#House of cards season 6

[chromatic-casino]

Cannot stop thinking about him

[clairehaleswardrobe]

Black dress and white piping

Worn in "Chapter 68" and "Chapter 71"

[antidisneyinc]

sorry. how are they even pretending they can recast rick sanchez. not to be like, the terrorists win, but you literally do not have a show now

[barrymccaulkinem]

finished House of Cards. thats how it ends? could be much worse i guess. they should have ordered a full season. 6 was a good season just so rushed at the end bc its missing 5 episodes

[fushitoru]

chapter 6: the house party a bridgerton au

pairing ⸺ duke!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary ⸺ dearest gentle reader, a new season is upon us as the ton gets ready for a season filled with drama, heartbreak, and passion. after being crowned diamond of the season, duke gojo⸺only looking to marry just to secure his inheritance⸺has his sights set on you, the easiest (and most obvious) option. later, when you catch his saying unsavory things about you on a terrace when he least suspected it, you swear to never marry gojo. as london's fashionable set goes through yet another wedding season, will there be hope for scandalous gossip, hate, and thinly veiled insults, or will we witness blooming love and passion?

warnings ⸺ nsfw, enemies to lovers, bridgerton au, angst, fluff, SUGGESTIVE, eventual smut, jealousy, misogyny, description of injury, concussion, blood, regency era au, gojo being infuriating, reader also being infuriating, both of them are clueless honestly

chapter summary ⸺ you are bedridden, recovering from your wound, when gojo delivers season-changing news. the house party that follows buzzes with tension, and an unexpected arrival that sends ripples through the ton (7.4k)

a/n thank you as always to the pooks @/sinn-clair for beta reading this <333 i'll see you after the chapter is over!

prev. the fall | next. soon!

general masterlist | series masterlist

Gentle Reader,

One query occupies this Author's mind, be it ladies or mamas alike—what exactly are Miss Itadori and Lord Gojo up to in the countryside? Perhaps a trifling dalliance of hearts, or will the ton bear witness to a scandal uncovered when they arrive for the house party? After having arrived a week early—and positioned as the diamond of the season—one must guess that if all goes well and Miss Itadori plays her cards right, she will be showing off her new surely lavish diamond engagement ring. Yet, she must take great care, for to err in this delicate matter would be to jeopardize a most significant match with Lord Gojo. Only time shall tell the outcome of this intrigue.

⸻ LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS

Upon waking, the physician informed you that you had been unconscious for some days. Though no immediate danger threatened you, it had been long enough to send both families into a state of great disquiet. It seemed that even before you’d regained full awareness, a servant—who had gasped upon hearing your feeble request for water—had swiftly spread the news, for not a moment later Yuji burst into the room.

“SISTER!” he exclaims, hurtling his way towards you with heavy steps. You flinch in your position on the bed at the sound of his loud voice. “You are awake! Mama seemed like she would faint, Choso had almost popped a bloody vein, he looked like he was about to challenge Lord Gojo to a duel—”

“Yuji! My dear,” you had to shout, interrupting the boy’s ramblings, giving him an uneasy smile. “Lower your volume, please. I might faint back into unconsciousness due to the strain, and this time you will be the one dueling Choso.”

The pout Yuji adopts is akin to a chastened hound as he grabs a chair to sit next to you. You take this moment to surveil your surroundings, now with a clear headedness granted to you that hadn’t been granted before. There were fresh flowers adorning a vase on the table on your bedside, and you seemed to be wearing a shift, cleaned and changed out of your dirty and mud-ridden dress. There was a gauze surrounding your head, and you could feel some similar cloth on your ankle.

You turned to your brother. “Now then, what were you saying?”

He perks up. “Well, you’ve been in quite a state, dear sister! It’s not every day you’re injured before breaking fast. Choso practically spat his tea when he heard! And, of course, Duchess Gojo has been endlessly apologetic. Between Mama, Choso, and me, we’ve all been in quite a state. I daresay you’re hardly known for clumsiness—although you do have your moments on horseback.” At the memories seemingly pooling themselves in his mind, Yuji sniggers while you shoot him a look to not be testy. “And Gojo has been nothing short of attentive. No doubt the man’s come in to change your flowers more than the doctor’s visited you. He’s so caring, he even cares for a worm like you!” 

You ignore Yuji’s jab, instead forcing yourself not to be gripped by the fact that Gojo had been so…attentive to you. Of course, it was as an indirect result of his sheer vexing nature that you were bedridden in such a manner, so it should not set your heart aflutter like a foolish girl. But your traitorous heart seems to hate listening to reason. 

You begin to nod slowly. “And how many days have I been out? When is the house party?” Taking a gander at the windows in the room you were situated in, you could see the moon and star’s light filtering the curtains. You weren’t sure if it was the evening or night or completely early in the morning.

He looks up to the ceiling, as if calculating something, brows furrowed. “Today.”

Groaning, you put your head in your hands, playing with your hair as it falls through the gaps of your fingers. “Mother is going to kill me.”

“Oh, indeed,” Yuji replied with a hum, stretching his arms in a cat-like yawn. “Now, I must get back to my rest. The servants were gossiping near my door, so I thought I’d see for myself that you weren’t dead.” He kissed you on the cheek before heading to the door. “Sleep, sister, for I expect Mama will tire you endlessly come morning.”

Later, a gentle nudge at your arm and a few soft “Miss! Wake up!”’s roused you from sleep. You opened your eyes to find a maid hunched over you, relief clear in her expression as you met her gaze with a drowsy squint. “Miss, Lord Gojo requests your presence. May I allow him in?”

With a nod, you fought off your annoyance at having been disturbed. The maid, visibly flustered, hurried to admit Gojo, who soon approached with quiet footsteps. As you propped yourself up, arms crossed, you gave him a mildly reproachful look. “Gojo, you’ve roused me from my slumber. I trust this is a matter of utmost importance—-” you began, then trailed off as you took in his expression.

He was taut, as though his very sinews were wound tight. Standing rigidly, his jaw clenched, his gaze flitted everywhere but to you. Troubled, you tried, “Gojo?”

At the sound of his name, he looked sharply at you and seemed to gather himself. “Ah… forgive me.” He took a seat and smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes, artificial. “How is your recovery?” You eye him suspiciously. His leg is moving up and down anxiously, the action minute in a way that makes you think he’s not aware of doing it. The tight and strained smile on his face seems uncanny, his concern seeming out of place. “Well, as much as it can be for me bleeding out pints and pints of blood from my head,” at that, you note that he subtly flinches, “but all is well!” You spread out your arms and give him a dazzling smile, and his eyes follow. “I’m sure my mama and my maid are itching to rush in here to prepare me for the house party.” Giving him a playful glare, you continue, “And just for the pain you caused me, you ought to have two dances and a few pastries prepared tonight.”

At that, he looks at you for a quick glance before quickly turning away, seemingly collecting himself. In what you could observe in his previous expression, you were surprised to see yearning present in his blue eyes, filled with feelings that perplexed you. Gojo was acting very odd.

Then, he drew in a measured breath, his jaw clenched as if bracing himself for what he was about to say. He finally looked at you, a shadowed intensity in his gaze that made your heart beat faster—not in the way it used to when his eyes sparked with wit, but with a sense of foreboding.

"Miss Itadori," he began, his voice lower, lacking the familiar, teasing cadence. "I must apologize for the trouble I have brought upon you. I was… heedless, perhaps even reckless, and it seems I have caused you nothing but suffering."

You frowned, confusion beginning to bubble beneath the surface as he paused, clearly struggling to continue. He seemed almost pitiable, looking down at his hands, which were tightly woven together, his knuckles pale. But pity was not a feeling you had patience for. Not now. Not with Gojo of all people.

"Trouble?" you repeated, folding your arms. "I do believe that's an understatement, my lord. A mere misstep, surely?"

His eyes flicked back to yours, the corner of his mouth tugging in a grim semblance of a smile. "Understatement or not, it remains the truth," he replied, his voice nearly a murmur. "I cannot in good conscience continue this… attachment we have formed. The position of courtship our mamas have placed us in. For I fear it is you who stands to lose most dearly if I remain by your side."

You stiffened, his words crashing over you like a cold wave. "Attachment?" you said, bitterness coloring the word. "Do not dress it up with such kind words, Lord Gojo. An attachment is something formed with care, with respect—qualities you seem to find inconvenient."

He winced but did not break eye contact. "I will not argue with you," he said softly, voice steady in its regret. "Perhaps I am no master of attachments, nor have I ever claimed to be. But know that I had never wished to see you harmed—"

"Harmed?" you interrupted, your voice growing louder as anger swelled within you. "Is this some twisted apology, then? A show of remorse for the inconvenience of your whims?"

Gojo opened his mouth to respond, but you did not allow him the chance.

"How very noble of you, Lord Gojo," you continued, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "After all this time, to simply say, 'Forgive me; I shall now remove myself from your life,' as if that makes up for the chaos you’ve brought upon me? As if I am but a pawn to be moved at your discretion?"

His face softened slightly, as if he were seeing something in you he hadn't fully expected—a quiet resolve beneath your anger, a dignity that refused to be bruised. "No, Miss Itadori," he said quietly. "I do not wish to see you as a pawn. After all, from what I understand is that you do not know what you desire—and I would only be exploiting that. I only… I only wish to relieve you of the burdens I seem to bring."

You laughed, the sound bitter and laced with fury. "Know what I want? As if you do, dropping pretenses with commoners and putting on your mask for the ton. And relieve me? I don’t think you understand what it is you’ve done, Gojo."

This conversation was dangerous. The emotions you hid under the air of nonchalance were steadily bubbling up, and it seemed that now, your sentiments were threatening to boil over at the sheer audacity of Gojo breaking off this arrangement, of what the ton would think today if he were to be avoiding you like the plague.

He flinched at the sound of his name on your lips, spoken with such venom. A muscle in his jaw ticked, but he made no move to respond, simply watched as you gathered your thoughts, your gaze piercing.

"All this time," you said, each word sharper than the last, "I was led to believe there was something more to your attentions. And now, you simply wash your hands of it? You think yourself a gentleman for doing so?"

"Miss Itadori," he said, his voice strained. "I am—"

"You are a coward," you spat, and his eyes widened, the faintest hint of pain flashing in their depths. "Yes, that’s right. A coward, for trying to protect yourself under the guise of protecting me. All this talk of 'relieving me'—do not act as if your decision was made out of kindness." (a/n: OH NO SHE DIDNTTTTT)

"Do you not understand?" he interjected, a sudden fierceness in his voice, his composure beginning to slip. "This is not some petty whim, nor a game. My intentions… they were never meant to bring you harm, but they did. And I cannot bear to see it continue."

"Bear to see it continue?" you repeated incredulously. "Do you think I am some doll, some trifle to discard at your convenience?"

"That was never my intent!" he exclaimed, voice rising in frustration. "If you would but see reason—"

"Reason? From you?" you laughed bitterly, barely able to contain the fury welling up inside you. "Your idea of reason is nothing more than self-preservation, Lord Gojo. How convenient it must be to absolve yourself of guilt by deciding I am better off without you."

He fell silent, the anger in his face ebbing, replaced by a kind of desperation. "You do not understand," he said, quieter, almost pleading. "If I were to stay… if I were to court you in earnest, it would not be the life you think it to be."

"Then let that be my choice to make," you shot back, crossing your arms. "But no—this is not about my well-being, not truly. It is about you, Gojo. It has always been about you."

A tense silence stretched between you, filled only by the soft, uneven breaths that escaped both of you. For a moment, neither dared to speak, both caught in the tangled emotions that hung thick in the air.

Finally, Gojo looked down, his eyes shuttered, his voice weary. "Then hate me, if you must. But I am done with this charade."

"Hate you?" you repeated, the word tasting strange on your tongue. "No, Lord Gojo. Hatred would imply I care enough to feel anything toward you."

Your entire body seethed with fury, every muscle trembling with the strain of keeping yourself upright, sitting on your bed. You couldn't storm out—not with your wounded leg refusing to bear even a fraction of the anger swelling within you. Instead, you pushed yourself up on shaking arms, glaring at him with such venom that he instinctively stepped back.

"Get out," you spat, the words laced with ice, your voice rising as if to fill the entire room. "Out! Now, Gojo—leave me this instant!"

He froze, his shoulders tense as he looked at you with something unreadable, but he made no move toward the door.

"I said leave!" you shrieked—your voice shrill—the strain of it making you nearly lose balance, but you didn't care. Hot tears stung your eyes, and you bit them back, forcing yourself to breathe through the betrayal clawing at your chest. "Take your false apologies, your noble pretensions, and get out of my sight. Go, and never, ever darken my door again."

His mouth opened, as if he might say something—perhaps even something that might soothe the jagged edges of your heart. But your furious gaze dared him to try.

With a pained expression, he finally gave a nod, stepping back toward the door. He lingered for a moment, one last helpless look crossing his face before he turned away, leaving without another word.

The door clicked shut, and you were left alone, shaking with fury, your breath ragged. Your eyes were still on that door, your heart racing, as though expecting him to come back, to take it all back, to be the man you'd witnessed yesterday. But deep down, you knew he would not return.

The first glimmers of morning filtered through the heavy drapes as you stirred awake, still dazed from the events that had left you bedridden. The memories of Gojo’s departure settled heavily on your chest, like a stone dropped in a lake, rippling outward and disturbing any possibility of calm. Your mind drifted over the previous night’s argument, replaying words, and then, with a cringe, the heated moments where you felt every last ounce of self-restraint slip from your grasp.

A small part of you reasoned that you may have been rash—that your anger and hurt had overtaken good sense. After all, it was you who deemed your and Gojo’s match impossible. So why were you so hurt?

Before you could linger on these thoughts, there was a soft knock at your door. 

"Come in," you murmured, propping yourself up gingerly.

What followed soft footsteps was Choso, his gaze warm and steady as he entered, carrying the ease of familiarity that only he could. As he approached, he pulled a chair beside your bed and gave a faint smile.

Choso stepped in quietly, his face softened by a rare smile as he approached. “Awake at last,” he said gently, taking a seat beside you with the care one might afford a delicate flower. "I was beginning to think you'd sleep through the entire house party."

He reached out, his hand resting on the crown of your head, fingers slipping through your hair in a soothing rhythm. The fondness in his touch eased the last of the stiffness in your frame, a balm against the soreness both physical and emotional.

“You worry too much,” you muttered, allowing yourself to lean into the comfort he offered, your voice softening as his hand continued to gently scratch at your scalp.

“You look better today,” he said softly, continuing his familiar, soothing rhythm with his fingers. “Though, I’ll admit, you gave us all quite a scare.”

You managed a small smile, feeling the tension in your shoulders ease slightly under his touch. “I suppose I was overdue for a bit of excitement,” you murmured, though the attempt at levity felt thin, even to your own ears.

Choso’s hand stilled momentarily, and his gaze grew searching as he looked at you. “What truly happened yesterday?” he asked, his voice low with concern. “There’s more here than an unfortunate fall, isn’t there?”

You stiffened slightly, glancing away from him. “It was nothing,” you replied, willing your tone to sound convincing. “Just… an ill-timed accident. Nothing to concern yourself with.”

But Choso was not so easily deterred. He watched you closely, his brow furrowing with worry. “You’ve always been a poor liar, sister,” he murmured. “If something happened, you know you can tell me. I only want to understand.”

The quiet earnestness in his tone gnawed at you, and for a moment, you considered confiding in him. But the idea of revisiting last night’s turmoil felt too raw, too immediate. “I’m fine, truly,” you insisted, meeting his gaze with as much steadiness as you could muster. “It was… nothing that can’t be mended with rest.”

Choso’s gaze lingered on you, his fingers resuming their gentle tracing along your scalp as if that alone could soothe whatever burden you were carrying. “Well,” he finally said, his tone filled with fond exasperation, “I won’t press you. But I trust you’ll speak of it when you feel you are ready.”

You gave a slight nod, grateful for his restraint. The quiet between you was comforting, grounding, as he continued his rhythmic motions, easing your thoughts in a way that words could not.

After a long moment, he broke the silence again, his tone lighter this time. “On a more cheerful note,” he began, a faint smile playing on his lips, “you’ll have another visitor tomorrow.”

“Oh?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, though a part of you already guessed who he meant.

“Yes,” he confirmed, a knowing glint in his eye. “Sukuna received word of your injury and set off at once. He’ll be here by morning.”

You let out a small breath, a mixture of relief and trepidation filling you. “Tomorrow, then,” you repeated, feeling a hint of warmth at the thought. “It seems my brothers cannot resist making a fuss.”

Choso chuckled, squeezing your hand gently. “It’s what we’re here for. And perhaps Sukuna’s presence will help you feel a bit more at ease during the house party. He’ll see to it that no one bothers you unduly.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, the thought of Sukuna’s reassuring, if overbearing, presence lifting your spirits slightly. “Well, at least there’s that to look forward to,” you murmured, and, with a soft sigh, leaned back against your pillows, letting Choso’s calming presence ease the lingering shadows of last night’s ordeal, even if temporary.

For you had a beast of a social gathering to deal with today, the same one where the ton would descend upon the outcome of your match, ready to laugh at you: the house party.

“He what?” 

You flinched, scowling as you clutched your ears. Nobara’s shrill voice was not helping your recovery, nor were her rough combs through your hair; but alas, beauty has a price, and it’s one you’re reluctantly willing to pay. You oh-so terribly wanted to politely decline the formal invitation, but it seemed that the moment you woke, your mother was dead set on getting you ready for what she thought was your engagement party. Little did she know that her not so future in law had gotten rid of you as if you were a stray animal latched onto him, but who were you to burst her bubble?

Perhaps you ought to dread the inevitable fallout from your mother when the truth emerged, but you consoled yourself with the thought of drowning your sorrows in champagne tonight, delaying her wrath for at least a little while. Besides, the prospect of Sukuna’s impending arrival tomorrow brought you some comfort; his unruly nature often served as a distraction from your own troubles.

You sighed heavily, meeting Nobara’s furious gaze in the mirror. “He merely said he wished to absolve me of any trouble he had caused.”

“Good riddance!” Nobara shrieked, her hand furiously waving around the hair brush in a way that made you wary, for it would not be pleasant for it to make contact with your already tender head.  “He was never the one for you to pursue, for he lacks the honor of a true gentleman! And yet—oh, heavens!” She gestured at you accusingly with the brush, her tone turning sharp. “Why, pray, do you appear so disheartened?”

You open your mouth immediately, indignant and expecting your wit, your usual ally, to conjure a response for you, only to be left open-mouthed when it came up short. Nobara seemed to sense your hesitance, opening her mouth to unleash yet another accusatory and reprimanding remark, but you quickly moved to fill your silence. “I suppose I am just…offended that he dare reject me, the diamond. The ton will seize upon this dissolution with glee. They shall revel in my supposed failure, for it will be indicative of my failure to the Queen.”

Nobara arched a brow, her skeptical silence speaking volumes. She clearly wasn’t convinced, and before she could level another charge against you, a knock sounded at the door.

“Sister, are you decent?”

“Enter, Choso,” you called out, hastily adjusting the neckline of your pale pink gown and straightening the strand of pearls around your neck.

Nobara opened the door, though she made no attempt to soften her posture. The hairbrush remained firmly in her grasp, poised like a weapon, and Choso cast it a wary glance as he stepped inside. His presence brought a sense of calm, even as his expression betrayed some inner turmoil. He hesitated for a moment before moving to sit at the edge of your vanity, his gaze flickering between you and Nobara.

You narrowed your eyes, suspicious of his silence. “Well, brother? Out with it,” you urged, though your voice lacked its usual sharpness.

He sighed, clearly reluctant. “Very well,” he began. “Pray, hear me out. You know I have never hidden my disapproval of Lord Gojo.” At the sound of that name, you flinched, though you quickly masked it with a curt nod. Choso continued nonetheless, his tone steady but earnest. “In light of recent events, I have taken it upon myself to form…a contingency plan of sorts.”

Your curiosity was piqued, though Nobara snapped at you to sit still as she continued combing through your hair. “Go on,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant.

Choso leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering as though to ensure Nobara wouldn’t interrupt. “I have had the pleasure of conversing at length with Duke Nanami.”

You arched a brow, intrigued despite yourself. “The Duke Nanami?”

“Yes,” Choso confirmed. “He is an esteemed gentleman of considerable character, and, as fortune would have it, he is not currently pursuing anyone this season.”

Your lips parted, but no words came. Choso’s intent was clear, and the weight of his proposition settled over you like an unexpected storm. Nobara, meanwhile, had stilled entirely, her hairbrush forgotten in her hand as she turned to gawk at your brother.

“Is this,” she began, her voice disbelieving, “your solution to Gojo’s appalling behavior? To thrust her into the path of another?”

Choso shrugged, unbothered by her skepticism. “A better match by far, I would argue. The Duke has no such inclinations to trifling or dishonor.”

You sighed, leaning back as the tension in the room thickened. “And what makes you so certain the Duke would even entertain such an arrangement?” you asked, your voice tinged with a weariness you hadn’t intended to show.

Choso gave you a small smile, his hand reaching out to pat your shoulder. “Leave that to me, dear sister. For now, focus on enduring tonight’s ordeal. Tomorrow, you may take comfort in Sukuna’s arrival—and in the knowledge that your prospects are not as grim as they seem.”

You exhaled, unsure whether to feel gratitude or exasperation, as Choso rose from his seat. Whatever plans he had in motion, they would unfold in time. For now, you could only prepare yourself for the chaos that awaited.

Gojo had outdone himself. Truly, magnificently outdone himself.

From the moment you entered the house, your hand resting lightly on Choso’s arm, the stares began. They weren’t the polite glances reserved for new arrivals at such gatherings—these were sharp, lingering, and accompanied by a cacophony of whispers that only heightened your unease.

You straightened your back, chin held high, determined not to give any of them the satisfaction of seeing your discomfort. But it was impossible to ignore the way every eye seemed to follow you, every head turned to observe as you passed. Whatever it was that had stirred this interest, you were certain Gojo was at the heart of it.

Feeling the oppressive smog of stares, you knew where you could find solace: the drinks table, where you could down a flute of champagne alongside your stress. And right as you excuse yourself from Choso’s hold, who is now looking in the general direction of some men—particularly a gaggle of men that included Lord Geto and Duke Nanami, who were looking at something in the direction of the dance floor with interest. As you walk, you take in the scene: a beautiful chandelier, and red drapings and coverings embellished with gold, a bloody alternative to the Gojo icy blue. You’re not sure why today’s ensemble of colors didn’t include blue, but you believe it is fitting for what’s going to happen to you after this party is over and your mother finds out about the elephant in the room. 

And as you glance longingly at the couples gliding across the floor, their movements synchronized with the lilting strains of the orchestra, your breath catches.

It is then that you see him.

Gojo Satoru is spinning a girl across the dance floor, his coat tails trailing like ribbons in the air. His lips move as he speaks, the tilt of his head paired with that too-familiar smirk. His partner laughs at something he’s said, a soft sound that reaches you even from this distance. You could almost identify her—there is no debutante in the ton you have not cataloged, no rival whose dossier you do not possess—but tonight, it does not matter. She is just a blur of chiffon and curls, another face in a sea of women enthralled by him.

Your chest tightens as you take in the scene, a memory unspooling unbidden.

Is this what your first dance with Gojo had looked like to others? Did you appear as enraptured as this girl, your steps as confident and sure beneath his lead? You remember his light touch at your back, his questions whispered so quietly you doubted even the orchestra could eavesdrop, his eyes full of a charm so practiced it felt like a spell cast just for you.

And yet now, the spell is broken.

He is steering her—steering everything—with such ease that it almost makes you laugh. Were he not so infuriating, you might have admired his grace, the way he seamlessly dominates both the conversation and the dance. His amusement is evident in the quirk of his brow, the corners of his mouth curling with every word she utters, no doubt answering his questions with meek enthusiasm.

She is simple. You can tell from the way he looks at her, the way he pauses before replying as if translating his own thoughts into something digestible for her. The way she beams at him—unaware of how deeply he calculates every move—is almost endearing. Almost.

He is drawing the same conclusions he did of you. Simple, lacking substance. 

The thought leaves a sour taste in your mouth. 

But then the girl laughs again, a little too loud, and Gojo’s expression flickers for just a second—long enough for you to notice. His smile tightens, his gaze sliding briefly across the room as though searching for something more stimulating. It is instinctual, this glance, and his head tilts in such a way that you know it will land on you if you linger a moment longer.

Your heart stutters in protest, your legs already moving.

Punch table. Right.

As you near it, you grab the closest drink and down it one sip, desperate for the cool of the liquid to calm both your throat and your heated mind, furious with thoughts and anxiety of those around you. And it was just as you begin to set down the cool glass that  in your periphery comes the man who soon tests your resolve.

“Miss Itadori,” a voice drawled behind you, the unmistakable lilt of smugness weaving through it.

You turned, and there stood Naoya Zen’in, his grin as unctuous as ever. He bowed slightly, though the gesture felt more like mockery than courtesy. “I must say, you are positively radiant tonight.”

You inclined your head ever so slightly, each movement deliberate. “Mr. Zen’in. How kind of you to say.”

He grinned, and the sight was unsettling, a serpent preparing to strike. “Radiant, yes. A pity Lord Gojo has finally come to his senses and moved on. I thought the two of you might actually prove interesting.”

Your stomach churned, but you kept your expression serene. “I fail to see how my affairs are of interest to you, Mr. Zen’in.”

“Oh, but they are,” he said, stepping closer, his voice lowering as though he were sharing a confidant’s secret. “Everyone is watching, you know. Wondering why Lord Gojo is…otherwise occupied tonight.” He tilted his head, motioning discreetly toward the mantle, a few meters away, where Gojo stood, entertaining and welcoming another lady.

Your eyes betrayed you, flicking briefly in that direction. Gojo’s figure remained in your periphery, still close enough to notice but far enough to be unattainable. You tore your gaze away, unwilling to feed Naoya’s glee.

Naoya leaned in, his tone growing more audacious. “Quite the spectacle, wouldn’t you agree? Though perhaps it’s for the best. You have much to offer, Miss Itadori—breeding hips, for one.”

The words hit you like a slap, your mind reeling in fury and disbelief. Your breath hitched, but before you could muster a scathing retort, something else caught your attention.

Gojo’s hand, resting casually against the column, tightened into a fist. The movement was subtle, but unmistakable—a barely contained tension that you might have missed if you weren’t already attuned to his every breath, his every twitch.

Still, you refused to look directly at him. Whatever he felt, it mattered not.

“Mr. Zen’in,” you began, voice icy and measured, though the rage burned beneath the surface, “your comments are as inappropriate as they are unwelcome. I suggest—”

“Sister.”

Choso’s voice interrupted like a lifeline thrown to a drowning sailor. You turned to see your older brother approaching, his expression calm but his eyes sharp as they darted between you and Naoya. He came to your side, his imposing presence creating an impenetrable wall between you and the unwelcome intruder.

“Mr. Zen’in,” Choso greeted with a curt nod, his tone laced with a warning. “I trust you’ll excuse my sister. She and I were just about to take a turn about the room.”

Naoya’s grin faltered, but he recovered quickly, stepping back with a mocking bow. “Of course. Do enjoy your evening.”

Choso wasted no time, offering his arm to you. You took it gratefully, your legs unsteady as he guided you away from the scene and toward a quieter corner of the ballroom.

“Are you all right?” he asked softly, his voice gentle but firm, as though bracing himself for a truth he might not like.

You nodded, though the words escaped you. Your hands trembled slightly, and Choso placed his over yours, steadying you. “I saw the way you looked,” he murmured, his voice quieter now. “At Lord Gojo.”

Your breath caught, but you said nothing, focusing instead on the steady rhythm of your brother’s steps.

“Whatever he’s done—or hasn’t done—you are worth far more than his regard,” Choso continued, his tone resolute. “Do not forget that.” A pause. “Are you all right, Sister?”

“I am fine,” you lied, though your trembling hands betrayed you.

The evening only worsened from there.

More and more, you felt the weight of curious glances, the whispers growing louder as the night wore on. The absence of Gojo’s attention did not go unnoticed—least of all by your mother, who approached you and Choso with a determined expression, her fan snapping shut with a sharp flick of her wrist.

The warmth of the ballroom’s lights could not thaw the ice that slipped down your spine as your mother approached. Her movements were poised as ever, but the tightness in her lips and the fury barely hidden in her eyes told you everything. She stopped just short of you, her fan snapping shut with a sharp click that made you flinch.

“Explain,” she hissed, her voice low enough to avoid drawing the attention of onlookers but sharp enough to carve into you.

Your breath caught in your throat. You glanced towards Choso for reinforcement, but his furrowed brow and subtle shake of his head told you he would not intervene—not yet.

“I… don’t understand, Mother,” you murmured, though the words tasted hollow even as you said them.

“Do not toy with me, child,” she snapped, her tone still hushed but more cutting. “The entire room is whispering. Where is Lord Gojo? Why has he not so much as glanced in your direction tonight? Why is he—” Her eyes darted to the waltz floor, where Gojo had just excused himself from yet another partner. “Why is he dancing with others while you stand here like a forgotten debutante?”

The words hit like a slap, and you flinched again, your gaze falling to your gloved hands. You wanted to speak, to explain, but the lump in your throat grew larger with every second.

Her voice softened but grew no less fierce. “What have you done?”

Your chest tightened, and for a fleeting moment, you considered telling her everything—about the garden, about Gojo’s words, about how utterly humiliated you had felt. But then the heat of the ballroom pressed down on you, the glances from curious onlookers prickling your skin like needles.

You couldn’t. Not here.

So, you said nothing.

The silence between you stretched thin, your mother’s patience fraying with every passing moment. Finally, she straightened, her lips pressed into a pale line. “This is how you repay all that has been done for you?” she whispered, her voice trembling with restrained fury. “Do you even comprehend what this will do to your prospects? To this family? You have disgraced yourself, and worse—you have disgraced me.”

Her words left you hollow, the guilt settling into the spaces where indignation might have taken root. Still, you could not look up, nor could you summon any defense.

Your mother’s fan snapped open again with a sharp flick, the motion more violent than graceful. “We are leaving,” she declared, turning abruptly on her heel. “Now.”

Choso stepped closer, his hand brushing lightly against your elbow as if to steady you. You dared a glance at him, finding his gaze steady and quietly supportive. It was only his presence that kept your legs moving as you followed your mother toward the grand doors.

The weight of the room’s collective gaze bore down on you with every step. The music swelled in the background, mocking you with its cheerfulness. As you neared the exit, your feet faltered.

And then you saw him.

Gojo.

He stood near the edge of the dance floor, his posture uncharacteristically tense, his jaw clenched tightly, his usual easy confidence dimmed. His head tilted slightly, his eyes cutting through the crowd to meet yours.

Your breath hitched. In his gaze, you saw regret—yearning, even—and something else you couldn’t quite name.

But it didn’t matter.

You tore your eyes away, your jaw tightening as a steely resolve settled over you.

You would not break.

Not here. Not now. Not for him.

As you stepped into the cool night air, you drew in a deep breath, willing the ache in your chest to dissipate. Gojo Satoru had taken enough from you. Your heart, your dignity—no more.

If he thought you would crumble, he was mistaken.

He would regret this, you vowed silently.

And you would make certain of it.

The morning that came in a few days was no less disheartening than the night of the house party. The morning sun filtered weakly through the gauzy curtains of the drawing room, casting pale, lackluster patterns on the carpet. Even the sunlight seemed hesitant, as if it knew it had no place in the solemn atmosphere that hung over your family.

Even Yuji was solemn as you all sipped on your tea, the drawing room oddly quiet as you reflected in the aftermath of the past few days. The events of the house party still loomed over you. Your family’s hasty departure had been punctuated by the sight of your mother in whispered conversation with Duchess Gojo, their faces tight with the bitterness of dashed expectations. You had no doubt they had commiserated over your perceived recklessness and Gojo’s insolence, lamenting how the perfect match they had orchestrated had unraveled before their very eyes.

You had borne it all in silence.

But now, in the cold light of morning, your resolve felt brittle.

Your hands tightened around your teacup as you stared into the amber liquid, your reflection rippling with each shallow breath you took. Independence? That word felt hollow. You had fought for it, yes, but at what cost? The ton’s whispers had already begun. You could feel their weight pressing on you, suffocating in their judgment. The laughter and speculation at your expense would echo through parlors and ballrooms for weeks, if not months.

And yet, deep down, there was a spark of defiance. They thought this was your undoing. They thought you would crumble. But they had no idea.

"Why does it feel like we’re mourning?" Yuji muttered, breaking the silence. His voice was quiet, but the sarcasm was unmistakable. "It’s not as though anyone has died."

Your mother’s sigh this time was louder, sharper, and followed by a pointed glance in his direction. “Yuji, do not jest,” she snapped. "This is no laughing matter."

Choso, who had been reclining with one arm draped lazily over the armrest of his chair, sat up straighter. “Mother,” he said cautiously, his voice soft but steady, “I think it’s time we address what’s truly troubling you.”

Her handkerchief stilled in her lap. For a moment, the room was silent again, the tension thick enough to choke on.

“Troubling me?” she repeated, her tone icy. “You think I am troubled, Choso?”

“Everyone is troubled,” Choso replied, his gaze flicking briefly to you. "But perhaps if you said what’s on your mind, we could all breathe a little easier."

Your mother’s lips thinned as she sat up straighter, her shoulders stiff. “Very well,” she said sharply, “if you must know, I am ashamed.”

The word hit you like a slap, even though you had expected it. You gritted your teeth, staring down at your tea to hide the flush of anger and embarrassment creeping up your neck.

“Ashamed of what?” you asked quietly, your voice tighter than you intended.

“Of you,” she replied without hesitation. “Of the scandal you have brought upon this family. Do you think your actions have no consequences? Do you think the ton will simply overlook your…” She hesitated, clearly searching for the most cutting word. “Your antics with Lord Gojo?”

You felt Choso stiffen beside you, his protective instincts clearly flaring, but you held up a hand to stop him. You wouldn’t hide behind your brothers—not this time.

“I have done nothing wrong,” you said, your voice low but firm. “Gojo and I made a mutual decision that we were incompatible. We—”

“You humiliated yourself!” she interrupted, her voice rising. “And by extension, this family. Do you think people are speaking of him? No! It is you they ridicule. It is your name they sully.”

Your chest burned with anger and hurt, but before you could retort, Yuji shifted uncomfortably, muttering, “This is getting out of hand…”

“You think I care about their opinions?” you snapped, finally lifting your gaze to meet your mother’s. “The ton has always been cruel. They would find a reason to gossip no matter what I did. I refuse to live my life pandering to their expectations—”

“And look where that refusal has left you,” your mother interrupted, her voice shaking with fury. “Unmarried. Ruined. Who will have you now?”

You flinched, the words cutting deeper than you thought possible. Your lips parted, but no words came out. What could you possibly say to that?

The silence that followed was deafening.

Until a voice, smooth and amused, broke it.

“Now, now, Mother. I know you’ve always had a flair for the dramatic, but let us not turn your theatrics onto our dearest sister.”

All heads turned toward the entrance, where a figure lounged against the doorway, his presence commanding without even trying. There he stood—Sukuna, your brother, looking entirely too pleased with himself for someone who had kept you waiting for days. Both you and Yuji involuntarily gasped in excitement, while Choso only shook his head in amusement and crossed his arms.

He strode into the room with an air of nonchalance, his tailored attire immaculate, his smile one of mocking amusement. His gaze flicked to your mother, then to you, lingering for a moment as if to appraise the damage left in her wake.

“Good morning,” he said smoothly, the corners of his mouth curling. “I trust I’ve arrived in time to save you from a most tiresome sermon.”

Your mother bristled, but her voice faltered, her ire now redirected. “Sukuna, this is hardly the time for your irreverence—”

“And yet here I am,” he interrupted, dropping into a chair with the kind of ease that only Sukuna could muster. He leaned back, his sharp gaze softening just slightly as it fell on you. “I thought you might appreciate a reprieve. You seem to have had enough lectures for a lifetime.”

You could feel tears welling in your eyes. You had severely underestimated how much you missed your elder brother, seeing his presence stir a fondness and comfort you hadn’t felt ever since he left for Europe. And it seemed that your brothers shared your sentiment; Yuji was basically on his haunches, doing everything he could not to leave his chair to tackle Sukuna, and Choso barely holding in an amused smile. 

“Still causing chaos wherever you go, I see,” Choso said dryly, though there was no malice in his tone.

Sukuna smirked. “Someone has to keep things interesting.”

Your mother huffed, her lips pressing into a thin line as she rose from her seat. “I refuse to be made a fool in my own home. Sukuna, do try not to corrupt your siblings further while I attend to matters of actual importance.” She swept out of the room with her usual imperious grace, leaving a silence in her wake.

As soon as she left, you left your chair to basically jumping on him, hugging him tightly as he reciprocated your hug with wrapping his big arms around yours with equal fervor. “Kuna,” you whispered, burying your face into his chest as the tears started flowing. His presence surrounded you, offering you a comfort and familiarity that the eventful weeks, ever since your debut, hadn’t offered

Sukuna looked down to you with a raised brow as he patted your head affectionately. “Well, that was entertaining. Now, who’s going to tell me what truly happened while I was gone?”

prev. the fall | next. soon!

general masterlist | series masterlist

a/n hi everyone!!! so i lied and said the update wasn't gonna take as long #womaninmalefields BUT thank you for your patience <3

so uh....we are now gonna enter the arc with DRAMAA. there will be yearning, there will be angst, and soon after, there will be fluff. idk if anyone needs to hear this, but, again, this series will have a happy ending. if anyone is sad, don't worry. i'm going to make gojo grovel <3

SUKUNA IS BACK SUKUNA IS BACK what do we think?! spoiler alert this is what sukuna will wanna do to gojo after reader spills the tea

THANK U FOR READING!!! rest assured reader a BADDIE there will be some showing ankles and lowering bustlines to start our reputation era and infuriate gojo but u didnt hear that from me !!!

comment and reblog to let me know ur thots ;3

TAGLIST:

@ncitygreen @backstagepaige @serinatly100986 @nappingmoon @coochellati

@extremelyexh4usted @yoshisaurmuchakoopas @nixiepixee @generalstephkenobi @vernasce-blogs

@byhuenii @geniejunn @a-girl-with-thoughts @dazedin2d @chuuqxs

@megumiivs @anthastudios @arranacosmist @arishaxml @jingyuun

@undercooked-chaos-noodle @jaegersity @camzzn @bluelai @1sweetheart1

@hyori2 @babyblue0t7 @iwanttoberich420 @rosso-seta @ladytamayolover

@kalulakunundrum @r0ckst4rjk @mo0sin @angelina7890 @jaeminaur

@yamiyas @cherry-blossoms-in-red @r3inae @lagataprrr @sasfransisco

@fortunatelyfurrygiver @aurora-tiny @gojonegs @luna-v-roiya @xxemmarldxx

@soobssedwithyourex @manyno @samkysnks @stefnarda @bbqsauceonmytitties2

[gommyworm]

:^l

[shadowbriar]

Five Hargreeves - Back To You

Pairing : Five Hargreeves x (she/her) Reader Word Count : 2.8k Warning : Angst. Season 4 references. Synopsis : After one too many subway trips, Five's plan of temporal refuge extended as he met someone he refuse to lose. Notes : I refuse to acknowledge what happened in Episode 5 and 6 though I use the gif of said episodes. Don't come at me if you don't agree. If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕

Living in a small cottage by the lake has never been in his cards. To settle down and watch the sun sets everyday, hearing the rocking chair creak as he takes a sip of his coffee. This was beyond anything he could ever hoped for, anything he could afford. He knew that this wasn’t the life he’s supposed to lead. Lord, this wasn’t even a life he owns to begin with. But with each second passed in this universe, Five finds it hard to drag himself back to that subway and return to his own timeline.

“Enjoying the scenery, are we?” She whispers as she sits on his lap, clinging her arms around his neck “You know, I could really use the help stuffing that chicken. It is afterall your special request.”

The boy raised an eyebrow, “Shouldn’t I be off of any chores since it is my special request?”

“Just because it’s your birthday, doesn’t mean you’re having a vacation, big guy,” She reasoned “We’ve only got two hands and this house is only getting bigger than smaller.”

The boy couldn’t bite his grin when he leaned in to kiss her. His heart swells. She was right. The house feels like it’s growing along with them. They might not have much, certainly far from the wealth his father possesses, but it was much more than enough. Having her was much more than enough.

“You know that I love you, right?” Five asks as he pulls away, his left hand still cupping her cheek as his thumb caresses her gently.

“I know,” She nods, smiling “But you can’t sweet talk your way out of kitchen duty, Mister.”

Five chuckles, standing from his seat as he carried her in his arms, “Alright, Missy, let’s see what this chicken fuss is all about.”

—-

The muscles on his cheeks were aching but he couldn’t fight the need to grin as wide as he could. He was happy, watching her carry that awful looking cake out of the oven. The icing that supposedly spelled ‘happy birthday’ was crooked, its colour pale compared to the bright fondant covering it. Thank God the candles were their only source of light, otherwise she wouldn’t even bring it out, he reckons.

“It’s ugly, I know,” She says as she lets it rest on the table “But it tastes better than it looks, I promise.”

Five shakes his head, disagreeing with her discouraging comments as he steals a kiss, “It’s perfect.”

“Well, go on and make a wish!”

The boy closes his eyes. His hands holding hers as he whispers his wish: I wish for this to last forever. Her squeals of excitement was music to his ears as he blew the candles. It is indeed the best birthday of his life.

“I’d ask but I know you wouldn’t tell me your wish.”

“Who said I made any wish?”

“You did,” She says as she helps him cut the cake “You make that little frown everytime you say your little prayer, do you know that?”

“I don’t pray, Love.”

“You do. Well, not religiously, but sometimes you do. You say your little prayer, your hopes. You whisper them sometimes, but most times you just close your eyes and do that little frown thing.”

Five raised an eyebrow, “Have you been watching me?”

“I might,” She teases “I mean who wouldn’t watch such a handsome man like you?”

The night continues as the couple finishes their dinner. Fulfilled would be such an understatement for what he feels right now. Everything he ever wanted, everything he ever dreamed of, is served right in that room. He wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world.

“So can I take a guess about what you wished for?”

“Really, Love?” He asked, putting down his glass of wine.

She shrugs, “We’ve talked about everything else, haven’t we?”

“You know, there’s a belief that if you say your prayers, it won’t happen.”

“Well, you’re not saying what it was, I’m just taking a guess what it’s about.” She argues, still persistent “And what’s so bad with it not happening? Do you really want it that bad?”

“I— Nothing, I just don’t—”

“What is it that you could wish for? What is it that you don’t have?”

“Nothing, I’m not saying that I want anything, I just—”

“Is it your family?”

Five pauses. It was as if he was stupefied. He hadn’t thought about his family in a while. Shameful of him, sure, but after one too many subway trips, he figured that a little rest shouldn’t be so bad. He just had to find a timeline where there weren't that many people shooting at him. Perhaps take a week or two to rest and gather his strength before jumping into another subway.

It just had to be her. The girl he bumped into right after he got out of the station. He remembers vividly the concerned look on her face when she saw him. He was littered with bruises, dirt and dust covering his body. He looked more like trouble than a lover yet she still found it in her heart to ask if he needed any help.

And here he was, feeling the happiness in his heart wither as the thought of his family returned to his consciousness. He knew that the universe is cruel, that he couldn’t have the best of both worlds in this lifetime, that he had to choose between his lover or his family. Some nights he wonders if his family had succeeded in preventing another apocalypse without him. Some nights he wonders if his family had found a way to another timeline. Some nights he wonders if his family were still alive. But most nights he tried his best to ignore these wonders. His family must have found a way to stop the apocalypse, or at least escape another one.

Taking a deep breath, Five reaches for her hands. Guilt and regret were evident on her face. He knew that she didn’t mean to sound as cruel. Perhaps it was the wine that made their blood more sensitive or that the fatigue of the day had clouded their minds. Either way he knew that they both would be sorry when the morning came.

“I love you,” He starts gently “I love you more than anything in this and every timeline.”

A tear left her eye. It was painful. To love someone you know doesn’t belong to you. To desperately grasp into the moments you knew would end anytime soon. To selfishly stay in a relationship that was doom from the start. Neither of them deserved this, yet neither of them wanted to let go.

“It’s been six years, Five,” She reasoned “As much as I love you.. We can’t keep living like this.”

“Time works differently there, my love. Six years here might only mean a couple hours there.”

“That doesn’t make it any less wrong for you to stay. Those couple hours might be the most crucial hours for your family. They might be fighting for their lives right now, they might be dying, for all we know! You need to come back to them, Five. You have to.”

Five forces a laugh, “Wait, what are you saying?”

She remained silent. Her tears were falling, biting her lips to conceal her tremble. A bitter feeling is brewing in his stomach now.

“Your family needs you and—”

“Okay, stop,” He stood from his seat with an offended look “Are you breaking up with me? On my birthday?”

She looks away, unable to meet his eyes.

“Goodness, you can’t be serious.”

“What choice do we have, Five? One way or another, you’d have to go back to your family. They need you—”

“And you? You don’t need me anymore?”

Her jaw clenches, “That’s beside the point.”

“No, that is the whole point, actually,” He argues, this time coming close to her “I love you, alright? Why is it so wrong for me to want to be with the person that I love? I’ve lived more than a lifetime alone, why can’t I have someone for once?”

“You don’t belong in this timeline. I—”

“I belong with you,” He cuts in “It’s not the timeline that matters, it’s where you are. I belong with you.”

If there’s anything she loves most about Five other than his gentle and caring nature towards her, it would be how adamant he is once he’s set his mind into something. There’s no doubt in her heart about the genuinity of his words. But as much as she’s grateful and touched over it, she knew that they could only spend so long before the guilt eats them whole.

She lets go of his hands softly, placing them on his cheeks instead. She admires him. The beautiful man that’s now standing in front of her with his heart on his sleeves, announcing his devotion to her on the day when he’s supposed to be the one showered with attention and love. His eyes were glossy, clearly conflicted.

“I love you, Five,” She whispers, gently caressing his skin as if it was their last goodbye “But I can’t keep you here, I can’t. I can’t keep you from your family.”

Five looks defeated, silent.

“Don’t you want to know what happened to them? If they’re okay? If they’ve figured out how to stop the apocalypse? Don’t you want to know?”

“I— I don’t know.” He answers “What I know is that I want to be with you.”

“I’ll always be with you, Love,” She reassures, kissing his cheek “I might not understand how this whole different timelines work, but I know that whichever timeline it is, whatever universe we live in, I will always belong to you. I will always be with you.”

And he finally cries. His tears flowing and wetting her palms. His heart shatters, finally succumbing to the guilt he’s tried so hard to bury and forget. He misses his family, he wanted so badly to get back and pick up where he left off, but would it be worth it? Would leaving everything here be worth it? Would leaving her be worth it?

“We’ll find our way,” She reassures, pulling the broken man into her embrace “You’ll find me in your timeline. Maybe we’ll meet at the grocery store, or at a bar, or perhaps at another train station.”

Five chuckles a little, letting a shaky breath as he asks, “And if we don’t?”

“We will,” She says firmly, giving a little space between them so they could gaze into each other’s face “I’m too much of a troublemaker and you’re too much of a problem solver for us to not meet. It’ll be too hard to ignore each other with our nature, Love. We’re bound to meet each other, in any timeline, in any universe. Trust me.”

The boy forces a smile. He leans in, kissing his lover gently as if she’d burst into petals if he pushed too much. Her hold around his neck feels different. Like she wasn’t looking for support but giving one instead. He could feel her trembling a little as his hands pulled her closer by the waist. Her heart is breaking too, as much as his is, but they knew that it’s inevitable. It’s only a matter of time before time pulls them apart and it certainly would be much more painful then.

“I’ll find you,” He whispers “I promise.”

—-

Canada is certainly much colder than home. Five rubs his hands and blows some air to his palms in hope to gain some warmth, but it’s obvious that the only comfort he’ll find in this weather is to get in Viktor’s bar and ask for some drink. That is, if Diego could start the car and get them going.

“It says here that Viktor’s bar is only five minutes by foot,” Klaus says “Who wants to run to the bar with me?”

“No one is getting out of this car!” Diego says in frustration, irritatedly trying his best to start the engine “We’re going to get to his bar together, in this car. That’s the whole point of a family road trip. We go to the bar by car, not by foot!”

“Yes, but it’s freezing here, Diego! The heater is not even on!” Alison argues.

“Well, it won’t be unless the engine is on.”

“No shit, Luther,” Ben says “I vote to run.”

Lila raises her hand, “Second to run.”

“No! No one is getting out of this car!” Diego yells once more, hitting the steering wheel frustratedly “I just need to—”

And by God’s miracle, the engine turns back on. Though their trip would soon reach its main destination, the bicker done by the family persists. The coldness of Canadian weather and how the heater broke almost twenty kilometres ago has made the seven heads’ temper raise. They really need to get to Viktor’s bar before they start to kill each other.

“I’m out of here,” Five announce as the car gets into the parking space of the bar. He space jumped inside, finding himself on one of the empty stools “Good to see you, Viktor.”

“Five,” VIktor greets, a little startled but his smile grows “You’re here. Where are the others?”

“Still figuring their way out to get here. Can I get whiskey on rocks?”

“On it.”

Five taps on the wooden table as he waits for his drink. His heart was content, as much as it might mean now. Their plan to stop the apocalypse worked. Viktor managed to take the marigold off of Ben before the Cleanse happened and now they’re trying to get back or rebuild their life. For once they finally managed to stop the apocalypse from happening.

Right after they succeeded in preventing the cleanse, Five found himself running to the subway station. He could still feel his feet burning from how fast he tried to get back to the station, wanting to jump in the train and go back to her timeline, but once he got there, the station vanished. There was no trace of it, no matter how many times he tried to run around and look for it. The subway is gone. She is gone.

Perhaps it was the price he has to pay for saving the universe. One’s happiness in exchange for the lives of millions doesn’t seem to be a hard sacrifice to make, but it’s still a tough pill for him to swallow. He knew that she would be proud. That she would hug and kiss him for doing all the hard work in saving the world. But the more he thinks about it, the more it stings for such touch would only be as good as a dream now.

“You ordered whiskey on rocks?” A voice asked, breaking his train of thoughts.

Five’s mouth went agape. He couldn’t tell if he was daydreaming or if this was some sick new power he gained from the marigold, but she was there. Standing right in front of him with a glass of whiskey in her hand.

“Viktor said his brother ordered whiskey on rocks, I assume that’s you?”

“I— Uh, yes,” He stammers, getting off the stool “You’re here.”

Five couldn’t believe his eyes. In his heart he knew that they would meet again, that somehow the universe would let him keep both her and his family, but he never expected that it was true. He never expected that he would meet her again. Not this fast, not this way.

“Sorry?” She asks, raising an eyebrow “Are you okay?”

“Y-Yes. Yes, I’m fine,” Five said, shaking his head and taking the glass “Thank you.”

The girl smiles. It was a different smile than what he’s used to seeing. There wasn’t much love in her eyes, but he wasn’t in the position to complain. The girl he’s staring at and his lover might be the same person but she’s yet to know him here. She’s yet to know that he’s hers. She’s yet to know that he loves her. She’s yet to know that he belongs to her.

“Sorry, but have we met before?” She asks, still staring back at him “You look very familiar.”

“Uh, no, I don’t think so,” He lied, offering his hand “I’m Five. Five Hargreeves. Viktor’s brother.”

She took his hand, telling him her name, “I didn’t know Viktor had a baby brother.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not really his baby brother. It’s— It’s complicated.” Five could feel his cheeks burning like a little boy, bashful “It’s a long story.”

“You mind telling me about it?” She asks, leaning on the table “I’ve got time. I love hearing stories.”

“I know you do,” He says with a big smile “Well, where do I start..”

[beiasluv]

tis the dilf season | j. button (22)

a/n: ignore the timeline cuz it’s a mess (I actually tried to do the maths) enjoyy 🤭

yourinsta

liked by fernondoalo_official, aussiegrit and 482,167 others

yourinsta and the summer break begins! thank you everybody for this amazing season, it has been an honor to work as your engineer this season and looking forward to the next!

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jensonbutton ❤️

liked by yourinsta

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yourinsta

liked by lewishamilton, jensonbutton and 386,627 others

yourinsta wdym you guys won’t play mermaids with us??? 👎

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jensonbutton I deeply apologise. dinner, my treat.

yourinsta deal 😊🫶

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yourinsta’s story

reply

jensonbutton: what is a 0.5? also, garage in 10 minutes, darling.

: it’s a secret 🤭

: okieee

jensonbutton: quickly then ♥️

f1gossips

liked by username, username and 37,101 others

f1gossips yn ln was seen entering the paddock and completing her track walk for the mclaren team grand prix this weekend. jenson button not spotted near or anywhere today.

admin, reported.

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username miss gurl came straight back from summer break to work, grind that grind gurl.

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jensonbutton

liked by mclaren, yourinsta and 696,517 others

jensonbutton it’s great to be back on the grid. (and to be working with my favourite engineer again. ♥️) yourinsta

view all 211,503 comments

yourinsta thank you, mr. button ✌️

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liked by jensonbutton

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yourinsta

liked by aussiegrit, jensonbutton and 503,871 others

yourinsta happy birthday to my (second) favorite news reporter and some driver I guess 🤭 aussiegrit !!

thanks for taking care of my brit! have fun in the retirement gang, hope to see you soon!

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aussiegrit cheers! 😁

yourinsta 🫶

username she can’t even post a happy birthday post without jenson 🙄

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jensonbutton

liked by yourinsta, sebastianvettel and 472,106 others

jensonbutton pretty sure it was her idea.. (love you ♥️)

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yourinsta it was mark’s 😔✊

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yourinsta 🤭 maybe

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yourinsta’s story

reply

yourinsta

liked by jensonbutton, danielricciardo and 452,627 others

yourinsta race dump, and you’re welcome for the surprise guest this weekend 😚

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username EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU MISS GURL

okay…I started simping for him because of a tiktok edit 🤷‍♀️

like, reblog, COMMENTT if you liked it 😚 if not, then why not?

today’s a great day to take care of yourself!!

[twilightcitysky]

Whooooo okay, so. Thoughts.

You can get a lot done in 90 mins. Many books are made into 90 minute movies.

(Season 2 was 6 episodes... but maybe 90 minutes of it total was actually *necessary*.)

Think about what we've learned. Neil wasn't the person we thought he was, and it showed in his treatment of a story we all love. He said himself that he gave fans what they wanted (in terms of the kiss), but we "wouldn't like it." His ego thrived on manipulating, ridiculing and generally stirring up the fan base. The more upset and vulnerable we were, the more satisfied he felt. What do you think, then, was in store for us in his Season 3? Do you think his scripts would have left us feeling satisfied, even if we got the cottage ending?

The new producer doesn't know GO, but the cast and crew love this world and love the story. I'm going to choose to trust that a group of people that overall has been so united and wonderful, so very much on the same page in terms of this love story, will see things through. And I'm excited for an ending that truly is for us... because let's face it, we almost didn't get an ending at all. A TV show that gets rocked in this fashion generally does one of two things: cuts ties and continues if there's enough financial incentive to do so (think House of Cards, Rick and Morty-- both of which are/were MUCH bigger and more profitable than GO), or cancels. Considering how long it took to greenlight S3 and Mickey's "We did the impossible" post on X, I'm sure Amazon was on the verge of pulling the plug. (I'm not going to talk about my opinion on the ethics of these decisions. I'm just saying it's reality. Corporations care about their bottom line and their optics.)

It'll be okay. Let's be optimistic. Neil is gone, the story will continue, and they're doing it for us.

(Last thought: remember that-- in a different reality where Neil Gaiman actually is the person we thought he was-- we might not have gotten anything more satisfying in terms of the A/C love story. Neil doesn't think "settled relationships" are good television. He wouldn't let them lay a finger on each other until the very last episode, I guarantee it.)

(Also, this is the guy who decided that "Crowley lives in his car and Aziraphale doesn't know or doesn't care" made any kind of fucking sense; no, I'm not over it yet.)

[bouquetface]

PAC: The end of your 2024

Please keep in mind, I am very specific in my readings. Not every reading you come across it for you. Don’t let the content stress or excite you too much. Take it as entertainment.

IF YOU CANT DECIDE BASED ON PHOTO, EACH PILE BEGINS WITH ASTRO PLACEMENTS THAT I PICKED UP ON.

1

WARNING: This reading contains darker topics like death. Please keep in mind tarot isn’t set in stone. It’s a read of the current energies surrounding the topic.

YOUR PLACEMENTS:

Scorpio Asc/First House

Pisces Moon esp @ 10-15 degrees

Libra Moon esp @ 7-9 degrees

Gemini Asc/First House

This reading begins with a change in home and family. This may have already occurred or soon will this Fall.

Some of you may be moving. Some of you may have a family member or roommate moving out. Some of you may experience a death in the family - pet, elder parent or grandparent or aunt/uncle, etc. There is a letting go occurring in the home and family.

For most, this is not a surprise. You may have planned the move for the Fall. You may know this family member or roommate is leaving. You may know someone in the family is very sick - comments about death/dying may have already been made.

This change in home and family will have taken place Aug-October. As a result, late Oct- early Nov, you will now step into a new chapter of life.

Potential changes pile 1 will experience:

❤️‍🔥 You may begin to change/adapt to your new way of living in your new home environment.

❤️‍🔥 You may make changes to your appearance. These changes could be on the face. Ex: New hairstyle, New skincare, Lip filler, Eyelash extensions, etc. Be cautious of impulsive change. Some may regret this change later.

❤️‍🔥 You may feel inspired to embrace sag themes- make plans or take action on travel & higher education. You may feel philosophical - questioning or embracing your religious/spiritual beliefs.

In November, you will meet new people. This could be due to a new career/job, having moved to a new place or school, etc. This person or people could have sag placements, be from a different ethnic, racial, or religious background.

In November, 2nd H is highlighted. Income, possessions, and money in general are prominent. By late Nov - early Dec, you could find a job, be promoted, or make a big financial choice (selling a possession, purchasing something big).

Be sure to read the fine print. Don’t be impulsive with your choices around this time. Rather than a physical appearance change, it may be this financial change you regret. There is a lot of room for error around this time. Regret may be dramatic. It’s more likely you may make a clerical error that will be an inconvenience to go fix.

2

YOUR PLACEMENTS:

Sag South Node esp @ 15-18 degrees

Libra Rising esp @ 6-1 degrees

Cancer Mars esp @ 25-29 degrees

You could have conflict with a family member early Fall. This may be a sibling or someone who acts immaturely. Or they could be a literal child. Major childish energy from this person.

You could be cutting ties with this person. It may not be forever for most of you. Some of you simply need to temporarily let this person go in order to regain your peace of mind.

Nov-Dec, Venus themes are prominent - money, love, beauty. South Node card indicates it’s because there is a decrease/letting go. It may be karmic for some of you.

Some of you could end a relationship (platonic, romantic or business). It won’t be a surprise. You’ll likely feel this connection fading out early Fall. The disappointment or stress from this could make you care less for yourself. You may indulge yourself with food or shopping. However, if you are the person who neglects themselves when sad, you may unintentionally loose weight.

You could feel very drained nov-dec.

Possible EXAMPLES:

💜 You could make financial purchases that literally drain your bank account.

💜 You could feel very tired and unmotivated. Seasonal depression.

💜 For some of you in specific, the drained and tired feeling is due to a health matter - pregnancy, cold/flu, injury, etc.

Unfortunately, mid to late Fall seems to be a lot of deep reflecting. You could feel hopeless. You could question the path you’re on. There will be some good moments - you could be celebrating someone else (birthdays, graduation, weddings, engagement, etc).

Truthfully, it seems seeing this event (in person or on socials) will only make you feel worse about your own situation. There is so much inner turmoil here. None of it seems to be coming as a surprise.

On the bright side, at the end of Dec, it seems you are replanning for the future. Some of you may find a new job or be promoted.

3

YOUR PLACEMENTS:

Aqua Rising/First house esp early degrees

SCORPIO MC esp @ 7-10 degrees

Venus Gemini esp @ 20-25 degrees

Scorpio Placements esp @ 7-19 degrees

🍂🍂🍂 🍂🍂🍂

This reading starts with a shocking & sudden change. You may have already experienced this or soon will.

Possible manifestations of this:

🍂 You could have made sudden changes to your appearance.

🍂 You could be changing your life direction. Your mindset towards life could be changing. It may be initially darker.

🍂 You may have undergone some kind of crisis. You could be having troubles with home or family. You could have experienced a painful ending of some sort.

There are some feelings & thoughts you can’t repress anymore. This will become more clear early Fall.

10th H Card - This suggests this change may have to do with your reputation and career. Late Oct - Early Nov, you may get a fresh start in career - new job, promotion, new role, etc. You may embrace a teacher role regardless of what you do. People may look to you for help around this time.

You could feel powerful. Some of you will seriously be stepping into a higher role/elevated status.

You may meet people especially Nov-Dec. There is potential for romance. Either you or them will approach cautiously due to past experiences. I can’t promise this spark will go far for everyone. Some of you may find this person or you want to keep things casual/friendly.

[missnancychavez]

So I am on my third rewatch of Twisters. So here are some of my own personal headcanons and theories for the movie and some parallels that may add weight to those theories.

1. The original 5 friend group dynamic: Jeb and Praveen have known each other for years and are each others best friend. Javi and Kate are the dynamic duo (basing it on the fact that they were the only ones to do the handshake together). And Addy is everyone's little sister. Her and Kate were extremely close, but in a different way than her friendship with Javi.

2. Tyler Owens is the nephew of Bill and Jo on Bill's side (As we knew Jo didn't have any sibling). He spent his summers with them as a kid, and then as a teenager, he moved in with them full time. He started chasing with them around then, too. He even pays homage to that as he is driving a newer model of Bill's red dodge ram.

3. Boone and Lily have something going on. The way Boone screams her name as she gets picked up by the wind. And their personalities are perfect together. You can't convince me otherwise.

4. Kate and Tyler kiss in the truck after the chase they go on straight from the airport at the end of the movie. (Refer to point 8)

5. Kate puts in her resignation almost immediately, and Javi cuts ties with Riggs and Scott. The wranglers and Kate join StormPAR. Kate and Tyler spend the off-season working with Javi while the others do their own gigs, but during the storm season, they are all chasing and gathering data.

6. Cathy is so encouraging of her daughter because she's been through loss before. They called her Mrs. Carter, meaning she was married. Kate's dad died when Kate was a little girl. Cathy had to learn how to navigate being a young mom and tending a farm on her own. But she also knows that it could stop her from living her life. So she didn't. She grieved, and she learned to live with the grief and still do what she loves. It's why she is so encouraging of Kate getting back out there.

7. Kate stayed in OK for another couple of weeks after the tornado (neither her nor Tyler appeared injured in the final scene, and the truck looks great, all things considered, so clearly they had time tp heal and fix the truck.) They all were forcibly invited back to the farm by Cathy after Tyler and the wranglers went to drop Kate off post El Reno. Cathy took one look at Tyler and forced him in the house. Kate gave herself a headache from laughing so hard. She was then sent inside alongside him. Cathy made everyone stay for as long as they needed. But she did, however, get some free labour from it. It was an unspoken agreement that Kate's was now home base.

8. By the credit scenes, Kate and Tyler are together. Their first kiss was immediately after the two of them went chasing from the airport. Something about their adrenaline rushing, and it being just the two of them. It was electric. It was immediate. It just happened, and when they pulled back, they both started laughing. It reminded him of the first time they chased together, just the two of them. Kate delayed her flight for another two days. She was back home within the month. Tyler quickly realised he would have to start bribing Boone afterwards on the days he and Kate went out.

9. Kate and Boone will play card games at night to see who gets shotgun the next day, when Boone isn't riding with Lily, of course. Turns out, Kate's damn good at playing poker. On the rare occasion that Kate drives, Boone automatically hops in the back of the truck. He won't tell anyone, but he loves it when she drives. She gets this manic energy about her in the drivers seat and his adrenaline always ends up pumping. Tyler loves it, too, but he has no qualms verbalizing his affections toward her.

10. Tyler has nightmares now. Of watching Kate drive into the tornado. Of finding her body, discarded and broken by his truck. Of her slipping through his fingers during a storm. He wakes up sweating and panicking. And it's only when he sees her that he can calm himself down. The two of them, those first two weeks after El Reno, would spend hours each night, sitting in the barn, going over formulas. Or sitting outside on the tree swing, talking until they were both too exhausted to have any nightmares. When she left to go back to New York, she wasn't particularly surprised when one night she awoke to her phone ringing, Tyler close to having a full blown panic attack as he tried and failed to reassure himself that she was okay without her help. They would always call each other before bed after that, usually falling asleep over facetime.

[barrymccaulkinem]

aw man. I dont think they should have kept kevin spacey on but it is a real shame they had to scrap the planned season 6. what they teed up looked so good

[inky-duchess]

Etiquette of the Edwardian Era and La Belle Époque: Ball

This is a new set of posts focusing on the period of time stretching from the late 19th century to the early 20th Century right up to the start of WWI. I'll be going through different aspects of life. This series can be linked to my Great House series as well as my Season post and Debutant post.

Let's throw a ball, my darling. It is the age of elegance and opera gloves. Etiquette during these events was as intregal as the music. So let's delve in and dance the night away.

Preparing to host a Ball

Balls in this period weren't just little get-together with a little music in the corner. These were large productions and required the entire household to pitch in. The ballroom would have to be cleaned, chandeliers would need polishing. Any large halls would need to be cleared of any furniture to accommodate a large crowd. If throwing a ball, you need to set aside more rooms than just the ballroom. You will need a room to store any cloaks, coats and hats (a valet and lady's maid would have charge of this), a room for refreshments and sometimes a room set up for any other entertainment such as cards. The dining room would also be needed for a supper (yes, suppers are expected). A ball requires the best of the best. Musicians would be hired, the kitchens will be slaving all day, butlers will be decanting the best wines and select the finest liquor, and rooms made up for anybody thinking of staying the night. The kitchens will have to prepare light snacks as well as the late supper, so everything must be cooked at exactly the right time and kept in optimum condition until needed. A red carpet would be laid from the front door right down to the pavement with an awning to keep the worst of the weather off. Invites should be sent out a few weeks prior and should attempt not to clash with any other event, you may compete who has the best ball but you should never force guests to snub another to go to your ball. Servants should be prepared for a long night, so they may dine earlier in the day to sustain them. Footmen would wait outside to open carriage doors and direct guests to the door. The butler would have to greet them, announce their arrival (not by order of rank but simply in the order they arrive) in the hall and then toward the coat rooms to relieve themselves of any coats or hats. These balls were very expensive affairs. Between food, drink, entertainment, their clothes, wages and getting their house up the snuff, a host could expect to fork out thousands if not more. Alva Vanderbilt's great costume ball cost her $6 million in today's valuation ($250,000 in her era).

The Hosts on the Night of the Ball

The hosts of the ball should be ready to recieve guests promptly. The lady of the house should be downstairs an least an hour before kickoff to check the work of the servants and provide last minute commands. The hosts would wait in the hall and greet guests. The butler will announce every guest while valets and lady's maids take charge of any coats. After guests have shed their coats, they would then greet the host, usually exchanging a few words and thanking them for the invitation before being escorted into the ballroom. The hosts would usually begin the ball themselves or if there was a guest of honour, they would allow them to open the ball. Dancing is only meant to begin with the invitation of the hosts. If there's music playing, it's not an invitation to dance. Hosts have a duty to ensure everyone is having a good time. They will be expected to dance and ensure people are partnered.

Guests

Guests are expected to arrive in a certain time frame. Balls usually begin quite late into the night, usually around 10pm. It would do no good to arrive too early and ride to arrive midway without a viable reason. There may have been a previous event, such as a theatre engagement or an opera so if you are coming from there and everybody eksevgas arrived on time and you show up late, you had best apologise. Guests must only attend if they have been invited by the hosts. You can't just rock up to a ball and expect to be admitted. If a guests wishes to have a friend who is a stranger attend the ball, they can request for the host to invite them. Guests will arrive by carriage or on foot if they live nearby. If arriving by carriage, one must allow for appropriate space between coaches and room for them to pull out. Also, it is a good idea to remind your driver when to collect you. Guests are always expected to greet the hosts as soon as they can, thank them for the invitation and be courteous at all times. Guests should not comment negatively on anything the hosts have provided such as the food or music, it's better to reserve opinion until another less public event. Guests are encouraged to mingle but strangers must be introduced by a mutual acquaintance or even the host. Wandering off through any section of the house not designated as part of the ball is prohibited as is sneaking off into the gardens. Also if one expects to stay for the night (say you live far away and have travelled to get there) you must have requested it of the host a few days at least before.

Dancing Etiquette

Dancing is one of those things in this era that isn't just a pastime but a ritual. Men asked women for the privilege of a dance, a waltz perhaps. Women would not ask a man. Women would have dance cards where gentlemen could request to partner them for certain dances. If a woman has turned down a gentleman for any reason but has no designated partner for the dance, she must sit that particular dance out. A lady should limit dances with the same partner lest it be a root of scandal: it is not considered terrible to dance two dances with the same partner but questionable if you were to dance with the same partner for multiple dances in a row. It is frowned upon for a lady to reject a dance partner when it is his honour after accepting him earlier. And also highly insulting for a man to spurn a dance partner he has sworn to dance with. It is usually customary for the man to ask whether his partner would like a refreshment, wherein he can escort her to find it. They may chat until the next dance whereupon he must excuse himself with a bow and relieve her of his company so she may dance with her next partner. When supper is announced, the last partner is ecoected to escort his lady into the dining room.

Timeline of a Ball

As stated above, Balls usually start around 10pm (but can be held earlier). Once all the guests have arrived and the hosts enter the ballroom, the dancing can go on. Around 1am there would be a light supper. Small refreshments such as canapés would be available throughout usually offered by footmen stationed around the house. Servants would stay up around the clock to unsure that everything runs smoothly, fetching drinks and later after the ball studying up. Balls would end about 3-4am, whereupon carriages would return to fetch guests and ferry them home. Guests staying would head upstairs. Anybody staying over would be treated to a breakfast in the morning.

Theme

Many balls were themed. Themed balls were usually announced months in advance to allow costumes to be made. A guest should not arrive without having paid attention to the theme as it not only can show poor time management but may be seen as an insult to the host. All guests were expected to adhere to theme where it be a "servant's ball" where they would dress as servants or even a Costume balls are all about extravagance but it's better to rein yourself in (we're side eyeing you, Kate Strong). The grandest costume ball of all time was of course Alva Vanderbilt's grand affair of March 26, 1883. Costume balls were very expensive affairs, with some guests spending up close to thousands of pounds/dollars on their looks. At one ball in 1893, the infamous Bradley-Martin affair, guests spent nearly $400,000 on their costumes - during a particularly bad financial crisis. The overall party cost $10 million.

Dressing for a Ball

Dressing as you know from the previous post is a large part of etiquette of this era. The right costume for the right event is paramount if one wants to make the right impression. Newspapers often wrote about who wore what so it was important to dress your best.

Men must wear a suit or tailcoat, always black. A ball is white tie so he must dress accordingly. He would arrive with a top hat which he would surrender to a valet. He would keep his gloves on when dancing.

Ladies are encouraged to wear a gown usually of a subtle colour with with a décolleté that leaves the upper arms snf shoulders bare. A woman's gown was important as it not only helped her stand out.

A sensible woman for goes her heels and wears pumps to dance as she will be on her feet all night.

Tiaras are beautiful but when dancing all night, it's perhaps best to pick the lightest or go for a simpler headpiece such as a feather or a broach. Wearing a heavy tiara all night while dancing will give you a migraine (it's painful).

Also it's better not to over accessorize. You don't want to be mid spin and all your pearls go scattering across the floor or catch a bracelet in your partners' jacket. Minimalism is best.

A woman may even chose to decorate her gown with fresh flowers.

How to Behave at a ball

Gloves are to be worn at all times when dancing. You only remove your handling food or playing cards. White gloves are preferred but light shades can be forgiven. Gloves for women are worn to the elbow, men's to the wrist.

No lady should arrive at a ball without an escort, either an older woman or a family member.

Men who come to the dance and are unwillingly to dance despite being able to should stay away (I'm not kidding, this is in several etiquette books)

Married couples are not expected to dance together but it is not barred.

A man should always be careful of his lady's train and that of any other. Do not stand on them.

Outward PDA is not permitted. A kiss on the hand or kiss on the cheek is permitted, as is a hand tucked into the crook of an arm but one must swing out of people.

Don't hurry onto the dancefloor (even if it is your song)

When a gentleman seats a lady at the table, he must offer her thanks for her favour.

If a lady does refuse to partner a gentleman but then dances that dance with another without prior agreement, the gentleman is expected to restrain himself from confronting her. He is permitted to never offer her a dance again if this happens.

No lady should ever be unaccompanied at any time. They should have a companion or an escort to make sure they are kept in the loop at all times.

If dancing a set, your choices must be made swiftly and wisely.

A gentleman is without saying barred from going into the women's coat room. That's a no no, stay out of there.

If a gentleman wishes to partner a woman he doesn't know, he must have a mutual friend to introduce themselves and if they don't have one, the host would be on hand to introduce them.

When attending a ball, it's better to avoid heavy topics of conversation. It's better to stick to neutral smalltalk. No party is enjoyable with people standing on soap boxes.

When dancing, good posture is not only favourable but stops the body from any undue movements.

Try not to join in when the dance is midway or almost over. Be prompt.

If your partner is missing, you should not replace them. You should sit the dance out.

The hostess is in charge of ensuring that her female guests are provided with a partner if they wish to dance and gave not been asked.

If a man accompanies a woman to the ball, he's expected to dance with her on her first and last dances of the evening.

If one invites a lady to a ball, a carriage must be provided to ferry her.

Popular dances of the era

Waltz: The Waltz is seen by many as a reserved dance nowadays but in this era it struck many as a questionable dance because of how close the couple must get. It is a simple dance, requiring 6 steps all with a "box step". It's an elegant and popular dance of the time. A gentleman or whoever is leading should place their hand on the waist of their partner and their partner should rest their hand upon their shoulder.

Cakewalk: The Cakewalk had it's beginnings with enslaved peoples on American plantations. It was a satire poking fun of white plantation owners, mimicking the way they behaved at their own balls. It was later adopted into white society who did not get the joke. It was a group dance where multiple couples set themselves in a square (men on the inside), stepping and strutting to the music. In some instances, a cake was awarded to the most impressive couple which gives the dance it's name (also because it was a piece of cake to perform). The Cakewalk is seen by many as the seed of many of the jazz dances that would dominate the 20s.

Polka: A Polish dance. It requires 3 swift steps followed by a hop. The music is at is 2/4. The couples circle about the dance floor.

Krakowiak: A Polish dance for multiple couples. The leading male dancer (from the first pair) leads the steps for all the couples, and on approach to the band must tap his geeks and sing an improvised verse to his partner, the rhythm the band must match. The couples break up to form a circle. The leading couple will remain before the band. The couples would then dance around the room during the rest of the tune.

Mazurka: This is a lively dance, with it's beginnings in Polish folk dance. Couples gather in circles. The dance requires music with a forceful accent on its second beat, in time at 3/4 or 3/8. This dance has no set figure, relying on the skills of the couple yo improvise. However there are over 50 different steps.

Redowa: A Czech dance. The dance begins with a closed position, their clasped hands pointing the direction they will dance. A leader (the first couple) will take a slight leap around his partner with their left foot tmfollowed by a gliding step with their right. This foot must be pointed, the left leg slightly bent and the back straight. The next set turns the leader about toward the front line again, their left leg is now forward and straight, the right now bent. The left leg is now meant to tuck beneath the right leg with is extended backwards. Another leap to the right leg finishes the pattern. The next couple, the follower, begins movement on the early beats where the leader makes moves on the second set of beats

Castlewalk: The leader moves forward while their partner goes backward. The partner is guided around the room, the leader's arm around their right side under whilst their lest hand rests on the leaders opposite shoulder. Their other arms are clasped, held aloft. The leader begins on their left foot, their partner on their right. They will move with gliding steps, stepping on each beat of the music. They will dance in a circle, moving about the room with other couples, their circle gradually growing smaller and smaller on three very quick turns.

Quadrille: The Quadrille is an older dance but still very popular in Gilded Age America. It is made up with a series of 4-6 contredanses (country dances). The Quadrille is a group dance, made up of sets. The standard Quadrille is five parts, the Viennese contains six. Each section is danced with a combinations of figures. A combination was a set of steps and movements. Examples would be the ladies chain (chaîne des dames) or the two hand turn (tour de deux mains).

[togrowoldinv]

To Show Thanks

Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Wanda does all of the cooking for Thanksgiving and you help her see just how thankful you are for her

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Kissing, bathtub sex (W receiving), soft sex

Note: The most wonderful time of year indeed. Enjoy the milf!

Wanda Maximoff Masterlist, Main Masterlist

The house smells of turkey and the holiday season as Wanda stands by the stove. She’s been cooking since the crack of dawn, but she wouldn’t have it any other way.

You’ve helped with a few things, but mostly it’s been Wanda who is putting in the work. The twins run around the house and play as they wait for the company to arrive.

“No! I’m running out of time!” Wanda’s voice breaks you from your thoughts.

“It’s only 5, baby. You still have about an hour until the guests arrive,” you say.

“That’s not long enough,” she says, a sigh falling from her perfect lips. They form into a pout as she observes the work she has ahead of her.

“Well, you could use your magic,” you say.

Wanda smiles but shakes her head.

“No magic today. Just me,” she says.

“You are magic no matter what, my love,” you tell her.

You stand up from your chair and hug Wanda from behind. She sinks into your touch. Dropping a kiss to her cheek, you make her feel relaxed even if for just a moment.

“Tell you what,” you begin. “I’ll get the rowdy boys to set the table and I’ll help you do anything you need. We can do this.”

“We can do this,” Wanda repeats though she’s not sure she believes it.

You kiss her cheek once more for good measure and then you go find the boys. They’re in their room playing Mario Kart.

“Hey guys,” you say. “How about we pause the game and go help Mom get ready for the guests?”

“Okay!” Billy answers easily. He’d do anything for his mom.

“Can we finish this level?” Tommy asks.

“Later, buddy,” you say.

“Okay,” he says, a slight sigh in his voice. He pouts like Wanda does.

“I have a super secret task for the two of you,” you tell them before you leave the bedroom.

“What is it?” Tommy asks.

“Today is Thanksgiving, which means that you tell people that you’re thankful for them. I got your mom a card and I was thinking you two could write a sweet note in it for her. What do you think?”

“Yes!” They both agree. Anything for Wanda.

You smile and lead them to the home office where they work on the card. You leave them to go back and help Wanda. Once they’re done, they come downstairs and set the table.

Wanda was right about timing being close, but you manage to have everything cooked and ready to serve at exactly 6 o’clock.

“We did it!” Wanda says excitedly.

“You did it, babe. All you,” you say.

Wanda smiles softly and places a soft kiss to your lips. The boys feign disgust. Soon, the doorbell rings.

She answers the door and lets guests inside one by one. Steve is first with Natasha, Maria, Tony, Sam, and Bucky not far behind. You remember meeting them all at the boys birthday party, but it’s so nice to see them again.

Everyone gathers around the table and begins to eat Wanda’s wonderful food.

“This is amazing, Wanda,” Steve compliments.

“Yeah, great job, Wanda. Reminds me of home,” Sam says.

Wanda smiles shyly and tries to share the credit.

“No, this is all her. I can cook, but not like this. She’s like professional level good,” you say. Everyone nods in agreement.

“So, how’s everything going?” Maria asks Wanda.

You know what she’s referring to. After Wanda and Vision split up, the woman has gone through a hard time with the divorce and now child custody hearings. You’ve been the bright spot in all of it.

“It’s good,” Wanda says. “I didn’t know going to court would be so expensive but it’s almost over.”

“I’d sue his ass for what he’s put you through,” Natasha jumps in. Maria nudges her shoulder but she only shrugs.

You shoot her a smile and she returns a smirk.

“How about we just talk about what we’re thankful for?” Steve, ever the peacemaker, tries to change the subject.

“Great idea,” you agree. “I’ll go first. I’m thankful for Wanda and her wonderful children and friends.”

Wanda smiles and kisses your cheek at your words. You hold her hand under the table. You’ve become her everything over these last few months.

Wanda speaks next. “I’m thankful for friends who have become family, for my precious babies, and for y/n who is truly my best friend.”

Everyone goes around and continues to share what they’re thankful for. Love and laughter fills the air as the hours pass by. After dessert and socializing, the guests go home.

Wanda is in the kitchen running a sink of dishes when you stop her.

“Come with me,” you say, pulling her softly.

“But the dishes, baby. They won’t do themselves,” she tries.

You keep walking and lead Wanda to the living room. The boys are there with Wanda’s card in hand.

“We got you this, Mommy,” Billy says, handing her the card.

“Oh, thank you, baby,” Wanda says. She sits between the two boys. She opens the card and tears fill her eyes.

“We all signed it to say we’re thankful for you,” Tommy explains.

“Wow,” Wanda says softly. “This is so sweet. I’m so thankful for you guys too.”

Wanda kisses them both on the forehead as they lean into her. She reaches out to you too and you join the snuggle pile.

“Can we finish our level before bedtime?” Tommy asks after a moment.

“Yeah go ahead boys. Mom and I will be up to tuck you in soon,” you tell them. They hug you both before running up the stairs.

Wanda tries to get up but you pull her gently back onto the couch. She lands on your lap and you grin at her.

“Thank you for the card,” Wanda says.

“That was from the boys,” you say.

“Mhm. I know you were the mastermind,” she says. “I should really clean up dinner.”

“Nope.”

“What do you mean nope?” Wanda asks.

“You, my dear, did all the cooking so I will do all of the cleaning,” you say. “I’ll pour you some wine and you just get to relax, okay?”

You don’t give her a chance to say no. Instead, you kiss her and get up to start cleaning. Wanda sits at the counter and watches you. After a bit, you tuck the boys into bed and finish up cleaning.

“How about a bath?” You ask Wanda, leaning over the counter in a way you know draws her eyes to your chest.

“Only if you’ll join me,” she replies, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Yes please,” you say.

You go to the bathroom together and run the water. Wanda slips off her clothes first and slides into the warm water. You join her and settle in behind her.

She rests her head on your shoulder as you softly run your hands over her body.

“Thank you for today,” Wanda says.

“You did the hard part.”

“No, I mean- you didn’t have to clean up or give me a card or anything,” Wanda explains.

“Oh,” you say. “I just thought you’d like it.”

“I did. I loved it,” Wanda rushes to say. “It’s just- no one’s ever done that for me before. It’s new.”

“You deserve it, Wands. Everything doesn’t have to fall on you. And you deserve to hear how thankful we all are for you,” you say.

“Hmm,” Wanda hums. She turns her head to look into your eyes. “I really love you.”

“I really love you too, Wanda Maximoff.”

She leans up and kisses you. You deepen the kiss and let your hand slip between her legs. Wanda gasps at the feeling.

“Just relax, baby. I’ll take care of you,” you say.

She lets herself relax against you as you move your fingers through her folds. Wanda lets out the sweetest sounds with every stroke. You slip fully into her easily and make quick work of getting her to her high.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Let go,” you say softly as she comes against your fingers.

Wanda’s eyes remain closed in pleasure as you simply hold her against you. She stays there until the water gets too cold and you have to get out.

You get dressed in warm pajamas and snuggle into bed next to each other. Wanda clings to you.

“I’m so thankful for you,” Wanda says as her eyes droop closed from exhaustion and relaxation.

“I’m thankful for you too, Wanda. I always will be,” you tell her.

With one more shared kiss, you two fall into a deep slumber that lasts until morning.

Wanda has never been so happy and that’s all thanks to you.

[cinewhore]

The Only Exception

Pairing: Michael Berzatto x fem!reader

read extended cut here [x]

Word Count: 2.6k 

Warnings: mentions of drinking, toxic family dynamics, smut 18+ (groping, male receiving oral, penetration, unprotected sex, facial cumshot). fluff and some angst! 

A/N: girlies, the whore jumped out! Takes place during episode 6 season 2. Credit to the gif creator! I hope y’all enjoy it. 

Nothing ever goes smoothly with the Berzatto’s.

Why you thought this holiday dinner was going to be any different was beyond any rational comprehension.

Trying not to be a complete klutz and ruin the side dish you’ve been working on the entire day, you delicately balance it in your left hand while adjusting your scarf tighter around your neck with your right. Putting a pep in your step, you round the corner from where you parked, spotting the stoop instantly.

It was a rare sighting to see all three of the Berzatto siblings together. With Carmy being away at culinary school, Mikey doing his own thing with the restaurant and Natalie living her life, one person always missed the other. It warmed your heart to see just how much they cared about each other, even if they didn’t show it in a normal or healthy way.

“Is that who I think it is?” Mikey’s voice booms over the light traffic passing by, handing Carmy the cigarette he was puffing on.

You crack a smile, despite it feeling like your lips were stuck together due to the cold weather. “Sorry, I’m a bit late. Fuckin’ cat had my keys.”

“How many times did I tell you to get rid of the cat?” Mikey leans down to kiss you but you turn your head, forcing him to peck you on the cheek instead.

“C’mon, baby.” he drawls, throwing you a bashful smile.

You huff out a sigh, lowering your voice. “You know I hate the smoking.”

Mikey nods, face fading into something serious before vanishing. “I know you do. You didn’t bring fish, did you?”

Side-stepping the tall Berzatto, you get pulled into a hug by Natalie, followed by Carmen.

“Hello, gorgeous! It’s so good to see you!” Natalie kisses you on both cheeks before making the move to grab the dish out of your hands. You pull back, shooting her a look.

“Nat, please. I got it.”

“Are you sure?” you watch as her bottom lip quivers a bit. You steal a glance at Carmy, who just shakes his head.

“Fuck. How bad is it?” you gaze at the disheveled trio, awaiting an answer.

Finally, Mikey breaks the silence.

“It’s at a five. Six, at best.”

You lick your lips, rocking back and forth on your heels. “That’s not too bad, right?”

“Right.” Carmy agrees, with Natalie humming in agreement.

“Just don’t fucking ask if she’s doing ok.” Mikey glimpses at his sister, placing hand on your lower back to guide you into the house.

You take a deep breath and exhale through your nose, plastering a smile on your face before entering the shit show.

You’d only been there an hour and you were called the wrong name three times, objectified, cursed at and now Fak was trying to get you to put up five hundred dollars for baseball cards.

Listening with great intent, nodding at all the right times and twirling the wine glass in your hands desperately wanting to get another refill had your social energy spent.

“We could make you a lot of money, cousin.” Fak goes on, nudging his brother for support.

“Yeah-yeah! Think about what you could do with fifteen hundred bucks! Cold hard cash!” the lookalike chimes in.

“Wow, no, yeah this-this sounds like the opportunity of a lifetime.” you murmur. Don’t take it the wrong way, you loved Fak. His personality was infectious, you’ve never seen him get overly angry despite the other guys giving him shit constantly and he genuinely goes out of his way to help everyone. Back when you first started dating Mikey and moved apartments in the city, Fak volunteered to make sure your place was in tiptoe shape and refused payment.

Just then Steve, Michelle’s husband, passes by and you seize your opportunity.

“Steve! How are you?” you beckon him over, scooting over on the tiny couch so he could sit beside you.

“Ah, yes. Mikey’s girl who we aren’t sure how he managed to snag. Good to see you again.”

You brush off his comment with a tired smile, gesturing to Fak and his brother. “So, these guys have a proposition for you, right?”

You nod enthusiastically with them, giving Fak a secret wink.

“Oh, yes! Yes! Do you like baseball cards, Steve?”

“On that note,” you stand up and maneuver yourself out the nook. “I’m gonna go get a refill. Leave you gentlemen to handle business.”

Mocking a military salute, you dash towards the kitchen bypassing other members of the family.

Donna flurries around the kitchen, shouting instructions to no one in particular. You didn’t greet her as soon as you came in, knowing how she gets around this time of the year. To be honest, you were sure that she didn’t exactly like you.

“Donna, my goodness! You look wonderful.” you lay the complement on sweetly, smiling brightly. If you don’t wilt in her presence, she wouldn’t be able to smell the fear on you.

Donna swivels her head to look at you, cigarette dangling from her lipstick smeared lips. Eyes lined in thick mascara, her disapproving expression ripples through you. You smile wider.

“I brought over a little casserole. I figured it would compliment the fish nicely.”

Shifting to face you fully, Donna crosses her arms. “Casserole? What casserole?”

You point to the tin foiled dish. “That one. Mikey brought in, did he not tell you?”

She scoffs. “Yeah, just like he told me about him breaking things off with what’s her name.”

“Anna.” you mutter, swallowing the lump that quietly made its way up your throat.

“Yeah, Anna.” Donna turns back to the task at hand, haphazardly swinging a knife about. “I liked her better.”

Forgoing your much desired glass of wine, you stalk out of the kitchen. On the outside looking in, the Berzatto’s appeared to be your average family. The warm glow of the lights shining out into the frost covered sidewalks invited you in all those years ago and once inside, you then realized why people were so hesitant to accept invites or why Mikey refused to bring up his past.

You didn’t have this growing up. Your family life was much quieter, mom and dad both kept to themselves. Distant cousins never visited for the holidays and you were an only child so there weren’t any siblings to fall back on.

It was boring.

Drove you crazy.

So when the Berzatto’s welcomed you in with open arms (well, some of them) you threw yourselves to the wolves willingly. It helped you grow a thick skin, talk over people and man handle the biggest guys in the room. For that, you were thankful.

A hand reaches out and grabs your wrist, dragging you away from everyone and up the stairs. Mikey is headstrong in his quest to get you alone, not caring to see if you were keeping up the pace. You both stagger inside his room, the door shut soundly behind you, followed by the lock turning.

Mikey doesn’t give you a second to react, mouth leaving open tongued kisses along your jaw and collarbone, hands working at tugging up your skirt.

“Mikey, baby, baby, wait-” you plead, backing up to create space between the two of you.

He flops onto the bed, hands on his knees, fingers raking through his hair again and again.

You’re careful as you sit next to him, scratching your own fingers along the center of his back. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” is all he utters.

“Bullshit. Talk to me.”

He doesn’t have to say anything else, you get it. The party continues below you both, profanities and insults flying like it's nobody's business. It was too much. For Mikey, Camry, anyone. The more time you spent with his family, the more you realized why Carmen never came back to visit. Why Michelle skipped out of town and up to New York. Anything to keep the family an arms distance away. 

Why Mikey feels trapped.

“I know.” you whisper against his shoulder, mouth pressing in tiny kisses. You lift his head up with both of your hands, cradling his face gingerly. The tiredness exudes for nearly every crevice, eye bags worn and solidified. You use your thumb to smooth out his forehead, laughing softly when he wrinkles it more.

“You’ll always have me, Berzatto.”

“I don’t deserve you. Never did.”

You tut. “That’s not true. You’ve always had me. From the moment you sold me that greasy, sloppy sandwich down at The Beef. I was a goner.”

Mikey chuckles, leaning into your hands more. “I got you something.”

Your eyes go wide, brows forming a skeptical look. “Is that so?”

Mikey flickers his eyes down to his pants and you scoff.

“Wow, Michael. Are you gifting me your penis? Again? I must’ve been too nice this year.” you gently slap his face in mock anger.

“Haha,” he deadpans. “Try my pockets, detective wiseass.”

You let go of his face and rummage through his pants pocket, producing a ball of torn tissue paper, kept together by a single piece of tape. Confused but curious, you unwrap the gift, facing dropping as your eyes find his.

The tissue tumbles to the ground, revealing a necklace. At the bottom of it dangled a charm of…cheese?

“I remember the first day you came into the shop. Like a goddamn bat outta hell. Never seen anything like it. You ordered a grilled cheese sandwich and asked for, um, what was it?”

“Havarti-”

That’s right! Fuckin’ havarti cheese! What the hell even is that?”

“How do you own a sandwich shop and not provide a variety of cheeses, I don’t understand it.”

Mikey gawks at you. “Babe, we’re called The Beef. Not the cheese. But you wanna know what I did?”

You encourage him to finish, as if you didn’t know the rest of the story.

“I told you to wait and-and I was gonna go check in the back. I booked it out of the back door, all the way down to Malik’s corner store and bought the most expensive cheese he had. I rush back to the shop and guess what?”

“You made the sandwich.”

Mikey’s face cracks into the biggest grin you’d ever seen, eyes crinkled at the corners. “I made the goddamn sandwich. Brought it out to you myself. Told you that we didn’t serve grilled cheese but for you, I’d make an exception.”

Your eyes well over in tears and you blink rapidly to keep them from falling. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone has done for me, ya know.”

“You’re telling me all I had to do was buy you some cheese to get in your pants? Hot damn.”

You playfully shove Mikey back against the bed, crawling over to straddle him. “Well, it worked after a while, didn’t it?”

Mikey thrusts upwards, growing erection sliding against your damp underwear.

“It sure did.”

He grabs the back of your neck, surging up to slot his mouth against yours. You aren’t delicate in the way you claw at him, nails digging into his tanned flesh. Pushing up your skirt, Mikey palms your ass, stroking it before landing a hard smack against it. You moan into his neck, biting down.

“Perkiest ass I’ve ever seen, baby, shit.” Mikey groans, voice an octave deeper.

“And it’s yours. All yours.”

Mikey secures the back of your head as he flips the two of you over, pushing you down on your stomach. You do the rest of the work for him, sticking your ass up, and curving your back into an arch.

Mikey readily pulls down the zipper of his pants, hands readjusting his briefs until he is able to free himself. Spitting obscenely in his palm, Mikey shoves your panties to the side and rubs his saliva across your slickness. You buck back into him, whimpering when he graces you with a lone finger to loosen you up. You whine and wiggle your ass some more, ready to receive all that he was going to give you.

“Gonna give my baby what she wants, don’t you worry.” Mikey purrs, aligning himself to enter you. He slides in easily, the strained sigh as he fully situates him inside you never ceasing to make you wetter.

You pull yourself up so that you were resting on your hands, peeking over your shoulder to catch a gaze at Mikey as you begin to fuck him. He was enthralled at the sight of his cock pumping in and out of you, the way you were able to handle him without saying a single word.

He would love to take his time and thoroughly explore your cunt but time is of the essence. Wrapping his right hand around your neck once again, he yanks you up into a deeper arch, left hand on your hip in a deathgrip. He meets your thrusts with his own, dropping his left leg down on the floor to gain some balance.

Between the familial bickering creeping up the stairs, all that could be heard was the squelching of your pussy and the labored breathing of Mikey, muffled praises spurring you on further.

He slaps your ass again and you tighten around him, eyes rolling to the top of your head as you attempt to hold onto his arms for dear life.

“Mikey, oh fucking god, baby you’re gonna make me come so hard. Please, please, please!”

He answers you by sticking his fingers in your mouth and you automatically clamp down on them, sucking and gagging until spit dribbles down the side of your mouth.

Mikey picks up speed and the coil inside you breaks as you reach your peak, legs stiffening as you rear back against Mikey. He continues to fuck you, albeit at a slower tempo, humming as you spasm against him.

“That’s my girl, my favorite fucking girl. Where do you want mine, huh? Tell me where you want it.”

He removes his fingers and lets them trail down to tease and pick at your hardened nipples that now poke through your shirt.

“I wanna taste. Want it in my mouth.”

“Fuck.” Mikey lets you go and you catch yourself before you fall completely face first into the bed.

“Get on your knees, now.”

You do as you're told, scurrying to position yourself on your knees in front of Mikey. Mouth open and head tilted back, you let a hand caress your breast as the other slithers up his thigh.

Mikey is affectionate as he goes to grab the back of your head, other hand tirelessly stroking his cock. A vein pops out of forehead as he grunts, a few milky droplets coating your face, before steady ropes accompany it. A few of them land in your mouth and you swallow it all eagerly.

Mikey tries to calm his breathing, watching you with hooded eyes as you lick at the tip of his cock, cleaning up the remnants of yourself off of him. You take him down all the way to the shaft for shits and giggles, pulling off of him with a low pop.

“Goddamn devil.”

You wink, swiping at the mess you could feel dripping on your face. Mikey helps to clean you up, both fixing each other’s clothes to appear less wrinkled. Seemingly ok with your appearance, you start to head downstairs but Mikey stops you.

He steps behind you, lifting up the necklace he got you. He fastens it, walking to your front to admire it.

You grab his hand and bring it to your mouth for a kiss.

“It’s you and me, Berzatto.”

“You and me.”

Exhaling heavily, you open the door to reenter the Berzatto family chaos, a new found confidence lighting your path.