#But I don't doubt for the others I haven't seen myself are hated on for their character

[kasagia]

imgonnagetyouback

Pairing: Benny Cross x fem!ex-girlfiriend! reader Summary: After your rather stormy breakup, Benny decides he can't live without you. He'll get you back. At any cost. Even if he has to force you over his motorcycle and take you far out of town. Taglist for Benny: @aleemendoza2425-blog Benny Cross' Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist P.S. I accept requests for Benny if you want to read sth specific with our boy 😊

Even if it's handcuffed I'm leaving here with you Bygones will be bygone eras Fading into gray We broke all the pieces, but still want to play the game I told my friends I hate you but I love you just the same Pick your poison, babe I'm poison either way... Whether I'm gonna be your wife or Gonna smash up your bike I haven't decided yet But I'm gonna get you back - "imgonnagetyouback" Taylor Swift

“What the hell is he doing here?” You ask angrily, looking out your office window as you see your ex’s Harley parked next to your car.

"Maybe he forgot something from you. Did you give him all his stuff back?" Your friend asks, putting the papers into a folder.

"No. I gathered all four of his shirts and two pairs of pants and made myself a campfire behind the house." You huff angrily, closing the blinds so you wouldn't have to watch the blue-eyed Vandal leaning against your car.

"So what does he want? From what you've told me, your relationship ended in a hell of a bad way, and he was a world-class asshole." You tremble at the mere memory of your breakup with Benny.

You and he met at one of the Vandals' bar. You happened to go there for a drink with your girls; he noticed you and started talking with you. He was flirting with you the whole night and tried to take you with him for a ride on his bike. The first time you turned him down. Then he tracked down where you lived and showed up at your door, offering a ride to your work.

You should have seen a red flag then. But you were too stupid and infatuated by him enough to think it was romantic.

As time went on, he took you to Vandals meetings more and more often. And it was fun. Until you had to bail him out of arrest, pick him up from the hospital, and wait forever for him at home, wondering if he'd be sleeping next to you in bed or at the police station.

And one day, when he ended up in the hospital after some guys beat him up for wearing Vandal's colours, you broke. You begged him to stop while he was still alive and well (which was doubtful considering the doctors were still debating whether to cut off his foot); you literally knelt by his bed and cried like a baby while all he cared about was whether he could keep riding.

But that wasn't the worst. The worst was that every time you argued, he threatened to leave, to disappear, that it would be best for you if he left you alone. And at first you begged him, terrified, to stay, but over time you started to react to those words... more aggressively.

Then you decided you were fed up with living with the wandering cat he was and broke up with him. Roughly. Stormily. Your neighbours heard more than one of your arguments, and the whole street saw you throwing his stuff out the window and finally throwing rocks at him as he rode away on his beloved Harley. On second thought, maybe you were both two big damn red carpets.

"I don't want to know. Will you take me home? The last thing I want today is to meet that son of a bitch."

You sigh, dragging the papers to your desk. You grab your black blazer and throw it on over your white shirt. You adjust your black pencil skirt and grab your purse to follow your friend.

You took the job as a secretary right after breaking up with Benny. You quit your old job not wanting him to know where you worked, but apparently Vandal had his ways. You wonder if choosing another job wasn't a slap in the face for Benny. Choosing such a boring and ordinary job would piss him off even more and prove that you really aren't made for each other.

Just like Benny, you could be hellishly mean.

"What the hell?" Your friend asks as you exit out the back and her car isn't in the parking lot. But there is another Vandal with his motorcycle.

"Johnny." You greet him and walk over to him, crossing your arms. Your friend is hot on your heels. "What are you doing here?"

"Kiddo said you two have a problem in your relationship."

"We don't have any relationship, so there is no problem between us. But apparently, my friend lost her car. Can you help her?" You ask him, furious with Benny for not acknowledging your breakup.

"Y/N... you know that I don't like to get involved in the shit that's not mine, but this kid has been going crazy for a month now. He's been doing even worse shitty things than before, and I can't tell you how many times we've picked him up from jail in the past few fucking weeks. If you ever cared about him, talk to him. He's becoming wildly unpredictable. Even for me."

You bite your lip at his words. You know perfectly well what Benny is like, or rather what he was like before he met you. Thanks to you, he stopped riding so fast and carefree, ended up in the hospital much less often, and even obeyed the speed limit when you were with him on his bike.

You can only imagine what he's been up to in your absence and to what extent, since Johnny took an interest and came to you to talk about it.

"Don't manipulate me, Johnny. You know damn well he deserved it. Now you know what I had to deal with throughout this whole fucking relationship." You reply dryly, not wanting to fall for the Vandals' sweet words again.

You loved them like family, but sometimes you have to cut yourself off from them to save your sanity. And you desperately needed some time to yourself and a break from all of Benny's antics.

"Well... I know Benny isn't easy, but he really is a good kid. Carrot and stick. That's what he needs. And for the sake of your lady-buddy's car and your friendship... maybe you should go and have a few words with him."

"Screw you." You growl, rolling your eyes, and walk away from them. "What are you waiting for?! Take her to this fucking car!" You shout, walking back to the main building to exit through the main entrance.

Johnny puts your friend on his bike, and all you can do is give her an apologetic look as he takes her to where they moved her car. You don't even want to know how they did it.

You sigh as you walk through the office and stand in front of the main exit doors. You glance at your watch and walk out of the building with your heart in your mouth.

You walk down the sidewalk with the other people from work who have just left. Benny's blue irises land on you immediately. He straightens up, stopping leaning against your car and throwing away a cigarette he was smoking. He looks at you expectantly. You nod at him and pretend to walk in his direction.

You cross the street on the crosswalk, but instead of turning right towards the parking lot, you run as hard as you can to the left towards the bus stop.

"Y/N!" Benny shouts after you, and a moment later, you hear the thud of his combat boots against the pavement as he runs after you.

The bus pulls up to the stop, and you run inside. Luckily, the driver closes the doors before Benny can get to them. He bangs on the glass, shouting your name and some curse words, but you can't hear him clearly as the bus starts moving.

You breathe a sigh of relief and wipe your sweaty forehead. This time you did it. You just hoped your friend would get her car back before Benny went to Johnny and complained to him that you ran away.

But for now, you're happy that you managed to outsmart your ex.

The next morning you cautiously peer out from behind your front door, searching for a head of blonde hair. Even though you couldn't see any Vandal's motorcycle through the window, you wanted to be sure that none would suddenly pop out from nowhere.

You sigh with relief, not seeing anything suspicious.

You open the door wider, but something is blocking you. On your way out, you notice a huge bouquet of your favourite flowers. You pick it up and examine it carefully, but you don't see any note or card. But you do see a necklace.

The flowers are tied with a fucking necklace. The necklace Benny gave you at the beginning of your relationship with his initials carved into the back of the silver heart. (One of the guys worked at a jeweler's and did it for him for practically free through a connection or something.) The necklace you threw in his face when you broke up with him.

Furious, you want to throw the flowers in the trash. Instead, you decide to put the necklace in your pocket and walk to work. On the way, you pass a school and hand the bouquet to the first girl you see. At least she was happy because of those damn flowers.

As you continue your walk, you see a motorcyclist in the distance. You tense up and quicken your pace, praying that it's not a Vandal, but apparently you're out of luck today.

"Y/N?! How long have we not seen each other?!" Danny screams as he rides to you. You sigh as his bike blocks the entire sidewalk and force a smile.

"Probably ages ago. How you doing?"

"Great. Can I give you a ride somewhere? Where's Benny? Shouldn't he be the one hauling your ass to work?" He asks, already taking out a helmet for you. You reluctantly accept it and climb behind him on the bike.

"We broke up." You inform him, knowing full well that he's been away from the Vandals lately due to studies and his photography stuff.

"Oh shit. He must be devastated then." He comments and starts the engine. You hold on to him as he drives you to the address you gave him.

The drive takes a few minutes. Luckily, your car is still parked outside the building, and you don't see any parked bikes.

"Thanks. Danny? Can you give this to Benny? You probably will see him sooner than me." You say and hand him the necklace. He nods and drives away, leaving you alone.

You approach your car and curse, seeing the lock placed on the wheel. Not a police lock. A lock that the Vandals often put on and took off in exchange for small money. A small tag was attached to it. It had the date and time written on it—probably their next meeting that they wanted you to join in exchange for taking the damn thing off your car.

"Bad day?"

You flinch and turn around, surprised by someone's presence. You sigh with relief when you see only Mike—an accountant from the company you worked for.

"Bad week. Plus, it looks like I'm grounded." You say and kick your leg against the wheel of your car.

"Yeah, I recognise that. My friend had to pay them like $100 to get that damn thing off. He was rushing to some meeting and couldn't wait for the police and similar stuff. I can get someone to take it off for you."

"I'm afraid I don't have enough money." You sigh, mentally preparing yourself for a weekend with the Vandals. In Benny's company. Talking to him. You already feel sick.

"For free. Friend of mine owns me a little favour."

"Seriously?" You ask, shocked. He nervously rubs the back of his neck with his hands and nods, giving you an uncertain smile.

"Yeah, no problem. And before he will do it... do you mind if we both go to lunch? I mean... you don't have to if you don't want to..."

"You know... I would actually like that." You interrupt him with a smirk, seeing him stuttering, unable to finish his sentence as he blushes.

"Really?" You almost giggle at his incredulous question and the gleam of happiness in his eyes. You nod with a huge, genuine smile, practically forgetting why you agreed to this date in the first place. "So... in four hours at the exit?"

"I will be waiting." With a smile, you leave him behind and enter the office. Maybe this day wasn't such a tragedy after all...

Benny was drinking beer with Johnny and Danny at a table in their favourite bar. The Vandals were circling him like vultures, just waiting for a little sensation and gossiping about his breakup with you.

"It must be hard for you, man. We all saw how much you loved her. Like a Catholic loves a goddamn God."

"Too bad she can't see it." Benny mumbles, lighting a cigarette. His one hand plays with the necklace he left on your doorstep this morning, which you gave to Denny. Benny gave you his fucking heart, and you still rejected it. He had to try harder. He had to talk to you first.

"Hey Benny-boy? How are you? Are you still getting over your breakup with your girlfriend? Do you love her that much? Come on, come with us. We'll race to the brothel, and you'll forget about this bitch in a second." Some Vandal walks up to him and pats him on the back.

"Benny no..." Johnny is interrupted by the crash of Vandal's jaw as Benny's fist hits him.

A second later, a beer bottle shatters over the head of a bleeding man on the floor, and Johnny and Danny try to pull him away from the guy. The entire club boos and cheers for the fight, but the guys quickly drag Benny outside.

"What the hell?! You can love her, but damn, don't be such a girl and react at each shitty comment!" Johnny yells at him and hits him in the chest with his hands. Benny huffs indignantly and puts his hands in his pockets to stop himself from hitting him.

"I hate her!" He growls furiously and plays with the necklace in his pants' pocket.

"And love her just the same, huh?" Danny asks and gives Benny a cigarette.

Benny doesn't answer. He smokes furiously, trying to clear his head, but all he can think about is you. Your scent, your taste, the softness of your body, the shudder of your breath beneath him, the way you clenched your hands around his shirt across his stomach when you rode with him on his bike, the way you pressed yourself against him and snuggled up to him every chance you got... fuck, he missed you. More than he previously thought he would be.

"Benny?! I saw your girl with some man in a suit! At that one of those Italian restaurants on the corner of Main Street. You know, the shitty one for rich people. You should do something about this." One of the bikers rides up and informs him, then rides away before Benny can say anything.

"Kid, don't…" Johnny tries to stop him, but Benny is already on his motorcycle. He starts it and rides as fast as he can, ignoring the shouts behind him.

All Benny could think about was how he was going to beat up the guy who dared to touch you. You were his girlfriend. You were one of the Vandals. You might have been on a break, but that didn't give any man the right to hit on you. Not when you had Benny and Benny had you.

It was simple logic. Nobody messes with the Vandals and their girls.

Benny sped through the city, not stopping at red lights. It wasn't until he was at a restaurant that he stopped his Harley.

He didn't turn off the engine, though. He was staring intently through the restaurant windows and checking out each customer until his eyes landed on you and some shit in a suit who had the nerve to get your attention.

Benny tugged on the handle, causing his bike's engine to roar furiously—like a guard dog giving a warning before it attacks. He increased the engine's roar until your eyes met his.

A cold shiver ran through him as you threw him one of your angry looks, and he felt hurt when you ignored him and continued to talk with the man sitting in front of you and gave him one of your most wonderful smiles. Fuck it. The guy wouldn't be able to walk when Benny got to him.

Benny reaches into his pocket, pulls out a pack of Marlboro, and lights his cigarette. He holds it to his mouth with one hand while the other continues to crank the handle of the engine, so that the roar of the engine drowns out any conversation you might have had with the man in front of you.

He smirks as you and the guy in front of you stare in his direction. He holds a cigarette between his plush lips and waves at you, causing an irritated frown to form on your forehead.

Benny can't help but feel a strange bile rising in his throat as he looks at the two of you. You were on a date with a guy who was clearly the opposite of Benny. He wonders if this is what you really want—a boring guy with a boring job and a tonne of money who could build you a house with a fucking white picket fence and drive you to work in his Cooper car and the kids to preschool. It makes him sick to think that you could be anyone else, that you could have anyone else's children, that you could be married to some guy in a suit and live the life of a fucking decent 1950s shitty family.

Benny knew perfectly well that he couldn't give you what this guy could provide you. He couldn't even afford a date at a restaurant like that.

However, it didn't change the fact that he loved you so damn much.

"Hey! Biker dude, leave Y/N alone!" A guy in a suit comes out of the restaurant and yells at him. Benny calmly finishes his cigarette and throws it on the ground, staring silently at the man in front of him. "Did you hear me, degenerate? Get out of here!" The guy pushes him, hitting his chest. For Benny, that's enough.

He lands the first punch with his right fist, landing perfectly on his opponent's cheek. The next punch sends blood pouring from the man's nose onto his snow-white shirt. But for Benny, it's not enough.

He throws the guy to the ground, and the two begin to fight in earnest. Benny, however, has a much greater advantage and motivation as he takes out all his anger on the guy below him. He only snaps out of this strange trance when someone's hands pull him away from the bleeding man below him.

"What the fuck was that, Benny?! You almost killed him!" You yell at him angrily, pulling your hands away from him as quickly as you can. Benny says nothing, staring at you silently as he processes what he just did. Several other motorcycles pull up in front of the restaurant, with Johnny in the lead.

"Let's go, kid! Before the police arrive."

Benny stares at you, not quite wanting to leave before he explains why he beat up your date. But he stops himself the moment he sees the fear and disgust in your eyes. It hurts Benny more than any punch he could have taken. He clenches his jaw and walks to his bike. He starts the engine and gives you one last long look, then lowers his head in shame as he joins the other Vandals.

Your hair flutters in the wind as you watch the Vandals drive away. You run over to Mike and wait with him until the ambulance arrives. But you don't follow him to the hospital. You have more important things to take care of in the city.

With trembling hands, you knock on the door. You wait patiently outside, considering the pros and cons, but before you can chicken out and leave, Betty opens the door for you.

"Y/N? This is quite a surprise."

"Can I come in? I need to talk to you." The woman makes room for you and lets you in. You greet her and Johnny's daughters, who are watching a cartoon on TV, and you go with her to the kitchen, where you can talk in peace. "It's about Benny."

"I expected it. You know, we were all very surprised when you broke up. We were convinced that a week longer and the boy would start looking for an engagement ring for you."

"Benny and marriage? Not in this lifetime, I guess." You scoff and sit down at the small kitchen island with a smile, thanking her for the coffee she made you. "He fucking almost beat my date to death today. He's acting crazy. Johnny tells me he's been like this since I broke up with him, but we both know he was like this long before we even met. What the hell am I supposed to do, Betty? Get out of town? Out of America? Vandals have expanded all over the states, and most of them aren't the same old club they used to be."

"I know. Believe me, I know best." Silence falls between you after her words. You nod, understanding perfectly that she of you had the most right to worry. You sigh, running your hand through your hair. "Y/N... I'll give you some advice. If you don't care about him that much... if you think you can forget and move on, then save yourself. Run away wherever you want, as far away from him as possible, and forget. But if you can't... then stay and talk some sense into him before it's too late to save him."

"Save him? You know perfectly well he won't abandon the Vandals."

"Like you said, they're not the same Vandals they used to be. They've changed. Johnny sees it. Benny sees it. And they both still fool themselves, but when some shit happens, it finally gets to them. And believe me, Benny loves his bike and freedom, but the Vandals aren't his family anymore. You are." You fall silent at her words, processing everything she said. You nod and sigh, taking a cigarette out of the pack in your pocket. "We smoke outside." She admonishes you. You laugh quietly and raise your hands in surrender.

"All right. Thanks for everything, Betty." You sigh as you leave the house. You light a cigarette and walk across town to the Vandals' bar. You have to finish everything you had to finish with Benny. You couldn't just leave town without a word. There's no telling what the Vandal would do if you suddenly disappeared.

You throw your cigarette into the bin and take a few calming breaths as you approach the biker's bar. Their engines are already roaring, and some of them, probably the young and new ones, eye you warily as you enter.

You look around the bar and frown, unable to find Benny. You walk further in, pushing through the sea of people and sitting at the head table where Johnny sits with his most important men.

"Hello there. Where is Benny?" You ask them, taking the beer from Johnny. The man raises an eyebrow at you and watches as you take a sip.

"I thought you didn't want to talk to him?"

"I have to. I'm leaving town soon. I'd rather tell that to that ticking bomb." Johnny nods, fully realising what you mean. You see Cockroach get up from the table and go to the phone. You try to listen in on the conversation, but Johnny effectively talks you over and drowns out any conversation the man was having at the bar.

"When are you coming back?" He asks, but you don't answer. You take a sip of beer and tap your finger on the neck of the bottle. "I see. The kid won't be happy, you know that?"

"We are no longer together." You snap back, trying your best to maintain your relatively indifferent attitude. "Besides, after the shit he did today, he only proved that I can't stay here anymore."

"He went for a ride. He'll probably be at the lake. Or on the streets breaking a few traffic laws. You know him."

"Too well." You nod and stand up from the table. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Cockroach exit the bar and get on his bike. You frown and shake your head. They're not your problem anymore. "Tell him I'm looking for him. When you will see him."

"Sure." He agrees and nods. You nod back and turn to leave the bar. You scan the place one last time, knowing full well that you'll probably never set foot in it again.

Your heart clenches as you remember all the times you spent here. Both the good and the bad. Shortly after you broke up with Benny, you cursed this building. You'd rather see it burn down, along with all the Vandals that reminded you of what you'd lost.

You try to hold back the tears that are welling up in your eyes as you involuntarily recall your first meeting with Benny. The pool table is still in the same spot. How easy it would have been for you not to have looked that damned way and not fallen for the charm of those blue irises and the exposed muscles of his arms. How much disappointment and heartbreak you would have avoided if you had never entered that bar. And as much as you despised and hated that place, you loved it and the people in it for a long time and fiercely. And one of them in particular.

But how much more tragedy and sadness could you endure? How long could you live in fear and uncertainty in a relationship that was supposed to bring you only happiness and those good thrills?

Benny wanted to be free. So you will give him that freedom.

"Y/N!" Johnny calls after you before you leave. You sigh and turn to him, raising a questioning eyebrow. "Take care of yourself."

"You too." You nod at him and leave the bar.

You leave everything behind. And you feel like a piece of you is dying in the flames of time and the cry of your tormented heart..

Surprisingly, it doesn't take you long to pack. Nor does it take you long to get off work. Two days later, you're standing in the hallway of your house, ready to hand over the keys to your cousin, who's supposed to be selling it.

You stare at the picture Danny took of you and Benny when you were sitting at one of the biker picnics. Benny and you were leaning against his bike. He had his arm over your shoulder and was staring at you with loving puppy eyes while you smiled at the camera.

You sigh, putting the photo into your wallet and impatiently waiting for your cousin.

Just then, there's a knock on your door. You sigh and open it. You freeze, completely shocked, when you see Benny there.

"I didn't hear your bike."

"I parked down the street. So you don't get scared and run away." He says, still leaning against your door frame.

"I'm not scared of you." You huff indignantly, looking at the scratches on his face. You frown, not remembering him getting any injuries from Mike.

"I had an accident."

"Of course you had." You snort, crossing your arms over your chest. You see his jaw quiver slightly, but he just continues to stare at you with those stupid blue eyes of his, like you're the only girl in the world. "I'm leaving." You inform him, swallowing hard and waiting for his reaction. He drops his gaze to your hands and nods.

"I can see that." He says, nodding at the large travel backpack behind you.

"I won't come back." You inform him, carefully observing his reaction to it. Of course, he doesn't show anything. His face is stony as he looks at you, and his facial muscles don't even move as he doesn't reveal a single emotion to you.

"You won't come back." He repeats, not moving an inch from his spot by your door. You clench your teeth in irritation, to which he just smiles. And oh, that damn smile of his...

"That's it. You can go. You always said you'd be the one to leave. Too bad I had to be the one with the balls to do it." You say angrily, ready for him to turn around and walk to his bike, but all he does is continue to stare at you. You shake your head and push past him when you see your cousin.

You ignore Benny as you sort out the details with your cousin. You grab your backpack and walk him back to his car. You say goodbye to him and watch the car drive away. As you turn to go to the bus stop, you bump into Benny's chest.

"Sorry. I didn't see you." You say, quickly pulling away from him and trying to suppress your blush after your hands were briefly on his chest. The damn thing still had some well-trained muscles.

"Give you a lift?" He asks you seemingly innocently and puts his hands in his pockets. His gaze burns you, making your blush stay on your cheeks a little longer.

"Where are you going?" You ask as you both walk in the same direction. You don't feel like going with him, but you're not going to tell him that yet. You know he'll think of anything to make you get on that fucking bike with him.

"Florida." At those words, you freeze and stand still. You swallow and look at him for a long moment as you remember how you once begged him to go to his cousin in Florida and start a new life there. Then he chose his bike. And you chose yourself.

"To your cousin?" You ask carefully, resuming your walk.

"He hired me at his car workshop." Benny nods, walking glued to your side with his hands clasped behind him.

You feel strangely at ease talking to him. You're out of the habit of it. Of having him so close to you, of feeling the warmth of his body close to yours, of his intoxicating scent, of having his hypnotising irises focused on you and of listening to that raspy voice of his.

You missed him.

"You will have a job?" You ask, shocked. You can't imagine a free spirit like Benny finding a permanent job with set hours. "Well... that's good for you. I guess." You comment as you both walk. Suddenly he steps in front of you and stops. You sigh when you see his bike parked exactly two steps away from you. Fuck, you let that son of a bitch lead you to his bike.

"Are you getting in?" He asks, nodding at his bike. And as much as you want to say yes, you know it'll be bad for both you and him.

You shouldn't be together. Or at least you didn't think so. Even though you loved him so damn much.

"I will buy a train ticket." You politely decline his offer. You expect him to nod silently, get on your bike, and ride off into the sunset forever, but he still stands firmly in front of you, blocking your path.

"Where to?" He asks and looks at you suspiciously, as if he knew perfectly well that you didn't know where you were going yet. You only knew that it was definitely far from Benny.

"You don't need to know." You growl stubbornly, trying to get past him and finally move on.

But Benny won't let you. Before you can register any movement, he moves quickly and takes your hands. He wraps them tightly around his waist, and suddenly you hear a metallic click and something cold and heavy being placed on your forearms. Handcuffs. Bloody handcuffs.

"Benny!!" You growl at him angrily and struggle as he walks towards his bike. "Where the hell did you get handcuffs from?"

"Cockroach." He answers shortly and sits down, making you have to follow his lead. He fucking kidnaps you.

"Benny... let me go!" You scream, trying to punch him in the stomach, but the handcuffs are so short and far enough away from your wrists that all you can do is hold on tight as he prepares to ride.

"Even if it's handcuffed, I'm leaving here with you." He tells you calmly, and you stare at him in disbelief. What the fuck?

"Don't joke! Benny!" Either he ignores your screams (which is most likely) or he doesn't hear them because at that very moment he starts the engine of his Harley.

So all you can do is sit behind him, holding on tight as he drives who knows where. Amazingly, he stops at red lights and doesn't go over the speed limit. It's only when he gets to the highway that he drives a little faster than the speed limit, but not enough to be considered dangerous driving.

You rest your cheek against his back in defeat as you realise there is absolutely no way out of this. Not if you want to stay alive. You can feel him relax a little as he rides forward, and you are not trying to fight with him. You sigh, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to rest behind him for a moment, revelling in the feeling of freedom as you whizzed through the air on his bike.

Fuck, you missed it.

The only break you get is a stop at a motel when the fuel runs out and the cold night starts to set in. Benny rents you a room (which is surprising because you were always the one paying) at the motel and leaves you there while he goes to fill up his Harley.

You think about escaping, but:

1. Benny took away the keys and locked you up there.

2. He made sure to rent a room on the highest floor of this damn building.

3. You were too tired and hungry after the ride to come up with some plan.

That's why you lay on the bed and wait for him to come back. Hopefully with food. It would be nice to eat something before you will kill him.

As if on cue, the keys turn in the door, and Benny steps inside. In his hand he has a large paper bag, which he places on the bed opposite you in an apologetic gesture of sacrifice for his sins. He can go to hell. Him and his damn puppy eyes.

"What is it?"

"Burgers. Took it for you. Your favourite." He says and makes sure he's locked the door. He puts the key in the keyhole and goes to the window.

He looks at his bike and takes a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. He lights one and looks outside, not sparing you a single glance.

"Where's your jacket?" You ask, seeing as he's not wearing his Vandals' colours. It was weird seeing him in just a T-shirt.

"On a bike in the trunk. I don't know if they'd let me here wearing that."

"You never took it off." You say shocked and raise your eyebrows at him. "You will be cold without it." You notice and take the food out of the bag. You don't eat yet, wondering if you should leave him some, if he even ate anything before he came here.

"I was cold without you." He answers quickly without even thinking much about what he's saying. You see his cheeks redden slightly as he realises he said it out loud. "Eat." He clears his throat and takes a drag on his cigarette. You sigh and start eating. You hum, savouring the delicious food, and you swear you hear him chuckle quietly from his spot by the window. Big bastard.

"Where we going?" You ask him before biting into your burger. You frown as grease leaks onto your fingers. You lick them, unconsciously teasing Benny as he... imagines what your lips wrapped around just as perfectly as they now were wrapped around your fingers. He clears his throat, seeing that you’ve caught him staring at you.

"Florida. I want to show you something." You eat in silence, wondering what he wants to show you that makes him literally chain you to himself and drag you out of town.

"And then?" You can't stand it anymore and finally ask, curious about his future plans and how long he actually wants to keep you with him.

"And then you will decide."

"Decide what? Do I want the fur handcuffs or the regular metal ones?" You snap at him, irritated.

Your sharp mockery makes him throw his cigarette out the window, and his gaze lingers there, as if he were ashamed of what he had done. On the other hand, you didn't give him much of an exit or opportunity to talk normally. You wanted to leave—just like he had promised so many times that he would do. So why did he stubbornly want to keep you if he had never cared?

Benny wasn't one for words. He was sparing with his thoughts and emotions. And for a while, his actions spoke loud enough of his devotion to you. For a while. Then your honeymoon phase wore off, and you were annoyed that he never verbally confirmed to you what his eyes had told you so many times as he held you close by the fire at night at one of the Vandals meetings.

On this particular night, some famous actress that the guys were crazy about was coming to town. Half of them got on their bikes halfway through the party and wanted Benny to join them in hunting her down and taking a picture with her. They even bribed Danny to go with them and take their stupid pictures.

"Come on, Benny. You're not coming with us? I remember you were the one who hung her poster in the club so you could get a good view of her from the pool table." One of the guys was convincing Benny, who was currently lying on the grass and resting his head on your lap, practically forcing you to comb your hands through his blonde locks.

"I have a much better view here!" He shouts at them, not even turning his head in their direction. His blue eyes never leave your face. You blush a little, ducking your head and closing your eyes as you try to ignore the whistles and teasing from the boys at his response.

A moment later, Benny props himself up on his elbows and steals the most delightful, mind-numbing kiss. You cup his cheek in your hand and let yourself sink into the feeling of his soft lips against yours, letting out a quiet sigh when he tangles his hand in your hair and presses you against the trunk of the tree behind you. You ignore the cheering Vandals put on and completely immerse yourself in your little bubble with Benny.

Everyone had their poison. For Benny, it was cigarettes and his Harley. For you, it was him. And back then it didn't bother you one bit.

"I... if you want to go you can. I won't stop you." Benny mumbles under his breath, pulling you from your thoughts. You shake your head, snorting, and set the bag of food on the nightstand next to your bed.

"Thank you so much that you provide me with my basic human rights!" You growl at him angrily, reminding him about those stupid handcuffs.

"You didn't even want to give me a chance to explain myself to you. And you know perfectly well that I never ask for anything or expect anything in return. I... I didn't see any other way to get to you. And I'm not going to apologise for that."

You roll your eyes at him, irritated. But you can't say you don't see the reasoning behind his actions. But the prospect of being dragged around by him deeply offends your innate feminism.

Seeing that you have nothing to add to the matter, he closes the window. He walks over to you and grabs the blanket off the bed. You frown as he sits down in the armchair, clearly intending to sleep there. And you don't like the fact that even though you had him in the same room, you won't be able to have his arms wrapped around you. Especially since it's so damn cold in this motel.

"Come here. You will get sick by sitting near this window. It is cold outside, and they don't even heat the room." You grumble and make room for him on the bed, hoping that you don't have to tell him the real reason you want him next to you to get him in the same bed with you.

"I will be fine." He speaks carelessly and reaches into his pocket for another cigarette.

"Benjamin Cross." You growl at him, which finally gets his full attention. "Get your fucking ass here." Benny rolls his eyes but obediently stands up. He takes off his shoes and lies down next to you in bed.

He covers you with an extra blanket and leaves an absurd amount of space between you that you honestly hate. But you won't make the first move and throw yourself into his arms. Not after he kidnapped you. But... could it really be considered kidnapping if you partly wanted it and you didn't really have anywhere else to be?

You sigh, tossing and turning in your bed as you try to find a slightly comfortable sleeping position. But it's impossible to fall asleep with Benny so close to you when you are not even able to touch him. Especially when his warmth and scent reach you, assaulting you and every ounce of restraint and self-control you had.

"What's the matter with you?" Benny asks as you toss and turn in frustration once again.

"Nothing."

Benny knows that tone. All too well. So he hesitantly moves closer to you and experimentally places a hand on your waist. When you don't push away from him, he gently pulls you toward him and tightens his hold, pressing his chest against your back. You sigh and press your lips to his forearm, rubbing your nose against the tattooed skin.

Benny doesn't comment on that. That's something you like about him. That even when you do completely absurd things, he doesn't comment on it, doesn't deny it, just stands by you in silence. Just like now.

You take his hand in yours and squeeze it so hard that his rings dig into it. But you don't care. It's nice to finally have him this close.

Benny rests his chin on your shoulder and runs his nose against your temple. His beard gently tickles you, but you do nothing about it. It's been a long time since you've had this feeling of him close to you. You turn in his arms and snuggle into him.

Benny gently strokes your back with his hand, holding you close to him without a word as you revel in his scent. For a moment you forget why you should be mad at him and stay as far away from him as possible. So when his lips fall to your forehead and he presses a long kiss there, you grab his chin and steal the kiss from him.

His full, plump lips feel wonderful against yours and caress you nicely. You moan when you can finally taste his lips on yours again, and you remember how much you've missed this feeling. His hand roams over you, and you let him touch you wherever he wants. Benny, on the other hand, is confused. One moment you're yelling at him and you're angry, and the next you want him close to you and you kiss him like there's no tomorrow. It's a nice change. But Benny is afraid of how long it will last. Of how much longer will you want him? And will you want to leave again?

For now, he had you back in his arms. And he wanted to savour that feeling. And he will give you a goddamn reason to stay.

He cups your cheek in his hand and deepens the kiss. His tongue explores your mouth again, as if learning you all over again, before wrapping his tongue around yours. You sigh as his hand slides teasingly from your cheek, down your neck, over the valley of your breasts, and to the hem of your jeans.

"Benny..." You sigh as his cold fingers touch the skin of your stomach after he unbuttons your jeans TOO slowly.

"Do you want me to stop?" Benny almost chuckles at how fast and furious your head is shaking. Your eyes are squeezed shut, your bottom lip bitten in a desperate attempt to keep from making any sound as he gently brushes his fingers over your folds. The motel walls were thin after all. "Open your eyes for me, my little rascal, and say the words. After this, there will be no turning back."

You don't even think about turning back. You don't think about leaving him. You only think about how wonderful it is to have him by your side again, how wonderful his hands feel on you, and how much you want to kiss his stupid mouth until you both have enough breath. And that's exactly what you do.

With that form of agreement from you, his fingers gently delve into your folds, exploring previously familiar territory and teasing you unintentionally as he tries to appreciate every little second he has with you.

Sex with Benny was like that. Unique, intense, a long marathon. Because, as he said, you never know when it's the last time. Although you always prayed that it would never be the last time and that he and you will both live to experience another of your hot sessions.

For now, God listened to a sinner like you...

You almost scream as he digs his long fingers into you up to his knuckles. His rings rub against the entrance of your cunt, the even colder than his fingers metal is making you shiver. Benny kisses and nibbles your neck, leaving a trail of hickies from your lips to your collarbone.

His fingers slide in and out, pushing against that sweet spot inside you that makes you scream his name. His rings push through and enter your vagina, and you can see them glistening with your arousal. And it's fucking hot. As hot as Benny's hard manhood pressing against your thigh.

You dig your nails into his neck and moan into his ear as his thumbs is pressing your swollen clit, working with all his might to bring you to the edge of your orgasm.

You bite your lip, trying to muffle your moans and cries of pleasure so everyone in the motel doesn't hear you, but Benny won't have any of that. He kisses you hungrily and pulls his hand away from you completely. You gasp, lifting your hips and seeking his hand, but he doesn't resume his ministrations until a soft moan escapes your kiss-swollen lips.

"Such a good little desprate girl for me. You take my fingers so damn well now, wrapping your tight unused walls around them, and before when you were scandalously empty, you were a nasty little brat. I shouldn't reward you for running away from me, you know, my sweetest?" He mumbles in your ear with his hoarse voice, still refusing you the touch of his sinfully long fingers.

The tears in your eyes fall freely onto the pillow as you try to gather the last remnants of logical thought to somehow prove yourself to him, because you know you won't come if you just grind against him desperately in the hopes that he'll finally give you more.

"Please Benny… I… oh… I won't leave… I won't leave.."

You tangle your hand in his hair and tug on it, to which he lets out a soft growl from his plump lips. In punishment, he gently nips your collarbone, adding another hickey to the collection, as he thankfully pushes his fingers deep into your velvety wet and eager walls again and tries to bring you immense pleasure.

And it doesn't take him very long. A few thrusts of his fingers, kisses scattered across your neck, collarbone, and cleavage, and you're falling apart beneath him. Your brain is a useless mush as you come from the mere ministrations of his fingers and the dirty words he whispers in your ear. You're drunk on Benny, on the feel of his fingers inside you, his weight on you, and the burning marks his lips leave on your skin.

You lick your lips in anticipation for him to strip down so you can get to the main part, but he just flops onto his side next to you, ignoring the obvious hard soreness in his pants, and wraps his arms around you tightly, pulling you against his chest.

"I missed it." He whispers, kissing your knuckles. You feel his grip on your hand tighten, but he doesn’t move to taste you on his fingers. He simply places your joined hands on his chest, his other hand wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer.

You know this is the closest you'll get to an admission of guilt and an apology from him. So you accept it and gently snuggle into him.

"Good night, Benny." You whisper into his neck. He shivers.

Goosebumps appear on the skin of his neck, but he doesn't move. You just lie there, cuddled up to each other, and he presses a long kiss to the top of your head. You feel fulfilled, satisfied, happy,

He lies under you politely, ignoring his discomfort, and you know that this is some kind of sick punishment for himself. Yet you do nothing to stop it. He has to realise that he can't just take you on his bike and take you to hell knows where. He needs to realise that he can't be such a free spirit anymore if he really wants you. That he can't keep doing the shit he did with the Vandals.

Even if you're happy with how things turned out after he dargged you out of the town.

And when the next day he takes you to Florida and shows you the old family home that he inherited from his deceased father and says that he would love to burn this place down in the past, but now he wants to keep it and renovate it for you if you agree to stay with him as his wife, you know you can't stay mad at him forever. Especially not after he slides one of his rings off his finger and places it securely on yours in a silent promise and understanding between you.

You whether gonna be his wife or gonna smash up his bike, (you haven't decided yet) but in the end you gonna finally make him yours and only yours.

After all, he didn't get you back just for you to leave him again. You will stay with each other until the very end. Even if it would destroy you.

[aliceramblez]

BroZone Brothers With An Insecure S/O 😔💗

Tags: GN! Reader, Self-Deprecating Jokes, Low Self-Esteem, Abandonment Issues, Slight Body Insecurities. Fluff/Comfort.

A/N: Here we go with our first request! I really liked this idea as someone who has low self-esteem, and honestly it goes to all of y'all who think you're not good enough— cause you are! Also sorry it took a bit! I've been sick because the universe hates me 🙃

Feel free to leave a request & hope you enjoy! ^^

John Dory

At first, he doesn't really know what to make of it.

He finds it a bit strange, but doesn't question your odd sense of humor, and will sometimes even join in on the joke by saying stuff about himself, thinking it's some sort of inside thing between the two of you.

“Man, I can't believe I'm so clingy, sorry! Feel free to use me as a bad example, at least that way I won't be totally useless, haha!”

“Ha! You think that's bad? Babe, you haven't even seen me when I'm up at night just staring at the ceiling contemplating my life choices.”

It isn't until getting a good smack from Bruce and Floyd that he realizes you're actually being serious. And the prospect of that kinda puzzles him, not gonna lie.

“Look at you, tiger! Got yourself plenty of groupies already— Not surprising honestly. Don't have to worry about backups when you decide you're ready to move on, either!”

After a performance at the Pop Troll village, everyone is gushing over BroZone because of course they are. JD only barely manages to squeeze past the number of fans to get to you on the other side of the podium.

The oldest sibling looks at you in shock, and has to get closer to make sure he heard you right. “Babe, why would you say that?”

Caught off guard, you manage a nervous chuckle as you play with your hair. “I-I mean... Wow, would you look at the time! We gotta meet with Poppy and the others!”

John Dory stops you on your tracks and demands an explanation, which isn't really good for your poor heart. All you can do is kick the dirt and avoid his gaze, since that makes what you're about to say much easier to voice aloud.

“I mean... You're John Dory. You could date any troll you wanted and yet you're sticking with me. It honestly feels like a dream sometimes... And I'm scared of the day you realize you can do WAY better and decide to leave me.”

After processing this, he immediately holds your face in his hands and gives you the most serious expression you've ever seen on him. “I don't want just any random troll... I want you. You're my number one fan, and I'm yours, so don't even think about stuff like that, okay?”

After the exchange, he's always on the lookout for whenever your bad habit wants to kick in again and is ready to stop it ASAP

Spruce/Bruce

He notices it happens mostly when you're working at the cantina.

Whenever you get an order wrong, trip over your own feet or don't remember how to work one of the machines properly, you'll go into an awkward insecure flight response.

You'll say “Oops! Sorry! Clumsy Twinkle Toes, coming through!” while grinning and laughing along with the customers, but Bruce knows that it's affecting you more than you lead on.

It also happens whenever BroZone is getting ready to perform and you don't know what to do with yourself since you're “standing in the way”, despite being told multiple times that it's okay for you to be backstage with everyone else.

When he talks to you about it, you get really uncomfortable and just say that it's no big deal and that you can handle it.

“I've always been a clumsy person, so I guess that's always making me doubt myself over the smallest of things... Sorry if it's annoying.”

Bruce will then proceed to give you a huge warm hug and a kiss on the forehead as he whispers comforting words into your ear.

“Hey, I can be clumsy too! I've always been the worst out of everyone when it comes to choreography. Don't tell JD though, cause I know he'll throw a fit knowing I don't practice.”

He'll throw in other examples that may seem inconsequential to you, but you appreciate the effort nonetheless and smile and giggle through the embarrassing stories he shares.

He helps you get more confident by being there with you while taking orders at the cantina and praising you whenever you get something right— albeit in private as to not embarrass you.

Same goes with rehearsals, where he WILL drag you into the lounge area to hang with his brothers and/or Poppy and Viva when they decide to visit, too.

Overall he wants what's best for you and will try and push you out of your comfort zone, but only in a safe environment where he knows that if something does go wrong, it won't be as catastrophic as you make it out to be in your head.

You never stop thanking him for being your crutch during these times.

Clay

The moment he hears the words come out of your mouth he's completely flabbergasted.

First of all, who said those things to you? Because he swears he just wants to talk to them—

It's at a sleepover with his brothers and the gals at the Bergen Golf Course, and among the many games, snacks and movies watched, pictures are also taken.

As soon as you take a look at the array of selfies, you let out what sounds like a mix between a laugh and a sigh.

“I mean, at least it stays consistent— in photos, I look ugly. And in real life, I'm also ugly!”

As soon as those words leave your lips, Clay is at your side with an almost unreadable expression, only to snatch one of the photos from your hands. “How DARE you say that about the most attractive troll I've ever met? Shame on you!”

He then starts going around the room waving the picture around to his brothers, saying stuff like “Look how attractive my S/O is! I'm dating them!” while you're just blushing profusely and begging him to stop (even though deep down your kinda giddy about it).

After that day, Clay will do small gestures in which he reminds you how beautiful he thinks you are. Everything to outright saying it each morning, joking about it with his brothers, and even bragging about you to his friends in the Bergen Golf Course.

He's a simp and he's totally okay with that because it's you.

Clay feels like he's the luckiest troll in the world for being able to snatch someone like you since he's “the most boring and uninteresting of the bunch”, so he feels like he's hit the jackpot.

You immediately tell him that he's not boring to you and that he's the best boyfriend ever, which only causes him to smirk.

“Doesn't feel good to know the person you love feels so bad about themselves, does it?”

Finally realizing his reverse psychology, you give in with a laugh. “No, it doesn't. I guess... We can both work on that? Together?”

And so you do, and end up helping each other whenever one is feeling down in the dumps, as a sort of personal cheerleader. You truly couldn't have asked for someone better.

Floyd

You're the kind of person who's very vocal about your interests.

So it's no surprise that you have to catch yourself mid-ramble whenever you're talking about something you're either interested in or knowledgeable about. And with Floyd being such a good listener, it honestly slips your mind more times than you'd prefer.

After realizing you've been talking for too long, you turn pink in the face and start apologizing profusely.

“Sorry! You probably didn't need to hear all of that. They didn't call me ‘Chatter Box’ when I was younger for nothing! Haha...”

But Floyd could care less about any of that. He loves hearing you talk, not just because he's not much of a chatty person, but because he just finds it incredibly endearing.

He'll hold your hands in his own and give you the softest smile ever that just makes you think that it should be illegal to be THIS sweet.

“You're just so cute when you get lost in the moment like that. Besides, I love seeing you happy. By all means, I'm glad you get to do the talking for the both of us, otherwise we wouldn't get anywhere in this relationship.”

You laugh at his attempt to make you feel better and melt under the touch of his lips on your cheek.

After that, whenever you go out either just the two of you or with your group of friends, Floyd will encourage you to express yourself. He does this by either asking you a question directly or subtly incorporating you into the conversation by saying something like. “I think (y/n) knows about this kinda stuff. Don't you, love?”

Obviously this all happens with your consent beforehand, since he doesn't want to put you in a tight spot, either.

Either way, he always values whatever you have to say, since you always bring in new perspectives that maybe others didn't think about before.

He will also encourage you to be yourself and not try and match your topics of conversation with things you think other people will find interesting. You deserve to be happy by sharing what you love with the world.

Poppy and Viva are huge helps in the art of feeling confident by speaking your mind, and Floyd couldn't be happier for you.

You thank him by telling him about your day each night, in which sometimes he'll fall asleep to the soothing sound of your voice, which only warms your heart on so many levels.

“Goodnight, my prince.”

“Goodnight, my little chatter box.”

Branch

Just like Clay, this man is ready to throw hands.

Just give him a name and he'll get the job done before sunrise—

He notices that sometimes you struggle with finding outfits for different occasions, either something casual, dressy, classy, etc.

But it's not because you don't have anything in your wardrobe, on the contrary it's pretty much brimming. It's more the fact that you're not satisfied with any of them because you feel like you don't look good in them.

Branch tries to convince you otherwise, saying that you look great no matter what you wear, but you can't help but feel self-conscious in anything that isn't a good old sweatshirt.

He isn't knowledgeable in fashion (clearly) so he enlists the help of Poppy and The Snack Pack to try and cater outfits to your exact measurements, along with any other nitpicks you've had in the past with either texture or material.

I mean, Branch has backup plans to his backup plans, you think he wouldn't keep notes on what kind of stuff his S/O doesn't like— INCLUDING mundane stuff like their clothing?

He surprises you with these, and you can't help but feel attractive in them since he paid extra attending to the complaints you had from your own designs.

“I personally think you look great no matter what you wear. But if you feel so strongly about it, might as well get some stuff you'll actually enjoy wearing.” He'd said when you asked why he did it, and your heart just melted.

You vow to try and work on your self-imagine regardless, which he gets happy over and says he can't wait for you to see yourself the way he does.

[mellowwillowy]

Omg i love your work😭😭 especially Yulian he's crazy but he's sooo sweet🥹 and you write him so well fr

I was wondering how'd he react if his darling decides that they wanna break up with him / get a divorce,, or they start to feel like he's hiding something from them which causes them to doubt him. But I feel like he would 100% gastlight them first.

Chances of divorce in Utopia is 0 honey :)

But let's talk about Dystopia.

Yan! Lawyer Husband - GN Spouse Reader

Yes, Yulian will corner the fuck out of you mentally as much as he hates it. He should have picked up on the signs earlier and yet he paid no mind to it until you exploded, again.

The reason was simple, you doubted him.

It all started from a suspicion of his absence, the rumors circulating around him and the voice in your head yelling you to leave him.

'That man is no good! Leave him before it's too late again!'

"Where were you dear?"

"Duty called dear. I'm sorry for leaving you alone for a long time yeah?"

"I asked everyone around and they told me that you were absent for the 5 days. Where were you if you were not in the court nor your office?"

Yulian didn't expect you to bother questioning around, mentally adding another note to bribe everyone next time.

"I was visiting another place, the client did not like leaving his curb so I had to visit him myself, I'm sorry I didn't notify you earlier dear."

Yulian's hand creeped into your cheek, caressing it gently while giving you an apologetic smile. The smile that always makes you shrug all your doubts and worries away.

But not today.

"This is not the first time this has happened, Yulian."

Yulian jolted. You were glaring at him. The face that he rarely sees from you, the face that he never expected to see from you. You.

"Dear?"

'You know right? This man right here is nothing but a swindler!'

"Why do you always lie to me?"

'How many secrets has he hidden from you? Better yet, why is he keeping you in the dark?'

"Always, always, always lying. I had enough of you, Yulian. This is not the first I have confronted you and this is not the first out of your many lies that I haven't confronted you about."

'Stay away from him.'

"I want a divorce."

'Run.'

"Di... vorce?"

Yulian's face darkened. A face you had never seen before.

"Divorce?"

"Yes."

'Run!'

Yulian sat down, his eyes traveling toward anywhere but you. He took in a shaky breath before exhaling it in fury. No, it was not directed at you. It was directed at himself for being slow and dumb. A fool no less.

"I'll have Aava packed my stuffs today. I will hand you the papers for you to sign later." You paid no mind to his slumped figure, leaving him.

"No..." Yulian stopped you in your track, his hand holding your wrist tightly. "Don't leave me alone again."

"Is it not supposed to be directed at you instead?"

Yulian winced. You were right but he was right as well. What should he do? What should he do?

What he should do.

"Dear..." Yulian stood up to his feet, "don't you think you are being a bit too hasty?"

"Wha-?"

"Over something so menial," he knew he shouldn't word it like that, "I was trying my best you know? I tried my best to wrap up everything quickly but I just can't not attend to duties such as this."

He was driving you into the corner again.

"If this is the same word game you are playing with me then it's not working on me anymore."

"No, this is the truth we are talking about," Yulian's hand cupped your cheek, "I know you have it hard, but I too, am troubled from it. Do you perhaps view me as an irrespobsible man who leaves his spouse because he feels like it?"

What?

'Run, leave him, just leave him!'

"Have you always viewed me like that dear? I can't fathom how you... thought of me like that even just for the slightest."

Was it not supposed to be the other way around?

"You, you are the one who always thinks of me like that!"

"How could you even say that?"

How could you even say that to me then?

'Stop listening to him!'

Yulian's hands clasped your ears, his face close to yours.

"How could you even think of something so shallow?"

'ADAMMMMMMM!!!!'

"Have you never even considered my love to be real just even for once?"

You don't feel like thinking anymore. You don't feel like listening to them both anymore.

"Don't worry dear, I'll make sure to ease those doubts away. Just listen to me and everything will be alright."

'Do----'

Yes, that sounds just right. Right?

"How about you take those pills first?"

Yes, they always calm you down.

[animereaderinsertwriter]

supermassive black hole

Gojo is dangerous like a supernova. You're dangerous like a black hole. It isn't love at first sight, but it's something close.

tw violence and sex and porn with plot

Excerpt:

It's so funny that I laugh until tears are squeezing out of the corner of my eyes.

She looks up at me from her kill with dark-bright eyes. With her hands still covered in viscera, she reaches up to touch the sides of my face. I'm still hard for her, and grow harder as she touches me again, melting my infinity. I am powerless against her. My greatest weapon, my ultimate defense, is shattered under her soft, pliant hands.

It gets me off.

A/N I forgot if i posted this already or not so here you go. there will also be a part two which i will link here when it is up.

ao3 link

A hush falls over the room as she enters. 

As well it might. This scene— a young woman entering the privy council— has not been seen for nigh on a century. Out of curiosity, I myself don't dare to speak or even breathe as she enters. I'd hate to miss the disappointed faces of those old farts as she crashes their party. Every moment of victory must be savored, after all— and I do love the taste of victory, even one so small as this one. 

Silk fabric whisks as she moves. Her formal robes are a discreet and tasteful mourning black, but at the hollow of her throat is nestled a red diamond— not a garnet or ruby, but a diamond in its rarest coloring. No doubt she wears it for us as a symbol of her indomitable will and impeccable breeding: a diamond for strength and elegance, red for rarity and for blood. It is a statement piece meant to remind us of who and what she is.

As if we could forget it. 

“Yo,” I greet her finally, smiling toothily. 

I know I look pale and wolfish under the fluorescent lights. It's part of my charm. The other four men in the room just look pale, and are without charm entirely— a tragedy. I would prefer it if everyone were as charming as me, or at least as pretty. It might not make me like them more, but it might make the whole experience of these meetings more bearable. 

The esteemed and lovely newcomer doesn't acknowledge me, but her eyes slide from my sunglasses to my chest and back up. I resist the urge to tell her where my eyes are. Notably, no one else greets her, and she is certainly not welcomed by anyone, not even as a pretense to propriety. 

They know she is here to enact change, and they do not like it. 

I revel in it. 

As the meeting commences, I catalog her features. It has been many years since I last saw her outside of an Instagram post— something that I begin to regret as I trace lightly with my eyes the sweet curve of her cheek, the whispering kiss of her gently curving lashes. It occurs to me as I watch her lips twist into a frown that she is prettier than she was in high school.   

That is to say, very pretty. 

I have always liked pretty things, and so much the better if they are sad or somehow tragic, too. And in her, there is an ineffable air of sadness that sets my teeth to itching.  

It is uncommon for a woman to sit the privy council of elders. It is less common still that a woman under fifty should do so. It is only through great personal tragedy that a woman of her age and status sits the council. Her grandfather, the most recent seat, is lately deceased, her father conspicuously absent; her brother, rest his eternal soul, was a bloodline contender to inherit the seat, but alas, rather talentless, and therefore newly perished, leaving the seat to the nearest surviving relative. Sad, indeed— but it is not grief that weighs on her shoulders like a sandbag. I can feel it, smell it, taste it, her loneliness, like bitter wine. 

It pairs well with mine.

“Focus, now,” says the nearest old man, white tufts of hair sticking out of his ears. “We must pick the catering company for our annual fundraiser. I haven't got all day, and we're off to a late start.”

And so the doddering begins. 

It is inane, whatever they’re all saying. Fortunately, I am not without entertainment. I put my feet on the table and watch how those wizened brows furrow. It is fun to annoy them back whenever they annoy me. Seeing the soles of my shoes dirty their table makes them ornery on the best of days. Today, their glares are fairly murderous. The newcomer, though, does not react at all. Her silk-gloved hands rest laced together in her lap, and she pointedly does not react to anything or anyone at all. 

As I watch her, it becomes clear that, sad and tragic or not, she is beginning to lose her patience. With what, I couldn't say— I never listen at these things anyway— but it's a safe guess that the doddering old fools are going on about something foolish or ineffectual. Her jaw clenches, then relaxes. The diamond at her throat shifts. For a moment, I believe that she will conquer her frustration, let it pass over and through her, until only the dignified daughter of sorcery titans remains. 

She speaks, and that moment passes. 

“Pardon me, reverend elders,” she says congenially, “I’m sure there is some fault in my understanding, but it seems to me that there are more important matters to discuss than what wine pairings we might consider for the council’s anniversary dinner. Might we table the cocktail conversation until a bit later?”

The two councilmen who had previously been yapping turn to look at her with outrage in their eyes. Her face remains open, as placid as a koi pond, and I grin. 

Oh, but I do adore novelty!

“You are new to this council,”one of them replies, disgruntlement coloring his voice. “These decisions, while small, must be made.”

She's not having it. 

“Any fool can select appropriate drinks.” She leans forward, eyes glinting sharp like steel. “What do you mean to do about the increased curse activity?”

The rest of the council hisses in unison. Whispers of insolent girl! and tactless upstart! cut like knives through the air. She remains unaffected. She's a woman after my own heart, and so I do the best I can to throw her a bone. 

“What do you propose we discuss, then?”

She looks at me— through me and into me— and inclines her head in respect. 

“I want to present a motion to the council.”

The other members stare uneasily at her. Their withered faces crease in concern and distaste, but they are bound by oath and by beloved tradition to hear her out. I gesture for her to take the floor, and she stands. Again, we are blessed with the image of her fine figure as she paces, panther-like, to the front of the room. She pauses there, thinking. 

“We have been fools too long,” she says quietly. It is almost a strain to hear her. “Sorcerers have always been a reactionary force against curses. It's an inevitability, the nature of the beast— but we have stayed more on the back foot now than we have in centuries. More of us die. Less of us stay to complete our education.”

She moves again, allowing her words to settle uneasily over her audience. When she stops, I realize that she intentionally moved to stand next to the marble bust of an old, legendary sorcerer— her great-to-however-many-degrees grandfather. She looks strikingly like him, and I realize that her movement was more intentional than I initially thought. 

“We lack understanding. We forget what our forefathers knew.” 

She looks at her ancestor, then back to her audience. To me . I might as well not even have my sunglasses on for all I fail to hide from her. I feel sure that she can see my very soul.

“We do not succeed against curses because we are stronger, better, or more capable. We are weak, pitiful in comparison.” Well, maybe they are weak and pitiful. That's something I've never been— but I don't take the slight personally. “We have succeeded thus far only because we outsmart them. The jujutsu sorcerer’s academy has forgotten its purpose. It has abandoned its study in favor of militant strength. The clans, likewise, have followed suit. The academy— this council — has forsaken academia, spurned knowledge, and teeters on the edge of destroying us all.”

The elders sit and merely blink, nonplussed. 

“And what are you suggesting we do, exactly?” 

Her eyes harden. Leonine and lovely, she tilts her chin up in defiance before speaking again. 

“I have assembled a team of excellent researchers— all brilliant, all with a pleasant pedigree. With the correct resources, I believe that I can turn them into a front-line reconnaissance task force whose purpose is to capture and study curses.” She pauses a moment, her brow creasing slightly. Then, she adds, “I believe that we can use them to suit our ends— more so than we already have. If a wolf can be tamed, so can curses. Perhaps one day there will be curses as loyal to us as dogs.”

It's brilliant, what she's suggesting— or, it would be if curses weren't manifestations of pure, actual evil . After all, why put human lives on the line when often one curse could do for another with relative ease? Once, it may have seemed that wolves were evil to men, and now their sons and daughters depend on rescue dogs, police canines, ans service dogs. And it isn't so terribly inconceivable that it could be done, taming curses— we just haven't tried yet. The benefit might just be worth the risk. After all, I knew someone once that made masterful use of the curses at his disposal. 

The wound from him is still raw and bleeding. I try not to imagine his smile, but it's like trying not to think of elephants. 

Ah, well— it's really a different thing from what she is suggesting and I know it. No one is capable of Suguru’s mastery of curses. At best, we would be trapping them, tracking them, and perhaps extracting information where we could. But who knows what such study could lead to? Human ingenuity has ensured the survival of the species for a very long time. Who's to say we couldn't develop new technology to aid us? 

The elders all exchange glances. Then one nods and says,

“Of course, you're right. Assemble your task force, girl-child. We will provide whatever resources you require.”

“ Whatever resources ?” Her eyes narrow in suspicion. “You don't know what I'm asking for yet.”

“Of course, you will need to draw up an expenditure report for council approval, but you seem a level-headed girl. We trust that you will not ask more than we can give.”

It is a clear dismissal, but she does not sit down. She's no fool. It's clear that she knows what I know:

They're agreeing with her to shut her up. 

More than that, I don't think they intend for her to live long enough to pester them about it. 

Stubborn, she stands there for the rest of the meeting, arms folded. She's still, statuesque, but the pissed-off press of her lips against each other belie her serenity. I am possessed of a childish urge to pass notes to her like a schoolboy. Fuck them, I would write. You're onto something. We could change the world.

Instead I sigh loudly and crack a smile when I get not one but two glares out of it. 

When it's all over, I catch up to her in the hall. Her posture is rigid and regal, a prideful measure against her painful dismissal. I touch her shoulder just to see if it feels real, or if it's made of the same steel as her backbone. 

I'm almost surprised to find that she is supple and soft under my hand. 

“Yo,” I greet her once more. “What a drag of a meeting, right?”

This is the wrong thing to say. I know it as soon as she stops short, eyes blazing.

“Gojo-san.” Her voice is polite and soft, but as cold as fresh snow. “How is your foot? I noticed you were elevating it earlier. I hope you aren't injured?”

“Oh, terribly injured,” I grin. “I'm positively lamed. Could I lean on your shoulder for support?”

Her eyes close. When they reopen, they make me wish I'd been less of a clown. They are tired, drawn, and I let my grin drop like the farce it is. 

“Hey, don't look so glum. They wouldn't hate you so much if you weren't right.”

She thinks on that for a moment, then adds cooly,

“And a woman.”

I grin. 

“And a young, pretty one at that.”

She hums noncommittally. 

“How long do you think they'll let me live?”

I'm not prepared for the question. She looks at me deadly serious, and I know she wasn't fooled for a moment by those moth-eaten codgers. She knows their game as well as I do, and I feel a sudden strange kinship with her— as if I am seen for once by someone who knows. It is at once relieving and terribly, awfully sad, because I know the answer to her question.

“If they have their way, you'll be dead within the week,” I say, “but that's generous. They'll try for tonight.”

Really, from their point of view, the sooner they're rid of her the better. It will give her less opportunity to talk about her plan to others and notify her task force, and it would give them an excellent opportunity to simply close the seat and refuse to let anyone else in. 

She nods thoughtfully. The diamond at her neck glistens, and I try not to stare. 

“And if I survive tonight? The week? Will they try again?”

I shrug. 

“Who's to say? Depends on how much you annoy them versus how powerful they think you are.”

I bend low enough for her to see behind my sunglasses and I give her a wink. 

“That's where being the strongest comes in handy. I do so love to annoy them.”

She hums and appraises me. 

“Do you know what my clan is known for, Gojo-san? What genes my father was hoping would be passed down to his children?”

I vaguely remember my own father saying something about her clan— something derogatory, like that they sucked the life out of things— but I politely do not bring that up and shake my head. 

“Can I touch you, Gojo-san?”

Confused, I nod. She pulls the black glove from her right hand with her teeth gleaming white against the silky fabric. On instinct, I keep my infinity on as she reaches for my hand, looking for signs of treachery— but I find that my precaution doesn't matter. 

It doesn't matter because she touches me anyway. 

I jerk my hand away from her, feeling unnaturally wounded. Her touch— so cold and feather-light— had eaten away at the cursed energy of my infinity. If she had really wanted to, she could have harmed me then. It shakes me to my core. And yet, as I watch her put her glove back on, she does not look victorious or pleased at all with herself. 

She looks sad. 

 “I inherited this— this hunger .”

I remember now what my father had said all those years ago. That her clan sucked the life out of people and curses alike. 

I can only hope he meant that first bit metaphorically. 

“I… should not have done that.” She avoids my gaze. “It was supposed to be a secret that this ability has resurfaced in my bloodline, a fail safe just in case—”

She looks at me uncomfortably then, and I understand all too well. She is my antithesis. If anything were to happen to me, if I were somehow compromised…

Well. Someone would have to neutralize me. I just never imagined that someone existed who could . 

“But I don't like secrets,” she continued. “I think instead of fighting each other, we should help each other. Consider that a gesture of good will. I want to live long enough to see my task force through.”

“Does it make you stronger?”

The question seems to catch her off guard. 

“Your technique. Does it make you stronger when you siphon someone else's energy?”

“Yes,” she admits. “When I absorb cursed energy, it supplements my own.”

It all starts to make sense. If sorcerers focus their energy into capturing curses and keeping them alive for study, then their cursed energy would provide a steady flow of power directly to her. I don't know if she could store that power up for later use, but regardless, easy access to ethically-sourced cursed energy to consume is something from which she stands to benefit from. 

Perhaps altruism is dead then. Still— I must know if it ever meant anything, all that talk about knowledge and academia and change, or if that was as shallow as it seems to me now. 

So I ask. 

Her answer surprises me. 

“I meant every word.” Her voice is soft. When she looks at me, her eyes are softer. “I think I can use my abilities to subdue curses more easily, to frighten and manipulate them. I'd at least like to give it a shot.”

She seems… genuine. I lean down, studying her, and the curious absence of fear in her eyes suddenly makes sense. She has no reason to fear me. Well, perhaps she has some reason— I'm a large man, and that goes more than a little ways in a physical tussel— but as far as cursed energy goes, anything I throw at her is fuel for her own abilities. 

She intrigues me. 

“Spend the evening with me.”

That gets a reaction. She flinches bodily backward, almost as if I'd asked to take a bite out of her. 

“Why?”

I shrug.

“Why not?”

It will sound egotistical if I tell her it's because I'd like to protect her, to deter any assassins at least until tomorrow. It will sound even worse if I tell her that she makes me curious. So I don't tell her any of that. Instead, I let her look at me and hold her gaze until she makes her decision. 

“Do you mind if I drop by my apartment and change?” she asks. “I don't want to wear my formals all evening.”

“Of course.”

We go together to her place. We exit the venue into the lowering light of five o’clock, and when she leads me through the train stop turnstile, I expect to take the train out to a country estate. We don’t. Instead, we take the train into the city proper. Two blocks from the train station— two blocks that I struggle to slow my strides enough to match hers— we come upon a coffee shop. It is surrounded by trees planted in the allies on either side that shade the building, and in passing I catch a glimpse of a green and brown painted birdhouse that seems to have a group of chipper and chirping tenants on one of the trees. (Y/N) smiles softly at them, then opens the door to the coffee shop for me. 

“You can wait here, if you'd like,” she tells me, nodding to the empty but comfortable-looking seating, “or you can come with me up to my flat, whichever you prefer. I'll only be a few minutes.”

I shrug. 

“I don't want to impose, but I'd love to see your home.”

She smiles, then leads me wordlessly towards the back of the shop. Along the way, she touches the shoulders of waiters and waitresses who smile and greet her warmly. The barista behind the counter wolf whistles at her, and she laughs and makes a rude gesture with her fingers. Abruptly, I realize what this looks like— what we look like— and I can't help but grin. 

She leads me up a set of stairs at the back of the coffee shop. Her key turns in the lock, and then I find myself stepping into a small but homey living room. 

“Sorry it's messy,” she says, “but I promise we won't be here long.”

She disappears around the corner, leaving me alone to observe her living room in silence. 

I don't think her home is messy. I've seen Yuji’s room. That is messy. This place is just… full. Full of books stacked haphazardly on end tables, plants sitting on window sills, and teacups left on the coffee table. There are even photos of people that I can only assume are her family and friends strewn about like so much decorative shrapnel across the room. It's nice in a way I can't explain. 

My own home is… not full. It's got designer everything and sparkling countertops and an unbelievably talented cleaning staff, but not… this. I find my place the lesser for it. 

When she reenters, my breath catches. She's wearing sneakers, shorts, and a T-shirt. It de-ages her by years. In this moment, she looks closer to Yuji's age than mine. Although I know logically that she's my equal or more in age, she seems small and fragile in comparison to who she had been mere moments ago. The her-that-is and the her-that-was are so different that I can hardly recognize her now. 

“Let's go,” she says, smiling up at me. “If we stay up here any longer, the shop owner will never let me live it down that I've brought a man home.”

Oh, but there is some aching in that smile. I surmise that she's been lonely in more ways than I have been. A pity. If I had known… 

I push that thought away. I didn't know, and I didn't make it my business to know. She's not the kind of girl I usually go for. For my more… human needs, I stay as far away from sorcerer society as possible, and with good reason. Still, it dampens my mood— spoiled brat that I am, I covet pretty things.

And she is so very pretty. 

Idly, I wonder what kind of lover she'd be as she leads me down the stairs. Each step brings a new image; one moment, she's kneeling in my mind's eye, sweet and so very submissive, like a pink-nosed bunny— the next, she's got her hands like talons in my hair, yanking it by the roots. By the time we reach the last wooden stair, I'm imagining her whispering sweet nothings as she strokes her strap, and I nearly trip when I realize she's stopped short in front of me.

“Did you hear me?” she asks, turning, and I'm so very grateful that my knee-jerk reaction to embarrassment is a shit-eating grin. If it wasn't, I feel certain my expression would give less sly arctic fox and more stunned snow hare. 

“No, sorry, I was distracted. What was it you were saying?”

“I was asking if you had a place in mind for us to go.”

As a matter of fact, I do have a place in mind. I nod but say nothing, offering her my arm. She takes it; I notice her warmth against me as we step out into the chill of the impending evening. Twilight settles over the street as we walk, and I'm suddenly very glad that she is pressed against me as I notice that my suspicions are confirmed. 

A man is following us. 

Back when I suggested that we spend the day together, I had suspected someone might tail us straight from the council meeting. On the train here, I'd thought we'd lost him. I was wrong. The man, clad in gray heather sweatpants and hoodie, trails lazily behind us just as he had earlier in the day. At this purple-gray hour of the day, he seems almost to blend into the sidewalk. It's not enough to fool me, though. 

I stop walking in front of a downtown club with a line out into the street. (Y/N) looks up at me, at once suspicious and perplexed, and I can't find it in myself to blame her for her skepticism. She doesn't seem like the clubbing type, and we are just a little bit too old to be at this club. Still, though, we pass as younger than we are, and this is familiar territory for me— one of my old haunts as a teenager with outrageous amounts of money and a fake ID. This is my turf, and I have a plan. 

I skip the line, show the bouncer my ID, and walk into the club. The man in gray stands in the queue, posture lazy, but I can tell I've frustrated him already. It won't work for long, though. He'll get through the line eventually. I just hope to buy us some time to talk before that. 

The inside of the club is dark. Red, blue, and purple lights spin across the dance floor, and black lights back light the bar. The smell of weed, liquor, and sweat fill my nose, and at once I feel completely at home, finally in a place that understands me. Here, I am not Gojo Satoru. Here, I'm just a man, same as anyone. 

When I look down, (Y/N) is also not herself. She is suddenly closed off and cold; beautiful, she is like an ice sculpture of a serene and sacred deity as her skin reflects the black light. It is not the desired effect. I want her comfortable, even pliant. 

I want her receptive. 

Reluctant though she is, she lets me lead her to the bar. There, I buy a shot and offer it to her. 

“Here, drink this.”

She eyes it skeptically, then meets my eyes with a dark look. 

“I don't drink.”

I grin and up the pressure.

“I don't buy that.”

“Okay. I don't drink alone with strange men in strange clubs.”

“I insist.”

She shakes her head. 

“I think this was a mistake.” She's all ice now, brittle, cold, defensive— but still so very lovely. “I'll be going now, Gojo-san.”

She turns on her heel. If it wasn't for my long arms, I'd never have caught her before she slipped away. Thankfully, I manage to catch her, and as my fingers close around her arm, I pull her back to me with a force I don't intend. She stumbles with the motion, and our noses brush. 

Maybe it’s proximity that prompts what I decide next— or maybe it's because it's always worked before, or because I have so very wanted to see how it would feel from the moment I touched her shoulder— but regardless of the reason, I kiss her. It is a simple kiss, but full power. Our lips press together, and I cup the back of her skull in my hand. I can all but hear her heart pounding as I pull away, body all a-tingle with the thrill of her. 

Her eyes are heavy, half-lidded. I think I have her. With our noses still only inches apart, I say,

“Take the shot.”

A wide range of emotion flickers over her features in a fraction of a second. Among these, I see sharp hurt, a laughing, incredulous face of shock, then searing outrage— and that's where she settles. She snatches the shot glass from my hand, slams it back, then slaps me so hard across the face that my ears ring. 

“How dare you,” she rages, slamming the glass down on the bar. “How— how dare you!”

Oh, she's furious with me. 

She's right to be. I was selfish. How long has it been since someone has kissed her with that kind of tenderness, I wonder— and how cruel was it that I had done so without thought or intention outside of getting my way? But even now with the taste of her chapstick in my mouth, I can't bring myself to regret it. She was too sweet. Like a wolf licking his chops from the first bite of game, I hunger for more. It's an animal feeling, terrible and true. I fight it as best I can. 

“Look, I'm sorry,” I tell her, holding up my hands. “I just wanted it to seem like we were having a good time.”

I lean in, lowering my voice. 

“We're being watched.”

Nothing in her body language changes. Her fists are planted on her hips and her face is furious enough to light a match without striking it. Oh, but her eyes— her eyes tell me she's caught onto me. 

“Why didn't you lead with that?” she asks, crossing her arms. “My skill has always been in finesse, Gojo-san.”

To prove her point, she turns her back on me, making our little squabble seem ongoing to an outside perspective. I have no doubt that she's scanning the upper floor, so I hug her from behind and press my face into her neck. 

“Second floor and to the right, leaning on the banister.”

She hums.

“Monochrome gray?”

“That's the one. I want to draw him out, see if he'll strike.”

She hums a noise of assent and tilts her head back to allow more room for me to breathe against her neck. 

To the rest of the world, our passing of information looks like a steamy make-up from a toxic, annoying PDA couple. Any passer-by would be fooled by it. It's impressive, really. My body, too, is fooled. There is a stirring inside me that asks in a still, small voice if I can't push my luck and ask for more of what I started— but I shove that greedy little voice down, because while I am a man of voracious appetites, I do have a modicum of decency. 

And besides, my face still hurts from that slap. 

As I hold her, I realize that I don't really mind the feeling of her siphoning my energy. I test it out a few times by initiating skin-to-skin contact purposefully, but on the whole, it just sort of feels like a cold tingling— like being touched briefly by a mellow, maybe drunken Jack Frost. 

“How does it work?” I ask, pressing my cheek against hers. 

“My technique?”

“Yes.”

She turns to look at me, bringing our noses closer together once more.

“I'm going to need more liquor if you want me to explain it in very much detail.”

So I buy her two more shots and then a bottle of soju, and she talks. Apparently, her technique doesn't rely on touch, which makes sense because she couldn't have touched me anyway with my infinity active. As long as the cursed energy she wants to siphon is within a certain range, all bets are off. 

“Of course, there are limits,” she says, touching my hand, “and certain… nuances. It works even better if I'm actually touching someone, for example— but that's the gist.”

I nod, thinking. I move my hand away from hers and tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The gray man watches us still, and I decide to up the ante. 

“Let's dance,” I say with a grin, and, sufficiently lubricated by my financial investment in her inebriation, she lets me pull her to the dance floor. 

I have always loved to dance, but dancing at this club in particular has always been on a whole other level of fun. The DJ— who’s got to be a hundred years old by now, and his gold chains probably weigh more than he does— always plays the strangest but totally sickest mixes of modern EDM and 80’s disco music in existence. As she and I hit the dance floor, a mix of dubstep and Let’s Groove Tonight starts playing, and my face splits into a grin. To my surprise, my dance partner looks equally as enthusiastic. Her smile is radiant, and her hips start moving in a way I really, really like. 

We dance for what feels like ages. We don't touch very much at first; we just sort of skirt around one another and allow the tension in the air around us to ease as our limbs loosen and move to the beat. Eventually, though, we warm to one another, and I find myself holding her hips from behind as she moves tantalizingly against me— not quite grinding, but not quite not grinding either. The temptation of it all makes me crazy. I should never have started us on this path of teasing, not-quite-intimacy, but then her hand snakes up to rest at the base of my neck, and I forget myself. Her touch is warm, but the feeling of her siphon is cold. I freeze, I burn, I ache— and she laughs as my hand sneaks a little ways up the front of her shirt. 

In response, she presses harder against my front, and I manage to bite back a groan. 

“I've been thinking,” I say, leaning down so that my lips brush her ear. She shivers, and instead of feeling victorious, I feel voracious. 

“About what?”

Her breath is coming quickly now. My hand moves further upwards, feeling the icy burn of her skin against mine. She's so soft. I love it. 

“Your abilities. Give me details. Tell me how they want you to… end me, if that's what they want.”

“Ideally?” She grinds backwards— actually grinds— and I let my head tilt back. The press of her ass against me is a hell of a heaven. “I'm not so sure. It depends on what I think I can get away with.”

I squeeze her hip with my other hand.

“Give me a hypothetical.”

“Well… hypothetically, if you weren't predisposed to trusting me, then I'd just do what I did earlier and use my technique to slip past your infinity and make quick work of you with a blade or a gun.”

She shivers as I push my luck and nibble at her ear before I reply.

“That easy, huh?”

It might work. She'd have to make it a headshot, and even then it would be a gamble that she could stop my reverse curse technique with her ability. It could conceivably be done, but not without difficulty.

“Well, there are… complications.” She's breathing heavy now, and I can feel her heart beat fast as I pull her completely flush against me. “I don't have your reach or your physical prowess. It would be a gamble at best, and I prefer more sure odds.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.”

She turns, then, but doesn't move far from me. My half-hard cock presses against her belly, and her hands travel up my arms to my shoulders. They rest there, reaching up to play with the ends of my hair.

“And if I was predisposed to trust you?”

She looks up at me faux-sweetly then, and with the saccharine sharpness of a vampiress, she says,

“I would bring you into my bed, press the length of our bodies together, and consume your power until there was nothing left.”

I arch over her, angling myself so that she can see my eyes shining from behind my sunglasses. 

“And you're certain that you could bring me to your bed? I might not be so easy.”

She touches me. Her hand finds the hardness in my uniform pants, squeezes it through the fabric. Her expression is at once soft and sharp, like a pillow made of barbed wire. In the red-blue-purple lights of the club, she glows. 

“Yes.”

Something between us shatters then. We don't dance anymore, and our eyes are locked. It's horrible. It's a trap. It’s heaven. I know, I know it's stupid, but I lean forward to kiss her again, and she lets me. I cup her cheek with a too-big hand; it freezes and burns. I deepen the kiss, chasing more, more, more — but when my tongue slips past her lips, I feel a teardrop wet the base of my thumb. 

“Don't cry,” I murmur, resting my forehead against hers. “Why are you crying?”

She shakes her head, and I hold her. 

“I never wanted it,” she says, shoulders trembling. “I don't want to use my abilities to do harm. Not like this. I— I'm a lover girl. If I could quit being a sorcerer and move to a villa on the coast, I would, but— but I can't. ”

“Why not?”

“Duty.” She says it as though it's the most obvious thing in the world. “Honor. Family. I have a responsibility here.”

Jesus Christ. I can never let her meet Nanami. Give them ten minutes in a room together and they'd talk themselves into retiring to Malaysia. 

But then she continues, and I wish I could fly her to Malaysia myself. 

“They’d want me to m-make sure you f-finish ,” she says, tears squeezing out from the corners of her eyes. “It's been a topic of conversation that— that our bloodlines—”

She can't finish. She doesn't need to. It's so cruel and yet so very unsurprising that rage rises in my chest, frightfully strong and burning like a house fire. I feel a terrible grin crack my face, and I don't need to see her terrified expression to know I look like a monster.

“I'm going to kill them, you know,” I tell her, half-manic. How dare they? She could kill them if she wanted. Instead, she lets them make her cry. Pathetic. “It's the least they deserve for treating us like dogs. Fucking eugenics— evil bastards.”

She shrugs.

“Once they've done for me, there will be no one able to stand in your way of it.”

“Would you?”

“Would I what?

“Stand in my way.”

She thinks for a minute, then shakes her head. 

“No. No, I wouldn't, Gojo-san.”

I kiss her again. Her arms wrap themselves around my shoulders again, and I give into my desires. I pull away and murmur into her ear:

“Call me by my name.”

She hesitates.

“Gojo?”

I shake my head. 

“Not that one.”

I nip at her ear, so my name comes out as a gasp. 

“Satoru.”

My own name has never sounded so sweet. She trembles and shakes as I kiss her neck, and I think I have her. How could I not? She's so responsive and soft and sweet and lovely beneath my hands— but then she shoves me away. Or, she tries to. All she does is move my shoulder a bit. Still, I give her space, and I realize her tears have not stopped. 

“I don't play games like this. I don't— I don't. ” I can see her shaking still and ache to hold her. I restrain myself. “It's too cruel, Satoru. This play-acting at intimacy—”

She hiccups, and I realize she's drunk. 

“I've hated you,” she admits. Her eyes are tortured, and she stumbles as a dancing stranger bumps into her. I touch her arm to steady her, but she rips herself away from me. “I've watched you from afar and I have hated you because you're powerful. You're powerful and attractive and wealthy, and you're disrespectful because you can afford to be while the rest of us have to— to play by a different set of rules.”

I watch her with a new respect for her volatility. She's like a cornered dog right now, trembling and snarling with fear. If ever the gray-clad man were to attack, it should be now, while she's distracted with me, but he's nowhere to be found. I should be concerned about that, but I can't be. All I can think of is the memory of her smile, and what I might have done wrong to make it go away. 

“But today— today you're on my side against the elders. Today you call me pretty and you kiss me like— like I belong to you, and even after I admit to being told to— to kill you eventually, you just hump me and get off to what tortures me. It's wrong, Satoru! You don't like girls like me— ordinary girls, the kind that swoon over wealth and strength and opulence— and I don't like men like you!”

This feels… different. Usually when girls say they hate me, it's because they secretly wanna fuck me or be me. Now, though… I’m not sure. I try to think what Suguru might say if he were here, but it all comes out wrong. He might tell me that I've been foolish, to give the girl some space and let her work through whatever she's got going on without me. Or maybe he'd tell me I've been selfish, that I want her because I've been all but told I can't have her— because it wouldn't make sense for me to have her— and to think of her feelings instead of my own. Maybe he wouldn't even say anything at all. 

Whatever the case, there's only one thing I can do, one person still living that I can listen to. 

So I listen to myself. 

“And what kind of man am I?”

She eyes me warily. 

“A dangerous one.”

True enough. I dry my mouth from where her saliva still lingers, branding and marking me hers. 

“And you don't like danger?”

She hesitates. 

“No.”

It sounds like a lie even to my untrained ears. 

“Then you don't like it when I kiss you?” I take a step forward, advancing on her. “When I touch you? When I bite your ear and make you say my name?”

She shivers.

“No.”

Another lie. 

“You don't think it would be hot to take me home with you tonight? To prove your little barista right about me?”

“No.”

Lie. 

We're nose-to-nose now. I bend so she can see over the top of my glasses, and sharing her breath, I say,

“So then you definitely don't get off on siphoning my cursed energy— on touching the untouchable?”

“N—”

Before she can lie again, I grab her and pull her in close. 

“I think you're a liar. What's more, I think you're lying because all this time you've told yourself that you couldn't have me, that it would be a sin to want the man that everyone wants.”

I grin. 

“Well, you can have me. It's not a sin to want me. It doesn't make you less , or a drooling fangirl or something. It means you are human, and that you have the good sense to want the same things that I want.”

Well, maybe that's not quite true. I'm not sure that she wants to crawl inside my ribcage and live there, but then her best friend isn't dead and her life isn't one big, rich, god-like sex joke. If she had all the issues I have, I feel sure she'd want me in the same way. 

“I'm supposed to kill you someday,” she protests, and I laugh. 

“Yeah, and how's that working out? Feeling homicidal yet?”

Oh, yes— her steel backbone is coming back to her. I can see it in her eyes as she sizes me up.

“Maybe.”

“Good. I like that in a woman.”

She shakes her head at me, incredulous. I crack a grin. The music around us is still loud, and there are dancing bodies all around, but she and I are still. It's so silly that I can't help but giggle a little, and then she's smiling too. Before long, we're both laughing, and I hug her to my chest as we both cackle in hysterics. 

“Take me back to your place. I want to buy you a coffee.”

She looks up at me, perplexed but still giggling. 

“What?”

“I want to buy you a coffee.”

“Huh? Why?”

I move her to arm’s length away and look deep into her eyes. 

“Because I want you to remember everything when I”— blow your back out, fuck you so good you forget my name and yours — “make love to you tonight.”

***

“So, have you always played pretend like this?”

The incandescent light of the coffee shop illuminates her with a lovely golden light that does wonders for her eyes. As I watch her sip sleepily from a ceramic mug, I think the drinks combined with the stressful day and passionate making out in the cab has finally caught up to her. The caffeine will perk her up soon, but I almost don't want it to. Watching her settle back into the soft, comfy chair that the owner reserves for her is almost adorable and endearing enough for me to set aside my desire. 

Almost. 

“I don't think I know what you mean,” she yawns. 

“You have plenty of money, and you're an heiress to a large estate in the countryside. You could live there, but you don't. You could have your own car, or you could have a personal chauffeur, and yet your taxi whistle is unmatched. So, let me ask again— do you always pretend to be a poor person, or is this a new thing for you?”

She huffs a laugh. She doesn't know it, but she's glowing, radiant with the energy she's consumed from me today. Thanks to my reverse curse technique, I don't feel a strain from it at all— but of course, that's only her passive siphon. I have no doubt she could have drawn more from me if she had wanted.

“It's not new, exactly. When I turned old enough, I got myself emancipated from my parents and fucked off here to live in the city. They cut me off, naturally, but between my work with Jujutsu High and working weekends as a barista, I did just fine.”

Her expression falls. 

“Of course, I ended up with everything anyway, in the end. Funny how life works.”

I know what she means. 

“So, this is home now?”

She nods. 

“Always. It's… hard sometimes, knowing I could have more luxury in my life if I wanted it, but that lifestyle doesn't feel properly mine. No, I'm satisfied here— and hardly poor by anyone's standards but yours.”

Satisfied— not happy. Still, I think of my own empty home and shut the fuck up. 

“Well, I don't really expect you to understand though,” she says slyly, raising her brows. “ Gojo-sama . Do you ever play poor?”

The honorific is properly teasing, but it still hits too close to home.

“No, never. I like to do whatever I want too much for that.”

She hums. 

“I do envy your free spirit. Were your parents just as free-spirited as you?”

“No.” No one is. But that stands to reason— no one is as close to godhood as I am. “I learned to be this fabulous all on my own. Suguru always said—”

I stop myself, but it's too late. She doesn't push me, but she does offer me her hand. Palm up on the table, her hand seems softer than it has a right to be.

If she only had known how much like him she would seem in this moment, she'd never have been so kind to me; if she had known how that one single wordless gesture would make me ache, I know she would have spared me the pain of it. But she could not know. She could not know because we had been in different years in high school, and so she would never have known Geto Suguru the way that I did. And now he's dead. No one will ever know him the way that I did ever again. 

I place my hand in hers.

“Tell me about him,” she says. 

So I do. 

I tell her how dear he was to me, how very like a second self he was. I tell her how much I miss him. I avoid the worst parts, the parts that hurt and the parts that feel too good, but I make sure she knows the important bits.

“Did you love him?” she asks me, squeezing my hand. 

“Of course I did.” I still do. 

“No, Satoru. Did you love him?”

No one has ever put it to me quite like that. That she has done so makes her once again so Suguru-esque that it makes me ache and ache and ache . 

“I… don't know,” I tell her truthfully. “I don't know that I could… love a man in that sense. If I could, it would be Suguru that I would love. But he's gone now.”

“Do you believe in soulmates?”

The question catches me off guard. I shrug in self-defense.

“Anything's possible, I suppose.”

“I do believe in soulmates.” Her eyes are so impossibly soft, but not pitying. In this moment, I love her for that. “And I believe that's what he was to you. It doesn't matter if it was romantic or not, or if it could have been. From the way you talk about him, I believe he was a part of your very soul.”

She squeezes my hand again. 

“And that means that he's still with you. He probably always will be. But Satoru— you can't carry him alone.”

I don't trust myself to speak, so I just nod. Maybe she's right. Maybe I should share him with her, let her carry that part of me for a while. 

I consider that for all of two seconds before it occurs to me that she might like him much more than she likes me— Suguru was always more measured, more grounded than me— and in a fit of jealousy I dismiss the idea entirely. I don't care if it's insane. I couldn't bear to lose her to him or vice versa even in the recesses of my imagination. I've never been a jealous man— jealous of what? Of whom? Who could ever have more than me, something that I could covet?— but I'm green with it as I think of her sitting in his lap, straddling his broad thighs—

Now, that is provocative. 

I hate it. 

She's mine, and you're dead, Sugu. Let me have this. 

His teasing laugh haunts me, and my chest fucking hurts. 

“Steel yourself, Gojo Satoru,” she chides me as I grip her hand tight like it's a lifeline. “You don't look yourself when you aren't smiling.”

“He’s dead.”

“I know.”

“I killed him.”

“You’re a sorcerer. We're sorcerers. We often meet more gruesome fates than murder. At least it was by your hand and not by some curse.” She sets down her coffee cup and places her other hand over mine. “One day, you'll be able to forgive yourself. Until then, be merciful. You can do little else but live in spite of it all.”

I'm not in love with her. It's too much, too soon— but that's very much what it feels like when I look at her across the table and she looks back at me, through me once more. It wouldn't take much, I know, to fall for her. It wouldn't take hardly anything at all. 

“Come upstairs,” she says. “The shop is about to close, and I've got some sweets up there to cheer you up and settle my stomach.”

“Do you think we're soulmates?”

I feel myself ask the question before I've thought it through. For a moment, I fear I've made a miscalculation, but then she smiles at me, and all is well.

“I couldn't say for certain— it's probably too soon to tell. What do you think?”

“I don't know either,” I lie. “Guess we'll have to find out.”

When the door to her home closes behind her and the lock clicks shut, something in the air shifts. She turns to look at me, loose and languid, and I grin. She bares her teeth in turn, and a thrill of danger, run, turn back tingles its way up my spine. Not much can get my adrenaline pumping like this, I think. But oh, her eyes are sharp. 

“Bedroom?” I suggest, cheeky. 

She raises a brow over her predatory grin. 

“So eager already?”

“What, is several hours of prolonged foreplay not enough for you?” I tease. “Should we go back to the privy council and let them get your blood up first? I do so like passion in a woman.”

She walks toward me, body slow and graceful. At first, I think she's going to kiss me, but the moment I lean in, she curves and steps in a circle around me. Tease. I have no doubt that if she were a cat, her tail would be swishing. 

“You are aware that this isn't one of your regular hookups, yes?” she says, her voice at once light and serious. She comes round to stand in front of me again, and a pointed forefinger presses into the center of my chest. “You can't expect this to be normal after all we've said today— unless I’m wrong and you regularly exchange trauma with your hookups, it seems to me that we're doing a bit of a different thing here.”

“Very different,” I assure her. “Can you handle that?”

She flashes me a steel-sharp grin.

“I cut my teeth on men like you, Gojo Satoru.” She drags her finger down my front, tracing a line of sensation from my chest down my to my stomach and all the way to the place where my happy trail meets my pants. “I told you, I'm a lover girl. How else do you think the elders expected me to seduce you if I hadn't whetted my blade on sex and heartbreak? Whatever comes, I'll be just fine.”

The implications of that are too much for me in this moment. To think that the elders had gone so far as to manipulate her love life— I have no doubt that they arranged for certain boyfriends to teach her what they wanted her to know, then to hurt her, break her heart and treat her like shit until…

I don't want to think about it. Those men have no place here. They aren't me, and I am not them. 

“Good to know,” I say, “Except, you're forgetting something.”

A brow raises. 

“Oh?”

I lean down until our breaths are one. 

“There are no men like me.”

I kiss her then, and she kisses me back. At first, I expect shyness, a modest timidity that builds into something more bold. She very quickly turns that expectation on its head. She kisses me with clear intent, one hand fisted painfully in my hair and the other touching me through my pants. She's wild and harsh and beautiful. I am already half in love with her when she takes my bottom lip between her teeth, and I fall the rest of the way when she pushes me backwards and orders me onto the couch. 

She mounts my lap. I squeeze one of her breasts as she settles. She's soft and sweet under my touch, and when she finally sits fully on my lap, the delicious pressure of our clothes sexes pressed against one another is almost too perfect. 

We kiss filthy, dirty, nasty— she sucks on my tongue, and I pull her hips forward, guiding her into grinding. She touches my cheek, my jaw, my ear, the base of my skull; I hiss as she pulls my hair sharply. I move with the pulling on instinct, baring my neck, and she licks a long, hot, wet line up my throat like a vampiress about to sink her teeth into her victim. Her hips move on their own now, and I feel flayed alive by the freezing, searing heat of her siphon. 

“You're so easy,” she murmurs in my ear as my cock strains in my pants. “This all it takes to get you going?”

She says that like she isn't plucking my strings and playing me like a harp— but then she's taking her shirt off, and I start to lose my mind. Her tits are perfect — as soon as she unhooks her bra, I make sure she knows it. I suck on them, play with them, and leave perfectly-shaped hickeys all in a row, marking them mine ; the gasps and heady moans she gives me for it is almost as good as the act itself. 

Suddenly, she moves. It startles me, and I find myself bereaved, wishing for her warmth. I'm not sad for long, though. 

“Bedroom,” she says breathlessly, chest heaving, “and lose the pants.”

She leads me to her bed, losing clothes as she goes. Her shoes, socks, and shorts soon litter the hallway like shrapnel, and I follow suit. In the doorway to her bedroom, my boxers get hung on my foot; she's apologizing for something— I catch the words messy and been busy — but then the world narrows as a shadow darkens the window next to her nightstand. 

The gray man has come. 

One instant he's at the window, the next he's leaping at his quarry with a knife. By the time he lands, though, she's no longer there. In the space of a fractured blink, she’s behind him, stepping into his moon-thrown shadow, and before I can do anything, her bare hand flares sun-like with cursed energy and she plunges it fully into the man’s back. He makes a sound like tires screeching, but the sound stops as suddenly as it began. 

She rips his spine from his body. 

She tosses it aside like so much garbage. Where she stands, the moonlight should illuminate her, but curiously, she stands in a perfect circle of shadow. Abruptly, I realize that she has not revealed all of her hand to me. Her technique isn't just a siphon, and it doesn't just absorb cursed energy. It's a vacuum. 

It's a black hole. 

I stare at her, stunned. 

Then I grin. 

“My, my,” I purr, “What on earth was that?”

She looks at the mutilated corpse on the floor and then back up at me. Then, she shrugs. 

“I played a lot of Mortal Kombat as a kid.” 

A hyena cackle escapes me before I can even think. No wonder the elders thought mixing our blood would be so beneficial. I am a shield, bright-flashing in the dark like the moonlight. She is a blade in the shadow, swift and sharp. With the kind of power she's putting out now and the new information I've gathered about her technique, I'm sure that she could level a city with sheer cursed energy output. 

In a flash of euphoric homicidal urge, I wonder how long it would take the two of us to destroy the entire world together. A day? No, not that long. Hours. 

It's so funny that I laugh until tears are squeeze out of the corner of my eyes. 

As I work to calm my hysterical laughter, I survey the corpse on the floor. I did not think that the elders would use a human unblessed by cursed energy to do this job. It seems too cruel, even for them— but she does not seem to care. She looks up at me from her kill with dark-bright eyes, and with her hands still covered in viscera, she reaches up to touch the sides of my face. I'm still hard for her, and grow harder as she touches me again, melting my infinity again . I am powerless against her. My greatest weapon, my ultimate defense, is shattered under her soft, pliant hands. 

It gets me off. 

We kiss. This kiss feels different than the others, though. Somehow it's deeper, more intense; it leaves a hollowness in my chest, a burning-freezing-empty feeling that sucks inward, pulling and pulling—

I breathe her name. Again. Again . She's not listening. Her eyes are half-lidded as she draws deeply from my cursed energy, and I panic as I realize that the empty, sucking, hungry feeling is the sensation of her draining me past what she should be, past what I can bear—

I shove her away from me. That seems to jolt her out of it, but her eyes are still so very distant that a thrill of fear shakes me like airplane turbulence. 

“So much,” she murmurs, finally meeting my eyes. “It’s an ocean. How do you bear it? Adrift? Floating?”

She means my cursed energy. Of course— I remember when I was first awakened to that great and terrible power. My reaction was not unlike her own. Distantly, I wonder if I was as frightening as she is in this moment. 

“Anchored,” I answer. “You must anchor yourself. Find your moorings, pretty thing, and the storm will pass.”

I hold out my hand to her. When she lowers herself to her knees instead of taking it, I'm startled. For a brief moment, I contemplate whether or not letting her touch me again is truly wise, but then she kisses the head of my cock, and all thought shatters. Her tongue traces my slit, and I'm lost. 

Whatever I had expected, it was not this. It was not a submission so powerful that it feels like dominance. She has a hold on me so powerful that I find myself genuinely frightened. 

As she places her hands, bloody and warm, on my trembling thighs, I am subsumed in her. She touches me like she loves me, like she is me, and her mouth is sweeter than anything I've known. Her hands grip my ass; she uses that grip to guide my hips, pushing me deeper into her throat. She takes more and more of me, sucking and licking and making a mess, and then in a stroke of real genius, she dips down to suckle at my balls, letting my cock rub sweetly against the side of her face. She is filth and sin and salvation, and in her, I am undone.

I come too fast, but she is not dissatisfied. Her hands move to her own chest, touching in sweet circles, and she shudders, letting her head fall back. Her skin shines red with blood as she finger-paints her own pleasure. I imagine that the temptation to touch herself even with those bloodstained hands is hot and tight in her chest, quelled only by her iron will and a fear of an unfortunate hygiene mishap. 

Oh, but I am not and never have been one for much restraint. I'm a rich son of a rich son. I wait for nothing I want, and I see no reason why she should either. 

She startles when I move closer to her, crouching. Her eyes widen as I suck my own fingers into my mouth and then press them against her sex. It is as though she did not expect me to want to participate in her pleasure.

As if I'd pass it up. I'm the strongest after all— in the streets and the sheets. 

“Lay on the bed,” I tell her, pressing deliciously against her clit. My mouth is next to her ear, and she shudders at my breath. “I'll even our score.”

She shudders again, but she obeys. 

Against her pillows— satin, I note— she relaxes pseudo-naturally. She lays lightly, propped and positioned like a princess, like someone posing for a painting. Elegant, demure. 

I don't want that. 

I tell her so. 

“Drop the act,” I say, pacing around the bed to approach from the foot of the mattress. I note with some regret that I leave a bloody footprint on her floor. “It isn't fair like that— my defenses melt at your touch. Yours should melt at mine.”

My knees touch the mattress. I climb onto the bed and pry apart her knees, the modest and lovely joints that press themselves together, hiding my prize from me. She is wet for me, and I salivate for her. 

“Give me something real.”

It's not a request. 

She looks at me, eyes wide. Suddenly she looks smaller than she ever has. No longer the lioness, she looks more like a frightened kitten, hackles up but trembling and soft. She's expelling cursed energy slowly but steadily, and reality is coming back to her. It's a hell of a crash— I know it must be— but she's taking it like a champ. I know grown men who would handle it with less grace. 

I reach out, dragging a finger through her sex from hole to hood, and she goes to pieces in an instant. 

Oh well. So much for composure.

“Please,” she says, slumping. Her legs widen, and I touch her again, gentle and slow. “ Please , Satoru.”

As I touch her lazily, her chest heaves with heavy breathing. She begins to shake, and, transfixed, I watch one of my too-long fingers breach her entrance. She's so warm. So tight. She whines as I press another finger inside, and I tear my eyes away from my work to watch her face. 

To my surprise, she's crying.

“Please,” she keeps saying, as though it's a litany against the darkness that creeps ever inwards from the night. “Please, please, please. ”

I touch her face with my free hand, and she leans into the skin of my palm. Her face is hot with tears, and I readjust myself so that I can kiss her fevered lips. 

“How long?” I ask, knowing it's unfair. 

She shakes her head. 

“A long time.”

I kiss her again, this time with lust and tongue and filth. It's dirty and mean of me, but I ask again. I need to know the weight of the burden I want to carry for her. 

“How long? How long has it been since your last lover?”

“Years,” she whispers against my lips, and my fingers slow inside of her. 

It's criminal. Absolutely illegally unfair that she has gone without tenderness like this for so long.

I kiss her again. Her arms come around my shoulders, and our bodies press against one another. She is warm and soft. Her tears fall freely, and I mourn for what I know to be the truth. 

I could leave tonight and find a worthy lover— a woman who would hold me gently, keep my secrets, and guard me jealously against harm either real or perceived. Yes, there is a certain… appeal that I carry, and there are many bad apples, but my experience remains that women are natural strongholds, bastions of kindness and strength and stability. On the whole, they are good. Or, they have been to me.  

I think of the men I know, of the men I trust, and the list falls frightfully short of where it should. 

It is the terrible truth of the inequality of our sexes. Years, and there has not been anyone for her. There has been no one  that she can trust, because she is vulnerable in a way that I am not. Her body and mind both are capable of too little and too much to risk.

It may not be man's natural instinct to destroy, but he does a damn good job at it despite his contrary design. 

So I do my best to chip away at her loneliness— to destroy only that which is meant to die— and let her feel my warmth. I grind against her, and she gasps. I nip at her lip, and she moans. These sounds I pluck from her until there is a gentle euphony of pleasure in the air as sweet as any song. Her legs are soft as they press against the coarse hair of my thighs; I let her twine her fingers in my hair and I revel in her touch. 

“You're beautiful,” I tell her as she arches. 

She freezes, then huffs a laugh that is too sharp-edged to belong in her bed. 

“Not beautiful like your usual dates, but I do alright for myself.”

I frown. It takes effort not to be pissed off. It's not exactly polite to bring other people into your lover's bed, even just nominally. Still, though, she is wounded. Patience is not my forte, but for her, I try. 

“No,” I agree. “You're beautiful like you.”

I like to talk, but there are, I admit, more efficient uses of our time. I kiss her, then put a long finger into her mouth. She takes it, and I wonder who managed to convince the world that models and actresses and pop stars are the only beauty in the world. It is as disheartening to imagine a world filled only with them as it is to imagine a world without them. 

Her mouth is hot and warm around my middle finger. I ease it in and out, watching the way her mouth works around it. It's so remarkably lovely, the shape of her mouth— my cock begins to stir at the sight. I add another finger, and then another, and then, satisfied, I remove them. 

“Put your legs over my shoulders and hold onto my hair,” I tell her, sure that my grin is a sharp and feral crack across my face. “I want you to guide me.”

I shift our positions so that my head is between her legs. My fingers return to their wonted place, fucking in and out of her pretty pussy, and my mouth settles over her mound. Gods, but her taste! I suck at her clit, and she jerks, yanking my hair as though I've zapped her with electricity.

“Do that again,” she gasps in perilous-sounding wonder, and as I obey, I look up at her. My gaze must be hungry, I know, but she doesn't seem to mind. Her eyes stay on mine, and it's a pleasure to watch bliss slowly overtake her until she's a million miles away from her thoughts and achingly present in her own body.

It takes less time than I thought it would to make her arch and cry out her pleasure into the dark of the night. Her orgasm is hot, heavy, and draining; she collapses backwards into her pillow as though I'm the one that's been draining her of energy, not the other way around. Still, though, the accomplishment makes me feel peacock-proud as I watch her chest heave and her body quiver. 

“When you're ready, you should go clean up,” I tell her, kissing her brow. “I'm going to take care of the body.”

She frowns at me, but I smooth the crease in her brow with my thumbs. 

“Don't worry, this is easy for me— and besides, we're not done yet.”

This— round one— is just a warm up, a little taste to whet our appetites. Before the night is over, I intend to have her in every position I can think of. I might not be able to time-travel back and fuck her every day for all the nights she spent alone and lonely, but I can make her forget she ever was so lonely, even if that's only for tonight. 

With a speed usually reserved for hare-beating tortoises, she climbs out of bed and eases her way to the adjoining bathroom. When I hear the shower start, I set about my work. By the time the shower shuts off, the only thing left to do is mop up the blood (so much of it! Really, the Mortal Kombat move was cool, but dreadfully messy), which I do once I find her mop (hidden strangely in a corner of her kitchen between the refrigerator and the counter). Once she's out of the shower, her bedroom is restored to order and our clothes are stacked neatly on top of her dresser. Most importantly though, she's clean, and so am I (well, mostly, anyway). 

Now, we can get to business. 

“It looks really nice in here,” she comments, glancing around. 

At least, that's what I think she says. I'm too busy staring at the place where her towel doesn't meet itself to really listen. She seems to sense this, because shortly after, she crawls onto the bed where I am and settles into my lap. She drops the towel, and then we are both delightfully nude. 

“I've got to figure out how to deal with those pesky old men,” she sighs, sliding her arms around my shoulders. “The audacity of them to send a non-sorcerer, as if I'm completely incapable of defending myself!”

“The nerve,” I agree, squeezing a double handful of her ass. In response, she spits into her palm and takes my half-hard cock in her hand. 

“We really could kill them, you know. If you were serious about that.”

She says the words so casually, and yet they reverberate deeply in my very bones. My heart beats hard and fast in my chest as she leans in to murmur in my ear:

“We could do it tonight.”

Her fist closes over the head of my cock, and I close my eyes. Desire thrums softly in my chest, a hollow ache. She's right. We could do it tonight. Together, it might even be easy. But should we, tonight? A move against the old fucks has to measured, calculated— but I've thought about it for so very long. Is that not measured enough?

It's not. I know it's not. We have to create structure first, something to channel the chaos into so that sorcerer society stays strong and stable. Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara aren't ready. The others are closer, but still so young. There hasn't been time to find any… bad apples. 

If I weren't Gojo Satoru— if I weren't the strongest— I would take this firebrand woman in my arms, kiss her, and remake the world with her. I would let her fill all my empty spaces and create some new creature who is not only Gojo Satoru, but more, impossibly and infinitely more. If duty did not weigh mountain-heavy on my shoulders, if I could but for a moment escape that great and terrible purpose, I would do all that I have ever dreamed. With her, it might actually all work out. She makes me feel invincible— a dangerous, deadly feeling, but euphoric. 

But it cannot be tonight… and we are promised nothing beyond that. 

I try to tell her this, but it just sounds like excuses. She says nothing. She just touches my hair, my neck, my back with her free hand. It stirs something deep and hungry within me, that silence. I want to take back every word and tell her that I'll make love with her over the ashes of those old fools and promise forever to her. I suppose that's the effect she wanted. Or maybe she really is speechless— I don't know. All I know is that I'm hard by her hand, and I shake as she kisses me tenderly. 

“You've been lonely too,” she says, resting her forehead against mine. “How is beyond me, but you have been. I can see it in your eyes. Is that why you really hide them?”

I have been lonely. I miss Suguru. He was the last person who could see through me like this. In moments like these, it frightens me how keenly like him she can be. It makes me afraid for her, afraid of her. 

I could really use my best friend's perspective on what to do about a new lady friend, too. At this rate, I'll end up marrying her and then where will we all be? I'll lose my forever-a-bachelor card. The horror! 

“I'm not now,” I tell her, bucking my hips to press more firmly into her hand. “Maybe we could—”

She twists her grip, and I hiss in pleasure. 

“Sorry,” she grins, terribly cheeky. “What was that, Satoru?”

“We could just scare them a little,” I suggest as she thumbs my slit. “The elders. We could— fuck — just set traps on their lawn, or set an orchard on fire, or—”

Fuck— am I really getting off to this? 

“Or egg their houses?” She teases. “No, you're not thinking big enough, Satoru. We're adults, not children. What if we kidnapped their pets and left a ransom note?”

“That's assuming they're not too evil to own pets.”

“But if they do own pets, I mean, don't we have an ethical obligation to rescue those poor animals from such harsh conditions?”

That thought never gets an answer. I'm too busy pushing her onto her back to talk.

She's so beautiful as she smiles up at me. It hurts to look at her. I sit back on my heels to align our sexes, and I take a moment to tease her, sliding my cockhead through her folds, up to her clit, and then back to her hole. I do it again and again, and then I press into her. I mean to go slowly, inch by inch, but her hot, wet heat takes me by surprise, and I take her faster than I mean to. She gasps at the intrusion, and I kiss her soothingly, apologetic. 

“Yes,” she hisses as I pull out and push slowly back in. “Fuck— ngh, fuck yes!”

I pick up the pace. It's incredible, the way she feels around me. My hands move all over her body, indecisive— every part of her is so perfect, so infinitely touchable, and all of it is an expanse of frozen fire begging to be explored. Her hips I squeeze gently, feeling the curve of them in my hand; her stomach I caress with fondness. Her breasts, of course, occupy much of my attention— not only because of their sweet softness, but also because of the sinful noises she makes when I brush a thumb across a pebbled nipple. She arches beautifully into my hands, and, unable to help myself, I slow our fucking to lean down and suck at her left nipple. 

“That's it,” I say against her skin as her hands tangle in my hair. “I want you to pull it.”

That much is true, but it's not all there is to say. Thankfully, she seems to sense what I'm really asking; her hand curls into a fist around the hair near my scalp, and she pulls my head backwards so that I'm looking into her eyes. 

“Fuck me while you're looking at me, Gojo Satoru,” she commands. The words send a shiver down my spine. “I want all six of your eyes tonight.”

What can I do but indulge her?

I hitch one of her legs upward around my hip, changing the angle of our coupling. She exhales a soft oh, and I fuck her deeply now. Those soft ohs build and build until they're a melody, a steady refrain of pleasure that drives us both towards our inevitable ends. 

“Stay with me tonight?” she asks as I push into her a bit more roughly. The question is swallowed by a sharp inhale, and I soothe her with a kiss. 

“Nothing could make me leave.”

Even the second coming of Sukuna could wait until tomorrow. Tonight is ours.

She doesn't ask me for anything past tonight. She doesn't have to. The answer is in the way that I hold her as we fuck, cradling her gently despite the intensity of skin-contact. Every inch of us is touching. We are connected so deeply that it becomes ludicrous to try and sort out what part of us belongs to whom. 

“Oh,” she exhales again as I press my thumb against her clit.“ Oh. ”

She cries my name like it's a prayer as I kiss the side of her neck. I do it again and again until she is keening quietly in euphoric pain and terrible ecstasy. I slow my thrusts as she clenches around me, and it is an exercise in willpower not to come undone inside of her like an overeager teenager. It is not lost on me that I could die like this, that she could kill me like this. Somehow, that makes the experience even more erotic. 

“Are you close?” I ask, breathless. “I'm close. I really hope you are too. If not, that's embarrassing.”

“Yeah,” she gasps. Her hand in my hair tightens. “Yeah, baby, I'm close.”

“Good, yeah, that's good.”

I start to ramble. I don't even know what I say to her— probably something silly, or cheesy, or maybe just something true— but I know it's a downhill slide from there to orgasm. It does not occur to me to stop and think, stop and ask , before it happens, what she would prefer. Instead, instinct gets the better of me, and I come inside her in ropes of intense ejaculation. I swear it takes years off my life, the way she milks me— but it's so, so worth it to watch her eyes roll back in her head, body all a-tremble. I wouldn't trade it for anything. 

“God,” she cries out in a high-pitched whine. “Oh, god… ”

I am not a god, contrary to popular belief. Still, in this moment, I wish I was so that I could lay claim to the broken way she calls out to a higher power than we. 

We're a mess as we recover. We're both sticky, shaking, and clinging to one another. Somehow, it feels like we didn't account for the intensity of it all, and I wish dejectedly for a pack of crackers to help bolster our blood sugar. 

“Oh, Satoru,” she says, touching my cheek with a soft hand. “Look at us. We're ridiculous.”

We are. I grin. 

“Oh, undoubtedly. Give me half an hour, and I think we can make it worse.”

She giggles, and I kiss her nose. 

We clean up together. The process is surprisingly intimate. Her hands clean the scratches she left on my back; my fingers comb through the snarls in her hair made by the intensity of our fucking. It's so nice to hold, to touch, to know— it's why I've always loved sex. With her, though, it's different. I've just never stuck around super long afterwards, and on the rare occasions where I did, I never felt like I needed the care and attention that my partner usually did. Tonight, though? Tonight I need her to touch me, to know me, to… to hold me. 

It's so strange. 

Later, as we lay entangled, I ask her what she's thinking about. I can't shake the feeling that I need something from her, something to prove she's here even though she's in my arms. 

“Just you,” she answers.

“Oh? What about me?”

Her eyes meet mine. They are equal parts fond and fearful. 

“There is coldness in you, Satoru. I always knew that. You're the strongest, and with that comes a certain… detachment to the rest of us.” 

My heart sinks. Thankfully, though, she continues before I can decide to kill us both where we lay along with half the city block. 

“But there is warmth too. The coldness I know, I understand— but I think it is the warmth that frightens me the most. I can weather the cold, wrap myself in layers against cruelty. But the warmth in you, the kindness… you burn me, Satoru. I'm afraid of what you could make me feel.”

There it is. She has managed to articulate to me the fear that nestles in my own chest; the fear that, when morning comes, she will disappear like smoke between my fingers. It's a great comfort to know that she feels it too— that we, in this as in much else, are equals. That comfort gives me the space to think logically, and I come to a conclusion about our coupling with a quickness that surprises me. 

What we have may not be love just yet, but it is more than lust. There is an uncommon depth to us that I want to sound to its limits. I will stay the night here and tomorrow, I decide, she will stay at mine. Eventually, we'll choose a place that we both like. More convenient that way, for sure. And of course, I think, we'll need matching toothbrushes. 

I tell her that last bit. She laughs at me and flicks my forehead. I squeeze her bum, and she turns her back to me— as if that isn't an invitation to spoon, pressing the lengths of our bodies together. I hold her there, and time loses meaning for the evening. Darkness overtakes me, and I sleep, holding her close .

[ourpickwickclub]

What has been your favorite season of ‘The Voice’?

Favorite season of "The Voice"? The season I got to kiss Blake.

Were there any collabs that were especially magical on ‘Bouquet’?

Yes, yes! This album was magical and special and a miracle. It's a pure miracle I received these songs. I was like, "What? Again? I get more?"

There was one really unexpected collaboration and that was that Blake Shelton hopped on a song called "Purple Irises." That was pretty special because, you know, everybody wants him.

The other huge collab was this producer called Scott Hendricks who is more of a country producer. But it's not a country record. It's a Gwen record.

How have your dreams grown throughout your musical journey?

The longer I get to be part of the world and try to fulfill the purpose — my purpose — of making songs, you want it more and more and more. Because it's got to be over soon. It's got to be. Once you get that love, once you got to share your life with people, it's hard to stop. The dream just keeps getting bigger in a way, and the gratitude keeps getting more as well.

What was it like seeing yourself as a Lego in Pharrell's movie?

Seeing myself as a Lego is something I never dreamed of or thought would happen in my life. There's a lot of stuff that happened that I didn't think would happen, but that was definitely a shock. Thank you, Pharrell. I couldn't dream that big.

Is there anyone you've collaborated with that you'd like to work with again?

There's never been a time where I haven't like absolutely enjoyed collaborating. Collaboration is when I feel like I shine the most. That's when like I feel like I'm the best. I would definitely go back in the studio with any collaborator that I've ever worked with and write a song. I love writing music. It is the one thing that makes me feel like I'm worthy of something to be on this planet for. I need to keep pressing that button and try to write songs. You want to collaborate, I'm right here, guys.

What are some of your most cherished memories from your No Doubt days?

My most cherished memory of the early days of No Doubt? Have you seen that movie "Finding Nemo"? That character, Dory? That's me. I don't remember anything.

I think one of my cherished memories — if I really, really thought about it — popped in my head right when I was saying that.

I was sitting on the tour bus, and we had been on tour for a while. I was actually making a baby blanket for my sister. I was like sewing this blanket by hand, everyone else was like doing other stuff — I won't say what — and I looked out the window and I see all these girls coming to the concert. I was like, "Oh my gosh, that girl, she's dressed like me." It was just this amazing ... how is that happening right now? It just made me feel like impossibly good.

Who is inspiring you in the music industry currently?

I think there's a lot of good music out there. I kind of went backwards in the last couple of years. As I've been writing this record, I rediscovered a lot of the music I was listening to when I was a kid. Back in the station wagon, going to church, listening to soft rock.

One of my favorite new artists that my son turned me on to is Zach Top. I love that record so much; such good lyrics and voice and melody. I'm going to come and see the concert.

Rapid-fire round:

Favorite type of flower bouquet?

Wedding bouquet.

A fashion trend you'd bring back from the '90s?

Cutoff tank tops.

Oklahoma home-cooked meal or dining out in California?

Oklahoma home-cooked meal. Duh!

Country music or soul music?

That's really hard! I would probably have to go with ... now I'm a grown-up, I'd probably have to say country. Oh my God, they're going to hate me. I'm in love! What can I say?

Red lip or pink lip?

Red.

VIDEO:

https://www.today.com/popculture/citi-concert-series/gwen-stefani-8-before-8-interview-rcna187857

.

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman - Part 8

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternate Universe : Military School

Words :

TW: Alcohol

Masterlist

——————————————————————

Saturday, October 24; 9:05 AM - Ona's Room

I try to get out of bed without waking anyone around me. Damn camp habits. Bronze had warned me that I'd get into a new rhythm. Now I'm like clockwork at ridiculous hours. I used to wake up around noon, not nine! Once I'm out of bed without a hitch, I grab some clothes from my closet and lock myself in the bathroom. With everything that happened last night, I didn't have the courage to take a shower before bed. So, I start my day by letting myself relax under the warm water jets. I take my time since the Mapi and Joan certainly won't be awake for a good hour. It's the calm before the storm. Joan promised me a surprise if I came back. That's probably still on since the others knew I was coming back. Hopefully, he hasn't invited the whole family. He loves everyone, unlike me. I get out of the shower after fifteen minutes. I don't risk turning on the hairdryer with the two sleepyheads, so I dry off with just a towel. I get dressed and brush my teeth. I finish with a touch of makeup before going downstairs. It's time to see the others. I'm glad not to run into my mom or Marcus on the way. However, I smile when I see Samuel and Sofia in the kitchen. My smile widens at the sight of their faces.

"Oh my God,Ona!" says Sam, hugging me. "Happy birthday!"

"Already awake!?" Sofia is surprised. "Happy birthday, sweetie."

"Thanks, that's kind of you," I reply, hugging her in turn. "I missed you guys."

"And we missed you! Everything's been so quiet since you left."

"No one to bother us," Sofia adds.

"I'm only here for two days, but I plan to make up for it," I tease them.

"No doubt," laughs Sam. "Do you want your breakfast now, or are you waiting for the girls?"

"Given when they'll wake up, I'll have it now."

He nods with a smile and gets to work. I find my spot at the bar. I no longer insist that I can cook for myself. He always brushes me off when I do. He keeps telling me it's his job. It's true, but it makes me feel like I'm being pampered. I hate that idea because it reminds me that I won't be able to do anything when I leave home. I won't complain either. His dishes are delicious. They have nothing to do with camp food. Besides, it's nice to do nothing, so might as well enjoy it.

"Since when do you get up so early? That's not like you," Sofia comments.

"I've been like clockwork for a week. Curfew at ten PM and wake-up at six. I guess I haven't lost the habit."

"Isn't it too hard?"Samuel replies

"No, it's fine. I prefer it this way. »

"Seen like that... Knowing you, you probably slept the whole way."

"Yeah," I chuckle. "Thanks," I say when he places my breakfast in front of me.

"You're welcome, miss," he teases with a wink.

He made me a cup of hot chocolate and a homemade croissant. Everyone would say there's not much difference from my camp breakfast, but for me, it's a big change. Sam knows how to perfectly dose my hot chocolate, and his homemade croissant is life. I savor it all, letting out a sigh of satisfaction.

"Did you miss it?" he chuckles.

"Totally, yeah!"

"I'm flattered," he says, making me smile.

"Have you received any birthday messages?" Sofia asks.

"I was about to check now."

"What? You haven't checked yet?" she exclaims. "My God, what have they done to our Ona?"

I chuckle lightly. I was asking myself the same thing, actually. I'm much less on my phone. I no longer have the reflex to check it upon waking up due to our fifteen-minute preparation time. I suspect the school did it on purpose to give us such a short deadline. I should have asked Bronze; she would have answered me. It's like the shower. We had to change our habit with Alexia and take it in the evening to be at ease. Anyway, I decide to take out my phone, which is swamped with social media notifications and messages. I start with the messages. Alexia, Leah , Alba... All my camp friends thought of me. They're so sweet! I also have other messages from old friends here, which really pleases me. I take the time to reply to everyone while chatting about trivial things with Sam and Sofia . I talk to them about my new life while they tell me about Joan's antics since I left. It seems he doesn't stop. He's decided to avenge my departure by being a perfect little rascal. He throws fits over nothing and barely listens to my mom or Marcus. Sofia or Sam often have to step in. I think he's decided to follow my example, which I don't really like. I'll need to have a little chat with him. Speaking of him, he just walked in and immediately comes over to me.

"Hi Oni ."

"Hello little rascal. Slept well?"

"Yes! Mapi is still sleeping."

"Let her sleep, she'll be down soon."

"Can I have my breakfast please ?" he asks Samuel.

"I'll bring it to the dining room in five minutes."

"Can't I have it here?" he pouts. "I want to stay with you!"

"Of course you can. Come, I'll put you in the chair next to me."

"I want to sit on your lap!"

"Alright, alright, as you wish," I laugh. "Come here."

I lift him under the arms and easily place him on my lap. I hold him with one hand and grab my cup with the other so Sam can put Joan's plate instead of mine, which is now empty. I smile as he starts telling me about the weeks I missed while eating. Of course, I don't hear any of his mischief from his mouth. I prefer not to spoil the moment and deal with that problem later. Mapi finally shows up around 10:30. I expected to see her later.

"When did you get up?"

"Nine o'clock."

"Good God, they must have brainwashed you," she grumbles, sitting next to me.

"Don't you start too," I laugh.

"Are you staying for breakfast, Mapi ?" Sam asks.

"What kind of question is that!"

I giggle, finding the question as silly as Mapi does. She's like the third daughter of the family, after all. I wait for her to finish her breakfast while chatting. Joan abandoned us halfway to go upstairs. I don't comment on it, but I feel like something's up.

"Maps?"

"Hmm?" she replies with her mouth full.

"What does Jo have planned?"

"Nothing, why?"

"We both know you can't lie."

"Stop being impatient, you'll see."

"Mapi..." I say, making puppy dog eyes.

"No, no need for that face! I'm not telling you anything!"

I sigh, pouting, making her smile. She used to be easier to convince, in my memories.

"By the way," she says.

"Yeah?"

"We're going out tonight."

"You're not serious?"

"I am, and it's non-negotiable. You haven't been to a party since-"

"A year and a half," I finish her sentence.

"I was going to say a century, but it's almost the same. Come on, please! It can only do you good!" she says, giving me puppy dog eyes.

"Stop imitating me," I say, her expression worsening. "Oh, you're annoying! Fine, you win," I grumble.

She lets out a cry of joy and does a dance in the middle of the kitchen. It stops quickly when my mom enters the room. It's the first time we've seen each other since my troubled departure, which didn't end particularly well.

"Oh, hi Abby," she blushes.

"Hi Mapi, it's been a while," she says before turning to me. "Happy birthday, Ona," she says hesitantly.

"Thanks."

I won't ruin my birthday by venting my hateful thoughts. My voice betrays me slightly. It's not like we have a good relationship to begin with. Everything just got worse when she decided to send me across the country.

"How's school?" she asks.

"Oh, great, Mom," I say sarcastically. "If you wanted me to be monitored all the time, you nailed it!"

She sighs at my anger that I couldn't hold back any longer. What a question to ask! She finally gives up on the conversation and turns to Mapi.

"And you, Mapi ? How's your leg?"

"Good, I'd say. I still don't have any pain for now."

"That's at least some good news... See you later, girls," she finishes, leaving the room.

My mom has been Mapi's doctor since we met. She had an accident with her parents when she was little. She came out with a slightly disabled leg. They developed a special bond. My mom is certainly closer to Mapi than to me. It's ironic, given that Mapi doesn't have this bond with her parents. She left their house at the first opportunity. I'm glad she found this bond with my mom, but I'm also jealous. She got the maternal instinct from my mom that I didn't get. As long as it doesn't stop Mapi from listening to me when I complain about my mom, I don't care about their relationship.

"Shall we get ready?"

"I'm already ready, Mapi."

"Are you kidding? Your hair is a mess. And don't tell me you're going to spend the day in jeans and a shirt?" she criticizes, looking me over.

"Hey! My outfit is perfect!"

"There's no way you're staying like that on your birthday! Come on, get up!"

"Oh, please Maps, shut up. You sound like my camp supervisor."

She forces me off my chair, laughing. I let her drag me to my room. I don't know why, but I feel like I'm not going to enjoy what's next.

Saturday, October 24; 11:35 AM - Ona's Room

Mapi has been hogging my bathroom for a while now, even though the shower hasn't been running for some time. Knowing her, I probably have a bit more time before she comes out. She made me put on a dress. Me, in a dress! It's been ages since I last wore one. But that's the least of my worries right now. I was lying on the bed, enjoying the quiet, when I had the brilliant idea to charge my headphones for the return flight. So, I took them out, but I also came across another gift that I had completely forgotten about. Bronze's gift... I wondered why I listened to her and didn’t open it right away. I could have easily done it in the taxi without her knowing.

"What's that?" Mapi snaps me out of my bubble.

"A gift."

"Thanks, I figured that out," she replies sarcastically. "From whom?"

"My supervisor," I sigh.

"Sexy commander?"

"Stop calling her that," I scold, giving her a dark look.

"Oh my! What are you waiting for to open it?"

"I don't know."

"Want me to do it for you?"

"No!" I reply much too quickly.

"Well, do it then."

I feel ridiculous for not doing it, but I'm disturbed. I don't know what to expect; she doesn't know me. I sigh and start to carefully unwrap the paper under Mapi's watchful eye. Besides, she already contributed to the headphones. It's silly for her to give me a second gift. Mapi mocks my slowness, but I don't let it bother me. I frown as I finally see the contents. For now, I'm only paying attention to the small card placed on top of the box. I turn it over to find a note. I smile, recognizing her handwriting that I've seen several times during my tidying in her office.

"After so much effort... A well-deserved reward! Hoping you'll continue down this path. Happy birthday, Ona. - L. B."

My smile doesn't leave my face. L. B.? So her first name starts with an "L"? The "B" surely stands for her last name. I place the card next to me on the bed and remove the lid of the box to discover the rest. I'm left speechless.

"Wow. Sexy Commander really went all out! This stuff isn't cheap, is it?"

"No... She’s insane!"

I can’t believe my eyes. It’s my favorite brand for drawing supplies. One of the most expensive for its quality. Even Mapi recognizes it, having come with me to buy it before. It's a set with different pencils, pens, and brushes of all sizes. She also included a sketchbook underneath. There’s everything needed to create artworks. It's a real treat for an amateur artist like me.

"She must really like you to give you all this."

"That's not really the case," I laugh. "We were at war for three weeks. I even went so far as to trash her room. Didn't I tell you?"

"Yes, you did," she laughs. "But she wouldn’t have given you such a gift if she didn’t like you at least a little! Seriously, this stuff costs a fortune!"

I can't argue with her. She must have spent quite a bit. Not to mention her contribution to the headphones. They’re worth at least two hundred euros, and I doubt the others managed to pitch in that much between the six of them. We’re interrupted by my brother entering my room without knocking.

"Ona? When are you coming down?"

"We’re coming right away," Mapi answers for me. "Just let your sister put away her new toys."

"Ha ha ha!"

I remove the wrapping to throw it away before packing my new supplies into my backpack. I plan to take this one to camp. I have everything I need here, unlike there. I unplug my now charged headphones and put them in the bag.

"We can go."

Nothing could make my brother happier. He pulls me as hard as he can out of my room. Mapi follows behind us after closing my door.

"Hurry up!"

"Calm down, Joan. There's no rush!"

"She’s using my old expressions!"

I look up as my foot touches the ground floor. The shock stops me in my tracks. I’d recognize that voice anywhere. My eyes well up when I see him in person before me. I never expected to see him here again.

"You're ruining your makeup," Mapi whispers to me.

I ignore the comment meant to make me laugh. I don't want to spoil this important moment. I go to my grandfather, who takes me in his arms. It’s been two years since I last saw him. All my emotions pour out once again.

"Grandpa!"

"You haven't changed a bit," he says, making me smile.

I can't believe he made the trip from Portugal just to see me. It’s insane! I’ve always been very close to him because he bears a striking resemblance to my father, both physically and mentally. We share a very special bond, just like I did with my father.

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

"Did you think we’d miss our granddaughter’s birthday?"

I turn towards the other voice to see my maternal grandmother. I smile warmly at her. It’s not that I love her any less, far from it. She’s just as adorable as my grandfather. But she lives in Barcelona, so I see her much more often than him. I still greet her with a hug, happy to see her here.

"How about we celebrate Ona’s birthday and chat over a drink in the living room?"

We all agree to Marcus' suggestion. I hadn't even noticed him enter the hall. Joan impatiently drags me to the next room. In the end, I might really enjoy this birthday. I'm still on bad terms with my mom and Marcus, but I put my resentment aside for this moment. The atmosphere was tense at first, but Mapi is here to lighten things up. She’s great at diffusing awkward situations. Joan also helps by talking non-stop. That’s how the conversation topics emerged. We talked about daily life and then reminisced about past years. The festivities were kicked off by my grandfather sharing stories from when I lived in Portugal or visited on vacations. Mapi had a good laugh at some of the stories. I'm the first to laugh as I remember them. We’re interrupted by Sam announcing that the meal is ready. We move to the dining room where a perfectly set table awaits. The only times I’ve eaten here are for celebrations like today. I can count them on my fingers. I smile when I see the dish. Sam prepared paella, one of my favorite dishes. He knows my tastes well from cooking for me. The good mood continues through dinner. It’s the first time there’s been so much cheer in this room. Usually, it witnesses crises or arguments. That’s one reason I rarely set foot in here. It’s where I learned about my departure to Manchester , for example. I'm delighted that today’s event changes things for this place. I’m happy to be surrounded by my loved ones today.

Saturday, October 24th; 9:30 PM - Barcelona Street.

I sigh for the umpteenth time since we left the house. I try my best to keep up with Mapi, who is ahead of me.

“Slow down!” I shout. “It’s bad enough that you made me come out, but you’re also making me wear heels. The least you could do is wait for me! These things are a death trap!”

“Didn’t they teach you to complain less in that damn school of yours?” Mapi teases.

“Ha ha ha! Very funny. You know it’s my specialty, and it will never be taken away from me!”

Focusing too much on my feet, I bump into Mapi’s back as she suddenly stops without warning. I look up and realize we’ve arrived. It’s not hard to figure out with the loud music blasting from the house across the street.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. This is our Party?”

“Yep!”

“A college party, really? At our old high school friends’ house, no less?” I grumble.

“I figured going to a familiar place would be best… Oh, come on, don’t make that face! I told them about your big return, and they were all thrilled to know you’d be coming tonight.”

“Damn it, Maps…”

“Relax a bit. You need this night out, and we both know it.”

She stops me from protesting by pulling my arm. I attempt to walk as normally as possible in my heels. I hate wearing these things. Mapi knows I never walk very straight in them. I’m usually all about flat shoes. As soon as we step inside, the music pounds in my ears. I wonder how I ended up here. I doubt it’s a good idea. It’s been so long since I’ve been to a party. I already regret giving in to my best friend’s puppy-dog eyes. I regret it even more as we approach the host and my old high school friends, whom I abandoned years ago.

“Hey, look who it is!”

I timidly step forward from behind Mapi, who is still holding me firmly. She must know that if she let go, I’d already be running away. Especially since Nathan Miller, the host, makes me uncomfortable with his comment.

“Hi everyone! As promised, I brought our favorite girl.”

“Hey…” I say timidly. “Good to see you all…”

“You too, sweetheart. I hope you haven’t forgotten us after all this time!”

Why was I so worried? They have every reason to hate me, but they don’t. Maybe because they’re all guys. Let’s face it, they’re less complicated in friendships. I smile at Kyle’s comment and feel the pressure lift from my shoulders. I didn’t expect to see him here. I eagerly await Mapi’s explanation for this. They all surprise me by wishing me a happy birthday. Mapi must have reminded them before we came. It still makes me happy.

“Ana didn’t come with you tonight?” Bryan asks.

“No. She was supposed to, but she ended up at another party. She wanted me to go with her, but I chose to spend the weekend with Ona. By the way,” she says. “She wants to meet you when you come back,” she tells me.

“No problem, I’m looking forward to it.”

“She’s a real nutcase, don’t be too eager to meet her,” Connor whispers to me.

“Hey, I heard that!” Mapi retorts. “Don’t call my girlfriend crazy, or you’ll see!”

“Well, you have to be a bit crazy to date you, don’t you think?”

“Are you implying you’re crazy, by any chance?”

“Oh, but I’ve always claimed that, haven’t I?” I join in.

“All right, 1-0, Batlle,” she says, making me smile. “We’re going for a walk, we’ll catch up with you later.”

“No worries, see you later, girls,” Nathan replies.

I just lifted a weight off my shoulders seeing them. We hadn’t seen each other since the end of high school, yet nothing has changed. They were my last group of friends before my downfall and ghosting them. I thought no one would want to talk to me anymore, but they don’t seem to hold it against me.

“What’s Kyle Wick doing here? Have I missed that much?”

“Oh yes,” she laughs. “Let’s get a drink before we go outside to talk. Does that sound good?”

I nod, and we head to the table serving as a drink buffet. Numerous red and blue cups are arranged there. We grab two clean red cups, and I let Mapi serve us. That was always her role when we went to parties. She probably knows my tastes in alcohol better than I do. She hands me my cup and surprises me by also handing me a bottle of coke. I smile, seeing that she’s holding a bottle of orange juice and vodka under her arm. Well, she’s right. Might as well enjoy it if I’m already here. We head outside, where there are fewer people. Luckily, two lounge chairs by the pool are free. We sit next to each other. I finally take a big gulp of my drink, closing my eyes as it burns my throat. Mapi laughs at me. There’s a reason to laugh. I haven’t had a drop in a long time, and it feels great!

“So, what do I need to know?”

“Hmm, well… let’s see…” she pretends to think. “First, Miller and Bryan are dating.”

I spit out the liquid I was supposed to swallow. My head quickly turns to Mapi. She answers before I can open my mouth.

“Yeah, I was as shocked as you are,” she giggles. “They confessed their love for each other a year ago now. We were all stunned. I chose not to tell you at the time… You were in the middle of… well, you know.”

“Yes, I understand… Oh my god,” I laugh in shock. “I didn’t see that coming and, I didn’t expect to see him here.”

“He’s become friends with my friends,” she shrugs. “I can’t blame him. »

“And Connor?”

“Not much on that front. He brought a girl recently, but it didn’t lead to anything.”

“I didn’t think you’d still be hanging out with them,” I admitted.

“Except for you, we all stayed around for college,” she shrugs. “We just kept in touch, I thought it was good.”

“It’s true,” I say, lowering my head.

“You don’t have to feel guilty, Ona. We don’t blame you. We know it was hard for you.”

I hide my sadness behind a smile. She shifts to a few juicy stories from parties or other events during my absence. I regret not being able to join in. The stories were pretty funny. An hour and a half later, after finishing three-quarters of the bottle between us, we decide to join the others around the patio table. I’m tipsy enough to agree to play silly games I would have hated if I were sober. My state doesn’t improve after several shots during “Never Have I Ever.” Mapi took the opportunity to drag me to the dance floor right after. She knows it’s the only time she can get me there, thanks to the confidence alcohol gives me. We have fun dancing closely. After a while, I notice the boys have joined us. They must not be in a better state than me to have come. Fortunately, Miller offered for us to stay the night if we wanted. I wouldn’t have had the courage to walk home in this state. I tell myself it’s my birthday, so I have the right to enjoy it! Midnight must have already passed, but it doesn’t matter. I lost track of time since my phone died. It’s been ages since I had this much fun. Laughter keeps ringing in my ears. A body presses against my back during a dance, but I don’t pay much attention. I even have fun dancing closer to her. From her build, I’d say it’s a girl. Everything was going great until I feel her hands on my hips and her voice chills me to the bone.

“I missed you…”

I snap back to reality in less than a second. I stop dancing and quickly pull away from him. I need to see to believe it. Unfortunately, it’s real.

“Feli…” I whisper.

“Ona-”

“Don’t come near me!” I scream.

“No, wait-”

She tries to grab my arm, but I flee outside. I thought she’d understand I don’t want to talk to her, but her voice calling me from behind as I head to the back of the garden tells me otherwise.

“Leave me alone!”

“Please, listen to me!” she yells back.

I sigh, realizing I’ve trapped myself against the hedges. I turn around, pointing a finger at her.

“Stop! Don’t come any closer!”

To my surprise, she stops a meter away. Just seeing her in front of me makes me incredibly uncomfortable. I never thought I’d see her here.

“Please,Ona-”

“Shut up! I’m the one talking here,” I shout. “What are you doing here?”

“A friend of your friend.”

“I don’t want to see you anymore, Feli. If I wasn’t clear when I left, I am now!”

“Ona, please, let me speak.”

I look at her for a long time, trying to judge her. I try to discern the truth in her. One thing is for sure, her sad face doesn’t help at all.

“Two minutes,” I relent.

“I’m really sorry for everything I did,” she begins, knowing I’m serious. “I wasn’t myself. You know drugs make us do things we wouldn’t want to... I know I crossed the line more than once with you, and I regret it. I never wanted to hurt you, quite the opposite... I love you, Ona. I always have, and I know I messed up. I really lost it, and that’s why I asked for help... I’m seeing a therapist,” she admits, lowering her head. “He’s helping me get better, and so far, it seems to be working. I’m not asking for your forgiveness... I know it would be too hard for you, but I’d like you to give me another chance when you feel ready... I-... I’d like to be part of your life again...”

“Let me stop you right there. Get the idea out of your head that we can be together again because that will never happen! Is that clear?!”

“OK, OK,” she replies quickly. “M-maybe not a relationship as I’d like... B-but maybe a friendship, or-or...”

I laugh bitterly. Damn, why did I have to run into her. I run my hand over my forehead and push my hair back.

“No.”

She looks at me with wide eyes. She doesn’t need to act surprised. She ruined my life.

“In your pathetic speech, you’re right about one thing, Feli. I can never forgive you for all your damn actions,” I say, enunciating each word. “I trusted you! You told me you’d give me a better life, but in reality, you’re just an asshole! You have no idea how many scars you left on me! I wonder why I’m even talking to you, damn it.”

I step closer to her, pointing my finger at her chest.

“I forbid you from approaching me again, or it will go very badly for you.”

I keep my composure as best I can. The alcohol helps me hide my anxiety in front of her. I give her one last look before leaving her without regret. I’m not going to ruin my evening because of her. Mapi doesn’t even notice my absence since she asks me to join her at the drink stand as if nothing happened. She keeps dancing and singing while pulling me along. Instead of pouring myself a drink, I grab a bottle of tequila and head to the kitchen. Mapi looks more than happy with my initiative and shouts for the guys to join us. I plan to finish my night as it started. I’ll have plenty of time to regret it tomorrow when I return to harsh reality.

[thecoolerliauditore]

your offhand mention of Scott maybe having autism made me think about his over-editing as a metaphor for masking. no other thoughts I just think it's neat

REAL ‼️‼️

I lovee you meta analysis I loveeee you. Him being autistic would also go very well with how he views romance and relationships e.g. him calling scar grian's husband out of the blue and being Like That about himself and Jimmy (I know that's usually attributed to him being aro but I feel like it works here too).

Lots of the more off the wall stuff he says could easily be seen as him trying to be funny or perform a role (mostly the boomer i hate my wife role) and coming off as rude or horrifying instead -- I think his interactions with Pearl in the first WL episode could be seen as him trying his best to bond with her for example and the sympathy isn't sympathy-ing so he doubles down not realising she isn't enjoying it. After all he did make it very clear in SL he thought they were over their problems and Pearl was like Yeah :) so he might take that as a cue that it's okay to joke about ++ he's still sore about it and not aware of just how passive aggressive he's being.

It's kind of making me sad cus part of me now wants to say that he's comfortable enough with Pearl and that's what's resulting in so many of his more socially not ideal traits popping up when he talks to her specifically but it could also be a consequence of him just not seeing her as a person I'm not ready to give him the benefit of the doubt on this one quite yet.

(not trying to make it sound as though Pearl is in the wrong here that Scott isn't able to read the room it's still Scott's responsibility to not be an ass but "I feel bad about the thing you did but I'm not going to admit that to myself or you" and "you haven't yelled at me to stop expressing my frustrations passive aggressively" is a crazy combo)

That line he said to Cleo at the end of her WL episode 2 about how he "doesn't hold grudges" and is "just petty" is also definitely. Something.

The whole. Scott makes himself less likeable by refusing to show vulnerability and only presenting himself as "good" to me also echoes the whole. Autistic kid who gets told their behaviour is bad so they change themselves to be "good" at every opportunity but "good"comes off instead as off-putting and insincere and they end up at square one with still being unlikeable.

There's also something here about the character's ableism like I don't think it's too controversial of me to say he talks in a very ableist way about both Jimmy (incapable) and Pearl (batshit crazy). Which very much To Me ties into his constant masking.

Sorry this got away from me ummmm

[spacelessbian]

thoughts on Agatha All Along FINALE

Full spoilers ahead, 100% don't read if you haven't seen episodes 8 and 9.

I really enjoyed the finale, both episodes had a lot to offer and overall I am quite happy with how the show concluded. Things that I liked in no particular order:

The REVEALS. There is simply nothing better than a reveal that recontextualizes everything. And we didn't get just one, but two! Personally I found Agatha running a con and murdering women for centuries the more fun one, but Billy actually creating the Road was also really good and even though I've only seen the show once (unlike many people on here, no doubt), I can name many points in the story and in the dialogue where this is worked in and suddenly makes sense. Really great stuff.

Agatha and Nicky. I was dreading this part a little bit because I know Nicholas Scratch is some sort of big name in Marvel comics and I truly couldn't care less, so I'm pleased with what we got – a genuinely sweet yet tragic story of a mom and her son, destined to death even before being born. I was surprised (but in a good way) by Agatha's quiet reaction to Nicky's death because we know his death hurt her badly, but that's just how it is sometimes.

Agatha and Rio. I won't say I'd always had fate in Marvel to not mess this up, so yay! I don't think they did. This relationship is the heart of the show (and it is black and beats for the queers) and I think the writers did it justice (apart from one thing which I will get to in the next section). The kiss was intense, sexy, beautiful and also tragic and both Kathryn Hahn and Aubrey Plaza did a fantastic job with every piece of dialogue and every expression. I want them to play doomed lovers in five more projects, at least.

The coven. I already blogged about Jen but man, is it funny. Even this was Agatha all along, but she is such a menace she hasn't even realized that. I'm truly happy for Jen making it through and getting her power back. I'm glad we saw Alice's last moment and I liked how much Billy cared about her, Lilia and Sharon.

Agatha's death. I can't help myself, I need to go to that moment again. I was destroyed by that. It was so beautiful, both thematically and also visually and all. The flowers and mushrooms? The sun coming up? I kept thinking about Hozier's Work Song: When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold dark earth. No grave can hold my body down. I'll crawl home to her. (whadup, Rio reference)

Agatha and Billy specifically in that last battle scene. She was blue you guys, she was just completely blue and in the exact same blue that Billy wears in his silly Marvel costume. And Billy just offered her his power, without questions and without wanting anything in return! And she didn't kill him! (Writing that down, the bar is on the floor for Agatha lol.)

There are other small things (like the Subaru lol), but I am ready to go to the bad section now. Two things I did not like (hidden for lenght but also because not everyone wants to read negative stuff):

Agatha's ghost. I'm gonna say it. Agatha as a ghost looks fucking terrible and her existence itself diminishes her death scene. I do understand why they did it and even why she looks like that (Agatha in the comics, as I understand it, is Wanda's mentor and also an older white haired lady, so they wanted to keep that but it didn't make sense with Wanda anymore), but I just hate it. Especially the wig.

The Marvel stuff. Yes, I realize this sounds stupid, it is a Marvel show after all. We wouldn't get a stupid gimmick like ghost Agatha joining Billy to look for his brother if this wasn't a starting point for the Wiccan. And I like Billy, I do, I also (obviously) love Agatha, who was first introduced in WandaVision (I realize the hypocrisy), but it just doesn't work for me. I would rather think about the beautiful death scene with it's poetic tragedy than about white haired Agatha floating on a washing machine, I'm sorry.

That being said, I really really liked the whole show and I am happy to say I hooked in my best friend (if you are reading this, you are contractually obliged to like the post, you know how it is) and that I actually know other people irl who watched it and enjoyed it. I'm sad it's over and even sadder that in this day and age, noone will talk about it in about two to three weeks. Anyway, it was lovely.

[fallingdownhell]

hello! i was wondering if i could request a poly cyno x reader x tighnari where the reader is going through a tough time and is kinda burnt out. maybe where she tries to brush it off, but the boys catch on pretty quickly and then they comfort her? anyways, i hope you have a good day/night!!

-🌹 anon

Hey! Of course you can!<3

I don't have anything against poly ships, I do in fact have a few of them myself. Have I ever written for one? No, but I sure want to. Hope it turned out okay.

Thank you so much for your request, 🌹 anon

Content: poly relationship; written with fem!reader in mind, but can also be read as gn!reader; mentions of mental illness; self doubt; burnout; much comfort from the bois

Word count: 1,8k

Hope you enjoy reading<3

You were tired.

Your days studying in the Academya left you more drained than anything else lately. Although you were a good student, diligent and often praised by your professors, that didn't change anything about the heavy workload you put on your shoulders.

The days seemed to last for an eternity, while the nights were over far too quickly. You never felt like you got any quality rest.

While one of your boyfriends, Cyno, kept a close eye on you and made sure you took care of yourself, the other suffered extremely from the lack of contact with you.

You haven't really seen Tighnari for a few weeks, except for his one day visits to Sumeru city when he was in need for new materials. He would make it a point to visit you, but you were still so focused on your research, that you didn't spend much time with him.

Same with Cyno. While he was often times with you in the city, he rarely got to see you anymore either. Well, that's wrong. He did see you, but was the time spend with him? No, it wasn't.

You kept telling youself and your boyfriends that this was only a temporary issue, that you would soon be done studying in the Academya. Then you could finally give them all the attention that you have deprived them off until now.

And yet, two months after your last conversation with your boyfriends about this issue, there were still no signs of it getting better anytime soon.

You were working yourself to the bone, day in and day out. So it was only a matter of time until the stress would get to your head, poisining your thoughts.

You began to think about all the times you neglected Cyno and Tighnari, how you didn't even keep in touch with Tighnari back at Gandharva Ville via letters. He probably only heard about you through Cyno, meaning he had to rely on his words.

You couldn't help but feel bad, ashamed and guilty.

Your head then began constructing this idea... this terrible idea of your boyfriends. About how they started to resent you. For neglecting them, for focusing on your studies instead of them.

Thoughts began to bloom within you. Hlw they probably hated the idea of seeing you again, hating you in general.

Your hand that had been writing on a paper until a few moments ago, began to shake as silent tears began rolling down your cheeks.

You wanted to believe that it wasn't true. That this was just the stress getting to you...

But how could you, when it all made perfect sense? Of course they would feel this way.

Now that you thought about it.. you haven't seen Cyno at all the last two days. He usually came by every day, even just to make sure that you were taking care of yourself.

But... nothing. He didn't show up at all.

And as you realised that, the thoughts only became louder and more convincing.

'They already started separating from you, silently..'

'They feel they're not important to you...'

'You are no good partner to them..'

Those thoughts began to flood your mind as you set down your pen, tears continuing to fall down your face. That night, you cried yourself to sleep, as these negative thoughts kept pestering your mind.

...

The next day, Cyno saw you walking within the walls of the Academya and immediatly noticed that something was wrong with you.

He saw your red, swollen eyes and knew that you must have cried yesterday. The reason for it he might nit know, but that didn't matter. It was obvious that you needed him right now.

So, he talked to the Matras, gave them their orders and then set out to find you again.

He found you in a quiet corner in the house of Daena, reading some kind of book related to your studies, while you occaisonally sniffled and rubbed your swollen eyes.

Cyno approached you quietly, sitting down on a chair across from yours, his eyes fixed on your exhausted form.

You jumped a little, not expecting any form of company to disturb you. Once you recognise Cyno, you relqx a bit, but quickly tense up again, remembering what had happened the day before.

Cyno, of course, noticed that shift in behaviour from you.

"What's going on?", he immediatly asked, not wasting time with chit chat.

"What... do you mean, exactly?", you answered, trying to deflect, making it seem like everything was fine. Which, you failed. Because even if Cyno wasn't the best with feelings, he was perceptive.

"You cried. I can see that with only one look at you. So.. what happened?"

At his words, you wished to just slap yourself as you realised that you forgot to put on makeup, so that you could hide the obvious bags under your eyes. But that would have been only one part of the problem, anyway.

"Oh.. nothing much. Just... stressed."

"Stress? That's all?"

You nodded, not being able to look your boyfriend in the eyes. You knew that if you did, he would immediatly figure you out. Little did you know that by avoiding his gaze, he worried even more.

"You're hiding something from me.", he concluded. You sighed, but didn't give him anything further to work with for a few minutes. Then..

"It's just.. the stress is getting to me. To my head, exactly. It's been... a lot.", you told him in a low voice, not wanting to say anything more.

To your surprise, the next thing Cyno did was to just silently, without another word, stand up from the table and walk away. You didn't see were he was heading, but that didn't matter to you.

All your head needed, was right there. Your boyfriend walking away from you when you would have needed him the most.

You could feel the tears welling up again in your eyes, but this time, you forced them to stay in, not wanting to cry in broad daylight in front of your fellow students. But going home wasn't an option in your head either, so you tried to swallow the hurt and continued your studies.

Little did you know though, that Cyno was walking straight to the Acting Grand Sages office, not bothering in the slightest that he had just interrupted a seemingly important conversation with some other sages.

Alhaitham looked at him with his usual stoic expression, while Cyno explained the situation to him, requesting for a two weeks vacation for you amd himself.

After a few seconds of considering, Alhaitham signed it off, handing the documents to Cyno, whishing him the best of luck. Having achieved what he came for, Cyno headed back down to were you were seated before, glad that you were still in the same spot.

He approached again, but this time, you noticed him. And he wore an even more determined expression than he usually did.

"Cyno? What are you-!"

You got interrupted as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you out of your seat and after him, waking his way towarsa the exit of the house of Daena.

"Hey, stop. Where are we going?", you asked, weakly struggling against his grip.

"Visiting Tighnari.", he said.

"Wha.. but I can't. I still have to-"

"You don't have to do anything. I requested some time off for the both of us, and Alhaitham approved of it. We are going on a vacation, because Archons know that you need that, (name)."

After he said that, you were in no place to argue against him anymore. Your resistance against him grew less and less, until you completely stopped. He, in return, loosened his grip on your wrist a bit, but still held you tightly to him.

He made a stop at his and your house, to gather some stuff, mostly clothing, before you made your way to Gandharva Ville together.

The walk was mostly quiet as you were trying to figure out what to make of it. You were sure that they must hate you at this point, yet Cyno's actions clearly indicated the total opposite.

As you arrived at the base of the forest watchers, Cyno spotted Tighnari in front of his hut, talking to some other forest rangers.

The fox immediatly picked up on the scent of his two lovers as soons as you two entered the village. But he also instantly knew that something was up. He could sense that you were upset about something amd Cyno was worried about you.

He made quick work of the matter with the forest ranger, and as they began to depart, Tighnari already spotted you and Cyno walking towards him, so he waited there for you to.

"Hey..", he said in a soft tone, immediatly pulling you in for a long and loving hug as soon as you were close enough.

"...", you didn't say anything as you hugged him back tightly, which confirmed his assumption that something was definitely not right.

He looked over at Cyno, who motioned for them to go inside, which Tighnari gently coaxed you to do so with them.

"Do you want to talk about it?", Tighnari asked as you all were inside. But you didn't feel ready for that just yet, so you just shook your head slightly, gaze fixed on the ground.

"All right then..", you heard from the fox and the next moment, you were suddenly in the air, as your lover had picked you up and walked over to the bed.

The next moment, you were placed on the soft mattress, ine of your boyfriends on each of your side. You were completely surrounded by them, and suddenly, you felt safe.

Like a heavy weight has finally been lifted from your shoulder, and you could feel a single tear run down your face again.

Tighnari, who you were facing, brought one hand up to your face, softly carressing your cheek. He slowly leaned in, kissing you on the forehead.

In the meantime, Cyno, who was laying behind you, slid on hand down your arm, intertwining his fingers with yours once he reached your hand, as he slowly started to place light kisses on your neck.

In this moment, you felt so loved and cared for by your two boyfriends, you had no idea how you could have ever doubted their love for you.

You couldn't controll your tears anymore and you just let everything out that you had been holding back.

For the next few hours, you three just laid there, cuddling with each other, while Cyno and Tighnari whispered sweet and loving words to you.

You may not be able to talk about your troubles quite yet, but you knew that with them by your side, everything would turn out okay in the end.

Because you had each other. And now there was no doubt in your mind anymore..

... they did love you with all their heart.

[its-your-girl-geekerella]

Wicked Movie Review

Spoilers Ahead. (Obviously)

Okay, I saw it on opening night release day. I've just been busy. And here are my thoughts:

Pre-watch. I was hoping for the best. The trailers were amazing, and the budget seemed sufficient for all it wanted to do. The vocals seemed a little off, but that was only because they had to make it "fit" for the trailer score. So I had high hopes!

But I was also preparing for the worst. After all, movie adaptations of musicals have a bad reputation for a reason. And all the promotion they were doing? I was certain they were compensating for something. And besides that, I had almost no faith (again, aside from what I heard in the trailer) in Ariana Grande. I don't really listen to her music, but I've heard a few of her songs. I honestly didn't think she could do musical theatre.

And boy, was I wrong.

Post-watch. It. Was. Amazing. I absolutely LOVED it. Ariana CRUSHED it! I think she did better than some Glindas on Broadway! In every scene leading up to the Ozdust Ballroom, I hated her. And I LOVED hating her. I think some Glindas just don't have that hateability, or they're too charming. But not Ariana. And during "Popular"? I absolutely loved it! She was great!

Cynthia Erivo did great, too. Her voice singing the riff at the end of "Defying Gravity" will certainly take getting used to, but it was, objectively, good. Her acting was on point, and I absolutely loved watching her. Say what you will about the woman's poster dilemma, the woman has a powerful presence onscreen. I honestly never doubted her ability.

Some random thoughts:

The script. The script was practically word-for-word of the musical. Some people might find it annoying and predictable. I, for one, found it charming and-- frankly-- reassuring. I knew what was coming a lot of the time, even if they did change some minor plot points (if you can even call them "plot points"; like I said, they were minor and didn't change the course of the story at all). For example, Mr. Thropp doesn't already have Elphaba enrolled at the school in the movie. But because I know how the story goes, I was sitting in the theater saying to myself, "He's gonna say 'go with her'". And guess what? He did.

Unfortunately, the script being word-for-word (and a lot of theatre kids knowing certain lines from the musical) partially ruins the impact or comedy of certain lines. The most notable one was when Fiyero and Elphaba are in the woods with the cub. Elphaba informs him that he's bleeding, and says, "It must have scratched you." He replies, a bit disassociated because of her touch, "Yeah... or maybe... it scratched me or something." Typically, in the theater, Broadway, regional, or high school, the audience laughs at this line. You know how many people laughed at it in the movie theater? Zero. Zilch. Except me. The delivery was AWFUL. I honestly can't believe that Jon didn't have that line reshot. Which brings me to Jonathan Bailey.

Jonathan Bailey is... a good actor? I personally haven't seen him in anything other than Wicked. But I do know that he is a good looking actor. However, I do believe that he was miscast for this role for three reasons. 1) Like I said, the comedy was not exactly there. Another example: "I've been thinking" "So I heard" However, I won't count that one against him, as I feel that one was mostly Cynthia's fault. 2) At first, I thought that Cynthia Erivo would look too old to play Elphaba, but I got over it really quickly. It was easy for me to see her as a college-aged student. And let's be honest, Ariana Grande will always look like a child, so that was never a problem. Jonathan Bailey, though? He doesn't look like a college student. He looks like a really hot 36-year-old man. And this kinda goes into my last point. 3) He was too intentional. I think Fiyero's character is dynamic in a variety of ways, and Jonathan's portrayal seems more like "Act II Fiyero" than "Act I Fiyero". Act I Fiyero's whole deal is that he's extremely loose. And while, yes, Elphaba calls it out as a façade, I think it's still a part of him that is a bit dumb (see the disassociated "scratched" comment or the "thinking" comment). I think if Jonathan had tried to play Fiyero more "dumb jock", it would've worked better, because his natural acting inclination would've counteracted it just enough.

I feel bad for complaining about Jonathan Bailey for so long. So onto the songs! The score was amazing. The music was amazing. The vocals were amazing. My favorite song was "What Is This Feeling?" The camera angles in this scene were amazing, and the choreography slaps so hard.

Right before "One Short Day", I thought to myself, "I sure hope we get an Idina and Kristin cameo!" Guess what happened. Truthfully, I barely heard a word they were singing, I was too busy bouncing in my chair and fangirling with one of my friends to hear them.

If there's someone I didn't mention (I'm looking at you Ethan and Michelle), it's because they did a good job and I don't have any particular opinion on them. Overall, I really enjoyed the movie! My favorite song was "What Is This Feeling", Jonathan Bailey was the weakest part of the movie, and it was a lot better than I thought it would be. And it was really fun to fangirl with other theatre kids.

[mothertoall2]

Part of Their World (RE Age Regression)

A/n- This is a age regression book about Resident Evil Village, I will be making one that is not age regression shortly but the first few chapters are the same anyway so until t picks up it will be the same book.

Description: This story takes place in a world where Age Regression is normalized and accepted. As a child you were taken by Mother Miranda and experimented on with the T virus, after years of captivity you don't show responses to the experiments and are sent to be a maid at the Dimitrescu Castle. None of the other maids like you, and Lady Dimitrescu always keeps a close eye on you. This is a little gn reader story and if you don't like it you may respectfully leave, this is not a fetish book and is sfw, thank you and have a splendid day.

Warnings: Childhood trauma and neglect

Y/n's POV

I open my eyes from a sudden jolt of the carriage as it hits a particularly large stone along the uneven path. The carriage is going remarkably slower, the horse having become beyond tired from the long journey to it's destination. Shortly after the second hour I had fallen asleep while counting trees as they pass by one after the other. While I rarely have the luxury of carriage rides such as this, they always had the ability to make me fall asleep within minutes. I find something soothing with the way it moves along the dirt or stone roads. 

Another jolt of the carriage snaps me out of my thoughts, I sit up from the window to see if we are any closer to where I'm being taken. I wipe away the fog from my breathe to clear the glass, though it does very little with the freezing temperature outside. I look around trying to see past the thick powdered covered trees. The snow covering the ground appears grey and unearthly, clearly holding a past in which I am now determined to discover. There is not a building in sight which just leaves me to wonder where I'm going. I can't help but think the worst, maybe she's taking me to be killed, I can tell I haven't met her standards of what she wants from me. She's expressed her disappointment with me, it wouldn't be a surprise if she's taking me to be left up to fate of the beasts that roam the village. I've never seen them but mother tells me all about them and how she protects me by keeping me inside. 

The next jolt of the carriage catches me off guard and I fall onto the seat. "Sit up Y/n, I have raised you better than that" she says coldly. "Yes mother" I reply without looking her in the eyes, I won't make that mistake again. Mother isn't always this cold, only when I don't meet her expectations, which has been frequently as of late. I sit up and adjust my position so I won't fall over again. As I move to look out the window I catch a glance at my reflection in the cold frosted glass. I try to avoid looking at my reflection, I asked mother to remove all mirrors from my chambers. I was tired of looking at myself and questioning why I'm not enough for her. Why she isn't proud enough to show her child to the lords she speaks so highly of. 

As I observe my reflection  I see a stranger gazing back at me. I am trapped in a body that has never been my own. I study my distant blue eyes, inside them I see a soul wanting to be freed, a soul that is forever trapped inside a cage, the key no where to be found. I see the freckles that litter my face, mother has always liked them...which I realize has made me hate them. Anything mother likes about me I find myself hating more, I wish for nothing more then a different body to feel myself in. I had hope when mother told me her experiments would change my appearance, but after many trials there has been no change. That must be the reason mother is sending me away, I wasn't able to give her the results she wished for. I doubt she has ever noticed how much I try to please her and be as she wishes of me, but it is never enough for her. I must accept that fact.

I am once again ripped from my thoughts when mother calls out to me. "How many times have I told you to stop chewing on your fingers. You know better child." I hold back the tears threatening to spill from my eyes as I respond to her. "I apologize mother it will not happen again." All I get in return is an inaudible mumble under her breath as she turns away. "Are we almost there mother?" I ask as politely as I can but receive no response in return. I turn back to the window in defeat as I rest my head against it. I find myself slowly drifting off into a slumber once more, only to be awaken what feels like only minutes later. 

As I sit back up straight with my hands resting in my lap, just as I was taught, I speak, "What is it mother?" She speaks clearly and hesitantly with her next sentence . "You have permission to look at me for our following conversation, it is important and I need your full and complete attention. Have I made myself clear?" I nod and lift my head to look mother in her eyes. I have never had permission to do so before, in fact last time I had done so I hadn't received meals for two days. 

"Y/n, before we arrive I must inform you of what is going to happen. As you well know I have raised you for the past 23 years out of the kindness of my heart. I have fed you, clothed you, bathed you, and taught you manners because you were my child." When she said the last part my heart shattered. She is having me killed, I knew it. "All I had wanted in return is for you to be successful, even through my generosity you couldn't provide me the one thing I asked. Do you know the pain that causes me? You have failed me Y/n, you are a disappointment and a disgrace." Every insult mother gives me causes another tear to fall. "That is why I am sending you to work as a maid for one of my most trusted lords. You will be working for Lady Dimitrescu, you will do as she says, she has my full permission to punish you as she sees fit. Do you understand child?"

With a simple nod of my head my fate is sealed. I can't help but feel shattered by the fact that she was able to pass me off so easily. My thoughts and insecurities all come true at once. I am worth nothing in this world, I never will be. Yet again I am removed from my thoughts, this time by a glimpse of something out of the corner of my eye. There I see it, a grand Castle with a tall gate surrounding it. Hearing it slam closed behind us is as finalizing as the last chime of midnight. I exit the carriage after mother, stepping into the frigid powder that covers the ground. I walk behind mother as I follow her up the snow covered path all the way to the large doors of the castle. As I stare up at the doors I wonder what fate lies for me behind those doors. I wonder to myself, what more do I have to lose?

[caffeinat3]

⚠️SPOILS!!⚠️ DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVEN'T FINISHED LITTLE NIGHTMARES 1, DLC AND 2!!

y'all gotta remember, they're just kids.

for Little Nightmares 3 coming in 2025, i just decided to write a post to remind fans about the villainizing and bias towards each individual kid. specifically Six and Mono.

naturally, you'd get the feeling of hating Six after letting go of Mono at the end of the 2nd game. also the part where she eats one of the nomes which is later to be revealed as RK. but, guys, the thing is too is that they are literally children fighting to survive this environment that's trying to kill them 24/7. their first survival instinct is to save themselves. everything they do is what they practically need to do to survive. distractions? to survive. even if it turns off a Patient's life support. [imma be real though, it's even more cruel to let them live. have you seen the other Patients?] even if they shoot someone. it's all on instinct. self - defense. they might not even WANT to do it but, dude, they're not just gonna stand there and just die. Six is canonically 9 and there's a popular headcanon of Mono being 10. not what sure RK's age is but it hardly matters. what matters is THOSE ARE KIDS. NOT EVERYTHING THEY DO IS ALL GOODY GOODY. it's to SURVIVE!

Six let go of Mono because she thought he was going to hurt her. said in an interview, she canonically recognized the Thin Man's facial structure in Mono and, well, the Thin Man hurt her. my first instinct would be to save myself too. maybe there could have been more trust, but man do i empathize with her. same for when she eats RK. she was in pain, could you not tell? the Hunger was getting worse and i doubt that she couldn't take anything NOT alive for an answer. the power and urge increased each and every time she got Hungry. also how was she to know that the nomes were kids?

personally, i prefer Mono over Six only because of his design and how he expresses his personality in the 2nd game but that doesn't mean that i can't defend Six either. they're all kids. they hardly know right from wrong so stop villainizing them. [i get extremely sad whenever i think of Mono its almost incomprehensible.] Mono being able to burn the Doctor was probably a choice we'd all consider if we were in his situation so don't even go there. Mono electrocuting the Viewers was self - defense. he is not going to die for the sake of pretty much already dead people. same for RK with the Granny. please, stop that. and about Mono "ignoring" Six's cries for help from the Thin Man, he seemed to be in pain too, clutching his ears. he tried to save her in the end, so clearly he regretted not helping even if that "betrayal" was on purpose.

if Low and Alone do anything even hinted at being "evil", God help me if anyone already hates them just because they're surviving. don't be a fool. empathize for each individual child and wonder if you'd do the same thing in their situation. because im sure more than half of us would do the same things that they would do.

[call-sign-shark]

Following the heart-wrenching posts of @red-riding-wood, @kittenonpluto and @aurorag98 I feel like I have to write this. By no means I have experienced traumatizing interactions with @mrkdvidal1989 aka Killian Vidal but this whole situation and what he did to girls here make me enraged.

First of all, I want to reassure all the beloved mutuals who have been reaching out to me or who have been worried about my well-being because they saw me interacting a few times with Killian. I am perfectly fine and I'm not much here this week because I have been working a lot.

As for my relationship with Killian... Well, we were barely talking to each other actually. I know I am bad at replying to my DMs but this is not the reason why I ghosted him -- I purposefully did so because, like many of you, the guy gave me the biggest red flags. We talked a few times, and he called me hot when he saw the gym pics/selfies I posted. He quickly suggested we meet together to go to the gym and watch horror movies during my stay in the UK and to this I replied positively while knowing I would never ever do so. Right from the start I suspected him to be a liar and I felt he had built up everything about his life. Also, I come from a military family with many relatives working in special units of the French Navy, and let me tell you something: I screamed at the thought of a former soldier (from the SAS!! lmao) spending all of his time writing reader-insert fanfic for a female audience and discussing with Cillian fangirls. I don't say it's impossible, but it's VERY unlikely.

To me, Killian was just an attention-seeking catfish I'd never meet and who I found both boring and childish. In my opinion, I thought he just wanted to have a small court around him to strut around, nothing more. I tried to search for info about him to warn people, I mean I even doubted he was a man... However, I found nothing plus he seemed to be IRL friends with a few mutuals here who actually chatted with him via phone so I didn't want to take the risk of spreading hate about someone just because of a gut feeling. Never in a million years, I would have imagined he was toying with girls from the Peaky Blinders community, collecting nudes, gaslighting/harassing them, breaking them into pieces, promising marriage, and going as far as to promise a life-saving medical treatment to a dear friend of mine. I am devastated by what I have read this morning, and "devasted" is not even powerful enough. Learning from Red that he talked about fucking me when we meet while we never talk about sex, never flirted or anything (we just small-talked once in a while lmao) might be a bit creepy but it's nothing compared to what he has done to girls here.

I am deeply sorry to all the people who have been hurt by his horrible actions and are now facing long-term consequences because of him, some of them being my close mutuals. I send positive vibes, love, and healing to every one of you who had to deal with this psycho. I know a lot of people have already said that but my DMs are opened if you need a safe place. The Peaky Blinders / Cillian Murphy community is a nice place, maybe the most welcoming place I've ever seen on the Internet but we should all keep in mind that it is not safe from ill-intentioned users and predators. Please stay safe and, for the victims, don't blame yourself. You haven't been naive nor stupid or anything. The only one to blame is the person behind Killian Vidal's persona, and for the evil you've done, I hope you'll get fucked with a chainsaw. Or just fucking rot in hell.

Shark.

[stanlunter]

i have an honest question for you. this is not meant to be a gotcha or accuse you of homophobia, just based on observing your post history of wlw vs wlm ships out of curiosity.

are there any wlw ships in cartoons that you actually do like the portrayal of?

Thanks for a question!

And yes, obviously. Actually, I posted a lot about them, so It's strange if you haven't seen it, but yeah. I understand where your answer is coming from since I do critic some wlw media and made a post about a wlw dynamic I don't like. Tbh, It's a problem for me too, bc I don't get enought of my "wlw ships type" in media and that's basically why Im complaining about it, bc every It's either bad-written or is so cliche that's it even boring. Also the problem is that I do love wlm ships as well and a lot of people say that "wlw is always better than wlm" even tho there are many good and bad examples of both of them and I think It's wrong to say smth is better just bc It's queer, even tho I am wlw myself. The "critic" wasn't towards wlw, but towards the most popular dynamic (sun x moon) that I don't like and the way people ignore others dynamics just for this one is sad to me, since bc of it I don't have enought representation of wlw ships I love, bc all of them either don't become a couple, or break up, or one of them dies (or all of these at the same time) and almost all ships that became canon have that dynamic I dislike. And at the same time it was also a joke bc It's actually true that like 80% of all wlw ships are basically the same, so It's funny to hear from their fans that all wlm ships are the same

"Are there any wlw ships in cartoons that you actually like the portray of?"

Do you mean canon or fanon?

As someone who generally in like 90% of the cases prefers fan ships over canon ones, regardless of if it's wlw, wlm or mlm, I obviously have much more fanon or half-canon favourite wlw ships, including those, where one of the characters is dead, there are some I like:

My favourite wlw ship and spop otp of all time is Scorptra. I absolutely adore everything about it and I really think they should have been stayed in Crimson waste. Some years ago I had a huge fixation on it and tbh, if I've discovered Tumbler to myself at that time, my acc would definitely be full of them and I would call myself "stanscorptra", lol. And the fact that they didn't become canon for the sake of the ship I hate - catradora, makes it even worse to me. (Scorpia x Catra from She-ra and the princess of power)

Yumihisu. That's my favourite ship from aot, Im actually glad It's popular in the fandom. I really love everything about them and the way they ended up is actually heart-breaking. In the finale of s2 I actually wanted to start killing people just bc Ymir decided to help Rainer and Berth instead od staying with Historia. And every time I rewatch it, I feel the same, bc they did have a chance to be happy together at least for some years.

It's basically canon and it was confirmed that they both love each other, but since Ymir died, I'm not sure if it is considered as actually canon since they werent actual dating (Ymir x Historia from Attack on titan)

Nanichiru, or whatever name they have, bc the fandom still hasnt decided it.

That was one of my first anime ships, I even thought It's canon and basically when I saw them together, I thought Nana is canon lesbian, which was so clear to me when I compare her with men and her with Michiru. Idk if they supposed to be "just friends", or wlw-coded, but I do consider them as a half canon anyways, bc, let's be real, if one of them was a guy, everyone would know It's canon. I absolutely love their dynamic and the way their relationship affected Nana and made her doubt her goal and actually understand that some of the people with talents are good people. Michiru changed everything for Nana and was her light in the dark, but ofc, how it always is, they didn't develop relationship and one of them died. (Nana x Michiru form Talentless Nana)

Mitsunoa. I am not obsessed with its depth, bc, ngl, they don't have such deep relationship as others, but I do love their dynamic and all of their interactions. Their homoerotic friendship and all the hints make me giggle and if we consider Mikayuu as "basically canon", than I will consider Mitsunoa as basically canon too (especially after the bath scene), bc these girls deserve the best things and they are the best things for each other. (Mitsuba and Shinoa from Seraph of the end)

Togachako. I still haven't finished the manga, so I'm not sure about what heppend with them in the end, I've only seen some spoilers. But I do love their enemies to lovers dynamic, which, unlike some other ships of this trope, isn't a romantization of abuse, but actual enemies to lovers. I doubt it has chances to actually become canon. But I still love the way their relationship was written. Uraraka is the only one who thinks Toga is cute and a pretty girl, not just a crazy monster. I absolutely love the line when she says Toga that she's the cutest girl in the whole world. I love that Toga says her feelings for Uraraka are real and that she made her happy. Toga sees her as basically a comfort person (??), someone who's love and appreciation she wants to get, someone who can save her from the hateness to herself and the world. I just want Toga to be happy with someone who can see her. Also, have you seen how mangaka draws them together?? He's either their biggest shipper, or a queerbaiter, Idk (Toga x Uraraka from My hero academy)

Also Ruby x Penny from Rwby, Webby x Lena from Duck Tales, Perfuma x Huntara from she-ra, Anne and Sasha from Amphibia, Sunset x Sci-Twi from Equestria girls, Sae-Byeok x Ji-Yeong form Squid game and others

As for canon ships, there are fewer ones, but yeah, I do have favourite wlw ships that are canon:

Menokari. Their relationship is really beautiful, It's actually similar to Nanichiru, but is gayer. I found it thanks to Talentless Nana as well, and Im glad I did. It may be seems too cliche for some people, but I think It's adorable, dramatic and well-writen. Definitely my favourite wlw anime (Menou x Akari from The Executor and her way of living)

Ellieriley. Unfortunately there are not enought scenes with them, but those we have is enought for me to love them. Riley was Ellie's first love and probably her lesbian awaking. I love their dynamic so much and I want to see more of them and I wanted them to live a happy life. I do like Ellie x Dina too, but I love her relationship with Riley much more. Riley's death has broken my heart. But at least I'm glad that they did have a kiss scene before it, that's why I do consider it as canon, unlike Yumihisu, since a lot of people for some reason are still arguing over it (Ellie x Riley from The last of us)

Spinetossa. Even tho this ship is far not the main one, I love it much more than the main canon ones. Netossa cares about her wife so much. They know each other for so long and still love each other so much. They're so cute and so sweet, that I was worrying for their relationship during s5 the most. And It's funny how Chaggie fans use "they're together for a long time" to justify the fact that Vivziepop has written them so poorly and that they look more like just friends, just bc of that, since these two exist and they actually do look like a married couple, not like just friends (Spinerella x Netossa from She-ra)

Harlivy

I ship these two in every universe. Even tho the Harley Quinn show has flaws, I still love their dynamic, yeah, even despite it being "one of those I have brought up in that post", I still ship them and think they're cute. I love that Harley has fully recovered from her relationship with Joker and that Ivy has found her true love, someone she can spend the rest of her life with (Harley x Ivy from Harley Quinn show and DC comics/cartoons)

Korrasami

I never was one of those people who say Korrasami was rushed. Yeah, the creators couldnt fully show them in the show, but they did in the comics and I haven't seen anyone who has read them and said they're bad-written. The comics show them so well, It's amazing, healthy and one of the best wlw representations I've seen! (Korra x Asami from The legend of Korra)

Obviously, that's not all of them, but those I love the most. Some of other canon wlw couples I love are: Bubblegum x Marcelin from Adventure time, Apple x Darling from Every after high, Haruka x Michiru from Sailor moon, Utena x Anthy from Revolutionary girl Utena, Kirari x Sayaka from Kakegurui, Ruby x Sapphire form Steven Universe, Vi x Caitlyn from Arcane, Sara x Nyssa from Arrow and Jennifer x Needy form Jennifer's body (I know the last two are not animated, but I still wanna include them)

So, yeah, there are a lot of wlw canon and popular ships I dislike or critic, which isn't because I hate wlw, but bc I love it and want it to be written better and be more various, than just "sun x moon", since there are a lot of so different wlm and mlm dynamics, while for wlw It's almost always either the same, or is just problematic, like Catradora. Tbh, as far as I remember, the only wlw ships I wrote bad things about were Lumity and Catradora, besides that post, so I don't know why exactly you thought it means I dislike all or most of the wlw ships, but I don't anyways

[epickiya722]

To anyone deciding to follow me (whether you're new here or not), I'm letting you know a few things here...

I don't tolerate condescending attitudes. Nope, not going to to deal with the rudeness, the entitlement, none of that. You see something on my blog you don't like, scroll past, ignore it, unfollow me even. But don't be that person to inbox me and go "um actually I don't like this ship or this character" or whatever else.

Jumping off that, if you're going to send me an ask, be nice. Be respectful. You can disagree with me on something but it's so easy to just say "Hey, my view is a little different on this topic" and give your reasoning. Don't be the ass to go "your perspective is all wrong, you can't read, please understand this better, you're falling for it". No, you just look like an ass.

Other than that, feel free to ask a question about anything or even tell me about your day or something. I do have the anonymous option on because I know some people are shy. Don't abuse that option. Again, be nice.

Also if you send me an ask and want it answered privately, let me know! I don't mind keeping anything private.

With that in mind, if you happen to send me an ask through anonymous and want to know if I answered it (I sometimes have to mental prepare myself so it takes time), just look through the "kiya answers" and "kiya answers questions" tag!

I love the color purple. Purple runs through me. You happen to hate the color, you might not want to follow me.

I will have spoilers for whatever I'm engaged on posted on this blog. However! No matter how recent or old said spoiler is, I do tag those posts with "*insert media* spoiler".

Any thoughts I have, be it a whole meta post or just an update on life or something, I do have it tagged as "just kiya's thoughts". So if you think you missed a post that you may be interested in reading, just check out that tag!

This also goes for any writing I do. I reblog updates from my writing blog here and sometimes talk about what I'm writing. Interested in that just look at the "kiya writes" tag.

I'm mostly interested in anime and manga, so that's what you'll mostly see here. There are some anime and manga I haven't seen, so I'm still exploring here and there.

Now, folks, I have my ships and characters I like. You'll see them here. Not into certain ships or characters, keep that to yourself. Unless I open the door for you to express so. Example, I am a Miruko fan. I'm sure some people may even say I'm the biggest one (in doubt it though). If you don't like her, don't tell me unprovoked. We don't do that here.

Hm... I can't think of anything else to say! Have any questions and concerns, please let me know! Other than that, folks, welcome here and I hope you have a fun time!

[once-upon-an-imagine]

Hi, I hope ur doing well bc I rlly love ur writing🥺anyway can u do a sweet boyfriend James scenario with a reader who’s been avoiding him because she suddenly broke out on her cheek and is self conscious about it��I literally have the worst skin in the winter and I’m trying so hard not to cry but my skin is so important to me😭😭😭😭like I’ve never felt uglier and I know breakouts are normal but still🥺😭

Thank you so much for liking my writing, love! And I am so sorry! I totally get that and I hope you get well soon! I know how annoying skin things are! 🥺 sorry, this turned out to long for a dialogue so I made it a drabble, I hope you like it  😊 Warnings: reader feeling insecure about the breakouts on skin Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter 😊 gifs aren't mine 😁

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Unpretty

"Sweetheart?"

"Go away!" James heard on the other side of the door of your dorm.

"It's James" he tried again.

"I know! Please, go away!" he heard you again, feeling his heart shatter.

You always wanted to see him. He hadn't seen you all day. When you missed breakfast and he thought maybe you slept in and would be late. But you never came. If it wasn't because Remus forcing him to go to Potions, he would have gone straight to your dorm. You didn't come during first period. Or second period, making him worry. When he looked you on the Map, he saw you were still in your dorm and his worries lessened a little. He grew anxious because maybe you were sick. But none of your roommates had said anything to him, and they did whenever that was the case. He wanted to go look for you after Transfiguration was done but he had Quidditch practice and, being the captain with a match on Saturday, he couldn't really skip it. He hated it when he didn't see you there, waiting for him to go to lunch, as you always did. So, here he was with a basket full of food, waiting for you to open the door.

"Princess, you weren't at breakfast, or classes, or lunch" he insisted. "I'm starting to get worried. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Jamie, please just... go to lunch!"

"I'm not gonna go without you, love. What is going on?"

"Nothing! I'm just not feeling well!"

"But... I haven't seen you all day!" he whined. "Sweetheart, please just open the door. You know I'm not going to stop worrying until I see that you're okay" he told you.

You knew he was right. He wasn't going to leave until he saw you. You grabbed your wand and pointed it at the door so it would slightly open, but you remained on your bed underneath your blankets and comforters. James slowly entered your dorm and you could hear his footsteps approaching you until you felt a weight sitting at the end of your bed.

"You've seen me, Potter. Now you can go away" you mumbled, grumpily.

"No, what I see is my beautiful girlfriend wrapped in a cocoon of blankets" he said, trying to remove some from you but you pulled them tightly. "Love, what's going on? Do you have a fever? Do you need me to take you to Madam Pomfrey-?"

"No!" you quickly replied.

"Okay, fine. I guess, I'll just... eat all of these brownies by myself then" he said, grabbing the picnic basket and placing it on your bed. You slowly peeked a little from your blankets and James could only see your eyes, looking back at him. "Oh, there she is. There's my beautiful girlfriend" he smiled, trying to pull you to him but you pushed him away.

"I'm not beautiful today" you mumbled.

"Honey, what are you talking about? You're always beautiful!"

"No, not today! I have been really stressed because of exams and my period is coming next week and my stupid face decided to have a stupid breakout and I look horrible!" you said, pulling your blankets closer to you again and resuming your original position, away from James.

"Princess" he said, feeling his heart breaking a little at the pain in your voice. "Is that why you stayed here today?"

"Yes! I look like a troll!"

"Sweetheart, I seriously doubt that's true" James said, with a small chuckle.

"Easy for you to say! I bet there's not one day in your life when you haven't looked perfect!" you replied.

"What are you talking about? I don't look perfect!"

"James, I have seen you naked. You always look perfect!" you insisted.

"Oh, if you want to play that game, I have also seen you naked, my love, and if any one of us is perfect, it's you" he said, lying down next to you but you still didn't budge. "Fine, if you're not coming out, I guess I have to come in" he said.

"What-?" before you could continue, you felt the blankets around you fly away before it quickly placed James underneath them again. There was no way out now. Your boyfriend was facing you with the most enamored look on his face you had ever seen.

"Hello, gorgeous" he smiled goofily at you, wrapping his arms around your waist and you quickly buried your face in his chest, feeling tears in your eyes. "Hey, what's this for?" he said, stroking your back with his hands.

"I look h-hideous, Jamie" you said between sobs.

"Sweetheart, I know that you may feel that way because you don't feel comfortable right now, but I promise you could never look hideous" he insisted.

"Y-you have to say that because you're m-my boyfriend" you said, still not looking up at him.

"No, I say that because it's the truth" he said, kissing your temple. "Could you please let me look at you? I haven't seen you all day. You have been really mean to me" he pouted.

"I'm sorry" you murmured, still looking down.

"It's okay" he said, gently cupping your cheek and making you finally look up at him. "There's my beautiful girlfriend" he said, leaning down to give you a soft kiss on the lips and making the tiniest smile appear on your face.

"You're a dork" you said, trying not to laugh.

"I know, I have the thick ugly glasses to prove it and my dorky hair that goes everywhere" he told you, making you glare at him.

"I love your dorky glasses and your messy hair" you pouted, running a hand through his messy locks.

"See? So how come you don't believe me when I say you still look beautiful?"

"It's not the same thing!" you insisted.

"It's the exact same thing, love" he said, kissing you again. "Does it hurt?" he asked, his expression turning worried and you felt yourself smiling even brighter at him.

"A little" you told him. "It's more uncomfortable than painful" you assured him. "But I already took some meds so it should be gone in a few days" you instructed him.

"Wait a minute, were you planning on avoiding me FOR DAYS?!" he said, dramatically with a hurt look on his face.

"No" you assured him. "I was hoping that they wouldn't look as bad tomorrow" you said.

"Well, that is still just cruel, love!" he said, pulling you closer to him and peppering your face with kisses.

"Jamie!" you complained, giggling as he kissed you once more. "I believed you mentioned some brownies?"

"Is that all I am to you? Your brownie dispenser?"

"Of course, not!" you said, kissing him again. "You're also my personal teddy bear that I can cuddle any time I want" you said, laughing a little.

"You're lucky I love you" he said, sitting up, making the blankets into a fort above the two of you before he grabbed the picnic basket.

"I really am" you said, sitting up next to him and kissing his cheek. "I love you too" you said, as he kissed your temple.

The End

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A/N: hope you liked it, loves :)