing.Â
Somehow, his eyes are even brighter. You don't think you're looking at a teenage boy anymore.Â
You're sitting in front of God.Â
"Greeny." he states, voice flat. "You're late."Â
You manage to smile.
"Sorry."Â
Youâve seen Satoru fight before. Heâs always calm, body relaxed as he practically floats in the air. Those fights differed from Suguruâs memoriesâpost Satoruâs awakening. Thereâs always this twinge of desperation. An aftertaste of bloodlust.
But seeing it for yourself is something else entirely. Even with Suguruâs heightened senses, you still canât follow him. Heâs barely a mirage. One milisecond you can see a blue flash, the next you see nothing.
It's barely a fight. Not this time around. Fushiguro is completely unmatched. There's a flash of purple. And then, it's over.Â
Fushiguro is in shambles. You didn't realize he was human until he started to bleed and shatter. Parentage over labor. It's sobering, in a way.Â
Satoru's mouth moves. You're too far away to hear anything. They stand there for a few more seconds until Fushiguro slumps. Then, he falls.
You wonder when you got so desensitized to death.Â
Gojo stands there. You should let him compress, but the clock is ticking. You need to do one more thing before you can let Suguru go.Â
"You need to go." You say when you're close to him. He doesn't acknowledge you. "Riko's about to enter Tengen's barrier."Â
He looks at you right then. His eyes. They're so bright, but they're strangely lifeless. Like he can't process you, your words.Â
"I can see you now," he says, "it was so foggy before, but now, you're crystal clear."Â
Six eyes look at you. You don't think you're hiding behind Suguru's face anymore.Â
You clear your throat.Â
"Gojo." You remind him. "Riko. You need to stop her."Â
He blinks back into focus, rising from his high.Â
"Oh," he says after a moment, "right."Â
You stop him before he can walk any further. You hold out your hand.Â
"You and Suguru."Â
For the first time in a while, Gojo hesitates to send you back. You wait a couple seconds longer.Â
"Yeah," he finally says.
His skin still feels cold.Â
â´ľ
This death is a lot more painful than the others.Â
The curse that's holding you is more intelligent than its predecessors. It keeps you alive, tearing at your skin, feasting on your flesh. Blood is everywhere. You scream until it rips out your vocal cords. It's almost a mercy to just die.Â
You forgive Suguru.Â
â´ľ
Time skips a lot faster now.Â
You stand in 2006, four months after the death of Fushiguro Toji. It takes a second for Geto's memories to kick in. What you see makes you nearly cry in relief.Â
Gojo and Geto made it in time. You can still remember the tears spilling down Riko's cheeks, the smile on her face when Geto asked her if she wanted to go back. They were safe. They were home, with each other.Â
You did it. You actually managed to pull it off.Â
But you can't celebrate, not yet. From what you can gather from Suguru's memories, Geto defects after four years. You've just held off the eventual.Â
It's nearly the middle of December. The air feels a bit chillier. You stay on that bench where Suguru once occupied. He was finishing his lunch. Usually, he'd eat with Satoru, but Satoru wasn't on campus these days.Â
Right, you weren't finished with your work, yet. There was still one other issue. Suguru went on missions alone these days. Swallowing curses, letting them fester and rot in his body. It's isolating and grueling work. You might have been able to help him with the absorption, but your aide won't be enough to prevent his eventual downfall.Â
You'll have to deal with his natural isolation. To do that, Suguru will have to make friends with people who aren't Satoru.Â
Suguru does have friends, but he's the closest to Satoru. Considering Satoru is getting busier each passing day, Suguru needs to broaden his horizons a bit.Â
It's a good thing this school is filled with such colorful characters.Â
Haibara and Nanami were sitting in the back of the school. From Geto's memories, their dynamic was interesting. Haibara was definitely more outgoing than the two, but Nanami seemed to have a good head on his shoulders. They looked out for each other, in that way.Â
Ah, Shoko was there, too. You haven't seen her since your first day. Her hair's grown longer. It lightly brushes her shoulders now. The cigarette in her hand burns a cherry red.Â
Your reaction is rooted in Suguru's instinct than anything on your part. You reach out, taking the cigarette and stomping on the embers.Â
"You shouldn't smoke in front of kids." You tell her, hoping she didn't read too much into your action.
Shoko scoffs, but to your satisfaction, she doesn't take out another one.Â
"We're just one year below you." Nanami retaliates, but he looks more at ease now that the cigarette's out.Â
"Did you finish lunch already, Geto?" Haibara asks kindly, then he takes a closer look. "Greeny?"Â
You suck air through your teeth, giving Haibara a scathing look. Instead of looking exasperated, Nanami looks confused.Â
"What's Greeny?" Nanami asks, and Haibara weakly laughs.Â
"It's-uh-my new nickname for the tree that's growing over there!" He wildly points to something just behind you. "'Cuz it's so...green!"
"Of course." You note the hint of affection laced within his tone.Â
"When'd you get back?" Haibara recovers with eagerness.Â
"Recently." You grin. "Nice to see you again."Â
"You saw him this morning," Nanami interjects, and you shrug. When he frowns, you know you pulled off a perfect Suguru impression.Â
Suguru melds into the conversation perfectly. Haibara says something funny, Shoko and Suguru agree, Nanami disagrees. It's a lovely little cycle that ends when Nanami grumbles and picks himself up to go. Shoko starts to follow suit when you stop her.Â
"Your hair's nice." You tell her.Â
She hums, grabbing a strand to study it. You can see hints of dark circles beginning to form under her eyes. She looked livelier when you first met her. Curses have been popping up left and right since Fushiguro's death. Everyone is overworked, but Shoko looks like she's getting the brunt of it. She's one of the only people who can use RCT on others, and there aren't many healers on her level. All of the strongests share one thing in common it seems.Â
"Pretty soon, it'll be longer than yours," Shoko replies. You smile in response.Â
"Where are you going?" You ask.Â
"Dorm," she replies, "I'm behind on paperwork."Â
You had a feeling she always was. You gave a look of sympathy, but misery loves company.Â
"I have some work too," You 'remember' the piles of papers lodged on Suguru's desk, "Maybe we can do it together later. The cafe right next to campus? It'll be my treat."Â
She looks at Suguru. Her eyes are a pretty color.Â
"Sure." She shrugs. "see you then."Â
You feel your heart thump twice in your chest and decide that your work here is done.Â
Haibara stares at Shoko's disappearing back. The forehead flick comes from both you and Suguru.Â
"That hurt." Haibara whines.Â
Good, you inwardly think.Â
"Sorry." You tell him. He rubs his head, and you wonder if this is how kicking a puppy feels like.Â
Luckily for you, Haibara recovers quickly.Â
"You've been gone for a while." Haibara tilts his head. "What happened?"Â
You can't exactly control your technique, it's more like it has a mind of its own, placing you exactly where you need to be placed. Instead of answering, you sigh, leaning against the wall.Â
"Timeline gimmicks." You tell him tiredly. "It's hard to explain."Â He frowns, but he takes it as an answer.
"Do you know when Gojo's coming back?" You ask. "I think it's time for me to go back again."Â
In previous time travels, you and Haibara tried to see if any physical contact would be enough to send you back. No matter how many times you two high-fived, shook hands, or even held hands. Nothing worked. Only Gojo Satoru could activate your technique. It must have something to do with the amount of cursed energy another person has.Â
âHe should be getting back later this evening.â Haibara muses. âBut Iâll be happy to keep you company!â
It's nice to hear him chatter. If you'd let him, he'd go one and one. But you like hearing him talk about his sister. Apparently, sheâs also a sorcerer, and his affection for her makes you smile.
"You remind me a lot of her, actually." He tells you. "Even though, y'know, you're a man." It's enough to get a laugh out of you.Â
âDo you have anyone in your family who can see curses?â Haibaracasks.
âNo,â you answer honestly, âat least, not that I can tell. My dad never spoke of curses or strange powers when I was growing up.â
You think he would have said something; after all, you two were too close to have secrets from each other. Your father was a single man, who took to raising you himself after your mother passed away. He often said you had her laugh.
âMaybe youâre one of a kind,â Haibara suggests.
You agree with him.
Gojo finds you before you can find him. He comes up to you with a grin and a wave.
âHey, long time.â
His sunglasses are tilted down. You can see his eyes. Theyâve lost the mania he had in his fight with Fushiguro. Youâre relieved at that. You still canât shake off that strange thing he said to you.
Wordlessly, you raise your hand. Satoru frowned.
âYou wanna leave so soon? You just got here.â
âIâve been here for hours,â you tell him, âalso, you arenât very concerned that someone is using your best friendâs body as a puppet.â
âHeâs been through worse,â Satoru tells you off with a wave. Some friend.
âLetâs go to the arcade,â he suggests.
âDo that with Suguru.â You tell him. âIâm not hanging out with a high schooler.â
âRight right, my bad. I keep forgetting youâre an old man, Greeny.â
â22 is not old,â you say with exasperation, âdidnât your birthday just pass? Youâre just five years away. Iâll see your attitude change, then.â
He grows quiet. You feel like you messed up somewhere.
âHow did you know about my birthday?â
Fuck, you keep forgetting about keeping Suguruâs memories a secret. It takes everything within you to just relax.
âHaibara told me,â you say, âblabbermouth. You know him.â
âOh.â Gojo replies. âHuh.â
You shuffle your feet. Distantly, you wonder what shoe size Suguru wears.
âHow did your mission go?â
âHorrible,â heâs instantly back to his usual self, whiny and complaint, âand the curse was so ugly too. It was oozing goo everywhere.â
You frown. âSounds gross. But you won, right?â
He doesnât even answer. You secretly admire his sheer confidence. You certainly werenât that when you were at his age.
âHowâs Amanai and Miss Kuroi?â You ask.
âSafe.â He tells you. âThe higher-ups werenât really happy with us after that; pretty sure all these sudden missions are punishments.â He frowns. âBut theyâre fine. Miss Kuroi officially adopted her, so sheâs a Kuroi now, too.â
You smiled. You already knew all that, but itâs nice to hear it.
âYou saved them,â he says.
You laugh, âI didnât do a thing.â You tell him. âYou and Suguru did all the heavy lifting. I just caused some property damage.â
âYou did.â He replies. âI donât know how, but things always manage to work out whenever youâre around.â
You donât like how he phrases that, but you donât react.
âYou think so? Maybe Iâm lucky.â Itâs supposed to be a joke of some kind. Neither of you laugh.
âYou really donât know us in the future?â He asks.
Maybe you shouldâve asked Shoko if you could have a cigarette.
âI really didn't,â you say, âHonest, IâI have no idea whatâs happening. Iâm just as lost as you. Hopefully, I can figure out how to control my technique, and you wonât have to see me again.â
You never stopped feeling guilty for doing this to Suguru. Controlling him. Forcing him to laugh with his friends, make decisions based on your feelings rather than his. But youâre so close. You promise yourself that once you fix everything, youâll never cause someone this much pain again. No matter how many times they kill you.
Satoruâs fists tighten. He looks even more upset at your response.
âThatâs not what Iââ He cuts himself off. You wait. Satoru says nothing more.
âYouâre annoying.â He tells you in the end. Itâs clean and cut, but it sounds like him. More confident, less wavery. âAnd stupid too.â
You canât help but smile.
âThank you. Am I done entertaining you now? Can I go?â He grumbles, holding up his hand.
âYeah, sure, Greeny.â
â´ľ
You forgive Suguru.
â´ľ
Somethingâs wrong.
You can feel it. Somethingâs wrong.
You look through Getoâs memories. Thereâs nothing. Everythingâs going as it should be. Everything looks perfect. Then, why do you feel so wrong?
Currently, Suguru was finishing excorcising a curse. You absorb it, swallowing down the remnant like itâs a pile of rusted nails but even the disgusting taste isnât enough to wash away the feeling of dread.
The walls of the hospital was empty. The auxillary managers had already cleared everyone out by the time Suguru had walked in. Maybe it was the silence that added to your stress?
You walk out. Nothing changes. One of the managers comes up to you with a clipboard.
âThe curse was exorcised.â Suguru tells them. âIt wasnât first grade, it was special grade. It was still disposed of.â
He curses, scribbling something down on his clipboard.
âThe wrong information again.â He hisses to himself. âIf we keep doing this, someone will die. We need more people, weâre way too stretched out.â
Those words are familiar. Hold on.
âWait, what day is it?â You ask the frazzled-looking manager.
Offhandedly, he responds. He says the date so casually, and yet his mere words feel like a bear trap, tightening on your leg.
No. You should have had more time. Why werenât you given more time?
Nanami and Haibara have probably already been dispatched. You go through Suguruâs phone, finding Haibaraâs contact. It doesnât go through. Nanami doesnât pick up either.
You wonât make it in time. Even using Suguruâs curses, you wonât be able to reach them until itâs too late. Suguruâs memory of that day is muddled and dark, but Haibaraâs dead corpse laying on the examination table. The pieces of him that Nanami could bring back.
You wouldnât be fast enough.
He picks up on the second ring.
â...Whatâs up?â
âItâs Haibara.â You spit the words out as fast as you can. âSatoru, you need to go and get him right now, he isnât going to make itââ
ââGreeny?â The exhaustion in Gojoâs voice is gone. You can hear something rustle behind him.
âSatoru, listen to me.â You beg. âHaibara and Nanami were just dispatched on a mission, but Yu isnât going to survive it. It wasnât a second-grade curse; it was a first grade. Please, you have to go and save him before it kills him.â
Itâs silent. It feels like hours have passed when you know itâs just three seconds.
âWeâll talk later, Greeny.â The line clicks.
Youâve lost the trust of the strongest.
â´ľ
The future has changed when you get to campus. Haibaraâs status is still alive. Barely. But heâs still there. Shokoâs currently taking care of him.
Nanami remains quiet the entire time since he returned with Haibaraâs battered body. The only thing you can think of to offer comfort is to pat his shoulder. He barely even registers it. It���s more for you than for him. Youâre self-soothing, taking care of something else, so you donât have to recognize your own panic.
If Haibara dies, right here, on this day, everything can change. Everything can go back to the way it was in your original timeline. Haibara, with his sunshine, smiles, and bright eyes. His death is so important, and you canât even think of him right now.
Gojo Satoru knows youâve been deceiving him.
This is bad. So very bad. If he starts to suspect that you know more than you let on, he might deem you enough of a threat to kill, regardless of whether or not youâre in Suguruâs body. Itâs not like that hasnât stopped him before.
Gojo Satoru is selfless. Heâs selfless enough to kill his best friend, if he thinks it will save everyone.
But if Gojo kills Geto here and now, would that really be bad?
Youâd lose your path to the past, but the threat to your life would be over. Even if you did die in Suguruâs body, at least the people of Tokyo will be spared the Death Parade. Youâll still get what you want. And it will be much easier than your current plan.
Nanami shuffles behind you and you instantly snap out of it. That wasnât you. It couldnât have been you. That same lack of apathy when Fushiguro died in front of you.
It seems like dying over and over again caused you to lose bits of your humanity.
Shoko comes out. Nanami stands up, a tall ball of nervous energy. Shoko removes her mask. Her dark circles have grown even more prominent. Sheâs only 17.
âHeâs still alive.â Nanami sags. âBut he isnât responsive. Iâve done all that I can.â
She looks at Nanami, and then she canât anymore.
âIâm sorry.â
âDonât,â Nanami rasps, the most emotion youâve ever seen from him, âdonât apologize. It was my fault. I shouldâve taken better care of him.â
You swallow. It wasnât his fault, you wish you could tell him that it was yours.
You wonder what Haibaraâs younger sister looked like. A spitting image of him, perhaps. Shorter. Darker hair, bigger eyes. Their smiles would look identical. What would she look like when sheâs told her brother died doing the profession he forbade her from doing?
You canât do that to her. You canât be the reason she loses her brother the second time.
Youâre not sure if a God is even out there. How could there be? What kind of entity would do something like this to you? Still, you sit on that bench, right outside the room where Haibaraâs body lay, and you pray for a God.
Gojoâs footsteps stop right in front of you.
Itâs hard to get the words out. For a minute, he just stands there.
âDid you exorcise it?â You finally ask.
âYeah.â
You lift your head up to look at him. Even in his school uniform, heâs regal to look at. Like a warrior of the sun, blessed by the moon, sent to vanquish beasts and monsters.
Now, his blood-soaked sword is pointed at you.
Make it quick. You can only think. Just make it quick.
âNot here.â You say.
Nanami was still shaking. Shoko was right beside him. So you stand, you drag yourself away from Haibaraâs fading presence, and Gojo follows behind.
It shouldnât be this pretty outside. The sun is bright, and the sky is clear. There should be rain. Enough rain to drown the Earth.
âI figured out your technique a while ago, yâknow.â You donât look at him. You canât. âDying. Death activates your technique. Each time you die, youâre sent back 12 years in the past.â
You grip the fabric of your uniform until your knuckles turn white. Satoruâs cruel enough to continue.
âBut I never got why your soul kept possessing Suguruâs body. It always felt kindaâ random. Unless he was the one who was killing you. Over and over again.â
âGojo. Stop.â You beg.
âThatâs how your CT works. Every time youâre murdered, you go back in time so you can kill them when theyâre at their most emotionally vulnerable moment. Itâs a pretty powerful technique, all things considered. I might not even stand a chance against it. Assisted suicide, never expected that from you of all people.
But you never do. Each time Suguru kills you, you just come back and try to save him and everyone else your hands can reach. I canât get why you did that.â
He steps in front of you so you can see him. The God that he is.
âLetâs cut the shit, Greeny. Tell me what future is so bad youâre willing to die over and over again to prevent it.â
The worst outcome you could have ever thought of was standing right in front of you.
Satoru was demanding to know his future.
And...you couldnât.
Youâre taking in a shaky breath. Itâs not enough oxygen. The sky was close to crumbling, and you still couldnât breathe.
âThereâs nothing to know.â You try. âThereâs nothing, Iâm fixing itââ
ââby Suguru killing you, or is this considering killing yourself, now?â
âYou donât understand.â Your voice is cracking, so high-pitched that even Suguruâs vocal cords canât keep up. âYou donât get it. You canât.â
âThen help me understand.â His voice is as ragged as yours, he steps closer, you step back. âTell me why my friend would do something like this to someone.â
It clicks right then. Satoruâs anger isnât directed at you.
No, itâs directed at Suguru.
Itâs even worse than you thought.
âHeâhe was better than me. He was supposed to be the best out of all of us. I wanna deny it all that I can butâbut I can see the proof right here in front of me. AndâAnd I donâtââ His voice breaks too much to continue.Â
Youâre breaking, too. How many times have you been doing this, over and over again? All alone, with no one to support you. To comfort you.
The words are right there, threatening to bubble out. Itâd be so easy to tell Satoru everything.
And maybe you wouldâve, but then you looked at him.
Despite how disingenuous Satoru acted, you knew he was kind. The kindest person youâve ever met. Heâd sit there and listen, and heâd break every bone in his body to help. Thatâs just how he was.
Satoru was selfless, he was selfless enough to kill his best friend here and now if it meant heâd save the millions in Tokyo.
You canât put another burden on the strongest.
You canât do that to a kid.
âItâit isnât him.â You manage to spit out. âHe isnât doing it on purpose. Itâs not his fault.
Itâs the curses. They were too much for him; they overtook his body. Suguru couldnât control them anymore.â
He says nothing. Itâs like youâve put a spell on Gojo somehow, freezing him in place. Satoru canât do anything but stare at the talking puppet thatâs his best friend.
âHe lost so many people.â You continue. âRiko, Miss Kuroi, Haibara. He couldnât take it. It was too much. His body succumbed to the curses, and they took over Shinjuku. Thatâs how I keep...â
Itâs okay to lie like this, you justify to yourself. Because the Suguru, you knowâthe one with fake smiles, beady eyes, and a broken expressionâisnât the one that Satoru knows. Theyâre two completely different people. Yearsâtimelinesâapart from each other. They arenât the same.
Even then, you forgave both Sugurus a lifetime ago.
Youâd get on your knees if you know that would make a difference. Youâd plead and beg and cry if it would get Satoru to drop it. In the end, you can only stare at him.
âAll Iâm asking is that you trust me.â You whisper. âBelieve that Iâm making this right. Please, Satoru?â
His eyes. You canât tell what heâs thinking. Heâs gone quiet and dull. The same look he had when he fully awakened his technique. The day he became God.
But heâs not a God. Godâs donât cry.
He leans ever so closely until his head rests on your shoulder. His body shakes.
âYouâll save him, right?â He asks. Gone, is his aura of confidence and resilience. Heâs nothing more than a shell. If you feel something stain Suguruâs uniform, you say nothing about it.
You smile anyway.
âI will.â You tell the truth. âI will save him.â
You think of something morbidly funny.
âIâll die trying.â
His shoulders shake with quiet, genuine laughter, the kind thatâs wet and sticks to the top of your mouth.
âThatâs fucked up, Greeny.â He whispers.
You hum, reaching up to pat him on the back. It takes another minute before he gathers himself up. His eyes are shiny. Satoru blinks it away.
âHaibara will be okay.â He says with such conviction. âIâll take care of him. Iâll take care of Suguru, too.â
He doesnât get it, not yet. He doesnât understand that Shoko and Satoru and Haibara and Nanami need him. Heâll get it soon, though. You managed to put Suguru on the right path.
For now, itâs all you can do.Â
âI know you will.âÂ
He scoffs, right then.Â
âYouâre really annoying, you know that? Next time, donât piss me off like that. Just tell it to me straight.âÂ
Rely on me. Lean on me.
âIâm sorry,â you say and you truly are, âI wonât leave you in the dark from now on. I guess I just forgot that I had a friend in 2006.âÂ
His eyes get a little brighter. âItâs actually 2007ââÂ
âShut up.â He laughs and it sounds like him again.Â
You reach out your hand and his grin fades, the tiniest bit. He mirrors you, regardless.Â
This time, you hesitate.
âYou should learn how to be selfish every once in a while.â You tell him. âI wonât fault you if youâre selfish. I donât think anyone will.
He doesnât answer that, but his touch is finally warm.
â´ľ
It hurts. It hurts so much. Blood seeps into the pavement. You can hear the curse laughing. It sounds like him.
You forgive Suguru.Â
â´ľ
Itâs today.Â
You can feel it. You donât even have to look at the date to know.
The catalyst for December 24th, 2017.
Suguruâs already dressed. Youâre currently standing in front of a shotty mirror, watching your reflection.
He looks tired. His smileâs a bit muted. You notice a scar you hadnât seen before. An unregistered special grade curse, Suguruâs memory gives.
Heâs different from when you saw him a year ago, but thereâs still a spark in his eye. You cling to that hope, as hard as you can.
You step out of the room. It isnât Suguruâs. Heâd rented accommodations with an older woman and her son for the mission. Their place smelled like home. It made your stomach turn.
She smiles when she sees you coming down stairs. She looks kind; she has the eyes of a mother. Youâll never understand how a person who raised children could do something like this to another.
âMr. Geto.â She chirps. âIâm so glad youâre awake! Would you like anything to eat?â
âNo, Iâm fine.â Better get this done sooner than later. âI should be heading back now, anyways.â
Suguru had already absorbed the curse tormenting the village last night. You can feel the sticky aftertaste in your mouth. He should have left the village yesterday, but the people were insistent he stayed one last day as thanks, feeding him all they could.
Now, itâs obvious that it was a way to butter him up for today.
Her smile grows a bit nervous. She shuffles her feet a bit.
âIf it isn't too much.â She starts. âThe head of our village asked if you could look at something.â Her eyes darken into disgust.
You fight to keep your smile.
âOf course. Please, lead the way.â
Itâs worse than you ever could have imagined.
Youâve seen this play out so many times in Suguruâs memories. He reminisces about this moment a lot. Because of that, you knew this scene too, like the back of your hand.
And yet, seeing two children huddled together on the floor. Nothing could prepare you for that.
The village head is saying something. The woman who Suguru roomed with is yelling at the scared kids, but you canât hear any of that.
Their clothes were dirty and ripped. Their cheeks were hollow, and they looked like they hadnât eaten for days. Himikoâs eye looks swollen.
The twins.
The first time you saw them, they stepped aside and let Geto kill you. Thereâs something oddly poetic about you being on the other side.
They tremble as they continue to look at you, flinch whenever that woman raises her voice. They must think Suguruâs here to kill them.
Theyâre too young to think like that. Theyâre too young to see the horrors of this world so soon.
Itâs a mistake to look towards the end of their cell. Dirty water and dog food.
How could a human do this to them? How could a mother do this to them?
You feel red. It coarses through your blood, your veins, your soul. It feels like thereâs lava right underneath your skin. Shuddering, tittering anger.
Thereâs more than enough fire to burn down an entire village.
âSuguru,â you think to your companion, your tormentor, âI think Iâm starting to get it now.â
You reach for the bars of the cell. The twins shrink away.
âAh! Mr. Geto, you musnât get too close to themââ
âIâll take them.â
âWhat?â The head of the village asks.
âThe children.â You straighten yourself up. âIâll take them off your hands.â
Itâs pointless to do anything to these people. Theyâre delusional enough to think that theyâre in the right. By torturing these children, theyâre protecting their own. Itâs fear. Thatâs all it ever was. Even without a curse, itâll fester on and on until this village is nothing but abandoned homes. Thereâs no point to punish these people any further.
If you look at the adults a bit too long, youâre afraid of what youâd do, even without Suguruâs interference. Instead, you focus on Himiko and Nanako, looking into their wary gazes. Their hands are so tiny. You could protect them with your own.
When you got out of this backward village, youâd find them something to eat.
â´ľ
You go to Shoko first.
She looks surprised to see the twins. You canât imagine why. Still, her voice is calm when she speaks to them, setting both of them up in the clinic room. Since you got them into the car, Nanako and Himiko seemed to calm down. Himiko even told you the name of her doll.
A little while later, Yaga comes for a visit. Heâs the principal now. Usually, his voice is filled with gruff, but heâs oddly gentle when he speaks to them. Nanako cracks a shy smile.
You canât escape the âweâll talk laterâ look he gives you. Inwardly, you sympathize with Suguru. But a harsh lecture is better than being branded a murderer.
He hasnât come by, yet. With the twins aided for, you decide to go find him yourself.
Walking through campus feels a little nostalgic. The grounds of the infamous jujutsu technical college are a bright green. Itâs summer again. Youâve met so many colorful characters since your time here. Youâve only seen snippets, mere seconds of their lives, and yet it feels like an entire lifetime.
Heâs sitting on a bench when you finally see him, nursing a drink. He doesnât acknowledge you. You have to roll your eyes at his childish behavior, plopping down beside him.
âHey.â You say first.
âHeard you adopted two kids,â Satoru says, âNever thought Suguru would be a teen mom, but here we are.â
You laugh, light and breathless. The sky is so pretty today.
âI donât think heâd have it any other way, personally.â You respond.
He reminisces on your words.
âThis happened before too?â He asked.
It did. It was a lot less of a happy ending, however.
âYeah,â you say regardless, âhe took good care of them last time. Heâll do the same in this timeline too. Iâm sure of it.â
And this time, heâd have help. Shoko, Satoru, his teachers. Theyâd all be there for him. Suguruâs memories havenât changed yet, but you know the future you step into will be a different one.
âIn any case, Iâm glad I got to see jujutsu tech one last time. Itâs a beautiful campus.â
âYou act like youâre leaving,â Satoru says, uncaring. âYouâll just come back again next month. Or next year.â
You play with your fingers.
âI...wonât be doing that from now on.â
He pauses. Then, he looks at you.
âWhat?â
You canât gauge his reaction, but he doesnât look happy. You find this a bit hard to swallow.
âI fixed the future.â You smile at him. âI finally did it. Suguru wonât break. Himiko and Nanako wonât lose their father. You wonât lose a friend, anymore. Thereâs no reason for me to keep coming back. Youâre all free.â
You phrased the last part as a joke, but Satoru isnât laughing.
âWait, youâre leaving? Youâre...leaving leaving.â
You nod. âI canât believe it either.â You still canât believe you accomplished everything you set out to do. A task that seemed so impossible, now youâre standing on the other side of it.
It wasnât truly over. Not really, but you were able to get Suguru through the worst of it. Now, you were sure Satoru and Shoko would take up your mantel, pushing Suguru through the finish line. Just like heâll do to them.
Satoruâs quiet.
âYou seem happy.â He notes.
âWell, I did just save everyone, I think I deserve to feel a little good about myself.â
For a moment, you want to ask if itâll be okay to visit everyone in the future. To see how Shoko and Suguru and Satoru are doing as adults. You stop yourself. Of course, they wouldnât want to see you. You needed to stop being so greedy.
This, was more than enough.
âWill you at least tell me your name?â Satoru asks.
âYou know I canât do that.â You tell him with a smile.
âRight right.â He laughs, it sounds hollow. âTime travel, bullshit. Makes sense.â
âIâll miss you.â You tell him.
He straightens himself up.
âIâll miss you too, old man.â He responds. âYou were a lottaâ fun to mess with.â
For once, you arenât offended by the old manâ, comment. If anything, it feels somber.
âCan I ask for some advice?â He suddenly asks. âYâknow what they say, ask the old and wise or whatever.â Okay, now he was starting to push it.
âWhat is it?â
Itâs his turn to shuffle with his fingers.
âWhat would you do if...thereâs something you really want, but no matter how fast you run, you just canât catch up to it?â
You glance at him. He looks earnest. Did something like that even exist for Satoru?
âSomething I canât catch up to?â You ponder out loud. âI guess Iâd have to make a big enough ruckus to where it has no choice but to look back.â
He frowns. âThat makes no sense. Youâre growing senile.â
You laugh. Youâll miss this brat.
You wish you could stay more. You wish you could ask about Haibara, and Shoko, and Nanami, but the clock is ticking.
Suguruâs getting impatient.
âBye, Satoru.â You reach out your hand.
He scrutinizes it, before clasping it within his own.
âYeah, Greeny.â
Within a blink, youâre back again in the middle of Shinjuku. December 24th, 7:06 pm.
Itâs the same as always. People bustle around you. Childrenâs laughter. Everything always repeats itself, but you donât think you can ever get sick of it. Youâll savor this peace for as long as you can.
You reach into your pocket, flicking out a lighter and the first cigarette of the box. You donât know why you always chose this one. Despite outmaneuvering time itself, perhaps itâs within human nature to follow whatâs written stone.
Youâve relived this hour so many times that you can list everything that happens. Down to the exact minute. 7:08- a little girl wearing a red dress walks by. 7:09- a lady with short hair catches your eyes and smiles. 7:14-an old man and woman bicker with each other as they pass you by. 7:21- A little dog sniffs the bench you sit on. 7:34- Two schoolchildren run past you, babbling. 7:45- five construction workers grumble out their grievances. 7:58- a businessman talks loudly on the phone.
You wait. You sit on a bench and wait until 8:06.
Five seconds after 8:06. Twenty seconds after 8:06.
The clock clicks to 8:07.
You were expecting to feel something else. Celebration. Elation. You half-expected to cause a scene and jump for joy right there in the streets of Shinjuku.
None of that comes. Thereâs just a feeling of relief. A weight presses you down, and you slump in your seat.
It was over.
It was finally over.
How long do you stay like that? Hours? Days? When you feel like you can finally breathe again, itâs only 8:12. Time travel warped your sense of time.
You stand up, stretch, feel your bones crack and pop. In the second timeline, you wanted to get a drink to drown your misery of nearly getting killed by a curse and being alone on December 24th. It felt like a lifetime ago when being single was the worst of your problems.
Honestly, youâd stay celibate for the rest of your life if it meant you wouldnât have to go through that ever again.
Tomorrow, youâll decompress and devolve into hysteria over what happened.
Next week, youâll check yourself into therapy.
Today, you decide to go home and sleep for a couple hundred years.
You must look like a zombie with the way you wobble down the street. Physically, your body is perfectly fine. Youâve suffered no bruises or cuts. Even the numerous times youâve been killed leaves nothing on your skin.
Mentally, youâre in shambles. The indomitable human spirit within you is snuffed out.
The stairs to your flat is your last enemy that you must vanquish before you can reunite with your adoring bed. You cling onto the railing with dazed eyes. You donât see the curse until youâre right before it.
Distantly, you wonder how often youâve passed a curse and didnât even realize it. Itâs almost instinct to reach out with your hand, intent on absorbing it.
Nothing happens. You remember you arenât Suguru anymore.
Itâs a grotesque-looking thing. No eyes, too many hands, a gaping mouth. It turns and looks at you.
Strange. Itsâ smile mirrors the one in the abandoned house.
Adrenaline. You feel it coarse through your veins, meld into your bones, explode in your skin. Youâre stumbling back, nearly tripping down the steps in your haste to get away.
It screeches. Loud and clear and angry and you can almost feel its teeth chomp on your leg, ripping your muscles and skin to mere tatters.
Youâve died before. Youâve been skinned alive before. Youâve been eaten before. Yet, it all amounts to nothing compared to the fear you feel at the thought of the curse catching you.
It canât have been nothing more than a third grade. If you were taller, larger, special-grade, you could have killed it immediately. But you werenât, not anymore, you were at the same level as a plant. Useless. Helpless.
A dead man stumbling, tripping, running.
The streets were quiet. You supposed that meant thereâd be fewer casualties. But it didnât make you feel any better. And even if there were people around, no one would have been able to help you.
Your brain isnât working as clearly. Fear is the only thing that guides you. Youâre reduced to a rat scampering through a maze. Sooner or later, that rodent reaches a dead end.
The alleyway was blocked off. You felt the rough brick wall scrape your hands and even the feeling of your raw skin couldnât assuage your heart pumping in your throat. When you whirled your head back, it was right there, and you knew you were dead.
Again.
It might kill you, if itâs feeling generous. It might cut your legs off and watch you bleed, if its feeling kind. It might eat you, if itâs a decent curse.
It shouldnât be happening. You fixed it. You were supposed to have fixed everything. But clearly you didn't. There must have been some piece of the puzzle that you forgot. You need to go back. You need to fix things, but why do you need to why can't he just leave you aloneâ
You donât see what happens. One moment, the curse is there. The next it isnât.
âThose things are so annoying.â The newcomer complains.
No, not new. You know him.
You blink. He grins. Itâs kind. A toothy smile that warms.
âYou alright?â He asks in sympathy. âCurses are pretty scary, arenât they? Are you hurt?â
Itâs him. You werenât in 2006. You were in the present, here and now, and he was here with you.
He actually made it.
âMaâam?â He asks.
It wasnât intentional. You just blurted it out, the promise you made to him. It was a decade for him. Mere hours for you.
âUm, broccoli head...?â And then you instantly regret it.
Haibara Yu takes a minute, eyes squinting like you just grew a new head.
Then, he gasps.
âGreeny?â
â´ľ
A few minutes later, youâre seated at a restaurant. Haibara has not shut up.
ââIâI canât believe it? Itâs actually you! I thought Iâd never see you again âcuz Gojo said you werenât gonna be around anymore, andâand then suddenly you pop up outtaâ nowhereânot that Iâm complainingâ butââ
ââHaibara.â You interrupt. âPlease, slow down.â
He stops himself, right when the server comes with drinks. He shoots the waiter a smile, and then heâs back on you.
âSorry.â He scratches the back of his neck. âIâI got a little excited. And nervous. Itâs just...well, I didnât expect you to be a girl.â
That might have been your fault. Both Haibara and Gojo kept referring to you as a man, so you decided to roll with it. Earlier, you would have justified it by insisting the less they know about you, the better. Now, you just think you were being petty.
âSo, how youâve been? A whole decade...â You murmur to yourself.
âFine! But what about you?â Haibara asks, concern etched into his eyes. âWhereâd you go?â
Wow, he was actually worried for you. Despite being in Suguruâs body, you didnât really feel like part of the group Shoko, Gojo, Nanami, and Haibara were part of. You felt like an outsider, being somewhere you didnât belong. It's because you were an outsider. Nevertheless, itâs nice to know one person missed you.
âThis might be a little hard to believe, but I just came back to 2017 two hours ago.â
Haibara gapes.
âWait, so to you, that whole thing happened, today?â You nod. He leans back in his chair.
âHoly fuck.â You laugh at his awe.
âThanks for saving me, by the way.â You change the topic. âFrom the curse.â
He waves it off. âI was just paying my debt. From what you did for me all those years ago.â
Ah, Gojo must have told him. Oddly enough, Haibara doesn't seem all that perturbed that he shouldnât exist currently. At the same time, it feels just like Haibara.
Heâs different from when he was younger. Taller. The baby fat is gone. His face is more built, just like the rest of his body. His eyes are less round, but they havenât lost the spark. A few scars here and there, but heâs all in one piece.
You werenât able to see what he looked like as an adult from Suguruâs memories, heâd never grown up. But now, you can see it for yourself. You can see the active change you made in his life, to his life.
âHaibaraââ
âYuââ He says seriously. âMy friends call me Yu.â
A smile twitches on your lips.
âTell me about everyone.â You scoot your chair closer. âYou, Suguru. How is everyone doing?â
He perks up at that, clearly delighted to be talking.
âGreat! Everyoneâs doing great! You should totally come visit the school, sometime. Theyâd love to see you. Uh, even if they donât technically know you, but Iâm sure theyâll love to meet you!â He rambles, and itâs nice to know he hasnât changed from his younger self.
âLetâs see, Kentoâs teaching the first years. I teach the second yearsââ
ââYouâre a teacher?â
He nods. âWe all are! Except for Shoko, but she has her own thing going on. Anyway, Mimiko and Nanako have become second-grade semi-sorcerors. Isnât that incredible? Iâm just a first grade semi-sorceror, and at their young ages too! But Suguru wasnât surprised, he kept saying his girls were prodigies. Oh! You probably want to know about Suguru too, right?â
You nod. Even if you hadnât done anything, you donât think that would have stopped his enthusiasm.
âHeâs a teacher too! At least, for right now. Yagaâs been wanting to retire, and there have been talks of Suguru becoming the next principal. Principal Geto has a ring to it, right? Oh, and Shoko is currently planning the wedding. Youâll definitely be invited, of course! She said I could bring a plus-one. Oh, andââ
It goes on like that for hours, you think. Not that you mind. You listen to Yu babble on and on about his friends, his students. He talks about Nanamiâs recent baking addiction, Shokoâs new office cat, Suguruâs favorite tea pot. Itâs a never-ending surge of information.
Eventually, you catch on to the fact that heâs deliberately leaving someone out.
"Yu?" You interrupt him while he's talking about the prank the fourth year pulled on Nanami. "What about Satoru? What's he up to?"Â
Maybe you were overthinking things. Haibara likes to talk; perhaps he forgot to exclude someone else's story in his rants. But then, he grimaces. For the first time in this entire conversation, Haibara is reluctant to talk.Â
"Satoru is..." He winces, and your hands turn into fists.Â
No. No. You were supposed to save everyone. Why hadn't you saved everyone?Â
A warm hand grips your own. You'd been shaking.Â
Yu gives a soft smile, and you remember he's no longer younger than you.Â
"He's not dead." He assures you, but his smile fades. He straightens himself up, and his hand pulls away.Â
"Satoru defected from Jujutsu tech. We don't know where he is."Â
What? You must have misheard him wrong. Satoru wouldn't do that. That's not like him. This is some sick joke.
But there's no teasing grin on Haibara. His face is grave. You hate it more than anything.Â
"It happened when he was a fourth year. No one really knows what happened. Suguru refuses to say anything about it, but I think he's just as confused as the rest of us. It came outta nowhere."Â
Yeah, it definitely came out of nowhere. It's so random. Why would Satoru do that? The last time you saw him, he was so happy. He was smiling; he teased you. What happened? It made no sense.Â
"So, you haven't seen him for nine years?" You ask. "Not even a glimpse?"Â
Yu shakes his head. "Nothing but his residuals. That's how we know he's still alive."Â
Nothing computes in your brain. None of it made any sense. You saved Suguru. That was supposed to make everyone happy, including Satoru. Why would he turn around and do this? Defecting made no sense.
"We've actually been tasked to execute him. Since heâs been branded a curse user, all four of us. " Yu laughs with no humor. "Isn't that insane? I don't think any one of us could even fathom doing that, even if it were possible."Â
It wasn't possible. Gojo was the strongest. Nothing could go toe to toe with him. Once he put his mind to something, no one could stop him.
But maybe you could.Â
You're shutting that idea down immediately. You were done. You were done with dying and time-travel and strange powers. You wanted it all to be over. It'd be so easy to thank Haibara for the nice meal, to go home and sleep this entire day off. Satoru dug his own grave, he can go lay in it. You weren't responsible for someone else's actions. You wouldnât. You canât do that another time.
You're the kind of person who'll jump in front of a truck to save a kitten, right?
You hate that brat so much.Â
You close your eyes. Take in a breath. Then, you open them.Â
"Haibara?" You ask. "Did Gojo tell you how my technique worked?"Â
He shakes his head. You grimace because convincing him might take a while.
"Okay, well, I'll need you to do a tiny favor for me."
â´ľ
"What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"Oh, you're back already?" Satoru says casually, turning back to gaze at you. "I just left today. How did you convince Haibara to snap your neck? That guy cries after killing a mosquito.â
Youâd caught him just as he was leaving campus. Yuâs body was less athletic than Suguruâs. Your breath was slightly ragged, pulled down by minor exhaustion.
It doesnât weigh down your frustration for Gojo Satoru. The biggest pain in your ass youâve ever met.
âShut up.â You snap. âJust answer the question.â
âWe havenât seen each other for a year and thatâs how you react?â Satoru ignores you. âThatâs mean, Greeny. How âbout we discuss my treason over steak. Haibara can pay.â
âSatoru.â You beg, âWhy are you doing this? Whatâs the point? Why is everyone happy with their life except for you?â
That seems to get him. His posture stiffens ever so slightly. You can see him work his jaw. He finally drops his act.
âYou didnât have to come back, yâknow.â He murmurs quietly. âYou couldâve just stayed in the future. Like you said, Greeny, everyoneâs happy with their life. 4 outtaâ five. Thatâs a passing grade.â
For once, you wish you could possess him. You wished you could open his brain and peer into his memories until he finally made sense.
âI could never leave you behind like that.â You say the truth just as quietly. âIâll die a thousand more deaths than do that.â
He smiles. It looks genuine as it looks painful.
âYeah, I know. I know you, Greeny. Always gottaâ play hero.â He gives a bitter laugh. âThatâs why I defected.â
You stare at him. Heâs a fourth-year now, even taller than before. You arenât equal to him anymore in this body, now youâre starting to think you never were.
âSatoru.â You start because what heâs saying canât be the truth. Your heart broke and broke. âDidâdid you leaveâdid you leave everyone for a decade just so Iâd come back? Why would you do that to yourself?â
He doesnât say anything. Then, he steps forward, just a bit.
âItâs your fault,â Satoru says like itâs instinct to blame you for his actions, âthis was your idea.â
Whatâs he talking about? And then memories of the two of you sitting on that bench just outside of campus.
What would you do if...thereâs something you really want, but no matter how fast you run, you just canât catch up to it? So thatâs what he meant. You were an idiot.
âThatâs not fair, Satoru,â you say regardless, âIâI neverâI couldnât expect youâd do this.â
âWhat choice did I fucking have, Greeny?â Thereâs rapid steps and heâs in front of you, desperate and wild. âYouâyou just left me here. You left me alone and I couldnât even look for you because I know nothing about you. Your face, your eyes, your hair, not even your fucking name! Howâs that fair?â
Itâs true. Itâs all true. As much as you tried to claim you tried to make everyone happy, you only focused on Suguru. And Suguruâs happiness enlisted space from the strongest. In a different timeline, things would be different between them. A button he never left behind. Words Satoru never said. That timeline held too much pain and suffering, so you scrubbed it from history. In this rendition, everything was changed. Suguru had Shoko. Yu had Kento. Who did Satoru have?
You saved Suguru in this timeline. But to save him, you neglected Satoru.
Satoru must have known. He must have known you intentionally distanced Suguru from him, but he allowed it anyway. Satoruâs selfless like that. Too giving. Too Godlike.
But heâs selfish too. Purposefully demeaning himself so he could get one more glimpse of you, uncaring if you went through hell for his sake. Too taking. Too human.
Once, you told him that if he was selfish, just once, you wouldnât fault him. What a liar you are.
You forgive Satoru.
âIâm sorry.â Haibaraâs voice is like your own. You step closer. His infinity lets you in. âIâm sorry Satoru. I didnât mean to leave you alone.â
Itâs hard to wrap him in a hug. The bratâs too big. He sinks into your touch like a tiger, filled with dangerous claws, retracted just for your sake. He shakes the tiniest bit; even now, heâs keeping himself as a pinnacle. If you hear a sniffle or two, you donât comment on it.
Itâs why your heart breaks to tell him the truth.
âI canât give you my name.â You whisper in his ear. He pulls back. He doesnât look at you.
âYeah, I know. I know. time-travel bullshitââ
âFor now.â You add. âI canât do that for now.â
Three pairs of eyes look at you. Youâre not hiding behind Haibara anymore. Youâre not trying to.
âDecember 24th, 2017. 8:06. Tokyo Skytree.â You look at him. âCan you wait until then?â
For you, itâd only be an hour. For Satoru, itâd be a decade.
You expect him to reject it, to yell at you. You decide if he wants to be selfish; youâd let him.
âIf you donât show up, Iâll turn evil.â You laugh. His grin widens and heâs back again. âIâm serious. Iâll take over the world. Iâll throw the biggest temper tantrum ever.â
âYouâre such a brat.â Thereâs no hostility in your tone. âI will. I promise.â
âIâll save you,â You promise in your head because heâs too prideful to hear it.
âIs it still possible for you to go back?â You ask, the wariness present again. âThe higher ups havenât taken any action against you, right?â
He shakes his head.
âI think Yaga might yell at me, but other than that.â He shrugs. âTheyâll decide itâs teen rebellion and sweep it under the rug.â
You laugh again. Satoru shoots you a toothy grin.
When you reach out a hand, Satoru mirrors you. He clasps your hand in his. For once, you wonder how theyâll feel on your own.
âSee yaâ later, Greeny.â
A blink. Satoruâs gone. Your hand is empty, and youâre standing in the streets of Shinjuku once again.
â´ľ
December 24th, 2017. 8:06, at the top of the Tokyo Skytree.
Why did you decide on that date and time for all the places? You were so fucking stupid. You needed to stop being so poetic.
Itâs already 7:12 when youâre desperately waving down a taxi. The driver looks disinterested when you blubber out the location. When he tells you itâll cost extra because Sumida City isnât part of his route, youâre more than happy to fork over the money.
Itâs already 7:35 when you stumble through the interiors of Tokyo Skytree town. Itâs crowded. Fuck, itâs December 24th, of course people would be out and about.
At 7:44, you finally reach the observational building. And then you hit upon a snag.
Itâs closed.
Renovations, the sign reads, accompanied by an irritatingly cute drawing of a cat, please come visit us next week.
Would this excuse be enough to satisfy Satoru? Youâre only human. Surely heâd understand if you couldnât make it because the entire building was shut down.
Or wait. Was this Satoruâs doing?
You look up at the tower. Lights were still on and flickering. No crowds. No people. No prying eyes.
Let it be known that youâve never trespassed before, until you met Gojo Satoru.
With a guilty conscious, you step over the line. You justify it by convincing yourself you were saving the world because you know Satoru wasnât joking a decade ago.
The elevators still worked. Thank God. Yet another hint heâs paving the way for you. You made the location, but it feels like youâre a mouse stuck in a human-designed maze. Even though you set up the game, heâs still managed to rig it.
You land on the first deck at 7:52. At 7:56, you reach the second observational deck.
Itâs empty. Youâve never seen the skytree so empty before. Not a single soul is here except for you. Your footsteps echo across the floor. Were you early?
Out the corner of your eye, thereâs a post-it note stuck on the window. A hand-drawn arrow. Up ahead, thereâs another one.
You follow the next, and then the next. All the time you donât know how to feel about him doing all of this just for an encounter. Something bubbles in your stomach. Youâre pushing it down.
You follow the post-its until thereâs one placed right on top of a door.
Authorized personnel only. Why does this brat continue to test you?
But itâs already 8:03; youâre far too deep to complain.
A service elevator greets you. If you press the button, itâll take you all the way up to the broadcast equipment, the top of the Tokyo Skytree.
Itâs different from the past two elevator rides. The service elevator isnât all that polished. The wheels squeak a little too dangerously at times. Itâs slower, too.
Thatâs bad, because now youâre starting to think.
That familiar feeling boils within your stomach, again. Youâre anxious. Itâs strange to say, but meeting Satoru through Suguru, meeting Satoru through Yu, it felt like you had a protective shell around yourself. You were free from his judgement, only invoking curiosity.
If you show yourself to him, how would he react? What would he say? Would he get angry that you made him wait a decade for such a blunder? Even worse, what if he doesnât get angry?
What ifâwhat if heâs disappointed by you?
Cold feet. It freezes your toes. You want to go back. You want the elevator to go back down, you want to go home and hide away.
But you promised Satoru. He deserves answers.
Pathetic answers are better than no answers at all.
Instead of your soul being protected by a sorcerer's body, itâs protected by your own. Youâd steel yourself for whatever comes next. You could melt after.
Itâs windy up here. Thatâs the first thing you notice. Icy wind cuts at your face and your eyes squint so they donât dry out so quickly. Itâs colder, too; your jacket is nice protection, but nothing helps your vulnerable hands.
But the view. Oh, what a view.
The sea of twinkling lights shines from the city. The sun has set, leaving Tokyo to do nothing but shine. Sheâs gorgeous like sheâs picked the stars from the sky, burying them within her own soul. You could stay there forever, if she let you.
Itâs 8:09. Satoru was late.
Or maybe he just wasnât planning to show up.
You lean away from the railing. Itâs just like him to make huge gestures and at the last moment, ditch everything. The balloon in your lungs deflates ever so slightly.
And then, you can feel hands.
Around your shoulders, caging you in. Large and warm despite the icy air. You know these hands. Theyâre familiar, even a decade later. His chest presses up against your back. His face settles in the crook of your neck.
His laugh tickles your ear, and you arenât so cold anymore.
âCaught ya, Greeny.â
(âDid something happen to you, back there in the house?â
"Hm?" Suguru asked.
They were wading through long grass and overgrown weeds. Satoru glances at his friend. Suguru looks fine. His cursed energy has gone back to normal. That's probably good.
"You were just acting weird," Satoru said, "I mean you fell on your ass in front of a curse. Embarrassing."
Suguru huffed, a red hue across his cheeks. "Shut up, don't remind me."
'So he remembered,' Satoru thinks, 'didn't expect that.'
They're almost to the car when Suguru speaks again.
"Actually, I did feel a little strange," he says, "I felt like I wasn't really all there. There was this voice, guiding me along."
"Really?" Satoru shivers. "That sounds creepy."
So the entity within Suguru was a bad thing after all. He should try to get rid of it if it ever comes back. It might take a complex spell or something-
"Not really." Suguru said. "It's hard to explain, but it felt....nice."
"Nice?" Satoru echoes.
"Yeah."
And then it's quiet again.)
Part two: Rewound Infinitely
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Let's Talk About Security Culture: Why Keeping Secrets is Cool and Sexy
It's a natural impulse -- if you love crime -- to want to talk about how great it is. And if you hate America, it's only natural to want to share your dreams for its future with the rest of tumblr dot com. It can feel brave and transgressive. And there is a drive to share your soul with the world at the heart of social media. Surely I should be posting the most concrete implications of my politics, right? This is the poster's curse.
Security Culture refers to a set of "best practices" developed over the past several decades, largely (in a US context) coming out of radical environmental groups as they faced intense state repression, infiltration and entrapment. If you're not familiar, there's some fascinating crimethinc write ups to give you a window into that world:
Much of it boils down to: don't talk about crimes, past or forthcoming with people who don't need to know about them, and be mindful of the possibility of surveillance and infiltration. And, we can support each other as a community in minimizing risks, with an eye towards enabling bold action rather than getting bogged down in fears and anxieties. The guidelines that make sense for AG-based trouble-makers are different from the guidelines that make sense for posters, but plenty of common principles apply. To speak briefly to our position here as posters:
First, it bears saying that long term anonymity is extremely nearly impossible to maintain. Unless you've never accessed Tumblr without a vpn, and avoided connections with other ppl who can be associated with you/your location, and never shared pictures without scrubbing metadata, and a bunch of other 100% consistent steps, it's trivial for the state to know who you are.
Second, just because something isn't actively being prosecuted now doesn't mean it can't be prosecuted later. The priorities of the state change and a shift in power towards the right or a growth in radical action from the left can suddenly make it a priority to destroy anarchist networks or just find a few ppl to prosecute as examples (who probably weren't that plugged into larger networks before getting arrested. Advocating for specific anti-government crimes or declarations of intent to commit such crimes are likely prosecutable even if charges don't stick they're an easy vector for legal harassment.
Third, it's worth thinking about heat as separate from prosecutability. There are modes of engagement that may not be directly criminalized but signal that you are someone worth watching. Some people choose to be public in ways that make heat unavoidable. But it's worth noting that heat isn't strictly individualized, that it persists over time but also is going to shrink over time.
It's easy on here, ime, to see yourself as a proud member of the crime fandom but not much of a content creator. And it's easy to feel like you've generated an amount of heat where you're locked into that role. But heat you generated 10 years ago is probably pretty well gone. Heat you generated 5 years ago has faded substantially. It's worth thinking about how the world might shift in the coming years and what doors you want to keep open.
The non-individualized nature of heat also means that leaning into the spiciest of anti-state positions will make it a bad idea for people who are acting out those positions end up tied to you. Loudly talking about how "more people should be doing [X/Y/Z]" unfortunately sets you up to remain distant from people who might be doing or thinking about doing such things.
Which brings me back to: keeping secrets is sexy. Not spelling everything out builds intrigue. You can lay out a theoretical position and leave working out the practical implications of that as an exercise for the reader. There's value in opacity. The poster's curse and the drive to confess are extremely convenient for the state, but we can resist them. We can hold dreams in our hearts that we refuse to offer up to the posting spectacle.
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â CASUAL.
SUMMARY. youâre mad at tyler after an argument, he decides to win you over by bringing in your favorite food and taking you to a rodeo, when you think that his charm was working, an EF-4 tornado strikes.
WARNINGS. angst (happy ending though), tornado attack.
WORD COUNT. 1.2k
you were lying down in your bed, attempting to go to sleep or at least take a nap given that it was 8:21 p.m. you found yourself staring at the ceiling, listening to the music and people singing outside.
you canât help but toss and turn around as you overthink about the argument you had with tyler. tyler was your best friend, childhood neighbor, situationship, you donât even know at this point. and although tyler and you were always risk takers, some risks are too hard for you to handle, but boone and tyler are a dangerous duo.
when you graduated high school you went straight to college and studied meteorology, you didnât waste another second of your life and did everything that it took to where you are now. but, tyler and you were separated for college, you were halfway across the country while he stayed in his hometown. but when you graduated college, you went back home.
the both of you caught up on everything each other missed, and next thing you know, you ended up joining tylerâs storm-chasing team, the thing is, by something that happened to you in the past, you always rode alongside Dexter and Dani, there were moments where you rode with tyler, but you were always harnassed up even if you werenât inside the tornado yet.
your train of thoughts were so rudely interrupted by the knock at your door. you sit up and take a breath before walking over to the door. before opening it, you were thinking to yourself that maybe it was going to be your mother, or your sister, not tyler owens. he sees the expression on your face and smiles, attempting to cheer you up.
âheyâŚâ your nose flares, he notices and chuckles. âi brought your favorite⌠Tina Maeâs chocolate pieâŚâ he hands it over to you and you take it. âmaybe if you let me in we can shaââ his words were cut off by the door slamming on his face. his eyebrows raised and he froze.
you put the pie on the desk next to your bed and open the bag, and it is indeed your favorite chocolate pie. you smile to yourself and head back to the door, as expected, tyler was still there.
âif you think youâre always gonna take me back with my favorite food, youâre wrong.â i inhale sharply and tap on the door.
âwell, i wanted to do it another way if youâd let me show youâŚâ you raise your eyebrows and cringe. ânoâno, not like that, wellâŚâ he cocks an eyebrow and glances at you, you were about to close the door again but he stops it. âno, hey, iâm serious. get changed i want to take you somewhere.â he smiles. you hum and close the door gently so you can get changed.
âyou canât be serious. do you want me to forgive you or hate you more, tyler owens?â you say as you take your seats in the rodeoâs benches.
âbit of both.â he smiles, and you chuckle whilst shaking your head. âlook, y/n, iâm sorry.â
âyouâre apologizing here? reaââ tyler touches your knee softly, cutting you off.
âiâm sorry, sorry for what i said earlier. i shouldnât have said those things. youâve been through so many things i canât even begin to imagine, and it wasnât my place to say anything about that. you know i would never do anything to hurt you, i am sorry.â the soft glow in his eye made you feel the truth he was saying. you nod and smile.
âand why would you ever think i wouldnât forgive you?â tyler smiles at your words and so do you. âi think i should be the one apologizing, i tried to stop you from doing something you gave years of experience, and that was out of place and overprotective and unnecessary.â
âno, no, itâs okay. you of all people know about these stupid risks i take, i was a bull rider for Godâs sake! I know you hated that.â you laugh.
âyeah, i think i hated that more than storm chasing.â he chuckles and glances at you, there was a small silence until you broke it. âi just⌠i donât want to lose you, ty.â
âyouâre never going to lose me.â you look over at him, your eyes stinging as you feel some tears coming. he wraps an arm around you and holds you. âyou wonât.â he reassures you nod and after a while, let go.
âyou and that stupid faceâŚâ you look away, trying to hide a smile.
âwait what?â
âevery time i was cleaning blood off of you, whenever you got knocked off your bull, you would always make that stupid face, or like look at me some way like you were trying to get me to kiss you.â he raises an eyebrow and you look at him again.
âoh, you mean my charm? i already come with it, itâs not something i do on command.â you roll your eyes and click your tongue.
âwell, âyour charmâ has never worked on me. never has, never will.â the two of you share a soft smile, all while maintaining that potent eye contact.
you donât know if it was the tension, but you had sudden goosebumps and started getting chilly. although your hair was in a ponytail, your bangs were getting in the way, you never took your eyes off of tylerâs but you could see his hair starting to get messy too.
âwell, i donât know about you but, i think itâs working pretty well now.â he moves the strands of hair out of your face and tucks it gently behind your ear before cupping your cheeks.
âabout time.â you manage to let out seconds before his lips are on yours. your heart was racing the whole time, but you felt it could come out of your chest any second now.
the kiss started slow and gentle, but the moment you smiled into it, tyler deepened the kiss, you placed your hand behind his neck and ran your fingers through his hair, which made you notice how much his hair was moving around, as much as it pained you doing it, you pulled away and saw people walking away from the stands. you look around and pick up a leaf from the ground.
tyler notices and the two of you exchange a look. you both stand up and head for shelter, you feel the winds get stronger and thatâs when you start to run, helping some people who have tripped along the way, but not wasting more than a second.
tyler and you managed to find a motel and in that motel an empty pool, where you sought shelter until the tornado passed over you. at that moment tyler had to help a man that had twisted his ankle, and a vending machine was blocking his way, due to the man panicking, he was gone.
tyler hid with you and another family of a mother and her daughter. the grip you had on tyler and that he had on you was like no other. you felt tyler plant kisses on your head to calm you down as you felt the tornado right above you, you held onto some pipes and his arms tightly, fearing for your life at that very moment.
when the tornado passed, you didnât even want to let go of tyler, you hugged him and stayed with his arm wrapped around you the whole night, even when you shared your bed with him.
âi know, âbaby, no attachment.â but weâre⌠â
i have a âTwistersâ fic on wattpad if yâall wanna check it out! https://www.wattpad.com/story/374563132?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details&wp_uname=hearts4johnwick ἍáĄ
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Growing Pains Pt 2 | Oscar Piastri x Reader
Summary: Oscar thought leaving was the best thing for you, but quickly realised he cannot function without you.
Warnings: Swearing. Fluff. Suggestive content.
2024 season. Childhood sweethearts. No facelaim, just rando Pinterest pics
This acc just ended up being Landoscar fluff because I consumed too much of them after Silverstone lol
F1 Masterlist
prev.
ââââ ŕźťđĽ¸ŕźş ââââ
mclaren just posted
liked by aussiegrit, ln4 and others
mclaren oscarâs post race interviews #bahraingpÂ
2,559 comments
mclaren please enjoy some clips of our aussie talking about the one aspect of his life NOT involved with his job
â user1 did mclaren just hard launch a relationship?
â user2 no because why did they post clips that specifically donât mention a name
â user3 yes but the familiarity of the way heâs talking about this girl must mean itâs one heâs known since he was 14???
danielricciardo caught simping in 4k
thisisnotyn oscar sweaty got me feeling some kind of wayÂ
charles_leclerc oh god, that goofy smile is back. i know what that means
â maxverstappen1 heâs going to start yapping more than i do
â user4 what do you know?!
alex_albon mate, iâm not going to lie, i donât think we can defend you from this anymore
â oscarpiastri you sent me memes of my face. you have never defended me
â georgerussell63 join the club. wait until he sends you reaction gifsÂ
â landonorris i love getting thoseÂ
YourUserName pookieÂ
â user5 um, is she calling oscar pookie?
â user6 well, itâs not going to be lando. he was only in one of the clipsÂ
â user7 idk, we donât know what happened between them. it couldâve been a bad breakup and she might be trying to piss them off
â landonorris ew, no. itâs not me. they made up weeks ago btw. no way osco wouldâve lasted this long without his yn
â YourUserName what do you mean ew! youâd be lucky to have me
â danielricciardo no he wouldnât
oscarpiastri i also talked a lot about my performance in the race
â landonorris and where is that footage, huh??? funny how it doesnât existÂ
â oscapiastri yn says youâre not allowed to tag along to date night anymore because you insulted both of usÂ
â landonorris :(
â user8 what do you mean he tagged along on date night?
â user9 why are we skipping past the fact that lando confirmed that theyâre back together
ââââ ŕźťđĽ¸ŕźş ââââ
YourUserName just posted
liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and othersÂ
YourUserName ladies, get a boyfriend who looks at you the way Oscar looks at Lando (actually, can you get me one first because mine seems to be broken)Â
1,142 comments
oscarpiastri whoa, you told me i was a handsome boy. that photo doesnât look like a handsome boyÂ
â YourUserName some people are into the serial killer eyes. not me though, thatâs why iâm asking the fans to find me a new bf
â logansargeant iâll help
â user10 we know which side logan is choosing in the divorceÂ
landonorris how does it feel to know that your boyfriend likes me moreÂ
â YourUserName i know how to cut brake lines
â landonorris đ°đ°
â mclaren yn, please donât threaten our drivers
â YourUserName hey, iâll take them both out if they donât end their affairÂ
â oscarpiastri and here i was thinking you would cut his brake lines so i could get on the podium insteadÂ
â YourUserName sure, we can go with that
user11 can we take a moment to enjoy the fact that theyâve been back together for 4 months and heâs still letting her bully him
â YourUserName iâm riding the guilt trip until the very endÂ
â oscarpiastri i love you
â YourUserName i know
â landonorris but not as much as he loves me!Â
â YourUserName i know where you sleep
â landonorris yeah, with your boyfriend!
â oscarpiastri donât tell the internet that!Â
danielricciardo lando used to look at me that way
â YourUserName i think we should start a spurned wags group
â danielricciardo iâll bring the wine
â YourUserName iâll bring the lightning mcqueen crocs
â liamlawson30 can i join?
oscarpiastri sweetheart, you know youâre the light of my life
â YourUserName didnât feel that way when you guided lando away from a puddle and let me put my foot right in it
â oscarpiastri i gave you my socks!Â
â YourUserName they were sweaty
â oscarpiastri itâs all i hadâŚÂ
â mclaren yn, please stop bullying him. we can hear him crying from his driverâs room
â user12 no because the fact that the majority of mclaren adminâs online interactions are just begging yn to behaveÂ
ââââ ŕźťđĽ¸ŕźş ââââ
oscarpiastri just posted
liked by logansargeant, YourUserName and others
oscarpiastri when you say date night and she says Iâm not putting pants onÂ
2,329 comments
YourUserName thank you for sharing your pizza with me after i burnt mine <3
â oscarpiastri i canât wait to share more with you
landonorris did she hide in your neck at the scary partsÂ
â oscarpiastri no she fucking laughed at the way he was running
â landonorris you cuddled into her neck at the scary parts, didnât youÂ
â oscarpiastri i plead the fifth
â YourUserName itâs okay, princess, you know iâll always protect youÂ
logansargeant no because they had their âdate nightâ 3 days ago and the paintings they did of each other are hanging in their bathroom, and when i tell you they were a shock to the system
â user13 logan, show them to us, please
YourUserName itâs not my fault that itâs hard to keep pants on when youâre aroundÂ
liked by oscarpiastri
â mclaren we talked about thisÂ
â landonorris my eyes!Â
â user14 @ aussiegrit come get your kids
â YourUserName donât tag him in it. mark still thinks iâm nice
â oscarpiastri no, he knows youâre a gremlin
arthur_leclerc not you trying to pretend that you are romantic when you asked me for all of those ideas
â YourUserName oh really?
â oscarpiastri i had a whole night planned and you decided you didnât want to go out!
â alex_albon no because you really had him stressing
â georgerussell63 he was even messaging the grid group chatÂ
â danielricciardo he had a whole group of guys debating the best alternative to rose petals
â YourUserName because i donât like roses 𼚠oh, osc. it was perfect
â oscarpiastri đ¤đ¤
â user15 anyone else finding this suspicious
charles_leclerc a date night to remember, iâm sure. and not for the lack of pantsÂ
ââââ ŕźťđĽ¸ŕźş ââââ
user1 rough night in the piastri house, heâs upset mom and wifeyÂ
arthur_leclerc welcome to the family, oscar. please donât bring yn with you
â YourUserName youâre just jealous that i didnât want dinner with youÂ
â maxverstappen1 wait, i thought i was your favourite. why donât you want dinner with me?
â charles_leclerc you are welcome for dinner anytime, yn
â oscarpiastri see, what youâve done. now lestappen are fighting. you promised to keep your crushes to yourself
user2 i love how now that oscar is past his rookie year, his true personality of being a gremlin has come outÂ
â user3 now that shy oscar has gone weâre seeing just how well he pairs with yn
â arthur_leclerc and i can guarantee the grid are missing shy oscar. i have had to put up with this since 2021
â georgerussell63 i can confirm we do
â logansargeant now you understand why i prefer to be quiet. if you donât talk, they canât bully youÂ
â georgerussell63 my name on ynâs phone is amelia georgehartÂ
â oscarpiastri weâve been together for years and mine is peestri pants, count yourself lucky
â YourUserName landoâs is just fucker.Â
â landonorris the full stop included?Â
nicolepiastri i have some questionsÂ
ââââ ŕźťđĽ¸ŕźş ââââ
YourUserName just posted
liked by lilymhe, alexandrasaintmleux and others
YourUserName weekends away with you Â
1,012 comments
YourUserName thank you for a lovely weekend away from the madness. i could spend forever with you in our little bubbleÂ
â danielricciardo oh wow so youâre both simps?
â YourUserName look away! i have a reputation to maintain
â oscarpiastri no you donât. you luuuuurve me
landonorris i canât believe you left me behindÂ
charles_leclerc remove your head from that poor girlâs shirt. i raised you better than that
pierregasly someone convince kiks to do this with me. she refuses to go camping
â francisca.cgomes because neither of us would survive sleeping on the ground
â oscarpiastri neither would yn if not for the fact that we camped in the back garden
â YourUserName why would i want to go somewhere without a functioning toilet!Â
logansargeant where is your shirt. nobody wants to see thatÂ
â YourUserName i think youâll find that i didÂ
â oscarpiastri sheâs a big fan
mclaren please come back, we miss youÂ
â oscarpiastri yn says she still has another weekend before she has to return me
â mclaren we were talking to yn
â YourUserName miss you too, boo đ§Ą
â landonorris why donât you speak to me like thatÂ
â YourUserName âcause you stole my osc
â oscarpiastri no one could take me from youÂ
user4 no because that last pic screams engagement photo and i don't know why
ââââ ŕźťđĽ¸ŕźş ââââ
charles_leclerc just posted
liked by arthur_leclerc, carlossainz55 and others
charles_leclerc i am an incredibly proud father right now Â
10,226 comments
oscarpiastri in other words, i convinced the prettiest girl in the world to marry meÂ
â YourUserName and now i have the prettiest husband in the worldÂ
user5 how is lando taking oscar looking at someone else that way?
â landonorris not well
â danielricciardo he cried the whole day
â YourUserName thatâs why i gave him my flowers
â landonorris no i earnt those!
â lilymhe yeah, i still have the bruises!Â
user6 miss rabbit has faintedÂ
YourUserName i enjoyed our father-daughter dance
â fernandoalo_official @ aussiegrit the monegasque is trying to steal our children
â oscarpiastri now iâm in trouble with mark
â YourUserName iâll make it up to you on our honeymoon
â oscarpiastri đłâşď¸
user6 fuck you to all the bitches who said they wouldnât last because theyâve never dated anyone else
mclaren what a beautiful couple. i think we need to put those up around MTC
â YourUserName i think zak would really appreciate them in his office
â oscarpiastri what makes you think i havenât already put them up around MTC. gotta keep my wife with me wherever i go
â YourUserName stop making me giggleÂ
user7 definition of soulmatesÂ
arthur_leclerc welcome to the family, yn. even though i asked oscar to leave you behind when he was adoptedÂ
ââââ ŕźťđĽ¸ŕźş ââââ
YourUserName just posted
liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and others
YourUserName i made somethingÂ
10,229 comments
nicolepiastri and an amazing job you did, sweetheart
â YourUserName i love you đ
â user8 nicer to mama piastri than she is to her own husbandÂ
oscarpiastri i helped
â YourUserName you contributed for like 2 seconds
â oscarpiastri stop being mean to me or i may fall in love with youÂ
â landonorris 2 second wonder
â YourUserName you would know
charles_leclerc iâm too handsome to be a grandpapaÂ
â YourUserName certified gilfÂ
â oscarpiastri i cannot believe you made me read that. i thought you were better than this
â YourUserName whoa, i have never been better than this and you know that but i can blame it on baby hormones this time
â charles_leclerc and oscar will let you get away with it
â oscarpiastri damn right. she just had my baby
landonorris does this mean i get the chance to win godfather of the year
â danielricciardo donât tell me they actually named you godfather. you can barely keep yourself alive
â logansargeant yn got to pick me so oscar was given the choice to pick the other
â oscarpiastri we made the decision together as loving parental unitÂ
â YourUserName the decision was made whilst i was high on gas and motherly loveÂ
â oscarpiastri stop making it sound like i coerced you
â YourUserName you had your top off! of course i was coerced. piastitties
â mclaren yn, no
oscarpiastri sweetheart, i have loved you every day since we were 14 and being by your side these past 9 months, watching you go through such a monumental change, only proved that it was possible for me to love you even more. i canât wait to see our family grow đ
â YourUserName i love you so much, oscie. from growing with you to growing our own mini us, iâd go through all the pain again for forever with you
ââââ ŕźťđĽ¸ŕźş ââââ
Hi, guys. If you have requested previously, I promise they're coming. I've just got them added to my list
Baby Fever Angst Series
Charles's Version | Daniel's Version
Lance's Version | Lando's Version | Max's Version
Tag list
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Hi! I would love to request something for Aemond x fem or gn reader. I was thinking reader saying prompt. 15 from your general list âI fell in love with you. Not for how you look, just for who you are. Although you look pretty great too."
Maybe one day he wakes up with bad pain in the eye and he doesnât feel like calling the maester so they help him, they remove his eyepatch and apply his ointment for him. And he feels extremely insecure because itâs the first they saw him without the eyepatch but they reassure him. I need that man to cry in my arms as I tell him heâs beautiful (I know it may sound ooc but heâs my babygirl)
15. ''I fell in love with you. Not for how you look, just for who you are. Although you look pretty great too.''
The gif from the trailer fits perfectly this request
Warnings: mention of past injuries (eye)
my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time
â
You returned to your chambers after spending the morning embroidering with Helaena to find Aemond still in bed. A frown drew between your eyebrows. At this hour, he was either training with Ser Criston or attending the small council meeting.
ââAemond?ââ Your soft voice cut through the silence of the room, waking your husbandâs attention.
He shifted under the covers, his single eye fluttering open. ââCould you tell Cole I will not be training with him today?ââ
You walked over to the bed, taking a closer look at him. ââAre you well?ââ You touched his forehead with the back of your hand, checking for a fever.
ââItâs justâŚmy eye. It gets irritated sometimes.ââ Aemond avoided your gaze, not wanting to see the familiar look of pity that he had grown all too used to seeing in the eyes of others. ââWould you want me to fetch the maester? He should have something to sooth your pain,ââ you offered, concern etched on your face.
ââNo need for the maester.ââ He gently caught your hand in his own, stopping you from rising. ââI already have a salve Maester Orwyle gave to me. Itâs on the table, over there.ââ
Aemond let go of your hand, allowing you to stand and retrieve the salve for his eye. You returned to the bed. ââIâll do it for you.ââ
You had offered your help out of pure kindness, but Aemond did not want it.
ââNo! I do not wish that.ââ His voice was firm, causing your hands to crisp around the jar. ââYou wonât like what you see under,ââ he added with a gentler tone.
He knew what lay beneath the eyepatch â the grotesque, scarred skin that he had lived with for years now. It was a sight he preferred to keep hidden from everyone, even you. Especially you. Since youâve known each other, youâve only seen his good looks, and Aemond wanted to keep it that way.
Aemond let out a soft hiss of pain as he sat up, his body tense with discomfort. It had not been this bad in a long time.
Seeing him in pain made your heart ache, but you tried to hide it.
You sat down close to him and guided him back against the pillows. He clenched his jaw, trying to bear the pain.
ââLet me,ââ you insisted, only wanting to help him, to relieve his pain.
His good eye was fixed on yours with a mixture of resignation and reluctance. He knew there was no arguing with you when you were like this.
With a resigned sigh, he slowly removed the eyepatch, revealing the scarred skin beneath. The sight was a stark contrast to his usual handsome features, with its puckered and uneven texture. He averted his gaze, unable to look at you directly.
Aemond waited for your response, his body tense, and braced for your reaction. He expected disgust, pity, perhaps even revulsion. After all, his scarred eye had left other people speechless in the past. He glanced up at you under his lashes, searching your face for any hint of how you were feeling.
You remained silent as you applied the salve on the reddish-pink skin with the more careful and gentle touch. Causing him more pain was the last thing you wanted.
Aemond couldn't help but watch you intently, studying the focused expression on your face. Your eyes were fixed on his scar, but there was no repugnance in your gaze, just a mixture of concern and tenderness.
Once you were finished, you put the lid back on the jar and cupped your husbandâs face with one hand. ââAemond,ââ you began, looking at him with the most loving eyes. ââI fell in love with you. Not for how you look, just for who you are.ââ You glanced down at his naked chest, seeing the softly defined muscles he acquired from training, and back to his face. ââAlthough you look pretty great too.ââ
Aemond's heart squeezed at your words and the tenderness in your gaze. He had expected a lot of things from you, but not this. Not such unconditional acceptance and love.
"You're the only person who's ever looked at me like this," he murmured, his voice hoarse with emotion.
ââCome here.ââ You shifted back on the bed and guided him to your lap.
Aemond didnât protest, curling up to you, seeking comfort and closeness. You began to stroke his hair gently, running your fingers through the soft silver strands. The sensation was soothing and intimate, making him feel safe and entirely loved for the first time.
â
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