#{ I will make better tags for the both of them at some point. }

[oatmealwrites]

NSFW Holiday Hoes: [Frat JJK AU] Gojo Satoru x F! Reader

Is it casual now?

Oncology student! Frat President! Fwb Satoru x Reader

holiday hoes masterlist here

regular masterlist here

Synopsis: Holiday season is always referred to as 'cuffing season' though he never really saw the point. Why want a real relationship when your casual affair offers everything he wants... or so he thought. Matching sweaters, gift wrapping, and sipping hot cocoa definitely isn't casual.. but it's all he wants for Christmas this year.

Tags: fwb, friends to lovers, Jealous! gojo, car sex, oral (m and f receiving), semi-public sex, helpless pinning on both sides, domestic fluff, shoko & utahime your roommates, wingman suguru, mentions of alcohol, some angst, satoru is bad communicator, making out, hickies, grinding, erection, face riding, missionary, p in v, creampie, aftercare, established relationship, fluff ending, 18+, MDNI

Word count: 11.5k (im cooking again)

a/n: sorry this took wayy to long, it's been a hectic week and a half as I get back to campus. BUT, my writing schedule should finally be stable! enjoy~

~~~~~~~

The windows of the white Mercedes have been fogged over for the past 10 minutes, and there were occasional shakes of the vehicle when you both shimmied into the backseat. The radio plays a mix of top 40 and residual holiday music while a cold winter wind howls outside. People scurry around the parking lot to enter the large shopping mall while others shuffle into their cars to avoid the harsh weather; everyone oblivious to what was happening in this vehicle. 

“Fuck… just like that princess…”

With your lips around his cock and globs of saliva dripping from your mouth, Satoru sits partially beneath you with his thighs splayed apart. Baggy jeans tugged down to his mid thigh and the fabric of his sweatshirt bunched up in his fist for a better view, the sight beneath him is familiar and heavenly. 

Taking the length you couldn’t fit in your mouth in your hand, your head bobs up and down with your tongue laying flat. Sweet pre-cum coats your tastebuds and you can feel the swollen veins that litter his dick throb with increased blood flow. White strands of pubic hair don’t tickle your face, but surround his base; Satoru always makes sure to trim before the two of you hang out.

Sucking him off in the backseat of his car wasn’t the goal of meeting up with him on this chilly afternoon, though it wasn’t particularly surprising. A mutual agreement formed between the both of you, close friends who just happened to be a bit closer than most. 

“Nnfghh…s-shit…gonna fucking cum soon…”

Satoru winces in pleasure and his hips jerk forward to get just a bit more of his length into your mouth. Jaw beginning to ache from keeping it open and lips swollen from his abuse, your hands move to cup his heavy balls and massage them the way he always likes. A few more whimpers and curses leave his lips and Satoru moves to take another chunk of your hair away from your face and into a messy ponytail. 

“Ca–Can I come inside?”

You consider it for a moment, recognizing you had actually remembered to bring your lip gloss this time, and not minding to reapply after you swallow. There’s no verbal communication needed, you bring your mouth to his flushed tip and lick it a few times in approval. 

That’s all Satoru needs to see, bucking hips forward and guiding your head to jerk off his tip in a faster motion before furrowing his brows in pleasure. Hot ropes of semen pour from his cock and into your mouth; the salty and thick liquid a taste you’ve had several times before. 

Satoru fucks himself through his orgasm by gently guiding your head, before slipping out from your lips with a pathetic wince. Despite panting heavily with a mind half-drunk in pleasure, a warm hand cups your cheek while his thumb wipes away any cum that had missed your mouth.

You stay hovering over his softening erection and thickly swallow the semen on your tongue before sitting upright and bringing a hand through your unruly hair. Following the routine, Satoru slips himself back into his boxers and jeans before leaning up to the front console and passing you your water bottle.

The cool liquid washes any taste down your throat, and you swish the water in your mouth a few times before swallowing with a sigh. Silently, Satoru fishes his fallen sunglasses from the car floor and opens his cell phone camera to place them over his eyes and fix his own hair.  

“What time is it?” you ask, while wiping your lips with the back of your hand and pulling out your lipgloss from your jeans pocket. 

“Mmmm, almost 3:15.” Satoru slides his phone into his back pocket and confirms the keys and wallet are still in his sweatshirt pouch. “We should head inside.”

You run one more hand through your hair before slipping on your winter coat and opening the backseat car door. Wind pushes it open harder than you anticipate, and you dive out to catch it before it bangs into the very expensive car parked way too close to yours.

“Geez, tryna scratch my car?”

Satoru laughs while waiting for you to shut the door so he can lock it and walk alongside you to the mall entrance. Pulling your arms into yourself, the cool temperature makes your skin raw and pink.

“I was trying to not dent your door, idiot.”

“Hmm?” Satoru zips his parka up to his chin and smiles sheepishly at you. “That’s good. I was worried you thought I wouldn’t reciprocate and decided to take it out on me.”

You roll your eyes and increase your speed; Satoru’s step length is so long it doesn’t bother him to keep up at all. A few families and couples pass as they walk to their cars, huddled close together to stay warm from the winter wind.

Satoru leans in with a wolfish grin now splayed on his lips. “I mean, that’s what friends are for, right?”

You nudge him in the ribs and keep your head down to avoid the blistering gust that pushes your hair back. The man at your side laughs to himself, though you both know he means it. You and Satoru were in an arranged, casual, platonic, friends with benefits agreement; that doesn’t mean he ever leaves you unsatisfied though. Anytime you made him cum, he made sure to repay the favor with his tongue, fingers, or cock within 24 hours. 

“What are you even looking to buy here anyways? I thought you ordered your Secret Santa gift online.”

Satoru steps ahead of you to open the heavy glass entrance doors and pivots to let you enter before matching to walk beside you once more.

“I was going to, but all the delivery options would be too late.”

You hum in thought and head towards the mall directory to survey the stores; the shopping complex isn’t overwhelming as most people had already done their shopping before the holidays. Tracing the floorplan with your finger, you linger on floor 2 marked as the ‘home and appliance’ section.

Satoru sways next to you, his hands shoved in his pockets. “Who do you have anyways?”

“Nanami.”

Tapping on ‘William and Sonoma’, you follow Satoru’s gaze which stares at ‘Best Buy’.

“You have Inumaki, right?”

“Yep.”

You survey the time once more before starting towards the escalator. “Let’s hit your store first since it’s on the way. If we finish early, I wanna do some shopping.”

Satoru steps on the moving stair beneath you, but doesn’t need to look up to meet your gaze. “Aren’t we already shopping?”

“No, like shopping for me.”

He shrugs and the frame of his circular sunglasses slides down his nose slightly before a long index finger pushes them back up. The mall is still decorated for the holidays; seasonal music plays in the background while ornate garland sparkles with LEDs and hangs from every banister. 

“What were you thinking of buying for Inumaki anyways?”

“Well, Yuji always complains about his shitty microphone when they game,” Satoru says while following you off the escalator and into the electronics store entrance. “I figured a new mic would be easy.”

It’s actually a thoughtful gift idea; which comes as a bigger surprise than you expected. Sure, you and Satoru are close friends, but you always chalked him up to being the kind of guy who just hands you a gift card because he couldn’t figure out what you wanted. Though to be fair, you and him never really exchanged physical gifts; the both of you settled into your fwb agreement early on and only traded sexual favors and fantasies. 

“Alright then.” You look up at the signs hanging from the ceiling for a moment. “Audio equipment is aisle 7.”

Walking side by side, the two of you scan the racks of microphones for ones compatible with his PC and settle between two options. Satoru grabs both boxes and tilts his head between the two.

You glance between them. “The one on your left is way over budget. Isn’t the max like, $25?”

“Yea, but-” He holds up the expensive option. “But this one is in the color he likes.”

You raise an eyebrow but don’t argue; knowing him well enough to understand budget restrictions were merely suggestions in his eyes. Satoru turns the box around and smiles when he notices there’s no obvious price tag that would make Inumaki feel bad upon receiving such a nice gift and turns for the checkouts.

“Alright, that’s one down. Where to next?”

Watching Satoru tap the gaudy metallic black credit card on the payment terminal, he shoots a wink to the cashier and smoothly slides to resume his place at your side.

“I’m thinking of checking out William and Sonoma?”

Your friend hums in agreement and follows closely at your side while you peruse the aisles of the baking and cooking equipment. Every price tag you turn over makes you wince, and Satoru isn’t particularly helpful as he skims through every cookbook he passes.

“Think you can make this one? Kikufuku sounds kinda hard–what’s that?”

Satoru cuts himself off and pads over to where you stand hovering over a very nice and very expensive Le Creset.

“It’s a Dutch oven; you can make a lot of things like bread,” you say, voice falling at the number of zeroes on the tag.

What you had figured out from your time with the man is that Nanami was an all around foodie with a particular favoritism for baked goods. Looking back, you definitely should've double checked the prices online before walking in; each one carries a price tag way out of the Secret Santa limit and your personal budget.

“$360? That’s not too bad.” Satoru flicks the price tag out of his fingers and lifts the lid of the turquoise Dutch oven. “I mean, I don’t know what I’d do with it… but Nanami would probably be into it.”

“It’s a gift for him, not you, idiot.” You sigh and run your fingers down the side of the glossy finish.

Satoru doesn’t mind the nickname and tilts his head before looking around the store and noticing an array of red sale signs. Silently he takes your hand and dejectedly you obey and follow him to the far back corner of the building.

“Just buy a broken one and fix it. Good as new.”

You raise an eyebrow before examining the clearance racks ahead of you; Satoru is already reaching on the higher shelf to pull down a pale yellow Dutch oven that was missing a handle. Same brand, though slightly smaller. He pops the lid off to reveal the unattached handle that simply needs some sanding and super glue.

“Woa… you’re a genius.”

“Yea, well, it’s no mystery why I'm at the top of the oncology department.”

“Hm? Suguru told me that you definitely bottom.”

Satoru scoffs and shoves your shoulder, murmuring about how you of all people should know how well he tops you. You pay no mind to his complaints; turning the ceramic instrument over and settling on the reduced price of $35.99 to be justifiable considering the budget.

The two of you head for the checkouts and return to the walkways of the mall, satisfied with your timing so far on the shopping trip. You lean against the glass railing and pull out your phone while Satoru mirrors your position and scrolls through a few messages.

“Can I come to your place after this?”

You hum absentmindedly and respond to the DM Shoko had sent you earlier. “Sure, why though?”

“Suguru is having Choso over for a board game and smoke sesh. Plus I don’t have any wrapping paper.”

You roll your eyes at his lack of preparation, but accept his self-invitation. Pulling up the roommate group chat between you, Shoko, and Utahime, your pulse stops at the most recent messages.

Sho(e)ko: He’s gonna be at the party @ y/n

Utahimeh: huh?? Who?? 

Sho(e)ko: that guy from the law dept. I think his name’s Higuroma?

Utahimeh: Higuruma. And he’s not part of greek life i thought?

Satoru waits for your response to his follow up question and finally looks up from his phone to see you immersed in yours. The lack of attention given makes him nudge your forearm down.

“Huh?”

The white haired man lowers his glasses to raise an eyebrow at you. “I was asking what other store you wanted to see. But–,” he makes a swipe at your phone but narrowly misses.

“–Hey!”

Now any other time Satoru would shrug and continue talking about whatever was on his mind. Any other time. It’s not rare for you to ignore to wave off his loud mouth, but seeing you so absorbed in something without letting him in on it was rare. 

“What are you looking at?”

“Nothing.”

You don’t reply, and instead slip your phone into your front pocket to avoid his advances. Satoru raises an eyebrow at you and shrugs in suspicion before turning his attention to the rest of the mall. “Alright… Now let’s finish this up. I hate crowded places.”

Without pressing further, you both make your way to a department store near the main entrance and you waste no time going through the after-holiday sale racks. Satoru lingers at the men’s cologne section before wandering back over to you and leaning against the metal clothing racks in boredom.

“Why are you shopping anyway? I’ve seen your closet…. There’s no room.”

You roll your eyes and keep dragging hangers down. “I have nothing to wear for the party.”

Satoru audibly groans at this and slinks further onto the rack; arching his back like a shrimp. With a couple more slides of the articles of clothing, you pause. Mistakenly placed on the woman’s racks was a clearance turquoise men’s cashmere sweater.

With wide eyes, you slide it off the the rack and hold it up to guess how well the size would fit.

“You’re gonna wear that to the party?”

“No.” You roll your eyes at him and hold the article up. “What do you think about this for Nanami?”

If Satoru was barely paying attention earlier, he sure was locked in right now. 

“Huh? But what about that other thing you bought? The… danish stove?”

“Dutch oven,” you correct before shrugging. “I dunno. I could always keep that and give him this. It’s like his signature color.”

Satoru eyes the sweater and then glances back at you for a moment; peeking out from under your coat was a knit turtleneck collar of nearly the same color. In the moments waiting for his answer, you don’t see the way his brain is working out a million different scenarios; all of which create an uncomfortable feeling in his gut.

“Nah, go with the oven. A sweater is too much.”

“Too much?” You spin it around and eye the price tag of $27, still out of budget, but closer to the goal. 

Satoru shrugs and looks off at the other racks. “Yea like vibe wise. Don’t we need to find something for you to wear before you shop for him?”

Blinking a few times, you slide the sweater back into its new home on the women’s clearance rack and sigh lightly; though not having to buy a new gift does help the stress on your wallet. Satoru watches you now slide through the racks while an indescribable feeling washes over him as you still keep glancing at the men’s sweater in consideration.

You’re still working it out in your brain and Satoru can read it all over your face. Suguru was up late last night listening to music and smoking with Shoko; the lack of sleep and overstimulation from such a busy place is how rationalizes the thoughts going through his head. 

“Let’s get matching ones. For the party.”

The hanger on the rack screeches to a halt as you look up at him with confusion knit in your brows.

“Huh?”

Satoru licks his lips and speaks a bit slower, “Matching sweaters. We should get some for the party, it’ll be hilarious.”

Raising an eyebrow at the man, you drink in the way his glasses have slid down the bridge of his nose slightly and reveal his pale blue eyes. The electricity in them leaves you momentarily speechless as his proposal slowly works its way through your brain.

“Why though?” You look around the clearance racks as if you’re really considering it. “We won’t even find a matching set here.”

Satoru doesn’t answer your first question and instead ducks his head to point out the holly red cardigan you were currently hovering over. “We’ll match colors then. Nice and easy.”

You blink and look down at the sweater you were just considering and chew the inside of your cheek; before you can ask again why he wanted to match, Satoru is already making a beeline for the men’s section. 

Shifting through hangers himself, he wastes no time pulling off a cashmere luxury-labeled sweater in the same bright red color. A light jog to catch up to him, Satoru takes the cardigan from your hands and throws it over his forearm with his own sweater before looking for the checkouts. 

******

The ride back to your apartment was as normal as it could be. The radio played top hits in the background while you and Satoru talked about whatever came to mind; gossip about the newest pledge Yuji and his brother(?) Todo, updates on the amount of subscribers on Inumaki’s twitch, and jokes about how Yuta still couldn’t beat Maki at any drinking game they played.

By the time you turn the key in the lock and are greeted by the sound of music playing on the tv and the chatter of your roommates, you’ve forgotten all about your stupid matching sweaters.

“Hey guys!” Utahime waves from her spot on the floor in front of the wrapping paper. “Back already?”

“Yep! Got our Secret Santa gifts~ so no peeking!”

You smile at her and kick off your winter boots before shimmying out of your coat and placing the brown shopping bags on the small kitchen table. Satoru follows suit and makes himself comfortable opening your pantry in search of something sweet.

“Oh, you’re here?” Shoko wanders out of her bedroom and directs her attention to the only man in the room.

“Ya, Choso is over to smoke with Suguru.”

She shrugs at the reason and joins him in the kitchen to fill a glass of water and eyes the bags on the counter before looking at you.

“What’d you get?”

You unwrap the scarf from around your neck and place it with your coat on the hooks. “Secret Santa gift, and a sweater for me.”

Shoko takes a sip of the water from her glass and peers into the bag; raising an eyebrow, she turns to you again.

This time, Satoru finally pulls out a small canister from the pantry and shoots her a grin. “Oh! We’re gonna be matching– it’ll be hilarious!”

You scoff while Shoko fishes out one of the sweaters from the bag and raises it slightly. “It’s not an ‘ugly sweater’ though… so why’s it funny–”

“Hot chocolate anyone?”

Satoru cuts her off and slams the pantry closed before tapping the lid of the powdered beverage container. Shoko processes slowly, shoots him a knowing glance that you can’t quite read, and releases the fabric into the bag again.

Shoko walks over to grab some wrapping paper from Utahime, Satoru takes out a few mugs from the cabinet, and you stand beside him to grab a big enough pot to begin boiling some milk. The moment is calm and familial as you both work on following the simple printed recipe while your roommates prepare their last few gifts before the party.

“Mmm this calls for 2 tablespoons per person… Satoru you definitely put in too much.”

“It’ll taste better that way.”

You hum and stir the simmering pot regardless while your friends on the floor whisper amongst themselves. Satoru pays no mind to them either, fishing out marshmallows and whipped cream and placing them next to the mugs.

Despite the small shake of her head to stop Shoko, Utahime sighs and watches as the woman leans against the couch and waves her phone.

“Hey, Y/N?”

You murmur a hum and nudge Satoru’s arm to not spill while he ladled the hot beverage into each mug.

“You never answered us earlier! Higuruma was asking about what to bring to the Secret Santa.”

Time stops and you release from Satoru’s arm to spin and face Shoko with eyes wide open.

“No way? He texted?”

Shoko smirks and nods slowly while Utahime is looking between her and the man behind you with a worried expression. Sure, you thought Higuruma was hot, hell who didn’t? But to ask if you wanted anything for him to bring made a giddy feeling wash over you.

The way you seem at a loss for words and begin sheepishly trying to work out the logistics of the Uber ride with a questionable amount of liquor bottles, you miss the way Satoru stops dividing the hot cocoa and stares at you. There’s an unreadable expression on his face as an unfamiliar emotion builds in his guts. 

No. 

It’s not unfamiliar; he’s felt it before a million times over, even earlier at the mall. Satoru swallows thickly and reaches to coat the top of his hot cocoa with a thick layer of whipped cream and chocolate syrup before reaching to pass you a mug.

“I can drive you guys, if you want. It's gonna be at my and Suguru's apartment anyways.”

You immediately pause from your position hunched over your phone to compare rideshare app prices for a larger vehicle and look up at the man; his hand reaches out to pass you a serving of hot cocoa. 

“Huh? It’s fine if we,” Shoko motions between herself, Utahime, and you, “ride together. Aren’t you and Suguru going early to set up decorations and drinks?”

Satoru shrugs and replies as if it were simple. “Nah, that’s new pledges jobs this time. I don’t mind swinging by to pick you up. Besides–” he swings an arm around your shoulder. “-there’s no point in matching if we don’t show up together~.”

“Seriously?” you sigh to him.

“Yep.”

You raise an eyebrow at him and hover your lips above the rim of the mug to blow steam away before taking a sip. Shoko keeps a knowing glance on Satoru, which he returns, before slinking back down to the floor and assisting Utahime with adding the finishing touches to the present in front of them.

You move slightly to confront him once again and ask why he would drive you and your roommate so suddenly, when he slides to grab the paper shopping bags and moves to the apartment floor. Music continues playing in the background as you watch the way your roommates shuffle over to make room for the man as if he deserved a permanent seat.

The wind picks up even more, and you cozy into your sweater a bit more before padding over and taking the seat next to him. Silently, he pulls out the Le Creuset you had purchased while Utahime gets up to pour herself a mug and grab a canister of super glue for you to fix it.

While the group wraps gifts and chatter amongst yourselves, Satoru remains fixed at your side, his thigh resting casually against your own.

~~~~~~~~~

“Has anyone seen my hair straightener?” Utahime calls out from the bathroom while rummaging through the drawers under the sink.

“No, but I call dibs on the bathroom in 5 minutes!” Shoko yells from the window where she finishes her cigarette.

You pause in front of your bed surveying the various outfits that match the red cardigan that sits in the center. Dresses seemed too formal considering it was still a frat function, despite it being more intimate than their usual big blowouts. 

Dragging your index finger over a variety of different length skirts, you settle on a black mini and tight white cropped tee to go on top. Paired with black opaque tights, said holly colored cardigan, and cute black boots, you step out into the living to do a full spin.

“Hey! I said 5 min– woa.” Shoko bangs on the bathroom door holding her makeup bag in one hand and pre-game drink in the other while smirking at you, “Hot.”

“Thank you, thank you~”

You do a small 360 and move to the kitchen table to finish up the last few steps of your own makeup routine, laughing when Shoko wedges the door open to squirm inside. Utahime tries to nudge her back outside, but the two wind up elbow-to-elbow in front of the mirror to finish getting ready.

Satoru had texted an hour ago saying he’d be there by no later than 7 to pick you all up and looking up from your compact as you apply the finish touches to your lip gloss, the microwave clock reads 7:38 pm.

“I need more room! Does the back of my hair look even?” Utahime spins around to show it definitely wasn’t even and Shoko replies with a chuckle.

Before you can butt in to prevent an argument, there’s a set of knocks at the door. Keeping an eye on the two of them, you only glance away to peer in the peephole and unlock the door. Satoru shuffles inside, twirling his car keys on his fingers and kicking off his shoes.

“Oh, a new record. Only 40 minutes late this time.” You cross your arms. “And what’s with the sunglasses? It’s dark outside.”

Satoru wiggles off his coat and pushes his frames back up the bridge of his nose. “Did you miss me that much?”

You roll your eyes and walk back to the kitchen table to retrieve your compact while the man giggles a bit before finally drinking in the scene in front of him. He stands motionless at the front entrance still, watching the way you slide your compact into a small purse and stand to whisk together another pre-game drink.

Every curve accentuated with your outfit, your hair looks glossy in the warm light of the floor lamps, and your makeup is done perfectly to compliment your natural features; Satoru’s seen you dolled up a handful of times before, but this time the matching colors you both adorn make pause.

“Did you want one or not?”

“Huh?”

You look up from the pitcher of an assortment of soft drinks and hard liquor with frustration. “I asked if you wanted one like 4 times now.”

“O-Oh,” he says and shuffles into the kitchen a bit closer. “Sure, but a small one; I’m still driving after all.”

You nod and spin back around to pour half a cup while Satoru slowly walks forward at your side; dressed in the same holly red with a cashmere sweater and straight leg jeans, he can’t help but admire your outfit.

“Listen, Y/N–”

“–Don’t use up all my setting spray Shoko! Or I’ll– oh, you’re here.”

Utahime comes from around the corner and pauses when she notices the designated driver has finally arrived. The white haired man at your side laughs lightly and gives a wave while your roommate flattens out the rest of her outfit and moves to stand at your side to pour herself another glass.

“Are you gonna make it to the party if you keep drinking this much?”

“Yea.” She turns to you and takes the first sip of her third drink. “This is just precautionary in case it’s lame.”

Satoru moves his mouth away, despite being about to take a sip, and rolls his eyes. “It won’t be lame. It’s not the same as the usual open-house function we do, but it’s still a JJK party.”

Utahime seems indifferent at the response and takes another big sip while Shoko emerges into the kitchen as well. “Oh? Looks like our ride, or y/n’s ride, has arrived.”

You roll your eyes and take a few gulps of your beverage while Satoru watches your reaction with a gaze you can’t quite decipher. Utahime shivers at the joke and moves to collect her Secret Santa gift from the living room. “Please, stop putting that image in my head. I don’t want to imagine our roommate and him banging in this apartment.”

With a sigh, you move to grab your own Secret Santa gift and pass Satoru the one he had wrapped and left here. Shoko chuckles a bit and assembles her things while sliding out her phone. “Ah, we really should get going.”

Utahime shoots Satoru a glare and wraps an arm around you while he stares in a slight confusion as the conversation pivoted against him. You had agreed to the fwb after all, so why was he the bad guy in this?

Shuffling on shoes, combining liquor and wine bottles into one cardboard box (which Satoru is forced to carry), and triple checking everyone has their gifts, you all head out of the apartment. Light chatter amongst you and your friends as you walk through the lobby while Satoru fishes out his car keys, holding the box with one hand against his side, a clean white Mercedes sits in the resident spot near the front.

You raise an eyebrow and open the trunk for Satoru to slide in the box. “Why are you parked here? The visitor spots are open, and you don’t have a resident tag.”

“Hm?” He ducks and places his hand on the top of the trunk, ready to shut it. “I always park here?”

If he was telling the truth, you couldn’t hide the surprise. Has he always parked here? Before you can question it, Shoko has leaned up from her spot in the back seat to lean against the car horn and begin yelling through the open crack in the window.

“We’re gonna be later than we already are! Make out when we get there!”

You knock against the window to shut her up while Satoru lets out an honest laugh. “Well, you heard the woman. Wouldn’t want to keep her or you waiting.”

You shove his shoulder lightly and he lets out one more chuckle before walking around to sit in the driver’s seat while you take your place in the passenger seat next to him. By the time the car leaves the parking lot, your roommates are bickering amongst each other about song requests and bets on who the rest of the group had for Secret Santa.

Satoru’s hand rests comfortably on your thigh, drawing an array of shapes with his fingers as he handles the steering wheel with the other hand. The feeling is familiar, though the gentleness of the action is new. He wasn’t exactly discreet when it came to wanting your attention or physical touch, but it usually came before you two got down and dirty.

The lightness of his touch while his eyes remained fixed on the road was so casual it almost wasn’t. When Shoko and Utahime shift to talk about Higuruma once again, you don’t bother to join the conversation, and Satoru’s eyes finally leave the road to glance over at you.

~~~~~~~~

“Oh, only an hour and 15 minutes late this time, Satoru. I’m glad I told you the party started at 7:15 and not 8:30.”

Suguru laughs from the kitchen island of their shared apartment while you all shuffle in through the door and remove your winter outwear. Maki and Nobara sit on the sofa in the living room while Inumaki and Yuta mix a few drinks and Yuji and Megumi organize the group’s gifts on the coffee table. 

You, Shoko, and Utahime branch off to greet Nanami and Higuruma in the kitchen while looking around for the rest of the group.

You dig around in the cardboard box Satoru had carried and take out a bottle of prosecco before passing it to Higuruma to open.

“Where’s everyone else?”

Higuruma places a careful hand on the cork and points it away from you as it pops. “Choso is smoking on the balcony and I think Haibara went with Todo to pick up Mai and the others.”

You hum in acknowledgement and open a few cupboards in search of a flute for the drink whichHiguruma fills up without needing the question as soon as you present it.

Across the room, Suguru and Satoru idly pour themselves a drink while the final preparations are being made.

“Soooo, you talk to her yet?”

Satoru raises an eyebrow and finishes his pour of the sweet concoction of fruit juices and rum before turning to his friend. “Who? And what about?”

Suguru cracks open a beer and shoots his friend a sideways glance with a ‘seriously?’ look on his face.

“Oh come on. If you’re gonna keep y/n at a distance, you can’t be all moody when another guy tries to make a move.”

Satoru scrunches his eyebrows and raises the cup to hip lips. “Huh? No one is making a move… and I’m not moody!”

“Yea you are.”

“No–”

“You’re gonna break the cup in a second if you keep gripping it that tightly.”

Satoru pauses for a moment and takes a deep breath; the plastic cup dents and creaks as his pressure lightens. Laughter rings out in the air as you, Higuruma, Utahime, and Nanami all crowd around the kitchen island giggling about something. The way your eyes shut with a large smile on your lips catches his attention before he notices the way the other men in the circle look as starstruck as he does right now.

It shouldn’t bother him; he doesn’t get to be upset when he was the one that proposed all those late night flings you’ve had were completely casual. When the two of you first hooked up months ago during a party, it was the first thing Satoru muttered once you both came down from your highs. Looking at his own reflection with the beverage in his hand, he can’t even remember why he had said it in the first place.

Sure, it was great to be fwb; he gets to know you in and out of the bedroom without any of the ‘responsibilities’ of being a boyfriend. Though watching you lightly shove the arm of a coyly smirking Higuruma, all the ‘obligations’ of being your boyfriend merge into benefits. He could be over there with an arm around your waist telling every guy in here to fuck off, he could be the one to take you shopping rather than shopping for other men, he could be the one you would wear matching colors with on campus, rather than as a lame party gag.

“You done moping yet?”

Satoru lifts the drink and take a few big sips, his eyes never leaving your figure.

“I fucked up, Suguru.”

“Ha!” The man at his side throws his head back and laughs, “I know. We all know.”

Satoru looks over to the balcony entrance, catching the way Shoko peers back at him with her arms crossed with a knowing glance; she only looks away when Choso taps her for a light.

“Well, what am I supposed to do? I’m the one that made it casual to begin with.”

It’s weird to see him so upset, and Suguru drops his smile at the melancholy feeling emitting from his best friend.

He places a hand on his shoulder. “Tell her how you feel. For real this time.”

“What if…” The plastic cup in Satoru’s hand crinkles again at the pressure and he drops his voice. “What if she doesn’t feel the same?”

A loud sigh can be heard from Suguru’s lips as he shrugs. “Well that’s part of the whole thing; real relationships are scary like that. But–” He looks at the mess of emotions on his friend’s face. “That’s better than whatever you’re feeling right now.”

Satoru swallows thickly and nods slowly in agreement; he had been putting this off for too long now. With a long gulp of his beverage and supportive pat on the back from his best friend, he takes off to the kitchen with his sights set on you.

“No way? You guys went to the holiday market?”

Higuruma nods and motions to Nanami. “Yea, Yuji thought that would be a good place to introduce us.”

Nanami nods and takes a sip of his drink. “It was great; the food stalls were very impressive.”

You look between the two men and almost salivate at the thought of such good food before a heavy arm is thrown over your shoulder. Dragged into the side of Satoru, you look up and shoot him a confused glance.

It isn’t by accident or through a casual greeting for this display of physical touch. While you may see it as Satoru being his usual self, the two other men in the conversation understand the hint. Matching sweaters and his arm around you; Nanami and Higuruma don’t move any closer and pause to change the conversation.

“Hey,” you nudge into his side with a whisper-yell, “what are you doing?”

Satoru looks between the group, which is now immersed in another conversation, before dipping down to your ear. “I needed to talk to you.”

“So?”

“So–” His arm falls down to grab your elbow. “I need to do it in private.”

Raising an eyebrow, you take in the way he leans his head in closer before rolling your eyes and shoving his hand off of you.

“Seriously? Now? You can’t last another day or at least until my conversation is over?”

Satoru purses his lips and watches the way the open group has now isolated you both and turned into a three way conversation between Nanami, Higuruma, and Utahime.

“It’s over. Let’s go.”

You scoff at the brashness but don’t stop him as Satoru pulls you out of the kitchen and into the hallway. 

“Hey where is–”

“Yuji! I need your help with the music; the others will be here soon.”

Suguru pulls Yuji to the side and shoots his best friend one last look before pivoting to push the younger man back into the living room.

By the time the door closes and locks, you cross your arms and tap your foot impatiently at Satoru while he busies himself with awkwardly cleaning up his room. Awards from his research in oncology hang on the wall alongside an array of photographs from high school to present day.

Satoru shuffles to his bed, some dirty laundry sitting at the foot on the floor. A light gray comforter sits messy atop navy blue sheets, and the ikea paper floor lamp creates a familiar warm glow across the room.

“What’s this about Satoru? You couldn’t wait?”

“Yea.. something like that.”

The atmosphere is awkward and different than any other time he’s pulled you aside. Usually, he’d sweet talk you a bit and get a bit touchy before dragging you into somewhere more private and slamming his mouth on yours. The way he uncomfortably sits on his bed and can’t quite make eye contact reminds you of the first time the two of you ever had sex. Before it was casual.

He rubs the back of his head in thought while the tension makes you squirm where you stand. It occurs to you that this feels more like a friend in need of support rather than the physical prowess who you’ve come to associate with meaningless sex.

Your voice softens and you shuffle to sit beside him on the bed. “Hey… are you ok?”

“Yes– no…” he sighs and looks at his feet. “I don’t know…”

Your heart strings tug at the vulnerability in his voice and the sullen clicking of the vintage clock radio on his desk. “Ok… take your time Satoru. I’m not going anywhere…”

A mix between a chuckle and a scoff escapes his lips and the pained look he gives you is pitiful; he looks down for a moment more before slipping off his sunglasses and dropping them onto the bed.

“I want to end this.”

…. Huh?

“...What?”

“I want to end this.” He meets your gaze and motions between the both of you. “Whatever this is, or was, it’s done.”

You pause and blink at the man, worry and sympathy quickly becoming replaced with anger, embarrassment, and frustration. All the months tangled between the sheets and moments of genuine happiness in his company come crashing down.

“What..? Why?”

With eyebrows furrowed, there’s no way to hide the cold tone laced in each word you spit out; Satoru winces and shuts his eyes before taking a deep sigh.

“I just…. We have to, ok?”

“No, not ok.” You stand up from the bed and make some distance, hands curled into fists. “Not until you give me a real reason.”

Satoru looks at you with tired eyes and glances back at the floor. “There isn’t one…”

“So what then? I was just something to fuck until you got bored?”

He shoots his eyes up and frantically shakes his head. “What? No! That’s not it all.”

“Is there somebody else? Just kept me until you could swoop in and get in a real relationship?”

“N-No!” Satoru stands from the bed and raises his voice to match yours, an argument breaking out.

From down the hall, Suguru winces and motions Yuji to increase the volume on the speakers and offers people fresh drinks to stall for a bit longer.

“I know we’re casual, but I thought I at least meant something to you as a friend.”

“You do!”

Your brows twitch in frustration and hot angry tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “Then why are you ending this–”

“Because I’m in love with you!”

…what?

You pause and pant to catch your breath, the silence deafening as Satoru stands pathetically in front of you tugging at his hair in frustration.

“I’m in love with you, ok?” He pushes chunks of it back, only to have it cascade right back down. “That’s why… we can’t do this anymore. It’s not casual.”

You breathe in and out slowly while your pulse shoots through the roof. Standing in the center of his room, the one you’ve been in a million times before, suddenly feels suffocating. When you don’t answer, Satoru peels his eyes off the floor and scans your face with a worried expression.

“Say something… please…”

You swallow and look at him cautiously. “Why… why didn’t you say anything that night?”

Satoru winces and looks back down again before rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands with enough force he’s seeing stars. That night. Why couldn’t he just man up enough that one night all those months ago?

It was the night he had finally mustered up the courage to ask you to a party as his date after months of pathetically trying to find a way to ask you out. Music blaring and alcohol flowing, the sight of you wrapped around his arms dancing was heavenly; the sight of nearly every other guy ogling you was hell. 

Liquid courage flowing through you, you had pushed him back to his bedroom and connected your lips to his. Matching the intensity, he had wasted no time in kissing you back; before anyone could wonder where the two of you had gone, you were making love in between his same navy blue sheets.

When the both of you came down from the high, it was the first thing out of Satoru’s mouth.

Let’s keep this casual, ok?

It hurt so bad to hear, and it hurt him even worse to watch the way your face fell in a dejected response. 

“That night…?”

You grab at the fabric of your skirt in an awkward and anxious energy. “Yea.”

“Because–” Satoru finally looks back at you and sighs, “I don’t think I can make you happy in any way that isn’t physical. I don’t bake bread with ceramic ovens, I don’t practice law and know how to get stupid corks out of wine bottles… I don’t think you would be emotionally happy with me.”

There’s another long pause as the anger fully slips out of you; your hands fall flat at your sides and Satoru finds solace staring at the white shaggy rug that lays beneath his bed to the middle of his room. 

“And you decided that without ever asking me?”

The sound of your voice makes him look up, and he winces, fully expecting you to reject him and tell him to fuck off forever. You take a few cautious steps forward and sigh lightly; taking his hand in your own, you tug at him to meet your gaze.

“Satoru, why do you think I said yes to being your date at that party?” A dry laugh escapes your lips and you watch the way your fingers intertwine with his. “I had been waiting months for you to ask me out… Shoko and Utahime laughed at me so much when I came home and told them you finally did.”

Satoru stays silent for a moment and creates a crease in his forehead from the way his eyes portray nothing but regret and sadness. “And I ruined everything, didn’t I? Pushed you away, and now there’s two great guys out there that would never make the same mistake I did.”

You look up at him and glance between his eyes before smiling gently. “I mean… probably.”

Satoru nearly releases the grip on your hand, but you keep your fingers firm. “But… the guy I like is in here.”

“In here?”

“Mmhmm.”

Satoru’s eyes widen and he searches your face for any sign you’re about to say it’s some sick joke before you lean up to capture his lips with your own. Your lipgloss smearing slightly against his mouth, Satoru’s lips chase after yours when you take a slight pause to breathe.

Hmpfh– 

The force of him stepping forward to continue the kiss has you walking backwards until your legs are plush against his desk. He leans in with more force and cups your cheeks to keep your mouth perfectly aligned with his; strands of white hair fall down at the angle and tickle your face.

The kiss is similar to the ones you’ve shared before, and it makes you wonder if every time you and Satoru had sex, he was hoping it was something more meaningful than a fwb. Lips against your own, his hands fall to grip your waist and keep you still against him; an erection hardening in his jeans against you. 

“F-fuck… Satoru..”

In the brief moment you escape his lip to whimper out, he meets his mouth against yours again and swipes his tongue across your bottom lip. Parting for access, the hot muscle eagerly explores your mouth and leaves the fruity taste of pineapple juice on your tongue.

The sensation sets your skin on fire and causes arousal to pool in your panties while his hips rut pathetically against yours. His tongue rubs against your own and the messiness of the kiss leaves saliva dripping from both of your mouths; unable to move from being squished between Satoru and the desk, the pressure of the moment leaves your mind dizzy.

With one last exploration of your molars, Satoru disconnects his lips from yours and immediately moves down to the sensitive skin on your throat. Open mouth kisses litter the flesh under your jaw to the base of your collarbone before the man in front of you pauses and leans back slightly. 

“Is it… is it ok?”

Neither one of you had either left a hickey on the other person, having deemed it too intimate to leave claiming marks when neither of you were entitled to exclusivity. The question he poses has more weight than if he can leave a few bruises; he’s asking if you can be his.

Hot breaths leave his panting lips and you shiver from the sensation; looking up at the man, you take in the pink on his cheeks and the dilation of his pupils.

“Y-Yea.”

Knees nearly buckling forward, Satoru nods once and stumbles forward to latch his lips and teeth onto the delicate flesh of your throat. A surprised groan escapes you, and he sighs before sinking his canines into your skin and sucking the tender spot into his mouth. It’s a mix of pleasure and pain that courses through you at the sensation, one Satoru mirrors as his aching erection painfully pushes at the fly of his jeans.

He’s never been so hard in his life. Sure, he always remembered to thank his lucky stars every time you and him were intimate, but the idea of doing this as a committed pair makes his hips jerk forward in desperation. 

Lips releasing the flesh with a ‘pop’, his mouth moves to suck the pulse point under your jaw while his hands move from holding your hips to hovering just below your tits. Satoru’s mind goes fuzzy when he can feel your pulse on his lips and when your hands rest on his to push his palms to your breast.

The feeling of his mouth sucking dark bruises on your neck and the way his thumbs already know where to push down to grind your nipples through your bra leave you feeling drunk. When his erection grinds against your pelvis again, you lean your head further to the side and groan.

“S-Satoru..”

His lips ‘pop’ off your pulse and trail to find the next spot just under your ear. “Ye-Yea, princess?”

You shudder at the pet name and clench pathetically around nothing while his hands continue kneading your tits.

“Use your words”

Any other time the command might’ve made you a bit embarrassed, but leaning against the desk at his mercy while raging with desire, you don’t really care.

“I want you.”

Despite saying the words before a handful of times when the moment was intense, Satoru doesn’t miss the new implication and weight of them. He leans down to connect your lips again, whimpering when you tug at his hair impatiently.

“God, I could kiss you forever.”

“Ok, then do it.”

He smiles and leans down once to peck your lips again, before backing up and making room for the both of you to walk over to the bed. You're barely on the mattress when he pushes you flush against his pillows and splays your thighs apart to make room for himself. 

Sitting on your elbows, you drink in the sight of Satoru lifting his arms above his head to pull off the sweater and reveal a torso sculpted from marble. An array of scars litter the skin, some from stories you’ve heard and others from ones you’re sure to hear one day; a particular faded scar by his navel remains unknown.

“Sukuna fucking hit me on his stupid bike.”

He notices the way your eyes linger on his torso and pays no mind while his fingertips pinch the hem of your shirt to tug the cardigan and fabric off.

“Really? How?”

“Said he was gonna teach Megumi how to ride.” He drops your red cardigan on the floor to match his sweater and throws your t-shirt haphazardly behind him. “Fucking idiot clipped me and sent me flying to the pavement.”

Your fingers graze the scar once before dropping to outline the hem of his jeans and tracing the outline of his erection. Satoru sucks in a shallow breath and moves to release the button and zipper.

“Did it hurt?”

“Yea– felt like I got split in half. But..” He shimmies the fabric down and kicks it to join the other clothes before reaching behind you to release the metal clasp of your bra. “I’m feeling really good right now.”

You laugh slightly and pull him to another kiss, which he happily leans in for, before you part to wiggle your skirt and tights down. Both of you left in your underwear, the tightness of his Calvin Klein briefs leave little to the imagination.

Pre-cum staining the gray material darker, the tip of his cock is nearly pushing through the fly of the fabric from the intensity. Satoru isn’t sure if he feels light headed from the lack of blood flow to his brain or from the fact that your red panties are stained with arousal.

He pauses and sits back for a moment to peer over the bed and finally notice the way your bra had been the same shade. Gun to his head, if anyone had asked him the color of the fabric earlier, he would’ve been dead.

“F-fuck… did you match this, f’me?”

You wet your lips and nod once while Satoru feels as if he could die happily. The girl of his dream, matched her bra and panties to his outfit? In a silent vow to never fumble the bag ever again, he leans back down to capture your lips.

Leaning against his soft pillows and wrapping your arms around his neck, a squeak escapes you when he tugs to flip the positions over. Hovering over him now, his hands dig into the plush of your thighs and gently push you forward.

“W-what?”

“Get up here and sit.”

You pause and look down at Satoru who tugs at your thighs with a face drunk in desire; his biceps scoot you up higher until you’re hovering his face. Fingers wrapped around the base of your panties, you lean forward to grab his headboard while he slides them down your legs and off each ankle. 

He bundles the wet fabric into a little ball and reaches up to tuck it underneath one of his pillows.

“H-hey! Give it back, perv.”

“I will.. After you sit.”

His hands reach up to your hips and push you down onto his nose and mouth; the sensation immediately makes you gush in arousal. Satoru’s pointed nose nudges your puffy clit while his lips suck at your entrance before his tongue slithers in. You groan and curl your toes for a moment before trying to tense your thighs and stand; his hands immediately hold you still.

Leaning back for a moment, the scene beneath you is filthy. Satoru’s lips are swollen from the suction and your slick coats his mouth and chin; he looks up at you as if you had taken away something so very dear to him.

“Hey, get back down here.” He whines up at you, his eyes nearly black from the size of his pupils.

“B-but… i might crush–”

He pulls your thighs down lower and breathes hot against your pussy, licking a long stripe and peering up once more. “Then go ahead and crush me. As if I’d want to die anywhere else than under your fucking cunt.”

With one last tug, he pulls you down onto his face once again and continues his ministrations; the sensation sends a shiver down your spine. Tongue pushing into your sopping cunt with a disgusting french kiss while his nose lifts to grind against your clit once more. 

It takes one more tug of your hips before you take a deep breath and grab the headboard firmly, ready to finally grind. One sway of your hips instantly amplifies the pleasure; his nose rutting with perfect pressure before your effectively fucking his face.

Whimpers escape your and Satoru’s lips, the vibration further making your mind fuzzy. His tongue presses against the fleshly walls of your cunt in desperation to drink in every drop of your arousal while his hands freely knead the flesh of your ass as you grind. Hunching forward, you can vaguely makeout the scene beneath you; Satoru’s hair plastered his forehead with sweat while his eyes are screwed shut in concentration. The redness of his face makes you wonder if he can even breathe properly. 

“Ahhh… S-Satoru… gonna..”

He gently pushes up on your thighs and takes several deep breaths while trying to form a sentence.

“On my…cock… gotta cum on my cock… please princess..”

You whimper at the lack of stimulation after getting so close to the edge and peer back to notice the angry way his cock throbs against the fabric. The pre-cum patch even larger than before, you turn back around and nod once before swinging your thighs over his head to sit on his comforter.

Your arousal still coating the entire lower half of his face, Satoru runs his tongue over his lips to savor the taste before capturing you with a kiss once more. His tongue feeds you your own slick and, with a fuzzy mind, you barely process when his mouth leaves yours.

You watch the man slide off the bed and open his night stand drawer for the familiar box of condoms before dropping it.

“Shit. There’s no way…”

He leans in to reach around again before pulling back empty handed and dropping to his knees to feel around his jeans for his wallet. Unfolding it open, he sighs when there’s no foil in sight and runs a hand through his hair in desperation. 

“Guess my luck had to run out eventually.”

You sit on the bed and watch the scene unfold before raising an eyebrow. “Well… can’t we just get the morning after pill?”

“Huh?” He looks up and approaches the bed. “You’re ok with that?”

You’re so horny you’d be ok with anything right now; and the thought of missing out on orgasming again has you going feral. Satoru thanks his lucky stars when you nod in approval, and climbs back onto the mattress to place a chaste kiss to your lips.

He guides you to shimmy down and lay on your back while he reaches into the drawer to pull out a small container of lube; Satoru finally shimmies out of his briefs and kicks them to the floor to let his erection stand freely. It’s a sight you’ve always loved, a tidy bush trimmed at his base while a cock longer and thicker than any guy you’ve been with twitches with anticipation.

Pouring a generous amount of lube into his hand, Satoru gives himself a few generous strokes and massages the flushed tip of his cock before tapping it against your clit for good measure. Splaying your thighs apart with his knees, your legs lift to wrap around him while he crawls forward and slowly slides in.

“Nnnghh..fuck–”

 The burning stretch is one your pussy can never get used to, and your hands on his shoulder blade leave your nails digging into the flesh. Satoru slowly continues pushing in until his pubes are tickling your skin and he’s completely bottomed out inside you.

“Oh my go— fuck princess…. Ha… might cum just from feeling you…”

He sucks a new bruise into the side of your neck, giving you time to adjust while your cunt flutters around him pathetically in an attempt to accommodate his size. Waiting a moment, he finally slides out before pushing back in, with a light ‘tap’ from the headboard into the wall. 

The feeling is insurmountable, and any resolve Satoru had to take things slower seeps out of him as he thrusts in and out of your cunt with a bruising tempo; his tip slamming into your cervix. Legs still hoisted around his waist, the pubic hair on his pelvis grinds forward into your clit with each stroke.

“Aahhh Sator– mpfh”

His hand moves to cover your mouth while he continues bullying his cock into your snug cunt.

“Shh princess… can’t– haaa… can’t have them hearing you..”

Despite his attempt to cover your moans, there’s an audible ‘plap!’ plap!’ plap!’ from the sound of his heavy balls smacking your ass and the banging of the headboard into the wall. The wooden frame creaks uncomfortably, and Satoru bites back down onto your neck to avoid groaning.

Shit. Considering it feels this good without a condom, he would get a vasectomy if he meant he could always hit it raw.

“H-huh?”

Oops. Did he say that part out loud?

His hips snap into yours and long scratches make their way down his back, the pain only heightening the pleasure while his cock drills into you. Noticing the way your hips arch upward in search of more friction, Satoru reaches to grab a pillow and pull it under your waist.

The angle tilts your waist so perfectly, each snap of his hips grinds further onto your puffy clit while his tip bruises your g-spot. Your cunt gushes at the sensation and Satoru is left thinking a million different images to avoid cumming. Boring oncology classes, midday traffic, Yaga teaching said boring classes; his hips twitch pathetically at his impending orgasm.

“Y-you’re trying to milk me dry? Ha~.. gotta make sure you cum soon ngh too..”

He snakes a hand forward to rub mean circles on your clit and the feeling makes you throw your head back and groan exceptionally loud. The coil in your abdomen grows tighter, and you lift your hips to meet his thrusts in an attempt to reach your high.

“ahhh … S-Satoru, I’m gonna… c-cum..”

Satoru falls forward and continues hammering into your abused cunt while you scrunch your eyebrows and moan as your orgasm washes over you. His hips keep pumping his cock into you as your body twitches to ride out the high and tears prick at your eyes from the intensity. 

Your legs feel like jelly and, before they can drop, Satoru holds onto the plush underside to keep them up and grinds his pelvis up against yours a few more times. Before overstimulating can make you squirm, his pace gets erratic and he shudders desperately as hot ropes of cum pour into you.

Fucking himself through his orgasm, he snaps forward a few more times to ensure every last drop is out, and the sensation makes you feel borderline bloated. His erection softening, Satoru slips out with a wince and watches in a daze as his cum slowly drips out of you; without thinking, he dips an index forward to catch it and push it back in.

“Satoruu,” you whine from your fucked out position on his bed.

The man snaps out of his trance and reaches forward to grab a handful of tissues to wipe you both down. Semen leaks out of your cunt and onto the tissue while another piece absorbs the cream ring that was on the base of his cock. In silence, you both catch your breath and take in the moment.

Aside from condoms, it’s the first time Satoru’s ever been inside you without a barrier, and also the first time he’s fully cum in you without protection. Panting slightly, he lays against the bed and pulls you from your seated position and into his arms.

You trace invisible shapes on his pecs before looking up and realizing he was already staring at you.

With a light scoff you flick his forehead, “You’re staring, weirdo.”

“Hmm? Can’t stare at my girlfriend?”

The word makes you pause, the way it slips off his tongue so naturally makes you feel as if the title had been reserved for the whole time. You pause and take a deep breath.

“About that… I think we should keep this casual, Satoru.”

He sucks in a breath from above you and his eyes widen in shock and hurt; pretending to look off in the distance as if his heart wasn’t breaking, he shrugs in a forced manner.

“Gotcha~”

You sit up to lean over his face and capture his lips in a kiss before running your hands through his hair to push it back. Satoru sits up and shakes his head with a whimpered sigh. “Don’t do that! I already said I was sorry!”

Giggling slightly, you pinch at his arm to release you, but he makes no move to lighten his hold. 

“We have to get dressed and go back–”

“Call me my real title first.”

He nuzzles into your neck and places gentle kisses while his biceps keep you pinned into his chest. With a giggle you sigh and lean against him.

“Ok, can my boyfriend let me go so we can get dressed?”

“Hmmm, he’ll think about it.”

You shake your head and Satoru lifts his own to place a soft kiss against your lips, chasing after them when you part for a quick breath. It’s gentle and slow, one you’ve never shared until right now.

With a defeated sigh, he lets you stand up and dig through the clothes to find your bra and snap the clasp back on. He admires the sight before standing up and grabbing a fresh pair of underwear for himself and you from his drawers.

“Hey, aren’t you gonna give me back my own?”

Satoru raises an eyebrow and bounces on one leg to slide into the pant leg of his jeans. “What? I don’t remember you wearing any earlier…”

Knowing it was a battle you were never going to win anyways, you slide on his spare boxer briefs and throw your t-shirt over your shirt. Satoru reaches for his sweater while you shimmy your tights and skirt back on; he gives a few sprays of the cologne he knows you like and leaves his sunglasses on the bed.

Giving you a moment for one final smooth of your outfit, Satoru opens the door and takes your hand to guide you down the hallway back towards everyone.

“Why can’t we start already? I wanna know who has meee,” Yuji whines from the loveseat.

Suguru stands in the center of the living room trying to calm the crowd only pausing to notice the way his best friend saunters into view with you latched onto his arm.

“Oh, sorry for the hold up.” He slides onto the couch and tugs you into his arms to sit beside him. “My girlfriend and I had to get something sorted.”

He looks around to see the reactions of the crowd and raises an eyebrow when no one moves from excitement. Megumi rolls his eyes beside Yuji while Yuta and Inumaki cough awkwardly. Even Choso sits idly next to Todo as if Satoru were reporting the weather to the group.

“Did you hear? Y/N and I are dating–”

“We know.” Shoko interrupts and pours herself another glass of wine from the kitchen.

Satoru whips around to stare at her while the look Utahime gives you makes you want to instantly disappear; you tug on your boyfriend’s sweater but he takes that to mean you want to hold his hand and intertwines his fingers with yours. 

“No, we’re like… together–together”

“WE KNOW!” the group yells in unison.

You slink into the sofa and wish to disappear while Satoru blinks in confusion and looks among the group. Suguru rolls his eyes and moves to sit beside you on the other side of the couch. “We all heard you in his room.”

If there was ever a time for a bomb to go off, it would be right now. Nobara and Maki snicker to themselves while Higuruma, Haibara, and Nanami stand near the window and shake their heads slightly. 

Suguru leans over to you both and shrugs. “I could only stall for so long; they got suspicious when the headboard was louder than my speakers.”

You squeak and sink into your boyfriend’s arms while he sheepishly scratches at the back of his undercut. “That loud huh?”

“Yep.”

He leans away from his friend and runs a reassuring hand over your shoulder to relax, the mortifying moment leaving you wondering if you could ever show your face on campus again.

“It’s ok, we just gotta be quiet next time–”

“Her neck is also completely purple with hickies,” Suguru interrupts once again before leaning back and taking a long sip of beer in the process. 

With one more curt nod, and cutting his losses, Satoru claps his hands and eyes the mountain of gifts piled on the coffee table.

“Well, now that you all know about my and y/n’s sex life and committed relationship, let’s get this Secret Santa started!”

A mix of groans and ‘ooos’ emit from the group; Utahime stands up to begin the process while Satoru keeps a comfy arm around your waist as you partially lay into his chest.

“I know the holidays have passed, but now that we’re all back on campus from break, I figured it would be best to do the exchange now. Is everyone ready?”

Yuji and Todo pump their fist up in excitement while Mai grimaces at the loud outburst. With the gift exchange beginning, you nestle into your boyfriend’s arms and rest your head on his shoulder.

A chaste kiss is placed on your forehead and Satoru runs his thumb absentmindedly across the skin on your thigh. 

“What color are we doing next?”

“Hm?” you hum, peeling your gaze from the excited look on Inumaki’s face as he revealed a new microphone, and focusing on the man beside you.

“For the first day of class, what color should we match with then?”

A grin breaks across your face and you admire his eyes for a moment. “Maybe sky blue?”

thank you so much for reading this installment of holiday hoes! i had so much fun writing this gojo one hehe

i have suguru -> yuta -> choso next before this mini series ends & i'll be doing chapters for my longer fics (L, Aizawa) in between

likes/comments/reblogs all appreciated

-oatmeal

✌︎('ω')✌︎

[jweekgoji]

iLOVE your works 💗💗💗 a sequel to your most recent would be amazing…

maybe sentinel and starscream come at a close tie so they both get a special treat~…

Sentinel/Prime!Reader/Starscream [TFO]

tw: nsf//w (minors, don't read please), power imbalance, jealousy, competitive behavior, slight posessive behavior, master/subordinate relationships. word count: 1,4k additional tags: Prime!Reader, cybertronian!readr, gender-neutral!reader (but they have valve in this one), double valve penetration, valveplug, threesome, rivalry between Starscream and Sentinel, pre-TFO events, sub!reader, dom!Sentinel, dom!Starscream. a/n: I will forever not stop making sentinel the most pathetic one in this duo. thank you for your request~

Ever since that blessed day, you can't help, but thank Alchemist for the idea he once gave you.

There was no doubt that ever since you had confronted two of the most arrogant mechs you had ever seen in your entire life, you now finally had a chance to have some rest.

The only thing left to do was to lazily keep track of the score, watching as these two faithfully carried out your every slightest errand, eagerly awaiting their reward like faithful dogs.

'One point in Starscream's favor, two in Sentinel's favor...Six points for Starscream, five for Sentinel....'

All it took was to sit in your comfy office, minding your own business while your two assistants ran back and forth, handling your assignments.

Some of these were extremely important; some were just dusting at the bottom of the list, waiting in the dark for their time. Just for those types of occasions, sometimes it's nice to have someone like Starscream and Sentinel.

You could mark the one's success in your notes, and at the same minute, the other would burst in, immediately taking all of your attention away. Such a harmless competition, you didn't even specify what exactly you could offer them for their hard work, but the barely disguised implication in your tone left not that much room for guessing.

Until...

“Congratulations, you have an equal number of points,” you announced, an easy, almost perfect smile on your face, the one you always wear in public.

“There can't be-” Starscream begins, until he is interrupted by Sentinel.

“With all due respect, but there's definitely some kind of mistake here,” he gets in front of Starscream, an almost offended look on his face. Him? On equal score with Starscream? That sounds like a very personal insult.

The member of the high guard only huffs in frustration and shoves the blue-and-gold bot forcibly aside, almost pushing him down to the floor.

“You should do a recount. One has to be the winner,” the jet crosses his servos over his chassis, pede tapping lightly against the floor in a barely concealed display of anger.

“Someone like me, obviously,” Sentinel sneers, his servo settling down at the center of his chassis as if trying to emphasize the sincerity of his words. “I am your advisor, after all, no wonder I'm better at dealing with your errands.”

Your optics only flicker between Starscream and Sentinel, silently observing their conflict. You would probably laugh at this if you hadn't had to endure it for many, many cycles.

“There is no mistake here, my calculations are correct,” you say simply, placing your servos on the surface of your desk. “However, I am not satisfied with the quality of your work. You will still have a chance to...prove yourself, one last time.”

Who knew that your seemingly innocuous game, which was supposed to resolve what seemed to be...an inexhaustible conflict between your two subordinates, could lead to more than unexpected consequences?

You'd be lying if you said you didn't feel an ounce of pleasure in this arrangement.

“Can't you stop twitching for just one minute? You are getting in the way,” Starscream hissed softly, throwing a sharp glare in his rival's direction.

“It's not my fault you're taking up...ngh- so much space,” Sentinel groans, blue optics flickering slightly at the momentary shock of pleasure that runs along his spine.

Your poor, poor advisor can't help but let out another shameless moan as he barely thrusts forward, the tip of his spike pressing against Starscream's own, rooted deep inside you.

“If you have any protests, you can always leave,” the jet hummed. His servos tightened their hold on your thighs, spreading them further apart to make a room for two.

Sentinel's golden wings bristled at these words, and soon after, he leaned closer to you, only to start bickering with the other mech right behind your shoulder. Oh, the sheer audacity!

“Like I would,” Sentinel purred, almost in spite of the leader of the high guard. “As if I can trust you how to properly care for our dear Prime over here.”

That arrogant, self-centered bastard, how ironic— if only you weren't there, Starscream would have wiped that smirk off his faceplate this instant.

“Are you going to do something already?” you, once again, have to be between the two mechs, both literally and figuratively now. “I'll fall into recharge faster, unless one of you actually starts moving.”

That commanding, demanding voice of yours, the one you use to remind them that despite how intimate and vulnerable the position you all are in, you're still a Prime. Their leader.

Until you feel both of their spikes twitching inside you, a light blue blush spreads all over the cheek plates. Primus, help you with these two. You can't even boss around your own subordinates without them getting head over heels for you, and here you thought that would have a negative effect on them.

But are you really that surprised?

Starscream is first to assist your orders, as he bowed his head, close enough to plant a lingering kiss on your neck, teasing the sensitive surface. It's best to focus on your needs now, rather than that too pleased with himself advisor that keeps giving him challenging glances.

“I bet I can satisfy our Prime better than you do, Starscream,” words thrown so carelessly, only pushed the never-ending conflict back to the surface.

To keep his own words, Sentinel pushes his hips forward, igniting a soft gasp from you. Having both of them together inside you was certainly a new experience. If your humble advisor lacked the length that the high guard had, Sentinel had the girth, stretching your inner walls with every single slow thrust.

Starscream on the contrary, compensates for everything that Sentinel couldn't give; with the combination of a consistent feeling of fullness, his spike easily presses against a spot deep inside that makes you see stars.

“Like you ever satisfied them for once,” Starscream snapped back, the red optics dangerously glowing in the poorly lit quarters.

It takes time, at first, for both of them to finally find the pace that actually lets them move without bothering the other. One thrusts in, then pulls out, then for the other to do the same.

 How embarrassing, utterly disgusting, even, the both mechs keep thinking. Even such a short moment of pleasure and intimacy leaves Starscream mentally gagging at the feeling, with Sentinel having pretty much the same thoughts.

 Only briefly, for a short moment, they cooperate to push together in one time, both spikes rubbing against each other in the tightness of your valve.

 The looks of embarrassment and awkwardness are totally worth it, you believe; maybe that will teach them not to cross each other's paths anytime soon, instead of fighting over your attention like sparklings.

Frag, you hiss through gritted teeth; no matter how much they may annoy you with their constant quarrels, they're pretty damn good at working together, sometimes. Maybe you need to organize this more often, just to relax and have a break in their company, which is... a rarity.

The constant stimulation is almost too much to bear, thoughts are too hard to concentrate on, and you barely pay attention to them, as you faintly hear them insulting each other. Primus knows how much they had done it for today.

Finally, you reach for both of them, grasping Sentinel's chin with one servo, bringing him closer, while the other servo gently tilts Starscream's head down to meet your lips, releasing all the buildup of tension in a single, lengthy, hungry kiss.

 Sentinel can be heard practically whining at the sight, begging for the same lovely affection you just had to give his enemy right in front of him, only for you to kiss the needy advisor in return.

As your own overload approaches quickly, your optics begin to dim, and you can barely hold back anymore. That delicious tightening of your valve around the both spikes makes Starscream and Sentinel hold back, just in order not to overload from that sensation alone.

Slowly, you tilt Sentinel's chin slightly back, leaving your advisor panting heavily, glossa out, desperately trying to catch his own breath, and cool down the overheating frame. The soft huffs and puffs of Starscream don't go unnoticed by you, no matter how hard he tries to look all calm and collected behind you.

“I think...I need another round to sum up the scores.”

[scoops-aboy86]

wc: 647 | Rating: T | CW: mentions of infidelity, technically hurt no comfort because I haven’t written the part where they make up | Additional Tags: future fic, famous Eddie Munson, past Steddie

Okay, look. The tv was on in the background, and Ross and Rachel were breaking up, and this happened in my head. I’m posting it for Fuck It Friday because fuck it. The only thing getting me through life right now is cough drops.

part 2

Hell of a Time at the Wake

“Yeah, haven’t had a drink or touched any drugs in five years, as of last month.”

“Oh wow, so that’s from before Corroded Coffin made it big.” The interviewer chuckles. “Usually it’s the fame and rehab that come first.”

“I prefer to think of myself more as regionally notorious, but sure. Never did the rehab thing, though.”

“Well, what’s the story there?”

Behind their frontman, the rest of the band shares a look. “Oh, we don't need to—” 

“Nah, Jeff, it’s okay man.” Eddie waves them off, then turns back to the interviewer. “Back before we hit the road to make a name for ourselves, I was seeing someone back home. I mean, the someone. The one. But we kept having this same… not really a fight, just this thing: I wanted to leave town, they didn’t. And then finally we had this huge blowout about it that started as something else and somehow turned into that again, which turned into both of us storming off. They went home, and I went out and got completely shitfaced, and in the morning I woke up with someone whose name I didn’t even know in bed with me.”

The interviewer winces. 

“Yeah. And when you do something shitty like that, it’s going to come out sooner or later. Or pretty much immediately, in this case, which.” Eddie grimaces and shrugs. “Well, it gave us something else to fight about, that’s for sure. I knew I’d fucked up bad, but it took hours of back and forth before I realized that we were done done. Trust completely obliterated, no way to come back or move on from that, just… over.”

There’s a pause where he stares off into space for a moment, stuck on a memory. Then he shakes himself and refocuses. 

“Anyway, at some point during my doomed attempt to salvage things, I swore I’d never have another drink ever again. Which, the being drunk of it all wasn’t really the problem, so saying that didn’t buy me anything, but… even after it ended, I didn’t. I’d been so fucked up that night, and it wasn’t the booze so much as the fear of it being over that made me a one man self-fulfilling prophecy—but I hurt someone I loved more than anything, and I never wanted let myself get that fucking stupid again, so. I haven’t. And honestly, I sleep better knowing that.”

“Wow.” The interviewer is staring at him, stunned. Probably doesn’t get a lot of this sort of thing, not just because of all the wild rockstars and other celebrities that come on the show with stories about trashed hotel rooms and wild parties, but because Eddie is being honest. 

It’s not something he talks about… ever, really. Not even with the guys. But, after five years, it doesn’t hurt the same. It’s not even for St—

It’s not for his ex anymore, if it ever was. 

“Why would it be weird?” Gareth is saying. “We have a built in DD, that’s always great. And Eddie doesn’t give us shit for anything, he’s just honest when we ask if anything was too out of hand. It’s a good reality check.”

“And like,” Doug adds, “he’ll still come out with us to clubs and shit to hang out. But if he says he doesn’t want to drive us to a bar it’s not some passive aggressive or superiority thing because we drink and he doesn’t; he’d really just rather fuck off and do something else.”

“Gee, thanks,” Eddie says dryly, but he’s smirking. 

Doug flashes him finger guns, the fucking dork. “You’re welcome, asshole.”

And the interview moves on. These guys have been Eddie’s friends even longer than they’ve been his bandmates, and the four of them are solid. If the gossip vultures out there want something to pick at, they’ll have to find a different target. 

part 2

Permanent tag list (ask to be added/removed):

@hotluncheddie @hiei-harringtonmunson @sofadofax @hickeysgodcomplex @oatmilk-vampire

@wheneverfeasible @hamiltonswiftie @grtwdsmwhr @yesdangerpls @theseaofdespair

And then someone shows Steve the interview and he asks Robin for Eddie’s number, and they talk for the first time in years and end up falling back in love, but that’s the hard to write part so this is what you get. Xoxo

[dodgerkedavra]

Go Up to Gilead [H/D Erised 2024]

The Aurors are Harry’s whole world—right up until he carries Draco Malfoy out of Azkaban in his arms.

Harry can’t keep both, so he’s got to choose: forfeit the world, or forfeit his soul?

Word Count: ~106k

Rating: Explicit

Go Up to Gilead on AO3

Malfoy doesn’t move as Harry gets closer. Only his eyes follow Harry’s crouch-shuffle. Harry wedges himself into the corner next to Malfoy and slides his hand behind Malfoy’s back. There’s almost nothing to him. The striped grey-on-grey rags hang off skin and bone with so much fabric to spare that Harry’s knuckles don’t touch the wall. Harry repeats this process with his other arm, easing his hand under Malfoy’s knees. Makes his chest hurt and his eyes burn to feel the spindly, fucked-up joints hanging over his arm, and when he’s done, their faces are only a few inches apart. Malfoy’s eyes swim with tears. The silver-grey colour stands out, bright and feverish. “Malfoy,” Harry says, his heart sore and stinging. “Draco—” “Not Dementors,” Malfoy whispers. “Please.”

Tags and author's note under the cut ->

I really was on my phone at the moment I received my Erised match, and I really did lift my eyes from my screen and stare into the distance. It's 100% true that I thought about royally fucking up the blending portion of a soup recipe.

The parts I left out of my note on the fic: I was sitting on my front porch on that day in July because that's all I could do last summer. I kept hoping I would feel better and kept not feeling better. I'm pretty sure it was sometime in August that I looked up at my husband from where I had been napping (AKA lying in bed staring at nothing) all afternoon and said this is all I have left.

It sounded dramatic, but felt like nothing.

I had thought my increasing indifference to stuff like deadlines and paying bills was a good sign. By the time I realized it wasn't, it was like pinching the last smidgen of a balloon string between my fingers. In addition to my invisible balloon, I was also clinging to my daily walk around my neighborhood, and I just sort of understood that if I let go of them, that was it.

The invisible balloon was writing. It was (Drarry) fics. But it was also the idea of gifts, and making them, and giving them. And it was, like, profoundly important to me to maintain that practice, even when it made objectively no sense.

It's always been true that lots of things aren't clear to me before I write about them, and sometimes while I'm writing about them, but it's very clear in retrospect that I spent last year desperately trying to get a message across to myself at my bleakest, lowest point. Some part of me must have known, I guess.

Anyway, it was an honor to write for @tessacrowley and to be part of H/D Erised. I love gift exchanges and especially Erised. It's a rare experience to get to hold someone's wishes in your hands and know that someone out there is holding yours. It reminds me to hold things gently. Myself, also.

Thanks to the mods for a wonderful fest, to @vukovich for letting me talk about the Bible in the middle of the night, to @itsphantasmagoria for leaving at least 100 screaming comments, and to all my friends and betas for their thoughtful feedback and support with a special shout-out to @kamaela, @its-the-allure, and @phoenixortheflame. I am very sorry if you deserve a special shout-out and I forgot you! Pretty much all my remaining brain cells went to this story. It was worth it, though.

Read Go Up to Gilead on AO3

TAGS: Auror Harry Potter, Auror Pansy Parkinson, Healer Ron Weasley, Auror Theodore Nott, Auror Justin Finch-Fletchley, Curse Breaking, Curse Breaker Seamus Finnigan, Healer Dean Thomas, Unspeakable Blaise Zabini, Unspeakable Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy in Azkaban, Prison, Blood and Injury, Broken Bones, Torture, Aftermath of Torture, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con. Past Rape/Non-con, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Torture, Implied/Referenced Caning, Hallucinations, Mental Instability, Mental Anguish, Post-Prison, St Mungo's Hospital (Harry Potter), Healing, Injury Recovery, Caretaking, Bathing/Washing, Sentient Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Gryffindor/Slytherin Inter-House Relationships, Dark Magic, Magical Theory (Harry Potter), Avada Kedavra | Killing Curse (Harry Potter), After Effects of Crucio | Cruciatus Curse (Harry Potter), Unforgivable Curses (Harry Potter), Masturbation in Shower, Anal Sex, First Time Bottoming, Magical Cock Ring, Vomiting, Chronic Pain, Chronic Illness, Weddings, Hogwarts Castle, Hogwarts Forbidden Forest, Self-Hatred, Draco Malfoy Needs a Hug, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, POV Harry Potter, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Third Person, POV Alternating, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Hand Feeding, Dreams and Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Panic Attacks, Imprisonment, Godric's Hollow (Harry Potter), Crying, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Consent, Kissing, Orgasm, Frottage, Gentle Sex, Children of Characters, Despair, Hope, Touch-Starved, Forehead Touching, Hair Braiding, Hair Washing, Weasley Jumpers, Expecto Patronum | Patronus Charm (Harry Potter), self-harm, revenge, vertigo, starvation

[shivunin]

WIP Wednesday

Right under the wire! Thanks for the tag @heniareth!

It is statistically unlikely to still be Wednesday for most of you, but tagging back @dreadfutures @dungeons-and-dragon-age @elfroot-and-laurels @pinayelf @inquisimer in case you have anything you want to share (no pressure, as always!)

Here's a bit from a WIP set immediately after the not-a-kiss scene with Lucanis, ft. Lenore being Totally Normal:

(Lucanis/Rook Ingellvar |486 words | vague romance progression spoilers)

Shouldn’t be watching him like this. It’d been days since they’d almost kissed. She’d been strong. Focused. Had kept things aboveboard and friendly, no matter how much she wanted to ask him… What? What could she say, really? How’s your head feeling these days? Pretty clear? No, that was silly. There was too much else to be worrying about to worry about whatever was between—whatever she’d imagined was between them.  “Well, I did remember it was Lace’s turn to cook,” she told him, focusing on the cutting board with far more attention than was warranted, “and Davrin may have mentioned something about an alarming amount of cheese earlier…” “It was for a cheese soup, I believe,” Lucanis agreed, and his hands moved in her periphery. Taking another sip of coffee, presumably. She suspected it was a proportionately significant component of his blood content at this point. She wasn’t going to watch the way his lips moved when he pressed them to the rim of the cup. 

“You can’t be serious,” she said, though she knew he was. Lace had been most of the way through grating a block of cheese when Rook had walked in.  “You don’t think she would?”  Rook laughed at that, settled the lid on the pot, and turned away again. There was half a block of grated cheese to do something with now—a troubling thought, since none of the rest of them were Fereldan and thus did not share the scout’s love of cheese.  “Well, in any case,” she went on. “The letter came in earlier. I may have waited until she’d started cooking to let her know.” “Devious.” “You wouldn’t be the first to say so.” She tapped her hips, surveying the available ingredients before selecting a likely-looking loaf of bread. Lucanis shifted in her periphery. Despite herself, she looked at him. He’d pressed a hand to his head, forefinger and thumb pinching the bridge of his nose. “Spite?” she asked, and he nodded. “He want to say anything in particular or is he just hungry, too?”  The muscle in his jaw twitched. Slowly, deliberately, he set his mug on the table beside him.  “It is nothing worth sharing. I will make more coffee. Would you like some?”  What could she say? Pity would shame him and sympathy was hardly better. She sometimes wished she had Emmrich’s talent for hearing spirits. Perhaps if she could address both of them at once…but no. Maybe letting him do something for her would help.  “If you’re making it.” “Sweet, with cream,” he said.  The soft sounds of metal and glass to her left told her he’d already begun. Could he see her smiling? Surely not. She’d turned her head enough that she wouldn’t be caught.  “You remembered.” “How could I forget?” he said.  She laughed. He didn’t, but distracted as she was by the absence of the bread knife Rook hardly noticed.

[blvenote]

the universe has granted me good karma thru this update \O/ and #shithitsthefan  AHHHJHHHHHHSJFJDJJFKFFJKFKFFKFKF:

• prefacing this reblog/review with the fact that i was actually awake when this dropped and i got the email notification that u tagged me akcnkdnf AND I LITERALLY READ THE ENTIRE CHAPTER IN THE EMAIL 😭💀 like i was sucked in 😭😭 so this is me, coming back day two, cracking my knuckles, lets do this

• even the summary for this chapter hurts my soul "nothing short of perfect" yes sure honey 😭 we'll see abt that

• DAISIES MEANING NEW BEGINNINGS U CAN DO IT JEONGHAN I KNOW U CAN (he, in fact, could not, and neither could yn)

• we r just going full on w the flowers in this beginning huh kdnfkdnfnf tapestry of flowers on mama's skirt okay... seokmin better be handing yn a bundle of purple hyacinths !! but to be a little more serious TT im honestly like kind of giddy w yns mama bc i just know she was getting nervous and concerned for her daughter, and im petty enough to be like SECOND MALE LEAD IS MAKING THE FIRST MOVE WHOOPDIE DO (okay i lied, i was not serious)

• "a carefully crafted arrangment" like the literal arrangment that yn and jeonghan agreed to AND the arrangments of flowers jeonghan brought i— also the little actions/details you've added in truly add to the vibe that this was rehearsed!! the subtle nods and glances, the understanding, the careful steadiness of yns demeanor — truly not how a lady feels when she's abt to be engaged

• look, mama xu is just excited to start doing the wedding planning and festivities, me too !!

• UGH what a pretty passage (´Д⊂ヽ like even tho this is rehearsed/pre-planned, they're still both wielding similar heartbreaks, and out of everything, he's still trying to make the best of it and see her AS YK,, HIS FUTURE WIFE

• sorry had to just yell again: AUTUMN LEAVES U MEAN ITS FALL??? /THE/ FALL??? AND NEXT IS WINTER... and knowing exactly what i know... man.. i hate (love) seasons as symbols

• oh :'))) and another cig moment w the swing but btwn the sibs!!!

• wow a man who isn't oblivious? ig we win these xu minghao, but i think it's at least conaiderate that he's still asking her not only after the fact but even during the moment (we will revisit this idea later 🤡)

• thats real unfair if u dont think yn or jeonghan will never love each other 😭😭 like at some point, YN AND MINGHAO IM TALKING TO BOTH OF U, feelings will develop; whether its platonic love or romantic love, the seeds have been sown. like yn and jeonghan both have common ground and mutual respect, they dont outwardly hate each other for coveting another; they have far more in common than everyone else would like to admit

• OH... the last sequence of the scene i might cry a little 😭😭 minghao urging w that ferocity and he's slightly defensive that she can stay if she wanted and he would always take care of her, but he forgets he cannot take care of her forever; and just the quiet, solemn acceptance that settles btwn them... the siblings will finally be separated... someone save me (U HAVE NO IDEA WHAT HAO'S QUIET "so u r to be married?" DOES TO ME 😭😭😭😭 like he's kind of losing his sister rn)

• SETTLING OVER U LIKE A THICK VEIL??? A WEDDING VEIL??? YET ANOTHER RESTRAINT???

• BUT HES A SCOUNDREL???? AYE AVAST YE LEE SEOKMIN U HAVE NO RIGHT, AS THE LADY SAYS

• jeonghan.... 😭😭😭 "as though he has been waiting patiently his entire life" someone resuscitate me 😭 if i only had this section, i might think he actually loved her goddamn it (a girl can dream.....)

• the pearl ring, i think, fits so perfectly w yns dress too, like pearls go so well w the aesthetic of the sea/ocean. and def called it that hannie had the ring made for lady choi to wear but 😭 yk,,, life happens, love is lost 😭

• LOOK, WE MATCH 😭😭😭😭😭 OH.....

• just connecting details but a turquoise dress like the sea, a pearl fit for a treasure at the bottom of the ocean, the anchor that keeps you from drifting,,, but your heart sinks nonetheless

• lady choi kinda sus like why is that smile slow and deliberate... home girl, back away from my second lead

• oh yn girlfriend 😭😭😭 U CAN JUST SKFNDKNFKF jeonghan wants to let go of the past and wants to remain steady in this present endeavor, but ur encouragement is far more give than u should be allowing in this situation skfndkfn like i get it, really, this is a whole different arrangement, BUT YN STAND UP

• I NEEDED YN TO SAY "i let him leave" RATHER THAN SHE JUST SAW HIM LEAVE LIKE I'D LOOOVE TO SEE SEOKS REACTION TO THAT

• frustration spilling over like the tide *furiously adds this to the list*

• the intensity of this next scene is crazy but i had to do a pause to say WHAT DO U MEAN THE GRAVE ERROR THAT YN HAS MADE??? LEE SEOKMIN SLOW TF DOWN

• omg the literal irony my head is in my hands 😭😭😭 THE UTTER IRONY THAT HE CALLS HER DEAR FRIEND WHEN SHE'S LITERALLY TALKING ABT HIM BEING THE MAN SHE'S IN LOVE WITH !!! i do have to say that i had a lot of satisfaction in his reaction when she admitted that she knew hannie was in love w a married woman LOL and i am such a sucker for super intense arguments/back n forths like this one like OOOOO i love the tension and the heat sm

• living for minghaos entrance, holding my breath

• OKOK BUT minghaos protective gaze like a CHAIN around yns neck, and seokmins stare as both apologetic AND RESTRAINING??? a woman's virtue is in restraint 😭😭😭😭😭

• my thoughts exactly WHAT????? HOW DARE HE HOW DARE THEY I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY, BUT FIRST, we need to revisit a prev comment abt how minghao was checking in w yn and allowing her a say in her own future: WHERE DID ALL THAT GO HUH????? like i understand that circumstances r different, but even i felt betrayed, and its like,, BOY aint nobody gonna know, THIS IS THE ARRANGEMENT; SECOND, the way seokmin says "fine, i'll marry her" not even speaking to her directly and w that ATTITUDE?? okay . we didn't want u anyway . like i felt that emotional clap of thunder like yn did i am BUZZING

• oh, so minghao thinks he's doing u a favor... eugh..... the pros and cons i suppose for a protective brother (i praised him for not being oblivious earlier, but im taking it all back!)

• i feel as empty and lost as yn rn ngl like maaaan i knew this was gonna happen but im still like,,, 😭😭 NOOOOOO 😭😭 yns back to crippling depression 💔

loved the chapter as always!! sorry there's a lot more reactions and less analysis/commentary this time around, it just got really intense and my brain is still processing that jeonghan engagement era didnt even last a CHAPTER (´Д⊂ヽ cant wait for chapter five, love u!!!

The Somerset Affair

Chapter 4: The Duke Who Loved Me

pairing: lsk x fem!reader genre: Bridgerton AU, friends to (?????) to eventual lovers, brother’s best friend, SLOWWWW BURNNN chapter wc: 8.0k warnings: alcohol consumption, societal expectations, eventual smut, more to be added a/n: ok i know this is long overdue but ENJOYYYYY // as always, ENORMOUS thanks to indi @wongyuseokie for this GORGEOUSSSS banner // and to my lovely betas shu @welcometomyoasis lou @tusswrites haneul @chanranghaeys this could not have happened without you // part 5 is in the works rn!

summary: your engagement to Lord Yoon Jeonghan will be nothing short of perfect. You will make sure of it.

comment to be tagged when chapters are posted, or join the my taglist here!

The morning sun filters through the grand windows of the drawing room, casting warm patches of light onto the plush carpets and fine upholstery. The air is filled with the subtle scent of bergamot from your mother’s tea and the quiet rustle of her lace fan as she sits beside you, pleasantly engaged in conversation. Minghao, reclining with a book in one hand, seems content to observe, his eyes flicking up occasionally, assessing with that quiet, perceptive gaze of his.

A servant enters, announcing with a slight bow, “Lord Yoon, for Miss Xu.”

Jeonghan steps in, exuding a refined elegance, his appearance crisp and perfectly polished. In his hands, he carries two bouquets—an artfully arranged bouquet of roses for your mother and a softer bundle of daisies for you.

“Oh, Lord Yoon!” Your mother’s face lights up with delighted surprise as he presents her with the roses. “Such beautiful flowers! You spoil us, my lord,” she coos, taking them with clear admiration.

Jeonghan turns to you next, extending the daisies with a warm, almost conspiratorial smile. “These, Miss Xu, are for you.” His gaze lingers just a moment longer than it should, his eyes holding a silent promise.

You accept them, feeling your pulse quicken despite your best efforts at composure. “Thank you, my lord. They’re lovely,” you reply, your voice steady yet soft.

The light streams through the drawing room, catching on delicate patterns in the wallpaper, illuminating the intricate tapestry of flowers on your mother’s dress. She sits forward, her face lit with excitement, as if this visit from Jeonghan is a personal victory.

Jeonghan’s bouquet fills the room with a faint scent of wildflowers, light and pleasant, yet somehow starkly out of place in this space where every gesture feels rehearsed. The daisies he offered you lie lightly in your lap, their cheerful brightness a contrast to the steady, almost unfeeling exchange that has just unfolded. His eyes meet yours for a brief, knowing second, and there’s a flicker of mutual understanding beneath the surface, an unspoken acknowledgment of what this marriage truly is—a carefully crafted arrangement, one that neither of you expects to fill with romance.

As Jeonghan addresses Minghao, his voice is calm, almost clinical. “Lord Xu Minghao, I come to you today with the hope of asking for your sister’s hand in marriage.” There is no impassioned plea, no pretense of romantic affection—only a polite tone as he lays out his intentions, as though presenting a proposition in a business deal.

Minghao’s gaze sharpens as he turns to you, his eyebrows raised slightly in silent question. He knows you better than anyone; he knows why Jeonghan’s proposal isn’t shocking, why you don’t hesitate. The room is quiet, and your mother leans forward in her seat, her excitement radiating out in delicate bursts like the sweet scent of her tea, oblivious to the subtleties of the exchange.

Clearing his throat, Minghao shifts in his seat and addresses Jeonghan with his usual calm. “Lord Yoon, I know better than to answer for my sister.”

All eyes turn to you, and the room feels suspended, like the world itself has paused to witness your response. “Yes, my lord,” you say, the words escaping your lips in a careful, measured tone. “I shall.” And there it is—final, as much a confirmation of acceptance as a concession.

Jeonghan’s faint smile returns, polite but distant, as if his mind is already on other matters. He is not the lover you dreamed of, and you are not the woman he once allowed himself to yearn for; you both know this, and perhaps that is why it works so well. The arrangement is neat, efficient, each of you choosing the practical over the sentimental, the future over desire.

Your mother, however, cannot contain her delight. “Oh, this is wonderful! A fine match indeed!” she exclaims, her fan fluttering excitedly in her hand. She glows with pride as if this alliance were a personal triumph, her dreams for you fulfilled without understanding the true weight of the moment.

The silence that follows feels heavy, like an agreement quietly sealed, and as you look down at the daisies in your lap, the cheerful white petals suddenly seem out of place in the drawing room, a reminder of a life that might have been. Jeonghan, still standing beside you, inclines his head just slightly. His glance is fleeting, but there’s something in it—a flicker of empathy, perhaps. Just as quickly, it’s gone, replaced by the calm, composed mask that both of you have agreed to wear.

Jeonghan turns to you as he prepares to leave, his gaze softening ever so slightly. For a moment, the polite distance in his eyes fades, replaced by a warmth you hadn’t anticipated. He takes your hand, his fingers cool but steady as he lifts it gently to his lips.

“Until next we meet,” he says, his voice low but warm, carrying a sincerity that feels entirely unfeigned. He brushes his lips softly against your knuckles, the gesture tender enough to feel both comforting and bittersweet. As he looks up, a gentle smile graces his face, one that holds neither expectation nor demand—only a quiet understanding, a rare kindness beneath the formalities.

The touch lingers even after he releases your hand, and in the hush that follows, you’re struck by the thought that perhaps, despite the arrangement you’ve agreed upon, Jeonghan will bring a certain gentleness to the role he has taken on.

As he steps back and bids your family farewell, your mother practically glows, her happiness radiating through the room like sunlight through lace. Jeonghan’s parting glance catches yours, a hint of reassurance in his gaze, as if to say he’ll uphold his part of the pact with grace, that this arrangement—though devoid of romance—will be one rooted in quiet respect.

Minghao finds you beneath the old swing, nestled among the twisting garden vines and the soft crunch of autumn leaves. You hardly hear him approach, lost in thought as you watch smoke curl from the cigarette you’d pilfered from his room yet again. Each puff you take burns slightly in your lungs, though the familiar sting feels oddly soothing tonight.

“Nicked another one, have you?” he teases as he sits down at your feet, stretching his legs out lazily on the grass. Without waiting, he holds his hand out, gesturing for you to pass the cigarette. “If this becomes a habit, I’ll have to report you to Mother. Thievery wasn’t exactly on your lesson plan.”

“Oh, hush,” you mutter, flicking a stray leaf toward him in mock annoyance. But the tension in your body gives you away, your shoulders stiff beneath his watchful gaze.

He watches you closely, his gaze quiet and discerning as he brings the cigarette to his lips. The glow of the ember casts a brief, warm light across his face, highlighting the concern in his expression. Minghao inhales, then exhales a plume of smoke that drifts around the both of you in wisps, curling lazily into the air. The scent mingles with the earthy richness of the garden, settling between you like an unspoken question.

For a moment, there’s only the soft creak of the swing and the distant hum of cicadas, the two of you wrapped in a fragile peace.

“You know,” he says at last, breaking the silence. “It isn’t too late to change your mind. Mother may be overjoyed, but I know you. You would only say yes if…” He trails off, letting the implication hang in the still air.

You scoff, but it’s softer than usual. “What are you implying?”

Minghao studies you, his gaze level and piercing, then asks plainly, “Do you love him?”

You pause, watching the glow of the cigarette dim between your fingers. “I… respect him. And he respects me.”

Minghao’s eyes narrow slightly, as if he’s turning your answer over, searching for the truth beneath it. “But you don’t love him,” he says softly. “Not like you love Seokmin.”

Your breath catches, and you quickly look away, the sting of his words more potent than the cigarette’s burn. The thought of Seokmin’s name hanging in the air between you is almost unbearable. “How long have you known?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

“I am your brother, Y/N. I’m not blind, no matter how oblivious some of the company I keep may be.”

The corner of his mouth quirks in a wry smile, but his gaze is tender. You find a slight comfort in it, and for a moment, you feel the urge to tell him everything—to let yourself be held by the simple warmth of his understanding. But you hold back, your jaw set in a familiar, resolute line.

“Does he know?” you ask finally.

“No,” Minghao replies after a moment. “At least, I don’t think so.”

The words settle heavily between you, and the silence stretches, thick and suffocating, broken only by the faint crackle of the cigarette as Minghao takes another slow drag. He hands it back to you, his fingers brushing yours in the exchange, grounding you. The faint tremor in your hands feels all too telling, but you steady yourself, forcing composure.

“You truly want to marry Yoon Jeonghan?” he asks quietly, almost like a plea. “Even though you’ll never love him?”

“Love isn’t in the cards for me,” you reply, each word measured and calm. “Besides, brother, what else would you have me do?”

His brow knits together, and he leans forward, clasping his hands between his knees. “Stay,” he says, voice thick with urgency. “Stay here, with me and Mother.”

You let out a breath, a bitter smile tugging at your lips. “Please, brother. You know that would send our dear mama to an early grave. A loveless marriage is better than none at all.” You draw in a deep breath, the smoky tendrils filling your lungs. “What happens when you can no longer provide for me?”

He bristles, his voice fierce. “I’ll always provide for you.”

“I know. That’s not what I meant,” you say, your voice softening as you look at him. His expression shifts, and he nods, understanding passing between you in the quiet.

A heavy silence falls, interrupted only by the soft crackling of the cigarette as you pass it back and forth, each drag punctuating the night air with a faint, bitter tang. The smoke lingers around you, a hazy veil that cloaks the unsaid words, the hidden fears, the ache of dreams surrendered.

Finally, he breaks the silence, his voice a mere whisper, carrying the weight of resignation. “So you are to be married.”

You nod, your fingers grazing the cigarette one last time before you extinguish it in the grass, grinding the last ember beneath your thumb. “So I am,” you say, a finality settling over the words as you both gaze into the dark, each lost in the flickering embers of what could have been.

The church’s thick stone walls seem to press in, trapping every sound, every movement, as though the weight of centuries hangs in the air. The fragrance of lilies and incense mingles into something heady, almost suffocating, filling your lungs with every breath. From the stained-glass windows, slanted bands of sunlight cut through the space, spilling ruby, sapphire, and amber hues across the dark wood of the pews. You keep your gaze fixed ahead, forcing yourself to breathe slowly, to project nothing but composure.

Then the cardinal’s voice cuts through the silence.

“I publish the banns of marriage between Lord Yoon Jeonghan, and Miss Xu Y/N. They are to be married in three weeks. If any of you know cause or just impediment why these persons should not be joined together in Holy Matrimony, ye are to declare it. ”

The words land heavy, echoing through the cathedral and settling over you like a thick veil. For a moment, it feels as though the world has been carved in two, time splintering around that proclamation.

Across the aisle, there’s a sharp intake of breath. Seokmin’s entire frame goes rigid, his back snapping straight as if he’s been struck. He turns to look at you, his movement quick and desperate, and his eyes find yours, wide with shock and something far deeper, something close to despair. His mouth opens, but no words come. You feel his gaze drilling into you, intense and searching, as though he’s willing you to look away—to give him anything but the confirmation of what’s just been read aloud.

Your pulse pounds in your ears, and your throat tightens with the urge to cry out, to take it all back. But you force the tremor down, and at that moment, you feel Minghao’s hand slide over yours, his steady, grounding warmth the only thing keeping you from breaking. His grip is strong, his fingers curling over yours in silent reassurance, and you clutch onto him as though he’s a lifeline.

Across the aisle, Jeonghan meets your gaze, a calm confidence emanating from his gaze, like the unwavering stone of the church itself. He offers a small, almost imperceptible nod, a silent affirmation of the pact between you—a pact that is anything but romantic, but unbreakable all the same.

When the service ends, and the congregation rises, their whispers a growing swell of murmurs, Jeonghan strides toward you with that same unruffled grace, his every step measured and unhurried. But before he can reach you, Seokmin is there, his hand outstretched, his face a mask of disbelief.

Jeonghan glances at him, his eyes flicking to you, reading your expression before he steps back, giving the two of you a semblance of privacy.

“Are you marrying Yoon Jeonghan?” Seokmin’s voice is low, tight, his face a mix of anger and pleading. The words come out hoarse, as if he’s forcing them past a stone lodged in his throat.

“Yes, Seokmin,” you reply quietly, your voice controlled but aching. “The cardinal just read the banns.”

He stares, and you see him search your face, looking for any trace of the girl he once knew, perhaps hoping for a flash of hesitation that would betray you. Instead, you lift your chin, steeling yourself against the helplessness etched into his features.

“But he’s a scoundrel!” he insists, his voice thick with desperation.

A bitter laugh escapes your lips, though it feels hollow. “You have much audacity to speak of scoundrels before me, my lord.” You pause, letting the words settle. “Lord Yoon is kind to me, and he has always respected me. His attention has never been out of pity, nor at the behest of another.”

A flicker of pain crosses Seokmin’s face, and he drops his gaze, your words striking a chord that silences him. His fingers flex, grasping at air as though there’s something he wishes he could say, something he wishes he could fix, but the moment has already passed. You turn, letting the silence grow between you, feeling the weight of his unspoken words fall away.

As you make your way to the back of the church, Jeonghan stands waiting, his posture relaxed, as though he has been waiting patiently his entire life. He offers you his arm, the small smile on his lips almost kind, and you accept, feeling his warmth against you as you step together into the sunlight outside.

The murmurs rise from the crowd that’s gathered, their gazes a mixture of awe and curiosity as they watch the newest couple of the season descend the church steps. The sun casts a golden glow over the stone path, illuminating the two of you as you walk together, each step echoing in the stillness. Just as you reach the final stair, Jeonghan glances over at you, his eyes softening as he reaches into his pocket.

Without a word, he holds out a handkerchief, his fingers brushing lightly against yours as he passes it to you.

“You’re crying,” he says softly, his voice gentle, his eyes searching yours with something that might almost be tenderness.

The dampness at the corners of your eyes betrays you. You take the handkerchief, feeling the cool linen against your fingertips as you bring it to your face, dabbing away the tears that have slipped past your defenses. A small, appreciative nod is all you manage, and Jeonghan’s hand remains extended, waiting patiently for you to accept the support he offers in silence.

You take his arm once more, and together you walk toward the waiting carriages, leaving behind the whispers, the stares, and the man you love, your steps a steady beat against the uncertainties that lie ahead.

The air is electric with anticipation, and you can feel the weight of every gaze in the room before you even step into the lavish ballroom. The future Viscountess of Hastings, they will say, the supposedly hopeless spinster who somehow captured the heart of one of Mayfair’s most eligible bachelors. Perhaps that's why your mother is a whirlwind of excitement, her chatter endless as she flits around the room, adjusting the last few details of your appearance while your lady's maid fusses with your hair and gown.

Your dress tonight is a ravishing turquoise, its fabric flowing like water around you, hugging your figure before cascading into a graceful skirt that swirls with every step. The neckline is artfully crafted, a delicate off-the-shoulder design that highlights your collarbones and frames your face, drawing attention to the soft curve of your neck. The fabric shimmers in the candlelight, the color reflecting hues of the deep sea, rich and vibrant, evoking the image of sunlit waves. A hint of silver thread weaves through the gown, catching the light as you move, creating an illusion of movement, as though the ocean itself were swirling around you. Your mother’s excited chatter fills the air, but you find yourself lost in your own thoughts, momentarily detached from the flurry of activity.

You catch a glimpse of the ring Jeonghan slid onto your finger during the carriage ride home, its beauty undeniable as it glistens under the soft glow of the lamps in your room. The polished rose gold band curves gently, embracing a single, lustrous pearl at its center. The pearl shines with a soft luminescence, hints of ivory and blush swirling within, exuding a quiet elegance as if it held whispers of its own secrets. It’s exquisite and understated, a piece that commands attention without being ostentatious. Jeonghan had presented it to you with little flourish, his fingers pushing the ring onto your finger as you stared out the window, deep in thought.

“Jeonghan,” you gasped, the words slipping from your lips as the reality of its beauty settled in. “It’s beautiful.”

His lips quirked at that, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth before something deeper flickered in his eyes. “Thank you,” he murmured, fingers pulling at his too-tight cravat, a hint of discomfort crossing his features. “I had it made some years ago.”

“For—”

“Yes,” he cut you off gently, his tone firm yet soft. “For Lady Choi.”

The weight of those words hung between you, thick and heavy, silencing the room as he gazed out the window, his expression closing off. You chose not to pry, twisting the ring around your finger, feeling the coolness of the pearl against your skin as your thoughts drifted to the man you had left behind in the chapel.

“Oh, darling,” your mother’s voice pierces through the haze of your reverie, snapping you back to the present. “You look beautiful. A true viscountess.”

You hummed in agreement, your eyes drawn to your reflection in the mirror. Your ladies' maids had truly outdone themselves. The intricate braids of your hair were artfully woven together, sparkling gems and pearls interspersed throughout, echoing the beauty of your ring. The delicate tendrils framing your face were styled to perfection, soft curls cascading down your shoulders like a waterfall of silk. In the soft glow of the lamp light, your complexion looked radiant, enhanced by the glow of the pearls nestled in your hair. You twist the pearl again, adjusting it until it feels right, then straighten your back, donning the façade of a viscountess—a true leader of society. 

Jeonghan is a good man, you remind yourself, forcing a smile as you repeat the mantra. He shall be a good friend.

As the carriage rolls to a halt at the FitzWilliam estate, the sounds of the ball waft through the air, laughter and music melding into a sweet symphony that invites you into its depths. You step out, and Jeonghan is already waiting, his demeanor calm and collected as he extends an arm for you to grasp.

The main hall is alive with opulence, chandeliers casting golden light that dances off polished marble floors. The scent of rich perfumes and expensive colognes mingle in the air, thick with the promise of high society and whispered secrets. Impeccably dressed couples twirl across the dance floor, their laughter echoing like a soft refrain, while clusters of guests gather, engaged in hushed conversations punctuated by occasional bursts of laughter.

You take a deep breath, feeling a pang in your chest as you remember the last time you stood in this very room, the night Seokmin broke your heart. The echo of his laughter, the way he moved so effortlessly through the crowd—memories flood back, bittersweet and sharp, threatening to steal your composure.

Sensing your unease, Jeonghan nudges you gently, his presence a steadying force. “Look,” he murmurs, gesturing to his cravat, which matches the deep turquoise of your dress perfectly. “We match.”

That’s enough to elicit a light laugh from you, a sound that feels foreign and welcome at once. Jeonghan’s grin broadens, and the warmth of his gaze brings you a measure of comfort as you allow yourself to relax in his arms.

Your hopes for an uneventful night are dashed almost immediately when Seokmin catches your eye. The moment his gaze lands on you, something flickers across his face—an emotion you can’t quite place, his brows furrowing slightly before he glances down at your arm linked with Jeonghan's. His eyes trail from the vibrant turquoise of your dress, down to your arm in Jeonghan’s, and finally to the gleaming pearl ring on your finger. Then, without warning, he turns away, his shoulders tightening and a slight movement that lodges itself in your throat like a stone, heavy and uncomfortable.

Your mother, oblivious to the tension, all but shoves you and Jeonghan toward the dance floor as the next waltz begins, her voice bright with excitement as she declares, “The next bride and groom of the ton must have their moment to shine!” Jeonghan chuckles at her enthusiasm, a warm, carefree sound that dances in the air, as he gently tugs you into the throng of swirling gowns and polished shoes. The orchestra strikes up a lively quadrille, and you quickly lose yourself in the rhythm, the world narrowing down to the two of you, grinning up at Jeonghan every time you find yourselves partnered again.

In your breathless excitement, you barely notice the whispers of the ton, a familiar backdrop to your existence as they observe your every misstep with keen interest. But Seokmin’s gaze remains like a hot brand against your skin, intense and unyielding, making it hard to breathe. You feel the weight of his eyes like an anchor, and it draws your attention back to him against your will.

“Do not look at him,” Jeonghan murmurs, his voice low and steady as he twirls you beneath his arm, his grip firm yet gentle. His eyes search yours for a moment, grounding you, before he adds, “Look only at me, Y/N.”

You nod, your heart racing, and it's easy to follow his command, to lose yourself in the warmth of his smile and the way his eyes light up with every turn. Jeonghan moves gracefully, the two of you swirling together, his laughter mingling with the music. But just as quickly, his cool facade slips—he trips slightly on your flowing dress, and for a brief moment, his expression falters. His eyes dart toward the edge of the dance floor, tension radiating from his frame. When you follow his line of sight, your heart sinks.

The ever-enigmatic Lady Choi has graced the ball with her presence, and her gaze is locked on your fiancé, unwavering and knowing. When she catches Jeonghan staring, a slow, deliberate smile spreads across her lips, and she subtly nods her head toward the door. Jeonghan falters again, his brow creasing with worry as he shifts his weight, uncertain.

“You should go,” you urge gently, your voice barely above a whisper, and you lean in closer to him, the warmth of his body reassuring yet electric. He looks down at you, surprise etched across his features, his grip on your hand tightening involuntarily.

“No, I… I shouldn’t—I shan’t—” he stutters, attempting to regain his composure as he starts the next sequence of steps with an uncharacteristic bravado, but the confidence doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Jeonghan,” you murmur, your grip on his hand tightening as you lean in closer, your heart aching for him. “Go.”

“In the middle of a dance? What will the ton say about the viscount who leaves his new fiancée? What will become of you?” His concern is genuine, but it only adds to the pressure building within you, and you can see his throat bob as he swallows hard.

“It is nothing I have not handled before, my lord,” you tease lightly, a playful smile curving your lips as you step back and curtsy with a playful flourish. Jeonghan bows in return, though you can see the conflict in his eyes, and in that moment, you watch him leave you alone on the dance floor, the air heavy with the weight of unspoken words.

Your mother gasps from the edge of the dance floor, her shock palpable, and you can feel the heat rise to your cheeks at the attention. Minghao quickly attempts to soothe her, sharing a knowing glance with you that promises support as you excuse yourself for a refreshment.

Seokmin finds you at the drink table, his expression taut and focused, as though he’s been waiting for you. “He left you,” he states, his voice low but firm, eyebrows drawing together in disapproval.

“Good evening to you as well, Lord Lee. Quite hot, isn’t it?” You reply, your tone light as you feign nonchalance, but your heart races beneath his scrutinizing gaze.

“Y/N, he left you. His fiancée,” he presses, the weight of his words heavy in the air, and he leans closer, the intensity of his focus making it hard to hold his gaze.

“Yes, Seokmin, I do have fully functioning sight. I saw him leave.” You can’t help the bite in your tone as you straighten, the defiance rising within you.

“And what was so important that he had to abandon you in your first night out as a couple?” His voice sharpens, laced with an urgency that makes your heart clench.

“I do not need you to defend my honor, my lord. Nor do I need to explain my fiancé to you.” Your eyes flash, and you can feel the heat of your anger boiling beneath the surface.

With a huff, he turns away, frustration evident in the tight set of his jaw, leaving you alone at the table. You sip your lemonade, trying to ignore the murmurs that swirl around you, the familiar buzz of speculation and gossip that seems to cling to your skin like a second layer. Just then, Minghao finds you, his expression serious yet concerned.

“Walk with me,” he commands, his tone leaving no room for argument, and you can see the protective glint in his eye.

As you begin to move through the crowd, he squeezes your hand reassuringly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Are you alright?” he asks, concern lacing his voice as he studies your face.

“Quite, brother,” you assure him, though your heart feels heavy.

“Seokmin is quite upset. I would have been as well, had I not known what is happening between you and Lord Yoon.” His gaze softens slightly, but it’s clear he’s trying to gauge your emotions.

“Thank you for your understanding,” you reply, your heart swelling with gratitude.

“Was she here? The woman he loves?” Minghao’s question is gentle but probing, his concern evident as he meets your eyes.

“Yes,” you whisper softly, the admission tasting bitter on your tongue, and you can feel a weight settling in your chest.

“I see.” He nods slowly, processing the gravity of your words. “Are you truly alright with this?” His voice is steady, but there’s a hint of uncertainty beneath it.

“Yes,” you affirm, though your voice shakes slightly, a part of you longing for reassurance.

“Then I shan’t bother you about it any longer. I must tend to Mother—if you need me, we shall be at the edges of the dance floor.”

“Brother?” You call after him as he turns away, the crowd shifting around you. “Thank you.”

His only response is a gentle smile before the crowd swallows him whole. The ballroom thrums with the sound of laughter and music, a whirl of colors and movements that feel distant and dreamlike. Your heart is heavy, and each beat echoes louder than the chatter around you. As you stand alone, the weight of unspoken words presses down on your shoulders like a cloak, and your thoughts swirl like the skirts of the dancers gliding across the floor.

Suddenly, Seokmin strides toward you, his figure slicing through the crowd with a sense of urgency. The moment his eyes lock onto yours, a spark ignites—a mix of anger and something deeper. You can see the tension in his jaw, the way his brow furrows as he approaches, and you brace yourself for confrontation.

“Come with me,” he demands, his voice low but unmistakably firm, carrying an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. You can feel the heat radiating from him, a force you can’t ignore.

“Seokmin, please, I truly cannot fight with you any longer on this subject—” you start, your voice trembling slightly, but he interrupts, his frustration spilling over like a tide.

“I said come with me!” He grabs your wrist, his grip tight and insistent, forcing you to follow him through the thrumming crowd. The sound of your footsteps reverberates off the marble floors, each echo punctuating the space between you and the safety of the ballroom. The laughter and music fade, replaced by the heavy thrum of your heart and the frantic rustle of your gown.

“Seokmin, you’re hurting me!” you protest, panic creeping into your voice. You feel the pressure of his fingers, warmth mingling with the discomfort. As he glances back at you, anger flickers in his eyes before it softens, just for a moment, revealing a vulnerability that pulls at your heart.

He loosens his grip, but the air between you crackles with tension, a silent battle of wills that feels palpable. “Where are we going?” you ask, concern bleeding into your tone. “My mama will worry, and Minghao, and Jeonghan—”

“Damn Jeonghan!” he snaps, his voice rising, shattering the fragile silence around you. The heat of his words lingers in the air, mixing with the coolness of the corridor.

“Seokmin!” Your cheeks flush with indignation, a mixture of anger and hurt blooming in your chest.

“I told you,” he hisses, urgency fueling his movements as he pulls you further into the shadows of the hallway. The flickering candlelight casts ghostly shadows that dance along the walls, an eerie backdrop to your escalating emotions. “I told you he’s a scoundrel. And you wouldn’t listen—”

“Enough! I will not have you sully his good name. What in God’s name are you trying to accomplish?” you fire back, desperation tinging your words. The air feels thick, heavy with unresolved feelings that twist like vines around your heart.

“Will you listen?” He halts abruptly, spinning to face you, his expression a tempest of frustration. The tension radiates between you, and you can see the muscles in his jaw clench as he gestures toward a small window that overlooks the private gardens. “This is the man you wish to marry?”

He pushes the window open, and moonlight spills into the dim room, illuminating his features with a ghostly glow. Outside, you see Jeonghan, silhouetted against the soft glow of the moon, entangled in a passionate embrace with Lady Choi. A sickening twist of emotion churns in your stomach, a cocktail of heartbreak and unexpected relief; at least one of you gets a taste of the one they love.

“He is a SCOUNDREL,” Seokmin roars, his voice rising with indignation, the words dripping with disdain as he steps closer, his presence a whirlwind of intensity. “I shall duel him for your honor. I must tell Minghao of the grave error you have made—”

“Seokmin—” you start, your voice rising with urgency, but he interrupts again, the fervor in his tone igniting a fire within you.

“We must duel tonight, before the sun rises—”

“SEOKMIN! I knew.” The words escape you, a rush of truth that bursts forth like a dam breaking, raw and unfiltered.

“You—you knew?” His eyes widen, disbelief crashing over him like a wave, and for a moment, everything else fades away. The silence that follows is suffocating, filled only with the quickened rhythm of your breaths and the pounding of your heart. The weight of your confession hangs heavy in the air, thick as smoke.

“Yes.”

His expression contorts, shifting from shock to outrage, and you can feel the air crackling with tension. “You knew he was sinning with a married lady, no less, and you still agreed to marry him? My God, Y/N, I knew you wished to marry, but I didn’t know you would abandon all sense for that!” His hands are balled into fists at his sides, frustration radiating from him like heat from a flame.

Your chest constricts, the familiar ache of longing and sorrow spiraling within you. “Oh, you dolt, it was an arrangement! I knew he loved another, just as he knew I loved another!” You can feel the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, the weight of your heartache spilling over into your voice, echoing off the cold walls.

A heavy silence envelops you both, every breath echoing with unspoken truths. The air feels charged, electric, as the reality of your situation sinks in.

“You love…someone?” he asks, the vulnerability in his voice slicing through the tension like a knife.

“I must go, my mama—” You attempt to break free, but he grasps your wrist again, his fingers warm yet insistent, the touch igniting a spark of something more profound within you. You can't meet his gaze, the shame of your feelings swirling with fear and longing.

“Y/N.” His voice is a soft plea, low and raw, wrapping around you like a familiar embrace. The way he says your name sends a shiver through you, and for a moment, you feel as though you are on the brink of something monumental.

“Please, Seokmin.” Your voice trembles, a mixture of desperation and desire, the air thick with unspoken confessions.

“Who? I shall make him pay for everything he has done to you, my dear friend—how dare he—”

“Oh for God’s sake, it’s you!” The words tumble out before you can stop them, the truth bursting forth like a firework exploding in the night sky.

You attempt to retreat, to escape the intensity of the moment, but his grip is unyielding, a tether binding you to him. With a swift motion, he yanks you back, and before you can even process what’s happening, his lips crash onto yours, fierce and unrelenting. You can taste the warmth of his breath, the desperation in his touch, and it wraps around you like a cocoon. For that brief, intoxicating moment, everything else fades away—the hurt, the confusion, the chaotic world outside—leaving only the two of you.

You melt into him, the kiss a torrent of everything unspoken: the longing, the frustration, the fear of what lies ahead. It’s passionate and fierce, as if the very fabric of your souls is interwoven in that moment, a confession without words. His hands cup your face, grounding you as the world blurs around you, leaving just the warmth of his body and the desperate connection that binds you both.

He groans, muttering a curse under his breath, and it ignites something deep in the pit of your stomach. You know this is a terrible position – if anyone were to see you, your reputation, your future, your engagement would be ruined – but when his lips find your pulse point in your throat, all you can do is arch your back with a low keen. 

His teeth graze your skin, sending shivers down your spine. You clutch at his shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of his jacket, desperate for purchase in this whirlwind of sensation. The rational part of your mind screams at you to stop, to push him away, but your body betrays you, leaning into his touch with a hunger you've never known before.

"Seokmin," you gasp, his name a prayer on your lips. He responds with a low growl, pressing you against the wall, his body flush against yours. The heat between you is palpable, electric, threatening to consume you both.

His hands roam your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. You're dizzy with desire, drunk on his touch, on the intoxicating scent of his cologne mingling with the musk of his skin. You know you should stop this, end it before it ruins you.

But you can't bring yourself to end it. Not when his touch feels like salvation, like coming home after years of wandering lost.

"We shouldn't," you manage to whisper between kisses, your words contradicting the wayyour fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer.

Seokmin pauses, his breath hot against your neck. "Do you want me to stop?" he asks, his voice husky and strained. 

Before you can even fathom an answer, the sound of footsteps down the corridor sends your mind into a panic. You shove him off, urgently trying to right your dress. 

Seokmin stumbles back, his eyes wild and still clouded with the raw emotion of your kiss. His gaze locks onto yours, both of you caught between passion and the creeping dread of what you’ve just done. The footsteps draw nearer, each one a reminder of how close you are to ruin.

The door swings open, and Minghao strides in, his eyes narrowing the instant he takes in the sight of you both—flushed cheeks, disheveled attire, the undeniable aura of something forbidden and unspoken hanging heavy in the air.

“What is the meaning of this?” Minghao’s voice is a blade, slicing through the room with cold fury.

Seokmin straightens, trying to regain his composure, but the guilt is written all over his face. You feel your heart slam against your ribcage, panic curling like smoke in your chest. But Minghao’s gaze stays sharp, unforgiving as he looks between the two of you.

“Seokmin,” he starts, his voice low and dangerous. “You’ve dishonored my sister—this is unforgivable. You must either make amends or answer me on the dueling ground at dawn.”

You cast a desperate look toward Seokmin, but his face is tense, unreadable, his own turmoil barely held at bay. He takes a deep breath, then steps forward, addressing Minghao with a steady resolve you didn’t know he possessed.

“Minghao,” Seokmin says, his voice low, respectful. “Please understand. I would never wish harm or shame upon your sister. I care for her deeply—more than I can put into words.”

The air in the room thickens, dense and electric, as if even the walls are holding their breath, waiting for the decision that will shape your fate. Minghao’s stance is rigid, his eyes flashing with anger and something else—concern, maybe fear. It sends a cold wave through you, underscoring the gravity of what he’s demanding. The faint scent of candle wax mingles with the night air creeping through the open window, casting a ghostly glow across the floor.

Your heart races, each beat echoing like a drum in the silence. Your skin still hums with the memory of Seokmin’s touch, the heat of his kiss lingering on your lips like a forbidden brand. You swallow hard, the taste of that moment bittersweet, and glance toward Seokmin. His face is caught between shock and something else—determination, maybe defiance. He’s breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling, and his gaze flits between you and Minghao as if assessing the weight of his next words.

“Then prove it,” Minghao says, voice low and slicing through the haze that surrounds you, “or I’ll demand satisfaction for my sister’s honor.”

The word honor hangs heavy in the air, and a slow burn of anger coils in your chest. Your fingers curl into your palms, nails pressing into the skin, grounding you against the urge to scream. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. You never wanted to be caught like this, not in a moment of vulnerability twisted by the presence of an audience. Minghao’s protective stare feels like a chain around your neck, while Seokmin’s gaze—a mixture of apology and restraint—only intensifies the confusion swirling inside you.

“Brother,” you say, forcing your voice steady, though your heart feels as if it’s beating in your throat, “this is unnecessary. I am engaged to another. You know this. To demand a marriage over one moment is—”

Minghao cuts you off, shaking his head. “We both know that arrangement is nothing more than an exchange of power, not a bond of love. But this?” His eyes narrow as he looks at Seokmin, his expression hardening. “This is no mere arrangement. I won’t allow this… this recklessness to tarnish your future. Not if I can prevent it.”

His words twist around your heart, anger simmering as he speaks as though you’re not even here, as if you’re some fragile creature incapable of understanding the consequences of your own actions. You tighten your hands into fists, the fire in your chest blazing hotter, burning through your lingering shame and leaving only fury in its wake.

“Brother, this is my choice,” you say, your voice sharper than you intended. You refuse to let him dictate your fate, no matter how well-intentioned he may be. “I won’t be forced into anything, not by you, and not by—”

“Fine,” Seokmin interrupts, his voice low, but the intensity behind it makes your breath hitch. His gaze shifts to Minghao, defiant yet respectful, a calm resolve settling over him that you’ve never seen before. “I’ll marry her.”

The words strike like a thunderclap, sudden and irrevocable, and the room feels smaller, suffocating in the aftermath. You gape at him, heart pounding, pulse roaring in your ears as the weight of what he’s said crashes over you.

“You’ll… what?” Your voice is little more than a whisper, confusion and anger tangling together, leaving you breathless. It’s as if the ground beneath you has tilted, your life, your future, shifting without your consent, controlled by the decisions of two men who seem to think they know what’s best for you.

Seokmin meets your gaze, and for a moment, the vulnerability in his eyes betrays the mask of resolve he wears. But then his expression steels, his jaw set as if he’s made peace with something.

“Fine,” he repeats, his tone unwavering. “I’ll do what’s necessary.”

The finality of his words ignites a fury in you, fierce and hot. How dare they decide your fate like this, without so much as a thought for your own desires, your own choices? Your fists clench, knuckles white as you stare between them, your breaths coming short, uneven.

Minghao nods approvingly, his gaze flicking back to you, as if expecting gratitude, as if this was what you wanted all along. But you feel trapped, as though walls are closing in, boxing you into a life decided for you, a future crafted by others’ expectations.

“Is that it, then?” you ask, the bitterness in your voice surprising even you. “You two decide, and that’s that? No thought for what I might want?”

Seokmin’s gaze wavers, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. But he doesn’t answer, and neither does Minghao. The silence stretches, heavy and charged, and you realize with a sharp pang that neither of them truly understands—that perhaps they never will.

The weight of their silence drives you to turn on your heel, striding down the corridor in a rush to escape. You don’t care about decorum anymore. All you want is space, a moment to process the shock, the hurt, the sheer indignity of having your future decided without so much as a word from you.

But the sound of hurried footsteps behind you keeps pace. You don’t need to look back to know who’s following.

“Wait!” Seokmin’s voice is laced with desperation, and you feel the words tug at you despite yourself. “Please, Y/N—just… please, stay. Let’s talk this out.”

You quicken your steps, but his voice drags you back, its gentle earnestness slicing through your anger like a double-edged blade. You stop, shoulders tensing as you draw in a shaky breath, trying to steel yourself against him. But when you turn around, his expression—pleading, open, raw—almost undoes you.

“Talk about what, Seokmin?” you say, voice barely concealing the tremble. “There’s nothing left to discuss. Decisions have already been made, haven’t they?”

“Not like this,” he says, his voice soft, an ache threading through his words. His hand reaches out toward you, hesitating in the space between you both. “Not without you. I’m sorry. I should have… I should have thought—”

“No,” Minghao interrupts, stepping up beside Seokmin, his jaw set and his gaze unyielding. His hand wraps firmly around your elbow, his voice edged with protective steel. “It’s done for tonight. She’s had enough. We’re going home.”

Minghao’s grip is gentle yet firm, and before you can protest, he begins to lead you down the dimly lit corridor, each step echoing louder than the last. You glance back, catching the hurt etched into Seokmin’s face, his hand outstretched as though still reaching for you. But he doesn’t follow; he stays rooted in place, watching you disappear.

The carriage ride back is filled with silence so thick you could cut it. Minghao says nothing, and you’re grateful. You can barely keep your thoughts in line, let alone handle a conversation. You close your eyes, leaning back, but the image of Seokmin’s pleading face and the desperate, furious embrace you shared lingers like an imprint on your skin.

When you arrive home, you stumble up the stairs, trying to erase the chaos of the evening, but it follows you like a ghost. You catch your reflection in the hallway mirror, and the sight stops you cold. Your hair is in complete disarray, a few strands falling loose from your intricately pinned style, and your face is flushed, cheeks streaked with faint traces of dried tears. Your chest rises and falls, still heaving from the intensity of everything that has happened.

You barely recognize yourself. The wildness in your eyes, the raw emotion painted on your face—it’s as if the person staring back at you is a stranger, a part of you that you’d never thought you’d see.

Hours pass, but sleep evades you, each tick of the clock an insistent reminder of the turmoil simmering inside. Every time you close your eyes, you’re back in that dim room, tasting the fire of his kiss, feeling the weight of Minghao’s words, and wondering if you’ll ever be free from the choices that were made for you tonight.

Tagging: @kibs-and-bits @moondustmemories @shinwonderful @ivehypnosis @gwend0lyne @thestoryofana13 @mellowamour @blissedjoon @begentlewithme-please @xabsolutelynothingx @reiofsuns2001 @mngyulvrs @mooniewrld

@archivistworld @lexyraeworld @ateez-atiny380 @walkinganxiety01 @lovecleastrange

@uriguyeok @nenojaems @carefully325 @meowmeowminnie @ts19009 @flickhurstyles

@spookyeomgoose @princelingperfect @tinkerbell460 @xueisaaa17

@deekaykaykay @ottersmind @sungbeam @blvenote @kyeomsworld

[withthewindinherfootsteps]

So we know that Wei Wuxian's treatment after his death was horrible. Even if nothing could impact him directly, there was still neverending slander, hatred, misinformation, theft...

But, for a while after he died, the sects did try to impact him directly – namely, frequently trying to resummon his soul. And today I'll explore the possible reasons for this, their likelihoods, and why I'm so, so thankful that Wei Wuxian's soul managed to resist the summons. Because, spoiler alert (or, you know. maybe not)... none of them are good.

(Long meta ahead)

In my opinion, there are four likely motivations for this: confinement, coercion, torment, and potentially destruction.

Out of all of these, confinement is probably the most likely motivation, at least for most sects (Jins and Jiangs excluded, though it was likely what the Jin sect said their motivations were – but I'll get to them later). This one is the most simple – we know spirit-trapping pouches exist, and we know the sects also placed 120 stone beasts on the Burial Mounds to prevent Wei Wuxian's soul from escaping. Therefore, this seems to be the most likely motivation – and fortunately for Wei Wuxian, probably also the best case scenario, though it still certainly isn't a good one.

For the second, coercion – this is where the Jin sect come in (more specifically Jin Guangshan with the help of Jin Guangyao). Due to their wealth and resources, they're likely the sect who played the largest role in the soul-summoning rituals. We know what they're willing to do to try to gain power – keeping Wen Ning under the pretence he was burned to death and trying to control him with the nails, and working with and helping Xue Yang torture people to help him refine his demonic cultivation, in order to have the Yin hufu fixed. Along with working with many other cultivators, alongside Xue Yang – Jin Guangshan really, really wanted that seal.

And so, Jin GuangShan sought after all those who imitated Wei WuXian in cultivating the ghostly path and gathered them under his rule. He spent a great amount of money and resources and these people, ordering them to study and analyze the structure of the Tiger Seal in secrecy so that they could replicate and restore it. - Villainous Friends extra, EXR

(Note that working with these cultivators very likely happened after Wei Wuxian's soul had failed to be summoned, since this happens some time after Wei Wuxian's death, whereas the soul-summoning ceromonies presumably started happening very close to it.)

In the previous paragraph, he's also quoted as having 'lusted after' the Yin hufu, which we already knew but it's nice to have a direct quote as evidence.

Now, would Wei WuXian willingly work with the Jin sect in doing this? No. We know that, and, given Wei Wuxian's actions in his first life (refusing to hand over the Tally, not being afraid to stand up to the sects, etc), I’m pretty sure Jin Guangshan knows that, too:

He beat around the bush a couple of times, using all his skills, yet Wei WuXian didn’t give in no matter what, and it made him run into a bunch of obstacles. - Villainous Friends extra, EXR

So this could actually make things go two ways. One, I'm wrong and that wasn't actually part of the Jin sect's motivations, since they know they wouldn't be able to control him (and in that case, had they managed to summon him, I could imagine them putting him in a spirit-trapping pouch and doing something similar to what Jin Guangyao did to Nie Mingjue's head. Which, also, not good). Two, it was a part of their motivations, and they hoped to find a way around that. After all, there are other guidao users out there now, and Wei Wuxian would now be a gui*. Also, cultivators can obviously harm ghosts – see the very existence of Night Hunts, and I'd include Xue Yang's talisman-caused destruction of A-Qing as well (while he isn't a traditional cultivator, talismans can be used by everyone).

Now, would either of these methods actually work? I'm inclined to think not really (and I expand on the former method in a note below). Would that stop Jin Guangshan/Jin Guangyao/the cultivators they employ from trying? Especially considering Jin Guangshan's lust for power?

I'm inclined to think no, too.

For the third, look no further than Jiang Cheng's reputation of capturing and torturing demonic cultivators after Wei Wuxian's death, due to thinking they could be him. And this does happen – Jin Ling knows and talks about it, and there's not real motivation for him to negatively lie about someone he loves. Also, when they come across each other at Dafan Mountain, we're told this in Jiang Cheng's inner voice:

A moment ago, Jiang Cheng was certain that this person was Wei WuXian, and all of the blood in his body started to boil. Yet, now, Zidian was clearly telling him that he wasn’t. Zidian definitely wouldn’t deceive him or make a mistake, so he quickly calmed himself and thought, this doesn’t mean anything. I should first find an excuse to take him back and use every possible method to get information out of him. It’s impossible for him to not confess anything or give himself away. I’ve done things like this in the past anyways. - MDZS Chapter 10, EXR translation

This mainly shows that he's tortured people before, rather than that he's tortured people because he thinks they're Wei Wuxian, but this reason is confirmed by Jin Ling in Chapter 24. Of course, the reason is also mentioned in this chapter, and there are other moments in the chapter that illustrate my point better**, but they come from second-hand sources which I know are easier to deny. Do take note of Jiang Cheng's expression both times he comes across 'Mo Xuanyu' (after he suspects he's Wei Wuxian) in Book One***, though:

After a moment, the corners of Jiang Cheng’s lips pulled into a twisted smile. His left hand started to unconsciously stroke the ring [Zidian] again. He spoke softly, “… Well, well. So you’re back?” - Chapter 10, EXR Although his face had always been clouded, marked with arrogance and satire, it seemed as if every corner of it had come alive. It was difficult to determine whether it was vengeful wrath, fathomless hatred, or raving ecstasy. - Chapter 23, EXR

This does seem to line up with what people say his attitude to Wei Wuxian is – there doesn't seem to be any happiness at seeing him again at all. The only time a word that could suggest that ('ecstasy') is used, it's accompanied by 'raving', and considering the context and the other possibilities of his expression, it's... probably not due to happiness at being reunited.

So, considering 1) this, 2) his contribution to the Siege specifically intended to kill Wei Wuxian, and 3) that at the time of frequent soul-summoning Jiang Yanli's death would be even closer for him, I feel pretty confident in saying that yes, this is likely a motivation for the Jiang sect in trying to re-summon Wei Wuxian's soul after his death. And, as mentioned earlier, cultivators can harm ghosts (and we know Zidian is able to remove souls posessing a body from that body, and that Jiang Cheng used Zidian on 'Mo Xuanyu' in Chapter 10. If it wasn't able to restrain/harm ghosts, or other methods weren't able to, why would he risk Wei Wuxian's soul escaping?).

And finally, option four: destruction. We're heading into much more speculative territory here, so don't consider this on par with the first three. But consider this:

We know there are some spells, like Xue Yang's talisman used on A-Qing and the body-offering ritual, that can ruin the returning soul’s reincarnation cycle by destroying it. Therefore, soul destruction is possible.

The 'main'/supposed reason for summoning Wei Wuxian's soul back is to stop the "cultivation world, or even all of mortal land" from being "faced with the most insane damnation and revenge, sinking into nothing but chaos and despair" when Wei Wuxian inevitably returns. While, as mentioned above, I severely doubt this is the motivation for certain sects – and to me is likely a rumour which the Jins (again, especially Jin Guangsha) fanned the flames of to justify summoning Wei Wuxian back for their own purposes**** – there are other sects which would take it more seriously.

Although likely disrespectful, people already thought it served Wei Wuxian right to die without his body intact by the time of the second siege – something believed to negatively affect your reincarnation in your next life*****. This is only the logical next step, and I'm pretty sure the vast majority of people would believe that, again, it would serve Wei Wuxian right, or would at least lead to less harm of the world in the long run.

For these reasons, I could definitely see this as an option for some sects, especially the sects who consider themselves more 'righteous' (cough cough the Nies under Nie Mingjue cough cough). After all, evil is evil and good is good, and the evil deserve what's coming to them. And what better way to prevent that than from preventing his soul from returning at all? So for the Nie sect – and likely some of the smaller sects involved in the Siege, since among them, additudes probably vary – yes, I do think it could be a motivation.

I’m not as sure about the Lans being willing to go this far, and that’s largely for two reasons. One, Lan Wangji’s presence and his relationship to Lan Xichen, who does (not always, but he does) let this affect how he treats Wei Wuxian. An example of this is that, when Wei Wuxian's return is made public, Lan Xichen does let him hide and shelter at the Cloud Recesses instead of trying to pursue him, likely majorly due to Lan Wangji. I'd argue that the aftermath of the Nightless City also acts as an example of this, although it definitely isn't perfect. But though he, Lan Qiren and the 33 elders do come to find Lan Wangji and do not let him continue to shelter Wei Wuxian (after they see Lan Wangji's feelings), Lan Xichen doesn't use this opportunity to kill/capture Wei Wuxian, despite Lan Wangji being in a worse condition due to having fought 33 elders, Wei Wuxian being catatonic, and Lan Qiren likely supporting this outcome (especially considering he was the one who led the Lan sect in the Siege – chapter 68, Wei Wuxian's POV). And he did let Lan Wangji take Wei Wuxian back to the Burial Mounds after:

After he went out of his way to send you back to Burial Mound and returned in such low spirits to receive his punishment, how long he kneeled before the Wall of Rules! - Chapter 99, EXR

Again, this was right after the Nightless City massacre – there isn't any goodwill towards Wei Wuxian at this point in time.

Of course, the Lan sect did participate in the siege after Lan Xichen knew of Lan Wangji's feelings towards Wei Wuxian, which Lan Xichen was no doubt a part of (although Lan Qiren lead the Lan sect in the siege, Lan XIchen had to have at least known/given his support, if not participated.) And it should be considered that Lan Xichen letting Wei Wuxian shelter at the Cloud Recesses was after Wei Wuxian had been back for a while, and had not caused the downfall of the Cultivation World, like many suspected he would after his death. And of course, as stated previously, his handling of the aftermath of Nightless City wasn't perfect either (though please note that his main motive here was to protect Lan Wangji from being potentially executed, rather than anything about Wei Wuxian himself). So caring about Lan Wangji doesn't mean he won't harm Wei Wuxian. But I do think he could find bringing Wei Wuxian's soul back to completely destroy it a bit excessive. There is, though, the chance that the elders of the Lan Sect would react to this differently, and of course they would have a sway on both Lan Xichen and the Lan sect as well.

The second reason is smaller, but there seems to be more focus in the Lan sect than in others when it comes to letting ghosts rest peacefully/helping them move on. And that could definitely lead to more resistance to the idea of summoning a soul back to destroy it as well, which could especially impact the elders. So I'd assume that the Lan sect would be the most likely sect to summon Wei Wuxian's soul back just for confinement, or just for some way of making sure any resentment is disippated, his spirit moves on, and he can't cause more harm to the world (eg via Inquiry)******. Not that he would or does as a ghost or as a reborn person, but that's unfortunately not relevant to this.

But yes, as a motivation for the Nie Mingjue-led Nie sect? Absolutely.

So, these are the main motives I suspect to be behind the attempted summoning of Wei Wuxian's soul after his death (and if I've missed any, please let me know – I'd love to have a discussion). And, of course, none of them lead to anywhere good. Because of course it wasn’t enough to besiege Wei Wuxian, murder the 50 non-combatants he was responsible for (and throwing them into the blood pit as a mark of disrespect because why not?), and lead to his death via him getting torn apart. It wasn’t enough to steal all his inventions, and use them commonly while still slandering him with no reprieve – or to steal his notes and give them to people like Xue Yang to study (Villainous Friends, again) and to use for their own, extremely extremely harmful, purposes. Of course, the cultivation world has to try to harm Wei Wuxian after death as well ((:

We don't know whether Wei Wuxian rejecting the summoning ceremonies was conscious or unconscious, but if it was the former, these are very likely reasons he refused to return in this way. If it was unconscious – for example, maybe during the frequent soul-summons his soul was in a weakened state due to him dying from a backlash of resentful energy and getting torn apart, and it healed over time but not before the soul-summoning rituals stopped – well, I can only be thankful.

Finally, let me leave you on the thought that – although it may well have happened since we don't spend much time in the immediate aftermath of the Sunshot campaign – there isn't even any textual mention of this happening to Wen Ruohan. Who, while not being a guidao user, was still very dangerous, still an extremely powerful cultivator, and still had a lot of reason to feel resentment. So.

:')

Thank you for reading!

--

*Considering what we see of how Wei Wuxian's guidao functions – redirecting the ghosts'/corpses' resentment into doing something they'd want to do, eg attacking people, and directing it towards a target – I'm not sure using it to force a spirit to do something 1) extremely specific, and 2) explicitly against their will would actually work. Iirc the closest thing we get to this in text is Wei Wuxian using the corpses of Wens to attack other Wens in the Sunshot Campaign, but he's still just directing their resentment to a target of his choice, and fierce corpses do tend to be on the less concious side of things (hence why Wei Wuxian had to awaken Wen Ning's consciousness). Considering how Wen Ning attacks Wei Wuxian and the Burial Mound Wens before his consciousness had fully awoken, I... really don't think those fierce corpses were able to differentiate (or didn't care).

Meanwhile, ghosts seem to be a bit more in control of themselves – see A-Qing, and Wei Wuxian's own descriptions of his ghost self.

That, alongside ghost!Wei Wuxian being able to resist his soul-summoning and the fact that pretty much all of the new guidao users are a lot weaker than he was, does make me think that this this wouldn't work. I do wonder about Xue Yang, since his methods are pretty different as well, but he's more of a modao user than a guidao user (he controls living corpses rather than dead people) and I don't think you can insert physical nails into ghosts?? Though if he was specifically instructed to figure out some way to control ghost!Wei Wuxian (who's probably kept in a spirit-trapping pouch in this scenario), he might be able to do something at least. Though also he was also struggling to piece Xiao Xingchen's ghost soul back together, so he may struggle with those areas?

Well, whatever the potential outcome, I'm so so happy once again that Wei Wuxian's soul managed to resist the soul-summonings...

**Mainly this:

Everyone in the cultivation world knew that the young leader of the Jiang Clan watched out for Wei WuXian in an almost crazed manner. He would rather catch the wrong person than let go of any possibility, and took anyone who seemed like they held the soul of Wei WuXian away to the YunmengJiang Sect, inflicting severe torture on his victim. If he wanted to take someone back, the opposition would surely lose half of their life. - Chapter 10, EXR

But I have heard people say 'you can't prove that it's just more rumours' before, and I wanted my evidence to be as watertight as possible.

(And, off-topic... isn't it really sad how Jiang Cheng, in the present day, is described as young? Because, for a clan leader, he is. And another thing he is, is close in age to Wei Wuxian – who was killed 13 whole years prior :') )

***And do note that the only other time they run into each other before Wei Wuxian's identity is revealed to the world apart from this is their brief interaction at Jinlintai, where he can't just act however he wants. The next time they run into each other after it, Jiang Cheng is literally taking part in another siege against him, and still extremely hostile ("surrounded by hostile energy, face insidious, staring straight at him" – from EXR chapter 60). Then he loses his spiritual powers and can't do anything. By the time he regains his powers, Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji and the Wen remnants' corpses have saved everyone during the Second Siege, and though public opinion hasn't properly shifted quite yet, it will soon after Sisi and Bicao tell the story of Jin Guangyao, and voila, a new scapegoat (do note that he doesn't completely bar Wei Wuxian from entering Lotus Pier after the Second Siege, though). Plus, throughout it all, Lan Wangji is still constantly present, which makes it hard for Jiang Cheng to really do anything. And then he's finally faced with the Golden Core reveal, which does alter his motivations towards Wei Wuxian (obviously the resentment is still there – read chapter 102 – but it's also mixed with other complex emotions, and he seems to start being able to move away from that a little in Chapter 103). I still definitely wouldn't describe Jiang Cheng's attitude towards him as positive, but it isn't at the point it was at the start of the novel (eg Chapter 10).

But even if his attitude does change, or would for whatever other reason apart from the reveal, that still doesn't change an initial motivation so isn't relevant to this meta. We know his intentions at the start.

****It's also possible they may have originated it, but I think WWX's reputation was bad enough for it to form naturally. Though you can trace a major part of that back to them, too.

*****That belief isn't outright stated in MDZS, but the fact people are specifically talking about the status of WWX's body in the aftermath of his death suggests that this belief does have some grounding in the MDZS universe, at least? And we know MXTX has included it in TGCF (though that doesn't mean it's definitely in MDZS), so she has used it in her works. If this isn't the case in the MDZS universe I am sorry (although that could also mean there's less importance placed on not disturbing the reincarnation cycle in the world of MDZS...? Which would work towards my original argument) – I don't want to spread misinformation that something is definitely true, I just think there's evidence to suggest it is true, which isn't the same thing.

******Again, I think this would depend on who ends up having more influence over who in the Lan sect. After all, normal resentful spirits only do what they do because of their resentment in death, whereas Wei Wuxian is 'dangerous' because of who everyone thinks he was in life – so him being reborn naturally could also 'cause a lot of harm to the world' during the time period this version of him would live in, unlike the resentful ghosts they appease. This could definitely lead to many advocating for confinement, I think.

[wonder-worker]

"Administratively, too, [...] queens were considered the legal lords of their landholdings. [...] Grants noted that the queen's officials had administrative autonomy without being subject to the king or anyone else, and evidence of the same assumption can be gleaned from court rolls that were recorded with headings indicating the lord of the manor whose court proceedings were being enrolled. As an example, some court rolls for the manor of Haveringatte-Bower specified that it was the court of [Margaret of Anjou] that was in session, while later rolls recorded Elizabeth Woodville as the lord of the manor court."

— Michele Seah, "My Lady Queen, the Lord of the Manor': The Economic Roles of Late Medieval Queens", Parergon, Volume 37, Number 2, 2020.

[ganondoodle]

so with echoes of wisdom .. i havent watched any of the trailers beyond the very first one and the thumbnails/screenshots and what others have said about it-

but with the world inside the rift being called "Welt des Nichts" aka "world of nothing/void" in german ('still' in english, for some reason) and demises title in french being "avatar of nothing" ... yeah my anxiety is shooting through the roof again

(hopefully you can be a little more forgiving for me being anxious/weird about it bc demise is my blorbo)

i had similar worries with totk, that werent proven true thankfully, but the darn book is making it all worse again with all those weird lore things the game doesnt even so much as hint at AND potential retcons- im in for a really rough time huh, not just stress in real life (more in tags.. its alot) but now about my specific hyperfixation from two things even (AND artblock still..)

weird as it may sound, i dont want demise to get more lore, partly bc i dont believe theyd do anything with him that i would like (given their track record) but much more importantly- the fact that he has this little lore about him is precisely one of the reasons why i fell in love with him, i tend to like characters that are neglected by the narrative, and his story being both so flat and already done meant i can be very creative with what i come up with for him without necessarily contradicting anything in canon (which is ... or was a big point of how i wrote destiny's story and lore, working with canon in a way that reframes it all without straight up ignoring it ... but i suppose i urgently need to let go of that and accept i spend alot of time working things that will go to waste :( ) AND not having to worry that there will be more stuff with him that would massively change not only what im writing but also potentially how i feel about him since the game he was briefly in was the oldest chronologically and ended with his death- i didnt expect them to mess with anything that far back and thought theyd just go forward and leave the timeline behind and wouldnt mess with it again, given how botw seemed to be a sort of 'fresh start' that seemingly regarded the past as the past that needs to rest and that the timeline was finally no longer a discussion if everythings unified through botw and one thing going forward

but i suppose i was very wrong with that .__.

right now the only thing that motivates me still is the left over determination and spite to work on my zelda comic, since i have never gotten this far and really want to get something done for once, but i cant lie that im feeling like i should pause all work on it too to wait and see waht the book and the new game will do .. either to determine if i still have the will to keep working on it after those things are out (my love for tloz has been taking alot of hits lately ..) or if i have to change stuff (mostly bc of my lore problem trying to not ignore it ..)

[cynicalclairvoyantcadaver]

Some points regarding your tags and the other tags in the reblogs:

Annabeth wasn't abusive to Percy in regards to their relationship when she set him up. However, she was certainly cruel to him because she left him alone with 5 Ares kids who were all trained more than he was without telling him or preparing him. And she never apologises for this either.

At this point in time, neither Percy nor Annabeth knew that he had water powers. And Clarisse had an electric spear which she didn't hesitate to use on Percy, which would have severely injured him, so it was not a safe game at CHB.

They were next to a river. Percy didn't know that he was the son of Poseidon then and he could not use the river either. It's certain that Clarisse would have electrocuted him using her spear.

They were going to maim him. Again, not a safe game at a kids' camp.

The toilet incident was a fluke to both of them. Annabeth only found out that Percy was Poseidon's son because the water healed his wounds.

Regarding Solangelo-

I don't think that Will giving Nico nectar and ambrosia and healing Snickers bars is bad or breaks any oath. I don't think that Will bandaging Nico's wounds from fights and Capture the Flag breaks any code either. I mean, ideally speaking, another doctor could do all that if Will dated Nico (is Will seriously the only doctor at camp. Someone relieve that boy from all that work.)

My real problem lies in Will making medical decisions for Nico, because he's a teenage minor doctor. Adults should be doing this instead-Dionysus and Chiron both care for Nico as does Hades, who will take time out of his schedule to make these decisions for Nico.

As Nico's boyfriend, Will won't be able to see the situation objectively and may end up making bad decisions because his romantic love for Nico clouds his practical doctor's view. Would he be able to keep his hands steady if he knew that he had to save his boyfriend's life as opposed to another patient? He'd be scared shitless and that would affect both of them terribly.

Also-

Will said that no one had ostracized Nico when he was in fact excluded by the camp. And Will was angry and tired, ok, but we never get an apology scene for this either. Instead, Will just calls Nico dense.

Will performs surgeries and delivers babies. He's also the main medic of the camp and literally gives doctors' notes and orders. That's medical enough to mandate a lighter version of the Hippocratic Oath. It doesn't matter if he's not an official doctor-his medical affairs are medical enough for him to have to adhere to the ethics of doctor-patient relationships.

If Will tended to Nico when there were no other doctors, it would be fine, but he goes out of his way to give him medical orders that he demands should be followed, when the patient is under no obligation to follow the doctor's orders. He orders Nico to stay in the infirmary and also uses his position as a doctor to get Nico to sit at his cabin table, which is an abuse of authority.

Will has talked about Nico's mental issues to other people without Nico's consent and when Nico wasn't present there to share his feelings about Will talking about his issues with other people.

Will isn't a young child who doesn't know better. He's a sixteen year old who knows that he shouldn't do this. If he wanted to vent, then he could have written in a diary instead of telling people who would probably tell other people. He had no right to do what he did and this should have been talked about.

And he should know the Hippocratic Oath because he's the camp doctor, and he's still doing enough medical stuff to warrant him knowing it. He also studied medicine, so he should have been taught this oath.

Now, I'm NOT saying that Will Solace is a bad person. He's great. He's kind. He cares for his siblings and father. He even went into town to get clothes for his dad. He shows concern for Nico too and it's clear that he cares for him, even if their relationship is a little messed up He's a great guy at times.

It's just that he shouldn't be Nico's doctor and boyfriend at the same time.

@percabeth4life can explain this better. And in case you want to know what's so wrong with Nico dating a doctor who 'heals' him, then read this.

And I'm not anti Solangelo shippers. I get the appeal of it. In the end, it's a fictional ship, but it could definitely be handled better.

No hate to you. I just wanted to make some points. Feel free to debate with me.

Someone should stop me from going into the anti-solangelo, anti-percabeth and anti-chiron tags because the moment I go in there i'm gonna start several arguments.

[kaidanalenkosprmanager]

THE BEST OF MASS EFFECT: VIRMIRE

Featuring: Cmdr. Sophie Shepard and Cmdr. Dominik Shepard With: Lt. Kaidan Alenko, Gun. Chief Ashley Williams, Urdnot Wrex, and Tali'Zorah nar Rayya Ft. Special Guest Appearances by: Spec. Saren Arterius and Sovereign There is a realm of existence so far beyond your own, you cannot even imagine it... Mass Effect: Legendary Edition (2021)

[seaweedstarshine]

Sometimes I think of Amy Pond, who grew up being called mad by those who wielded the word as a tool of exclusion and shame —

Amy Pond, who though forced into the hands of four psychiatrists, still clung to that which they called madness until those systems which elevate psychosocial conformity above humanity stripped it from her —

Amy Pond, whose imaginary friend reappeared for a single hour after twelve years and reignited that faith before disappearing for two more years —

Amy Pond, who spent those those two years under the same implicit threat ingrained in her through psychiatric violence, and thus began to believe the man who stopped the invasion was “just a madman with a box,” only for him to agree, and to also call her “mad, impossible Amy Pond,” reframing madness as non-negative for the first time in her life —

Amy Pond, who ignored the disembodied voice of her imaginary friend even as she ran away with him for real, who still lived each day with the traumatic internalization of deviancy dictated upon her by the psychiatric-industrial complex that shaped her from childhood —

Amy Pond, who wouldn't acknowledge the Doctor's voice, such that it took an Angel in her eye that was literally killing her to ensure she couldn't reality check herself —

Amy Pond, who stood before a room which muttered about “the psychiatrists we brought her to,” and though afraid, escaped their rigid parameters of acceptable existence.

[affluent-havoc]

Ramble time about Makoto and a little mini headcanon I came up with cus why not B]

Sometimes, I like to believe that Makoto gets really deep into stuff. Basically him in his own little world, hyper-focused to the max such as him cleaning, research, planning. Stuff like that. In the peak level of him in this state, he'd go, burst into a room, rummage around for anything he might need, and leave all while anyone who was in the now ransacked room is just 100% ignored. Bursting into rooms with the determination of the Kool-Aid Man (def not the strength tho) Makoto doesn't even remember that there were people in the room either. He could have been in a room with 58 other people for instance and if you quizzed him on how many people were in that room he'd just blank out like "People? What people?" This applies to whoever he lives with as an adult as well as way back with his parent's and sister. I can see his parent's never getting why he'd zone out like this. Like, they've tried to get it cus they of course wanna understand this weird part about their oldest child. They never really succeeded with it though and just accepted it as one of his weird quirks. Meanwhile, Komaru teased the shit about it to him cus of course she would. After all, it's the little sister privilege to completely dunk on the older sibling. 'Tis the law. Plus, it's not like it's the biggest piece of ammo she has on her older brother. This is Makoto we're talking about after all. Also, cus why not, (might as well be a BIT self-serving hehehe) I'm slipping in my mini headcanon of Makoto, Kyoko, and Byakuya living together casually in the same apartment/small house. Plus, it's funny imagining these two experiencing Makoto's little moments like this. Feel Kyoko would be more used to Makoto basically forgetting her existence when he gets into these hyper-focusing grind moments. Even when she first learned about it, I doubt it'd affect her much. Like, what is she gonna do? Have a little grudge for a solid week and a half with her roommate and lowkey boyfriend? And, besides, what idiot would have a grudge going on for that lon- oh right... Byakuya exists. Yeah, unsurprisingly, the heir is the type to be petty as shit about something like this. Has 100% without fail been disappointed to some extent and bummed out whenever he gets ignored like this. Or ignored in general. At the end of the day, he's a bit of an attention whore (the bit taking it lightly) It's his tsundere way to act like a needy, bastard cat. He'd basically take it personally while Kyoko's shaking her head cus he's taking it personally and Byakuya's all like "Tch. Stop making the assumption I'm taking it personally" and they go back and forth about it during the week all while Byakuya side eyes Makoto who's very much not aware he's even done anything wrong. His little stunt only happened once that week and he doesn't even remember Byakuya being in the room with him while he was rushing about their living quarters looking for junk like some toothpaste and a hanger. And this goes on until the week ends until Byakuya's basically over it, Kyoko gives him the whole "I told you so" look which for her is just her regular expression but with one of her brows slightly raised which she may or may not be actively trying to raise it higher but can't cus that's as far as it goes. Also this is a common occurrence for them all at least once a month. Oh, and the week is the minimum amount of time for Byakuya to hold a petty grudge for and they've lasted way longer ^v^

[tulipe-rose]

Shinichi

Shiho

Yusaku

Yukiko

The brunette to her cherry blonde.

You can not convince me that Shinichi's eyesight is still 20/20 after all that strain (fireworks (where he was so up close I'm surprised he wasn't burnt), flash bombs, and straining to see in the dark then suddenly having huge headlights pointed at you. Did I say bombs?). The explosions that happen in his vicinity –mind you, he's usually at the heart of them–almost daily must have had some sort of aftereffect on his eyes and ears, no matter how small.

In conclusion, I AM AT YOUR DOOR AOYAMA, OPEN UP. YOU CANNOT DO THIS AND THEN PRETEND THESE PARALLELS MEAN NOTHING TO YOU WHILE YOU GO ON ABOUT SO CALLED TRUE LOVE. 'Shinshi is never going to happen-' I WON'T HEAR IT, ESPECIALLY NOT FROM YOU, AOYAMA.

[exhausted-archivist]

On the topic of the inherent racism in the Qun and its people, with how baked in racism is, you can't buff it out and reformat. You can't remove it, and BioWare has only been doubling down on it up to Tevinter Nights in 2020. Which means you need to be careful with how you interact and build on it. At least that is how I approach it, in general I don't like to engage with it because it's just so difficult and not in any thought provoking or insightful way. So I refrain from doing so as much as possible in public spaces anyways, because it is so inherently unsafe for me to do so. From an interaction with fandom level, but also on a personal level because some of it makes me want to crawl out of my skin.

I am extremely weary of how da4 is going to portray them, I hope it will be better since the writing team has been moved around and there have been some acknowledgements on poor writing of stereotypes and biases in 2020. Which I take with a salt mine worth of salt, especially with the way the new comics like the Missing having lingering themes and stereotypes remaining. How Patrick Weekes described the rebelling antaam in Three Trees to Midnight (Tevinter Nights 2020) was the biggest red flag, followed by the yellow flag from As We Fly short story by Lukas Kristjanson (short story 2023).

With how BioWare has racism and harmful elements baked into the Qun and people in general it is going to difficult for them to fully separate it, update it, or reformat it. But I hope they do. I hope that they actually attempt to make it better like they have suggested they would. Because it is so harmful and they should. I don't think they'll get it right on the first try, but I hope they try. It won't magically fix the racism in the fandom but I would like to not feel the need to crawl out of my skin when playing a vashoth. I would like to see the franchise grow and become better than it started out as. I don't want it to stay stagnant for the sake of "consistency" which it doesn't have by design.

[chronosbled]

@batbrides continued from here.

SPEAKING IN GENERAL HAD NEVER BEEN ONE OF KIMORI'S STRONG POINTS, especially since she was a naturally nonchalant person, that and the fact she was never really a people person to begin with — or rather... she stopped being a people person once her and her younger sister's mother was murdered — but that wasn't something she would ever get into, thus why she rarely interacted with others. In truth, she hadn't planned on even stopping to talk to the other, but once her eyes caught sight of those childish looking stickers, she couldn't help but stop (probably because they reminded her of the ones her sister often had placed on her notebooks).

Though it was evident that the other didn't appreciate the comment she had made just moments ago, ONCE AGAIN FALLING SILENT AS SHE WATCHED THE SHORTER'S FACIAL FEATURES SUDDENLY SHIFT INTO SOMETHING AKIN TO ANNOYANCE — a singular brow twitching into a furrow as her lips struggled to keep a smile. It was a look that she was quite familiar with, etched deep into her mind much like a burn across one's skin, something that she often affiliated with disappointment; after all... ever since her mother died, her father had begun to grow more and more distant with her (not to mention she could never live up to the standards he'd hoped for her).

IT'S ONLY FOR A MOMENT, but there was a slight aversion of sky blue irises, almost as if she regretted saying anything to begin with, yet it doesn't last long before she returns her gaze towards the other. After all, she wasn't the type to show that things bothered her.

She gives a small shake of her head finally, DOING HER BEST TO SHOW THAT SHE WASN'T INTENTIONALLY TRYING TO TALK DOWN UPON THE FEMALE'S CHOICES. Taking a moment to shove her hands deeper into her pockets before shifting all her weight onto the right side of her body. "Nah, I don't think it's childish to question others choices, but don't let me rain on your parade. Nothing wrong with stickers." What Jinx did in her space time was none of her business and it probably never would be. "Besides, my little sister likes stickers too. Just like the ones ya got on yer horns."