#⸻ ARC : everything changes ( s. one ) .

[deus-ex-mona]

such is the tale of a ✨chronically online hypocrite✨

[we1sh]

TAG DUMP .

[saturngas]

sloppy head while watching tv

[🪐] you give your boyfriend a sloppy blowjob just because

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader

genre: smut

warnings: established relationship; size kink; a little bit of oral fixation; dirty talk; ball play; me dedicating two paragraphs to describing this man's pretty cock;

word count: 2.3k

..

beaming light came from the tv, giving a cozy setting to the living room. your boyfriend was wearing his pitch black glasses since his very sensitive eyes would be burning from the radiance.

your legs were sprawled out and tangled with satoru´s on the cushiony lovesac couch, you on top of his strong body. heavy, strong arms were wrapped around your waist while one of his large hands was stroking the exposed skin of your low back. your head rested on his hard chest while his chin laid on top of your head, your soft locks tickling his jawline.

the movie was once interesting, until a scene where the main male character was stripping off his clothes to start his training arc made you a bit warm in the inside. the actor wasn't your celebrity crush or anything in particular, but seeing his strong built body kind of reminded you of the godlike boyfriend you had beneath you.

after said scene, you couldn't keep your hands off satoru´s body. and of course he appreciated all your undivided attention on him, humming at every given touch. satoru even felt relived that actor knocked some sense into you so you would touch him. the way he would always be touch starved with you is indescribable.

your eyes were on the tv but your mind was getting high from the mere touch of your hands on satoru´s warm skin underneath his oversized sweater. hard mountains of pecs adorning his chest while strong abs would flex at your touch. he looked so good the moment he stepped out of the bathroom after a shower with his casual clothes already on.

his black uniform complemented his pale skin and snowy hair so well, along with the black blindfold, but when he changed for casual clothing, you could feel heat rushing to your core. being his girlfriend granted these heavenly views whenever you would be at home or going out for a date. satoru liked looking good. he was one for fashion. he had never mentioned something about it to you, but you knew he was picky with his outfits, always wanting everything to match and make out a nice looking aesthetic. he once was so troubled a new pair of navy blue pants didn't suit with a stylish jacket he already owned.

you would always tell him he looked handsome as well. and oh how flustered he would get. even after years of being together, he wasn't really used to your compliments. he loved your words of affirmation. even though satoru loved talking so high about himself—he was very aware of the man he was—, his cheeks would burn at any given praised from anyone, especially you.

one of your hands started exploring his back muscles while the other stayed on the front, roaming through his well-built abs. a single finger tracing his linea alba between his abs until stopping at the hem of his sweatpants. you heard the white haired man's breath sharpen at your sudden stop, the hand stroking at your lower back aiming to your bum; long fingers tracing the outline of your ass over your leggings.

still your hands wouldn't stop teasing his sensitive skin, his confirmations to keep going being his low hums buzzing from his chest. your smile turned into a smirk the moment you heard a whimper coming from his parted lips as your hand finally trespassed his sweatpants and underwear, going for the big prize. his hand grabbed a handful of your ass while his free hand went to your hair, caressing your scalp.

"oh baby..." he whimpered as your delicate fingers wrapped around his hardening cock. "don't start something you can't finish." there he was with his snarky comments even when he was in the lower position. you looked up to see his blushing face. rosy lips parted slightly to let out short hot breaths while his forehead was glittering with fresh sweat.

the hand that was previously on his back flew to his face to take of his rectangular glasses, tossing them somewhere in the room. his baby blue eyes were half lidded, a dark blue molding in the depths of his irises, a signal of his growing lust for you.

"it's okay, my angel boy," one hand stroking up and down his large cock as the other caressed lovingly the side of his face. "im sure I'll finish this." you said smugly, turning your boyfriend on even more. his dick twitched at your words and that was your cue to move your hand quicker, pressing lightly at his head, making satoru let out a loud moan, gripping your ass tighter this time.

your lips collapsed with his in a passionate kiss. your tongues danced desperately at the intense feeling of arousal invading your bodies. satoru hummed in the kiss, sending vibrations down your throat. his wet tongue explored the insides of your mouth while your hand stroked him vigorously, his gooey pre-cum coating your entire hand. satoru couldn't stop kissing you, devouring your mouth with his own. heat driving his primal instincts to the limit.

you broke the kiss to place brief pecks down his neck, stopping slightly only to nibble at the pale skin. a sudden sense of possessiveness traveled up your body all the way to your mouth, leaving wet red marks on his collarbones. you raised his sweatshirt to tickle his nipples with your lips, sucking at them. your tongue danced desperately around his hardened bud while the hand that was on his pretty face moved to keep wandering off his strong body. the tall man moaned quietly while tightening his hold in your nape and ass. your lips left his titties with a loud pop, admiring your work in the form of rosy and bruised nipples. your mouth then proceeded to trace wet kisses down his chest and torso, sucking at the skin of his abs. oh how you loved them.

the hand showering his cock with attention left its place to quickly disregard of his pants and boxers, only lowering them enough to give yourself great access to his beautiful cock and heavy balls.

time was not wasted as you hold his long cock from the base. goodness. how you loved this pretty cock. satoru was truly blessed by the gods with such attractive physique, he had nothing to feel self-conscious about. his dick was the same tone as his skin; his head being noticeably rosier, almost mimicking the color of his pretty lips. you admired his long member, your eyes tracing each vein, accentuating on a particular one that ran from his pretty base to his head. you could've swear you have felt that exact vein caressing your wet walls when your boyfriend would thrust into you slowly enough to feel every inch of him. you pussy clenched around nothing at the thought.

his corpus spongiosum only made his cock appear thicker than it already was. his head glistened as you smeared the dripping precum around it. hungry gaze now at his large balls, which seemed to be twitching with the forming semen that was preparing to be shot at your touch.

your mouth was salivating at the mere sight of the pretty cock in front of you. your hands looked so small when they grabbed his thick base.

"my goodness, toru," you almost moaned. "never getting tired of this big cock." you sent him a playful wink, which he responded with a groan and a gentle tug at your hair. your hand moved painfully slowly up and down his long cock.

"yeah?" he gulped breathlessly, lustful eyes glaring down at you. "since you like it so much, you should wrap that pretty little mouth of yours around it and suck it dry." oh. his dirty talk did wonders to you, even now where you literally had him wrapped around your fingers. your core started to burn at just his lewd words, feeling your panties get sticky from your arousal.

"you want me to do that, baby?" he nodded eagerly. "it's okay, toru, use your big boy words." you said as you stopped deliberately at the top of his thick cock, squeezing shamelessly at head. a sea of precum sprouted from his hole.

oh how he loved you when you were like this. you felt his cock throb and grow impossibly harder at your words. a large palm hugged the side of your face, his thumb caressing your bottom lip as it pressed against your lips. you parted them slightly only to give full entrance to his thick digit. low hums coming from your throat inviting him to push his thumb further into your mouth as you started sucking it, your spit coating his wrist. wide eyes looked up at him.

"yeah just like that. want you to suck my cock the way you're sucking my thumb," satoru groaned. you hollowed your cheeks around his thick digit, making him moan out loud. his burly body was adorned with glistening skin from the hot sweat framing every inch of his body.

you released his finger with a loud pop. satoru coated your lips with your own saliva using his wet thumb. he brought his hand to his face to taste you himself, sucking deliciously at his own thumb.

the sight made you salivate even more, being more than ready to take the long thick cock in front of you once and for all. you pumped him a few times before moving your lips closer to his fat head. precum being used as lipgloss as you rubbed his head against your lips. satoru almost let out a pornographic moan at the view, he loved it when you were freaky like that.

bliss clouded satoru's mind once you wrapped your pretty lips around his shaft. your mouth achingly punctured around his size. even though you have already taken him multiple times before, your holes still had to adjust to his exquisite width. you took him as far as you could, relaxing your throat muscles to get more of his lengths.

still, several inches of him were waiting for your warm mouth, so you curl your fingers around him. you set a steady rhythm where your bobbed your head up and down following the motion of your hand. his hips couldn't help but jerk up at the feeling of warmth enveloping him.

"oh... yeah... j-just like that, ba-byy," satoru cried hopelessly at your erotic movements. your hot mouth driving him crazy.

once your throat finally bottomed out, you sloppily took a couple of more inches down. satoru banged his head against the backrest and howled loudly. he was being very vocal.

"oh my sweet girl..." a long whine left his lips when you hollowed your cheeks around his length. "y-you are be-being so... so good t-to me..." his voice shivered as his hand went back to your face, caressing lovingly your hot cheeks.

you continued sucking him messily, the accumulating saliva dropping down his long length and down your chin, meeting his thighs and balls below. the hand that was not busy with his cock caught his heavy balls in a soothing massage, rubbing them and playing with them as if there were a pair of marbles.

"ahh~ oh~~ y-you are so... oh... pretty with that big... ahh... cock stretching your p-pretty lips." he couldn't stop moaning with an open mouht, being noisy as hell. you knew you were doing a great job when satoru was being uncontrollably talkative.

the tv light framed your silhouette in such a sensual way it made satoru roll his azure eyes to the back of his head. your head never ceasing the bouncing on his cock. you felt him throbbing when you hummed once his tip was deeply pressing down your throat, tickling at your uvula and targeting the gag reflexes you manually turned off.

his balls started twitching and your boyfriend became even more vocal, a set of loud cries and whimpers harmonizing your ears. it served as an indicator he was very close to his release. you continued humming around him until you felt something snapped.

satoru grabbed a handful of your hair to guide your mouth even deeper down his shaft. tears prickled at your eyes when you took all of him, gagging nosily as his white pubes tickled your nose, your spit creating a shiny coat around his length.

"come on, pretty girl..." he groaned, now using both hands to push your head further down. "take that cock, I k-know you can." you looked up at him glossy eyes, making satoru shiver in his place, letting out a growl. his hips thrusted into your face, satoru unable to control his movements, while his abs flexed along his biceps. you had one hand on his muscular thigh supporting yourself from the applied force, and the other continuing to play with his balls.

a teardrop cascaded down your rosy cheeks as your remaining oxygen was consuming quickly. you whorled his balls and squeezed them hardly. that was all it took for satoru to cum all over your mouth.

pure ecstasy filled his entire being, leaving his body trembling and releasing hot creamy liquid from his aching cock.

"ahh! ohh~ baby..." he cried the loudest as his arms lost their force on you to let you breathe and his hips ceased their furious thrusts. your mouth still agape panting harshly as warm spills of cum decorated your wet insides. your hand stroke him vigorously, urging him to finish his white leaking in your mouth. his hips jolt at his finishing release as he finally came from his high.

"show me, please," he begged as he tapped gently at your cheek. you swallowed his cum vulgarly, then stuck out your clean tongue. "that's my sweet girl." his smirk made you blush like crazy. you abandoned his softening cock after giving it a tiny kiss and climbed up to him, encircling your arms around his neck. "thank you so much, baby."

"you are so welcome, toru, but now you gotta take care of me."

[mononijikayu]

say so — nanami kento.

As you looked at him, you knew that he knew that. But he was only human. It wasn’t easy to not be swayed by human doubts and impulse. You never faulted him for that. If anything, it made you fall in love with him over and over again.  Because your Kento was both sides of the coin of human life. And you embrace it, more than you could ever imagine. Love is just that way. You knew that to be true. You stepped closer, your hands sliding up his arms to rest on his shoulders, grounding him. “Kento, I want you. Only you.” you said, your voice filled with the sincerity you hoped he could feel. “I want you more than anything. Because you’re my life. My oxygen. My everything.”

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Canon Convergence;

WARNING/s: Post-Shibuya Arc, R-18, Smut, Fingering, P to V Sex, Passionate Sex, Pet Names (My Love, Baby), Romance, Friends to Lovers, Husband and Wife, Friendship, Husband! Nanami, Reader! Wife, Fluff, Drama, Comfort, Falling In Love, Flirting, Jealousy, Teasing, Fix-It, Humor, Domesticity, Family Life, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Idiots In Love, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Pining, Nanami Being A Great Husband, Nanami Kento is FATHER™️;

WORDS: 9.5k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: nanami won my poll again!!! hurray!!! here's tmi about this - thiis was half way finished when i came back to write it, but then i got sick again and i started writing this more differently than my direction. i got frustrated so i stopped for a while then i forgot about it and then i wanted to finish it.

oh, also kento and you speak danish at home, because you both feel like a secret language between you and him. gojo is also retired — thats going to be in us and them!!! thank you so much for waiting!!! thank you for reading too!!! i love you all !!! see you in the gojo fic (second place) <3

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next: little wonders

HE THOUGHT THAT HE WOULD ALWAYS BE NONCHALANT. Nanami Kento never thought he’d be the type to get jealous. After all, he prided himself on being calm and composed, grounded in logic.

But lately, things have changed. You had changed—or rather, something about you had. At least that’s what he noticed now that you’ve come back to Tokyo, so he could become a mentor to the kids with Gojo’s retirement. 

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Nanami Kento had finally left the endless grind of Jujutsu society, traded the blood and curses for a quiet life in Malaysia, far from the threat of battle.

But when he got that call, it felt like the past had come clawing back, unwilling to let him go. Itadori Yuji’s name on Gojo’s lips stirred something within him—something old, duty-bound, and unwilling to see an innocent youth, especially one with Yuji’s heart, left adrift.

Gojo Satoru's concern was about more than just Yuji, though. Nanami listened as the retired special grade sorcerer, sitting on a cruise across the globe, rattled off frustrations with the new leadership at Jujutsu High and Jujutsu society as a whole. All of it having formed with what he had known from his contacts back at hom.

At the center of it was Usami. That man, the strongest of all first class sorcerers, Usami, who never defied the higher-ups, who prioritized orders and tradition over compassion, whose unfeeling approach Gojo had seen all too often among those aligned with the elders.

Nanami Kento knew the type. They were the very people he’d worked so hard to avoid throughout his career, the type who saw Jujutsu sorcerers as tools more than as people, especially the students.

Now, with Gojo’s absence, Usami had stepped into a more central role at Jujutsu High, and Gojo wasn’t comfortable with it. Why would he? He’s still supporting the remaining conservative factions in Jujutsu High.

There was no other way to feel about it other than this, but concern. The return of a conservative faction, under Gakuganji, would stifle Gojo’s gambles these past few years. Gambles Kento had agreed with, even if not wholeheartedly. 

“I don’t want him making decisions for my students, you know? I’m sure you agree about that with me too.” Gojo said bluntly, his tone carrying the usual lazy confidence but undercut by a genuine concern. “They’ve been through enough. They deserve someone who understands them.” 

Kento could hear Gojo's frustration; it was an unusual tone in the voice of someone who otherwise seemed to brush off his troubles. And in that sentiment, Nanami found himself nodding in agreement. It didn’t sit well with him, either. But what could he do? He is retired now, isn't he? There was no need for this chatter.

Gojo, as though reading his hesitation, chuckled knowingly over the line. “Look, I’m technically retired too, Nanami. I know your feelings about this.” he said with that familiar cheek in his voice. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t meddle. Keeps me busy as I get old, you know? Gojo clan head is empty without any drama.” 

There was a pause, and Kento didn’t know what to say. Gojo Satoru, even in their younger years, used his status to continue to advocate for his interests. And Kento didn’t like it as much, he was someone who liked rules, after all.

Even if he agreed with them, he thinks about the context of propriety. But he knows the soul of Gojo’s argument. He agrees with that. Gojo’s voice softened on the other line.

“Don’t you ever want to keep busy too? I mean, especially when your wife’s at her job? You’re both still in the thick of it, in your own ways. Being a house husband doesn’t always satisfy the itch. Before you rebuttal, you know I’m not lying. ”

Nanami sighed. Gojo’s words struck a nerve. He’s not wrong. Genmei–san also works still, helping out at temples when she has the time. Most of the time, if they weren’t on holiday, it would be Gojo waiting at home and taking care of their children. For a moment, Nanami sat down to think about it properly. 

You were deeply invested in your work as a novelist. You adore it, you truly do. But often, it’s hard for you to deal with. You were just as much an independent person in your own right and that was your own mission, your own purpose.

He admired you for that, but there were times when he found himself wondering about his place. He adores taking care of you, he adores being by your side all the time. He adores being your house–husband. 

But he often questions, besides that, away from the frontline, away from Jujutsu, what was his purpose now? Was he truly content to let the world of sorcery continue without him, even if it meant leaving those like Yuji to struggle without guidance? Or the kids? What can he do for them? What can he do now?

“Fine, Gojo.” Nanami finally muttered. “I’ll look into it. Just… don’t get used to this.” He could practically hear Gojo’s grin over the line, a smug sort of satisfaction that Nanami knew all too well.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Gojo replied smoothly in response. “But I’ll admit, it’s good to have you back, even if just for a little while.”

And so, he tried to muster the courage to tell you about what he had agreed to. Dinner was a warm, familiar ritual together. And by the beachside in Kuantan, everything about it was a wonder to behold.

The sounds of clinking plates and gentle conversation filled the room, and the two of you settled into the ease of being home together, savoring the evening without the rush of tomorrow hanging over you. 

You were halfway through telling him about something small that had happened during your day at the market when he cleared his throat, a subtle shift in his usual, deliberate movements. His fingers, wrapped around his glass, seemed to tighten slightly. You looked at him a little bit confused. 

“There’s something I need to tell you, my love.” he began, meeting your gaze with a calm determination. "I’ve decided… to return to Tokyo." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in before he continued. "Jujutsu High needs someone to look after the first years. With Gojo retired, things are… in flux."

You blinked, feeling a jolt of surprise, but before you could fully react, he was already explaining, his tone quickening just a touch, as if he’d anticipated your questions. It was rare for your husband to be this way, to ramble about and have his bright brown eyes shake as he looked at you with a shaken uncertainty. But you know when he becomes this way, it’s because of things he cares about.

“It’s not active service, don’t worry about that, my love.” he assured, almost hurriedly, his hand drifting toward yours in an unspoken promise. “I’m not heading back into the field. It’s only to mentor the kids, give them someone they can rely on. They deserve that, especially now.”

You saw his resolve deepen as he spoke of them, the younger students who’d become like family over the years. His voice softened, and you could tell this wasn’t just about filling Gojo’s shoes. 

"I can’t abandon Yuji, he’s already without someone. I can’t really do much more damage by leaving him without someone." he said with quiet conviction, his eyes searching yours as if to make sure you understood. 

“Kento—”

"I know how much he’s been through, and… I don’t want him facing it alone. Nobara, too—she’s so headstrong. She’ll need someone she can turn to, someone to help her channel all that fire. And Gojo’s bound to ask for updates on Fushiguro all the time. You know how he is with him. With them. I just….I just don’t want them to feel so alone about this at all. Usami is gaining some foothold and the conservatives are just….its complicated.”

A small smile tugged at your lips as you listened, watching the familiar strength in his face, the quiet protector in him springing back to life. Passion was beautiful in your husband. Seeing even more alive with such caring passion makes you happy.

His gaze held yours, steady and honest, a reassurance that his heart was set on this, that he wasn’t leaving you behind but rather doing what he felt was right, the only thing that made sense.

You let the warmth you felt for him reflect in your smile, reaching for his hand as it rested between you. “Of course, Kento.” you replied softly, squeezing his fingers with encouragement. “They couldn’t have anyone better.”

A soft exhale escaped him, the tension leaving his shoulders as he squeezed your hand back. Relief and gratitude flickered across his face, the subtle shift of a man who didn’t often ask for things but knew he’d been understood completely. There was no need for grand gestures or lengthy explanations between the two of you; your silent agreement spoke volumes.

The conversation turned to lighter things, back to the warmth of dinner. But every so often, you caught his expression softening, a look of contentment and resolve, knowing he was about to embark on something meaningful, not just for him, but for those who needed him.

But of course, that also came with cons.

The move to Tokyo was a calm one.

But it was also a disastrous one, in his mind.

You were both too busy to spend time together.

The shift was subtle at first. Kento began to spend more and more hours at Jujutsu High, guiding the first years, sharing his experience, and quietly observing their progress. He’d come home later than usual, sometimes with papers under his arm and a faint weariness in his expression that he tried to mask with a smile. 

Meanwhile, you were pouring yourself into your new book, the words and ideas flowing freely under the careful guidance of your new editor. It was an exciting time, both for your work and for him. There was a renaissance in your paths to life blossoming in your efforts. But there was a toll, a quiet distance neither of you fully acknowledged.

One evening, you noticed the weight in his gaze as he joined you at the table. He seemed quieter, his usual calm presence tinged with something else; something like sadness. You set down your work, reaching across to hold his hand, catching the faint glimmer of surprise in his eyes.

“Things have been so busy lately, my love.” he murmured, his voice soft, almost reluctant to admit it aloud. “I miss being able to spend more time with you.”

Your heart softened at his honesty, and you squeezed his hand gently. “I miss it too, Kento.” you replied, meeting his gaze with reassurance. “But you know how this is… the busy season. Soon, I’ll be back to post-writing mode, and we’ll have more time to do things together. This won’t last forever.”

He nodded, his lips curling into a small, understanding smile. “You’re right. It’s just… different.” There was a flicker of relief in his eyes, but it was short-lived.

As the weeks went on, your new editor’s involvement became more intense, often stretching into late-night calls or spontaneous meetings that kept you occupied well beyond the hours you’d once spent with Kento.

He’d catch you on the phone, your voice animated in a way that was hard to miss, even as he stood in the doorway waiting for a chance to say goodnight. It was hard to deal with, day by day.

But he said nothing, keeping his feelings carefully hidden behind the same mask of calm he’d worn so well for years. But you could sense it, the slight slump of his shoulders, the way his gaze lingered on you just a little longer.

It was as if he was hoping you’d glance up, catch his eye, and read the unspoken questions there. In the quiet moments, he’d watch you, a silent longing in his gaze, feeling the bittersweet ache of being close but somehow… not close enough.

It was an unspoken tension, a soft thread pulled too tight between the two of you. And though he never voiced it, you began to sense how much he missed you—not just physically, but in all the little moments you once shared, now slipping through his fingers.

After all, you guys were all you truly had in all these times. He would always crave everything about you. About loving you, about being close to you. Just you. He missed you.

Nanam Kento was sure that he hadi tried to be patient. He reminded himself, over and over, that this was temporary, just a busy period that would eventually pass. He knew how much this book meant to you and understood how important it was to have an editor who could match your energy and vision. 

But despite all his quiet resolve, he couldn’t ignore the pang of envy that crept in every time he saw you light up, laughing or discussing something animatedly over the phone.

The way you and your editor connected; it was undeniable. The easy flow between you two, the synergy that seemed to bridge ideas without any need for words, stirred something unsettled in him.

He would come home from a long day at Jujutsu high, weary but hopeful to catch up with you. Instead, he’d often find you mid-call, your voice carrying hints of excitement he hadn’t heard in a while. You’d wave him a quick greeting, mouthing that you’d be off soon, but “soon” stretched, and his footsteps grew slower on his way to your side.

It wasn’t that he doubted you or the love between you two. He trusted you deeply. But the way you seemed to come alive with this editor… it stung in a way he hadn’t anticipated. He knew you and this person worked well together, that they understood your work and helped bring out your best ideas. 

He understood it logically, but logic did little to quell the feeling of being left on the sidelines. After all, it was a feeling he recognized too well—the familiar ache of watching from a distance, of caring deeply and yet holding his tongue.

Some nights, he’d sit across from you at dinner, glancing up occasionally, only to see you distracted, your mind clearly still on your work. Or you’d mention a new idea your editor had suggested, a change you hadn’t considered but were now eager to explore.

And though he nodded, offering his encouragement, he couldn’t shake the thought: When was the last time I could make her smile like that?

As the weeks went by, he felt it more keenly, this quiet envy of the time you spent together. It wasn’t that he begrudged you for the partnership, but he couldn’t help wishing that he could have more of that side of you for himself; the side that was vibrant and full of life, that spark of curiosity and joy he’d always adored.

Nanami Kento wasn’t one to give voice to his insecurities easily, and he knew how silly he might sound, envious over something so innocent. He was a secured man, in all the ways he knew he was. He knew that too well. Yet as much as he told himself it was foolish, the feeling lingered.

So he held back, watching you in those moments with a quiet ache, determined to keep his envy hidden. He’d stay later at the school, throw himself into lesson planning, sometimes even offer to cover additional duties, as though it might distract him. But each time he came home, seeing you lost in conversation or laughter, he couldn’t shake the feeling that, for now, a part of you belonged to someone else.

He told himself it was just work. You had deadlines; he understood that. But there was something else. Whenever your phone pinged with a message, you’d check it quickly, smile to yourself, then type out a reply, sometimes with a small laugh or a shake of your head. And every time, he’d feel a sharp pang of something foreign to him: jealousy.

Kento tried to reason with himself. You were his wife, and he trusted you implicitly. You had built a life together, one based on love, understanding, and mutual respect. But that didn’t stop the gnawing feeling in his chest whenever he saw you so absorbed in those messages or whenever he saw that spark of excitement in your eyes when you talked about the feedback your editor gave you.

He knew it was irrational, but he couldn’t shake the thought. When he saw you typing away late into the evening, smiling at the screen, a quiet worry settled in the back of his mind. What was this editor like? Why did their input seem to matter so much to you? And why did Kento, who usually approached everything in life with composure, find himself so deeply unsettled?

Tonight, though, he’d had enough. He stood in the doorway to your office, watching you as you leaned over your laptop, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, fully immersed in your work.

You looked beautiful, more beautiful than ever, but that same nagging feeling of jealousy coiled tighter in his chest. And before he could stop himself, something in him just snapped.

“So, my love.” he said, his voice calm yet edged with tension. “Another late night, huh?”

“Yeah, it would seem so!” You retort, noticing him. “You’ve just come home?”

“Just a while ago.” He says to you, watching you turn your head back to your computer. You were typing even faster. He was sure you were trying to finish it, now that he was home.

You looked up once again, a soft smile lighting up your face. “I didn’t even hear you come in. You came in as sly as a little cat!” You stretched, setting aside your laptop and glancing at him warmly. “I was just going over some notes. The editor had a few thoughts on the latest chapter.”

”Did he have any suggestions for this part?" he asked, casually trying to keep his tone even as he nodded toward your screen.

You looked up, clearly surprised. "Who, my editor?"

"Yeah, my love." he said, keeping his gaze fixed on you as he leaned against the doorframe. "It just seems like he's been really… involved in your work lately."

You tilted your head, noticing the unusual tension in his voice, the way his words held a heaviness that wasn’t like him. “Well, that’s what they’re paid to do, you know?” you replied gently, hoping to keep things light, maybe coax a smile out of him. 

But his expression didn’t shift. You could tell almost immediately. Instead, his eyes held a quiet, guarded intensity that stopped you in your tracks. Realizing this was more than a casual remark, you closed your laptop, giving him your full attention.

“Kento… Is something wrong?” you asked, voice soft, searching his face for a sign of what was going on inside him.

He crossed his arms, hesitating. For a moment, he almost looked as if he wanted to brush it off, to go back to his usual collected demeanor, but he stopped. Instead, he looked at you with an intensity that caught you off guard. 

“I know it’s irrational, and I know it’s probably nothing.” he said finally, his voice quiet, almost reluctant. “But… I don’t like seeing you so wrapped up in this person’s feedback. You’ve been smiling at your phone more than you do at me lately, and I’m… not exactly used to feeling like this.”

The vulnerability in his words, the admission from someone usually so calm and composed, made your heart soften instantly. You reached out, covering his hand with yours, feeling the tension there, the way his fingers reflexively squeezed back. 

“Kento, baby.” you said, voice warm. “You don’t have to feel that way. No editor or anyone else could ever mean as much to me as you do. None of them are you. There’s only one of you, you know?”

He relaxed just a little, his shoulders easing as he let your words sink in. But he didn’t let go of that guarded look, the one that still held a hint of uncertainty. “Then why does it feel like I’m… competing for your attention?” he asked, his gaze never leaving yours. It was a simple question, but the way he asked it, with a vulnerability that you knew he rarely revealed, struck you deeply.

You took a deep breath, choosing your words carefully. “I guess I didn’t realize how it looked.” you admitted, your thumb brushing lightly along his hand. “It’s just… I got excited about the project, and the new feedback’s been inspiring. But…I’m so sorry for not noticing or making you feel that way, baby.” 

You reached out, tracing a gentle hand down his arm, feeling the tension start to melt away as you looked into his eyes. “None of that compares to what I have with you. I hope you know that.  You’re the one I come home to, Kento. You’re the one who matters most. I love you. Only you.”

He seemed to exhale, his expression softening. You could see the quiet relief in his eyes, the way the tension finally started to lift, and it made you want to close whatever lingering distance was left between you. And then, his voice, low and almost hesitant, broke the silence.

“Tell me, my love.” he whispered, barely above a murmur. “Tell me that you want me. Just… say it.”

The raw vulnerability in his voice, that rare openness he was offering, made your heart ache in the best way. You don’t think you had ever felt like this before Kento. But every day since then, your heart has created more motions you could never understand. And you know, you just knew – it was because you loved him more than anything in life. 

As you looked at him, you knew that he knew that. But he was only human. It wasn’t easy to not be swayed by human doubts and impulse. You never faulted him for that. If anything, it made you fall in love with him over and over again. 

Because your Kento was both sides of the coin of human life. And you embrace it, more than you could ever imagine. Love is just that way. You knew that to be true. You stepped closer, your hands sliding up his arms to rest on his shoulders, grounding him.

“Kento, I want you. Only you.” you said, your voice filled with the sincerity you hoped he could feel. “I want you more than anything. Because you’re my life. My oxygen. My everything.”

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, and before either of you could say another word, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a warm, firm embrace. The warmth you had come to hold onto in this life. 

You sank into his hold, resting your head against his chest, feeling the steady, reassuring beat of his heart beneath your ear. There was a familiar comfort there, a quiet strength in his embrace, that had always felt like home.

For a few moments, you both stayed that way, close and quiet, as if the world outside had faded and left only the two of you. He lifted his head slightly, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead/

Kento murmured into your hair, his voice gentle. “Promise me you’ll take a break from work. I’ll do it too. We’ll spend time together. Just us. No one else.”

You tilted your head up to meet his gaze, a soft smile spreading across your lips. “Of course, my baby. I can postpone everything else. If it’s you, everything else can wait. My husband being happy is more important to me!” you whispered.

A quiet sense of relief washed over him, and he held you a little tighter, his own smile finally breaking through, his usual calm confidence restored. For Kento, there was no greater feeling than knowing you were his and that you were here, sharing this quiet, peaceful moment with him.

As he held you close, he felt a deep contentment, one he rarely allowed himself to savor. The jealousy that had once gripped him faded entirely, replaced by a quiet certainty. Of course there should be. Why wouldn't there be?

The certainty that your love, your life together, was the one thing in the world he could rely on. That he was sure. You love him, after all. And as he closed his eyes, resting his chin atop your head, he silently thanked the universe for you, for this love that was more real, more enduring, than any fleeting worry or passing jealousy.

This, he thought to himself, was where he belonged. 

Right here, in this moment, in your arms.

Nowhere else can compare to this.

YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO GO AND HAVE A PICNIC. The night before you had agreed that it would be nice to enjoy the Tokyo sun, and have a picnic at the park. You talked about a cat cafe nearby too. He talked about how the yakisoba dish was introduced at his favorite restaurant. There were new spots popping out in Tokyo for you both to check out.

That’s what you agreed on. Today was supposed to be simple, a peaceful day just to unwind and enjoy each other’s company. But the moment you woke up and felt his gaze linger a bit longer.

Slowly, smoothly, you could feel his hand finding the curve of your waist, you knew that quiet was about to turn into something much more intense. You knew your husband too well. When he’s hungry — he remains hungry.

He pulled you close, his grip both gentle and possessive as his eyes darkened. “Mine, only mine.” he murmured, the word almost a growl, his fingers tracing your skin like he wanted to memorize every part of you. 

The world around you melted away as he took his time, every kiss and touch filled with a need that made your heart race. You let him, giving himself over as he murmured softly against your skin, “My pretty wife… just for me.”

You could feel him stretching you out so perfectly with his fingers, causing you to moan loudly. Your husband was good, too good at everything he does. But when it comes to you, he was beyond excellent. Your eyes felt hazy as he looked at you with that predatory stare. You held him even closer, your moan getting louder. 

Your head turns awry with the high as you continue to ride his fingers as he kisses your neck, you're stuck against the wall occupied by him. No one, not even your previous lovers, those green boy boyfriends were able to make you feel this good.

No one could make you feel this way. Only him. Only your husband, your Kento. And every single time, he knew it. Even with his jealousy, he knew it. You were always going to fold when it’s him. Only him. 

“K–Kento.” you moan out, your voice breathless as you rock against his fingers, the sensation overwhelming in the best way. Each movement sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, and you can't help but lose yourself in the rhythm he creates. “You’re… you’re… oh—”

His eyes darken with desire, and a sly smile creeps onto his lips. “That’s it, my love.” he replies, his voice low and filled with warmth.

He peppered soft kisses along your neck, each one igniting a fire inside you that burned brighter with every passing second. His fingers pushed deeper, faster, and you felt so incredibly full, the exquisite stretch making your head spin.

“Come. Come for me.” he urged, his words wrapping around you like a spell, both a command and an invitation. The way he held you against the wall, the heat radiating from his body, only heightened the electric connection between you.

Every kiss he placed on your skin felt like a promise, an affirmation of the bond you shared. No one else had ever made you feel this way; so cherished and desired. With him, you were always ready to surrender completely, to give in to the overwhelming pleasure that built within you. Nothing else can compare with what you feel for your husband. Nothing. 

You could feel the tension coiling tighter, your body responding instinctively to his every touch. He was so good at remembering where to touch you next. After being together for this long, Kento knew your body even better than you. He knows how to make you cry, how to make you moan. He knows everything.

“Kento.” you gasped, the sound a mix of pleasure and longing, and as his fingers curled just right, that coil finally snapped. Your body shuddered, a wave of bliss crashing over you, leaving you breathless as you surrendered to the moment, lost in the magic of him.

You looked up at him, and his gaze was intense, filled with a mix of satisfaction and hunger that sent a rush of warmth through you. Without a word, he pressed his lips against yours, kissing you with a fervor that reignited the fire within. 

His movements were slow at first, but as he pushed his fingers one by one, even deeper, your moans escaped you uncontrollably, pulling him closer as you urged him on, wanting nothing more than to feel every bit of him.

Somehow, you had been able to accommodate every tight, muscular finger in his hand. And you knew it felt good. He knew it felt good. Because he knew just what to do. No one else would. Only Kento would.

He responded with a low, pleased growl, the sound reverberating through his chest as his free hand tightened around your hip, holding you possessively against him.

There was an undeniable power in the way he claimed you, every inch of his touch a reminder of the connection you shared. You felt cherished and owned, completely his in this intimate moment.

Each thrust of his fingers sent jolts of pleasure coursing through you, each stroke deliberate and filled with purpose. Your body responded eagerly, arching into him as you surrendered fully to the sensations, every moan escaping your lips urging him on.

The world outside ceased to exist; there was only you, him, and the electric energy that wrapped around you both, binding you together in a rhythm that felt both primal and tender.

As the intensity of the moment deepened, you could feel the heat radiating from him, a tangible connection that anchored you both in a world of your own. His lips traveled down to your neck, trailing kisses that ignited your skin, leaving behind a trail of fire. You could feel the way he held you, his grip firm yet gentle, and it made you crave more, the need building inside you like a rising tide.

“Just like that, my love.” he murmured against your skin, his breath warm and teasing. The sound of his voice sent a thrill through you, adding to the layers of pleasure that enveloped you.

He continued to move his fingers with a deliberate slowness, coaxing every last ounce of ecstasy from your body. Each time he pushed deeper, you gasped, the sensations pulling you closer to the edge once again.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him closer, as if you could merge your bodies into one. Drool started to form from your lips as he thrusted even deeper, pleasure repetitive in your lips to his ears. He enjoyed it. He enjoyed making a mess of you way too much. 

“K–kento. Oh my….g—oddddd…..” you breathed, the urgency in your voice echoing your desire. You needed him, all of him, and you wanted to feel that connection intensify. He looked into your eyes, and in that moment, you saw the depth of his love mirrored in his gaze, a promise that went beyond the physical.

He quickened his pace slightly, and you felt every pulse of his fingers inside you, each thrust igniting a new wave of pleasure. You could sense the hunger in him, a deep-seated need to feel you unravel beneath him.

“You’re perfect, aren't you?” he said, the words reverberating through you as you lost yourself in the moment. His possessiveness only heightened your arousal, each stroke of his fingers an affirmation that you belonged to him, and he to you.

With every thrust, every kiss, you felt the world around you blur, leaving only the two of you entwined in a dance of passion. Your bodies moved together as if they were made to fit, every touch syncing perfectly. You surrendered completely, letting the waves of pleasure wash over you, pulling you under and lifting you higher.

“Come for me again, my love.” he urged, his voice a low growl filled with desire. You could feel the pressure building once more, and with a desperate need, you clung to him, riding the waves of sensation that coursed through you. 

The world outside faded entirely as you focused on the way he made you feel—alive, cherished, and utterly consumed by the moment. And as you finally tipped over the edge into bliss, you knew that this was where you belonged, wrapped in his arms, lost in your shared passion.

As the world outside faded into a distant hum, you and Kento found yourselves enveloped in an intimate cocoon, where it was just the two of you. His gaze held yours, deep and searching, as if he were reading the unspoken words that danced between you. The air was thick with anticipation, and your heart raced in sync with the pulse of the moment.

With a gentle touch, he caressed your cheek, his fingers trailing down to your neck, igniting sparks of warmth beneath his fingertips. The softness of his touch contrasted with the burning desire that simmered between you, creating a perfect tension that left you breathless. You leaned into him, craving the connection that felt both familiar and exhilarating.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice low and filled with warmth, laced with a hint of playful teasing that made your stomach flutter. You nodded, feeling a rush of trust and excitement wash over you. You knew he would take care of you, just as he always did.

As he shifted closer, you could feel the heat radiating from his body, enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth and safety. When he entered you, it was as if time stood still. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect blend of pleasure and intimacy that made you gasp softly. You could feel every inch of him, filling you completely, as he took his time, letting you adjust to the fullness.

Kento's eyes never left yours, and in that moment, you felt utterly cherished. Each movement was deliberate, as if he were savoring the connection between your bodies and the bond you shared. He pressed his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours as you both surrendered to the rhythm of your bodies.

“You’re so beautiful, my love.” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, and you could feel the sincerity in his words.

Those simple words sent a wave of warmth through you, making you feel both desired and loved. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him even closer, as if you could merge your souls together.

He held you firmly, as though afraid to let go, fingers pressing into your skin with a hunger that left no doubt of his intentions. His hands slid from your waist to your thighs, gripping you with an intensity that was both grounding and electric, each touch sparking a heat that made you shiver.

The way he held you was raw and consuming, as though he wanted to memorize the feeling of you beneath his hands, every curve, every softness. He knew everything like the back of his hand/

You could feel his breath, warm and steady, against your skin, each kiss he placed making you arch closer, melting into the strength of his hold. The roughness of his grip, his possessive energy, pulled you deeper.

It was like he was marking you as his, his touch heavy with a passion that left you breathless. He looked into your eyes, his gaze dark and intense, a silent promise of everything he wanted to give, everything he wanted to take.

The world seemed to narrow to just the two of you, his warmth surrounding you, his presence overwhelming in the best possible way. Every inch of you felt alive under his touch, every nerve alight with a need that only he could satisfy.

His hands continued to explore, leaving trails of warmth, his touch demanding yet tender, as if reassuring you that he was there, and you were his.

The heat between you intensified, his hands roaming slowly, leaving a trail of tingling warmth wherever they went. You trembled, feeling the power behind every touch, every possessive whisper.

You could feel him drinking in the sight of you, holding you close as if he didn’t want to let go. It wasn’t rushed; it was filled with a focused, possessive affection that only made you crave him more.

Time blurred as his movements became a mix of gentleness and intensity. His hands slid lower, holding you firmly, possessively, as he whispered your name.

His words washed over you, filled with longing and satisfaction as he whispered, “You’re mine. Only mine.” Each soft murmur made your breath catch, his voice rough with devotion.

Your husband had always had a way of grounding you, pulling you back to him in the moments you needed it most. He held you with a quiet strength, his touches both comforting and electric, each caress more deliberate than the last.

When the busy schedules and late nights began to take their toll, you’d find yourself in his arms, feeling the tension melt away as he made you his world.

He was possessive in the gentlest way, his lips tracing along your skin, his voice murmuring low, tender words that anchored you to the present.

"Mine, mine." he'd say, over and over, his voice a husky whisper as he pressed deeper, slow and unhurried, savoring each moment. "My beautiful wife, my one and only."

You let yourself unravel under his touch, feeling each surge of pleasure as he pulled you closer, his mouth finding yours in heated kisses, his hands firm as they held you against him. The world outside faded, and there was only him—each movement, each shudder of pleasure woven with his love and need for you.

And as your body trembled, giving in to the pleasure he offered, he’d whisper words that sent warmth spiraling through you: His only. His good girl. His good little wife.

With every pulse and every breath, he made you his, claiming you in the way only he could, and you felt yourself give in, letting him take what he needed, knowing that he was yours just as deeply.

In these moments, he was entirely yours, just as you were his, both of you wrapped up in a world where only the two of you existed. And as he held you close, that familiar need he had for you was clear in his eyes, you could feel the depth of his love; the way he wanted you, needed you—all pouring out with each possessive word and touch.

Every thrust was slow and measured, each movement deliberate and filled with purpose, as if Kento were painting a masterpiece with your bodies.

He took his time, carefully crafting a rhythm that drew you both closer to the edge of ecstasy, like the steady buildup of a powerful wave ready to crash upon the shore. Each moment felt like an eternity, stretched and molded by his touch, igniting every nerve ending with heat and longing.

Kento relished in the way you responded to him, the way your body quivered beneath him, your breaths coming in soft gasps that filled the space between you.

He liked making you wait, savoring the way your eyes widened in need and your body writhed, pleading for more. The way you mewled over and over again, lost in the depths of desire, was music to his ears, a siren call that drove him further into the depths of his own hunger for you.

“Please, Kento. More. More—” you begged, your voice trembling with desperation, the need pooling in the pit of your stomach. Each word was a plea, a yearning that echoed in the silence of the room, punctuated only by the soft sounds of skin meeting skin.

“P–please….pleaseeeee…..”

A teasing smile played on his lips as he leaned down, his breath warm against your neck. He bit gently into your flesh, a sweet sting that sent shivers of pleasure coursing through you, causing you to moan, tears streaming down your face from the overwhelming sensations flooding your body. 

“Enjoy it, my love. Enjoy the slow burn.” he murmured, his voice low and husky, wrapping around you like a silken ribbon. “Let’s have fun, hm?”

His words were a command and a caress, urging you to embrace the intensity of the moment. The way he spoke your name, the way he held you, felt like a tether pulling you deeper into the shared experience. You were both caught in a delicate dance, a balance of power and surrender, where every pause and every gentle caress built anticipation.

The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you intertwined, lost in the growing tension between your bodies. Kento was in control, but you loved it. You loved the way he took his time, how each thrust felt like an exploration, a journey into the very essence of what it meant to be together.

He would withdraw slightly, teasing you with the promise of more, before plunging back into you with a slow, deliberate push that sent sparks of pleasure radiating from the core of your being.

Each pulse of his body against yours was a reminder of his possession, of the bond you shared that was both beautiful and intoxicating. The slow burn he created enveloped you, igniting your senses and drawing you closer to the precipice of your desires. You could feel the heat building within you, an insistent wave that throbbed and twisted, desperate for release.

“Just like that, my love.” he encouraged, his voice a soothing balm against the tumultuous storm of emotions swirling inside you. “Let it build. Let it consume you.”

You let his words command you, letting them wash over you as you melted into the sensations. Every tear that fell was a blessing of pleasure and the pain mingling together, a sweet agony that you welcomed wholeheartedly.

You could feel your heart racing, your breaths quickening, as you approached that sweet, familiar edge, caught between the bliss of the moment and the urgency of your need.

With every deep stroke, you felt a delicious tension building within you, a tightness that was both exhilarating and overwhelming. Each time he filled you completely, it ignited a spark of pleasure that resonated deep in your core, drawing soft gasps from your lips. Your husband was a great lover. Perhaps the best there ever was. 

You surrendered to him fully, giving yourself over to the sensations that enveloped you. The outside world faded away, leaving nothing but the two of you entwined in this intimate dance. The warmth of his body pressed against yours, the way his breath mingled with yours, made every moment feel precious. 

You can only focus on him. Only him. He was what mattered. The way his eyes held yours, filled with an intensity that spoke volumes of his love and desire.

You could write as many beautiful works as you could ever want. But perhaps the most beautiful creation in your life was him. Loving Nanami Kento was your most beautiful creation.

In that moment, nothing else mattered but the way he made you feel. It was a combination of love and raw passion, an electric current that flowed between you, binding you together in a way that felt profoundly intimate.

Every caress of his hands, every whispered word, heightened your awareness of him, igniting your senses and making you acutely aware of the depth of your connection.

You could feel his warmth enveloping you, a comforting presence that made you feel safe yet desired. The way he moved, the way he took his time to explore every inch of you, filled you with an overwhelming sense of affection and longing.

With each thrust, you could feel your bodies communicating in a language all your own, a silent exchange that deepened the bond between you.

As you both lost yourselves in each other, the outside world faded into nothingness, leaving only the two of you entwined in a universe of your own making.

The air around you thickened with anticipation, and every touch felt electric, as if the very essence of your connection pulsed between you. As if you truly belonged together.

You could sense the tension coiling tighter, each movement a languid dance that drew you deeper into an exquisite rhythm, a beautiful synergy that melded your souls together and ignited a fire within you that felt utterly intoxicating.

“Kento, I’m coming. I’m so close.” you gasped, the words spilling from your lips as desire swirled through your veins.

He trailed kisses along your jaw, his lips soft yet insistent, igniting a cascade of shivers that traveled down your spine. “Come for me, baby. Let go.” he urged, his voice low and rich with promise, wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

That was when he shifted, his movements quickening, a sudden urgency that sent your heart racing. The delicious friction intensified, and with each thrust, the world outside vanished completely, leaving only the two of you in a haze of passion. 

Every kiss, every whisper, every pulse of his body against yours propelled you closer to that blissful edge, where pleasure and surrender intertwined, drawing you both into a beautiful climax that promised to sweep you away entirely.

As Kento quickened his pace, the urgency of his movements sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, building to a peak that felt both thrilling and inevitable.

The air around you crackled with electricity, every sensation heightened as he pressed deeper, claiming you in a way that made your heart race and your body ache for more. His breaths came in ragged gasps, mingling with the sound of skin against skin, each thrust driving you further into a euphoric haze.

“My love, I’m so close.” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, his eyes locked onto yours, filled with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “I’m….I’m gonna come.”

You could see the raw need in his gaze, the way he was completely lost in the moment, just as you were. It was intoxicating to know that you had this effect on him, that you could pull him into this blissful space where nothing else mattered but the two of you.

“I want you, baby.” you whispered, your voice trembling with urgency as you felt that familiar coil tightening within you. “I need you.”

“D’ you want me inside, hm? Where do you want me?”

You moan, thinking about how hot it was. How hotter it would be to have him inside of you. “I-inside me. Please. Please. Make me full.”

“Y’d like that? You want me to make you full of me, my love?”

“Yes, yes, o–oh, yes—”

With a low growl, Kento shifted his focus, pushing into you with a deep, purposeful thrust that sent stars dancing behind your eyelids. The world outside was a distant memory, all that existed was the heat building between you, a fire that consumed you both whole.

His movements were rhythmic yet fervent, each push coaxing you closer to the edge, and you could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter within you. It felt so good. It felt way too good and you wanted it to last forever.

“Let go, my love.” he urged, his voice a sultry whisper that sent shivers coursing through your body. “I’m right there with you.”

And then, with a final, deep thrust, you felt him come inside you, warmth flooding you as he released with a low groan, his body pulsing against yours. The sensation was overwhelming—a rush of heat that spread through you, mingling with your own climax as pleasure washed over you in waves, leaving you breathless and trembling benea

th him.

You held on closer to him, taking in a new dawn’s breath.

You were so in love with this man, more than you know. 

And he was the same — he couldn’t get enough of loving you.

“You know, if I had known jealousy would make you like this…” you finally say, your voice still laced with breathlessness as you regain your composure.

The warmth of the moment lingers around you like a soft blanket, and you can feel the aftershocks of pleasure still coursing through your body. Kento’s kisses trail along your glistening skin, each gentle press of his lips a sweet reminder of the connection you’ve just shared.

His lips are soft against you, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake, and the scent of your mingled skin fills the air with a heady sweetness that is all-consuming.

“I would get you jealous often, baby.” you tease, a playful smile curving your lips as you look down at him.

Kento pauses, lifting his gaze to meet yours, his expression a mixture of amusement and mock seriousness. “Is that so?” he replies, his voice a low rumble that sends a delightful shiver through you. 

The intensity in his eyes is unmistakable, a mix of possessiveness and affection that makes your heart flutter.You can’t help but laugh softly, the sound echoing around you in the intimate space you’ve created together.

“Absolutely. You should see how cute you get when you’re all riled up, baby.” you say, playfully nudging him with your shoulder. “Fiesty and all.”

His lips curve into a smirk, and he leans closer, brushing his nose against yours. “You’re lucky I’m not the type to stay jealous for long, my love.” he murmurs, the warmth of his breath tickling your face. “But if it means I get to have you like this…” 

His voice trails off, and he plants a series of soft kisses down your neck, each one sending delightful tingles racing across your skin. You sigh, closing your eyes for a moment to relish the sensations he stirs within you. 

“You’re incorrigible sometimes, Kento.” you whisper, feeling the weight of his affection enveloping you. The playful banter only adds to the intimacy, making it all the more special, as if you were sharing a secret joke that only the two of you understood.

“Only for you, my love.” he replies, his voice sincere as he pulls back just enough to gaze into your eyes. “But really, seeing you light up like that—it’s worth it. Just know I’ll always come back to claim what’s mine.”

epilogue 

As the soft glow of the evening light filtered through the window, casting gentle shadows across the room, you and Kento found yourselves nestled comfortably together. You hadn’t left the bed much since this morning.

And your husband was incredibly happy about that. He wanted to spend as much time with you as possible. Everything about the room smelt like sex and sweat, that was to be expected. Your husband’s insatiable when he gets into it. 

But the atmosphere was relaxed and intimate, the air filled with the kind of warmth that comes from deep affection. Everything about the aftermath was the passion of lovers who will always be in love.

And you couldn't help but admit that you felt blessed with that. This passion between you and Kento, it will never die. For bitter, for worse, for good and better — you will always have this. You will always be together like this.

After a playful exchange repeating over and over again, you both took breaks in between. For a while, you both watched some television. Kento seems to enjoy Love Island, so he wants to watch the whole series with you now. A little while later, the two of you talked a little bit about the little things you’ve seen and done lately.

Soon enough, you were sure you were hungry. Kento immediately kissed you and went to the kitchen, coming back with some bowls of favorite snacks and some refreshing drinks, on ice.

But of course, he urged you to drink the water most. With all the screaming he’s made you do, he’s a little bit more worried about your voice, 

You both conversed about silly things now, laughing at how Yuji seems to be as silly as ever before. About how Gakuganji seems to continue to be annoyed by Gojo Satoru’s phone calls.

But then he talked about Gojo Satoru expecting another child on the way, albeit accidental. In that moment, you realized it was that moment. So, you took a moment to shift the conversation to that.

“You know, baby…..” you began, leaning your head against his shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. “I know you’re still busy, I’ve been thinking maybe….just maybe…”

“You know surprises aren’t needed.” He laughs, lowering his head to press a kiss to your cheek.

“I know, I know.” You roll your eyes playfully but let out a small smile, leaning against his chest. “Don’t you think it’s time we consider having kids soon. I’m really happy to make that happen soon.”

Kento turned to you, his brow raising in playful skepticism, but a smile tugged at his lips. “Is that so? You’re ready to dive into the chaos of parenting, my love? You know it’s a lot of work, right?” He chuckled, the sound warm and inviting, filling the space between you.

You couldn’t help but grin back, your heart fluttering at the prospect. “Of course! But I think it would be so worth it. Just imagine our little ones running around, making messes and keeping us on our toes.”

He smiles at you fondly. “You think so?”

“Yeah, I know so.” You grinned at him. “I can also see you being the doting dad, teaching them all about fighting and how to protect themselves. Or you know, just making some bread from home! I do miss authentic rye bread from an expert in Danish baked goods. Imagine how our kids will feel when they eat it too!”

He laughed, a rich, hearty sound that echoed in the room and made you feel light with joy. “You think so? I suppose you’re right, my love. I can already picture myself getting wrapped around their little fingers. They’d have me wrapped around their hearts in no time.” 

The sincerity in his tone made your heart swell with happiness.

Everything about your husband makes you feel happy everyday.

If life were to teach what happiness looks like, it would be him.

“Exactly!” you exclaimed, your excitement bubbling over. “And they’d have your strength and my charm. Can you imagine how adorable they’d be?”

Kento’s expression softened, a gentle smile spreading across his face. “You know, I’ve always wanted that. A family with you. You make everything better.” His words wrapped around you like a warm embrace, igniting a sense of hope and love within you.

“So, you’re on board with the idea?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with anticipation.

“Absolutely, my love.” he replied, that playful smirk returning to his face. “But first, I think we need to indulge in another round of this.” 

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin, and captured your lips in a kiss that sent shivers down your spine. You melted against him, losing yourself in the moment, the kiss deepening as he pulled you closer.

It was intoxicating, filled with a mix of passion and love that made your heart race. Everything about Kento was just a pool you wanna drown in. Everything about him was worth drowning in. The world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you wrapped up in each other, a perfect blend of laughter, warmth, and desire.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, your cheeks flushed with warmth, Kento looked at you with that glint of mischief in his eyes that you adored.

“Okay, let’s talk about the details later, my love.” he said, grinning widely. “But for now, I think we have some important work to do to ensure that happens.”

With that, he pulled you back into another passionate kiss, laughter bubbling between you as you savored the moment. You felt the electric connection between you, the promise of a beautiful future hanging in the air, ripe with possibilities.

As you both continued to kiss, the playful banter resumed, filled with sweet nothings and playful teasing about the “practice” needed for the future family you envisioned. After all, practice makes perfect.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Magic Systems

Magic - change wrought through unnatural means

Most fantasy can be placed along a spectrum where there are 3 main points: soft magic at one end, hard magic at the other, and a middle ground between the two.

Soft Magic

Magic that is not well-defined for the reader.

Generally, we don’t understand where the magic comes from, who can use it, or what its limitations are.

Readers can see this type of magic being used.

But they can never anticipate when magic will be used in the plot because they can’t begin to guess how it works.

You can’t break a rule if the rules don’t exist!

Most stories that feature this system will have the magic users be secondary characters, allowing them to avoid explaining exactly how the magic works.

It’s also argued that without knowing everything about the magic, it tends to hold more wonder and excitement for readers.

Hard Magic

Has very rigid boundaries.

Readers know where the magic comes from, how it’s used, who uses it, and what its boundaries and limitations are.

We know the limitations of the characters and can understand why they can’t simply magic themselves out of any particular challenge.

Stories with hard magic systems do not need to avoid the main character being a magic-wielder, as they have the capacity to explain to the reader what is going on.

A lot of writers this system because it gives them very explicit guidelines to follow in their plot and creates some more satisfying pay-offs for readers.

The Middle Ground

The meeting point between the soft and hard systems.

We might understand a bit about the way the magic works, but not all our questions are answered.

While most of the content adheres to rules, these rules aren’t fully explored.

This system relies on the reader’s suspension of disbelief.

The main character can be a magic-wielder or not, and it’s up to the writer to determine when magic will be used in terms of plot.

How to Choose a System

You can and should use these guiding principles to build your magic system. Remember that you don’t have to choose one or the other. Your system can draw from aspects of both. Just stay aware of the weaknesses of the path you choose, and ensure you utilize its strengths.

Use a hard magic system if:

You are going to use magic to solve problems

Your audience is accustomed to the tropes of hard magic

You are okay with jumping through hoops to expand your system

Your magic doesn’t convey a theme

Use a soft magic system if:

You want to convey a theme through magic

You want to create a sense of wonder

You want the ability to expand easily

You want to be accessible to a broader audience

Your magic won’t regularly be used to solve problems

Branches of Magic

Like most writing processes, there isn’t really a correct place to begin designing a magic system. A common, and efficient, place to start, however, is by choosing what type of magic system(s) you wish to employ, such as:

Nature-based magic: water, earth, fire, air, and everything in between

Divination magic: see beyond sight and peer through time and space

Conjuring magic: move objects through space over any distance

Psychic magic: master the world of the mind

Life and death magic: tap into the very forces of life, death, and un-death with this surprisingly versatile collection

Animal- or creature-exclusive magic: some creatures just do it better

Magitech systems: the blurring lines of sorcery and science give magic a next-gen, high-tech flair

Eclectic magic: it doesn’t have to be “real” magic to have a real effect

Uncommon magic systems: the unsung heroes of fantasy magic

AALC Method

How to create your own magic system using the AALC (Appearance, Abilities, Limits & Cost) Method

Appearance

What the magic looks like

Makes the world feel more exotic

Can cause problems for characters but cannot solve them

Usually tied to a character arc

Abilities

What the magic does

Points calculated based on magical effect, range, number of people affected, and duration

Characters have a finite amount of fuel (mana) to use abilities

More powerful abilities require more fuel

The fuel does not have to be overt for the audience to understand

If points not overt, cannot solve conflicts unless a cost system is added

Limits

Unlimited uses of magical abilities

Abilities stratified in codified levels defined by their limits

The more the levels' abilities and limits are known by the audience, the more they can be used to solve conflicts

Focused on clever uses of abilities against stronger foes

Cost system can be added to enhance dramatic moments

Cost

Costs must be greater than or equal to abilities to make them dramatically satisfying

Costs can include time, exhaustion, materials, sanity, morality, etc.

Adds dilemma to magic by forcing characters to make choices

The greater the character's sacrifice, the more audience satisfaction at conflict resolution

Each system builds on the previous ones, so that Cost Systems use all four, while Point Systems only care about Abilities and Appearance.

Multiple systems can exist within the same story, and systems can harden over the course of the story.

The Force, for instance, has been a Soft, Point, Level, and Cost System depending on who wrote it at the time.

SOFT SYSTEMS (Appearance Only)

Window Dressing - magic for secondary characters; can instigate conflict but cannot solve it; e.g., Gandalf

Soft Villain - No explanation or upper limits needed; makes villains more powerful to make heroes greater underdogs; e.g., The Emperor

Chosen One - Unknown power keeps hero safe throughout story; can be considered plot armor unless earned through character arc

Sort Hero Incomplete - Curse or positive ability the character cannot control; hero still learning limits of ability at story's end; powers and arc continued in next adventure

Soft Hero Complete - Hero embraces ability to complete arc and solve main conflict; magic must become harder in subsequent adventures

POINT SYSTEMS (Appearance + Abilities)

Points Opaque - Non-explicit reservoir of energy fuels powers; cannot solve main problems without cost option because characters finding hidden energy reserve feels like deus ex machina

Points Hard - Both abiliites and points system must be explicit like in video games; becomes about resource management; easy to understand but takes sense of wonder out of magic

LEVEL SYSTEMS (Appearance + Abilities + Limits)

Soft Level Static - Unchanging power without upper limits; cannot solve conflicts because feels repetitive; power must be used cleverly; e.g., Wolverine's healing factor

Soft Level Advancing - Increased powers or new powers with unknown limits; cannot solve conflicts unless tied to a character arc like Soft Hero Complete, at which point "unlocks" new abilities

Hard Level Static - Unchanging abilities with clear-cut limits; can solve conflicts so long as setup is properly seeded, usually resulting in sacrifice; e.g., Genie

Hard Level Advancing - Well-established abilities with limits; can solve conflicts based upon clever uses of abilities, usually against stronger foes; e.g., Airbender

COST SYSTEMS (Appearance + Abilities + Limits + Cost)

Static Cost - Well-established cost remains consistent for each use of ability; can solve conflicts since based on personal sacrifice

Cost Fluctuating - Costs change based upon dramatic need; costs must be greater than or equal to ability; possible costs include lost time, money, sanity, health, memory, life, morality, etc.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 6 ⚜ Writing Notes & References Writing Notes: Magic System ⚜ Fictional Items; Poisons ⚜ Fantasy

[jo-harrington]

Stranger Than (Fan)Fiction - Prologue: Crossover

Summary: Everyone wishes that they could have an Eddie Munson in their lives. In a strange turn of events, Eddie wishes that he could meet you, his favorite character from a cult classic 80's TV series. And he's about to get his wish.

Word Count: 3.9k

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Reader

Warnings/Themes: No-Upside-Down AU, Minor Angst, Fluff, Isekai, Mentions of FOI-compliant events

Note: Hello and welcome. I'm very excited about getting to expand on this idea; it's going to be a wild ride. Please note as you head in, and as we get into further chapters...this fic is going to be a little mind-fucky and a little bit self aware. This is my love letter to and my criticism of fanfiction, but at the end of the day, we're still gonna get to fall in love with Eddie and get some kind of Happily Ever After. This is my guarantee.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

May 2022. Such a weird time.

A time of uncertainty, a time of change. A time where the world seemed like it had been torn apart and was slowly being knit back together again.

But then a switch was flipped. Something happened. An old season ended and a new one started and with that start came something new. Someone new. And suddenly, countless people began to yearn for this new person in their lives.

A new, old person. Eddie Munson.

Joy ignited. Creativity sparked. Millions of words written and read. Edits made. Art drawn. Merch bought.

So many voices crying “why isn’t he real. WHY ISN'T HE REAL.”

If there was a god, he would let them have their own Eddie Munson. And if there was a Satan, he would let them sell their souls for Eddie Munson.

That’s just not how the universe works.

At least…not this one...

October 1985. A different kind of place and time. Still weird.

But Eddie Munson was real.

Sometimes to his detriment.

And for the most part, it was alright.

He played guitar, laughed with friends, mocked bullies to protect the people like him that were considered less than. He'd overcome hardships of one sort or another for most of his life, he could keep at it for a little while longer.

It would be his day week month year sometime soon.

Wouldn't it?

But until then, he would bide his time. Hopefully, this year, he'd pass all of his classes and finally graduate. Get to flip that douchebag Higgins off and snatch up a long-awaited, and well-deserved diploma.

What made it all easier, what softened the blow...was you.

It was silly. He knew that. Ronnie used to tease him on Wednesday nights when he needed to run home because he had a "standing date with his girl."

"Your girl doesn't even know you're alive," she'd scoff as he bustled her into the van. "She isn't real."

No...no you weren't.

Why couldn't you be real.

See, for the past...however long Eddie had spent his late nights half-assing homework, planning campaigns for Hellfire, working on music, and watching a television show. His guilty pleasure, a show about the ups and downs and upside downs of living in a sleepy suburban town: Port Geneva.

A show where you were his favorite character.

And crush.

You weren't the main character--in fact, you were just the main character's quirky best friend--but you were a fan favorite, as much as he could tell. You'd only been in the background during the first season, but before long you were front and just-left-of-center. And last year, you'd even gotten a two-episode arc in the season finale as you turned the small town on its head by announcing, a month or two before graduation, that you were quitting school to follow your dream and become an artist.

And man...Eddie had been there.

He'd actually missed those episodes airing when...well, when everything happened with his father and the heist...and the house...and Paige.

He'd missed a lot of episodes that season. Missed seeing you come into your own as he tried and failed to come into his.

Thankfully Wayne--and Eddie wasn't a believer but whatever deity in charge needed to bless his Uncle Wayne--had the foresight to tape those episodes for him.

Those tapes would be cherished 'til the day he died, because they had truly gotten him through those tough days after everything.

He wished he had seen them when they aired, maybe...maybe he would have made some different decisions if he had.

Of course, Eddie had already loved you before then.

Since he had first laid eyes on you, actually.

He was sure that if you were real, you would be the one to understand him more than any of his friends. See the real him. In return, he would understand you, be there for you too.

He already had been. He'd seen you cry countless times, he'd laughed with you, celebrated your successes and mourned your failures. He'd been there for you when you crushed on that dickhead Mark, and then had your heart broken by the careless jerk.

And somewhere deep down inside of him, when he was sitting in that jail cell after he wasted his phone call on Paige and he felt the weight of the world bear down on his shoulders…he wished that you were real so he could have called you instead.

If you were real, Eddie's life would just be a little nicer.

He knew…he just knew.

Of course, in the mean time while he wished with every fiber of his being that you would walk into his life, he brought you to life in other ways. During mid-season and summer hiatuses, he would write you into his DND campaigns. His friends knew, they always called him out for it.

"Are you seriously making her an NPC man?" Dougie would scoff and throw a D20 across the table at him.

"No, what are you talking about?" he defended and threw the die right back at his friend. "This is Spiria the Bold."

"Uh huh," Jeff rolled his eyes. "Sure."

By his imagination and his pen, you became a powerful warrior, a sharp-tongued trickster, a seductive mage. You became anything he wanted you to be--most often with a companion and lover that mirrored him--and everything he knew, deep down, that you were.

And then the unthinkable happened.

September ‘84. He and Wayne were in the checkout line at K-mart. Cart stacked with new clothes and school supplies and groceries. When suddenly...there you were. Right in front of him.

Alright, not you. Per se. But your face, smiling alongside Samantha and Patrick and Scotty and Bill on the cover of the TV Guide.

On Set with the Stars of Port Geneva.

Wayne was the one to snatch the magazine from the rack and add it to their bounty, a knowing smile on his lips as he shook his head.

He knew Eddie needed a little pick-me-up.

Or a big one.

How could he have known this would be anything but one...

Eddie scoured over the pages once they got back to the trailer. He was hoping there would be a big enough picture of you that he could cut out and tape to the otherwise barren walls of his new room. And there was; you were leaning against the back of your signature pastel blue Volkswagen Beetle, arms across your chest, head tilted to the side with the signature scrunched smile you gave when you were embarrassed.

He adored you.

Before he took scissors to the page, he read the interview with your actress.

He wasn't too keen on her, even though she had your face.

The illusion that Rosemary Glass was really you had been shattered the first time he'd heard her voice on a radio interview; instead of your perfect and familiar middle-American speech...Rosemary's voice was accented.

Not to mention, she sounded pretentious.

Gross.

Still, he could look past that annoyance if he got some kind of insight to what the next season would bring for you.

Hopefully not a new love interest. His heart could only take so much.

...gives us a tour of the Patterson and Son's set, one that is forever enshrined as the setting of Patrick and Samantha's first kiss. "Oh I'm actually not fond of that scene," Rosemary confesses. "Yeah it's sweet, and the way I bring Sam in so Pat could confess his feelings but the...when I fell down? It was not scripted. And I was honestly shocked they kept that in. But fans seem to think she's clumsy now because of it. That I'm clumsy. When I just tripped over a wire. It's quite awful, really." We ask Rosemary to tell us what she'll miss most, now that the show is coming to an end...

Eddie went rigid as he read those words.

The show...coming to an end?

"What?" he exclaimed into his empty room. "No, no, no."

He carefully examined the article again, then turned back to the beginning of the feature, only to feel his heart stop in his chest.

The title of the feature was like crit hit.

The final killing blow to his already weak constitution.

One Last Summer in Port Geneva - On the Set of the Final Season

The final season was a sham.

Eddie savored every episode, though. Of course he would!

He would enjoy every last moment with you that he could get before he lost you forever. But...he hated it.

It was lazy writing--seriously what were they thinking--and a quick, cheap means to tie up all the loose ends they'd set up over the years. He could tell they tried to deliver as fulfilling a finale for the extensive cast of characters as they could. Still, he was sure he could have done better.

Samantha and Patrick got engaged after graduation. That was lame.

Bonnie finally quit the bakery to open her own cafe the next town over. Didn't anyone remember that she wanted to quit because she wanted to be a vet instead? That was the whole point of her! She didn't want to follow in her family's footsteps and she was doing just that.

And you? You took a backseat.

Instead of leaving town right after graduation--something that you had followed through reluctantly to make your parents happy even though you had just resolved to put your own happiness first for once--you stayed to help Pat plan his proposal.

Your big adventure, your big push for your dreams, were on hold again. You played second fiddle over and over until the final episode.

Eddie was grateful to have you for a little longer, but...once again annoyed that you were looked over--over and over, just like he was--when you had already proved that you were worthy of top billing.

Worthy of being the main character for once.

Still, at the beginning of the series finale, you packed your bags, cashed in your savings account, and drove out of town. The future was yours, just like it was always meant to be.

And Eddie cried.

The whole time tears streamed down his face as you said your own watery goodbyes. He might have even waved as you stuck your hand out the windshield to say goodbye to your friends as your car idled at the last stop sign. You blew a kiss to everything you knew and loved then started on your way into the unknown, car getting smaller in the distance right before the commercial break.

He held his breath for the final scene: a walk through the house where it all started and then Sam smiled her signature hopeful smile as she shut the door on the audience.

The screen faded to black for one final time and he exhaled.

"It's over," he muttered in slight disbelief, suddenly unsure of what to do with himself.

Port Geneva was over, and you were gone for good.

It was a strange feeling.

Heartbreak, mourning, disappointment? He couldn't really know for sure. Empty was the best way to describe it; the lack of feeling. It was infuriating. Port Geneva was just a television show, he attempted to rationalize for the nth time since he started watching. You were just a character on a tv show; how could you mourn for someone and something that wasn't even real?

You hadn't actually died. He could still see glimpses of you if he wanted, whenever Rosemary Glass' next movie came out or something.

But that wasn't you.

You were gone, for all intents and purposes, and it was a blow that hit Eddie hard.

How could he go on without you?

Devastated, he got high that night after he stewed on his grief. He day-dreamed and monologued to an empty trailer about a universe where the two of you were together, where your travels took you to Hawkins, of all places, and you fell in love with him, just like you were supposed to.

If the walls could talk, they would have a fantastic tale to tell. One with heroes and misunderstandings and love at first sight. One with a horrible, unseen foe and many pitfalls and dangers that exceeded anyone's wildest imaginations. One with a magic door that led to the happily ever that was beyond well-deserved.

Grief did wonderful and terrible things, after all.

He woke up for school the next morning with cotton mouth and a vague outline of a story that did just that: brought you to Hawkins to fall in love with him and all of the other things that seemed like nonsense once he was in a more right-minded state.

The only problem was that it was all in his English notebook. And he didn't need anyone finding that.

"Fuck," he groaned and ripped the page out. He shoved it into his bedside drawer, where it would be doomed to a crumpled and forgotten future.

Or until he needed a condom.

Which, considering how everyone had doubled down on their disgust of him, wouldn't be any time soon.

But there you stayed.

Put away, like old obsessions and childish things, to be ignored and forgotten.

At least for a little while.

Eddie tried.

He did.

He kept you and Port Geneva out of sight and mind as much as humanly possible. It was the most effort he had really put to anything tangible in the past year.

The series ended at a weird time--during the middle of the season--and some investigative journalism show took over its time slot. Barbara Walters couldn't hold a candle to you, so it wasn't difficult for him to keep himself rooted in reality on the nights where he typically indulged in his silly fantasies.

The daydreams that he had were limited to lyrics for Corroded Coffin originals and ideas for Hellfire, and nights were spent alone in the darkness of the living room, with his reflection in the television set to keep him company as he tried his best to do homework that he'd already done before.

Before he realized, though, the school year was coming to a close and he was--big shocker--on the brink of failure. It wasn't until Higgins called him into his office, again, that you made your violent resurgence into his life.

There was a tentative truce between Higgins and Eddie for a while.

Civility was a strange thing for both of them. They actively avoided one another, save for a snide jab here and there, and Eddie tried to stay out of the Principal's Office as much as he could.

That is, until Higgins was forced to tell Eddie that he needed to repeat his repeat senior year.

"Don't act like I want this at all," he sneered at Eddie who tripped over a reaction. "I'd rather have you out of these halls for good. You drop out one year, then you re-enroll and you fail another. Try to make the most of it this time Munson; I don't want to have this talk again."

Eddie grumbled the whole drive back to the trailer, and he fell onto the sofa with his head in his hands once he got in.

"Which one of the fates wrote this stupid plot for me now, as if last year wasn't enough. You can't make this stuff up sometimes."

He laid there, wallowing in his misery for hours, days, years, until it got dark enough for headlights outside to be noticeable as they shined through the window. There was a glint of a reflection that caught his eye and had him turn his head.

"TV," he sighed and reached out as though he could touch the set and stacks of tapes neatly piled below. “The cause-of and solution-to all of life’s problems.”

He contemplated his life for a few more minutes.

He could make the most of the final few weeks of the school year. He could set himself up as a willing and reliable pupil for these last few assignments and tests, even though they wouldn't mean very much.

He could do all of these things so that when he walked into the halls of Hawkins High in the fall, on his absolute last first day of school--whatever deity or powers-that-be willing, because how "getting the hell outta dodge or he would die here" turned into "two extra years in that shit hole" he could only attribute to cosmic intervention--the faculty would already know he would try his best this time.

It would show them he was serious about graduating and that he would succeed despite all odds against him. Finally.

He could do this.

Or...

He could put in one of the tapes from the stack and scrounge for loose bills left over from his last few transactions and order a pizza. Pretend like he didn't exist for a little while.

And given the choice?

Eddie Munson chose the latter.

And he continued to choose the latter throughout the summer and even into the fall.

Nights that he didn't already have plans were spent in front of the television.

They were cherished nights with you.

Aside from his VHS recordings, he found a channel that showed reruns of Port Geneva after 10pm. Two hours of small town shenanigans that might very well be found just outside of his own door--if he only went and looked--with you just there, making your appearance every so often and catching his eye.

Homework was sometimes left halfway done on the coffee table until he needed to switch out a tape, or change the channel, and he spent more time filling his heart than enriching his mind, so to speak; he knew all of this school stuff already anyways.

Third times a charm and all right?

He talked to the screen more often than not, tried to warn you against one disappointment or another. Sometimes, if he was watching one of his tapes, he'd pause right on your face and just talk to you. Mundane things, usually, like Ronnie's last phone call home or some album that got released and a song he thought you might like.

Other nights, like tonight, he got vulnerable. Moments where life seemed a little extra trying, and he'd confess his feelings to your image.

Knelt on the floor in front of the coffee table, warm light bathed his face promising comfort as he spoke, and the din of static emitted from the television set, akin to an angel's voice...beyond understanding of humans.

He'd never been one for church, but this kind of confessional was sacred enough.

An eternal bond, just you and him.

He stopped his ramblings at that thought.

It was a strange moment of clarity.

Where had that come from?

"I..." Eddie looked down at himself, a foot away from the television set, remote clenched in his hand. Then he looked at you, soul-filled eyes just beyond the glass, not looking at him, only...through him, just past him. "What am I doing?"

What was he doing? He was...he wasn't a kid anymore who could hide in his dreams; well, honestly he was always going to do that, but this was different.

One minute he felt the weight of the world lift off his shoulders as he told you about his troubles, and the next it was all back, heavier than ever, as he realized how silly this all was.

And here he was, wasting his life knelt at your altar.

It wasn't holy. It was pathetic.

You'd never answer; you weren't real.

"Why?" he asked aloud, jaw clenched. He gripped the remote tightly. "What did I do to not have...someone? Huh? What have I ever done to be alone? That I have to rely on a fucking television character to feel understood. And now I'm losing my mind talking to myself, talking to you, at midnight every night. Why am I here wishing that you're real? Why couldn't you just...be...real?"

If there was a God, he would let Eddie Munson have you. If there was a Satan, he would let Eddie sell his soul for you.

And that's how he knew neither of them existed: you didn't exist either.

Eddie hit the eject button on the VCR and was about to shut everything so he could go to bed, when there was a crash outside.

Crashes in Forest Hills weren't abnormal--someone backing into trash cans, losing traction on the icy roads in the winter, and the one time Mrs. Dawson kicked her husband out and threw all of his things out the window--but it was something he'd gotten used to since he came to live with Wayne.

This crash, however, started a ruckus.

Someone was yelling and that stupid dog across the way started barking.

Eddie was a lot of things...but a dramatic gossip was definitely high on the list.

What else was there to do in the Midwest?

He grabbed his cigarettes from the bowl full of junk on the coffee table and stepped outside, fully intent on plopping down on the old couch on the porch to smoke and watch the scene unfold.

A car crashed into the telephone pole; didn't look like there was much damage but it had run through some trashcans and might have clipped the drivers side mirror off of Mrs. Mayfield's car. The same Mrs. Mayfield who was on her own porch being held back by Max as she yelled.

"Are you kidding me? It's fucking midnight!"

"Mom! Stop!"

"The car, Max!"

Maybe there'd be a fight.

He barely got his cigarette lit when he noticed--really noticed--the offending car: a powder blue Volkswagen Beetle.

He blinked several times and then rubbed his eyes, thinking it might have just been a trick of the light or something.

Or it was a coincidence.

Or a dream.

Maybe he'd had a heart attack and died in front of his television or something?

Plenty of people drove Volkswagen Beetles. He was pretty sure he'd even heard Nancy Wheeler asking her parents for one as a graduation present.

But with the same license plate number?

The same one from the show, the same one that was in the TV Guide all those months ago. The same one on the makeshift poster he had taped on the wall next to his bed, that he'd run his fingers over to "kiss" you goodbye countless times, just like he did to his guitar.

"It's just dark," he tried to convince himself, "and I'm tired, and...and..."

It was a coincidence. It was a dream.

He repeated the mantra over and over in his head like a lifeline.

It was another fan like him who just used fantasy to make their life a little better. That's all he was trying to do too, right? He could understand; hell, if this was a new neighbor, maybe he'd be able to chat with them about the show. Wouldn't that be something?

Eddie was so distracted making up endless excuses for himself that he didn't notice Mrs. Mayfield as she threw her hands up in the air with an exaggerated "I'm calling the police. He didn't hear Max holler at her mom to calm down, or see the tail lights of the Beetle turn off either.

It wasn't until the driver's side door swung open and a sneaker-covered foot crunched against the gravel that he forgot all the excuses he was conjuring.

And his heart stopped as the driver got out of the car and stood in the faint glow of the streetlight.

Because that driver was you.

Next Chapter: Alternate Universe

There is no taglist for this series, please follow the STFF Updates tag or check the series out on AO3.

[laura1633]

Here are all the lovely fics , I would be so grateful if you could give these fics a read and leave some nice comments for the authors who took the time to write them. 💕

It's been a great gun fight (You drew blood, I set myself on fire) by LeonSolo There will be one religion in Italy, Charles Leclerc. On his knees, he will pray to a God he was supposed to kill.

Red Light at Dawn by LuciThornz Five months ago Max was kidnapped by pirates. Miraculously he was found safe, and now his father has arranged for him to start courting the Governor’s son. But it’s not that simple, Max hasn’t told anyone the whole story of what happened at sea, getting captured was never part of the plan, neither was falling in love. Now Max has a plan to get back on the open ocean and find the pirate he fell in love with before it’s too late. The funny thing about plans is they never do go smoothly.

The Tortured Driver's Department by Shadow_reads Prompt Fill for Lestappen Birthday Challenge:  Charles said he'd love to have his own F1 team in the future, and Max already has Verstappen.com. Max is also experienced and is most suited to being a team principal. Their shared retirement arc is where they own a team together: Charles handles the press conferences and media, while Max focuses on the data and strategy.

Forever Love by stealmysunshine Charles isn’t going to wait around for Max to pop the question. Who says that there is a preordained question popper? There are two people in this relationship and Charles has every right to show Max just how precious he is and make him feel loved.

(k)not in public by bananasomg When Max accidentally invites friends to tag along on his and Charles' holiday to Greece (which Charles has coined their mating oasis trip), Charles isn't phased, and Max is easily convinced. Hallowed Ground by crimsonmidnight When an FIA racing law forces Omega Charles to take part in a mandatory mating hunt after getting the Sauber seat, Alpha Max vows to do everything it takes to claim him as his own.

The Wait Is Worth It by crimsonmidnight Max Verstappen's adventures in purchasing a fucking machine and using it when Charles gets an attitude.

Sutures by jadesaturn After years of grueling battles, academic rivals Max and Charles part ways upon graduating from medical school until they meet again as surgical interns at the same hospital. Their age-old feud continues, as expected. Grey’s Anatomy Enemies to Lovers but make it Formula 1.

A taste of the divine by (anonymous on ao3) female!Charles ends up losing her virginity to Max and he is going through it.

i'd wanna hold you (just for a while) by Kashoot Charles doesn't normally want to regress, choosing to ignore his needs in favor of keeping busy with all his other obligations. "I'm a racing driver, Max, not a baby!" Max knows better.

Preloved by LaurawritingF1 After getting caught up in another scandal, Charles, the crown prince of Monaco, is sent to an 'Omega Establishment' to find himself an omega in the hopes it will settle him down. Charles is not at all interested in picking out a pretty housewife for himself and is intending to return home empty handed until he meets Max, an omega housed up in the 'Preloved' section of the establishment and clutching hold of his pup tightly.

Everything Changes, Yet Nothing Does by Shadow_Reads The sun was setting over Monaco, casting a warm golden glow over the city. The gentle sound of waves lapping against the shore provided a serene backdrop, contrasting with the turbulent emotions swirling within Charles. Tonight was the night he would ask Max to spend the rest of their lives together.

how you get the boy(s) by amelielacy In which world-famous streamer Max falls in love with artsy single dad Charles.

Hunting Love by himmywimmy Charles becomes an unwilling participant in the pack’s annual mating run and to protect himself, he asks his alpha friend, Carlos, to catch him. But as the night of the mating run unfolds, another alpha seemed to be on the hunt for him.

5 moments of chaos and +1 moment of peace by LaurawritingF1 Charles and Max are retired and dealing with the chaos of looking after their children during the summer vacation. Jimmy, Sassy and Leo also make appearances. Them the breaks, they don’t come gently by imamessofawriter “They just announced that Charles is retiring.” Charles suddenly announces his retirement and then appears to disappear completely.

[extensionallydefined]

Okay, so, I need to talk about the relationship between Persona 5's ending and Persona 5 royal's ending, because I think it isn't discussed enough how one puts into question the themes of the other and in doing so it elevates everything that came before.

Spoilers are coming, you've been warned.

The main thing that's given me an outlet to think about this is a few quotes from the Phantom Thieves when they're in the Velvet Room after being Thanos-snapped by Yaldabaoth. Specifically these quotes:

Ann: "I... I never want anyone to have to go through what I did!"

Yusuke: "Just as art is meant to break boundaries, people should be saved even if they frown upon it. I won't allow the justice I believe in to be shaken any further!"

Ryuji: "We're doin' this to make sure people don't go through the same crap we did. It doesn't matter if they think we're just or not. We gotta do what we believe in!"

Futaba: "I can't let people suffer like this, even if I don't know them personally"

They mention some core ideas: 1. They want to prevent people's suffering because of the suffering they've felt. 2. They must do this regardless of if people want it, because they think it's the right thing to do. 3. Their justice is worth fighting for by virtue of being what they believe in.

Does this seem familiar? Maybe makes you think of a certain therapist who shows up in Royal?

I think Takuto Maruki serves a decent amount of purposes narratively and thematically, but one of the most genius things about him is that he serves as a foil to both the Phantom Thieves and Akechi, and in being that foil, he is, deep down, following the principles that the Phantom Thieves fought for - In the end, it was largely Joker who inspired him to fight for his reality.

Maruki fights for a reality where suffering straight up doesn't exist, because he doesn't want anyone to feel the suffering he's had to endure. Maruki wants the Phantom Thieves and Akechi to never feel suffering anymore, regardless of their stance on the matter. He is "saving" them regardless of their wishes, and will fight them to keep the reality he wants. He thinks the world is unfair, so his "justice" is to make a perfect world for everyone - and that's what makes it worth fighting for, because that's what he believes.

Maruki's rationale to fight against the Phantom Thieves and Akechi is (partly) the same reasoning that the Phantom Thieves use to regain their motivation to fight the Holy Grail/Yaldabaoth.

So, narratively, Maruki serves as a mirror that's telling things not to be told for the Phantom Thieves to look into and to see the ugly parts of their own way of acting. Can they really fight Maruki, knowing that he is just acting how they did?

I see people sometimes refusing Maruki's reality because it "wouldn't actually work" or "it's imperfect". But as far as I'm aware, it's imperfect because it hasn't been completed yet - I think the game is a lot more interesting under the pretense that Maruki truly has the power to erase all suffering, once his reality is complete, past the deadline. I also see the argument, and even the game uses it, that Maruki's world "isn't reality". But did we listen well to Morgana's speech before he disappeared in the Yaldabaoth arc? The world itself is made up of cognition, reality is born from the points of view of everyone. Maruki *can* change reality, and the real question of the game is not about the logistics or "ontological dignity" of his reality, but rather - Do you want a world where all your wishes are granted and no suffering exists?

In the end, the game shows the Phantom Thieves that "sticking to their justice" will make them fight against people with similar ideals as theirs. It's funny, in a way, how Akechi was the one fully willing to fight Maruki from the start. His rebellion has always been more individualistic in nature than the Phantom Thieves' - he wanted revenge for himself, then redemption for himself and now he wants a reality where he isn't under anyone's control anymore. To him, Shido's country, Yaldabaoth's ruin and Maruki's world are all the same - Maruki just has a nicer, more therapy-speaky way of presenting his proposal, and sees people as his equals rather than as insolent masses, but his goal is the same. They're all worlds that shackle you for the "greater good". And in the end, Maruki, and Royal, force the P5 gang to become more like Akechi - to value their individuality in the face of the public's "justice".

To fight for what you believe in you will face people with the same determination as you. They will be your equals in many, many ways. In the end, you can only stick to your guns and hope that what you believe in is worth more than what they believe in.

I have a lot more to write about these topics but I'll leave it there. Maybe about the relationship between Maruki's reality and individuality next? That could be fun ^^

Btw - Special thanks to @thedaythatwas for inspiring me to write up stuff about Persona 5 Royal!

[thealexchen]

thoughts on LIS: Double Exposure?

This is probably gonna be my hottest take in awhile, but: I deeply dislike the idea of an official LiS1 direct sequel game existing. Excluding all my thoughts on the gameplay, story, Max's character, etc. I don't think a game like Double Exposure is necessary.

This isn't a new take either; back in 2020 I made a Reddit post saying I was glad we never got a continuation of Max and Chloe's story, because in order to have a plot, you have to have conflict. And to have conflict means your characters are forced to change or struggle in some way, and I simply wasn't interested in seeing that again. I never even read the comics. As long as Max and Chloe's future existed only in the fanbase's collective imagination and not in an officially licensed game, Pricefield could be as happy as I wanted and I wouldn't have to witness DN or D9's version of canon.

A lot of fans, including myself, are also confused and upset as to where Chloe could be in Double Exposure. Even if Chloe winds up having a surprise role, it would likely be too logistically difficult to write Chloe into one version of the story and not the other. Either way, DE is strongly pointing to Chloe no longer being the deuteragonist. If D9 was going to make a direct sequel with Max and Chloe, I could at least be intrigued by how they might write their dynamic and how they'd use Max's power in new and interesting ways. But instead there's... none of that. Chloe's nowhere to be seen and Max can't time travel anymore.

On a narrative level, Max and Chloe are the heart of the original Life is Strange. They represent the game's central relationship, and their very first interaction (Max saving Chloe's life) kicks off the entire story. Throughout the story, their dynamic advances the plot and mutually motivates their character arcs. You can't have LiS1 without either Max or Chloe; the story simply wouldn't exist without them. Now in DE, they don't even seem to be in each other's lives anymore. It's true, this series is meant to reflect universal feelings and experiences, which could include breakups, but the romantic catharsis of Pricefield as canon soulmates who defied time and space itself to stay together forever is something you can only get from the beauty of fiction. To jab DE's story with a dose of reality and go, "Eh, they grew apart. Shit happens," totally undermines everything the Bae ending stood for.

On a technical level, Max's rewind was an objectively brilliant game mechanic. LiS1 arrived onto the scene after Telltale had paved the way for the resurgence of choice-based, episodic games, but LiS1 totally reinvented the wheel by giving the player the option to go back and weigh each option before continuing, essentially save-scumming in-game. But the right choice was never that easy to determine, and Rewind brilliantly complemented Max's character arc of overcoming her indecision and learning to live with her choices. Not to mention, you could also use Rewind to solve puzzles, instead of the endless fetch quests the later games had. No other LiS game since then has given the player that kind of agency and interactivity. LiS2 had telekinesis, but the player couldn't use it, only Daniel. D9 tried with Backtalk and Empathy, but Max's Rewind was truly the narrative and gameplay jackpot that they haven't been able to recreate since.

So if you take away one half of the central relationship that made the first game so memorable, and the supernatural power/game mechanic that made it so fun to play... why even bring Max back at all? It just feels like D9 threw away their golden opportunity to build upon the major selling points of the first game and are only relying on name recognition of the Life is Strange "brand" and Max Caulfield.

What upsets me most of all about a direct sequel existing is that it proves that Life is Strange, as a series, now stands more for profits than originality. Life is Strange will always be an IP meant to make money for Square, I know that, but back when LiS1 was just a brand new episodic game, it stood out for how different it dared to be. In a landscape saturated with shooters, sexualized female characters, and casual misogyny, LiS1 instead featured a teenage girl in a contemporary setting that took her seriously and made her the hero of her story. Before it was a franchise, LiS wasn't concerned with the bottom dollar; it was a piece of art that just wanted to tell a thoughtful, unique story.

Whether you love it or hate it, Life is Strange 2 was an insanely risky follow-up to Life is Strange that refused to rely on the convenience of a direct sequel because Dontnod stuck to their artistic vision. Meanwhile, all of Deck Nine's games have leaned on the first game's following to generate interest (BtS being a direct prequel, TC bringing back Steph, and Wavelengths expanding on Steph's connection to Chloe, Rachel, and Arcadia Bay). In other words, all of the subsequent LiS games by D9 have played it very, very safe. It's worked like a damn charm because there are still elements I love about each game, but the basic principle is nostalgia-baiting fans. It's just that now, Double Exposure isn't hiding that nostalgia bait at all anymore and prioritizing profits over telling a unique story. It's sad to see that LiS has strayed so far from its risky, daring, original, and unique artistic beginnings.

Before I end, I'll say that I can't be too cynical about it all, nor do I want to be. Because I can't deny how much joy this whole series has brought me, too. LiS was what got me into narrative adventure games and pushed the boundaries of what a video game could be. If nothing else, I am truly thrilled that Hannah Telle got the chance to play Max again. D9's always been great at maintaining relationships with their actors, and the casts of their games always have consistently great chemistry. Getting recognized by Erika Mori on my own blog is still unbelievable and speaks to the amazing community that LiS has built. As you can see, I'm still posting and reblogging stuff about Double Exposure. And while I don't see myself buying or playing this game for myself, I know it'll keep all of us talking for awhile, and I still live for a good discussion.

Thank you for asking! And thank you for reading.

[amxrany]

!! CHAPTER 7 / DIASOMNIA ARC SPOILERS !!

Heyyyy I'm still alive and kicking, been doing a lot during the summer and I got some vacant time now so let's go (Kalim's Dream):

We're getting right into the action ya'll we are currently transmigrating into Kalim's dream and Vil is not having a good time (he's screaming his ass off). We land in front of a school and Vil is just distraught about dream hopping that Yuu, Grim and Idia are making fun of him for it 😭; but Vil wasn't letting it slide with Idia (he threatened to smash his screen/LCD).

Ok yeah going back we see a fountain with the sultan's (the sultan from Aladdin) statue in the middle. Then Grim get curious of said statue that he jumps??? into the fountain??? Then we get the KALIM APPEARANCE RAHHHH

He explains to the group that the sultan serves as the main figure of the school they're in: Qasr Sultanate Academy. Kalim also doesn't recognize any of them because he's a second year of the school, he also doesn't recognize NRC but once he heard that they were from Sage's Island; he assumes they're having a tour.

He also notices that the group is dying from the heat due to their uniforms, so he uses Oasis Maker to hydrate them. We learn that in this dream, Kalim manifested his magic at the age of 14 and created the academy to train his magic (OKAY DAMNNNN THAT'S JUST A WHOLE NEW LEVEL OF RICH). That's when Kalim summons his servants to give the guys a feast because apparently you can bring servants to the school even if then if they won't be considered as "students" and Sebek's like "NRC doesn't even permit outsiders" (talk about culture shock)

That's when they start talking about stories from their homeland, Kalim brings up the story of Aladdin and the Sultan; while Silver and Sebek bring up the story of Sleeping Beauty. Grim notices that while Kalim isn't that much different, it's strange that he isn't at NRC knowing how much he loves the school. That's when Ortho makes the connection between Kalim and Vil, what could be the possible tragedy that happened for Kalim not to be at NRC in his dream (well they're about to find out) then we get a JAMIL JUMPSCARE

(why is he smiling, it kinda scares me)

So what Kalim really wanted was to be friends with Jamil despite their differing statuses (aw :( ) and thus the group plays along by introducing themselves to this Fake!Jamil. Vil's impressed with Silver and Sebek's acting skills, I mean if you have encountered a war general, a buff twink and a Savanaclaw fanboy; you'd at least pick up on some acting along the way.

But of course, Silver and Sebek do know that there is something off about the Fake Jamil because he asked Kalim to get something for him and they're just calling the Fake out 💀. That's when Fake!Jamil reveals itself as the darkness and tries to drag Kalim down with him, but Kalim is starting to remember everything.

KALIM SMACKS US WITH THE QUESTION FROM BOOK 4 IMA JUMP OFF GOODBYE

That's when Fake!Jamil uses Snake Whisper on Kalim but Kalim wasn't buying it then the Fake!Jamil starts saying stuff along the lines of how they grew up as brothers and have never been shy with each other despite their positions. That's when Vil snaps Kalim out of the dream about how he still kept trying to befriend Jamil despite having him betrayed by him in the past. That eventually wakes Kalim up

That's when the scene changes to Book 4's overblot battle, when Fake! Jamil tries to help Kalim stand; he swats the fake's hand away. That's when Kalim replies to Vil that it's because he's Jamil's master, not his best friend. But Kalim tells the Fake that he wants to befirend the real Jamil, not him.

Thus the fight begins and once it's done, Kalim cries now let me show you his groovy

(if he's sad, we are all sad too)

The whole plan is then revealed to Kalim, who is now fully awake. Kalim is now added to the party because he's the only one who can awaken Jamil because they know each other. He also mentions that it's usually done the opposite way (Jamil doing the waking up), so it's nice to see the roles swapped.

I don't think my summaries captures the full essence of Kalim's dream so I really recommend that you watch english translations if they're out. But yeah will be translating Jamil's dream in a bit, took me awhile cuz I had a lot of things to do but yeah see ya'll soon~

Next: Jamil's Dream

[we1sh]

❛ apart from trying to kill me . . . twice . what was she like ? i felt sorry for her at the end . ❜ there's a shift in the conversation , curiosity piqued . her interactions with suzie weren't exactly positive , nor friendly . but it was important to understand those before her , the many faces that had been in the hub . especially since ninety percent of the team knew her . suzie was respected to a degree , well thought of . then everything changed .

❛ she spoke about her dad and there was a feeling . . . feeling what she felt when she died . ❜ the life force had transferred , feeling the pain of suzie's death . the hole in her skull , the blood seeping from the gunshot wound . inflicted by the pain of herself , the feeling of being replaced , the betrayal , the desire to be so much greater than intended . she never expected to be caught in a crossfire , gwen was a gullible fool to help her . but at the time , she saw someone hurting and felt like she could help . she never got to say goodbye . she never got the closure . ❛ i've just never really thought to ask before . ❜

❛ you started this conversation. I was busy doin' paperwork, you're so dull, i'm actually doin' this crap. this one's from when suz was alive. jesus. ❜ he looks over the notes. 'fuck knows jack. i honestly cannot remember' is placed on one of the answers, he remembers some of it, fills it in the best he can, but truth is. he can't remember everything that happened. just another lost ghost.

❛ you're allowed to talk about what you want. ❜ he affirms again. no, he doesn't want to hear about her life. the life he wishes he still had. but, he doesn't want her to NOT have it either. that's why he joined torchwood. so others wouldn't feel like this. at the same time, pushing anyone away that got too close. people were a liability. they could hurt you. oh he had learnt that the hard way hadn't he? so few people in his life had brought him much joy, his father (dead), katie (dead). toshiko, jack, ianto, gwen, hell even suzie (questionable)... torchwood was dangerous, everyone died young.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

CHAPTER FOUR WAS SO GOOD UGHH literally the only fanfic I have ever loved so much and wait for updates like this. Am so excited for the next one!!!

On the topic of finally opening requests, I was wondering if I could ask for head-canons of what a relationship with Seishiro and a female reader would be like. If we want to be specific, maybe related to the fanfic? Like, how you would imagine their relationship would have been like back when they were still in high school, young and with Nagi’s past soccer career and all. Don’t feel pressured to write this, and good luck with everything!😽😽

── DATING NAGI!

Synopsis: Headcanons about having Seishiro Nagi as your boyfriend.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Nagi x Reader

Word Count: 0.9k

Content Warnings: none really, just generally fluffy and silly

A/N: AHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH ANON i hope you like where i go w the story in the future!! and hehe now that we’re in the past arc of peregrine you will actually get to see all of the nitty gritty details of their relationship in the fic itself so i won’t spoil it 🤫 but i love nagi ofc so i’ve added some general headcanons on what i think he would be like as a bf

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

no matter how the two of you get together, reo is somehow involved LMAOAOAO like bro is ALWAYS at the scene of the crime in some way shape or form just because i don’t think nagi would really pick up on the fact that he has a crush on you without outside intervention

it would also definitely be a jump scare when he confesses!! you would have zero idea it’s coming because he literally hasn’t changed how he acts towards you whatsoever

canonically he doesn’t really interact with a lot of people or have a lot of friends and he’s not aggressive with romance so i just don’t think he’d really know what the appropriate method of telling someone you like them is

would probably say some shit like “reo says i have a crush on you” and would be so nonchalant about it meanwhile you’re like “???” because you did not even realize he knew your name and also why is reo being brought up

i honestly think he would not be a bad boyfriend. yes he is lazy and unmotivated but he does what he needs to do and if something is important to him he generally puts in effort for it

that’s another reason why it would take him foreverrr to ask you out — he would have to like you enough that he realizes he does in fact want to have a relationship with you even if it is a hassle

he doesn’t have social media though so don’t expect there to be an official announcement that you guys are together or anything like that HAHA

he would probably forget to tell anyone that the two of you are dating and it’s not because he’s ashamed of you or is trying to hide you or anything he literally just does not care what other people think and would prefer not to talk them if possible so it never comes up

you’ll show up to an event with him and everyone’s like “omg nagi who is this” and he’s like “this is my girlfriend” and someone (probably otoya tbh) is like “since when have you had a girlfriend” and he’s like “it’s been two years 😐”

i think he would be fire at insulting people just because of how many video games he plays…that man has seen some of the worst sides of humanity

the world is lucky he’s a pacifist and avoids conflict because he has some vile stuff stored away (i will never be over him asking barou if he practiced kneeling because he’s about to make him his servant)

this particular quality makes him the BEST person to talk shit with

he’s not a gossipy boyfriend in the sense that he doesn’t have anything juicy of his own to contribute to the conversation but i’m pretty sure he mentioned he watches dramas at one point so you know he’s locked tf in if you need to complain abt someone

he will sit there and be so invested in the tea…def would not give any useful advice but he will make fun of anyone bothering you so you still end up feeling better

i don’t think he would get jealous honestly

the thought of you cheating on him doesn’t cross his mind at all because why would he date someone he didn’t trust fully???

i would say he expects the same from you because he would but at the same time he voluntarily talks to one (1) other person besides you and that’s reo so the opportunity for you to be jealous just wouldn’t even crop up

definitely super clingy and cuddly

loves being babied too

according to epnagi he has this whole automatic system in his apartment to clean and do laundry and i think he’d be fine if you appropriate that so no more cleaning!! but you will have to cook because that man literally only eats fruit jellies

genuinely how is he so built and not dying of malnutrition SKJFDSHKJ

he probably is terrible at coming up with date ideas so it’s up to you to plan things

again it’s not malicious i think for him just spending time with you is his ideal date!! like he doesn’t see the point in getting dressed up and going somewhere fancy when you could just eat at home and be comfortable together

but if it’s an important day or you tell him that you want him to suggest something for once, he WILL go all out (which means calling reo for advice and doing what he tells him to)

overall communication is key with him. he’s not particularly sensitive or in tune with other people’s emotions so being passive aggressive or expecting him to read your mind will honestly just end up making your mood worse because he will not pick up on the fact that something is wrong

but if you tell him what you want him to change he will happily do it!! he just needs to be told very clearly if you’re upset or need him to do something different

honestly it would be very refreshing. there are zero games with nagi and he doesn’t really try to hide anything — what you see is what you get 100% of the time

overall 10/10 would date idc haters dni he’s a sweetheart and he’s doing his best

[ineedmojoe]

Six times Ryan described Eddie as straight

(Bolding is mine. I’ve highlighted where he’s said Eddie is straight as well as his point that he wants to “dispel” that just because Buck and Eddie are vulnerable with one another, it doesn’t mean Eddie is queer. I also bold where he says that it’s more important to show audiences that Eddie, a straight man and ally, can be friends with a queer man, and it doesn’t affect their friendship or "change the sexuality" of the straight man. I’ll also note that he answered almost every interview question that implied Eddie was queer this way during the end-of-s7 interviews. He seems to only not go into this spiel if the interview question is clearly about Buck and Eddie's platonic relationship. Edit: I want to add that I think the queer Eddie headcanon is totally valid, and I see how people see and write that from various moments in the show. It just seems like they have no plans to go there in canon.) 

9-1-1’ Star Ryan Guzman on Buck & Eddie: ‘It’s Baby Steps Towards Anything & If Anything’ — May 9, 2024 — Meredith Jacobs — Swooon (formerly on TVInsider)

Even before 9-1-1 Season 7, fans have wondered if the drama would eventually pair Buck (Oliver Stark) and Eddie (Ryan Guzman) together romantically. And now, with this season featuring Buck exploring his bisexuality—he’s with former 118 member Tommy (Lou Ferrigno Jr.)—the question does have to be asked if the show could go there with him and his best friend.

“We just got to the point where Buck is having this own personal growth of himself, so it’s like baby steps towards anything and if anything,” Guzman tells TV Insider.

Furthermore, he’s especially enjoying what this arc is “showcasing on national television: a bisexual man coming out to a heterosexual man and having the strength to do such, and then having the heterosexual man giving that man a safe space to be caught in and to be loved and nurtured. I think there’s still an air out there in the world that your sexuality preference determines if you’re weak or not, or determines if you’re capable or not, of being just a good human being, which is such a crazy thing to think about,” Guzman continues. “I love that we get to dispel that ideology and we get to showcase and reflect to the world that your sexual preference has no meaning in friendships and connection. Accept people for who they are, love people for who they are, and let’s keep it pushing. Let’s have fun. Let’s have a great time.”

9-1-1′s Ryan Guzman Reacts to [Spoiler]’s Return and Eddie’s Betrayal: ‘He’s Weaving a Dangerous Web’ — May 9, 2024 — Andy Swift — TVLine

TVLINE | I think I have more appreciation for Eddie this season after watching his friendship with Buck reach a new level. Buck is in such a vulnerable place, and it’s given Eddie a chance to step up and support him. A lot of guys come out and worry that things won’t be the same with their straight friends, but Eddie handled everything perfectly. He’s a true ally, that one.

I just access from my own personal life with friends that have come out to me. I think we were all raised in a generation where men were expected to be hardened and not access our feelings. … You can still be that type of man and be friends with a person who has a completely different sexuality than you. It has nothing to do with you. It doesn’t make his jokes less funny, the time you hang out with him isn’t any weirder or more awkward. If it does, the person who’s feeling that way has something they’re going through that they maybe need to come out to, too.

I would love to reflect onto the world that you should be there for your brother, you know, be there for your sister. If someone comes out to you, handle it with a net of safety and love and just keep it pushing after that. Like, “That must have been hard for you. Now that we’re past that, let’s go enjoy your lives.”

9-1-1’s Ryan Guzman on Eddie’s Shocking New Love Interest and the Consequences He’ll Face — May 10, 2024 — Ashley Bissette Sumerel — Tell-Tale TV

Guzman also discussed Eddie’s reaction to Buck coming out as bisexual earlier this season. 

“[Buck] coming out as a bisexual man to a person who is, not necessarily machismo, but a typical heterosexual individual with all these accolades behind him, that could be very scary for a man like Buck to come out to,” he noted.

However, when Buck reveals to Eddie that he and Tommy had been on a date, Eddie’s reaction is one of acceptance and love.

“Partly why I love that specific scene so much is because it was an opportunity to showcase to the world [that] this is how you handle that situation — that sexual preference doesn’t dictate how we should interact with each other and how I should treat you as a human being. And that doesn’t make me love you any less or think of you any less,” Guzman said.

“It just shows me what you like. I’ve already shown you what I like… and clearly, it’s my dead wife,” he laughed.

“Oliver [Stark] and I are aware that everybody has their own renditions of what Buck and Eddie are to be,” Guzman continued, referring to the hope many fans have that Buck and Eddie will eventually develop a romance.

“We love the love. We love that they’re invested so much into these characters,” Guzman said.

“Everything has to fall in its own truth, and at this moment, I think the beauty and the truth is that a man saw another man in need and was seeing another man be so vulnerable in front of him. And what he did was say, ‘Hey, I got you, brother. Don’t worry.'”

Speaking of the possibility of a Buddie romance, Guzman said that while he didn’t want to speculate, his feeling is that audiences are drawn to the vulnerability between the two characters.

“I can’t read the audience’s mind, and I don’t want to speculate on anything that I don’t know, but I think that people tend to lean on the vulnerability side. That’s something that I’ve always tried to explore in this character specifically because I can relate to it,” he said. “A lot of people feel that just because you’re vulnerable, it means that you’re a certain thing or not. And I’ve always wanted to dispel that a little bit.”

“You can be a very macho man and be vulnerable at the same time, but it’s who you’re vulnerable to. Because vulnerability is a gift. You just don’t share it out to the world. And if you do, you better have strength in that vulnerability and confidence in that vulnerability. It’s gotta be tried and true.”

“So, I think that this is another great opportunity to showcase that men can be vulnerable with each other and allow for that space of growth. And we might’ve met each other at one time in our lives, but it doesn’t mean that we have to hold each other to that point,” Guzman said.

‘9-1-1’ Star Ryan Guzman Breaks Down That Emotional Finale Goodbye — May 30, 2024 — Max Gao — The Hollywood Reporter

Eddie was raised with the toxic masculine ideal that he had to suppress his emotions, and it’s only been through his relationships at the 118 that he has begun to feel more comfortable with expressing his feelings. How do you think Eddie’s upbringing has influenced the kind of person he is in the present day? And as someone who has drawn plenty of parallels between yourself and Eddie, what parts of your own lived experiences have you drawn from?

I pull from a lot of my own personal history. I always had emotions when I was younger. Growing up in Sacramento, it was always frowned upon to have these emotions and even trying to understand them. Actually, I was told that it was homosexual to feel these feelings, and I’m like, “Wait, so having feelings makes me be this kind of person? I don’t understand this.” So it was always something that I never could understand in the setting that I was growing up in.

Now I use that as a conduit to Eddie, because the setting he was growing up in was similar. Coming into this new family of seeing Hen and now Buck being versions of themselves who are living in their truth, it now allows Eddie to live in his truth and see there is new life and new opportunity. He’s allowing himself to be vulnerable and realize, “No, [being vulnerable] doesn’t make me less of a man, and it’s not an indication that my sexuality has to completely change because I feel these emotions. I’m still the same man. I just now have a greater awareness and greater depth of who I am because of these emotions.” This has always been something that I’ve wanted to portray on camera, and having Eddie be the conduit for that has been an incredible opportunity for myself as an actor and as a person. I love the fact that I’m able to show to the world, through Eddie, that having this vulnerability with your brothers or your sisters doesn’t make you anything that the world might throw at you as a title. It just makes you more aware of who you are and gives you an opportunity for some emotional intelligence. 

Ryan Guzman of 9-1-1 — May 20, 2024 — Tommy DiDario — I've Never Said This Before With Tommy DiDario (Podcast)

Tommy (12:46): You can't predict the future. Nobody can on this show. But if the opportunity one day happened to come your way where they were like, "This storyline might be explored between Buck and Eddie," would you be open to that storyline in the future? I see you smiling. Oliver had the same reaction, a big grin on his face when I asked this.

Ryan (13:06): Yeah, you know, like I said, it's got to live in the truth. And I think right now we live at a moment, or me, I live moment to moment. So I love the fact that the biggest plot point between these two characters is one happens to be bi, one happens to be hetero, and they have this vulnerability towards each other. And that is the truth to me. It's the fact that you have such a safe space, and it doesn't matter your sexuality, that you have a safe space to talk to this individual, and he can fully accept you. If we can stay with that, then whatever happens happens. But I don't necessarily want to push the fact that because you're vulnerable, you have to be one way or the other in your sexuality. I would hate to, you know, have a lot of other men who are struggling mentally and not sure about, "Oh, do I even open up? Will that make me something that I'm not?" I would hate to push that narrative. So if we live in the truth, whatever happens happens. And again, I'm here for it all.

9-1-1’s Ryan Guzman Breaks Down Eddie’s Biggest Season 7 Moments: Bachelor Party Hijinks and More — June 10, 2024 — Kat Pettibone — Us Weekly

Whether it be through his military duty, being Latino, his religion or his relationship with Buck — which some fans perceive as romantic — Eddie Diaz is someone who makes viewers feel seen. Playing a character who can connect to so many, Guzman shared, is something he takes seriously.

[Note: Kat Pettibone shared that this is the specific question she asked here: “There are a lot of queer fans who see themselves in Eddie Diaz despite him not being canonically queer himself. How does it feel to play someone who makes people feel seen and represented — in a multitude of ways, but for queer people as well?”]

“I love the ambiguity of Eddie and that there’s connective tissue there — for queer people or not — to relate and to fall in love and to find themselves in who Eddie is,” he said. “I mean, there’s a vulnerability in Eddie, there’s also a chaos in Eddie. There’s so much realness in Eddie. And I love that there’s so many fans out there of all demographics that find themselves in Eddie.”

Guzman said that he hopes to show “the more humane side” of Eddie, highlighting that “within community, we can all heal.”

“That’s what I see the 118 being for Eddie,” he continued. “It’s this therapy, this family, whether you’re lesbian like Hen or you’re bisexual like Buck, it does not matter your sexual orientation. We can all share the same dinner plate and we can all love each other and feel safe enough to say whatever it is we want to say. That’s the kind of world I want to live in. And that’s what I love about Eddie. And the fact that he gets to portray to all these other individuals who are militant and raised Catholic and very hard-edged, to let those boundaries go.”

[mononijikayu]

“all that i am, when i’m around you” — gojo satoru.

Satoru blushes at the fact that he was so bold to do that. He groaned to himself, his hands on his head. He purses his lips. But it felt good. It felt good to make you flustered. It felt good to make you feel a deep sense of contentment, just being with you. Just being silly around you. These moments, these small, everyday interactions, were what made his life with you so special. It wasn’t about grand gestures or dramatic changes—it was about the quiet, simple moments that you shared together. Gojo Satoru felt that he was all he was, when he was around you.

GENRE: post hidden - inventory arc (2010s)

WARNING/S: domesticity, fluff, family, comfort, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, mention of pregnancy, mention of breastfeeding, mention of postpartum effects, depiction of the aftermath of birth, depiction of parenthood, depiction of blood, depiction of killing, depiction of suffering, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;

LISTEN: all that i am by mirdjo

NOTE: i was gone for a while and i still haven't written, sorry about that. i recently lost my dog and i really couldn't do anything. but today is the jjk chapter drop, so i decided to write something. this was comforting to write, because gojo satoru is a comfort. i'm doing a bit better now. we will be back on schedule soon enough!!! i hope you enjoy this little drable!!! i love you!!! <3

masterlist

u s and t h e m

IT WAS TAKING TIME TO ADJUST TO BEING MARRIED. But being married to you wasn’t so bad, or at least that’s what Gojo Satoru thinks. He looks at you as you hum that tune from the radio — preparing breakfast for both of you and the kids.

He had just gotten home from a mission, but you were waiting for him to come home. That was new for him. That someone was up all night worrying about him. Usually, he and Suguru went on missions together. But there wasn’t anyone waiting for him to come back, to greet him happily like you did. 

Everything has been a whirlwind of changes and emotions. One that he hadn’t expected about this. Surprisingly, you both got along well as a married couple. You didn’t act romantically, of course. There’s…there’s none of that yet. But you both cared for each other a lot, acted like a married couple would. Satoru was surprised. It was like everything fit into place now. 

The dynamic between you had shifted in subtle yet significant ways, reshaping the very foundation of your relationship. These past few months had been a period of profound transformation for both of you, discovering what could be between you now.

He was sure that slowly but surely, it was still sinking in — you took his name, you were in his house, you wore his ring. You were more in his and your life now. You were more part of his life now than ever before. You weren’t his senpai anymore, and he wasn’t your kouhai either. You were now his wife and he was your husband.

For a while, Gojo Satoru found himself in an unfamiliar territory, uncertain of what to call you. It wasn't just a matter of addressing you by your name; it was about finding the right words to encapsulate the depth of your relationship. In the past, you were his senpai, the one he looked up to with admiration and respect. Then, you became his partner, someone he leaned on for support and guidance. But now, as husband and wife, the dynamics had shifted in ways he hadn't anticipated.

He hesitated to simply call you by your first name, as if it didn't quite capture the magnitude of your connection. You were still very much not in love. It was too hard to be casual with you. It wasn’t like it was a joke like he did when he was still your kouhai. It was real now. It was very much something that was a gap he had to think about for a long while. 

Calling you "wife" felt too formal, too distant for the woman who shared his hopes, dreams, and fears. It may have been an arranged marriage, but it wasn’t as if he wasn’t an instigator. He was a willing participant, because he was fond of you. He wasn’t going to be calling you that.

Using "dear" sounded too old-fashioned, something his and your mother called your own fathers when they first married years and years ago. And "love" seemed too casual for the depth of emotion he felt for you. He wasn’t in love with you, yet. One day, maybe. But until then, he had to be able to give a name for you.

One day, Satoru approached you with a hesitant expression, his usual confidence tinged with uncertainty. "Hey, um... I've been thinking," he began, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the right words.

You looked up from your book, sensing his unease. "What's on your mind, Satoru?"

He shifted nervously, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "It's about... what to call you, now… now that you aren’t my senpai," he admitted, his cheeks tinted with a faint blush. His eyes flickered with uncertainty as he struggled to articulate his thoughts. "It's just... I know this is really different. But it’s not easy to just call you by your name or just make up one. So I wanted to ask you about what you’re comfortable with."

You watched him with a soft smile, sensing his discomfort and wanting to ease his worries. "Satoru, you don’t really have to ask me. We’re married now," you reassured him, your voice gentle and reassuring.

But he couldn't shake off the feeling of uncertainty, the weight of tradition and habit still lingering in his mind. "I know, I know," he murmured, his gaze shifting to the ground. "But it's just... I want to make sure I'm doing this right. I want it to feel... natural."

Your heart softened at his vulnerability, your own affection for him swelling within your chest. "Satoru, there's no right or wrong way to do this," you said, reaching out to gently touch his arm. "We're in this together, remember? It's okay to feel unsure sometimes. But just know that you can call me whatever feels comfortable to you."

He looked up at you, his eyes searching yours for reassurance. "Anything?"

You nodded, a warm smile playing on your lips. "Anything."

With a sigh of relief, Satoru felt the weight of uncertainty lift from his shoulders. "Okay then," he said, a newfound determination in his voice. "I think... I think I'll stick with trying to…trying to get used to your name. For now. If that's alright with you."

Your smile widened, a surge of warmth flooding your heart. "It's more than alright, Satoru." you replied, your voice filled with love and understanding. 

He liked the way you said his name.

But he can tell, slowly but surely.

You liked how he said yours too.

In that time, as Satoru endeavored to commit your name to memory as effortlessly as breathing, he found himself grappling with the concept of you being an intrinsic part of his home. The idea of you being his home. It was a notion that seemed foreign at first, given his long-standing familiarity with solitude and transience.

From a young age, Satoru had grown accustomed to living in isolation, even within the vast expanse of the Gojo clan manor. As the heir to the Gojo clan, he had resided in his own wing of the estate, separated from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. But even within his private quarters, he never lingered in one room for long. 

The ever-present threat of assassination, a constant worry for his mother following the fate of his father, prompted her to frequently alter the layout and appearance of his living space. Rooms were rearranged, furnishings were swapped out, and on particularly paranoid days, Satoru found himself relocated to entirely different chambers. As a result, he never had the opportunity to truly imprint the features of any particular room in his memory.

Even during his time in the Jujutsu High dormitories, Satoru had maintained a sense of detachment from his surroundings. Though he had his own room, he seldom spent enough time there to form any meaningful connection to it.

With missions keeping him and Suguru occupied for days on end, and the few precious hours of rest often spent in Suguru's company, Satoru's dorm room remained as pristine and impersonal as the day he first set foot in it. Like the Gojo manor, it was a space devoid of personal significance, a transient waypoint in his journey through life.

It wasn't until he met Suguru and Shoko, and ultimately you, that Satoru began to understand the true meaning of belonging. Through your presence, he discovered a sense of stability and security that had eluded him for so long.

With you, he found a home—a place where he could be himself without fear or reservation, where memories were made and cherished, and where the bonds of love and friendship flourished. And as he reflected on the journey that had brought him to this moment, Satoru realized that he had finally found something worth remembering, something worth holding onto with all his heart.

Satoru often found himself lost in thought, reflecting on how different things were now. He loved how peaceful it had been just being around you. Even the little mundane details brought a sense of joy he hadn't anticipated.

Living together meant he saw you more than ever before, and since you weren’t going on missions nowadays, he found himself awakened to each and every day beside you, learning all these bright new facets of your personalities to light.

He noticed how you scrunch your nose when you were thinking too hard, a cute quirk that made him smile. Your bright eyes narrowed often when you focused on things, a look of intense concentration that made you look both serious and endearing.

You made a funny face when you realized something he had pointed out, a mix of surprise and amusement that was always delightful to witness. And then there was the way you smiled into your cup of coffee if it tasted good, a small but genuine expression of contentment that made his heart swell.

One morning, as he watched you prepare breakfast, he couldn’t help but just stare. You had a peculiar way of eating your breakfast. You put jam on your bread, humming quietly, and add your eggs, bacon, and the other side of the bread.  You looked so happy to eat it, grinning at how delicious it tastes for you.

The kids were already out for the day, and they would be here all day because they’re in school and there were still their after school activities. In truth, Satoru was too exhausted to get up from the bed, he did back to back missions after all. But you kept urging him to get up and eat breakfast with you. His stomach would hurt if he didn’t tell him. He can shower and sleep after.

He didn’t know if he was just too tired or if he was just out of his mind. But he felt warm inside. Just watching you eat happily. That you would make him this delicious meal. That you would push him to take care of himself. That you would take care of him. 

"You know, you have these little habits that are just... adorable." 

You turned to him, eyebrows raised in curiosity. "All of a sudden?”

“Why not? I think it’s true.”

“Oh really? How so?"

He leaned against his own chair, a playful grin on his face. "Y’know, I don’t think you know this but you scrunch your nose when you’re thinking too hard. Or how your eyes narrow when you’re focused. And that face you make when you realize something new—it’s priceless. Just know, you ate that sandwich and started nodding because you think it’s delicious.”

You looked at him flustered, eyes fluttering. "I didn’t know you paid so much attention to me, Satoru. That’s….so detailed.”

"How could I not?" he replied, leaning forward toward you. "I see you everyday. It was meant to be me learning something new about you every day.”

A blush crept up your cheeks, and you turned back to the stove, stirring the eggs. "You’re making me self-conscious now."

"Don’t be." he said softly, smiling at you gently. "I love these little things about you. They make you... you. And I like that, y’know?”

You leaned back into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. "And what about you, Satoru? What little things do you have that I should be noticing?"

He chuckled at you, standing up and walking towards you. He pats your head, your face turning redder. "I’m not sure. Maybe you’ll have to pay more attention and find out."

"......I will." you promised, turning your head slightly to meet his eyes. You were too shy now. His grin grew wider. "I’ll make it my mission to do well for you."

He smiled, his lips brushing against your cheek. "I look forward to it."

“S-satoru, you can’t just do that!” 

He laughed. “Love you too!”

“T-that….. Satoru! You're a pain in the ass!"

"But I'm your pain in the ass!"

Satoru blushes at the fact that he was so bold to do that. He groaned to himself, his hands on his head. He purses his lips. But it felt good. It felt good to make you flustered. It felt good to make you feel a deep sense of contentment, just being with you. Just being silly around you.

These moments, these small, everyday interactions, were what made his life with you so special. It wasn’t about grand gestures or dramatic changes—it was about the quiet, simple moments that you shared together. Gojo Satoru felt that he was all he was, when he was around you. 

In those moments, he realized that being married to you was more than he had ever expected. It was about finding joy in the mundane, discovering new facets of each other every day, and building a life together that was filled with love, laughter, and understanding. There were moments of tender domesticity that felt almost surreal—sharing morning coffee, debating over grocery lists, and falling into a routine that was uniquely yours.

As Satoru sat at the kitchen table, you poured him a cup of freshly brewed coffee, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. "Here you go, Satoru." you said, sliding the mug across the table towards him. "Time for you to join the coffee club."

He eyed the dark liquid with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. "I'm not sure about this," he admitted, reaching out to tentatively lift the mug to his lips.

"You won't know until you try, y’know?" you teased, nudging him gently. “Go on! One sip!”

As Satoru tentatively raised the cup to his lips, anticipation mingled with apprehension. The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted up to meet his nose, promising a bold and robust flavor experience. But as the bitter liquid touched his tongue, his features contorted into a grimace of pure disbelief. It was as if he had just bitten into a particularly sour lemon, his taste buds recoiling in shock at the unexpected assault.

The sight of Satoru's reaction was too much for Megumi to handle. From his position on the sidelines, he burst into laughter, unable to contain his amusement at his friend's expense. His laughter echoed through the kitchen, a joyful symphony of mirth that filled the room with infectious energy.

Despite the discomfort of the bitter taste lingering on his palate, Satoru couldn't help but chuckle along with Megumi's infectious laughter. There was something undeniably humorous about the situation, and he found himself unable to suppress a smile even as he struggled to come to terms with the unfamiliar flavor of the coffee.

Tsumiki, the epitome of kindness and compassion, didn't hesitate for a moment as she witnessed Satoru's struggle with the bitter coffee. With a swift and determined motion, she sprang into action, her nurturing instincts kicking into high gear.

"Here, let me help, Satoru–san!" she exclaimed, her voice gentle but firm as she reached for the container of sugar and the carton of cream nestled in the fridge. With practiced efficiency, she poured a generous spoonful of sugar into the mug, followed by a liberal splash of cream, expertly balancing the flavors to create a more palatable concoction.

As she stirred the sugar and cream into the coffee, a look of focused concentration settled on her features. It was clear that she took her role as caretaker seriously, determined to ease Satoru's discomfort and ensure his enjoyment of the beverage.

With a final stir, Tsumiki presented the transformed coffee to Satoru with a warm smile, her eyes shining with genuine concern and compassion. "Here you go, Satoru–san," she said softly, offering him the mug. "I hope this makes it more to your liking."

Satoru accepted the mug with gratitude, his heart warmed by Tsumiki's kindness and thoughtfulness. As he took a cautious sip of the now sweetened and cream-enriched coffee, he found himself pleasantly surprised by the transformation. The bitter edge had been softened, replaced by a creamy sweetness that danced across his taste buds with newfound delight.

"Thank you, Tsumiki," he said, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. "You're a lifesaver."

Tsumiki's smile widened at his words, her cheeks tinged with a rosy hue. "It's my pleasure, Satoru–san," she replied, her gaze warm and earnest. "I'm always here to help."

He looks at you. “This is my only cup of coffee for the rest of my life.”

You chuckled at Satoru's expression, reaching out to pat his hand sympathetically. "Looks like coffee isn't for everyone," you said, trying to stifle your laughter.

Satoru nodded in agreement, his lips still puckered from the bitter taste. "I think I'll stick to hot cocoa." he said, setting the mug aside with a grimace. “This is awful!”

You laughed. “Well, I’ll make you good sweet ones, ‘toru.”

You took care of him in ways that went beyond what he had ever imagined. It was in the little things: the way you left notes for him to find, the meals you cooked together, the quiet support you offered without needing to be asked. It made him feel like a bashful boy all over again, experiencing a kind of affection and attention that was both exhilarating and humbling.

Being married, being husband and wife — this is not easy. His own mother was surprised that someone as young as him would consider it now. It was true that he had uncles that could marry you. Save you from the Zenin, the name was enough. But Satoru couldn’t admit to you then when you asked him that it was because you were you. You were all he had, now that Suguru had left him. And he couldn’t lose you too. He didn’t want to.

Satoru sat across from his mother, the weight of her words heavy in the air. "You're too young to be thinking about marriage, Satoru." she said, her tone tinged with concern. "You have your whole life ahead of you. There's no need to rush into anything."

He bit his lip, feeling the weight of her words like a physical blow. "I know, Mother." he replied, his voice strained with emotion. "But it's not that simple."

His mother raised an eyebrow, her expression questioning. "What do you mean?"

Satoru hesitated for a moment, struggling to find the right words. "I... I can't just leave her unprotected. Not when the Zenin is planning to marry her to Naoya….he’s gonna hurt her." he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "She needs someone to look after her, to keep her safe."

His mother's eyes softened with understanding as she reached out to lay a comforting hand on his arm. "Satoru, you don't have to bear that burden alone," she said gently. "You have uncles who would gladly take on that responsibility. Maybe even your cousins. You don't have to sacrifice your own happiness for hers."

But Satoru shook his head, determination shining in his cerulean eyes. "It has to be me, Mother," he insisted. "I can't let anyone else take that responsibility. I have to be the one to marry her, to care for her. No one….”

His mother sighed, realizing the depth of his conviction. "Just promise me you'll take care of yourself too, Satoru," she said, her voice tinged with concern. "Marriage is a partnership, and you can't neglect your own well-being in the process."

Satoru nodded, his resolve unwavering. "I promise, Mother," he said, a steely determination in his voice. "I'll take care of her, and I'll take care of myself. We'll make it work together. I know we will."

And as he left his mother's side, the weight of her words still echoing in his mind, Satoru couldn't help but feel a sense of determination settle in his heart. He would do whatever it took to keep you safe and happy, even if it meant sacrificing his own happiness in the process. Because for him, there was no greater priority than ensuring your well-being, no matter the cost.

Because he knew that you would take care of him.

And you would make sure he would be safe too.

You were just that kind of person to Gojo Satoru.

As Satoru sat on the couch, watching you move about the room, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander. What would the future look like for the two of you? The thought filled him with a strange mix of excitement and nervousness. There was so much more beyond the friendship that had been the bedrock of your relationship.

He imagined a future filled with shared dreams and challenges, laughter and tears, triumphs and setbacks. He saw you both growing together, learning from each other, and building a life that was rich and full. The thought of children crossed his mind—a family that was an extension of the love you shared.

Satoru smiled to himself, feeling a warmth spread through him. This was just the beginning, a new adventure that you were embarking on together. And whatever the future held, he knew that with you by his side, it would be extraordinary.

"Hey, you should start pouring your hot cocoa, Satoru," you told him, pointing the spatula towards the boiling pot. "It’ll get too soggy if you let it overboil!"

"Coming, coming," he mumbled, snapping back to reality as he stood up from the couch.

He moved to the stove, reaching for the pot of cocoa. As he poured the steaming liquid into his mug, he couldn’t help but smile at how natural this all felt. You, bustling around the kitchen, humming softly; him, doing his part to help with breakfast. It was a far cry from the life he once knew, filled with endless missions and solitary nights.

Satoru watched as you deftly flipped pancakes, your movements sure and practiced. "You know," he said, a hint of mischief in his voice, "I could get used to this. Waking up to you, having breakfast together. For the rest of my life. It’s... nice."

You glanced over at him, a twinkle in your eye. "Just nice?"

"Okay, more than nice," he admitted, leaning against the counter. "It’s... comforting. Makes me feel like I’ve finally found where I belong."

You paused, setting down the spatula and turning to face him fully. "You do belong here, Satoru. With me. With us."

He felt a lump in his throat, emotions welling up that he hadn’t expected. "I know. And it means more to me than I can say."

You smiled, stepping closer to him. "You don’t have to say it. I can see it. And I feel the same way."

He reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "I’m glad we have this. Us. I know it hasn’t been easy, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything."

"Neither would I," you said softly, leaning into his touch. "We’re a team, Satoru. And we’ll get through everything together."

He nodded, pulling you into a gentle hug. "Yeah, we will. And I promise to keep doing my best to be the husband you deserve."

You hugged him back, your arms wrapping around him tightly. "You already are, Satoru. More than you know."

As you both stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, Satoru felt a sense of peace he hadn’t known was possible. This was his life now—filled with love, warmth, and the simple joys of being with you. And no matter what challenges lay ahead, he knew he could face them as long as you were by his side.

He pulled back slightly, looking into your lilac eyes. "You know," he began, his voice softer now, "I never thought I’d have this. A home, a family. I always figured I’d be alone, just me against the world."

You cupped his cheek with your hand, your thumb brushing against his skin. "You don’t have to be alone anymore, Satoru. We’re in this together."

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment. "I know. And it scares me sometimes, how much I need this. Need you."

You smiled gently. "Needing someone isn’t a weakness. It’s what makes us human. It’s what makes us stronger."

He opened his eyes, meeting your gaze. "You’re right. And I’m grateful every day that I have you. That we have this life together."

You kissed his forehead, a tender gesture that spoke volumes. "Me too. We’re building something beautiful, Satoru. One day at a time."

He nodded, a sense of determination settling in his chest. "One day at a time," he echoed. "And I promise, I’ll be here for every single one."

You smiled, feeling the depth of his commitment and love. "And I’ll be here too, Satoru. Always."

As you both turned back to the breakfast preparations, the sense of shared purpose between you felt stronger than ever. The rhythmic clatter of utensils against pots and pans, the fragrant aroma of coffee wafting through the air—each moment seemed infused with a quiet but palpable sense of contentment.

In the simplicity of your daily routine, Satoru found himself feeling his heart beat just a little bit faster. There was a sense of profound happiness that he couldn’t quite explain, a feeling that bubbled up from deep within his chest and spilled over into every fiber of his being. It was a feeling that defied rational explanation, transcending words and logic to manifest as a pure, unadulterated sense of joy.

It was never going to be easy to explain, Satoru realized, nor did he feel the need to try. Some things were simply beyond words, existing in a realm of emotion and intuition that defied rational analysis. But it was okay—it was more than okay, in fact. For Satoru, the unpredictable nature of life was a source of excitement rather than anxiety, a reminder that every twist and turn held the potential for new discoveries and adventures.

And through it all, you were there by his side, holding his hand through every challenge and triumph. As long as you were there, he knew that nothing would ever be truly insurmountable. With your unwavering support and boundless love, Satoru felt invincible, ready to face whatever the world threw his way.

As he watched you move gracefully about the kitchen, a sense of gratitude washed over him, filling his heart to the brim. In that moment, surrounded by the comforting familiarity of home and the warmth of your presence, Satoru knew that he was exactly where he was meant to be. And with you by his side, he was ready to embrace whatever the future held, secure in the knowledge that together, you could conquer anything that came your way.

Satoru took the pot of cocoa off the stove and poured it into two mugs, handing one to you. "To us. May we be happy together." he said, raising his mug.

"To us," you replied, clinking your mug against his. You smiled at the last bit. “May we be happy.”

In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of your home and the promise of your future together, you both knew that this was just the beginning of a beautiful journey—one filled with love, laughter, and the simple, everyday joys of being with each other.

All that he is when he's around you.

That's all he wants to be in this life.

And you would say the same thing to him.

But he didn't have to hear you say it to him.

Your eyes tell him so much more than he needs.

epilogue

Gojo Satoru stood in his cluttered office at Jujutsu High, sighing softly. There was a baby carrier strapped to his chest with a gurgling Gojo Satoshi nestled inside. The little one wasn’t really feeling his dear beloved father’s stress. But Satoru couldn’t expect much of his little dawn. He liked laughing, being stressed free and his mama. As Satoru moved around the room, he couldn’t help but stand still. There was little place to move. 

His cerulean eyes scanned the room, which looked like a tornado had swept through. Papers, books, and miscellaneous items were scattered everywhere. This was his first year of teaching in Jujutsu High and immediately, everything was already a mess. He didn’t expect it to be this way this quickly. Satoru was good at keeping things clean most of the time. But these days, balancing fatherhood and balancing husbandry and jujutsu — he really didn’t have the time to clean. 

Satoru didn’t teach methodically, like Utahime. But he still needed a basis for what he was teaching. So he had scrolls upon scrolls he borrowed from Gojo manor and even Mikoto manor. Along with books that Yaga–sensei would be looking for by now. He wasn’t just teaching things from his gut–feeling. That would get more unnecessary yapping from the higher ups than he already was getting. Plus, you’d end up yelling at him for that. Kids were at stake after all.

He didn’t know why he decided to do this today, if he was being honest. It was really not the time. You weren’t in town right now, you went back to Kyoto for a few days at your mother’s request. Nobuhiko was going to have his first teaching class in Kyoto Jujutsu tech too. And there was the issue of a barrier somehow being down in Kyoto. You had to deal with that. Satoru didn’t want to see you off. But well, you really had no excuse now that you were off duty. 

"Megumi, Tsumiki, help me out here," he said, trying to sound authoritative but mostly just sounding tired. "Your mother is out of town, and I can't stay at home moping around."

“Gen–san’s not our mother.” Megumi rolled his eyes, picking up some of the books.

“Well she’s all you have, and I’m lonely without her. So stand your butt and help me clean this up.” Satoru touts, as he starts to roll up the scrolls. Satoshi giggled watching his father roll it up. Satoru grinned. “You like it, huh? Yeah, the sound is fun, isn’t it?”

Megumi sighs, crossing his arms to his chest. “We could be playing some video games right now. It’s a Sunday too.”

“Oh cheer up, Megumi! I’m buying us ice cream once we’re done, hm?”

Tsumiki, ever the peacemaker, smiled as she cleared up some paper into the box. "Cheer up, Megumi! This is fun.  You never know what we might find in Satoru–san’s office.”

“More trash?” He waves around a newspaper that was out of date and puts it in the box.

“Something interesting, like….like this!” Tsumiki pulls out a book on the types of cheesecake. 

“See, ‘miki has the right idea, ‘gumi~”

Megumi sighed, shaking his head. “This is hopeless.”

As they began sorting through the mess, Satoru slumped into his chair, cradling Satoshi gently. The baby giggled, tugging at Satoru's sunglasses with his tiny, curious fingers. Each time Satoru gently pried them away, Satoshi’s giggles only grew louder, echoing through the cluttered office.

"Hey, don't mess with the shades, kiddo. They're part of my charm," Satoru murmured, his usual bravado softened by the affectionate way he spoke to his son. He placed a playful kiss on Satoshi’s forehead, making the baby squeal in delight. “We don’t want to make mama panic about a new pair having to be bought, you know?”

Satoshi didn’t seem to understand, as he kept giggling. Satoru couldn’t help but grin at how mischievous his little dawn is. “My baby is such a mischievous little one, hm? I’ll have to get you your own pair, shouldn’t I? So you and papa can match the look and be cool together, hm? Ah, that would be so cute~”

Megumi sighed as he opened yet another drawer filled with random items. "What is all this junk?" he asked, his voice tinged with frustration and a hint of disbelief at the sheer volume of clutter.

Satoru waved a dismissive hand, barely glancing at the drawer’s contents. "Important stuff," he replied vaguely, focusing more on adjusting Satoshi in the carrier. "Probably."

“You can’t just say probably!” Megumi retorted back.

“Oh, it’s going to be fine~”

Tsumiki, more patient and methodical in her approach, carefully sifted through a stack of papers. Suddenly, she paused, her eyes catching on something unexpected. "Hey, what's this?" she asked, pulling out a stack of neatly folded letters tied with a red ribbon.

Tsumiki untied the ribbon and picked up one of the letters. She unraveled it and began reading aloud. 

"'My dearest darling, love of my life, the apple of my eye. This mission sucks. I really hate being here. I really wish I could just make the higher ups eat shit.  But the sooner I finish, the faster I’ll come home. You take care, hm? Eat well. Make sure Megumi still isn’t upset about the white wolf costume. We’ll get him the black one next year. Make sure Tsumiki doesn’t forget to pick up her new ballet shoes.  I miss you more with each passing day. Your absence makes the world feel gray and lifeless. I count the days until I can hold you again. Love your one and only husband that loves you in this entire world, Satoru.'"

Megumi's face twisted in discomfort. "Seriously? You wrote that? I thought there were phones by this point.”

“Writing love letters is nice, you know!” Tsumiki says, smiling as she looks tenderly at the letters. “It just shows that Satoru–san loves Gen–san! You’re such a romantic, Satoru-san!”

Satoru flushed, his face red as he was adjusting Satoshi in the carrier. "’miki’s right! And  those were private! And yes, I wrote that. So what? You've never seen a husband that loves his wife, huh?”

Tsumiki giggled, continuing to read. "'PS. Your smile is the light that guides me through the darkness. I can't wait to see it again and bask in its warmth. Forever yours, Satoru.'"

Megumi groaned. "I can't believe this. You're like a love-struck teenager.”

"Hey, I was pretty young then. And nothing wrong about it. It's called being romantic," Satoru defended himself, trying to sound dignified despite his red face. "’sides…..She liked it. And she wrote back, let me be clear! Her words are just as sappy.”

Megumi shook his head, clearly overwhelmed. "I don't need to hear this."

Tsumiki, still amused, looked at another letter. "There are so many of these. How did you have time to write all of them?"

Satoru shrugged as he also took some of the letters in hand. "I have my ways. Plus, when you're away on missions, you have a lot of time to think about what's important. I liked being home, I like being with my wife and you guys. So, that’s what’s in here.”

Megumi didn’t want to admit it. But he was very glad that Satoru wrote about them. He sighed and instead muttered under his breath. "I thought you were supposed to be the strongest sorcerer, not the sappiest."

Satoru gave a dramatic sigh. "One can be both, Megumi. One can be both. With a wife like mine? You’d be multi-tasking it all.”

As they continued to sort through the mess, little Satoshi started fussing. Satoru bounced him gently, cooing softly. "It's okay, little guy. Daddy's just getting roasted by your big brother."

“It’s well deserved slander.”

“Don’t listen to your big brother, Satoshi. Love is always winning!”

Tsumiki smiled warmly. "It's sweet, Satoru–san. Really. It's nice to see this side of you."

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it." Satoru replied with a smirk, taking the letter and waving it around. "This is only for my wife and you guys. Keep it zipped. I have a reputation to maintain."

Megumi rolled his eyes again, but there was a small, reluctant smile on his face. "Sure, sure. Whatever you say, sappy pants.”

“Hey, that’s not a good insult!”

As the day went on, they managed to make a dent in the clutter, uncovering more hidden gems of Satoru's sentimental side along the way. Despite the teasing and the awkwardness, there was a sense of tenderness that filled the room.

Satoru looked around at his students—his family—and felt a warmth in his chest that rivaled any love letter he had ever written. Even with the chaos, the mess, and the relentless teasing, this was his life. And he wouldn't trade it for anything.

"Alright, team," he said, standing up with Satoshi still strapped to his chest. He was giggling as he held his father’s finger. "Let's wrap this up. Who's up for some ice cream?"

Tsumiki and Megumi exchanged glances, then nodded.

"Fine," Megumi said with a sigh. "But you're paying."

Satoru grinned. "Deal. And hey, thanks for helping out today. It means a lot."

As they left the office, Tsumiki couldn't resist one last tease. "You know, Satoru–san, you should write another letter. Something like, 'Today, I survived my kids reading my love letters. Love, the strongest—and sappiest—sorcerer.'"

Satoru laughed, ruffling her hair. "Maybe I will, Tsumiki. Maybe I will."

[bettyfrommars]

Dirty Metal Summer

a Dirty Dancing au

masterlist playlist

Part 2: The Hideout

You follow Robin over the resort property line to a place where guests are forbidden and get a glimpse of what goes on behind the scenes.

word count: 3.6k

My blog is 18+ONLY, mature themes, violence, alcohol consumption, eventual smut, fighting, mention of blood, reader is called Bird as a nickname, reader plays the cello. Reader is 21, Eddie is late 20's.

Songs for this chapter: Animal (fuck like a beast)//W.A.S.P. No one like you//Scorpions Mental Health (bang your head)//Quiet Riot Wasted Years//Iron Maiden

a/n: it has been so much fun to pull this out of the rubble and jump back into this world for a rewrite, I hope you enjoy. To my I'm on Fire peeps, there will be a scene in this chapter that feels very similar to something that happened in IOF, and that's because I originally stole it from this fic, thinking I'd never post it, lmao. Thought about changing it, but it's just too perfect. Plus, there will always be a hint of biker Eddie in all of my Eddies.

Sticking close behind Robin, you crossed the arc of a walking bridge over a creek and disappeared on a worn path through the trees.  It was only then that you could finally make out the building where the loud music was coming from.  

It had corrugated metal sides and roof, like a structure you might see on a farm that housed large equipment.  There was a picnic table out front where a few people were seated, and the shell of a vintage automobile with bullet holes in it sat in the weeds.

A little more than a city block away was a modest cabin made from actual logs with an old truck, a van, and a motorcycle parked out front.

“Who lives there?” You nudged Robin.

She stopped to see where you were looking first, and then, “oh yeah, that’s Wayne’s place.  The head maintenance guy.  This is his too,” she gestured to the metal building where the music and shouts were coming from.  “Both him and his nephew Eddie.  Have you met Eddie?”

You absolutely knew who he was, but didn’t want to come off as a stalker, so you shook your head.  

The large sliding door entrance to the building was open about a foot, letting out wafts of smoke and a hazy, golden light.  From over Robin’s shoulder, you could see quite a few bodies moving around in there, and just then came the sound of a glass breaking.  

“Ready?” She smiled back at  you, struggling to hold everything in her arms as she reached for the handle to slide the door open the rest of the way.  

“Let me?” You lurched forward.

“I got it,” she insisted, fumbling one of the guitars before catching it again with a gasp of relief.

You weren’t sure what you’d been expecting to see when she eased the door open the rest of the way, but a topless woman dancing on a table top was not one of them. 

Her hair was bleached blonde, frizzy and teased around her face.  She was tan with a prominent bikini line over her pert breasts, and it looked like she’d just pulled the top of her leopard print spandex dress down to give a little show.  

The song Animal (Fuck like a beast) by W.A.S.P. was blaring and the guys around the table cheered while the woman flipped her hair and worked her hips in a circle.  You were sure you recognized her as one of the waitresses from earlier that night. 

Metalheads of all kinds were crowded together, mingling, and you feared that you stuck out like the proverbial sore thumb. Some were in leather; some wore jean vests with pins and patches all over them.  A handful had long hair that they must’ve tied back or wore under hats while they worked at the resort, but a few of them, like Steve, kept theirs short and tidy, for the most part.  Overhead string lights swayed from high wooden beams, and a chandelier that looked like it was made out of wrenches.  An old, pea green Kelvinator refrigerator and a small kitchenette was to your left, as if someone had lived there at one point, and two couches sat against the wall that were mismatched and worn.  

Most of the crowd of people seemed to be lingering together in the middle, standing there as if waiting for something.  Taking shots, smoking blunts, and making out with each other, blocking you from seeing beyond them.  

Robin signaled to follow her, and you were hesitant to start moving through the masses, holding the guitar case flush to your body, feeling like it was something to hide behind.  You noticed posters on the walls for bands like Judas Priest and Metallica, and on the concrete floor you saw smudges from white chalk markings, dark splotches the color of dried blood, but that was ridiculous.  

You pushed between a girl with a blue mohawk and a guy with a shaved head that was covered in tattoos in a hurry to keep up with your escort, and the two shot you a hard glare.  When you could finally see the far wall, there was an oval, threadbare carpet in the corner with a drum kit set up, three microphones, two amps, and some other equipment that suggested live music would soon be happening.  

“This is where they practice!” Robin shouted over the music, directing you where to put Eddie guitar down.  “We call it The Hideout.”

“'Where who practices?’ You set Eddie’s baby near the wall where she told you to.  

“Eddie and Chrissy’s band,” she motioned for you to stand over at the wall with her. 

“Oh,” you turned to look at the instruments again, heart flopping a little at the idea he would show up at any moment.  “They're playing tonight?”

There was a commotion up ahead and you both turned to look. "Later maybe! The fights are tonight,” again, yelling over the growl of the music.  Now the song was No One Like You by Scorpions, and it sounded like people were cheering at someone who’d just come through the door. 

“Fights?” You leaned in to get more information when everyone started pushing back to make room for whatever was about to happen.  You remembered that one of the guys on the porch earlier that day with Chrissy and Steve had a black eye, and you’d noticed another worker at the resort who had a busted lip, but you hadn’t paused to think that maybe they were somehow connected.

It was then that you saw Eddie appear from out of the sea of bodies, and took a sharp intake of breath, holding it in, afraid to let it out for fear you might whimper.  

He was so beautiful, it made you dizzy. You stood up straight, adjusting yourself, covertly checking to make sure you weren’t perspiring too badly.

He was wearing the tux he’d had on for the show earlier, but the tie and cummerbund were both gone, and his white shirt was unbuttoned almost to his stomach.  You caught a glimpse of tattoos on his chest, and a necklace of some sort. Someone handed him a beer and he threw back a generous gulp.  

“There’s going to be boxing? Here? Tonight?” You were trying to act casual and not stare at him the whole time, but it was hard to tear your attention away.  

“Nothing professional,” she scoffed, folding her arms over her chest, putting her shoulder blades against the wall.  “Just your average bare knuckle street fighting, basically. The guys were doing it to blow off steam, but then some others got involved and people started placing bets, so a whole thing started.”

Eddie unbuttoned the rest of his shirt and took it off, passing it to someone in the crowd.  Your mouth went dry at the sight of his lean muscles under the scattered ink.  He kept his hair tied back and started wrapping white tape around one of his hands while Steve said something in his ear.  

“How do they choose who fights who?” You were invested now, wringing Robin out for any information she had.  

“I don’t know how they figure it out, but the new guys usually fight each other, and then a winner challenges Eddie or Steve or Alex,” she pushed off the wall to get a better look at the center of the room. “But it looks like Eddie is up first.” And then with a smirk she added, “all of the new hotshots at the resort think they can beat Eddie.”

“Can they?” Your voice cracked, eyes locked on the scene.  A guy shorter than Eddie but muscular in a football player type of way, was also shirtless in the circle now, with taped hands and wearing a pair of sweats with the name of a university down the leg. The guy was hopping from foot to foot to keep himself hyped up, punching the air in front of him.

“No one beats Eddie,” there was pride in her voice.  “Looks like the guy he’s fighting tonight is Lance, one of the new ski instructors.  Totally full of himself.”

Steve was wearing a white wife beater and jeans, and he raked a hand through his mop of hair just before pointing in your direction.  Eddie’s gaze followed the line of his finger directly to your stunned face, and then it lingered there.

He seemed to contemplate, wetting his lips, and then he nodded to Steve and was on his way over.

He didn’t have to push people out of the way because they were all quick to part to make room for him.  It wasn’t long before he was standing right in front of you.  You tried not to let your gaze linger on the full curve of his slightly chapped lips, or the way his wavy bangs framed his cherrywood eyes.  On closer inspection, you could see that the necklace he wore was a ball chain with a guitar pick hanging from it.  

Robin opened her mouth to say something, possibly introduce you, but Eddie cut her off.  

“What the hell are you doing here, Princess?” His voice was low with an edge of irritation.  He pulled the chunky metal rings off his fingers one by one as he spoke.

Robin cleared her throat, stepping forward. “She’s with me,” she stuttered a bit nervously, knowing full well she shouldn’t have brought you there.  “She came with me, she’s cool.”

Eddie collected all of the rings in his fist and kept staring at you as if he wanted to hear it from your mouth, not Robin’s.  

Your brain short-circuited for a second and you forgot how to form words when he was so close you could see the detail of the dragon tattoo on his chest.  But then, finally, it came to you:

“I-I carried your baby.”

The second it slipped out, you knew how stupid it sounded.

Unblinking, he gave his rings to Robin, and then he was gone.

You stared at the space where he no longer stood, flushed with embarrassment.  

“I carried your baby?” You repeated in a whisper, covering your face with your hands. 

Someone turned the music down so that Steve’s voice could be heard, and he waved his arms in the air to get everyone’s attention.  

“I don’t have to explain the rules to you, because there are none,” his announcement was met with screams and cheers.  Robin tugged at your arm, signaling for the two of you to get a bit closer to the action.  “First one to hit the ground for whatever reason is the loser.  Just fists, no blades or other stupid tricks.”

At one side of the circle of bodies, Lance the ski instructor was practicing some tight punches, and at the other end, Eddie rolled his neck while Chrissy finished taping the knuckles of his other hand.  It was then that the chalk and the stains on the concrete you saw earlier made sense.  

“You two ready?” Steve put his arm up between them, waiting for their nods, and then, at their signal, he chopped his hand down between them as if he were slicing the air.  

Lance was hopping from foot to foot, trying his best to look like some fancy footwork he saw in a Rocky movie, while Eddie walked casually, giving the guy a hooded, bored stare.  

Eddie could read Lance like a book.  A fight was a lot more than just a mindless throwing of hands, there was a mental prowess and skill needed that a lot of the punks busing in from suburbia did not have.  Street smarts was one thing, and Eddie surely had that, but he’d been fighting bullies off since he was a kid, and Wayne taught him to fight like it was a game of chess.

Eddie could tell where Lance was going to go a second before he made the move. He saw the guy was amped up, letting his emotions fight for him, and that was only one of his first mistakes.

Lance charged at him and swung, but Eddie was already steps away; relaxed and agile, holding his guard up. The ski instructor came at him aggressively, again and again, until Eddie pushed him, making his opponent stumble back. 

Keeping his form, Eddie caught you standing there out of the corner of his eye.

…what were you doing there at the Hideout?

He let himself ponder that question for too long and Lance was on him again, aiming a left jab to his ribs, and Eddie absorbed the blow with a grunt, arching to the side. 

You were not supposed to be there.  What was Robin thinking?

Mostly, Brenner and Joyce stayed out of their business, as long as whatever they did was off resort property, but if they found out one of the guests was somehow involved, there would be hell to pay.  

Lance charged again and Eddie dodged, angry at himself for not being able to focus .

“C’mon Lance, stomp that freak,” someone yelled from the crowd. 

And that was all it took

For Eddie to get tired of dragging it out for betting purposes.

Lance charged forward with a cry and Eddie socked an uppercut into his unsuspecting jaw.  

The surfer boy went down

Hard. 

Saliva and blood flew from his mouth as he flailed back, arms going ragdoll.

It felt like it happened in slow motion but soon enough, Lance was splayed out like a starfish on the concrete floor.

“Goodnight sweet prince,” Steve said sarcastically as he collected bets over the ski instructor’s limp body.

Robin cheered with her hands over her head, and you gave a few slow claps, your brain barely able to register where you were or what you were seeing.

“You want a beer?” She asked as you watched Lance numbly get to his feet with the help of two friends and attempt to shake it off.  

Robin motioned for you to follow her around to the refrigerator which was stocked from top to bottom with nothing but beer cans. She handed you one and then went to lean against the side of the appliance, cracking open the tab with a hiss.

With your back to the crowd, you prepared to follow suit, listening to Steve introduce two more fighters.

But then there was someone at your side,

“Not like that,” a voice said.

Eddie had come up behind you, wearing his white shirt unbuttoned, skin still glistening with sweat. Mental Health (Bang Your Head) by Quiet Riot came over the speakers, eliciting a wave of yelps and screams from the group.  

“Wait,” he put his hand on top of yours to keep you from opening your beer while he motioned for another guy to toss him one.  You turned to seek comfort or guidance from Robin, but she was absorbed in conversation with a girl in a platinum pixie cut who’d just walked up.  

“Like this,” he brushed his bangs to the side, and winked as he fished a ring of keys out of his pocket.  He used the serrated metal edge of one to punch a hole at the bottom of the can.  

It was the wink that made your skin flush hot, and then your jaw went slack as you watched him wrap his lips around the newly made hole in the can.  He made eye contact with you one more time before tipping his head back, and cracking the tab of the beer open with his thumb so that the liquid when squirting down his throat.  

The muscles in his throat jerked as he swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing.  

It wasn’t three seconds before he lowered his head and crushed the can in his hand to show it was empty.  He let out a refreshing, “ahhhh,” and darted his tongue out to lick a droplet from his chin.  

You were still holding your unopened beer, waiting for him, mouth dry.  “I-I’m not sure I—”

Yes, you knew what shotgunning a beer was, you’d seen it done plenty of times at college parties and in movies, but had never been tempted to try it yourself.  

Ignoring your hesitation, Eddie motioned with the crook of his finger for you to come closer.  You shuffled to be within reach of him as if your knees were locked in place.  

With a gentle touch, fingers brushing yours, he took your beer from you, wiped it off with his shirt, and then proceeded to make the same hole with his key in the aluminum.  Some of the beer sprayed up and misted your face.

“Here we go,” he tipped your chin with his finger and butterflies swarmed in your stomach as his eyes searched yours. “Just let it shoot into the back of your throat.”

You swallowed nervously to make sure your throat was working, and then wrapped your lips around the can at his instruction.

“Easy, just like that, hold it there,” Eddie was so close now that your elbow was touching his bare chest.  He put a hand on the back of your head.  “When I say, tip your head back all the way, and I’ll flip the tab for you.”

You swiped your tongue over the hole in the can, thinking about how embarrassing it would be if you messed it up and beer went shooting out of your nose.  

Robin offered a few words of encouragement and you noticed a tendril of hair clinging to the sweat on Eddie’s neck, right over the heartbeat in his throat.  

“You ready?”

You weren’t but—-

“Okay, now.”

You closed your eyes, slammed your head back, and prayed, even though you weren’t at all religious.  Some lukewarm beer leaked onto your tongue, and then Eddie pulled the tab, keeping one hand over yours to hold the can steady.  

The gush of liquid hissed and exploded down your throat, and for a second you thought you would choke, but then your swallowing reflex bolted into action and it was over so fast.  

You gasped and swiped beer from your chin when you pulled away to look at the empty can, amazed. 

Eddie cupped his warm hand around the back of your neck, and you felt him shift closer until his mouth was at your ear.

“Good girl,” he whispered.

An actual chill ran down your spine.

Robin put up her hand and you gave you a high five.  “Not bad for a first timer,” she joked.  “Now crush it on your forehead and grunt.”

“Ha. Ha.” 

You turned to Eddie, “that was fun maybe he should—”

You were about to say the two of you should do another one, 

but he was gone.  

—----

The next night, Eddie couldn’t sleep, so he decided to head to the property to finish up some work at the pool house.   

The place he shared with Wayne was close enough to walk to the Hawkins Landing property, but that night, he drove.  He wanted to roll the window down on the van and blast Wasted Years by Iron Maiden and belt out the lyrics.  

He slipped into the parking lot for visitors and employees, turning the music down so that it wouldn’t be heard by any of the nearby cabins.  There were two street lamps on, but a third one he noticed was out, and made a mental note that he’d have to get Jamie to fix it tomorrow.  The sidewalks along the manicured lawn were also lined with lights that came out of the ground like little mushrooms, and the boat dock far off to his left was lit, but other than that, he was in the dark.  

Grabbing his red toolbox from the passenger seat, he put a flashlight in his tool belt holster, and the van door creaked on its hinges just before it banged shut.  His ribs still ached from the punch he took the night before, but he only allowed himself to cringe and curse in private. Luckily, his only companions at that moment were the crickets and the lapping of the water against the bank.

It wasn’t until he was a few yards down the sidewalk, head down, lost in thought, that the din of classical music made him halt in his tracks. 

It was definitely strings, possibly a violin? No, it was too deep.  

He looked up at the main house, but the sound was much too close to be coming from way up there.

He cut to the right and up the grass.

Then he saw the attic light on in cabin #11.

He told himself not to bother, but as the passion of the playing increased, curiosity got the better of him.  

He came right up to your driveway, staying half obscured by a tree trunk, and watched you.

The cello, of course that’s what you were playing.  He was no expert on the classics, but he’d always learned music by ear and had a unique sense for identifying instruments.  

You weren’t reading from sheet music, you were just playing while you stared out at the sky.

Playing something by heart, or making it up as you went along, he wasn’t sure.  

In his mind, you were so far out of league, it was criminal.

Your attention broke when a sudden movement down on the road startled you.  

The bow zipped clumsily across the strings one last time, and you stood up to get closer to the open window.

But, your eyes must’ve been playing tricks on you. 

There was no one there.    

-----

Hi hello! thank you so much for reading! For those wondering, this fic will still be centered around music, not boxing, but the little fight club they have has a lot to do with the spin of the plot soon.

thank you all so much for the suppport! we are getting to the juicy parts now! give me those hungry eyes. comments and reblogs are cherished!! like, I live for them.

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taglist: @tlclick73@micheledawn1975@kurdtbean@katethetank@elvendria@spookysqaush86@somethingvicked@stylesxmunson@laurenlokirby@sapphire4082 @kellsck @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @justdamnpeachy @dashingdeb16 @corrodedcoffincumslut @bexreadstoomuch

[bu-blegh-ost]

The time has finally come, @girlsonlytreehouse !!!

Today I shall share with you the fruits of my work. But first, allow me to take you on a journey I myself have been through while counting all of this shit down.

First things first, I decided to count the rolls in the context of the characters rather than the people playing them, simply because the luck of the actual people could not be measured accurately if I only take Riptide into consideration (and also I thought it would be more fun). The guys have several different campaigns, some that I do not have access to, so I've decided to seperate all their Riptide rolls into characters they play instead, cause then we can clearly see which character is the luckiest. But ofc if you want this to be attributed differently, the data remains unchanged, so that way you all can interpret the results however you wanted and still have all the info you need on hand.

Another issue were the advantage/disadvantage rolls. When a character rolls at advantage, they roll twice and the only roll that counts is the one that was higher, while the other is discarded and the opposite goes for disadvantage. So for example if you roll at Disadvantage and you roll a nat 20 and a 2, that nat 20 technically doesn't matter. Despite that I decided to count each adv/disadv roll anyway, because despite the fact that it does not count, it was still physically ROLLED, which means it contributes to the character's overall pool of luck. I tried to separate them at first so you guys can make your own decision whether to add them or not, but in the end I decided against it cause it was insanely hard to keep up with. There were just too many and too often, which led me to believe that it was fair enough to count everything as long as they actually rolled a dice.

Which brings me to the last complication, which is of course Gillion's Prophetic Screwup. At the beginning of the campaign Gillion was able to exchange anything that he actually rolled into a nat 20, and in return the DM can change any roll he does afterwards into a nat 1. That way there was supposed to be an equal number of wild unrolled nat 20's and nat 1's to balance Gillion out back to 0, but it didn't turn out this way. In more cases than not, Grizzly would either forget or fail to find a good place to screw Gillion over, so the ability bacame much too unbalanced. So they changed it somwhere in the middle of Edison Kingdom Arc. From then on, if Gill rolled anything from 1-10 it would automatically become a nat 1, and if he rolled from 11-20, that'd be a nat 20 instead. Either way these rolls had nothing to do with luck, as he wasn't actually rolling anything, thus I decided not to count these 'artificial' nat 20's/1's. However I did keep track of them nonetheless and I'll still give you the number of those, just separately, and from then on you guys can make your own decision on whether or not you wish to count it.

OOOFFF ALRIGHT.

Without further ado, here are the nat 20's results (up to ep106):

Gillion: 52

Chip: 58

Jay: 55

Goobleck: 8

Surprised? Yeah I was as well. First things first I never expected this to be this close. And never in my right mind could I possibly predict that it would he CHIP of all people to have the highest score here. But I've seen it with my own eyes. And tell you what. Jay had this in the bag for most of the damn series. She would consistently roll good and always when you need a good roll the most. There were times when she would have such a massive lead it was unthinkable she could loose it. But then she would just kinda...stop rolling good for a bit and allow the other two to catch up. It just wasn't as visble if you don't pay much attention, but I thought it to be cute. It's as she was waiting for them <3 But she was still mostly leading. It was only the current arc that made Chip surpass her. After his terrible luck in Feywilde, he bounced back so strongly right after, that he managed to jump in front of the luck queen herself.

And now I bet you're curious about the other side of the coin. Give it up for natural 1's!:

Gillion: 55

Chip: 53

Jay: 52

Goobleck: 1

You see, I kind of expected it to be Gill, but I need you guys to know that this wasn't the case at all times. Jay? Yes. If there is one thing that's consistent is that she had the lowest amount of natural 1s at all times almost, but the person that was suffering from nat 1 curse for a long while was Chip. In the Feywilde Arc he would be so far ahead of everyone, that I was genuinely sure that there is no way anyone catches up to him. But then he popped off in the next arc with nat 20's and Gillion? Oh my gosh, Gillion didn't disappoint. I've never seen a man fail this much let me tell you XD He ended up with the least nat 20's as well, but I thought the difference would be much higher until he didn't roll 4 fucking nat 20s in ep 100 and then this double nat 20 attack roll in the Black Sea whduihdius AND HE CAUGHT UP AS WELL, more or less.

Idunno, maybe this is just how luck works, but it truly seems that the trio shares their successes and burdens almost equally. They support each other and in return fate has their backs as well. Honestly I couldn't have hoped for better results. Also can we give shout out to Goobleck, the true MVP? He's been on the show only for a while but look at this nat1 - nat20 ratio!!! Go goop man goo!!!

So now for the additional stuff that I also counted just for fun:

*Prophethic screwup nats:

Before the rules changed Gillion replaced 8 of his rolls into natural 20s, and in return Grizzly replaced 3 of his rolls into natural 1s.

After the rules changed he only got high enough number for 4 nat 20s, and a low enough number for 7 nat 1s.

So that together makes additional 12 nat 20s and 10 nat 1s from the prophetic screwup alone. I don't think they should be added, but the numbers are there so feel free to do whatever you want with them :)

Downs and death saves:

Throughout the campaign Gillion went down 14 times and rolled 8 death saves.

Chip went down 6 times and rolled 4 death saves.

Jay went down 4 times and rolled 3 death saves.

No shocker here, Gillion dies a lot XD

Knights:

In their journey Gillion knighted 4 people: Julien Booker, Clorton, Garrieth and Duke.

Corruption score:

Thus far each character has the following amount of corruption points (Black Sea):

Gillion: 0

Chip: 2

Jay: 3

Queen: 1

Gryffon: 2 (i think, unsure abt that one, may edit later XD)

Earl: 1

That is all I have for now. I may be clinically insane :)

Good day to everyone and I hope you found this data interesting. Take care <3