#you were supposed to save me not leave me in despair

[grinkening]

Thinking about marathon again…

I could fix Durandal

[hoshigray]

Pleasurable Practice

Here's what I got: when you're left in headquarters to study for an upcoming language skit, your boss and work crush, Miguel O'Hara, does what he can to help his subordinate. And he does, in more ways than one...

A/n: It's been a week since I saw the film in theaters, and my brain hasn't been the same. I tried very hard not to write for this man, but here we are. Sighhhh, I swear I wasn't this bad when playing EoT (curse you Oscar Issac, and the ATSV art department!!!). And it doesn't help that my social feeds are full of him...Anyway, I hope you enjoy this piece! It's WAY longer than I wanted, but I guess that's meant to show how much fun I had writing, hehehe~. Also, ty so so much for 600+ followers!!

Cw: Miguel x fem!reader - some ATSV spoilers so tread carefully - sexual context so minors DNI - fingering (fem! receiving) - cunnilingus - clitoral play (Miguel's fangs lightly brush your clit, but doesn't bite it) - praise - kisses on the stomach - pet names (amorcito/little love, mi alma/my soul; amor/my love; vida/my life) - sexual acts in public - outside intrusions, but you two don't get caught.

Wc: 2.8k

"Hey, Lyla. You sure you wanna leave me here?"

"Aww, you scared something would happen without me?" She chuckles when you shrug. "You'll be fine; everything's been taken care of for today. If something pops outta nowhere, you know where to find Miguel or give me a call. Alright, I'm outta here. Cya tomorrow~."

"Bye, Lyla~" With that, the pixelated woman signs off from your line of sight, and you slump into your chair with a sigh.

It's late at night in Nueva York. The Spider Society headquarters is still active, but fewer people occupy the halls and sectors in these late hours, you being one of them. You're sitting at a conference table by the teleportation room, taking in Margo's shift. But since things are quiet around here, you use this time to work on your homework.

Well, you would've if a pair of hands didn't suddenly come from behind and blocked your vision. "Guess who?"

You shake your head with a smile. "Aren't you supposed to be at Earth-50101 hanging with Gwen and Pav?"

The hands are removed, giving your shoulders a quick rub. "Can't say a quick bye before I'm off?" Hobie Brown walks from behind to sit on the table, avoiding the scattered papers on the surface. "What's all this? School?"

"Yeah," You pick up a paper with color-coordinated dialogues. " I got a reflection to finish and need to read this script for a skit in my modern language class on Wednesday."

"What language?"

"Spanish." You flip the script for him to look at. A giggle slips from you. "Suppose you can't help me, huh?"

Hobie grins. "Yo lo haría si pudiera." Your eyes go big. Of course, the guy who "doesn't believe in consistency" would know a thing or two about other languages.

".....Please stay and help me."

"Can't, perhaps next time." Another heavy sigh as the tall other gets up from the table and opens a portal to Pavitr's universe. "We'll save some snacks to bring back tomorrow. See ya then."

"Bye, Hobie." You groan with your head meeting the table surface as the portal vanishes with Hobie's dismissal. In despair, you lift your head up and proceed with your work.

It's about 11 p.m., and you were able to finish your paper in about two hours. It's now time to work on your Spanish script. Unfortunately, your class partner can't be here (obviously) to say his lines with you, but you two promised to highlight your lines and recite on your own downtime. So you follow through with the blue lines — your lines — avoiding the red lines and announcing all the words to the best you can.

After the third time around, you start to get to the rhythm of it. So in tune with what you're doing, you don't mind your surroundings as you circle around the table with your face glued to your script.

"What're you doing?"

However, it all comes to a halt when a voice startles you. So used to the silence and your own tone that you didn't notice a familiar man creep from behind you. Your eyes widen at the tall and well-built figure before you.

Miguel O'Hara, Spider-Man 2099 and the leader of the Spider Society — your boss who you have a major crush on and is still waiting for you to reply after nearly scaring you to death.

"O-Oh, Miguel, umm," you quickly straighten yourself up, but the heat in your face encroaches. "Sorry, didn't see ya there. I was just looking at this script."

"A script?" He slightly tilts his head, surveying your moves as you sit back at the table. He follows and peers behind your shoulder to see what you're working on. "For what?"

"It's for a skit in my Spanish class. I'm reciting my lines for Wednesday." He nods at your answer, glancing around to see you're alone. "Lyla signed off for a while, but she told me to tell you that if you 'need anyone to put a leash on you,' Jessica would answer the call."

The man narrowed his eyes and sucked his teeth, "of course she said that..." was all he murmured under his breath from his pixelated peer's words. With a heavy sigh, he turns back to the paper in your hand and extends out his. His silent request is answered when you pass him the sheet to skim. A brow is lifted. "Is the skit like some kind of married couple or—"

You confirm. "Yes. Our unit is on relationships, and my partner and I wanted to do a skit where the husband — my partner — comes home and surprises his wife with their favorite flower and then gives a nice speech on how much he loves her." Miguel still reads the script, but you continue on. "Luckily, our instructor said it's not our final where it's required to talk entirely in Spanish. So, we can say some English phrases or words if our brains go blank."

Miguel finally stops examining the script and eyes at you. "I can help."

Huh? "Excuse me?"

"You're the blue lines, right?" Correct. "Then I can be the red lines and help you practice."

Wait, no! "Oh no, there's no need for that, Miguel! I'm sure you're busy looking at the screens on your station and—"

"No pasa nada, Y/n," You gulp when he grabs a chair and sits close to you. "I'll say your partner's parts, and you reply with yours." There's no use in arguing with him out of this, so you just follow suit.

For the past thirty minutes, you and Miguel have been practicing. Sometimes he'll call you out on words you forget or mispronounce, which hurts your little heart being scolded like a child. But then there are times when he praises you for saying something correctly without second-guessing, or he'll ask for a pen to scratch off something and write a better phrase for you to say. And you can tell that your memorization's been improving thanks to his help. Maybe there was no need to be nervous.

The time is now 11:46, and you feel way more confident about this skit than before. Miguel can also tell by how much you've performed that you'll do fine on Wednesday. Guess that should do it. He puts the script down and gets up, heading back to his original post.

"Hey, wanna do the actual skit with me?"

Huh? "What?"

"Well, I was thinking," You squeak. "Maybe we can try acting out the skit without the paper now that I'm kinda getting the hang of it? But, I mean, that's only if you're okay with it, ya know..."

His brows trench down. Miguel knows he shouldn't do it; there are many universes in his post that he needs to keep an eye on in case anything pops off. He can't afford to just act out a scenario for some class. However, when he glances back at you, he faces mixed feelings. Your eyes look at his, nibbling on your bottom lip, and your fingers fidget with each other as you wait for his answer.

Miguel knows he shouldn't...but it won't hurt to comply this one time.

"Fine," your heart skips when he turns back to face you fully. "But don't mention it to Lyla or Jess. I'll never hear the end of it from those two."

"Of course!" You reassure him as you ready yourself, mentally calming the happiness brewing inside down. "You go."

He nods and plays the scene. He acts like he opens a door and holds an imaginary object. "Estoy en casa, cariño."

"Oh, bienvenido a casa, bebé!" You rush to Miguel and give him a hug. You feel him go rigid, and you freeze. Wait, he's still my boss and not my actual partner! Oh, God, I bet he regrets doing this now...Ughhh!! Commit now, cry later!

You quickly improvise and pull him by his spider suit to come close, placing pretend kisses on his cheeks. "Llegas pronto a casa, mi guapo muñeco. Is something wrong?"

Miguel stares at you for a few seconds before he blinks and coughs. "Ahem, Querida, vine temprano porque es tu cumpleaños. Y quería darte esto." The hand with the invisible object comes up, and you take it.

"Dios mío, ¿mi flor favorita en mi día especial?" You give the man a warm smile and place a hand on his cheek, stroking his skin lovingly. Miguel hitches his breath. "Eres demasiado buena conmigo, muñeco. Pero no tenías que regalarme nada."

It takes Miguel a moment, but he coughs once more and returns to the task. "Puede que la flor no fuera necesaria, pero tenía que conseguirla para ti, mi amor." He puts a hand on yours that's still on his cheek, now it's your turn to slow your breathing. "Cada vez que veo esta flor, sólo puedo pensar en ti. No sólo hoy, sino todos los días. Veo todo lo que haces por mí y nunca lo doy por sentado. You are my everything, Y/n. Tú eres mi mundo. Mi luz. Mi corazón. Mi… Mi…"

He stops, noticing your expression and shallow breaths. Your eyes never leave his, mouth agape, and your attention entirely on his words— no, on him. Even in this little act, you dare not move or say something out of turn. Listening to the man before you intently, your hand still in his.

He knows he shouldn't, but Miguel leans into you, and a small gasp leaves you before his lips press onto your soft ones. "....Mi alma."

Your brain short-circuits, the feel of his lips overtaking you. You awkwardly kiss him back, resulting in a moan from Miguel. He grabs your waist while pushing himself forward, making you walk backwards until you hit the table. The bump has you two break the kiss, forcing you back to reality.

Miguel says nothing, and so do you, your eyes honing in on his deep red orbs. Your thoughts go too fast that your head pounds. What? What was that? Did he mean to do that??

"Túmbate."

He captures your attention. "What?"

"Lie down, mi amor." He commands in a stern voice. Hesitance restrains you, yet you still follow orders and sit on the table with your back to the surface. A small smile creeps up on Miguel, and he leans down to plant more kisses on your sweet lips. "Good. Now, say your part."

Slow smooches from your chin to your neck leave you breathless. Although the heat in your face is unbearable, you play along and stick to the script. "My wonderful husband...Y...You are so thought—"

"Se supone que está en español, Y/n." He corrects you. Lifting your shirt to reveal your abdomen. Miguel kisses your exposed tummy while his hand snakes past your bottoms, pressing a finger down on the wet spot of your clothed vulva. Your toes curl as your first moan leaves puffy lips. "Try again."

You intake a deep breath. "Ere...Eres muy considerado con—Mmmm....conmigo." Your bottoms and undergarments are now off, your bare cunt out for Miguel to see. The older man props your legs upward with both hands as he brings his face close to your pussy. He lightly blows on it, and you bite your lip from the cold air. "Keep going, mi vida."

"Cuando....no haya luz en mi—Oooh!!" Miguel flicks your clitoris with his tongue before nestling it between your soaked folds, sucking and laving your essence. "Nnnmp! Mi-Miguel, I can't do thisss...Your tongue, it feels so, so—Oh Christ..."

His ruby eyes peek at your face. "But you were doing just fine, Y/n." The way he says your name feels so sinful, so forbidden. But so pleasing to the ears. "Repeat it."

His tongue goes back to torment your slit. The risque noises the wet muscle makes with your slick-covered chasm ring your eardrums. Ecstatic whimpers fill the space around you, and you grab tufts of Miguel's brown hair when his tongue flicks your clit again. He's impatient, so you concede.

"Cuando no haya luz en mi vida....Haaaahhh, sé que estarás ahí para protegerme." Miguel pushes your tender bud against his teeth. His canine brushing on your pearl, causing you to jerk. "Eres mi sombra...Mi—Ahhhh!....escudo....Mi rey."

He chortles, "Good job, mi alma."

Satisfied with your cooperation, the man sucks on your precious sex as his forefinger nestles between your folds, your slick providing lubricant to naturally push his digit through your entrance. You jolt with a sharp cry, tears falling from your beautiful face.

His tongue and fingers go faster, and your release climbs higher with every lick. The stimulation of your poor cunt and clitoris is hardcore that you come in a few seconds, the walls of your chasm fluttering around Miguel's fingers coated with your personal fluids.

Your heavy pants slow down to steady your body that subsides from the aftershocks of your orgasm. Miguel withdraws his mouth and fingers from you, standing upright to take in your figure.

He scoffs with a tiny grin, licking his lips. "Amorcito."

You open your mouth to say something, but a flash of colors and shapes captures the attention of both of you. Your eyes go wide. Oh no, someone's coming!

With haste, you immediately grab for your bottoms and underwear before taking cover under the conference table, using it to quickly put your clothes back on before someone enters through the portal. That someone was Jessica Drew, making her arrival known by revving her motorbike.

"Jess," Miguel puts on his usually serious face. But on the inside, he's almost as nervous as you. Because he swiftly pulls a chair out to cover his erection lower regions.

"Hey, Miguel! I thought I'd find you here." The woman addresses him when she's done a lap around the table. Her portal vanishes from the scene. "I've been trying to call you through your watch. You not wearing it?"

He looks down at his wrist where it was supposed to be. "...I was using the restroom, so I left it on my station."

"Mmm, I figured." Jessica then notices the paper and backpack on the table. "This is Y/n's stuff, right? Where are they?"

"R-Right here, Jess!" To her surprise, you come out from the table with your bottoms fully secured. "Sorry, I was looking for my pen before packing up." You smile to ease the awkward tension and your racing heart.

"Oh, okay then." Jessica nods to your words and turns to Miguel. "Anyway, I was calling you up because I need backup. The guy I was dealing with somehow switched places with another villain. Took care of the other one, but my guy's elsewhere."

He hums. "Lyla."

"That's me." The yellow-pixelated woman with pink heart-shaped glasses appears once more.

"Where are the coordinates of the anomaly Jess was handling?"

"I'm sorry, you want me to do what?"

"...."

"What's the magic word?" The tiny woman teases him while you and Jessica hold in your laughs.

Miguel's brows furrow with a slight pout. "....Canyoupleasesend—"

"Woah, woah, woah," Lyla gets closer to his face with each word, raising his irritation as she does so. "Little too fast there."

"Can you please give us the co—"

"Already gave it to Jess."

"Then what was the point—"

"You know how much I love to pester ya," her smile doesn't help squander his frustration, not when he also hears the exchanged giggles between you and Jessica. "And call that payback for not having your watch on you."

To avoid their eyes seeing Miguel's situation, he leaves and fetches his watch quickly after being repeatedly teased by the two women. He returns ready with his mask on and the device on his wrist. Lyla and Jess are waiting for him, same with you and all your stuff packed up. It's 12 in the morning now, you have to get home. "Ready?"

"Yup, see ya there." The woman on her bike starts it up. Lyla disappears when the dimension is opened. "Bye, Y/n!"

"Bye, Jess!" You wave goodbye to the woman, who does one final lap before entering the portal to her new destination. And now you're back to being alone with Miguel, who you find looking at you. You gulp and say your thoughts. "Don't worry, I didn't tell them! And, sorry that it happened. I was being a little too close to you in the first—"

"Hey." Miguel lifts a hand to stop you from rambling on further, and you listen. "Your skit. When is it again?"

It takes you aback that he asks, but you still reply. "Wednesday?"

"Hm. Alright then." And with that, he walks to the portal to his next mission. But before he exits, he peers from his shoulder and proclaims something.

"Tell me how you did on Wednesday, then we'll continue with this talk."

[wolfiesmoon]

Who is who again?

Riddle, Vil, Idia (seperately) x gn!reader

i was thinking and thinking and then i remembered that basic overdone fanfiction tropes do in fact exist, so here's a silly lil bodyswap fic for the soul

yuu is a little silly prankster goofster who likes messing around and trolling people in this fic, just saying in advance that i did inject a bit of personality in them

also i apologise if the fanfic becomes confusing to read at any point, it's kind of hard writing the reader's actions while in someone else's body, especially when interacting with the person you're swapped with haha

‧₊˚✩彡 Riddle Rosehearts

"Okay, so you're tellin' me that you're Riddle, and you're the Prefect?" Cater pointed to each of you respectively, still trying to grasp the situation. Trey, Ace and Deuce seemed equaly stumped.

"Yep. I'm not exactly sure what happened, but I'm in Riddle's body now." you replied, shrugging casually. "You shouldn't have told them so early on, Riddle, I wanted to mess around a bit."

"Oh, now I'm very glad I told them so early. Knowing you, you'd cause far too much trouble for me to be able to uphold my reputation." Riddle shuddered, imagining the silly pranks you'd pull on everyone while in his body. Well, I suppose they wouldn't be very silly to him.

"Wait. If I'm in your body, does that..."

You quickly took out Riddle's magical pen and pointed it towards Ace, yelling out "Off with your head!"

To your surprise, it actually worked and Ace had a collar around his neck. So you can use magic now.

"HEY! Why did you do that!?" Ace called you out.

"It's revenge for stealing the bit of food I was saving for last on Friday. And also, I needed someone to test out whether I can use magic now." you smirked mischeviously at his annoyance. Now this is fun.

"This still feels unreal. I cannot believe I'm looking at myself talking to someone else. And fooling around like an idiot, too." Riddle did not seem amused.

"Listen, okay, I finally have magic now and I'm gonna take advantage of that. Which means you better run, Cater." you rubbed your hands together evilly.

"What?! Why me?!" Cater was not prepared for this attack.

"Too much magicam. Not enough reality. Collar needed." you explain like a robot overlord and point Riddle's magical pen at Cater.

"Now, now, let's not do that, okay?" Trey gently wrapped his hand around the magical pen in your outstretched hand, smiling at you.

You were about to shake his hand off and proceed with your collaring plan, but you got a better idea.

"No, no, you're right." you shook your head, lowering your hand. Cater breathed a sigh of relief.

"Since I'm Riddle and all, I have to uphold a perfect test score on every test." everyone looked at you, wondering where you were going with this.

"This might be an awkward time to mention that I haven't studied for tommorow's test at all."

"Oh, no. Absolutely not. You are coming with me." Riddle was not about to let his grades slip by such a wide margin. He'll make you memorise things until atleast a 90% is guaranteed, as much as he would hate to get one.

Originally, he was going to try and figure out how to switch you back as soon as possible but that'll have to wait after tommorow it seems.

"WAIT, CAN YOU LIKE, ATLEAST REMOVE THIS COLLAR BEFORE YOU LEAVE?!" Ace yelled behind you but you just whistled innocently, not paying attention to his despair.

.

"That's how the Queen's succesor managed to- are you even listening?"

"You know, it looks kind of funny when I'm being scolded by myself." you yawned, placing your chin on your arms which were currently crossed on the table.

"This is NO laughing matter. My grades are at stake here." Riddle scolded you some more. You nodded sleepily and he took that as a sign to continue.

"So as I was saying- What are you doing now?" Riddle followed your line of sight, his gaze falling on the mirror inside his room. You were looking at him?

"Woah... You're, like, actually pretty cute." you turned back to him, excited at your discovery.

"...What are you blabbering on about? This is NO time to be fooling around, as I have been telling you for the past- Wow, you really are hopeless." Riddle sighed, watching you examine his face in his mirror and still not listening to the magical history lesson.

It does not help at all that you made him lose composure with that "cute" comment.

"Your eyelashes are nice." You comment, smiling at your own reflection.

"What an oddly specific compliment." Still, Riddle felt all weird inside when you said that. This is not fair. Now he can't focus on teaching you anymore.

"It's not oddly specific, really. Guys have really great eyelashes sometimes." You batted your lashes at the mirror and then at him, trying to showcase his charm.

"That is... very strange. Please stop that." Riddle still felt weird about seeing his own face make such silly expressions.

"Hey, if I were in my own body right now I would be swooning over you. Just for your information." You rolled your eyes playfully, entirely insistant on getting out of studying by flustering the hell out of poor Riddle.

"Wha- That's it, off with your-" Riddle reached for the magical pen which would normally be in one's pocket, only to realise that you don't even own one. Of course.

"Oh, Riddle. You silly goose. I'm the one in power here." You intertwined your fingers like a supervillain.

"Please, let's just get back to studying." If Riddle were in his own body right now, his face would be red all over from embarrasment.

"If you insist." You sighed in feigned defeat, your mind already cooking up more plans to embarrass Riddle while you're in his body.

How very fun indeed.

"Why are you smiling at me like that? That kind of smile does not suit my face." Riddle seemed concerned about his body's fate.

"Hmmm, I wonder how many drinks I can order at the Mostro lounge in one sitting." You wondered aloud on purpose.

"What?!"

"What? I didn't even say anything this time." you faked your innocence.

This is going to be a nightmare for Riddle, isn't it?

‧₊˚✩彡 Vil Schoenheit

"Oh. My. God." you lightly slapped your cheeks while looking at yourself in the mirror to make sure this is reality.

Well, you suppose they aren't exactly your cheeks. You're currently inside Vil freaking Schoenheit's body and you have no idea how it happened.

You do suppose all logic kind of gets thrown out the window in a world where magic exists, so swapping bodies with someone might not be that outlandish. Now you wonder if you're the only one who this happened to, and what your body is up to.

Speaking of being Vil Schoenheit now, does that mean you have to uphold his insanely strict daily routine now?

Nah, who are you kidding? You're going to cause as much trouble as you can for this pretty boy. He wakes up much earlier than you thought, so you don't know what to do right now. You walk around his room, inspecting every corner for some prank ammunition.

Rook knocked on the door all of a sudden, telling Vil that he's worried since he's taking longer than usual. You let him into the room.

You decided that you're not going to tell anyone that you're actually not Vil and and act as him for as long as you possibly can.

"Oh, I was just... thinking about something." you grinned evilly at the mirror, before turning back to face Rook.

"Oh my, it seems you were so lost in thought that you've completely forgone doing your hair and makeup. Quite the unpleasant surprise. What troubles you so?" Rook seemed utterly hearbroken.

Wow, he's blunt sometimes. Not that you care about that right now.

"I was just thinking that I'll probably skip all that today. You know, going for a natural look." You twirled a piece of Vil's hair in your hand.

Rook tried convincing you otherwise but you shooed him out, not wanting to hear anything about how 'a natural look also involves doing subtle, light makeup'. You're on a mission here.

Speaking of, you just got a great idea.

You opened his Magicam after getting dressed, briefly gawking at the follower count before clicking on the 'new post' button.

You placed Vil's phone horizontally against your chest, taking an unflattering chin photo and posting it to magicam with the caption "#chinningtime😍😍😍😍", giggling like an idiot all the while.

Within a minute, your post has already gained about 2 thousand likes and loads of very confused (and amused) comments.

What great encouragement to post another one.

You placed the selfie camera of his phone close to your forehead, taking a forehead touch perspective pic. You added the caption "what my kitten sees😈💯🔥" and posted it.

You were laughing your ass off at all the comments when someone knocked at the door. "Roi du Poison, this is an intervention. I am very concerned about you."

Hahahaha, of course he would be one of the first people to worry about you.

Rook joined you once again in your room, explaining how concerned he is about your behavior this morning and how it's very unlike you. I mean, jeez, is Vil allergic to fun or something?

However, Rook wasn't the only one that had concerns with you, it seems.

"Would you care to explain what these are?" you were surprised to hear your own voice, turning your gaze back to the door where you were standing with a very displeased face, holding up your phone with the two selfies you took earlier. It feels dystopian to see yourself standing right in front of you. Out of body experience, for real.

"Wait. Before anything, just who are you?" you wanted to know just who was in your body, though you were already about 90% sure of it.

"Ah, Trickster. What brings you into Pomefiore?" Rook questioned internally how Vil doesn't recognise you.

"For your information, I am Vil. That other person next to you is not Vil. I'd assume you're the prefect, then?" he looked you with authority, leaving no room for stalling or avoiding his question.

"Yeah, yeah. You got me. But like, it's funny, right?" you shrugged, smiling goofily.

Vil dragged you off to the headmage's office, promising to explain things to Rook later and giving a firm scolding to you.

.

"Now that everything is finally sorted and we're excused from class for the day, would care to delete those... unflattering posts, please?" once the two of you were back in Vil's room, he immediately brought up that topic.

By now, they had to have gathered about 70k likes, right? Hehehehe.

"Do not smile at me like that. Or I will take back my phone and delete those horrid photos myself. Do you even realise what a PR nightmare this could be?" he placed his hands on his hips. You feel like you look completely different now that Vil's mannerisms are reflected on your own body. Body language really makes a man, huh?

"Oh, come onnnn, your fans love it. Everyone's laughing and saying how surprising it is to see you post something like this. See, they even got the hashtag #chinningtime trending!" you showed him pictures of his fans taking the same unflattering chin photos.

"What joy does someone derive from selfies as horrible as that? You made me look utterly horrible with those angles." You watched your own face contort with cringe. It's amusing how funny you look.

"People love silly things from time to time. For a celebrity as serious and professional as you, occasional silliness makes you look more relatable to your fans. A celebrity with a good sense of humor is the best kind in my opinion." you gave him a happy thumbs up. It was also for your own amusement, but you really don't feel like getting scolded even more than you have on your way back to the dorm.

"That is... the smartest thing I have ever heard come out of your mouth." He sighed, "I suppose it would cause people to talk about it even more if I deleted them now. But I am still not happy about them."

You ignored the jab at your intelligence, turning around to look at yourself in the mirror. "You know, Vil, you can let loose from time to time. Smile and goof around without worrying what someone might think." your eyes travelled down the sculpted jawline of your new reflection.

"In a way, you're right for suggesting that. But I'm not someone who enjoys your sense of humor or relaxed philosophy to begin with." he was right. He only jokes on occasion and his jokes aren't very goofy.

"You're right..." now that you technically are him, you can see first hand how much he cares about his body. His skin is soft and gleaming, his hair is healthy and shiny and his body is nice to move around in.

"You seem lost in thought. It's unlike you." you looked back at him through the mirror.

"I just thought about how admirable you are. Like, damn, I could nevaaa." Vil inferred you were talking about his strict daily routine. You seem different now. More quiet and thoughtful than usual. And he definitely didn't miss the pink dusting his cheeks on his own face through the mirror's reflection.

"Thank you." 'admirable' is a compliment slightly rarer than the usual ones talking about his beauty.

"By the way, your smile is beautiful. Not the one in all the movies, the one you don't consciously make." you closed your eyes, recalling that exact face of his. Too pretty for his own good, that man.

"Thank... you. You seem in a great mood to compliment me. Surely you don't think this will be enough to make up for the selfies, because it is not." at this point, even Vil didn't know what to think. The smile he doesn't consciously make, huh...

"Nah, those were just random ones I wanted to get off my mind. Oh, by the way, I don't know how to do your makeup look. Care to do it for me, pookie bear?" you sprung up from the chair at the vanity table, already getting excited about messing him up on purpose by opening your eyes when he tells you not to or moving your lips away from the lipstick, making it smudge.

You got way too sentimental for a moment there. And you're sure he noticed.

"Back to your regular self, I see. Fine, I will make myself look beautiful, as always." he smiled confidently. Though he himself has become curious about that side of you now.

Do you really think of him as a victim of your little pranks like everyone else, or are you hiding something else behind your silly smile?

‧₊˚✩彡 Idia Shroud

You were surprised to find a different voice calling out to you in the morning and telling you to wake up, one that sounded more cheerful, peppy, childlike.

And sure enough, it was Ortho's face that greeted you instead of your usual furry friend Grim.

As it turns out, you woke up in Idia's body this morning. What a lovely surprise.

You mean that both sarcastically and in the regular sense.

While you were explaining what was happening to a confused and worried Ortho, Idia's phone started buzzing somewhere in the bed. This dude sleeps with his phone inside his bed? Well, you suppose you have no time for judgement when the phone call might be important.

You rummage through his bed and eventually extract his phone. It was your number calling him.

When you pick up, you hear your own panicked voice on the other end. "U-Um, is this- Are you- How do..."

"Yes, I'm the Prefect. Looks like we switched bodies overnight." you inferred that he wanted to know who exactly just picked up the phone.

"How exactly do you think that happened? I mean, that's NOT normal." your voice on the other end seemed much calmer now.

"Hm, I have no clue, but I do know that I'm going to have loads of fun..." you grinned widely, catching a glimpse of yourself on Idia's dark phone screen and flinching slightly. You're definitely not going to get used to looking like someone else for a while. Especially if your new appearance is as unique as Idia's.

"What do you mean by that? Seriously, wha-" you ended the call before your voice could finish the sentence.

"Hehehehe... I bet he's panicking so hard right now." you giggled to yourself, still feeling a little weird about the fact that it's Idia's voice coming out of your mouth instead of your own.

"Brothe- No, Prefect. Who was that?" it was adorable how worried Ortho was over his brother. Or you, you suppose.

"Oh, don't worry your pretty little head about it..." you patted Ortho's head, hand moving over his flames with interest. "Go ahead and have fun, I'll be here if you need me." you gently shooed Ortho out of Idia's room to execute your master trolling plan.

You sat behind Idia's computer, booting it up. His computer works really fast, which isn't all that surprising considering his skills. He probably built the whole PC from scratch.

Surely, Idia won't mind if you play his games for a bit. You just want to see how far he's gotten. How many items he's saved up.

Hehehe.

You opened up one of the games you've been dabbling in yourself a bit, giggling to yourself about the random anime girl backround.

"Jeez, he's basically pro at this point." you went through his obtained characters and all the stats on most characters were maxed out.

But, since he still hasn't obtained the new character AND he has loads of gems in his inventory, he surely won't mind if you do the work for him, right?

You started pulling for characters in the gacha, waiting for the little indicator that you got a rare character. The flames of your hair flickered more and more with each pull, knowing you were getting closer.

Just when you got the pull animation you were looking for, the door to his room burst open and you saw yourself, all panicked and panting. Took him long enough, jeez.

"Oh, hi, me! I was just pulling for this character on your behalf, and-" you glance at the monitor "Looks like I won the fifty/fifty, hehe~" you acted cute and innocent.

"W-W-WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?! I didn't- I didn't want this character! I was saving up for the re-run, and- Agh!" Idia pushed you away from his keyboard, and he stared at the screen with pure horror in his eyes. You wonder what color his hair would be if he were in his body right now. But as it stands, his flames are flickering happily above your head at a succesful trolling attempt.

"Just buy more gems, bae. Money solves all your problems." you pat his head, kinda cringed out by the way your face can contort when it's making faces candidly. You really look like that when in despair, huh?

Idia ignored the way the casual pet name made him feel. He's supposed to be furious at you right now, not flustered.

"Noooooooo, this is the worst day of my life...." he hid his face in his hands.

"You know what, though? Look at the bright side! I get to figure out how your hair looks when it's wet. I doubt you'd do it yourself and I've been morbidly curious for a while." you patted his shoulder in an overly cheerful manner.

"Wha- Abso-freaking-lutely not. You're a weirdo of the third degree." he crossed his arms, still feeling a bit heartbroken over his videogames being tampered with.

"Is it that weird that I find your hair pretty?" you run your hand through his hair for the thousandth time this morning. It just feels so strange, yet nice under your fingers.

"Finding out if I become bald when my hair gets wet doesn't seem like something a hair admirer would do, but IDK, maybe my definition is different from yours." Idia shrugs, scowl still as big as ever.

"But really, I am an admirer. I kept looking at myself or, well, you in your phone camera this morning because your hair is just so pretty. Watching your hair fluctuate with your emotions is always a fun sight, too. Like damn, your hair is literally on fire, how cool is that?" you explain your thoughts, twirling a piece of his hair in your hand and smiling at it.

"If only I could cuddle up to you and use you like a heater. Too bad your hair's just a normal temperature." Idia's heart almost exploded at the mental image that formed in his head when you said that. And it was even worse because it was coming out of his own mouth.

"T-This is not okay... You can't do this to me...!" he mumbled, not meeting your eyes.

You don't get it, you just dealt 99999 damage to his falling-in-love-resistance shield. Just how do you manage to do that?

"Actually, now that I can look at it up close as much as I want, your face is like, really well proportioned too. Like..." you bit your lip as a joke, wanting to look overly flirty. "That's all I'm gonna say."

Okay, now you've done it. He might just pass out, right now.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Phantom's number 1 Fan. Part 2

Tim wakes a few days later, half submerged in liquid and hooked to various machines. He is in a tub shaped like a bed, obviously meant to sleep in. Around him is what he hopes is a hospital room with medical tools scattered about and soft blue paint that turns to the night sky the higher it goes on the wall.

On the ceiling are paintings of various constellations. It's rather beautiful.

Tim also notices he feels no pain. None. Not even the aches of his bones after years of abuse while fighting crime. He thinks that's a bit strange since the last thing he could clearly remember was barely escaping Ra's al Ghul, losing his spleen, and gaining more wounds from angry assassins on his way out.

He had been flying half-blind, blinking in and out of awareness. He thinks at one point, Cassie had attempted to call him, and he may have answered, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember what he told her.

He did remember what she said in response. She sounded so desperate as she begged over the S-Batplane speakers. "Please, Tim, you're not well. Let us help you. Just tell me where you are."

Too bad for her, since the S in S-Batplane stand for Secert because Tim had built that one on his own in Secert. There was no way she or any of the hero community could track him in it since they had no idea it existed until Tim had taken it and his supplies on his solo mission to save Bruce.

Tim will admit that he is happy they noticed he went missing- even if it was three months too late. Not that it mattered much. The rest of the Bats wanted nothing to do with him. The world only saw him as a young easy wallet as a shiny new CEO. And his friends were all dead or convinced he was insane by Dick.

Tim didn't have anyone to notice he was gone anymore. But Bruce needed him to push through the ache and get him home.

As the Robin who Bruce trained to put the mission first no matter the cost, the one that came after Jason's death so, Bruce stopped allowing himself to think of Robin as a son and more along the lines of a soldier; he quickly shut down the crying child that wailed for someone to believe him, to support him.

Sometimes it felt like Tim was still waiting by the door of Drake Manor, waiting for someone to come and care for him, to stay for him.

The door to his room opens, snapping Tim back to the present. He automatically stiffens, expecting more of the League of Assassins. He can't remember much, but he guessed he was captured by the fact he was sitting in a green glowing water.

He was not, however, expecting a Yeti to walk in, reading a clipboard.

The Yeti looks up, bearing its teeth at Tim when he notices him awake. It takes a moment to realize the action is supposed to be a smile. "Great One's Honored Guest, I am so glad you have awakened. I am FrostBite, your doctor for the remainder of your recovery."

Okay. Ra's has Yetis at his disposal.

He was the only person that Tim knew as the "Great One." Usually, his most loyal operatives too, which means he was deep within Ra's territory.

FrostBrite pauses for a response, but when Tim remains silent, he holds up his board. "It seems to me that most of your wounds have healed. The only problem is that your spleen could not be salvaged due to the damage."

Tim fights to keep the despair off his face. He figured that was the case, seeing as Ras's had it in a jar, but he had hoped.

"...I understand this may be a difficult adjustment. You will always have to be careful when being ill. Even a simple cold could be disastrous." Frostbite steps close, taping one giant claw on the tub's edge. "The Great One has ordered we keep consistent Ecoplasm Baths at the ready for the remainder of your natural life."

Fuck. The Yeti is saying Ra will never let him leave again. It's a threat disguised as a offer of help.

Tim glares down at his hands. They lay within Lazarus' water, gently healing his small scars. This must be some of the purest Lazarus he's ever seen. It must be Ra's own special blend.

The only reason he is wasting it on Tim is that Ra's wants an heir from him. Or for him to become the Heir. He doesn't know, which makes him feel worse but he does know what lust looks like.

It's one that Ra's has aimed at him for too long.

He may as well get this over with. Learn as much as he can. Plan an escape. The best way to do all that is to simply ask.

"When is the wedding?"

Frostbite freezes. "I beg your pardon? Whos wedding?"

"Th Great One and mine" because the madman would never allow a bastard to inherit his empire.

"You and the Great One....are paramours?" Frostbite sounds awe. Shoot his medic doesn't know anything. The Yeti is likely low ranking.

Tim looks away, and the giant white creature jerks into action. "I apologize for not treating the Great One's beloved properly. I shall have servants bring up a meal while you soak. And the finest robe we have! Sweets and messages....offers of gold?....humans always like gold."

He waits until the Yeti leaves, mumbles of giving him the royal treatment echoing in his wake. Tim sighs, sinking into the water. He knows he is being watched as that's what he would do, so for now he needs to stay put and heal.

He's never going to get Bruce back if he acts too rashly without knowing where he is and what else Ra has under his control. Yetis were no easy feat to beat on his own. He like to avoid....a vampire or something too.

Half an hour later, FrostBite returns with the promised meal and change of clothes. Smaller Yetis help him dress in threads of the finest silks. They feel like heaven on his sensitive skin. Tim feels soft and warm all over, pampered beyond belief.

It's been so long since he just had a moment to rest.

He asks for a walk which he is only permitted after Frostbites clears him. It's while he is wandering that he realizes he is in some winter castle. Everywhere he looks, there is ice, snow, and yetis.

He notices all the guards and makes mental maps of possible weak spots. He wonders why he's not freezing despite only being in a thin silk robe. A form of magic?

A few yetis- servants he can tell by their mannerisms- bow as he wanders about. He can't tell where he is based on the sun or the environment. It's....somehow different.

"That's him?" A young female voice asks. He turns his head slightly to catch the speaker in his provisional vision. It's one of the smaller Yetis....he assumes she's a child? Hard to tell when she still towers over him. "The Great One's future spouse?"

"Yes, I heard King Frostbite, himself, tell the Head Butler"

"He's weak," another Yeti says with disapproval. He sounds male but young as well. Not even a teenager. "He does not even have a core."

"He is a human." A much older voice replies. She sounds like Tim's age based on vocal cords. "Humans are not meant to have cores. Despite this he is a formidable fighter. He has to be to have attracted the Great One's eye."

"Maybe not. I heard humans enjoy being cared for like children. They even call partners things like Mommy and Daddy."

"Why?" The boy Yeti sounds horrified.

"Apparently it's seen as attractive"

"That's disgusting."

Tim turns a corner cutting off the conversation as the Yetis snap to attention. They bow low at the waist as he walks by.

He nods at them, which seems to startle a lot of them. Not that he's surprised. The AL Ghuls likely treated them like decorations and never fully acknowledged them.

Tim barely hears the young boy gasp. "He's beautiful."

"That's likely why the Great One is so bestowed."

Tim sighs walking back to his room with a escape plan half formed.

Elsewhere, the rumor mill in the Ghost Zone is running over time as news of King Phantom's human husband-to-be is spread far and wide. Leaders of the Ghost Zone quickly prepare for a ball that will likely be called to celebrate the union.

They have gifts gathered, each wanting to gain favor with the King. The Far Frozen gets overwhelming requests to visit the future Consort, but seeing as King Phantom had to return to the human world, thus leaving his fiancé in their care, they reject all. They do not want the boy to be overwhelmed or caught unawares if he is not tried in any form of politics.

It would not allow him to become a threat to the King's authority's pawn.

This led to even more rumors starting.

By the time they reached John Constine- the only human who has any form of contact with the Realms- the word is that King Phantom's human was currently carrying their child, wanting to marry before the baby was born, and that he was running from a group of humans known as "The Bats."

He was as beautiful as the King Phantom was powerful- which meant he was utterly breathtaking for a human- and that King Phantom was currently in the human world hunting down those who threaten his family.

Across the dimension plane, Danny is blissfully unaware of the misunderstanding as he is busy filling out college scholarship applications. He has only one more year before he graduates, but he would like to go somewhere away from Amity Park.

The Wayne Scholarship is a long and lengthy process, but it will be worth it. A full ride with board and meals? Yes, the housing will be in Gotham but it's a small price to pay.

He wonders if his number one fan has awakened. Frostbite would have contacted him if his guest had escaped the coma.

Tim Drake had been asleep for nearly a week, only kept healthy due to Danny bathing him in his Protective Core ectoplasm and the Yeti's multi-species medical knowledge. As it were, Tim appeared to only be taking a small nap, none of the adverse effects of long slumber appearing on his thin body, but Danny was getting worried.

At this point, he didn't even care how Tim knew his secret. He just wanted him to be alright.

A flash of green light causes Danny to spring away from his laptop, body falling into a natural fighter's stance only to blink at the giant gift wrap present laying on his bed. Cautiously he inspects the gift finding it from Princess Dora.

"May your love lead the Realms into a wonderous future, and may your union bear many children." He reads the small note she had attracted to her gift "What children?"

Pulling open the gift, he stares at two sets of King robes decorated with rubies shaped into snowflakes. More miniature robes and a few booties surround the pair, obviously meant as a family gift.

Tuck to the side of the box is a long and deadly-looking sword. It's pitch black, with a scull as a handle. Dora had tired a scroll to its blade, where she had written My armies are ready to yield to you. You need only to swing this sword, and they shall come to your aid. The Bats will not harm your treasure.

What in the world?

[save-the-villainous-cat]

It took them quite a lot of time to get up to the rooftop.

In all honesty, the villain didn’t know what they were doing. They acted like a child, irrational and aimless, as tears gathered in their eyes over and over again. As they gasped for air and couldn’t hold back desperate pleas.

Considering that they were dragging the hero along with them, they were, in fact, feeling like they had gone insane. The tears wouldn’t stop and no matter how hard their legs shook, the villain didn’t stop either.

Once they had reached the door they let the hero sit against the wall and then, with all the strength the villain had left in them, they threw themselves against the door. It opened with an unpleasant sound, shaking them as if it reached their bones as pain exploded in their shoulder. Soon enough, the cold air hit them and the villain continued to drag the hero outside.

It was still dark but that would change soon. Outside, they let the hero rest against the door. They took off their own cape and put it around the hero’s shoulders, trying to cover every body part of them.

Soon enough, they sat down next to them, their breath heavy, their heart even heavier.

“Just a couple of minutes,” the villain said. They looked at the horizon and then back at the battered hero who bled out of their nose and ears. “You think you can hold on a little longer?”

They took the hero’s hand but the hero didn’t speak. They gave the villain a tired smile and their eyes moved when they were studying the villain’s face.

The villain feared the hero’s last words had already been spoken. A raspy “please.” The villain didn’t know if the hero was capable of speaking anymore or if they didn’t have the energy to do so.

“Do you remember when we first met? You almost sliced me in half.” The hero kept staring at them with their exhausted eyes and the villain leaned a little more against them. “I was so angry. God, I used to be so angry.”

All of it came at once: the tears, the desperation, the despair. The villain didn’t know what was worse. They threw their hands around the hero and pulled them close.

“It…it should’ve been me—” they cried, leaving tears that mixed with blood on the hero’s skin. “You weren’t even supposed to be here.”

They hoped they didn’t imagine it. A soft grip around their fingers. The villain looked at them, their unresponsive hero who had traded their life to save the villain’s. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t just.

They took it as response. As an attempt of comfort.

“Please forgive me,” the villain said. They brushed some hair out of the hero’s face. “You do not deserve this, you don’t…”

They looked up at the sky and there, slowly but steadily, the sun rose above the horizon. The sunrise dipped the sky into different reds and oranges, making the city look mystical and strange. As if it wasn’t the origin of their suffering. As if this city hadn’t just taken their beloved hero.

The villain allowed themselves to take in a deep breath.

They looked at the hero who watched the sunrise, despite being exhausted, who let their head rest on the villain’s shoulder, who was still fighting so hard.

And then, very gently, the hero mumbled the villain’s name. Not their alias, not their surname but the name their mother had given to them. It sounded strange coming out of their mouth with their broken voice and their mouth full of blood.

Nothing else, just the villain’s name in the softest tone possible.

The villain looked at them but the hero only stared at the sunrise. After a few minutes, the villain worked up the courage to check their pulse and breathing. The hero had asked them specifically not to do CPR in such a situation.

Thus, all the villain could do was sit there with the hero’s body and pray some higher being would give the villain a suitable punishment for all their failures.

[greentrickster]

What I really want to know is how Gabriel ended up working with Alya and Nino because, frankly, I'm 100% sure that it started out as a hostage situation and also that neither of the kids were the hostage. Seriously, just-

Gabriel, exhausted from another busy night of trying to help people and fight back against the Supreme's tyranny, using whatever secret passage he has to get into his lair (the one where his counterpart keeps Emilie's cryopod) but heavens forbid his son find out about and get involved in such dangerous activities, he could get hurt! And he's not despairing but he's tired, so just kind of walks in and immediately de-transforms so he can talk to Nooroo, because it always helps to talk things over with a friend.

Thus he walks into his lair, exhausted and totally focused on Nooroo, who just freezes in mid-air staring straight ahead, mouth open, "Uh... Gabriel...?"

"Yes, my friend?"

And the kwami points and Gabriel turns the way he's pointing, and there's Alya, tucked in a spot that would be easy to defend or hide in where she has a good view of the entrance but is hard to see from it, and, most importantly, phone out, up, and recording.

Dead silence as they all stare at each other.

Alya: "I'll admit, not the story I was expecting, but I can work with it."

Gabriel: "...I don't suppose I can give you a substantial amount of money to leave and pretend you never saw any of this?"

Alya: "Yeah, no, I want in."

Gabriel: "In? On what"

Alya: "On saving the world and getting rid of the Supreme, obviously."

Gabriel: "What?! Absolutely not, you- you can't be any older than my son, who is a child, I'm not endangering a child in this battle-!"

Alya: "Could you repeat that for me? Because it sounded a whole lot like, 'Why yes, Alya, absolutely post that video you just got of Hesperia turning into Gabriel Agreste on your blog'!"

Gabriel: "...you wouldn't. You'd ruin everything I've been working for, the only chance we might have-"

Alya: "Glad we see eye-to-eye, glad to be on the team, I'm Alya, where should I put my stuff?"

And then she drags Nino along to help out, because power's meant to be shared, right, and there's strength in numbers, and also we'll need Nino because someone's going to have to plan and DJ for their victory celebration when they finally win!

OoOoOoOoO

Alternative that could actually be even more fun: Nino's actually the first one to join the revolution with Gabriel just because he keeps accidentally getting caught up in Betterfly/Hesperia vs. Claw Noir and Shadybug shenanigans, to the point that it's just easier to recruit him officially than to let things continue as they are. Then Alya pulls exactly the same thing as in the previous scenario, except this time she's trying to find out what the bae's up to instead of get whatever dirt on Agreste she was after.

[cordeliawhohung]

When Your Blood Meets Mine - Part 3

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader - part twelve of "soft spot"

taglist

it's scary.

warnings: anxiety, talk/thoughts of abortion, medical talk,

wc: 5.9k

You would have given anything in the world to have your mom hold you. 

You wished she was just a simple phone call away and not buried in a rotting grave out of your reach. You wished you could hear her voice, hear her tell you that it was all going to be okay, that you would survive this too just like you had everything else. But she was long gone. Nothing more than drying bones in a coffin. The only comfort you would receive from her would be whatever your memory held, which at that point wasn’t much. Fond memories of her had decayed just as much as she had. 

So you were alone, which was such a strange feeling because it had been such a long time since you felt so isolated from everyone else. Even the apartment didn’t seem as welcoming as usual. It was as if the walls knew you shouldn’t have been there, panicking in silence as pure anxiety rattled your chest, but you couldn’t go back to work. The idea of facing Simon while you harbored a secret like that made your stomach twist so violently you felt queasy. That sickness festering in you had been no illness at all, but a child.

Simon’s child. 

It wasn’t supposed to be possible. Simon’s work was important and demanding, and both of you were in agreement that having a kid wasn’t the right thing to do at that stage in your lives. He would leave for weeks, or even months at a time for missions, and he made it clear he would never want to leave you alone with a child. You had been on birth control for the last few years because of it and of course, of course, it failed. But it made everything else make sense. Your pregnancy explained all of the symptoms you had confused with the same sickness your mother had. Your achy, tender breasts were not sore just from the fat necrosis, but because of the hormone changes. The complete fatigue and brain fog that ravaged your body wasn’t from some cancer eating away at you, but the child growing inside of you. 

Your anxiety began to get the better of you, and before it was able to choke you, you wandered out of the entryway and into the living room where you collapsed on the couch with your face in your hands. There was no time for you to think about all the signs you had missed the last few weeks because you only had a few hours until Simon would be home. You were going to have to tell him, but you had no idea how. Simply admitting it didn’t feel right, but it didn’t feel like a cause for celebration, either. Neither of you had ever talked about children, save for the conversation about how that time in your lives wasn’t a good time to have them. Would he want you to get rid of it? Should you get rid of it? After everything you had been through, would you truly be stable enough to take care of a kid? Or would your ever burning anger eventually turn you into the same monster your father had become? 

No. No, you wouldn’t make a good mother at all.

Just as your despair began to manifest in wet streaks along your face, an innocent chirp caught your attention. Pulling your hands from your face, you were met by Boo’s empty and innocent expression as he stared up at you from the floor with large, yellow eyes. Despite your tears, you did your best to muster a smile as you patted your lap, inviting him up on the couch with you. Without hesitation he jumped up and made himself comfortable at your side. His purring was loud and crackly, and as he leaned against you he reached a small, deformed paw toward you where he rested on your stomach. 

“You little jerk,” you said with a trembling lip and a breathy laugh. “You knew all this time and didn’t tell me.” 

Completely unaware of your emotional turmoil, all he did was coo in response as if to confirm your suspicions before he snuggled even closer and closed his eyes. It was all so innocent and pure that for a single, fleeting moment, things almost felt like they were going to be okay. After all, surely there was nothing worse than being trapped in a basement.

But your absence didn’t go unnoticed for long. What turned into an appointment that was supposed to take an hour or two quickly turned into half the day, and then some. For a while, Simon had thought nothing of it until he wandered into the front office to file paperwork only to realize his favorite secretary wasn’t at her desk. The plaque that read the name Riley sat on an abandoned station, and as he put his papers in your basket, he realized your computer was shut down. Not only that, but the tower was cold to the touch.

You had never returned from your appointment. 

Unwelcome thoughts clouded his skull as he marched out of the room and towards his own office. Earlier that morning you had done your best to insist that you were fine despite your trepidation, that you didn’t need him to come with you. He was foolish enough to believe you. You had acted so unlike yourself the entire time leading up to your appointment. Always anxious and jumpy with hands that refused to leave the ache in your side alone. And now you were gone, which wasn’t a good sign. He should have known better. Should have convinced you to let him come with you because he should have been there to support you even if you claimed the visit was quick and simple. 

As the door to his office closed behind him, the idea that he was wrong about those lumps being fat necrosis overwhelmed his mind. He wasn’t a fucking doctor, he only told you about it because it made sense at the time and he wanted to ease your mind, to normalize it, to not make you feel like a spectacle. But the fear that it was something more, that something was wrong, gave him an uneasy feeling in his stomach that he hadn’t felt since he yanked Bukin off of you all those years ago.

Simon didn’t even bother to sit at his desk before he yanked his phone free from his pocket. Within moments both your name and number illuminated his screen and there was no hesitation in calling you. The line rang for only a few moments before your hoarse voice greeted him on the other side. 

“Hello?” 

“Doin’ alright, love?” 

There was no point in beating around the bush. Simon was worried, terribly so, and it almost felt silly. It wasn’t as if you had vanished off of the face of the earth or anything, but there was this gut feeling that ravaged his senses, rendering him unable to do anything except panic. 

“I’m fine, Simon,” you said with a humorous giggle. But there was something else to your tone. A tiredness that not even your little laugh could cover. Not exactly what he would consider fine. 

“You had me worried when I couldn’t find you in the office,” he admitted. “Are you still at the doctors?” 

“No, I uh, I went home,” you admitted. “They did a biopsy in the office so I’m feeling a little sore. Thought it was a good idea to take the rest of the day off.”

Simon hummed, half in agreement and half in thought. “What did the doctor say?”

“She thinks you’re right. Just fat necrosis. She just did the biopsy to be safe, but she’s confident it’ll come back fine, so…”

So that was it. Everything was alright, except somehow it wasn’t. There was something about the tone of your voice that was off. It reminded him of all the other times he tried to draw information out of you, yet you hesitated too much to fully get it out. You weren’t lying, and he knew that, but there was something else you hid from him, something he wasn’t sure he could get you to admit over the phone. 

There wasn’t much left to say besides a quick I love you and a goodbye, and yet when the line went silent Simon couldn’t say that the achy feeling in his stomach was remedied. Between your tone and your lack of communication throughout the day, something was deeply wrong. Something that he couldn’t fix while he was on base. 

Work could wait. He needed to get home to you. 

Soon after he shoved his phone into his pocket, Simon swung open the door to his office only to be met by the confused and surprised face of Johnny. His arm was half raised as if he had been ready to knock on the door, but he awkwardly lowered it as Simon stared at him in the doorway. 

“You read minds now?” he asked humorously. 

“Always could,” Simon quipped. 

Really, he didn’t have time for pleasantries or conversation, even if it was with Johnny. Sure, it wouldn’t kill him, but the only thing that consumed his mind was getting back to you. You needed him and he knew that, even if you refused to admit it over the phone, and he didn’t want to waste any time. 

“Can I talk to you about something?” Johnny then asked. 

“Now’s not a good time,” Simon excused. 

Confused at his lieutenant's quick response, a look of concern overwhelmed Johnny’s face. “Everything alright?” he questioned as he stepped to the side, giving Simon enough room to fully exit his office and shut the door behind him. 

“Dunno,” he replied, “tryin’ to figure that out.” 

“Is it Spook?” 

Simon shouldn’t have been so surprised that the man was able to figure out what ailed him so quickly. After years of working with one another, they had grown close enough to know what made one another tick, and you were Simon’s reason for everything. For fighting, for coming home, for breaking a man’s arm. It wasn’t a secret anymore, but a well known fact Johnny could sniff out in an instance. 

“She’s fine, I think,” Simon excused. “Just gotta bad feeling ‘bout somethin’ that I’d like to check out.” 

Sallow. That was Johnny’s immediate thought. The bastard had been slithering around base with poisonous intent nearly unchecked for the last week, which was his whole reason for seeking out Simon in the first place. But if something was worrying him this much to the point where the man would leave work early, perhaps it was best he not add fuel to the already growing fire. He just hoped that he was wrong. 

“Go take care of her,” Johnny said as he nodded down the hallway. “I’ll hold down the fort.” 

“Good man,” Simon said blankly. 

Johnny stayed standing in front of Simon’s office as he watched his hulking frame vanish past the corner. Whatever was going on, he knew it wasn’t good. Really, he wouldn’t be surprised if he heard about Sallow either resigning or being dishonorably discharged within the next hour, but whatever happened, he just hoped you were alright. But it was a foolish thing to worry about. He had seen what Simon was willing and able to go through if it meant ensuring your safety. Johnny knew he had nothing to worry about. 

After your phone call with Simon, you weren’t able to sit still. Idle hands left you with a pang of panic in your chest, and instead of sitting on the couch to let it fester, you cleaned nearly every inch of the apartment. Despite the throbbing pain in your boob, dishes got washed, countertops were wiped down, and you nearly started a deep clean of the bathroom until you thought about the chemicals. Should you expose yourself to that stuff while you're pregnant? Certainly it wouldn’t be good for the baby. Would it even matter? Surely a few chemicals wouldn’t have hurt the baby if you decided to get an abortion anyway. Fuck, how terrible of a thought was that?

The only thing that was able to stop your restless hands was the sound of a key turning the lock at the front door. Leaving the myriad of cleaning supplies on the bathroom counter, you dashed out of the room and greeted Simon in the entryway before he even had time to shut and lock the door behind him. He didn’t do much to hide the confusion on his face as he removed his mask and stowed it in his pocket. 

“How’re you feeling?” he asked as he approached you like a skittish cat. 

Warmth flooded through you as his fingers grazed your arm, and you realized just how much you craved his touch and yearned to be held. Your body moved on its own accord and you wrapped your arms around your husband and buried your face into his chest. Your gesture was not at all unwelcome, yet seemed to only confuse him further. Still, his arms embraced you tightly and he kissed the top of your head with a deep breath. 

“A little sore,” you finally replied. 

“Makes sense,” he hummed. 

Silence followed. Your secret began to decompose so quickly you were certain Simon would be able to sniff it out before your mouth would admit it. Maybe that was for the best. His arms were so warm and safe, and you were certain that if you tried to look him in the eyes to tell him the truth you’d turn into dust. But he could feel the hesitation weighing your body down, and a sob nearly escaped you when he squeezed you closer. 

“What’s goin’ on?” he asked, voice soft but still rumbly in his chest. 

All it took was that one question to get the waterworks started, and you felt an odd shame about how your tears soaked into the fabric of his shirt. Even after everything you had gone through, even after the basement, the orchard, everything, the scariest thing to you was still talking. It was sharing the darkest parts of you that you attempted to smother with as much kindness as you could muster, or keeping your grief chained so tightly that the only proof it existed was the rattling of its shackles. 

But this secret was no such dark thing. This was supposed to be a joyous occasion where he’d sweep you off your feet into a kiss and you would giggle like you didn’t have a care in the world. At least, that’s what the movies would have you believe. So then why did you feel so scared? 

“I’m pregnant.” 

Your confession echoed throughout Simon’s body; you could feel it in the way the muscles in his back tensed and the movement of his chest ceased. His arms loosened around you so that he could get a better look at your tear stained face, and you almost broke when his eyes met yours. A storm of emotions swirled in his eyes so fiercely you were unable to tell exactly what he felt, but there wasn’t anger. There wasn’t anger, and you knew there never would be, and yet you still felt relieved. 

“I don’t know why I didn’t realize it myself,” you said, voice trembling from the influx of conflicting emotions. “As soon as the doctor told me it made so much sense. Fat necrosis isn’t supposed to hurt but with the changes of hormones everything was sore and that’s why I’ve been so tired. I attributed my missed period to stress and, you know, I was on birth control so I never even would have imagined that… I’m- I’m sorry. I know that- I know we talked about how kids aren’t a good idea for us and I don’t want to ruin work for you and- and I’m rambling, Simon please shut me up.” 

So he did. Your husband shut you up in the only way he knew how: smothering you with as much love as he could. His hands found your cheeks where he wiped your tears with his thumbs before he kissed the top of your head once more. You rested your hands over his to just hold him there, to feel him. It was so soft, and yet despite everything he still hadn’t spoken. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeated as your fingers curled into his. 

“Don’t be sorry,” he mumbled against your hairline. 

“But I don’t want to ruin everything.” 

“Sweetheart, look at me.” 

Doing as he asked, you tilted your head to look at him as he pulled his lips away from your head. His eyes were still impossible to read, and his face refused to reveal any emotion, positive or otherwise. It was a little unfair of you to expect that he’d have a set reaction other than shock, though. This was quite literally life changing for the both of you, so Simon was bound to be left at least a little speechless. Still, it was so unlike him to be at a loss for words. To not have an answer. 

“You’re not ruinin’ anything. We’re in this together, yeah? We’ll figure somethin’ out,” he said as he continued to cradle your face. 

“I just- I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if we should keep it, or… or if…” 

A cry rattled your body before you were able to finish your sentence, and Simon gently shushed you before he enveloped you in his arms again. Somehow the two of you ended up on the couch, which was something you were grateful for as you doubted you’d be able to stand upright any longer with the emotions rendering your mind virtually useless. Simon sat you in his lap where he cradled you in his arms, offering you comfort as you sobbed for what felt like an eternity. 

Eventually, the thoughts in your mind waned from a suffocating storm to a dull buzz, and your body no longer shook with your sniffing. As if on cue, a tiny meow demanded your attention, and you felt a weight appear in your lap. A furry mess of black and white made its home in the comfort of your presence as Boo began to purr. Simon hummed as he reached to scratch behind the furrball’s ears, causing his purring to intensify while he attempted to rub his face against his fingers. 

“He’s here to help,” Simon chuckled. 

“He’s a prick,” you retorted, only half serious. “He’s known this whole time and didn’t tell me.” 

As if to prove your point, Boo moved away from Simon’s hand in order to lovingly bash his head against your stomach. Giggling, you placed your hand on top of him as he nuzzled closer to you. Even with the little ray of sunshine in your lap, there was nothing that sweet cat could do that would completely rid you of that twisting feeling in your gut. 

“How far along?” Simon then asked. 

You shrugged. “Hard to tell from a urine test alone, but if I had to guess at least six weeks. Maybe more. I wasn’t exactly doing a great job at keeping track,” you chuckled. “But the doctor wants me back next week for an ultrasound. That’ll give us a better idea about our… well, options.” 

Simon stayed silent but nodded in understanding at your explanation. As if he could feel your mind begin to wander, Boo cooed at you to grab your attention, and he stretched his arms up towards your chest as if demanding a hug. Once again you chuckled as you gave him a few pats, but it didn’t make swallowing the lump in your throat any easier. 

“Do you want to keep it?” you asked. 

Silence.

“I’d never make you do somethin’ you didn’t wanna do,” he replied. 

It wasn’t a proper answer, and you wanted to grab him and shake him around, demand that he give you a yes or no. But maybe he didn’t even know the answer to your question. You just hated waiting around when you quite literally had something growing inside of you that demanded your attention. Something that demanded instant answers and decisions. But that wasn’t how things worked. 

“We don’t have to decide anythin’ now,” Simon said as if he had read your mind. “We can wait until next week when we see your doctor. We’ll figure it out.” 

Perhaps it was for the best that he left your question unanswered, because you weren’t sure you could bear to hear it, no matter what it was. No would mean he would put his work before truly starting a life with you. Sure, you didn’t think you were ready to be a mother, but no one could ever be truly ready for something like that. But yes? Yes would mean that he loved you enough to throw everything else away, and maybe that fact made you uneasy because you knew you didn’t deserve it. 

But Simon was right. Nothing had to be decided right then and there. For the moment, you could just sit there in your husband’s lap and attempt to find an odd comfort in the fact that you had not gained your mother’s sickness. 

In the days leading up to your appointment, Simon doted on you more than usual. At work he would find any excuse to visit your office, be it for paperwork or some other bullshit reason. His mask was as opaque as ever, but you always saw right through it. Worry clouded his eyes to the point you almost couldn't make out the earthy brown color, yet he refused to show it on the outside. You were certain someone was going to get suspicious about him visiting you so often, as no one besides his teammates even knew the two of you were married, but rumors never worried Simon. 

At home he acted as if he had been surgically attached to your side. He always ensured you were fed and stayed on top of chores more than normal. In a way, it had gotten a little annoying because there was nothing for you to do around the apartment to distract yourself besides watch some terrible reality programme on the television. Not even your sweet and clueless cat would leave you alone, as he seemed hellbent on snuggling your stomach as much as possible. 

During the night, when Simon thought you were asleep, you could feel his hands wander. As he laid curled behind you, his hand would sneak underneath your shirt not to grope you, but to feel you. His palm would rest flat against your stomach as if he could feel the life growing inside of you through your skin. He did this two times of which you could recall. The first night he did it was the day you had broken the news to him, and you had been so exhausted from crying you thought you had imagined it. The second time you were wide awake. You could sense the subtle yearning of his touch as he held your stomach and buried his face into the back of your neck, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he felt your pulse quicken. 

On the day of the appointment, both you and Simon took the entire day off of work. Really, it didn’t make sense to miss a full day as the appointment would take no more than an hour, but you knew it was for the best. Your nerves were so fried that you couldn’t stop shaking when you tried to strip yourself of your clothes to shower that morning. Simon ended up having to help you, and you dragged him into the water with you, not wanting to be alone. Between the steamy water and the warmth of his hands, you were almost able to forget the pure fear that gripped your throat. 

When you arrived at the clinic for your appointment, all the dread that you had attempted to keep at bay for the last week hit you all at once. From the droning atmosphere in the waiting room, to the dark and foreboding air in the ultrasound room, you swore you would faint. It was all so sterile. All you could think of was the scent of death you could never seem to get away from when you wandered the halls of the hospital when your mother was sick. You wanted to run away from all of it. Instead, you endured long enough to strip yourself half naked and lay on the bed with your stomach fully exposed so that the technician could glide the wand along your stomach. 

Simon sat as close as humanly possible to you, and you were certain he would have tried to squeeze up there with you if he wasn’t a tall freak of nature. A dull grey hue shrouded his masked face in a cold shadow as his eyes focused on the ultrasound monitor on your right. You followed his gaze and you were met with nothing but a mess of fuzzy static as the technician searched through your body to find your uterus. 

It was surreal when the image finally came into focus. Through the mess of static was a black void that the technician pointed out as being your womb, and floating amidst that darkness was what you could only describe as being a blip. A small little bean that was so tiny it hardly took up any space at all. It was odd to think that this small creature had caused you such emotional turmoil. 

“There we are,” the technician smiled. 

“It’s… so little,” you commented. 

“It is,” she concurred before pressing a few buttons on the keyboard in front of her. “Just a little under two centimeters, to be exact.” 

You stayed quiet as she glided the wand along your stomach again, and you tried not to make a face at the odd pressure and the sticky feeling of the gel. She clacked away at the buttons a few more times while humming to herself, completely relaxed, as you were certain this was a routine thing for her. It was difficult not to wiggle your feet or tap your hands on the bed underneath you as you thought to yourself. With an embryo that small, you were certain you could take a pill or two to abort it if that’s what you and Simon decided. It could all be over in a week and you could rest well knowing you hadn’t ruined your husband's career. 

A quiet shame overwhelmed you for even thinking such a thing. You didn’t even know what you wanted, but thinking about getting rid of it made you feel worse than thinking about keeping it. 

In an attempt to calm your mind, you tore your eyes away from the monitor and looked to Simon only to find his eyes glued to the screen. He sat as still as a statue, immovable and unwavering as he stared at that little glowing blip. He was… enamored. A quiet sound suddenly filled the room that you had confused for white noise at first until you could make out the clear, rapid yet steady rhythm of it. It was messy and warbly, but undeniably strong. 

“And… there’s the heartbeat,” the technician confirmed. 

Even in the darkness of the room you could clearly make out the way Simon’s eyes dilated. He soaked up every single image, every sound that took place inside of you with a sort of wonder you had only ever seen from him when he looked at you. No, he wasn’t just awestruck, he was in love. With you. With this child. And the only thing that was able to get him to look away from the screen was your longing touch as you tugged at the sleeve of his jumper. That wide eyed expression stuck with him as he automatically grabbed your hand in response, and you didn’t miss the way his mouth twitched underneath his mask. 

“That’s our baby,” you whispered. 

Our baby. Those words clung to Simon’s chest and made his heart jump. He quickly glanced at the monitor again before looking back at you with a gentle squeeze of your hand. Even with his mask you could see the faint crinkle of the corner of his eyes in what you knew was a loving smile. That was the moment you had finally gotten the answer to your question. 

After everything that had happened to you, Simon had promised himself he would never carry around another picture, but he couldn’t get rid of the copy of the little blip the technician had given him at the end of your appointment. It was still impossible for him to fully comprehend just how small it was. It was hardly the size of his fingernails. None of it seemed real, and yet there he was, sitting on the edge of his desk in his office as he stared down at that picture. 

All was well. Your biopsy had come back clear, there were no abnormalities with the baby; he was going to be a father. That was something he had never imagined himself being. Even when he was younger he was fully content on just being an uncle. Settling down wasn’t supposed to be for him. That life was meant for people better than him, with something waiting for them other than gore and violence. Perhaps he had grown soft. 

A rushed and demanding knock rattled the door to Simon’s office and his eyes shot up to stare at the pale wood. He took the photo in his hands and laid it face down on his desk before he shifted his weight, wood creaking and groaning underneath him.

“Come in.” 

The door swung open with such force it nearly tore off its hinges just to slam shut with a thunderous bang. Simon continued to sit on the edge of his desk unbothered as Johnny looked at him with wild blue eyes and a slightly reddened face. Judging by the way he could nearly hear the man’s teeth grind, he wasn’t impressed about something. 

“You’re quitting?” he demanded. 

“It’s called retiring, Johnny,” Simon corrected in a dry attempt at humor. 

“But you’re leaving?”

“Not for another year at least,” Simon confirmed. 

Instead of standing there to stare right at him, Johnny began to pace as if keeping still would be the death of him. “But why?”

“I’m gettin’ old,” Simon shrugged. 

“Bullshit,” Johnny spat. 

An uneasy silence stretched between the two men as Johnny waited for his answer and Simon contemplated if he should tell the truth or not. He never thought he would get as close to Johnny as he had. Hell, he had read him like an open book years ago when the two of you first started seeing one another. But there was something odd happening. There was a terribly strong rage that bubbled inside of his sergeant, and it didn’t take long for him to get answers as to why the man was so upset. 

“Is it because of Sallow?” he asked. 

Simon’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?” 

“The bastard’s been trying to make it seem like you’re pining after a married woman. Spook, your own damn wife. Almost seems like he’s trying to get you discharged based on infidelity charges,” Johnny explained. 

That fact was so bizarre Simon nearly chuckled at the mere thought of it. He had known that the Trooper had some screws loose, but he didn’t expect him to truly act on it while he was staying on base. Let alone mess with you. Surely it was an issue, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about some FNG.  

“Sallow’s got nothin’ to do with this,” Simon replied. 

“Yeah?” Johnny challenged. 

“That cunt couldn’t get me fired no matter how hard he tried. And certainly not for loving my fuckin’ wife.” 

“Then why? Why did Price just tell me that you’re leaving?” Johnny asked. His tone was firm, but his eyes looked defeated. Like it would have been easier to know Simon was leaving because of something out of his control, and not something he would willingly do himself. “What’s going on?” 

Simon’s fingers absentmindedly reached for the photo next to him before his mind had fully decided that’s what he wanted to do. And maybe it was a bad idea sharing the news so early. There were so many things that could go wrong, and maybe he had even acted irrationally by leaving the force as soon as he got the news, but it just felt right. He needed to do it. He needed to be vulnerable to the man who had helped save your life and care for you while he was locked away. He needed to learn that it was okay to stop fighting. 

He carefully slid the photo off of his desk and flipped it over to give it a good glance before he held it out for Johnny. The man snatched it from his fingers and looked at it as if he expected a report or some sort of ransom note, but every muscle in his body froze the moment he made sense of the mess of black and white. All the pieces suddenly fit together in Johnny’s mind, and he couldn’t help but glance back and forth between Simon and the picture. 

“Holy shit,” he breathed. 

“Yeah,” Simon agreed. 

“How far along?” Johnny asked. He gripped the photo with two hands as the fragility of the situation fully hit him. 

“About nine weeks.” 

His eyes finally settled to just look at Simon and Simon alone as he held the photo out for him to take back. “Congrats, mate.” 

Simon hummed. “Just don’t go yappin’ about it. You’re the only one who knows.” 

The photo was returned to the desk where it laid face up that time. It was almost as if Simon couldn’t take his eyes off of it. That if he did he would wake up and realize it was all just a dream.

“That’s… that’s gotta be a big change,” Johnny said. Whatever anger that had bubbled inside of him previously had dissipated at the truth and instead was placed with a shocked sort of awe. 

“It’s fuckin’ terrifying,” Simon admitted. 

A sympathetic smile crossed Johnny’s face at his vulnerability. “You’re gonna be a good dad, Simon.” 

He chuckled something gruff and sour.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he sighed. 

Whether he would be a good dad or not would remain to be seen. All his life he had only ever known fighting and fear; it was in his nature by that point to be nothing but a vile creature. Dead men weren’t supposed to have families and settle down, but you came along and muddled all of that up. You gave him something to fight for, to protect, to love; you gave him not only yourself but a child, too. He didn’t think he would be a good dad, but he knew he would be better than what he had, what you had, and that was more than enough for him.

hi (: just dropping by to say yes there is more soft spot, but i just wanted to point out the change in my taglist! okay ily bye

[peachesofteal]

ok i have a question- for the dead disco fics, if there was a situation where ghost had to choose between reader and soap, who would he choose? idk why im thinking abt this LOL

Hey babe, what is wrong with you? (I love this so much it scratches my angst brain just right) Why do you want to feel this pain? (I too, want to feel this pain...let’s indulge)

Ghost x Soap x female reader Dead Disco - verse AU - not canon to the actual story. Warnings-tags: Angst. Inferred character death. Darling's usual (eating issues, depression, anxiety, despair, self destructive behaviors)

The bed is too big, as it always has been. As it always was before, and during. And as it always will be for now on, too. Your legs spread across it, kicking and swishing across pristine sheets like you're swimming in them, like you're drowning. Drowning, is more apt. Drowning is more akin to these feelings that swimming, certainly. Drowning is how you feel right now, smothered in your loss, lungs full of water, burning from the salt of your own tears. You're at the bottom of the ocean, lost beneath where the sunlight doesn't reach, far beyond the swell of the waves. Drowning is what it feels like, when your heart clenches in your chest and your stomach heaves it's bile free. Drowning is how you would describe this black, bottomless hole that's developed soul, the one that pulls you deeper and deeper with every breath. Drowning. You've drowned. And no one was there to pull you to shore. To safety. No one was there to save you.

"I'm home!" Your bag falls to the floor with a thud as you toss your keys on the island, loosening your jacket and heading towards the dining area of the flat. "Holy shit, wait until I tell you about my day. My boss was on one today, she was being a crazy a-" the words die on your tongue when you finally look up and see the expression on Johnny's face. At first glance, one might call it grim, but for those who know him, who know to look closer, you see the red ting to his eye lids, the rub of drier skin around his nose. He's been crying. "What's going on?" you ask, looking from him to where Simon sits, stone faced. Immobile. Neither of them answer you at first. "Hello?" The knot that's been loosely tied in your stomach tightens. Simon nods at the free chair next to him. "Sit, darling."

There are two boxes, in your bathroom. They sit, full of things, clothing, items, trinkets, pieces of memories, pieces of love. They idle next to your bathtub, waiting, watching you, every time you drag yourself towards the toilet to vomit, or whenever you muster up the strength to look at your toothbrush. The boxes have sharpie scrawled across them, big loopy letters that almost look like mouths, almost look like they could grow teeth and talk to you, or eat you alive with what's inside of them. You supposed, they could. If you were to open them, and actually look at the things inside, they would consume you. Chew you up. Spit you out.

"I- I don't understand." You take a half step towards Johnny, who visibly flinches, face torn fractured with despair, while Simon's lips press into a hard line before he speaks. "We will make sure you're taken care of, we-" His voice is cold. So, so cold it scratches at your heart, pin pricks of icicles working their way beneath your ribs. "Stop." you shake your head, willing yourself to focus. What is he saying? What does he mean? "Simon, what... wh-what does that mean?" "Darling we're so, so sorry." Johnny's voice, is the opposite of cold. It's molten. Hot, and burning red with orange, thick with something you think is sadness. "You are sorry." You repeat it, numbly. You're not crying, which is a surprise to yourself and probably the two of them too. Your brain is really working now, hard. It's compartmentalizing and organizing and shoving little things away, burying others beneath mountains of sand and locking memories into boxes that you'll never be able to open. "You can't. You can't just leave me... you... you promised." Simon stands completely still, while Johnny shifts his weight nervously, fingers tangling with one another as he watches you like a hawk. Like a solider. "This will be better... for everyone." He tries to soothe you, tries to calm you, even from where he lurks, five feet away. Simon offers you nothing. "I don't understand, everything was fine. I thought... we were okay." Simon finally moves, shaking his head with a no while you watch, mouth ajar.

The boxes have been ripped into tatters now. They lay in shreds across the things in the bathtub, covering two t shirts of Johnny's, a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie of Simon's. Your silk bathrobe, and giant fleece blanket from the couch. There's also a book, a collection of photographs, a few pieces of jewelry. Worn index cards with recipes on them, Johnny's mum's, and a comic book, that Simon used to keep in his drawer of the bedside table. The final touch is the secret pack of cigarettes, the ones Simon used to keep in the closet, sans the one in your mouth. You inhale it slowly, breathing in the tobacco and the nicotine and the fumes of the lighter fluid, the entire contained dumped onto of the collection of things in the tub, waiting for your final flick. When it comes, you stay perched on the edge on the bath, barely interested, unmoving, as the fire rages. As it consumes.

"You fucking promised!" You scream. You scream it over and over until your throat is hoarse and Johnny looks panicked. Simon grips him roughly, sliding him half behind his body, as if to protect him from you. As if he thinks you'd hurt him. They both watch you with stricken faces, hunters tracking a wounded animal, and your breaths come in short bursts as tears track down your face. "You said you love me." It's barely a whisper, mournful and slow, and they both hear it. "We do." Johnny croaks. "We did." Simon counters, and you flinch. "But this is what's best, for all of us. It was always going to be him, darling. You've known this." It was always going to be him. It was always... going to be Johnny and Simon, over you. It was always going to be them, and not you. The truth stings, burns, bites. It twists it's wicked claws around your heart and tugs and tears until there's nothing left. You've known this. You idiot. How could you possibly believe, in the end, you'd still be in this equation? You'd still be a part of this? How could you possibly believe, that after everything, they'd still love you? Still want you? Simon's mouth moves, but you hear no sound. You hear nothing, as you turn on your heel and barricade yourself in the bedroom. You hear nothing, as they knock, and knock, you hear nothing, until the wood stops vibrating, and the front door open and closes with a final thud. It was always going to be them. You've known this.

"Bloody hell." Gaz whistles, eyes locked on the screen. Johnny wipes a towel across the back of his neck, mopping up the sheen of sweat that lingers there while Simon saunters through the rec room doors. "Christ. Didn't ya two live near there?" "Live where?" Johnny frowns, looking up. There's a heli eye view of a burning building on the news, it's entire structure engulfed in flames, firemen barely making a dent. The camera switches to a ground reporter, a pretty woman with a serious face, who's explaining that arson investigators believe the fire started on the ninth floor, where there's still a single person trapped, unable to be rescued so far by exhaustive efforts. Something glitches in Johnny's brain, something short circuiting while he blinks, and breathes, and blinks, trying to wrap his mind around what he's seeing. The ninth floor. Someone trapped. Didn't ya two live near there? The ninth- It's almost unrecognizable, but he knows. Of course he knows. The ninth floor, the ninth floor- His heart stops in his chest, and he turns frantically to Simon, who stands like a statue in the doorway, eyes wide and frozen. "No. Nonononono-" Johnny whispers. He stumbles, away from Simon, away from Gaz, eyes not leaving the television while he drops to his knees. "She- Simon." Simon doesn't answer, just stands, broken. Empty. Like a ghost. He has no words. He has nothing. And neither does Johnny.

[xythlia]

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎 — 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓

kinktober week two | biting | vampire!satan x f!reader

What Goes Bump In The Night week two is here! The theater two showing is all about vampires, so when those fangs are bared make sure your necks are too~

› you're a caged bird, no hope of faith or flight to save you from the beast that holds you in an iron grip. But do you even want to be saved?

› warnings : ambiguous 18th century setting, biting, vampire au, blood/blood consumption, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, use of pet, sacrilege/religious themes, mention of killing, reader has hair long enough for it to get in their face, noncon, cervix fucking, creampie, choking

› word count : 3k+

🔪 what goes bump in the night?

The human mind possesses a remarkable ability to adapt.

You had quit marking time here long ago, it only served to drive you deeper into despair and slowly it became clear the only choice left was to make the best of being trapped in this rotted cathedral. So be it. Things became less horrid once that shifted inside you, he was kinder for one. Less bouts of intense rage although it wasn't perfectly remedied by your obedience and you suspected the real source of his rage was his own despair at knowing there was no solution for what he was. He also allowed you more freedom of movement, though only within this decrepit place.

You also suppose it makes sense he would choose this place to be a prison, for both of you. What you don't understand however, is his would be devotion to a being that did not create him nor hold any love for him.

"Leave me." Satan greeted you. His eyes never even moved to you, it almost made you feel miffed he couldn't even be bothered to properly rebuke you.

"I didn't even know you were here," you lied. He's always here. Always in the shadow of this altar when he's not slipping into your bedroom, attempting to find a much different form of salvation. This place was obviously once resplendent, but years of abandonment have reduced portions to rubble. This main part of the cathedral was nothing more than a half cracked maw, sucking in the freezing night air.

"I couldn't sleep," you muttered, maybe more to the neglected pews than to him.

You both knew you were lying, his acknowledgement coming in the form of a bland hmph. It was strange, you hated and reviled him especially when he would lurk into your room at night but something you couldn't really describe would rear it's head as an ache for him. You were now wholly dependent on him and you loathed him for it.

When those venomous eyes finally train on you it nearly makes you reconsider. Coming to him like this was a mistake, especially if you don't tred carefully-

"Maybe I should use you to sate my own desires," he cuts off your train of thought. "How wretched you are. You call me beast more times than I can count, yet you sulk into this place wanting to be bed by said beast." He sneered, tone shot full of mocking. You were caught out.

A pit opened in your stomach, but it wasn't unpleasant. No, it was a funny mixture of desire and disgust. He was right, though that would never pass your lips.

So you decide to lie again, even though you know he can practically taste the desire wafting from you, knew you were wet the moment you walked in.

"That's not what I want from you-"

"Then leave!" He practically snarls and you wish you had the nerve to strike him. He knows perfectly well you can't leave, could never leave. He tore you away in the night from all you ever had, all you ever knew and dropped you into this decaying church because try as he might he can never resist what he is.

Your own lips curl into a snarl. "You're nothing but a pathetic creature that would spend all of his eternity knelt for a god that deafens its ears to him."

You don't stop even as he rises to stand, every movement radiating aggression as he comes closer to you. You want to hurt him even a fraction of how badly he's hurt you, the ugliness of it twines together with your arousal, twin snakes squirming in your belly.

"You're pathetic. You know no god will ever look at you in joy so you capture women, cage them and break them so at least someone will gaze at you in sick adoration-"

The words die as a garbled sound of pain as his hand grips your throat, pushing you forcefully against a half rotted support beam. The position was oddly intimate, allowing you to smell the tang of the dust that had settled on him from spending hours in that repentant pose. That shameful arousal spiked inside your gut at the way he bared those fangs at you, the way he held you in place by your neck.

"Aren't you the one gazing in adoration, pet?"

The stone floor suddenly at your back was roughly fractured in sharp contours, horribly uncomfortable but it mattered not. You blinked away the start of tears in your eyes at the breathtaking sensation of being laid out flat, you always forgot about his strength when enough time passed but his small display of violence was thrilling to you in a vile way, so was the pain.

All of Satan's focus was zeroed on you as he hunched above your trembling body. The look on his face was dark, making your thighs squeeze together in a way you wish didn't happen. His flaxen hair was haloed by the cracks of moonlight from the crumbling ceiling,for a millisecond you swear he looked like one of those stained glass depictions of an angel.

"Please not here," you squeaked out.

"What? Are you afraid god will strike you down?" He asked, then whispered, "Do you really think he cares? He has yet to save you."

You swallowed thickly, noting how his eyes tracked the movement with their overblown pupils. This was a terrible idea, one you regretted now but it was too late. You'd poked the bear until claws came out and there's no asking for them to be retracted.

In the tense quiet he brushed a stray strand of hair from your forehead, the act so gentle, so intimate it nearly made you forget that you were but a meal and a thing to fuck. The faint stench of old blood brought you back to reality, knowing it came from his hands.

So, his faux repentance was prompted by another killing. It always is.

That blood-crusted hand glided down the column of your throat, making you flinch. You could tell by the hardening of his eyes that it was the wrong involuntary action to have, but there was no taking it back. That hand dipped inside your neckline to trace the curve of a breast before stilling above your heart.

"You're always so afraid," he said. It sounded almost regretful. "You know I don't mean to hurt you?"

"I don't." You whimpered. Finally a portion of truth. For all his occasional nicety it always wound back around to pain. A pain you got used to, tolerated, even sought out such as tonight, but you could never ever be sure that he would never hurt you.

He laughed and it was a mad sound, ricocheting off the cold indifferent stone and making you flinch again.

"You're just as detestable as I am, do you know that? Skulking in, acting on your own shameful desires, pretending you're not. Pretending you don't enjoy this little dance we do." His speech was coming out hard, rapidly. "I could tear you into shreds, leave nothing but ichor and parts and there's nothing you could ever do to stop me."

It was sick, how delighted he looked as you shrank against the floor. Even now your defiant streak became prevalent.

"You won't kill me," but you hardly sounded sure.

"Would you like to test it?"

You clenched your jaw, staying silent, although your trembling worsened.

Before you realized it he was leaning back, icy hands moving down violently to rip at the linen trousers you wore and horror washed over you. Horror that this was no longer a scathing back and forth, and that this time he really might make good on killing you.

"What are you doing- stop!" You cried out in dread but his movements didn't falter, no matter how much you struggled against him pulling at the fabrics of your clothes until the seams tore, leaving your cunt bare to his gaze and your ass to the bite of the frozen stone floor.

You yelped in pain as he tugged you down, scraping your back against the stone and raised your legs up, propping them on his shoulders in a hardened grip. Terror kept you locked in place even when his hands disappeared, fumbling with his own waistband looking down you saw how erect he was in his hand. Thick and tip dripping precum as you feel him smear it between your folds, and you bite down hard on your lips in anticipation of fresh pain.

As he roughly guided himself inside you struggled anew, crying out from the unprepared stretching as his girth forced your muscles and slick walls to part. Something like lust overcame you as you felt him fit fully inside, the head of his cock brushing against your cervix. It made you go limp, a gasped sob rising from your chest as he pushed your legs up against your breasts before forcefully placing your hands to hold the backs of your thighs.

His movements started slow, his breathing ragged feeling you clench around him. When he started thrusting with more vigor the back of your head scraped painfully against the floor, making you yelp as cool tears pooled in the shell of your ears from sliding down your cheeks. It hurt, the way it always did and brought a dull pounding pain that flowed through your entire body.

It was raw, being fucked into jagged stone with no consideration from the man sucking and nipping at your skin. A mockery of intimacy, but in a repulsive way it sustained you. Feeling his balls smack against the fat of your ass, gasping his name in broken syllables, feeling his fingers slip down to prod at your clit; it guaranteed your survival.

As you shift to wrap your arms around his neck an aggressive sound leaves him. All the pain made your back arch, trying to escape the ground while at the same time providing him a deeper reach that brought a burst of ecstasy to you. Pain and pleasure intensely mixed and muddled your mind as your body jostled with his cruel pace. Whatever pain there was would be rewarded, there was solace in that.

With no space between you that scent of iron and rot returned, pairing with the smell of your own acrid sweat and his golden hair tickled your cheek as he bit down with intent this time.

The wail that rang against the unfeeling cathedral left you unbidden, an animalistic response to the searing, nearly blinding pain of teeth sinking into your flesh. Sobs left you in ripping spurts, your nails clawing at his back but it did little to stop him. His pace never broke, if anything the way he circled your clit only picked up speed and your cunt spasmed around him.

It was strangely beautiful, feeling yourself coming undone and slipping away as your eyes never left the gap of starlight breaking through the musty darkness from the vaulted ceiling. The pain was ebbing away too, like a hazy afterimage that you couldn't hold onto. Faintly you knew the wet warmth seeping against your skin was your own blood, he always is a sloppy eater after all. It makes you crack a small smile, and distantly you know you look insane: fucked out, bloody, yet smiling up to the sky while he doesn't stop pumping into you, doesn't stop sucking and grunting against your skin. A barbaric display beneath the unsympathetic eye of the moon.

Though there is a happiness in knowing the dance ended the way it always does. That tomorrow you'll wake up, sore and feeling sick, but alive still.

As your eyes flutter closed and you go limp in his hold something shifts, though you're no longer awake to catch it. To him this suffering of eternal existence would perhaps be lessened if you were also eternally present, and without your current fragility.

Thick spurts of cum flood your throbbing cunt with his last sloppy thrusts as he keeps drinking, past his fill and past the point of no return. You'll wake much, much later as little more than a fledgling beast with base instincts but it thrills him to think of your anguish once you regain a sense of self.

Whatever poison you spit at him as a human would pale in comparison to what will surely leave your mouth once you realize what he's done to you. But snapping that iron will of yours a second time will taste even sweeter than you do at this moment.

[warabidakihime]

Tangled Hearts, Silent Goodbyes

You stood there, a dazed expression etched on your face, the aftermath of a grueling battle evident in your heaving chest. It was Christmas Eve, the fateful day Suguru said would be the all-out brawl war between his faction and all the other sorcerers.

As one of the pillars of Jujutsu society, alongside Gojo Satoru, you lived up to your reputation, effortlessly maneuvering through your battles. But despite your triumphs, your once-pristine uniform now lies in tatters, a casualty of the brutal intensity of the fight. Bruises and small gashes adorned your limbs, and your once-immaculate hair now resembled a disheveled bird's nest.

Yet, the toll on your own body paled in comparison to Suguru's injuries. Upon seeing him, a wince escaped your lips, betraying your concern. It was the first time you had witnessed him in such a grave state, and despite everything he had put you through, a pang of empathy tugged at your heart. The pain he inflicted when he abruptly departed without a single goodbye still reverberates within you, even to this day. The heartbreak you experienced upon discovering his defection, compounded by the knowledge of the atrocious crimes he committed, was beyond comprehension.

Each day, you questioned what more you could have done to prevent his descent into darkness, to stop him from leaving, or even from entertaining such thoughts. The weight of responsibility and self-blame pressed upon you as you berated yourself for not doing everything within your power to save him. Countless scenarios played out in your mind, each one a missed opportunity. And now, everything had culminated in this moment of despair.

You and Satoru continued to gaze at Suguru, whose injuries were severe and seemingly beyond salvation. The absence of his right arm was stark, and coupled with his other wounds, it was evident that time had already slipped away, taking with it his chance at recovery. A considerable amount of blood had been lost, leaving him in a fragile state. It was disheartening to witness the once confident sorcerer, whom you had once loved so dearly, reduced to this state of vulnerability.

After a brief exchange with Satoru, Suguru's attention turned to you. With a downcast expression, he mustered a sheepish smile and said, "Hey."

As soon as his voice reached your ears, a torrent of emotions surged within you. Happiness, sadness, hurt, frustration, adoration, and love—each vied for dominance within your heart. The truth remained: despite everything that had transpired, your love for him endured. Your heart never ceased to beat with longing, clinging to the hope that someday he would awaken from the darkness and return to you. While others had lost faith in him, you never did. And it was safe to say that Satoru shared your unwavering faith.

Unable to fully trust your voice, you kept your response short and bittersweet, "Hey."

"I'm sorry for leaving without saying goodbye," he confessed, his voice tinged with genuine remorse.

Ah, fuck.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and your lips quivered as you fought to suppress the cry building within you. "You should be. You broke my heart, you fucking bastard."

Suguru could only manage a weak chuckle in response to your hostility. "I suppose I deserve that." He attempted to say more, but a fit of coughing wracked his frail body, blood staining his lips.

Time was slipping away, his moments dwindling.

"Well, at the very least, let me bid you farewell this time. It's the least I—" Suguru's words were interrupted as you swiftly knelt down to his level, surprising both him and Satoru. You drew closer, reaching out to fix his hair, particularly his long fringes, and gently wiping away the blood trickling from the corners of his lips. Tears continued to flow down your cheeks as you tended to the love of your life, small whimpers escaping your lips.

"I should be punching and kicking your face for breaking my heart like that, but I guess I will always be utterly helpless when it comes to you."

By this point, Suguru's vision began to blur, his focus slipping away bit by bit. Yet he could still make out the expression on your face. His hardened demeanor softened as he watched you shower him with unwavering attention.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he uttered once more, triggering another wave of tears on your part. "I love you. I always will."

Your hands delicately cupped both sides of his face, your thumbs gently caressing his chiseled cheekbones. With trembling breaths, you poured all your emotions—the good and the bad—into your single reply, "I love you too, Suguru. Always."

Without hesitation, you leaned forward and captured his bloody lips in a sweet, loving kiss. With the last ounce of his strength, he reciprocated, though not as fervently as you. Nevertheless, it was more than enough to convey his unwavering love for you. In that poignant moment, you poured your heart and soul into the kiss, savoring every bittersweet second.

But as the intensity of the kiss waned, Satoru's touch on your shoulder brought you back to the harsh reality. His somber voice cut through the haze, calling your name, "Y/N."

Reluctantly, you opened your eyes, and in that instant, you were greeted by a pair of lifeless eyes.

Suguru is dead.

The man you had loved with every fiber of your being had left this world. Forever.

Tears streamed down your face as you whispered, "Satoru, it hurts. It hurts so bad."

Satoru, standing behind you, could only nod and emit a sorrowful hum in response. A lone tear escaped his own eyes, tracing a path down his cheek.

In that moment of shared grief, neither of you could find solace in words, for the pain was too profound and raw to be easily expressed.

[airas-story]

Tell Me You Didn't

“You seem… cheerful,” Wong said, entirely too suspiciously for what should have been a good thing.

Stephen hummed in absent agreement as he finished preparing two cups of tea. Wong reached for one and Stephen swatted his hand away. “Get your own.”

“You don’t need two cups,” Wong protested.

“I don’t have two cups.”

Wong opened his mouth to argue when Tony stumbled in. “Whoa,” he muttered, as he glanced around. “I swear a second ago I was in the hallway.”

That would be the sanctum making sure Tony didn’t have the opportunity to touch anything he shouldn’t, Stephen suspected.

Wong froze, understanding dawning on his face.

Stephen held out the second cup of tea to Tony and Wong made a strangled noise as Tony took it. Stephen was going to forever regret that he didn’t manage to catch that in a recording, because he would absolutely have made it his text tone. Wong rarely lost his composure enough to manage such expressive noises, such things deserved commemoration.

Tony was, quite possibly, rubbing off on him.

“Tell me you didn’t,” Wong asked, voice unnecessarily despairing. But Stephen could tell he was already taking in the details, the most condemning being that Tony was wearing Stephen’s Columbia hoodie, uncaring that it was just a little too big on him. “Tell me you didn’t.”

Stephen shrugged, not feeling the slightest bit sorry. “Can’t.”

Tony grinned a little as he sipped at his tea—Stephen was still working on converting him fully away from coffee, but it was a work in progress.

“No, he really can’t,” Tony agreed.

Wong’s face went through all five stages of grief in the space of a moment. “I should have known this would happen,” he finally admitted, sounding as though he’d just been condemned. “I should have prepared myself.”

“There, there,” Stephen said with mock sympathy.

“I should be offended,” Tony said, though he didn’t seem particularly offended. Stephen was going to take full credit for that. Tony was in far too good a mood for offense.

“To be fair, he’s handling it better than Rhodey,” Stephen pointed out. Colonel Rhodes had acted like Tony and Stephen getting together was the end of the world. It had been unnecessarily dramatic if Stephen was allowed to give his opinion.

“This is true,” Tony agreed, amused. He’d spent the morning cackling after they’d made Rhodey flee by doing nothing more than kiss in front of him.

Stephen would have thought that after decades dealing with Tony a kiss would be nothing. Stephen suspected it was the fact that Tony had called him ‘sweetheart’ and meant it.

Endearments were always a dangerous thing. Especially when wielded by Tony, who used nicknames a plenty, but endearments rarely.

“The two of you are difficult enough on your own.” Wong gave Stephen a pointed look that meant he was mostly talking about Stephen. Which was fair, Tony was Rhodey’s and Pepper’s problem most of the time and only tangentially caused problems for Wong. “You’re going to be worse together.”

“Or we’ll be better,” Tony pointed out. Stephen supposed that depended a lot on a person’s definition of ‘better’ and ‘worse’. “That’s possible.”

Wong looked like he doubted it.

Like Tony, Stephen was in too good a mood to be offended. He’d save that for later.

For now, he was going to, quite cheerfully, finish his tea and then he was going to find out just how quickly it took Wong to leave the room once he started kissing Tony.

That would be fun.

[aeliesa]

SAFE SPACES OF AGONY

Synopsis: When he died, you suffered in different ways, and when things are starting to go their own way, Satoru knows what to do, even if it means altering everything all at once.

• Relationship: Gojo Satoru x female reader (with mention of Suguru) • Content: Lightweight angst • Words: 2.7k • Song: Life Puzzle by Arthur Nery

A/N: I just came back for a short post. I've been away for so long that I miss writing and staying on Tumblr as my way of de-stressing. The world moves quickly, and I want to pause and enjoy the moment. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this short (?) post I wrote on my short break while listening to my playlist on spotify. There's some canon divergence but only a little. Thank you, stay safe and hydrated. ♡

“I found her first! I love her first!”

“But she chooses me; you and I both know her choices are out of our bounds.”

The rain keeps pouring, sheltering his emotions in the cold breeze and grey clouds, almost like despair is the only thing inside him. He never likes this idea, yet he has to entertain it again whenever it comes back from the dead. He detests it; however, what choice does he have? In this modernity, he is known as the strongest, the keeper of the scale between evil and good. Somehow, when it comes to you - he’s reminded how he can never have everything the way he wants to. He was born the strongest; regardless, his strength wasn’t enough to tame someone he longed to have. He sighs and gently shakes his head before raising his fist to knock on the door, only to stop mid-air and open it. “At the very least, Satoru, let me win this time.”

“We both know I already lost before it started.”

Silence engulfs the whole place; the emptiness of warmth welcomes like a ravaging wild wave that washes along the shore. The gloominess of the weather has escalated the atmosphere inside the house, the darkness, coldness, and even the silence. 

It’s like walking into the abyss to save someone from falling into the pits of depression. 

“You were supposed to stay on the side and let things unfold!”

“I did, but she made her move. It is not my fault that I am what she wants.”

He hangs his coat on the rack before taking the path upstairs, finding his subject. Each step he takes is also how his heart is hammering against his chest. The silence was different this time; it was a creeping sensation of something he never desired to happen, much less think of it. He shakes his head once it crosses again, ‘No, she won’t do that.’ His strides keep on going till he hears small sobs in a small distance across the door, where the only sound he hears upon entering your place. “I promised her… that I’ll return after things are okay.”

“You made her believe in something already a far cry.”

“I know, and it seems like I’ll just leave her in your hands.” Satoru opens the door, knocking gently before calling your name in a whispering manner. He could only sigh at seeing you lying on your stomach with disheveled hair, hugging the clothes of someone he once knew. “Hey….” he softly mutters under his breath, walking to your side, observing how the mood is continuously depleting each second. Satoru studies you for a while; he can tell how heavy things are for you - caught between the situation and forced to choose between right and wrong, leaving the safe spaces of neutrality.

Soft sobs are just the only answer you give. Not that it matters to Satoru; amongst everyone, you know that he’s the only one who understands you the most. When everyone dictated your emotions and actions, there he was, standing on the other side - welcoming you with compassion par to none. “I’m sorry,” you sigh, sitting on the bed and wiping your tears. “I should have prepared long ago -” “No need…” he cuts you off, making you look at him, despite the puffy eyes. “No need to force yourself. We can stay here and do whatever you want.”

“You know what I want right now, Satoru.” “Still, I don’t mind,” he nonchalantly replies, pulling a chair and sitting before you. “You like to cry all you want? Go. Do you want to just lay on the bed and think about him? Be my guest. Sulk as much as you want today, lay on the bed throughout the hours, and just be lost in your own world; I don’t mind - as long as you bring me where your thoughts go.” You close your eyes and run your hand on your temples, a cracked voice and shaky breath; you answer: “But it is like that day….” “And? If it makes you feel better, then we do it. You can’t just shut your emotions just because you were told by those around you…” he leans a little, meeting your gaze with his. “I don’t want you to make yourself suffer even more by restraining the raging emotions.”

“I miss him.” In a blink, he softens as he watches you smiling faintly with closed eyes, the redness of your.  “I know…” he nods, only staring at your features. “I do, too.” Satoru observes your face; he loves them. To see you being vulnerable with him, being bossy, being noisy, being jovial - everything about you - he loves all of it. Be it the worst or not, it is worth loving as long as it is you. 

A tear falls from your face, then another follows until it cascades down your cheeks. Satoru just patiently listens to your sobs as you cover your face with both hands while sitting on the side of the bed wearing the clothing of the man you love - who passed away in the hands of the same man who is comforting you. “Why did it have to happen? Why do I have to be so blind from everything? Why? Why didn’t he listen?” “It is not your fault,” he reminds you, calling your name almost like it is a fragile thing to say. “It’s never your fault.” You shake your head, still sobbing. “But it feels like it, Satoru. It feels like I failed to remind him that there is kindness in everything, that everything he saw was just the ugly side of the mirror - he was convinced by his philosophy. I saw it in his eyes!” It is hard for him, but to witness your struggle, Satoru could barely grasp the surface of what you’re dealing with. Apart from him, you suffered too when his best friend - Suguru Geto, died, if not worse. When he was losing himself is where you appear, sought after his hands to lift him from the turmoil troubling him. And yet, somehow… you did save Satoru, but who’s keeping you from going insane? “I know I don’t have enough idea about these curses, sorcerers, and whatnot, but at the very least, am I not a reminder of what you guys should protect?” you continue when he doesn’t react. “Why did it have to resort to such violence.” “You are,” Satoru assures, still sitting on the chair and watching you pouring your heart out on him. “You are a reminder, the thin line that keeps me holding on to what I should be fighting for.” “But I am not enough,” your voice cracks again. “I am not enough because it happened, Satoru. In your hands is where Suguru died, and I never resent you for it.” As he listens to you, Satoru remains silent for a while, losing himself in a reverie of his memories with the man you longed to hold, feel, and love.  “If you’re concerned if she’ll hate you once this is over, I’ll tell you this, Satoru: she won’t.”

“Why are you so sure?”

“Because she’s unlike any other.”

His friend has nailed his words. Suguru never lied whenever it was about you. At some point, it felt like Suguru knew you better than Satoru, even though the latter crossed paths with you first. You were the ray of sunshine, the bringer of hope, and the beacon of their humanity, the constant reminder of what they are protecting. Unlike them, you were just an average citizen caught in the fight of the cursed users. Yet, the accident was the turning point for the weaver of faith to write your own life. Caught between two worlds only to stay in the grey line for so long, content with living on both sides of the reality you’ve come to witness. “Do you hate me for it?” You paused, looking at him despite the messiness of your face. “Hate? Where did that notion come from?” you ask, bewildered. “I already told you I never resent you for what happened.” “J-Just a t-thought. I wouldn’t blame -” “Never did it cross my mind,” you cut off. “I understand you were backed against the wall and forced to do it. It’s just… I am upset with the situation; why doesn’t evilness just disappear? It is frustrating at some point. I could only watch you guys do your thing while I waited for everything to finish.” “That’s not true, you -” You gently chuckle with a crying tone, “Oh please, don’t sugarcoat it. It’s always been like that since the beginning. We both know I can’t do anything except wait for my friends to return from their missions. Sometimes, it’s hard to witness this stuff and turn a blind eye to it occasionally. In some situations, I must deal with the constant fear that I will not see you again walking inside my house; I had to beg the Heavens on my knees, called upon the saints and whatever deity graces my pleas.”

Satoru very well knows it; he’s the one who placed you in that situation, and along with it is the burden you had to carry. Selfish, it may seem, but to love you from afar is far from his desires. He pulled you, placing you where he believed was the best place for you to walk, which, in the same manner, is the same line that he can hold you. For whatever it is, Satoru couldn’t let your hand fall from his grasp, even when you were suffering in two worlds: between the life of the blindsided and the curses. “I can’t also lose you, okay?” you smile, still crying, facing him. “I can’t lose you too because losing Suguru is too much to handle, and I could not go on if you also will leave.” This time, he sighs and shifts his seat, pulling you into a hug as he sits beside you. “You. Will. Never. Lose. Me.” His firm voice came like a dulcet to your ears; a safety net for you to fall, a wall for you to lean on, a home for you to feel secure. The fervent of Satoru’s words is for you to hear and for him to fulfill. His words are carved amongst the stars that align with the destiny that holds the fate of your relationship with him. “You better honor that because the last guy who promised me is dead.” He nods, closing his eyes and kissing your temple softly. “My words carry the weight of my actions, and the universe is a witness as I say that even if all of me will cease to exist, I will still find my way to you,” he brushes your hair gently, “In this agony is where you’re drowning yourself to the extent of destruction but in all of everything, you will always see me seeking for your hand to reach you even if you’re on the other side; be it the doubts and anxiety, I'll give you peace and tranquility, and if not, then I can be the safe space that will shelter you against the world cruelty of the world.” “Promises… again.” “I meant it,” he says with determination upon sensing the reluctance, calling your name. “I mean it,” he repeats. “You two are indeed best friends,” Satoru gently chuckles at your comment. “Suguru also says the same.” “Well, it’s like they said… your friend is a piece of who you are.” You sigh, nuzzling your head; soft hair tickles his neck, making Satoru feel the tears against his skin. “If he could just be here with us, I miss him…” he tightens his hug around you. “So much….” you add, biting your lower lip and reciprocating the same intensity of embrace.

As the room fills with your soft sobs, he can only rub his hand on your back as you keep pouring your heart out. He knows the pain of losing someone and the vigor of mourn brings is beyond what each human can grasp. Pain is profound; it goes deeper than what an individual perceives. For you to be in a state of wreck for months already speaks the volume of how the death of his best friend break you. 

It has been months if not almost a year - and you changed drastically. 

“Weeks before that event happened, he promised. He promises me that he’ll come back, that we celebrate his birthday together - with you and Ieiri…” you sniff, “But here we are on the very day, remembering him wrenchingly.”

The rain outside continues to rampage, but your room's dimness worsens everything. The atmosphere is already hard enough, but for Satoru to see you like this? He wishes to end your suffering, but how can he? The chances were laid on the table, and the choice was yours. 

Satoru placed you in the midline that meets the norm and the other side… but Suguru gave you the choices to pick. “We can do something different. If you want, we can still go on with our initial plan.” “No,” you shake your head, breaking the hug. “I can’t give you that pain; it is selfish and immoral.” He frowns, “What do you mean? We always do this on Suguru’s birthday.” “Yes, and this time, I want it to stop.” “Why? Did I do something wrong?” You shake your head, “No, it’s just unfair and selfish for me. It feels nice to see you here and check me out. I know I have been a constant mess since Suguru died… you just can’t help it when someone you love is now a piece of history, a part of you also dies, right?” you heave a deep breath and turn to Satoru, smiling faintly, “When he passed away, a part of me went with him, and it will forever be with him…” When Satoru placed you in a tight situation, Suguru gave you a choice, and you responded to the opportunity. “You see, Satoru, I cannot do it anymore. The pretension and everything that everything is okay, we both know you don’t like the idea of doing what Suguru and I always do on his birthday.” “It doesn’t matter to me as long as it makes you feel better,” his voice's firmness is the anchor that pulls your hesitation back at bay. “If it’s how I can make you happy, I am willing to fill his shoes.” “I made you suffer, and I don’t like it. Relishing my memory with Suguru is never the answer; we can’t continue like this forever.”

“You love him that much, huh?” “More than what I can give up.” “Lucky bastard,” he jests, making you chuckle. 

Maybe in another timeline, if perchance it exists, the tiny hope lingers in him that he won’t hear the same thing. Deep in his thoughts lies the idea that you were choosing the other way… that the choices that Suguru laid on you are different… that you pick him over his best friend.

“I’m sorry…” you say in a low voice wiping your tear. “As much as I want to do it again, I can’t. I really can’t put you in the worst feeling possible.” Satoru takes your hand, gently squeezing it as he gazes at you with no pretension of his desires. “To hell with what I feel if, in return, is your warmth radiating upon me.”

“Silly. You have done enough, I think I should be on my own now.”

“She’s so bubbly; even her laughs are infectious. Damn, if you could only see how she makes those ugly laughs with those features.” “Then, take me.” “Huh?” “Take all of me; anywhere you go, I want to be there too. It can be in your imagination, thoughts, or the smallest things - take me wherever you go. I want to see what you see, dive into your thoughts, and carve everything in my mind, the pieces of you.” Desperation occurs when a person feels like he’s losing all his cards; at this very moment, Satoru has given up every ace he has. As much as he wants to deny it, he feels envious of his best friend, for Suguru saw the different puzzles of your identity, and Satoru has longed to witness all of it since the moment he saved you from the curses. “That some sick joke, you bastard.” “It’s just a hypothetical situation; come on. If I die, I want you to take her hand and lift her sorrows because I can’t do it.” “Sa-Satoru… wh-what d-do y-” He takes your hand, leaning against your forehead with a deep breath; he speaks…

“Date me.”

fin.

[itsthewritergal]

Birthday - Mob!Bucky x Reader

Hello hello, 

so this is my first mob!bucky... I hope I did him justice :) 

Love you lots xxx

Masterlist 

If there was one thing Bucky didn’t worry about it was money, he never bothered to check labels, checks or card machines and he had the same rule for Y/N, he had made some speech to her when they first dated that as long as Y/N was with him, and he had planned for forever, she would never have to worry about money. 

Y/N was grateful for Bucky looking after he, it wasn’t something she was used to but money was the one thing she had grown up worrying about and that and of anxiety didn’t just disappear instantly. With Y/N’s birthday looming she had made ever effort to save up as much as she could from her small cafe job for a shopping day with the girls. She refused to tell Bucky that she was already worrying about how much she could afford, knowing that he would just give her his card and tell her not to worry. 

Y/N woke up alone on her birthday, Bucky had told her that they would spend the evening together giving her the whole day to spend with her friends. Despite wanted to spend her entire birthday doting on her every whim he knew Y/N would want to spend it with her friends, so he backed off a little. By the time Y/N’s friends turned up at her door she had memorised the amount of money in her account, and just how much she could afford to spend after her train tickets and lunch. Her friends dragged her into shop after shop persuading her to buy more and more, Y/N was hesitant at first remembering her strict budget but after constant pressure from her friends she began to just keep spending. Bags upon bags were piled up on Y/N’s wrists and they continued walking around the shopping centre. 

“Where are we thinking for lunch?” One of Y/N’s friends asked, 

“Ooh well there’s this new super high market Italian restaurant over the road and it’s supposed to be amazing. We should try it!” 

“I don’t know about that” Y/N sad suddenly becoming aware of just how much she had spent 

“Come on we’re celebrating!” Her friend argued 

“I really don’t know” Y/N said, “Can’t we just get something simple?” Y/N pleaded, 

After a few comments from her friends Y/N gave in and they headed over to the restaurant, Y/N wished quietly that they wouldn’t be allowed in, or that they were full up but much to her dismay they were led to an even fancier part of the restaurant where her friends immediately ordered a bottle of champagne. 

After what felt like hours of Y/N putting on a fake smile and just wishing she had agreed to spending the day with Bucky, all of her friends had finally finished their meals. 

“Ok, so Y/N you get the bill and we’ll just go wait outside” One said simply standing up and grabbing her own bag 

“No we’re splitting this” Y/N said bluntly, 

“Come on, not everyone can have a rich boyfriend to give us money” Another laughed following the others out of the restaurant, 

“Guys you can’t do this, I can’t afford this”Y/N argued suddenly feeling a wave of despair drowning her 

“We all know you can” 

Then suddenly Y/N was left alone at the table, she half debated standing up and just leaving but she knew deep down she couldn’t never do that. 

“Here’s the bill” The waitress said with a smile, “Is that going to be on card or cash?” 

“Card please” Y/N said dreading the next few moments, 

“I’m so sorry, but it’s been declined” She said with a sympathetic smile, “Do you have another card?” She asked 

“No, I don’t” Y/N admitted “What about the girls you were here with? Where did they go?” “They wanted me to pay” Y/N admitted “let me call my other friend, I think she’s in town” 

Y/N grabbed her phone with a shaky hand and dialled Nat’s number, 

“Hey birthday gal” Nat called down the phone “Nat are you in town?” She said with shaky breaths  

“Me and Steve are, what’s up?” She asked

“I need you to come to the new Italian restaurant, my cards been declined” She whispered. 

“Two minutes darling” She said instantly, putting the phone down. 

“She’ll be here” Y/N promised the waitress, 

“Ok just give me a shout when she’s here” 

Y/N sat with her knee bouncing up and down waiting for Nat’s arrival, she knew that she would almost definitely have told Bucky the moment the phone had been put down, or if Nat hadn’t then Steve definitely would have. 

“Hey darling” Nat said pulling Y/N out of her trance, “What happened to your friends?” She asked, as Steve made his way over to the waitress, 

“Long story,” She whispered, “I’ll pay you back” She assured nat, 

“Don’t be silly, it’s the least Steve could do for you” She laughed “Are you going to tell me what happened?” 

“I don’t want to talk about it” Y/N said her mind instantly casting back to the way her friends just left, 

“They left you here alone didn’t they?” Nat said putting the pieces together, 

“No I agreed to meet them after I paid, I completely forgot that I didn’t have my other card, I should go and find them” Y/N said, 

“Are you sure? You want us to come with you?” Nat asked as Steve almost instantly materialised by her side 

“No it’s ok, I need to find them. I’ll see you guys tomorrow at Bucky’s?” 

“We’ll be there” Steve grinned, 

——-

Y/N pushed the door to her apartment open with a sigh, she had taken back every single item she had bought that day and already put the money she owed Steve into an envelope to give him the next day. She was exhausted and the last thing she wanted to do was see Bucky, knowing he would ask her all about her day and he would be able to see through her lies. 

“Hey doll” His voice rang through her small apartment 

“What are you doing here?” She asked turning around and meeting his stern gaze, 

“I can’t surprise my doll on her birthday?” He said with a raised brow 

“Sorry Buck, I’m just tired” She said wrapping her arms around his middle and breathing in his scent which instantly calmed her down, 

“Now are you going to show me what you bought?” Bucky asked as his hand tangled its way into her hair,  

Y/N den’t reply, instead she just pushed her head further into his chest 

“Doll?” He asked Y/N took a deep breath knowing that she wouldn’t be able to lie to Bucky for long without him picking up on it. 

“Didn’t get anything” She said, keeping her head buried into his chest, it wasn’t a total lie she told herself. But Bucky didn’t believe it, he lightly pushed her away form his chest and studied her face 

“What happened?” He said suddenly turning stern 

“Just didn’t like anything” Y/N said letting her gaze settle on the floor 

“Come on doll, talk to me” Bucky said manoeuvring himself to sit at one of the kitchen chairs with Y/N tugged onto his lap, and so Y/N told him. Every single detail, of her friends, the restaurant and how Nat and Steve came to save her; by the time she finished she was sobbing. 

“I’ll kill them” Bucky said 

“No Buck,” Y/N replied, knowing that he almost definitely would if she gave the word 

“They can’t get away with that” Bucky said, “They won’t get away with it, they don’t get to upset my girl on her special day” He snapped, 

“Please Bucky” She whispered “I just want to spend the evening with you”  

“Fine, but I’m not making any promises especially not if I see them” Bucky said, Y/N could sense his furious tone. 

——-

The next morning Y/N woke up in her bed alone, she had expected Bucky to be there but he wasn’t, she assumed something had come up. It wasn’t like him to use disappear, as she padded into the kitchen she heard the soft humming of the radio. 

“Buck?” She called 

“Kitchen doll” He replied 

Y/N shuffled her way into the room, her eyes widening at the sight of her kitchen full of bags of every size shape and colour. “Buck what’s going on?” 

“You took all your stuff back last night, but it was lucky I had some guys keeping an eye on you so they went and bought everything you wanted to get” 

“Bucky, you shouldn’t have done this. It’s too much” She said as he wrapped his arms around her tightly 

“I’ve told you before doll, you never have to worry about anteing when you’re with me. I’m just proving it” 

“I love you Buck” 

“I love you too doll,” He said pressing a light kiss to her lips “Now I want a fashion show” He demanded with a grin. 

Taglist :) 

@whitewineandpizzapuffs @planet-naptune@thefandomplace@sebby-staan  @poguesinablanket @witch-and-a-half@nojamsonmytoast @seanh-boredom@wanniiieeee@louweasleymalfoy @missryerye @big-galaxy-chaos@barnestatic@devilsbooksworld@lovesanimals0000@navs-bhat

[happysadyoyo]

Time loop au from @pillowspace, inspired by this post in particular. Celebratory ficlet because today feels good.

Thank you pillow for letting me play in your sandbox.

You sit in the unused janitor's closet, listening to people leaving and the closing tunes of the pizzeria. It's dark, nearly pitch black in the closet, but you can't turn on the light and risk one of the animatronics or security noticing and catching you.

Your coffee by this point is lukewarm, but you sip anyway, the dregs bitter against your tongue. How many loops has it been now? Ten? Fifteen? It's hard to tell anymore, the months blurring together. It's always fall, never quite to Christmas.

God, is this what it was like in the children's book? Always winter, never Christmas. Maybe Narnia had been in a time loop too.

Your cup is empty, and you toy with it idly as the chipper music slows into a final warning. The doors would be locked soon, the gate shutting you in until the morning manager comes in to give the building a once over. Still, you wait until the light shining through the crack of the door dims.

It's still winding down, a cleaning bot passing on the level lower with a little trail of wet floor signs following after it. It's cute, but where it once would have warmed you... Well, you can feel it. The want to smile and take it in, but it's like the feelings are through radio static. Maybe if you pushed... but you're too tired just maintaining to try.

Even though you know security is more for show than actual security (it's hard to steal giant sentient animatronics after all), you keep close to the wall, fingers tracing the patterns mindlessly. As familiar as you are with the way towards the theater, you still manage to misstep, foot hitting empty air. You fall down the stairs, barely catching yourself on the handrail several steps down.

There's laughter high above, outside the safety of the ambient lights set for the cleaning bots to do their work. You sit up with a sigh, rubbing the back of your head.

"Could've been worse," you decided. "Absolutely could've died again." Your ankle hurts a little, and your neck from the whiplash, but hey, you're awake.

You continue down the stairs a little more gingerly, half listening to the sound of bells. Always at a distance, always safely away from the light.

When you enter the theater, Moon comes in closer. You expected this. The theater used to have live performances, the stage worn and scratched in places from animatronic feet and claws, but now it's just a place to stream old Fredbear and Friends cartoons and find teenagers attempting to make out away from their parents. So it's darker here, not needing to be cleaned nearly as often.

"You're not supposed to be here. It's past your bedtime Assistant." The malice hits that same numbing wall of static, muzzling the pain attempting to crawl its way up your throat. Moon hated you --- and maybe Sun did too, this go around. You'd been trying to hide it during the day, the exhaustion and muted despair. The children didn't deserve that and Sun was still Sun even now.

But kids had a way of picking up on the emotions of the adults around them and they liked you. You always knew what they needed and stopped more than a few painful scrapes and bruises. So they tried to cheer you up, drawing pictures and trying to pull you into their games. Things they usually did with Sun and Moon, before Moon had been reassigned to security.

Maybe you deserved that malice. After all, weren't you supposed to save them? The plastic strap of the Fazbear watch dug into your wrist as you gripped the edge of your sweater. You were meant to be their rescuer, but everything keeps getting worse every single time.

Fingers brush over the top of your head as bells jingle softly together. You barely flinch, touching the cracked ear of your watch, rubbing your thumb where the earring was meant to be.

"Do you ever feel like you're being put through some cruel joke?" You ask. "Like... Someone decided that instead of letting you go through life they keep hitting the reset button just to watch you squirm?"

There's no immediate reply, not even a too-tight grip on the back of your neck.

"Maybe if you killed me, it would stop."

Silence. Then, slowly, and very nearly in Moon's old voice, the one you had forgotten: "Are you all right?"

His hand is still on top of your head. You reach for it, pulling it down to press your cheek against and close your eyes. Moon still isn't attacking you, but if you do or say the wrong thing, that might change.

It's too much to hope that you had found the answer here and now.

"I'm sorry sweetie," you say softly, trying to preserve this moment of peace as long as you can. "It's just been hard. I don't want you to kill me." His fingers flex, but he's still quiet, still still. Your face is hot, especially around your eyes, but that static is still there, winning over and dulling your voice. "Things are going to end again. But maybe next time... Next time." You sigh, deflating slowly. "I promise. I'll. I'll save you both."

You know any moment whatever is wrong with Moon will take over again, that you're in danger, but for a moment, just this moment, you're going to hold his hand and just pretend that it's okay you can't cry. And he lets you, for as long as you can stand.

[bloomingdayswithyou]

Can i request lucifer with a reader that’s dealing with writer’s block? thank you ^^

Ink and Despair

Pairing: Lucifer x gn!reader

Words: 775

A/N: hi anon! since you didn't specify the gender I made them gn. If you want me to change that please tell me so!

Writer's block was the cruelest of afflictions, and you found yourself ensnared by its unforgiving grasp. Staring at the blank screen of your laptop, you sighed in frustration, the cursor blinking mockingly at you. Your thoughts swirled like a storm within your mind, a cacophony of half-formed ideas and tangled sentences. It was as if the well of inspiration had run dry, leaving only the arid wasteland of your imagination.

Sitting at your desk in the cozy attic of the House of Lamentation, you tapped your fingers rhythmically against the wooden surface. The room was dimly lit, save for the soft, ambient glow of a desk lamp. Outside, the rain pelted against the windowpane, a symphony of sorrowful echoes. Lucifer had advised you to stay inside for the evening, given the inclement weather, but you couldn't help but feel that the storm within you was far more tumultuous than the one outside.

Lucifer himself sat across from you, engrossed in a tome of ancient texts. His silver hair gleamed in the lamplight, and his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose lent him an air of scholarly elegance. The faint scent of his cologne wafted over to you, mingling with the subtle aroma of parchment and aged leather. His presence was both soothing and intimidating, as he was the personification of wisdom and responsibility in the demon world.

With a heavy sigh, you rested your head in your hands, frustration building to an unbearable crescendo. "I just can't do it, Lucifer," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looked up from his reading, concern etched into his features. "Is something troubling you, my dear? You seem quite distraught."

You bit your lower lip, struggling to put your feelings into words. "It's this damn writer's block. I have a deadline approaching, and I can't come up with anything. I'm letting everyone down."

Lucifer closed his book and placed it carefully on the desk. "Ah, the dreaded writer's block. It plagues even the most creative minds." He stood and walked over to your side, leaning against the desk. "Perhaps I can offer some assistance. Tell me, what's the nature of your assignment?"

You explained the concept of the story you were supposed to write, and Lucifer listened attentively, his fingers gently tapping his chin in thought. After a moment, he smiled reassuringly. "I see. It's a common theme, but I'm sure we can find a unique angle to approach it. Let's brainstorm together."

His offer warmed your heart. With his guidance, you began to bounce ideas back and forth, and slowly but surely, a plot began to take shape. Lucifer's eloquence and deep knowledge of literature and history lent a richness to your story that you couldn't have achieved on your own.

As the hours passed, you lost track of time. The storm outside had transformed into a gentle rain, and the attic felt like a haven of creativity. The chemistry between you and Lucifer was palpable, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of kinship with him, despite his usual stern demeanor.

Eventually, the story was born from your shared efforts. It was a tale of forbidden love and redemption, set against a backdrop of celestial and infernal realms. The characters came to life, and their struggles mirrored your own in overcoming writer's block. It was a story that resonated with your own journey, a testament to the power of creativity and perseverance.

Lucifer read the final draft aloud, his voice like a mellifluous symphony, bringing the words to life. "I must say, my dear, this is a remarkable piece. You've managed to capture the essence of human resilience and the indomitable spirit of creativity."

You blushed, humbled by his praise. "I couldn't have done it without your help, Lucifer. You're not just a scholar and a leader but a true inspiration."

Lucifer's lips quirked into a rare, genuine smile. "Thank you, my dear. You possess a unique talent for storytelling, and I was merely here to provide a nudge in the right direction. Now, I suggest you rest. You've been working diligently, and you deserve a break."

You nodded, grateful for his guidance. As you closed your laptop and prepared to retire for the night, you couldn't help but feel a renewed sense of purpose and inspiration. Lucifer's presence had not only helped you overcome your writer's block but had also enriched your life in unexpected ways.

The storm outside had passed, and the sky was clear. In the quiet of your room, you knew that with Lucifer by your side, you could weather any creative tempest that came your way.

.

.

.

[just-jordie-things]

no surprises - okkotsu yuuta

word count: 4.5k warnings: themes of depression, light swearing summary: (y/n) learns she doesn’t see the world the way Yuuta does.  She also learns she doesn’t see herself the way he does. - based loosely around no surprises by radiohead more info: aged up characters! ___

[ a heart that’s full up like a landfill / a job that slowly kills you / bruises that won’t heal ] ___

The world of Jujutsu was fairly small and only shrinking.  Sometimes it was cool to be a part of a unique society.  Most of the time, it was lonely.

(y/n’s) classmates were nice enough, but she had yet to make a real connection with any of them.

Maki was great to train with, and she could be fun.  But she was so intimidating that when they were alone together, (y/n) tended to keep her head down and mouth shut.  You couldn’t say anything wrong if you didn’t speak a word, right?

Then there was Panda, who was very kind, but he could be rambunctious, and a bit of a prankster.  Besides, he tended to partner off with Toge anyways, so there wasn’t a point in trying to reach out more.

And Toge only spoke in rice ball ingredients.  It was a little hard to form a friendship around that.

(y/n) tried not to let herself be too affected by all this.  It wasn’t fair to be upset that they’d all formed a bond before she had come to Jujutsu Tech.

Eventually, she grew to accept that she wouldn’t be joining the strong familial bond they all shared with each other.  She thought this to be a good thing- at least that way if something were to happen to her, no one would lose someone they cared about.  And in this field of work, risking your life was always an asterisk on the mission form.

But risking your life to save others? That had to be one of the most selfless jobs there were.  So if the price of exorcizing curses was a little loneliness, then so be it.  She’d still choose this life if she had another chance.

At least, that’s what she’d tell herself when she’d stare at the sky late at night, recalling the days before she’d discovered her cursed energy.

[ you look so tired, unhappy ]

“You don’t really think that, do you?” Yuuta asks her one night.

(y/n) glances over to the boy next to her, his eyes a dark blue that rivals the night sky above them.  She can’t quite place the look on his face… despair?

“You don’t ever wonder?” She mumbles, her eyes returning to the constellations.  “What if… what if I wasn’t born like this?”

Yuuta swallows.  Sure, all the time, he thinks, but something tells him that’s not what he should be telling her now.

“I suppose,” He answers her quietly.  “But there’s a lot of stuff I’d hate to miss out on”

(y/n) laughs, which wasn’t the reaction he was expecting at all.  His brows furrow in her direction while she shakes her head.

“What?” He asks.

“You,” She answers, still staring at the sky.  “In what world is this life best case scenario?”

“You hate it that much?”

“Hate doesn’t begin to convey what I feel for this life,” She shakes her head.  “But it would be selfish of me to say that, wouldn’t it?” Finally she looks at him again, letting him process the question before continuing.  “Knowing what I know now, it would be selfish to walk away- for what, something better? Something that brings me happiness? Could I really choose something like happiness over protecting people?”

Yuuta is silent for a moment, leaving her to stare at him and try to pick apart each and every emotion behind his eyes.  She assumes he must feel the same.  If given the chance to go back and change the course of fate, much more than trauma could be restored.  A real, normal, life could have been had.  She wonders if that’s what he’s thinking- what life he could have had for himself had he not been dragged into this one.

She’s wrong.

While he sits beside her on the creaky old wood planks that made up the deck outside of the dormitories, Yuuta can only think about the present, the only life he’s ever known, and the only life he’ll ever have.  Her words hurt him, not because he’s offended, but because… it makes him sad for her.

He’s known (y/n) for quite some time now.  When they first met last year, she was very reserved, curiously enough though, he found she wasn’t shy, she just tended to keep to herself.  After a year of spending whatever free time he had, he tried to understand her better.

(y/n) tended to give him scraps- only last week he learned that her favorite color was blue.  “Like at midnight.  Or the ocean” She’d said.  He didn’t mind that it was taking more time to get to know her than the others, in fact, he found that he enjoyed her quiet presence.

He’d grown very fond of her, so much in fact that when he’d come back from long days or weeks away, it was usually her he gravitated towards to catch up with first.  He’d spend the following day joking around with Toge, and training with Maki, and getting thrown around by Panda, but that first night belonged to (y/n).

And it was typical to find them sitting on this deck, staring at the stars.

With these thoughts in mind, Yuuta takes in a breath before asking her the question he’d been biting back.

“You don’t think you can find happiness… here?”

Slowly, her eyes fall from the stars, but she can’t bear to look at him, so instead she keeps her vision blankly ahead.

Why must he be this way? She curses internally.  Why does he have to… care? Why can’t he leave me alone like the others? He insists on being involved… why?

She can’t look at him, because she knows if she does, she might just grow a little closer to him, and she couldn’t accept that.  He was too good.  And it was safer to keep a distance, to never really be attached.

When you’re attached to things, you grow weak.  And this wasn’t a field where she could allow even a shred of weakness.

Her teeth gnaw on her bottom lip.

“You ask me that as if my happiness holds any importance,” She says.  “I don’t think it’s fair to weigh that against human lives”

“You don’t have to pit the two against each other,” Yuuta declares.  “Both can be equally important to you.  They’re important to me”

Her head snaps before she can remind herself why she wasn’t looking at him, and she’s reminded as soon as their eyes meet.

He’s smiling at her.  He has the warmest, most comforting expression on his face, and she doesn’t understand why, but she knows that’s simply who Yuuta is.  Warm, and comforting.

“Why?” She whispers, afraid if she’ll ask any louder, the shadows will hear, and they’ll mock her for her vulnerability.

“Because you’re my friend,” Yuuta shrugs like the answer is simple.  “And I care about you,”

She blinks at him, her eyes wide with bewilderment.

After all this time of forcibly keeping him at arm’s length, he still considered her a companion?

The hot sting behind her eyes let her know that her heart was betraying her mind, but no matter how strongly she willed herself to bottle it up and force it away, the feeling remained.

“The others care about you too, you know,” Yuuta continues.  “Trust me, I’ve learned they have weird ways of showing it, but they do,”

(y/n) swallows the lump in her throat.

“Even when you try to push people away, the ones that matter have a way of sticking around,” There’s a small smile on his face as he speaks, ducking his head as a rosy tint colors his cheeks.  “But that’s a good thing, right? Without friends you love and who love you, what’s the point?”

“Being strong,” Her voice is raspy, but she has yet to let a single tear fall.  “Holding your own.  Looking out for yourself.  Y-you have to.  It’s the only way”

Slowly, and maybe for the first time ever, Yuuta was beginning to understand her.

He turns his body to be facing hers, letting her know that she had his complete and undivided attention.

“You wanna know something funny?” He asks, and she doesn’t respond, but he speaks anyway.  “You’re reminding me of Gojo-Sensei,”

Her nose crinkles in mild-disgust and confusion, and Yuta chuckles.

“When he first found me, he told me this weird thing that made no sense.  But I was so broken up about Rika, and so scared all the time of what was coming next.  I did everything I could to keep people away from me… I just never wanted to hurt anyone- well, ah, you knew that I guess, huh?”

Bashfully, he rubs the back of his neck.

“Well, he told me that love was the most twisted curse of all,” He said.

(y/n) blinked, a bit shocked that her goofy, sweets-loving sensei could say something so dark… and profound.

“And at first I guess I thought I understood what he meant.  It means it holds you back, right? It makes you weak, or lost.  And that’s all I was feeling at the time…”

He trails off for a moment, lost in his memories.  Surprisingly, he smiles at her.

“And then I met you guys… and I understand what he meant now”

(y/n) blinks, waiting for him to continue.  But he just sits there and smiles at her, and she realizes he’s not going to tell her.

“Well?” She pressed.  “What’d he mean, then?”

Yuuta laughs, before placing his hands on the ground and hoisting himself up.

“It wouldn’t be fair to just tell you, dummy,” He teases, reaching his hand down to her.  “You gotta figure it out yourself”

She stares at him for a moment, still calculating what he was getting at, what was the point of all this? And then her eyes fall to his outstretched and helpful hand.

Her heart drops to her stomach, and she fears it’ll launch back up to her throat and be regurgitated.

Cautiously, she raises her hand, and sets it in his.

Yuuta beams as he helps her to stand, firmly clutching her palm in his to keep her steady.

“So- so what,” (y/n) shakes her head, her brows drawn together.  She pulls her hand out of his hold almost instantly, wrapping her arms around herself defensively.  “All that nonsense about love and letting people in, I just have to accept that?”

Her voice cracks and she lets out a humorless laugh.

“Because it’s the most ridiculous, selfish thing I’ve ever heard,”

Yuuta’s face falls, a frown pulling on his lips while she spews out her interpretation of Gojo’s words, and it wasn’t what he’d intended at all.

“See, you can love people all you want.  You can care about them, and- and look out for them, and get to know them.  But at the end of the day, when you die and they’re left loving what’s left of you, that’s on you,”

She does her best to ignore her own sniffling, and the way her voice breaks and rasps as her throat constricts, but it’s all too noticeable.  Yuuta watches as she completely crumbles in front of him.

“Love makes you weak,” She mutters, aggressively wiping at her eyes before any tears could fall.  “It makes you overthink, it trips you up when you need to be on your highest alert.  Gojo-sensei was right about one thing.  Love is a curse.  It’s no gift at all.  It’s a damnation to weakness.  Love is a waste of energy, and- and it’s a waste for you to pretend like you care when you barely even know me!”

Yuuta shakes his head, stepping towards her with his hands out.

“No, no (y/n) that’s not true-”

“It is,” She seethes, stepping back before he could touch her.  “Aren’t you bothered? Don’t you despise me?” The question is exaggerated, and she’s just waiting for him to admit it.

“Of course not!”

“Well then why?” She gasps out.  “Why do you keep coming back to me- seeking me out and trying to get to know me? Can’t you tell I don’t want you to?”

“We’re friends, (y/n), we’re partners.  I care about you whether you want me to or not-”

“That’s unfair-!”

“That’s love!” Yuuta cuts her off this time before she could argue with him any longer.  “Like it or not you don’t get to choose who loves you! Okay!? It just happens!”

Shockingly enough, she doesn’t have a response for that, so Yuuta seizes the silence himself.

“You’re wrong,” He tells her, stepping closer again.  “You can push people away all you want- it won’t work.  Not with me.  I won’t let you,”

A tear escapes one of her eyes, making a break down her cheek, before sliding along her jaw.

“Be angry with me if you have to, I don’t care.  You mean more to me than your anger could get in the way of”

“I don’t understand,”

She sounds defeated, her voice quiet and still breaking as she attempts to fight her feelings.

“I don’t understand,” She repeats.  “Why? Why go through the trouble?”

Yuuta chuckles, and takes a bolder step forward, reaching out to brush his knuckles over her jaw, collecting the stray tear.

“You’re wrong again, (y/n/n),” He says fondly.  “It’s no trouble at all to love you,”

A knot forms between her eyebrows as her eyes flicker between his, desperate to read the thoughts behind them.

If only there was a way he could convince her that he was telling her exactly what he was thinking.

“It sucks sometimes,” He admits with a chuckle.  “When I’m gone and I miss you, or when you want to be a brooding jerk.  But it doesn’t make me love you any less,”

He really loves me? She wonders.  Or is he just saying this?

“Actually, I think that stuff just makes me love you more”

Oh.

Now her tears are falling down her cheeks in steady streams.  She shakes her head at him, the action small, almost pathetic, she thinks.

“Can’t you see I don’t want that?” She all but whimpers out.  “I can’t- I just can’t have that”

“You don’t get to choose that for me” Yuuta shrugs a shoulder, giving her a small smile.  He does his best to hide the way she’s shattering his heart.

“It’s not fair, it’s not fair to me,” She continues, lips trembling as she tries to form the right words.  “If- if something happens and I’m dying I can’t-”

She hiccups and Yuuta finds himself shushing her, cooing softly as his hands cup over her cheeks so sweetly, brushing away her tears as they fall.

“You think too much about everything, yaknow?” He hums to her.

“I can’t carry that weight,” She mumbles.  “I can’t- I can’t die knowing I’m leaving people to grieve for me”

She sees him smile and she just wants to fall to her knees and break down.  She doesn’t understand him, not in the slightest.  How could he stand there and comfort her while she’s trying to reject him?

“Like I said,” Yuuta sighs while he carefully dries her cheeks.  “You don’t get to choose that for me”

“Yuuta…”

“You don’t get to choose that for anyone,” He corrects himself.  “That’s what isn’t fair.  People will love you whether you want them to or not.  You will love people whether you want to or not.  It’s not a choice at all”

She stares at him for a moment, ignoring that voice in the back of her mind telling her to push his hands away and retreat to her dorm.  Instead, all she could think about was a short conversation they’d had a week or so ago.

There’s a shift in her demeanor, or so Yuuta thinks.  He thinks that when he looks into her eyes, there’s something there that wasn’t there before.  A glint, a shimmer of hope.  He gazes at her (y/e/c) fondly, hoping whatever it was he was seeing would reveal itself.

“Last week you told me your favorite color was green, like the leaves in summer,”

Her words were murmured, anxiously so, but she willed herself to keep talking.

“And I told you my favorite color was blue,” Her cheeks began to feel warm.

Was this bashfulness?

“I like… I like the blue of your eyes,” She was nearly choking on her words, but this was much different from before.  “That’s my favorite color,”

Yuuta’s blushing too, so much so that he wants to tug at his color to relieve the heat creeping up his neck.

“On the nights that you’re gone, I sit out here and… and hope you’re okay,” (y/n) confesses.  “I hope that we’re looking at the same stars and that when I ask them to look out for you… they do.  I look at the sky and it’s just so beautiful I can’t stop myself from being reminded of you… even when I don’t want to.  I can’t help it… it’s the damn blue…”

Her tears have stopped falling, yet still somehow she looks distressed.

Still, it’s different than before.

“Is that love?” She mumbles, and Yuuta isn’t sure if she’s asking him or talking to herself, but he answers anyway.

He drops his hands from her face so that he can wrap them snugly around her waist, drawing her close to him so that he could hug her.

At first, she just lets him.  She stands there frozen, trapped by the action, trapped by her thoughts.

This must be, she thinks.  It must be.  Because what other feeling could have her so… lost in another person.

A shiver goes down her spine, and at the same time she feels so warm it’s almost uncomfortable.

All at once, she falls against him, throwing her arms around his neck, embracing him as tightly as she possibly could.  She buries her nose into his shoulder, squeezing her eyes shut tight before any other tears could fall.

He returns her vigor right away, pressing her close to his chest.

(y/n) melts.

“I’m sorry,” She mumbles into his jacket.  “I’m sorry for everything-”

“Don’t apologize,” Yuuta cuts her off, a hand cupping the back of her head, before carefully tangling his fingers in her hair.  “There’s no need”

Yuuta hears a quiet mumble against his shoulder.

“You’re so good and I don’t understand it sometimes,”

He chuckles, leaning back and pulling her away from him just enough that he can look down at her.

She’s smiling now, but even still, Yuuta can see there’s a sadness behind it.

“I do… care about you, you know?” Her voice was quiet, eyes darting between his, hoping to find a flicker of trust.

She found much more than a flicker.

She could have sworn that his irises held more color than she’s ever seen before.  The perfect swirl of love, and blue.

“I know,” He smiles and it’s warm, and it makes her feel every pleasant emotion.  “But it’s nice to hear it” He teases.

She cracks a little, her despair melting away.  She couldn’t tell what did it exactly, the sweet words or bright smile, maybe his thumb brushing over her cheekbone being the most soothing thing she’s ever felt- or maybe it was all of it.  

But now with her brain a mush and her life’s philosophy being burned to ashes, she was considering that maybe… maybe it was just him.  Maybe this was just the Yuuta Effect.  Maybe it was his charm that seemed to have it’s own gravitational pull.  Maybe it was his dopey smile and nervous way he talks paired with that sweet look in his eyes.  Maybe it was the fact that it was so fiercely loyal that he wouldn’t leave your side even when you were begging him to.

Am I an idiot?

“Yuuta,”

His name came out in one small breath, and he’s reminded just why he was so infatuated with her.

He was always hanging onto her every word, eager to hear what the next one would be.

“I don’t… I didn’t realize…”

She cuts herself off, wincing and shaking her head from the embarrassment of not even being able to form a sentence.

Rolling her eyes, she looks back up at him, staring at him seriously.

“I never realized you felt that way,” She finally said.  “And I’m sorry I… I never told you… how I felt”

He raised a brow, playfully.

“You didn’t realize, huh?” He asks.

She shook her head.

“I don’t believe you”

“What?” (y/n) scoffed.  “What do you mean you don’t believe me?”

“I don’t believe you,” He chuckles as he repeats himself.  “It was too obvious.  You’re the secretive one”

“Obvious?” She asks.

“Uh, yeah, it was pretty obvious,” He’s still laughing, pretty nervously, but it’s cute.  “You’ve caught me staring, I know you have”

“So? You zone out a lot” (y/n) shrugs her shoulders.

“Okay, well I also try really hard to get close to you”

“How was I supposed to know that you weren’t just trying to be my friend?” She fired back.  “These aren’t exactly solid arguments”

“How? You’re seriously trying to tell me that you haven’t noticed?”

She tries to stifle a laugh at how worked up he’s getting over this, but she fails and giggles spew out uncontrollably.

“Okay then, since you just want to laugh it up at my feelings, how is it you feel anyways?”

Her giggles halted immediately, eyes wide and darting up to his.

“Well?” He asks, impatiently.

“Well.. I’m… fond of you”

“You’re fond of me?” He asks in a posh accent.  “What are you eighty?”

“Shut up” (y/n) mutters while he continues to laugh and tease her.

“Are you hoping to win my favor? Perhaps court me?”

“You’re not making this any easier you know,” (y/n) says, doing her best to scowl at him.  But it’s difficult to not smile at him when he’s smiling like that.  “I could always just walk away.  Go to bed and sleep for a loooong time and wake up and pretend this never happened-”

“So you’re in love with me?”

He has such a way of making her freeze, that she thinks he’s doing it just for his own amusement.

“Maybe” She mumbles.

Yuuta grins.  He grins so wide that all of his teeth are on display, and his skin crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

“I can work with maybe”

(y/n) scoffs, her lips turning upwards against her will as she drops her head to stare at the ground.

“Come on,” Yuuta hums, heading back towards the dorms.  “I’ll even walk you back to your room.  You know, to prove what a gentleman I am”

(y/n) giggles, and nods her head softly before following next to him.

They walk in silence, side by side, back inside.  It’s comfortable.

He walks her to her dorm, they say goodnight, and maybe they linger in the doorway a few moments longer than necessary, maybe (y/n) closes her door and leans against it for a few minutes while she hopes that her heart would calm down in her chest.

As she lays in bed that night and stares at her ceiling, she realizes that she had gotten it all wrong.  Perhaps her whole life, but… definitely this last chapter.  She had blinded herself for so long that she hadn’t even been able to see Yuuta was in love with her.

And she was absolutely in love with him.

[ no alarms / and no surprises, please ] ___

3 months later ___

“He’s late” Maki scoffed.

“It’s been two minutes, I’m sure he’ll be here soon” Panda comforted.

“Tch,” Maki rolled her eyes, turning to Toge to shake her head.  “That’s still late” She muttered.

“Salmon” Toge replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

The cursed-speech user turns to (y/n) next to him, raising his brows in a way that she understood exactly what he meant.  Maki.

(y/n) gives him a small smile in acknowledgment.  She can’t see him smile back, but the crinkles at the corners of his eyes told her all she needed to know.

And then the car pulled up, and her timid smile turned into a face-splitting grin.

Ijichi gets out first, scrambling to the back of the car to open up the trunk.  (y/n) ignores the luggage he pulls out as the passenger door opens.

Yuuta steps out, and he looks tired, disheveled.  Understandably so, it was a long flight from Paris to Tokyo, followed by a long drive from the airport to Jujutsu Tech.  It was nearly sixteen hours of traveling when the day was done.

And yet, as he’s stretching his back as much as he can, his eyes land on her, and he forgets all about his achy muscles.  He jogs off to his friends, ignoring Ijichi who was struggling to carry two duffel bags, a backpack, a sheathed katana and a suitcase.

“You waited up for me?” He asks excitedly, quickly hugging his friends.  Panda, Maki, Toge.

“Of course” Panda said warmly.

“Toge made me” Maki snarked, but it was impossible to miss the warm smile on her face.

“Salmon” Toge grins as he gives his best friend a welcome hug.  

Yuuta’s grinning too, patting Toge’s back affectionately before pulling away.  He turns to the last of the bunch, still grinning like a madman.

“Your turn” He says, tugging on (y/n’s) arm and pulling her into a hug before she could refuse.

She wouldn’t, of course, and he can tell by the way she throws his arms around his neck and reciprocates the embrace happily.  He squeezes a little tighter.

“Missed you, you know” She mumbles into his ear so the others can’t hear.

(The others are playing ‘Tackle Panda’, but she doesn’t notice of course)

“Had a feeling,” Yuuta hums.  “You did write a lot”

(y/n) scoffs, pulling away so she can punch him in the arm.

“Don’t make me regret it” She teases back.  

“Too late now, I’ve already saved ‘em all,” Yuuta replies, his hands grasping onto her wrists before she could attack him anymore.

She rolls her eyes, but when he tugs her closer, she steps in anyways, leaning up to meet his lips in the middle, kissing him softly.

His hands drop hers, so that he can cup her face and kiss her again, properly, deeply.  Luckily their friends are still too busy wrestling on the ground, so they had a few extra moments of privacy.

When they part, he leans his forehead against hers.  His hair had gotten longer in the month and a half he’d been away, it hangs in both of their faces rather annoyingly but neither bother to move it.  She can see his sapphire eyes just fine.

“I missed you too,” He tells her softly, before bumping his nose against hers.  “I’m glad to be home”

“I’m glad you’re home,” She hums back.  “I love you”

His beam only brightens, and he pecks her lips in a quick kiss before their friends could see.

“I love you too” ___

xoxo ~ jordie