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fishnapple · 2 months ago

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What can bring true satisfaction to your heart?

Let's end this year by hearing what your heart yearns for. And also trying out my new AAB (Animal Advisory Board) set for divination ✨️

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost Book a reading with me - KO-FI (→ personal reading)

ORANGE

On the surface level, what feels like satisfaction for you is recognition for your hard work. You feel a sense of lack when it comes to your material possessions, that that sense of lack can affect your sense of self greatly. You could feel that the more you have, the more confident and safe you are, you find safety in a familiar physical world. Working, earning money, and then being recognised for your effort can elevate your "worth" in this world, or so you believe. And being worthy is the solid proof of existence and meaning. But you will soon find that in chasing success and recognition, you risk burning out and losing your vitality, your jest for life. Being too focused on a goal, a task can narrow your perspective and make you feel like life is just a race, a competition. You want to show your best, to be known as the most hard working person, the one who contributes the most, the one who can take on any tasks without fear, the one who shines the brightest. Life seems like a stage where you have to perform constantly, even when you're alone, your actions are being observed by an invisible audience.

But your inner self disagrees with that approach, and it will demand a change from you. You can't keep running in "the race" forever because there's simply no race for you to run, just a life for you to be in and to live. A part of you is sleeping, latent inspirations are trapped inside without the means to be expressed. It's quite contradictory, on the outside, you look so busy and active, always doing something, but on the inside, the energy is stagnant and inactive. This feeling will continue to pile up until you can't take it anymore and want to burst out, to take off. The feeling of true freedom, of flying for the first time will open up a floodgate inside you, you will begin to nurture a different perspective, you will want to slow down your run and look around, suddenly you will find so many interesting things around you that you haven't noticed before.

By being free, you will also have a different view on relationships. Your heart yearns for freedom, freedom to be yourself, and freedom to love. You will want to bond deeply with people, to seek comfort in the emotional sense, not in the physical sense anymore. You seek true understanding, of yourself, of the other person and the world you live in. Deep connections can bring the most satisfaction, something that you might have been oblivious to up until now. You won't seek recognition from the general crowd anymore, you will seek the transparency of being seen completely by a loved one.

WHITE

For this group, I see a lot of images about predators attacking prey. This can mean that you are having contradictory thoughts and feelings inside yourself, like an inner critic, always watching and judging your every wish and action. This creates lots of unnecessary fears in you, you're held prisoner by your own mind. You desire many different things, or said in a different way, many different things can bring you satisfaction, but they can be at odds with each other. The solution for you is to go ahead and do them anyway, no matter how much your mind protest or try to "talk" you out of it, which sometimes can be in a really aggressive way. Your mind can create visions of people ridicule or criticise you for your decisions. What you need to do is triumph over those visions, shoo them away, and just do what you instinctively feel drawn to do and then see for yourself, with you own eyes, the actual outcome, only then will you have solid "proof" to chase away those intrusive thoughts in your mind. For you, getting over your myriad fears will be your biggest achievement and satisfaction. For every victory over your fear, no matter how small, you deserve to get a pat on your back. Be gentle with yourself, but firm enough to give yourself a chance to grow.

About your many desires, one is about receiving and giving love. You might just focus on romance and dating right now, without much serious thought about a long-term commitment and building a family with someone. But in the future, when you allow yourself to grow more and gain new perspectives, the thought of commitment will naturally arise in you. You won't just desire love and affection alone, you also desire a place to call home, a place where someone will be there to welcome you. You will want to nurture someone, and be nurtured back, work for the connection, and see your effort grow into a deep bond. You're working hard right now, but mostly to build your own foundation, later in life, you will want to work hard to build that foundation with another person. Your heart will flourish in the nurturing environment of a steady relationship.

For now, just focus your energy on getting to know yourself, every nook and cranny. Come to your rescue when your mind begins to nag, especially when you want to rest and contemplate hidden things behind the veil of mundane life. Use your resting time to let your mind explore foreign subjects, coax it gently when it tries to resist learning new things. The more you explore, the more your mind will soar, the more your heart will feel tranquil and happy.

PINK

Does the question of whether the person you're attracted to romantically can also be your friend ever cross your mind? Or the question of whether that person can truly connect with you on a mental level? I see the people who chose this group are ardent lovers. The kind that would focus their all on a connection, passionate and gripping. You might be the person who loves falling in love, the feeling of romance and relationships brings you great joy. But the pitfall here is that you tend to idealise the other person and the connection to the point of overlooking some glaring incompatibilities. On a surface level, a person might seem fun and physically ideal to be your partner, but let some time pass and look closer, you will find that you don't really connect on a more deeper level. A telling sign would be that conversations are lacklustre, there's an uncomfortable silence between you, the subjects of the conversation are superficial. In the long run, this can create dissatisfaction in the relationship.

What you might not realise is that a deep bond, especially forged over many conversations, is essential to your feeling of overall happiness about life. Friendship matters, even love should be built based upon friendship. Having many people who you can call friends is actually more satisfying than having many lovers, friends who come from many walks of life, from all around the world. Having a group of close friends who can go on adventures with you, who can nurture you, who can build you up, who can make your mind buzzing, who can be your family, that's what brings true satisfaction to your heart.

Can you see the stag nipping at a tree while the peacock is facing the opposite direction? I think right now, the way you express yourself can be like a form of reaction to the specific person whom you're interacting with, rather than just communicating who you are in general. In conversations, you might try to act more cool, showing the best of yourself in order to build a favourable image, which is what all of us do to some degrees, consciously or not. But this shape-shifting energy can be detrimental to really connect with the other person. Instead of letting the other person provide you with 'nutrition' for your mind and heart, you're busy impressing them. This can happen in all your interactions, whether with strangers, acquaintances, friends, family, lovers. You should take a more relaxed approach, allowing the words to seep into you leisurely, building friendship as if growing a tree, then you will have a flourished heart.

GREEN

The word 'Success' has a lot of meanings to you, and all meanings have weight that defines your life. For you, being successful doesn't have to be about earning lots of money of being famous, though that is a part of the 'Success' that you pursue, it's not all. You want to leave behind your legacies, the proof that you exist, the proof that you have lived hard and well, that your life has meaning.

Throughout your life, you will encounter various stumbling blocks that require you to reinvent yourself, like ascending a stairway, each step bring your higher, closer to your ideals. You're willing to change yourself, to bring about a complete overhaul, allow yourself to play various roles, don many masks, life is a big stage and you're a magician, a jester or a seller, who always has something to dazzle and sell to the audience. This 'performance' is not fake or disingenuous at all, it's what you're born to do, to achieve prestige and finally reach the top of the stairway.

You have a core that's very malleable and agile, constantly moving, though it can help you be flexible and move through situations with ease, it can create an inner confusion. You feel like you have to be at all places, here and there, never settle down, forever swimming, nothing can hold you down and keep you in one place for long. This fuels your desire to find an anchor in the physical world. To know what you've done, what you've achieved, where you need to go. You need external structure and stability so that your internal spirit can swim freely. You can move a lot, but you need to feel a sense of home wherever you're. And that's not easy to achieve. But you have the knack to connect instantly with people, you can make the most distant stranger your friend in no time. The more people surround you, the safer you feel. Community and sense of camaraderie soothe you nomad heart. As long as you have people around you, everywhere can be your home.

And in that hope will you work your magic, working tirelessly to build your foundation. Even though your spirit is a nomad, constantly moving, you have trouble letting go of things and people, gradually, the stuff you pack with you gets more and more heavy, slowing you down. The challenge for you is to learn when to let go, to travel light. What your heart truly wants is the feeling of ascending the ladder, of knowing that you've done something meaningful and left a mark, of giving away the fruits of your labour, not the feeling of possessing and holding on to as many things as possible.

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00valentina-writes00 · 10 days ago

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Yandere reader with ambessa would be so funny cuz she'd just think you were cute for thinking she needed to be defended and shit... secretly she has no idea you've been eliminating all the people who argue with he run meetings. She appreciates it! She really does! But soon enough they'll be no one left to help her out with battle stuff and... that wouldn't be beneficial :(

♡♥︎ A War Won in Your Name ♥︎♡

Warnings: Yandere!Reader, possessiveness, murder, obsession, dark humor, Ambessa being terrifyingly amused, reader being completely unhinged but affectionate.

Ambessa Medarda was no stranger to bloodshed. It had woven itself into the fabric of her life, stitched into the very armor she donned every morning. Wars were fought in her name, bodies fell at her command, and empires bent beneath the weight of her power. She was a conqueror, an immovable force—unshaken, unbothered, undefeated.

So, really, she should have seen this coming.

She sat at the head of the grand table in her war chamber, her heavy fur-lined cloak draped over her shoulders as she surveyed the emptiness before her. The chairs that once held high-ranking generals, political advisors, and battle strategists now sat vacant, some still slightly pulled out as if their occupants had only stepped away for a moment.

But they weren’t coming back.

Ambessa tapped her fingers against the polished wood, her golden rings catching the candlelight as she leaned back in her seat. The air was thick with silence, an unusual thing in a room that once buzzed with sharp words and tactical discussions.

She knew exactly what had happened.

And, more importantly, she knew exactly who was responsible.

The door creaked open, and there you were, all soft smiles and bright eyes, as if you hadn’t just systematically wiped out half her advisory board.

“Ambessa,” you greeted, voice light, affectionate, as if you weren’t completely and utterly insane. You carried a tray with her evening tea, setting it down before her with the utmost care. “You seemed stressed during your last meeting. Thought I’d bring you something to relax.”

Ambessa hummed, watching you carefully. She had fought in wars against men twice her size, against warriors who could crush steel in their hands—but you, with all your love-drunk devotion and dangerously soft touches, might have been the most terrifying thing she had ever encountered.

She took a slow sip of the tea you offered, holding your gaze over the rim of her cup. “You’ve been busy, haven’t you?”

Your smile didn’t waver. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Ambessa exhaled through her nose, amused. She leaned forward, resting her heavy arms on the table, the sheer size difference between the two of you almost laughable. You looked so small, so unassuming, and yet—

“I need my advisors alive, my love,” she said, voice smooth, patient, as if explaining something to a particularly determined child.

Your lips pursed, a hint of a pout forming. “They were being disrespectful.”

“They were giving me tactical advice.”

“They were questioning you,” you corrected, a spark of something dark flashing in your eyes. “They doubted your decisions. They didn’t respect your authority.”

Ah. There it was. That righteous, unwavering devotion that had you treating her throne like a shrine and her enemies like insects beneath your boot.

Ambessa chuckled, the sound deep and warm, and she reached out, cupping your face in her calloused palm. Her thumb brushed over your cheek, gentle despite the raw strength she possessed.

“You’re a good wife,” she mused, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to meet her gaze. “A devoted one.”

You leaned into her touch, preening under her praise. “I just want what’s best for you.”

“And I appreciate that,” she said smoothly, fingers trailing down to your throat. Not in a threatening way—no, this was something else. Something possessive. A reminder of exactly where you stood with her. “But you’ve been a little too… thorough in your protection.”

Your brows furrowed. “I don’t understand.”

Ambessa smiled, slow and indulgent, like a lion amused by the antics of a housecat. “There are barely any advisors left, my love. I need men to lead my armies, to organize supply lines, to run my empire.” She squeezed lightly, just enough for you to feel the weight of her touch. “As much as I adore your dedication, you’re making things difficult.”

You blinked, as if the thought had never occurred to you. “Oh.”

Oh.

Ambessa nearly laughed. It was so genuine, so completely absent of remorse, that it only solidified what she already knew: you weren’t doing this out of some grand plan. No, you simply loved her too much to let anyone else speak against her.

How adorable.

She leaned in, lips brushing against your forehead in an almost tender gesture. “No more killing my generals, sweetheart.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Only the disrespectful ones.”

Ambessa pulled back, arching a brow. “All of them have been disrespectful, according to you.”

“Well,” you drawled, tracing a finger along the edge of the table, “maybe they should have thought about that before talking to you like you weren’t their superior.”

Ambessa sighed, though it held no real exasperation. This was a mess, but it was a mess of her own making. She had known what kind of person you were before she married you—had liked it, even. There was something endearing about your unwavering devotion, the way you looked at her like she was something divine.

She just hadn’t accounted for the fact that you would act on those feelings so violently.

“I need my kingdom intact,” she said, voice firm. “Which means I need men to run it.”

You hesitated, gnawing on your lower lip. “Fine.”

Ambessa tilted her head, studying you. “Fine?”

You sighed dramatically, throwing yourself into her lap in defeat. Her arms caught you with ease, as if it were second nature. “Fine,” you repeated, pouting up at her. “I won’t kill all of them.”

Ambessa chuckled, her fingers sliding through your hair. “A compromise, then.”

You hummed, pressing your face into the warmth of her chest. “I just don’t like people talking down to you. You’re Ambessa Medarda. You should be worshiped, not questioned.”

Ambessa’s lips quirked, amusement dancing in her eyes. “You’d see my entire court executed if it meant I sat on a throne unchallenged.”

You didn’t even hesitate. “Yes.”

Now, she did laugh—deep and rich, the sound vibrating through her chest. She cupped the back of your head, pulling you closer as she pressed a lingering kiss to your temple.

“You are so lucky you amuse me,” she murmured against your skin.

You grinned, fingers curling into the fabric of her cloak. “Lucky? No. You’re just as obsessed with me as I am with you.”

Ambessa hummed thoughtfully. “Perhaps.”

And really, wasn’t that the most dangerous part?

She may not have been as outright unhinged as you, may not have gone around systematically erasing her enemies like a lovesick assassin—but there was something deeply satisfying about knowing that you would raze the world for her without hesitation.

And gods help anyone who thought to take you away from her.

#arcane #arcane x reader #arcane x female reader #arcane x you #arcane x y/n #arcane drabbles #ambessa headcanons #ambessa x you #ambessa x reader #arcane ambessa #ambessa arcane #ambessa medarda #ambessa medarda x reader

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txttletale · 1 year ago

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how do ml's reconcile with lenin going for a bigbrainhaver hierarchy which just so happened to place him at the tippy top? most of the things he's quoted for writing make a kind of sense in that longwinded academic philosopher way, but, like, russia went from having a revolution against monarchy to having a monarchy, essentially, and what folks do tends to align with their desires, yeah? wouldn't that make everything he said, idk, suspicious?

we reconcile with this because none of this is even remotely true. lenin did not 'happen to be placed at the tippy top' but was in fact elected by the soviets, who worked in a very simple electoral system by which workers and peasants would elect representatives to their local soviet, who as well as administering local services would also elect members to higher bodies. the quote unquote bigbrainhaver hierarchy system in question was as follows:

The sovereign body is in every case the Congress of Soviets. Each county sends its delegates. These are elected indirectly by the town and county Soviets which vote in proportion to population, following the ratio observed throughout, by which the voters in the town have five times the voting strength of the inhabitants of the villages, an advantage which may, as we saw, be in reality three to one. The Congress meets, as a rule, once a year, for about ten days. It is not, in the real sense of the word, the legislative body. It debates policy broadly, and passes resolutions which lay down the general principles to be followed in legislation. The atmosphere of its sittings is that of a great public demonstration. The Union Congress, for example, which has some fifteen hundred members, meets in the Moscow Opera House. The stage is occupied by the leaders and the heads of the administration, and speeches are apt to be big oratorical efforts. The real legislative body is the so-called Central Executive Committee (known as the C. I. K. and pronounced "tseek") . It meets more frequently than the Congress to which it is responsible-in the case of the Union, at least three times in the year-passes the Budget, receives the reports of the Commissars (ministers), and discusses international policy. It, in its turn, elects two standing bodies: (1) The Presidium of twenty-one members, which has the right to legislate in the intervals between the sittings of the superior assemblies, and also transacts some administrative work. (2) The Council of Peoples' Commissars. These correspond roughly to the Ministers or Secretaries of State in democratic countries and are the chiefs of the administration. Meeting as a Council, they have larger powers than any Cabinet, for they may pass emergency legislation and issue decrees which have all the force of legislation. Save in cases of urgency, however, their decrees and drafts of legislation must be ratified by the Executive Committee (C.I.K.). In another respect they differ from the European conception of a Minister. Each Commissar is in reality the chairman of a small board of colleagues, who are his advisers. These advisory boards, or collegia, meet very frequently (it may even be daily) to discuss current business, and any member of a board has the right to appeal to the whole Council of Commissars against a decision of the Commissar.

—H.N. Brailsford, How The Soviets Work (1927)

you might notice that the congresses of soviets were not directly elected -- this is because they were elected by local soviets, who were directly elected, in a process that many people have given first hand accounts of:

I have, while working in the Soviet Union, participated in an election. I, too, had a right to vote, as I was a working member of the community, and nationality and citizenship are no bar to electoral rights. The procedure was extremely simple. A general meeting of all the workers in our organisation was called by the trade union committee, candidates were discussed, and a vote was taken by show of hands. Anybody present had the right to propose a candidate, and the one who was elected was not personally a member of the Party. In considering the claims of the candidates their past activities were discussed, they themselves had to answer questions as to their qualifications, anybody could express an opinion, for or against them, and the basis of all the discussion was: What justification had the candidates to represent their comrades on the local Soviet. As far as the elections in the villages were concerned, these took place at open village meetings, all peasants of voting age, other than those who employed labour, having the right to vote and to stand for election. As in the towns, any organisation or individual could put forward candidates, anyone could ask the candidate questions, and anybody could support or oppose the candidature. It is usual for the Communist Party to put forward a candidate, trade unions and other organisations can also do so, and there is nothing to prevent the Party’s candidate from not being elected, if he has not sufficient prestige among the voters. In the towns the “ electoral district ” has hitherto consisted of a factory, or a group of small factories sufficient to form a constituency. But there was one section of the town population which has always had to vote geographically, since they did not work together in one organisation. This was the housewives. As a result, the housewives met separately in each district, had their own constituencies, and elected their own representatives to the Soviet. Here, too, vital interest has always been shown in the personality of every candidate. Why should this woman be elected ? What right had she to represent her fellow housewives on the local Soviet ? In the district next to my own at the last election the housewife who was elected was well known as an organiser of a communal dining-room in the district. This was the kind of person that the housewives wanted to represent them on the Soviet. Another candidate, a Communist, proposed by the local organisation of the Party, was turned down in her favour.

[...]

The election of delegates to the local Soviet is not the only function of voters in the Soviet Union. It is not a question here of various parties presenting candidates to the electorate, each with his own policy to offer. The Soviet electorate has to select a personality from its midst to represent it, and instruct this person in the policy which is to be followed when elected. At a Soviet election meeting, therefore, as much or more time may be spent on discussion of the instructions to the delegate as is spent on discussing the personality of the candidates. At the last election to the Soviets, in which I personally participated, we must have spent three or four times as much time on the working out of instructions as we did on the selection of our candidate. About three weeks before the election was to take place the trade union secretary in every department of our organisation was told by the committee that it was time to start to prepare our instructions to the delegate. Every worker was asked to make suggestions concerning policy which he felt should be brought to the notice of the new personnel of the Moscow Soviet. As a result, about forty proposals concerning the general government of Moscow were handed in from a group of about twenty people. We then held a meeting in our department at which we discussed the proposals, and adopted some and rejected others. We then handed our list of pro¬ posals to a commission, appointed by the trade union committee, and representing all the workers in our organisation. This Commission co-ordinated the pro¬ posals received, placed them in order according to the various departments of the Soviet, and this co-ordinated list was read at the election meeting itself, again discussed, and adopted in its final form.

—Pat Sloan, Soviet Democracy (1937)

Between the elections of 1931 and 1934, no less than 18 per cent of the city deputies and 37 per cent of village deputies were recalled, of whom only a relatively small number — 4 per cent of the total — were charged with serious abuse of power. The chief reasons for recall were inactivity — 37 per cent — and inefficiency — 21 per cent. If these figures indicate certain lacks in the quality of elected officials, they show considerable activity of the people in improving government. The electorate of the Peasants' Gazette, for example, consisted of some 1,500 employees, entitled to elect one deputy to the Moscow city soviet and two to the ward soviet. For more than a month before the election every department of the newspaper held meetings discussing both candidates and instructions. Forty-three suggested candidates and some 1,400 proposals for the work of the incoming government resulted from these meetings, which also elected committees to boil down and classify the instructions. These committees issued a special four-page newspaper for the 1,500 voters; it contained brief biographies of the forty-three candidates, an analysis of their capacities by the Communist Party organization of the Peasants' Gazette, and the "nakaz," or list of "people's instructions," classified by subject and the branch of government which they concerned. At the final election meeting of the Peasants* Gazette there was literally more than 100 per cent attendance, since some of the staff who for reasons of absence or illness had not been listed as prospective voters returned from sanatoria or from distant assignments to vote. The instructions issued by the electorate in this manner — 1,400 from the Peasants' Gazette and tens of thousands from Moscow citizens — became the first business of the incoming government.

—Anna Louise Strong, The New Soviet Constitution (1937)

does this mean that the soviet project was some utopian perfect system? no. there were flaws in the system like any other. it disenfranchised the rural peasantry (although not, i would like to add, to any extent greater or even equivalent to the extent to which the US electoral system disenfranchises the urban working class) -- the various tiers of indirect selection created a divide between the average worker and the highest tier of the executive -- and various elements of this fledgling system would calcify and bureaucratise over time in ways that obstructed worker's democracy. but saying that it was 'a monarchy' is founded in absolutely nothing except the most hysterical anticommunist propaganda and tedious orwellian liberal truisms.

even brailsford, in an account overall critical of the soviet system, had to admit:

Speaking broadly, the various organs of the system, from the Council of Commissars of the Union down to the sub-committees of a town Soviet, are handling the same problems. Whether one sits in the Kremlin at a meeting of the most august body of the whole Union, the "C.I.K.," or round a table in Vladimir with the working men who constitute its County Executive Committee, one hears exactly the same problems discussed. How, be-fore June arrives, shall we manage to reduce prices by ten percent? What growth can we show in the number of our spindles, or factories, and in the number of workers employed? When and how shall we make our final assault on the last relics of illiteracy? Or when shall we have room in our schools, even in the remotest village, for every child? Was it by good luck or good guidance that the number of typhus cases has dropped in a year by half? And, finally, how can we hasten the raising of clover seed, so that the peasants who, at last, thanks to our propaganda, are clamoring for it, may not be disappointed?

—H.N. Brailsford, How The Soviets Work (1927)

genuinely, i think you should take a moment and think about where you learned about the soviet union. have you read any serious historical work on the topic, even from non-communist or anti-communist sources? because even imperialist propagandists have to make a pretence at engaging with actual facts on the ground, something which you haven't done at all -- and yet you speak with astounding confidence. i recommend you read some serious books instead of animal farm and reflect on why you believe the things you believe and how you know the things you think you know.

#ask #barkmoon

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sozila · 8 months ago

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convalescence. (sukuna x reader)

synopsis: convalescence noun. time spent recovering from an illness or medical treatment; recuperation. ryomen s. itadori was a disease that infected every part of your life, and you didn’t notice until it was too late.

pairing: best friend's older brother!ryomen s. itadori x pre-med uni student!fem reader.

warnings: explicit content eventually, mdni. mentions of sexual assault.

masterlist | previous | next

you are on: incubation. (part three)

a/n:

i'm so sorry this took literally forever to release! i was writing parts of the nanami fic and this chapter simultaneously, and then got really busy in between :( as an apology, wc for this chapter is 7.3k!! biggest shoutout to @beeh-ive, my one and only beta reader <3 ilysm and you are my iv, my lifeline. mwahs. anyways i hope you enjoy!!

ao3 link here.

incubation. (part three)

sukuna kept the hello kitty band-aids you gave him in his wallet.

he had no intention of using them, though he kept telling himself they were there if he needed some in an emergency. if that was the case, they wouldn’t be sitting in the photo pocket where he could see anytime he opened his wallet.

what he forgot was that anyone else could also see them in his wallet, in all their flashy pink glory. that brings him here; when he begrudgingly pulls it out to pay for gojo’s food and he hears the brat start ooh-ing at the sight of them.

“aww ‘kuna, when were you gonna tell me you got a girl?”

he prods around sukuna hoping to sneak a glance at any other evidence. albeit sukuna didn’t hold anything else of yours, he sure as hell didn’t need fucking gojo knowing anything. before he could continue with his trifling, the cafeteria attendant hands sukuna his card back and he shuts the wallet with a quick slap, thrusting the tray into the over-curious man.

“shut the fuck up and eat your damn food. moocher,” he grumbles under his breath as he walks far ahead of gojo, who was skipping behind him like a satisfied child. satoru knew that the band-aids could just be a fluke, but he knew better than to overlook such a detail if it gave headway to bothering his grumpy friend. you think satoru gojo would miss the detail of seeing you on his motorcycle that night? no one was allowed to ride with sukuna minus his family. all he knew now was that he kept an eye peeled for you, the girl that sukuna threw punches for a couple nights ago.

geto’s eyes flick up from his phone when the two reach the table he and shoko were already sat at and nods in greeting. “got my fries, bossman?” sukuna slides a container of fries to shoko and she puts her palms together in thanks towards him, already digging in.

geto turns to the older itadori, brows knitted. “i didn’t want to grill you at the house, but todo found out about the mahito shit.” sukuna rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest, sinking more into the chair. “you saw what the fucker did. you think i was gonna let my little bro’s friend get felt up by a frat brother?” geto sighs and puts his phone on the table. “i let you get some in because he touched her. but it’s not a good look when other frats saw an upperclassman beat up his younger out of the blue. todo says he’ll let it slide because of the circumstances, but next time, he’s gonna call an advisory meeting.”

sukuna was irritated beyond belief. so sukuna was on thin ice, and mahito was facing nothing because he got his shit rocked? he scoffed. this was the exact reason he couldn’t be on the executive board for the organization. “whatever, man. i would’ve done the same even if it wasn’t a brother.” geto nods solemnly. “as a person and your friend, i don’t see anything wrong, trust. but as the vice, i have to tell you this so you’re aware. rules are shitty, i know that the most,”

geto seemed genuinely apologetic so sukuna lightened up a tad. as the year had progressed, he could tell geto was getting fed up with dealing with social events and conflict resolution at the fraternity house. sukuna was surprised that todo was also slipping in his spirits, considering how proudly he boasted and enacted his duties as fraternity president. there’s no way he was able to make the decision to warn sukuna without feeling bad. todo was big on making the “respect women” rhetoric heavily enforced amongst them– so sukuna boiled it down to the answer that the panhellenic caught drift of the fight and made a push on todo. it checked out. the main board always did drown out scandals and washed blood from the hands of their brothers, unfortunately. therefore, sukuna was grateful this was his last year in the wretched organization as an active. he was only here because his grandpa was an alum anyways.

“yeah, i don’t give a fuck about that consequence bullshit, geto. mojito got his ass kicked for touching up a girl, the end.” shoko pipes up, not looking up from her food.

satoru bursts into a cackle, his drink spitting out a little. “shoko, his name’s mahito!”

she gives him a grimace of disgust. “the fuck? mahito, mojito.. bitches need to get better names, i swear to god.”

“...and then megumi told him to eat a dick, can you believe it? i think the guy was too embarrassed to say anything after that–”

yuuji was raving about something that happened in his design class that you thought was just so yuuji of him to find hilarious. you laugh at his recreation of the scene, only to stop with the sight you caught from across the pavilion.

it was a familiar 6 foot 5 inches of black leather and faded jeans. your cheeks heat at the memory of your last exchange from the past weekend. his hands brushing yours, your eyes watching the drop of his eyelashes, your lips inches from his enough so you could feel his warm breath– you had to shake the thought away. it was inappropriate to assume that anything was even going to happen. you notice sukuna wasn’t alone. he was walking with the same brown haired girl from the party. the pretty one in the little black dress, you remember. she was in deep conversation as they walked, and sukuna seemed awfully in tandem with her.

what, why did you even care? it wasn’t like you harbored any interest in the older itadori anyways. he was bad news all around, too brash for your liking. did you forget how every person you knew thought he was an asshole, save for his brother? he’s only ever insulted you! you bet he took you home out of necessity, you would imagine he’d get a scolding from yuuji if he found out sukuna could have helped you and didn’t. he was nothing more than your best friend’s emotionally-constipated older brother.

but.. you didn’t let your brain register that your heart sank at scenarios in your head between him and that cooler girl. she was definitely more fitting to sukuna’s type, you were sure. her style was more mature, and aesthetically matched his. she wore demonias and you had a collection of mary janes. she probably didn’t even own any pink glitter ribbons, like the ones you liked to wear.

“aww, you always do this! are you even paying attention to me?” you snap out of the gloomy bubble you were ruminating in. you were too focused on a man that didn’t even appear in the same social circles as you, how pathetic! you had bigger things to worry about, too. your shiny new internship was waiting for you. yuuji gave you a whiny tug and leaned his head on your shoulder, enlisting a chuckle and shove from you. he truly had the face of a puppy. “okay, okay! you have my full presence now, you big baby.” yuuji beams at you with a goofy grin. he continues on, animatedly, distracting you from the revelations you’d made. what you didn’t catch was that he followed your line of vision when your mood dropped, and was well aware it had something to do with his brother..? he had every intention of finding out why.

the both of you enter the lecture auditorium and you tap into your rhythm again, forgetting your gloom. physics was easy for you to lose your brain into as the subject was satisfying once you got the hang of it. on the other hand, yuuji found it unnecessarily confusing and ended up needing your help from time to time. after the three hour lecture, your professor informed the class that you were to work on a project that weighed a quarter of your grade for the course. it was allowed to have a partner, but you could work individually if you wished. while you preferred doing such high-risk assignments by yourself, you couldn’t say no to the same puppy face that mouthed pleads to you. when you pack your things and go down to write your choice on the professor’s clipboard, you add “yuuji itadori” next to your name. “did i ever tell you i love you more than nobara and megs? you should know that,” he loops an arm around your neck and ruffles your hair, tousling the hairdo you had it in. you chortle. “you owe me like, thirty coffees.” “heard loud and clear, cap’n!” you decide that it would be best to start working right away and yuuji tells you they should work at his place so he could shower you with snacks and things (look at him, already living up to his deal). obviously there was no way in hell you’re passing that up, and you get to hang out with your lovely best friend for another couple hours. a total win-win.

10:00 P.M.

whoever said this was a good idea was a big fat liar. you were on the fifth reiteration of the same problem you were trying to explain to yuuji and he looked like his brain was going to spontaneously combust from the words you were throwing at him. “wait, what do you mean hooke’s law applies here?! i’m so loooost!” he threw his hands up in defeat and slumps on the coffee table, face mushed into the glass.

“we need to take a break or i might die…”

you sigh and shut your laptop. “me too. i think i forgot what i said as soon as i told you.”

you pick up an unopened bag of doritos and toss it to yuuji’s head. “nothing like red 40 to clear your sadness, though,” he moans in agreement and reaches for the bag, his head still stationary to the table. you dig in the tray of snacks for a packet for yourself when you hear the front door unlock.

in comes the same leather jacket and faded jeans, along with a bunch of grocery bags in each hand. they looked extremely heavy altogether, but he seemed to carry them with no real effort. he sets them on the kitchen island and peers at the two of you in the living room. sukuna’s face shifts slightly when his eyes land on you. you turn your head away with a jolt.

“got your shit, yuu,” he calls.

the younger itadori lifts his head finally to look for his brother, throwing him a thumbs-up.

you pretend to be immensely busy with your search for chips when you felt him walk by, and out of the corner of your eye you could see him glance at you as he goes up the stairs.

of course he would stop by when you were trying to forget about his existence. but again, why did you care?

yuuji peeks at both of your reactions and frowns. he didn’t like this one bit. at best, sukuna was just being his usual rude self to you. at worst, something was happening between his best friend and his older brother… eughhh. the thought made him writhe a little. he knew that nothing good would come out of it for either of you. growing up with a brother like sukuna.. he knew how he could get.

“i hate you so much! you’re pushing dad away!” sukuna throws the first thing he sees at the woman in front of him. her eyes are dim with guilt. “ryomen, you know it’s not like that..” her words fall in nothingness, and she falters. what could she say? her red fingernails fumble with the button on her suitcase. “you’re throwing us away! you’re leaving me and yuuji for that ugly stupid man!” he screams in anger, but tears are flowing heavily over his bruised face. yuuji watched as his brother berated their mother, helpless. he wanted to tell him to stop, that this was too much.. he shut his eyes tightly and imagined the day before, when they were going out for ice cream instead. the giggles they had, his mother wiping his chubby chin with her sleeve, the game of hide and seek he and his brother shared at the neighborhood park. “yuuji, my messy boy,” his mother cooed, eyes crinkling with a smile. her blouse billowed with the summer wind. heavy footsteps broke the evocation, and from the crack of the door he saw another figure. no! he clamped his tiny hands over his ears until they went white, knees to his nose. the smell of his mother’s perfume in the dark closet helped him go back– to tune out the muffled sounds of fighting. the voices of his mother, his grandpa, and that man ebbed away. slowly, he drifted, his mind crystal blue.. the only thought left was the taste of chocolate and his mother’s soft caress; a silent requiem.

yeah, fuck that. and fuck him for trying to mess around with your head.

yuuji throws a dorito at you. you make a sound of annoyance and throw one of your own in retaliation. he giggles. “wanna go get banana milk?” you stretch your arms above your head with a yawn, cracking your fingers. “yeah, we could use some fresh air.” he hops up immediately and goes to put on his shoes. “hey, ryo, we’re going to the convenience store for milk, be back soon!” he yells from below the stairs. you hear him give a grunt of acknowledgement from above and you both make your way to take your minds off things. it wasn’t just physics that lay heavy on your hearts.

as soon as sukuna’s saw yuuji’s text that he would be studying with “a friend”, he was already speeding through his last repair at the shop. choso, his cousin-slash-coworker, nearly yells at him with the speed he was screwing the bolts back in on the vehicle. no matter. he’d done this same shit a million times over, it was like clockwork. he changed out of the oily uniform and got on his bike before he could get a proper scolding. he shoots a reply.

“bringing groceries. be there in 20.”

he tucks his phone away before yuuji could deny him. and just like that, he was lumbering to the elevator of yuuji’s complex with a giant load of bags in each hand. it was insanely efficient, if he said so himself( sukuna was conveniently leaving out the part where he switched out his bike and borrowed satoru’s camaro to make the aforementioned grocery trip, but he digresses).

he entered the apartment with a little difficulty, but it was worth it when he saw the mary janes sitting neatly on the shoe rack.

when he sets the bags on the counter, he looks to the living room to see you looking at him with that gorgeous face of yours. something about your complexion was so naturally saccharine, like you radiated sunlight.

he raises his hand to give a small wave but falters midway seeing your expression flip, snapping away from his gaze with your face flushed with an emotion he couldn’t decipher.

sukuna was mildly confused. weren’t you on new terms since that night? not even a bit?

“got your shit, yuu,” the kid throws a thumbs up.

as he takes off his jacket, he finds himself glancing repeatedly at your now-nervous form. he couldn’t help feel a little irritated. sukuna was seemingly the only one exempt from your natural state, for whatever reason(sukuna’s aloofness to the fact 1. you both met officially only two weeks ago and 2. the amount of times he’s argued with you, was borderline insane).

you were wearing a different set of ribbons today, a pale lavender in hue. he wondered how many more were in your collection. the outfit you wore was simple but flattering, albeit he couldn’t see it properly.

a chuckle rumbles his throat when his focus shifts to see your face was almost entirely inside the tray of chips, doing anything to avoid small-talk he assumed.

his brother was slumped on the other side of the table as well, and he just shakes his head. it always was hard to tutor yuuji, the little brat was just so hyper. he says a silent prayer for you and walks up the stairs without another word.

he’d talk to you tonight eventually, he would make sure of that.

the street was mostly empty and dark, save for the streetlights marking your path back. the trip was fairly short but you and yuuji were walking at a leisurely pace, sipping on the tiny drinks. yuuji hesitates to ask you about sukuna, so he settles for talking about the party.

“so how’d you like the party? i was totally shitfaced, so i never got to ask you,” he joyfully perked up. you sigh and look at him with a small accusatory smile. “yeah, you totally left me in the dust, whore. the party was okay, i guess. i did meet this cool guy,” you began.

yuuji ooh’s and bumps your shoulder with his. “well, don’t just say that and stop! tell me more,” he eggs you on in a lilty tone. “actually, he said he knew you. his name was suguru,” yuuji snaps and shakes a finger in the air. “yeah i do! he’s super chill, one of sukuna’s frat brothers. he’s the vp for the fraternity!” your eyebrows lift in surprise a little. “oh wow. i didn’t know he was the vp,” you murmured, taking the information in thoughtfully. so suguru was more than just affiliated, he was practically running the show. and he was close with sukuna, which was kind of unfortunate. so much for having an interest in someone decent. “yup! he doesn’t seem the type, but he does a good job. or so i’ve been told by gojo and ryo,” he laughs, taking another sip.

“sooo… anything i missed at the party?” you were hoping he wouldn’t ask, but you assumed it would’ve come up eventually. you nod and sigh, looking up at the dark sky. yuuji slows down to a stop, brows cinched together. “something bad happened?” his voice drops to a lower, more serious tone.

“when you guys left, i ended up bumping into this really sleazy guy.. i guess he was trying to flirt with me?” you began.

yuuji looked visibly enraged, his eyes twitching. “go on.”

“he didn’t end up doing anything crazy because megumi came, but he did.. grope me.” you mumbled.

this was so stupid, you genuinely wanted to forget it even happened. you hadn’t put a ton of thought on the event until you recounted it, and it left a pit in your stomach.

yuuji crushed the milk carton in his hand and started walking faster. “i’m calling suguru and figuring out who the fuck that was, there is NO WAY–”

your eyes widen as his usually innocent and sunshine personality switches to an aggressive demeanor. you catch up to him and stop him from starting a second round of fighting. man, maybe yuuji was related to sukuna– the way both of them reacted instantly was too alike.

“wait! oh my god, hold on!” your hands push into his chest and he looks at you incredulously. “he got beat up at the party! he got what he deserved,” yuuji looked properly confused.

“megumi never told me he beat up someone, what?”

“it wasn’t megumi, yuu! it was sukuna.”

his face dropped the confusion and something unreadable replaced it. “...oh, i see. he saw that shit happen to you then?”

your face blanched. you didn’t think about that. did sukuna just watch you get assaulted? you wracked your brain to figure out the chronological order of events, but the adrenaline in the memory made everything a blur. “i.. i don’t know, maybe!”

yuuji’s face hardened. “and he did nothing to stop it?”

you had to defend sukuna, he literally beat up the slimeball for you. there was definitely something you were missing, but you didn’t know what. your voice was wavering. “megumi stopped it, so it’s fine, yuu! can we drop it now? please?”

yuuji notices that this was getting hard for you to talk about, and his anger for his brother was getting displaced onto you. he softens, shoulders untensing. “I’m sorry, [name]. that was shitty of me to grill you.” he looks away, a guilty look falling on him. you wrap your arms around his torso and squeeze lightly. “it’s okay, yuu. i know you’re just worried for me. i really appreciate it.” he squeezes you back tighter. “i feel horrible that i was trashed and did nothing to help you. that’s so not what a best friend should do,” he says into your hair. you sigh, cheek pressed on his chest. “seriously, i don’t blame you. i just.. don’t know how to feel about it yet, so be patient with me.” he squeezes you tighter. “i’m gonna be here for you always, babe. nobara, megs, all of us okay? if you ever need to talk about it don’t hesitate. i love you so much,” your heart swells with warmth. you knew how much your friends cared for you, you never had a doubt about it. “you’re gonna make a bitch cry, yuuji, seriously,” you fake punch him in the stomach and he doubles over groaning, playing along. “now, i’m going to teach you that physics problem and you’re going to understand it,” you pull away from his chest to shake a strict finger at him, lips quirking in a smile. he gives you a firm salute and starts bounding to the apartments. “sir yes sir!”

when you entered the flat again, you make a beeline towards the bathroom upstairs. you hadn’t noticed your eyes got teary enough to smudge your makeup during your heart to heart with yuuji. he was bent over with laughter when he showed your raccoon face to you in his phone’s front camera, earning him a smack.

you’re looking down at your own phone as you walk up the stairs to take a better look, when you’re met with a wall you didn’t notice before. or wait.. a firm surface? sukuna has an arm propped on the wall before the bathroom, and he was looking straight down at you.

your face goes red immediately, and you can’t back up because you’d end up tumbling down the stairs. a weird checkmate. “so what’s with you avoiding– why are your eyes like that?” his eyebrows go from serious to confused. you frown up at him and start wiping at them. “is it really that bad? god…” a rough hand holds your chin and pushes your head up, the other rubbing under your eye gently with his thumb.

“you cryin’, sweetheart?”

his voice rumbled in a whisper, breath on fanning on your lips. your heart was pounding so hard in your ears you barely heard him. you were so close you could see his stubble, the scar on his upper lip, even the intricacy of his neck tattoo.

“no, i wasn’t, well– actually i was, but not for the reason you think-”

your eyes drift to the bathroom door as you ramble until the hand that was holding your chin is now wrapped around the small of your back, just shy of your ass.

you shut up.

he smirks.

“alright, you just look like a panda then. now, are you gonna tell me why you're avoiding me?”

your face pulls into a mild glower. “i’m not avoiding you, what?”

“yeah, you are. didn’t say hi to me.” your hands press on his chest to ease from the proximity. you notice he’s wearing a wife pleaser like the first day you met him. what was your mind going to? your eyes flick back up quickly and narrow at him.

“we’re not even friends, why would i say hi to you?”

his head leans closer to yours, noses almost touching. "didn't yuuji tell you to get along with me?"

you glare. "he never said that, asshole."

sukuna gave you a vexed look. did you expect him to remember the words verbatim? "okay, he said some bullshit about warming up to each other! god, you're so difficult."

"me? difficult?” a scoff leaves your lips. all you could think was that the audacity of this man was unbelievable. “you are literally cornering me to talk to me!" you gesture to the position you were both in, but he didn’t seem to budge.

sukuna huffs, almost petulantly. you try to push him away, but the grip of his hand on your back wasn’t letting you go. he didn’t get the answer he needed from you, and he wasn’t going to let you leave without it. between the party and now, something had happened for you to act so differently. you were so soft and open with him that night, but now? it was back to square one.

“...you’re still in the way! seriously sukuna, what do you want from me?” you were exasperated at this point. his insistence would be endearing, if he wasn’t such a major fuckwad. honestly, out of every girl he could have bothered, he had to choose you? where was that other girl he was so stuck to anyway? why couldn’t he have just called her instead of holding you hostage and bombarding you with questions about your attitude? your irritation was growing, and his lack of response only proved to increase your frustration. why was he just looking at you?

sukuna was wracking his brain to form a coherent thought after you dropped that bomb on him. what did he want from you? this was unlike him to chase after a girl, and to almost harass her over a simple ‘hi’? he was obsessed over what? fucking hello kitty band-aids. he’s barely keeping his hands off of you with the way you were staring at him, assessing his every feature. your cheeks were puffed and rosy, your eyes still blotchy with mascara but god, you looked so perfect standing before him. he wanted to kiss you. he wanted to kiss you so bad. he wanted to kiss you that night when you told him his eyes were sanguine red. what the fuck did that even mean? he had to look that shit up and lo and behold, it was the perfect shade match. you were so fucking smart it pissed him off. he enjoyed riling you up by telling you otherwise. he wanted to yank those lavender ribbons out of your hair and never give them back. it was so perverse; the way he was holding you wasn’t enough for him. you smelled like honey and sandalwood, he couldn’t get that out of his head ever since you rode behind him on his motorcycle. he wanted his bed to smell like you. he longed to wake up there and it would be the first thing to hit his senses. this was testing his restraint in ways he didn’t know existed. he knew he couldn’t cross that line, this was mental to even consider doing! what was doing him in so badly?? even he didn’t know what had gotten into him. all he knew was that he felt a little more than just irked you were taking precautions to avoid interaction, especially when he was dying internally to merely hold your gaze.

“y’know, i really need to go to the bathroom, so if you have nothing to say to me, i’m leaving. stick to teasing other girls.” a pregnant pause. his face fell at your last sentence, it definitely held some edge on your tone. sukuna shifted, a hand going up to your cheek. you scrunch your brows in flushed inquisition. he looks to the side before bringing his eyes back to you. they appeared poignant, almost wistful. you weren’t able to discern why, though. his voice was more delicate this time.

“..did you feel–”

“you okay babe?” yuuji’s voice from below snaps both of you out of your heated exchange. sukuna’s hands drop from you like they never belonged there to begin with. you take the opportunity to finally go to the bathroom, accidentally shouldering sukuna as you push past him. yuuji’s worried expression immediately becomes one of annoyance as he watches his brother come down instead, sourness cast on his rough face. “are you kidding me? what was that about?” yuuji had his arms crossed, jaw ticking. sukuna halts and turns to face him. “mind your fuckin’ business, brat.” yuuji bites back an insult, opting to check up on you instead. he knew he couldn’t start something with sukuna when you were home as well.

yuuji knocks on the door of the bathroom. “did sukuna say anything to you?” you were in the middle of splashing water to cool your flaming cheeks. “no, it’s fine! don’t even worry,” you call back loudly, drying your face in a manner that was definitely too rough on the skin.

your mind was racing with images of sukuna, his lips, the feel of him holding you, his cologne stuck in your nose– coming to do physics at the apartment was supposed to be a distraction from what was going on between you two. how come when you threw yourself more into your work, this idiot would weasel his way back to you!

you look at yourself in the mirror and you cringe at the sight. yikes. the combination of no makeup and your blotchiness was not the best. as you go to pick up your phone from the counter, you see the time flash. 2:35AM. you were an hour past the time you wanted to leave, you had an 8am that next day. technically, it was already the next day.. you wince. sighing and opening the door, and there was yuuji. “i know i said we need to finish the problems, but i’m really tired yuu,” you admit with a nervous laugh. “i have anatomy and physiology at 8 tomorrow, and i can totally explain it to you at lunch! right?” this had got to be the lamest excuse. coming from you, the person who never avoided doing work, it was suspicious to say the least. the morning class was buyable, but procrastination was not in your vocabulary. yuuji suffered firsthand from you about it. he raises a brow. “aaalright, no worries. don’t have to tell me twice.” he laughs back weakly. this was becoming extremely awkward. both of you were acting off and the silence that followed did not help either of your cases. “okay! so i’m just gonna head home, get my things, yup!” your voice was weirdly pitchy and before yuuji could question it, you were already down the stairs in a blast. “wha– girl, it's way too dark out!” he calls after you.

you start collecting your computer and belongings into your tote bag, quickly moving. you almost trip over while putting on your shoes, slipping them on carelessly. sukuna had rounded the corner from the kitchen upon hearing your commotion, yuuji on his tail. “whoa, you’re goin’ now? it’s too late at night, let me–” you throw a hand in sukuna’s face. “you’re not giving me a ride, i brought my car.” having another experience of prolonged close proximity with him in the same night was too much for you to handle. besides, this time you thankfully had a saving grace. barely. “at least let me walk you down, it’s dark as hell outside.” sukuna looked sincere in his concern, but yuuji was eyeing him indignantly. “you okay with that, babe?” yuuji gives you a face that says it was okay to say no, but you nod your head in reassurance. “yeah, it’s fine. i’ll see you tomorrow, yuu.” you blow him a small kiss with your two fingers like you usually did, and he mirrors it back. sukuna puts on the first pair of shoes he sees, already halfway out the door when you turn back around. he gestures to you to get a move on with his head, earning an eye roll from you.

you walk out and he closes the door behind you, giving yuuji one last wave. the walk down to your car was wordless, and sukuna didn't look at you once. better than him looking at you fervently, you suppose. when you step into the driver’s seat and reach to close the door, he stops you. his tall figure crouches down to meet your level, now meeting your gawking stare. again?

“you didn’t let me finish earlier.”

your eyes dart to the console, fingers fidgeting. “okay, out with it then,” you mumbled.

“i wanted to ask you if you felt the same shit i felt that night when you told me that stuff about my eyes.”

his body language was firmly attentive to you, but his voice had a weird waver to it. he remembered what you said about his eyes? what did he mean, feel the same shit? the silver chain around his neck dangled between the both of you, glinting in the streetlight as it moved. you noticed he was breathing deeply. nervously? what the fuck. “what are you talking about?” he silently cursed and readjusted his footing, clearly uncomfortable with the fact he needed to spell it out. he wasn’t exactly in touch with his emotions. “you really are the most difficult fuckin’ girl i’ve ever met, fuckin’ hell. just tell me what you meant by it.” you peer at him from the side of your eyes, trying to search his face. you were pretty confused at what he was trying to get at overall, but you just answered his question. “nothing. your eyes are just sanguine red. i like that color.” his lips quirk up and he angles his head at you. “you like my eyes?” your face flames. “i said i liked the color! what is it with you and mishearing people?” you throw back. with a huff you turn the key to turn on the engine, which prompted him to move out of the way so you could shut the door, him laughing at your irritation. he knocks on the window and motions you to lower it. you oblige angrily.

“you literally have 10 seconds or i swear to god i’m running over your toes.” you seethe.

his stupidly handsome face was just egging you on. his hair was tousled, the wind breezing through it gently and he looked unfairly good. you shivered with the chill going up your neck. he licks his lips and you watch it shamelessly. he notes this.

“just tellin’ you that you got lucky with your car today. whenever you think about getting an uber, don’t. you’re not getting in a car with any other man besides me.”

your heart skips a beat. nope, that was just a palpitation. your heart does not skip for sukuna, you did not consent to it. before you can register it, he flicks your nose with a grin. you rapidly blink, enlisting more cackles out of him. you punch him in the arm before he’s running back to the apartments. “not fucking happening!” you yell after him, head sticking out of your window. you fume all the way home, your music turned up to drown out the pounding in your chest.

when sukuna opens the door, he’s met with a really pissed off yuuji. “you need to leave [name] alone, ryomen.” sukuna knew this was coming given that he witnessed your altercation to a certain degree, but he was definitely overreacting. he’s kicking his shoes off and trudges to the couch, unbothered.

“i’m not doing shit to her, yuu. it’s just teasing.”

sukuna leans to grab the remote off the table when yuuji grabs it instead. “i’m fucking serious. stop fucking around with my friends.”

sukuna looks up at him with a raised brow, jaw flexed. “i said, i’m not doing shit to her.”

yuuji laughs bitterly and shakes his head. “i’m not four anymore, ryo. i can see what you’re doing and you need to quit now.” he jabs a finger on his brother’s chest, which garners him to stand up and face him, his height paralleling yuuji’s. sukuna was just as irritated now. looking down at yuuji, he takes a moment before he speaks so it doesn’t end up in curses.

“you forget you’re speaking to your aniki, brat.” he grits through his teeth, fists balled up on either side of him, shoulders tense.

yuuji’s eyes narrow. “she doesn’t need someone like you fucking her life up, ryomen. i don’t care if we’re brothers, if you toy with her and she ends up hurt, i’m killing you.”

sukuna suddenly gives him a shove to the chest. “and you need to mind your fuckin’ business like i told you to!”

yuuji’s face flashes with mild shock at sukuna getting physical, backing up with a stutter. “so what, you’re gonna fucking hit me now? what is wrong with you lately!” yuuji throws his hands up in the air and paces the room intensely.

sukuna’s stony face falters, his arms relaxing. what was he doing?

“you always do this shit! you talk about respecting women and you can’t seem to fucking treat one right! is it because of mom? how much longer are you going to hold on to that?!”

sukuna begins to bound towards him to give him a real piece of his mind but yuuji throws the remote on the couch towards sukuna, cutting him off and gesturing aggressively. “but you know what? that’s not my shit to figure out. if you want to distract yourself from your baggage, that’s fine by me, but like i said, [name] deserves SO much more than someone like you.” he spat, chest heaving from his tirade. “i’m going to bed. you can see yourself out.” the younger itadori brother’s stomps fade into the apartment as the other is left speechless, thoughts muddy with guilt and a reopened wound.

the next day you had plans to meet with nobara at the university coffee shop, which made you mildly uneasy. with your permission, yuuji had told nobara about the party situation and her reaction was similar to his, and she had approached you at lunch to talk about it. it went rather smoothly so you didn’t feel so horrible about retelling your thoughts– nobara just understood.

what you hadn’t told her was the events of yesterday with sukuna, and those were definitely going to be coaxed out of you over coffee. she had a knack for making you empty your guts with her. it was her evil superpower, you say. your shoes clack on the tile floor of the small joint that resided by your university as you made your way inside, head flitting to search for your redhead. it was a cozy spot, mostly run by employees that were also students at the university. the owners were an old couple that were alumni and had the place built on the courtyard spot they had first met at. the story was widely known by students and carried the spirit of the place, pictures of them and other former students littering the walls. you found it absolutely adorable as a hopeless romantic. you finally spot nobara waving at you by a window table and make your way towards her. “you look cute today, any special occasion?” you shrug, a small smile on your lips. “it’s 10 degrees warmer today, so i decided to celebrate.” “well i’m loving the skirt, don’t be surprised when i borrow it.” you giggle, sticking your tongue at her. “you mean steal, not borrow.” nobara pretends to weigh the two words with her hands. “steal, borrow, it’s all very subjective babe.” you set your bag down on the chair next to yours, a stray piece of hair falling in front of your face in the process. “hey, you.” your head spins to where you heard the deep voice and finds a tall black-haired man. “oh hi, suguru!”

nobara looks at you with a question mark on her face, eyes flicking to him and then you. you give her a little “stop it!” look with your eyes, hoping he didn’t see it. geto was awfully observant and a smooth talker to boot, so you were generally screwed much to your oblivion.

he leans a hand on the back of your chair and tucks the stray hair piece behind your ear. “you look pretty as per usual,” his grin was mind melting. your clothes suddenly felt too warm even though they were the most ventilating pieces you owned. you throw a hand in flattery at him, gushing. “oh stop, you’re too sweet!”

if nobara didn’t have questions before, she certainly did now. from the corner of your eye you could see her gaping at the scene unfolding before her.

you feel embarrassed with the display you had created and changed the subject quickly. “oh, this is nobara, by the way. you probably didn’t see her at the party but she was the one with the green haired girl.” suguru snaps and points at her. “you were the one fucking up the dance floor! i remember,” he sticks a hand out and nobara shakes it firmly, a too-sugary smile plastered on her lips. you could tell she was assessing the guy to his very bones.

“that’s me! and the girl with me was my girlfriend maki.” suguru nods in recollection. “well it’s nice to officially meet you, outside of the frat stuff! it can be a lot sometimes," he glances back at you and frowns apologetically. “which is technically why i came over to talk. i really wanted to say sorry for what went down. the pres, todo, is handling mahito’s consequences so i hope that reassures you,” he looks at you with a face of worry and concern.

“i’m glad not all frats are shitty,” nobara tells him vaguely, code for “thanks for doing your fucking job for once”. he chuckles nervously and nods in thanks. “well, i’ll leave you guys to your coffee now. sorry again,” he pats your head and beams, vanishing out the door with a jingle of the bell overhead. instantly, nobara slammed questions down back to back in hushed screams. “what the fuck was that?! and he tucked your hair? what is this, bridgerton? you didn’t freaking tell me about meeting a GUY at the party, you bitch!” you begged her to quiet down as people started paying attention to the wild hand movements she was doing. nobara, oh my god please! it’s been literally two days!” “yeah, two days of girl code betrayal! i needed to know this shit like yesterday!” she squealed at you and shook your shoulders. you wince at the bombardment and wave an imaginary flag of surrender.

“okay, okay fine! at least let me order my coffee?” she abruptly stops for a moment and notices that you in fact had nothing in front of you. “oh em gee i didn’t even peep that, my bad.” she holds her hands together in a “please forgive me” position. you both immediately burst into giggles. “buy me a cookie?” “you got it.”

you walk up the register and ask for your favorite drink and nobara’s cookie. the girl that took your order was really nice to you for some reason, but you weren’t complaining. she was giggling a lot when she rang you up, which was odd but.. okay.

“your boyfriend is so sweet, by the way. i wish mine tried half as much,”

ohhhh. she must’ve seen you and suguru talking. you let out a small laugh and brush it off. “oh, he’s not my boyfriend,” you say. her brows furrow in confusion. “the pink haired guy with tattoos? he literally told me to give this to his girl in green ribbons!”

you notice there’s a pain au chocolat on the bill that you didn’t put down. pink hair.. there’s really just two choices in that description. you flip around to see if yuuji or sukuna were around, and from the outside of the cafe in the courtyard, you see sukuna leaned on the bricks, smoking. he gives you a small wave, cigarette in hand. you roll your eyes in disgust and ignore him. insistent asshole and a nicotine addict, great.

you turn back to the girl and give her a nervous smile, awkwardly accepting the free pastry. you didn’t tell nobara about the occurrence because you could handle only so much whiplash from shaking in one day. she just took it as another freebie from you and ate it happily.

you rub your temples and sigh. something tells you you’re going to have to be a lot firmer with sukuna going forward.

ahh! this was lowk a pain to format but i hope you loved it :) also, some people wanted to be in a taglist!! here they are:

@kawliflo @deepcloudspyhairdo just so i don't lose track, my taglist will tag you for any of my works! if you choose to opt out, please message/inbox :) also, i will cap it eventually! don't worry about this because i cross-post on ao3, and they also have a subscribe feature that can notify you when i post :)

peace luv bathtub!!!

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celestiamour · 5 months ago

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Hello lovely if ur requests are open could you do a Peter pevensie x reader at there wedding? <3

ft. peter pevensie x f! reader — the chronicles of narnia

╰₊✧ being nervous on your wedding day┊0.5k words

setting: the golden age contains: slight angst? established relationship

➤ author's note: sorry if you wanted a gnreader, i didn’t read it properly and jumped the gun >_< it’s also so short because i don’t really know how to write weddings, but i thought this was cute

peter hasn’t trembled like this in years, not since school in england and not since preparing for his first battle. he never needed to tremble ever since becoming king, never second-guessed announcing his executive decisions when he had his hand-chosen board of advisory and his siblings backing him, never unsure about the direction he swung his blade in, never questioned if you were the one he was destined to spend the rest of his life with.

yet his hands still shook as he nervously fidgeted with his buttons. susan reached out to help him out, tilting his chin up to remind him to keep his head held high before helping him fix the little details in his appearance to perfection. edmund chuckled at the sight of his older brother being so anxious, reminding him to chill out and that this was his wedding, not an emergency to discuss peace negotiations— he’s seen him calmer during times of war outbreaks. lucy was helping you prepare, but they wondered if they should call her over to work her magic on him.

it wasn’t the question of whether you would be a good wife and queen, it was if he would be a good husband to you. as high king, he’s an extremely busy man, to the point that he’s shocked he could even find the time to start and develop a relationship. he’s extremely grateful for your patience and understanding when he didn’t have the time to spend with you or he had to cut a date short, but he had no idea if that would change with the marriage. he means, even he would be pissed off if you were barely with him after the sacred sacrament of matrimony, nothing is stopping you from feeling frustrated when he inevitably has to flake on you sometimes because of his royal duties.

and both of you already had the talk about wanting to start a family, but would he be a good father, or would he be one who was constantly absent and would only show up at the end of the day when they were about to sleep during the most formidable years of their youth?

he’s standing at the altar with his mind racing, barely even listening to the music playing and watching you gracefully walk down the aisle arm in arm with mr tumnus. your dress is a gleaming white with pearls embedded into the fabric, a bouquet of flowers in hand and tangled in your hair, the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen. it’s slightly dizzying to experience something that’s been in planning for over a year and has been playing nonstop in his daydreams, but when you finally stand next to him and he lifts the veil to see your familiar face and smile, he feels all of his worries melt away.

the love in your eyes tell him all he needs to know, that you’ll be there by his side through thick and thin, that you knew he would do a good job as a husband and father, and that you weren’t worried about anything at all. he doesn’t find himself anxious for the rest of the ceremony, now filled with optimism and hope for the future, he finally relaxes and fully enjoys one of the best days in his life.

#📜. her works #the chronicles of narnia #the chronicles of narnia x reader #the chronicles of narnia fanfiction #narnia #narnia fanfiction #peter pevensie #peter pevensie x reader #narnia x reader

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a-very-tired-jew · 1 month ago

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So we've come to the first Friday of Trump's second term and my fiance sent me this handy dandy website.

It tracks what legislature and executive orders have been signed/passed or are being considered and it provides the schedule, and location of the President. There are numerous things to be worried about with this administration, but I'd like to bring attention to this executive order.

This is likely why Musk, Zuckerberg, Bezos, Chew, and other AI and tech billionaires were there. They, and other people like Trump and co, view themselves as leaders in tech, AI, and "science". Except they're all business in the worst ways possible. You're not seeing research publications come out from these names in any capacity. They're there to advise the President on how to exploit science and technology in the worst way possible. The other likely nefarious motivation is that they get to solicit all government institutions, universities, and science and research bodies for information in order to "advise" the President. Then after 2 years they get to leave with all that information having been made available to them. You don't think these tech billionaires and co aren't itching at the chance to get access to research before it's published and circulated? That they get access to information that might even be proprietary, private, or some level of classified because they are presidential advisors?

Also consider that this is a way for disgraced scientists that engage in things like climate change denialism and antivax rhetoric to become presidential advisors as well. Many of these scientists are not respected in the scientific community for letting their personal biases, beliefs, and lack of morals (e.g. taking bribes to publish fake results) compromise and undermine the work that is and has been done. They've long since been kicked out and relegated to political think groups where they can "research" and "publish" all day long and scream into their echo chamber. There is no way they actually put reputable scientists on this advisory board and let them run it as it should hypothetically be. If they do and it does run that way then I will be pleasantly surprised. But consider who this president is, who he pals around with, and who the sycophants have been lately.

This is another grift.

And our science sector is going to suffer for it.

#us politics #science and politics #executive orders #a scientist speaks

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covid-safer-hotties · 3 months ago

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Also preserved in our archive

Robert F. Kennedy Jr. from fringe figure to the prospective head of U.S. health policy was fueled by skepticism and distrust of the medical establishment—views that went viral in the Covid-19 pandemic.

People once dismissed for their disbelief in conventional medicine are now celebrating a new champion in Washington. Scientists, meanwhile, are trying to figure how they could have managed the pandemic without setting off a populist movement they say threatens longstanding public-health measures.

Lingering resentment over pandemic restrictions helped Kennedy and his “Make America Healthy Again” campaign draw people from the left and the right, voters who worried about the contamination of food, water and medicine. Many of them shared doubts about vaccines and felt their concerns were ignored by experts or regarded as ignorant.

Kennedy merged a crowd of Covid-era skeptics with people who long distrusted mainstream medicine and food conglomerates. Together, they helped return Donald Trump to the White House. With the president-elect’s selection of Kennedy to head the Department of Health and Human Services, the medical establishment is bracing for an overhaul of U.S. health policy.

Health authorities who beat the pandemic worry about losing more trust from the people they worked to save. Doctors, scientists and public-health officials are asking themselves how they can win it back. Among their postelection revelations: Don’t underestimate or talk down to those without a medical degree.

Officials fear that Kennedy will promote unproven remedies, appoint vaccine skeptics to immunization-advisory committees and hamper the government’s infectious-disease detectives in a future pandemic.

Kennedy has said he opposes food coloring and additives, the widely used pesticide glyphosate, seed oils and foods with added sugars, among many other issues. Medical authorities say some of his views, such as suspicion of ultra-processed foods, have scientific merit, while others are unfounded. The food and pharmaceutical industries are planning to win him over where they can and do battle where they can’t.

Much of Kennedy’s popularity reflects residual pandemic anger—over being told to stay at home or to wear masks; the extended closure of schools and businesses; and vaccine requirements to attend classes, board a plane or eat at a restaurant.

“We weren’t really considering the consequences in communities that were not New York City,” the places where the virus wasn’t hitting as hard, former National Institutes of Health Director Francis Collins said at event last year.

Authorities focused on ways to stop the disease and failed to consider “this actually, totally disrupts peoples’ lives, ruins the economy and has many kids kept out of school,” Collins said. The U.S. overall took the right approach, he said, but overlooking long-term consequences was “really unfortunate. That’s another mistake we made.”

Public-health officials wonder if they have sufficient clout for the next national emergency. “Science is losing its place as a source of truth,” said Dr. Paul Offit, an infectious-disease physician at Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia. “It’s becoming just another voice in the room.”

Pandemic restrictions wore on Joel Grey, a 62-year-old retired car salesman in Belfair, Wash., who voted for Trump. He got vaccinated only because diabetes put him at higher risk of complications from Covid-19. He said he watched acquaintances lose jobs because they wouldn’t get the shot and blamed his mother’s death at 87 partly on the isolation of lockdowns.

Grey became frustrated with scientists telling Americans how to live, he said: “I just don’t think they have a place in our lives.” His view resonated broadly.

In October 2023, 27% of Americans who responded to a Pew Research Center poll said they had little to no trust in scientists to act in the public’s best interests, up from 13% in January 2019.

‘Latest Nonsense’ Children’s Health Defense, a nonprofit group founded by Kennedy, got a boost during the lockdown era, a time of surging interest in alternative medical and nutrition information and advice. The nonprofit raised more than $46 million from 2020 to 2022, nearly 10 times more than it collected in the three years before the pandemic, tax filings show.

The group published articles saying Covid-19 vaccines sabotaged the immune system and enriched shareholders of drugmakers. “Ignore the Latest Nonsense About ‘Variants.’ Stay Focused on Dangers of COVID Shots,” read the headline of one 2021 article. Others took aim at Dr. Anthony Fauci, head of the federal government’s infectious-disease research center, and groups that supported vaccines, including the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation.

To counter such views, Jessica Malaty Rivera, an epidemiologist with hundreds of thousands of Instagram followers, shared information on the importance of vaccines and face masks. She dismissed unsupported claims as misinformation and described some of their purveyors as grifters.

Looking back, Rivera said her sometimes scolding messages weren’t helpful. “Everybody has been tempted by the slam dunk,” he said. “It’s not an effective way to communicate science. It’s just not.” She and others say they are dialing back the use of the word misinformation, saying it makes people feel they are being called liars or dumb.

During the pandemic, Palmira Gerlach had questions about the Covid-19 vaccines, but doctors “were very dismissive,” the 44-year-old recalled.

Gerlach, a stay-at-home mother outside Pittsburgh, said she falsely told her child’s pediatrician that she got the shot, seeking to avoid judgment. The doctor told her, “Good girl.” Gerlach turned to podcasts featuring Kennedy, drawn to his willingness to question pandemic measures.

One challenge for health authorities was learning how to combat Covid-19 while hundreds of people died each day. Researchers needed months just to clarify how the virus spread. That meant answers to common questions kept shifting: Was it OK to gather outside? When was it safe to visit grandparents? Do I have to wear a face mask everywhere?

Health authorities sometimes got it wrong. At first, officials said Covid-19 vaccines would prevent transmission or infection. Later, they learned that the shots instead cut the risk for hospitalization or death.

Shelli Hopsecger, a small-business owner in Olympia, Wash., who described herself as an independent, said she listened closely to health officials when the pandemic hit. But as school closures and lockdowns dragged on, she began questioning what they said.

Hopsecger, 56, said the pandemic made her realize how powerful a role federal health agencies played in her life. “We all are aware now that there are these agencies that look at these things on our behalf,” she said. “As citizens, it’s time for us to start telling them what we want them to look at.”

Last year, Hopsecger said she started listening to Kennedy’s podcast interviews on the recommendation of her 26-year-old son. She recalled Kennedy pointing out how millions of Americans suffer from chronic diseases, despite vast sums spent on healthcare.

“Mr. Kennedy is definitely on to something,” Hopsecger said. “Our current policies and systems are not doing the job of preventing or even reversing chronic diseases.”

Us and them Kennedy’s polling as an independent presidential candidate had fallen to the single digits when he threw his support to Trump in August and embraced the slogan “Make America Healthy Again.”

The career of Kennedy—an environmental lawyer, former heroin addict and the nephew of the late President John F. Kennedy—took a turn in 2005 when he began questioning the use of vaccines. He says he exercises, meditates and attends 12-step meetings every day.

While campaigning for Trump, Kennedy talked about how more Americans were obese and more young people were getting diagnosed with cancer. He decried the quality of foods and warned that water and medicines were polluted by toxins and chemicals. He criticized the medical establishment for pushing pills and shots, rather than addressing the root causes of disease.

“We were all told in Covid: ‘Trust the experts.’ But that’s not a thing,” Kennedy said in an episode of the “What is Money?” podcast in April. “Trusting the experts is not a feature of science. It’s the opposite of science. It’s not a feature of democracy.”

Many doctors, scientists and health officials with traditional credentials share Kennedy’s view that ultraprocessed foods contribute to obesity, yet they also say more study is needed. Likewise, many establishment health figures agree that scientists need to do more to understand the role of microplastics and so-called forever chemicals in food and water.

Yet many scientists and food-industry officials say some of the food colorings and chemicals Kennedy pinpoints as dangerous don’t affect human health in such small quantities. Nearly all are alarmed by Kennedy’s unproven or disproved claims—that vaccines cause autism, AIDS might not be caused by HIV and antidepressant drugs might be linked to mass shootings.

Ashley Taylor, a 33-year-old entrepreneur in New York City, sides with Kennedy’s views on food safety and the role of experts. She became critical of traditional medicine after scoliosis surgery as a teenager left her reeling in pain and reliant on Tylenol. She said she rejected her doctors’ recommendations and found relief from her back problems with acupuncture, a nutritious diet, yoga and positive thinking.

Taylor said that health authorities during the pandemic ignored studies on natural immunity and didn’t acknowledge that people who had been infected with Covid-19 might not need to be vaccinated. “What I just don’t approve of is purposefully presenting information in a way that is not allowing the American public to arrive at their own opinion,” she said.

Taylor listened to part of Kennedy’s book, “The Real Anthony Fauci; Bill Gates, Big Pharma, and the Global War on Democracy and Public Health.” She was attracted to his ideas even more after watching a September roundtable on nutrition featuring Kennedy and his allies, hosted by Sen. Ron Johnson (R, Wisc.) in the Senate.

After previously voting for Democrats, Taylor said she cast her ballot for Trump.

Mainstream doctors, researchers and health officials are bracing for a Kennedy-led federal health department. They are considering how best to communicate with the public if they need to counter decisions that stray from established public-health measures.

Some Food and Drug Administration staffers have already stopped saying that vaccines are safe and effective, instead advising that the benefits outweigh the risks, a person familiar with the matter said. The change is intended to make clear that all medical interventions have risks, the person said, and to spike the argument that rare side effects mean vaccines aren’t safe.

Virologist Dr. Greg Poland said he advises scientists to communicate with humility and empathy, to speak as a compassionate physician would with a patient. “We’re not dogmatic. We’re not about forcing people,” he said. “We’re about imparting information.”

To build trust in vaccines, Poland, who is also a Presbyterian minister, speaks to conservative churches and civic groups. He tells them he will be truthful and transparent and then explains how vaccines work and how scientists arrive at a consensus.

Poland said he stays until he has answered every last question.

#mask up #public health #wear a mask #pandemic #covid #wear a respirator #covid 19 #still coviding #coronavirus #sars cov 2 #us politics

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solarwonux · 1 year ago

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Business Proposal || knj (7/?)

pairing: namjoon x f!reader || ex friends to lovers!au friends to lovers!au

Genre: fluff, angst, smut, slow burn, fwb!au, non idol!au, unrequited love

Warnings: slow burn, angst,

Rating: mature, 18+

w.c: 5.8k

Synopsis: Namjoon is living on borrowed time, and it’s time to cash in. His father is months from taking his last breathe and his life long dream is to watch his oldest son say “I do.”

a/n: hello hello hellooooo, this one is more of a filler one to get everything started. Still, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. lmk your thoughts and if you want to be added to the tag list!

m.list || series m.list || wattpad

prev || next

10 years ago

The first time you ever met Kim Namjoon, the leaves were just beginning to change in color. The fall season was approaching. The greens of the summer were slowly fading into vibrant autumn hues. Replacing the obnoxious sticky heat, for humid and cooler winds. The leaves still hadn’t fallen, the foliage was at its peak and you were desperately trying to stay afloat.

Somehow, you had gotten roped into a math class. Well, you weren’t necessarily roped into it. You were forced into it. It was part of the prerequisite requirements and because you had barely passed all of your Algebra exams in high school, you couldn’t plead the advisory board to accept those credits. They would’ve just laughed in your face and sent you away with a list of professors who specialized in the devil made subject.

Now, you had hoped that college algebra was a bit easier, after three weeks of a summer intensive course you were proven wrong. You weren’t necessarily failing, but you weren’t passing either. Though, in a panic-induced state full of hope you had done the math - ironic, and came to the conclusion that if you didn’t pass the final exam, you wouldn’t be able to move onto part two of the class.

If you had done things differently, you would’ve taken the classes at the start of your degree, just as your academic advisor had suggested. You didn’t and now you are two semesters away from a beautiful bachelors degree in arts. Achieving an impressive double major in Writing and Rhetoric and Journalism with a minor in International Communications, along with a tasteful three point nine GPA.

You were almost there. You could savor it as you looked into master degree programs. The looming debt of your student loans was the least of your worries. At least for now. If you didn’t pass the stupid final exam, in one of the easiest math classes you could ever take in college. You would be growing a larger hole in your loan repayment agreement with the prestigious HYBE U.

At this point you were desperate. Almost to the point in which you considered cheating. A blaspehmous thought that you only ever had in high school during science labs. Those gizmos computer stimulations were a quizlet file away, and the sweet taste of victory was even closer.

Yet, quizlet wouldn’t work out in this scenario and finally you caved, putting away your pride for a little bit to admit that you needed help.

A math tutor was the best option for you. Lots of college kids were desperate for another quick buck along with their less than promising part time jobs, while they struggled with juggling school in the process. You only hoped that the ad you posted on the HYBE U facebook group would workout, even if it had been a week ago and still hadn’t gotten any engagement.

Maybe it was time to accept the truth, what’s one more extra semester. Sure, it interferes with your descriptive five year plan, but you could somehow modify it. Right?

Wrong? So very wrong.

You needed a tutor quick. Probably in the next hour or so, because you refused to step foot in another math class again. Your life revolved around your rhetorical readings, feminist discoverings in Ancient Greece. You loved research, writing papers on things you found interesting, and developing a new perspective to already made discoveries. It was a rush. Not necessarily the writing part - it was tedious and sometimes you wondered why you even decided to pursue writing in the first place; but the sense of achievement and the ego boost you got when you typed the final sentence and the final period was euphoric. To then scroll through twenty plus pages of times new roman double spaced text that came from your brain, was a thrill. And one you would never achieve when it came to math.

Ugh!

“You good there?” You knew that voice. It was all too familiar. You had spent countless hours sitting in a lecture hall with him telling you jokes and writing you notes retelling you the rumors he heard about your math professor.

So, maybe, your total inability to see patterns when it came to numbers wasn’t completely your fault. But the fault of the raven haired, toothy smile of the muscle bunny that you had befriended in both your science lab and college algebra courses.

You lift your head up to see Jungkook with his head cocked to the side. His right eye was a bit swollen due to the sty he had developed from scratching his eye too much with his dirty germy hands. So, he had to opt to wear his glasses, his right eye lens was a bit thicker than the left, making his eyes look a bit disproportionate. If you weren’t aware of how successful he was at getting around with both women and men you would’ve thought otherwise, due to his geeky look and fascination with RPG games.

You groan, messing your hair with your silver ring cladded fingers. “No offense but math is the worst subject in this entire world. Why do we need it? I’m not going to use it to calculate the circumference of the can of beans I’m going to buy at the grocery store. Nor will I use the pythagorean theorem to measure the circumference of my pizza.” You rant, glancing at the time and closing your laptop.

Your self study session was unsuccessful because all you did was refresh the facebook page hoping someone would take your twenty dollars an hour offer.

Yes, you were incredibly desperate, even considering upping the price to appeal to more money hungry college students.

“The fact that you’re using geometry terminology regarding a simple college algebra class tells me everything I need to know.” He grins, partially leaning his body to the side, resting his weight on the umbrella handle he was carrying.

Fuck, you forgot it was going to rain today.

Your day couldn’t get any worse.

“Anyway, I’m guessing the tutor search isn’t working?”

“Bingo,” you snap your fingers at him before proceeding to gather the rest of your stuff.

This was the part you dreaded the most. The agonizing walk to your math lecture. Honestly, if it weren’t for Jungkook consistently meeting up with you in the cafe that connected to the hallway in the math building to walk to class together. You would’ve probably never turned up after the first class. Hence why you’re not in a sinking boat. Just a partially sinking boat.

Jungkook sighs, scratching the back of his head, watching you scoot out of the booth. He wishes he could offer you more help other than moral support and a few ‘You can do it,’ air punches. But between his computer science classes, and increasing doubt regarding his degree plaguing his mind, he’s found himself with zero free time.

That’s when he remembers something. A small passing comment made on his way to bathroom last night as he was getting ready for bed. Maybe he does have a way to help you. His face lights up, alerting you.

“What, why do you look like you’ve just seen a cheesecake on sale?” You adjust the strap of your leather bag, against your shoulder and make your way to his side, eyeing his umbrella.

Would it be weird to ask him to walk you home after class?

Shaking your head at the thought, a problem for later, you decide.

You shift your gaze to meet his. He’s biting the inside of his cheek and you’ve never been so desperate at knowing what goes on in that questionable head of his. He also never takes this long to say something. Once a thought pops into that head of his head, it's out in seconds because he’s afraid he might lose it.

You can thank his ADHD for that one.

“I think I might know someone who’s free on Tuesday and Thursday evenings that can probably help you out.” He squints, nodding his head, and you feel your mood turn right side up.

You knew befriending Jungkook would end up benefiting you one day. Though, you do feel a little bit irritated, couldn’t he have told you this wonderful news, um, I don’t know a week ago as you two sat in this exact same booth, while he watched you make the stupid facebook post.

You shove him a little, his umbrella buckling under his weight and he stumbles a bit, shock written all over his face. “What was that for?” He complains, taking a hold of his right arm in mock hurt.

“You’ve seen me suffer and you’re now just telling me that you magically happen to know someone who can tutor me this entire time.” You huff, shoving past him, glancing at your phone screen for the time. Class was in five minutes, unfortunately.

“That’s not necessarily true.” He speaks from behind you, and you throw him a glare making him buckle under the pressure. The dramatics. He’s only been your friend for almost four weeks, but he’s already gotten used to you and he knows he’s hit a vein, and that you’re so stubborn any explanation wouldn’t work. It is always worth a try.

“Okay maybe that’s true, but they’re pretty busy and I just assumed he would have a full schedule and no time to tutor you.” He explains, keeping up with your steps. The two of you arrive in front of the lecture hall with a minute to spare, you take it upon yourself to open the door, revealing the room full of stressed induced faces, quietly whispering to each other.

You shake your head at Jungkook’s explanation, making your way to your usual seats. In the middle but on the outside for a quick escape if ever needed. “How do you even know this person? I thought you only had two friends.” You place your bag gently onto your desk and sit down.

“Actually, including you, I have three friends.”

“My friends don’t count either.”

Jungkook rolls your eyes and slumps down next to you, spreading his legs wide, taking up all his leg room and part of yours. God, he was such a guy.

“Do you want my help or not?” He says in feigned annoyance.

You unzip your bag, fishing out your pencil and notebook, while he takes out his laptop. You could never understand how he was able to take math notes on a computer, but he was the self proclaimed computer genius. Well, his straight A’s in all of those freakishly hard classes were also proof, so, there must be a method to his madness.

You sigh, setting your bag down in the empty seat next to you. “Fine, yes, please, my perfect Jungkook. I’m desperate, put me out of my misery.” You plead, hands clenched in front of you as the hushing of the students dies down, and the greeting of your Spanish accent written professor echoes throughout the class. It’s your cue to shut up and hopefully pay attention.

“First, don’t ever say things like that.” Jungkook begins, leaning in closer to whisper, “it’s weird.” He says in disgust–the audacity. “Second, do you have plans after class?” He finishes leaning away and opening up a new blank document on his laptop.

You shake your head at his question and click down on your mechanical pencil. You were determined to at least understand one thing in today’s lesson. Jungkook doesn’t answer, your professors voice booming throughout as he begins the lesson of the day, and you’re distracted in seconds by the light tap on your shoulder.

You look over at your friend, his laptop screen turned in your direction so you can read the tiny invitation written in cosmic sans font. He’s a child.

Come with me to Serendipity after class and thank me later :p

You look up at him rolling your eyes at the ending emoji. A child indeed. But you nod in agreement, you don’t know what or who is at Serendipity. Except for a solution. At least that is what you hope for because there’s a reason why you haven’t stepped foot in there since childhood, despite Jungkook raving about it time and time again. The overpriced vanilla lattes is the main reason why.

Yet, desperate times come along with desperate measures. And if you need to drop a couple more on your favorite caffeinated drink in order to pass math. Then so be it.

Serendipity stood in between two worlds. It separated the lively college town from the perfect four person familial neighborhood. On weekday afternoons it was mostly frequented by college students who needed a change in scenery or remote workers with their bangs still in rollers and their eyes puffy from sleep. On Friday nights it was home to young adults grabbing dessert after a fulfilling dinner or a late caffeinated drink for a long night out. Tired office workers, likely forced to attend a company dinner, usually took up the long tables in the back wall of the first floor.

Sunday’s were a favorite at Serendipity, young families would come from different parts of town to enjoy a late brunch. And morning runners would waltz in for a late caffeine kick before the strenuous work out around the lake that offered the cafe it’s most famous view.

Dionysus Lake.

Just as its name implies. The lake was a place for celebration, festivities, and madness. It’s where everything would happen for the first time. Your first fall, your first scrape. The graduation ground from a four wheeled bike to a two one. The first time you saw your crush outside of school. The first time you held hands with someone and the downfall of your first friendship with your childhood best friend—Sabrina. I was the breeding ground of impulsive decisions like getting drunk on the steps that led to the bank. With beer and soju you had gotten because you paid a broke college student scrambling in between odd jobs to buy them for you. The breeding ground of many triple dog dares and the place in which you decided what your future would be like.

It was a right of passage from childhood to teenagehood and finally adulthood.

It’s where couples that beat the test of time go to enjoy their last moments of humanity. Both the cafe and the lake are full of nostalgia, and so famous that it now became a must see spot from people all over the city. With inflation and the influx of people both the cafe and the lake were places you and your family had started to frequent less, until eventually it was out of your minds completely and the longing for just a fleeting moment to visit before the chaos was gone.

That is until today.

Everything had changed so much. The rustic decor was now replaced with a mixture of antiques and plants hanging from every possible surface. The windows were now floor to ceiling and they opened up to a very cooling outside patio, where you could enjoy the view of the famous lake. They had even expanded to a second floor, and added a rooftop with fiery lights and wooden tables. It basically looked nothing like what you had grown up with and more like a pinterest board of garden core had thrown up on it.

It also had more menu options, and gone was your favorite blueberry and mint tea you and your mom would enjoy whenever your anxiety spiked to levels in which you could not control. Everything had been replaced with something more expensive and trendy. A complaint that had been surrounding the cafe for years by everyone who grew up inside the walls. Though you hadn’t really believed it until now because you were finally working up the courage to see it for yourself. And the one thing you can only really think about—apart from the overpriced vanilla latte you had just paid for—was how could a place so familiar feel so unfamiliar at the same time.

“Hobi always gives me a discount when I come.” Jungkook throws into the wind while he plays with the white buzzer in his hand.

Unlike you, Jungkook and his family—from what you have gathered—were regulars. As soon as he arrived every worker greeted him with a warm smile and a simple hand wave. Some had added a mention of seeing his mom earlier. And if you hadn’t been convinced, the barista with the high nose bridge, sporting the floral shirt, a bright yellow beanie and khaki pants had already inputted his order before Jungkook could mutter the words “iced americano with a splash of vanilla syrup please.”

“I’m sorry who?” You move your head closer, eyeing the way his hands wrapped around the buzzer. Desperately hoping for it to ring because although it was almost three and you probably shouldn’t really be drinking any form of caffeine at this time. Your body desperately needs something to keep you alert. Especially now that you were meeting your classmate's brother for the first time.

A brother who could possibly save you from failing your college algebra class. He had told you a little about him. Apparently, he wasn’t really his brother, but his mother remarried his father when Jungkook was young, so to make matters easier for everyone involved. He would just introduce him as his older brother. He called him Joon and he was currently working on his masters in philosophy. A real pretentious nerd if someone were to ask you. They lived together in an apartment just outside of the college town, and according to Jungkook, who you have noticed likes to input his opinion where it really doesn’t matter. He was still a virgin, because he lived and breathed philosophy like one of those weird philosophers from ancient times. The only thing he needed was a laurel crown and a toga.

His words not yours.

Basically he didn’t really do a very good job at painting a good image of his older brother. And you were already having some negative opinions regarding him because you have dealt with a handful of pretentious boys in many of your classes that you really didn’t feel like adding another one to the mix. But again, you’ll push your preconceived notions aside. This was for your four point zero GPA and your five year plan. One more insult to your psyche and intelligence wouldn’t hurt.

Right?

“The one that rang us up. He gave you one too, vanilla lattes are usually seven and you only paid six.” He points out before jumping at the sound of the buzzer going off. “I’ll get it.” He smiles standing up faster than you can protest, and walking off to the pick up counter.

It’s strange that the two of you became friends or clicked so well. And you like to think that it was mainly because you shared a few classes more than anything else. He was a little energizer bunny, a right arm sprinkled with a few tattoos and a scar right above his eyebrow where a piercing had been. You were not far from the opposite, but you did have a social battery that would often run out before the end of the day. You valued the quiet and apart from the many earrings decorating your ears and the hot pink peekaboo dye job you had your mom do. You were deathly scared of needles and didn’t look nearly as rebellious as Jungkook did, even with his stupid nerdy glasses.

“Hobi gave us cookies, on the house.” Jungkook says as he sets down the tray in front of you. “I think he might want your number.” He adds with a nonchalant tone before taking up his previous seat and getting a head start at setting the table.

You tilt your head in confusion as he pushes a plate with a matcha cookie your way. “You’re talking nonsense. I heard you ask for a chocolate chip cookie before you paid.” You roll your eyes, grabbing your tall glass of coffee.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, pushing the brown tray to the side. “I ordered a cookie but I didn’t order two.” He points to your cookie. “Plus he couldn’t take his eyes off you while you ordered.” He finishes and takes a long sip of his drink. He finishes with a refreshed ah and smacks his lips together in satisfaction.

The drama.

That’s probably another thing the two of you did have in common. You’re both dramatic in your own ways. Something the two of you discovered about each other two weeks into knowing one another. It was a long story that involved a stubbed toe and a papercut. One that wasn’t worth reminiscing about now because it added nothing to both of your lives.

“I doubt that Kook, he’s just doing his job and he knows you.” You raise a finger at him and you take a long awaited sip of your coffee.

Jungkook crosses his arms in front of you. “Okay then why did he ask me if you were single.” He adds in a matter of fact way. Cocking an eyebrow to prove his point.

You narrow your eyes at him and kick him under the table. He recoils in pain, whispering explicits to not draw any more attention to the two of you. “You’re lying and I know you’re lying because I saw you order another cookie when you went to pick up our drinks.” You say leaning in closer so he can hear your whispering.

Here’s the thing. Jungkook has been trying to set you up with every guy he deems is cute. You on the other hand are not interested, mostly because you’re still young with your whole life ahead of you. And right now the only thing that matters is your degree.

What’s the rush?

He pouts, uncomfortably cradling his shin. “Fine, he didn’t give you a cookie on the house, but he did say you were cute. And he’s a nice guy. My brother is friends with him and he’s really funny.”

You sigh, breaking a piece from your cookie. “I'm happy to hear that but you know that’s not a priority of mine now.”

Jungkook rests his elbows onto the table and leans forward. “Have you ever heard of a work- life balance?” Because all you do is work and you should be out and partying. Your twenties are supposed to be full of fun.”

“I do have fun, Jungkook.” You point out, putting the piece of cookie into your mouth before crossing your arms in annoyance. If you had a coin for every time someone in your life tried having this exact same conversation with you, then you’d probably be able to afford more of these over priced lattes.

Jungkook sits back with his arms crossed, tonguing the inside of his cheek in suspicion. Sure, he’s only known you for a short amount of time, but every time he sees you around campus or meets up with you. You have your head buried in either a book or your fingers are flying across your laptop keyboard. He’s positive you don’t know how to have fun.

“Fine name one instance in which you are not doing school work.” He challenges

“My friends and I have board game nights every Wednesday and Sunday night.”

Jungkook sits up a bit straighter, a look of shook written all over his face. “Wait, you actually have friends.” He says before lifting a hand to cover his mouth in disbelief.

Before he can stop you, you kick his shin one more time and this time harder than the first time. This is exactly why you are surprised you’ve chosen to be friends with him. Sometimes he could get under your skin by just existing.

“You know I have friends, Jungkook. You’ve hung out with them.”

He doesn’t answer, instead he nods his head while he once again cradles his shin in pain. Maybe he crossed the line this time. He met Taehyung and Jimin more than once. And from what he was able to gather in the few times he’s hung out with the three of you. Is that Jimin might have a huge crush on you and Taehyung’s jokes aren’t nearly as funny as you make them out to be. Still, he thinks they’re cool.

“Sorry I’m late, I missed my bus.” An unfamiliar voice speaks up and it makes the man in front of you sit up so straight you’re positive he’s going to break his back.

You raise a brow in confusion before turning your head to look towards the person who has the energizer bunny fix his posture and shut his mouth.

The first thing you see is the flowy khaki pants, then his simple t-shirt topped with a blue and white checkered flannel. And finally your eyes land on his face, and the black framed glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. His hair hides under a navy beanie and your mouth almost falls open in disbelief.

Holy fuck, wait a second. This is the man Jungkook was describing. The nerd of a brother who could possibly still be a virgin and has his nose stuck in philosophy textbooks? Out goes your preconceived notions of the man in front of you and now you’re downright confused because this man was hot and reeked of chillaxed energy. He probably owns a few plants, and bike rides on the weekend and visits a few buddhist temples for the experience.

Nobody says anything as the man—which you perceive is now Joon—slides into the spot next to Jungkook’s. He hasn’t really looked in your direction, except for the short glance he sent your way when he first appeared.

Jungkook scoffs in annoyance as he scoots over making it a huge show like it’s inconvenient for him to move over. “This is Joon.”

“Namjoon.” The older one corrects before he extends his hand for you to shake. You hesitate for a second before shaking it and telling him your name.

He nods, retrieving his hand and sets it down on his lap. There’s a brief silence as he looks in between you and Jungkook probably trying to make sense of the situation himself because if you were being honest you’re still stunned yourself. Though you know Jungkook and his brother aren’t blood related you can’t help but feel like good genes simply run in the family somehow.

Namjoon shrugs once he’s silently done making his assumptions and sets his arms on the table, clasping his hands together. In an instant his face is replaced from a pleasing and welcoming one to one that screams he’s honestly here for business and not to fuck around.

“Are you the one that Jungkook tells me needs help?” He questions, earning a jab from the younger one. He doesn’t react and instead keeps going. “Have to ask because he’s been trying to set me up on blind dates thanks to our mom, so if this is what this is then I’m sorry but I’m not interested.” He nods before leaning back. Joon, or Namjoon doesn’t let you respond before he stands up and walks towards the order counter. There you see him greet the same barista who you now know is Hobi thanks to Jungkook.

You don’t linger on his figure before you turn to face Jungkook. Who looks mortified beyond belief and you can’t help but laugh because things are simply just making sense. All of Jungkook’s backhanded praises involving his brother made so much more sense. He did mention he was an asshole but you just assumed that was a simple sibling thing. No, he was most definitely right. And he fit more into the description you had once assumed before even meeting him, minus the typical nerd look you had conjured up with the brief descriptions Jungkook had provided. He was hot, and could probably crack your heart open into two, but he was exactly like those pretentious classmates you’ve had the unfortunate pleasure of encountering all throughout your degree. But for some reason you aren’t as bothered by it, because in a way it was hilarious.

Jungkook whines, “He can’t even try to be nice for a little bit.”

You throw your head back laughing even harder, while Jungkook continues to grumble underneath his breath in annoyance. You laugh until your stomach begins to hurt and until someone clears their throat making your giggles die down slowly.

“Why is Hobi giving out free cookies?” He points out before setting his tray down and taking up the seat next to his brother again. To which Jungkook silently gestures to the cookies and you as if to prove his earlier point. Namjoon rolls his eyes at his brother's actions before turning to face you.

“He also told me to give you his number but I told him that I didn’t know you and that if he wanted your number he should just ask you himself.” He shrugs, taking a sip of his dark liquid and making the same satisfied noise Jungkook had made earlier.

Ah, maybe dramatics also run in the family.

You stir the liquid of your latte with your straw. “Um thanks I guess.” You take a sip of your drink as he nods.

The atmosphere is so awkward that you want the entire cafe to fall through a hole in the ground. The three of you are silent before Jungkook’s phone lights up and starts buzzing. He quickly grabs it and silences it before standing up. “Sorry, I have to go. I forgot I had this thing to do.” He says inconspicuously before grabbing his book bag and throwing it over his shoulder.

You scramble eyes going wide as he adjusts the straps and straightens his black long sleeve. “Wait where are you going? I thought we had plans after this.”

Jungkook bites his lip, silencing his buzzing phone again when it goes off a second time. “Sorry Bun, I have to really go, it's important. I’ll see you at home Joon.” He salutes before basically running out of the cafe.

“Typical.” Namjoon catches your attention and rolls his eyes. “I knew he had something planned when he asked me to meet him here last minute. I’m really sorry about him but I’m really not interested in dating right now.” He says before grabbing hold of his bag and going to stand up.

Your body is filled with panic as you watch him. You do have a few choice words for the person that just ditched you with his brother. But this could be your last resort and you weren’t going to let him walk away. “Wait.” You extend your arm in his direction. He stops slipping on his bag and raises a brow at you in curiosity.

“I actually do need help. I’m close to failing my college algebra course…well I will fail it if I don’t pass the final exam.” You begin to explain, finally grabbing his full attention as he stuffs his hands into the pocket of his pants. “Jungkook mentioned you could probably help out.” You bring down your hand, circling both of them around your watered down latte. “That’s why I’m here. I promise this isn’t a blind date or anything.”

Namjoon nods, looking at the entrance before sitting down again, sighing, his shoulders relaxing instantly. And you’re once again met with the same nonchalant demeanor he had approached you and Jungkook. Once again things started to make sense, why he had made the switch so quickly. It was something he was probably so used to by now, but now as he adjusts himself in the seat in front of you. You can see that maybe he could not really be that bad.

“In that case I can stay.” He grins, pushing his iced coffee to the side. “I should warn you I’m not the best when it comes to math but college algebra is easy so I can help you out.”

You let out a big sigh of relief and nod your head. “Thank you so much you don’t understand how much you’re already helping me out by agreeing.”

Namjoon chuckles lightly before reaching into his side bag and taking out a plain black notebook with a pen. “In that case we should figure out our schedules.” He opens the notebook to a blank page and uncaps the pen. “Does Tuesday and Thursday at seven work for you?” He tilts his head in question.

You nod rapidly. “That’s perfect for me.”

He hums and writes down your name with the agreed days and times next to it. He closes it quickly and puts it in his bag. “Great, I'll see you next Tuesday.”

That’s it? It was that easy? Then why the heck did it take such a long time for someone to respond to your Facebook post. Especially when you had increased the payment.

Payment. Oh you had forgotten about it, and from

What it seems like so did Namjoon because he was already getting ready to go again.

“Wait.”

He stops, eyeing you in confusion but you decide to continue. “How much do you charge?”

Namjoon opens his mouth and closes it quickly. He puts a pensive hand on his chin before snapping his fingers in front of him. “I think you’re the one Jungkook mentioned about studying writing.”

“Writing and Rhetoric.” You correct before he can continue going. He nods in acknowledgment.

“Yeah, that’s what he said. I’m sure he mentioned what I was studying and if I’m being honest I hate revising my own writing. So, instead of paying me in money you can just revise my work in exchange for tutoring lessons.” He offers with a shrug.

You would be a fool to not take up this magnificent offer, so quickly you agree, extending your hand for him to shake. He takes it and for a second you swear you feel your heart drop down to your belly from just his touch. But you brush it off quickly when he retrieves his hand. It’s probably just the caffeine anyway.

“Great, it’s a pleasure doing business with you.” He smiles, and this time it is wide enough in which you can see his cute little dimples. “See you on Tuesday.”

Before you can respond with the same statement he’s already rushing out of the cafe. Leaving you alone in the booth, with three unfinished iced coffees and cookies.

You can’t really make out anything, just that this was probably the longest day of your life. And that unbeknownst to you, you can slightly feel the light crack in the corner of your heart. One that you will later on learn was the moment Namjoon had started to infiltrate it.

hope you liked it!

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