#Adam’s is. For reasons that are more about Adam and Blue and what relationships and treatment work for them rather than objectively tallyin

[unnecessarilygrandiose]

you ever see an opinion that's soooooooooooooooooo close to getting the point and yet somehow simultaneously managed to miss it by fivety thousand light years

[eraserbread]

go as a dream ft. ex-husband satoru gojo ✧

୨୧ - ten years together, five years married -- it's a long time. too long to be running on borrowed time glued together by the past. leaving is easy, but staying away turns out to be impossible. → afab!reader, modern/no curses!au, slow-burn, long-established relationship, mutual pining, heavy angst, toxic relationship dynamics, mention of pregnancy/failure to conceive, relationship insecurity, emotional sex, oral f!receiving, spanking/slapping, cum eating, mentions of readers relative hair length, mentions of readers family, nsfw → w.c. - 15.3k {1 hour reading time}

a/n: when an idea sticks for me, i head to my graveyard of wips to expand on it. most end up dying, but for some reason the love you guys held for this version of satoru made it stick. make him meaner... then more loving... then spin the narrative - pin it back on him -- all of those thoughts ran my psyche during the month (?) it took me to flush this idea out. happy 3k, my angels <3 i crafted this for you with so much love, sweat and tears. sit with this one for while. let it sink in. part two may come if you guys will it to. with so much of my love, - elly

listen to the soundtrack <3

Your heart is racing, gloss dripping sensually from your lips. Satoru is under you, his familiar face laced with overwhelming stoicism. He’s biting over soft, pink lips, his eyes wide open as he watches you ride him like you never have before. 

You’re sad – on the verge of tears, but he doesn’t notice. He just parts his lips, content with the headiness of the pleasure you’re working yourself up to give him. Usually, he’d be telling you how beautiful you looked, how well you’re taking him, but he’s silent. It’s a deadly combination – you sad, Toru silent. 

You just want to disappear. 

“That’s it, babe. So close… keep going.” It’s like the one sentence of praise needs to be sucked from his very lifeform, because he’s chewing on his words, throwing them at you all mangled and sloppy. There’s no care anymore; gentleness is lost as he grabs your hips and slams them back down on his length. 

You’re reeling, so close, yet so far from any kind of release your body’s begging for. You need Satoru to give you something – to touch and tell you he loves you so gently, but there’s nothing. Fucking nothing. Just grinding bodies lost in the tangle of bedsheets. 

His eyes snap closed, head tilted back as he bares his neck for you. Two years prior, you would’ve gone in, marking every inch of that luminescent skin with love bites. Now, you watch your nimble fingers spread across the soft, veined expanse, fingers concentrating at his Adam’s apple. You squeeze, he breathes out a moan. 

“Ahh – come on, comeoncomeon.” 

“Cum for me… please.” You’re trying your best to come off genuine, to dip your tone into a needier drawl he doesn’t see much anymore, just for it all to be over sooner. Right now, you’re just fulfilling your bodily duties as Satoru Gojo’s wife. He did just buy you a Cartier bracelet, giving you apologies with wide, blue puppy eyes. As fucked up as it sounds, the least you can do is get him off before he goes to sleep. 

“Mm, say my name, baby. Gonna fill you up, give you so many babies.” 

You’re nodding, letting him spill his orgasm thoughts into your lap. You know him far too well, can read his breeding kink inside out. What Satoru doesn’t know is that you went on birth control the second you started drifting apart. There would be no loose ends; you’ve been planning your escape for months. 

So you let him come inside of you, calling him baby and telling him lies about how turned on you are. Satoru knows you too well that he’d notice a fake orgasm, so you don’t even try. You just let him have his moment, kissing up your arm with ruffled, white hair, pumping shot after shot deep inside of you like he’s on a mission. 

And when he’s drained and limp, you’re climbing off of him, not even offering a word as you head straight to the bathroom. 

You and Satoru thought you had it all figured out pretty early. He graduated from university prematurely and got an immediate position doing what he loved – teaching psychophysics as a Professor's Aide. It’s where he met you, not his student, but definitely a co-worker he shouldn’t have approached, because you fell hard. Head over heels, mind over body – you made him your life. 

That lifeline only had about five good years once you got married, and now you two are overworked strangers bumping shoulder to shoulder on a shared lease. Though you’ve mourned the relationship that shaped you into the woman you are now, you don’t have any regrets. There’s no hatred for Toru in your heart – quite the opposite. You love him to pieces, but can’t give him what he needs at the cost of you. It’s just not worth it anymore. You feel like an object manufactured to please. 

So you chase your solace against the hot spray of the shower, letting it drown out your thoughts as water-mixed come seeps down your thighs. 

Now that you’re alone, you can cry. So, you do – for the unborn children you promised you’d give him, for the life and love you manufactured with your bare hands. He didn’t know that you’d be packing your bags and escaping tomorrow. It’s hard for you even to swallow, though you’ve been planning this day for months. Sweet freedom… only hours away. 

Why is it, though you’ve wished so hard and lived in daydreams, that you’re afraid? You don’t want to be alone in any form of the word, but you couldn’t stay here. It’d kill you long before you hit your grey years. 

Your sweet, smiling Toru with that permanent sparkle in his eye would kill you. 

“Suguru and Shoko want to grab dinner tonight after work.” 

Toru’s voice is slow and controlled as he steps into the bathroom, naked as the day he was born. His silhouette moves intently in front of the glass shower door, stopping at your soaking wet shadow. He hears it, the sniffle amongst the spray – the way you’re hunched in on yourself, curled in the corner of the spacious area. “Are you crying?” 

You scoff, shaking your head as you wipe water from your eyes. “Fucking ignore it.” 

“Hey.” He steps forward, pulling the shower door open. Just like he thought, you’re posed like a wet puppy, legs crossed to keep your decency, and arms over your chest in the farthest corner. “Crying after sex is not your style.” 

“Just… weird post-nut hormones.” You’re shrugging him off with a distant look in your eyes. More recently, everything turns into pointless bickering, so you feed him lies to keep him agreeable. 

But, Satoru’s looking at you like he knows you’re a liar, light eyebrows all screwed up. “But, you didn’t even cum-

“Close the door, Satoru.” You’re grimacing, stepping forward to yank the door closed in his face. “What do you want? What about Suguru?” 

“Suguru and Shoko invited us to dinner tonight…” He’s speaking slowly, like he’s trying to gain his bearings. It’s not really an argument, but Toru feels the rush of one in the steamy air. It wouldn’t be the first time this post-sex daze made you two hot-headed. “I was going to say, it’d be good to all be together again, but you’re acting weird… They don’t need to be around that right now.” 

You scoff, forehead falling into your open palm. The water burns you from within, but you stand under it like you want to be scalded. “Did you follow me in here just to fuck with me? Huh!? You see me trying to get away from yo-

Then, when the seal breaks and you’re yelling, that’s when Toru starts – deep voice banging off the tile walls. “You’re a livewire! You sat there and let me fuck you, now you’re acting like I’m the biggest inconvenience to ever cross your path!” 

“Get out! For once in your life, just leave me alone!” 

He really should listen to you – let you have the upper hand because he knows you’re sensitive, but Toru just shakes his head. “A man can’t even take a piss in the bathroom he pays for.” He adds, stepping away from your vengeful, blurred reflection. The toilet is just over from you – he can’t see the shower, you can’t see him. 

For those few moments, you’re holding your breath. The shower drowns out the sound of him relieving himself, but you can guess well enough what he’s doing. When you’re married, intimate moments like this go unsaid – even on the brink of divorce. And when he’s done, he’s lumbering back over to the shower, long arms limp as they reach to pull it open again. You roll your eyes. 

This time, your back is turned to him, water beading at your shoulder and trailing down the curves in your back sensually. His crystalline eyes catch it, and he parts his lips. “Mind if I join you?” 

You don’t answer him, deciding it’s enough just to regard him briefly with a downcast look over the shoulder. You’re still covering your chest with crossed arms, mainly because you’re cold. Toru keeps opening and closing the door like a nuisance. Now, he’s climbing under the spray with you, big hands holding your familiar shoulders. He leans down to kiss your left. 

“Maybe if we had a baby…” He mumbles that same tired argument into your wet skin, hoping for a different response. “It would bring you back to me.” 

“I don’t want babies with you, Satoru.” The realization is heavy, but you know he can take it. All Toru wants besides you and money is a child – a mini little version of him that you adore to the ends of the Earth. When you became a Gojo, you promised you’d give him what he wanted – every breathless reminder in the heat of the moment was fuel. You two were trying… until you weren’t. Until you were shrugging off to appointments without telling him, taking prescription pills once he tucks in for bed. You just haven’t told him yet. 

Now, he’s standing with it, breathing into your skin as he works up a response in his head that covers the devastation. “You know how my family is–

“I don’t care.” It’s a force of habit, you’re leaning back into his cradle. “Bringing a child into this mess is just inhumane.” 

Then, Satoru says it – what he’s been wanting to tell you for weeks. Months, almost. He whispers, “Then why do you stay?” 

All you can do is shake your head. You don’t have it in you to lie, and you surely wouldn’t tell him that you were leaving tonight. So, you reply, “I love you.” 

“Love isn’t enough to keep a marriage going.” 

You know that. You know Satoru loves you more than anything, but you didn’t feel like it was right for him to say it. In your mind, he’s clueless to the cool air you’re exerting every time he draws near. You’re not buzzing in his company anymore, going out of your way to be seen by his blinding eyes. 

So, you don’t answer him. You nod, easing your shoulders from his grip as you collect the rest of your sanity and move to leave the shower. He watches you go, fine white hair nearly translucent on his pale scalp as he stands soaked.

Toru’s long eyelashes are sticking together, clumped and prominent as he watches you move and dry off through the fogged door. The lingering, soft scent of your signature bodywash sits sensually in the air, wafting from your skin every time you bend or bow. He studies that fuzzy reflection as if it's the last time he’ll see it, and thinks he feels sad. Devastatingly sad, it rises in his throat like bile he must swallow. 

You’re slipping into a soft, ivory robe that Satoru’s mother gifted after the marriage; he has a matching one – it’s your favorite robe with his embroidered initials sewn across your heart. He notices your choice to wear it as you walk out of the bathroom, not even offering him a look over your shoulder, and thinks it’s a sign. You’re still sporting him around, telling him you love him even though you don’t want to bear his children. 

But Satoru isn’t stupid. He’s far too smart to feed himself lies in hopes of lengthening this relationship that has always had a timer on it. But he is reeling. There’s nothing he falls short on, in his opinion. He treasures and calls you beautiful, any chance he gets. Vacations, expensive gifts, words of affirmation, and mindblowing touches are just scratching the surface of what he offers you. 

Alone, he sits with these thoughts, thin eyebrows knitting together as his dripping head hangs between his shoulders. Standing statuesque in the shower, palms pressed to the damp wall, keeping him upright because you’re not here to do it. Mentally, you’re not here at all. 

He can hear you in the bedroom stewing about – opening and closing doors, the shuffle of fabric, and the barely-there sound of your breathing. Toru has you all down to a science, now. He knows you’re slipping into bed, likely naked or covered loosely in some silk slip he loves to bury his head in.

That’s where he wants to be now – three years younger, your hair tangled in his long fingers, words of devotion damp in the air. Instead, he’s breathing in shower steam, a cruel metaphor to the heat the relationship used to hold. 

Everything is a metaphor, now. Toru sees that when he’s walking out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, wide, adoring eyes glossed over with humidity and exhaustion. Still, they never lose their supernatural sparkle when they fall on you, eyes closed peacefully as you feign sleep. 

He was right; you’re in silk, your eyelids twitching as the bathroom light spills a sliver of golden light across your face. Blankets are bunched loosely at your hips. Satoru can’t help but feel the beauty you emit, it’s why he married you – it’s something in your mere presence that makes you so addictive. 

Crawling into bed with you, naked and damp-haired, is so familiar it’s almost sickening. He’s leaning over your shoulders, so gentle as he settles over you, and kisses your cheek. In your daze, you shift. 

“What?” 

Satoru slides up close to you, chest pressed to your back as he winds an arm around your waist. “Good night. I love you so much, beautiful.” He’s whispering in your ear, kissing over the shell with bitten lips. You can feel the cool wetness of his hair brush your bare neck, beads of water falling onto your skin. 

He continues, arm sliding right between the canyon of your breasts, pulling you deeper into his body. You’re lifting your head, eyes shut, because you can’t bear the light right now. 

“Shh, just lie with me.” 

For some reason, you’re taking it. You’re listening to him, pressing your head back into the pillow, sighing softly. Nowadays, you’re impartial to bedtime cuddling, but Satoru insists. It’s become a nasty habit because now he has trouble nodding off if he’s not pressed skin-to-skin. 

It’s the only reason you’re not pushing away. Or, maybe it’s the fact that you’re too far gone to be annoyed or unsettled. His touch feels good, just too warm, too close, like he’s slowly trying to ingest you into his bloodstream. 

You two stay like that for hours. Satoru falls asleep right on the cusp of Midnight – his breath steadies over, and you’re still awake, gazing longingly at the bedside clock. Hands tucked under your pillow, you’re fiddling with them, doing anything to dull those uncertain thoughts away. In seven hours, you’d be standing in a train station, life passing you by as you leave the city, leave your husband. 

You wonder how he’ll act, you wonder if he’ll cry for you. 

No, Satoru never cries. 

You bite your lip, gathering strength in your bones to shift and turn around in his arms. When you do, he’s mushing his face deeper into the bed, arms constricting back around you once you’re settled face-to-face. You can feel the softness of his breath over your skin, can hear the soft hums behind each of them like he’s dreaming uncomfortably. 

Still, he looks so peaceful. Beautifully asleep, like his life wasn’t crumbling and burning all around him. 

In that soft, settled face, you’re staring at the boy you fell in love with – bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, flushing and looking away when you’d counter his initial advances. Your friends were always around that early on, egging it all with a jump in their voice. Everyone felt so accomplished when you and Toru got married, as if they pieced together a match made in Heaven. 

You just can’t fathom what went wrong… You don’t want to see it. 

You don’t want to see him, anymore. So, you close your eyes and rid your consciousness of struggle – if only for a few hours. 

Day comes with a vengeance – a gross, salty taste in your mouth as your brain slams awake. Your body is slow to react, cocooned comfortably in Toru’s thick chest. You’re too warm, alarms are blaring, and you realize you forgot to close the curtains last night. The morning sun is deviant. 

You slip out of bed easily, undoing his arms' knot around your body. The silk of your slip is darkened with sweat, most likely Toru’s, but definitely mixed with hints of you. It takes you a while to come to from the cruel awakening, and you’re half alive as you shift to the edge of the bed, feet planted on cool ground. Toru shifts, and you hold your breath. 

Your last hour together, and Satoru refuses to wake up. 

You’re letting him drag the morning out, not bothering to wake him as you head for the bathroom. Time moves languidly with a solemn undertone, hovering over you like bad memories as you scrub your face and teeth raw. There’s so much tension in your body this morning, and you’re taking it out on yourself – swishing mouthwash, swallowing pills, securing jewels and ornaments. 

You’re sure this is the fastest you’ve gotten ready without plans to work. You just think you’d rather be put-together when you disappear from Satoru’s life forever. You want him to have this reflection to remember you by – exposed shoulders, soft skin, dripping with his money in gold. 

When he wakes up, stumbling into the bathroom sleepdrunk, he smiles when he sees you in the mirror's reflection. “Why didn’t you wake me, beautiful?” 

“Figured you’d want more sleep.” You reply, not even meeting his frosty gaze. You’re fixated on securing a bracelet to your wrist – one, of course, from Satoru. It’s a gold-plated Gojo Clan crest that was passed down through matriarchs, eventually given to the prospective head. 

His family is so traditional, overbearing in the worst ways. Since you two started dating, they’ve had a magnifying glass on the relationship, stating it’s just out of care. Sure, the money is endless and overflowing, but it’s not enough to overshadow the abusive balance of power. Toru doesn’t want to lead either – you don’t want to be next to him if he does. He promised you that he’d completely shut down the proceedings if you married him, but keeping his promise isn’t enough.  

Nothing he seemed to do was enough. It’s all just a lost cause. 

“Now I have twenty good minutes to leave the house.” Once your bracelet is secured, he’s crowding you against the sink, his shirtless body pressing hard into your back. You’re humming, leaning back into his frame. 

“At least you showered last night.” 

“You got me on that schedule.” He whispers into your neck, big hands squeezing your hips as he kisses you there. “I feel terrible about last night… Followed me in my sleep.” 

You knew it, you could sense the stress in his breath even when he looked so peaceful. “We both said some things.” 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make you finish.” Another kiss to the neck, Satoru nuzzles himself deep in your skin, white hair fluffy and strewn about. You look up at him in the reflection and shake your head. 

“Just cause I was on top. I was trying too hard – It’s not your fault.” 

He doesn’t take that well; he sighs into your skin. “You know I don’t believe that.” 

Of course, he doesn’t. One of the most significant parts of your relationship is your uncanny sexual chemistry. There’s never been a time when you two stopped at one round – you both finished multiple times, every time. 

“Then, you know I won’t tell you the truth, you should just stop trying.” Both hands are pressed to the countertop, and you’re still covered in your sleep dress. Toru’s hands start to wander. “No, get off of me.” 

It stings, but you don’t have to tell him twice. Satoru steps back with an odd look in his eyes, moving to your side. Though you’re rejecting sexual advances, you let him pull your chin forward for a sensual kiss to the lips. It lasts for a few seconds, his hand wanders across your jawline, slotting perfectly in your hair. 

“You’re not on campus today, right?”

You shake your head, lips rolling together as you evaluate his lingering taste. “No, you should really brush your teeth.” 

“Yeah…” He starts, reaching over you for his blue and white brush. “Haven’t been on the grounds in a while, everyone’s asking about you, saying we should go to dinner to catch up.” 

“You’re sure I’m acting normal enough to see them now? Isn’t that what you said last night? That I was acting ‘weird’?” 

“You were acting weird last night. Moody.” 

You scoff as he begins to brush his teeth. You two are stealing glances in the mirror, too distant to hold contact for too long. “Why do you say things like this if you’re not trying to make me mad?” 

“I’m just making an observation.” He shrugs like he’s not being a tool, brushing his teeth slowly as he looks at you. You’re staring down at your hands, shaking your head silently. “I’m sure it's news to you, but I never try to make you mad. I just say what I feel, and you jump down my throat.” 

“Just brush your teeth.” You bite out in resolve, standing up straight as you go to walk away. 

You're breathless, clutching a fist to your chest as his words wash over you with time. They fall like dominoes, slow and calculated, as you dress for the day. Satoru thinks you’re working from home once he leaves, so you lean into it, picking something easy to wear, yet professional enough to be on camera. It’s the perfect outfit to run away in – something he sees all the time. 

But even as you dote over your reflection in the bedroom mirror, adjusting necklines, pulling jewelry, smudging lipgloss, you’re thinking about it – him. 

You don’t know why it’s so hard to sit with the fact that Satoru has always been like this. You two are polar opposites in social settings – he’s the life, you’re the longing. In crowded city bars, you’d be the girl tucked under his heavy arm, bearing the weight of his light. Satoru stopped drinking years ago, but when he did, he’d tower over you on the dancefloor, long arms slung over your shoulders as he shouts just how much he adores you – it’s a lot. Everyone’s around. 

Reading your hunched demeanor, he doubles down. Yes, all these people are around… these undulating, nameless faces lost among the neon glare, but none of them held a flame to you. He chose you. 

And when you’re alone with him, sober to the bone and drained after a work week, all of those sweet memories seem to fade away. 

He’s always too loud, too close, overbearing, but never at arm's length. This monstrous, silent loathing is a hard feeling to live with. It eats you alive, until he touches you and takes it all away again. 

It’s all you want, right now. Satoru’s touch. 

“Staring introspectively into my bedroom mirror whilst my shitty husband calls for me repeatedly. That should be the prompt on your next scholarly paper.” 

You turn around, brows furrowed as reality hits again. “What are you talking about? I didn’t hear you.” 

“Let’s sync our breaks – meet up somewhere to eat.” Right as you open your mouth to blow him off, he’s rushing back. “It can just be ramen, nothing serious. Come on, just give me ten minutes.” 

His begging for a sliver of emotional affection isn’t new, but it usually isn’t so blatant. Then, your eyes wander, wondering if those ten minutes would be worth your time. 

No, you have a train to catch. A one-way ticket out of here. 

“I’ll let you know how I’m feeling later.” You nod, smiling softly as you dodge that falling stare settled on you. “I-I’m just… I’m tired.” 

“It’s okay.” He replies, whisper-soft. He’s trying to hide it, but the shine in his eyes falters for just a second, the only hint you get to his disappointment. 

When you see him off that morning, your stomach hurts. 

There’s an ink-black, bitter pit there as you watch him jog down the pavement in his endearing little Professor's Aide sweater vest uniform. There’s a bag slung over his shoulder, packed with a Bento you made for him in case you couldn’t see him for his break. 

“Bye, love! I will text you!” 

You’re silent, passing him a kiss you press to your fingers. Your stomach hurts, and now your heart aches – it burns, you’re on fire, soles of your feet scalding on coals fueled by guilt. That blue glimmer in his eyes is so oblivious to the obvious that it hurts. 

If you could help it, this was the last time Satoru would ever see you, and he waved you goodbye with the sweetest smile on his face. 

“I love you,” You call back weakly once he’s comfortably out of earshot. Then he turns the corner, and he’s gone – just a lingering presence in the air that only affects you. If you could cry right now, you would. But, you’ve cried enough this last week – more than you ever have with him. Everything was just so terribly bittersweet. 

When you made your decision, it didn’t feel real. Somehow, it does now. You wonder how your friends will take it and if you’ll see them again. Sure, they’re your friends, but they’re Satoru’s too. You wonder if you’ll see his family, his mother took you in and doted on you when her son pushed her away. His father gave you advice and priceless memories. Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, Kin – all of them. You knew all of them. 

Being a Gojo was so deeply rooted in your life that you’re not sure it’s possible to change your name. They’ve truly made you feel like one of theirs, as deafening as that sounds. 

A minute in the doorway, and you’re turning around to finish out the rest of your morning. All of your bags were packed and stowed away with the laundry, where Toru never treks. It’s just one suitcase – half of your wardrobe. You’re sure you’ll be back to collect everything else. 

In any case, you wouldn’t miss anything with his lingering scent on it, so you stare longingly at your art on the walls – the blankets on the couch and the crystal sitting on display in the cabinets. 

And just before you’re about to leave, you stop at the counter and rip off a piece of a napkin on display. You brought out a pen from the study, hands shaking as you pull the cap. 

Satoru,  Keep whatever, or you can sell it. Just don't reach out, i’m leaving you I’m sorry and i really really do love you

A small, wet teardrop lands on the dingy napkin, and it’s the first sign of crying. You’re surprised you still have it in you after so many rivers you’ve wept. Writing his name carried a terrible feeling, scripting out the letters to tell him you were leaving was like bricks falling from your pen. 

Shaking hands, you let it drop on the counter beside your note. If this is the last thing you give him, you want it to be candid. Just like your relationship – winging it all until the silence grew inescapable. 

You call a cab, heading downstairs with your bags in hand. It’s a conscious decision to leave the door unlocked, but you have the keys stuffed in your pocket. You’re not really thinking about it or anything at all. You’re focused on not falling on your face as you jog down the steps, breathless without a cause. It feels like fire is burning hot in your tracks. 

Your suitcase slides into the back, the city breeze rolls your hair back, and a chill envelopes your face. The entire time, you’re silent, bowing for your driver and showing manners, but silent and dreary nonetheless. 

The ride is shaky, music drowns out the noise, and emptiness fills the void. 

It’s all you can muster up the courage to feel right now, as the city passes you by. It’s an odd kind of comforting melancholy, like when you know the storms have faded and all that’s left is the rebuild. 

You have your family waiting at home. A room with a view of nothing but countryside and rolling rivers. You’re giving yourself four weeks to get back to yourself, two to file the divorce properly, and one without any work before returning to just virtual meetings in your childhood bedroom. 

Morning jogs, bike rides down the riverside, fresh delicacies to buy – yes, your life would be too rich to worry about Satoru. You feel like a caterpillar slowly slinking towards its cocoon with the joyful unease of what's to come. But you’re still so sad. 

It’s hard to believe that anything can feel as good as the way Satoru made you feel, even when his tendencies made you want to pull your hair out. In the end, you made your decision. You slept on it, stewed over it, cried about it, and now you’re living through it. 

Reality hits when you’re stepping out at the station. Bodies are everywhere, making it easy to pay your fee and slip into the chaos. You lose your sense of self walking against the foot traffic of the busy morning commuters, sucking back even more tears as you crawl the descending stairs. 

Once you reach the bottom, you’re alone enough to breathe, luggage firm at your side as you dig for your phone. You’ve been meaning to do this forever — actually tell your closest friends about your decision. All they know is what you let them see. The second you and Toru start arguing in front of them, you’re walking away. It’s all smiles and love when they bring him up, even after that day you kicked him out of the apartment and made him get a hotel. Lying about your relationship is your forte, but you couldn’t lie anymore. 

Shoko picks up two rings deep, bored but aware. ‘What’s up?’

“Hey, I know you’re at work… Just wanted to let you know that I’ll be out for about a month.” 

There’s shuffling on the other line – the echo of familiar voices. You can guess she’s walking down the lecture hall during the transition; it was around that time. ‘You’re such a slack. And guess whose gonna be stuck doing all your work? Me.’ 

“I mean, I’ll be out, but I’ll still be working.” Intercom, robotic voices control the flow as a train departs before you, sending a noisy rush of air into your face. 

‘Are you going on vacation or what?’ 

“Visiting family.” You reply, no emotion. 

Shoko silences for a moment, humming under her breath. ‘Without Jo?’ 

“Yeah… I’m leaving him.” 

More silence. You expected nothing less. 

“Shoko?” 

‘Dude, what? Why?’ 

“He didn’t… cheat or anything, we just haven’t been happy for most of our marriage. It’s like people want to see us together more than we want to be together.” 

‘Okay, coming from the outside — No, you guys are so obviously in love, I mean… All he does is talk about you, it’s genuinely the most annoying thing ever.’ You can see her now in your mind's eye, jaw working a piece of fruit gum between her teeth, talking with her hands. 

“Yeah… well… you’re not trapped inside four walls with him once the sun goes down.” 

‘That’s so fucking sad, I- wow.’

“I’ve made peace.” 

‘-And I don’t even blame you, because I wouldn’t touch him with a long, long stick. He’s too annoying, and that’s just the least of it. So arrogant, too. He’s not as sexy as he thinks he is.’ It’s like once you pull the bandage off, it gave Shoko ample room to talk shit. Yes, she loves Toru – she loves you more. It’s always going to be you that she defends. 

“Yeah, but it’s more just, like – he knows what buttons to push and makes pushing them a game. The only time we talk… like, actually talk,  is when he thinks I’m mad at him and rushes in for damage control… then, it’s all like, ‘well, baby, if you would talk to me and tell me how you’re feeling, I’d understand.’ – But, whenever I tell him how I’m feeling, he fucking invalidates it like I’m the crazy one! Why am I still begging to pay some bills five years into the marriage?! He doesn’t listen to me.” 

‘Let that man pay the bills.’ 

“It’s the principal-

‘I know, I know.’ She sighs, chuckling softly before she continues. ‘I’m not going to hear the end of this – does he know you’re gone?’ 

“No… and don’t tell him. I want him to find out for himself.” 

‘Harsh.’

“It’d be harsher coming from you.” 

The announcement comes from your train, the rush of wheels skidding against tracks inches closer, you’re stepping back from the platform. 

“Okay, I’m gonna go. Don’t really want to be on my phone this week, so I’ll probably turn it off. Call my sister if you need anything.” 

‘I’ll be thinking about you – stay busy.’ 

“I will.” You reply, voice bittersweet in your chest. Shoko goes away, and you’re alone again – thoughts rush to the front of your mind. You’re staring at the lockscreen of you and Satoru in Kyoto when things were still good; a friendly stranger took it. Your arms are slung over his neck, and you’re smiling in his face. You remember that day so well – he was all over you and made the sweetest love to you that night. It was all so good back then. You never wanted for anything. Not space, touch, emotion, or love. Satoru gave you everything you needed, including some. 

Then, the feeling finally, truly settles. 

You miss him. 

From: Satoru No news on lunch?  Don’t worry about it, baby. Thank you for my bento, I’ll make sure to return it empty.  From: Satoru On my way home! Running real fast to you Had the shittiest day, gotta rant when I get back From: Satoru Hey, what’s with the cryptic note?  Did someone snatch you up for ransom?  Babe?  [incoming call]

You glance down at your phone, grunting as you swing your suitcase over your small childhood bed. 

You made it back home a little less than three hours ago – just as your sister left for class and your father for work.  Stepping out of the cab, your mother was the one waiting for you with a solemn look in her eyes. 

Breakfast was waiting, traditional, just like always. Natto, fish, rice, soup – she stuffed you full. Now, you’re finally getting a chance to settle in and unpack, staring down the room that faced the worst of your teenage angst. 

When Satoru’s name flashes over your screen, bile rises in your throat. Immediately, you turn it back over, your finger finding the power button, and rid yourself of the stress. You’ve just glanced at the string of messages – he’d been sending them all day, which isn’t unlike him, but it felt wrong. 

You two would hide phones under desks and banter on and off all day. In the same room, you two would exchange playful glances like he wasn’t describing every lewd thing he wanted to do to you that night. It’s just a habit; he doesn’t mind when you don’t text him back, but hates when you ignore his calls. 

You’re sure it’s how he realizes you’re actually gone – that one missed call. 

Then you’re trying to distract yourself from crying by unzipping your case, pulling out shirts, tears flooding in your eyes. But it’s too much to handle. 

You collapse next to the suitcase, pulling your knees to your chest, and sob. 

It burns so hot in your body, your cries sound like they’re breaking through the barrier, eating you alive. Your open-mouthed sobs are akin to the sound of prey being gutted alive – it’s piercing and raw, cutting your vocal cords. 

It’s like you can’t stop. You let it all out, here – fingers bunched in the sheets, drawing blood in your palm from the strength of your nailed grip. The pain goes unnoticed because the aching in your chest is so cruel. Your mind is screaming at you, damning you to fiery hells and telling you to go back. 

Go back and deal with it, it’s what you deserve. 

You know you’re too weak to be alone. 

Suck it up. Just like you always have. 

Numbness sets in with time. You watch the neighborhood kids run down the cracked road through your small window, never shifting from the position you cried in. The sun travels through the sky, and late morning morphs into afternoon, afternoon to evening. 

Downstairs, the home lights back up from everyone’s departure this morning, but you want nothing to do with it. You’re sure your mom has been home this entire time – most likely heard you crying and decided not to intervene. You’re glad. You didn’t want comfort. 

Now you’re staring at the sky as it morphs into grey, and rain begins. You feel lonely. 

Grey turns to black, you’re tired. 

As blackness settles in, so does sleep. Right in that same position. Nobody bothers you. 

Until you’re cracking open your eyes, it’s daytime. 

You sit up immediately, regretting your choice as a mean wave of dizziness falls over you. Your stomach aches with hunger, breath ripe, and skin swollen from the tears. You’re still in your clothes from yesterday, the button of your pants digging into your soft skin painfully. 

You breathe out a yawn, grimacing at the feeling before looking around for your phone. 

It’s precisely where you left it, face down and completely off. You didn’t want to see Satoru’s messages right now. You just wanted to check the time. The house is quiet. 

From: Satoru I wish I could kneel at your feet and emphasize just how sorry I am. I can’t believe how stupid and selfish I was when I had you, but I see it now.  I could see that you were hurting for a while, but I assumed it would just pass in time.. I don’t know why I assumed, but I regret it so much.  Take your time, my love, but don’t forget about me. Please, let’s talk this through before you make any hasty decisions. 

You can feel the tears – they’re there before you even skim over the message. 

With Godly timing, the softest of knocks fall to your door. It’s the only thing keeping you from breaking down again. There’s no real privacy here; you’re lucky your mom even knocked before slowly pushing it open. 

“I figured you would be awake by now.” She smiles at your ruffled reflection – bed head everywhere, sleep lines on your face, drool on your lips. “Would you like some food?” 

“Please.” You nod her in, dragging your arm across your face to wake yourself up. “Thank you, Mama.” 

She has a tray of the same spread she served you yesterday in her familiar, comforting hands. Green tea steams wantonly at the corner, flailing in its porcelain confines when she lowers it before you. “Didn’t want to bother you much yesterday…” 

“Thank you for that.” 

“Your father peeked his head in last night.” She continues, reaching out to stroke your hair as you reach for the tea you’d been eyeing. There’s just something about crying that dehydrates you to the bone. “Said you were sleeping so hard that you were snoring.” 

“Probably. Hadn’t had a good night's sleep in a while.” 

“You can do better than sleeping on top of your bed in all your clothes.” 

“Wasn’t really worried about that.” You can tell she wants to bring up Satoru – ask how he is, just out of force of habit. Maybe she wants to ask you about your divorce plans, but she stays silent, nodding slowly. “Thank you for the food.” 

“Bring it back down when you’re ready. Take your time.” Her gentle tone is welcomed, but so is her departure. The door clicks shut, and you’re taking a slow, deep breath, suddenly overcome by the burning of oncoming tears. You thought you had expelled them all last night, but Satoru’s message hung over your head like a dark precipitating cloud. It’s all flowing over you like hot rain, downpouring over your mental clarity. 

You’re drawn to deep, soulless staring at the poster-covered wall before you as your tea warms. Hunger is lost on you, you reach for the short ceramic cup and bring it to your lips with shaking hands.

You just can’t understand how you can miss someone so much after envisioning life without them – welcoming it, yearning for it. Your heart and mind are tugging you across two playing fields, never letting you get an ounce of rest or peace. 

~

Satoru has been staring into space for far too long, blinking at the wall like it’d somehow make you appear before him again. The note you penned is sitting on the counter, cursing him silently, pulling him to its angsty whims. He can see the small tear stain – can read the shake of your penmanship in the sloping letters. For once in his life, Satoru doesn’t know what to feel. 

This has to be a joke. 

He steps away for a second, staring unblinkingly at the floor as he reaches for his phone. It’s in his back pocket – he has to shuffle blindly. 

Now he understands why you haven’t been responding. 

To: gojo 💍 Hey, what’s with the cryptic note?  Did someone snatch you up for ransom?  Babe? 

He gives it a second – that’s all he knows he needs. If you don’t answer in a second, you’re really gone. 

His heart burns when you don’t answer at all. He’s paralyzed as the thought of being alone rushes over him. Just like you, he doesn’t understand what went wrong. Yes, you two fought often, but doesn’t every couple? The fighting always led to something better – deep discussions or love-making. He made sure to cover his bases every single time. He even found himself cooking and cleaning for you with a guilty conscience. So much of himself is rooted in you and how you loved him; he’s not sure he knows how to be without you by his side. Of course, it’s more than the money, sex, or power. It’s the fact that your lives are completely intertwined. There is no Satoru without you – there’s no you without Satoru. 

That’s what eats him alive. 

It’s what makes him stumble to the couch you picked out, head in his hands as he collapses into the downiness. He wants the cushions to swallow him whole – maybe then he can get lost in the wealth of your scent and sincerity. So many times you two have found yourself here, kissing the night away, hands under clothes. Movie marathons that led to falling asleep on shoulders, deep conversations that made him actually crack a tear. It’s all embedded in the upholstery, and he can’t even move. Satoru just feels so pathetic – it’s a new feeling for him, a disgusting one. 

“Oh, fuck.” He states as if reality just washed over him. Now, all Satoru can do is sit with everything. He keeps rereading the note he memorized in his head, like there were hints as to where you were hidden behind the script. You told him that you loved him, and as good of a sign as it looks like, it feels counterfeit. 

He loved you more than he loved anything – including himself, and he’d never leave you. He has to know why you felt the need to leave him so easily, and it’s not like five years is a long marriage in any form of the term. Satoru wanted a family with you. He wanted to see you swollen with his baby, ripe with hormones, and caring with a blue-eyed infant. It’s all he yearned for – stability, endless, overflowing love, and mutual support. 

He’s almost… mad that you gave up. 

No, not almost. He’s mad. 

Not even thinking, knowing his efforts are for naught, he snatches up his phone and dials you with scary precision. A piece of him knows that you won’t answer, but his hands are shaking. He just needs to try. 

He counts – the line rings six times. 

Then, it clicks, a stupid robotic voice telling him you’re unavailable. Yes, he fucking knows you’re not available. Or, maybe you are. Perhaps you’re just watching your screen as his name brushes against it. Satoru hates when you let your cowardice take over, and he knows that’s what you’re doing. 

In a sudden fit of rage, he takes his ringing phone and throws it across the room, hearing it shatter on impact as it hits a window. As satisfying as it feels, he feels more like a dunce. If he waited a second longer, maybe your sweet voice would brush the rusty, waiting dial tone. He wants you in his arms, but this feeling is so unfamiliar and nasty that he doesn’t know what to do or what to think. He knows he wants you back, he just can’t fathom what he did wrong.

At work the next day, Satoru doesn’t feel any better. In fact, he feels worse. He didn’t get a wink of sleep last night, scared and cold as he tried to hug himself to rest. He hasn’t been in a bed without you since he was a teenager, and he doesn’t think he could exist without your body heat safe in his arms. 

The lack of sleep is making him irritable, it’s wafting off of his body as he walks down the hallway to his lecture hall. Thankfully, he wouldn’t have to teach anything, but he’d have to sit and annotate – he’s not sure he can keep his mind straight long enough to pen an entire two-hour Sociology lecture, let alone stay awake. That scares him – he’s letting his personal life seep into the fabric of his work, but it’s impossible not to when this is where he met you. 

Sweet and young, shy as all hell, too. Satoru would make excuses and drag his friends to the admin office on bullshit bases, all to see your little smile when he complimented your outfit. You were always right there next to Shoko, using her long hair as a security blanket. Everything was good back then… everything was sweet. 

Satoru can’t believe he’s fighting back tears as he steps into the vast, vacant hall, bag slung over his shoulder. He must be a walking ball of bad vibes, because his professor is noticing immediately, commenting on it, too, which is supremely unlike him. 

No, Kento Nanami was much more of a don’t ask, don’t tell, zero-bullshit type of instructor. Him and Satoru often butted heads, but butting heads was more like purposefully ignoring the other – their relationship is far too compliated for him to dwell on for too long. 

“You look like Hell.” 

“My wife left me last night.” Satoru finds no need to lie. Yes, he’s struggling. He needs grace; the only way he’d get it is to let Kento know he’s distracted. 

Kento turns slowly, watching Satoru move in front of his desk to settle in the front row of chairs. When he’s still, Kento can see the darkness around his usually perky eyes, but he doesn’t know how to feel. “Well… I am sorry to hear that. If you need to take the day off, I unders-

“-just need to distract myself.” Satoru cuts him off like he doesn’t want to talk, sucking his cheek as he pulls out his work laptop. “I forwarded those papers you sent me the other night. Everything’s looking good. From my initial glance at the collection of scores, it looks like this period is sitting at 83% accuracy. Pretty good.” 

“I didn’t need those scores until the end of the week.” Kento turns back around to his board, propping himself against the desk he’s occupying. He’s been sketching out the lesson plan against the chalked surface for most of his morning. Traditional for the introduction to a new unit. “But, I’ll start putting them in. Thanks, Gojo.” 

“Sure.” Satoru swallows as he types out his password to get into the device. It’s your birthday. His heart hurts. His wallpaper is you at the zoo, holding a little lion cub, totally fearless with the biggest smile on your face. The way the sun touches your features – God, it just makes him weak in the knees. That era of your relationship is so well documented because you two were on cloud nine. He wants it back – he wants you back. 

“Satoru,” that familiar, whiny voice is just what he needs right now. It’s the only thing that can pull him from the depths your pretty face dragged him to. “I’ve called you like ten times, they won’t even go thro- hi, Kento.” 

“Geto… hello…” Nanami mumbles, not even looking at the visitor, because he knows who it is. The five of you are like a clique, and he hates it. Not because he’s not in it, but because they’ve definitely tried to rope him into the madness, but he’s just in a different league. All he thinks about is work, not friends. 

“Sator-

“Gojo left me last night. I broke my phone.” Satoru spits out like it's the easiest thing ever. He’s hiding his emotions like he always does, and he knows Suguru is due to find out at any moment. “Reckless, I know.” 

“What?” Suguru walks up to him, long hair pulled back in a low-hanging bun. They’ve known each other damn near since childhood – completely inseperable, face-deep in platonic love. Right now, Satoru knows that Suguru would be the only human capable of picking up the pieces you shattered. 

“Packed some clothes, left me a note, and skipped town.” 

“That’s crazy – it doesn’t make any sense.” Suguru plops down right next to him, entire body turned at attention, only for Satoru to pour every vapid thought into. He’s not supposed to be in this hall, but he’s friendly enough with Kento to skate by during the last half hour before lectures start. “I just saw her the other day with Shoko and Utahime. They… didn’t invite me to lunch, but I understand the whole girls’ day aspect of it all. She just… I’m sorry, she seemed so at ease.” 

“Because she was with Shoko.” 

“Does Shoko know where she is?” 

“If I asked, she’d just lie for her.” 

“Where could she have even gone?” 

“Probably back home.” Satoru’s sucked into something on his laptop, opening a new document and labeling it under todays date and the topic Kento wants to cover. If he wasn’t going through a breakup, he’d be excited for this new unit, though he’s experienced it year after year. “Been saying she misses her family a lot.” Then he thinks about it, sitting forward with his chin pressed into a closed fist. Satoru has never barred you from doing what you want – staying out all night with your friends? Of course, he didn’t care. He welcomed it. Solo trips back home? Oh, Satoru encouraged it. 

He was the perfect husband – what happened?

At his side, Suguru watches him stew over the matter, thin brows knitted in pity. He reaches out, hand smoothing over Satoru’s shoulder. He shakes him softly. “If you don’t want to be alone, my guest bedroom is empty. There’s probably still traces of you in there – not like anyone else uses it.” 

Satoru hesitates, knowing that a night with Suguru would lead to little sleep just because they have everything in the world to talk about. They have the same favorite shows, movies, foods, and conversations – it’d be a perfect distraction, but Satoru just wants to get you back. 

“Or, we can go to a bar. I know you don’t usually drink, but it is Friday, I’m sure if we bribe Shoko with free drinks, she’d help you find her.” 

“I really shouldn’t…” The sane part of his mind is telling Satoru not to seek out one who doesn’t wish to be sought, but he wants to. He knows Shoko knows where you are – Hell, Utahime probably knew, too. You’re surprised Suguru’s seemingly the only one in the dark. “But, I don’t think I want to be alone.” 

Suguru nods slowly, not pushing Satoru for eye contact when he knows he’s sensitive to the touch. “We don’t have to get drunk and emotional if you don’t want to.” He continues dropping his hand to cross them in his lap. All Satoru looks like to him is a shell. He’s staring at his screen like it’d tell him what he needs to know, and Suguru finds himself, for the first time ever, genuinely worried for him. 

“I’ll… uh— I’ll text you about it later.” 

“Sure.” 

“Are you going to sit this one in, Geto?” Kento turns around, snatching up a beige rag from his desk to dust his hands. “Bells about to hit.” 

Satoru feels both of their stares zero in on him, and he knows he’s not hiding anything. His eyes are bloodshot, his hair disheveled, and flat over his head. Feeling some kind of insecure, he reaches into his bag and slides on a dark pair of square glasses. 

Suguru sighs. “Nobody would blame you if you went home.” 

“She’ll come around.” He whispers, pursing his lips as he leans back in his chair. His hands are shaking, so he tucks them close to his chest. “She always does, doesn’t she?” 

-

Doesn’t she?

Two weeks down the drain, completely wiped from your memory. Sober days and sleepless nights – that moody in-between when you’re gasping for air. Still, you battled it through in your childhood bed.

You got over it, just like you knew you would. 

Work started again last week. You’ve been slowly scouring through emails, working your way forward by combing through backlogs. Most of the time, your job falls to scheduling Dean meetings, prospective professor interviews, and prestigious tours, but it varies. Without you, all of this work would have fallen onto Shoko, but you can’t feel bad. She’s been doing this way longer than you and is ten times more efficient. However, she liked to complain. You let her have it this time. 

Now, you’re planning your trip back to the City. The apartment you’d been keeping an eye on since the marriage had just closed with the money you saved, and you’re finally confident. 

Rather, confident enough. 

You will definitely have to see Satoru when you go back to work, but it’s just something you knew you’d have to deal with. It’s the unfortunate downside to working with your partner, and you think that’s what did it in. 

You’re sitting at your family’s dinner table, bags packed all around you as you wait for your ride to the station. You’re sawing your lip in concentration, pen scribbling messily in your lax grip. 

It was an exercise you’ve been putting off since you left the city – writing Satoru a note letting it all out, and then freeing yourself from the burden by throwing it away. His eyes would never lie upon these scribbled words, so you let it out. You’re not sure what you’re even writing anymore, your wrist is moving at its own accord. 

Satoru, I love you.  It might not seem like it right now, but I love you to the ends of the Earth and back again. Being married to you felt like a dream in more ways than I can fathom, but I’d wake up at night, and that bliss fades into loathing. You have no problem sticking up for me in front of your friends, so why, when I’m faced with impossible decisions from your family, do you go radio silent? We agreed it’d just be us. We decided we’d focus on each other and our work, not on family nonsense that drains my psyche and leaves me exhausted. They want something from me that I can’t give, and I didn’t know how to tell them no - everyone is so pleasant to me.  That being said. It’s not why I left… I’m actually not sure why I did it, or I just don’t want to see things for what they are. Every time we’d see each other for over an hour, we’d fight. I admit that I was the catalyst for most of the arguments, but you never reassured me. I’d fall asleep next to you afterwards, sobbing so hard I couldn’t breathe, and you would just turn around and pretend not to hear. Why?  I guess that’s all I want to know, now. Why? I’ve always given you everything you needed without a question – why was it so easy to push me to the wayside? Why is it so easy to ignore me to my face for days on end? And why can’t you see me as more than an incubator for your unborn children?  I just can’t help but wonder… 

As you’re writing, the car your family called for you pulls up outside. You wanted to leave while they were all predisposed with work and school because you know you’d cry and cave if you saw their pitiful goodbye faces. They insisted on the fare, you’re insisting that you’ll be back as soon as you can. You take the half-finished note, folding it lax in your fingers as you stand and grab your bags. 

You’re leaving with more than you came with. Typical. 

And you’re leaving like you were never here, with the wind peeking through the front door and the sun on your skin. 

You thought you’d be more excited to get back to your life, but there’s an invisible feeling of longing planted deep in your chest that’s making it hard to swallow. The letter you penned to Toru is balanced between your fingers as you swing your heavy bags into the vehicle. This time, the driver watches you from the side with a cigarette between his teeth, mentioning your destination softly and how the fare was already pre-paid. You nod the older man along, giving him a phony smirk when the boot closes and you’re stepping into the backseat. 

You don’t care that he’s still lingering outside. It gave you time to settle in, rustling the soft paper, trying not to give the flustered words your attention. All this note is is a weak attempt to try to understand where things went wrong. Satoru was never unhappy in the relationship, not like you were; he just didn’t know how to approach your angst without being struck in the crossfire. He exercised the same cowardice he condemned you for, and now you two exist worlds apart. 

Still, you can’t help but wonder where he is… What he’s doing. 

Around this time of day, he’d be wrapped up in lectures. You can almost see his slumped figure over his laptop, typing without giving the keyboard a second glance. Toru’s always been an overachiever – too good at his job. Too good to still be an aide, but waits patiently for his time to come as a professor. 

It’s always been his goal to buy you a big house that you two could grow old in together. You can close your eyes and hear his sweet voice lost in your sheets, whispering every detail about your future in your ear. But when you open them again, it disappears. 

The car door slams on the rest of your shriveled sanity, and you’re standing in front of a home that wasn’t yours… Yet. 

You just signed papers online, carrying cold, hard cash in your bag that’d leave you with virtually nothing once you hand it over in exchange for keys. It’s like being in a wind tunnel – feeling the city pulse and move around you as you drag your measly two suitcases against polished concrete. You didn’t know what time it was – your phone is too buried in your luggage, but you know you just got off a nearly four-hour bullet train, and your ears rang. 

Luckily, the property owner isn’t too far behind you, and you can exchange cash for keys within two minutes of your arrival. 

You thought once you had a place to call your own, that you’d feel completely comfortable, but standing in the echoey, semi-modern space, you feel devoid of life. You don’t even own a speck of furniture – this is not your home. 

So, you leave your bags at the locked entryway, sliding off your shoes out of habit as you head to the back wall of covered windows. Your apartment is on the ground floor, and humans walk by, not knowing you’re looking over them. You take your time, pulling each curtain so the sun can bleach the wooden floors in gold. 

Right there, under the sun like a contented cat, you pull your knees to your chest and sit… for hours, just grounding yourself. Losing time as the sun floats through the sky. 

All you can do since the separation is to sit with the pain and waste time. It’s the only thing that keeps you sane. 

You can’t recall what time exactly you stood to relieve your throbbing bladder, but when you’re walking back into the empty expanse, your phone is dinging from the confines of your bag. Sighing, you lean down to flush it out. 

From: Utahime Are you back in town!! Suguru invited us out for free drinks  From: Shoko Don’t worry, i told him to fuck off if he already invited Gojo He said he didn’t To: Utahime, Shoko I don’t really think I’d be good company  From: Shoko One drink and you’ll forget about that maniac.  From: Utahime Please!! We miss u To: Utahime, Shoko I don’t trust Suguru. There’s no way he didn’t invite toru From: Shoko Okay, well i trust him enough. If we see him, it’s no big deal we’ll just leave From: Utahime You know he doesn’t drink anyway From: Shoko Tired argument, babe. He’s wherever Geto is To: Utahime, Shoko Yeah, well maybe he should marry suguru next.  From: Shoko Girl…  To: Utahime, Shoko I told you i wouldn’t be fun to be around right now. Enjoy your free drinks, you two deserve them 

The group chat goes silent enough for you to tuck your phone away, breathing in deep through your nose as you watch evening set in outside your windows. 

You’ve been putting it off since you returned, but there isn’t a speck of anything in this space, and you were exhausted. In some form of the phrase, you’d have to pick up your feet and carry yourself to the store to get an air mattress. 

That ten-minute walk felt like a marathon in your exhausted mind. But like everything in adulthood, you must be uncomfortable for twenty minutes to be comfortable for eight hours. You peel your body into action, rubbing at your eyes until you see stars. 

You’re only bringing your phone in case of an emergency. You didn’t want to see it – you didn’t want to see the lockscreen picture of you and Toru that you didn’t have the guts to delete. It’s better not to look because you can’t delete him; it just didn’t feel right yet. Somehow, someday, strength will take over, and you can rid your life of his shadow. One day, you’ll fall out of love and stare at someone else with the stars you’re rubbing into your eyes. 

It’s all you can hope for. It’s the only thing that keeps you warm and sane as you leave your apartment. 

You moved to a new neighborhood, and although you’re not unfamiliar, it’s different. The alleys are darker on this side of the city – street lights flicker, but you welcome it. Nobody is really around; convenience stores light up the area in neon, but that’s not where you’re headed. The local department store is just down the street. Foot traffic gets heavier as you approach the business district, which is still booming with the promise of night. 

Your one-track mind gets you in and out of the stark-white space in less than ten minutes. Your feet are moving so fast that your legs are numb, and you can’t see anything that’s not shrouded in inky blackness. If you cared to see anything for what it truly was, you’d notice just how depressed you are. You’re in pain – full, bodily pain like you’re recovering from an injury. 

It hits you all at once, and you’re almost back to your apartment. 

Then, you make a decision that doesn’t fully set in until it’s finished – you slide into a 7-Eleven, air mattress tucked under your arm, and pick up two cans of dangerously strong mixed drinks. You’re lying to yourself, thinking that they’d just be a vehicle for sleep so you can start work with a full night. 

You’re an incredible liar – even you believe the nonsense your brain is pushing. 

As you make it back into your door, bags hanging from your fingers and yawning sleepily into the night, you can hear your phone ping quietly in your pocket. Once you step inside and place your loot at your feet, you shrug to grab it. It’s the group chat again. 

From: Shoko

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Geto said hiiiiiiii

The picture is of the three of them, side by side at a bar table. Suguru’s in the middle, cradling a frosted pitcher of beer with the biggest close-eyed grin on his face. Utahime is behind him, peeking from around his back, sending you a friendly, stoic wink. Shoko’s barely in frame, but her smudged eye makeup and gently smoking cigarette between her teeth is undeniable. 

You crack a smile and send back a quick message. 

To: Shoko, Utahime Love u guys ♡ have fun From: Shoko Goodnight, we love you! Missing you like hell

That’s the last of it. You turn your phone off again. 

Before you can even set up the mattress, you’re cracking into your first drink, taking a deep breath to keep your taste buds at bay as you swallow the entirety in just under a minute. 

Thank god you can’t taste it, because you hated drinking like this. It’s pointless and depressing, but you were feeling so much that you had to numb it out. If Satoru could see you now… You don’t even want to know how he’d react. 

You drink more to chase him away. 

Uncoordinated and dizzy from the mixture of alcohol on an empty stomach, you drag the air mattress box into the middle of the open room. You didn’t want to carry it all the way to the bedroom, so you kneel, manicured fingers sharp as you rip into the tape and cardboard. 

You’re half-awake, blinking drearily as you throw the empty box behind you, crawling over the tufted, flat expanse to spread it out. You splurged on a bigger bed, needing something to roll in without fear of falling onto cold, hard flooring. It’s so big that you have to stand up, hiccuping softly as your feet spread it to full size. 

You stand over it, out of breath with your hands pressed to your hips. You can’t really see clearly through this drunken haze, but it dawns on you that you don’t have an air pump. You forgot to buy one. 

“Fuck.” You whine, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes. You’re seeing splotches of white – they dart across your sight like scurrying mice, driving you into a feeling so sick that you’re almost anxious. 

Not thinking twice, you sit back on your knees, crawling to the air hole, and giving it one last push. You bring the nozzle to your lips, taking a deep breath before blowing. It’s weak, comically so. You can’t hold a stream for less than half a minute, and your head is already spinning. You’re whining again like a tired child, thoroughly beaten down and hopeless as you size up your situation. 

If only Toru were here… He’d make it all better. 

You’re standing on shaky feet, peeking around the darkness for the promise of your phone. It’s right where you left it, completely off and face down on the kitchen counter. Dragging your bare feet, you go to grab and turn it back on. 

You call him. All inhibitions are lost. 

He answers… right away. The phone doesn’t even ring twice. 

The line clicks, but he doesn’t speak–not yet. His breathing is shallow. 

“S-satoru?” 

More silence. You want to sob. 

“Toru, I jus- I know I’m the last person you want to hea-

‘You sound like you’re going to cry.’ He blurts out suddenly, voice so familiar it makes you sick. There’s no animosity when he’s talking to you; he just sounds worried. 

“I’m back in the city and I… I just – I don’t have any furniture at my new apar-

‘Come home. If you want to sleep in the spare room, it’s fine, I’ll let you have it. Just stop this madness and come home. I’m waiting for you.’ 

You have to hang up before you can respond, because the tears are coming and they’re disgusting and heavy. You’re sobbing into your hands, feeling so overcome and pathetic with yourself and this turn of circumstance. Of course, Satoru is being nice about it – he loves you and you blindsided him, he’ll take any grasp at you that he can get. 

You sob as you slip on a jacket and your shoes, tears and snot dripping onto the floors and leather. You’re shaking as you reach to wipe it away, unable to look at yourself in the reflection of your lock screen as you glance at the time. 

There are no trains running at this hour. The only things that lit up the streets are twenty-four-hour convenience stores and old, late-night family restaurants that make most of their money from the after-bar crowd. Your friends are likely tucked behind one of those doors, laughing, living, and feeding off the dopamine they pour into each other. You belong with them, leaning drunkenly into your husband's chest as he dotes on you. So many sleepless nights were spent in that spell. No cares in the world. In love. Young. You want to go back. 

So you walk that twenty-some minutes back home – Satoru’s home, now. Yes, you picked it out. Yes, you decorated it, but you had to be okay with letting it go, so you are. You just have to lie to yourself a little more every day, and hopefully, the breakup will morph into reality. You just don’t want to suffer anymore. 

In your daze, the front door code is still etched into your memory. So is the way to the fourth floor – you climb the steps, breathless by the time you get there. 

Your and Toru’s apartment was nothing less than luxurious with the money he poured into it. Though he promised that you two would split bills before you agreed on getting the place, that quickly fell by the wayside when he looked at you with those bright doe eyes, mentioning he’d love nothing more than to take complete care of you, so all you had to focus on was your work and sanity. He also had a mind to make you a mother, but he conveniently didn’t add that to his point that night. 

You hold your breath as you reach to knock on the door. Before your knuckle even hits wood, it’s swinging open. All the lights are on – you squint. 

Satoru is on the other side, loose shirt hanging from his shoulders, bone-white hair all ruffled with relaxation. Seeing him again after all this time nearly kills you. Of course, you can’t look him in the eyes. “Hi. Come on.” 

“I don’t want to talk.” You start, just protecting your heart from his musings before anything could transpire again. “I don’t want to fix things, I just want to sleep.” 

“Okay.” He mutters, standing off to the side so that you could step in. “Okay, come on. We don’t have to talk.” The door opens wider, and light spills across your face. It takes you a minute to gather strength to step inside, but when you do, rivers of ease flow over your shoulders. You sigh. 

“Your hair is longer.” He mentions in passing, catching himself as he goes out to touch you. Stagnant – midair, he hovers, telling himself no. He respects your space. “I changed the sheets in the room for you.” 

You ignore him, shouldering past his hard body with a singular goal in mind. Your stomach is in knots – your head lighter than air. Everything is fuzzy, and if you didn’t fall into the warmth of a bed right now, Toru would have to carry you to his. 

“Or you can sleep in our bed and I’ll take the spare room.” 

Again, no answer. He follows behind you loosely as you stumble down the hall. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Leave me alone, just stop talking.” You slur, stupidly thinking that not giving him any of your attention would make him stop trying to squeeze words out of you. 

“You know, it wouldn’t kill you to be a little nicer to me. You’re the one who left.” 

“Shut up,” you bite, turning into the cracked doorway of the spare bedroom. He’s still hot on your trail, sleepy eyes begging for more where you couldn’t see. 

“We can fix this if you just tell me what I did wrong-

Before he can finish, you’re turning around in the doorway, not giving him any mercy as you slam the door on his face. It locks shortly after, just rubbing salt in his festering wound. At least he didn’t lie about switching out the sheets – the whole room smells fresh, like comfort materialized. You’re fumbling with your pants as you lumber to the warm, soft expanse, exerting as little effort as you can before collapsing into bed. 

You don’t have the energy to flip the lights off, so they stay on as you roll around in the sheets, trying to swallow down the oncoming doom of nausea and dizziness. You know Toru is still standing outside of the door, you can see the shadow of his feet under the crack, but he can’t come in – or, he doesn’t want to break the lock out and piss you off even more. 

After a few silent minutes, he shrugs off, and you fall in and out of consciousness. Sleep doesn’t come – not for real, at least. Whenever you think you’re getting there, you’re startled awake with your vapid inner thoughts. His pull is supernatural; it’s like you’re struggling to cope with being so close, yet so far. Right in the other room, you can hear Satoru moving around restlessly – shuffling in and out of the bathroom, talking to himself. 

He’s alone, you’re lonely. 

You blame it on the alcohol wearing off in your blood. That’s what gives you the push to roll out of bed and stumble to the door. Satoru stills in the other room right as the lock clicks – you know he hears you. He knows you’re on the way. 

It’s why he’s not in the bedroom when you crack open the door. It’s like he tucked off to the bathroom on purpose, using the shower as a distraction while you fall into your old side of the bed. It’s made neatly – your throw pillows are fluffed, and you’re succumbing to your weakness again. 

You dozed off for about ten minutes before you heard the door creak softly. Satoru’s footsteps are featherlight, and he knows you’re awake. Your breathing isn’t as shallow as it is now when you're sleeping. He doesn’t say anything about it–not yet. 

Satoru waits for you, gathering the towel wrapped around his waist as he sits on the bed. He knows you too well. 

So he doesn’t flinch when he feels the bed tremble beneath him. Sheets ruffle around your knees as you rise blearily. He hums when your arms wrap around his hard, broad shoulders, then mumbles, “You’re predictable.” 

“I’m burning up, I need help.” You plead weakly, lips focused right above his sharp collarbone. His skin tastes like it always has – sweet, for some reason. Like he was sculpted out of sugar. 

“Have you been drinking?” 

You pause right at the stubble of his undercut, the translucent shag tickling your nose. “I don’t need to be scolded.” 

“Well,” he peeks over his shoulder, pulling your chin close. The glow of his eyes amongst the darkness of the room is frighteningly familiar. You can’t look away. “I know you don’t want to talk about it.” 

You’re waiting for him to do something – to take control of this situation and steer the reins in your favor. Right now, you want him to annihilate you in the gentlest way only he can. Touching yourself will never be enough now that you’ve tasted him. It hits you like a craving. 

You’re left flicking between his eyes and his shiny, pink lips. They’re drawing you in like a siren song, weaving incantations that only your drunken mind would bend to. And finally, he kisses you. Something inside of you shrivels up and dies – your pride. 

Now, you’re shedding everything for him, gentle grip turning into claws in his shoulders. His skin is soft after his shower, leaving bright red marks against the pale ocean. Toru grunts into your mouth, shifting over to his knees as he crowds you against the mattress. Big arms cage you in – your back is lodged in the sheets, you’re reaching to pull him closer. 

Through it all, you don’t talk. When you’re needily grinding up into his thigh, he’s silent. Reaching down to your core, he doesn’t say a word. 

Lips hot and panting into the hard skin behind his ear, hands clawed in his hair, you don’t whisper his name. 

Your legs open for him, thighs parting like the Red Sea. He’s so hard for you, twitching against the towel he rips away and abandons somewhere in the room. Right now, every single move mattered. There are no words to dull your mood – nothing for him to say that hasn’t already been said. 

Satoru’s spent a short-lived lifetime telling you how beautiful you are, how well you’re taking him, how sexy your body is. You know that’s what he’s thinking; he just won’t waste his breath telling you again. 

After all, you couldn’t be bothered to waste yours, telling him that you were leaving to his face.

To you, this hot, grinding silence is deafening. Toru’s biting at your neck, kissing you holy, but it’s so foreign that you couldn’t really focus. You bite down a plea. 

But he hears it. When he kisses you, he can taste the desire. His naked body is so pressed to yours that there’s no room to exist outside of it – you pull him closer. 

Somewhere in the headiness, Satoru works a hand between your soft, stretchy waistband. He knows you’re ready for him, and he knows he’s ready for you. This moment might have been the perfect opportunity to prove devotion to each other. What a shame you’re so caught up in your head, worried about losing more of yourself to morph into the reality of who Satoru needs you to be. 

He tugs your thin pants down your legs, staring down at the quivering flesh that blooms with irritation against the harshness of the fabric. You’re seething into his skin, hips lifting from the bed so he can take you quicker. 

The issue is, he wants to see you. Toru wants to dip his head between your thighs and devour your cunt until you’re screaming his name, but you don’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve it. 

The most you two could chew off without burying yourself in grief was wordless, raw sex. That’s all there is to it – Toru wants to fuck you, get his rocks off, then sleep like a baby. Sure, he’d care in the morning, but you’re presenting yourself to him with armor stripped. He’d be a fool to pass it up. 

When he sits up, you’re scrambling. The air is too cold, his height is too brooding. He’s staring down at you, pearly chest rising and falling in the nightlight, but the gaze isn’t really there. One hand works at his erection, thick fist wrapped around the base of his cock as he coaxes it to full hardness. 

You’re staring at his body, swallowing down gobs of want as you flick past his waistline. Your neat, mindful Satoru – he always trimmed his body to exactly what you wanted. The soft patch of hair that gathers under his belly button makes you crazy. The neat trimming of his pubes makes your mouth water, and you’ve been holding back for so long. 

If you could tell him anything right now, it’d be just how much you need him. It was eating you alive at this point – all this cruel buildup. 

You bring your hand to your lips, taking to biting down on the length of your thumb while he settles back against you. Any more sober, you’d stop him and tell him to wear a condom, but of course, you’re silent. 

He mounts you again, pressing two big hands on either side of your head. Your free hand reaches up, holding his wrist gently as he slowly eases himself inside of your hole, stretching you out like he never left. 

You take a second to focus on the feeling, eyes falling shut as the stretch engulfs every single one of your nerves. It’s so thick – drilling deeper and deeper inside of you until there was nothing left to give. All the way inside, Satoru nuzzles against that uncomfortably sensitive point inside of you, kissing it like he was proud of the pain. 

You open your mouth to praise him – to whine about how deep he is, but all that comes out is a soft, strangled moan. He grunts again. 

Then, he cuts himself loose, fingers working at the sheets as he pulls out halfway, pretty face screwing up as he fucks back into you. 

You’re moaning, crying, rejoicing, living for everything in this moment. Your grip on his wrist tightens, and your thumb-gag breaks through. Satoru fucks you with an unnatural, mean precision, drinking up the sound of your skin slapping into each other. With this fervor, you’d be bruised tomorrow, but it’s too good. You love it when he’s rough – it’s just what you needed after sustaining for a month. 

Your throat burns with the need to scream at him – to tell him to take you harder, to kiss you stupid, but you don’t. Satoru buries his face in your neck and gives it to you. Over and over, thrust after thrust. It hurts, but it’s so good.

Time creeps and crawls through the ordeal. Your belly is numb and raw, legs shaking from the tight strangle they have across Toru’s waist. He hasn’t moved an inch – letting himself plank over you, plowing into your weeping cunt with no mercy, and no end in sight. Veins bloom like red-hot wires in his neck, sweat beads like water in his collarbone, and he’s so hot that the humidity gathers in his still-damp hair, rolling off the strands and onto your skin. 

Thirty minutes roll by – he’s still going. Everything hurts. 

He doesn’t have your loving voice egging him on, drawing him closer and closer to the release he needs. You don’t have that loving, sweet touch toying with your clit that leaves you gushing and gasping for air. You both are trying to make do with the bare minimum, not even looking at each other. 

You’re shaking. 

Satoru sits up, a detached, manic look in his eyes as he breathes heavily through his red-stained lips. He stares down at you, searching your expression for everything. You’re not telling him how you feel, but your face is screwed up so much that he knows it’s not the best feeling. He hates that he enjoys the thought of that. He hates that he needs to push his pain onto you – in fact, he feels monstrous, but it doesn’t will him to stop. 

Instead, he slows his mean fucks, dragging his hands to your waist where he turns you over like a limp, freshly caught fish. You fumble at the stark change, coughing softly, eyes flying open. Under your breath, you cry. “Mmfmf.” 

“Shh,” he bites back, all sharp and unfriendly in the base of his chest. Hands still stuck in your hips, he pulls you exactly where he wants you, chest pressed to the bed, behind on full display – full mercy. Your skin is so inflamed, he takes a second to drink it in. 

Then, he slaps you right on your left cheek. You chew on a surprised yelp. Something slips. 

“Tor-

Another slap. You swallow down your protests. 

Behind you, you can feel him dragging his cock against the hot sensitivity hidden between your labia, dripping with the newfound touch Satoru is working himself up to give you. 

Again, at your prime, he’d take this moment to completely dive in. He’d lose himself in the warm tears you’re excreting, lapping up the fluids like it’s his only nourishment. He’d worship you – now, all he does is cup his hand against your embarrassingly wet cunt, longest fingers working at your clit. His palm rubs harshly against your quivering hole, and you use the mattress as a screaming pillow, finally letting it out. 

Tears come, now. They burn and ache because they know whatever sacred intimacy you shared with Toru before is long gone. He’s fucking you, now. If you closed your eyes and wiped your memory, this would all feel like a stupid, drunk hookup. 

That’s all you are, now. 

You don’t even make a sound when he starts to bottom out inside of you again. You feel like a statue on display with the way Satoru spreads you open, both hands grabbing at your stinging ass. He watches the way you swallow his cock like a delicacy, gulping down want. Now, he’s dangerously close. He knows this was what he needed – this lewd visual. 

You, on the other hand, couldn’t have been further away from release, and it’s tearing you apart. You need to tell him – scream at him and curse his name, but you can’t. 

You let him make a mess of you, flooding your cervix with his sticky, fluid seed. He comes so hard and you can feel it – it’s so deep that you swear you can taste his desire bubbling in your throat. It’s acidic and raw, but it tastes like him, so you love it – you miss the taste when you swallow it down. 

He’s pulling out once he’s empty and satiated, come planted so deep inside of you that it doesn’t even slip out in his wake. He steps away, your hips fall on the bed, and you’re limp and unsatisfied. All you can do is blink. Satoru rolls away. 

You don’t know what he’s doing, or where he’s going, but when you fall over to your side, tears dripping into the mattress, you’re overcome. 

You’re crying, croaking weakly, “c-can you-

The sound of your voice stops Satoru in his tracks. He was heading back to the bathroom to clean himself up, but he thought you had dropped off to sleep immediately. 

��What?” 

“Can you… J-just try?” 

“All I wan-want to do…” You stop again, swallowing salty tears. “Please, all I want to d-d-do is come. P-please…” You feel so pathetic – and you are. You feel like the worst person ever born. 

If you could see his face, you’d see the speck of emotion that runs off his crystalline, flushed features. He would feel terrible if you cried like this to him a month ago. Now, he just feels something like an obligation to turn around and stalk back over to your side of the mattress. 

You’re still crying into your arms when he approaches, hiccuping softly as he lowers to a squat. 

Like this, he finally talks. “Swing your legs over, I’ll clean you up.” 

The smoothness has your eyes flying open, heart doing a billion jumping jacks all at once. Limbs shaking, you struggle to sit up. 

Satoru notices, knowing he has to retake hold of these reins. He reaches out for you, big hands closing around your thighs as he pulls you to the side of the bed. There’s nothing gentle about it, now. He licks his lips. 

Both legs hooked over his shoulder, your back falls back onto the mattress, and at the first flick of his tongue prodding at your quivering entrance, you’re crying again. But he’s good at this part. He doesn’t stop. That licks turns into sensual drags of the tongue, scraping against your sensitive slit, easing over your clit. You finally moan for him – real moans. Pleased moans. 

He presses a kiss to your hole. “Push it out on my tongue.” He demands, those few words feeling like acid on the tongue. It’s fucking filthy, but nothing out of his ordinary, deranged mind. You take a breath and tense your body, working on easing all of the deep come right back to him. 

Satoru is licking it up like an eager dog, slurping and sucking obscenely as his grip gets lost in your pillowy thighs. Now, he’s working you over like he’s chasing your release, knowing your body just like a doting husband would. It would only take him a few minutes of tongue-work before you’re coming for him, but now, it only takes a single one. 

You’re coming before you can even focus on the feeling, and it hits you like a brick to the skull. Your spine bends, bones creaking, blood rising to insane temperatures in your body as sweet, sweet bliss meets you once more. 

It’s all you wanted – this feeling has been the singular thing you’ve been chasing at Toru’s side. He gives it so well and so selflessly that he’s still lapping up mess when he feels you coming undone around him. He carries you through it just like he always has – thick, plush lips sucking at your insanely sensitive bud like he’s trying to receive something as collateral. It drives you crazy – you reach out to push him away. 

The job is done. Satoru rises to his feet. 

He heads off again to finish what he started, wiping your taste from his lips, back into his mouth as he gets lost behind the bathroom door. He leaves you on the bed to come back to your senses, fully sobered up and slightly sick from the onslaught of physicality. You reach into your matted hair, screwing your eyes shut in shame. Every time you move, your core trembles and cries. Everything hurts. 

In the bathroom, Satoru flicks on the lights and doesn’t recognize the face he sees in the mirror. He’s blown red, scratches all over his arms and back. His hair is everywhere, eyes beet-red and sensitive. He leans forward and spits in the sink. 

The faucet creaks as he turns it on. 

Everything washes away.

[neilsbeloved]

the alchemy

summary: clark’s always been adamant on being private with his personal life. few friends, low profile, and a hushed relationship. he can’t understand why people would want to publicize everything about their life. that is until he sees you talking to one of the school’s football players.

pairing: quarterback!clark x student body president!fem!reader

tags: tooth rotting FLUFF, legally aged students making out, established secret relationships, clark being Whipped with a capital W, slightly insecure clark, emotionally mature reader, football descriptions, no use of y/n

The faint smell of donuts and caramel coffee fill the council office as you hear the soft click of the door lock. You turn around and you're immediately met with your boyfriend, clad in his plaid blue button-up longsleeve shirt, worn-out bag slung over his shoulders, and lips immediately placing a soft kiss on your cheek.

"Woah, woah, hold it there farm boy," you laugh, placing a hand right in the middle of his chest as his kisses quickly descended to your neck. The thought of him not actually locking the door haunted your mind.

"What?" He breathes. Still continuing his attacks on the column of your neck while carefully placing your food and beverage on your table. "I missed you."

With a little more effort on your push—which was exceptionally hard considering how much Clark has improved in terms of making you lose your mind—he finally pulls away. A bummed-out pout shaping his lips.

You smile even wider. Who knew the big friendly farm boy everyone walks all over on is actually the biggest grump when he doesn't get kisses?

No one, of course. Not one soul in Smallville High School knows because your relationship with Clark isn't even out to the public. Not even your closest friend knows about it—and you're sure his closest friends don't know either.

But it's been like that for three out of the on-going four years you two have spent in Smallville High and so naturally neither of you wanted to break the streak.

You run your head through his soft brown locks, giving him a sweet kiss on the lips. Clark's face immediately lights up, already pulling you off of the table you were leaning on to exchange positions. This time, he has a better view of the blank canvas that is your collarbone.

"Missed you," he repeated. "Brought you donuts and coffee from the Talon."

"Didn't know they did deliveries again." You humor him, grabbing the brown bag and pulling a donut out. Clark watched as you point the donut at him, urging him to take a bite. With his eyes locked in yours, he takes a slow and relaxed bite. You wipe the side of his mouth with your finger before taking your own bite. Groaning when the sweet taste of the glazed donut touches your tongue.

"They allow it for certain people." Clark plays along, nodding at you. His eyes wander to the gigantic bulletin board you had in the council office, seeing almost ten listed items now struck-off with a bright red marker. "Specifically people that are overworking themselves again."

You roll your eyes, rolling to his side as you grab the cup of coffee. "Who says I was? I just did my job."

"Babe, you aren't the only one on the council. You can't just cover for everyone's jobs just 'cause they aren't doing theirs," Clark replies, watching you eat.

"Says the one that always takes on Chloe's extra load," You retort with a sly grin. "You do know that the reason most of Chloe's writers are bailing on her is because they don't like her way of gathering her news, right?" You place down the coffee, still eating your donut as you place a hand on the one Clark had resting on the table.

Clark chuckles, "Chloe's my friend, what can I say? She's been like that since fifth grade."

"At least she's passionate about it. It's so rare to see someone so committed in their craft that I can't even deny whenever Chloe asks me for an exclusive… which, mind you, is almost seven times a week." You sigh, head subtly shaking.

"Weren't you the one that wanted somebody aside from me to interview you?" Clark furrows his eyebrows, putting on a thinking face. His eyes squint, "Something along the lines of not getting work done."

Your eyes roll back, finishing the glazed donut in your hand. "Yeah, 'cause I clearly remember how we spent twenty-five minutes eating each other's faces and five minutes actually answering questions."

You throw the crumpled brown bag to the trash bin from afar. You miss, badly, but Clark's quick to distract you from your lack of shooting skills by kissing you. Again.

"Let's shorten that twenty-five minutes then," he smiles into the kiss. Snaking his arm around your waist as he could still taste the sugary taste of the donut on your tongue.

The kiss was anything but sweet. It was full of hunger, desire… and something you can't quite pinpoint. Usually Clark has his own rhythm of sucking the air out of you but this time it's messy—all over the place. Like you'd disappear any moment now if he didn't move faster.

He doesn't mistake the very subtle jingle of door handle. He hears it crystal clear and yet, he doesn't pull away. When the sound registers in your ear, you pull away without a second to think.

You immediately grab a spare folder on the other table. Clearing your throat as you looked down on it, pretending to flip through the papers. Clark on the other hand looked directly at the student who came in.

It was Adam. The same guy he saw you with earlier.

"Oh—is this a bad time? I can come by later?"

"Actually," Clark begins but you cut him off.

"No, it's fine. Do you have a concern?" You ask directly. Putting on your professional mask as you looked at Adam by the door. Ignoring how you can actually feel Clark  glaring holes at the side of your face with his jaw clenched.

Adam stutters. Shifting from you to Clark, then back to you. "I, uh, I was wondering if there were any other tutors available? I'm kinda flunking Chemistry and I need to ace the upcoming test."

"Then study," you hear Clark mumble. It was a little louder than he had expected but who cares, obviously not him.

You inhale sharply, turning your head to the bulletin board for the tutoring sessions for the month. Your shoulders flunk when you see your name under the Chemistry border. The other one—Lana—was already done with her tutoring hours so it was only you left.

Your head turns to Clark. He had already seen the arrangement on the bulletin board, he was looking at you now to wait for your response to Adam's request.

"Uhm, you can take my slot. What time works for you?"

"Any time you're free." Adam smiles at you. Clark rolls his eyes.

You nod unenthusiastically. Taking the clipboard beside Clark and handing it to Adam. "You can write on the 4:30 PM row. I'll be at the library fifteen minutes prior to our schedule, and I can wait for you until quarter to five."

Adam happily writes his name, glancing up to see you and Clark exchanging looks. "Is he signing up for a tutoring class too?"

"No," the two of you say in unison.

Your eyebrows furrow slightly at Clark. The farm boy breathing deeply before he responds. "I'm asking about the, uh, football schedule," he looks at you for confirmation. When you nod approvingly, he does too. "Yeah, the football schedule."

"Oh… Well, shouldn't you be asking Coach Teague that?"

"How would you know?" Clark raises an eyebrow, sounding way sassier than you ever heard him speak. Adam looks at him with subtle surprise, masking it with a friendly smile. "Because I am in the football team?"

The air quickly shifts as Clark and Adam have a stare-down. Only broken off when you clear your throat. Adam reluctantly says goodbye, stepping out of the office with a wave directed to you.

When the door closes, you turn to Clark with your arms crossed. "What?" He groans. He knows that look all too well.

"Are you okay with me tutoring him?" You ask straightforwardly.

"Why wouldn't I be? You've tutored dozens of our classmates over the years." He shrugs. His hand slowly coming up to tug on the strap of his bag.

"You sure? 'Cause it's a yes or no question, Clark. I can have someone else cover for me if you don't want me to tutor him," you say genuinely. Brushing away the lock of hair that fell in front of his handsome face.

Clark's lips purse into a thin line as he nods, hands finding solace on your hips. "Yes, baby, I'm sure. Just… don't overwork yourself, okay? I don't want you gettin' tired from something that isn't even your job."

You bite back a smile, looking into his eyes with stars in yours while he pulls you in for a hug. Your head rests on his shoulder as you wonder to yourself—how exactly did I manage to score a man like this?

"Gotta go, handsome. I'll see you back home," you give him a chaste kiss. Using every self-control you have not to respond to Clark's obvious attempts of deepening the kiss.

The first tutoring session you had with Adam was a quick one. Adam had a pretty solid foundation, he understood the concepts clearly, his only flaw was in his application of said concepts. Usually, he'd do well on the conceptual-based questions while also failing the problems connected to it.

One session wasn't going to cut it and so he booked you for four other sessions. All of which had a longer time frame, extending thirty minutes more from the usual one and a half hour long session. That only meant that you had to spend two hours with him every Tuesday and Thursday for two whole weeks.

Now if Clark didn't find it bothersome the first time, he definitely did now.

"So, uh, we still up for six later?" Adam leans on the locker next to years, smiling.

"Yeah, uh, sure. Of course. I'll see you at the library." You smile back. You quickly turn back to your locker and grab your things fast. Adam wasted no time diving into another subject.

"Oh, by the way, I—y'know, I really appreciate you being my tutor. I know you're juggling a lot of responsibilities and still, you never come to a session late and…" your eyebrow arches, waiting for him to finish. Thankfully, he takes the look in your face as a hint. "I was wondering if you'd let me treat you to a coffee? Just something after our session to show my thanks."

Your response arrives fast, without any hesitation. "No, Adam."

Adam gets caught off-guard by the firmness in your voice. He didn't expect you to say yes right away but he didn't exactly expect you to deny it in a split second too. He thought you'd at least think it over for a minute.

"Oh! But, it's, uh, y'know, coffee as friends. I'm not asking you out on a date," he laughs awkwardly but you could see right through him.

"I appreciate the thought, Adam, but no. If you have any questions about the lessons we're discussing, you can reach out to me—but anything else besides that, please do not." You breathe deeply. Eyes catching on the tall figure at the end of the hall, watching your encounter with Adam. "I have to go. I'll see you at the library."

You don't give Adam a second to respond, immediately slipping out of his sight only to find the end of the hall empty. No plaid-wearing farm boy in sight. You swallow on nothing, beginning to feel a thump in your chest.

It takes you some time of walking around to finally catch a glimpse of him. He was standing beside Chloe, visibly talking about something as they had laughs on their faces. You walk over to them, locking eyes with Clark in the process.

Just as you were about to walk by them—and possibly strike up some small talk—your shoulder gets nudged by your friends.

"Hey! We were looking all over for you! Did you hear the news?" Janet, your friend, says.

"What news?"

"Not so fresh meat just made it onto the roster. Rumor says he's starting quarterback," another friend, Rose, says. Her tone held a bit of bite to it, as if she didn't want him on the spot in the first place.

"Now that's a nice headline," a bright voice speaks. All three of you turning to the shaggy-haired blonde. "What d'you think, Clark? Not so fresh senior meat now starting quarterback. Kinda has a ring to me."

You tried to act naturally, chuckling at Chloe's words despite your friends glaring at them. Since he is the topic, you look at Clark. Eyes round and awaiting a response from him.

He doesn't respond though. He simply shrugs, looking at you like your were nothing before pulling Chloe away from probably stirring up a fight.

"That guy has some problems," Rose rolls her eyes, checking her nails carelessly.

"Yeah. He's already senior and he's only just tried out for football now? Damn. Talk about a late bloomer," Janet says high-fiving Rose.

"At least he's cute… right?" Janet turns to you.

"Huh?"

"Clark Kent. He's cute, right?" When Janet repeats her question, you felt something inside of you twitch. Janet's calling your boyfriend cute, and Rose's agreeing with her too. They're checking your boyfriend out. Shamelessly.

But you can't even worry about that now—your mind is filled with the way Clark looked at you moments ago. Like you were nothing. Like he hasn't met you even once.

Of course, you two hide your relationship to the school but there's always something unspoken of each time you look into each other's eyes. It's a comfort and a pleasure at the same time. A cozy blanket in the cold air. Hot chocolate every Christmas. Donuts and caramel coffee in hidden rendezvouses.

There were none of those when Clark looked at you earlier. You can't help but feel there's something wrong.

"Hey Mr. and Mrs. K! I was wondering if Clark was around?" You ask with a smile.

Your relationship with Clark may be a secret to everyone in Smallville, but his parents are a definite exception. Yours, not so much.

Jonathan and Martha share a look you recognize to be an apologetic one. "He's, uh, he's at the barn. He's been there since he got home." Martha answers with a strained smile.

You feel even weirder because Clark's parents have been nothing short of supportive. You two may have hidden the relationship from them for four months but they definitely enjoyed the idea of their son going out with you.

When you nod determinedly, turning around to head to said barn, Jonathan calls you. "Clark's, uh… you may want to be careful approaching him. He's a bit pent-up, with the football and stuff."

You nod. "Oh, of course! I'll be careful. Maybe he just needs a little cheer up." 

You head over to the barn in haste. Walking up the loft to see Clark with his head down, writing something in his notebook as a stack of textbooks sat beside it.

"Knock knock." You knock on the wooden rails, letting the sound resonate through the barn.

Clark looks up from his notebook, smiling the moment he registers it was you. But you notice his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. Still, you set that aside.

"What a surprise," he replies, voice clipped. "I thought you'd be slumped up with your council work and tutoring."

"And miss out an awesome opportunity to spend time with the charming plaid-wearing farm boy? Pftt, never," you drop yourself beside him. Propping your elbow up on the backrest as you turned your body towards him.

Clark chuckles, looking back down on the coffee table as he began writing again. You felt an even stronger twitch in your body when he does that—ignore you.

He may be tired, drained, or pissed off—but he had never gone through a second of seeing you without kissing you the moment the coast was clear. He'd always sneak in the quickest of kisses even though you two would get caught if he was slower by a millisecond.

"Clark, hey," you touch his shoulder. "I missed you."

His head keeps itself in place, "Missed you too, baby. How was your day?"

"Clearly not as harsh as yours has been. Wanna talk about it? I can spend the night…" you pause. "Oh, also, I heard you're starting quarterback! How'd that happen?"

"Did you now?" He laughs dryly.

The smile on your face falters, his tone felt like a bucket of ice was dumped on your head without your knowledge. He drops his pen, leaning back on the couch as he actually looks at you for the first time this night.

"Well, the previous one was injured. I stepped in." His answer is short and direct. His voice lacking the enthusiasm you're used to. "How about your day?"

You blink. Once. Twice. Thrice.

"Clark, what's the problem?"

Clark's eyes flicker up towards yours, hurt and anxiety evident in your pupils. He feels a tinge of guilt in his chest. Licking his lips, he reaches out for you only for you to pull away.

"Did I do something wrong?" You question. Though no matter how firm your voice was, Clark knew it was close to breaking.

"No, no, baby, you did nothing wrong—" Clark's voice rises as he panics. Fully reaching out to you so he can pull you to his chest. "It's… it's me, okay? I… I just—" he takes in a deep breath. "Don't you think it's time we made our relationship public?" 

It's clear that you were surprised with his question. The sharp inhale and your raised eyebrows gave it away no doubt. But why wouldn't you be? Not once has Clark ever thought about making your relationship public. In fact, he was the one that actually proposed it in the first place.

You tried your best to understand him though. "Is there a reason why you want to make our relationship public?"

"Babe, we've been hiding our relationship for three years. We started when we were sophomores, we're seniors now. No one can worry about us anymore. We're graduating in a few months—who cares by now?" This is the first time his voice actually held some energy to it. His hands intertwined with yours as he looks at you for approval.

"Clark, I know when you're lying," you say. Clark's throat bobbing up and down as he clenches his jaw. You place a hand on his cheek, your other hand running through his hair comfortingly, "You know you can tell me anything, Clark. Let's talk about this like adults."

It takes him a second to actually decide to speak, and another second to construct the words in his head. "I don't like how people still think you're single," he starts. "The guys talk about you, people in the hall talk about you… I hear so many promises from people that they'll ask you out either after the game or after graduation—regardless, I can't even respond. I can't tell them that you're my girlfriend because in the first place, no one knows about us—no one'd believe me." You feel his heart beat faster. The continuous thump underneath his chest makes your stomach flip as well.

"Call me selfish, but I can't take it when other people look at you and think that they can have you." His voice drops, hands tightening on yours.

"Like Adam?"

A scoff comes from him. "Yeah, like Adam. Have you even heard half of the stuff he says about you in the locker rooms?" Clark's voice raises. His sharp features straining furiously before he feels your hand tighten around his. It prompts him to raise your intertwined hands, kissing your knuckles. "It's nothing bad, baby, believe me. He wouldn't be walkin' straight if they were bad. It was just that he's so in his head that he actually thought he can take you out on a date."

"So this is about Adam?" You arch a brow, testing the waters. When Clark shakes his head, looking away to hide the smile on his face, you laugh. "Well, y'know, farm boy, he actually just asked me out earlier."

"I know. I heard."

"Then you also heard what I responded with?" Your lips widen slowly.

He sighs, turning his head back to you. "Yes, I did."

You smile at him. He returns it, ten times wider than yours. Your heart flips as the smile finally reaches his eyes—finally feeling right.

Quiet envelopes you both. A comfortable silence before you snuggle on his lap, resting your head on his muscular chest. "I understand how you feel, baby."

One of the things Clark loved about you was your ability to always have him heard and understood. Even the dozens of times he's missed your dates, suddenly cancelling unannounced; you've always been there for him with a patient mind, an awaiting ear… and probably a grumpy attitude when Clark specifically dipped on a day you were really looking forward to.

Now, one thing definitely changed; if before you had to trap him in the barn, force him to be honest and say his feelings, you were content that now all you had to do was talk to him sincerely and directly, no interruptions, and no hotheads.

"Does this mean we're going public?" Clark asks cautiously.

You lift your head, letting your chin rest on the center of his chest. "Just do good on the game tomorrow, 'kay farm boy? We'll see how the day goes."

It wasn't the answer Clark wanted, but he accepted it. It was better than giving him the hard no.

And so you laid there the whole night, trying your best to stay awake while Clark told you about his day. His hands running aimlessly through your hair and body until you fell asleep. When you did, he took you to his bedroom and let you sleep there.

A soft and tender kiss on your forehead to end the night.

Loud roars of the crowd could be heard from any side of the field.

The bleachers were packed with people, majority came from Smallville High while some were from the rival school playing. It's been quite some time since the game started and yet, it still feels like a win can be called any moment now.

You were there—since the very start—sitting at the very front row with Chloe by your side. Your friends Janet and Rose sitting away where the cheerleaders were sat. Each time you watched Clark fall short of a goal, you could feel your heart thump even harder.

Way before the game started, you had another little rendezvous with Clark. Giving him the best good luck charm in the form of red lace—which God knows where he kept—and a kiss on the cheek.

Clark's been training for this game for so long now. Weeks of hardworking and sweat come to this very day where he finally gets to earn his teammates' respect.

31-28, in favor of the opponent.

The air gets struck out of your system when you see the opposing team score another point. Slowly building on their lead against the Crows. Your teeth unconsciously nibbles on your lower lip, pulling and biting the soft tissue as you prayed for a plot twist.

"C'mon Clark, c'mon," you mumble under your breath. Glancing at Jonathan and Martha from a far as they too shared nervous and worried looks.

You hear a ring from somewhere, and suddenly they're all splitting into their respective teams. "The Crows asked for a time out," Chloe says. You nod, noting that on the pad of paper that Chloe gave you earlier. Both of you have been noting game highlights since the start of the game.

"Should we try interviewing them?" The blonde was already standing when she asks you that, eyes narrowed at the group of players bundled far from them.

"No." You shake your head. Chloe looks at you weirdly, you sounded way too energetic. "It's not really the best time, Chloe."

Seven seconds remain on the clock. All players head back to the center line as the game resumes back. Your eyes lock with Clark despite the distance. You could barely make out the expression on his face while he could clearly see yours—full of anxiety and hope, hands in a prayer position in the middle of your face.

With a new found drive to make you proud, he turns to the front to look at the opposing team.

You watch as all of the players scramble fast as soon as the clock began. Clark inhaled, clocking his arm back before throwing the football with all of his human force, every fiber in his being hoping that the other quarterback is able to catch it before the time ran out.

The football felt like it was on air for more than five minutes. Every head in the football grounds followed the brown ball as it made its way across the field, every person holding in their breaths as the second player reached up as the time hit two seconds.

On the last second, he lands a touchdown.

Happiness shoots through your body as you jump with Chloe on the stands. Lungs screaming Clark's name as thunderous cheers filled the space, loud enough to even make the ground shake. The players run over to Clark, crashing into him while he throws away his helmet, eyes immediately searching for you. Just you.

Your heart begins beating faster, the idea in your head being thrown away as your legs move on their own.

Clark watches as you rush down the bleachers, sliding past everyone and anyone in your way. Confusion hits him for a second until he finally understands what you're going to do. Shrugging off his teammates, he runs over to the bleachers' side, the amount of adrenaline running in his veins was almost enough to push him to super speed onto your side and lift you up—almost.

The moment you reach the ground, Clark's already jumping over the fence, catching you in his arms.

"Clark!" You yell out, feeling his strong arms tighten around your waist as he spins you around. Your hair moves with the wind as it splatters messily all over Clark's face, his lips stretched into the widest and biggest smile you've ever seen from him. "You did—"

Your words are cut off as Clark lifts you even higher, crashing his lips into yours. The outside world is anything but a figment of his imagination now that he has you in his arms just after winning his first game as a quarterback—and the best thing of it all, was that it was in front of the whole school.

The deafening sound of cheers and wolf whistles make you smile into the kiss, head subtly pulling back only for Clark to hungrily chase after you, not letting you up so easily. When he finally does, with his lips all puffy and swollen, he's staring at you with nothing but affection.

"A real quarterback now, huh?" You tease, smirking lightheartedly at him.

Clark rolls his eyes, lunging forward to give you another kiss on your lips. "Not really, just your boyfriend."

You lose yourself in his smile, only to be pulled away from it when your head moves to the side. You see Clark's parents looking at you two with proud smiles while beside them were his friends—all of which had a shocked look on their faces.

Clark squeezes your side to get your attention back. A contented look grows on his face as he keeps his hold around you, making the moment last just a little longer before you two face the outcome of whatever just happened.

"Ready to put me down, farm boy?"

"Never.”

hearts, reblogs, and comments are highly appreaciated if you loved the fic !

[the-darklings]

FOR YOUR ARCANE PROMPTS LIST POOKIE: "hands under your lover's clothes" w/Silco??? perhaps?? perchance?? PLS PLS POOKIE, MY GLORIOUS QUEEN, MY EVERYTHING <3

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ silco x gn!reader, complicated relationship, a little angst, no spoilers for s2, cat & mouse dynamic but who is who? wc: 768

“It’s dangerous playing games with a patient man.”

“Are you? Patient?”

Silco’s mouth flutters into what could pass for a fleeting smile. It’s a rare expression on him, an ease that is seldom seen in the years since he left Vander’s side. Nowadays, he is nothing like the fresh-faced youth so desperate to fix the world you first met.

“More so than many, I’d reckon,” he replies placidly, watching you with idle interest. You lean on his oak wood desk, the rough grain of the wood warm beneath your fingers as you skim over his notes and ledgers. His meticulous nature is evident in the way he organised everything about the Shimmer trade. It’s almost irritating. “You are here for a reason.”

The gentle accusation falls on deaf ears.

“I was just saying hello,” you drawl, your voice low, swinging your attention his way. Silco’s scoff is a low, throaty sound, barely audible, but filled with disdain. 

You’re not sure when it started, you and him. If it was survival or a desire for a better life that drove you both from the start. You wanted freedom and independence and then he took the Undercity, and, in a way, you too. Since then, you’ve existed in his sphere, enjoying his favour. Flaunt it without making it obvious, slipping past the cracks of his rules. 

He appears so collected on his chair, a king on his throne in truth, but his immaculate clothes are wrinkled, buttons undone, and his Adam’s apple bobs when you touch his tie. You know better than to go near his throat. The last time you did, fingers eager and teeth nipping at the taut flesh there, he jerked back as if shocked. Terror and rage had overcome him, twisting you on his bed, still tangled in each other, before you could turn back your instincts. When his hands closed around your throat in response, you didn’t fight him off, and maybe it was that above all else that made Silco snap out of his spell.

No, instead, you slip your hand past the unbuttoned shirt, tracing over his sharp collarbone. Silco rests his cheek lightly on his hand, watching you through a narrowed eyed stare. Daring you, yes, but also curious. The heavy scarring on his face never bothered you. You didn’t lack scars of your own, but this… 

You slip forward, knee resting on the chair between his parted legs, hand slipping lower, to rest over his thudding heart. 

“Hello.” Your lips shape the word before you breathe them against his lips again. Your free hand cups his face and the hard beat of his heart echoes against your palm. 

The kiss is gentle, more civilised than either of you are used to, a sweetness that lingers even though it’s not what either of you normally craves, but when he doesn’t pull away, a secret thrill shoots up your spine. His deep inhale fills your ears, the heat of his lips imprinting on yours. A deep, rumbling sound vibrates through his chest when you deepen the kiss, your fingers moving in gentle circles over his skin. 

With a viper’s swiftness, Silco snaps his hand behind your head when you break the kiss, keeping you close. Nose to nose, your breaths mingle. You can’t quite tell what lingers in his burning gaze, one icy blue, another molten gold. 

“Are you hoping to endear yourself to me?” he asks, knowing and throaty. “A foolish play.”

“I won’t say that,” you say, breathless. “And if I was… well, I think you’re holding up just fine.”

Licking your lips, you pull back, grinning at him. He hasn’t moved, his knuckles returning to his cheek. Nonchalant, except for the heavy weight with which he still examines you. Silco won’t indulge you in admitting you do this because you’re the only one he can rely on in this shitty, twisted world of yours. You support his vision, you’ve always believed it, even when you were younger. 

Adjusting your dishevelled clothes, you look over at him once more. Not so crisp and orderly for once. Satisfaction nestles in your gut at the observation that the usually perfectly groomed and dressed man—this infamous crime lord—is a mess in the dim light of his office. Undone. Caught. Even if predatory hunger reflects in that golden hue. 

You wag your fingers in a playful wave. “It’s dangerous playing games with patient people, love, haven’t you heard?”

[paper-starz]

A very big analysis on the new Welcome Home update

HELLLOOOOO EVERYONEEEE I havent done one of these in a while, but omg the newest update was everything I ever hoped for and more!! So today, we'll be talking about EVERYTHING (+ lil theories here and there)

BIG BIG SPOILERS AHEAD

Julie Joyful, Insecurity, Pressure, and Toxic Positivity

This update really gave us some interesting insight to the star of this update, Julie.

Julie is a rainbow monster, and a very happy one as her name would imply. And yet, she's not really like the rest of her family. She looks different from them for instance.

Her brother Jonesy states that rainbow monsters 'stick with one color', which means that they only stick to one color and don't really wear other colors. Even Julie's bio states how different in appearance Julie is from her siblings.

Recent evidence has revealed that Julie’s family consisted of a "band" of rainbow monsters that were a monochromatic color palette rather than a full rainbow like Julie herself.

Sure, Julie does have pink in her color pallete, she also has an array of other colors! Her hair isn’t a shade of pink, it’s yellow. Her legs aren’t a shade of pink either, it’s blue and green.

Franny also states that while horns come in different shapes and sizes, the bigger the better obviously. Julie's horns however are very small compared to the rest of the rainbow monsters.

Not to mention that she seems to forget or miss valuable information about rainbow monsters and Franny has to keep correcting her over and over again.

"There's more than that, Julie!" and "Missing things again, Julie."

And unlike her siblings, she lives away from them, which is unusual for a rainbow monster, where they normally live in a band.

She also doesn't seem to have an instrument, as stated in the Springtime Salutations book, "Julie, however, is her own instrument."

Speaking of the book, she also woke up too early for springtime.

And while her siblings were kind enough to bring Spring early this time, that doesn't mean that Julie wasn't affected at all by this. She knows how different she is from the rest of her siblings, and she's insecure about this fact.

This all culminates with the black flower, the one flower that she cannot bloom.

Rainbow monsters have a responsibility during Springtime. Franny melts away the snow with the morning dew, Jonesy makes the grass grow, Bea makes the sun shine, and Julie makes the flowers bloom. That is Julie's job, her one job of the entire year.

If she can't do that properly, then she would be proving to her siblings that she is a faulty rainbow monster that cannot do things by herself, that she cannot function properly away from her familial support. Which is the reason why she's so adamant on not rejoining the band, despite her siblings best efforts to sway her.

FRANNY: (With a commanding tone.) Back to us- Julie, when are you going to finally join our band? JONESY: Yeah, sis- What’s a rainbow monster band without its dynamite drummer? BEA: (Wistfully said.) Just think of it, sister dear… A colorful quartet pushing the seasons! JULIE: (Nervous and hesitant) That sounds… (Pretends to be losing signal) Oop- Oh no! The sounds! We’re breaking up!- (Whispering harshly.) Hang up the phone, Frank! Hang up!

And that's not to mention that she feels insecure not only towards her siblings as a rainbow monster, but also in the neighborhood.

She states that while she gets along well with everyone in the neighborhood, she's not particularly close with anyone besides Frank. Barnaby and Howdy tease her which probably makes her feel even more insecure, particularly in her ability to make others laugh, which again, brings JOY to people.

While she likes Poppy, Sally, Eddie, and Wally, again, she's not particularly close with either of them. Frank seems to be her only form of support in the neighborhood.

And yet, this particular scene is interesting, because according to Julie in The Julie Guide to being Joyful, her relationship with Howdy and Barnaby in particular are different.

She seems like she's lying to Wally and perhaps to herself that she has a great relationship with EVERYONE in the neighborhood, she's Julie Joyful! She's happy all the time and everyone loves her.

And yet, Wally seems to call her out on this. Both in the storybook and in the /regardforgetfulnesssilence link.

"Did all that really happen, Julie?" He says, as if he knows that Julie is lying but wants her to tell the story again. Reword the story so that she's telling the truth, but she doesn't want to. It's easier for her to live in a lie.

Which is another reason why she doesn't want to go back to her siblings. She would have to leave, not the neighborhood, but Frank. Her only form of actual support.

(Said inside her head. It sounds like static. ) If I can’t make a flower bloom, if I can’t bring Springtime around- What would I do? Will I have to leave? Will I have to go back? I’d just-

While I do believe her siblings love her and Julie does love them back, again, they make her feel insecure as a rainbow monster. Her older siblings always manage to get their job right, they have monochromatic colors, their horns are bigger, and unlike her, they never wake up too early for springtime.

JULIE: Hi, Wally! And hello to my sweet saccharine siblings! FRANNY: Is that our youngest sister here? JONESY: She’s our sweetest too- BEA: Don’t forget our most colorful! Julie, what could YOU need help with? You’re one of us!

Ironic how Bea says this line. Julie doesn't feel like one of them. She doesn't feel like a rainbow monster. Her one job of the entire year is to make the flowers bloom and if she can't do that, then what use is she?

This is why she is so terrified of that flower. That one flower that she cannot bloom. Its a crack in the joyous facade that she created. Sure, its just one flower, but what if its two next Spring? 10 after that? Whole fields of wilting flowers, dead flowers? Because of one mistake of waking too early and bringing in Spring when the time just wasn't right?

Then she would have to leave Home, and leave Frank. And its no surprise that she holds Frank in such a high admiration. He's the smartest neighbor in Home and he's her only true friend. She's especially terrified of disappointing him in particular.

Because while I do think Julie sees Frank as her best friend, I believe that because of the Sweet Briar book, Julie sees Frank as some sort of prince in shining armor coming in to save her.

Note that she doesn't view Frank in a romantic light, when the scene came for Frank to awaken princess Julie from her slumber with a kiss, Julie just jumps from her bed and the kiss just never happens.

Frank is her only person in the neighborhood that actually supports her and her only true friend, thus, Julie sees Frank as someone that's saving her. Keeping her away from the dangers of leaving with her siblings and going away, thus losing Frank (and her support), and perhaps even away from the responsibility of being a rainbow monster.

"I'm doing the best that I can, but it's nice to let someone else lead."

As mentioned before, if Julie joins the band, she'll be the drummer. However, Julie is her own instrument, she marches along to the beat of her own drum lol.

The drummer's role in a band is to provide the rhythmic foundation of the group, providing a steady beat and tempo. A drummer's role is pretty strict, if they mess up (like if they come in too early or if they become off-tempo), that messes up the entire song.

Julie already knows that she's not that great of a rainbow monster, she messes up constantly, forgets facts that a rainbow monster should know, wakes up too early for Spring, and can only make MOST of the flowers bloom. If she goes back to her siblings, joins their band, and becomes their drummer, then she's not only risking messing up her job of making the flowers bloom, but also the rest of her siblings' job. What if she misses just one beat? Would that jeopardize everything? What would her siblings say if she messes up and makes them mess up too?

What will happen to Springtime? Will the grass and flowers die? Will the sun never shine? Will the rain never come to wash away the snow? Will she trap the entire neighborhood in an endless winter?

It's a risk that Julie just doesn't want to take. This is why she starts getting more and more aggressive towards the black flower, because it's jeopardizing her stay at the neighborhood, and threatening her to leave everything behind.

Which leads us to the ending of /tearsremembranceinstability, Julie gets more and more agitated towards the flower. Flat out threatening it when it's not going to be blooming anytime soon.

"You won't be around for much longer--" "I'll never see you again, no one will, no one will ever know you were here--" THOSE SOUND LIKE THREATS!

Which leads me to believe that Julie did something awful to that flower. Either she forced that flower to bloom, or she killed it.

What ever she did to that flower, Frank witnessed it. And Julie knows what Frank saw.

But then, something strange happens.

This weird little bug flies in at the end and stares at us, the viewer.

And we have seen this bug before! On the miscellaneous section!

Opening the image under a new tab reveals that this toy is called a 'buggle'.

While it is a cute little toy, it seems out of place for this thing to just pop out. It feels random.

But ah! It is NOT random dear viewer!

Taken from the awayfrompryingeyes.net site.

'Buggle' sounds like a mix of the word 'bug' and 'beagle'. AND CAN YOU GUESS WHICH NEIGHBORS HAVE A CONNECTION TO THE WORDS BUG AND BEAGLE????

Frank, Barnaby, and Howdy! Three neighbors that have had an impact on Julie's insecurities.

Both Howdy and Barnaby make Julie's insecurities worse. They constantly tease her, with Barnaby in particular saying that he doesn't find Julie's jokes all that funny and Howdy saying that she better get some new material.

Frank on the other hand alleviates those insecurities, making him a huge source of comfort, but to the point that she's terrified of disappointing him.

The buggle seems to be a manifestation of Julie's insecurities and anxieties, manifesting itself during Julie's lowest point.

Which concludes to this. What will the next update be about?

Because our guy W definitely has some ideas...

Perhaps the buggle is foreshadowing, either the next update will be focusing on either Frank, Barnaby, or Howdy!

But i suppose only time will tell.

[grimmsbride]

LOVERS ROCK [ daisuke / reader ]

keeping your relationship a secret from your coworkers was no doubt; thrilling. and also, very, very challenging. it didn’t help the two of you just loved to push your limits

tags / ooc characters | semi-public sex (everyone is asleep but still) | reader & daisuke are slightly inexperienced | soft-top daisuke | mentions of marks | cowgirl | dry humping | porn with little plot | they fuck with earbuds in | mentions of the other crew members | fluffy at the beginning | pre-established relationship | sex under the stars.. | pre-crash | chubby & poc coded reader (but anyone is free to read) | i don’t know the exact time period but modern music is mentioned | you guys love holding hands | etc.

notes / #bringbackdryhumping | reader is the same janitor reader in my previous fic (obviously). i got this idea randomly, daisuke seems like the type to take his partner to scenic places for dates. and well.. the nighttime screen is about as scenic as it gets on the tulpar. i hope you enjoy and as usual please excuse any grammar mistakes or typos 🫶🏾. i feel i made him very ooc, i’m used to see daisuke smut being quite submissive to the reader so i wanted to go a different approach.. i think in situations like this he may be a little more confident, especially if his partner is reciprocating to the feeling. if you have any thoughts on the manner let me know <3

The Tulpar was filled with mundane tasks. Wake up, clean, eat, shower, and go back to sleep— a routine that’s been ingrained into your body. A continuous cycle that would have bored you to death without your beloved music. You were grateful for your position, no matter how minuscule, yet you couldn’t deny the wish for something more.

And luckily it came true; in the form of a young man nonetheless.

You weren’t one to mix business and pleasure, it just seemed like a disaster waiting to happen. Coming across Tulpar and the demographic you expected to be on the ship — older people that certainly weren’t your type — you were quite confident you wouldn’t go against your usual code. But alas, you surprised yourself while falling for a certain intern.

As bright eyed and slightly clueless he was, Daisuke was a pocket of sunshine you’ve come to truly adore. Always there when he can be, even if it means a quick kiss when you’re cleaning or a gentle pinch when passing by to remind you of who was in your corner.

Keeping your growing relationship a secret from your coworkers was troublesome but extremely necessary. You couldn’t imagine the expressions the others would display, especially Jimmy who just seemed to be far too eager to stomp on just about anyone's happiness; no matter the size.

Still, you couldn’t deny how thrilling it was at times. Pulling your partner into a quiet dark corner for a few extra kisses, or the secret looks the two of you gave each when in a public setting. The line was thinning longer and longer, close calls increasing as time passed.

And yet here you were, seated upon the living room couch; waiting for your beloved Daisuke.

Usually if the two of you wanted alone time when everyone was asleep you alternated between your bedrooms. At least there, there was a door and bed. But for some reason, Daisuke was adamant on spending some time out here; underneath the pretty nighttime screen.

Your eyes stared up at the blues and whites, head leaning back against the shoulder of the couch as music poured into your ears. Your thumb traced the little device, perfectly at ease.

That was until something delicately traced the back of your neck.

You swallowed a yelp, quickly turning with a jump to glare at the one responsible— who only grinned back at you.

“Daisuke! What if I had yelled?”

You stood up from the couch, watching the man walk around the before waltzing down the little steps. Within two strides he was standing in front of you, glancing down at you with the sweetest smile.

“But you didn't!” Daisuke chuckled the moment you lightly shoved his chest, catching your wrist in time before you could move it away. In doing so, he locked your fingers whilst his free hand went for the earbud occupying one of your ears. Pulling it out, the man then lifted it to his own, bringing himself closer to your form.

You met him, unoccupied hand sliding up to wrap your arm around his waist, laying your head against his chest. Between the melody of his heart beat and Tv Girl running through your ears, you were at complete bliss. As if you could fall asleep right then and there.

The two of you swayed, allowing yourselves to get caught up in each other rather than your surroundings. You felt his free hand sneak underneath your arm, pulling it higher until your hand was on top of his shoulder. After which, Daisuke’s hand found your waist, tugging you even closer and actually adding moves to your swaying.

You snorted softly, mumbling softly about him being corny to which the man only laughed. Silence continued after as the two of you danced slowly, carefully, as to hopefully not alert the others of your rather embarrassing nightly activities.

A step, another, and then a graceful stride. You wondered if Daisuke danced a lot back home. The thought caused you to laugh once again, just in time for your lover to twirl you.

Slithering his arm tighter around your waist, he pulled your back to his front, face being shoved into your neck.

Your eyes peeled open, staring up at the nighttime screen that stared back at you. “Dancing under the stars, huh?..”

“A perfect date.”

You smiled at his words, hand rose to reach back and lightly fuss with his hair. “Yeah, all girls love dancing at work while watching a blown up image of a fake sky.”

Daisuke laughed into your ear, the pitch perfectly going along with the music you shared.

“I told my dad I knew what the ladies wanted.”

You groaned softly, teetering between amusement and playful annoyance. You turned around in his hold, hands rising to hold his warm cheeks.

“You’re corny..”

Daisuke smiled, thumb tracing the small of your back, messing with the fabric of the top you wore. “And lucky for me, you’re into it.” You didn’t need to agree nor deny, given the sweet kiss you pressed to his lips was answer enough. He kneeled to meet you fully, tugging you so close as if wishing to melt into you. Your noses brushed against each other, cold tips warming as you consumed one another. You loved kissing Daisuke, not just because he was your boyfriend but more-so cause he was a damned good kisser.

His lips always moved so slow at first, before slowly picking up the longer you continued. A hand rose from your back to instead cup the back of your head, a shiver running down your spine the moment his fingers traced up your scalp; messing in your hair.

So desperate.. you two always were. The thought of any interruptions spurred you on to always savor each and every moment with as much as passion as possible.

And it seemed the both of you intended to do just that, as — ever so carefully — Daisuke walked backwards, leading you with him. Once close enough he was descending to the couch, taking you with him by the waist and pulling you onto his lap.

The two of you broke apart for a moment, gulping up the air around you greedily before smashing your lips together with even more vigor. Your hands were clutching his shoulders at this point, suddenly being reminded Daisuke wasn’t just some clueless man.

You shivered as you felt his hand glide, intruding your top to lay his fingers upon your warm skin. With each interlock of your tongues his fingers were digging into your flesh, a soft whine being pushed from his throat into your mouth. The sound alone caused your thighs to clench, moving carefully in his lap.

Which of course, was met with a hiss and a quick squeeze. You questioned this for a moment, before quickly realizing why it happened in the first place.

This only caused you to smile against him, lowering your hips fully before dragging them against him slowly.

Daisuke was off your lips in minutes, hands falling to your waist as a hushed groan escaped his bruised lips.

“Here?..” The man spoke gently, eyes flicking from between your bodies before back to your face. His eyebrows furrowed as you continued your languid drags, biting the inside of his cheek nervously.

You nodded slowly, leaning closer to press your lips to his ear. “Mhm.. here.”

“Then.. I want to feel— more. Please.” His words were sweet, allowing them to settle in the air for a moment before his fingers were curling to tug at your pants, allowing you to get the message. You stood up rather quickly, pushing your pants down and off, the bottoms pooling at your ankles.

You watched as Daisuke did the same, now only in plain boxers, a funny contrast to the gaudy everyday shirt he usually wore.

Stepping out of your pants, you caught his hands as you made your way back to his lap, brushing your clothed cunt right against his growing bulge as you sat down. It was your time to whine as you felt him through your thin fabrics, Daisuke capturing your lips rather quickly afterwards.

Slowly, you began that same languid pace, gripping his shoulders for stability as you dragged your hips back and forth.. back and forth. His nails were digging into your thighs, meeting your movement with a small, desperate thrust. Moans passed between the two of you, warmth, and music mixing into a sensation that you could only describe as euphoria.

Dramatic sure, but what else could you call it, exactly?

“Could come.. ju—just from this.” Daisuke mumbled the moment the two of you broke apart for air, his face falling to your neck to stamp wet kisses to your skin. He was gentle not to focus too much on a single area, worrying about leaving behind a mark. Though, it seemed rather contradictory given the location the two of you chose for your.. fun.

You were aching, panties surely soaked with arousal as that itch grew. You could only pant in his ear, unsure how exactly this felt so good. Maybe it was pent up, a mixture of stress and the misfortune of lack of alone time. Regardless, it wasn’t your job to figure it out at the moment.

The only job you had right now was to continue to chase this feeling, for as long as you could.

Daisuke pulled you closer if humanly possible, hips rising up from the couch as he ground up into you. He wasn’t lying early, despite zero actual contact he could feel himself twitching— begging for release. The effect you had on him was far too great, after all.

Desperate breaths escaped you, thighs shaky yet yearning for more. His touch, everything, you wanted to feel it all. Your fingers rose to curl into his hair, leaning into his ear as the softest more, dropped from your tongue.

Your words spurred him, fingers squeezing your flesh, nails tracing against those pretty marks that lined your hips.

“You want more?.. Of course, whatever you want.”

Daisuke could never deny you, no matter how small the request was. In minutes he was tugging his boxers down to his thighs, hand lazily dragging across his length. It was a pretty color, lighter than him, with a mole on the under side of his shaft.

The man then reached with his other hand to curl his finger on your panty, tugging it to the side and exposing your soft cunt to his hand. For a moment his finger gently circled your hardened bud, enjoy the pleasant noises you struggled to keep down.

But soon enough he was becoming as desperate as you, helping you position carefully, rubbing his weeping tip against your clit. Daisuke hissed, continuing to coat his dick in your arousal before finding your entrance, lining up, and raising his hips to push himself inside.

The both of you groaned, your eyes pinched closed as you sunk down. Your walls wrapped around his length perfectly, swallowing him up and keeping him deep inside. With each breath you released you clenched, causing the young man under you to struggle to keep his mind straight. Daisuke couldn’t help being so inexperienced, and well.. neither could you, given you felt a single movement would be enough to push you over the edge.

Your eyes slowly opened, gaze falling to his face, taking the time to map out his expression. Would it be corny to call him beautiful? Was it corny to find your lover beautiful in a such state? Under your mercy, as close as biologically possible? Maybe.. but you didn’t dwell on it long, instead deciding to graze your palms across his cheeks, thumbs coming to trace the moles on either side.

“I love you.”

Your words were earnest, laced with the sweetest honey. You smiled, watching his own signature smile cross his face, perfectly. Like any other time.

Daisuke pulled you even closer, a grip to your thigh as he leaned to just a breath’s away.

“See. Now you’re the corny one.”

Your lover swallowed the pretty laughter threatening to leave your chest, all smiles as his arms wrapped around your waist. Once tucked close and snug, his hips, the small thrust enough for the both of you to sigh into the other’s mouth.

Soon enough your knees were pressing against the cushions, hips rising and falling into his lap. With each drop, wet skin smacked against each other, certainly a worrying sound but the two of you seemed to no longer care.

You were too caught up in each other anyway.

Your fingers curled into his silky locks, crying out into his mouth as he stirred you up deeply. His length hit each spot perfectly, a mold made specifically for you. And what’s more, the moment a hand snaked under your skirt to drag his thumb across your nipple— you began to see stars.

Daisuke groaned into you, meeting each drop of your hips with desperate thrusts. You felt so good, way too good. He tried to keep his voice down as to avoid alerting the others, and hear you. You just sounded far too good to ignore.

Your shaky breaths, the way your voice pitched whenever his tip brushed against that special spot — don’t even get him started on the gasps you made when Daisuke went, just a little too deep. Alas he couldn’t focus on the growing list of reasons for his obsession you; bringing you complete pleasure was the main objective.

“You’re clenching me.. you’re going to come, aren’t you?” Daisuke drawled against your lips, pressing a kiss to them before dragging his own over to your ear. Each pant and groan hit it directly, the man at this point helping you rise and fall upon his cock.

“I want you to finish.. all over me.”

“Daisuke—!”

“Not so loud..” The intern spoke in a soft rasp, squeezing you close as his end grew closer. “I don’t need the others to hear you like this. It’s on—only for me, yeah?”

You shook your head rapidly, lip nearly bleeding from how hard you were biting down, your fingers digging into his shoulders— sure to leaves marks despite the shirt he wore.

Within moments you were seeing white, clutching him as you fulfilled his wish. Your arousal coated his dick and thighs, making a sticky mess that was surely on the couch by now.

Daisuke swore under his breath, bringing you onto his lap in one final thrust before filling you up. Luckily he remembered you took the pill as to regulate your period.

The two of you panted, in sync with each other and the music that seemed to still be blasting in your ears. How exactly your earbuds sustained that erratic movement, you will never know nor question.

You pulled back to glance at Daisuke, spotting the man already looking at you, smiling brightly.

You rolled your eyes, glancing down at the space between your two bodies.

“This is going to be so annoying to clean.”

Daisuke stifled his laughter, pulling you into a tight hug, eyes shining whilst he stared up at the screen;

“Maybe… I love you too, [Name].”

[diz-eaze]

THE WAY I LOVE YOU (yandere! genshin women x female reader)

; soft yandere, written in 2023, pre-sumeru pre-fontaine and pre-natlan, manipulation, unhealthy relationships. characters listed; eula, mona, beidou, ganyu, hu tao, ningguang, shenhe, yelan, ayaka, kokomi, ei, yae, lumine, sandrone, arlecchino.

; Yandere drabbles.

MAYBE YOU had just been in the wrong place and at the wrong time. It started out innocently enough, going outside the city on Mondstadt to explore more areas - because there's more to life than just your everyday city, despite how EULA may protest against it. Despite how she claims that staying in Mondstadt is the best choice.

While you certainly do respect Eula, you disagree with her views. You're not someone born to just be limited within a city - you're not.

And so, with Eula's ignorance, you set off into the dark night to venture out into the green fields. Because you'll be fine, you know that. There's going to be hilichurls milling around but it's nothing that you can't handle, hopefully - you'll just run away or hide when you see one, easy enough.

When you do encounter one, your plan to hide crumbled miserably - not knowing there was a twig in your spot, you ended up stepping on it, resulting in a loud crack and thus alerting the nearby hilichurls. Running away from them isn't an option; you're trapped in your supposed hiding spot as the monsters circle around it.

Fighting back is a possibility, but you're so weak - you don't even have a vision, let alone carry around a weapon. So pray to tell, just how exactly can you win against them?

So, you think with acceptance, this is how you die. Disobeying your dear friend Eula only for you to end up getting mauled by the hilichurls - if you weren't in this life-threatening situation, you'd be embarrassed and sheepishly tell her that she'd been right all along. You can't, obviously.

It's useless to be sentimental, to cry - but you still do, feeling great pity for your friend. If you had just been more logical and accepted Eula's protective tendencies - you'd probably still be inside your apartment back in the city and enjoying the cool breeze.

You're not getting out of here alive and Eula is just going to wake up tomorrow to the news of your disappearance and discover your mangled body out in the wild-

In a split second, it seems like your surroundings looked so surreal as you spot blue in the distance - light blue hair, wielding a blue claymore. Blue, blue, blue. Are you hallucinating now? So desperate to live that your mind started conjuring up false images.

Hallucinating or not, you still hope - because it's the last thing you can do in this situation. But when the distant blur of blur gets closer and the features of the person are clearer - it's been made known to you that it is indeed Eula, angry and worried - but still Eula.

Relief floods into your body and you start crying for a different reason, glad to live to see another day. Because Eula is here to save you - to make sure you get back to the city alive and well. Though, one thought pesters in your mind, rolling around and never leaving you,

How had Eula known you went outside the city at night?

Astrology and magic have never been your strong suit. MONA knows that all too well - which is probably more reason as to why she's hellbent on teaching you what she knows about it. From her expensive books that contained teachings on astrology to her directly guiding you throughout the process of hydromancy, Mona doesn't cut corners when it comes to you.

Because in her eyes, maybe if you come to understand the inner workings of fate the way she does - then maybe you'll begin to find reasons behind her abhorrent actions - reasons why she's adamant when it comes to loving you.

But even as of right now, as Mona's hydro vision pulses with life as she uses her scryglass for live demonstration for you - it still stands true, astrology and magic are not your strong suit. It's not like you're imbecilic - you simply just don't find any reason why you'd take up astrology, especially if it's under the wish of Mona.

Still, just to appease her and keep her sated, you entertain the sessions she holds every day. Without a word of complaint or a sound of a groan - you remain compliant and willing because it's the best you can do in your situation.

Eyes focusing on Mona's hydro scryglass, you lazily copy her actions and summon your own. It's pretty, you'll admit - the scryglass. A wonderful gadget that only talented mages can use, you being part of the lucky ones, all thanks to Mona's hard work and dedication in teaching you. In contrast to Mona's blue one, yours is tinted in a different color - a pleasing shade to your eyes, something that lessens the burden of having to sit through her voice for hours on end.

Mona graciously showers you in praise, pride gleaming in her eyes. Then, with expert hands, she taps and maneuvers through the device - knowing it like the back of her hand. She instructs you to perform a basic spell - a transformative one. Turning an apple into another fruit or turning a frog into an inanimate object, it's simple enough.

As if reading off a manual, you follow what she asks - a tap here and there, and with the help of your vision, you turn a piece of paper into a pencil. You vaguely register Mona clapping and huffing in pride, too focused on the result of your spell.

It's so boring to be here and to learn a field that you have no interest in, and as Mona moves on to the next spell - astrology this time, most likely instructing you how to read the fates of other people - you just feel so numb. It's so lifeless to be stuck with Mona.

But like a robot programmed to do what it's told, you follow her instructions without complaint. Time and time again.

Dragging you out of the sweet comfort of your home into the unforgiving seas is BEIDOU's way of showing her love for you - if you can even classify her obsession as that. It's yesterday, you think, when she broke into your house while you were asleep in order to bring you aboard the ship she commands.

You'll love it out here, she boisterously states when you blearily open your eyes - only to be greeted by the sight of a wooden ceiling with Beidou right beside your new bed. This is home now, she says as she gently caresses your cheek. Me and the crew - we're you're new family!

But to be truthful, you'd rather not. Especially after you've been thrown into this predicament with absolutely no remorse for your personal feelings or comfort. In fact, you still haven't completely wrapped your head around reality before Beidou's hasty and swinging your arm to bring you up to the deck - where all her crewmates lie.

There, she introduces you as her lover. Despite your attempts to butt in and correct her, it's all drowned out by the sounds of the crewmates whooping and hollering - many congratulations are offered to Beidou, it seems that they weren't aware that she had a lover before all of this (even now, she still don't have one - you are not her lover, no matter how much she says so).

After the hype around you being introduced as her lover dies down, Beidou takes initiative to introduce you to each of her crew. And after that, I'll tour you around! - she said, tightly clinging onto your waist and not letting go.

The first you meet is Kazuha, a runaway from Inazuma who decided to stay aboard even after things have settled in his homeland. He's a sweet man - poetry and flowery words drip off his tongue like it's nothing and it brings you a sense of flattery when he earnestly compliments your features. A fact that Beidou takes notice of, as before you knew it, you're whisked away to meet another crewmate - Kazuha fading into the background.

You meet Furong, Sea Drake, and Xu Liushi who are all sailors. Huixing is a navigator and Suling is an ironworker. There are others but their names are only at the tip of your tongue - there but not enough for you to remember clearly.

True to her words, Beidou shortly takes you on a tour around the ship after you've met all of the people aboard. She speaks with enthusiasm and so much joy the whole time that you find yourself being envious of her, wishing that you can be happy even in your current situation.

But you're not. Not when you're here against your will - not when you didn't want to cruise the seas at all. You preferred your quaint apartment back in Liyue harbor than this rocky life as some 'lover' to the captain of the Alcor.

Day offs are rare enough for GANYU, considering her position as secretary and unhealthy work schedule - a complete workaholic, after all. But on the rare occasions where she's granted one, Ganyu makes sure to spend her free time with you. Nothing else.

It doesn't matter if the day is mundane or eventful - such fickle things don't matter to Ganyu, as long as you're there it's more than enough.

Though, it seems that Ganyu wanted to take you out into the harbor for her day off. It's a date, she bashfully tells you when you inquired about it. And so, with a muted sigh, you go inside your room to look for appropriate clothing, seeing as it's an important occasion.

It saddens you a bit at how being able to go outside is now a rare occurrence, but you force yourself to not linger on it too much, Think happy thoughts, think happy thoughts - you repeat in your head.

After you pick out a dress - cute and quaint, something that you know Ganyu would enjoy (but she insists that she'll enjoy any outfit that you're wearing, regardless of style), you look for jewelry to match - making sure to pick stones and jewels that suits the blue that Ganyu's hair possesses (It'll please her, you would know).

Because you're not doing this for you, you're doing this for her.

And when you slide the door open, greeted by the sight of Ganyu's awed expression and amazed eyes, you simply smile and thank her (as you have done many times before). She stumbles over, with flushed cheeks and fumbling fingers, to hold your hand - eager to explore the harbor with you by her side, a pretty eye candy.

You giggle at her enthusiasm (A bit too forced than you'd like), and the two of you make your way to the harbor - making idle talk along the way.

This won't be the first time you visit the harbor, but it's been a while. A whole century, if you remember correctly.

After all, the very thing that made Ganyu so attached to you in the first place was your immortality. Someone that can stay by her slides for centuries to come - a person who she doesn't have to fear mortality with.

A perfect fit for her, she'd claim.

During the nighttime, it's normal for the entire city to be sound asleep - with the few exceptions of the millelith on night duty and those who simply have no need to. And at this point, you'd be off to dreamland too, if not for HU TAO, who had persistently dragged you off to Wuhang Hill.

If the two of you were ordinary citizens, it would probably take hours before you'd arrive at the aforementioned destination because of monsters and the like. But as vision bearers, a divine gift from the gods, it was nothing but mere exercise. And so, within an hour or two, you've arrived at the very top - where the creepy forest resides.

Earlier, Hu Tao had joked about her hand being free for you to hold in case you get scared (and you responded by kindly flipping her off), but as you gaze around the mist-heavy forest, you think you'll take her up on that offer. While you're on the edge of being jumpscared by the mere sound of a twig snapping, Hu Tao is at full ease - shoulders drooped and posture relaxed.

"Tao, Why are we even here?" But what you wanted to ask yourself was why did you even agree in the first place?

"Why not?" Comes Hu Tao's lax response, arms crossed behind her head as she mills around the place like she owns it.

You don't reply, unimpressed with her answer. Sensing your displeased attitude, Hu Tao cackles and grabs your shoulders in assurance. "I'm kidding! I'm kidding, We're here to explore, what else?"

"Explore what?" You retort, letting your body get pushed around by her.

"This," Hu Tao gestures to the forest around the two of you. "Duh!"

"Okay," You give in. "Lead the way, miss Hu."

Hu Tao giggles at your words (the sound is nice, you think) and boldly grabs your hand to intertwine with yours. Before you can ask, she beats you to it. "It's so you don't get lost, dummy."

Her hand fits into yours like a perfect puzzle piece (like you're made for her and she's made for you), and you try your best to ignore the way your heart races just thinking about it.

Forcing yourself to stop thinking about it, you smile at Hu Tao and ask her what she's gonna tour to you. It's a secret, she shushes you. So you do - you stay silent and follow where she'll lead you.

"Just make sure you make it quick, Tao." You quietly remind her. "I have plans tomorrow."

She knows, but she can't say it to your face - lest you find out about her stalking you to know your schedule. So Hu Tao grins and nods, grip tightening ever so slowly.

"I will! Don't worry, (Y/N)."

NINGGUANG places a hairpin on the crown of your head; it's a pretty accessory - the hairpin. Designed to imitate a glaze lily and holds the same beauty as the authentic item, it's almost impossible to differentiate the two, if not for the translucent material that the hairpin possesses. The material makes it glitter marvelously under the sunlight and only adds a dreamy gleam when decorated on your tresses.

"A pretty flower for a pretty thing." Ningguang remarks after she's finished securing the piece onto your hair, dainty and perfectly placed - as expected of her. You're sitting on a chair in front of her vanity, all of which screams expensive, bare as the day you were born. She studies your face for a few more seconds before moving on.

The next item to graze your precious skin is a necklace studded in the finest noctilucous jade - the ones that are mined with utmost precision and expertise, all at the order of the tianquan herself. You wouldn't be surprised either if this was custom-made, commissioned to be a glorified collar of yours - an item you will rarely take off and an item meant to symbolize the tianquan's ownership of you.

Still, you smile and thank her earnestly. It's what she taught you, after all.

Ningguang accepts your gratitude with a mirthful chuckle, opting to focus more on her fingers that were faintly tracing along your bare collarbones. Her touch is featherlight and it gives you shivers. After a moment, Ningguang leans in to kiss your lips - her lips are soft and yours are, too. You can still faintly taste the tobacco on her lips, most likely because of her smoking pipe.

For a while, the two of you stay like that - Ningguang savoring your lips as if they were candy and you taking it all, naked with nothing but a glaze lily hairpin and noctilucous jade necklace graced on your body. Ningguang's lips parted from yours slowly (a string of saliva present), maintaining eye contact with you all throughout - the intensity of her red eyes tempts you to look away, but you can't.

So you watch with bated breath as Ningguang wipes away the drool that's close to dripping off your lips.

She leans back soon enough, straying from you for a moment to look for the next item that's blessed enough to be decorated on your body. She comes back, her dainty fingers holding onto two matching sango pearl bracelets, one for each of your hands.

Without command, you hold out your wrists for her to clasp the bracelet on. She does so with such gentleness that it almost hurts, such care that it makes your eyes water - because you've never been loved so thoroughly as Ningguang has before.

Ningguang shushes you because your tears shan't fall for such a measly reason. For her, you deserve to be loved with every fiber of her being, and who would she be if she didn't fulfill that promise?

Prior to meeting you, SHENHE had always thought that she'd never fit into the human world as an adepti-raised mortal. The red ropes that bind her murderous intentions also bind her emotions as a whole - making her a somewhat blank slate of a human. It doesn't mean Shenhe cannot and does not experience emotions - she does, albeit. rarely.

But after Shenhe was blessed to encounter you for the first time, she finally understands what it means to be mortal - to love like one, and to care like one - or at least she thinks so. It's a bit unsettling, how despite the red ropes that bind her homicidal tendencies, some of them are able to bypass such adepti technic, all because of the strong urge to protect you like no other.

You're like a ray of light in Shenhe's bleak world, one that's filled with meditation on top of the mountains and maintaining to control her urges - all of which are repetitive and tedious, but she must, for the better. After meeting you, it opened up a whole new experience for her - the want to accompany you in the harbor, the longing to hold your hand (or maybe give it a quick peck), and the spark in her chest that erupts every time you so much as to smile at her.

You're addicting, Shenhe thinks. A sweet source of dopamine and serotonin - all for her to consume and devour like a man starved.

Sometimes, when you're too busy with life to invite Shenhe to hang out, she takes it upon herself to monitor your movement and watch your day as you mingle about - trying to bury the urge to slam the man down the concrete who previously flirted with you (patience is a virtue and it would be best to strike when there are no witnesses around).

Shene follows you from a distance, not too far to not see you and not too close to be detected - she's self-aware enough that you would not take it kindly if you were to discover the acts that she's been committing, such as stalking and murder. Not that she plans on stopping, she simply worries at the prospect of you distancing yourself from her - which would no doubt break her heart.

So, with skilled precision, Shenhe continues to follow you - remaining undetected with such ease that it's almost unfair.

She's doing this all for you, the love of her life.

Every high-ranking member of the society within the Liyue harbor knows that the Yanshang teahouse is actually a casino, a discreet establishment that only operates during the nighttime - where the gamblers come to life, ready to take on anyone that dares to. And as the owner, YELAN is obliged to indulge in the games that her own casino offers - all while you stick by her side like the good housewife that you are.

Every time you pass by those that occupy the casino, you're always met with curious glances and stupefied stares - Yelan wouldn't blame them, she knows you're a beauty and it's her job to ensure that the clothes and jewelry you're wearing tonight only amplifies this. It's not a crime to show off your significant other, after all.

The dress you're wearing is revealing, beautiful and tantalizing - all for her to undress when the time comes later in the night. It's a color that perfectly complements your (Hair color) hair and (Eye color) eyes, it's so you. The pieces of jewelry hanging off your body only adds more sparkle and expense to your charm - unaffordable to anyone else in the casino, save for Yelan.

But when some stare longer than she'd like, Yelan would bring you closer to her side - hands gripping onto your waist ever so tightly. She's a possessive lover, one that loves to show off - but still possessive nonetheless.

Soon, she settles down for a bit to play a quick game of poker - making sure that you sit down in her lap like the pretty eye candy that you're meant to be. Yelan is lax throughout the entire ordeal, never once letting up on her poker face, and when she inevitably wins - she gives an easy smile before collecting her prize and whisking you away, too.

You see the enraged face of her defeated opponents, though you say nothing. Whatever enemies and allies Yelan makes is none of your business, you're here to sit still and look pretty - not to blabber and annoy. This is something that she drilled into your pretty, empty head - back when your relationship was forced and loveless on your part (now, it's not much different, save for your newfound acting skills).

What she does is none of your business, Yelan is the moneymaker in your relationship - the one that works to bring home money to her adorable wife. While you, as the pretty housewife, is tasked to prepare her delicious homecooked meals and a loving embrace to come home to.

It doesn't matter that you, too, wanted to have a normal job. What Yelan wants, you oblige.

It's always been that way.

Usually, AYAKA would be the one who had an audience. It's her that has eyes all focused on. It's her that catches their captivation. But right now, the star of the show isn't her.

It's you.

You, dancing on the water and defying its properties with your vision. You, dressed in an intricately designed garb for this performance. You, looking as ethereal as the day she first laid her eyes on. You, who moves with grace and practice that only experienced performers could do.

You, you, you.

Ayaka watches with bated breath, utterly hypnotized with everything you do - like she was just a puppet on a string, and you, her puppeteer. She likes to think that during your performances, it's just you and her - no one else.

Just the two of you, entrapped in your own little bubble with no outside disturbances.

Of course, that thought is quick to crumble when your performance ends and the entire audience begins to clap, reminding Ayaka that other people get to see you, too.

Acknowledging it leaves a bitter taste on her tongue, denial, and jealousy mixing together like a perfect combination. She knows she has no right to act, let alone feel, like this - you aren't hers (as much as she wants it) and she isn't yours.

Really, Ayaka doubts you even knew her. Your relationship with her is nothing but a performer and a watcher. Nothing more.

(She hates it.)

But she can't just admit defeat like this, can she? Ayaka is a Kamisato, a noble family in Inazuma. Surely, with enough of a push, you'll come to her if she used her influence, no?

And she'll welcome you with open arms, too. Then, your performances will only be limited to her eyes and hers only - no one else within the audience as you dance and sing around for her.

Just like how it should be.

She'll even be the one to wake you up every morning, the one to dress you up and usher you to the dining room. No servant within the Kamisato estate deserves to see you bare and pretty - no, that sight should just be reserved for only her.

And maybe, somewhere down the line, she'll court you to earn your hand in marriage - just like what the fairytales do.

As the divine priestess of the Watatsumi island and tactician, KOKOMI holds a myriad of responsibilities, resulting in her work piling up with each day. From the complaints of citizens to negotiations with the shogun's army - Kokomi handles it all, with grace.

And with so many responsibilities to hold, Kokomi is bound to be burdened with stress. But, she doesn't mind.

Not when her cute stress reliever is you, after all.

There are countless actions she can command you to do and you'd do so in a heartbeat, but Kokomi finds that making you read aloud to her is the best.

Books read by your precious voice are a blessing to her ears. The genre of the book itself does not matter, whether it be a cheesy romance novel or a dictionary, anything you read is bound to be amazing - it's you.

So, with her head laid in your lap, and you preparing to begin reading a novel - Kokomi's accumulated stress from the week can already be felt vanishing.

"What novel is that, love?" Kokomi's soft voice questions, fingers lightly tracing the spine of the book.

You don't respond, choosing to read aloud instead.

The plane of euthymia unsettles you - EI knows that. But that doesn't stop her from forcefully keeping you within while the puppet handles the outside affairs, leading to Ei devoid of any disturbances and worries. Just her and you. As it always should.

The place is bleak and suffocating - the red hurts your eyes and the atmosphere is downright depressing, you wonder how Ei can live like this. To lock herself up and spend centuries meditating inside this plane - unlike you, who can't stand being here any longer.

You don't want to be here, you made it known from the very start. And yet, like a persistent bug, Ei ignores it in favor of meditating while you're within her eyesight - safe from any threats and dangers, or so she claims.

Yet, you don't have a choice - much less stand a chance against Ei when it comes to confrontation. What can you, a measly human, do in face of an archon?

As distasteful it is to admit, nothing.

It's best you keep your mouth shut and indulge Ei on her whims, lest you anger the god of eternity.

Grand narukami shrine is, well, grand. The exterior of the place is nothing short of breathtaking - the way the buildings were structured so intricately and the shrine maidens out and about only add a comforting air to the place. Not to mention the sacred sakura tree that's shaped into a fox - no doubt well taken care of by YAE.

For all this beauty and pleasing view from the top, it does not quench your longing to venture past this mountain - to experience more of Inazuma than what this place has to offer. Of course, the head priestess is opposed to that, for she condescendingly tells you that such musings bring nothing but demise to your life. Don't you know? The outside world is nothing short of traumatising, you're better off staying here - where your dear protector can keep you safe.

You protest and protest against her for what it's worth yet you're shot down each and every single time - Yae is always ready with a convenient excuse to tell you off. It's frustrating, to be treated like you know nothing better and that you're a dumb, stupid woman when you're clearly much more than that.

But every time you get the strength to potentially fight back against her, Yae's mischievous attitude crumbles apart - in place a stern facial expression that dares you to oppose against her - her, who is your lifeline. Her, who so graciously saved you from a life of poverty by letting you work for the grand narukami shrine. Her, who loves you as no one else will.

Yae supposes that she spoiled you too much. Maybe it's time for punishment? To remind you of your place.

Despite it all, you're grateful for the way LUMINE lets you travel around Teyvat - as long as you're with her, of course. It could be worse, you know. You've seen the way other people aren't allowed past the borders of their nation, sometimes even the comforts of their homes - you pity people like that. You truly do.

Paimon stays silent about the nature of your relationship, which is probably for the best (much to your chagrin). For a terrible liar, so far Paimon has been nothing but amazing in keeping her mouth silent - unlike her usual blabber mouth-self.

The first time Lumine took you to Mondstadt, she had introduced you there as her lover. Sweet and loving, is what your relationship appeared to the public eye with Paimon there to back it up. Still, the scope of green fields lessened your devastation to the situation - bringing comfort, even if just a little bit.

Liyue was eye-catching, the harbor built upon intricate buildings and rich history. Lumine toured you around where the population was at its peak - resulting in many curious eyes wondering just who you were to the savior of Liyue. A lover, perhaps?

You weren't able to enter Inazuma, not after the sakoku decree was lifted. Lumine told you the atmosphere was much more grim and cold when she first arrived, as opposed to the lively people and foreigners now plaguing the streets. She brought you along for the Irodori festival, where she made sure to conceal you from prying eyes - afraid that others would take a liking to you.

Yes, despite it all - no matter how suffocating her love is - you're truly grateful for the way Lumine lets you roam free. Or as free as you can be under her tight grip.

SANDRONE is known for her unpredictable outbursts - something that's more prone whenever you're involved. For this reason, the Fatui recruits make sure to distance themselves far away from you in order to not invoke the wrath of the marionette.

Unfortunately, not every underling can get the unspoken rule immediately - leading to dire mistakes so early on in their lives. How unfortunate - not that you can be of any help to them.

Especially when you're given a front-row seat by yours truly, where you're given a perfect view of just how she can turn this supposedly hideous man into an even more unsightly doll.

In the beginning, you vehemently protested - thrashed, shook, and pleaded for her to have an ounce of mercy. Though, now, you know better and choose to keep silent - blankly staring ahead with no visible emotion on your face.

When the scissors come into contact with the man's collarbone, ripping a scream out of his throat, you know that the show has begun.

It's only a matter of time until the poor Fatui recruit is transformed into a doll. Or a corpse, if Sandrone was feeling generous.

ou don't like children. That much you relayed to ARLECCHINO on your first meeting. At that time, she simply nodded her head and continued on with finishing her meal. Back then, when the two of you had only met - neither of you was aware of what would spiral down with this relationship.

Looking back at it now, you wished you never met the knave. Since it lead to where you are now, taking care of the orphans like you're someone being paid to do so - when in reality it's just Arlecchino wanting some sick version of play house.

But, you sigh and continue on with taking care of the countless children that the house of hearth houses. Endure, endure, endure - you tell yourself this every day, you'll break free from her soon enough. You can't stay here forever, it's illogical.

Or at least, you hope so.

[thesehandsfic]

hiii this is not really a command or a suggestion but i was curious how you think adam handles jealousy in his relationship with ronan/if you think he grows out of how he acted jealous with blue or if it changes in any way

answer is yes and no re: growing out of it. i think adam's a selfish possessive guy & he doesn't have any desire to really change that. ronan, also, enables it, allows it, likes it. i think the older adam gets and the more comfortable he becomes with himself and the better he gets at being alive in general, the more stable he becomes wrt his relationship(s) & his place in everybody else's life. i think a part of the reason he was jealous with blue because he thought gansey was better than him so he was irritated he was being traded out for the newer/richer/cleaner cut model. there is nobody better for ronan, there is nobody else ronan would want, there is nothing else ronan could possibly need; adam knows this, likes this, gets comfortable with this & eventually just sits in this. but i think it's also fun for him to be possessive/showy, because ronan is hot, and rich, and a little odd looking. text evidence: when he makes a point of whispering in ronan's ear in front of everybody for absolutely no reason. very funny way for him to say "this is mine, he knows it, don't get any ideas." i think adam stays prickly forever, i think adam stays egotistical & also a little insecure forever, i think he knows ronan is going to be his forever & he doesn't really have to worry about being jealous of anyone in any legitimate, worrisome way beyond the gratification he gets out of exhibiting control over ronan in public/in front of their peers. and also, if we're talking about canon, ronan's, like, literally a god. and adam's just...bending him over. like he's just...fucking a god. imagine what that's doing to his ego. what the fuck does he have to be jealous about? everybody else should be jealous of HIM, honestly. so: yes and no. he will oscillate violently between despicable ego and debilitating insecurity until he dies, i think. ronan's just happy to be involved.

[kidspawn]

In regards to this post

One thing to consider, which I was speaking to @feralkwe about, is how Gansey and Adam all but explicitly have romantic/more-than-platonic feelings towards one another. I don’t know if this was intended, and obviously The Raven Cycle dabbles in that blurring of lines between what is considered friendship, romantic, queerplatonic, etc. And we all joke that their divorce arc and their situationship is the real emotional crux of the first two books (when literally Adam’s love for Gansey is the main reason he takes the actions he does.), but... we’re not wrong?

In regards to the late night phone calls, where Gansey mentions Adam as the first choice to call when he can’t sleep, and alludes to this being not only his initial urge, but it being a common occurrence. Correlate with the idea of the reason Gansey is in love with Blue being that when he talks to her, he can sleep. When he grows explicitly romantic feelings for Blue, he begins calling her to speak and voice his thoughts and to make his head quiet. An action he participates in with Adam during the first book. Not just in phone calls, but Adam serves as the person he bounces ideas off of, the person he goes to when his thoughts need an outlet, and the person he calls when he can’t sleep. 

And this was pointed out, and I’m running with it - Gansey and Blue start hanging out after Adam and Gansey’s relationship gets incredibly tense. And I’m not saying that Gansey was coping by almost replacing Adam with Blue in this dynamic, but Blue becomes more of Gansey’s confidant as Adam grows distant. And I love Blue and Gansey and this is not to frame Blue as the second choice, or any such bizarre notion, but the emotional connection is one Gansey desperately craves and associates with a romantic connection. (Though he doesn’t voice this as something he uses to define love until Adam asks him how he knows he’s in love in The Raven King. So. Food for thought.)

I also think, while it’s hard to piece together Adam’s own stance (because getting a straight [heh] answer out of Adam is like going up a stream without a paddle except you’re on a cardboard box and the river is raging and intent on destruction for even trying to navigate it), I think it comes down to: Adam’s faith in Gansey, and Adam’s envy of Gansey. Adam’s “imperfect faith” in magic but his unwavering faith in Gansey, and his inability to say no to him (a sentiment he makes explicit, he does not think he can deny Gansey, and he shows this multiple times), his devotion to Gansey being the main reason he kickstarts the events of the last book. More obvious, and incredibly damning, is Adam’s relationship with envy and wanting to be like someone and how that translates to his attraction. Each explicit attraction Adam has is tied into a sense of envy, a quality of the person he wants to emulate. And his envy of Gansey is a constant in his every interaction. Also, you could say a lot about Adam being useful and seeing usefulness as a trait to express his affection, and his determination to be useful to Gansey and help him accomplish his goals. 

Anyway, this could all mean nothing and I’m just imagining things except I’m not and I stand firm that Adam and Gansey would have kissed if anyone had given Gansey a sip (a sip!) of alcohol in Adam’s presence. And yeah bros being bros, but something something about “hey tiger” and “Gansey was stupid about Adam” and “I can sleep when I talk to her” and not saying no to Gansey and Adam wanting to protect and save Gansey and god was that casual? I’m not saying this all leads me to read the relationship with a romantic undertone, but please know that Gansey wanted to smooth Adam’s forehead with his thumb like his mother did to his father. Okay, have a good night <3

[contrarianwitt]

a deep dive on adam/blue

okay i just need to do talk about blue and adam’s brief “relationship” because (1) i never used to like it and it always felt needless in the story/got in the way of the found family, but upon rereading it works well in the narrative and (2) there is way too much underlying misogyny when discussing blue that i just need to talk about

the gist is that blue and adam are such similar people who were both using their relationship as deflection, and were not good to eachother because they’re 16/17! not because they are evil or irredeemable

but the reason i realized upon rereading why the adam/blue relationship is so important in the first two books is because it shows us exactly why both pynch and bluesey work so well:

adam wanted blue to be the simple thing in his life that isn’t tarnished by his abuse, which is a completely valid reaction from the trauma he is facing. he’s secretive about his home life (not that he owes that to her) because he wants her to see a different version of himself. that’s why he is more upset about the kissing than the lack of emotional romantic connection.

adam calling blue in front of ronan, pointing out to gansey that he “got blue” without him shows it’s also just a teenage boy competition thing. he doesn’t really understand what entails in a healthy relationship and just wants blue, to have anything of his own. this makes sense for a traumatized 17 year old, but isn’t fair for blue to have to be the simple “easy” thing in his complicated life when she has her own issues and life, and adam is in a really bad mental state and expecting things from her she doesn’t want to give

while adam wants to seperate from his abuse, blue wants to seperate from her curse. she does want adam, and she firmly tells the universe that she wants to choose him, not gansey as an effort to escape their fate.

but of course, she is inevitably drawn to gansey and blue tells gansey about the curse and not adam, because she doesn’t want to break their allusion that they could just be normal teenagers, and gansey quite literally needs to know or he will die.

it is unfair to adam that she immediately went to gansey after and used him as deflection from her curse when she knew something could happen with his best friend, and to hide it from him after.

this conflict is showcased really well in their fights in the dream thieves. adam is solely focused on why blue won’t kiss him, blue is focused on why he wont tell her anything, and just keeps bringing it back to gansey (again, emotional connection vs the kiss, the curse and adam’s abuse lingering)

adam is extremely unfair to blue during this because he acts as if blues romantic attention is something he deserves, even pushing it after she tells him about her curse because he is so desperate for connection and blue doesn’t just want to be his girlfriend:

blue is extremely unfair because after the fight, she immediately went to gansey, his best friend right after they broke up, and didn’t consider adam’s feelings or how effected he was by his trauma and how rocky his friendship with gansey was - especially talking about adam with gansey

so, yes they both messed up and used eachother!

but at their core, it shows how well adam and ronan work: someone adam can kiss and love who has seen and fought his abuse head on and still loves him for it and understands him. he never got a chance to try and hide from ronan, he knew adam was from the beginning

and why blue and gansey are soulmates: someone who has an emotional connection with blue and sees her as a person and a friend first, who wants to kiss her, badly, but doesn’t expect anything. (there’s a good parallel in tdt of gansey discussing blue here vs the adam fight)

but onto the underlying misogyny: somehow the blame is always put onto blue for “cheating” and acting as if she was a master manipulator?? there seems to be a weird undertone by placing the blame on the only female character, while the boys are allowed time to grow and make mistakes and just be mean! especially since blue didn’t know half the things going on with adam, and wasn’t trying to hurt him, but it is always off-putting to me when people are always so defensive of everyone except blue…

i think they’re both equally at fault! it’s messy and mean, but the fact that they both heal and both recognize and regret the hurt they’ve done to each other shows there’s no need to completely absolve one party. like they both admit they were shitty, we should be able to do the same and love them all the more because it’s real! they’re young! they get it right eventually! i love them both so much

[uptondixon]

"You can hear it in the silence" - Sam Carver x Intelligence Officer!Reader

I noticed there's a surprisingly small amount of Sam Carver fanfics out here so this was born!

Reader is an officer from the Intelligence unit, she and Carver have been dating in secret for a couple of months. After a tough call involving both Truck and Intelligence, Carver can't help but demonstrate his love for you.

One robbery in progress, a bomb, and a bunch of civilians hurt. That is not how anyone imagined a Sunday morning to go. 

After the mess was contained, two out of four offenders were dead after a shooting with CPD. The other two, however, disappeared among the crowd of civilians. Paramedics were handling the wounded in triage while the firefighters were dealing with the remains of the explosion. 

“Y/n?” Voight said, calling your attention to him. “What about the guard you talked with?”

“He seemed nervous Sarge, even scared, and it wasn’t because of the robbery,” you said, checking the information you wrote about the guard. “The story he told, it looked rehearsed to me.”

Voight nodded, “Okay, you talk to him again and see if you can get more info, meanwhile Kev and Adam can search his proprieties so we can try and make a connection—”

“Y/n!” a shout was heard from a distance, directing your attention towards the sound.

Sam’s figure came into view. He was dressed with his coat and helmet, his face carrying a mix of worry and relief. You couldn’t help but leave a small gasp, your face morphing into pure and genuine surprise.

“Carver! I—” you started but the words vanished when he hugged you. Your arms wrapped around him, instinctively hugging him back. The embrace was so strong it lifted you a little off the ground, making you smile.

“Sam,” you said, a smile still on your face. Breaking the hug was hard since he was holding you so tight, but he started to let go when you said his name. Your feet met the ground again. 

“I saw you in the middle of the shooting, I thought you were going to be shot!” Carver said, his hands holding yours. 

“I'm fine, I ducked in time,” you smiled at him again, trying to soothe his worries. “We all did,” you looked at your team behind you, Sam’s eyes following yours.

He suddenly went quiet, his eyes staring at your intertwined hands. Realization hit him that you two were in public. 

You smiled at him sheepishly, arching your eyebrows and holding his hands tighter for reassurance. You knew he was feeling shy, it was so cute the way his eyes shifted back and forth between your eyes and the ground. You were not any different, looking between him and your team. You both sure did not expect your relationship to be out like this, but there was no coming back now. 

Your team held both confused and smiley faces. Hailey and Jay were smiling so big you could count every tooth in their mouth. They have been suspecting about your relationship with said firefighter after catching you messaging him during a boring lookout late at night. Another one who had suspicions was Voight, he heard from Mouch one night over dinner at his and Trudy's house that he saw you and Carver talking at Molly's. On the other hand, Adam, Kim, and Kevin looked absolutely shocked. They appeared to be the only ones who missed any signs about this.

“Is everything okay guys?” Stella's voice brought you back to reality. She was more discreet with her reaction than the others, but you could spot a small smile forming in her mouth.

“Of course, Lieutenant,” Carver said, regaining his composure. “I’ll see you later, yeah?” he smiled that smile you love so much. Staring into his blue eyes, you smiled back. 

“See you around, Y/n,” Stella said, leaving with Carver following behind.

You nodded with a smile, walking back to your team. 

“Don't look at me like that, Adam,” you said pointing a finger at him. Adam was staring at you as if you had grown another head.

“Well forgive my shock, but is that the reason why you rejected all the guys I told you about?”

“Bro, I rejected them because they suck.”

“They do not suck, Y/N, they’re nice guys.”

“Well, would you date them?”

“Enough you two,” Voight said with a ghost of a smile. “Let’s get back to the case.”

After listening to the rest of Voight’s instructions you all left in the direction of the cars.

“Now, I’m your partner, how come I’m one of the last people to know about this?” Kevin said, getting into the passenger seat of your car. 

“Y’all need to share when stuff like this happens!” Kevin said through the window when Jay and Hailey passed beside your car to get to their truck.

All you could do now was laugh and get ready for the teasing coming your way in the next few weeks.

[silverbladexyz]

TW: Mentions of death, injuries, self-loathing. Part 2 to this. Part 3 is here.

"I can't believe you sometimes. What if you had actually been killed because of your recklessness?!"

"But I wasn't! Even if combat isn't my strong suit, I had it all under control; and besides, these wounds are nothing compared to what we've faced before!"

In the normally tranquil environment of the Port Mafia's infirmary, two voices argued back and forth. One laced with worry and anger, the other laced with guilty adamance. A pair of best friends seemed to be the reason behind this noise; with their stubbornness a guise of the true feelings that they harboured for each other.

"Are you seriously kidding me right now? Even if you had it all under control, that doesn't mean you can gamble your life away like it's nothing! How do you think everyone would feel if you died? Do you want to put them through more pain and suffering that could've been prevented if you were more cautious? Do you even care?!"

"..."

Instead of replying, you turned away, suddenly finding the window to be more interesting than whatever was going on right now.

He was right. You didn't think properly about the consequences before you jumped straight in to engage with the enemy, even if you may have had a backup plan.

"... I'm sorry."

It was soft, but Chuuya managed to catch it.

He gave a small sigh, his shoulders dropping as the tension in them wore out. You fiddled with your bandages, not having the courage to look at him in the eyes. Did you even deserve to, afterall? When you worried him sick after he learnt that he almost lost you?

You heard his footsteps approaching you, and mentally prepared for the next thing that he was going to say.

Only for him to somewhat tug you into his arms.

Your eyes widened, and you blinked several times before realising that Chuuya Nakahara, your best friend, was hugging you.

His breath fanned against your collarbone as he buried his face into your shoulder. Strong arms held you close to him, being mindful of the injuries that you sustained on your body- yet the grip they held you in was tight but secure.

"... You idiot. Don't you dare do that again."

It was the most vulnerable you had ever seen him.

You hugged him back, inhaling his rich scent as an unknown heat bloomed in your chest.

"I won't. I promise, Chuuya."

His warmth never left your memories.

Now, you watched as he stood with her, holding her hand. They were too far away for you to make out their words, but whatever she said made Chuuya laugh. A genuine, happy laugh that seemed so much more different from the short chuckles he normally gave you.

He put his arm around her shoulder, and you unconsciously hugged your body as you felt yourself getting colder. It was the third of December- the start of another winter in Yokohama. Marking the six month anniversary of their relationship.

A wry smile made it's way on your face as Chuuya pulled Yasuko in for a kiss. Even though it was a short peck, it was enough to make your heart twist in longing that exemplified whenever you were around him. It was stupid; you knew that your best friend deserved to have someone much better than the monster you were, but it didn't stop you from wishing that you were her. Someone that was a sight for sore eyes, with an aura brighter than the blue skies- someone that could get Chuuya mesmerised.

You even noticed how he became slightly more distant in the friendship. You knew that he wasn't doing it on purpose; he was still the great best friend that he always was, but the little signs were there. Holding your hand so that you wouldn't get lost in the crowd had diminished to just staying close to you. Whenever you called him on a free day to ask if he wanted to hang out with you, he would apologise, saying 'I have a date with Yasuko later'. And the fact that you had the same free days really said something about how much they meant to him.

You walked away, the sight getting too much to handle. Once you were at a safe distance, you crumpled against a wall, biting down on the inside of your mouth to stop the tears from leaking out. A higher-ranking mafioso like you, crying over some crush? Pathetic. An unfitting model for your subordinates who looked up to you as a great unflinching leader.

"Why would you ever kiss me? I'm not even half as pretty." You chuckled bitterly, digging your nails into your palms. You hated it- the soft gaze in Chuuya's eyes whenever Yasuko was mentioned, the way that he gently held her hand, the way he became much more sweet and patient with her that was almost nothing like how he acted around you- you hated it all. You regretted not confessing to him sooner all those years ago.

But you were only the side character in their romance; forever doomed to support them while you suffered in silence.

Was there something or somebody that you could blame for this agony that you were currently in? Destiny, perhaps? Or even Cupid? Those names only made you scoff as you stuffed your hands into your pockets.

There was nobody you could blame except for yourself.

Perhaps it would have been better if you were the one who saved Yasuko, not Chuuya. They would have never spent as much time with each other, and you'd still have a chance at romancing him. None of this would have happened if the roles were reversed at that time.

But who were you kidding? One way or another, they’d end up together by the red string of fate. The most perfect match in all of Yokohama that could put every other couple to shame. And you'd always be the third wheel- the 'best friend' whose sacrifices went unseen just so that they could be happy.

Or maybe it would have been better if Yasuko didn't exist in the first place.

"-Y/N? Y/N?"

A voice broke you out of your thoughts, and you blinked a bit before refocusing onto the girl in front of you.

"Is everything okay? N-not that you have to tell me what's wrong, but if you ever need someone to talk to, I'll always be here for you."

Yasuko looked at you with a concerned expression, her eyes searching your face for any sign of discomfort.

Those innocent, beautiful eyes of hers that had held Chuuya captive in their gaze.

Ah, right. You were currently in the shopping mall with her, because her boyfriend had asked you to accompany her like some sort of bodyguard. And who were you to refuse, as his best friend who was always there for him? Well, you were grateful that Chuuya trusted you enough to let you near Yasuko. You had seen how protective he was of her.

"... Nothing. I'm alright."

You smiled at her, all traces of your previous emotions now gone. How could you have let your composure slip so easily? This hangout was so that you could 'get closer' with her, not reminiscing about the pathetic past that held you captive in this agonising love.

She frowned a little, but before she could say anything else, you jumped at the opportunity to distract her. Anything that could make you temporarily forget your pain for one moment was what you desperately needed now.

"Oh, looks like they're selling discounted jewellery! Let's take a look! You might find something that you like."

Grabbing her wrist, you dragged her towards the jewellery store despite having no intentions to buy anything. You simply wanted her to be distracted by the precious stones, so meticulously cut and fit into fine metal that it was laughable how they were mostly for show. A valuable trinket only made to be admired and forgotten at the end of the day, even when so much blood had been spilled over them. Blood that would forever stain the hands of a sinner such as you.

"Oh! I remember Chuuya taking me to a similiar store! He bought me a ring; I said that there was no need, but he insisted." Yasuko glanced down at the gold-and-red circlet that lay snugly around her index finger, her gaze becoming shyer as she profoundly remembered the day that her beloved boyfriend had bought it for her.

Your own silver ring that he gifted to you on your 18th birthday paled in comparison to the 5-carat Burmese ruby that sat atop her finger. It was a harsh reminder of who the buyer really preferred from between the two of you. That twisted feeling in your gut resurfaced, but you pushed it back down. You had no more frivolous hopes that he would one day realise you were the one whom he truly belonged with.

"Haha... did he now? I didn't know Chuuya was such a romantic. Did you know that rubies symbolise passionate and undying love?" You smiled as she blushed; the redness on her cheeks rivaling the shade of the precious gemstone that was proof of his commitment to her.

People were right when they said love hurts, but they never mentioned that it was the most painful sensation in the world. All the stab wounds and burns and whatnot that you had experienced from your enemies were nothing compared to a broken heart. A heart that was made to be torn apart to pieces as it weeps for the love it would never get.

Something cold brushed against your wrist, and you looked down to see a bracelet made up of the most exquisite yellow topaz. Yasuko held an identical one in her hand, her expression almost bashful as she faced you.

"I... I wanted to get matching bracelets for the two of us. I know it's only been a few months since we became friends, but being around you has really brightened up my life. I'm glad that we got to meet each other, and I hope that our friendship continues to grow and strengthen!"

She smiled at you; a smile so full of purity and beauty that it would've made many men fall onto her knees in front of her. It was a smile that didn't belong in the dark depths of Yokohama- instead, it belonged to a goddess that was too good for this world. A goddess that clearly deserved to call Nakahara Chuuya hers. Just seeing that smile made you feel infinitely more guilty about the nasty thoughts you had about her each night.

Yasuko's smile faded, worried that she might have overstepped your boundaries due to your silence.

"S-sorry... I should've asked you beforehand if you wanted to buy matching bracelets. Please don't force yourself to buy it just to make me happy-"

You shut her up by slipping it onto your right wrist, the topaz seeming to reflect the sun's golden rays back at you. Shooting her a smile, you grasped Yasuko's hand and put the other bracelet onto her left wrist joint. It fit nicely; just like anything else that she wore.

"May our friendship last until death do us part." It was a pact that you had sworn with Chuuya before. And you always kept your word, never breaking a promise to someone no matter how bizarre or extreme it was.

How unfortunate, really, that death did you apart too early.

@circinuus @riiwrites @ruanais @justcallmesakira @yasu-masashige @oldworldpoolhall @heartsfourdazai @ashthemadwriter-uwu @sariel626 @yuugen-benni @chocsra @iridescentdove

[taergalive]

Even More Incorrect Radioapple Quotes to Fill the Void in My Heart

Lucifer: Can you please be serious for five minutes Alastor: My record is four, but I think I can do it -- Lucifer: I made tea. Alastor: I don’t want tea. Lucifer: I did not make tea for you. This is my tea. Alastor: Then why are you telling me? Lucifer: It is a conversation starter. Alastor: That’s a lousy conversation starter. Lucifer: Oh, is it? We are conversing. Checkmate. -- Lucifer, tending to Alastor's wounds from his fight with Adam: How would you rate your pain? Alastor: Zero stars. Would NOT recommend. -- Lucifer: I want to wake up with you every day for the rest of our lives Alastor: I wake up at 4:30 AM Lucifer: Lucifer: I want to see you at some point every day for the rest of our lives -- Lucifer: If there's going to be a big dramatic scene, wait until I get back. Alastor: Of course. I can't flip this table by myself. -- Lucifer: I turned out perfectly fine! Alastor: Lucifer, this morning you thought a ghost made your toast Lucifer: I DIDN’T PUT THE BREAD IN! YOU DIDN’T PUT THE BREAD IN!!! -- Lucifer: Can you keep a secret? Alastor: Do you know anything about my life? Lucifer: No I do not. Good point. -- Alastor: Look. I may not be a saint, but it's not like I’ve killed anybody important. I’m not an arsonist. I’ve never found a wallet outside of an IHOP and thought about returning it but saw the owner lived out of state so just took the cash and dropped the wallet back on the ground. Lucifer: Okay, that's really specific, and that makes me think that you definitely did do that. -- Lucifer: Hey Alastor, have you seen the reporter? Alastor: Nope. Have you seen the meat tenderizer? Lucifer, confused: What? Alastor, grabbing the meat tenderizer out of the drawer: No reason, cute girl things! -- Lucifer: Alastor and I were crossing the street, and this dude drove by and honked at us Charlie: * Sighing * What did Alastor do? Lucifer: He chased him to the next red light, then reached into his window and... Alastor: Who wants a steering wheel? -- Lucifer: What time is it? Alastor: I don't know; pass me that saxophone and we'll find out Alastor: * Plays sax extremely loudly* Husk: WHO THE FUCK IS PLAYING THE SAXOPHONE AT TWO IN THE MORNING?! Alastor: It's 2 am - Lucifer: I told Alastor his ears twitch when he lies. Charlie: Why? Lucifer: Look. Lucifer: Hey Alastor! Do you love us? Alastor, covering his ears: No! Charlie: -- Lucifer: Why are your tongues purple? Angel: We had slushies.I had a blue one. Husk: I had a red one. Lucifer: oh Lucifer: Lucifer: OH Alastor: Alastor: You drank each other's slushies? -- Alastor: Imagine being under 5’4’’ and thinking you have rights hahaha couldn’t be me. Lucifer: You wanna keep those kneecaps you better shut the fuck up! Alastor: I’m sorry, I can’t hear you from all the way down there, can you repeat that? Lucifer: I SAID FUCK YOU BITCH -- Lucifer: When are we gonna fuck? Alastor: What? Lucifer: Oh sorry autocorrect. When are we gonna hang out? Alastor: First of all, those two words aren't even close to each other. And second of all, this is a verbal conversation... -- Lucifer: As top in this relationship, I think we should- Alastor: I can't believe you're pulling rank on me. -- Lucifer: You have to apologize to them Alastor. Alastor: Fine! But I must warn you that this might make me a better, nicer person and that is NOT the person you fell in love with!

[lunarmoves]

this gingerbread home

pairing: DCA sun/moon x reader

mentions: gingerbread house shenanigans, gender neutral reader (no pronouns used!), holiday goodness, not beta'd lol, sfw, post fire at the plex, relationship up to interpretation tbh

a/n: merry christmas @freakdoodles !! tis i, your secret santa! hope you enjoy this little fic full of cozy vibes and a gingerbread house gone wrong :3 happy holidays!

word count: 3.3k+

ao3 link

Your breath fogs against the window of your living room as you peer outside into the dark streets. Winter makes its presence known through the chill of the glass against your fingertips. Beyond it, snow falls gently to the ground to coat it in shimmering white. The deep blue shadows of the night dance across the layer of snow, chased away only slightly from the golden glow of a nearby streetlamp. 

You wiggle your toes through your fluffy socks, the warmth of your home seeping pleasantly into your skin. Faintly, you can smell cinnamon wafting through the air from the kitchen. You have half a mind to see what it’s coming from, but you are captivated by watching the tiny, crystalline snowflakes drift down from the sky. 

It’s a time before something moves somewhere behind you—reflected like a ghost in the window’s glass. You look over your shoulder just in time for a mug of something warm to take up the entirety of your vision. 

“For you, my dear!” Sun beams at you, gently nudging the mug against your cheek. The smell of cinnamon is stronger now, intertwined with something distinctly chocolatey. 

“Thanks, bud.” You give him a smile and reach up to grab the mug from his hand. It’s like cupping your palms around a small flame, warming your hands and sinking into your skin. You smile down at the small mountain of whipped cream topping the drink and hiding the rich, velvet brown of the hot chocolate. You take a sip—and immediately regret it. 

“Careful!” Sun warns with the hint of a snicker as he watches you stick your tongue out in dismay. The tip of it is a bright red. “It is still rather hot, I’m afraid.” 

“You couldn’t have said that beforehand?” You roll your eyes half-heartedly and instead scoop up a bit of the whipped cream with your tongue before reeling it back into your mouth. The whipped cream is cool as it melts sweetly in your mouth. Better, if minutely. 

“I would have thought it’d been obvious it was right off the stove,” he retorts with all the affection in the world, giving your shoulder a little squeeze. “I have sorely misjudged your eagerness, I think.” 

You sniff and go in for another, more cautious, sip. It’s worth the slight burn on your tongue, the chocolate deliciously coating it and causing something pleasantly hot to settle within the inside of your belly. You sigh happily and have to force yourself to take on a more mockingly somber tone as you mess with him. “And after all the time we have spent together…” 

Sun chuckles and wraps a lithe arm around your shoulders so he can gently pull you from your spot by the window. “And I thought I was the dramatic one! Enough of that, silly. I have everything set up and ready for us!” 

You grin, all sharp teeth and delight. “Oh, sweet!” Your gaze roves over to the living room as Sun starts to guide you there. Sitting atop the little coffee table in front of the television are the unpackaged materials of the gingerbread house kit you’d bought a couple of days ago at Sun’s insistence. Once he had seen it in the store, he’d been rather adamant about getting it for one reason or another. 

(“Come on, Sunshine!” he practically begs you as he holds the kit up in front of your face and wiggles it enticingly. “It’s the perfect activity to do together!” 

“Mmmh, I don’t know, Sun,” you say, pretending like you’re thinking it over. You’d been sold on the idea as soon as you’d seen him pick it up, but it’s still fun to tease him from time to time regardless. Not that you’ll ever admit that out loud. “It gets pretty messy and I know how you can get with messes…” 

“It’ll be fun either way!” he insists, tucking the kit under his sweater-covered arm so he can clasp his hands together and stare at you with wide, white eyes. “Just think about it: you, moon, and I making a little house together out of frosting and candy!” His voice takes on a bit of a dreamy, enchanted quality.

You hum, letting the seconds tick by as you put on a show of heavily deliberating it. You rub at your chin with your fingers. “Okay, fine,” you say with a smile, crossing your arms behind your head. “You’ve convinced me.” 

“Yippee!” he cheers and swiftly sets the kit into your shopping cart. His rays do a happy little spin that you find so utterly endearing combined with his eagerness. “You won’t regret it!”) 

Sun lets go of your shoulder once you both get close enough to the coffee table and you set your mug on a nearby coaster before plopping down onto the floor. Tucking yourself closer to the table, you regard the pieces of gingerbread and small packets of candy.

“Have you and Moon decided on how you want to divide the work?” you ask as you slide one of the candy packs closer so you can squint at the designs. This pack contains little green gummy Christmas trees coated in granulated sugar. Cute.

Sun lets out an “mmhm!” as he folds himself into place next to you—pretzeling his long limbs into fitting under the coffee table. His knee juts out slightly over your thigh, and you poke at it gently with a grin. It only makes him lean his leg’s weight further onto you—the checkered pattern of his red and black pajama pants contrasting against the deep blue of your own.

“We have come to the agreement that I would help with assembling the house and we would both get half of it to help you decorate!” he says proudly, splaying out one of his hands on his chest. The Christmas sweater you’d gotten for him hangs a little loosely from his skinny torso, but it’d been the closest size you could get for his disproportionate body.

“Moon doesn’t want to help with the, I dunno, ‘architecture’?” you wonder with a raised eyebrow, making small air quotes with your fingers. 

“Nnnnope!” Sun replies cheerfully. He reaches out to pull the materials closer to you both, his voice lowering into a not-so-quiet whisper as he leans down closer to your ear. “Between you and me, I think he’s just being lazy.” 

Knowing fully well that Moon is likely listening in on the conversation, you snort. “Yeah, that sounds just like him.” 

Sun only grins at the flatness of your tone and turns back to the table. “Alrighty! Enough stalling! This house isn’t going to build itself!” He grabs the gingerbread kit’s packaging and flips the box over to read the instructions on the back of it. “First we need to add icing along the edges of the walls…” 

The instructions seem simple enough. While you pipe icing in the designated places, Sun carefully sticks the pieces together and holds them in place for a few minutes so they don’t immediately fall apart. The smell of gingerbread overtakes the gentle hint of cinnamon from your drink. The bag of icing in your fingers is soft and pliable from Sun having defrosted it in warm water earlier. 

Once three of the four walls of the gingerbread house are standing, the instructions say to let them sit for fifteen minutes. Unfortunately for the gingerbread house, however, Sun is not that patient. 

“Bud, it’s barely been ten minutes,” you say in amusement as you watch Sun start applying icing to the last wall to attach it to the others. 

He waves a hand at you in dismissal, already pressing the last wall firmly to the edges of the previously erected ones. “It’s fine, Friend! Everything is still standing on its own, I do not think we need to wait that long.” 

The hint of impatience you can glean from his voice makes you huff out a small laugh. “I thought you liked to follow instructions?” 

“Yes, well.” His rays tick back and forth as he holds the walls together to let the icing settle properly. “In this instance we can take them more as a suggestion.” 

You think he just really wants to decorate the gingerbread house itself, considering that’s his forte. Rolling your eyes, you drawl, “Alright, if you say so.” Who are you to stop him? Hopefully the icing holds properly, though you can’t help but warily eye the skeleton of a house as you fiddle with the chain of one of your necklaces. 

With all the walls of the gingerbread house now assembled, it leaves the slanted roof to be carefully placed on top. You add the icing to the two pieces in the required locations, then lick off the extra that had gotten on your fingers (it’s sweet, almost overbearingly so) while Sun meticulously joins the pieces together to complete the bare-bones gingerbread house. 

“Okay!” he says as his hands hover just above the top of the roof, scrutinizing it to make sure the pieces don’t slide off. Miraculously, they hold. You’re a bit impressed. “How much icing is left?”

You show him the piping bag in your hands, and he contemplates it for a moment before nodding. 

“Perfect! Hand it over.” He opens a hand and makes a grabbing motion that causes you to chuckle to yourself. He’s got his game face on, determination lining all the intricate metal and silicon features of his faceplate. You set the bag atop his palm, and he closes his long fingers around it. “Now for the fun part!” 

You end up watching as he carefully squeezes a steady stream of icing from the bag to trace the outlines of the doors and windows on one side of the gingerbread house. It’s a bit captivating; he is exact with his application, the lines of icing neat and straight. He offers the bag to you at one point to see if you want to add icing along the roof, but you decline in favor of sipping at your still-warm drink and watching him. 

“Wow,” you say when he finishes with the icing. “It looks straight out of a stock photo.” 

He’s iced exactly half of the house right down the middle—even the front door only has half of it done. He really is sticking to the fifty-fifty arrangement with Moon. And honestly? He’s done a better job than you can ever hope to imagine. You would be envious, but well, he’s a robot. It makes sense. 

Sun looks proud of himself as he sets the icing down. “Of course! I am nothing but precise!” He reaches over to grab a pack of small candied leaves and pops it open. “And now, the decor~” 

You lend a hand and pop open a candy packet yourself—this one has tiny, multi-colored hard chocolates in the shape of Christmas lights. But after lazily sticking some of them into the icing Sun swirled along the edges of the roof and watching him fiddle with them afterwards—making them neater or swapping some out so the colors are in a better arrangement—you decide to let Sun take care of it all. You designate yourself to supplying him with the candy, finding amusement in his concentration as he makes a direct copy of the image displayed on the gingerbread house’s package. 

It’s almost scary how accurate it is, from the loops of icing on the roof to the gumdrops lining the windows. 

“Aaand done!” Sun exclaims as he wipes his hands of icing on a spare napkin and stands up. He observes the house from all angles and gives it a solid nod. 

“Looks great, buddy,” you compliment as you lean against the table. By now, your mug of hot chocolate is empty, and you secretly mourn the loss. 

“Now all Moon has to do is live up to my highly placed expectations,” Sun says brightly as he walks over to the light switch. He pauses, then adds sarcastically, “As I’m sure he will.” 

You grin, following his movement with your eyes. “Aw, don’t put him down when he’s not even here to defend himself.” 

Sun scoffs and places one hand over the switch, while the other knocks gently at his head. “I assure you, he is not even attempting to.” 

With a flick of his fingers, the lights go out. You avert your gaze as you listen to the shifting metal of his body. The living room is dark, but not overtly so. The lights from the small Christmas tree in the corner of the room are bright enough for you to see, but not so much that it will impede Moon, you think. 

Speak of the devil, you jump slightly when Moon plops himself down directly next to you and immediately leans into your space. 

“What a lovely gingerbread house,” he rasps out as his arm presses into your own, the bell of his nightcap brushing against your shoulder. You eye his expression—the mischief making itself known in the curve of his mouth and crinkle of his eyes. “Sure would be a shame if someone were to… mess it up.” 

“Moon,” you warn, shoving at him slightly so he can stop leaning all of his weight onto you. He relents with a snicker and rights himself properly. “Don’t you dare ruin Sun’s hard work.” 

“Wouldn’t think of it,” he drawls with a sharp grin, slouching forward as he grabs the icing bag from where Sun had left it atop the table. “One might say I would improve upon it, actually.” 

“Somehow I heavily doubt that,” you reply flatly and watch as he squeezes the piping bag in his hands. Some icing shoots out of the tip and lands haphazardly on Moon’s side of the gingerbread house. He doesn’t seem bothered by it. You have a feeling you know how this is going to end up. 

“Shh,” he says and spins the plate holding the gingerbread house around so he can better access its bare sections. Red eyes flick over it with no small amount of slyness. “Let Santa Moon work his magic, Starlight.” 

Five minutes into watching Moon apply icing to his half of the gingerbread house, you realize by “magic” he meant “utter chaos.” 

He doesn’t even bother to make his lines neat—in fact he seems to be actively going out of his way to be as sloppy as possible. Whereas Sun was careful not to make too much of a mess on the table, Moon does not care. Icing gets everywhere. Crumbs from the gingerbread litter the area around the plate. You watch as a small ball of candy rolls off the table and lands somewhere on the plush rug covering the floor. Sun’s going to have a conniption with this—may already be having one, actually.

You’re more amused than anything, especially when Moon finishes with the icing and starts slapping the candy everywhere on the gingerbread house. There is no rhyme or reason to it, just utter vibes, you think. He passes you a packet of the tiny Christmas lights candy, and you join in helping him to decorate his half—trying to salvage it at least a little bit. 

The resulting gingerbread house, at the end of it all, is something that makes you break out into peals of laughter. 

“Oh god.” You chuckle, wiping your fingers off on a napkin. “It looks awful.” 

And indeed, where one side of the gingerbread house is neat and perfect, the other looks like it came straight from an elementary schooler’s nightmare craft project. The juxtaposition makes you snicker to yourself.

Moon grins, his eyes flicking down to his hands to observe the icing covering his fingers. Somehow, he’s gotten a dollop on his faceplate. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” 

You snort and gesture at him to lean down. He obliges, the warm light from his optics gently caressing your face as you reach up to wipe away the icing near his static smile with your napkin. And when you pull away, his faceplate almost seems to chase after your fingers before he stops himself and instead watches you attempt to clean up the table. 

“Okay, fun’s over,” you say lightly as you eyeball all the crumbs. It may be a good idea to run your vacuum around the table as well, considering. “Help me clean thi—” 

But before you can finish your sentence, your eyes catch onto the gingerbread house—that tips precariously to one side as the roof pieces start to slide inevitably downwards. 

“Oh shit—!” Your hands dart forward in an attempt to catch the falling pieces. Icing gets re-smeared all over your hands. Candy gets displaced as your fingers fumble around them. You do your best to straighten the gingerbread house, grimacing all the while. Ah, you had a feeling this was going to happen.

Moon giggles as he watches your vain struggle to fix what he and Sun had worked so hard on (Sun moreso than Moon). You manage to get it standing properly again, but one of the walls has collapsed completely and the others look like they aren’t faring any better now that the icing is giving in. 

You sigh, feeling a wry smile tugging at your lips. “I knew we should’ve waited the full fifteen minutes.” Not that you think that would have made much of a difference. 

“Down it goes~” Moon croons, not even lifting a finger to lend some assistance. His eyes are upturned in delight as he sways slightly side to side. “How the mighty fall.” 

“Yeah.” You pull your hands away and watch, slowly, as the gingerbread house collapses into itself and lays on the plate in a sad heap. Moon is silent as he watches with you, though you can tell he wants to laugh. It makes you suppress your own chuckle. “You think there’s any salvaging that?” 

“No,” is Moon’s short response as he pokes at one of the gummy Christmas trees, then picks it up to mime eating it. You do a nose exhale when his eyes flick over to you to see if you’re watching. 

“Well, what does Sun think?” you ask, feeling your lips twitch at his antics.

“He is mourning.” 

“Pfft, sorry Sun.” You make a move to run your hand through your hair, but catch yourself when you see the icing coating your fingers. “Ah, that’s okay. It was fun while it lasted! We can do something else.” You turn to look at Moon, who meets your gaze with his own curious one. “Any suggestions?” 

There is a moment where Moon regards you, his head tilting to the side. Then, you watch as his pupils flick down to his icing-covered hands before looking back up at you. His smile stretches across his faceplate. 

Oh. You know that look. 

“Moon,” you warn as you scooch away from him. “No. Don’t even think about it!” 

“Think about what?” he asks slyly, starting to lean your way. 

“Abou— Moon!” 

You are too slow to dodge his swipe at your face—icing gets smeared from the corner of your mouth and up your cheek. Faintly, you can register its sweet taste. Your jaw drops open at the audacity of it all, and you scramble up to your feet to put more distance between you and him lest he repeat the action. He doesn’t follow you, only slowly stands in his spot as you shuffle backwards whilst giving him the stink eye. 

“Moon, I swear to god if you do that shit again,” you threaten him as you hold your hands out defensively in front of you, “I’ll—” 

“You’ll what?” Moon asks with a mischievous grin, already bending at the knees in a pose that you are all too familiar with. Uh oh. His eyes squint into ruby slivers. 

Your mouth closes, and you ponder your options for a few seconds before giving him a short nod. “Okay. Yeah. I’m gonna run now.” 

“Good,” is all he says before he abruptly lunges towards you. 

And as Moon chases you throughout your home, the poor remains of the gingerbread house are forgotten and replaced by the sound of your laughter and the gentle tinkle of his bells.

[cockslutpadalecki]

Hello

Summary: You’ve given up on love. That is until a stranger walks up to you in a bar, and starts off a chain of events even you couldn’t dream up.

Characters: Steve x F!Reader.

Words: 1.2K.

Warnings: some angst, pregnancy/giving birth, mostly tooth-rotting fluff.

A/N: Formerly a Patreon exclusive. Based off of song of same name by Allie X. Definitely give it a listen. Beta: @princessmisery666 but all the general bullshit is entirely mine. While likes are gold, feedback is golden. Please support our content creators by sharing our work.

It all started with a hello.

In the corner of a bar, you hurriedly swallow down the last of your now room-temperature rosè. Your date had stood you up. Again.

Last week, you’d made arrangements to go out for sushi, and he failed to show— coming up with some lame excuse about work commitments, forcing him to remain at his office. Then he called last night out of the blue asking if you were free, that he wanted to make it up to you. You gave him the benefit of the doubt, and agreed.

But of course, two hours have gone by without a word. After the first forty five minutes, you convince yourself that he’s still just running late— hoping he’s just caught up in traffic and can’t get to his phone. But once the big hand has surpassed ninety minutes, you’re adamant he’s done it again.

What is it with you always attracting these pathetic jockstraps? They either arrive and end up being the most pretentious, sexist creeps known to man, or they just don’t bother to show up in the first place. And that isn’t even counting the string of failed relationships that follow you like a bad smell. Men who, after only a couple of months, realize that commitment isn’t for them. Or maybe you weren't.

This is your last ditch attempt to find someone, in the hopes he wouldn’t turn out to be a complete jerk. After all, he had reached out to you for a reason— maybe he felt something more, a flicker of attraction you hadn’t picked up on yet? But the longer you sit alone, the more it becomes apparent that you’re destined to sit by yourself forever.

That’s how you ended up here, hidden away in the corner of the room, nursing a large glass of alcohol— or five. You don’t pay attention to anyone coming or going after a while, too preoccupied with your own sorrow to notice him enter.

-

He notices you though. Shielding yourself from the crowd, melancholy fraught in your features. He wonders what your story is— how you put yourself in full view of people, but still managed to remain so closed off.

He studies you as he sits at the bar, choosing the perfect spot to watch you without looking too conspicuous. Every woman that sidles up against him, batting their long eyelashes and flashing him a little too much cleavage, he politely turns down— nothing about them intrigues him. They have everything on show, thus the mystery he seeks is already gone.

Eventually, when he thinks you are getting ready to leave, he takes a chance and approaches you.

-

You’re unaware of the man’s presence until he’s stepping up to the table, clutching a full measure of amber liquid. And even through the dim light, his sapphire eyes sparkle, and his wide genuine smile almost blindsides you completely.

You half-expect him to ask if someone is sitting in the empty chair opposite you— ready to watch him walk away with it to the gaggle of women eyeing him up at the next table.

Whatever you imagine he’ll say, or what his voice would sound like in the few brief seconds are nothing compared to the deep husk, or the singular word that falls from his parted lips.

“Hello.”

-

Smoothing out the satin skirt of your dress, you glance at yourself in the mirror— taking in the intricate way your hair has been styled, and the subtle tones of natural make-up framing your eyes.

This is it. The moment you’ve dreamt of since you were a little girl. You should feel terrified that something could still go wrong— he could still walk away, but somehow the reassurance that’s been forged into your skull over the years reminds you, in his voice, that this is forever. Fate has prepared you for this. Fate has led you to him.

You suck in a huge breath before releasing it through your pursed lips, formed into the shape of an O. You can hear your mom on the other side of the door, her voice muffled but raised slightly as she talks to somebody in the corridor.

“You can’t go in there,” the older woman chastises. You don’t hear the response, if any, but a soft knock at the door gives you a pretty good idea of what it would’ve been.

Slowly, you glide over, pulling the door towards you as your heart hammers away inside your chest. For a moment you’re fearful you might throw up on your gown, but the second you catch sight of Steve’s azure gaze, the feeling subsides as quickly as it came.

He temporarily stands awestruck, before muttering, “Hello,” with the same wide grin that had you smitten the moment he approached you in that bar.

“Hello to you too,” you reply, matching his smile with your own.

“So, I was wondering,” he starts, taking a slow step towards you and holds his arm out for you to take, “if you fancied getting married today?”

You reach forward, hooking your arm through his. “Thought you’d never ask.”

He slowly escorts you back the way he’d come, and you catch sight of your mom tearing up as she steps back to allow you to pass, giving you a proud smile.

As you reach the stairs to take you down to the ceremony, you begin to loosen your grip around Steve’s elbow, but he places his spare hand on top of yours, giving you a light chuckle. “Don’t you let me go now.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

-

You’re certain the sound of that first tiny cry will stay with you forever— no matter how much time passes or how your memories may dwindle. You’ll hold onto it like the world’s most precious pearl, protecting it with every fibre in your being.

Laying your head against the mountain of pillows behind you, you let your eyes flutter closed for a second, somehow oddly comforted by the muted sound of nurses out in the corridor and beyond, before a deeper, more familiar voice floats amongst them.

“Can I see them now?”

You can hear the anguish in his tone, knowing how desperate he is to make sure you’re both okay after you were whisked away to recovery.

“Yes, of course Mr. Rogers, she’s right in there,” comes a light, friendly reply.

Steve suddenly appears from behind the blacked out door, the worried look etched into his features instantly melting away as his eyes catch yours.

“Hello.”

“Hello Daddy,” you whisper, casting your gaze down at the tiny bundle laid on your chest. Steve moves to stand beside you, and rests his hand gently on your forehead, stroking your temple with the side of his thumb— just like he always does.

“She’s perfect,” he sighs happily.

You glance up, flashing Steve a soft smile, before gazing lovingly back down at the little girl— your precious Pearl— noticing she’s inherited the same beautiful, cerulean eyes from him. “Yes, she is.”

Five years ago, you never would’ve dreamt this is where you’d be.

Steve may have found you sitting alone that night, but there hasn’t been a moment since that he ever left a chair beside you empty.

It’s finally real. I found my fantasy. Remember the day when I heard you say…

***

ALL CE: @buckymydarlingangel @broadwaybabe18 @captain-asguard @dreamlessinparis @deanwinchesterswitch @fandom-princess-forevermore @hurricanerin @kellhems @ladybug05 @mugi-chwan95 @navybrat817 @otomefromtheheart @oneoftheprettynerds @patzammit @rebel-stardust @sammykb1994 @syrenavenger @saiyanprincessswanie @sunwardsss @selfsun @vicmc624 @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @wintasssoldier @xoxonotme

4EVS: @amirra88 @andreasworlsboring101 @cheesyclaire @chibijusstuff @callsignrambam @dangertoozmanykids101 @daughterofthenight117 @doozywoozy @foxyjwls007 @geekofmanyforms @heyyouwiththeassbutt @ilovefanfic86 @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay @letsby @letsdisneythings @labella420 @mogaruke @maliburenee @notyourtypicalrose @obsessivelycapricious @patrick-hockslutter @princessmisery666 @phildunphyisadilf @sage-writing @sea040561 @sweeterthanthis @slutformarvelmen @smokeandnailz @stoneyggirl @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @thegirlnextdoorssister @wayward-dreamer @warriorqueen1991 @xoxabs88xox

[lacrimosathedark]

For funsies, some of my fav Radioapple tropes

Both of them are kicking and screaming through feelings realization. They would prefer to remain in denial, thank you very much. Even funnier if they do this through ALL stages. Like enemies to friends, they have such a hard time admitting they want to be friends. The tension is unbearable.

Lucifer falls first, Alastor falls harder. Or rather, Lucifer has the feelings realization first so it's more of a gradual awareness for him, but Alastor's emotions grow without his notice until it hits him all at once out of nowhere like a freight train.

Lucifer easily recognizing he finds Alastor attractive, but totally blindsided when he starts to genuinely enjoy his presence. Like, yeah, he's tall, dark, and threatening, Lucifer liked that in Lilith. But Alastor's also a BITCH and Lucifer is NOT HAPPY that he finds this fucker funny. And that his stupid ears are adorable.

Lucifer is still hung up on Lilith, very apparently so, and Alastor's totally not jealous, no, he just wants everything Lilith's ever had, no big deal.

Alastor has Feelings about Lucifer still wearing his ring, and it makes him insecure or otherwise upset but he will not bring it up himself.

Alastor, at first, is entirely unaware of the fact that he finds Lucifer attractive (if not sexually then aesthetically). Like, he's Lucifer, known for being the most beautiful angel, AND the devil, the first temptation. Obviously he's pretty, that's not an opinion, it's a fact. What do you mean not everyone thinks that??? He likes Lucifer's stupid face and he'll double-die mad about it.

Alastor has never experienced sexual attraction in his life or death. And then he sees Lucifer in full demon mode and he's like "what the fuck am I feeling I'm feeling feelings I don't like this". Lucifer is the reason why Hell's so hot lmao

On the subject of finding Lucifer attractive, Lucifer with deer traits. Especially if he does it to mock/tease Alastor but instead of reacting as expected, Alastor basically blue screens.

Alastor insists on introducing Rosie and Lucifer, and instantly regrets it lmao. Rosie is utterly charmed by Lucifer and they (completely platonically) flirt constantly. Alastor hates it. Even before he starts to feel jealous about it, he sees it and is like "...Ew." Kinda like how kids are when their parents flirt. Rosie thinks it's hilarious because it is.

Vox being both a jealous dumbass and a genuine threat. At the same time, Alastor is adamant that Lucifer stay out of it, much to his annoyance. Vox can be underhanded and sneaky, capable of causing genuine problems, maybe even hurting one of them. But equally likely to blurt out something horrendously embarrassing and stupid.

In that vein, a direct contrast between Alastor's relationship with Lucifer and with Vox. Vox being the abusive ex can be interesting, but even just his usual invasive obsession compared to Lucifer generally respecting Alastor's boundaries for example. Lucifer not trying to push for anything at all (getting him to say what he wants is like pulling teeth) compared to Vox's desperation and retaliation. Hell, even just that Vox is Friends to Enemies and Lucifer is Enemies to Friends (to Lovers mayhaps?). It's really fun to play with.

DANCING!!! I love Alastor dancing with anyone and everyone, but him dancing with Lucifer and almost forcing Lucifer to have fun? UGH yes. They start off with challenging toothy grins, but eventually Lucifer is genuinely laughing and Alastor's smile is relaxed and easy. SO. CUTE.

Similarly, playing music together! I do enjoy the dancing more, but just, Alastor on piano and Lucifer accompanying him with his violin? Adorable.

Charlie is either ENTIRELY oblivious, or she knows EVERYTHING but everyone thinks she's oblivious. When whichever it is is revealed, there's a huge, "Wait, WHAT?!" moment.

The rest of the cast have bets going and when whatever their relationship is is revealed, someone grumbles and hands over cash to someone else.

Will I think of more?