#{ she's done a lot more questionable things than saying 'fuck' a few times }

[chaoticwriting]

YOU ARE MARRIED??!!

-Wayne Manor, Gotham-

Cass is not having a good time. From the Arkham breakout last week all the way to losing a bet with his siblings on who is going to attend the gala with Bruce. And now this annoying lady kept asking her about her preference in men or something. And Bruce can't help her since he is being occupied by those rich assholes about investment or stuff.

Vicky: So, Miss Wayne. Is it true that you have a secret boyfriend?

Cass: No.

Vicky: Then how about that pict-

Cass: I'm already married.

Vicky blue screened as Cass finished her sentence. Cass takes the chance and slips away from her before she starts barraging her with questions. Revealing that she is married may not be the smartest thing she has done but she is very annoyed at people who keep asking her about her secret significant other. If they want to ask, at least use the proper term.

Just as Cass reaches the hallway, she is scooped up by two strong arms and is carried away to the Batcave. Cass looks to her side to see Dick and Jason both holding one of her arms each and looking very pissed. Well, Dick looks very pissed. Jason looks like he is having fun. Cass doesn't struggle and just lets her brothers carry her to the Batcave to have the talk.

They put Cass on the couch and proceed to guard the exit of the cave on the off chance that she decides to escape. Not that she would because she and her husband have been thinking of breaking the news to their respective family for awhile now.

She waited for a few hours while playing on her phone. Her main phone. Not the one she used to contact her husband since this family has a lot of competent hackers. She knows that being married is like a big deal. But she doesn't expect it to be such a big deal.

When she says everyone is here, she means everyone. From all his close family all the way to Selina (Bruce's fiancee), Roy (Jason's boyfriend), Kori (Dick's wife), Kon (Tim's boyfriend), Jon (Damian's bff) and even Harley and Ivy is here. She is also pretty sure that Clark is listening from somewhere but it's not like she is trying to keep it a secret anymore, so the more people there are the less she needs to explain.

Harper: So what are we here again? I would rather be home to polish my new gun than in this cave.

Dick: Since everyone is here, I would like to apologize for calling all of you in such short notice.

A murmur ranging from 'it's fine' all the way to 'I want to sleep' sounded in the room.

Dick: Anyway, let's get to the main topic shall we. For starters, I would like to say that none of us wishes to control who you dated nor who you choose to be your partner.

Some more murmurs sounded in the room.

Dick: HOWEVER! We would really appreciate it if you wish to marry someone, at least notify one of us since being married is a big deal.

More murmurs sounded as all of them have a rough idea on what the topic going to be.

Dick: So, the person in question, would you like to explain yourself?

A spotlight lights up on top of Cass, directing all the people's attention to her. She doesn't even know there is a spotlight installed in the cave.Cass stands up and looks at the crowd. She replies, "No."

Everyone is stunned by her reply. They expect many types of replies but no is certainly not one of them.

Tim: Fuck you mean no?

Alfred: I would prefer this conversation to remain civil and proper please master Timothy. I would also like to express my extreme displeasure at the fact that I am not notified by your marriage Mistress Cassandra.

Cass goes still at Alfred's sentence. Okay, shit is really serious. As much as she loves messing with them, she would rather not have her food burnt on the inside. (No one knows how Alfred manages to do that.)

Cass: Ehem, I'm just messing with you. It is a long story but to make it short, my husband and I met when we were in Hong Kong. We met after he got roped in one of the gangs that I was busting. After we met and a little misunderstanding, he helped me to dismantle the underground drug labs across Hong Kong.

Tim: So he is also a vigilante?

Cass: Ex-vigilante. He has a daughter now so he is taking care of her.

Dick: You get pregnant?!! How? When?

Cass: I did not get pregnant. But she is technically my daughter.

Jason: Like how Lian is with me?

Cass: No. Biological daughter.

Kon: Umm, guys. I think Bruce needs to rest a little. His heart has been beating a little too fast for even him.

Dick and and Tim are closest to Bruce realizing that Bruce's face has been impossibly pale for quite a while now. They take him to an empty couch and let him lay there and rest for a while. Everyone's reactions range from amused to straight up concerned that Bruce's career as Batman might get cut short today.

It takes a while but as soon as Bruce is fine, they continue another round of questions and answers.

Bruce: How long have you been married?

Cass: Next week is our 3rd anniversary.

Duke: Wait. Didn't you plan to go to Hong Kong for some time next week? You even ask me to cover your patrol because you say you need to go somewhere.

Cass: I don't lie. I missed last year's anniversary since there was an Arkham breakout at the time.

Duke: Dude, still not cool. You are going on a date with your husband while I need to spend hours running on top of buildings around Gotham. So not fair.

Jason: Was the present you asked me to send last year also was for your husband?

Cass: Yes.

Jason: I've been your middle man all this time and I don't even know.

Barbara: I found it! This is the registration for marriage between Cassie Cain and Daniel Fenton. You used a fake name?

Cass: Yes. You will know otherwise.

Bruce: Why do you hide it?

Cass: I'm not sure all of you are gonna like him and vice versa.

Dick: Is he a bad person? I will kill him if he treats you badly.

Cass: No. He doesn't trust all of you at first.

Steph: And why is that?

Cass: He thinks the Justice League is working with the government. So by extension, all of you are associates of government to him.

Steph: Why is he running away from the government? Is he a criminal?

Barbara: No. He doesn't have any criminal records in his name. Except for the fact that he is practically nonexistent before he is 18, there is nothing wrong with him.

Tim: Is it a forged identity then?

Cass: No. The government wiped away his records.

Dick: What? Why?

Cass: I don't know.

Damian: I expect you to at least do a background check on someone before marrying them, Cain.

Dick: Did you get married with someone you barely know? Do you understand how dangerous that is? What if he just dipped you after you got married?

Cass: *Rolls her eyes* He isn't a bad person. I make sure of that at least. I know he is some sort of meta tho-

A green portal suddenly appears out of thin air making everyone be on guard except Cass. She expects Danny to come out of the portal to greet her but what comes out baffled her.

A young girl that looks a little like Cass riding on a big wolf comes out of the portal swiftly towards Cass. Everyone is just about to shoot their weapons when the girl's word shock them.

???:Mama!

Everyone: Mama?!!

[thewertsearch]

@necrowyrm asked: happy new year!!! enjoy the last little bit of homestuck before act 6! Anonymous asked: You have NO IDEA how much I was looking forward to your reaction to this flash :D @teddy-bearer-of-bad-news asked: a very late congratulations from me for making it this far! i gotta say, saving CASCADE for new year's is probably the smartest thing i've heard all week. may your experience be nothing short of righteous, comrade Anonymous asked: Cascade … Even years latter knowing it almost by heart, every once in a while I will take a little quarter of an hour to rewatch it, Say what you want about Hussie but there is a good reason Homestuck became so iconic. @adeptarcanist asked: The leadup to Cascade was honestly my favorite sequence in Homestuck, and maybe one of my favorites in any media ever? The way the narrative splits apart into all of the different scenes swirling in towards the critical moment, both advancing main plots and finding time to spend a moment of melancholy with characters who’d been left behind (The Jaspers and Nepeta scene :( )… it’s such a strong narrative device, and the tone it generates is impeccable. @calamitascalliope asked: I literally watched the flash again, and it still gives me chills every single time. Welcome to your post-Cascade life. You won't be able to think about anything the same ever again @iris-in-the-dark-world asked: "she looks so cool… but she’s so tragic… but she looks so cool…" has become a brainworm for me. i too love the handmaid's design btw, cascade time has been i think the most anticipated non-personal event of the entire year for me. i'm so excited @publicuniversalworstie asked: I want you to know that I also opened Cascade and started watching with you right after I saw your "oh my god it has chapters" ask, and I finished just as you posted "I will never be the same" !! And I bet lots of other people did too <3 so it's like we all watched it together!!!! Happy New Year and thank you for liveblogging!!!! It's been a pleasure！(and will continue to be) @krixwell asked: I would like you to know that your "Right, we're good to go!" and "oh my god it has chapters" posts were posted right as I was outside watching midnight fireworks ring in 2025 for the Central European timezone. Happy new year! @captorations asked:

hey remember when rose just up and fucking said that. anyway congrats on reaching cascade! it absolutely wrecked me back in the day, i think i stared at those flaming curtains for a solid ten minutes as my brain permanently reconfigured. the first few notes of the track alone still give shivers. getting your reaction to cascade was a wonderful birthday present. (speaking of getting older: aradia 🤝 dulcinea also got that "distressingly short lifespan only to die early anyway" story thread going on. the parallels are paralleling.) anyway happy new year and congrats you are… slightly less than halfway done with homestuck. have fun!

Hey, guys. Cascade was so fucking good.

Like, there's really no competition; this is the best Flash page in the comic thus far. Peak music, peak animation, and absolutely a peak narrative. It tied up mountains of plot threads, providing complete answer to questions we're been asking for literally thousands of pages. It completed over a dozen arcs, both big and small. It made me gasp three times in fourteen minutes. It let Jade become a furry.

11/10, and I'm glad people had as much fun here as I did on New Year's Eve. Happy 2025, and happy Act 6!

@morganwick asked: Sally, predicting Cascade: "I have approximate knowledge of many things." @morganwick asked: "You literally have the whole world in the palm of your hands." -Sally to Jadesprite, December 16, 2024 (You might also want to reread post/770701212350857216 in light of recent developments.)

Hah!

I mean, based on her powerset, it made sense that Jadesprite would do something like this eventually, but it's pretty funny that she did it more or less immediately.

And in the end, CD really was a tricky little bastard. We'll definitely need to keep a closer eye on him, next time around.

Anonymous asked: Take a moment to consider that if anyone were to use the Homestuck website as it stands now instead of the Collection program, Cascade would have been presented in the YouTube player in Standard Definition, artifacted to hell, with a clear boundary showing the dimensions of the video from the very start. Preservation is so important.

Jeez, you're not kidding. The 1080p is fine, I guess, but it certainly doesn't hit like the Flash version does, especially with its lack of moving panels.

I know something had to change when Flash kicked the bucket, but surely there was a better way to preserve the video's soul.

Anonymous asked: to give you some of an idea of what homestuck fandom looked like during this time period, im cribbing from a very popular homestuck post: “first, this upd8 was something that we had been waiting for for WEEKS. A literally unprecedented wait period at the time. We were used to suckling at the teat of daily updates, a constant stream of conversation and plot twists and buildup, and as EOA5, we were finally going to figure out what all these countdowns and plot threads and disconnected elements were building up for. And when the progress bar reached 100%, and when the page FINALLY loaded on 10/25/11, it was chaos. This was 2011, a primetime peak point and growth period of Homestuck fan density.” (…) “MSPA crashed, as it had started to during the last few big [S] updates. Hussie had already bought new servers in advance, but even when allegedly thousands of dollars were spent it couldn't handle the accidental DDOS attack of Homestuck fans. People were up all night waiting for this upd8, the curiosity was killing me. I know at some point he was receiving at least 1 million unique visitors per day to his site [correction: according to Hussie’s tumblr, upwards of 2 million during this time], and even though Hussie had foreseen such traffic and thusly hosted [S] Cascade on Newgrounds, a dedicated video streaming site, Newgrounds was similarly unprepared for the sheer amount of people frantically mashing the play and refresh buttons, and also crashed. Immediately. MSPA and Newgrounds crashed definitively for at least two nights in a row” (…) “Andrew Hussie has gone on record to say this was one of the few times he thought Homestuck wasn’t worth it, because the sheer unbelievable cost (was it $10,000?) [correction: according to Hussie’s tumblr, it looked like it was going to cost $100,000 to keep [S] Cascade up for several days] of servers and the chaos of no one able to see the upd8 and crashing nearly every site after. He was tweeting during the whole debacle, stating he was reluctant to put it up on Youtube because of all the moving elements of the flash, and style, and how youtube degraded the quality of the file size, and how he tried to scratch out buffer time and pauses by putting periods of silence between each section of the 14 minute upd8, the longest upd8 yet” “So after Newgrounds patooted, he didn’t put it on youtube and instead put up the entire flash file on Megaupload, where it could be downloaded in it’s entirety to be watched. UNFORTUNATELY, Megaupload also crashed very quickly, which Hussie felt much headache over. But before that happened I managed to get the file, since I happened to be up very early that night! Next it was on dropbox, which didn’t crash but had “link unavailable” on and off. ”Spoilers were flying everywhere, people didn’t understand everything that had happened, and by the time the timeline of events in and out of [S] Cascade was all straightened out, people became even MORE hype. Like this whole thing lasted at least four days, and on top of that, the upd8 was good. Fandom exploded.” it is impossible to quantify the experience. The fact hussie was going to have to fork over A HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS to host it is crazy. I am never going to be over it.

Cascade's complete obliteration of the Flash-hosting internet says a lot about huge Homestuck truly was - but I think an even bigger indicator of the comic's success is the fact that Hussie dropped literally thousands of dollars on server upgrades to host the thing. That's not an investment you make unless you're expecting some serious returns.

[bwat5-blog]

Did Jinx Love Vi?

**Spoilers For All Of Arcane**

Okay. First let me say I am not here to attack or insult Jinx. The title is literally just addressing the question I'm hoping to answer so.. put down the torches and pitchforks. I recently had a very nice short talk with someone on one of their posts, and it was primarily to do with this issue of how Jinx treats Vi in the show. And in truth, I share a lot of their feelings. For the most part, we never really get a moment of Jinx outwardly showing any sympathy or kindness to Vi at all until almost the end. As I always do for clarity let me be crystal clear. Vi is my favorite character. But I think most people watching objectively can agree she tries really fucking hard for the people she loves and gets kicked in the teeth almost constantly.

*Not writing in my usual spot to look up these quotes so some may be paraphrased*

" Never thought my sister would turn blue-belly"- Literally there because of what Jinx did

"I'm a hero. I busted half of Zaun out of prison while you were passed out at the bottom of a mug"- Vi completely spiraling after losing literally everyone she loves and Jinx knowing full well she didn't step in for Zaun until they took Isha

" She used to be pretty cool, til I kicked her ass"- literally the fight where Jinx lured Vi down there hoping to die and it ended with her on her back urging Vi to finish her.

Smirks at Vi when Vi sees the Mural of her and Vander. Even though Jinx literally betrayed everything Vander ever stood for and considers the man who murdered Vander and caused the deaths of their brothers her father. All while Vi is nowhere to be seen.

Now, there is obviously history between them, Jinx has her reasons to be angry just like Vi does. NEITHER ARE PERFECT. But these few examples are not exaggerated or spun. And they are just a few of many. It can really come off like Jinx just does NOT care what happened to Vi at all:

Seven years in Stillwater undergoing god knows what kind of hell

Almost killed getting back to her in the undercity before being taken by firelights

Almost killed by Jinx on the bridge

Almost killed by Silco at the same event where she begs Cait for Jinx life and Jinx responds by murdering Caitlyn's mother

Has clearly been driven so far by Jinx's actions and what has happened that she becomes Enforcer

Abandoned by Caitlyn and on self-destructive spiral that will very likely kill her because Caitlyn has lost her self after everything Jinx has done to her.

However, I think there are some things we need to remember to better understand this issue:

Jinx is severely mentally ill. I know this is obvious. But it matters because everything she says and does is filtered through a different lens than the average person.

Jinx hates herself and in season 2 especially, wants to die until she bonds with Isha. She gives us evidence of this repeatedly but the moment I most remember is when she meets Isha for the very first time and describes knowing she could die at any time as the best feeling in the world. Then goes on to associate herself with cursing a a sister, a family or a society, I think it was.

"I'm losing my snappy comebacks"- Part of Jinx's whole schtick is verbally lashing out. She mocks everyone, at all times, for any reason. It doesn't make it kind or right. It's just what she does. She also absolutely knows precisely what to say to piss her sister off. Like any good little sister would. Additionally, you may be the person yourself but if not, we all know that person whose defense mechanism is cruel or sarcastic words. While Jinx is plenty dangerous, more often than not when she feels insulted/threatened/uncomfortable she goes for the death blow verbally.

Considering all of that, while there are moments I wish she could have shown Vi alittle more kindness and love, especially with how much Vi loves her, I think Jinx's love for Vi remains constant throughout the show, even if her motormouth sometimes makes it hard to see:

The Reunion:

Even after all the terrible things in their childhood, including the incident for which Vi carries so much guilt and some of the fandom think a fifteen year old Vi should have been crucified for, this is how their reunion starts. Vi apologizes immediately and embraces her. Jinx is crying and ashamed of how she has changed but Vi accepts her and loves her. It only goes wrong when Jinx sees Caitlyn, and why is she mad at Caitlyn who she has never seen or met?

Cyclops and lefty to the rescue. Silco to turn Jinx against Vi and Sevika intentionally trying to damage Jinx's mental health, both of these figures poison Jinx against Caitlyn ruining the next several times they get close. But all throughout that series of events we see Jinx trying to overpower the voices in her head because she knows Vi loves her, and she loves VI. Just unfortunately, she does not win.

2. Seeing Vi As An Enforcer:

Now this isn't a happy moment of course. But Jinx isn't so distraught at seeing Vi in the uniform because she doesn't care about Vi. She is seeing what she believes is the total rejection of her by the last person she has who loves her and who she loves, all wrapped up in the package that killed her parents

3. Jinx VS Vi:

Even during the fight Jinx wanted to end in her death, when Isha gets involved and sticks a gun in Vi's face Jinx IMMEDIATELY screams no.

4. Jinx At the Pit:

If you slow down the cinematic of Vi's time in the pit, is actually shown a few times not just the once. Now I admit this is head-canon and probably the least provable one of these. But I don't think Jinx would have show up again and again to take pleasure in or mock Vi's pain. I think she was just checking on her in the best way her mind knew how.

5. Vander:

I already mentioned how their last interaction went, and the fact that Jinx came to Vi anyway to try and rebuild their family knowing full-well Vi would likely want to kill her is impressive and a clear sign of JInx's desire for them all to be together again.

There are plenty more examples to either point (particularly the MASSIVE example of how Jinx feels about vi in the end of the show), this was quick and not my usual quality. But the thought struck me and I wanted to jump on it. Feel free to share your thoughts same/different or otherwise, I appreciate all of you who take time out of your day to read my thoughts. Even when they are quick and slap-dash like this.

The story of these sisters is one that for me, will live on forever. Have a great day.

[suguann]

✎. you've been on the run for a while. you knew someone would come eventually—but not him.

tags. fem!reader, old west era, bounty hunter simon, size difference, size kink, implied the reader's husband is a terrible human, accidental voyeurism, period-typical sexism, masturbation [18+ only]

masterlist

You’ve been running for months, first from your husband (the phantom grip of his hand still sending an ache through your wrist) and now as a wanted conwoman for stealing the clothes from an unsuspecting cowpoke who thought he was getting lucky. You can only imagine what Mama would say about trading your ruffled skirts for grass-stained trousers and boiled-leather suspenders.

(It’s unbecoming of a respectable woman, dear. Uncouth.)

She’d probably have a lot to say if she knew everything you’ve done to survive.

You hop from one place to the next only by the mere chance someone was willing to let a helpless woman accompany them on their travels. Nearly a month has passed since being stranded in a dusty old mining town after a man and his wife dump you off and leave you behind. Washoe’s a little gritty and not welcoming unless there’s money to spend.

It’s not exactly safe, not unsafe, either, but nobody asks questions as long as you keep your head down and play the part of a mourning widow just passing through.

You know you’ve overextended your stay when you can’t leave your room during the day without worrying about a noose and the open end of a barrel meeting you outside. 

(That your husband or that gun-waving cowpoke finally found you.)

Sleep practically clings to you like a second skin, but you don’t dare close your eyes—you can’t.

This is how you end up sitting in the corner of the saloon, using the last of whatever you have in your change purse to order something strong, something your husband kept locked away, and anything else he thought women shouldn’t have a part in. 

You don’t even realize that your eyelids begin to feel heavy, steadily blurring out the flickering lantern on the wall while you wait for your drink. 

You catch yourself once or twice before your head can hit the table, rapidly blinking away the exhaustion before your eyes slide to the swinging doors.

You should stay awake. 

You need to stay awake just a little bit longer—

Your luck runs out that day. 

It’s one thing to know it’d happen eventually, and something else to realize that you make it easy for him—the man with an infamous name and a faded black bandana covering half his face—how he walked into the saloon and scooped you up (all unladylike sleepy dead weight) out of the weathered booth without a fight.

When you’d woken up to find yourself trussed up and thrown over the back of his horse, you cursed him out with every word you could think of that would make Mama clutch her skirts. Your captor ignored you, only talking to you whenever he warned you he was about to set up camp. 

“Did my husband send you?” Acknowledging him after all this time tasted like pennies on your tongue.

The man, Simon Riley, had leaned back against his bedroll and tipped the brim of his hat over his eyes. “Go the fuck to sleep.”

That was several weeks ago. 

Now, you find yourself stranded in another state that’s more green and vibrant than anything you’re familiar with, stuck with a man who refuses to answer the questions you throw at him. He doesn’t talk outside a few cursory words you greedily latch onto. Anything’s better than silence and the sound of hooves hitting earth. 

The pace he keeps you at is exhausting. You complain about it enough until he moves you in front of him, tying your hands to the saddle's horn.

“I would strongly advise you to shut that mouth for the rest of the ride unless you want me to do something about that, too.” The low growl of his voice in your ear makes the fine hairs on the back of your neck stand up, muddling your brain.

You’re distantly aware you had something to say to that, but you don’t. 

And that is really saying something.

It’s because there’s someone he needs to meet in town—an errand that lawbreakers who run their mouths aren’t allowed to go on.

This is how you end up sitting in camp alone, twirling around a knife he gave you solely for emergencies. 

(Surprise, sharp and quick through your middle, when he tosses his pocket knife into the grass beside you. “What’s to stop me from leaving?”

You could’ve sworn he rolled his eyes. “Will you?”

It doesn’t seem worth dignifying with a reply. You don’t want to travel alone, and there’s a high possibility of getting lost, finding yourself saddled up with worse company than the one you’re stuck with.

Until he evidently catches you again.)

He’s a lot nicer than you first gave him credit for—if only by a fraction—not that you know much about Simon other than what you overheard from gossip circles before you became Mrs. Thornton. Afternoons spent sipping tea laden with honey and lounging around a table full of cakes in the sun parlor while wealthy women talked behind their lace-covered hands to hide secret smiles you were too naive to understand. 

Trying not to stare at the bulge of his arms with thin pink scars—unlike the men you’re used to who got through life with a silver spoon hanging from their mouth—as he places his saddle back on his horse, you think you finally know what they smiled about.

You learn those scars also litter his torso from the time you accidentally walked upon him mid-way through putting his trousers on after washing in the river. It’d been too dark for you to see much else, and you quickly returned to camp before he could say something that would embarrass you both. 

Then, of course, tucked away into your bedroll, you can’t help wondering what the rest of him would have looked like if you had stayed a second longer. 

If his jaw is sharp or soft behind that mask he insists on wearing—that’s if he’d let you see at all. 

Simon’s always so serious that it’s often hard to determine whether he’s merely tolerating your existence until he can get rid of you or if he’s unused to traveling accompanied for so long. It’s not as if he goes out of his way to make pleasant conversation with you for you to assume otherwise.

You look off in the direction where he disappeared into the dense line of trees hours ago, wondering if you should go out looking for him (mainly because you’re hot and sticky from the humidity) despite his order to stay put. 

But after four hours turns into five, you head off, searching for something to help cool you off.

Luckily, unlike the heavily eroded lands you’re used to, there isn’t any water shortage in a place that sees rain three times a day, so it doesn’t take long to find a lake. You set your knife down on the stone-covered beach, followed by your boots, until you’re left in nothing but your undergarments. 

The water is icy cold and laps gently at your feet when you step in. You can’t find it in you to complain as the heat from the day slowly washes away the further you walk in and find a wide ledge to sit on. 

Your thoughts drift back to Simon, incessant and intruding even though you shouldn’t be thinking about him while wet and naked. And suddenly, you can picture it: his hands replacing yours as they trace along your neck. You have a feeling they’re probably rough and scarred from years of living hard and gunslinging, extracting the readily available knowledge that they’re big enough to encase your waist.

He could maneuver you around however he wants (you know this), and you feel dizzy just thinking about it.

Sighing, you sink deeper into the water while your hands smooth over the tips of your breasts and down your stomach. 

You wish you could see him without violating whatever personal preservations hide him from the rest of the world. Instead, you’re left with your imagination—the benefits of being a married woman and the little experience you have in the bedroom finally coming into play. 

Closing your eyes, you picture what he might look like under those sun-weathered leathers, knowing that the broadness of his shoulders isn’t only due to his vest and holsters but also from how his job has shaped him.

Your hands travel lower, fingers brushing through the creamy, soft wetness between your legs, evidence of what Simon does to you even when he’s not around. A moan, too high and breathy, slips past your lips as you use your middle finger to circle your clit in slow, clumsy swirls from lack of practice and patience that spreads warmth through your middle despite the cold water. 

It’s good, your fingers discovering places your husband always ignored—too many nights spent with your hand under your nightgown long after he’d tucked his cock away and gone to sleep—but probably don’t compare to the ones you’ve caught yourself staring at far too many times. 

They don’t fill you nearly enough, unlike how you know Simon’s would—thick and unrelenting. Rough and long, reaching deep enough to make you breathless.

Your breath hitches from pinching the tight, sensitive peak of your nipple until you feel a slight sting, and then it slips out, a tiny thing that’s only audible to your ears—Simon—a secret you now share with the lightning bugs and crickets.

“Dirty, no good rotten—” he’d tell you for thinking such lewd thoughts about him, for sinning so easily. Maybe you are, for getting so worked up over a man who isn’t your husband (no matter how terrible a husband he may be).

A man who’s so big that he makes you feel small, the type that gives before he takes. It’s enough to make you work your hand faster—your body vibrating from the chill of the water and the ache between your trembling thighs.  

Fantasies aren’t enough to sate the deep longing in your chest. Yet you’re slipping over the edge of ecstasy before taking your next breath—all of it builds up and gradually crests inside you like the lake rippling against the shore.

Afterward, it leaves you feeling soft and blurred around the edges, a watercolor painting drying under the sun while you wait for your rapid heartbeat to slow.

You don’t realize your eyes have fallen shut until they flutter open, and you’re startled to find Simon standing at the shoreline, his chest heaving as if he ran here. 

(Though he probably did to see if you took the opportunity to leave.)

You’re glued to your spot on the rock, suddenly struck with the mortifying realization that he’d seen you come—that he possibly heard you cry out his name so intimately.

You watch him remove his hat and hang it on a branch with wide eyes. Followed by his undershirt, guns, and—

He keeps removing clothes until he’s completely naked on the shore—aside from his face that stays hidden—scars marred his chest, spreading to his collarbones and below the water as he steps into the lake and sits on another ledge across from you.

His mask makes him look more menacing, erasing any trace of softness there. And you wonder if he’s angry at you for wandering off.

"Come here." His voice is low and deep, rumbling in his chest.

You don't think he'd hurt you. If he wanted to, he would have done it by now.

At least, that’s what you’re going with to settle the nervous fluttering in your middle.

Water laps at your arms as you wade through the water, each shaky step bringing you closer until you stop before him.

"In my lap."

Your breath sticks in your throat as you do as he says, settling down onto his sturdy thighs, palms falling flat against his broad chest. That same breath comes out in one large exhale as his fingers slide along your jaw, to the nape of your neck, curling into your hair, wet and falling around your shoulders.

“Like this?” you ask, trying to ignore how breathy you sound.

He grunts, apparently in confirmation.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt so conflicted in your life—fear and arousal turning into a messy cocktail in your veins.

“Why do I always have to use a heavy hand to make you listen?”

Your lips part. Breath growing short. “I’m sorry.”

And then—

Simon pulls your head back sharply, exposing your throat.

Your body goes slack against his. Mind blissfully blank.

“No,” he says, tone flat. “But you will be.”

[inkskinned]

you're grabbing lunch with a nice man and he gives you that strange grimace-smile that's popular right now; an almost sardonic "twist" of his mouth while he looks literally down on you. it looks like he practiced the move as he leans back, arms folded. he just finished reciting the details of NFTs to you and explaining Oppenheimer even though he only watched a youtube about it and hasn't actually seen it. you are at the bottom of your wine glass.

you ask the man across from you if he has siblings, desperately looking for a topic. literally anything else.

he says i don't like small talk. and then he smiles again, watching you.

a few years ago, you probably would have said you're above celebrity gossip, but honestly, you've been kind of enjoying the dumb shit of it these days. with the rest of the earth burning, there's something familiar and banal about dragging ariana grande through the mud. you think about jeanette mccurdy, who has often times gently warned the world she's not as nice as she appears. you liked i'm glad my mom died but it made you cry a lot.

he doesn't like small talk, figure out something to say.

you want to talk about responsibility, and how ariana grande is only like 6 days older than you are - which means she just turned 30 and still dresses and acts like a 13 year old, but like sexy. there's something in there about the whole thing - about insecurity, and never growing up, and being sexualized from a young age.

people have been saying that gay people are groomers. like, that's something that's come back into the public. you have even said yourself that it's just ... easier to date men sometimes. you would identify as whatever the opposite of "heteroflexible" is, but here you are again, across from a man. you like every woman, and 3 people on tv. and not this guy. but you're trying. your mother is worried about you. she thinks it's not okay you're single. and honestly this guy was better before you met, back when you were just texting.

wait, shit. are you doing the same thing as ariana grande? are you looking for male validation in order to appease some internalized promise of heteronormativity? do you conform to the idea that your happiness must result in heterosexuality? do you believe that you can resolve your internal loneliness by being accepted into the patriarchy? is there a reason dating men is easier? why are you so scared of fucking it up with women? why don't you reach out to more of them? you have a good sense of humor and a big ol' brain, you could have done a better job at online dating.

also. jesus christ. why can't you just get a drink with somebody without your internal feminism meter pinging. although - in your favor (and judgement aside) in the case of your ariana grande deposition: you have been in enough therapy you probably wouldn't date anyone who had just broken up with their wife of many years (and who has a young child). you'd be like - maybe take some personal time before you begin this journey. like, grande has been on broadway, you'd think she would have heard of the plot of hamlet.

he leans forward and taps two fingers to the table. "i'm not, like an andrew tate guy," he's saying, "but i do think partnership is about two people knowing their place. i like order."

you knew it was going to be hard. being non-straight in any particular way is like, always hard. these days you kind of like answering the question what's your sexuality? with a shrug and a smile - it's fine - is your most common response. like they asked you how your life is going and not to reveal your identity. you like not being straight. you like kissing girls. some days you know you're into men, and sometimes you're sitting across from a man, and you're thinking about the power of compulsory heterosexuality. are you into men, or are you just into the safety that comes from being seen with them? after all, everyone knows you're failing in life unless you have a husband. it almost feels like a gradebook - people see "straight married" as being "all A's", and anything else even vaguely noncompliant as being ... like you dropped out of the school system. you cannot just ignore years of that kind of conditioning, of course you like attention from men.

"so let's talk boundaries." he orders more wine for you, gesturing with one hand like he's rousing an orchestra. sir, this is a fucking chain restaurant. "I am not gonna date someone who still has male friends. also, i don't care about your little friends, i care about me. whatever stupid girls night things - those are lower priority. if i want you there, you're there."

he wasn't like this over text, right? you wouldn't have been even in the building if he was like this. you squint at him. in another version of yourself, you'd be running. you'd just get up and go. that's what happens on the internet - people get annoyed, and they just leave. you are locked in place, almost frozen. you need to go to the bathroom and text someone to call you so you have an excuse, like it's rude to just-leave. like he already kind of owns you. rudeness implies a power paradigm, though. see, even your social anxiety allows the patriarchy to get to you.

you take a sip of the new glass of wine. maybe this will be a funny story. maybe you can write about it on your blog. maybe you can meet ariana grande and ask her if she just maybe needs to take some time to sit and think about her happiness and how she measures her own success.

is this settling down? is this all that's left in your dating pool? just accepting that someone will eventually love you, and you have to stop being picky about who "makes" you a wife?

you look down to your hand, clutching the knife.

[just-jordie-things]

fuck it, i love you - okkotsu yuuta

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 10k follower event special! ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

word count: 11k warnings: none really. reader likes lemon oreos bcuz i projected onto this <3 summary: (y/n) and yuuta get to know each other better over the phone while he's on assignment in africa. feelings ensue. more info: long distance friends to lovers, yuuta got that romance dawg in him

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ and you know everyone adores you // you can’t feel it and you’re tired // baby, wish that you would hold me or just say that you were mine // but it’s killing me slowly ]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The first time he gets a call from her, Yuuta is a little perplexed before he answers the phone.  Of the few people he might’ve expected a phone call from, (y/n’s) was the last name he expected to see on his screen.  Nonetheless, he answered it right away.

“Hello?” 

“Hey, Okkotsu,” Her voice was so cheerful, he could’ve easily believed that she meant to call someone else.  But she’d said his name, so it couldn’t have been a mistake.  “How’s Morocco?”

“Morocco, is….” He trails off, fingers tapping a poor rhythm on the table in front of him.  Doing paperwork in a hotel room wasn’t ideal.  The desk provided was always small, and the chair always uncomfortable.  But it wasn’t like he had a lot to report anyways.  “It’s alright, I guess” 

“Alright, you guess?” She repeats curiously.  “Sounds like you’re bored already” 

“Bored-? N-no, no I’m not bored,” He stammered over his words, and (y/n) could be heard laughing through the line.  “I’m just, um, I’m trying to do a report right now” He said sheepishly.

Trying being the key word.  He’d practically given up ten minutes before he got her call anyways.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” (y/n) apologized right away.  “Am I keeping you? Should I go?” 

“N-no!” Yuuta squeaked, cringing at himself as he slumped back into his hair, covering his face with his hand as if there was anyone else around to hide his embarrassment from.  “No, you’re not keeping me, I… I have nothing for this report anyways” He explained.

“Really? Not goin’ so well?” She asked.

“Uh- it’s just- I don’t want to bore you with it,” He sighed.  “Anyways, what’s the call for? Isn’t it like…” He glances behind him at the analog clock on his bedside table, wincing when he sees how late it was.  “Three in the morning, your time?” 

“Actually, it’s only two forty-five,” She corrects with a clear smile in her tone.  “And aren’t I allowed to check in? You’ve been gone, for like, weeks” 

“Y-yeah, you’re allowed,” He mumbles back, face feeling hot.  “I just figured, y’know, you’re… busy” 

“Never too busy,” She half-jokes.  “So tell me all about it, boring parts and all” 

Yuuta’s brows pinch together, a small scoff leaving his throat.

“Really?” He’s unsure as to why she’d want to hear about the ins and outs of a trip that so far had proven to be pointless.  “You sure you want to hear about it?” 

“Course,” She hums back.  “Beats studying” 

So he complies.  There’s not much to tell, but he finds a way to walk her through what his day-to-day with Miguel was like.  Looking for more of the Black Rope.  She seemed to have some interest in the cursed tool, asking excitedly if it could stop the cursed techniques of even the strongest special grade sorcerers.

“Yeah, that’s kinda the point,” He chuckles.  “But it’s been slow.  I’m starting to think this is going to take longer than we thought…” 

(y/n’s) a good listener.  She lets him ramble on even when he’s not making sense, and continues to prod and ask more questions when she comes up with them.  He thinks maybe she’s just stalling to keep her from studying, but he figures there were countless other things she could’ve done to keep her occupied… right? 

It’s not until Yuuta notices the clock and remembers the time difference between them that he finally stops his rambling and suggests they end their call soon.

“Ah- it’s late, and I’m probably boring you now, too” He lets out a light hearted chuckle that she can’t help but reciprocate.

“I guess I should try to study just a little” She huffs.

Yuuta scoffs, a small smile on his face as he picks up his pen and stares at the half-finished report in front of him.  Maybe he’d been stalling, too.

“Or you could just go to bed, cram last minute tomorrow” He suggests.

She seems amused by that, and when she lets out a little laugh he thinks it’s the right choice, too.  The noise comes out lazily, full of sleepiness.  It’s obvious even through the phone.  Yuuta wonders if she’s hunched over her desk, ignoring the textbook and notes right in front of her.

“You’re pr’lly right,” She murmurs, her tiredness even more evident in her voice.  “I guess I’ll go to bed then” 

“Okay,” Yuuta drums the pen against his thigh in an erratic beat.  Something about saying goodnight makes him feel a little disappointed.  

Until now, he hadn’t realized that it had been weeks since he’d casually talked to a friend.  Toge texted plenty, and sometimes he heard from Panda and Maki, too.  But this felt… different.

“Well, goodnight-” 

“And Okkotsu?” She interrupts him without realizing, quickly apologizing before she continues her thought.  “You didn’t bore me, just for the record.  I think it’s neat that you get to be on such a special assignment.  I hope that it gets more exciting for you” 

He’s thankful that she didn’t opt to facetime him, because his face grows so warm he just knows he’s turned into a tomato.  And something about sitting in his lonely little hotel room and blushing over such a simple comment is downright embarrassing.

He laughs nervously, tugging at the collar of his shirt to relieve the heat on his neck.

“Uh, yeah, me too,” He stammered quietly.  “Thanks.  Good luck with studying” 

She hums.

“Goodnight, Okkotsu.  Thanks for keeping me company” 

The call ends there, and Yuuta smiles to himself as he sets his phone down and finds the energy to finish up his pointless report.

Talking with her had been nice.  Maybe they hadn’t become the closest of friends between him enrolling at Jujutsu Tech and being shipped off to Africa, but he thinks that could- and should- change.

He’d have to make more of an effort to get closer to her while he was away.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

When (y/n) calls again, it’s not so late this time.

Yuuta had just settled in the hotel lobby with his burrito for lunch, his only plan for the time being was to scroll aimlessly on his phone while he ate.  To his luck, just as he sat down on the stiff cushioned chair in the lobby, his phone rang.

“Okkotsu!” 

It had been a little over a week since their last call, and Yuuta had done his best to keep in touch with her since then.  A few photos of the wildlife native to the area that she seemed to enjoy, or a pretty sunrise here or there.  There were a lot of messages sent to her first thing in the morning, beautiful photos tagged with his complaints of being up so early.  It was the easiest time to use his phone, and he’d tried to make a habit of at least messaging her once a day.

To his delight, she always sent him a response.  It wasn’t always right away, with an eight hour time difference that was a steep ask, but she never failed to let him know that she saw his message and appreciated it somehow.  Whether it was an emoji reaction or a full text, she never left a text from him unanswered.  Strangely, Yuuta found this to be thoughtful of her.

“I’m cooking, can you believe it!?” She sounds excited, but the kind of excited that seems like something very wrong is about to happen.

“O-oh?” He stutters, chucking as he tucks his phone between his ear and shoulder so he could unwrap his burrito.  “What, are you not allowed, or something?” 

“Hush, I don’t let anyone tell me what to do,” She laughs at his comment, not realizing he wasn’t joking.  “I just haven’t cooked for myself properly since moving away from home.  The kitchen here is puny, though,” She mutters the last part.

The muffled sounds coming through the speaker sound as though she’s rummaging around the cabinets.  Yuuta tilts his phone away from his ear a little, the dishware clanking together more unpleasant than usual coming through a phone.

“But I thought it’d be nice to make a home cooked dinner.  I was going to make some for everyone, but I guess they already ate.  So it’s dinner for one tonight,” She explains.  Yuuta’s chest sinks with disappointment at the thought of missing quality time with his friends.  “Anyways, what’re you up to?” 

“Eating a burrito,” He replies dryly.  “What are you making? I’d much rather have that” 

“Don’t speak too soon, it’s been a while since I’ve been in a kitchen,” 

(y/n) laughs, and Yuuta does too.

“Just ramen,” She answers.  “Figured it’s best to start out simple.  Also figured I couldn’t set anything on fire” 

“Depends on how you look at it.  Setting something on fire while only cooking ramen might be an accomplishment, with how difficult it must be” 

He doesn’t mean to be funny, but (y/n’s) laughing again, and Yuuta smiles through a mouthful of burrito for saying something clever enough.  Pride swells in his chest the longer he hears her laughter turn to muted giggles while she’s pittering about the kitchen.

“You’re eating, should I let you go?” She asks once her laughter has calmed down.

“No, it’s alright,” Yuuta shakes his head even though he knows she can’t see.  “I’m bored anyways.  I was just going to sit here by myself and eat this burrito” 

She laughs again, lightly this time.

“Alright, then, want me to tell you about how hard Maki kicked my ass in training yesterday?” She offers.

He’d already had an inkling, recalling a harshly worded text from her followed by a photo of her left leg covered in blue and purple marks that were bound to grow dark soon.  He’d cringed when he’d seen it, giving the image a frowning emoji reaction before responding with, ‘Maki?’.  But he happily agrees to have her tell him the rest of the story behind the bruises.

He deems (y/n) and Maki to hold a far closer friendship than he did himself, so he knew that the next five minutes of ranting on her part is in good nature and she was only annoyed with losing, not necessarily with Maki herself.  That said, as someone who had dealt with the torture of training with her, Yuuta understood the feeling quite well.  He laughs when she talks about being thrown to the ground like a ragdoll, and he winces when she tells him about the absolute beatdown she’d taken.

It’s a gruesome retelling, even though at times she talks as if it was as casual a part of her day as brushing her teeth had been.  The life of a jujutsu sorcerer was always an unorthodox one.

“She didn’t even try to go easy on me, Okkotsu.  But, she did get me an ice cream sandwich with my ice pack, so she’s still my best friend, I guess” She’s only teasing, evident in the way she giggles.

“Yuuta” He says without thinking, having happened to swallow the last of his food and finally getting a chance to speak.

“Hm- what?” 

“You can just call me Yuuta” He clarifies, eyes darting around the lobby to be sure no one could see him blushing.  

His voice grows quieter as he suddenly feels bashful in the public setting.  None of the people passing in and out of the space pay him a second glance, and it doesn’t dawn on him that they might not even understand his language, but his body language says enough.  He’s tucked into the corner chair, hunched over and holding the phone as close to his face as possible so he wouldn’t have to raise his voice too much.  Not to mention, his face was turning a rosy shade of pink.

“Alright, Yuuta,” (y/n) muses, testing the waters to see how his name sounded.  It felt foreign, and it had the color in Yuuta’s face darkening even faster, but she seemed amused by the change.  “Ramen’s coming along pretty well, I think it’ll actually be edible!” 

She’s quick to move on from the semi-serious topic.  He’s relieved for this, and does his best to come across as casual as possible.  He asks her about the recipe, and she talks to him for a while about her process until the conversation somehow turns back on him and he’s updating her about Morocco.

Time passes so easily, Yuuta barely realizes that he’s been sitting in the lobby for an hour, not thinking about how she had finished her dinner and eaten it too.  (y/n) never mentions the time either, unknown to him, sitting on the counter in the common room’s kitchenette as she talks aimlessly about anything and everything she can think of.  Yuuta enjoys hearing about it all, the shenanigans that she’s been up to with Toge, the odd style of teaching that Gojo has, even just the simple things, like how yesterday it had rained.

There’s something magical about being on the phone with her, he realizes halfway into hearing about how she’d gone outside to help the worms back into the grass after the rainfall.  Not only does he lose time, but there’s not a dull moment.  Most of his days had become so bland and boring they’d started to blend together.  Besides the occasional sword training, he’d spent the majority of his time wandering about with Miguel.  It was starting to feel aimless, with every passing day that they came up empty handed.

Talking with her was everything but boring, never boring.  It finally felt like he had some company to get him through this assignment.  He hoped that this second call meant they could make more of a habit out of it.

“I should probably go so I can clean up the kitchen,” She sighs when she finally suggests getting off the phone.  It’s then, and only then, that Yuuta checks the time, quickly pulling his phone away to tap the screen before putting it up to his ear again.  “I think it’d be obnoxious for me to stay on the phone while I do the dishes” She adds with a chuckle.

His heart spikes at the idea of her wanting to keep talking, though.

“Y-yeah, that might be too loud,” He replies.  “But that’s okay, I should probably get some training in, or something, anyways” 

“Gotta keep up that Special Grade status,” (y/n) teases.  He’s grateful she can’t see him fluster every time she teases him, no matter how lighthearted it is.  He’s not sure why it sends him into a mini panic every time, but he hopes he gets a hang of himself soon, if they’re going to keep talking like this.  “Talk soon, though?” 

He’d really have to learn to get a hold of himself.  The short question has him beaming and nodding his head wildly, although the only people to see it are the hotel staff at the check-in desk who’d been peeking glances at the weird talkative boy on his phone for the last two hours.

Yuuta clears his throat before speaking, hoping to sound as normal as possible.

“Yeah, yeah we can talk again soon”

He’s not sure how well he does.

“Okay, cool,” The smile is evident in her tone, and in turn has Yuuta smiling too.  “Talk to you later then, Yuuta” 

Maybe he was just hopeless, but hearing his name again has him blushing and fidgeting in his seat.

“Bye, (y/n)” 

Even once the call has ended and his phone is sitting lifeless in his lap, with the rush of adrenaline Yuuta gets, one might think he’d just received the best news of his life.  Funnily enough, he hadn’t received much news at all- besides the fact that the worms on Jujutsu Tech Tokyo’s property were safe and accounted for after a life threatening sprinkle- so his giddiness was solely brought on by talking with her.

Slowly but surely, she was becoming his favorite person to talk to.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[y/n]: need ur help, it’s urgent [y/n]: ok woah i should not have said it like that

[yuuta]: ??? are you ok???

[y/n]: need u to help me win a bet

[yuuta]: ._. [yuuta]: ok.

[y/n]: vanilla oreos suck, right? 

[yuuta]: this was urgent? 

[y/n]: panda said they’re his favorite flavor.

[yuuta]: oh god. [yuuta]: he needs a wellness check for sure.

[y/n]: THANK YOU  [y/n]: toge said his fav were the birthday cake ones but the vanilla weren’t bad. he’s still got the taste of a toddler, but at least they’re not his FAVORITE i mean cmon.  vanilla is just bad. [y/n]: i knew you’d understand me.

[yuuta]: ur right this was urgent.  i thought i knew them. [yuuta]: what are your favorite?

[y/n]: obviously i told them original.

[yuuta]: … implying they’re not actually your favorite? 

[y/n]: you’re asking very personal questions, yuuta

[yuuta]: lmfao [yuuta]: i’ll tell u mine if u tell me urs :)

[y/n]: u first i’m shy :)

[yuuta]: original are good.  but i like the toffee ones best 

[y/n]: interesting.

[yuuta]: so am i getting judged for my oreo preference, too? 

[y/n]: lol no.  ur safe.  for now ;)

[yuuta]: well we had a deal.  what’s ur fav?

[y/n]: … i like the lemon ones

[yuuta]: :o [yuuta]: don’t those come with a VANILLA cookie???

[y/n]: … [y/n]: maybe.

[yuuta]: ur ridiculous

[y/n]: but the lemon flavor makes it different.  it’s not PLAIN vanilla.

[yuuta]: can’t argue with u there

[y/n]: ya bcuz u wouldn’t dare :)

[yuuta]: no i wouldn’t :) 

[y/n]: mwahaha i have the big scary special grade afraid of me :)

[yuuta]: idk about big.  and the scary is all rika

[y/n]: does she have a take on the great oreo flavor debate? &lt;3

[yuuta]: … [yuuta]: she always preferred animal crackers.

[y/n]: &lt;;/3

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

When Yuuta finally works up the courage to call her first, it’s been a couple weeks.

Which in hindsight, it feels like too much time has passed.  Even though they’ve been texting every single day nearly nonstop.  Yuuta had grown so attached to his phone it was almost becoming a problem.

Not that he’d admit it.

“Okkotsu Yuuta!” She picks up the phone with the same eagerness she’d held the last time she’d called him.  “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“I was bored, and was hoping you had something interesting going on,” He sighed, falling backwards on the perfectly made bed in his room.  Too perfect.  It was always annoying to tug the covers out of their tightly tucked corners to comfortably sleep at night.  “All I’ve been doing is train and I’m exhausted” He grumbles.

(y/n) hums through the speaker.

“Well if you’re that bored, I suppose I could tell you about a boy conflict of mine,” She suggests.

Just as Yuuta was starting to relax into the mattress, he felt his spine go stiff as a chill shot from his tailbone all the way up to his neck.  It feels like his entire body has been drenched in icy water, freezing him solid.

“It’s okay if that’s too… weird, though” He’s drawn back to reality by (y/n’s) nervous laugh, something he doesn’t hear all that often.  It’s strained and awkward, displaying every bit of anxious emotion that she felt.  

“It’s not weird,” Yuuta’s not usually very good at lying, people always have a way of seeing right through him.  He wonders if he’s only decent at telling this one because she’s not physically here.  She can’t see the way his face contorts as it tries to stay neutral, or how his fingers start to tap against the comforter beneath him.  “Boy conflict is… normal” He adds.

He’d meant that one, but she laughs anyway.

“I guess so,” She sighs through the speaker.  “But I’ve never really had any before.  Not like you get to meet a lot of people.  But… I guess I met someone..?”

Yuuta’s gut twists, and he wonders if he ate something bad with his lunch.  Maybe the chicken was undercooked? No, it seemed fine.  He probably just ate too fast.

“That feels less like conflict and more like interest” His jaw feels tight when he talks.  With his free hand, he rubs at it and tries to keep his teeth from clenching.

“Well, I am interested,” 

Distantly, Yuuta thinks he should swallow some tums before he goes to bed so this stomach ache won’t keep him up all night.

“At least, I think I am,” (y/n) sighs again.  “He’s not a sorcerer, I met him at a corner store I went to with Maki,” She explains.  “He was cute and all, I guess we had a moment over the energy drinks? It’s kind of a blur, I didn’t really pay attention until he was handing me his number and now I have this number and- I don’t know.  Is that weird?” 

Yuuta’s not really sure what to tell her.  He’s not really sure how he feels about it.  His gut tells him that yes, it is weird, and she shouldn’t be going out with some guy she met at a convenience store.  Anyone can walk into one of those, he thinks bitterly, his brow furrowed as he thought over her dilemma.

“Well, um, did he seem… nice?” 

The question comes out pathetic.  Yuuta’s smacking his hand over his face from how stupid he sounds, and feels.  

“Yeah, I guess” (y/n) answers anyways.

“Then I guess ball’s in your court?” The suggestion comes out more as a question than he means it to.  Yuuta thinks he wasn’t equipped for this, and maybe he should have told her it was a weird thing for them to talk about.

But he wouldn’t have meant that.  He would talk to her about anything, and he wanted her to feel the same.  He wanted her to talk about anything and everything she wanted.  Lord knows he’d take an interest in it. 

However the interest he has in this conversation isn’t quite like normal.  His curiosity is less genuine.  It feels like it’s lurching around in his mind, something disappointed yet irritable growing in it’s place.  He hates the feeling.  He hates feeling that way towards her.  Even if it wasn’t directed at her specifically.

“You’re right,” There’s more determination in her voice now.  “I should just text him, right?”

No, Yuuta’s jaw is clenched again, teeth grinding loudly.  He hopes she can’t hear it through the phone.  No, don’t let some stranger have your number.  He doesn’t deserve it like I do.

“Right!” His voice is louder than he means to, as if trying to overpower the jealous train of thought that runs through his mind.

He’s sitting upright on the bed in a second, still rigid and uncomfortable, but his anxiety makes him want to pace.  He needs to work off the awkward feeling in his chest somehow.

“Then I can see what he’s like,” (y/n) speaks as though she’s really telling herself what made the most sense.  Yuuta’s nodding wordlessly, his eyes fixated on a spot on the floor that’s growing more blurry by the second.  “And then if I like him… maybe we can go out or something” She mumbles the last part, clearly distracted.  

He wonders if she’s texting him now.  The idea of her reaching out to this random guy while she’s on the phone with him sends his heart plummeting to his already upset stomach.

Where were all of these nasty feelings coming from? 

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea” Yuuta’s speaking, but it feels distant, he’s not exactly sure of what he’s saying.

“Alright.  I’ll text him later, then,” 

He’s relieved that she wasn’t doing it this very moment, but there was still an unsettling pit in his stomach knowing she was bound to reach out at some point.

“Thanks, Yuuta.  So, what’s been going on with you?” 

It takes a while of chatting and pacing the room before Yuuta feels like himself again.  He’s lucky there wasn’t a circle burned in the shape of his track in the tightly coiled carpeting of his room, certainly he would’ve had to call Gojo for a favor if he was billed for such damage.

Eventually the nasty feeling in his chest settles and he’s sitting in the bed again, the notebook he was drafting up today’s report on propped on his legs and his phone at his side, (y/n’s) voice on speaker as she tells him about the rest of her and Maki’s outing in the shopping district.

As it always does, time goes by too quickly, and soon enough she’s yawning through the speaker and telling him it was getting too late for her.

“But thanks for calling, Yuuta.  I was starting to think you didn’t know phones worked both ways” She teases softly.

Had she been waiting for him to call? 

“Yeah, anytime.  I just… you know the time difference… I don’t ever want to bother you” 

“You? Bother me?” She giggles.  “After you let me talk your ear off about a boy, I don’t think that’s what’s happening here,” She tells him.

The nasty feeling swells again.

“Besides, you could never bother me,” She adds, her tone much softer.  Almost sweet.  Yuuta can’t tell if his stomach is convulsing or doing flips.  “But call again sometime, m’kay?” 

“Okay,” He says, hopeful, and just as eager as he felt.  “G’night, (y/n)” 

“Bye Yuuta, goodnight!” 

His phone lights up with the low battery icon once the call is over.  He’s slow to plug the charger into it and leave it on his nightstand for the evening, his mind still mulling over everything she’d told him.  Or more so, how he’d felt taking in all that information.

He couldn’t have possibly been jealous, right? Not over some random guy.  Not because of her.  They were friends, after all.  Friends that didn’t even get that close until after he left.  In his time at Jujutsu Tech he’d only spoken to her a handful of times, and mostly in passing.  It wouldn’t feel right to have something like jealousy spark up now.  No, he was probably just worried for her, seeing as he couldn’t look out for her when he’s thousands of miles away.  Yeah, that was it.

It couldn’t have anything to do with the way he felt his world light up when she laughed.  Or that getting a text message from her in the sound effect that he’d picked out just for her contact had serotonin spiking in his brain.  

None of those things were connected at all.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The fourth time they talk on the phone, unfortunately, he has to hear about this guy again.

Yuuta’s not even sure he knows his name.  He thinks (y/n) must’ve mentioned it once or twice in their texts, but it’s never quite stuck, and honestly, Yuuta doesn’t want to ask.

Not that he cares- it wasn’t like that at all.  It had simply been too long for it to feel appropriate to ask.  He didn’t want her to think he didn’t listen, is all.

He’d called one evening when yet again he felt like putting off writing up his report.  It had almost become a habit to reach out to her as soon as he was stalling, or bored.  He didn’t have much to talk about, he never really did, but he had been eager to tell her about some new cuisine he’d tried that he’d thought she might like. 

There was a pesky thought in the back of his mind about her visiting him for a few days.  Only pesky due to how often it presented itself, even when he should’ve been focused on more pressing matters.  He knew it was bad when Miguel had taken notice and smacked him upside the head to get him to pay attention- on this earth, preferably, he’d said.

But he couldn’t help it.  The idea of having her here, for a few days or a few weeks, had become his go-to daydream.  He already knew everything he’d want to show her, the busy, colorful markets and the good food Yuuta hadn’t known existed until coming here.  To how pretty the beaches were at sunset, especially when the little hermit crabs would wake up and wander around the shore, he thinks she’d like that a lot.

Even just the idea of having her around to hang out with and chat about anything and nothing, just like how they do through their phones, had his chest buzzing with warmth and excitement.  Even though it was all in his head and logic told him she probably couldn’t make such a trip.  She had her own assignments and lessons after all, and technically he was supposed to be working.

Nonetheless, when he found himself getting bored, his mind drifted off to pretending she was there with him to keep him company.  Sometimes it even did the trick.

Tonight when he calls her, he’s kicking around the idea of bringing it up.  Maybe if she took it well enough he could reach out to Gojo about it, surely he had the social standing and the funds to let her visit.  His heart is thrumming in his chest just thinking about it, every ring of the dial tone putting him further on the edge of his seat.

It rings a total of five times before she finally answers.  It’s not all that late in Tokyo, just half past nine, but suddenly Yuuta worries that this wasn’t a good time to call.

“Hey,” He’s the first to speak, grinning from ear to ear when the line finally clicks and she’s answered the call.  “Is this a bad time?” 

“Uh, n-no,” She stutters back, voice quiet and a little raspier than usual.  Had she been sleeping? She speaks before he can double check if it was an okay time to talk.  “I’m not doing anything.  What’s up?” 

Yuuta can’t quite put his finger on it, but it certainly sounds like it’s a bad time.  Her voice is lacking it’s usual mirth, and she sounds like she’s purposefully trying not to raise her voice.  His smile begins to fall as his brain starts to stir with worry.

“Nothing, really.  Just… wanted to talk, I guess,” It feels a little embarrassing to admit, but for once, she’s not teasing him.  It’s strange, not hearing her softly poke fun at him when he’d clearly given her an opening to do so.  “What’re you doing?” 

“It’s almost ten here, I’m in bed” 

The words almost come out cold, a bitterness to them that Yuuta wasn’t used to.  If it weren’t for the crack in her voice, he might’ve thought she was upset with him.  But there’s a noticeable little hitch in the middle of her words that tells him it’s not annoyance he’s picking up on.

“Hey,” His voice is quiet as he sits on his bed, brows furrowing as he feels the mood shift even in a room thousands of miles away from hers.  “Is something wrong?” 

“No” Comes her instant answer, but it’s not remotely believable.  Her voice is so quiet and muffled it barely comes through the speaker, and shortly after he hears a shuffling that sounds like a heap of blankets being tossed around.

“C’mon, wanna talk about it?” He pressed again, dragging his finger over the crisp comforter on the bed to create misshapen invisible designs.  “What happened, (y/n)?” He asks again, voice softer than before.

The tiniest of sniffles could be heard, and his heart sinks at the idea of her sitting alone in bed and crying.  Whatever caused it he was sure he could find a way to solve it.  It wasn’t often that Yuuta felt cocky with his Special Grade status, but in this moment he was sure he was the most powerful person in the world, and if something had bothered her this much, he’d certainly be able to take care of it.

“It’s- it’s stupid,” The high pitch in the cracking of her voice was more evident the louder she spoke.  He’s worried she was going to leave it at that, maybe tell him to leave her alone or hang up altogether.  Then he hears a wobbly inhale before she’s whimpering through her words again.  “I’m so stupid, Yuuta, what was I thinking?”

His heart cracks with every word she speaks.  He’s not sure what put her in such pain, but he swears, he’s experiencing it too just knowing she was hurting.  He places his free hand over his chest to ease the hollow feeling that carves itself there.

“What d’ya mean? You’re not stupid, not remotely.  C’mon, y’know that,” He tries to keep his voice light and gentle, even though the growing put in his stomach had his throat closing up.  “What happened? Talk to me” He pleads softly.

(y/n) sniffles, before trying to even out her breathing again so she didn’t sound so pathetic when she talked.

“I don’t even want to tell you, it’s so stupid,” She admits.  “B-but everyone else is busy, o-or gone and I- I don’t want to cry about it anymore,” 

Had she been crying for a while? His heart seizes at the thought.

“Promise you won’t laugh at me?” She mumbles.  Yuuta nodded his head rapidly in response.

“Yeah, yeah of course I promise.  I won’t laugh at you” He tells her with grave sincerity.

She sighs, breath still shaky, but she does her best to talk through it.

In a wobbly, quiet voice, she tells him everything.  About how she had plans to meet up with convenience-store-guy that Yuuta still hadn’t caught the name of.  How she’d taken plenty of time to plan out her outfit and put herself together, how in the meantime he’d been nothing short of flirtatious and sweet, leading her to believe he’d been eager to go out with her.  She tells him how an hour before they were set to meet up a block away from campus, she’d stopped hearing from him altogether.  She laughs humorlessly as she explains she’d sent nearly ten messages asking where he was or if he needed to reschedule before she’d dropped it completely and walked herself back home.

“No text, no call.  Absolutely n-nothing,” She mutters bitterly.  “But I don’t g-get it, did I do something wr-wrong?” 

“Of course not,” Yuuta sighed, trying to release the tension of his building irritation so he could keep his focus on comforting her.  “He’s just… he’s stupid, okay? I don’t know what his deal is, but you dodged a bullet, for sure.  If that’s how he acts before a first date, imagine how terrible he would’ve been by the twentieth” 

Surprisingly, he’s not terrible when it comes to consoling her.  (y/n) hums tiredly in agreement.  It doesn’t necessarily take the pain away, but there is some relief in knowing it never would have worked out.

“Yeah,” She breathes out.  “But… I was excited, you know?” She mumbles.  “I’ve never been on a real date before, at least I don’t think I have, but I think I’d know,” She explains.  “I just… I thought I’d feel normal for a night.  I- I thought he liked me.  I kinda liked him, too.  But mostly I…” She trails off, and they both remain silent for a few beats, each processing their own mess of thoughts.  “I liked the idea of being liked, I guess.  Is that selfish?”

“Of course not,” Yuuta chuckles warmly.  “Everyone wants that.  It’s completely normal,” He says.  “Besides, it’s not like you were imagining things.  He did have an interest.  Who wouldn’t?” 

The last part comes out before he can realize what he’s actually saying, and his face grows hot with the insinuation of his words.  He’s stammering to fix it, which doesn’t help him much, but he tries.

“W-what I mean is that there will be plenty of other people who will meet you and fall for you completely and y-you’ll be swarmed with phone numbers and people who like you!” 

He doesn’t mean to raise his voice, but his nerves are starting to take over as the word vomit continues.  (y/n’s) quiet as she listens intently, and the longer she doesn’t speak up to stop him, the worse his rambling becomes.

“You’ll have to fight ‘em all off, you know? There’s so many people out there who haven’t been lucky enough to meet you yet, and when they do you’ll get to experience everything you want.  You know what?”

There’s a soft ‘what?’ from her end before he continues on his rant.

“It’s a good thing your first date wasn’t with that prick anyways.  It wouldn’t have been fair.  It wouldn’t have been right at all if your first date was boring or shitty or- or anything short of special and electric, okay?” 

(y/n) still doesn’t say anything, but she’s hanging onto every word he says, even when they’re rushed and he’s stumbling over them, all of her focus is on what he’s saying.

“Because you deserve it.  And anyone who is remotely worth your time will know that.  And they’ll- they’ll text you too much before you finally go out, because they’ll be nervous because you make them nervous because you’ll be so out of their league, you know?” He doesn’t even pause before continuing.  “And they’ll pick you up on time if not early because they’ll respect your time, and they’ll have flowers- the prettiest, most expensive bouquet they could find- right? A bouquet even Gojo couldn’t afford,” 

She lets out a watery laugh that has Yuuta easing up in his rambling, a warm feeling planting in his chest in the hopes she’d smiled, even just a little bit, even if it was through her tears, he’d provoked just a little bit of joy from her.

“And… and if you’re anything short of completely swept away, then you’ll call Maki and she’ll come get you so you don’t have to spend another second wasting your time with a loser that doesn’t deserve you” 

His chest is heaving a bit when he finally stops, not realizing he was losing his breath the longer he rambled on.  His face feels hot as he processes everything he’d just dumped on her, and he prays that it wasn’t as pathetic as he’s worrying it was.

There’s a few small sniffles before (y/n) speaks up.

“Well, if you were back home, I’d just call you,” She says softly.  Her voice doesn’t sound as strained as before, and Yuuta hopes it means she’d stopped crying.  “You really think I’ll be able to find all that?” 

“Yeah, ‘course I do,” He mumbles back, although his words hold absolute certainty.  “Not a doubt in my mind” 

She giggles, a real little laugh that he can almost see.  It’s short and sweet and it has him elated that he’d lightened her mood.  He’s not sure what exactly he did, but he’s grateful that the word vomit was beneficial for once.

“Thank you, Yuuta,” She murmurs.  “You’re right, and, I actually feel a little better,” 

His heart soars, and he’s smiling to himself again with pride and relief.

“I’m still going to watch Pride and Prejudice before bed, though.  I’d already committed to it and I can’t just go to sleep now” She tells him seriously.  Yuuta laughs, falling back on his bed as comfortably as he could with his feet still planted on the ground.

“I’ve never seen it,” He tells her.  “But don’t stay up too-” 

“Never?” She interrupts with a gasp of shock.  “Yuuta, that’s criminal” 

He chuckles again.  “Is it really?” 

“Yes, very much so,” She tells him.  “When you’re back we have to watch it, okay?” 

“Yeah, sure-” 

“No, promise” She demanded for the second time that night.

“I promise,” He repeats, smiling to himself as his gaze wanders the ceiling.  

He couldn’t help but think that if she were to visit him, they could spend a whole afternoon here in this room watching her movie, probably eating snacks and making a mess of the place as they got cozy for it.  This room had always remained perfectly tidy, so much so it was almost boring.  Having her in it would surely brighten it up and give it some life, he thinks.

“We’ll watch it as soon as I’m back” He tells her.

“Okay.  Good.  You were on thin ice for a second, you know” She murmurs sleepily.  He can hear her yawning.

“Was I?” He muses.  “Is that what it takes to get you to hang up on me?” 

“Are you suggesting I wouldn’t?” She quips back, and he’s glad that her teasing nature has come around again.

“I’m suggesting you never have before” Yuuta shrugs.  His fingers are pressed firmly against the back of his phone, keeping it close to his ear so he couldn’t miss the way she laughed at him.

“Yeah, well, maybe you’re just good company,” She hums.  “But it is late and I want to watch this movie, so I guess there’s a first for everything” 

His face is warm and he feels full, like he’d just eaten a good meal, despite him having skipped lunch in order to call her.  Yuuta smiles lazily at the blank ceiling as he hums back to her.

“Alright, enjoy your movie,” He says.  “But, uh, you can call me again.  Y’know, if you… need to.  Or want to” 

There’s a pause before she responds.

“Okay,” It comes out in a hushed whisper.  “Have a good rest of your day, Yuuta” 

The time difference has his lips pinching into a frown, but he quickly tries to hold onto the last few seconds of joy he has while talking to her.

“Goodnight, (y/n)”

The call ends, and he drops his phone to the mattress, letting it sit forgotten beside his head.  He stays put in his semi-comfortable position, still staring at the ceiling as his hands fall to his sides.  His chest felt tight, and his mind a little dazed as he replayed the call over and over in his mind.  The hurt he’d felt when she was hurting, the relief he’d felt when she was happy.  It was overwhelming, the way his own emotions were thrown through the wringer depending on hers.

His heart was hammering in his chest so hard, Yuuta knew he couldn’t deny his feelings any longer.

He was falling for her.  Fast, and hard.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[yuuta]: [attachment]: one image [yuuta]: i think you’d like these little guys

[y/n]: :D a hermit crab!!! [y/n]: so cute! can’t believe ur holding it, i’d be scared of getting pinched

[yuuta]: i’m special grade, i’m not scared of anything :)

[y/n]: getting real comfy with throwing that title around, huh? you must think so low of me, a mere second grade.  i could never amount to the *mighty* okkotsu yuuta.

[yuuta]: lol shut up it’s just a crab

[y/n]: he is super cute.  his name is yuu now :)

[yuuta]: bcuz u miss me so much? :)

[y/n]: bcuz he’s small and feisty.  that little claw looks ready to attack :>

[yuuta]: ok i’ll admit he did pinch me once. [yuuta]: but in his defense i did pick him up and i am a big scary human

[y/n]: lmfao [y/n]: i thought we just established ur small and feisty

[yuuta]: i don’t think i like being called small 

[y/n]: tiny  [y/n]: smol [y/n]: just a baby

[yuuta]: are we still talking abt the crab?? 

[y/n]: and maybe a little cute [y/n]: if we’re still talking about similarities :) 

[yuuta]: cute???????

[y/n]: when u first came to jujutsu tech u were kinda like a hermit crab LMFAO [y/n]: i think if u had a shell u would’ve lived in it for WEEKS XD

[yuuta]: ._.

[y/n]: :)

[yuuta]: ur being a menace today [yuuta]: more than usual

[y/n]: it’s bcuz gojo’s lesson plan so far has been fighting the air :/ idk how he’s a teacher.  i’m definitely not learning anything [y/n]: except that i might be able to take him in a fight without cursed energy

[yuuta]: my money is on u :)  [yuuta]: but also i’ll be there with ice cream when u get ur ass kicked 

[y/n]: &lt;;/3[y/n]: that’s my broken heart[y/n]: you’ve broken my heart.

[yuuta]: lol [yuuta]: but there will be ice cream [yuuta]: <3

[y/n]: …  [y/n]: ok i might forgive u

[yuuta]: is it bcuz i’m cute  [yuuta]: :)) [yuuta]: ?? (y/n) ?? [yuuta]: :(( [yuuta]: don’t ghost me ik ur not paying attention in class

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The tenth phone call they have, (y/n’s) the one calling him.

It’s one in the morning his time, so he’s sound asleep on the mattress that still feels stiff after about three months of him sleeping on it.  Every day he longs more and more to go back home to his cozy room and his friends and her.  

When his ringtone blares, a pretty tune that’s suddenly the most obnoxious sound on the planet, he’s awake right away.  Jolting from his slumber and reaching around blindly in search of the device.  He nearly shoves everything on his bedside table right off, his arm swinging with too much force in his desperate attempt to pick up the phone.

Even once it’s in his hand, it takes him a second to steadily press the accept button, his vision blurry and sleep still threatening to take back over.  It takes him a few tries before he’s answering the call and laying the phone on his pillow next to his head.

“Hello?” He rasps out.

“Yuuta!” (y/n’s) all too cheery for one in the morning, but he distantly remembers it’s the early evening in Tokyo.  His eyes squeeze shut as he rubs at them tiredly.  “Yuuta! How could you not tell me the good news!?” 

She’s yelling, and even without his phone on speaker he hears her perfectly fine just having the device laying next to his head.  It’s a shock to his ears, his mind buzzing as it tries to wake him up to deal with the noise.  But he snuggles deeper into his pillow, rolling onto his side to press his face into the feathery plushness.

“-was gonna wait,” He mumbles sleepily.  “Y’know, ‘til I was awake, ‘nd it was a normal time” His words are followed by a low chuckle.  The pillow suddenly becomes the comfiest thing he’s ever touched, and even the stiff mattress becomes a little more inviting.

“Wait?” She repeats the word before gasping dramatically.  “Okkotsu Yuuta, I had to hear you were coming back from Toge!” 

He chuckles again at her antics.  He’s still exhausted, but his chest feels warm hearing the excitement in her voice.

“Do you know how long it took him to tell me? Hm? He did charades, Yuuta.  Charades!” The image has him laughing a little more, shoulders shaking just a little bit as he listens to her go on.  “I’m terrible at charades by the way.  The whole thing took, like, fifteen minutes.  I was pissed he couldn’t just write it down” 

“Toge’s jus’ like that” He mumbles.

“But you told him before me?” 

Yuuta’s not sure if the offense in her tone is fake or not.  To play it safe, he covers his tracks.

“No,” He sighs.  “Gojo pr’lly told him.  He only just told me before I went to bed” 

“And you didn’t even text,” (y/n) huffs, but he can hear the laugh she’s trying to hold back.  He smiles in relief knowing she was just sticking to her bit.  “Well you better actually text me as soon as you’re back!” She says threateningly.  “We have plans.  You promised” 

“How could I forget?” He hums, voice low and growing quieter as his body beckons him to fall back to sleep.

“Okay.  Good,” She says definitively.  “I guess I’ll let you go back to sleep.  Sorry for waking you up” 

He hums in amusement.

“Don’t be sorry for being so excited to see me you couldn’t contain it,” He teases quietly.  (y/n’s) silent on the other end of the line.  “And don’t be embarrassed, either” He adds.

“I’m not embarrassed!” She squeaks, making him chuckle some more.  Maybe he was just deprived of his sleep, but she was extra cute when he was the one doing the teasing.  “But I… I am excited to see you” 

He smiles into his pillow, sighing contentedly into it.

“I know sweetheart,” He mumbles.  “And ‘m excited to see you too” 

She’s failing to stifle a giggle through the speaker.

“Okay okay, you’re clearly wiped.  I’ll let you go,” She says.  “Goodnight, Yuuta” 

“Night, (y/n)” 

He’s asleep before she even ends the call, drawn back into rest by the suddenly comfortable bedding and the sweet echo of her laughter playing in his mind.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

(y/n) had been adamant about having their movie night the same night he gets back to Tokyo.  With the jet lag and the time difference keeping him awake against his wishes, she was sure that having a relaxed evening inside would be the best way to ease him back into being at home.

Yuuta, on the other hand, tried to make it clear that they didn’t have to rush into it.  His flight would land at eleven in the evening, and he was sure he wouldn’t even be back to campus before midnight.  While it might have felt like early afternoon to him, (y/n) would have already had a full day of lessons and training, and likely be exhausted by that time.

However she was stubborn.  It didn’t matter how much he tried to persuade her otherwise, she remained certain that she would stay awake long enough to greet him and have a simple, fun night set up for them.

And who was he to fight too hard against it anyways? The idea of her going through the trouble and wanting to stay up so late just to see him gave him energy for the whole day.  He was smiling through customs, bouncing his leg waiting to board, texting her as much as possible before he’d have to put his phone on airplane mode, and greeting every employee and flight attendant with so much delight it was infectious.  He’d even gotten an extra package of goldfish for his delightful friendliness.

He’s as quick as can be picking up his checked luggage and rushing out of the airport.  Anyone who saw might have thought he was late, but in actuality he was trying to be as early as possible.  He’d practically crashed into Ijichi, almost racing past him, but just as quickly recognition flashed in his eyes and he gave the manager a bone crushing hug, forgetting his strength.

The man was alarmed by the affection, awkwardly patting the boy’s back before stepping out of the embrace and nervously laughing.  He leads Yuuta out of the building and towards the sleek black car that’s waiting to take him home.  Yuuta’s positively buzzing the whole ride.  It’s obvious that Ijichi is tired, it’s almost the middle of the night after all, but he does find some amusement in Yuuta’s pure and unfiltered excitement.

However when the boy shouts for a pit stop at a local twenty-four hour grocery shop, the man almost drives the car right off the road, slamming on the brakes and pulling over roughly enough to wake him up completely.  If Yuuta notices the harsh driving maneuvers, he doesn’t say anything.  Simply grabbing his wallet and rushing inside the building.  Ijichi swears all these kids pumped full of muscles and adrenaline would be the death of him.

Yuuta comes back with a full paper bag and a grin, thanking the manager as they continue the drive home without a hitch.

He shouldn’t have the energy he does when they arrive, but Ijichi watches in shock as Yuuta easily carries all of his bags and the delicate groceries and breaks into a full sprint for the dorms, hollering one last thank you as he does.

He’s unceremonious as he drops his things in his room.  There is a certain comfort in being back in a space he can contently call his own, but the welcome home nap he was so eager to take in his own bed could wait.  He leaves his things and is swept away by his own two feet as he hurries down the hall.

There’s the faintest of light peeking out under only one door, all the others tightly shut and seemingly dark inside.  It was past midnight, and there were lessons first thing tomorrow morning.  He’s hesitant for only a second as he reaches the door, but adrenaline takes over again and he’s knocking as quietly as he can.

He can barely hear someone inside, although he doesn’t make out any real words.  Just to be safe, he knocks again.

“H’llo?” A tired voice calls back a little louder this time.

Yuuta’s hand is shaking when he reaches for the latch and slides the door open, just barely peeking inside.

He’d seen (y/n’s) room maybe once in passing, but he hadn’t taken a real glance, and definitely never stepped inside.  Now, he takes it all in with his face lit up in pure astonishment.

It’s decorated with string lights, soft and twinkling slowly here and there.  Just enough to give some ambience without it being overpowering.  Her small television is flickering with the title screen of her adored movie.  She’s curled up in a heap of blankets on the bed, and for a few seconds he thinks she’s asleep.  But her head tiredly lifts to see who her visitor was, and like a switch, she’s full of energy.

“Yuuta!” 

His name falls from her lips in soft awe, and she’s throwing her blankets back and sitting upright, shifting to get out of bed.  Yuuta’s beaming back at her, stepping into the room and turning to slide the door shut behind him.  The others would be quite annoyed if they were to be woken up at this hour.

She’s stumbling a bit towards him, her arms outstretched and her face in a lazy grin.  It takes no time at all for her to cross the room and throw her arms around him to hug him tightly.  Yuuta’s careful to hold his bag of goodies to the side so they don’t get crushed when he reciprocates the tight hug.

He hadn’t hugged her before he left for Africa.  He hadn’t hugged anyone, actually.  Just waved as he bid them goodbye.  Hugging her now feels like something he’d waited for for ages, and finally getting to hold her against him has his heart soaring.

“You’re finally home,” She’s smiling into his chest, and pulls away only so she can grin up at him, properly taking in his pretty eyes and longer hair.  She’s just about to comment on the change in style before she notices the bag in his hand, and focuses on it instead.  “Did you bring gifts?” She asks with a playful smirk.

“Uh- yeah, I mean, sorta,” He stammers, his face getting warmer than he would’ve liked as he opens the bag and glances inside, suddenly apprehensive about handing them to her.  “It’s not from Africa, but they are necessities,” He tells her.

(y/n) raises a brow curiously, before prompting him to show her what he brought.

Yuuta’s sheepish as he reaches in the bag and produces a family size package of lemon flavored oreos.  It seemed like a great idea when he’d picked them up, but now he feels anxiety twisting in stomach as he presents them to her.

“Lemon oreos!” (y/n’s) nothing short of delighted as she takes the package from his hands, already peeling back the plastic to snatch one and take a bite right away.  She hums as she finishes the cookie, her eyes twinkling with happiness as she seals the package again.  “You remembered, thank you.  We’ll definitely finish those tonight” She says with a laugh.

“Don’t worry, I brought my own snack, they’re all yours” He says softly.  She brightens even further at the prospect.

“You really know the way to a woman’s heart, Okkotsu” She teases.  

After months of getting teased over the phone, he finally gets to witness it first hand.  Her cheeks are pink and her eyes shift between his and other spots around the room bashfully.  He wonders if she was always so shy when she’d teased him before.

His smile softens as he reaches into the bag again, carefully holding the other gift as he pulls it from the bag.  (y/n’s) eyes widen and her lips part as she takes in the sight of the beautiful arrangement of flowers he was holding.  It was simple, a pretty bouquet of lilies, lily of the valley, to be specific, she recognized them as the same white flowers scattered around the courtyard.  Her eyes were locked on the bouquet as Yuuta picked around it a bit, making sure every flower was perfect and presentable.

“It’s not, uh, the most expensive bouquet in the world,” He mumbles anxiously once he deems the flowers pretty enough to hand to her.

She looks up at him as though silently asking if they were really for her, her surprise evident in the way she stared at him in soft surprise before she finally took the flowers.  Her movements are slow and so, so careful, not wanting to bend a single stem out of place.

“But, still, um,” With his hands free Yuuta begins to fiddle, scratching at the nape of his neck as he struggles to meet her gaze.  “Y’know, I just wanted to… give you flowers” 

A smile breaks out across her face as she leans close to them to take in a whiff, soothed by the gentle, clean scent that fills her nose.

“I love them,” She murmurs, still staring in awe at the pretty arrangement.  “Can I take a picture?” She asks, and he nods wordlessly.  He finally takes in a breath of air when she turns around to grab her phone from the bed, not having realized he’d been holding it since handing her the intimate gift.

What he doesn’t realize is she’s bounding back over to him with her phone in hand, the camera flipped around so she can take a selfie of her flowers with him very much in it.

“C’mon, smile!” She giggles as she turns her phone sideways, eyeing the image of him with his blushing face and wide eyes, obviously caught off guard.

She snaps the photo when he throws up a peace sign and gives the most relaxed smile he can, his eyes closed and his cheeks undeniably pink.  (y/n) admires it before tucking her phone back into her pocket and clutching the flowers close to her chest lovingly.

“Thank you so much,” She gives them one last affectionate glance before tucking them carefully into a jar on her desk- after she dumped all the pens in it onto her workspace without a second thought.  Yuuta almost laughed at how quickly she made the mess and left it in order for the bouquet to have a safe home.  Once she’s sure they’re safe and sound, she turns back to him again.

It’s funny how out of place he looks standing in her doorway.  Long legs and broad shoulders taking up more space in her room than she would’ve thought.  She’d almost forgotten how large Yuuta was.  Somehow, it made it funnier that he looked so lost.  Like he didn’t want to take a step, and didn’t know what to do with his hands.  She could tell he was trying his best to come across as comfortable as he could, but she could see the wince behind his smile, and his slowly shifting feet.  

He looks out of place now, but she likes having him here.  She likes that he smells like sandalwood, and something sweet like vanilla.  She likes that he’s still holding the paper bag that he’d brought her gift in, not wanting to drop it somewhere in her room like a piece of litter.  She likes that when their eyes meet he smiles, and crinkles form on his eyes that compliment his blushing face.

She likes everything about Yuuta, but right now, she likes that he was the first boy to ever bring her flowers most of all.

So despite her racing heart, she decides to tell him so.

“I’m glad you were the first guy to ever give me flowers” 

Yuuta’s smile drops slightly as his face softens with surprise, eyebrows raising higher when she steps even closer to him.

He’s holding his breath again when she leans onto the tips of her toes and pressing a quick kiss to his warm cheek.  The feeling of her lips brushing over his skin only makes it heat up more, and against his will he lets out a little gasp for air.  (y/n) giggles when she stands flat on her feet again, her nose slightly wrinkled at her amusement at how easily Yuuta flusters.

She’s starting to think to herself that she should test just how much she can fluster him while he’s here, when he’s suddenly the one taking her breath away.

He steps forward to close the distance between them again, dropping the paper bag so he can slide his hands under her jaw, tilting it upwards so he can lean down and kiss her with ease.  A gasp dies in the back of her throat just as his lips touch hers, the hesitation from her surprise only momentary.  

For a soft kiss, Yuuta radiates so much passion her knees feel weak, and her hands are firm as they press into his shoulders, desperate to keep herself upright.  Even his hands are gentle, their touch warm and featherlight against her face.

She longs to press impossibly closer and explore his every last dip and crevice, but for right now, everything is perfect.  His gentleness, his sweetness, him, she couldn’t have hoped for a more lovely first kiss.

Just as the kiss was, he pulls away slowly, forehead still touching hers.  A short sigh escapes him before his lips turn into a smile.  (y/n) watches as his mouth stretches and curls, her own face mirroring the expression, before her eyes flicker up to his to see he’s staring down at her.

“Sorry, I-” He shakes his head, trying to find just the right words to tell her how long he’d been thinking about doing that.  His mind is too foggy so he runs his mouth with abandon.  “I’ve just really wanted to do that” He murmurs.

(y/n) giggles, her face blooming with color at the blatant confession.  It had her heart going haywire even more after the kiss, and any hopes of being the one to fluster him goes out the window.  She’s putty in his hands and he must know it.

“Don’t be sorry,” She whispers back, shyly averting her gaze, not that it does her any favors, he’s still cradling her face and keeping her so close that it felt there was no shying away from him.  “I… I was hoping to talk to you, um, when you got back,” She says, the grin on her face betraying her as she tried to casually mention her feelings for him.  “About, y’know, hanging out more, ‘n stuff” 

Yuuta chuckles at her bashful nonchalance, nodding his head back at her with an excited gleam in his eyes.

“I’d like to hang out more and stuff,” He hums, dropping his hands from her face and nodding to where she’d set up the movie hours earlier.  “Should we start with watching your movie?” 

Excitement flashes in her eyes as she nods her head back at him, before taking his hand and tugging him over to the comfort of her bed.

“Settle in, your mind is about to be blown by literary perfection and cinematic masterpiece.  This is their love child” 

He chuckles, falling into the mattress with her and getting settled against the mountain of pillows at her headboard while she searches her blankets for the remote.  His chest is still vibrating with adrenaline, but as he sinks into a comfortable bed for the first time in months, he finds himself relaxing.

Despite his body feeling like it was the late afternoon, he feels as though he could go right to sleep.

It helps when (y/n) passes out first.  Her body slumps against his and she snores softly against his chest.  It’s such an amusing sight he can’t help but take a photo for her to wake up to in her messages.  He pauses the movie so that they can pick it up from where they left off tomorrow, and then settles deeper into the cozy bed.

The comfort he felt with every text received from her, every phone call to keep him company in the last few months of being away and being alone, it seems almost personified now.  Resting here beside her, simply sharing the same space, Yuuta feels the same wave of relief now.  He can’t help but smile to himself as he settles under the covers, being careful to not disturb her peaceful slumber.

He’s asleep in a matter of minutes.  The warmth of her body so close and the plush mattress working together to put his mind at such ease he didn’t even notice he was tired until he was closing his eyes and drifting off.

It was good to be home.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ fuck it, i love you // fuck it, i love you // fuck it, i love you // i really do ]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

xoxo ~ jordie

a/n: gojo pays the international phone bills obviously so don't be commenting on it

[hyunjilicious]

most to least kinky [skz ver.]

A/n: this has probably been done a million times before but I thought I could make my own list, right?

Warnings: this isn't full on smut, but A LOT of things are mentioned (from slapping to ass eating to crying to cnc) I can't possibly mention them all. Needless to say, this is strictly 18+, please proceed with caution!!!!

Disclaimer: I'm sorry. I'm incredibly sorry, ok? I don't understand Seungmin 😭😭 I absolutely love him with all my heart, but he's a mystery to me. I've also only been in this fandom for a few months so maybe with time I'll be able to write for him but until then, I'll just keep apologising to my Minnie biased readers for doing their baby dirty. I'm sorry, I promise I'm trying!! 🥺

Please let me know what you thought and if you have other ideas!! I'd love to hear different opinions!!!

1. Lee Know 

Do I even have to explain? At this point, you could basically write an entire encyclopedia only using the stuff this man is into - he knows it all and wants to try it all. The thing is, whether he trusts you enough or not, because if he's too shy to bring up the one thing that's on his mind, he'll bombard you with hints, hoping he'd "manipulate" you into mentioning it first. Not that he'd ever do anything you're not 100% comfortable with, but he'd much rather you be the one who asks. He'd slap your ass, bite it, mark it, grope it, eat your pussy from behind and send you porn links - all while hoping you'd finally get the idea and ask him to eat your ass. Because he's shy like that. But once you do catch on and tell him about it, he's all in. 

And then, as he grows more comfortable around you, all these little games you two play will slowly start to shift. His main priority will always be you, but with time, his teasing nature will replace the old Minho you used to have sex with, and literally everything this man does will be about driving you insane. 

He'd make you beg, whine, crawl on your knees, hump pillows - hump his leg, just so you can prove yourself, only to deny you again, always with a grin on his face. A loving smile as he looks at you, right before he throws a very swift "No" in your face and makes you start over. You have to be spent, exhausted, dumb and drunk on him before he finally gives you what you want. But when he finally does, it's everything you ever wanted and more because he doesn't.hold.back.

2. Jeongin

To be fair, it might be because he had to go through the "Watch your mouth, there's a child in our grup!" phase, which - cute and all, got old very fast. Maybe this side of him would have never surfaced like this, but you can't possibly know, there's only one Jeongin and he's a meanie. He's stern, he's serious and there's only one way, his. 

He takes the safe word very seriously because otherwise, he doesn't take no for an answer. There's no "too much", "too hard", "too fast". He doesn't care. He knows you can take it and you have to. 

You don't move, he moves you. If you don't shut up when he tells you to, it's 'ass up, face down into the pillow' - no questions, no warnings. 

It all starts nicely, though. His good little girl, his angel, who needs to do absolutely everything she's told otherwise his punishments will be downright cruel and you'll be nothing more than a "dumb, fucking whore" until he's done with you. 

One thing that makes him draw the line though, is crying. He loves to see little tears at the corner of your eyes as he fucks you into oblivion, just so he can mock you for it, "Oh, is my sweet, little baby crying?" and then go faster. But if you let out anything more than a cute, little sob, or if you start actually crying, even though you're still down to keep going, he won't. He can't. He's cruel, but not that cruel, it hurts his heart to see you like that and absolutely never lets things get that far.

3. Felix

This man is into… everything. His eyes light up every single time there's something new for you two to try, and he puts his whole soul into it. 

On one hand, he's into the basics - he goes crazy for your tits, will lick, bite, suck and eat anything off of them (absolutely adores eating cream off your body, but yeah, your tits are his favorite spot). He loves lingerie, loves ripping it off of you, loves seeing you dress up, pretend to be a nurse, a teacher or the girl next-door who just so happened to leave the window open. 

Doesn't have a daddy kink but he's just so obsessed with doing absolutely anything for you, he'd go with it. Most likely prefers 'Sir' but it isn't a must. Will melt and cry if you allow him to fall you 'Mommy'

The definition of a switch. When he's a dom, 90% of the time he's soft, full of praises and encouragements, loves making you feel all safe and loved as you degrade yourself for him. He'll whisper in your ear the absolute sweetest, most loving words you ever heard in your entire life, all while completely breaking you in half with his cock. But also, there are times when there's just one way for him to relax and let loose, and during those days, he's lazy and he's condescending, judgy and a little bit mean, and these are the absolute worst moments for you to be brat. 

But all of these are only half of him, because this man is probably the most dedicated and enthusiastic sub in the world. He'll do absolutely everything he's told and then beg for more. Way too eager to humiliate himself for you. Also very, very vocal, he'll cry, whine and beg and will also never fail to let you know just how obsessed he is with worshiping the ground you walk on. 

4. Chan

Also a switch, but it takes months, if not more, for you guys to get there. He's a leader by nature, used to having a lot of responsibilities and a lot of control over the things around him. He likes to be in charge, knows how to do it, and loves the responses he gets. Probably one of the best doms out there because even though you have a safe word, he's so fucking careful with you at all times that he knows to slow down before you even have to think about using it. It only happened once, and your voice still rings in his head - he still hasn't forgiven himself for it. 

But since he's so observant and trusts you to put a stop to whatever is going on in case you need to, he feels free to go crazy. Unlike Jeongin, he likes to hear you cry, likes knowing he has that power over you and the fact you know how easy it is for him to absolutely wreck and ruin you, but still allow him to go crazy, drives him wild. Trust is probably what gets him off the most, he absolutely adores how you give up control and leave yourself at his mercy. 

But then again, as your relationship strengthens and he slowly realizes that maybe he doesn't always have to be the one to do it all, that others can take care of him too, that he can actually let loose and renounce all control, you start to see another side of him. 

He's an exemplary sub, not one brat bone in his body. He tries sometimes to test you, but he goes back to being doe eyed and whiny for you in no time. He's not as vocal and not as eager to let all his enthusiasm show, but just like Felix, he'll do absolutely anything you tell him, and then thank you for allowing him to do it. 

5. Han

Another switch. He can be a dom and he can be a sub, but I think there are two other sides of him. This man will go back and forth between being the absolute, most cocky motherf on the planet, to being absolutely wiped and wrapped around your finger. And while these for aspects of him can pair up in any way, leaving you with a teasing dom, a loving and soft one, or a bratty sub that will try to make you prove to him just how badly you need him to worship you and so on, I think he's not always like this.

You can't really tell whether there's a pattern, but maybe if you spent more time together you'd be able to spot one. Maybe it depends on how his day went, how tired he is, how his social batteries are like at the moment, but I think there are many, many days when this man just needs to feel you, to smell you, hear you. To collapse into the sheets with you, forget about the world and melt in your arms. Yeah, he's down to try a lot of stuff, but what he loves the most are the simple things. Like missionary late at night, with the lights on so he can see every glimmer of anything in your eyes, to wipe the sweat off your temples and to be able to smother you with kisses. Impromptu sex in the morning, lazy sex in the shower, cuddling that turns into you riding him on the couch while watching a movie. That's what I think he's into the most.

6. Changbin

Thank god this man is not the kinkiest because he'd probably break you in half and no amount of aftercare would be able to fix that. This man goes hard. No matter if you're the one that woke him up, all needy and clingy, or if he came home riled and ready to go, he's already ready to give you his all. That dumptruck isn't there for nothing, he doesn't even have to try that hard to make you scream. 

But it's not just physical, he goes all out in all ways. He doesn't just want you on your back, legs spread open so he can eat you out, no, you have to be on his face, full weight down on top of him, and you have to ride. Other than that, you don't really have to do much, because he's a sucker for handling you. He'll hold up your weight when he fucks you against the dresser and he doesn't mind being the one who gets rid of all the clothes in the way when he randomly decides he wants to fuck you bent over the kitchen table. 

So I don't think he needs much more than you two already have. Of course, he's usually fine with trying things you're into, and yeah, he likes them, but that's just more like 'fun' to him. He's not the kind to call you degrading names or spank you until you cry, through he might enjoy a little bit too much seeing his hand print on your ass or the bruises he left on your hips just from hard he was holding onto you while fucking you into oblivion.

Out of all the things you'd get him to try, I think one of his favorites would be wax play. He'll probably ask you to do it again, maybe like 3 months later. Also, one other thing that gets him going and that he still might be shy about it, is just how hard his cock twitched when you called him daddy. Oops. I don't like it, please do it again.

7. Seungmin 

Ok, again, disclaimer with this one. I wanna start by apologizing to Minnie and to all the Minnie biased readers that are here with us today, but I can't read this man. At all. And that's the reason I put him so low on the list because while I do have some ideas, associating him with certain kinks and stuff felt completely empty to me. Like I have no idea what he'd like? But in case you've read this far, lemme tell you what I did manage to come up with and please let me know how you see it!!

I think trust, communication and fun are the most important to him. I feel like he'd have so much fun guiding you and giving you instructions on how to do different things, from how to suck him off just the way he needs it, to how to use a toy on yourself. And I think it goes both ways, he'd love to have you tell exactly how and what to do at all times.

I also think he can be stern and commanding, serious and totally focused, but he also probably adores being a giggling mess, unable to control himself as you give him your all, worship him and make him feel absolutely cherished. I'm sorry, but I feel like this man thrives on love and appreciation. Other than that, my brain is empty, please help me!!

8. Hyunjin

Ok, maaaaybe I shouldn't have put him last. But fuck it. Sue me. I don't think he's kinky at all. I think that again, he'd be the type to try out most of the things you come up with, but I don't think he associates them with sex like that. I think it's just some form of fun you two have, I don't think there are too many crazy things that necessarily get him going. 

He's a romantic, ok? His main goal is pleasure. He's the kind to absolutely not give a shit about anything, all that he needs is you. If he has you and a surface (not even mandatory) he's satisfied. He'll do absolutely anything, worship every single inch of your body. The kind to kiss his way up your leg before eating you out, to kiss you before you even finished swallowing his cum. Nothing to him is gross, to him, bodies are beautiful and made to be worshiped. He'd paint your body, lay back and allow you to do absolutely anything you want to him, he's just full of want and passion. 

I don't think he'd ever be the kind of person to associate pain or humiliation with pleasure. Like he knows they're valid kinks and will not shame anyone about it, but with him, you have to feel like the most beautiful woman in the world, loved, cradled and appreciated in absolutely every way. 

Absolutely the type to eat your ass and then be like "What? People don't do that?". Doesn't think spitting in each other's mouths is degrading because, "We literally kiss all the time, what?" 

Will ask you to slap him just to see what it's like but will probably malfunction if you ask him to do it to you. 

I think he'd be down for a lot of stuff, but doesn't see any of them as kinks. Doesn't need any of them. They don't get him hard. It's all just for fun. 

Please let me know what you thought!! I'd love to talk about this!!! ❤️

[ghostsy]

Smile For the Camera

WARNINGS: yandere, implied kidnapping, implied imprisonment, abuse of power, slight codependency, non-consensual implications, implied nsfw, implied forced pregnancy, lot of implications lol

A/N: been sitting in the drafts for a while, figured i should get smth out, hopefully it's alright ^^

read at your own discretion.

yandere ! BAKUGOU KATSUKI X READER

“Her eyes are up there, creep.”

She had to resist the urge to sigh, lip twisting in slight pity, watching the boy stammer out an apology as he fumbled with the mic at her chest. She scoffed internally. Was he supposed to put it on blindfolded? She turned to her lover, giving him a gentle, reassuring smile.

It’s okay. I’m okay.

Crimson irises met her own, hesitating a bit as his jaw tightened reflexively. He smacked his tongue against his teeth, rolling his eyes, and turned to the host who was shuffling through her cue cards. Memorizing her lines, it seemed.

“I don’t want any of that surprise shit, alright?” His voice was laced with the sort of irritation that would normally send her on full alert. They were in public right now, though, and callous, gruff reputation aside, he was no idiot, “We’ll walk out; I’m not fuckin’ kidding, we’ve done it before.”

The host laughed out his name–his hero name–nervously, “Of course not, sir. All of our questions were sent to your assistant for prior approval,” As she caught his unimpressed stare, she stumbled out another placation, “But, I mean–Of course, if you–you’re more than welcome to look over them again, sir.”

“Fuckin’ stop it with that–‘sir’--makes me feel old as shit.” Did it? That was news to her. He certainly liked it when it came from her lips. Her mind wandered to its most recent recollection. When she was forced to her knees, his hand at the back of her neck, pooling the tears from her eyes at the dip where her cheek met the pillow–she couldn’t remember what she’d done wrong that time. 

Where he’d brought his lips to her ear,  C’mon, voice rough and deep, Ask me nicely, now, And, raising his voice a few octaves to mock her, Please, sir. He huffed out an ugly laugh, Please give me your cock, sir. God, she hadn’t been able to walk straight for days, legs and dignity sore and bruised from the abuse–only one of which ever really seemed to recover.

“Of course, si–Of course. We’re on in–We’ll be ready in five, if that’s alright?” He gave the woman a curt nod, and she’d shuffled off to the stage to prepare, calling the intern tending to her to follow, a direction the boy took with palpable relief, eyes brushing her own apologetically before he hurried off.

“Hey,” The blonde’s attention was turned back to her, and he stalked forward, “Last one, alright?” He brought his hand to her cheek in comfort, though all she could think of was the ease at which he could snap her neck between his fingers without so much as blinking.

She shook herself from her thoughts, humming, and brought her hand to cup his own, leaning into his touch. “It’s alright,” At least I’m outside, she wanted to say, “Long as I’m with you, I’m alright.”

His eyes softened at her answer, and he opened his mouth to reply when the lights dimmed, catching his attention. His hand dropped to catch her own, lacing their fingers together, tightening with tension. She had to resist the urge to wince. Though entirely different in circumstance, she felt slight vindication for his fear, no matter how fleeting. She’d take what little wins she could get. 

She was pulled back to reality by the tug of his hand, and let him lead her to the couch across from the host. Fuck. Looking out at the crowd, she remembered how much she really did hate these things. Hundreds of smiling faces, millions more behind the camera, all glinting with pity–for all the wrong reasons–and cooing at the sickeningly sweet story spun for the masses to cling to with glee, without question.

There was a call of her name, “And, how are you adjusting? After what you’ve been through,” What she’s been through. She suppressed a bitter laugh. As if it was all over, as if she was safe. 

“It’s been hard, of course,” She’d rehearsed the lines in the mirror, and recited variations in numerous interviews before, “But I’m so grateful, you know,” That didn’t stop the tears that fought their way up her throat, “To have him by my side–he really is–he really,” God, the words felt like acid on her tongue, “He really is my hero.”

The crowd awed, and the host brought a hand to her chest, “How beautiful,” She caught his side eye–suspicious–and she squeezed his hand in reassurance, “The two of you–really the silver lining in an otherwise horrible happenstance.”

She laughed lightly, ignoring the burn in her chest, “I’m so grateful. I don’t know what–I couldn’t imagine what I’d do without him.” She moved to wrap her arm around his own, leaning into his shoulder. Time had conditioned the contact to feel like a sort of comfort.

The host smiled, and turned back to ask him a question, something about how he’d found her, how he’d saved her.

How had he found her? She remembered meeting him a few times before–she’d worked for the number one hero, his childhood friend–and he’d never spared her more than a cursory glance, and the exchange of brief, formal pleasantries while she sat in on their meetings, transcribing, taking notes, just doing her job. 

“Was just doin’ my job,” Ha. Ironic. “S’what heroes do.” He looked at her for a moment, softly, and she wanted to tear his eyes out, “We save people and we fuckin’ win.” He gave his signature sharp, crooked smile, and the audience roared to life, hands clapping in misguided awe and appreciation.

How had he found her? What did she have that the millions of men and women and people that wanted him–that dreamed of him–didn’t? She wished she could erase it–tear out whatever part of her had captured his attention–maybe he’d have left her alone if she’d been able to kill it.

“The determination, the grit it must’ve taken,” The host started up again, “Years of searching, it’s truly amazing how you managed to save her.” 

How had he saved her? He liked to remind her that that’s what he had done. She remembered being called into work late–a normal occurrence, but she still cursed herself for obliging that day–being met, not by her boss, but him. Maybe she would have said yes if he’d gone about it differently–if he’d taken her out on a date, brought her flowers, spoke to her softly and gently–but he wasn’t ever soft, and he wasn’t ever gentle.

“M’not a fuckin’ pussy, that’s how. I ain’t backin’ down from a challenge just ‘cause it’s hard.” Yeah. He never backed down from a challenge. Though, he never stopped to think that maybe a challenge was not a dare, not something to overcome, that maybe the challenge didn’t want to be a challenge at all. That this challenge didn’t want to be a conquest, that she wanted to be a person.

“And you,” The attention was back on her, “How strong you are,” She hated that look; everyone she met these days gave her that look, “The fear and pain you must’ve endured is unimaginable.” Well, she was half right, she supposed. 

She was stupid to think she knew pain before–she didn’t know pain–not the kind of pain she’d come to call home these past years. The type of pain that came in the form of finger shaped burns, and ugly sticky white staining the inside of her thighs. The type of pain that was loud and angry and all consuming, that bruised her hips, rubbed her throat raw, left her aching and shaking and breaking. The type of pain that took and took and took until there was nothing left of her to give–and yet, still took more.

“Hopefully there’s some consolation,” The woman continued at her silence, “That the people who did this to you–who imprisoned you–have faced justice.”

She wanted to laugh until she screamed. She’d long been disillusioned with the idea of justice. Justice. Ha. What a joke. She’d made her peace with the hand she’d been dealt. Resigned herself to what cruel fate the god she didn’t believe in had bestowed upon her. Why then, why now, had he graced her with a window to her prison? She knew why. Subconsciously, her hand fell to trace along her stomach.

“It’s…relieving, to say the least.” She forced a laugh, and caught a look she took as approval on her warden’s face. “All I want to do now is settle down, move on…” She swallowed. Come on. You’ve done this a million times. “Start our family.”

He took his arm from her grip to wrap around her shoulders, flashing a sharp smile, “That’s my fuckin’ girl,” Her cheeks heated–more from annoyance than embarrassment–but the crowd awed all the same. “Strongest damn person I’ve ever met.”

Strong? That was a new one. Usually she’d get the opposite; weak, helpless, quirkless. Was she strong? She could find a million reasons to contradict the idea. Someone strong would’ve fought, would’ve kicked and screamed and cried until someone–anyone–listened to her, until she truly was free. She’d rolled over and shown her belly so easily, hadn’t she?

No. She did fight. She’d gone through all the kicking and screaming and crying she could. But the years had worn her down. She found it was easier–and less painful–to let him have his way. He could be soft when he had his way; he could be gentle when he had his way; she decided she liked it when he was soft and gentle. And so, he had his way.

Still. Someone, not her, could make the case that she couldn’t be strong at all, to go along with this farce. And to this person she’d point them to–

“The Hero Commission truly is an outstanding institution,” The universe had a sick sense of humor, didn’t it? “To keep a case like this–no leads–open so long,” The host smiled a smile with too many teeth, “We are so lucky to have the protection from such noble leaders.”

He replied, something about heroes and how great and strong and infallible they were. She was too busy fantasizing about how lovely the world would’ve been had it been turned to ash and dust all those years ago. 

Because, honestly. How bad could the villains be? If it was a hero that had imprisoned her. A hero who had stolen her from her life and raped her and impregnated her all in the name of love. How bad could the villains be if it was the heroes who kept her trapped in this joke of a life? She decided she liked villains more than heroes. At the very least, they owned up to their crimes. 

She turned to look at him, his sharp features, built like a tank, and yet, still entirely too pretty for the devastation he had wrought upon her. She couldn’t tell if he was a hero or a villain. She couldn’t tell if she hated him or if she loved him. 

“I ain’t into all that sappy shit,” He started, “But, end of the day, I’m the luckiest fucker in the world havin’ her here with me. Wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.”

Both? Maybe it was both. Could you hate someone you loved? Could you love someone you hated? He lifted his arm to ruffle her hair, and she decided it didn’t matter. She’d long resigned herself to this fate; what was another resignation?

“No,” She turned as the audience roared to life, “Not a single thing.”

And she smiled for the camera.

[catboybiologist]

Be honest: do you think there are femboys who aren't just eggs?

Yes, and tbh I resent that their existence is questioned so much. And I know this is gonna be considered a Bad Take by many people I've fostered a community with, so uh. Yeah.

As a former femboy, and current dykey/tomboyish trans woman, gender nonconformity within your actual gender is an essential part of a trans or genderqueer identity. In a lot of ways, my transition goals are the inverse of being a femboy- I'm going from a feminine man to a masculine woman. And yet, the trans community doesn't question my feminimity as a masculine woman in the same places where many people would question the masculinity of a feminine man. And don't even get me started on where NB identities fit into all of this. This is largely coming from the same place where people are okay with women wearing pants, but men or AMABs in general wearing skirts is Bad (tm).

Like don't get me wrong. The caricature of the Bad Trans pushing all the femboys to become eggs is a wildly overexaggerated, and I've met many, many femboys online that used that caricature to excuse rampant transphobia. But. I hate that there's a but. But.... I literally experienced it myself many times during my femboy days, especially online. Here's a short list:

-Had a transmed bombard me with harassing messages and comments on reddit telling me that I was a "fencesitter" and I just needed to "fucking transition already and stop making trans people look bad"

-Had a trans woman I knew irl shove an estradiol pill in my face, and try to order me to take it, in front of a group of people I wasn't even fully comfortable presenting as a femboy to, until she was eventually asked by someone else to stop.

-Had several comments indicating that I should be force femmed in femboy subreddits

-Had many, many DMs trying to tell me I was a "failed man" that should just transition already

And to clarify- all of this is so, so mild compared to transphobia that myself and others face. But it is a very real thing that happens. To many femboys, I think this is the first time they've received any kind of queerphobia or questioning of their identity, so it feels far worse in their heads than it really actually is. And, to be fair, I think it mostly happens from the more gender binary minded cis community than it comes from trans people- but as I've said, I've had it coming from trans women both irl and online.

I've also tangentially noticed that it seems to be transmed adjacent. Not saying that this anon is, or others who try to encourage femboys to explore their gender, but there certainly is a correlation. If its difficult for you to acknowledge cis gender nonconformity, then its easy to see that extending to a lack of understanding of nonbinary people or others with different trans experiences.

Every time one of these things happened, it didn't put me any closer to transition. It made me feel unsafe. It made me feel on the spot, and scared, and almost outed.

I've said this before, and I'll say it again- if you want historical parallels to femboys, we have a perfect example in drag. Drag is performative, over the top femininity that has become its own artform, style, and means of expression in a way that is intrinsically tied to gender nonconformity. Being a femboy is also all of those things. And guess what? Many drag queens have used it as a way to explore their own gender and realize that they're trans. There are also many who are cis, and remain confident in that identity. Is the percentage of trans people among people who have done drag at some point higher than the general population? Of fucking course- its one of the few places where exploring gender is encouraged and celebrated. Of course trans people flock to that. And the exact same thing is true of femboys. Are a higher proportion of femboys trans or eggs than the general population. Of course. It's a great venue for trans people to explore their identities. But even more of them are

Am I saying you're a bad person if you encourage femboys and gender nonconforming people to consider the possibility that they're trans? Of fucking course not. It was the gentle, affirming pressure with respect and care for my comfort levels from several incredible trans women I know irl that eventually made me confident enough to start HRT. Their continually support is a key factor in my social transition plans for the future. I needed that pressure, and I think everyone, including people who aren't actively engaging in gender nonconformity, needs some push to question their gender and start unlocking cis+. But to be blunt, questioning whether cis femboys even exist is not gentle, comfortable, and affirming pushes.

[awriterinthenight]

Stolen Ring, Part 3-Luke Castellan

words: 1373

warnings: swearing, Luke being angsty, sword fighting, fighting, banter, reader being a horrible person (I swear she's going to get better its just part of the plot I swear), btw idk if you've noticed or not if you've read all the parts currently, but these are only parts for chapter 1, so this is going to be a slow burn btw

summary: Ever since Luke's shoes went missing he's been mopey and refuses to do anything. That is until you challenge him to a duel, allegedly for fun, but you have an ulterior motive

Luke had been pissed from his shoes being stolen. They were the only thing his father had given him (besides a lot of trauma, off topic though). He treasured the shoes deeply. Every Hermes kid knew not to try and steal them unless they wanted Luke to go ballistic on them. They were the one thing his father had been generous enough to even acknowledge him with. No matter how much he resented his dad, he still appreciated them, so them being stolen made Luke turn from annoyed, to miserable, and downright insufferable to be around.

"Hey, Luke aren't you supposed to be leading the sword fighting lesson right now?" an Ares counsellor asked, annoyed at how other counsellors were having to pick up his slack since he hadn't been doing much recently.

Luke shrugged, unbothered by having to do anything in his moodiness, "Yeah, but who cares," he said, not wanting to.

"Chiron," she said blatantly, "Chiron does, and if you don't start doing your job he said he might consider taking it away, so if I were you I'd start doing your fucking job," she, along with other counsellors, were at the end of their straw with Luke not doing any counsellor duties.

"Fine," he uttered under his breath, walking towards the arena reluctantly. This class he was about to lead was definitely going to be an interesting experience, and major gossip for the camp.

So far Luke's lesson had been a small free for all. It was organized chaos, but with no organization, so just chaos then. He told the campers to just practice defensive moves on each other, or something like that. He didn't care that much to pay attention, only lent back again a wall, observing the mess. He was in as much peace as he could find, till a voice sounded next to him.

"I knew you were a bad counsellor, but I think this is a new low, even for you."

Of course it was you. Recently you'd been on his nerves more than ever, taunting him on how gloomy he was. He still didn't know you were the one with his shoes, so he thought your taunting was your usual banter.

"What do you want, sunshine," he asked, the nickname slipping out by force of habit.

Even in his mood he still found a way to annoy you, "Oh nothing, just came to see this trainwreck," you answered, shrugging your shoulders, taking a step back to look at what was happening.

"Can't you just leave me alone?" he asked, getting frustrated by you just being near him.

"No," you said shrugging, "Besides, your too moody currently, its annoying," which was ironic, since you were the one that caused this. You took a few steps back, unveiling your sword from its ring form, and twirling it in your hand.

"I challenge you to a duel," you stated, throwing Luke his sword.

Luckily for him he caught it in time before it hit the ground. He was a bit surprised at your declaration to fight him, but wasn't going to question it.

"No way I'm fighting you, sunshine," he stated, shaking his head.

You groaned, "Oh come on, it'll be fun, besides I'm bored," you said, backing up to get into position.

"Fine, but when you lose don't be disappointed," he taunted, getting into a fighting stance.

"I think you mean when you lose, don't be disappointed," you teased, circling him.

Luke let out a chuckle, something he hadn't done in awhile, "Haven't you heard sunshine, I'm the best swordsman at camp, you're not going to win."

You shrugged, never one to back down from a fight, "Well I'd say I'm the best swordswoman, which is just as good if not better, I could take you any day," you stated boldly.

"We'll see about that," he said, lunging at you, but impressively you were able to block in time.

You took a few slashes and strikes at each other before getting close enough to really fight. He'd tried to sweep your legs multiple time, but you always jumped, or shadow travelled away just in time to keep your shins. You took multiple slashes at his hands to try and disarm him, but him being the so called 'best swordsman in years' he was able to parry effortlessly.

Your fight has already amassed a small crowd, growing larger as the fight went on. The fight only really got interesting when Luke managed to get a cut straight your nasal bridge, to just on your cheek bone.

"You ready to give up, sunshine?" he taunted, smiling which he also hadn't done in a while.

You gasped for breath, but managed to get out a sentence, "Not until you do." Luke was still in awe of your boldness (cowardness), making it easy for you to shadow travel behind him. You took this as your opportunity to strike, kicking him firm in the small of his back to knock him to the ground.

"You ready to give up?" you asked, throwing his words back in his face. Your sword was pointed at his throat, as his sword was barely in his hand now.

Luke knew what to do, so he grabbed your wrist forcing your sword out of your hand, bringing you down to the ground with him. Now having abandoned your swords, it had become a whole different fight now, both of you were throwing punches instead of slashes now.

You were currently under Luke, not your favorite position to be honest, but you took advantage of it, wrapping your legs around him to flip him under you, your hand on his grabbing at his neck. From shadow travelling, sword fighting, and now fighting to win, you were out of breath, and quickly losing energy. You managed to get on top of Luke, your knees pinning him down, but you didn't stay like that for long. Your vision was blurring in and out, as your breaths got a bit heavier. Trying your best to not lose, you did your best to fight him, but it was no use. In seconds he had you back under him, then a sword pointed at your throat.

"Looks like I win, sunshine," he said in between breaths, proud of his victory against you.

You were dizzy, dazed, and done with this fight, "Woohoo, you won a fight against a girl with no energy, how great," you sassed, being a bit of a sore loser from your loss.

Luke moved off of you, letting you get up, but instead of that you used the last of your energy to shadow travel back to your cabin. You collapsed against your bed, clutching your real prize in your hands. The fight was never about fighting him because you were bored, it was about your next move for petty revenge. Stealing his flying shoes had an impact, but not enough for him to figure out it was you, and confront you about it. All you wanted was to taunt him about how you finally beat him at his own game. Deeper inside you, a part of you was still doing to show how much resentment it caused towards him.

This was by no means the healthiest option, but you and Luke aren't the smartest currently, so driving each other crazy was your current form of expression. You might've lost the fight, but in this hopeless war you were determined to be the winner, to finally be better than him. That's why you used the sword fight as a distraction to steal Luke's necklace.

His flying shoes from his dad were just one of his favorite possessions. His other was his Camp Halfblood necklace with all the years he'd been there. It showed the friends he made, and the good times he had there.

Stealing something so precious from him was bound to make him go crazy. But you were too busy being blindsided by the feeling and vision of one upping him at his own game. This really was war in the sense that both of you were willing to risk everything over unsaid words and feelings. You might win this, but what will it really cost you?

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[bullet-prooflove]

Pretty Young Thing: Angel Reyes x Reader (NSFW)

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It’s Taza’s fault.

Ever since the other man had revealed that he preferred ass over pussy, Angel can’t stop thinking about it. He’s done anal before, but he’s always been the giver, never the receiver. What makes it worse is that Taza refuses to any of his questions.

“What does it feel like?” He’d asked the other man as he slide into the seat across from him and Taza had laughed before saying.

“Why don’t you talk to that pretty, young thing of yours and find out?”

He broaches the topic whilst the two of you are doing the dishes in the kitchen. Felipe’s playing with Valeria in the living room, so he knows he won’t be overheard.

“I can’t get it out of my head.” He mutters, his hip bumping against yours as the two of you lean back against the work surface. “What if I’m missing something? I mean a lot of guys do it right? So, it must feel good.”

“Do you want to try it?” You ask him, drying the last plate before handing it to him.

He bobs his head from side to side in indecision, it’s a big step even for Angel.

“Let’s experiment a little first.” You suggest. “Go slow, see if you like it.”

It starts with a finger. The two of you are getting hot and heavy later that night, trying to keep things quiet because Valeria is in the next room and Felipe down the hall. You’ve become savants at it at this point, your trysts stifled by hands and pillows. You’re a tease tonight, it’s becoming more and more frequent over the last few weeks because since you’ve been shot you need to regain some assemble of control and if Angel’s honest, he needs to lose it.

When your lubed up fingers trace around his hole, he’s surprised to find he likes it. It’s a sensitive area and you’re an expert at reading him, you can tell he wants a little more from the way his hips arch trying to take your finger. The sound he makes when you enter him, it’s loud and you have to clap your free hand over his mouth to silence him. He gets off on that because his Reina, she always takes care of him, she knows exactly what he needs.

“Touch yourself.” You command and fuck, if he doesn’t obey.

You take him apart slowly, adding another finger, stretching him as you brush over that deviant little spot the one that makes his hips buck and his dick twitch. You can tell he’s close, his movements become more frantic, his breath more ragged. The ecstasy, it’s intense, more intense than Angel has ever felt before. It tears through Angel like an IED exploding through his synapses. Your palm presses down over his mouth even harder as Angel becomes completely untethered.

“You liked that.” You murmur after you’ve washed up, your lips brushing over the corner of his mouth.

The two of you are tangled up in one another, your fingertips ghosting along his cheekbone as he holds you close.

“Felt good.” He mumbles drowsily. He feels so relaxed right now, so loved so cared for. It reminds him of the days before the shooting, before Valeria, when the two of you were just a little wild. It’s been a while since he’s had that feeling, that he hasn’t felt burdened by the weight of his responsibilities.

“You want to try a little more next time?”

He smiles against your mouth, his lips claiming yours.

“I’ll book a hotel.”

***

It feels like the first time that Angel took you to bed. You take care of him the same way as you did back then, with teasing caresses and heated lips that chase over his erogenous zones. It leaves him relaxed and wanting, his dick leaking as you kiss him everywhere but the one place, he needs you too. He whines when you pull away, unwilling to relinquish the contact. You shush him, your lips brushing over his sweetly as you smear lube over the black strap on you’re wearing.

“Don’t worry my Angel, I’ll give you what you need.”

You love seeing him like this, so wanton, so desperate. You enter him slowly, and he takes you inch by inch until the toy brushes over his prostate and he moans like a fucking whore. You dip your head low, your mouth covering his as your thumb ghosts along the line of his jaw. It grounds him, anchoring him in the moment as you begin to move in languid strokes, each one leaving him breathless.

There’s a relief in the sensation, to be the one taken, instead of taking. He didn’t realise how much he needed it until this moment, how much he craved it.

“Harder.” He mutters. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

“You’re sure?” You ask him and he takes your hand, guiding it up to his throat.

“Remind me who I belong to, Mi Reina.” He whispers. “Make me believe I’m yours.”

You absolutely ruin him.

You fuck him hard, your hand squeezing his throat until the edges of his vision turn black and his cock throbs. Everytime, you release him he whines because he can taste nirvana, it’s there just out of reach but you won’t let him touch it.

“Please…” He pleads as the ecstasy surges up through his veins, setting every single one of his nerve endings ablaze.

“Oh Angel, you beg so pretty.” You tell him, that sinful smile crossing your features. “How can I deny my good boy anything?”

Those words…

He feels the flush creeping up his cheeks because Angel, he’s never been the good anything. It taps into something deep inside his psyche, heightens the intimacy as your hand drifts down to his cock, your thumb spreading pre-cum over the tip. You jerk him off in time with your thrusts, each one taking him right to the precipice.

The air rushes out of his chest as the pleasure hits him, it overwhelming, the way it tears through his synapses like a wildfire burning up his sanity. He’s loud when he comes, so fucking loud the guy in the next room bangs on the fucking wall. Angel doesn’t give a shit because the euphoria that’s racing through his system, it’s like a narcotic.

He whines as you withdraw from his body, he feels empty and overwrought in the moment but then you’re back by his side in an instant, the toy discarded. He moans as your hands trail over his sensitive skin, soothing and tender. You kiss his lips and he’s flooded with a sense of security that he has never felt with any other person.

The next day he sits down across from Taza as the other man flicks through a newspaper with his reading glasses on. He glances up, taking stock of the expression on Angel’s face, before a smile ghosts across his lips.

“You tried it.” He says, turning the next page.

“I owe you a beer.” Angel mutters, sliding one of the two bottles he’s brought over towards Taza. “You know for the advice.”

“Why don’t you talk to that pretty, young thing of yours and find out?”

Taza smiles before he picks up the beer and takes a sip.

“Honestly Angel, you don’t owe me a damn thing.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[aledethanlast]

I want to clarify something about my Lawyer!Andrew post:

Andrew is not doing this to impress people. In fact he actively doesn't want to impress people. He is done being a superman who holds everyone's lives in his hands. It's not good for his mental health when he's doing it and it's not good for anyone when that he fails, because the law is too big and some of these fuckers are just legitimately dumber and more guilty than his literal murderous mafia husband.

Anyways. Andrew wakes up in the morning, goes to his closet and shoves aside the 15k dollar Armani suits so he can put on the two piece he got at Macy's (then tailored to fit, cause he still has standards), and a matching tie.

He goes to the office. Brad asks him if he heard about the latest draft picks. Andrew stares him down until Brad goes to Andrew's desk and drops a quarter in the "Asking Andrew about Exy" jar. Andrew's coworkers seem to think that he's gonna buy the office a Foosball table with the jar money. They are wrong. It is for a new cat tower. Also, no Andrew hasn't seen it, but he got the rundown from Neil and Kevin, so he knows enough to tell Brad not to bother with a season pass for the Sealions this year.

He has two cases to deal with today. The first is a vehicular manslaughter charge. The client is pleading self defense, and that the victim was a stalker. Andrew likes her because, despite bursting into tears every time they have a trial prep session, she actually listens to instructions and knows when to shut the fuck up. He's confident.

The second is grand larceny. The guy is so super incredibly guilty but Brad gave him this case because he knows Andrew loves police misconduct cases and this one is just so full of protocol breaches that Andrew only had to show Neil the file for him to burst out laughing.

Janet says he has a call waiting. Janet is the highest paid paralegal in the county, because she also filters his celebrity mail. Technically Neil's pr firm still represents him, but Janet knows to turn down the DA's gala invitations without needing to argue with him.

He picks up the phone. It's the DA. The man invites him to the police gala because he knows Andrew ignored the emails. Andrew assumes the man was banking on Andrew giving a polite refusal he can wheedle or harangue into compliance. The man is new to the job, so Andrew will forgive this embarrassing miscalculation.

They spend the next hour discussing court dates for a certain case. Andrew's client for that one is disabled and only has partial aid, and he won't let them set court dates that they know she won't be able to attend. The DA, despite his embarrassing naivate, seems to be on the same page in this regard, so hopefully this will go well when they bring the matter to the judge.

In the span of this phone call, two of Brad's clients come into the office, and within five minutes of walking in are made to contribute to the jar. They don't get their questions answered, because he's on the phone, and they're not Brad.

He has court tomorrow. Court is annoying, because it's a room full of strangers who hear his name and forget why he's there, and he's not allowed to bring the jar. Court is a chore, because he has to walk people through their own idiocy, and then occasionally convince the room of just how stupid or brilliant it actually was.

Court is also, maybe, just a teensy bit fun, because whatever the stereotype of a lawyer is, Andrew really isn't it, and that makes people take him a lot less seriously until he starts quoting their words back to them faster than the stenographer.

(Janet also filters job offers. They tend to crop up every few months.)

(It used to be more fun, back in the early days when Neil would sit in sometimes, until he remembered just how horrifically boring the whole thing is. But that's fine. Andrew is happy having his own thing.)

But really, court is easy. It's a place where your word has weight, where promises are binding, and when everything is going to shit, nobody looks at Andrew like he's the freak for keeping his head.

[jackiesnats]

(If You Think I’m Pretty) Lay Your Hands on Me

pairing: lottie matthews x reader

warnings: all characters are 18+, dom lottie, enthusiastic consent, face slapping, gagging, finger sucking, tear licking, degradation, body writing, begging, aftercare, dacryphilia.

summary: lottie loves to make you cry.

kinktober 23/24: dacryphilia

word count: 1k

gif credit | title credit: if u think i’m pretty - artemas

edited by my lovely girlfriend @specialinterestshows 🥰

“Are you sure you want this?” Lottie questioned, circling around you. “I need you to make sure that you really want this.”

You took a deep breath, “Lot, we’ve been over this a million times. I want this just as much as you do.”

You fought back the smirk that was forming when you heard her breath hitch. Your girlfriend was so fucking hot and it was true - you wanted this just as much as Lottie, maybe even more. Lottie stopped circling around you, standing in front of you as she took a hold of your chin.

“Safewords and what they mean?” Lottie asked.

“Green for ‘I’m okay and you can continue.’, yellow for ‘slow down, I need a break’, and red for ‘stop, we’re done’,” you said, looking up at Lottie who had a soft smile on her face.

“Good girl,” she praised, “You know I love you more than anything, right?”

You nodded, “I do, Lot. I love you more than anything too.”

Lottie leaned down, giving you a kiss on your forehead. “Clothes off now,” she instructed, turning to grab a few things off the table. “Are you comfortable or do you need another pillow?”

“I- I’m good, Lot,” you said, throwing your clothes to the other side of the room.

“Good,” she said, turning back to face you with a sharpie in her hand. “You let me know if you need another, understood?”

You nodded, as she got closer to you. You watched as she opened the sharpie up before leaning down and writing something on your forehead “You’re a pathetic slut, you know that?” she laughed, pulling away after she was done writing on your forehead.

You nodded, “Yes, Mommy.”

Lottie tapped your cheek with the hand that wasn’t holding the shoulder, “You’re also a disgusting, pathetic whore who gets off on getting treated like this, aren’t you?”

You nodded again, but Lottie slapped you hard across the face. “Say it out loud.”

“Yes, Mommy, I am.”

Lottie slapped you again, “What are you?”

You licked your lips, “I’m a disgusting, pathetic whore who gets off on getting treated like this.”

Lottie smiled softly, writing on your collar bone. “There, now everyone will know that you’re pathetic,” she hummed, writing on your other collarbone. “And everyone will also know that you’re disgusting.”

Lottie began writing all over your chest and stomach, making comments about you as she did it. Finally, dropping the sharpie, Lottie grabbed your chin. She held you in place as she bent down, bringing her free hand to your mouth. She tapped your mouth with two fingers, signaling for you to part your lips and as soon as you did, she shoved them into your mouth.

“Take them,” was all she said, pushing them all the way in the back of your throat.

You gagged as your eyes started to water, earning a kiss to your nose from Lottie. “You’re so pretty when you cry,” Lottie hummed, watching as your tears begin to fall. Running her tongue against your cheek, stopping it just below your eye.

Lottie hummed before going back to fucking your mouth with her fingers. You gagged some more, trying your best to pull away, but Lottie held you in place.

“Don’t try to run from my fingers, whore,” Lottie snapped, pushing her fingers into your mouth deeper again. She held them in place as you gagged a few more times before removing them from your mouth.

Lottie stood up straight again, slapping you once more, and when you started to cry, her face softened. “Color, baby?” she asked, caressing your cheek.

“Green, Mommy,” you whimpered.

Lottie nodded, fixing her hard gaze upon you. “Do you think you deserve to come tonight, pretty girl?” she asked, her voice still soft from checking in.

You nodded, “Yes, Mommy.”

Lottie said nothing, getting down on her knees so she could reach your pussy easier. “God, this cunt is so fucking wet,” Lottie smirked, looking at all the words she wrote all over your body. “You really get off on Mommy treating you so badly, huh?”

You nodded as she slipped two fingers into your pussy, you tried your best to keep your eyes open and on her. Suddenly, she pulled her fingers out, smirking at you as she got up.

“You’re not coming tonight,” Lottie smirked.

Lottie came back to you with a wet washcloth and some water. “Good thing I bought some body writing markers, huh?” you smiled at her, nodding as she gently rubbed the marker off your forehead.

“Unfortunately, all of it isn’t going to come off right away, but thankfully we have the weekend to ourselves,” Lottie smiled, kissing your cheek. “I’m so, so proud of you, baby girl. Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head, “No, Lot, you didn’t.”

Lottie nodded, “Let’s get you up and cleaned up. Do you want to order food tonight?”

You nod as she helped you to your feet - she led you to the bed, having you sit on the edge as she went into the bathroom. Lottie came back out with a clean, wet washcloth. “Spread your legs for me, baby. Gonna clean your thighs up,” Lottie informed you. When you nodded, she slowly rubbed the washcloth against your thighs, causing you to whimper when it brushed against your pussy.

“You okay?” Lottie asked, pausing her movements to look you in the eye.

“I- I’m okay, it’s just… you didn’t let me come is all…” you trailed off, looking away from her in embarrassment.

Lottie chuckled, running her tongue against her bottom lip. “You’re right I didn’t,” she agreed, continuing to clean up your thighs.

You whimpered, “Please just… just once?”

Lottie sighed, looking at how visibly wet you were. She contemplated and although she hadn’t planned on making you come in this scene, it was definitely tempting.

“Hm…” Lottie trailed off, raking her eyes up your body. “You did take what I gave you so fucking good…”

You nodded, “Yes, Mommy, I did!”

Lottie sighed, throwing the washcloth on the floor. She ran her fingertips up your thighs softly, but dragged her nails down them, causing you to cry out.

“No baby, Mommy isn’t going to make you come tonight,” she pouted with faux sympathy. “Now let’s get you all comfy before I order us some food.”

[bogkeep]

Would you recommend the SSSS comic? I know little of it beside the very beautiful artstyle and premise

to answer the question of if i would recommend SSSS as a comic: yes, yes i would.

a description for those who don't know: Stand Still Stay Silent is a post-apocalyptic horror + adventure webcomic set in the nordics (norway, sweden, denmark, finland, iceland) that have been isolated from the rest of the world and gone back to their old gods. the the world outside of safe zones is full of trolls and beasts - humans and mammals that got infected by a horrible virus and turned into monsters. the story follows a ragtag crew that ventures into the old world (derelict denmark) on an expedition to collect books.

the comic updated every workday until it concluded in 2022, and consists of two Adventures. the creator had plans for many adventures with these characters in this world, but ended it after two when she wanted to take a new direction with her life.

what i love about it:

- the art is GORGEOUS. it's been a huge source of inspiration for me. open any page and it's a masterpiece, and you will ask yourself "how the FUCK did she update this FIVE DAYS A WEEK"

- the characters are wonderful and endearing. i just, i love them so much. i am so thankful lalli hotakainen exists he is one of my #1 blorbos forever

- the world is so cool. the blend of chunky sci-fi and norse mythology fantasy magic slaps. it goes so hard. i fell so hard for this comic when i got to the big ferry ship with a viking style dragon head prow added to it. it's everything

- it really really gets nordic cultures. it's difficult to explain all the dynamics and nuances but it just gets it. it brings me as a scandinavian a lot of joy to read a story that speaks to my heart this way. the attitudes, the language barriers, the cultural differences... it was so refreshing to me in a media landscape dominated by american stories. when the pandemic hit, i decided to reread the comic because i found such an odd comfort in seeing how it depicted the scandinavian countries reacting to, well, a pandemic.

- there's kittycats

what i don't like about it:

- the most glaring and obvious flaw is that everyone in the comic is white. there's not a single character of color anywhere, not even i background shots or the prologue. there's no mention of the saami people (the indigenous people of northern europe), either. i believe this was done in ignorance more than malicious intent, but the implications are Extremely Bad and it's been bothering me (AND MANY OTHERS) since day 1. that is the number one caveat i will give to anyone wanting to check this comic out. i've been in the discourse trenches and i am not going to excuse this. it's just bad!

- you can tell in the middle of adventure 2 that the creator has kind of lost interest in the work, around the time when she found jesus i guess. like, very few people can keep up work on the same creative project for years and years and years and i think it's fine that she wanted to drop it, but it's a bit sad to see the comic dragged to its end like a limp corpse, and feeling like the creator no longer really cares about the characters.

- minna sundberg has said and done some questionable things, presumably gotten somewhat radicalised over time, and has also converted to hardcore christianity which is what her new works are about. there's nothing about this in SSSS - there is a moment of christianity represented in the story in a sort of mythological sense, just like the other religions, but this was written before minna's conversion. her new works... are a Choice. i have much to say about them, and i have, and im not gonna rehash it now.

SO YEAH hopefully this will help you take an Informed Choice! i got into this comic in 2015 and was deep in the fandom and it's for better or for worse part of my soul foundation now.

i also recommend A Redtail's Dream, minna's "practice comic" before SSSS, based on finnish mythology and the kalevala.

[neysaadept]

Prometheus Chapter 4

Emily Prentiss x Female CIA Reader

Chapter 4 - Socially Blocked

Little different chapter style. Hope you enjoy. Also, I have no beta so mistakes are all me.

Tags: Limited use of y/n but established last name. Swearing, mentions of the pandemic and human and sex trafficking. Canon typical violence. Sexual innuendos. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 4.8k

AO3

Chapter 3

You had joined Prentiss in her office several hours ago to go over the forensic evidence that had come in. Laptop balancing on your thighs, you compile the data and cross reference missing persons with the families that Lewis had been gently consoling until the lab techs worked their magic. This was your nightly ritual with the section chief since joining; identification and providing closure.

What you did during the day was follow her around like a fucking assistant. You were now well versed in FBI budgetary matters, regulatory concerns, and how long new policies would be put into practice. You knew there were countless mind-numbing meetings, but this was insane. Most of the meetings could be cut in half, be done over Zoom, or just not happen at all. Just fucking email one another.

Then there were piles upon piles of paperwork to sort, sign and scan and files to review sent by local law enforcement agencies asking for FBI assistance. Just briefly glimpsing some of the cases made you wonder how one could decide which case mattered more. Go after one psycho but let the less of a psycho go free for the state to handle? Some requests had to be denied general FBI involvement due to a jurisdiction juggling nightmare that needed to be sorted first.

If this was a section chief’s life, how the fuck did Brian survive being the director of the entire CIA?

The more pressing question on your mind was why Prentiss was doing her damnedest in limiting time between you and the rest of the team. Okay, yes, Prentiss didn’t know anything about you, and yes, it was difficult to delegate work to you without knowing all your capabilities, but being a special agent in the CIA meant something.

You just gave the BAU a ton of money! Least you could do something more than be a glorified secretary! Not like you expected time out in the field, you totally understood that was out of bounds, but it’s been three days like this, and it was getting on your nerves. Why were you familiarizing yourself with FBI manuals if all you were good for was be a gopher for Prentiss?

Day 1

1145

Prentiss had given you a quick tour of the bullpen leaving the conference room for last. When you enter, excited to present your sweet offerings, you saw the team was already standing and ready to break. Introductions were made quickly, with almost every team member thanking you for the food and grabbing something.

Luke grabbed a chocolate frosted long john with a grin. “Can’t wait to catch up with you when we get back!”

You blink. Back from … what?

JJ grabbed a handful of macarons with delight, already stuffing one in her mouth as she left. “Dis isz weally nice ov ya!” she said, covering her mouth to not accidentally spew crumbs at you.

Rossi was far more debonair and rounds the choices with an index finger before plucking out a glazed twist, flashing a smile. “Thanks, kid.”

You saw Garcia slipping out quickly without making eye contact.

The hell?!

You open your mouth to say more, but he looks apologetic. “We’ll talk more later. Gotta lot going on right now, but we’ll make time.”

At least Tara had the decency to stop for a few seconds to exchange simply pleasantries. “So nice to finally meet you! Rebecca says nothing but good things.”

You raise a brow and chuckle. “Really?”

Prentiss looks unconvinced as well.

She shrugs and steals a macaron. “Yes, for real. I’ve gotta lot of family interviews and sessions lined up today, but we’ll chat more later.”

Patting you on the shoulder, Tara starts to exit the conference room backwards, pointing at you with promise. “You’re gonna have to tell me all you can about that HSC* in Saxony. Later!”

You sigh with close eyes and your head falls back. These little tidbits were not helping without context for your new boss. Even before you open your eyes to look at Prentiss, you just know she is staring at you with contempt.

Yep. There it is. Just missing an eyeroll.

Without being asked, you take a seat at the table and shove the box towards Prentiss. “We were tailing ISIS members. One decided he could get away when we moved in and learned how very wrong he was about it.”

1315

Prentiss left you to read FBI procedural manuals while she went to meet the deputy director. She had thought it prudent to delay you two crossing paths for as long as possible considering he was not happy with either of you. It was nice to hear that you had something in common with Prentiss. The tiny scrap of connection was something, no matter how pitiful. And you knew Prentiss was happy to upset Bailey.

This leaves you alone for a short time and you decide to use it wisely and check in on Garcia. It was really bothering you why she ignored you earlier today. Yeah, the team was busy with the Sicarius case, but everyone else had acknowledged you as they hurried off. Surely the bold color choices of her ensemble meant she was outgoing and not shy. You didn’t even make polite eye contact.

So, you go by instinct and grab a few left over macarons and position them with purpose on a white paper plate before heading to what you learned was The Lair.

Aware of not barging in on a tech’s work, unless you wanted to have your head bit off, you knock and wait.

“Entrer!’ you hear through the door and smile.

You open the door and poke your head in with a playful grin. “Hey, Garcia.”

The flurry of typing abruptly stops and you see her stiffen. Your grin quickly falls into a frown.

“I’m sorry.” You fully move into the room, noting the same outlandish decor that matches Garcia’s clothing. “I hope I’m not bothering you?” you say hopefully.

“Nope!” She pops the p and goes back to typing. By a cursory glance on what was on the screens, yeah, you had no idea what she was working on.

Garcia said nothing more but the stiff body language and her outright ignoring you once again, made it clear you upset her. Pushing her at this moment would only cause the divide to widen. You barely know each other.

“Well, I saw you didn’t take any treats and brought them to you. Probably hard getting away while you’re …”

“Cataloging important data,” she said quickly, still not looking at you.

“Yeah, so …” you look around and see an open spot on the table to her right. You are careful to not move anything when you put the plate down next to a fuzzy neon green turtle. “Enjoy when you-“

“Hey Garica, I’m jus-“ Prentiss’ fond tone quickly dissolves to accusatory. “You’re supposed to be in my office.”

“And I took a break. That a problem?” you challenge, taking in Prentiss confident posture, hand out before her with the other in her suit pants pocket. She cut quite the authoritative figure.

Garcia keeps typing away but slower so she can concentrate on you and Prentiss.

“No, but I’d appreciate you leaving the team alone while they’re working.” The words sound like a suggestion, but the tone was an order.

“Yeah, sure,” you concede, again, not wanting to cause an unnecessary argument. But first, you bow to the back of Garcia sitting in her chair. “Bon appetit!”

You rise and move pass Prentiss, both of you locking gazes and it ticks you off you had to look away since you were the one leaving.

“Oh, darn it!” whimpers Garcia. “Why?!”

Alarmed, Prentiss walks over to her with concern. “What’s wrong, Penelope?”

With a deeply etched sullen look on her face, she shows Emily the plate you had left. It was a macaron smiley face. One eye was pink, the other blue, and the smile was purple. You chose the bright colors on purpose.

“Why'd she have to do something this cute?!” she complains. “I’m not supposed to like her!”

1750

You roll your head working out the stiffness that settles in your shoulders from being hunched over most of the day on Prentiss’ couch going over manuals and signing off on orientation documents. You had tried various positions to find any source of comfort once joints began to ache. You sat on your ass with feet on the floor, legs on the couch, cross one leg, then the other, then had to stretch them along the couch. Then you said fuck it and placed the laptop on the cushion and laid supine while working and then to top it off, you sat on the floor with the laptop on the couch like a desk not giving any fucks what Prentiss thought.

She offered the couch, not her desk, to work on, and you didn’t want to get all up in her business setting up shop across from her. She’d probably shoot you if you decided to leave for a desk in the bullpen. And oddly enough, when it appeared you were going to get up, she engaged in questions about what you were reading or if you had any concerns. All sterile and by the book, but with suspicious brown eyes trying to figure you out.

It was only day one and you were willing to play the game, not letting her get to you. All in all, it really was a typical first day of boring bullshit. Just without a cubicle.

Eh, you had suffered far worse with even more irate coworkers and direct supervisors. But this felt different. Maybe Brian was right and you weren’t made for the general population. And yes, that meant the people at Quantico.

You weren’t kidding that Prentiss was a legend when you made that quip. Faking her own death to protect that kid and her team was a brilliant self-sacrificing move that you deeply respected. Then as you dug deeper into the team’s background, you gained a deeper respect for the BAU’s work, dedication, and the trauma they’ve been through to keep the people of your country safe.

Of course, you honed in on Prentiss’ work since she was your superior. One assumed if you were CIA or former CIA everyone knew each other and that simply wasn’t the case. While Prentiss was infiltrating Doyle’s criminal organization, you were gathering intel in Afghanistan on al-Qa’ida's operations. You two worked very different operative circles.

Despite your specializations never intersecting professionally until now, on paper, you two should at least get along and have something to talk about then just … whatever this was in her office right now. You both were driven, intelligent women who were dedicated to the people on your team and would protect them at all costs. Your skill sets were complementary and overlapped with being seasoned international operatives, you spoke several languages, focused on counter terrorism, and were awarded many commendations for mission successes and demonstration of skill sets.

But here you are, sitting on the floor of her office like you were her kid finishing homework.

“You should probably head home.”  

You glance over your shoulder and scowl, seeing Prentiss was looking down at a file and not you.

“I don’t mind staying and catching up with all this. Same thing I’d be doing at the apartment. The lab reports are important to review ASAP.” You didn’t want to correct her about what home was and wasn’t.

You look at the files cluttering the desk and cross your lips in thought. “Need any help? Granted, I’m not savvy enough yet on all the FBI lingo but paperwork’s still a bitch however you cut it.”

That made her look up at you. She was motionless as she considered your proposal and your earnest face.

“Thank you, but no.” She looks down again. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Aye, aye, Cap’n.” After you salute, you stand up and stretch, hearing your knees pop. You then grab your laptop and manuals, tucking them under your arms securely.

Note to self, bring a backpack.

You are polite as you walk by, offering a nod she didn’t appear to see. “Night, Prentiss.”

She hums noncommittally but as you drag your eyes away from her desk, you notice something that provides a glimmer of hope.

On a napkin that had been tucked out of view near one of the file stacks was a half-eaten red macaron.

Day 2

0630

You came to Quantico early with a bottle of Diet Coke in hand and your black and grey backpack secure around both shoulders, ready to tackle the day before anyone else got here.

Yet you see a movement coming from Prentiss’ office window and have to stop. She was already here? You squint in thought and presume she had stayed late and came in early – basing this assumption on her work ethic and how every good leader worked themselves ragged on little sleep.

You down some more pop and climb the stairs to her office, gently knocking. She opens the door and you raise a brow at her because she was wearing yesterday’s clothes.

“What are you doing here?” she asks with surprise accusation.

“Wanted an early start. What’s your excuse?” you probe gently.

She thins her lips and steps aside as a silent invitation to come inside. “Sicarius.”

Prentiss didn’t have to say anything further for you to understand the unspoken. She had no one to go home to, so why worry about time and just bury herself in work. And by the time Prentiss realized what time it was, she might as well stay in her office and sleep. She probably had a change of clothing in the closet, and it was easy to freshen up in one of the locker rooms. It was a more productive use of her time than driving home to do the same thing and come right back here. Avoid all that traffic.

You should know. You’ve done it yourself many times.

“Fair enough,” you say without judgement as you drop your backpack on the couch. “Does the team know?”

She reaches for the white FBI seal decorated coffee mug on her desk and frowns. “Know what?”

“That you stay here sometimes.” You knock back several gulps of pop before setting the bottle down on the side table.

After a moment of consideration while sipping her coffee, she looks to you with a narrowing gaze. “No.”

You nod, understanding the silent request. “Secret’s safe with me.”

1233

You were grabbing a cup of coffee for an afternoon pick me up, when you hear slow purposeful footsteps coming closer.

“Like a little coffee with your cream there, kid?” Rossi jokes, coming to stand beside you.

You chuckle. “I do. Bonus if it’s French Vanilla.”

He regards you with wizened eyes, but you could tell he was exhausted with how often he blinks. “How long have you been CIA?”

Oh here we go.

“Long time.” It wasn’t a precise answer, but it also wasn’t a lie.

“Sounds like me and the FBI.” His eyes twinkle with mirth.

“Hey, I’m not that old,” you answer with a grin before taking a sip of coffee.

He laughs as you swallow and continue. “You know, it’s probably not a surprise I know your work, Mr. Writer.”

Rossi acknowledges with a nod. “No, this does not come as a surprise at all.”

You hum, nodding. “Broken Child was the first one I read. Though, I did follow your work with the Gideons closely.”

He smiles with delight. “Really?” Rossi pauses and gestures for you to follow him to continue this conversation elsewhere. You could tell he was fascinated by this. “How far back?”

“Oh, pretty far. As you know, your guys’ work wasn’t all BAU related.”

“True. The CIA did take part of our research for profiling training. And to use for psych evals on operatives.” He smiles. “Am I getting close?”

“Definitely warm.” You smile back. “It was part of my training.”

“You’ll have to tell me more.”

And just as things were becoming interesting with a non-Prentiss member of the BAU, she has to come and ruin it. It’s like the woman had a sixth sense when you were getting too close to one of her teammates.

“Hey, Dave. I need you in the conference room. JJ and Luke have an update on our unsub in Texas.”

“Right.” He holds out his hand, which you take, and he gently squeezes. “I look forward to continuing this later.”

Your smile was bright. Working with Rossi was a perk of agreeing to this. You never thought you’d have the chance to have face to face time with someone who wrote the blueprints for training you, again.

“Yeah, me too.”

He keeps your hand for a moment longer before letting go and looking at Prentiss. “You sure the kid can’t just listen in?”

You try not to look eager and utterly fail. You just know you got the sad puppy dog eyes going. Which, of course, doesn’t work on the leery section chief. “Whitlock has promised to help me with paperwork. Isn’t that right?”

Fucking hell! She’s using generosity from last night as an excuse to keep me busy. ARGH!

Of course, you’re not going to call her out on it as you really did offer to help and meant it. You manage to keep the disappointment hidden from your voice and raise your cup to her. “Indeed, I did.”

“You can start with scanning the reports on top of my desk calendar.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” you salute carefully with your coffee hand and wander off.

As you are leaving, Rossi looks to Prentiss with a knowing look. “You do know she might be able to help us with the case. You just don’t want her to.”

Emily heard the unspoken question of why. “We barely know anything about her. I don’t need a wildcard fucking anything up.”

“Emily. Come on. She’s a seasoned CIA operative. We could pick her brain while she’s here instead of hiding her away in your office. Actually use her as a consultant.”

“You just like her because she read your books,” she fires back sarcastically.

“Well, yeah, but that’s not the point…”

1435

Whitlock: I hate this place

You were chatting with Brian on the CIA secure network on your laptop instead of your phone to avoid making Prentiss press as to what you were doing. You even silenced the chat notifications

Korogoth: It’s only the second day.

Whitlock: All I’m doing is reading and paperwork :(

Whitlock: Prentiss keeps socially blocking me!

Korogoth: What does that even mean?

Whitlock: I’m stuck in her office all day and when I need to go do something, she’s always up my ass. And when I’m free and have time to chat the team up, she magically shows up and stops it. It fucking sucks!

Whitlock: Stuffs coming in with the big case and I get to know nothing.

Whitlock: So all I do is read the FBI shit, which I know I need to do and scan in shit. I’m a over qualified secretary

Whitlock: UGH

Korogoth: Regretting it?

Whitlock: Yes

Whitlock: No

Whitlock: Maybe. Helping the families find closure is important tho.

Whitlock: And … I got to speak to Rossi for a sec

Korogoth: … and?

Whitlock: I told him I was a big fan :D

Korogoth: LOL really?

Whitlock: Why is that so funny?!

Whitlock: :P

Korogoth: What did you talk about?

Whitlock: That I read his books and papers.

Whitlock: With the Gideons

Korogoth: *facepalm*

Korogoth: Tread carefully missy.

Whitlock: ;)

Present Day

1145

JJ had returned earlier this morning with Luke and was now sitting with Garcia at her desk in the bullpen. They were focused on whatever was on Garcia’s computer and were animatedly discussing something about a message app behind a weather one.

You start to head over there but Prentiss comes in with Bailey and the deputy director makes a bee line right for you.

Ah, fuck.

You beat him to the introductions and hold out your hand towards him. “Hello Deputy Director Bailey. Special Agent Whitlock.”

“Yes, I know who you are.” He does not take your hand, and you curl it into a fist before dropping it. “I’m surprised it’s taken us this long to be formally introduced.” His tone was dripping with malice as he scrutinizes Prentiss.

Before Prentiss can react, you jump in to defend her. You hate high profile dickwards like him. “Well, there’s a lot going on with orientating me to FBI standards. Can’t go all CIA on your protocols.” You smile patronizingly. “Gotta be by the book, right?”

“Despite her unorthodox addition to the team, it’s prudent her training remains up to FBI standards,” Prentiss adds while Bailey attempts to stare you down.

He wasn’t even pathetically cute. Just … pathetic. The deputy director’s appearance was far too clean cut and pristine. He didn’t have that disgruntled tone that revealed years of field work that jaded an agent. There was no desensitized look in his eyes, just bureaucratic contempt.

“I’m glad to hear that. It takes months for an agent to go through training at Quantico, Whitlock. You wouldn’t want to diminish their hard work with the quick pass you’ve gotten.”

You smile sweetly.

What an asshole.

“We’re all on the same side, even though we’re on different teams, Deputy Director.” You lean forward with promise. “I won’t besmirch the good name of the FBI.”

Then your eyes drag over to Prentiss’ and soften. “I’m here to help.”

1345

You see the team assembled in the bullpen and have no idea what they’re talking about because you are in Prentiss’ office sorting paperwork. Your sincere invitation for Prentiss to trust you when Bailey was here was ignored.

1437

You are slowly dying inside sitting in on a budget meeting with Prentiss …

1634

… and then an advisory meeting with the DOJ. Too bad Rebecca wasn’t here but then that would be socializing.

You two chatted briefly after your first day and made a promise to properly catch up when you could. With your schedules, it’ll be difficult but with how things are going. Well, more her schedule than yours …

1930

You come back from your introspection that had occurred over the last few days and try to focus on the unfinished email you were drafting for Lewis. The problem is that the words remain blurry, and you are unable to concentrate to type the rest of your thoughts. Your thoughts are swimming around the fact that in the three days you have been at Quantico all you've been is snubbed by the woman currently ignoring you at her desk.

You close your laptop and rise to take a seat across from Prentiss. Her mouth hangs open, with what you presume would be a line of questioning as to where you were going to go, and instead found you seated before her. Your boldness took her by surprise.

“Ah, yes?” she asks cautiously. “Something wrong with the lab reports?”

She was well aware if you had an issue with the reports, you would have said something from the couch. As you have done before.

“No. Just, you.”

You know you should be more patient like Brian encouraged you to be. Let Prentiss take the lead and integrate you into the unit. But you weren’t stupid. You can read the room, and the room wanted you far away from the members of the BAU.

Prentiss straightens up with wide eyes at the audacity of your words. “Excuse me?”

“No, you’re not excused. Not unless you can tell me why you’re keeping me all to yourself,” you respond flippantly.

She licks the back of her bottom teeth before it drags along her lower lip. Oh yes, Prentiss is ready to throw down with you. You see how her pupils blow wide at being provoked and she caps her pen before her. “All right. You want to do this? Let’s do this.”

The pen drops, as does the pretense before you.

“I don’t know you. But I do know I can’t trust you. Anyone I can’t trust is a danger to my people and therefore, you get to stay the hell away from them.”

You throw your hands up in celebration. “Finally! A real conversation.” You lower your arms and lean back, resting a leg over the opposite knee. “I’m sorry I can’t be completely forthcoming about everything about me. But that’s not my call. My shit’s sealed for a reason but it’s not because I did anything illegal. I'm sure that's what you're worried about."

“Then why did you need a lawyer?” she presses.

Fuck.

“I can’t say.”

She shakes her head with displeasure. “Of course you can’t. Because good agents don't need help covering up their messes.”

“Oh come the fuck on, Prentiss. Wilson’s a good person. A good lawyer. She helped me because …” You grit your teeth because you need to collect your thoughts before you say too much. You inhale deeply and uncross your legs to lean forward, gesturing with open hands for understanding. “… because it was a call I had to make. Follow orders and have people die. Or I did what I did. Which I was absolved of, ya know. That's gotta count for something?"

Without knowing the exact circumstances of what you did, you weren’t sure if Prentiss would care or not. You could have disobeyed orders because they were truly the wrong call or your superior was compromised in some way, or this was a cover up because you fucked up. You are hoping that she thinks the former because of dropping Wilson’s name as a good person and lawyer. Which is all true!

You watch as she subtly shakes her head, at war with her thoughts. “But there’s nothing about you. You barely exist. I can’t just accept you if there's nothing to back up your claims. So, you’re a means to an end for me. For the BAU.”

Wow. Pretense is so gone now ...

“You know, I’ve been thinking of myself as your highly paid secretary, but hey,” you roll your eyes, “let’s go with CIA sugar mama.”

“See that,” she points at you with indignation. “That right there’s why I can't take you seriously. You’re fucking lack of respect. Making jokes that are way outta line.”

“Oh fuck you and your wine addiction.” Yeah, you went there, gesturing to the half empty bottle. The woman downed a one a night and that was only what you saw. You wouldn’t be surprised if she had more. “Least I use humor to mask the trauma of my past instead of drowning it with alcohol and work.”

“How dare you make fucking assumptions about me,” she snaps, voice raising to meet yours.

You audibly scoff and rise, Prentiss doing the same. “You’ve been doing it the whole time since we met, let alone profiling me. Which I get, since you don’t know shit about me. But at least I was trying to get along with you despite the fucking cold shoulder. I ain’t expecting to be best friends but you don’t need to be a bitch about the situation.”

You turn around to grab your things, knocking over several empty Diet Coke bottles that you balanced on the couch arm.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

“Leaving your delightful presence.” You stuff your backpack with your laptop and books. “I’ve had more than enough of this shit.”

You miss the moment of panic on Prentiss’ face since your back was turned. Her mind was reeling with the ramification of what this could mean. Are you leaving for good? If you weren’t working with the BAU on paper the contract would be in breach. Pride kept her from asking you to clarify as she watches you storm off and slam the door behind you.

Emily grits her teeth as she leans over her desk, trying to stop her hands from shaking. She gives up, the anxiety of the situation she finds herself in too much and pulls the top left drawer open of the desk to get the pack of cigarettes stashed there. She quickly lights up and takes a long drag off the cigarette, unable to fight her trembling lips as she blows the smoke free.

“Fuck…”

What was she doing to do?

*High Speed Chase

Chapter 5

[berryunho]

THE ANSWER: XXVII

Kim Hongjoong doesn’t like the word ‘cult.’ He prefers ‘sect.’ pairing: ateez x fem reader genre: cult au, thriller, angst check warnings on AO3

← previous || next → || masterlist chapter word count: 8,561

You take in San’s words, blinking aggressively. You pull your face away from his, your questions clear from your expression.

San squeezes his eyes shut, unable to look at you for too long. “I can’t explain it now. Or, well, I’ll explain it all soon, but we need to leave.”

“Leave? Like, the farm?” You question, your words coming faster than you can control them. “What? San? Did something happen?” 

He opens his eyes, then, staring into yours. The pain is evident in his face, his internal struggle still battling. 

“After today, I can’t predict what Hongjoong will do to get you to break.” San admits, tears welling in his eyes. “He’s going to hurt you, and if he can’t, he’ll kill you.” 

“What happened to you, San?” You ask, more concerned by his disheveled appearance than by the revelation of the thoughts that you’ve had hundreds of times. 

He shakes his head. “It’s not important, I promise. I’m fine.” He pauses, sucking in a breath. “How do you feel?” 

“I’m fine, San, just shaken up, I guess. Do you know how Hongjoong did that?” 

His hands squeeze your forearms tighter, gripping you like he’s going to lose you. “I have no idea. But if he’s willing to go this far, I… fuck, I can’t believe it. I have to get you away from this.” 

You can only gape at him. You can’t believe that San is saying these things to you. San had always been so loyal to Hongjoong, even leading up to the very moments before the ceremony. What could possibly have made him flip his entire script so quickly? 

It’s almost touching to realize how much San must care for you. If he’s willing to abandon this for you… Fuck. 

“San, when can we go?” You try to not sound so eager, but the prospect of getting away is so sweet. 

He presses a kiss to your forehead before replying. “I have to think on it, but I swear that it will be soon. I can’t believe it’s taken me so long to figure it out.” 

You want to ask what it is that he’s figured out or what made him realize, but that sits in the backseat compared to the thought that suddenly rises to the forefront of your mind. “What about Haseul? And Mingi?” 

San freezes, still searching your face. He opens and closes his mouth a couple times, but no words come out. 

“San?” 

“I,” he pauses, biting his lip, “I’ll have to think about it more. We might have to come back for them.” 

You don’t like that idea, but you had thought it yourself a few times before. It would be a lot easier to get yourself out and come back with people that could actually stand a chance against this group rather than try and sneak out with someone else, risking all of your lives in the process. 

“Just trust me, yeah?” He smiles, letting go of your arms to readjust his shirt. 

You nod, throwing the blanket off of your legs. This is as good of a time as any to get out of the infirmary. Whatever had been going on with San, they must not care too much if you’re back with him considering the fact that he’s here now. 

Once San is reassembled, he offers you his hand again, helping you stand as you swing your legs off the bed. The two of you leave the room, passing by Nayeon as you walk down the hallway. She waves, smiling while you go. 

San drops your hand once you’re outside, but keeps one on the small of your back. He could reasonably pass that off as just helping you stay upright. 

By now, it’s mid-morning, almost 11. The sun is high and the fields— 

For the first time since you had arrived at the farm, you saw the farm equipment actually being put to use. A huge combine harvester moves through the field, still relatively close to the barn. You’re awestruck to actually see work being done, amazed that the time has passed so quickly. 

You halt in your tracks, lifting a hand up to shield your eyes from the sun so that you can watch the machine move. It doesn’t move particularly fast, but, by God, is it freaky looking. You wouldn’t want that thing coming to run you down, that’s for sure.

Which only reminds you of the time that you had tried to escape. And then resorted to hiding in the corn. 

When all of the corn is harvested, how will this place look? Barren. Cold. You don’t want to picture it; all that land with nowhere to hide. Will you even have to see it? Maybe you’ll be gone by then. 

A waving figure catches your eye off in the distance. You’re easily able to identify Yeosang once you look fully at him, and you raise your hand back in greeting, having to squint your eyes against the sun. 

San doesn’t wave back, instead ushering you to turn back toward the compound and keep moving. 

“Are we in a rush?” You ask, allowing him to steer you toward the door. 

San glances around, “I wouldn’t say that. But I’d feel better if we were alone in our apartment.” 

Well, okay, you guess. You would think that it would be a bit suspicious if you both suddenly started acting differently, but it’ll probably be okay for right now. At least until you can talk to San about everything. 

You head inside, trying to walk to the stairs. But you’re stopped before either of you can make the first step, a voice calling your name behind you.

It’s Wooyoung, you realize, before you even turn around to face him. 

“Aren’t you going to eat anything?” 

You glare across the foyer at him, wondering what kind of nerve this kid must have to be talking to you like you’re best friends again. 

He has a point, though. You turn your attention to your stomach, but you’re not surprised that the general sense of nausea and unease still lingers there; nothing like hunger. “I’m not hungry.” 

You know better than to directly accuse him of drugging you again. You really don’t know if he did… it’s possible that he didn’t. But, really, looking back on it… Ugh, you’ll just ask San later. He had already told you what he thought, but… you don’t know. Just, whatever. 

Wooyoung squints, a flat expression on his face. “Are you feeling alright after everything? Not just anyone can say they stood down a Guardian.” 

That’s really rich, coming from Wooyoung, you have to admit. The guy that basically told you that you need to accept your role in this place because he isn’t happy with his, either. Maybe he’s trying to sympathize with you, as a fellow skeptic. You won’t take the “compliment” at face value, but you still don’t appreciate the remark. 

“I’m perfectly fine,” you shrug, hoping to end the conversation there. 

He doesn’t look convinced. “I’ll have someone run some food up for you guys.” 

San thanks him for you, clearly ending the conversation there. He ushers the both of you up the stairs and to your apartment, swiftly locking the door behind you once you’re inside. 

You look around your apartment, almost expecting something to have changed, but nothing has. Everything is just how you left it this morning, not a single thing out of order. 

“Are we talking about this now, then?” You question, looking to San as he paces in front of the couch. He doesn’t stop pacing, but he does gesture for you to sit down, “you’re really worrying me, San.” 

He halts in place then, frowning, but not sitting next to you. “I’m sorry, it’s just…” he lets his sentence hang in the air, “I can’t believe… I can’t believe it.” 

“What happened to you while I was out?” You want to reach out and grab his hand, but you can’t, he’s moving too much. 

San starts pacing again, “well, first of all, sorry for disappearing on your right before the ceremony.” You nod, encouraging him to continue. “Seonghwa appeared out of nowhere and pulled me aside to talk about literally nothing and then, by the time I realized what was happening, the ceremony had started and I couldn’t have helped you.” 

He freezes, as if recalling the memory, “and then the ceremony happened. And, and that thing appeared. I hope to God that Hongjoong or Seonghwa or someone was able to explain that to you, because I can’t. I don’t know what that was, I’ve never seen anything like it or heard of Hongjoong—” he stops abruptly. “I mean that I don’t know how that happened. And I saw it grab you and I seriously, I thought that it was now, that, that Hongjoong had enough of you and— I thought you were going to die.” 

It’s only now that his voice falters, breaking with his last sentence. You’re no stranger to San’s emotions, but his tears always have an effect on you. To his credit, he does a good job of keeping it mostly together as he keeps speaking. 

“But then it was over, and you were on the ground, and I tried to stand up to go to you, but Seonghwa held me down, and I couldn’t do anything. I felt so helpless watching Hongjoong pick you up, watching Mingi run to his side to take you off of his hands and carry you out. I tried to get up again, but Seonghwa wouldn’t let me go. I almost fucking hit him.” He shakes at the memory, his voice thick with both anger and his tears. “We stayed there for a long time. We just waited until Hongjoong came back, and he sure fucking came back. He was incensed. Didn’t even say why. Even Seonghwa looked nervous as he screamed and bitched and threw shit around.” 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

“You will not take her from me!” Hongjoong screams, at neither man in particular. “I don’t care which one of you it is; I forbade it for a reason and I will be fucking respected!” 

Seonghwa doesn’t move an inch at San’s side. San doesn’t say anything, either.

Hongjoong’s rage permeates the chapel. “Why isn’t she scared? Why isn’t she terrified, whimpering and begging for her life at my feet?” He starts pacing up and down the aisle, kicking copies of The Answer that he had thrown to the ground. “Doesn’t she realize that I am the only thing standing between her and a cold grave?” He whirls to face the other two men. “Answer me!”

“I think she is scared of you,” San mutters, “but she’s good at hiding it in front of you.” 

Hongjoong’s face contorts into a smile, and San knows that he’s fucked up. “Is that it? How do you know, San? Do you hold her at night while she cries in your arms at my cruelty?” 

San only blinks, unable to respond in a way that would please his leader. 

“She doesn’t know about Haseul yet. What is she going to think when she finds out that her boyfriend let her die?” 

“Hongjoong—,” Seonghwa cuts in, “She can’t know about Haseul, even if you want to scare her. It’s invaluable for us to be able to hold this ove—”

“You will not tell me what I can and cannot do, Park Seonghwa!” Hongjoong yells, “I am in charge here! I am! If I want her to know about Haseul, she will know about Haseul.” 

“Of course you are, Hongjoong, you don’t need to be so angry.” Seonghwa tries to console Hongjoong, to absolutely no avail. 

Hongjoong puts his palms together, resting his index fingers on his forehead as he thinks. “I cannot take this disrespect much longer.” 

The chapel remains in tense silence, neither San nor Seonghwa wanting to be the first to say something.

Apparently that’s not what Hongjoong wanted, either. “Seonghwa,” he gets the man’s attention, “hold San steady for me, would you?”

San knows what’s coming. Hongjoong’s had it out for him for ages, and this is finally it. He’s outlived his purpose, his presence is only backfiring, it’s time for him to go. He knew that it was coming, he should’ve known that it would be now. His death would utterly destroy (Y/n), there would be nothing for her to do except accept her fate. 

Seonghwa does as Hongjoong instructs, standing behind him to hold his arms in place. San doesn’t struggle. He has to be strong. Go bravely. That’s what he wants. 

But Hongjoong surprises him. He takes a step toward him, smoothing his own ceremonial shirt before grabbing the hem of San’s and pulling it out of his pants. 

Oh… San really hadn’t been expecting tha—

But then Hongjoong hits him. Just once. 

“We’ll see how she feels when you’re not so pretty.” Hongjoong spits, literally, onto the floor of the chapel. 

San can hardly hear him through the pain rippling over his jaw, but the message is clear enough. He doesn’t need a mirror to taste the blood, or feel it pouring down his chin. Seonghwa lets go of his arms and it takes everything in him to not double over. Instead, he looks up at Hongjoong, unintimidated. 

Hongjoong stretches his hand. “She asked for you, Seonghwa. Better go comfort her.” He glares up at him. “But not too well.” 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

Of course, unbeknownst to you, San leaves the… sensitive details out as he recounts Hongjoong’s tantrum for you. Not a single word of Haseul is spoken to you, but the rest is mostly accurate. 

You sit in horror as San recounts these details to you, unsure how to even react. You’ve always known that Hongjoong is capable of violence, and Seonghwa, too, but to hear of them acting such violence onto San, of all people… it’s almost unthinkable. At some point in the not too distant past, Hongjoong had trusted San to watch over you at all times of the day, and now? His own paranoia has driven him to violence? 

Your thoughts wander to Seonghwa against your own better judgment. Seonghwa is his own person, he’s taking care of himself. He doesn’t want you meddling in his relationships, and he has made this more than abundantly clear. 

But how does Hongjoong treat him? It can’t be kind. You’ve seen the slights between them, seen Hongjoong deny Seonghwa of even the simplest pleasure. Behind closed doors, what do they talk about? How does Hongjoong act around him? 

Though you’re loath to admit it, you have to worry for him. If Hongjoong is violent with you, the person he considers to be one of the most important figures in his religion… that doesn’t bode well for Seonghwa. 

“San,” you bring your thoughts back to the present moment, “I’m so sorry that you went through that for me.” 

He doesn’t stop pacing, almost ignoring your sentiment all together. “Hongjoong is crazy.” 

“I’ve known that for a while now.” 

San smiles. Smiles. “I don’t think you understand the extent of it.”

You find that hard to believe, but there probably are things that San knows about Hongjoong that you don’t.

“But that’s not important for right now. I just need you to keep your distance from him as much as possible; I’ll ask Seonghwa for his help—”

“Seonghwa?” You’re astounded. “You’re going to ask Seonghwa to help us escape?” 

San shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut, not looking at you. “No, but he’ll keep you away from Hongjoong. That’s basically his number one priority, anyways.” 

It makes sense. If Hongjoong is as volatile as he was with Seonghwa and San earlier, he’s a danger to be around. Even more so than usual. But getting Seonghwa’s help… “Won’t it be obvious what we’re trying to do?”

“You already avoid Hongjoong,” San says. “I don’t think it will be a drastic enough change to draw attention, as long as you’re not refusing to see Seonghwa.” 

The way with which San says this last sentence… is different. He’s not stuttering anymore, you realize. He hasn’t been for a while, now. When San is upset, his stutter is more pronounced than anything else, its absence is suddenly so jarring that you have to wonder why you didn’t realize when it stopped. 

There’s no emotion in his voice anymore. No personality, no San. 

You stare up at him, watching him walk back and forth in front of you. He’s not upset, not anymore, at least. What is this? 

“San.” You try to get his attention. “Are you alright?” 

He finally stops walking, if just for a second, to give you a good look at his face. “I’m fine,” he states. His eyes aren’t red, his breathing is perfectly even, his expression flat. “Why do you ask?” 

“You’re scaring me,” you say. “What’s going on?”

San resumes his pacing. “You should be scared, I should be scared, I should’ve been this whole time; But I’ve been so stupid and now isn’t the time for me to be some sniveling boy.”

You can’t respond to that. 

“I think I know when we can try to get out. I’m not going to fail you this time, (Y/n), I swear.”  

“San, wait, hold on,” you start, shaking your head, “what about your laptop? The phones? Can’t you just call the cops?” 

San smiles tightly, “I considered it, but there would be issues. Hongjoong has a plan, and things would not end well if law enforcement got involved and Hongjoong had more than five seconds to think before he was arrested or killed.” 

“So you’re seriously proposing that we run away, leaving everyone else here… forever… including the children?” 

“Would you rather be alive and here or dead and buried?” San blinks. “That’s what this comes down to for the rest of the group. We can find a way to get Mingi and Haseul, but it’s not feasible to save everyone knowing that Hongjoong has a plan for this exact situation.” 

Your stomach rolls over itself as he explains this. How can you just leave? How could you leave everyone behind and forget about them? How could San even suggest something so horrible?

The thought of freedom is enticing, but the weight that would remain on your conscience… It makes you sick just thinking about it now. 

Whatever. Fuck San. You’ll remedy the situation yourself once you’re out. There’s not a chance in hell you’d leave all of these innocent people to rot on this farm. 

San’s apathy is so jarring. Maybe that’s what waking up after years of brainwashing does to a person.

You don’t want to judge him when he’s so clearly doing this for you. To protect you. You can hardly complain that he’s resolved in this situation. 

… Yeah, no, it still rubs you the wrong way.

But you’ll shrug it off for now. “When can we go?” 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

San explains the general idea to you, which he’ll refine in the coming weeks. 

With the beginning of the harvest starting, that puts the farm about one month out from the conclusion. Apparently, they don’t actually own that much acreage, just enough to surround the commune itself, so harvest doesn’t take very long. Throughout the month, there are various ceremonies that all culminate into one, final, grand ceremony at the end of the harvest. After this ceremony, there’s a party. 

It was about here when you realized where this was going.

The party is huge, apparently. Like, all-out, rager huge. Everyone gets drunk (apparently this is part of the ceremony) and everything gets a bit wild and confusing. San’s proposal is that the two of you make a break for it when everyone is (a) extremely inebriated and (b) distracted by the celebrations. 

It’s kind of cliche, but you have to imagine that it’ll work, especially if this party is as crazy as San explained. 

If it doesn’t work… the thought puts a bitter taste in your mouth. You’re not going to start pondering what you’ll do if you get caught for a second time. 

Really, this plan should work. San has access to the vehicles. With a car, you can be fifty miles away before anyone even realizes that you’re gone, so long as Hongjoong lets you out of his sight for even just a few minutes. 

With all of the noise and distractions, no one will hear the car starting. No one will hear you guys peeling out, the terrible crunch of the gravel under the wheels that you had heard what felt like so long ago. 

You think back to the night in the corn field. What a shitshow. You had to give it to yourself, you were very brave. And you got quite far for the amount of preparation that you had done. But that night… 

Remains one that you want to forget. But you’ll never forget the fear coursing through your veins, the feeling of your heart in your chest, your ears twitching with every sound that you heard. When Seonghwa was chasing you, when Hongjoong reduced you to a puddle at his feet. 

It was like being hunted for sport. 

You have to hold out hope that the car will make all of the difference here, which you’re sure that it can. Where you’re going to go… you aren’t sure. 

Surely, you know that you have to get law enforcement involved, but what San said is weighing on your mind… Maybe, if you fully explained the situation, you could get some sort of covert mission operating… But that would probably have its pitfalls, too. It’s hard to know what’s right, but you trust that you’ll figure it out once you’ve saved yourself. 

There’s also the option that the police will entirely write you off and think you’re just some crazy lady. Especially if San… 

No, wait, pause. San would tell the truth, right? Like, he would be your witness? He wouldn’t actually just let this keep happening once he’s out… 

God, the fact that you even have to weigh this option is exhausting. Why can’t you just trust him? You’ve had no problem with it before, so why should it be an issue now? Has San ever done anything to betray your trust? Minus him being a high-ranking cult official, but, like, that’s just part of the deal. You have to trust him, especially now.  If you can’t trust San, who can you trust? 

Your mind wanders to your apartment, your old college dorm room, your childhood bedroom. How dreamy would it be to be anywhere but here? You miss your big bed and your pantry full of snacks you actually like and your bookshelves stacked with your books. You miss sleeping alone, but hearing your neighbors through your thin walls; when you didn’t have a sanctioned bed time that everyone obeyed. 

On your nightstand at home, you have a framed picture of your friends. You try to picture their faces, all of them. Changbin, Mingi, Soojin, Haseul, Juyeon, and Jungeun. And, of course, your own face. When’s the last time you looked in the mirror? You think of your features, your hair, the color of your eyes and your smile. 

Horrifyingly, you can only picture Hongjoong’s smile. 

You stop trying to picture yourself.

Mingi comes to the forefront of your mind. Mingi. Do all roads lead back to Mingi? It feels like it. San had said that Mingi had run to you when you fainted, that he’d taken you from Hongjoong and carried you to the infirmary. You try to picture it, the feeling of Mingi’s arms wrapped around you again. Had he held you close, like a friend, or sterile, far away from his own body, the act of an EMT? Had he let your head hang upside down, over his arm, or did he support your neck like you would a baby? 

You don’t know what feels right. You only know that Mingi had held you and Mingi had cared. 

Maybe he threw you over his shoulder like he used to do when you refused to follow him somewhere. Probably unlikely. But you smile as you think about it, anyways, how he always used his height to his advantage and how he would sling you around like you weighed nothing. 

How many times did he have to carry you to the library? How many times did he carry you out of the library? What does carrying someone mean? When is it an act of love and when is it an act of control?

Haseul had been carried. Where is she, now? In a little room? Is Wooyoung talking to her, keeping her company? Has Mingi been a good companion to her? Is she being subjugated to Hongjoong and Seonghwa, yet? Are you going to have to attend her own Choosing ceremony, soon? 

Hongjoong wouldn’t trust you to just silently watch her ceremony, you know that well enough. It’ll probably just happen and you’ll be told after the fact. When its too late to warn her. The next time you see her, she’ll probably be in the infirmary, recovering from a fucking stab wound. 

Your own scar tingles. Would Hongjoong just kill her? He had made it clear that he decides who lives and who dies. He could just lethally aim the knife. And wouldn’t that be the ultimate punishment? Not knowing she’s dead until being told after the fact? Not being able to see her one last time? 

San wouldn’t let that happen. He would warn you, he would try to help her again, you’re sure of it. 

So you just have to focus on yourself, for now. Keep your head down, wait it out, and trust San. That’s really all that you can do. You can’t help Haseul while you’re stuck here, just like you can’t help Mingi, either. 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

You had half expected Hongjoong to give you a break for a few days, considering your encounter with… whatever that thing was, but that illusion is quickly destroyed when Seonghwa comes knocking on your door at the usual time the next day. 

San answers, quickly lowering his voice in what sounds like an attempt to plead with Seonghwa to leave you alone for the day. You sneak up behind San, making eye contact with Seonghwa as your appearance calls his attention. 

“What do you think, princess?” He sounds as pissed as he looks. You can imagine that he wants to be here just as much as you want him here.

Resting a hand on San’s shoulder, you tell him that you’re fine to go. Afterall, how else are you supposed to keep up appearances? And you need to learn more about what this month has in store for you.

San steps aside as Seonghwa offers you his hand, which you take. Strange, though, that he doesn’t take your arm as he usually would. Is this his way of…

Your last conversation echoes in your head. Seonghwa seemed genuinely concerned. And quite rattled. And he was honest with you, as much as you could expect him to be. Maybe he’s feeling bad. Or sentimental. Or protective. 

… Pft, who are you kidding? He probably didn’t even think twice about taking your hand instead of your arm.

Hand-in-hand, you walk silently to Hongjoong’s apartment.

Fuck. You can only hope that he’s not there. You could probably play off your curiosity about the month as your worry about what’s going to happen to you, but something tells you that Hongjoong is going to be looking for reasons to be cruel. Or you’re going to be in for some intense attempts at gaslighting you into believing… 

You have to resist a shudder at the memory. With enough effort, you probably could believe that that shit was real. Didn’t you have to beg Seonghwa to tell you that it wasn’t? You still don’t understand what the hell that even was or how it could’ve been faked, but you really can’t bring yourself to think of it. 

Seonghwa drops your hand to open the door, holding it open behind him to allow you to enter as well. 

Hesitantly, you glance around the apartment. 

“He’s not here,” Seonghwa says. “But he wants you here when he comes back.” 

The door shuts, and you sit at your usual spot on the couch. Seonghwa flops into his chair, facing you. 

“When will he be back?” 

He just shrugs, folding his arms across his chest. The image takes you back to a certain other night the two of you have been alone, and you have to clench your jaw to drive away the thoughts, looking anywhere else but at his body. 

“I suppose you have more questions.” Seonghwa doesn't ask you this, but tells you. 

Yeah, you have a lot of questions. The primary ones you either can't ask Seonghwa or you've asked him already, to no avail. 

You look at your nail beds, trying to be nonchalant. “Are you still jealous of San?” 

Why that's the question you decide to ask, you have no idea. 

Seonghwa scoffs. “Really?” He asks. “That's where we're going?” 

Shrugging, you try your best to resist looking at him. “I just thought it was strange that Hongjoong didn't want me to see him yesterday. I can't help but imagine that you must still be feeding him lies,” you say. “He also told me that it was you that had to physically hold him back when I fell.” Not to mention the other holding he did. 

Though you don't look at him, you can imagine his displeasure spreading across his expression. “I don't know why you insist that there's nothing between you. It's nothing to be ashamed of, minus the fact that your misadventures could only cause harm to San.” 

“Exactly,” your eyes flit up to his face, “I'd never put him in danger.” 

“Your loyalty to a man you hardly know is admirable,” Seonghwa says through a sneer. 

“I know San better than I know you.” 

You could swear his eye twitches. “Sure you do.” 

“Is there something you want to tell me?” You blink. “I have no reason to not trust San, and every reason to not trust you.” 

Seonghwa shakes his head, smiling. “I think you're forgetting your situation, Princess. San is your punishment, and you're his.” He brushes his bangs out of his eyes. “I never said you had to trust me. I think you do, anyways.”

You stay silent, knowing that he's at least partially correct. You probably do trust Seonghwa, at least more than a lot of the people here. 

“Otherwise, you wouldn't have asked for me to calm you yesterday.” 

“I asked for San, first.”

“And what would he have told you?” Seonghwa leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Not what you wanted to hear. He wouldn't have been able to assure you of anything. I did.” 

Again, you know he's right. San hadn't been able to do much to calm your nerves, despite tell you his plan for your escape. 

You lock eyes with him, planning to defend San, but your gaze betrays you. Seonghwa leans back in the chair, knowing he's got you.

“Who was in the costume?” You ask instead. 

Seonghwa deigns to look confused. “I'm not sure what you mean.” 

The frustration of the prior day comes back at full force. Why can't just one other person acknowledge the fucking insanity of this place? Why can't Seonghwa just say what he means? Why is he so insistent on agreeing with Hongjoong, no matter the cost?

“Do you ever get tired of being Hongjoong's lapdog?” 

“Lapdog?” He smiles. “Come here.”

You swallow as he gestures for you to stand in front of him, recognizing the gesture from weeks prior. “No.”

Seonghwa stands instead, stepping around the coffee table to be able to stand before you. Forced into looking up at him, you hate this upper hand he's suddenly gained through your refusal. 

He bends, using a hand to grip the sofa behind your shoulder. Face to face, he mockingly pouts. “That's what you think of me?” 

You keep your mouth shut, hoping your gaze is burning through him.

“You said it yourself,” he leans closer to you, “you hardly know me.” 

With his face so close to your own, you hardly even feel like you can breathe, like it would be encroaching on his space. You glance between his eyes, trying your damnedest to not look anywhere else. If you looked at his lips… his pretty, plump lips… 

Fortunately, or, perhaps unfortunately, the doorknob starts rattling a few feet away from the both of you, and Seonghwa quickly leans out of the compromising position. Slipping a hand in his pocket, he stares down at you once more. “This isn’t over.” 

The door opens, but neither of you turn to greet who you know will be in the doorway. You’d have to imagine it’s quite a sight to see, the both of your staring daggers at each other, unwilling to be the first to look away. 

Hongjoong isn’t pleased by your ignorance. He slams the door behind him as he enters his apartment, and Seonghwa finally relieves you of his look. 

Your eyes only move to Hongjoong when he comes to stand next to Seonghwa, his hand resting on his bicep.

“Well, well, well,” he says, “having a lively conversation? Without me?” 

Hongjoong gently turns Seonghwa so that he’s angled to sit on the couch, pushing him down until he’s sitting right next to you. Your thighs brush. Hongjoong moves back to sit on the chair Seonghwa vacated, settling himself in before speaking again. 

“Have you had time to reflect on what happened yesterday?” Hongjoong inquires, tilting his head. He’s wearing his glasses, the overhead light reflecting off of them, obscuring his irises. “If I seemed frustrated with you, I must apologize. You have to understand that it was a very scary experience, even for myself. And I forgive you for the way that you reacted, as well.”

You squint at Hongjoong. As if you had anything to be sorry for. He’s the one that got himself all mad for no reason. He should be apologizing to San. 

But you can only imagine how this conversation will go if you continue to argue with him about the validity of the… thing. And San requested you to keep a low profile. He probably wouldn’t want you bringing up his mistreatment. So you nod a couple times, hoping that he doesn’t want you to vocalize an apology. 

“You must have been in shock,” Hongjoong continues. “Which would explain your inability to accept what had happened.” 

Nodding again, you try to figure out where he’s going with this. Does he want you to start asking questions? Does he seriously, genuinely believe that you’ve lost it, now? He can’t.

So, what? He just wants you to act like you have? He must know that it would just be a ruse, so why does he want you to go along with it so badly?

Seonghwa certainly knows that you’re not fooled, and you can expect that he told Hongjoong this after you spoke to him yesterday. Who is this act for, exactly? 

“As important as you are, it makes sense that you were targeted. The Guardians, in fact, are responsible for the loss of your predecessor.” 

Okay, so, that’s a lie. Hongjoong told you as much himself. He’s really going to go back on his word, gaslight you into forgetting what he already said? He might be able to get you to forget what he told you about Haneul, but not so soon after you found out about her. 

Haneul’s memory is alive and well in your head, despite the fact that you never met her. You owe it to her to remember the facts of her life, and her death, as best as you can. It awakens a tinge of anger in you to even hear Hongjoong so blatantly disregard her truth. He told you, to your face, that he liked you more than her. So he got rid of her. Not these “guardians” or whatever the fuck he’s trying to blame for her death. 

“The Guardians,” you say, plainly. “Are… what, exactly?” 

Hongjoong leans back in the chair, crossing his arms. “Well, there’s quite an extensive explanation in The Answer, but I suppose it could be beneficial to hear about them from me.

“The Guardians, simply put, are our antagonists. They protect the Sign, keeping it in the hands of those that oppose us. When we’re close to reaching the Sign, or when the barrier is thinner than normal, such as during a ceremony, they can appear. They’re rather frightening, and they can kill or bring Followers back to their dimension.”

… You blink at Hongjoong, remembering to nod periodically through his explanation. What are you supposed to say to that? 

“So, yesterday, then, it was trying to… kill me?” You ask, sensing that Hongjoong wants something to bounce off of. 

He tsks. “I don’t suspect kill, but rather kidnap. If they know that you’ve been Chosen, they’ll continue to target you whenever the barrier is thin. Surely they know that we would go to great lengths to recover you if they were able to steal you away.” 

Hongjoong speaks with such a conviction that you can see how people are led to believe in him. If you had a weaker mindset, his crock of shit might just make sense. Or be just scary enough to make you want to believe that he could protect you. 

“But you scared it away? Yesterday?” 

Hongjoong nods gravely, closing his eyes. “They fear my presence, thankfully. Very rarely can they stand to be in the same room as me.” 

You smile, hopefully not sarcastically. “That’s very lucky for me, then.” 

“It is,” Seonghwa cuts in, surprisingly. “Hongjoong will always be with you, so you’ll always be safe.” Even more surprising than his words, Seonghwa slides his hand into resting on your mid-thigh, assuringly squeezing you. You turn toward him with wide eyes, about to question what the hell he thinks he’s doing, when his expression makes it very clear to you that you should drop the subject. 

Bizarre. Why would Seonghwa be warning you to stop talking about what Hongjoong so clearly wants you to speak about? 

So you turn back toward Hongjoong, who’s agreeing with what Seonghwa said, seemingly oblivious to his little boyfriend’s hand on your thigh. “Is there any way to protect myself, if I am alone?” You ask instead of heeding Seonghwa’s warning. 

He squeezes your thigh harder, but you ignore it. What the hell is he trying to steer you away from? If he doesn’t want you to talk about it, surely it’s something that you’re going to want to know, right? Seonghwa can’t be looking out for you, not when Hongjoong is in the room. He has his priorities in order, and Hongjoong far outweighs yourself. 

“Great question,” Hongjoong smiles approvingly. “So long as you have a Sign of the Answer on your person, you can fend them off yourself. They revere the Sign, they won’t harm someone under its protection.”

If that’s the case… you would’ve been fine, yesterday, then. As always, you had been wearing a Sign pinned to your shirt, somewhere. Though Hongjoong would probably try to argue with you that you must have been missing it, otherwise the Guardian wouldn’t have been able to attack.

But then that also raises the question. Is kidnapping someone the same as harming them? Maybe it wouldn’t have killed you, but could it still have taken you? Assuming that Hongjoong isn’t just some very creative psycho, that is. Purely for thought exercise, you have to wonder what the Sign could really protect someone from. Was yesterday an attack? Or merely an appearance?

You sense that Seonghwa is trying to warn you away from the areas that Hongjoong doesn’t have fleshed out. For all you know, yesterday is the first time that a Guardian has ever appeared in the flesh. Hongjoong might not have prepared for every possible question that you could ask. 

The questions that you’re most curious about are things that you can’t ask him. Who did he have dressed up? How did they make that stature, that outfit, that… aura? Where was the face? Were you drugged? Was everyone drugged? Did everyone see the same thing that you did, or is everyone collectively lying to you to help their leader? Seriously, where the fuck was that thing’s face? How did they do that? If it wasn’t for that gaping maw of nothingness, you’d have a much easier time writing the entire experience off as the complete joke that you logically know it must have been. You push the thought away for now. 

“I’ll be sure to always wear my pins, then.” You motion to where you have one pinned to your collar. “I have questions about the ceremonies in general, though, Hongjoong. Can I ask a few things?” 

He motions for you to proceed, and Seonghwa’s hand doesn’t tighten its hold on you, so you do. “Will there be more sacrifices?” 

Hongjoong nods. “There’s a sacrifice for each ceremony.”

“What is the sacrifice for? To what deity?” 

A hint of exasperation crosses his face as Seonghwa slides his hand a little higher. “I’ve explained this. Sacrifices are sent to different universes as aid for our clones. There’s no God in particular the sacrifice is for, except for me.” 

“So they can even use animals, in the other universes? The situation is so dire?” 

Seonghwa pinches you instead of squeezing. Hongjoong’s exasperation melts into wry acceptance. “Yes, it is. Have you ever gone months without eating meat?” 

… Yeah, probably. But you’re not going to press him harder on the subject. “I was just curious, I didn’t mean to question you. How many more ceremonies will there be this month?”

Seonghwa’s hand doesn’t move, and it’s right about now that you’re starting to feel a little bit insane because of it. Why would he put his hand on your thigh, of all places? Why does it keep migrating upward? Why don’t you just say something to stop him? Or use your own hand to move his away? Why is the warmth of his palm seeping through your jeans so quickly? Why hasn’t Hongjoong said something yet?

“There will be one ceremony each weekend.” He says, calmer, now. “But you won’t have to participate in all of them. The most important ceremonies, the first and the last, are different and thus require the Bearer’s presence.” 

Well, that takes a bit of the pressure off, at least. Knowing that you don’t have to personally participate in every ceremony, though, no doubt, you’ll have to be present at each of them, makes you feel just a tad bit better. You have to imagine that Haseul’s Choosing ceremony will be soon… 

“Hongjoong, did I do good yesterday?” You ask, trying to feign your most innocent look. “Can I see Haseul, soon?” 

He gives you a small smile, but his answer doesn’t match it at all. “No. You made me quite mad, yesterday.”

The response is actually slightly shocking. You knew you had made him upset, but for him to vocalize it to you? To deny you seeing Haseul because of some bullshit that he orchestrated himself? 

“But—”

“No buts about it,” Hongjoong says. “You’ll be able to see Haseul once you’re behaving on a consistent basis.” 

“Won’t she have a Choosing ceremony?” You blurt, hoping that you weren’t the one to put the idea in his head. Maybe he had been planning on just keeping her locked up and not actually indoctrinating her. Had you even considered that? 

Hongjoong sighs. “I haven’t decided. Is she worthy of one?” 

What the hell does he mean ‘worthy?’ He’s seriously not going to jump at the chance to bring her in? If he wanted to, he could just kill her then and there; wouldn’t that be his dream? To end her life in front of you? Wouldn’t that just tickle his fancy? You don’t understand. 

Unless he’s taking a certain pity on her, which you highly doubt.

He must see your confusion painted plainly on your face, dismissing the thought with a wave of his hand. “It’s no matter. You’ll see her when you deserve to. Seonghwa,” —he abruptly changes the topic and his tone— “where exactly is your hand going?” 

Seonghwa’s hand flies off of you, landing promptly back into his own lap.

“That’s what I thought.” Hongjoong tuts. “Do we need to discuss the lines that must not be crossed, again?” 

You shake your head. You do not need the sex talk again from Hongjoong. God. And it's not like you were feeling him up. 

“Seonghwa, you look particularly guilty. Do you need to tell me something?”

You suspect that, if Seonghwa looks or feels guilty of something, it's not the hand on your thigh. It's the warning you to stray away from topics that could upset Hongjoong. 

But, glancing over at him, you’re surprised to see how red his face has gotten. Do you really get him going so easily? You could almost laugh, if not for the circumstances. Surely he's not so embarrassed just to have been seen with a hand on your leg. Its not like Hongjoong walked in on his hand down your pants or anything. And hadn’t he been all up in your face before Hongjoong arrived? Where’d that confident asshole go? 

Hongjoong’s presence makes all the difference, you suppose. Hopefully he's able to play off this little episode as embarrassment about touching you. If Hongjoong realizes what he was doing, he'd probably get in trouble. 

Which is still perplexing. Why had Seonghwa done that? Since when does he want to protect you? The way he's been acting, yesterday and today, just doesn't… align with the picture you have in your head. 

Seonghwa looks literally anywhere else than at you or Hongjoong, shaking his head as well. 

Slowly, he uses his hands to slide himself farther down the couch from you. Hongjoong chuckles from your opposite side, bringing you back into the reality that you temporarily abandoned. 

“That’s pathetic, Seonghwa, really.” 

Seonghwa simply looks back toward the coffee table, his face pink. Hongjoong is so harsh.

“Anyways,” Hongjoong calls your attention back towards him, “anything you want to tell me, (Y/n)? How’s San?”

This obsession with your relationship with San is infinitely annoying. What makes them think that you’re ever going to admit to what they suspect of you? 

“San is perfectly fine.” 

Hongjoong’s eyebrow twitches. “Oh? I only ask because he was rather… upset, yesterday, is all.”

“Wasn’t everyone a little upset?”

“Not so personally.” 

You shrug your shoulders. “I don’t know how many different ways I can tell you that you made us live together, so it’s only natural that we care about each other.” 

“Well,” is Hongjoong’s entire response. 

The room falls into a rather uncomfortable silence. 

You look back at Seonghwa, but he’s just looking at his hands, folded in his lap, now. 

Hongjoong looks at his nail beds. 

“Are we done, then?” You ask. 

“You don’t have any more questions?” Hongjoong responds with a question, not looking up at you. 

You rack your mind for anything else. Sure, there are plenty of questions, just not ones that he would be happy to answer.

“I guess not.” 

Hongjoong looks up, flicking his eyes between you and Seonghwa. “Shall I escort you back to your apartment?” 

You look back at Seonghwa, who’s now looking between you and Hongjoong. 

“I don’t have a preference,” you say, even though you definitely do. 

“I can take her,” Seonghwa springs up, offering you his hand. 

Taking it, you also stand. “I actually have one more question, Hongjoong.”

He has to look up at you for once. He simply waits for your question while you gaze down at him.

“Is the sacrifice always an animal?”

He smiles. “More or less.”

Great. Wonderful. Perfect. You absolutely hate that response. More or less? Thats the most non-answer answer that he could've given you. And it definitely means that its not always an animal. Which makes you wonder when… and who… 

Stunned into silence, you say nothing. Neither does Seonghwa.

“Hurry back.” Hongjoong requests, dismissing the two of you without another word. 

Once you’re outside of Hongjoong’s apartment, you debate teasing Seonghwa, but decide against it. Though it would be quite fun, the poor guy is probably going to get it from Hongjoong already, no need to add to his torment. Plus, he was just trying to help you. 

He walks you in silence, again, hand-in-hand, back to your apartment. 

No sooner than you’re saying goodbye and shutting the door behind you does San appear in the entryway, grabbing for you. 

“Are you alright? Are you hurt? What happened?” He frantically asks, looking you up and down and all around, his hands flying around your limbs to check for injuries.

Stunned, you stay still. “I’m fine?” 

San sighs in relief, guiding you back toward the couch, sitting and pulling you onto his lap. “I was so worried they’d somehow found out. That you’d be hurt.” 

You shuffle around so that your back can rest against the armrest of the sofa, your legs still resting over his.

“They absolutely cannot find out, no matter what,” San says. “Can you tell me what you talked about?” 

So you explain the conversations for him, using a free hand to card through his hair as you do. He seems to relax after you’ve elaborated, though you leave out the part about Seonghwa and his hand. 

Part of you wonders if you should feel guilty about messing with Seonghwa. Not for his sake, but for San’s. What even is going on between the two of you? You probably shouldn’t be flirting with the enemy anyways, but San probably wouldn’t be overjoyed to hear about the things that have happened between yourself and Seonghwa. The fact that you leave it out when recounting the meeting must prove that you know that it’s wrong. 

“Come here,” you open your arms to him. 

He slips out from under you, realigning himself so that he can rest his head on your chest. “We’ll get out of here, together.” He wraps his arms around your waist.

You do the same, continuing to run your fingers through his hair. There’s nothing you can do but agree with him. The two of you will escape together, and soon. After that, you can forget all about this place. 

… Yeah, in your dreams. The real horror might start after you’re gone. You have to believe that San is telling the truth about Hongjoong. Revealing the cult to the authorities will only end in horror if you’re not careful. 

And you find it hard to believe that you’ll be okay once you’re gone. You’ve considered it before, the way that this sort of trauma affects someone. How long will you have to recover? Will you be able to go back to your old life? 

Will San be part of it? 

You squeeze him tighter and he reciprocates. 

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