#I just had to read a post implying this and I’m seething

[kingtycoon13]

Hey Gale tag can y’all not shit on Wyll if you wanna try to argue why Gale actually would be a good dad because it’s fucking weird and gross

[mononijikayu]

don't look back in anger — gojo satoru.

“They have no right, my love.” you say, trying to keep your voice steady but failing. “After everything you’ve done, everything you’ve given—how dare they blame you?” Satoru doesn’t look at you, his bright blue eyes half-lidded, fixed somewhere distant. His signature smirk is missing, replaced by an unfamiliar stillness. “It’s not surprising, baby.” he mutters, voice barely above a whisper. “They always need someone to blame. KIlling the higher ups is just a step. The rot still exists from some people’s thinking, you know?”

GENRE: post hidden - inventory arc (2010s)

WARNING/S: spoilers for chapter 269 of jjk, domesticity, fluff, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, depiction of blood, depiction of killing, depiction of suffering, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;

WORDS: 3k words.

NOTE: i decided to write this really REALLY fast before uni because i can't stop thinking about how angry i am that satoru isn't being mentioned in the latest chapters. and i just needed to let this out. thank you a lot for reading it though!!! i love you all <3

masterlist

u s and t h e m

if you want to, tip! <3

IT’S ONLY BEEN A DAY OR TWO SINCE THE BATTLE. But you hover over your husband so constantly that you can’t help but notice the subtle signs—he’s doing his best to be patient with you.

Satoru’s usually the one with the infinite calm, the one who never loses his cool. But every time you adjust his blanket, offer him water, or check in on how he’s feeling, you catch the slightest flicker of exasperation behind those brilliant blue eyes.

He never says anything, of course. Instead, he smiles at you, that teasing grin of his that you know too well. But you can feel it in the way his gaze lingers just a bit too long, in the way his shoulders tense every time you fuss over him. He’s trying to bear it without complaint—because he knows you’re only worried—but it’s there.

“You’re doing it again,” Satoru finally says, a playful edge to his tone, though you catch the weariness underneath.

You blink, momentarily taken aback. “Doing what?”

He chuckles softly, his voice low. “You know what. Hovering.”

Your lips press together in a thin line, knowing he’s right but not willing to back down. “I just want to make sure you’re okay,” you say, trying to keep the defensiveness out of your voice.

“I’m fine,” he replies, his smile softening. “Really. You don’t have to worry so much.” 

You narrow your eyes at him, unconvinced. “You’re still recovering. Let me worry.”

“I know.” He reaches out, taking your hand in his. “But if you keep this up, you’re going to drive yourself crazy. And me.”

Despite yourself, a small smile tugs at your lips. “You? Crazy? Impossible.”

Satoru laughs, shaking his head. “Even I have my limits, you know.”

You lean back slightly, loosening your grip on him, but not without a lingering glance. “Alright, alright. I’ll try to give you some space. But just a little.”

He smirks, a hint of his usual mischief returning. “Just enough to let me breathe, maybe?”

You roll your eyes, but the tension between you eases, the moment settling into something lighter. Still, you can’t help but keep a watchful eye on him, even as you pull back. It’s in your nature to worry—and Satoru knows it.

The ride home from Jujutsu High is thick with tension, the echoes of the conversations from earlier still gnawing at you. Megumi walks beside you, his silence mirroring your own frustration.

The meeting had been a circus of finger-pointing and thinly veiled accusations, and even though Satoru wasn’t there, his name was dragged through the mud as if he had been. Blame for Yuji, blame for the crumbling system—everyone needed a scapegoat, and as usual, they chose Satoru.

By the time you reach the Gojo manor, you’re seething. You can’t shake the bitterness from the gathering—their condescending tones, the way they talked about Satoru like he was a liability instead of the reason half of them were still alive. As though being the strongest changes the fact that your husband is a breathing human being. 

In the view of the water gardens, it was peaceful. And yet all at once, a storm brewed inside of you. You and Satoru sit together in the quiet, as you have been for the past few days now. But unlike these past few days, the view does not make you feel calm and at peace at all.

Instead, your irritation is palpable, your fingers drumming impatiently on the armrest of the chair. Gojo Satoru lies next to you, still recovering, his usual vibrancy dampened by both physical exhaustion and the heavy burden of blame. The weight of jujutsu society’s accusations presses down on the room, though none of them are here to face him.

Across the room, Fushiguro Megumi stands silently, arms crossed, watching you both. He’s fully aware of the anger simmering just beneath the surface, not just at the accusations, but at the complete disregard for Satoru's sacrifices. If anything, he’s just as angry. But he knew better than to say anything. Especially knowing that you were angry. It was better at that point that someone was focused on remaining calm. Otherwise, it would be hellfire. And there was none needed, just after defeating the King of Curses. 

Yet, you both can’t help but feel how deeply it stings. It was ever so easy for everyone in your  world to just forget everything, to not acknowledge what your Satoru has done, reducing him to the villain, the perpetrator of the entire suffering of the Jujutsu world, just because he refused to follow an unjust order—to execute Yuji Itadori, a child caught in forces far beyond his control. 

Just because he could not stop powerful curses and cursed users from doing things that your husband would not have had any knowledge about. Your husband couldn’t have predicted thousand year old cursed users and their greed would do something like this to your world. How is it your husband’s fault, that the rot had gotten that deep in Jujutsu society either? 

You glance at Satoru’s pale face, his breathing still slightly labored. The hurt in your chest deepens, anger mixing with a fierce protectiveness. How could they not see what he’s gone through, what he continues to endure for the sake of others? All you can think is how none of them truly understand what it means to stand at his side, to witness the toll this cursed world takes on him every single day.

The quiet hum of the room feels suffocating, the weight of your frustration finally spilling over. You turn to Satoru, your voice sharp, but layered with concern. You just can’t help it, when it comes to him. You were always so protective of him, even all those years ago. Because if you would not do it, who would? Who would take his side and give such devotion, as equal as his own? Your husband isn’t the type to explain himself, nor is he someone that would let anyone know what he truly feels. He doesn’t think he has to. He does not care.

“They have no right, my love.” you say, trying to keep your voice steady but failing. “After everything you’ve done, everything you’ve given—how dare they blame you?”

Satoru doesn’t look at you, his bright blue eyes half-lidded, fixed somewhere distant. His signature smirk is missing, replaced by an unfamiliar stillness. “It’s not surprising, baby.” he mutters, voice barely above a whisper. “They always need someone to blame. KIlling the higher ups is just a step. The rot still exists from some people’s thinking, you know?”

“But it shouldn’t be you.” you snap, louder this time. You catch Megumi shifting slightly in his spot, his expression unreadable, though the tension in his stance suggests he’s just as frustrated as you are. “You know you aren’t to blame for their ills.”

“They want things to stay the same, Gen–san.” Megumi finally speaks up, his tone controlled but edged with bitterness. “Blaming Gojo-sensei is easier than facing their own failures.”

You clench your fists. “They forget that he’s human. That you—” Your words choke off. You can’t bring yourself to say it. It feels like admitting too much. “It’s just not right.”

Satoru lets out a breath, a soft chuckle following it. “I don’t care what they think. I did what I believed in. I wasn’t going to kill Yuji. He deserves better than that. And... he’s a kid. Just like ‘gumi. I don’t... I don’t have the heart to... you know what I mean.”

His voice falters slightly at the end, and you catch something in his expression that makes your chest tighten. It's rare for Satoru to let his guard down like this, to even hint at the weight he carries, but you can see it now—just for a second, the flicker of doubt, the exhaustion behind those sharp blue eyes.

“You did the right thing,” you say, your voice softer now, though the anger still simmers beneath. “Yuji’s not a tool to be discarded. He’s just a boy.”

Satoru nods, his gaze distant. “Yeah, a boy thrown into the worst situation imaginable. Just like ‘gumi was. Like Yuta was. I couldn’t... I wouldn’t make him pay for their mistakes. I’ve seen what this world does to people like him.”

There’s a heaviness in his words, the unspoken memories of everything he’s witnessed, everything he’s tried to protect the kids from. You know how much it eats at him—how deeply he cares, even if he hides it behind his usual bravado. And as much as he pretends to shrug it off, the toll is evident in moments like this, when his façade cracks ever so slightly.

You step closer, unable to keep the frustration out of your voice. "And you deserve better than this," you retort quickly, anger flaring in your chest again. "You’ve given them everything, and they give nothing back. They act like you’re just another tool for them to use, like you don’t have a heart. And I’m just so angry….”

Satoru finally turns his head, the faintest glimmer of his usual self creeping into his eyes as he looks at you. “Hey, baby.” he says softly, his voice gentler now. “You know I’m not doing this for their thanks. I’m doing it for the kids, for you. For Satoshi. So we’ll be happy.”

You blink, trying to swallow the anger that lingers. “I know that.” you say quietly. “But I can’t stand watching them tear you apart.”

Megumi walks closer, his arms still crossed, a firm resolve in his expression. “We won’t let them, Gen–san. Don’t worry.”

Satoru chuckles again, the sound a little lighter this time. “You two…huh…” He looks between you and Megumi, his tired eyes softening. “Always so serious. So Zen’in, the two of you. Stop frowning. You’ll end up with wrinkles. Believe me, it’s fine. They’ll come around. And if they don’t—well, it’s not the first time I’ve pissed off people, you know?”

His attempt at humor falls flat, the usual brightness behind his words missing. But the effort doesn’t go unnoticed—it tugs at your heart, a bittersweet reminder of how hard Satoru tries to keep things light, even when the world around him is anything but. You can see it in the subtle shift of his shoulders, the slight downward tilt of his head. He’s tired, more than he’ll ever admit, and though he brushes it off with a smile or a joke, the weight of it all is still there—quiet, invisible, but crushing.

Despite everything—despite the accusations, the blame, the endless expectations placed on him—Satoru is still trying to carry the burden alone. It’s always been like this with him, hasn’t it? He wears his strength like armor, his humor like a shield, always standing tall so no one else has to bear the load. But in moments like this, when his defenses slip just a little, you can see the cracks. And it breaks your heart.

You reach out, your movements slow and deliberate, as if any sudden gesture might make him retreat back into that impenetrable shell of his. Your hand finds his, and you gently intertwine your fingers with his, grounding both of you in the simple connection. He doesn’t pull away; instead, he lets out a soft breath, the tension in his body loosening ever so slightly.

“Satoru,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath, “you don’t have to carry this alone. You know that, right?”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. He just looks at your hands, your fingers laced together, and there’s something raw in his expression—something vulnerable that he usually hides behind that ever-present grin.

“I know,” he finally says, his voice quieter than usual. “But sometimes... it’s hard to let anyone else help. I’m used to being the one who fixes things.”

You squeeze his hand a little tighter, your heart aching at the quiet admission. “You don’t always have to be the one to fix everything. You’ve done more than enough.”

He meets your gaze then, his eyes soft but still carrying the weight of someone who’s been fighting battles far too long on his own. “I’m not so sure about that,” he murmurs, his voice tinged with a rare uncertainty.

You hold his gaze, refusing to let him retreat. “You have. And you don’t have to keep proving yourself, especially not to those people. Let us help you. Let me help you.”

For a moment, Satoru just looks at you, as if he’s weighing your words, letting them sink in. And then, slowly, he nods. It’s small, but it’s a start—a sign that maybe, just maybe, he’ll let you share the weight of the world that’s been pressing down on him for so long.

“They don’t deserve you, my love.” you say, quieter now but no less fierce.

Satoru squeezes your hand lightly, a soft smile finally breaking through the exhaustion on his face. "Maybe not. But you’re stuck with me. Because you deserve me. Like I deserve you."

You hold his hand a little tighter, your gaze softening despite the frustration still simmering beneath the surface. "And I wouldn't have it any other way,my love." you murmur, your voice a little steadier now. Satoru’s warmth is a quiet reassurance, but the sight of him like this—so worn down, so unfairly burdened—fuels the anger you can’t entirely let go of.

Megumi stays quiet for a moment, watching the two of you before finally speaking again. “They won’t stop, all of this.” he says, his voice firm. “They’ll keep pushing this, won’t they? Trying to make him the scapegoat.”

Satoru shrugs, his usual bravado creeping back. “Let them try. I’m not exactly easy to get rid of. Living after all that is proof enough.”

You frown, your frustration bubbling up again. "You shouldn't have to keep proving yourself to them, Satoru. You’ve already sacrificed so much, and they act like none of it matters."

He looks at you with those pale blue eyes that somehow always manage to soften, just for you. “What do you want me to do? Step aside and let them tear down everything I’ve built? Everything you, me, and the students have worked for?”

“No, my love.” you say firmly. “But I don’t want you to bear all this alone. You’ve already done more than anyone could’ve asked for.” You pause, the words catching in your throat before you add quietly, “I just want them to think of you, for once. Not what they want from you.”

Megumi nods in agreement, stepping closer. “They’re too busy looking for someone to blame. And they’ll keep at it until they find a way to pin everything on you.” His blue - green eyes darken slightly, a shadow of his own frustrations showing. “But we won’t let them.”

Satoru sighs, though there’s a flicker of pride in his gaze as he looks at Megumi. “You’ve grown up, Megumi.” 

Megumi raises an eyebrow, his expression flat. “I’m not a kid anymore.”

Satoru chuckles softly, but the sound is laced with exhaustion. “No, you’re not. But you always will be to me, kiddo. And I’m glad I’ve got you two watching my back.” He looks at you again, the smile fading as he speaks more seriously. “But don’t let this consume you. I’ll be fine. They can push, they can complain, but I’ll keep doing what I know is right.”

Your heart aches at his words. His strength is undeniable, but it’s the toll that worries you most. You lean forward, your voice quiet but firm. “We’ll face them together. You’re not alone in this, Satoru. Not anymore. We’re here.”

His eyes soften even more, the weight of your words sinking in. “I know,” he whispers, squeezing your hand gently. “And that’s what makes it worth it.”

For a moment, the anger subsides, replaced by a quiet resolve between the three of you. You won’t let them tear him down. Not while you’re by his side. Not while Megumi is standing strong. Together, you’ll face whatever comes next.

epilogue

Satoru holds your hand for a beat longer, the weight of the conversation lingering in the air. But then, in true Gojo Satoru fashion, the somber mood shifts as his signature grin makes a slow return now that you both were finally alone..

“You know, baby....” he says, tilting his head and giving you a playful look. “You’re always swooping in to save me. My knight in shining armor.”

Your eyes widen slightly, caught off guard by the sudden change in tone. “What? I—” You open your mouth to protest, but the words stumble over themselves, not quite landing the way you want.

He leans closer, that mischievous gleam in his eyes growing brighter. “Oh yeah, always protecting me from the big, bad sorcerer world. It’s cute, really.”

You feel heat creeping up your neck, spreading quickly to your cheeks. “Satoru, that’s not—”

“What?” he interrupts, his smirk widening as he watches your flustered expression with clear amusement. “I think it’s sweet. I mean, look at you, always worrying about little ol’ me.”

“Little?!” you sputter, trying to keep your composure as he grins down at you. “You’re the most powerful sorcerer alive, you don’t need saving—”

“And yet, and yet!” he drawls, leaning in even closer, his voice low and teasing,.“Here you are, my personal knight in shining armor. Should I start calling you ‘Sir Baby’?”

Your face is on fire now, and you smack his arm lightly. “Satoru, stop!”

He laughs, the sound light and full of mischief, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Oh, come on. Admit it—you like being my hero.”

You narrow your eyes, trying desperately to compose yourself, but the smile tugging at your lips betrays you. “I’m not your hero,” you mutter, though the words come out far less convincing than you’d intended.

Satoru’s grin softens into something more genuine as he leans back, still holding your hand. “Maybe not. But I wouldn’t mind being rescued by you a little more often.”

You blink, caught between the teasing and the sincerity in his voice. “Satoru…”

He winks at you, breaking the moment with a playful shrug. “What can I say? I like having you around. Blushing and all.”

You groan, turning away slightly, but the smile on your face is impossible to hide. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it, don't you?” he replies, completely unfazed, that cheeky grin never leaving his face.

And, despite everything, you can’t help but laugh. “Unfortunately, I do.”

[superscourge]

Before the Storm [AU drabble]

Summary: An AU where Tails is killed thanks to one of Eggman's plans going sideways, and Sonic goes off the deep end because of it. Shadow confronts him before he does something he'll regret.

Words: 891

TW: Major character death (implied)

Notes: wheeeee i dont think ive posted any sonic-related writing here before??? so this is um. scary. LOL. but i hope it's at least an interesting read <3 dont kill me im just a little guy ok

--

“What do you even think you're doing here, hedgehog?”

Sonic stopped in his tracks with a stomp when he was addressed. He didn’t turn to look at who had spoken; he knew instantly just from the voice. 

“What’s it look like?” he responded. “I’m avenging Tails. That's all there is to it. If you have an issue, then feel free to let me know once I'm done.”

Behind him, about twenty or so feet away, stood Shadow. He stared coldly at the other hedgehog. “You know I’m not going to just stand aside and let you do this, right?”

“Yeah, I figured.” Sonic shook his head a little. “I don’t get why not, though.”

Shadow narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean by that?”

Sonic finally turned to face his rival, and when the two gazes met, Shadow could feel a chill slither up his spine. This…wasn’t Sonic. Not anymore.

“You lost someone important to you, right?”

Shadow’s ears perked. He wasn’t… Was he?

“She was taken from you, even. She didn't deserve it. She wasn't ready.” Sonic stared back at him, almost seeming to challenge him to deny it. “And neither were you.”

Shadow remained silent. He didn’t say a word, his expression unreadable. Sonic, figuring he’d caught him, just continued to speak. “So, I don’t get how you’re not on my side. You know what this situation is like. You lived it. You even tried to destroy the world because of it.” He waved his hand a little. “So why shouldn’t–”

“Let me tell you something.”

Sonic paused once he was interrupted. Across the way, Shadow’s expression suddenly became a bit more clear. He was angry. More than that, really–he was seething.

“The difference between our situations is that while, yes, I did act out of anger and grief and aimed to destroy the world with it, I did it because I thought that’s what she would have wanted.” He let that statement sink in for just a moment before he continued. “I’ve since come to realize that this wasn’t the case at all.”

Sonic’s ears folded back the longer the other went on, but Shadow didn’t let up. In fact, he began to step forward as he spoke.

“You’re right. I do know what it’s like to lose someone dear to me. I do know what it’s like to have someone who could light up the room with their presence alone, have their light be extinguished prematurely. And I do know what it’s like to want to end everything and everyone because of that loss.” He stopped approaching once he was only a couple feet away. “But, do you know the difference between you and me, Sonic? The true difference between our situations?”

He didn’t allow Sonic to respond even if he had wanted to. Instead, Shadow leaned in a little closer, his voice dripping with venom as he nearly spoke through his teeth. “I was able to get it through my head that that wasn’t what she wanted. I was able to pull myself together and not let myself succumb to my own misguided idea of how I was supposed to deal with my loss and grief.” He narrowed his eyes, then. “I was able to accept that causing others to suffer in her stead would not bring her back. Nothing would. And you haven’t accepted any of that.”

Something in Sonic’s chest twisted into a tight knot. His nose scrunched up into a slight snarl as he glared back at Shadow, fists clenched at his sides.

“You’re wrong,” Sonic spat back finally. “You really don’t get it after all. You gave up. You could have gotten them back for what they did to her, but you didn’t. You let them get away with it.” 

The icy look in his eyes told Shadow that his words had gone in one ear and right out the other. He wasn’t going to get through to him.

“So, I guess we are different, yeah. You chose to let Maria’s killers off the hook.” Sonic took a couple steps back. “I’m not making that same mistake.”

Shadow watched him for a few moments, trying to find some sort of sign that this was salvageable. He didn’t want to take drastic measures to stop a disaster from happening…but, this was Sonic. Drastic measures were par for the course when he was involved.

With a resigned sigh, Shadow began to back away as well. He had no intention of leaving, though. Now, he had a mission. “I see.”

Reaching up, he gently grasped the inhibitor ring on his wrist. He didn’t unclasp it–not yet. He was going to give Sonic one last chance to walk away from this. He could see Sonic’s eyes shift to look at the inhibitors before meeting his gaze once again, and he could tell just by that look that he still wasn’t going to back down. So…he supposed that was that.

“There is one thing about you that hasn’t changed, at least,” he noted, finally clicking off the inhibitor. He knew this would be an uphill battle despite the course of action he was going to take. 

“You still don’t know when to quit.”

[takeyourcyanide]

Halfway Apology

AO3

Fandom: soul eater

Word Count: 2 200

Characters: franken stein, spirit albarn

Tags: mild hurt/comfort, tumblr prompt, prompt fic, unethical experimentation, (a mention of it), short one shot, smoking, implied/referenced alcohol abuse/alcoholism, apologies 

Summary: Stein noticed that when wielding Spirit during the fight with Crona that his hands would begin to burn. He decided to discuss this with Spirit as to get to the root of the problem, a root he was already well aware of and prepared to settle.

-

This was born of the tumblr prompt by user prompts-in-a-barrel which reads: “Do you trust me?” “You keep asking me that.” “You keep avoiding the question.”

Notes: Truthfully, I don’t like this and find it a little boring but I’m trying to get back into the groove of writing more regularly and posting said writing the thought disorder and fibro fog combo have me in a chokehold currently as I’ve said in the past

I have some others I’m working on but I grew tired of them I will find more ideas yes yes yes

There was something in particular about the fight with the demon sword and unknown witch that Stein could not help but ruminate incessantly over (not including the two themselves), something that festered within the forefront of his mind and stuck to his brain like sap embracing the bark of a tree. It was something he’d noticed happening whilst gripping Death Scythe’s handle; an almost electric burning, tingling, pulsating sensation rushing through his hands, his palms reddening and sizzling, heaps of smoke billowing from the skin.

“It is a fairly common phenomenon,” he would note to himself. “But it’s a phenomenon that only occurs when two partners’ wavelengths are deeply off balance with one another’s, when they’re separating, severing, - often due to significant problems and a subsequent straining brewing within their relationship.”

He’d continued to fight through the seething pain anyway, as he usually would. But it left a strange pit in his stomach, one that murmured anxiously into his ears over and over again, “Find the answer… find the answer.” And the only way to quell the raging pit was to do as it ordered him, as it practically beckoned him.

Was he a fool for thinking - or, rather, hoping - that their relationship would be just as it had always been, even after years of hardly any contact? Even after Stein’s.. experimental endeavors? Perhaps. Unless there was some other reason as to why. Spirit seemed like his typical self. Was it merely an act? Did he not trust him at all anymore? Did he truly fear him?

Franken leaned back in his chair, heaving a troubled sigh, removing his glasses, and massaging away at the tension headache coming to claim him.

“Am I meant to apologize when I don’t feel guilty? When he knows that I can’t? When it’s been years? …If I tell him that I wish I could, would that make it all better? Likely not. If I tell him that I find him just as fascinating as I ever did, would it all return to that old state of normalcy? What if I tell him I’ve subdued myself? …Or that I value him as an individual? That I have some semblance of care for him? That I seem to miss working with him- being his meister?”

Foreign emotions, foreign sensations and phenomena. The more the years went on, the more he seemed to succumb or at least discover an oddly softer side of himself, even if it wasn’t exactly “orthodox.” What if he allowed Spirit access to the inner workings of that softer side- the ones that Stein had himself only recently managed to access and dissect.

“I’ll try to have a proper talk with him, though there’s no guarantee he’ll comply,” his eyes narrowed in pensivity. “I would prefer not to lose him… or at least not all over again..? Or… I would prefer to gain him back.

^( '-' )^

The bustling of the city streets calmed once Stein turned a certain corner, a multitude of odors crashing into each other like plummeting waves, swirling and mixing; from cigarette and cigar smoke to skunk weed and garbage cans teeming with used needles. It was the portion of the city no one cared to look after, the portion looked down upon - and, conveniently, the portion Spirit could almost always be found in.

The second he opened the door to the scythe’s favorite establishment, the intermingling smells of cheap perfume, leather, and liquor barreled out and into his nostrils, the latter of which Stein knew Spirit was primarily the one to blame for. Too, was he hit with both dim, warm lighting and abhorrently fluorescent lighting, so much so that he could feel as his retinas keeled over, shriveling up and quickly dying.

He grimaced to himself, groaning internally, pawing at his throbbing temples as he had to remind himself why he was even there in the first place. “This is how I get my answer. This is how I lessen the severing-“

“Welcome, sir! Why don’t you have a seat, and one of our girls will be right with you?” Some random blonde woman called out to him from behind a purple desk, fussing with the cash register, a bubbly smile tugging on the corners of her lips.

Stein gave her a small nod of acknowledgment, stepping into the building hesitantly, though dutifully, intently. He promptly scanned each violet booth for crimson locks of hair, his ears searching for either loud laughter or loud bawling, until he eventually landed on the only patron adorning a plain suit and tie, the only patron with his arms so confidently around the employees’ shoulders that it was abrasively obnoxious.

“That’s definitely him,” he knew his body language like he knew the back of his hand, even despite all the years that had passed by.

“Spirit,” Stein politely shooed the ladies, moving to sit beside him in place of the two of them. Thick layers of shock and fright paved their ways onto Spirit’s flushed face at the same time, bending the muscles and flesh to their will and forming into a pooling glaze to sheath his tired eyes within.

“What the hell are you doing here, Stein? You’re the last person I’d expect to be in a place like this.”

“We need to talk,” solemnly, he stated as he observed the near-immediate stiffening of the scythe’s body and expression at his words, his eyes batting back and forth but never once meeting the meister’s gaze. Ostensibly, he even gulped.

“Maybe his usual theatrics are surfacing due to the oncoming stress,” he pondered.

“About what?”

Stein took a slow and deep breath, shutting his eyes as he inhaled, peeling them gradually open as he exhaled. He stared down at his hands for a moment, then raking over the male’s body.

“Do you trust me?” His voice was particularly low, almost gruff. He held an uncomfortable level of eye contact with Spirit, fighting with himself to not embrace the all-consuming vignette and peer into his soul.

Albarn rolled his eyes far into the back of his head, a harsh sigh racking his frame. He sat up straight, shooting Stein an annoyed glare, one of which was difficult to perceive as being threatening when his hands were gently quivering. “You keep asking me that,” he took a swig of his whiskey.

“You keep avoiding the question.”

The bottle met the table with a strident clank, a noticeable pout on Spirit’s lips. He rubbed his fingers along the seams of his dress pants, head turning farther and farther away from Franken.

“I noticed during the fight with the demon-swordsman.. my hands would burn up whenever I wielded you. That is something that only occurs when-“

“I know,” he ran a hand through his hair, tilting his face up toward the black ceiling. “…And why do you think that is, Stein?”

“Oh.. I’m not entirely sure, there could be multiple reasons-“

“Because I don’t. I don’t trust you,” the level of resentment with which he spoke dug deeper into the growing pit, his voice breaking with tremors. “After what you did, I’m not sure I could ever fully trust you again.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to upset you or anything but-“

“Is there nothing that I could do?“

“I don’t know-“

“Not even an apology would suffice?” He gazed at Spirit with something akin to puppy dog eyes, an unfitting cocktail of anxiety and simultaneous curiosity about him, forcing him to shovel down the looming guilt of any possible effects there may have been on Stein from his… well-warranted abandonment.

“There’s no point if you don’t mean it, Stein.”

“I can mean it without guilt or remorse or anything else. I don’t have to feel all that you do to recognize that I lost something that I cared about.”

Spirit smacked his chest repeatedly with his hand, doubling over. He gargled on his own saliva for a moment, hacking and wheezing. With bulging eyes and furrowed brows, he looked at Stein directly for the first time that evening. “Are you being serious right now?”

“Yes, I’m being completely serious. Are you all-“

“Who are you and what have you done with Franken?” He swallowed, taking a drink.

The meister exhaled a breathy chuckle, his lips upturned in a slight grin. “I think I’ve always cared about you- and the others, as well. I just couldn’t recognize it at the time, and even when I could, I couldn’t figure out how to express it.” He slunk back in the booth, resting his head against the seat’s top. “It’s not a feeling I’m used to by any stretch of the imagination. ……

I can recognize that saying that isn’t likely to change your mind or instill any sort of renewed trust within you… I often can’t even trust myself. I’ve been working on.. particular urges, though. For years now, actually. I’ve been improving since you’ve been gone. Weirdly enough, I think I’m finally starting to see the value in human relationships, even if only for selfish reasons.. even if it took your leaving for me to see it.”

Spirit found himself entirely unable to close his hanging jaw. “Wow,” he continued to gawk, clearly maintaining his habitual eloquence.

Stein shuffled his hand into the inner pocket of his stitched-up lab coat, revealing a somewhat worn and crushed-looking pack of cigarettes. He pulled one out for himself, slotting it in between lips coated in dried blood and painful sores, bringing a teensy flame to kiss the end of the cigarette.

“You want one?” The cigarette wiggled up and down as he spoke. “I have plenty to go around.”

He positioned his cold fingers underneath Spirit’s chin, laughing at how he flinched. He placed a cigarette into his agape mouth, proceeding to then manually shut it for him.

“There you go,” he drawled, nearly cooing. “I can light it too, since you seem to have entered some sort of catatonic stupor-like state.”

“No! No… I’m fine, I can light it,” he shook his head in a disoriented manner, taking the lighter from the other with an odd amount of suspicion and trepidation, cupping his hand around the warm fire.

“I’m really trying to be better, Spirit, I promise. Even if I don’t see it that way, I’m doing it for all of you. I’ve found solace in you guys.”

“You keep saying shit like that and I’m going to start choking again.”

With a genuine smile on his face - not one of sadism or of arrogance - an uncharacteristically fond and genuine smile, he tittered, “Apologies.”

The both of them blew clouds of smoke out synchronously, Stein observing as they twirled together, becoming one in a rather delicate dance. The clumps of grey sprawled out and dissipated around the establishment, seeping into everyone’s clothing and hair, burning their throats.

“Stein-“ “Spirit-“ Synchronous and unwavering despite the many years worth of severing.

“I’ve talked enough. You go ahead,” Stein waved his hand in Spirit’s direction, cleansing his glasses of accidental fog.

Albarn inhaled every last ounce of nicotine he was able to, his eyes briefly fluttering shut as he inched closer to Stein. “I.. I do sincerely appreciate you coming here to… sort of apologize, or whatever this was. But-“

“I know, I know,” the disappointment was just barely evident on his countenance, though evident enough for Spirit to purse his lips and chew softly on the cigarette’s filter. “I think I should probably go now.” With a slap on his thighs, body rising from the plush, and yet tacky seating, he stood and began maneuvering himself around the large table.

“No, no, I didn’t say you had to go, you didn’t let me finish!” He hooked his fingers onto his coat sleeve with a grip of steel. “Sit your ass back down and let me speak, you idiot. …And don’t you dare make me feel bad for my decision years ago, bastard,” Spirit huffed whilst shoving him back down next to him.

“I wasn’t trying t-“

“Yeah, yeah,” he flippantly scoffed. “Now, listen to me. I don’t trust you, but I want to. I’m proud of you- truly proud of you for trying to better yourself, but I still can’t trust you, at least not fully. You have to give me some time, okay? But I want to, I really do.”

Spirit had his cigarette fastened in between his index and middle fingers, Stein’s dangling from his lips as he nodded his head languidly, taking the time to process his words.

“I see. Understandable.”

They brought their cigarettes up once again, breathing in and forcing more pleasantly scorching and bitter smoke out. A comfortable silence fell upon the two, one of which they basked in, one of which was not dissimilar to the days they’d spend lounging lazily on the couch together - Stein most often quietly reading a book and Spirit most often loudly playing a game. After a while of reading, he’d always join him, or at the very least cheer his little ventures on disinterestedly. A certain pressure in their chests fanned out and dematerialized as they reminisced, completely soundless; a state of old, nostalgic normalcy being indulged in.

[eggymf-archived]

no place like home;

ft. garreth weasley with f!reader/mc (one-shot)

themes: hurt to comfort, angst to fluff, established relationship, aged-up characters, post-hogwarts, fiance!garreth, ex!dark!mc, slytherin!mc, 3rd person pov

warning: two idiots in love arguing, mc being the bigger idiot for once, implied traumatic events, implied violence, not spoiler-free, get a load of this sap

summary: she couldn't bear to make him suffer with every horrific danger that constantly chases her, hence she decides to run away one rainy summer night.

word count: 3.2k

a/n: happy weasley wednesday! this is my first entry and fic of garreth actually. i’ve decided to frankenstein the [lyric prompts] sent by @applinsandoranges​​ a while back along with the weekly prompt for weasley wednesday, “wet”. also, if you have read these two smut oneshots (pt.1 and pt.2), this fic features the same mc (just older). that aside, enjoy? :D

main masterlist || series masterlist || AO3

bonus: audio

It was during the summer of 1892 — the year when they finally graduated from Hogwarts. 

She never expected to be given the privilege of spending the summer after her 7th year with Garreth. It was undoubtedly what she truly needed: an opportunity to escape from the utter chaos of the life she has within her own family home in London: specifically her father's seething wrath after that stunt she had pulled, which almost destroyed their own family’s stellar reputation within the wizarding world's pureblood society. 

Family drama aside, not only was it the perfect time for her to rest and recuperate, but it was also the chance for her to contemplate the future now that she has broken free from the shackles of her responsibility as an heiress (temporarily, that is). Perhaps in the midst of it all, she could also make amends for her past wrongdoings.

Oh, but [what on Earth can atone for all the wrong things that she had done]? 

It wasn’t an easy task, to say the least, for the blood that was spilled on her hands all in the name of the greater good has long stained her psyche. There was an insurmountable amount of filth that resides within her as the vessel of accumulated pain, and all she could do was endure the ordeal. The moment she had made that dire decision in the repository during her 5th year, she was doomed to a life of loneliness, but all of that changed during her 7th year when the threads of her own fate were intertwined with his.

She never would've expected that Garreth Weasley out of all people would serve as the beacon that would lead her back to all that had been long forgotten — her own happiness. 

Truth be told, she wasn't the most forthcoming with the notion of romance in general due to her unsavory experiences and personal issues, opting to steer clear of the entire topic in general. In fact, she was better off alone, but for some miraculous reason, the fiery-haired male had managed to creep into her heart, taking his rightful seat on its long-abandoned throne. It was truly a mysterious outcome, for nobody would've foreseen the unusual relationship to even happen, much less prosper.  

A Slytherin and a Gryffindor; the celebrated hero and an aspiring potioneer. They were like day and night; the sun and the moon — ever so different, yet fell in love too soon. Perhaps the irony of it all was what truly brought the both of them together, regardless of all their atrocities, differences, and follies combined. 

But even the greatest of love stories always had their own fair share of trials and tribulations, and the silly, dramatic little tale of her and Garreth weren't an exception. She remembered it all vividly: the times when she'd discourage him from pursuing her, only for her to fall harder and harder for him in the end.

“You'll never know peace a day in your life once you decide to be with me, Weasley.”

“I'm not good for anyone, lest you want a head full of gray hairs before you reach the age of forty.”

“You're better off without me, I assure you.”

“Garreth, please don't. I'll ruin your life.”

Yet her words, no matter how grim, threatening, or incessant, would always be met with his adorably goofy little grin along with the same simple reply that held the undying promise of his devotion and loyalty.

“I know.”

If only things were that simple.

From this moment onwards, ["I know" is never good enough] — not when she's aware of the dire consequences that would soon follow should she decide to pursue the yearnings of her poor, naïve heart. It was too huge a risk to gamble the life of the man who had brought her solace and joy amidst the pandemonium that rages within her blackened soul, for he was all she had left — the only person who would never treat her as a pawn across the chessboard; her most trusted confidant, companion, and lover: her chosen family.  

The musical incantation of Vulnera Sanentur from his Aunt Matilda's lips was all that she heard whilst she silently wallowed in her own thoughts of self-blame, her eyes darting around the damaged parts of their humble abode out of pure guilt. She glances at Garreth's father, who winces as several hands aided him to sit more comfortably on the sofa. His younger sister and older cousins scampered around to repair the several damages within the house whilst checking up on the others after the incident.

It was an ambush by dark wizards: the ones who sought to covet the corrupted power within her. Despite her not being a family member of the Weasleys, they fought gallantly alongside her, defending her as if she was one of their own. Although they are well capable of empathizing and understanding her prior violent display of magic within the heat of battle, it did not quell the bubbling shame that stews within her being. 

It was almost the norm for her to be targeted by the enemies that she had made in her past battles, but to be attacked while she was in Garreth's family home? To put the Weasleys in danger? Preposterous. Utterly preposterous. She'd never forgive her enemies for it. Hell, she'd never forgive herself for it either. 

The warmth of Garreth's palm on her arm startled her from her train of thought whilst she was in the middle of repairing the broken walls, offering her a kiss on her forehead the moment her head turned. 

“Garreth…” her voice, uncharacteristically small and hesitant, trails off while he cups her cheek, tracing his thumb over her delicate face as a form of reassurance.

“It’s not your fault, so please don’t think about it too much, alright? We’ll handle it from here,” he reassures.

Despite her evident disagreement with her fiancé's words, she bit her tongue, not wishing to add any more fuel to the fire. She gave the Weasleys one final glance as she headed to the kitchen to help his mother prepare their dinner for tonight while the others focused on either healing their mild injuries or fixing the damages within their house.

The Weasleys were a beautiful family. It was the ideal family that she would truly love to be a part of in a heartbeat: they were kind-hearted, selfless, and honorable, never swayed by the adversaries that came their way. It was for this very reason that she decided to protect them with all that she has, and she would never allow a single soul to harm even the hairs on their head even if it means that she has to bring herself out of the picture in the end.

Thus, she has made her final decision. 

[She's only safe when she's alone], just as they'd be a whole lot safer without her presence. She could easily slaughter anyone who stood in her way without fear of disappointing anyone with her ruthlessness, and none of her loved ones would be used as ammunition to make her submit to her enemies’ bidding. This painful choice was truly for the best — such as the fate of all fallen “heroes” who walk a lonely, dark path.

Yet despite all the danger he'd have to face and the sought-after coalesced filth of humanity that literally resides within her, her departure was Garreth’s greatest fear.

It was on the same day of the incident that he received the heartbreaking news in the middle of that particular rainy night. His sister was about to pay her a visit for their usual heart-to-heart session, only to find out that she was no longer in their home.

“Gone? What do you mean she’s gone?!” he bellowed, fear lacing his voice as he sped towards the guest room with soft footsteps trailing after him.

“Garreth, I'm sorry. I went to her room and—”

Not giving his younger sister a chance to finish, Garreth barged into the guest room with evident panic, only for his heart to sink at the sight of a room that was entirely bare of her belongings except for a note that she had hurriedly scrawled before she left.

I'm sorry. I love you.

Garreth quickly ran down the flight of stairs and straight to the exit of their home. The shouts and cries of his name fell on deaf ears as he bolted out of the house, racing into the chilly night with a million panicked thoughts buzzing unpleasantly within his head as raindrops drizzled upon his form.

[She had his heart, and he could only hope that she wouldn't hurt him] permanently with one measly written goodbye. He was angry and dismayed with her drastic decisions that lacked his consultation, but he simply couldn't allow all that they'd built to just disintegrate in a blink of an eye. She was, after all, his dearly beloved — the person he'd give his all without a second thought.

As soon as the thunder rumbled, he hurriedly took out the piece of parchment that she had left, casting a tracking charm with his wand. The piece of paper immediately bursts forward, leaving a trail of glittering golden dust for him to follow before the increasingly damp piece of parchment falls to the ground. The spell worked, and it only meant that she hadn't wandered off too far.

He knew exactly where she was from where the trail was heading. With the location clearly visualized within his mind, he apparates to their usual spot, hoping that she was still within the particular vicinity.

Needless to say, he was right.

There she stood in front of the tree where they often frequented for their usual picnics — the place where it's usually just the two of them, gazing upon the meadows of the countryside whilst enjoying the summer breeze. She looks upon the ring that was on her left hand, admiring the ruby and two small diamonds that glimmered under the moonlight. With great reluctance, she attempts to slide her engagement ring off, intending to keep it within their box of little keepsakes before she leaves, which was contained within the tree's hollow.

Amidst the soothing pitter-patter of raindrops, the sound of an audible crack was soon heard from a distance followed by several thuds of footsteps, effectively stopping her. She whips her head in the direction of the sudden noise, only for her eyes to meet a pair of emerald-green orbs. 

[Sometimes, she forgets that she was his] — he'd always find her wherever she may be simply because he knew her that well. She should've expected that he'd figure out her whereabouts within minutes after she had left the Weasley family home. He was, after all, her dearly beloved — the keeper of her heart; the one who knows her better than herself.

“Blast, I shouldn't have loitered around…” she thought ruefully as she faced him completely, a shaky breath escaping her lips as she braced herself for an earful. Instead, he runs towards her with a relieved expression, pulling her into his embrace before kissing her fervently. 

As if it were right on cue, the rain began to pour harder, just like those dramatic little romance novels written by Muggle authors. His touch, although scorching against her cold, damp skin, brought relief to her mind, body, and soul. 

It was only he could bring her such solace, nobody else.

As soon as his lips parted from hers, he grabbed her bag nearby before turning to her direction once again with a tired sigh. Before she could retaliate, he swung his arm around her, engulfing her in his arms before apparating back to his home — specifically into the living room, where the rest of the family was awaiting their return. A blush crept up to her cheeks upon feeling their eyes on her and Garreth, who held her by her waist. The both of them were soaked to the bone with their clothes and strands of their hair clinging uncomfortably onto their skin.

Wordlessly, Garreth set her bag on the ground before flicking the tip of his wand at both of them, casting a drying spell before making his way to the kitchen. She winced at his deathly silence, while the others glanced at each other with an evident grimace as well.

“... Alright, you lot! Off to bed, we go. Come along now!” his mother urges, pushing the other family members right towards the staircase, much to his younger sister's and cousins' chagrin.

“But mum—!”

“Shhh!”

She received several apologetic looks and pats of good luck from his cousins, for she was obviously going to need it. Garreth was upset — abysmally upset to be precise. It was a rare occurrence, but whenever it happens, it was a painful punch to the gut.

Silence looms over the living room, the thumping of footsteps dying out as they scamper to their bedrooms, leaving her and Garreth alone on the first floor of their home.

“Garreth…”

Silence.

“Garreth, please say something?” she pleads, all to no avail. He remains tight-lipped, averting his gaze from her as he grabs the nearby teapot to pour each of them a cup of tea.

She hated it when he was like this, but his reticence was definitely warranted. She sighs in defeat, finally deciding to stop beating about the bush.

“... The attack from earlier—”

“—Was, again, not your fault. And you ran away because you didn't want any of us to get hurt. I know that,” he cuts her off bitterly before he sips his cup of tea in hopes of calming himself down. 

“Then you're aware of the dangers, Garreth. You've seen what they're capable of. You've experienced it for yourself.”

“Yes. So?”

“So why did you bring me back? You know that chaos ensues whenever I'm around, and it's never the good kind.”

“Really, now? Seems like a pretty peaceful night to me until you decided to leave,” he sarcastically snapped, much to her exasperation.

“Garreth, for god's sake—”

He slams his cup on the countertop, nearly shattering the object. His frown deepened, finally looking at her with a glare.

“A note with no explanations? Sneaking out right under my nose? Is that how trivial our relationship is to you?” he asks with a tone mixed with anger and hurt. She visibly pales at this, panic evident within her eyes that he would even think of such a thing.

“Garreth that's not—”

“—what you meant? Oh, believe me, I know. But it certainly feels that way and it's really upsetting. I'm not mad though. I could never be mad at you, but I'm sick and tired of you pushing me away at every bloody inconvenience!”

“I'm doing this for your sake! As long as I'm around, you and your family will always be—”

“I didn't ask you to play hero for us!”

“So you'd rather thoughtlessly sacrifice everyone else just to keep me around?!”

“YOU'RE MY FIANCEE FOR GODRIC'S SAKE!” 

She was stunned into silence by his raging outburst, all retaliations within her head immediately disappearing as he ran his mouth, pouring out every single trace of frustration that had accumulated within his chest.

“Don't you know you're just as important as everyone else in here?! I know what I signed up for — mum knows, dad knows, my little sister knows, every single relative knows! You're already a part of this family at this point!” he continues exasperatedly, running his fingers through his hair out of sheer agitation. “Gods, you’re always like this! I hate that you feel the need to constantly tell me I shouldn’t be with you! I’m still here, aren’t I? Is that not enough for you?!”

She looks away, letting out a shaky exhale while she clenches her fists, her eyes becoming glassy with tears. His heart was thumping loudly, his chest heaving as his emotional hurt slowly descended from its peak. His glare soon faltered the moment he realized the aggression of his words, his fiery anger slowly dissipating as he stared at her with guilt simmering within his gut. Her eyes were downcast while she chewed on her lip, desperately keeping her emotions under wraps while placing her arms gingerly around herself to soothe her nerves.

With an aggravated sigh, he gently pulled her into a warm embrace. She whimpers at his display of tenderness despite the prior exchange of heated words, finally letting her tears run free as she wraps her arms around his waist, a string of apologies pouring out from her lips. He pressed his lips at the side of her head before parting from her as he cupped her face with both of his hands.

“Darling, listen to me. Look at me.”

She acquiesced, her bleary sight slowly trailing up to meet his verdant-hued eyes, which gazed upon her with pure love and adoration despite his recent display of anger. 

“I know I may not be the best man for you, but you best believe that I'll do whatever I can to keep you safe. When I swore to you that I'll accompany you to the ends of the earth, I meant every single word,” he whispers with heartfelt sincerity, wiping a stray tear away with his thumb. “But all I ask of you is to please have a bit of faith in me; in us — that we’ll manage all of this just fine. Please, I love you too much to let you go...”

“But… Your family…” she meekly sobs.

“Then we'll live alone together, just the two of us.”

“But what about you?”

“Then I'll be stronger for you! Hell, I'll beg Sallow to teach me how to duel better if I have to so please…” he begs, his voice cracking. 

“Don't ever leave again. Stay with me until the very end.”

At that moment, she finally caves into her heart's desire, standing on her tiptoes to urgently plant her lips on his without hesitation while his hand flew to the small of her back, the other placing itself at the back of her head to press her further into him. After what seemed like an eternity, they finally parted, gazing at each other's eyes with a smile of relief etched onto their faces. A surprised yelp escaped her lips as he scoops her up into a bridal carry, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck.

“Well then, now that's done and settled, let's get you to bed, shall we?” he grins, his anger completely appeased by her response.

“At least let me bring my bag upstairs first, love. I need my clothes,” she laughs.

“Clothes? For what?”

“...To change in?”

“Oh, trust me. You won't be needing them tonight,” his voice drops into a teasing whisper. 

Her eyes widened, warmth creeping to her cheeks at his insinuation. He chuckled at her reaction, planting a kiss on her cheek before heading upstairs with her in his arms. The tense aura that loomed over the entire building was now completely gone, her soft giggles of sheer elation filling the halls before a peaceful silence ensued the moment the door to her room was closed shut.

Like the moon and stars that reside in the night skies, this was where she truly belongs — right in the arms of her dearly beloved; her most cherished abode.

[bubbledumbbinch]

Yandere! Idia Shroud x Camgirl! Reader SMUT

A/N: Hello! This is my first fic I've posted on tumblr, and I'm not used to using it at all. I hope this turned out okay and you enjoy! This is a College AU, implied magicless world, and reader is a camgirl.

This fic is purely 18+, minors do not interact.

Word Count: ~4.4k

Warnings: dubcon, brief mention of blood, non consensual drug use (aphrodisiacs)

Friday night, 11:24pm, 6 minutes before your scheduled time to start “work”. You had just finished putting on your makeup and outfit, now trying to hype yourself up in the mirror.

'I can do this. This is gonna be a great show!' You told yourself, while staring at your reflection wearing the revealing outfit. Tonight’s choice was a catgirl maid costume; the maid dress just barely covering your body and showing a large amount of chest. A choker with a bell on it, cat ears, and thigh high socks.

Giving yourself a nod of encouragement, you sat down in the chair in front of your desk, where your laptop and webcam were situated, along with your ring lights, one at each side of the desk so you were well lit for the camera. Making sure you were logged into the site, your camera angle looked good, and your laptop was charging, you waited.

You loved your side gig as a camgirl. You were able to appeal to multiple people’s sexual desires while also being able to bring yourself to pleasure, sometimes more than once per stream, if there were enough donations of course. You were also able to make a decent amount of money while doing this side job, paying for college while having fun was a pretty big plus. And, if you were gonna be honest, the validation of being attractive to so many people really made you feel a lot better about yourself.

You quickly noticed your clock switch to 11:30pm. Time to start. You clicked on the set of buttons you pretty much knew by heart to get the show started. Once it did, you started up some music to fill the silence. Just some cute electronic music to dance in your chair to while you wait for the viewers to come in. You didn’t really have as many as the big camgirls but you had a few loyal people come and watch your streams, which set your heart at ease.

5 viewers

cay-kun @ 11:31pm: wooow y/n-chan, you look so cute! excited for tonight’s show~

User18535 @ 11:32pm: fuck you’re so goddamn cute, i love your tits. can’t wait to see what that pussy looks like

10 viewers

You playfully giggled while reading the last message, winking and sticking your tongue out while flashing the camera your panties from under your skirt. While waiting for more people to join, you also made a point to talk to your viewers, asking about their day and what they’ve been up to recently, which they loved you for.

25 viewers

User58273 @ 11:34pm: You look so kawaii, I wish I could have you service me.

40 viewers

Glancing at the viewer count, you decide to officially start.

“Hi hiii~ I’m so happy to see you all here tonight! Let’s have some fun, hmm?” you started playfully. “Do you guys like my outfit?” Messages of “yes” and “yeah baby”s began flooding the chat and you grinned. “Well, I have something that will be a real treat for you all~”

You reached over to grab something that couldn’t be seen by the camera or the viewers.

~~~~~

Idia was browsing through the site full of nude streamers, trying to find a person to watch so he could relieve his tension from this week. It was midterms season and his Computer Science teachers were giving him hell by making him do in person presentations, exams, and assignments that kept piling up. It took a lot of time away from gaming and side projects of coding his own programs. He also unfortunately didn’t have his little brother Ortho with him in college, as the university didn’t allow them both to attend “as one student”. Ortho definitely eased some stress as someone he could trust and talk to, but Idia’s parents decided to keep Ortho at home to “prevent Idia from being distracted”, much to his dismay.

Idia was at least blessed to not have a roommate, so he could at least have his own privacy for nights like this. Idia’s eyes landed on a thumbnail of a girl that was dressed in cat ears and a lewd maid outfit and was intrigued. He clicked on the video icon and was met with your figure bent so that your ass was up and legs were spread on the chair you were previously sitting on. The girl on the stream had her panties down to her knees and was currently lubing up a cat tail butt plug.

“Ah, I’ve never used this before so, bear with me, please!” She pleaded, eyes looking directly at the camera. Idia was intrigued now this was her first time using it. He felt like this was perfect timing, almost like she was doing it just for him. Until he saw the comments flooding in from different people who were probably thinking the same way.

“Put it in already”

“Go slow okay~”

“don’t force yourself if you don’t want to! >//<”

“Tch,” Idia scoffed to himself. “Seems like she has simps already. No use in being interested in someo-“

“H- here it goes!” You moaned, starting to slowly shove the length and girth of the butt plug into your tight hole. “Aaanh~ it’s stretching me out...” Your eyes pricked with tears while your face contorted into pure pleasure with a hint of pain, all while staring at the camera. Every so often he could hear the little jingle from the bell on your choker.

Idia felt his pants getting tighter and his palms were starting to sweat. The face you made at him was just too unreal and he needed more. He palmed at his growing erection while you shivered at the feeling of being filled by the toy. Pulling his sweatpants down to his ankles, he started stroking his cock lightly.

cay-kun @ 11:38pm: oh y/n-chan the way that stretches out your hole is so sexy~ definitely taking a screenshot for later!

User39748 @ 11:38pm: SHIT i wish i was there fucking you with that in your ass

Blushing, you turned around so that one of your legs were in the chair while your other was up, effectively showing the camera a view of your pussy and butt plug. “What do you want me to do? I’ll just play with myself until someone makes a donation and tells me what I should do! Highest bidder within the next minute~.” With that, you looked into the camera again while soaking your middle and ring fingers with saliva and bringing them to your clit, rubbing small circles into it.

Idia realized that, even now, he wanted to have some kind of control over you. He had a lot of disposable income, being from a pretty rich family. The blue haired boy grabbed his credit card and began to type.

Ignia has donated $100!

Your eyes widened and you gasped slightly. Idia bit his bottom lip at the sight. “Ah, Ignia! Thank you for the donation, you’re new here! Welcome, what would you like to see me do~?” You smiled while looking at the camera. Idia felt like you were staring into his soul and he was sweating profusely. He thought for a minute, gulped, and decided to send a message.

Ignia @ 11:43pm: I want you to keep watching my messages and do what I say, kitten. First I want you to grab a vibrating dildo if you have one and put it at the lowest setting, then fuck yourself slowly with it.

Idia would never have the balls to be this bold with anybody. But this is the internet, so fuck it, he’ll be truthful and just say what he wanted.

You nodded and proceeded to grab one from the table of toys you had next to your desk, lubed it slightly, and did what he told you to. You moaned at the intrusion and the feeling of being filled. “Mmh, it feels so good..!” You cried out.

Ignia has donated $50!

Ignia @ 11:45pm: And by the way, call me Master. You don’t get to cum until I say so.

You shivered at this stranger’s boldness and quietly spoke, “Yes, master...” you looked away shyly from the camera and closed your eyes for a minute, thrusting the vibrating device in and out of your wetness. A couple of moans slipped through your mouth as you felt your juices spreading onto your legs.

Ignia @ 11:47pm: Faster. Fuck yourself faster for me, kitten, and put it on the medium setting for me.

You did as you were told, fingers trembling to follow what the stranger had told you. Your (h/c) hair was starting to feel moist from your layer of sweat and your body was heating up, causing your breasts to stick to the costume.

Ignia @ 11:49pm: Take your tits out and play with your nipples

You panted heavily and lowered your chest area’s covering, revealing the sheen of sweat around your tits. Flicking your left nipple while working the dildo with your right, your hands were occupied with pleasing yourself as this stranger commanded, moaning out. “Aah, m-master, f-feels so go-ood~!”

Idia was smirking, stroking hard at his cock at the sight and idea of you actually doing what he said almost made him cum then and there, but he stopped himself. He couldn’t help the rapid beating of his heart when you said the last sentence. Idia felt special. The power he had over you was addicting and he wanted to see you push yourself over the edge under his command.

65 viewers

User58273: Fuck this is so hot, I wish I could be your master too

Seeing this comment somehow made Idia seethe. He didn’t want to share you, even though this was his first stream with you. You made him feel special. He started typing out his draft of what to reply to the thirsty viewers.

Draft: Ignia: You stupid bastards, no, I’m not going to share her.

Before Idia could send the message you spoke up in a moaning voice. “*pant* N-no, my master tonight is I-Ignia, haanh~”. You were still playing with your nipples while fucking yourself well with the dildo, a light blush decorated your face and beads of sweat starting to form on the sides of your face and your body.

Idia’s jaw dropped. ‘Does she actually really want me?’ He was getting hot, too hot for his own comfort. Usually he wouldn’t last this long during his sessions but he really wanted to see you fall apart under his command. He paid for it, after all.

“Master~ I’m getting close, I- I wanna cum soon!” You whined, pleading (e/c) orbs staring into the camera with your mouth open from panting heavily.

“Cum already, don’t hold yourself back”

“Just keep going babygirl”

“Let yourself cum”

Once again, Idia scoffed in annoyance, but he noticed you never acknowledged any of the other commenters, waiting patiently for the words to come from him.

Ignia @ 11:55pm: put the toy at the highest setting, fuck yourself til you cum, then keep pumping it while you ride out your climax.

Upon seeing those words, your fingers work to put your toy at the highest setting inside your dripping cunt. You closed your eyes while you try to imagine the user who was giving out the commands, imagining them slapping your ass and fucking you until you could see stars. The feeling of both of your holes being filled was overwhelming now, and the hot feeling built up in your core faster than you realized. Idia could see it too, the heaving of your chest was picking up rapidly.

“M-,, ma- master.! I’m cumming!!!” You shrieked. Closing your eyes with your tongue unintentionally lolling out, you released a silent scream as soon as your orgasm hit. It felt like a knot inside of your body had come undone suddenly. Your orgasm had your pussy clenching around the toy that was still vibrating intensely inside of you, stimulating you longer and making you release high pitched screams.

Hearing your words before cumming had Idia teetering on the edge, but watching your facial expressions and your moans made him finish suddenly with a grunt, his pale cock spurting thick white cum all over his hand. Still, Idia kept stroking his length while you were riding out your high, overstimulating himself to match your actions on the stream.

You pulled out the toy weakly and turned it off, putting it down on a towel next to your desk.

Ignia has donated $5!

Ignia @ 11:59pm: Spread your pussy lips babygirl, I wanna see your tight hole.

User39748 @ 11:59pm: I agree with Ignia

cay-kun @ 12:00am: ah~ I also agree. Let’s see you spread it, hmm~? Oh, can you also do a lil ‘nya!’?

You checked the chat and blushed heavily, post-orgasm shyness now taking over your mind. You hesitantly shifted in the chair while spreading yourself open with your pointer and middle finger, showing off your glistening folds with your lightly abused hole. “Nya...” you held up your other hand to do the signature “catgirl” pose, playfully sticking your tongue out too.

Idia was cleaning himself off but he could feel himself twitch again, staring at your meek form. You were so gorgeous and he really wanted to see more of you, making sure to press the “Follow” button, so he wouldn’t miss another stream.

After a few seconds, you decide to end your show, feeling extremely tired and needing a shower from sweating so much. “Thank you so so much for joining me tonight! I hope you guys have a wonderful rest of your evening~ take care and I hope to see you all soon!”

Small tips ranging between $1-$10 started to flow in along with messages of “take care~” “see you soon!” “great show baby ;)”.

You clicked off and you sighed deeply. Looking at your earnings tonight, you made around $200. This was probably the most you’ve made in one single stream, and $155 of that was from Ignia, a new follower and the one who pretty much commanded your entire show tonight. It really turned you on to have someone do that for you and it was the first time a viewer made you do something that felt so lewd that made you cum so quickly.

You stood up from the chair, cleaned up your desk and toys, and headed for the bathroom. Taking off your makeup in the sink, you jumped into the shower to clean yourself up.

~~~~~

Idia tentatively bit his shirt sleeve, his blue locks framing his face. Something inside of him told him that he needed to talk to you more. He had already typed out a message to send along with his friend request. He was scared - scared of being rejected by someone as pretty as you, especially now that he had already felt so attached to you, or rather, what he’s seen from the stream tonight.

Yellow eyes closed tightly as he clicked to send the friend request to you.

~~~~~

Jumping out of the shower, you throw on a head and body towel and started to brush your teeth. Walking around the room you realized your laptop was still on, and there was a notification box front and center. Curious, you clicked on it.

“One new friend request and message”.

“Friend Request: Ignia

Message: Hey, this is the user from your stream earlier. I just wanted to say I really enjoyed your stream tonight. You seem nice too, so I’d like to get to know you more. If you’re interested just feel free to add me back, no pressure ofc.

Thx

Ignia”

You blinked a few times, pondering what you should do. You had gotten messages from guys before but they only said cheap compliments and asking for private shows. You were single so there wasn’t anybody holding you down and this guy didn’t seem to radiate any bad vibes. His dominant nature over chat really turned you on and you were curious about him, so you decided to accept his friend request and send a reply.

“From: y/n-kitty-cat

Hi there :) I decided to accept your message, cause why not? You shouldn’t be that creepy, right? ;P anyway, I’m glad you enjoyed my stream tonight <3 I hope you can come to future ones too!! I’d like to see you around more ;)

❤️

y/n”

You sent the message and went to the bathroom to finish brushing your teeth and your other nightly routines.

Idia couldn’t believe his eyes - you had actually messaged him back and you were really flirtatious!! That meant he was different in your eyes, right? It has to be true! He was determined to meet up with you, eventually. His dick throbbed at the idea of having you to himself, pleasing him with your mouth, doing all those lewd faces you made on the stream... his mind wandered while he pushed his pants down once again and thought of his muse who was now his “friend”.

~~~~~

After a few days of messaging back and forth, you and Ignia had ended up exchanging numbers and using text to communicate almost daily. You found out things like what your majors in college were, finding out his real name was Idia, which was a pretty unique name, and realizing you were both from the same city. Well, it’s not like Idia hadn’t already done his research - the night he became your friend he had stalked all of your social medias under a throwaway account and scrolled through every photo and bit of information he could find about you. He was becoming so hyper fixated on you he needed to know more, who could blame him? Idia just hoped he would be seeing more of you in your streams so he could watch you get off again, maybe with his assistance.

Unfortunately for you though, you realized you couldn’t stream as much because midterms were also kicking your ass. You apologized to your viewers with a blog post who luckily understood and wished you luck, saying they looked forward to your next show.

Idia couldn’t see your pretty face from the stream, which made him yearn. He told Ortho about his crush on you and when the small boy told Idia to “just tell you the truth and meet up with you!” he wanted to shut down completely. But, he wasn’t completely opposed to the idea of you being in his room, exactly where he wanted you. Sighing, he picked up his phone to send you a text.

Idia: “hey”

Y/n: “hey there! 😉”

Idia: “soo i was wondering if you wanted to hang out sometime”

Y/n: “omg 😱 like irl? I’ve never even heard your voice before lol”

Idia: “ik, i’m a bit shy in person.”

Y/n: “i see, so is the life of a gamer and a shut in?😏😂”

Idia: “hah, yeah i guess lol”

Y/n: “soo, what did you wanna do?”

Idia: “idk, anything you want. Except go outside. And be in public.”

Y/n: “pfft, that takes away like any idea at this point HAHA”

Idia: “ya lol i prefer gaming in my room tbh”

Y/n: “oh, then maybe we can just hang out and play games or something like that?”

Idia: “Yeah, why don’t you come over to my dorm, we could game and eat snacks”

Y/n: “Sounds great! This Friday then, 6pm?”

Idia: “Sure i’ll text you the details later”

Y/n: “Awesome :) see you in a couple days then ;)”

Idia: “cool”

Idia threw himself on his bed and screamed silently into the pillow. Idia wanted more than to just be your friend but unfortunately was also extremely shy, especially when talking to new people in person. But as he was sexually attracted to you, he knew he would have a hard time hiding it from you. He had hoped to initiate some kind of sexual interaction when you met up, wanting to indulge in your sinful reactions himself. He didn’t even want to think about anybody else seeing you like that. Idia was growing possessive and realized that if he were to get you where he wanted you, he needed to do a little bit of digging. Which meant searching the web for something that would help make you more agreeable to something sexual. He knew he himself couldn’t make you agree to it, he was too nervous to initiate that! He knew what he needed - an aphrodisiac.

Composing himself, he got onto his computer and compared his options as well as looking for advice on how to please a woman. His eyes widened and lips trembled as he realized he was definitely way too shy to initiate as much as other men do, but he was determined to try anything if it meant your attention.

~~~~~

Today was finally Friday, and the current time was 5:30pm. You styled your (h/c) locks and put on a light amount of makeup, not as much as you would when you streamed but enough to make yourself feel pretty. You also decided that you still wanted to be cute, even if you and Idia were just friends at this point, and wore a tight crop top, a high waisted black skirt, and some thigh high socks since it was a bit breezy outside. You topped it all off with a (f/c) cardigan so you could at least feel comfortable in the sleeves. Packing your bag, you took one last look at yourself in the mirror, did a little peace sign and smiled, feeling cute as hell. You grabbed your keys and walked out of your dorm, heading towards Idia’s campus.

You parked at the place he told you to and gotten out of your car, looking around for him. Shit, you just realized you didn’t even ask him what he was gonna wear or what he really looked like, which was pretty dumb in hindsight. You did catch a glimpse of a tall lanky guy with fluffy blue hair and a striped t-shirt, who was fumbling around on his phone and didn’t realize you was standing right by him.

“Excuse me,” you interrupted his peace softly, causing him to jump up and squeal in fear. “Oh!! I’n so sorry, I’m just looking for someone and I didn’t know if I was in the right place?”

Idia froze. It really was you, in the flesh, looking at him and taking his appearance in. You were gorgeous, even more so than he would have ever thought, and your voice brought tingles to his spine that made him shudder. Idia realized he was being quiet for a longer than acceptable time and he looked away. “H-hi,, y/n...” he mumbled barely even audible.

“Oh!! Idia? Is that you? Hi!!!” You exclaimed, seemingly really excited. Your mouth was curved into a wide smile too.

“Huh, you sound really enthusiastic...” Idia whispered, thinking he really said it in his own mind instead of out loud.

“Of course I am! I’m finally done with midterms and now I can relax and have fun with my new friend!” You said, bumping your shoulder with him, causing him to hold his breath.

Idia gulped when he realized what you said. Friend. Right, that’s all he was to you. At least for now. But hopefully that would change soon, right?

“Y-yeah. Let’s go inside.” Idia muttered, turning his back and walking.

Based on his demeanor, you almost forgot that Idia was the one who was so dominant during your stream the other week, since his attitude was so shy in real life. But, you pushed that thought to the back of your head, today was gonna be a fun day with a new friend, and that was strictly it. You didn’t really want to make your side job as a sex worker into a big thing that would make real life friendships difficult.

~~~~~

After he led you through the halls of the dorm, he brought you to a door and opened it up. Inside it was a bit messy, but an organized mess, one where the owner definitely knew where everything was. He had a pc setup with multiple monitors, RGB lighting which was mostly set to shades of blue, and a really nice gaming chair to go along with it. He also had a shelf with different manga series along it and other consoles for gaming, a bed, a door that led to a bathroom, and a mini fridge. Pretty nice for someone who lived without a roommate, you thought.

You walked over to his bed and flopped down onto it. Idia couldn’t help but think about the many times he had masturbated to you on those sheets that you were now sitting on. He was wondering what kind of panties you were wearing too, when he was suddenly interrupted.

“So! I guess we should get started on some games, yeah? I think I wanna play a fighting one against you! I’m totally gonna win~” You smiled up at him playfully.

Idia let his personality slip when games were brought up. “Tch, you really think you’re gonna win against me ? Think again.” The blue haired boy smirked down at you, which lit up the fire of competition in your heart.

“Let’s go then, dude.”

~~~~~

After about 15 minutes of close battles but still losing every one, you groaned and put the controller down on the floor where you and Idia were positioned in front of a monitor. You had developed a small sheen of sweat on your face from the stress. “Hey Idia, do you have anything to drink? I’m so thirstyy~” You looked at him and pouted, hoping he would maybe have some soda or water for you.

“A-ah, yes I do...” he stuttered a bit, seemingly nervous about something. He shuffled over to a mini fridge near his desk and brought out a cooler bottle. “Here, I made this sweet tea yesterday and you can drink from it...” Idia handed you the cool bottle and you observed it suspiciously. He was starting to feel his breath hitch and wondered if you had caught on.

“Hm~? Drinking from the same bottle already? So intimate!” You teased him, lightly elbowing his side. “Well, here goes nothing.” You tipped the bottle into your mouth and the tea tasted like sweet peach, with a slightly bitter aftertaste.

“Hm, it’s... interesting. What kind of tea is it?” You inquired, looking at the contents and sniffing it.

“I-it’s a recipe I found online! It looked good so, I decided to make it, I- I thought you would like it...” he shyly put down his head, trying to hide his suspicious nervousness from you.

“Okay... well it’s pretty good! I’ll drink some more, thanks for thinking of me~” you said as you gulped down the drink for a few more seconds. “Mmh! I think that cooled me down, let’s play more rounds!”

Idia looked back at you and sighed in relief. “Y-yeah, let’s do that.” He didn’t know how long it would take to work but at least he could distract his nerves by playing some games.

~~~~~

You started to sweat and feel hot. Unbearably hot. You cleared your throat and pulled off your cardigan and folded it to the side, but it wasn’t enough. The heat spread from your head, to your torso, and to your lower regions. Feeling hot and a deep... itch that you couldn't quite reach, in your crotch, you decide to change the position in which you were sitting, from crossing your legs to having them right underneath you, to feel some sort of friction in that area. You could feel yourself blushing intensely while the blue haired man next to you was still immersed in the game you both were supposed to play.

Watching him, you couldn’t help but notice the way his fingers moved on the controller, his thumbs and pointers expertly moving across it. You started thinking about how they would feel playing with your nipples and clit - wait. ‘What am I even thinking about?! Snap out of it!’ But, you also couldn’t help but think about when you were close to beating him during a round, his voice changed to a lower, frustrated one, and he even let out a little growl. Even now you noticed the way his eyes were so glued to the monitor with a small scowl on his face. Thinking about that sent throbs and heat to your growing wetness.

WINNER: PLAYER 1!

“Fuhehe, I knew I could beat you again~ but for some reason it felt like you weren’t trying as hard this round.” Idia put down his controller, finally took a glance at you, and his breath was caught in his throat.

Your (s/c) body was covered with a layer of sweat, cheeks burning and your eyes looked glossy. You were also panting slightly, rubbing your legs together softly to try to create more friction. “A-ah,, hey... do you think you could lower the temperature in here? It- it’s getting really hot. Maybe I could have more of that cold tea?” You breathed, trying to sound more stable than you were.

Idia was dumbfounded for a second and totally forgot you had drank the tea that he mixed with the aphrodisiacs. He gulped as he leaned closer to your face, observing you. “Is... is there anything else I can help you, w-with?” Idia placed a hand on the floor near your thigh and watched as you tried to scoot away from it.

“D-don’t do that... it’s...,” you whimpered, back now touching the side of his bed as you leaned away from his touch. Since when did he smell so good? His scent radiating from his proximity sent tingles across your body.

“Do what?” Idia experimentally reached out to touch your arm, fingers grazing your back slightly. You couldn’t fight back the moan that slipped out of your mouth. “Haah~ I-Idia...” you breathed, looking at him with pleading eyes. You really weren’t planning on doing anything with your new friend, so why was your body disobeying your mind?

“Y/n... you know you can tell me if there’s a-anything you need.. I’ll help you.” Idia’s eyes were still wide and the way he looked at you made you start craving. You wanted him - no, you NEEDED him to touch you more. You never really thought about it, but, Idia really was attractive. It’s not because of your hazy mindset that you realized it, but the way the blue lights illuminated his pale skin and make his hair almost glow, you were just focusing on it more. He was... cute.

“I-...” you started, looking down at his hand on your arm, and then back at him. Staring at his lips, you felt your arms move around his neck as you pulled him closer. Your lips smashed against each others messily and you released a soft whimper against his mouth. The reality hitting you, you moved your head back suddenly breaking the kiss. Your body was still hot.

“F-first...” Idia was stuttering. “First... kiss...” Idia stared wide eyed at you, lips still trembling. He blushed and turned away, his brows tilted upwards as if he were troubled.

“Oh, oh god, I’m so sorry....” you breathed out, scared you had fucked it up with your friend.

“Haah.. more...” his eyes suddenly turned back to you, seemingly darker than before. “I want more of you, y/n...” with that, he brought his lips to yours again and moved them sloppily against your own. He even took the liberty to bite your bottom lip with his sharp teeth, causing you to yelp. Idia used this opportunity to shove his tongue past your mouth and moved it against your own, causing you to moan in pleasure while you could feel your panties starting to drench.

Idia pulled away from you, cheeks tinted pink. Both of you panted for breath, your clothes now feeling sticky due to sweat. He scanned your blushing figure and saw an opening of your skirt that had shown off your lacy panties. Idia gulped and dove his head towards your clothed pussy, breathing in the essence and shuddering loudly, which made you gasp.

“Idiia, no... we, we shouldn’t...” you whined. But you could feel your body was not agreeing with your words. When the tip of his nose grazed your clit you bucked your hips against his head, letting out a moan at the contact.

He lifted up your skirt to your waist so he could see your facial expressions. Suddenly, his wet tongue experimentally slid up your clothed pussy, piercing yellow eyes locked onto your glazed over eyes. You shrieked at the sensation and felt embarrassed that he could get you like this, and you were still wearing your panties.

“Hhn, you wore these for me, didn’t you..?” Idia said, which made you blush. “No, I- I didn’t...” you muttered weakly, trying to avoid his gaze

Idia’s grip on your thighs suddenly got tighter and he looked up at you with furrowed brows. “Don’t lie to me, kitten. I know you want me, like how you did on the night we met, on your stream.” Idia firmly told you. It seemed like it was more like he was convincing himself. "N-no Idia, I... I don't want to-" you started, until you were interrupted.

Idia’s teeth bit suddenly into your soft thigh, causing it to bleed a bit. You knew it would leave a big mark later. “AH!! F-fuck!!” You grabbed onto his blue hair and felt your pussy clench onto nothing. Why, why are you enjoying this? It was like Idia’s personality had changed, from the shy person you met outside his dorm to a more possessive and rough one. You were a bit scared of him but why was he making you feel so good?

You didn’t have time to think as you felt him move the fabric of your panties to the side so your drenched cunt was fully visible to him. He stared in awe and took in everything - the shape, size, and how wet you were. You brought the back of your hand up to your head and panted with embarrassment. “Idia... mmh...”, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Your body was still wanting more and after your mind was fighting the feeling so much, you decided to let it be. “Please...”

Idia met your eyes and saw how glossy they were. He lifted your body onto the bed so that you were now lying on your back while he was still in front of your crotch. You softly breathed in and out, causing your chest to rise and fall in your sweat soaked top. He snaked a pale hand under your shirt to grope your breast in your lacy bra, cold fingers sending shivers through your hot body. Idia couldn’t resist any longer, he suddenly shoved his wet muscle onto your pussy with fervor. You gasped and threw your head back onto Idia’s plush pillow, and shoved your hand on the back of his head pushing it deeper into your legs. Idia couldn’t contain himself and moaned into your heat, sending vibrations through it. “Oh- aaanh~ Idi-aaa~....” you sighed and whined. He took this opportunity to lower the cup of your bra below your breast and pinch your pert nipple in his fingers.

“Fuck~!” you screamed, feeling hot tears flowing down your face. Your body couldn’t take it much longer. Your core was building a familiar sensation but it was all too overwhelming and coming too fast. “It feels so good!!” You squealed, squeezing your thighs together so you were caging his head. Idia focused his energy lapping hungrily at your clit and then pushed two digits of his free hand through your wet hole, pumping them in and out. Your panting breaths were becoming shorter with each pump.

“Idia~ I’m close!! I’m gonna cum..!” You looked at him between your legs, and he lifted his mouth off of your cunt for a brief second. He stared into your eyes with his yellow ones, which stared at you intensely, licked his lips, and spoke.

“Cum for me then, kitten. Don’t hold back, cum all over my face.” With that, he dove back in and pumped his fingers into your core and flicked his tongue on your sensitive pearl even faster than before. Idia’s hips were rutting on his mattress, precum wetting his undergarments.

“Oh god - I’m cumming, I’m cumming~!!” You screeched and squeezed his head with your thighs, squirting his face and sheets with your cum. His tongue darted around your pussy licking off your juices. You breathed heavily, riding out your high. It took everything in him to stop himself from cumming right then and there - he wanted to save that for later.

Idia leaned up to where you were and kissed you passionately, and you could taste yourself all over his mouth. You moaned at the taste of your own juices on his tongue. Still exhausted from Idia eating you out, your body somehow craved the feeling of being filled. You sat up and got up from the bed and for a second he was afraid you were getting ready to leave. You removed your drenched shirt in front of him as well as your skirt, underwear, and bra. Still wearing your thigh high socks, he stopped you before you could remove them. “I, I want you to keep those on...” he licked his lips as he stared at your socks squeezing your plush thighs, the mark he made earlier with his teeth was visible and bruising now.

Following your lead, Idia was removing his own garments, tossing his shirt to the side. He was lean, not too skinny but not muscular either, pale all over. He also removed his pants and swung them over to the floor. Idia avoided your gaze as his erection was now very much so noticeable in his boxers, and you could even see a dark spot where his precum had made a mark. You felt your vagina tremble at the sight of it. It’s been a long time since you’ve had a partner and the anticipation was starting to get to you. As for Idia, well, everything was his first.

You knelt down in front of his bed and his legs and reached out to touch the head of his penis through the boxers, making him twitch and breathe out. “Mmh,...” you pulled down his underwear to reveal his lengthy cock. He wasn’t extremely girthy but he made up for that in length. The head of it was a shade of pale pink and dripped with clear liquid. You took some of the clear liquid in your hand and began teasing the head of his dick. Opening your mouth, you also gave it a few kitten licks while you pumped the base. Idia let out a few grunts and threw his head back, causing you to grow wet again.

Idia felt himself getting too close to orgasm which made him grab your head to stop you from going further. He lifted you up again and placed you on his lap, your dripping cunt hovering over his standing cock. Your body was hot again as you stared into Idia’s yellow eyes, a pink haze dusting his pale cheeks. Remembering he was a virgin, you looked at him hesitantly. ‘I- I don’t know, are you sure you want to lose your virginity right now?’ was what you were planning on saying, until he spoke up.

“Y/n... I need you. I’ve been wanting to do this to you for a while. I- I'm gonna put it in...” Idia whispered, panting slightly. As he was lowering your hips, you couldn't say anything as you felt his tip graze your wetness and you whimpered at the feeling. He kept bringing your hips down until you felt him all the way inside, head of his dick kissing your cervix. You threw your arms around his neck and moaned into his ear, causing a grunt from your partner. Not giving you time to adjust, Idia started thrusting in and out sloppily into your hole, squelching and moaning sounds filling the air of his usually quiet dorm.

“Oh Idia, please, pleasepleaseplease-!” You screamed, not even knowing what you were pleading for. Your (h/c) hair was sweaty and you felt your eye makeup starting to run with every tear you shed. Idia’s loud grunts filled your ear, causing your heat to build up.

“*pant* Mmh, y/n...” he paused and started thrusting into you slowly but hard, pulling you back so his forehead could touch with yours, blue hair still frayed in his face. “You have, *pant* no idea... I would masturbate to your pictures every. Single. Night. I jerked off on these sheets and used your photos of you smiling, you weren’t even *pant* n-naked... Does that, *pant* make me a sick pervert? No matter, you're here with me now, and I'm mmh, making you feel good, right?” Idia confessed, yellow eyes staring into yours with infatuation and obsession. You felt your breath hitch in a feeling familiar to fear. He was lovesick. Not the same person you thought you were messaging for the past few days or gaming with earlier. He looked deranged.

“I... Aaanh~!” You were cut off by a particularly hard thrust into your cervix. Idia licked your neck while thrusting into your abused hole. “I’m gonna breed you, kitten. W-wanna see you drip with my cum.. mmh, you want that?”

You were so close to your release that you didn’t even care about what he was saying. “More Idia, more!!” You breathed. Closing your eyes and now using your own hips to grind into his cock.

Remembering a particular position that grabbed Idia’s attention, he lifted you up, dick still hard inside of you. He placed your back on the bed, your head on his pillow while he brought your legs up to your chest. Idia continued to thrust into you, your face now in full view. He held your wrists in one hand above your head so you couldn’t hide your face from his eyes.

“Idia...” you breathed out. “I- Idia!!!!” You felt your orgasm approaching fast while he pounded into you relentlessly. “Haaanh~ I’m close!!” You moaned shamelessly.

“Hnnh, that’s r-right, y/n... mm, cum for me...” Idia breathed out in between his panting. With that, Idia thrusted faster until the knot that was building in your lower regions finally released. “Aaanh~!! I’m cumming, Idia, c-cumming all over your cock!!” Your face contorted into one of full bliss, eyes looking straight into his with your mouth in an o-shape. The walls around Idia’s length clenched tightly, milking him of his seed. Idia came suddenly with a groan, pumping it deep within you while riding out his high. "Fuck, y/n!!"

Idia rolled you both to your sides, his dick softening inside you. You both panted hard as you faced one another. You opened your eyes to find him with his eyes closed, blushing at the sight of your naked bodies still intertwined even after your climaxes. “We, we actually did it...” he whispered and opened his eyes. “!!!!” He made a mildly surprised noise, eyes widening and turning away.

“Eeh?! What’s wrong!?” You said, wondering if something was on your face. “N-nothing it’s just.... I’m surprised we... you.. you’re staring at me... I’m sorry, I’m still not used to people doing that...” Idia said shamefully, darting his yellow eyes to and from you periodically.

You couldn’t help but giggle. “Eek!! Why,, are you laughing at me?” Idia frowned and hid his face in the pillow. “Well.. your personality is different when you’re having sex versus not. It's interesting.” you told him, tracing a finger along his arm.

Idia blushed intensely, throwing his arms around your neck and hid his pale face in your neck. "Mmph..! I-, I like you, y/n..." he breathed into your neck. "I wouldn't be able to handle you doing this with another person so... will you be mine?" Idia pulled back to watch your face as you contemplated.

Idia's words from earlier suddenly flooded your memories. He looked insane when he confessed to his perverted actions and it evoked an uncertain emotion akin to fear. Your body felt paralyzed. But in the moment, with Idia's lightly pink tinged skin and unsure eyes, you had to admit it made your heart flutter, too. "Yes, Idia..."

[ficsnroses]

❆ —𝑴𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝑳𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔. 𝑱𝒐𝒉𝒏 𝑾𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓.

prompt: “are you seriously leaving cookies for Santa?” 

summary: john wants your daughter’s first christmas to be perfect, even if she won’t remember any of it. your perfect little family you’ve built together is all he ever wanted, and he never fails to show it to you both. 

warnings: so much fluff! pregnancy mention. brief mention of implied smut. x f! reader. 3.3k words.

— 𝑯𝒐𝒍𝒊𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒔 (𝑫𝒂𝒚 𝑬𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕) —

notes: I know I’m posting this after christmas, but bear with me please. I got busy and I’m just going through a lot right now. I know this probably won’t be a reader favourite, but it is a personal fave nonetheless. john the dad will always hold the softest spot in my heart!! ugh I really do adore this fic. please leave comments and interact if you give a read. writers such as myself need it more than anything. 

T’was the night before Christmas, and all through the house

not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

…

Your home is a gateway to your heart. Your exhale is slow— and the feeling of raw, easy flowing happiness that simmers through you has become far familiar over the last few years.

This home is happy. So endlessly happy, and in it, you feel each corner, each inch laced with a special little part of you.

His lips always form your name.

And yours form his, too.

You see your own glowing face in front of you. Skin a dew as you’d concluded your nightly bedtime routine. The smell of eucalyptus face wash and a burning balsam fir candle seethes through you, and the silk red camisole pajamas you wear are ones you know John will adore on you.

John adores anything on…or off you, as a matter of fact.

Christmas eve has finally found you on a snowy winters night. A white blanket was due in the morning, surely. The fire is crackling, and you’re glad there is zero reason for you to leave your home and be greeted by the cold sting of wind. Through flocked tree tops and a glittery sky, tonight’s sleep would be a quiet comfort for sure. One you would savour every second of with the love of your life as he’d hold you close all night, the gentle simmer of his slow warm breath on your skin.

You hope he’ll peel these silk threads off your body tonight. Delicately touch you that oh so sweet way he does; the way his hands gloss over you as if you are the only thing worth touching in the entire world.

John and you are no strangers to doing what lovers do. It still takes your breath away— how much he still always wants you.

Tensions of the day melt off your shoulders, and your head bows briefly with a gentle smile curled to your lips. You gaze to your bed; covers and fluffed pillows untouched. Warm, muted light and a crisp warmth to the air that savours in it’s build.

What’s taking him so long?

As you’d been getting ready for bed, John had offered to put your 9-month old daughter to sleep. Her room is only right beside yours and John’s, equipped with a baby monitor and perhaps the most toys and stuffed teddies you’d ever seen collected in one room.

John went a little overboard for her, to no surprise.

Beautifully painted walls, fairy lights and the cutest crib your eyes had ever graced. John built it only a few days’ prior your due date 9 months ago; you watched and kept him company through it all, holding your baby bump as you sat in the rocking chair which still is kept in her room.

John and you read to her on that chair almost each and every day.

He’s a dream come true, and he adores both his girls more than anything. John is truly a miracle, a mountain of a man to be what he is.

John never misses putting your baby to bed. Most nights, you do it together. Dousing her in sweet kisses and a bedtime story book, quiet dreams and easy sleeps to come. Tonight, he’d offered to do it alone so you could get a little extra time to pamper yourself before bed. ‘You deserve it, baby’, he’d said. You still planned on kissing her goodnight, however. You should do that now, actually.

He loves you more than life itself, and he never passes on a chance to show it to you.

Falling in love wasn’t a choice. Choice, is something riddled with conscience, a decision made through full, comprehended understanding and awareness.

Neither of you chose to simply ruin at the sight of each other’s smile.

Neither of you chose to breathe in each other through every simple breath.

With your movement lax and an indulgent smile sprawled to your warm features, you make way to your daughter’s room to find your entire world in it. Bed time had always been one of your favourite parts of the entire day— a time in which the rest of the world goes quiet. All this is left, is you three. Quietly existing, growing together.

You feel an arch to your brow and curiosity thread your features when you lack to find them there.

“John?” was your quiet inquire, voice soft, echoing the empty room as it bounces off vacant walls.

He doesn’t answer.

Only his deeply rich voice, muffled by the distance, does.

You hear it downstairs.

You hear his achingly familiar baritone, and you follow.

You follow, and follow, and follow.

Your home is decorated to perfection. Snowy garland lit with a thousand little warm lights drapes elegantly over the stairs, glittering ribbon and pretty poinsettias adorn the thick foliage.

The scent of a fresh, tall White Fir tree decorated in your living room exhilarates your senses. You hear John’s voice, muffled and quiet as you draw closer to it. Its rich, as it vibrates through the airwaves, pouring through your ears like honey.

Who is he talking to at this hour?

Your small footsteps skim the floor as you trail nearer, and the hardwood below your feet is warmer than it seems. Quiet curiosity threads your brows and a pry snoops your movement when you find yourself by the living room door frame, the quiet sound of John’s tame, soft voice filling otherwise heavy silence. You breathe in wonder, soft and heart warmed as your eyes reach the sight slowly.

And it is, the sweetest sound you could have found.

You searched long for sounds like these. Pleasant, happy sounds that fill savoury air.

John has littered them into you. Indulged you. Each quiet whisper in the dark, each breathless word of praise against your supple skin. Each soft ‘I love you’ poured into your ears through out long, grey days.

You exist in a permanent state of sweet music with him.

The sight sends a special throb of warmth puncturing through each inch of you. Cuts right through you, leaving behind nothing but a goo of mush as you dwell in the quiet whispers, the loving sight.

You stay there for a moment, simply listening, quietly observing the scene before you. Leaning on the door frame, unknown to John, you simply breathe in the heaven he’s built for you.

It’s a merry sight, indeed. Filled with innocent Christmas cheer. A plate of fresh sugar cookies you’d baked with love on the table, a tall glass of milk to accompany. Glimmering tree lights bounce off the crystal glass, and the thousand little sugar crystal gems sparkle under bright toned hues.

Standing above them, is the man you call your own. Holding the greatest symbol of your love in his arms, the most perfect thing you’d made together. Your daughter is wrapped in a festive candy cane blanket, a small white cotton baby cap and eyes as big as the moon itself as she stares at her father, lost in his rich tone.

Is he seriously leaving cookies out for Santa?

There’s a subtle, slow blooming joy in his deep tenor, one you could savour for hours, if time allowed so. He leans in close; sharpness of his jaw on breathtaking display as he speaks to her as if she is the very element of good, the fold of the universe itself. “You know, there’s even a song.” was his whisper, voice a note or two higher in its pitch. “Usually, daddy only sings for mommy. But you’re the only exception.”

The following sound brings a glimmer of deep longing pierce through your heart.

Slow. Rich. Melting. Dissolving like sugar in your ears. A quiet chuckle escapes his lips, and the sound of beautiful tune flows off his parted lips so easily. The soft sound echoes through the darkness accentuated by twinkling fairy lights, stilling your precious little girl, and you, too.  

You stay there for a while. Simply listening, simply drinking in the rich melody off your husband’s tongue.

You don’t think he sang much before you.

Never before you.

‘He’s makin’ a list, checkin’ it twice. He’s gonna find out who’s naughty or nice.’ His sing song voice is interrupted every now and then by little giggles and quiet coos. She adores him, and you see her reach out for her daddy, playful in her endeavour as she reaches for his nose and lips. John never halts his song, he keeps singing for her, anyway. Gently swaying her in his arms, a gentle boop to her nose, a tap to her cheek with the callous of his much bigger thumb that seems to swallow her cheek whole. “Santa Claus is comin’ to town.”

It’s a special way, he makes you feel. Even when not technically near, not technically touching. Fingertips trace over your skin lovingly, gently; your lover’s touch. And through it, you feel a pulse of longing there so deep. The mere thought of him touches you like no one before.

It was during moments like these that the cool weight of the diamond ring on your hand felt like it was scorching through you. It becomes achingly familiar, and it soothes you to know it lives on your finger. It soothes you to the bone.

It doesn’t take long for you to make your presence known.

A gentle knock to the wall, and you watch John’s features light a glow to the sight of you there. He whispers a quiet gasp, allowing a gentle ‘Look who’s here,’ in your daughter’s ear, a soft bite to his lip as he regards you reaching near.

For him, the choice had been almost startling easy to make.

You before anything.

You and him against the world.

Your softer voice is gentle, bright when it flows easily through him. “Is Santa here yet?��� was your joyful return, lips slow and searching when they press a small kiss to your daughter’s cheek, and you giggle as she reaches for you, too. “Hi, my love.” you coo, a tender thumb brushing her silky cheek.

John’s eyes never leave you. He simply watches, awestruck, a smile carved to his mouth that may never be able to die down. “Hi, sweetheart.”

It’s a funny thing.

A silly, entirely smitten thing. That even 3 years after declaring ‘I Do’, his endearing names for you still cause your heartbeat to spike.

Christmas lights dance over his dark features, and you melt a little bit more when he clutches your daughter close to his chest as he holds her warmly. Those sincere, warm brown eyes connect to yours, and for a delicate moment, it feels as if he can see right into your soul. Behind all barriers, departed from all things that reside in this world.

When he looks at you this way, the rest of the world simply melts away. Warm brown eyes, and a smile you would run a thousand miles for.

It all comes rushing back. A lightness blooms in your chest and it all comes rushing back. The smell of peppermint sugar cookie sinks into your skin. Remembering these same, warm brown eyes all those years ago, and how you swore you’d never lose them; never give them up for anything at all.

He could spin you a thousand different realities, a million different daydreams, yet they all end the same. With your hand held in his.

A comfortable silence falls as you move, warm in your endeavour. “Hey you…” was your heartfelt whisper, and your soft voice reaches him gracefully when he feels your warm fingers on his cheek. It doesn’t take much for you to cling to John; you do it nightly, anyway. With a slow, collected movement, you delicately snake your arms around John’s waist, allowing the heat of his body to sink into your own. It’s delicate; when you reach up stood on your tippy toes, pressing a soft kiss to his rosy cheek.

You almost didn’t have the heart to tell him.

To even allow the words to fall off your parted lips. “Baby,” you begin, a smile bright and a timid giggle laced in each syllable. Your fingers stay situated on his skin, and you allow the elegant curve of your thumb to brush across his cheek lovingly. “She’s only a few months old. She won’t remember this.” you admit softly, something in your heart twisting and turning at his unfairly dreamy complexion.

His expression smoothes, that drilling stare softer than ever when he smiles warmly at you. You keep the weight of your hand on his cheek, soothing the skin as you gently scratch his perfectly tame beard. John only chuckles soundlessly, reverting his fond gaze back to your daughter in his arms.

He sits on the words for a moment. Tasting them, really savouring them on his tongue before they depart into the warm air around you. He gazes at her for a long moment. A long, elusive moment that made your heart stutter. “Probably not,” he tells honestly, and there is no room for debate to be found in his tone.

Swallowing thickly with a smile that rings, you pull back your hand from the warmth of your lover’s cheek, already missing the scratch of his heavy stubble against your softer skin.

He smiles lovingly still, and you find yourself getting whisked away in his tone. With a tilt of your head, you simply lean into him, arms encapsulated around his waist and your cheek rested to his arm as you hold dearly to him in return. “She wont. But I still want her to have it.” John speaks, barely above a whisper. The space around is so mute, so quiet that you hear each dip and curve of his tone, each easy breath and quiet inhale.

Your gaze filters upwards, and you thread your brows in wonder. He glances down, pleasantly surprised by the que for him to continue speaking written to your features.

You watch the way a rogue tress of his lengthy coffee locks brushes across his eye, and you take the moment to tuck it behind his ear for him; love doused in your gentle touch. You patiently wait for him to continue speaking.

You could listen to this man speak for an eternity. Iron in his veins, but kindness— love electrifying through his veins unconditionally.

“Remember when you were pregnant?” John begins, gently swaying the smaller frame in his arms as you hold him still, your head tucked sincerely to his toned bicep. A giggle simmers on your lips, and your matter of fact tone rings. “I do, yes.” was your sarcastic hum, ignoring his silly statement.

A faint smile curves his lips, and you feel him leave a soft kiss to the crown of your head. “Remember how the doctor told us that she could hear our voices?”

You only thread your brows further, curiosity drawn across your face. “Well, I’ve never really been able to let that thought go. That some part of her could hear us, some part of her understood us back then, even if she doesn’t remember.”

His breath is warm against your ear, and you relish in the vibration of his voice that zings through you. Smiling mildly, your fingers soothe small circles to his torso, encouraging him to continue.

From this close, you swore you could hear his beating heart.

A heart that belongs to you, too.

John looks down, regarding you with care, and the words that he speaks are ones you don’t think you’ll ever be able to forget, no matter how ordinary they might have been. “Even now, she won’t remember.” He tells, and you tighten your hold on him, listening sweetly. “But she can hear me right now. Some part of her can hear her daddy, and at least she knows that I’m here.”

A comforting flow of his voice, and your eyes slip shut.

You’ve come far too close to losing him before. Before, when he worked for the table.

Far to close to never feel his touch again. Perhaps it is why you always seem to crumble under his touch, each and every day. Why some part of you always longs to feel his delicate skin under yours, where you can keep it and know it is real.

That he is real. “I didn’t have that growing up.” John whispers the last words quieter than the others, and there is notes of long burning sting to be found in his tone. A sting he’s hid from you for years, in hopes that you’d never grieve the memories he never found growing up. “Even if she only feels this moment right now, and never again, I still want her to have it.”

He cuts through your heart like a knife.

A sweet, comforting, beautiful knife that seems to twist a yearn inside you. “And I’ll have it too, this moment. I’ll remember.”

A tender kiss registers to your forehead, and suddenly, you hear your vows to him wash over you quietly, through your ears over and over and over. “We’ll remember. Me and you, baby.”

You and him.

There was only ever you, and him.

You don’t reply.

Only your easy breaths, and the gentle roll of a tear bloomed out your eye, do.

You cling to him. With your arms tenderly, tightly wrapped around your husband’s bicep, you cling. Your skin tingles where your connected bodies touch, and you press closer, sighing softly at the gentle sensation, before laying a tender kiss over his shoulder. “I love you more than you’ll ever know.” You mutter quietly into his arm, eyes shut, and he swallows an affectionate chuckle to your words that warm him to the core. A small exhale filters through your chest, and your lips twitch again as you wipe away the escaped, single tear. “You have no idea, baby. No idea at all.”

It was only then that John felt the wetness of a rogue tear sink through the thin cotton of his shirt, and to the sensation, his heart dies right then and there for you, a million little times.

His lips are slow and indulgent on your head. Lips lost in the silk of your hair, his arms anticipating to hold you in them soon. His voice is muffled by the tresses on your head, and you feel his words ballet through you, and his large hand settle on top of yours; fingers warm and encompassing. There is a silence between you for a short moment as John allows the words you speak to sink into his bones, even if his heart already knew they were true.

It makes you sad, sometimes. To see him still get caught off guard by hints of affection.

Its tough to get used to the feeling of love, when you’d gone decades without.

You make it easy, nonetheless. Ghosts of his past still linger, but nothing is greater than you. You made it so very easy to crumble.

His voice is deep, but oh so soft all in the same. “You gave me this beautiful life.” he echoes lowly, and you feel a pulse in your heart. “You gave me you. It doesn’t get better than you, Mrs. Wick. I love you.”

The true regard, sincerity in his tone stays with you for years to come. You remember them every Christmas.

You only hope your daughter will grow up and find someone who loves her as much as her mommy and daddy love each other.

You don’t know if its possible, possible at all.

But you can always hope. That she finds someone, something that seems to stop the very fold of time itself. Whether it be romantic, whether it be platonic.

You only hope, that she’ll find a home

     that is a gateway to her heart.

if you would like to be added to my taglist and get notified when I post a new fic, lemme know!

[diamond-coral]

Bargaining Chip

Hello! This is my first time posting on Tumblr ever:) I pulled this one-shot from a fic I posted on AO3 a few months ago but the plot is irrelavent and I changed it from first person to second as well as some details so it can be read as a stand alone. There’s some plot from the actual story but you really don’t need to know it at all.

There might be a few errors, especially because I changed the entire point of view and converted it to present tense from past tense so sorry:) 

Loki manages to get his hands on you and exchanges you and your body for his ticket to independence from the Avengers. Bucky gets to go first.

Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Characters included: Loki, and a little bit of Tony, Steve, and Thor

WARNINGS: 18+ ONLY!!! SMUT (NON-CON TOUCHING, FORCED ORAL SEX (m receiving), KNIFE THREATS, DARK! AVENGERS, BUCKY’S AN ASSHOLE IN THIS, DEGRADATION, BASICALLY FORCED PROSTITUTION) READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

You awake in the passenger seat of your own car with only foggy memories of you and your partner before everything had gone dark. Your mission from the CIA...breaking and entering the motherfucking Avenger’s facility and managing to escape...you were so close. If it weren’t for him. In your haze, you look to see who could possibly have the audacity to be driving your car, and there sits Loki, the God of Mischief, who you had only scene on the news, driving one hand and inspecting something in his other.

“Good evening my lady. Sleep well?” he mocks without taking his eyes off the item in his hand which upon further inspection from you looks to be... a red leash?

What the hell?

“I do hope you like your outfit,” he continues. “I think I assembled quite the get up for you.”

Looking down, you let out a muffled scream that was cut off by a strip of duct tape. Your hands are bound in your lap, but that isn’t what horrifies you. It’s what’s underneath them. You take into account your bare legs, fully on display, with a black dress leaving little to the imagination. The top half is just as horrifying with it’s plunging neckline. Your legs end with a pair of strappy gold heels that ensures any chances of running away to be futile while your upper arms are adorned in golden bracelets accented with emeralds. Whether the emeralds were real or fake, you could care less. You have bigger problems to worry about.

“What the fuck?!”

Is what you try to say, but the gag only makes it come out as a mangled ball of muffled murmurs. Though the chuckle Loki lets out implies he understands your enraged speaking attempt.

“You, my dear, are going to be a bargaining chip. I heard about your little escapade at the Avenger’s facility last night. Impressive, I must say, but my brother and his little hero posse had been looking for you relentlessly after that. They are practically obsessed with catching the women that managed to break into their high security building.”

Loki takes a sharp turn into a parking garage, narrowly missing the wall. You squeal as your precious car runs over the curb.

“I forgot how much I hate mortal transportation devices. But Stark had to build this tower in the middle of New York to feed his ever-growing ego and now I’m the one that has to rely on a car to get me there,” he grumbles while pulling into a parking space. He takes a deep breath once the car is parked. “Now, I’m going to remove that gag out of your mouth, and if you scream, I will peel your skin off of your body in the slowest, most painful way imaginable. Understood?”

You nod frantically and he rips the tape off, extracting a whimper from your now stinging mouth. You open your mouth for him to take the wad of cloth out that was under the duct tape. As he extracts it, you snap your mouth shut in an attempt to bite him, but he’s quick to evade and grabs your jaw harshly.

“What did I say before?” he seethes. 

“You said not to scream. I didn’t scream. Now let go of my face.”

Loki roughly throughs your face to the side, letting go, and looks around the surroundings of the car, probably checking for any unwanted onlookers.

“Out of the car. Now,” he orders and you hastily oblige using your bound hands to open the door.

As you shut the door, you catch a glimpse of your own reflection and grimace. You look like a hooker. Aside from the skimpy outfit, your hair was pinned up and intertwined with gold strands. Your makeup is done as well. Sultry eye shadow and dark red lipstick.

“I didn’t know the God of Mischief was a makeup guru,” you jab.

He ignores you and harshly pushes you forward. “Walk.”

“Where’s my partner?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Loki replies. “She has other uses than the one I currently need you for.”

“And what use am I needed for?”

“I already told you. By the gods, you mortals are stupid. You are to be a bargaining chip, (Y/N).”

Your blood runs cold. “How do you know my name?” you ask.

“I know everything about you. Including your peculiar abilities.”

You stop dead in your tracks.

“Now, don’t worry,” he adds. “As amusing to me as it would be, I have no interest in enlightening the Avengers to your secret identity. As far as they will know, I am simply giving them the criminal that broke into their compound.”

“And what’s in it for you?” you ask as he guidesyou into an elevator.

After pushing a button, he goes to fix his dark green tie. “Clever girl now aren’t you?”

“Answer the question.”

“How about-no?” he muses and a soft ding resonates through the elevator.

The doors opened and, for a moment, you forget the predicament your in. Inside was the most beautiful penthouse you had ever seen. The opposite wall was made entirely out of glass allowing a view of the New York City night skyline. Everything little piece of furniture each looks as expensive as your car, but your focus becomes drawn to the minibar. The Avengers were all sitting there, laughing, and most were obviously drunk.

“Here James, try some of this,” Thor booms.

Bucky makes a face. “Why would I drink something from another planet meant for Gods?”

“Jeez Buck it’s the only thing that can get you and I drunk,” Steve slurs and claps Bucky on the shoulder. “It’s your birthday. Live it up a little.”

Bucky hesitates before grabbing the flask Thor offers him and throwing his head back, downing the flask in one go.

Loki seems to have enough of the party scene as he clears his throat to interrupt them.

“Gentlemen-”

Before Loki uttered another word all the Avengers clambered from their seats to grab their weapons, but their intoxicated state just makes it a comical sight. Captain America falls over in an attempt to reach for his shield below the table. Tony Stark’s iron man mask smacks him over the head as he fails to turn in time to catch it on his face. Sam Wilson chokes on his drink and falls backwards off his barstool in shock.

“I come bearing no ill tidings.” Loki spread his arms.

“Then why bother coming at all?” Thor growls, shifting his hammer to his right hand.

“I’ve come to make an offer.”

With that, Loki snatches your wrist and throws you towards him and the other men. You stumbled in you stilettos and let out a yelp as you land on the floor looking up at the 5 present Avengers: Thor, the Winter Soldier, Captain America, Iron Man, and the Falcon. They all look down on you with perplexed looks etched onto their faces.

“You guys have been so caught up and stressed about finding your security breaches that I was generous enough to do some finding myself,” Loki explains.

“And how do we know you didn’t just pluck some prostitute off the street?” Caps eyes rake up and down your body.

Loki scoffs. “Always the skeptic captain. Does this answer your question?” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a flash-drive.

Tony snatches it from his hands. “Jarvis, what’s on this drive?” he asks, holding the drive up to a scanner in the glasses he’s wearing.

“It appears to be the files you have been collecting the 2 vigilantes you have been tracking and-.”

“Okay thanks J!” Tony interrupts quickly before Jarvis could spill any more information. He proceeds to storm up to your cowering and kneeling form that hadn’t dared move and harshly grabs your jaw.

Jesus, what was with these men and your poor, bruised jaw?

“Why would you possibly need this information?” he asks calmly, but his eyes are feral. He studies you and his brows furrow. Did he manage to piece it all together that you were the alleged vigilante they had been hunting? He lets go of your jaw and throws you back on the floor. “What business do you have looking for them?”

Looking for them? You let out a sigh of relief.

“None of your business,” you spit.

“Anyways,” Loki continues, and the drive suddenly disintegrated in Tony’s hand while reappearing in Loki’s. “I will happily hand over this seemingly important information along with the girl for you to do with her as you please, but…” He pauses. “Only if you stop tracking my current whereabouts.”

“And why would we do that, Loki? You’re dangerous,” Steve notes.

“I was dangerous,” Loki interjects. “I have been a good boy haven’t I? I would like to lead a normal life without you imbeciles tailing my every move. If I slip, Thor here will know within the second if I’m involved with anyone wrong doings, won’t you brother dear?”

Thor grunts at that statement.

“Besides, Stark’s satellite can track any magical energy if I use it. Which I won’t.”

“Fine. Now hand over the drive,” Tony snaps and holds his hand out.

After Loki drops the small gadget into Tony’s hand, he hauls you up and spins you around to face him.

His voice is quiet and low. “Be glad I didn’t tell them about my plans for you friend. It would be a shame if they found out about her abilities...and yours.”

He spins you back around to face the 5 men whose eyes were now raking up and down your body. “Easy on the eyes isn’t she?” Loki mentions, hands falling on your waist making you squirm. “You know, I almost considered keeping her for myself. Her exotic beauty is that of a pleasure maiden on Asgard.” Your struggles are invigorated at his implications. “Enjoy your whore.” And with that, he gives you one final shove before vanishing.

It’s silent for half a minute before one of the men speak up.

“Alright who wants to take her for a spin?” Tony asks, clapping his hands together. “I vote the birthday boy gets first dibs. Huh, Buckaroo?”

You blanch at the idea. Were they really going to go through with what Loki wanted? What happened to the valiant heroes you saw on your screen?

“Wait Tony, you can’t be seriously considering Loki’s suggestion?” Sam Wilson sounds surprised.

Tony shrugs. “Why not, Birdie? It’s either this or high security prison and I don’t think she wants to rot in a cell.”

“She is standing right here and would rather rot in hell than do what Loki had in mind,” you hiss.

“Well it’s a good thing we weren’t asking for her opinion,” Tony says.

“Tony’s right, Sam,” Steve adds slowly. “We bust our asses out there. We deserve something nice.”

“Day after day we save this pathetic world, and no thanks are given. Just everyone saying what we did wrong. We should’ve left the world to fend for itself after they tried shoving those ridiculous accords down our throats,” Thor murmurs

Sam raises both of his hands up in defense. “Fine. Do what you want with her. I’m gonna head out.” And with that he leaves. Your heart sinks, watching the only glimmer of hope, your knight in shining armor, walk out the door. Your self-pity party is cut short by an arm snaking around your waist.

Bucky Barnes, trained assassin, mass murderer, and now current Avenger, puts his face in the crook of your neck and inhales deeply, sending shivers down your spine while you stand frozen like a deer in headlights. “What do you say, doll? Wanna finish what we started the other night?” His hand on your waist slowly drifts down to your ass.

You stomp your heel down on his foot eliciting a groan of pain. “Last time I checked, you were in the dirt, and I was driving away that night after a successful robbery. There’s nothing to finish.”

He moves quickly as he rips your hair out of what’s securing it up, using the opportunity to tangle his hand into the roots and drag you away to a separate room. He wrenches open and throws you in, leaving you to stumble and trip. A searing pain on your forehead signaled that you hit your head.

“How about we use that snarky mouth of yours for something better hmm?” His voice is ice cold with malice as he grips your hair and yanks you up.

You cry out in pain, tears pooling in your eyes.

“Not so tough now, are you?” he sneers down at you. Hearing the sound of a belt unbuckling and pants unzipping, you shut your eyes.

A tear escapes, cascading down your face, but his thumb gently wipes it away.

“Open your eyes, doll,” he coos.

You shake your head and screw them shut even tighter.

“I said...OPEN YOUR FUCKING EYES!” he roars and your eyes fly open only to see his member sticking out of his slacks right in front of your face. He’s almost fully hard as precum dribbles out of the tip. “Good girl,” he praises. “Now, since you can’t seem to keep your snarky mouth shut, let’s put it to better use. How bout that?”

You don’t move, and he sighed as you look down to the floor. You hear some shuffling, a small click, and suddenly something cold and sharp is pressing under your chin, tilting your gaze to his steel blue eyes.

“Let’s try this again.” He pushes the knife harder, digging it a little deeper, but not enough to draw blood. A knife. This dirty bastard has a knife. “Suck. My. Cock.”

Pushing all your pride aside, you direct your gaze to the task in front of you. Bucky lets out an approving hum and the knife is removed from your throat. You swallow before opening your mouth and dragging your tongue from his base to the tip before wrapping your lips around him and sucking lightly.

Bucky was no slacker down there, you had to give him that. You ease your mouth down his shaft and his head tilts back.

“Oh fuck that’s it,” he moans. “Take my dick down your throat.” He grunts. His metal hand fists your hair to push your head down, sliding a few more inches into your throat. “Oh-that’s a good whore,” he breathes.

A gag is torn from you and you slap your hands against his thighs to imply you couldn’t take much more. Bucky’s only response is another grunt as he jams the rest of his length down your throat leaving your only intake of oxygen to come from your nose which was now mashed right above the base of his thick cock. As quickly as he pushed you down before, he pulls you back off by your hair, letting you go to wretch, gasping for air and freedom. A strand of saliva still connects from his tip to my lips.

“I’m not done with you yet.” He snags your hair again. “Open wide, slut.”

You do just that and he begins to fuck your throat at his own pace, sliding his entire length down every time. Tears brim at your eyes, not just from the lack of oxygen, but the humiliation of the moment as well. The time passes much too slowly for your liking, minutes dragging on for eternity, before he begins to reach his climax.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” His cock twitches in your mouth.He holds your head with both hands as he releases straight into your mouth, warm thick strands of his release coating the back of your throat. He pulls out  with a pop and smirks down at you. “Good little sluts swallow” he orders.

You glare up at him, making a show of not doing anything.

“Well?” he demands and raises a dark brow.

You spit his own climax onto his expensive shoes.

“Why you-!” He raises his hand, getting ready to send a smack to your face.

“Barnes!” A female voice comes from the doorway as the door flies open. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

There stood none other than the Black Widow.

[ganymedesclock]

Ooh ooh ooh, how about your version of Sonic for the powers thing?

You see, Sonic is fast, because if he doesn't keep ahead of his problems, he'll have to actually think about them, and then he'll have a crisis.

This is partially a fun opener joke and it's also not. I'll let you decide how much of each it is. In the meantime, I'm going to talk about what my reads of various canons inspire in me, and how that informs Worlds AU, a bit more than talking about Worlds AU itself.

So Sonic in the initial game canon, started out with an extremely simple conceit. You can see this mirrored across all of the non-Amy classic characters: Sonic runs, that's his thing; Tails flies, Knuckles punches, Eggman makes robots and also problems, which sort of condenses into one thing considering the role robots have in the classic games.

(that damn caterkiller has cost me SO many attempts at a chaos emerald...)

This sort of got to be a problem as the games advanced. In particular, the Sonic game I started on was Sonic Adventure 2, which pitted Sonic very prominently off of Shadow. At this point, character concepts are no longer about simple capabilities, and every other member of the cast has grown up. (even Amy... though not too much. sorry Amy). Tails is now building robots to go with how his flight allows him to reach unconventional 'tricky' routes; Knuckles is now more of an adventurer, explorer, and even a mystic given his history and relationship with the emeralds. This earthly pugilist sense grounds him in a more versatile skill-set.

Sonic... basically his gimmick was remaining true to the classic formula- he was still the one going fast, popping those shuttle loops, and tumbling through a chaotic universe. Yes, they absolutely polished this and put flourishes on it- now he's grinding rails and flipping on poles, this sense of street-smart parkour that carries him cheekily through any environment...

But he's played off Shadow, where the thing about Shadow, especially in the first game, is Shadow is a person who suppresses most of his personality for his context. Not in an inorganic or badly written sense, mind- but he outright says to Rouge at one point that it doesn't matter if anything he remembers is fake- in essence, that it's more real than he is, and a dead person's wish is more important than his life.

Shadow is a soldier, is an alien, is a bioweapon, is a teleporter and he shoots lasers. We are beyond the days of simple conceits; if he was conceived in the classic era, he'd have probably been either only a jet-skater or a teleporter, and that one conceit about how he moved through the world would've been through everything.

Sonic picks up the chaos control from Shadow- in direct reaction to Shadow- and this is commented on. In this scene, Sonic not only rejects Shadow's unhealthy obsession with context- that where he came from was everything- but mirrors it with an attitude that, frankly, to me, rings just as unbalanced- Sonic basically denies having a backstory whatsoever.

"What you see is what you get!" he says.

And that flew in the classic era. We didn't really have a consistent or strongly-drawn backstory over why Sonic was fast. Most continuities around that era point it to either an accident or a happenstance synergy with an outside force. But we didn't really need a story over why Tails can fly or why Knuckles had spurs on his fists.

But in the modern era... there's context. Many characters have superpowers. And more and more, there was a sense that those superpowers had context and history, whether the outright spelled, like Shadow (he was engineered to be capable of this; if you look at him, he has most of the abilities you'd expect of a boss fight in Resident Evil, minus the squelchy, infectious sorts and the Black Arms imply he could well have those and just not use them)

...or the simply alluded, such as Blaze's ominous comment that her flames are the reason she was always alone.

Sonic... clearly has powers. He's been reframed to keep up with he setting as it changes. But that exchange between him and Shadow- where Shadow looks at what Sonic is capable of, looks at him, and asks, verbatim, "what are you," and Sonic delivers a non-answer so naked and so certain that there's not really anything to say to that.

To this end, while I think it's highly intuitive that they picked the wind as the motif to spice Sonic up to- with its sense of freedom, and with its association with speed- I think there's also something about air in general that connects to Sonic.

Air is... omnipresent. It has an extremely complex seething system high overhead. Enormous paths and belts and spirals of wind curl over us all the time, pushing clouds the size of entire states around like it's nothing. When you look at the sky, it looks stationary. But wait, squint- it's actually moving. It's actually moving really fast.

One of my absolute favorite characterizing moments of Sonic is in Archie Comics, specifically the post-reboot series. To keep context minimal, Tails confides in Sonic that he's losing his memory of a certain incident that affected both of them, and he's worried; Sonic reassures him, typical hero big brother best friend, and gives him a big hug. The scene is warmly lit.

The very next panel is literally in the shadows, over Tails' shoulder and behind his back. And Sonic's expression is... troubled. Telling. We immediately understand from that alone he just lied, and has no ability to 'just remember for Tails'.

Sonic is not a vacuous person. He's not empty, he's not innocent, and he's certainly not just your same good nostalgic friend who never changed or got complicated so you don't have to reevaluate all of those things- the guy you can always count on, just like the sky is always there- but he sure pretends to be all of those things, and tries to keep the stormy weather as far away from other people as possible.

This is given another heroic-sounding-but-actually-concerning context in Sonic Unleashed, one of several games in which Sonic shows a maybe suspicious but profound aptitude for darkness where he guzzles and serves as a very powerful conduit for the energy of Dark Gaia, who is strongly connoted with rage, despair, denial, and other states considered bad for your health.

Sonic asks Chip- who he's just found out is Dark Gaia's counterpart- if it was his protection that kept him from losing his mind the entire time. Chip denies this, and states instead it's that "you never let the darkness win."

The thing is... anger and sadness are actually pretty important to feel. And it's actually not true that Sonic as a character doesn't feel anger- there's a few rather notable scenes in which he really loses his cool, some of them within Sonic Unleashed itself (he actually scares Eggman at the culmination of the Egg Dragoon fight) and in the game Sonic and the Secret Rings he actually achieves a super form powered by negative emotions- and that game also ends on a surprisingly melancholy note, where Shahra, when leaving Sonic, specifically gives him a bunch of tissues, a nod to how they met, and specifically "So you can cry as much as you need to."

Sonic is a good person. But Sonic is also... kind of a liar. He has this powerful connection to these highly destructive and dangerous entities- Dark Gaia, Chaos- and this is a thing he, pointedly, doesn't wonder about. And it's not arrogance, or an inability to consider the possibilities- in Sonic Colors he is very real with himself that he can't outrun a black hole, but only admits that once Tails is out of earshot on the one safe ride away from it- and while gearing up to try to do so anyway.

Wind is a contradictory thing. In the sky, we consider the possibility of ultimate freedom; flight and wings are often depicted as symbols of enormous power and efficacy because the very notion of being able to go wherever you want to captivates us.

On the other hand, though, a state of freefall is terrifying. In the unparalleled freedom of the sky, absolutely nothing can catch you if you fall.

(you know, except Tails, if you're fighting Eggman in Marble Garden- I'll leave)

We can talk about a bolt from the blue, a sudden storm or a just-as-sudden clear blue sky... the mechanisms of the air around us are often very hard to perceive for their superficial simplicity. And on sunny days when the wind lazes slowly through the leaves, it's hard to think of it as capable of hurricane forces.

I guess the note I want to leave this on is, it's pretty interesting how Sonic genuinely likes running, but he also tends to either outrun or fight anything that stresses him out- and "what he is" and "what he's capable of" is something he really doesn't like talking about even if he's happy to show or compete it.

[cinnaminsvga]

🌷 social media au where y/n posts an advertisement looking for a new place to stay that is closer to campus, causing seven upperclassmen to make it their mission to recruit her into their dormitories 🌷

A/N: THIS TOOK FOREVER AND I KINDA RUSHED IT AT THE END BUT HOPEFULLY IT MAKES SENSE?? anyway, yoongi didn’t do anything stupid (depending on your definition of stupid) so no need to worry about him being cringey,,, i spared you all from the secondhand embarrassment but i won’t be so kind next time!! anyway... enjoy || W.C. 3.8K

prev // part 11 // next masterlist here.

By the time Seokjin’s phone begins to ring, Yoongi can already feel the dread settle deep inside his bones. The familiar coil of anxiety tightens around his throat like a vice, and Yoongi has to remember how to breathe to keep himself from fainting like a corseted Victorian lady. 

“Well, that must be her!” Seokjin chimes, promptly declining your call without a glance. Yoongi catches a glimpse of your contact photo anyway: it’s an unflattering angle of you from below your neck, giving the illusion of a multitude of chins. If it were any other time, Yoongi might have smiled like a lovesick fool. 

“Don’t you dare let her in here,” Yoongi seethes. He tries to sound menacing, but the effect is severely diminished by how badly his voice cracks. He tugs at Seokjin by the sleeve, but the older man refuses to budge. “Hyung, I’m serious. I know what you’re trying to do.”

“Are you done live-tweeting your confusion now? Finally got the memo? I always knew you were a smart boy,” Seokjin laughs, patting Yoongi on the shoulder with his tomato sauce-covered tongs. “Since we’re on the same page now, why don’t you change clothes while I finish cooking? I know your entire wardrobe is composed of the free t-shirts you got from job fairs, but it would do well to wear a clean, unstained shirt.”

Yoongi swipes at him, hissing like the catboy that he is. “You’re the one who wiped shit on me, asshole. And yes, I figured out what you are trying to do. You think you’re so slick, but I know that you’re just trying to embarrass me in front of Y/N!”

Seokjin shrugs. “It isn’t like I’m trying to be slick. I embarrass you all the time. Besides, I’m setting you up on a date with the love of your life! You should be thanking me, if I’m being honest.”

Yoongi stammers, his jaw dropping in shock. “Love of my–?”

Seokjin waves his tongs in his face, silencing him. “Oh, hush. Don’t even try to hide it, Yoongi. I figured out that you like Y/N. Your weird behavior finally makes sense! After years of you avoiding her, I always thought you were just bad at forming human connections, but turns out you’ve got a gigantic heart boner for my best friend!”

“Please don’t phrase it like that,” Yoongi groans, smashing his head against his kitchen counter. He hopes a few brain cells might have died, just so he can stop processing the words coming out of Seokjin’s mouth. “Actually, just please stop talking.”

Seokjin snorts in exasperation as if Yoongi was the dramatic one between them. “Point is, this is a favor that I’ve chosen to grant you from the goodness of my heart! As I said, I’m giving you the love life you deserve! So stop whining and get moving before Y/N gets up here.”

“There isn’t any goodness nor a heart inside of you. And more importantly, when was the last time you did anything for free, you capitalist bastard!”

Seokjin clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “That’s where you’re wrong, Yoongi-chi. You’ve already paid me for my services by offering me front row seats to watch you lose your fucking mind. And that, my friend, is priceless.”

“Aha! So you do admit that this is all just a ploy to humiliate me!” Yoongi shouts. He grabs a knife from his scabbard, pointing it threateningly at Seokjin. He doesn’t even flinch, instead gently guiding Yoongi by the wrist over to the chopping board where he had placed some garlic cloves beforehand. Without prompting, Yoongi’s hand begins to move, his culinary instincts taking over.

“Yes and no,” Seokjin admits as he grabs Yoongi’s cast iron pan from the top shelf (which he has never gotten to use since he bought it, ever since Seokjin had borrowed it once and placed it too high for him to retrieve.) “I’m honestly trying to help you out here, my dude. Besides, even if shit hits the fan, Y/N isn’t gonna think any less of you. She’s too much of an idiot to resent anyone.”

“Speaking from experience?” Yoongi huffs, eyeing him with intense vitriol. “Can’t say I understand how she’s gone this long without killing you.” The next time the two of them are alone together in the wilderness, he can’t promise that his hands won’t find their way around Seokjin’s throat, and it won’t be sexy.

“Hmm. Yeah, definitely,” he says, nodding absentmindedly. As he begins to season the steak, he hands the cast iron pan to Yoongi. “Start preheating this. We need it to be smoking hot before we can place the steak on there.”

“I know how to cook a steak, fucker. And who said you’re allowed to serve my Wagyu steak? I was saving that for a special occasion!”

Seokjin looks up from his ministrations long enough to raise a brow at him. “So going on your first ever date with Y/N isn’t considered a special occasion?”

Yoongi falters, eyes widening. “N-no, that’s not what I mean!” he defends hotly, but he quickly snaps out of it. “Wait, no! This is not a date! Not when both parties did not agree to any of this!”

Seokjin pauses from his cooking to place a perfectly manicured hand on his hip. “I mean, Y/N agreed to it, so are you going to reject her? Huh? Too good for her and my spaghetti?”

Yoongi scoffs, rolling his eyes. “No, she did not agree to this. She doesn’t even know you’re forcing her to eat lunch with me.”

“How can you say that with such certainty?” Seokjin challenges, puffing his cheeks. “You don’t even know what I told her!”

Except I do know what you said, Yoongi thinks darkly to himself. And more importantly, I know what she thinks you were implying. He is pretty sure that the words “crush on him during high school” have seared themselves underneath his eyelids forevermore.

But instead, he says, “Yeah, well. If what you told her is as vague as what you told me, I have a pretty good hunch that this is going to blow up into a huge misunderstanding.”

Like the absolute menace that he is, all Seokjin does is shrug nonchalantly. “Suppose you are right… Who cares? It’s not like the two of you are strangers, so I’m sure this is going to go great!”

“What the fuck? She is a stranger! I’ve literally only spoken two words to her in the past four years!” Yoongi seethes, his temple throbbing from an oncoming migraine. 

Seokjin ignores him, as per his want. “Grab that plate, will you? I gotta plate the pasta before Y/N starts calling again to let her into the building,” he says, nudging the tongs into Yoongi’s hands. Yoongi squawks, quickly turning the stove off to keep the food from burning. 

Seokjin tears off his (read: Yoongi’s) apron off, wiping his hands on his jeans with a quick smile. “Great! While you finish up here, I’ll distract Y/N for a bit in my room before I lead her in here, alright? You better hurry unless you want to keep her waiting!”

“Oh, like how you kept her waiting downstairs for the past–” Yoongi checks his wall clock, “–seven minutes?”

Seokjin cackles madly, rushing out the door. “Well, that’s where you and I differ, Yoongi-chi! I give no shits about how Y/N thinks about me, so good luck!” After sending Yoongi three flying kisses for good measure, Seokjin slams the door shut, leaving Yoongi to simmer in his bad life choices.

The worst choice that he’s ever made? Being friends with one (1) Kim Seokjin.

“God, just end me,” Yoongi mutters, placing his $80 steak on his pan. It sizzles deliciously, much like how his (nonexistent) love life is about to get burnt to a crisp.

x x x x x

“Took you long enough.” You watch as Seokjin taunts you with a funny little dance by the lobby of his dormitory, the building receptionist not even batting an eye at his eccentricity. That’s the sad side effect of living in close proximity with Seokjin: you start getting desensitized to most things, not even flinching at the sight of a man without a functioning central nervous system.

Seokjin slides his card to open the door, finally allowing you entry. “Sorry. Got busy preparing your lunch! Which by the way, you should be thanking me for.”

“The moment I thank you for anything is the day that you slip on your own cum and die,” you grouse, nudging past him to get on the elevator first. You punch the button for the 5th floor before rapidly trying to close the elevator door on him. Unfortunately, Seokjin makes it in time before his ass gets clamped by the two steel doors.

“Thinking about my cum? Oh my, Y/N… I know you’ve had a dry spell for too long, but I didn’t think you’d be that desperate for some of my butter,” Seokjin says, leaning closely to wink at you.

Against your will, your cheeks brighten furiously, weakly pushing Seokjin away from you. “You wish. At least I don’t spend my spare time loitering outside the campus gym to ogle all the sweaty hot people.”

“And the invitation to join me still stands by the way!” Seokjin singsongs, leaping out of the elevator once you reach his floor. You walk side by side until you reach his room, but you catch him shooting a furtive glance at his next-door neighbor.

“Is Yoongi joining us for lunch?” you ask, failing to keep your curiosity from showing in your voice. If Yoongi does end up joining you for lunch (which has never happened in the past four years, convincing you that he must have a personal grudge against you), then at least it can confirm to you straight away that whatever this “date” is just another prank by Seokjin. You don’t know if you should be disappointed or grateful if it is just a joke.

Seokjin beams in response, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “You know what? He is going to join us, actually!” 

He had been in the midst of unlocking his dorm when he changes direction, leading you to Yoongi’s door instead. He rifles through his other keys, and you notice one of them looks similar to his own house key, except with a Hello Kitty sticker on it. He pulls that key out and promptly unlocks Yoongi’s door without missing a beat.

What kind of weirdo must Yoongi be to give Seokjin a spare key to his dorm? You’d rather shit out a cactus than let Seokjin have free entry to your home whenever he pleases.

You hesitate by Yoongi’s door, feeling nervous all of a sudden. “Um, Seokjin? Are you sure it’s okay for me to–?”

“HONEY I’M HOOOOME!” Seokjin’s loud guffaw cuts you off before you can finish your question. He bursts through the door and leaves you by the hallway, and you watch as he nearly tackles Yoongi to the ground.

Yoongi, despite looking like he’s half the size of Seokjin on a good day, manages to keep upright despite how his back is now bent parallel to the floor. “Get off me!” he yells, roughly pushing Seokjin off of him. 

Seokjin tumbles to the floor, but the shit-eating grin on his face hardly wavers. He points at you by the doorway, a cheeky grin on his lips. “Look, Yoongi-chi! I brought a guest!”

Yoongi spares you half a glance before returning his attention to whatever he was cooking. “I suppose you did.”

Okay, this date is definitely a joke. Why the hell did you even think for a second that Seokjin might have been into you?

“Um,” you stutter nervously. You grind your heel into the carpet self-consciously, your gaze downcast. “Hello, Yoongi. Sorry for the intrusion, by the way…”

“It’s fine,” Yoongi replies, albeit a little curtly. He clears his throat, his face still tilted away from you so you can’t tell if he’s genuinely annoyed or not. 

You point a glare at Seokjin, who looks shamelessly pleased with himself. After taking a deep breath, you take your first steps into Yoongi’s home before gently closing the door.

As you look around at your new surroundings, you notice that his home is a lot cleaner than you would have expected, though you’re not exactly sure what you should have expected in the first place. It’s minimalist, but not in a barren type of way; it’s seems like Yoongi is fond of simple designs more than anything. It’s certainly a nice change of pace compared to Seokjin’s abomination of a room, with his vaguely yellow-stained bedsheets. 

The smell of freshly cooked pasta and meat being grilled catches your senses immediately. You watch as Yoongi flips over a hefty piece of steak, the aroma causing your mouth to salivate instantly. 

“I… What is… Huh?” you start, not knowing what to ask. You catch Seokjin snickering quietly to himself, but promptly shuts up when you mime punching him in the dick.

“It’ll be finished in a second. Why don’t you sit down?” Yoongi announces quietly, his gaze still fixed away from you. Confused but left with no other choice, you tentatively make your way to his couch, unable to relax as your spine remains ramrod straight and your jaw stays clenched. 

You hear Seokjin shuffling behind you until he eventually makes his way to sit with you, plopping onto the couch as if it were his home. “Ah… I’m soooo hungry. Smells good, doesn’t it?” he asks you, his brow wiggling too much to be considered normal. Either that, or he was having a stroke.

“Yeah, it does,” you say, greatly uncomfortable. You peek at Yoongi once more, who is still dutifully attending to the steak. Making sure he isn’t looking, you twist Seokjin by the nipple, causing the elder to let out a high-pitched squeal. To an outsider, it might have almost sounded like he was being pleasured. 

“Ouch! What the fuck was that for?” Seokjin whines, rubbing his tenderized nipples. 

“You know what that was for,” you hiss, keeping your volume low. “What the hell are we doing here? Why are you making Yoongi cook for us?!”

“For us? It’s for you!” Seokjin snaps back. “Didn’t you say you would only come over if you got fed? Well, this is how you get fed!”

“I was under the assumption that you would be feeding me, not him!” you seethe. You check back on Yoongi, who still hasn’t looked your way once. “The poor boy… No wonder he doesn’t like me! He must think I’m as bad as you!”

Seokjin snorts. “Of course he likes you! This whole lunch date wouldn’t have even fucking happened if he wasn’t assdeep in lo–”

“Lunch is finished,” Yoongi interrupts loudly, his spatula rattling loudly against his pan. The sudden noise makes you jump away from Seokjin, who appears vaguely triumphant. 

“T-thanks,” you stutter, standing up and resisting the random urge to shake his hand. Everything about this situation is so tense and awkward that it feels like you’re being filmed for a prank Youtube video or something. Knowing Seokjin, the odds of that happening are great. 

“That’s my cue to leave then! Bye! You guys have fun!” Seokjin says, jumping to his feet. 

You vaguely hear Yoongi gasp quietly when you launch yourself at Seokjin, just narrowly keeping from escaping. “Oh no, you don’t! Who said you could leave? You’re not going anywhere!”

But like the slippery snake that he is, Seokjin manages to wriggle out of your arms and hop over Yoongi’s coffee table to get to the door. “Too bad! I have classes to get to, so I gotta blast! Use this time to get to know each other or whatever it is that kids do these days,” he says, winking salaciously. With one final sputter of (evil) laughter, Seokjin makes his exit, leaving you and Yoongi to fester in some good ol’ fashioned discomforting silence.

“Um,” you say, just as Yoongi opens his mouth to say something too.

“No, you go first–”

“You go ahead–”

The two of you pause mid-sentence, staring at each other. You grin sheepishly at him, motioning for him to speak first. 

He returns your smile half-heartedly. “So, um… I just wanted to say I’m sorry for letting Seokjin rope you into this. I tried stopping him, but… You know how he is.”

You laugh, sounding a little crazed even to your own ears. That’s the longest sentence you’ve ever heard him speak! 

“Yeah, believe me… I am intimately aware of how he is. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t,” you joke. 

Amazingly, your little quip makes his smile widen, his cheeks puffing up imperceptibly. “Glad we can agree that Seokjin has the amazing ability to ruin people’s lives. It’s almost welcoming to find solidarity in a shared experience.”

“Shared experience? Try shared trauma. That dude is a walking serotonin sucker,” you say dryly. 

You don’t think what you said was remotely funny enough to warrant a laugh, but it causes Yoongi to let out a loud snort regardless. But the amusement on his face is short-lived, his cheeks going red in embarrassment. He slaps a hand to his mouth, breaking eye contact once more. “Oh fuck, that was so unflattering,” he groans, clearly mortified.

His blush, multiplied by his shy demeanor, makes you want to coo at him, but you doubt he’d take that too kindly. So instead, you change the subject to save him. “So, uhh… The food? You don’t have to give me any, by the way. I wouldn’t want you to waste your lunch on me or anything.”

Yoongi snaps out of his previous embarrassment, returning to the more familiar stoic expression you’ve come to associate with Yoongi. “No, that’s fine. Seokjin–er, rather… I made enough for two people, so it would be a waste if you didn’t eat at least some of it. But I don’t care either way if you want it or not.”

For two people? you wonder. So Yoongi had known Seokjin wasn’t going to join for lunch?

“Oh, if it’s fine with you…” you trail off, meekly making your way towards him. The spaghetti and steak look absolutely delicious, though you don’t need to tell him that when your stomach speaks for you. “Oh shit, that’s so embarrassing,” you say, your cheeks heating up this time.

Yoongi chuckles, shaking his head. “Haven’t eaten breakfast yet, I assume? That’s pretty stupid if you ask me. Don’t you have class until 5? How the hell would you have survived until then?”

You choke in surprise. Where did all that sass suddenly come from? “Excuse me? I’m not stupid! I would’ve been fine with a sandwich from the cafeteria if you must know!” you say indignantly. You’re too busy being offended that you don’t fully comprehend his words, failing to notice how he had known you had class until 5 in the first place.

“Sure, whatever you say.” Rolling his eyes, Yoongi starts shifting through his cupboards and pulling out a pink tupperware. He begins to load them with food, nearly overflowing the containers with how much he tries to stuff in them.

“H-hey! What are you doing?”

“Packing your lunch. You have class in a bit, yeah? It’s almost 11:50 and it takes around 15 minutes to get to the main campus. You won’t have time to eat here and make it in time,” he says, pointing you with a look. “Wait. Did you have coffee this morning?”

“Yeah? So?” you ask, defensive. “Are you gonna call me stupid again for not having caffeine or something?”

“No,” he grunts. “If you’re caffeinated, then that means it should only take you 7 minutes to get to class.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!” you exclaim, but you can’t help letting out an incredulous laugh. “Wow. You’re kinda weird, did you know that?”

“You barely even know me, so how would you know?” he retorts. He finishes placing food into the tupperware and promptly clicks the lid in place. He offers it to you, smirking slightly.

You huff, but your ire is all for show. You aren’t actually annoyed by him–he’s just… different from what you expected. A little shy, a little rough around the edges… but you can tell he isn’t a bad guy. You understand why Seokjin loves to torment him; he seems like a fun person to tease. 

“That can be amended,” you respond, taking the tupperware from him. Your fingers graze the backs of his hand by accident, causing him to quickly retract his hand as though he’d been burned. You nearly drop the container in surprise, but luckily your reflexes save your precious food just in time. 

“Sorry. About… you know.” Yoongi gesticulates wildly, his gaze darting anywhere but at you. 

You smile secretly to yourself, amused. Ah. He’s like a human seesaw. Blushy one second and grumpy the next. “No worries, Yoongi. I’ll be sure to return this container soon, so don’t you worry.”

Yoongi shrugs. “Keep it if you want. I don’t care either way.”

Says the guy who has an entire cupboard full of color coordinating food containers. “Roger that, Yoongi.”

Yoongi walks you out the door, pausing outside the hallway with you. “Do you…” he hesitates, swallowing loudly enough for you to hear. “Do you… want me to walk you out?”

His sudden offer almost makes you want to laugh, but you have a feeling he wouldn’t find it amusing at all. Instead, you just shake your head with a smile. “Don’t worry. I won’t get lost. I think I remember where the door is.”

He pouts, his lips jutting out cutely. “Yeah, well. I was just trying to be nice, but you do you.”

You giggle lightly, patting him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. You were more than nice,” you say, winking for added effect. It does more than you thought it would, causing Yoongi’s cheeks to bloom once more.

With one last wave, you make your way out of the dormitory, your heart a little lighter than before. 

“Huh. That was weird.” You glance at the pink little tupperware in your hands, its warmth keeping your hands safe from the winter chill. As you walk to class, your thoughts are filled with nothing but a shy boy with soft hands and even softer cheeks. Maybe Tuesday isn’t going to be so bad after all.

[op-imaginesandmore]

How would Issho/Fujitora, Doflamingo, Smoker, Arlong, and Gin react to their s/o dying in their arms? (human s/o for all of them including Arlong) Sorry there are so many the posts you've made so far I've enjoyed immensely. I love your style of writing! (:

I know it’s been *checks notes* actual years since I have touched this blog, but I kinda wanted to try my hand at a few of the asks I have in my inbox. I’m going to do just Smoker, and with each of the asks with multiple characters I will pick the one I am most comfortable with writing and go from there. I hope you like it! And also, to anyone who reads this and likes it, thank you! But my ask box will remain closed until…idk, probably a long time. I don’t want to get any one’s hopes about about anything.

Pairing: Smoker x GN!reader

Warnings: Angst, character death (you asked for it), mild descriptions of injury, mentions of blood, implied smut (mildest of spice), unbeta’d if that is a warning

***

The OP was supposed to be a simple one. Get in, do reconnaissance, stay under the radar, come back with what info they needed on the pirate crew, get out.

No one thought Big Mom herself was going to recognize Y/N, because you were good at your job. You had been spying for the government for years, you’d worked with Smoker as one of his subordinates, had infiltrated countless pirate crews, revolutionary bases, treasonous scum that thought they could get away with anything, and had always succeeded in your job.

Lay low, go unnoticed, get the info, come back to him. It was a perfectly organized system that was like clock work, each gear turning for the purpose of civilian protection, and justice.

Until now.

Blood soaked the beach he was kneeling on, who’s it was, he had no idea. Could be his, was probably the pirates’ that were scattered around the Vice-Admiral like debris after a storm, but what infuriated him most was it was most definitely yours.

Wheezes, broken and wet, escaped from your lips, swollen eyes looking up into stoic grey that was like looking into twin hurricanes. Anger, righteous and intense, swirled around with frustration, concern, grief, and an emotion you knew from your quiet moments between soft sheets and the hard planes of his body.

So gentle you barely felt it, he lifted you from the sand like something precious, your blood dripping down his arms and pooling beneath your broken body. Your eyes, swollen and bruised, squinted up at him and a soft smile cracked painfully across your lips.

“Hey handsome” you rasped, a cough that was soaked with blood spurting out. Smoker put a large hand through your matted hair, jaw clenching as he tightened his hold on you.

“I’m gonna get you to the ship’s infirmary” he seethed through his teeth, the usual multiple cigars he kept there like pacifiers long gone. He made to get up, but the cry that came from your lips was shrill and heartbreaking. He immediately stopped, holding you to his chest in a hold soft enough for a newborn.

“I know it hurts, but you need-“

“Do you remember Alabasta?”

Smoker stopped, looking down at your broken body that had the audacity to be giving him the smile that always managed to make his heart flutter in his chest like a crushing school girl’s. He swallowed thickly, not trusting his voice and opting for a nod.

“You were such a baby about Strawhat, I thought you were going to implode when he had his crew mate save your life.” You reached a trembling hand to his face, stroking the rough stubble of his jaw. Almost involuntarily, Smoker leaned into the soft touch, turning his head to kiss your palm as memories of their time on the desert island came to mind.

It had been the first time you had ever yelled at him, calling him reckless and blind. Telling him you were thankful for Strawhat, grateful he had saved his “stupid, sorry, ass” so you had the chance to give him a piece of your mind. He had retaliated with a practiced speech about being your superior, about how you should worry more about your job than what he was doing, how you shouldn’t talk to him like that.

Then you had the nerve to yell at him that you didn’t have a choice but to worry about him. When he yelled at you back about the why, instead of answering him you kissed him square on the mouth.

Their first kiss was in the moment, it was all teeth clacking and sudden and Smoker had been blindsided, but also hadn’t been. The two of you had been flirting with the line between officer and government agent for months at that point, subtle glances and bold, shameless flirting on your part had morphed into soft and subtle touches and hours of listening to you talk about everything and anything.

When the shock of it had worn off a second after you started kissing him, he hadn’t expected for himself to kiss you back. He had adjusted your chin, softened the kiss, and wrapped his arms possessively around your waist and lifted you, your legs wrapping around his own waist in a way that sent chills down his spine as he carried you to his desk. He set you down upon it, gentle as can be, but your legs stayed around his waist, his hips grinding into yours in a way that had him growling. Your lips had been like soft, plush, velvet on his own chapped ones, tongue sinful in its exploration, running against his to beg for entrance.

The two of you broke apart, you were panting, your face flush as you put your head on his chest and listened to the quick thumping of his heart. He smelled like a cigar, a hint of sweet fruit in a haze of earth and smoke that always managed to make your head spin. A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth as you licked the taste of him from them.

“I worry about you because I care about you Smoker” you looked up at him, your eyes twinkling in the soft glow of the sunlight coming in through the porthole of his cabin “probably more than what’s appropriate for a working relationship, but I don’t want to hide it anymore.” You put your hand on his face, stroking the apple of his cheek in a way no one had ever dared touch him before “if you don’t want this though, we can stop right now and never talk about it a-“

Smoker was kissing you again, softer but with a passion that turned your whole body into jelly that molded into his. It was brief, too brief for your liking but he was looking at you with a smoldering gaze that promised more.

“We do this, we tell no one.” He said with conviction “I can’t have my subordinates thinking I have favorites, and fraternizing could get me and you in a lot of trouble.”

You nodded, understanding alighted in your eyes as you coyly bit your kiss swollen bottom lip.

“If that means I get to see your smoke powers at work in the bedroom, I’ll take an oath of silence”

He felt his body react, his hardened length against your thigh making you squeeze your legs together, bringing him impossibly closer.

Smoker’s chest tightened at the memory.

“I’m glad” you said, swollen gaze growing distant “that it all happened the way it did. The last year and a half has been the best of my life” another cough, violent and cracking in its intensity that it had you whimpering into Smokers chest, and his eyes were burning with the tears that were inevitable now.

“Y/N-“ Smoker started, the deep rumble of his voice cracking “baby, you’re gonna be fine, let’s just-“ he took a breath, steeling himself to try and lift you up again, but your head falling limp against his chest stopped him, made the breath leave his lungs and, for the first time in a very long time, Smoker felt true terror grip his careful self control.

“Y/N?” His voice, so unlike the commanding bass it usually was, soft and broken as the body he held “Y/N? Sweetheart c’mon, wake up” he shook you, your head lolling to one side and then the next awkwardly, before it rested back on his chest and Smoker realized your uneven breathing had stopped, the rasping, painful breaths gone quiet and the only sounds to be heard on the bloodied beach were Smoker’s own uneven hyperventilating “Y/N please! You-you can’t do this! Baby, c’mon-open those pretty eyes, please! Y/N? Y/N!”

He held on tight to your body as he slowly broke down, the tears running rivers down his face that had smudges of your blood on it from holding your body up to it, his face buried into your hair as if he could revive you if he held on a little tighter, begged a little harder to whatever god or devil would listen. His cries broke through the silence, their only companion the lapping of water against the sand and gore. He rocked back and forth, clinging to your lifeless body like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

That was how Tashigi found her Vice-Admiral, sobbing into your hair as he begged you to wake up. Her heart shattered into a million pieces, but she had to keep him moving, had to remind him of the duty he still held.

“Vice-Admiral Smoker?” She breathed, caution in her tone, heartbreak threatening to pull her under when his breath caught. He looked up at Tashigi with a tsunami of emotions that she had never seen him display. Heartbreak and grief worked in tandem to make the ever stoic and statuesque officer crumble to his knees.

“I’ve gathered the survivors of our platoon, we’re awaiting your orders, sir”

There was a pregnant pause that seemed to stretch for an eternity, Smoker looking down at his dead lover, the emotions that had been raging across his face draining from his being, and was replaced once again with the careful stoicism that his position required of him.

He got up slowly, you still cradled against his chest as he looked out at the horizon. It was another long moment before he spoke.

“We bury our dead, then we take the fight to the one who started this.” There was a fury in his words that struck fear into Tashigi, a fear for how reckless her Vice-Admiral was about to be against a Yonko.

“But Smo-“

“Did I fucking stutter?” He whipped his head around, the grey of his eyes burning with an unbridled rage that seemed barely contained “I’m not gonna rest until every last piece of filth that carries the name of Charlotte are wiped from every ocean from the East Blue to Raftel.” He glanced down at the body in his arms, a soft, broken look before the rage hit again.

“They’re gonna pay for what they’ve taken, I’ll make sure of it personally.”

[alpacaparkaseok]

Lost & Found - 10

Pairing: Park Jimin x soulmate (oc)

Warnings: Insecurity, anxiety, abandonment

Word Count: 5.1k

a/n: thanks for waiting! I normally post in the mornings but life happened and this is also a super important chapter (lol, they all are) that I needed to make sure was prepared to launch us into phase 3. (yesss, there are phases!) as always, thanks for reading, and let me know how it went!!

Chapter 10. Blue & Grey

series masterlist

Yuri steps into the back a moment later, coming to lean up against the counter beside me as I struggle to free myself from Taehyung’s gaze. In the span of a single blink, his eyes soften and he’s wearing a pleasant expression as Yuri begins to speak.

“You said you wanted to talk about something important with me?” Yuri urges, looking a little worried yet elated to have such prominent figures in her small bread shop. Namjoon nods hastily, sparing me a glance.

“Yes, thanks for seeing us. We know that this is a little...strange, perhaps. But we wanted to make sure everything was settled before things can get out of hand.”

Of course, my heart begins to race a little more. “What do you mean, ‘get out of hand’?”

For all the world, Taehyung looks like he’s ready to answer me, but Namjoon responds before he can get a chance. “Yuri, I’m assuming that you’re aware of Jolie’s, erm...accident.”

“Oh, of course,” she offers me a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, I just don’t understand what that has to do with anything you’re here for.”

Namjoon and Taehyung share a look before turning back to Yuri and I. Clinging to my apron which I have yet to remove, I pray that they can’t see the slight tremor in my hands. A thought passes through my mind, completely unbidden and foreign. Before I’m able to stop myself, the words dive off my tongue.

“Is...is he alright?”

Taehyung’s gaze snaps to me, brows furrowing as he looks genuinely confused. Namjoon, however, takes in my white knuckles and hunched shoulders, and gently smiles.

Before Namjoon can reassure me, however, Taehyung jumps in. “He’s fine. We’re here to discuss other things, however.”

The way that Namjoon doesn’t say anything to cross Taehyung has me realizing that while he may be the leader, this is a completely different ballgame.

It’s me, Jimin’s disgraced soulmate, against Taehyung, his proclaimed soulmate.

I know a losing game when I see one.

“Right. Yuri, we’ve got to discuss some sensitive information with you today. Would you be willing to sign an NDA?” Namjoon steers us back on course, even as Yuri glances back and forth between Taehyung and I.

“Oh. Y-yes, of course.”

Clapping his hands together, Namjoon dives right in. “Perfect. Well, I would like to discuss a few things with you. Taehyung-”

“Yep.” Without leaving me an opportunity to ask questions, Taehyung is coming to stand before me. “While Namjoon is explaining some things to your boss, we’re going to have a chat.”

Glancing over at Namjoon, who is leading Yuri to one corner of the large room, near the storage area, I receive no mercy. When I turn to look back at Taehyung, I catch him staring down at my thread with a faraway look in his eyes.

Needing to have something to keep me going while I receive what I’m sure is going to be a royal chewing out, I turn to head over to the worktable.

“You talk, I’ll knead.”

✂

I’ve learned something about Taehyung in the past few minutes.

He doesn’t hate me as much as he would like for me to think he does.

It was quiet for a long moment as I sprinkled flour over the worktable and pulled out a slab of dough I had been planning to let some of the other employees use later on in the day. With my heart in my throat, I began to beat it into shape. For about a minute, the only sound in the workroom was the sound of the dough against the table and Namjoon’s hushed conversation with Yuri.

Taehyung sidles next to me, the silence suddenly becoming blaringly loud as he watches my hands. Over and over again, I roll the dough. Once it’s sufficiently loose and pliable, I begin to shape it.

“So this is your job?”

He can’t keep the curious tone out of his voice, and I glance over at him to see his wide eyes flitting between me and the dough. Almost as though he can’t quite believe it.

“What did you think I did?” I ask, not able to refrain from my sarcastic streak. “Buried bodies?”

Just like that, whatever angry storm clouds were lingering in his eyes dissipate and he laughs. Laughs loud enough that both Namjoon and Yuri pause in their conversation before continuing.

“Honestly,” he confesses, “something like that. Yeah.”

I snort, returning to the dough. “Nice.”

“Do you think you can teach me?”

“How to bake bread?” I ask, curious at his change in attitude. I see him nod in my peripheral.

“Yeah. I think it looks amazing. Very therapeutic.” He pauses, and I can almost see the thought bubble hovering over his head. “We have a pretty big table at the house, you could probably use it. Or does it have to be a certain material?”

A part of me freezes under the nonchalant mention of the house he shares with my soulmate. The way he’s testing the waters, assessing me for any kind of reaction.

Another thing that I’m learning about Kim Taehyung: he picks up on everything.

“Er...what kind of table is it? Like, is it a countertop or-”

“Oh, yeah. The big one is the kitchen island. It’s a granite countertop I think...Namjoon hyung!”

There’s no need to yell, but he does anyway.

“What?” Namjoon asks, bewildered but used to this kind of behavior.

Taehyung turns back to me, shrugging. “It probably is. Would that work?”

I blink, wondering if it’s ok for me to laugh at what just happened. Shouldering through it, I focus on the dough again. “Yeah, granite’s great for dough.”

Taehyung looks lost in thought, but I’m starting to realize that I should always be on my toes around him. Indeed, he recovers quickly and decides to finally discuss what he came here to talk about.

“I’m assuming your boss doesn’t know what really happened,” he states quietly enough that there’s no way Yuri can hear him from across the room. A simple shake of my head is all it takes to confirm what he said. Glancing around the room, he notices the back door.

“I think it might be best if we step out back for a moment.” Taehyung takes a step toward the door before stopping to look back at me where I stand with the dough still in my hands. “Unless you need to finish that first…?”

I shake my head, pushing the dough back into a metal bowl and covering it up with a cloth. Wiping my floury hands on my apron, I follow Taehyung to the back alleyway. The sun is nearing the highest point in the sky, bearing down on us and filling my bones up with a little warmth despite the general chill in the air.

Taehyung makes his way to the opposite wall of the alley, looking around as though checking for spies before facing me. There’s no need for me to question him as to what’s going on, he can see the question clearly in my eyes.

“We have a Muster coming up in less than two days,” he begins, crossing his arms. “Jimin is going to perform on stage for the final song.”

It takes a moment for me to fully understand what that means.

“They’ll see what happened,” Taehyung continues, watching my every movement. “And I think it’ll be all too easy for people to see you and instantly accuse you. Which, they won’t be wrong. But still, it could get ugly.”

I know what he’s implying. Suddenly life will become a burning hell for the scarce few that have a severed thread. Which, by my understanding, is no more than a handful.

Immediately my thoughts go to Christina. “What about those people that have nothing to do with it but could be accused?” It would be devastating for her to think that she’d been the one to bring Jimin so much pain.

Taehyung tilts his head to one side. “You keep surprising me.” Before I can ask what he means, he continues. “That’s what we’re here for today. In order to protect those people and you, Bighit has to come up with some sort of cover story. Make it really seem like an accident. We just need to keep you out of sight while things get straightened out.”

Dread, cold as ice as just as sharp, sluices through my veins. “No.”

I can tell that this, at least, Taehyung was expecting. “You don’t have a choice-”

“So you want me to hide away forever?” I hiss, rocking back on my heels. “People will find out soon enough. And they’ll rip me to shreds!”

That cold fire from before is back and blazing in Taehyung’s eyes as he listens to my objections. “No! They won’t, that’s the whole point. They’ll understand that it was an accident-”

“Which they’ll immediately want to fix!” I shout, the sound echoing down the alleyway. “You don’t understand, no matter what you tell people, this ends up with me being forced right back where I was before.”

“And where was that?” Taehyung seethes, taking a step forward and making me stumble back. Those hawk-like eyes see how I react, but there’s no pity in them. “How horrible for you to be stuck with someone that would only love you. That would never ask for anything in return. That just wanted - wants still - nothing more than to be linked to you in any way possible.”

The confession falls flat in the face of my fear, however it’s something I know will come back to haunt me later. Instead, I allow my roaring emotions to take over even as I find that my back is now pressed against the wall.

“Of course I want that!” I shout, and Taehyung blinks. “Of course I want him! Did you want me to go to your house and grovel at his feet for forgiveness, and then teach you how to bake bread like some big happy family? Did you want me to tell you all about how the first and last thing I think about every day is Park Jimin and how I know the perfect way to hate myself for cutting this?” Throwing my hand up into the air I bite down the sobs that try to surface. “I sat and watched this thread burn not because I didn’t want him, but because I had to remove myself from his life before I could enter it.”

I can see the objection brewing in Taehyung’s mind, but I stop him.

“Jimin is not the problem,” I sigh out, utterly exhausted. “He became everything to me the second I saw him, but he is everything to everyone. I...I can’t be that. I don’t think I ever can.”

Taehyung’s eyes clear, and he looks down at me with sudden understanding. I want to lash out, writhe under that understanding, but I can’t stop the way his thoughts seemingly click together.

“I- Jolie, you’re not a puzzle that’s missing a piece. You don’t have to suddenly click into a pattern that everyone else has. You’re a human being,” Taehyung says reverently, and I wonder for a moment if someone has said this to him before. “You are allowed to just bake bread for the rest of your life, if you want. Nobody is going to ask you to stand on the stage, not even Jimin.”

“But I feel like I shouldn’t keep doing the same thing if I’m with him. I have to be more, somehow.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Taehyung admits. “Just because you’re allowed to be comfortable and hide away doesn’t mean you should. It’s tempting, I’ll give you that much.” He shrugs, still looking at me with that new light. “But you’re allowed to learn at your own pace, venture out of your comfort zone when you feel brave enough to do it. Just know this: most people never feel brave enough but do it anyway.”

“Why?”

Holding up his left hand where his deep red thread extends to the ground and through the back door, he smiles softly. “We deem the risk worth it, in the end.”

I’m just processing the fact that I had a screaming match with Taehyung when Namjoon pokes his head out into the alleyway. Both Taehyung and I turn to face him, looking guilty.

“I told you that I’d have to end up explaining everything,” he remarks drily. “Did you two manage to discuss the plan?”

Somehow, as Taehyung and I sheepishly shake our heads, I feel like I’ve made an ally in an enemy.

✂

Jolie (Elle): This is me telling you that I’m still alive, as you requested.

Me: Wow. That bad of a day? Are you going to take a nap?

Jolie (Elle): Literally as soon as I get home. I have to stop by the store and grab some cat food, Elle nearly murdered me in my sleep over it last night.

Me: I can literally feel your exhaustion through the phone.

Me: Was work ok??

Jimin has to wait a little while for a response. He just got a text from Namjoon, notifying him that they were headed to the Bighit building. When he asked him how it went with Jolie, he’d only received a vague answer.

It did nothing to calm his nerves. Especially knowing that Taehyung, even though he’d promised him that he’d stay calm, had gone in there with no shortage of wrath.

Jolie (Elle): Fine

He’d been afraid of that.

Me: 😟

Me: I’m so sorry, sounds like today has officially sucked

Jimin stares down at his phone, waiting for some sort of response.

Jolie (Elle): No need to apologize.

Jolie (Elle): It was my fault anyways.

“No,” Jimin whispers to himself, eyes wide as his fingers fly across the screen. Before he can even think about the message, he sends it. All he wants is to stop this ache in his chest that he’s sure Jolie feels as well.

Me: I wish I was there.

Three little dots appear on his screen, Jolie typing a message, but then they disappear. A moment later, they come back and a message follows.

Jolie (Elle): It’s fine, really. Texting is enough, I really appreciate it

The butterflies that erupt in Jimin’s stomach are enough to make a grown man cry, but he knows deep down that a text is not enough. Bringing his phone to his ear, he listens to the ringing. Taehyung and Namjoon walk through the door of the practice room right as Jimin begins to speak.

“Hi, I’d like to place an order.”

✂

There’s something on my porch.

I noticed the little pop of color as I began up the stairs to my apartment, carrying a grocery bag with catnip and a bar of chocolate, my excuse for a pickmeup. It wasn’t until I made it to the top of the stairs that I realized what it was that was waiting for me.

A bouquet of flowers. Hydrangeas, white and pink hydrangeas are waiting for me. They have a dewy shimmer to them, catching the sunlight just right.

Obviously, this is a mistake.

“Elle, look at these,” I coo as I shoulder open the door. Immediately the white cat appears, sniffing at the bag filled with catnip rather than the flowers. “Nooo, not that. The flowers.”

She doesn’t care about the flowers, apparently. Giving in, I gingerly set the flowers on the counter and get to work setting her food out. Once Elle is feasting away, I turn back to the flowers.

“Now, who were you supposed to be delivered to?” I hum, plucking the small envelope from amidst the arrangement. Taking a generous whiff, I close my eyes as the sweet aroma fills my senses. “Ugh, whoever they are, they’re lucky. These are absolutely beautiful, don’t you think?”

Again, Elle proves that she really couldn’t care less about the floral arrangement on the counter. Except to maybe knock it over, perhaps.

Slipping open the envelope, I take in the short message.

Jolie,

Because a text isn’t enough.

-PJM

“PJM?”I breathe out, staring at those initials with wide eyes. My breath comes up short as I reread the card again and again, flipping it over to see if there’s anything else. Some sort of clue.

“Elle, these are for us.”

The only response I get is a lazy swish of her tail, but I’m not paying attention to her anyway. All I’m looking at is that bouquet of flowers that’s meant for me after all.  

Ripping my phone out of my back pocket, I open it up to my text conversation with Jaemin. Scrolling through his concerned texts, trying to see if I’m doing alright. With shaking hands, I type out the letters.

Me: PJM?

✂

“She’s not ready to know the truth,” Taehyung reports.

Jimin sits beside him on the couch, arms crossed and looking out the window with a glazed expression. The other members listen to every word that Namjoon and Taehyung are saying, finally getting a full report of the events at the bread shop.

Nevermind the fact that it’s been hours and it’s nearly midnight.

“What? That Jimin’s actually Jaemin?” Jin stretches a little, bumping into Yoongi who hardly notices. “I mean, it’s not like it’s that much of a stretch.”

Taehyung shrugs, glancing over at Jimin who has yet to say anything. “We talked-”

“Screamed,” Namjoon corrects. Jimin perks up at this.

“What were you screaming about?”

Taehyung assesses his friend, deeming him capable of receiving this information. “You. Her own insecurities. Bread.”

“Bread?” Jungkook questions, but it goes unanswered.

“Some part of her wants to be with you,” Taehyung explains, completely overlooking Jungkook’s curious expression. “But she’s freaked out. Kind of like how Jungkook mentioned before, when you first started texting. She’s so in her own head that it’s hard for her to see that you wouldn’t demand her to become some sort of celebrity.”

“She thinks that I would?” Jimin asks. He left his phone in his bedroom, deciding to leave Jolie’s simple question, PJM?, until after he’d had a chance to discuss it with everyone. He knew what she was asking. It was a deliberate choice of his to put his initials on the card rather than the fake name.

He couldn’t stomach her thinking that the flowers were from some random Jaemin, when they were in fact from him.

Her soulmate.

“No, not necessarily. She said that she feels like she would have to become something more, though. Purely because you are who you are. And I think that’s something that really scares her.”

It’s also something that Jimin doesn’t know how to fix. “If she’s not willing to get out of her own head, then how am I supposed to help her?”

Namjoon pipes up. “She seemed a lot better, though. I think, whatever she’s doing, she’s getting better. Chung-hei mentioned that she’s seeing a therapist, actually.”

Jimin sits back. “Good. That’s good.” He chews on the inside of his cheek. “What did she say about the plan?”

The plan. It wasn’t much of a plan. In reality, it was more of a precaution than anything. They all knew that everything would be a mess after Jimin goes back into the public eye, and Jolie would be at risk by just stepping foot outside her door.

“She agreed to be chauffeured,” Namjoon says. “I mean, obviously she’s not happy about it, but she said she understood.”

Jolie would be picked up in the morning and after her shift by a nondescript car driven by Bighit employees. Anytime she needed groceries, they would pick them up for her. Do anything they can to keep her out of the public eye.

“I’m kind of surprised that she agreed,” Jimin admits. “Maybe that’s a good sign?”

There’s a grumble of agreement, and soon after the boys are dispersing. Only one day left until the Muster, tomorrow was going to be busy with final rehearsals and preparations.

Jimin heads up to his room, laying on his bed and staring at the short message from hours earlier.

Jolie (Elle): PJM?

Sighing and ignoring the nerves in his stomach, Jimin just prays that all is not lost.

Me: Yes?

For now, she’s asleep. He doesn’t expect a response anytime soon. Rolling over and facing the wall, Jimin tries his best to close his eyes and let everything roll off his shoulders.

She’s bound to find out sometime.

✂

Jimin’s hands are sweaty as he paces below stage, listening to the roar of the crowd as his brothers perform above him.

The Muster came all too quickly.

Yesterday passed in a blur, consisting of Jimin checking his phone every few minutes only to find it void of any incoming messages. In his heart of hearts, he knew.

She must suspect that her newfound friend is her soulmate in disguise.

It’s with this knowledge that Jimin steps onto the lift, waiting for his brothers to finish their goodbyes before going up for the encore performance.

Looking around him, Jimin watches the staff and stage crew bustling about, preparing for the end of the Muster. Needless to say, his gaze wanders to the countless threads that overlap and lead in every direction. It’s always amazed him, how they never get tangled. How nobody ever trips over them.

Jimin has always marveled at the fact that somehow, somewhere on the other end of those threads is another person. Someone just as busy, just as oblivious to the lifeform attached to them through indescribable means.

Park Jimin has always been told that he would be the best soulmate.

He’s kind, and considerate. Loving and forgiving beyond all comprehension.

It’s something that he has believed is a lie. Every night, even before Jolie cut the very thing that tied them together, he’d lay in bed and stare at that red thread. Wondering what would happen when his soulmate was inevitable disappointed in the fact that their star-studded soulmate was just...him.

Tonight though, as the lift carries him up toward the stage and the beginning cords of “Blue & Grey” begin to play, he begins to believe.

He would be the best soulmate.

Perhaps this is the moment where he proves it. Without hatred, without envy. Without a wounded look in his eyes.

With that conviction humming in his bones, he rises to the stage and walks out under the spotlight.

The arena around him booms with sound as Jimin walks toward where his brothers sit in a semicircle. They gleam with sweat, still breathing heavily after their last performance. As Jimin takes a seat, he looks out into the crowd.

He sees the exact moment they realize what’s missing.

Or rather, hears.

That roar of the crowd, his ARMY so happily welcoming him back to the stage after his long absence, turns to deafening silence.

Into the silence, Jimin sings.

Blue & Grey plays out, Jimin raising the mic to his mouth and singing his parts with a steady voice. He waits for the end, hoping that the CG team in charge of the large screen behind him was able to carry out his request in time.

Taehyung sings the final words, his voice carrying in the quiet arena. And behind Jimin, three letters are traced out across the screen.

PJM.

As soon as the song is finished, the boys get up from their seats and make their way to the lift. They shoot Jimin curious looks as they spot his initials, but he shrugs it off for now. He can only hope that the person it was intended for saw them.

They’ve just made it to the lift when the wailing begins, the crowd having finally broken free of the spell that Blue & Grey wove over them.

“Saranghae Army!” Jimin shouts into the mic, smiling softly. The other members begin to bid them goodbye, reassuring them. They all know it will do little, already a few members of the crowd are inconsolable, but they do it nonetheless.

✂

“Twitter is blowing up right now,” Christina says, scrolling through her feed. I lay on her couch, staring at her television.

I’d come here to see if I sounded like a crazy person for taking Jaemin’s initials so seriously. However, I can’t shake the feeling of something being off.

Naturally, I’ve ignored the problem by not responding to him for a day. I’d say it’s a step up from what I’ve done in the past. At least I’m not cutting him out of my life, right?

“Isn’t it always blowing up over something?” I drawl. When I don’t get a response, I look over to see what the big deal is about.

Christina sits up in her chair, hand thrown over her mouth as her wide eyes stare at her phone.

“What? What happened?”

She shakes her head in disbelief. “I...you need to see this.” Screen-sharing with her TV, a stage replaces our episode. “He went public. It’s official.”

Ah, right. I’d also come to give Christina a fair warning about what was about to happen. Jimin going public today was the other thing occupying all of my thoughts, but I didn’t realize just how big it would be until I see the impact he had at the Muster.

Heart racing and stomach churning, I watch as Jimin appears on stage.

“Wow, that’s a statement,” Christina comments. “Doing ‘Blue & Grey’ as his comeback song?” She catches my eye, realizing who she’s speaking to. “Oh. Right.”

As Jimin settles down and Taehyung begins to sing, I find myself utterly entranced by him. He looks calm. Confident.

The world falls silent in what I assume is the moment people begin to notice that there are only six, not seven, red threads up on stage tonight.

Jimin doesn’t falter in the silence. Instead, he fills it with his voice.

“I’d forgotten,” I croak out. The rest of the words won’t come easily, but thankfully Christina understands what I mean.

“Yeah. He has a beautiful voice, doesn’t he?”

Wordlessly, we watch the rest of the performance. I can’t help but notice the fact that the cameras never pan too far so as to not see Jimin. I’m sure that they’re just as shocked as everyone else is.

As the song comes to an end, I find that somehow my eyesight has become blurry. I can’t quite tell what’s on the screen behind the boys even as Christina begins to shout.

“Look! He- he’s confirming it! Look!”

Rubbing madly at my eyes, I get a closer look at what’s on the screen. The second I see it, I stop breathing altogether.

PJM.

It wasn’t a coincidence.

“It’s him.”

Christina leans forward as the video ends, looking at me for a moment before laughing. “I mean, are we actually surprised? He didn’t try that hard to hide it, now did he? Park Jaemin, seriously?”

As much as I would love to laugh at this moment, I find that I can’t.

My new friend. The one I would scramble to read whenever I got a notification. The one that constantly checked up on me.

The one obsessed with my cat.

“How?” I breathe out.

Christina doesn’t bother to offer a reply, just watching me as the gears shift in my head. No answers are forthcoming, of course. Just the small sliver of truth that keeps on coming back.

“My soulmate is my friend,” I say. It’s obvious, but it’s important.

Jimin is my friend.

Letting out a sigh, Christina nods. “Yes. Your friend.”

The only other coherent thought that crosses my mind has me getting to my feet and slipping my jacket on over my shoulders.

“I need to go.”

“What do you mean, ‘need to go’?” Christina gets up after me, following me to the door. “Aren’t we hitting a major breakthrough right now? Your estranged soulmate is also your friend. Park Jimin isn’t just some celebrity, he’s your friend. Someone you can trust. I mean, sure, this doesn’t mean you have to barge up to his house and see him. That would be weird anyways, because then the thread would reconnect and only extend a few feet, at least, that’s what I’ve heard. It’s weird, because it’s almost like the thread has a mind of its own, you know? In order to defend itself upon reconnection, it keeps a short distance between the soulmates until it's sure they’re safe-”

“Christina.” I turn around to face her, one hand on the door. “He’s my friend, right? A good friend.”

She nods, looking a little confused. “Yeah, I thought we already established that.”

“Friends deserve an explanation, right?”

Christina blinks, looking a little nervous. “You’re not going to visit him, right? You should take the proper precautions for that, you never know how the bond with react-”

“I’m not going to see him,” I reassure her. “I’ll call you tomorrow, ok?”

Before she can question me further, I’m out the door. Keeping my head down as I head out on the main road and pass a group of teenagers, I overhear their shocked conversation.

“How does that even work, though?”

“I don’t know, but my dad’s cousin nearly had his thread cut-”

“I bet it’s all for publicity,” another remarks. “Don’t know why they need it, though.”

“Why would they cut a thread for publicity? Idiot, it’s probably CG. Maybe they did it to raise awareness or something.”

I don’t get to hear how their conversation ends before a black SUV pulls off to the side of the road and a woman sticks her head out of the window.

“Hey,” she flashes the ID hanging around her neck. I recognize it as a Bighit ID. “Operation Chauffeur is in full effect now. Hop in.”

It’s unsettling how they found me so quickly, but I distinctly remember agreeing to this plan just a couple of days ago. Sliding into the backseat, I ask the driver to take me home.

“Your name is Jolie?” The woman asks, hands on the steering wheel.

“Yes.”

“I’m Sunmi. Looks like we’ll be spending a lot of time together.”

✂

As I finally bid Sunmi goodnight - she’s oddly friendly for a Bighit staff member that’s typically charged with driving BTS around - I stumble into my apartment and head straight toward my room. Elle hasn’t arrived back home yet, probably still out on her nightly jaunt.

Which, apparently included Jimin without me even knowing it.

Flipping the light on to my room, I see that the Seoul City Electric envelope is exactly where I left it.

Sitting down at my desk and finding an empty page in a notebook, I take a deep breath.

Once I exhale, I begin to write.

And write.

And write.

Previous - Next

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[bakugohoex]

CONGRATS ON 1K !!! can i request iwaizumi with #8 ? pls i love reading angsty iwa—

“don’t leave me, you promised you wouldn’t leave me”

pairing: hajime iwaizumi x gender neutral reader

cw: implied sex, angst, crying 

word count: 1100+

a/n: aww thank you so much bby, bro idk how i even wrote angst, i used to hate it but i love making myself sad, hope you guys like the 3rd oneshot for my 1k event, i’m going to go watch kuroko no basket and cry

summary: in which iwaizumi begins to fall out of love with you, until all he feels is a stranger around you

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Iwaizumi didn’t know the moment he fell out of love with you, maybe it had grown over the past months, every night beside you he felt nothing. No love or passion for the relationship, everything he had wanted in a relationship had passed within a year of you both dating. You both had become strangers even when you tried hard to initiate sex or even cook him dinner, how could he look into your eyes and see love when all he could see was nothing.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had wanted to come home to meet you, he knew it must have been the night when he had seen you making dinner months ago. It was supposed to be a happy occasion, you looked perfect to him but in a matter of minutes the perfection that you held swirled into nothing. He felt empty sitting in front of you, your comments on his day, was this what your relationship had come to. Eating dinner, silently talking about your day and then watching a movie, he hated it. He initially had not thought anything of it, knowing how relationships got to this stage and it’d pass over. But it never did. 

Every day for the past couple of months, he had come home with a tired look and an emptiness inside of him. The normal kiss on your cheek felt mechanical as if he was made to do it, he didn't want to. It brought him no happiness nor satisfaction, Iwaizumi kept at it though, he tried he did, he tried initiating sex, tried to feel love every time he thrusted into you. But he felt nothing, he would see you get your high and lie beside him as if you were just a one-night stand. 

He stopped cuddling you, stopped putting his arms around your waist, stopped hugging and kissing. He was making you both say firmly distant, he had fallen out of love with you just as easily as he had fallen in love with you. 

He sat upright on the bed, scrolling through his phone, you laid beside him on your side. You knew he had grown distant, how sex felt like nothing with him, how he’d only refer to you by your name. No more kisses or hugs goodbye, nothing, he looked at you blankly with no will, you refused to meet his gaze, staying in silence as he continued to flick through his phone. 

He had only been doing it to avoid a conversation with you, it was a common occurrence for him to stay late with the boys, which in reality was him sitting in his car for an hour to avoid dinner with you. How could he tell you though, how could he confess whenever he kissed you, he felt no love or comfort. “Hajime.” You whispered softly.

“Yeah.” He muttered not meeting your gaze, he stayed content on his phone not bothering to turn to cuddle you to see if you were okay.

You missed his arms, you had thought everything was going fine but his growing distance made you worry, maybe it was just the stress of the job. Maybe he was just overwhelmed, “is everything okay?” 

Turning to face the boy, he looked down at you before looking back at his phone. “Everything's fine.” He put his phone down closing the light as he turned away from you, your heart shattered at his action, he was hiding something, and he had stopped caring about you in a matter of seconds. 

You faced the other end, you might've been together but, in this moment, you both felt ever so alone. The lack of contact continued until the fateful night had occurred, Iwaizumi knew he couldn't spend hours in his car to spend less time with you, even on weekends he’d spend hours in the gym. 

He came home late at night, hearing the television play of some random movie. He saw your figure on the couch, he already knew his past self would’ve gone to join you, hug you and cuddle inside your hoodie. Leaving soft kisses against your chest but all the truly felt was nothing. “Y/n.”

He could hear your sniffling as he came closer turning the light on to finally see your face. Tears streamed down your face and a silence between you two, “Y/n.” He repeated.

“Hajime.” You whimpered out. 

“I...I don’t love you anymore.” He blurted it out so easily, even with the months it had taken him to confess his love to you, his rejection of you felt like a stab to the heart of how easy it had been for him. Tears streamed down your face, you had had the gut feeling this would occur, the feeling that the end of your relationship with the man you loved would come. 

You stood to meet his gaze, “I...What did i do?”

Even with your crying teary eyed face, he felt nothing, he felt like a stranger without the capabilities of comforting you. “Nothing, I fell out of love with you.” He spoke coldly. 

Anger seethed through you, he looked at you as if he had never met you before, as if you hadn’t spent the past year in love. You remembered his words a couple months into dating, his promise to never leave you, his promise to stay with you forever. You had both watched the stars making random names for the stars and a promise had evolved from the date. But here now, with this stranger, it felt like all the memories you ever had with him were gone. 

“Don’t leave me, you promised you wouldn’t leave me.” You begged through the tears, hoping he’d feel some guilt, but he gave you a low look. 

“I lied.” He took a sharp breath continuing, “you can have the apartment.” It was the last sound you heard, watching him go into the bedroom that you had shared with him, slept with him in, made love with him in. The empty memories you felt watching him with a bag, taking one deep breath before dropping the keys to the side and leaving out the door in a matter of moments. 

Iwaizumi didn’t know when he fell out of love with you, but the emptiness he had had in a relationship with you had only become stronger at every step he took towards his car. He may have not loved you, but he had broken a promise that he thought he’d live by till his death. Iwaizumi never thought he’d find himself free with you crying in the apartment, but here he was in his car, tears dripping down his own face at the loss of a stranger.

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[headboyweasley]

to my beloved // h.p

pairing : harry potter x reader

summary : when harry learns you’ve gone missing, he hits rock bottom. no one can reach out to him until a peculiar letter ends up in his possession. 

warnings : ANGST (happy ending???), swearing, post-war, alcohol/implied alcohol abuse, violence (against inanimate objects), missing person/presumed dead, mentions of food

word count : 1.3k

author’s note : hi!! this is my very first fic posted on tumblr, so i hope you enjoy. i’m actually really proud of this one, as it was inspired by my favorite song “play this when i’m gone” by machine gun kelly. also, thank you for the support on my masterlist! it means the literal world. also my favorite writers followed me and i am freaking out. sorry for the this long note,,, i tend to ramble. enjoy!

( disclaimer : gif is not mine! )

It had been months since the war had ended. While the wizarding world was still healing, the future for it had become hopeful. The threat of war had hung over the heads of the community, so once it had been taken away, everything was reborn. Bustling crowds and children’s laughter had filled Diagon Alley once more; the boarded up shops had now opened up, gleaming with pride. Many felt grateful for this new age.

The last person people expect to be so devastated was Harry Potter. Afterall, he was the one that killed Voldemort. Good things don’t happen to heroes, as someone had once told him. He gave everyone that hope, but he couldn’t find it in himself. Why, you may ask? Well, my friend, he found out you were among the missing people in the aftermath of the war. The love of his life, his sunshine, his darling had been snatched from him.

Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but sometimes he wishes that he hadn’t gone to the forest to face Voldemort. Sometimes he wishes he had hid away in Shell Cottage with you and grown old together. When he decided that was selfish, he tried to find other ways he could have won that war with you by his side. 

He knew he couldn’t. What happened was the only true ending. 

A sigh fell from his lips as the bottle was barely held by the tip of his fingers. The bedroom reeked of firewhiskey, which wasn’t a surprise since there was a surplus of them scattered across the floor. He took a final sip before letting this bottle join the rest. 

Of course, Ron and Hermione had attempted to help. They had kept it up for a couple months through staying at his home and making meals for him. Hermione tried reading to him, while Ron kept his friend updated with Quidditch and the Weasley family. This had come to an abrupt halt, though, after a particularly angry outburst from Harry. They had given him one last look of sympathy before apparating.

That had been months ago, and since then, Harry had been trapped inside his mind and flat. 

“You never do anything fucking right. First, you lose the love of your life. Next, you ruin the relationship between you and your best friends. You’re fucking alone, and you’re going to die that way.” He seethed with anger just looking at himself in the small mirror. He continued to glare at himself for a few more minutes before grabbing the mini dresser and slamming it into the floor. 

Glass shattered, while his old Hogwarts uniform and merchandise tumbled out. Violence was an often thing for the items in his home. Usually after a bottle and self-degrading speech, he’d destroy something to let the anger fizzle. The aftermath of this, though, was a bit of a coping mechanism, as he would fix things by hand instead of using magic. It let his mind breathe; focus on anything but his self-hatred. 

He crouched down to pick up his Gryffindor scarf, wrapping it around himself and relishing in its warmth with shut eyes. It reminded him of the freezing wind that nipped at his skin whenever he went out to visit Hagrid, or the times his roommates were challenging who could put on the most layers. These memories let him be at ease. They always transported him from the harsh reality to the happier days. 

Once he allowed himself to come back, his eyes scanned for something that would ground him to the real world. He expected to find a bottle to do so, but instead laid eyes on an unfamiliar envelope at his feet. It couldn’t have been his Hogwarts letter, as this one did not bear the mark to close it. However, there was a date written at the top in an all too familiar handwriting. Then, it clicked.

Your handwriting.

Harry scrambled to grab the paper. It was sliding all over the hardwood floor when he kept grabbing at it recklessly. After a struggle that felt like forever, he held the envelope in his shaking hands. Yes, that was definitely your handwriting within the date that read “31 July 1997.” He flipped it over to find “To My Beloved” written across the front. 

It felt as time had stopped, as he carefully pulled the flap from its seal. To him, it was like he was touching a part of you. Granted it was written over a year ago, but the small spark of hope held onto it anyways. Slowly, he pulled out the folded up paper inside. Deep breaths, he thought. He did quite the opposite, though, as his breath hitched when he read it.

Hi there, Harry. I hope you’re doing well.

If you find this, there’s a good chance something happened to me.

Already, tears pricked his eyes. He continued, despite his semi-blurry vision.

Please don’t fret though. Things happen for a reason, remember? If you hadn’t stayed in the hospital wing after your bone disappeared, you wouldn’t have met me and my major clumsiness. I’d like to think that’s another reason Lockhart’s git self had ended up as teacher; for our chance to meet. 

It’s ok to cry, but please don’t think that it’s your fault. I am so in love with you, Harry James Potter. I dedicated my life to you. I promised you I’d follow you until the end, and I followed through. 

Since I filled my promise, please promise that you’ll live; that you’ll find that happiness in your life again. You’re the best damn seeker I know, so don’t go telling me that you can’t. I mean, I’m sure you killed Voldemort and brought light into the dark world. You deserve to be in that light. Don’t dwell on the past, my love. Focus on the future. All I want is for you to be happy.

I know we never got married, but I knew you were mine from the beginning. The box with this letter; I thought I’d give it now before it was too late. In marriage, you want the best for your partner. That’s exactly what I want. When you wear this, please remember to do whatever you can to be happy. If not for you, then for me.

I love you, Harry Potter. I am so proud of you.

Yours, Y/N

The letter would be covered in wet spots if his glasses hadn’t taken the fall. He let out a choked sob as he clutched the letter to his chest. His eyes scanned the area for the aforementioned box, and found it between a few bottles. One hand darted out and snatched it up, while the other kept a tight grip on the now wrinkling letter. Slowly, he flicked open the lid with his thumb.

A wedding band glistened against the little light peeking through the blinds. Upon seeing it, he hesitantly let the letter fall onto his lap and went to take the jewelry instead. His hands shook as he grabbed it and slipped it into his finger. A perfect fit, of course.

Maybe, just maybe, the ring was magic. It must be, as there was a strange feeling bubbling in his chest. Happiness? Love? Hope? He sifted through a few emotions before landing on a feeling of content. This letter was the closure he had been subconsciously grasping for. Now that he had it, he felt reconciliation with his mind. 

Harry pushed himself up to stand, and with shaky legs, he made his way to his home phone. He made sure one hand held the paper that brought him much peace, while the other dialed the number. It rang a few times before a familiar voice answered. A final deep breath before he responded.

“Hermione? I think.. I think I’m ready to change.”

-

!taglist!  @/empty :(

[the-void-i-scream-into]

White Tulips - a JunJin fanfic 2/3

Full Story: Part 1, Part 3

Hello Everyone! I hope you are all happy and healthy. Part 2 of my Junjin fanfic is finally up. Thank you so much to the beautiful and wonderful people who liked my fanfic. I am so sorry I have not been responding to your lovely comments. I had exams so I was really busy but I will get to them now. It took me a long time to post this next part because I wanted to finish both Part 2 and 3. I’ll be posting the other part too once I’ve proofread everything

As always, this chapter is dedicated to the Shooters GC (which I haven’t checked in so long, I’m so sorry)  🙈 🙈

Please do be warned, this does get a little dark. But it will pay off in Part 3, I promise.

Pairing: Kang Sujin x Han Seojun

Romantic Trope: Haters to friends to lovers

Word Count: 13.5k

Rating: T

TRIGGER WARNING: Some of the themes in this story are a little dark, specifically in section iii. Please be warned. I’ve added a summary for section iii in section iv so you can skip it if needed.

PART 2

i.

They both spoke at the same time.

“Ya Kang Sujin…”

“Ya Han Seojun…”

“What the hell happened?”

Seojun had been in a strange state of mind all day. First it was waking up in the enemy’s bed, but that part he had completely blocked out. Then it was the massive hangover, the effects of which he was still reeling from. On top of that he had received a scolding for being late to practice, which caused him to be late to his commercial shoot, which caused him to be late for his recording session which was when he had been informed about his scandal.

Seojun normally didn’t care for rumors that spread about him. He relied on his performance to speak for itself; the people online with their uninformed opinions didn’t matter.

“But why did it have to be her?!” He had groaned when he first read the articles. But then he asked himself seriously, “Why did it have to be her?”

It all seemed too convenient. Additionally, she had been the one to drag him for drinks and then back to her apartment.

Was this another one of her schemes? What would she gain from doing this? Maybe it was because he was on to her and could see the truth about her and now she wanted him gone. Yes, it must have been that. Or was it not? Was his theory too farfetched? Maybe he was being too harsh. Maybe he was misunderstanding the situation.

Seojun felt conflicted. On the one hand, it would have been so easy to just blame Sujin and keep on hating her like he wanted to. On the other hand, he could hear Suho in his head, warning him about being too judgmental. Seojun normally trusted his instincts with everything but this time his own instincts were confused. Should be giving Sujin the benefit of the doubt? 

Seojun knew that if he needed answers, he would need to go to the source.

“What the hell happened?” They both asked each other at the same time but neither had the answer.

“How the hell would I know? It was your apartment.”

“The pictures were obviously taken by someone was obsessed with you.” Sujin fumed.

“Are you saying this is my fault?”

“Then are you saying it’s mine?”

“I’m not the one who took us out drinking then brought me back home to her apartment!”

“I’m not the one with the crazy saesangs!”

“My fans are not crazy! They are way better than arrogant women with a princess complex like you!”

“Don’t call me princess.” Sujin said dangerously.

“Or what? You’ll get me drunk and back at your apartment again?”

“Ah shut up, you man-child!” Sujin hung up and Seojun flung his phone across the room where it bounced onto the couch. He was seething.

“Aish!” Seojun kicked the air.

“Did you talk to Sujin?” Heekyung’s calm voice startled Seojun.

“What? Oh, Noona.” Seojun gulped.

“How was she? Was she okay?”

“Umm…” Seojun blinked

“She must have been shaken. Facing something like this can be very upsetting.”

Seojun’s shoulders deflated. “Uh, yeah…” He hadn’t considered that.

“Did she agree to give a statement to help clear up this mess?”

Oh right, I was supposed to ask her…

Heekyung continued, “I do have good news. We’ve found the person who took the photographs. So he won’t be sharing them with anyone else.”

“You have?”

“Yes. It was unfortunate. A photographer happened to be there, just as you were leaving. He actually recognized you from your voice. Talk about having bad luck.”

Seojun frowned. So, it wasn’t Sujin.

“So will Sujin do it? We just need a simple statement. She can release a post on her socials and we’ll take care of the media articles.”

Seojun rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Um, I don’t think she’ll agree.” . Especially not after the blaming match that just happened. “Can’t we just clarify things on our end? Not get her involved?”

Heekyung smiled with a twinkle in her eye, “Oh I get it. You don’t want her to feel burdened.”

Seojun could tell what she was implying. “Ah-nee! Its not that at all!” His voice was pitched a little too high.

Heekyung laughed, “I’ve been at this for longer than you, Seojun-ah. You can be straight with me.”

“It’s not like that! I don’t care about Kang Sujin at all!”

But Heekyung wasn’t listening. “Just be careful. Your career has just started. You can’t afford scandals like these. People will turn against you in an instant, you know?”

Seojun swallowed. He knew all too well how people could turn against him in an instant, like the way thy did with Seyeon. But he wanted to believe that he would be able to face them.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be careful.”

Heekyung nodded. “Good. Now I’ll go tell our PR team to release a statement about you and Sujin being just friends.” Seojun nodded gratefully. “I think the fact that you went to school together will help. Hopefully people will buy it when you tell them nothing happened between you two.” Heekyung winked as she walked away.

“It’s not like that!” Seojun called after her.

ii.

The situation subsided as quickly as it had risen. Move Entertainment published their official statement about how it was all a misunderstanding. That Seojun had only been visiting his friend from high school and the fact that the friend was also a mutual with rising online beauty guru Lim Jukyung helped establish the connection. Seojun had been glad that Jukyung had taken those selfies with Sujin with Seojun in the background otherwise people might have just taken the statement as an excuse.

What annoyed Seojun about the whole situation was not his reputation or the online speculation but how everyone else kept teasing him about it. This was made especially worse when they were all gathered around for drinks, including his own squad, Chorong and Co., who were eyeing Sujin with a mixture of adoration—that made them stare at her, and fear—that kept them from talking to her.

“Ooh, Han Seojun you better not drink too much or you’ll end up in Sujin’s apartment again.” Taehoon teased. Seojun gave him the death glare while Sujin made a disgusted face. Everyone else laughed.

“Guys! Don’t be mean.” Jukyung’s voice went unheard among the collective chatter.

“Han Seojun, I can see you’ve been keeping a very close eye on Kang Sujin.” Chorong whispered in his ear. Seojun elbowed his ribs.

“Pay up, Sujin didn’t kill him.” Suho asked from Suah.

“You guys had a bet?” Sujin asked icily. Seojun almost admired the scathing look Sujin gave Suho as she eyed the money being exchanged.

Suho’s and Suah’s hands froze right when they were exchanging the bills.

“No?” Suho said weakly.

“Kang Su, I bet on you okay?” Suah defended.

“Ah is that so? Well then you’re off the hook.”

Suah relaxed while Suho blinked forty times, sweating. “Kang Sujin. It was just a joke okay?”

Sujin just put her hand forward and Suho silently put the money in her hands.

“Wah, just 5 dollars? I’m worth 5 million you know.”

“Sure you are. And I’m the King of England.” Seojun said under his breath. Kang Sujin and her princess complex.

“What was that?” Sujin put her hand to her ear, “I’m sorry. I couldn’t hear you over the apology you owe me.”

“What apology? I owe you nothing.” Seojun retorted, fully aware that he had actually come to this gathering to apologize to Sujin about the scandal and how he had behaved over the phone. That plan had since been abandoned. 

For some reason, he could not spit out the three words ‘I am sorry’ to Kang Sujin. No matter how much he wanted to. There was just something about her that irritated him to the point of misbehavior.

Sujin clicked her tongue at Seojun but said nothing. Instead, reaching into her bag, she pulled out a notebook and a pen.

“Here, sign this.” She ordered, pushing the notebook and pen in his face.

“What is it?”

For Kang Sujin, the biggest issue from the scandal had not been the online noteriety and not even the teasing, but the fact that everyone in her office now knew that she was friends with an idol and had demanded that she get them his autographs.

“Its for my friends at work.”

“You have friends?” Seojun said with mock surprise.

“You know I was just as shocked to learn that you have actual fans. I always thought Suho was the one buying all your albums.” Sujin said.

“Of course I have fans! I am super popular you know!” Seojun defended, pulling the lapels of his jacket with pride.

“Yes I’m sure you’re veeeery popular.” Sujin’s words dripped with sarcasm. Seojun’s pride deflated like a balloon. “Just sign. And write something nice too.” She ordered. Seojun quietly picked up the notebook, not because he was nice but because he felt he owed her this much.

“You know my autographs are worth a lot of money, right?”

Sujin made a face. “Just sign the damn thing so that the girls at work stop harassing me about you.”

Seojun smiled as he signed. His fans were awesome. “How many?” He asked.

“Seven.”

He signed seven pages, each with a personalized note.

“Be nice to my fans at work.”

“I’m always nice.”

“Sure you are.” Seojun replied skeptically. He handed Sujin the notebook. “I better not find you selling these online.” He warned.

“I’d rather starve than live off of your autographs.” Sujin bit back.

“Okay, okay! No more fighting!” Jukyung pointed between the two. “Lets all enjoy our drinks in peace.” She looked pointedly at Sujin who pointed her chin at Seojun with a ‘he-started-it’ scowl.

“Han Seo, is it okay for you to meet us in public like this?” Suah asked. They weren’t in the usual private dining area that they frequented when it was just the core group of friends. They were out where everyone could see.

“We can always hang out at our place, if you want.” Suho offered. Seojun quickly shook his head. Seeing Suho and Jukyung together outside was one thing. Seeing how they lived together was quite another. Knowing they lived together was painful enough. He didn’t want even more fuel for his imagination.

“Its no trouble at all.” He put on a smile for Suho who seemed satisfied. But, to his surprise, he found Kang Sujin giving him a strange look. She chuckled to herself but said nothing.

As they all said their goodbyes, Seojun went out the back so that he could leave in privacy. He planned on taking the long route today. A bike ride would help him clear his mind.

“Han Seojun, wait up!”

He stopped just as he was about to put his helmet on. He was surprised to find Sujin there. 

“What? Need more autographs?” He asked, cockily smiling.

Sujin made a sickened expression. “Not at all. I just… I had something to say.” She hesitated.

“Well say it.”

She cleared her throat. “It was neither of our faults. The scandal. It wasn’t that it was my building or your fans. It was someone shitty who didn’t respect our privacy. That’s… that’s all I wanted to say.”

Sujin waited for his response. Seojun could feel his face burning. He should have been the one to say all this to her, and yet here she was apologizing to him instead.

“I’msorryforwhathappened.” He said too quickly and too quietly.

“What?”

“Nothing!” Seojun shoved his helmet on to hide his embarrassed face. 

“Drive safe.” Sujin said.

“Yeah, whatever.” He rode away.

Kang Sujin was just glad she was able to spit out the words she had been meaning to say all night long. It had been weighing on her ever since they had spoken on the phone. She had promised herself a long time ago that she would try to be a nicer person and for the most part she had accomplished that. But that Han Seojun just had a way of bringing her old self back to the surface. And that bothered her.

It doesn’t matter, she told herself. She would learn how to get along with Han Seojun. It was only a matter of practice. And besides, it wasn’t as if she had to be overtly obvious about it. She just had to tolerate him.

For Jukyung. It’s for Jukyung. She would want us to get along, she lied to herself. The truth was, that Kang Sujin believed that she didn’t have a choice.

Everyone loved Han Seojun, even her best friends who had never paid much attention to him back in high school. It was all because Sujin had been absent for so long. She had missed a huge part of everyone’s lives while Han Seojun had been there for all of it.

Sujin wondered whether, if it came to choosing between her and Seojun, they would choose her. A part of her believed they wouldn’t.

She had made such a mess of things before and left things unresolved for too long. She was certain that things would never go back to the way they had been, not fully anyway. There would always be a part of them that wouldn’t trust her. And there would always be a part of her that would be heavy with guilt.   

“Ah-nee-ya.” She reassured herself. “I don’t need to worry about this.”

She was glad that the whole matter of being mistaken as Han Seojun’s girlfriend had been settled. She laughed at the very idea.

“Me and Han Seojun dating. Ah, how funny.”

Sujin had heard of horror stories about how such scandals ruined people’s lives and got them shunned by society. Thank fully, none of that had happened. Her precious peace was safe again.

Sujin could see her future now; a life where she worked hard at her non-profit, where she shared dinners and lunches with her friends and laughed about the old days, where she wasn’t told she wasn’t good enough, where she did what she wanted instead of being forced to do what her father wanted. Yes, Kang Sujin could see her like ahead—a life where she was finally happy.

iii.

At first Sujin thought she was being paranoid. But her co-workers seemed to be acting stand-offish with her, with some outright avoiding her. They weren’t replying to her as enthusiastically they used to and were having hushed conversations that immediately stopped when she approached them. They even made plans for lunch without including her.

“Is something wrong?” Sujin asked one of them.

“Not at all. Shall we get to work?” It sounded more like a snub than reassurance.

Sujin also felt the hairs on her neck rise from time to time, as if she could feel someone watching her. But when she turned around, everyone would look away.

Convincing herself that it was all in her head, Sujin ignored it and went on with her work.

But then it happened again at the convenience store. She heard her name being said in whispers behind her. When she turned, she found a couple of teenagers quickly putting away their phone. Despite the anxiety bubbling in her stomach, Sujin dismissed the incident and went home.

Normally after a long day at work, Sujin would throw her phone away, have dinner while watching TV, shower and go to sleep. But today had been strange and she was feeling out of sorts. She needed a distraction to help her calm down.

So, after a shower, she settled back on her couch with her dinner and her phone. Jukyung normally posted a new make-up tutorial by this day of the week. Sujin loved watching her transform herself from an ordinary looking girl to a stunning beauty, while explaining each step.

To Kang Sujin, Jukyung was an artist who used her face as a canvas. Sujin herself had learned a lot just from watching Jukyung. She was excited about what she would learn today.

Sujin dismissed the dozens of Instagram notifications on her phone. Suah was always tagging her and messaging her about some post or the other. Sujin would get to them later. As Sujin searched for Jukyung’s channel, her Instagram notifications kept dinging. She put it on mute and played the video.

This time, Jukyung was giving a tutorial on American style makeup and how it was different from Korean style. Sujin grinned all the way through the video as Jukyung talked through her tutorial. Sujin scrolled through the comments as she watched.

My beauty Queen! I love you!

I tried your winged liner look and was able to finally do it for myself. Thank you.

I use the exact same foundation but it doesn’t work for my skin. But looks great on you. <3

You didn’t mention the eyeliner you used here. Can you please add it in the description?

This is why I have trust issues. She looks like a completely different person. This is fraud.

Sujin frowned at the last comment. “She looks beautiful either way.” She said angrily aloud as she typed it in, punching the buttons as if she could punch the commentor. Sujin scrolled further.

Who else came here after reading the Soompi article?

This comment had a lot of likes and comments. Maybe Jukyung was getting famous enough to be reported by entertainment websites now. Sujin smiled proudly.

Lim Jukyung, yours is the best makeup channel here!

Saranghae unnie

I was so sad to learn that you were bullied as a kid. So glad that you’ve found success now.

Sujin swallowed thickly. It would always bother her to know that she had once exploited Jukyung’s past bullying for her own gain. The fact that she had once contributed to her bullying would always fuel Sujin’s self hatred. She was just glad that Jukyung had moved on from her past and had become confident in herself. And more so, had found a community online that adored her.

As Sujin scrolled down some more, she noticed that most of the comments were talking about how Jukyung was a survivor of bullying.

“Mwo-ya…”

Wow, I had no idea this girl was so brave. Bravo!!!

I’m a survivor of bullying too. Its nice to know I’m not alone.

I bet her bully is watching this now and regretting what they did.

I don’t watch makeup tutorials. Came here cuz of the bullying scandal. But stayed cuz she is so good.

The last comment made Sujin stop. “Bullying scandal?”

Sujin went to Naver and searched for scandals involving Lim Jukyung. The first few links were Jukyung’s most popular videos but beneath that were a slew of articles from slanderous gossip sites.

Girl from Han Seojun Scandal Turns Out to be a Bully

Online Star Lim Jukyung Gets Involved in Han Seojun Scandal

Han Seojun’s Alleged Girlfriend was a Bully in High School

“What?!” Sujin stood up on her feet in shock. With shaking hands, she went through the articles one by one. Somehow, someone had uncovered the post from her high school community page that had revealed what she had done to Jukyung. Except they had gotten their facts mixed up and had reported that Sujin had been the one to bully Lim Jukyung about her looks.

That girl is so despicable.

Han Seojun is hanging out with a girl like her? I can’t believe it. I actually used to like him.

I bet this girl seduced Oppa. Don’t dislike him!

I am so glad they’re not actually dating.

Her face is so evil. And she’s uglier than Lim Jukyung!

I bet Han Seojun was fooled by her. She feels like the type who uses her looks to manipulate men.

People like her should kill themselves.

Guys! I found her Inssa!

It really is her! This is authentic!

The room began to close in on Sujin. She immediately opened Instagram where her account was flooded with comments and direct messages from people either telling her to kill herself or threatening to kill her.

Her heart was beating so fast it felt like she would throw it up. She was equal parts shaken and angry. So many people were after her but she hated that these people felt they had a right to treat her this way.

Sujin opened up the messages on Instagram and began firing back to her haters, starting with the most recent messages.

Get off of my account before I report you.

No thanks, I’m not going to kill myself.

Threatening me will only get you sued.

You don’t have to follow me if you don’t like me.

“These assholes think they can bully me online? Well, they’ve got another thing coming.” Sujin growled through clenched teeth as she typed away with all her anger.

I did not bully her!

I made a mistake!

I apologized!

People immediately started responding.

You’re not even going to admit your mistake?

OMG! I can’t believe you actually replied!

Are you honestly defending what you did?

You can’t talk like that to me! I’m going to tell everyone you’re a total b****

How can you be so audacious after you bullied someone? Just kill yourself.

Do us all a favor and kill yourself.

Kill yourself.

KILL YOURSELF.

Sujin screamed in frustration and threw her phone away. It smashed into the wall and landed with a sickening thud. Her hands suddenly felt clammy. Clammy and sticky and sweaty and dirty, dirty, dirty. So dirty that they smelled.

She ran into the bathroom and furiously scrubbed her hands clean. Once, twice, three times. No matter how many times she washed or how hard she scrubbed, the dirty stench of the hate she had just received wouldn’t wash off.

Her hands became all red and felt raw and exposed. But she kept on washing till she ran out of soap. She fell to the floor, suddenly weak and exhausted. The cool tiles felt nice and it was then that she noticed how hot she felt.

Calm down. I have to calm down. She breathed in, then out. In, then out. She could hear her heart in her ears. Pounding and pounding. The walls were closing in. The messages on her Instagram suddenly had voices that shouted in her mind.

Kill yourself, kill yourself, kill yourself.

A ringing broke through it all. First Sujin thought it was in her head but no, it was from the living room.

Her cellphone. Lim Jukyung was calling.

How could she face Jukyung? What would she say to her? Wouldn’t Jukyung say the same as everyone else?

Sujin cut the call. Notifications from Instagram were still coming in. She deactivated her account and deleted the app.

Lim Jukyung’s name lit up her phone again.

She turned it off and flopped down on her sofa, head pounding.

Her fragile little hope for a good life was now shattered completely. She could hear her father now. Hear him yell at her that she was useless, that she was pathetic, that she was stupid and inferior. Unable to beat even Lee Suho.

Kill yourself.

Her father had never told her this, but he might as well have. Even now it was his voice saying it over and over in her mind. It was his angry stare she felt on her back.

How would she face people now? People would hate her now that they knew what she had done. And her co-workers…. Of course they knew. That’s why everyone had been acting so strange.

This all felt so cruel and unfair. She had been so good these past couple of years. She didn’t want all of it to just be taken away like this.

But didn’t you do the same thing to Jukyung? Her father’s voice taunted. She was a good person too, wasn’t she? You’re nothing but a piece of trash.

I bet you think that you destroyed Lim Jukyung, Seojun’s voice said, but you’ve only destroyed yourself.

iv.

SUMMARY of iii: Because of the Han Seojun scandal, people find out about the community post that revealed what Sujin had done to Jukyung and people online start thinking that Sujin bullied Jukyung. They harrass her and it becomes a scandal of its own.

It was chaos at Move Entertainment.

“What the hell happened?! You told me you settled this!” The director threw a magazine in Heekyung’s face. Seojun saw this through the glass door and barged in.

“Is that how you treat your employees?” He demanded angrily.

“Get out. Get. Him. Out! Get him out of this company for good measure!”

Heekyung pushed Seojun out before he could do anything else, dragging him as far away as possible. “Don’t be an idiot. You can’t just barge in like that.”

“But he’s being an asshole. Should I just stand around and let you take it?”

“This is the adult world Han Seojun. Actions have consequences here.” Heekyung said reasonably. “And you’re the reason he’s so mad. A bullying scandal is serious. We’ve even publicly acknowledged that you and Sujin are friends. This doesn’t reflect well on you.”

“The articles are lying. Sujin didn’t bully Jukyung in high school. She just—”

“I know exactly what she did. You think I don’t know about what happened to my own sister?” For a brief moment, Heekyung’s professional demeanor slipped into anger. But she recovered quickly. “It infuriates me that my sister’s past is being brought up like this. But I have a job to do and I need you to cooperate with me. Okay?”

Seojun exhaled. “What are we going to do?”

“Nothing. The situation will sort itself out. You will need to keep a low profile, however.”

Seojun exhaled. “Noona, we need to set the record straight. Sujin is—”

“Sujin isn’t represented by Move, you are. None of us here can do anything about what is happening to her.”

Seojun clenched his jaw. “Have you seen what is being said about her?”

Heekyung looked away. “Its not like I enjoy saying this. I’m only telling you what I was told when I made the same request. She’s not represented by us. She’s not our concern.”

“Was Seyeon not your concern either?”

Heekyung had nothing to say to that. “I have to go back in. You stay here, arachi? Don’t do anything rash and…” she yanked Seojun’s phone from his hand.

“Ah!” Seojun tried to get it but Heekyung had the phone out of reach.

“I’m keeping this for now.” She said and left.

Seojun exclaimed in frustration, running his hands through his hair. Despite the animosity he had towards Kang Sujin, this kind of exposure to such vitriol online didn’t sit well with him. Kang Sujin deserved a lot of things, but she didn’t deserve this.

He knew Sujin was tough. But this kind of incident would make anyone crumble. He just hoped she didn’t do anything stupid.

v.

“Sujin-ah. Can you explain your side of things?”

Of course her office had heard about everything. Apparently her past misdeeds were a trending topic online. Her supervisor had called her in as soon as Sujin had shown up.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Her supervisor asked.

Sujin inhaled, “When I was in high school, I fell in love with a boy. But he had a girlfriend… she was a friend of mine. I got jealous… and petty. I published an unflattering video of her on our school’s online community. She had been bullied in her previous school because of her looks. So the video was especially traumatizing to her. I was responsible for what happened in Saebom High, but I wasn’t involved in anything that happened before that.”

Sujin looked at her hands, still red and raw, “I have made up with her since then. I’ve apologized. We’re both friends now. And I’m not a teenager anymore.”

Something stung Sujin’s hand. Water droplets? No, tears. She hadn’t noticed when she had started crying. But she kept her face straight even when the tears didn’t stop. She looked at her supervisor.

“I am ashamed of what I did. If I could take it all back… you have no idea what I would do to take it all back.” Sujin furiously wiped away her tears. She hated crying in front of anyone. “I love working here. I really do.”

Even as she was saying the words, she knew what was coming. Of course her company wouldn’t keep her on. Even non-profits couldn’t afford bad reputations and the fact that Move Entertainment had worked with her company for a lot of benefits hadn’t escaped her notice either.

“Sujin-ah.” Her co-worker said, peeking from the cubicle wall as Sujin packed up her things.

“What?”

“I never thanked you. For getting me Han Seojun’s signature.” The woman said meekly.

Sujin gave a small smile. “You’re welcome.”

The woman handed her a bunch of sticky notes. “These are goodbyes from everyone. We know you’re not getting a farewell party so we thought you should have our thoughts with you.”

Sujin looked down at the brightly colored notes that contained encouraging messages from some of her co-workers. Her dismissal had been so swift that she hadn’t even been given the chance to say anything.

“If its worth anything… I don’t believe any of it.”

Sujin smiled gratefully this time. “Thanks, Chulhee-yah. I appreciate it.”

vi.

Sujin was both grateful and surprised by how much her friends had reached out. Apparently they had showed up to her place multiple times to see if she was okay, given that she was not answering any of her calls. Sadly, Sujin had not been there to receive them. She had gone to her aunt’s place to get away from everything.

That had not proved to be a good idea.

“Have. You. Lost. Your. Mind!!” Each word was punctuated with a smack from a slipper. Her mother, the once elegant and graceful Mrs. Kang, chased her daughter around in the most inelegant and ungraceful manner. Mrs. Kang’s sister tried to save Sujin by stepping in between but Mrs. Kang still managed to get a few whacks in.

“How could you let a boy stay over at your place?!”

“Omma! That’s what you choose to focus on?!”

“Yes! How could you have disgraced your family this way? And not just any boy, an idol? What the hell were you doing with an idol? Come here.”

This was one fight Sujin would never win. Her mother was not a force of reason when she was this angry. And it took a lot for her to get this angry.

Sujin didn’t mind these smacks. They came from a place of love and worry. Eventually her mother calmed down enough to address the other issue with Sujin. She took her daughter in her arms and wailed.

“How could those people be so mean to my daughter?”

“Omma, I can’t breathe.” Her mother smushed Sujin to herself.

“My poor girl. My poor baby girl.”

In the end, Sujin was glad she had come back to her aunt’s place. It gave her the break she had needed. Away from all of the noise of her online haters, Sujin found she could finally breathe. She found great comfort in her mother’s arms and her aunt’s assurances her that everything would be fine.

However, the dread of returning to her normal life still loomed over her head. Sujin felt her throat close up every time she imagined going back to her apartment. Would the people point and laugh at her on the street? Would she be able to live a normal life from now on?

It was strange how deeply all of this had affected her. Even now, as Sujin walked from the grocery store to her aunt’s house, she felt the paranoia that people were talking about her, pointing and laughing, even though they weren’t. 

“Sujin-ah.”

And now it felt like they were actually calling out to her.

“Kang Su!”

Sujin turned in surprise, ready to fight whoever had called her. “Who is it?”

“Who do you think? It’s Jukyungie! ” A human mass known as Lim Jukyung ran towards Kang Sujin with arms wide open. The girls hugged each other tightly, Jukyung grinning with her gummy smile while Sujin stood, mouth open in shock.

Not far behind, were Suah and Taehoon.

“Ya Kang Su, at least answer your phone! Do you know how worried I was?” Suah scolded.

Sujin laughed, almost tearing up. She couldn’t believe this was happening. She had feared that her friends would turn away and curse at her after she had avoided them. But here they were, all gathered just for her.

“How’d you find me?” She asked the three. They all turned to Suho who stood there smiling.

“Hey Sujin. Have you been well?”

Of course, Suho knew where her aunt lived.

“What well? You all know what happened.” Sujin replied, not bothering to pretend that she was fine.

“Ya! What have you done to your hands.” Jukyung held up Sujin’s scabby hands with worry.

“It’ll heal.” Sujin smiled. Maybe it was the massive hug she had received, or the fact that her friends had traveled so far away to meet her, but suddenly, Sujin felt relieved. It was as if the entire situation was trivial and that she could see light at the end of the tunnel.

“Of course we know what happened.” Suho replied.

“And we know exactly how to fix it.” Jukyung grinned wider.

vii.

On the screen, in front of a ring light she had set up at her home, Lim Jukyung stood with a gummy smile and a warm welcome.

“Ahn-nyong-se-yo everyone. This is Lim Jukyung here with a new make up tutorial for all of my beautiful viewers. Uh, today I have a new kind of tutorial for you all. But before we begin, there is something that I think has been on all of our minds that needs to be addressed.”

Jukyung motioned to someone standing behind the camera to come forward. Kang Sujin entered the frame awkwardly, not knowing where exactly to look. The way Jukyung had set up her studio for this live event was to have the camera, the mirror with the ring light and her laptop screen facing her so that she could do her make up while also reading the comments. And while Jukyung was used to having all of this equipment focused on her, Sujin was not.

“Introduce yourself.” Jukyung said softly, nudging Sujin with her elbow.

“Ah, yes.” Sujin cleared her throat. “Ahn-nyong-se-yo everyone. I’m Kang Sujin.” She waved robotically while staring in the camera like a deer caught in the headlights.

Jukyung couldn’t help but laugh. “Ya, Kang Su, are you afraid of the camera?”

“Ah-neeeee, it’s just so unnatural.” Sujin quickly countered.

“Don’t worry, the camera doesn’t bite.” Jukyung put an arm around her friend’s waist. “Okay everyone now that my friend Kang Sujin is here we can talk about the recent—”

“Lim Ju, maybe we shouldn’t do this.” Sujin interrupted anxiously.

“Huh? But it’s already live.” Jukyung pointed at the camera.

“What?” Sujin on in panic.

Jukyung continued, “So everyone, as you all may have heard, Sujin and I went to the same high school together. However, before that I attended another high school where I was bullied for my looks. Sujin and I did not know each other back then and she had nothing to do with that part of my life so the allegations that she bullied me are completely false. That was another person and that person is no longer in my life.”

Sujin cut in, “However, it is true that I revealed Jukyung’s past to our school and posted an unflattering video of her online.”

Jukyung nodded, looking serious. “I won’t lie and say it was easy for me to have that happen. But… both of us have changed since then. We have grown up and grown past that time.”

The girls took each other’s hands in solidarity.

Jukyung continued, “I’m not the girl I used to be. Neither is Sujin. And while she did do something wrong… I’ve forgiven her. I would rather remember the good times we shared…” The time that Sujin caught that pervert, the time she helped rescue Jukyung from those kidnappers, the time she helped hide Jukyung’s bare face at the school trip. “There are things that I wish I had done differently too. I wish had been more confident in myself and honest about who I really was. I wish I had stood up for myself earlier. But the past is the past, and I would rather focus on the present.”

“Everyone, I am grateful for all of the love and support you showed to me. I know bullying isn’t something you get over easily and I saw a lot of you comment about the bullying that you suffered. I am grateful you shared your stories with me. I hope we can take this opportunity to help each other heal rather than put someone down.” Jukyung looked at Sujin. “Now you.”

Sujin recited nervously, “Ah. Ahn-nyong-se-yo everyone. I’m Kang Sujin.”

Jukyung giggled. “We’ve done that already.”

“Oh, yes. Um… I uh…” Sujin took a pause to collect herself. “Let me be the first to say that I’m not a nice person—”

“Yah!” Jukyung protested but Sujin carried on.

“But I’m also not the girl who posted that video about her best friend, not anymore. At that time… I was foolish. I let my personal problems cloud my judgement and I took my frustration and anger out on Lim Jukyung. I have regretted doing that every single day since it happened. I am sorry. I understand everyone’s anger towards me. I would be angry too if I heard this about someone else. However, I hope that you all will be able to forgive me, as Jukyung has.”

Sujin ended her speech with an apologetic bow. Jukyung bowed with her. The girls then shared a tearful hug. From the back, Sujin saw Suho give her a thumbs up. Sujin sent him a smile back. The girls parted, wiping their tears.

“Okay! Now that that’s out of the way, we can get on to the real reason why you are on here.” Jukyung clasped her hands together. “Sujin will be assisting me today.”

“Ah, yes.”

“So Kang Su, shall we bring out our model today?” Jukyung asked her with a mischievous gleam in her eye.

The girls nodded conspiratorially before turning to Suho who looked on, confused.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

viii.

“What is it? What are you laughing at?” Chorong asked Seojun as he leaned over his shoulder. They were at Chorong’s place where the boys were goofing off, playing video games and lounging about.

Seojun didn’t hear Chorong’s inquiry through his ear buds and kept on shaking with silent laughter.

“Hey, nobody said anything about me being in the video.” Suho was protesting on Seojun’s phone. Seojun turned up the volume to hear Suho’s annoyed grumbling more clearly. Of course, Seojun was going to make fun of Suho about this afterwards. 

“Just sit down, Lee Su, before I get mad.” Sujin commanded.

“That attitude of yours has never worked on me,” Suho replied coolly.

“Come on, Suho-ya. I do your makeup all the time don’t I? It’ll be fine. I promise.” Of course, when Jukyung said this, Suho melted like butter on a hot pan. Sujin rolled her eyes but it was clear that it wasn’t out of spite.

“Okay everyone! Let’s begin with the base and then we’ll work our way up! I am going to keep this look as natural as possible so that its not modifying anything but merely enhancing his features.” Jukyung pushed Suho’s bangs out of his forehead with a giant pink bow shaped clip. Seojun was quick to get a screen shot of it.

“What are Lee Suho and Kang Sujin doing on Jukyung’s channel?” Chorong asked in Seojun’s ear, shocking him. Seojun almost screamed in fear. He pushed away Chorong’s face to watch the video in peace.

In the live video, Jukyung was explaining the differences of applying make up on a guy’s face, versus a girl’s face.

“Sujin-ah. Why don’t you read some of the comments while I’m buffing in his foundation? You have to buff it in for a long time to make it appear natural.” Jukyung told her audience.

Sujin moved towards the camera, blocking Jukyung a little as she read off of her laptop. Her unfiltered face was front and center for the world to see. At this position it looked unflattering, which made Seojun chuckle even more.

Sujin read the comments in a robotic monotone, “Jukyung Unnie, I don’t usually watch make up tutorials. But after today I’m your number one fan.”

“Mwo-ya, this girl has no camera sense.” Seojun said to himself.

“Thank you! I’m your fan too,” Jukyung replied brightly.

“Your looks are always so classy and stylish.”

“Thank you! I’m glad you liked them. Let me know if there are any other looks you’d like to see.”

“Will you do a tutorial on how to wear red lipstick properly?”

“I’m actually planning on doing that soon!”

“Lim Jukyung, you are so beautiful. Marry me please!”

Suho got up to see the screen, “Who asked that?”

“Sit down!” Jukyung pulled him back as he grumbled. “Sorry,” Jukyung said to the camera, “but I’m taken.”

“Are you and Kang Sujin really friends now?” Sujin turned to Jukyung and all Seojun could see was her shiny black hair on screen.

“Dangyunhaji! In fact, if I wasn’t dating Suho, Kang Sujin would be my boyfriend.”

Seojun scoffed, “As if. It would have been me.”

On the live, Sujin laughed, “Is that so? We can still be together though. Have an affair behind Suho’s back.”

“Sure.” Jukyung said casually.

“Yah!” Suho protested.

Both girls giggled.

Suho looked miffed, “Kang Sujin, you’re blocking the view.” He said peevishly.

“Oh sorry. I’ll move.” Sujin circled around the couple to stand behind Jukyung and read the comments over her shoulder.

Jukyung read something on the screen and pointed it to Sujin, “Read that one.”

Sujin hesitantly read, “Kang Sujin, I’m sorry for judging you.” She looked up, “It’s okay. I can be harsh in my judgements too. The key is to try to learn from your past.” Sujin smiled at the camera before turning back to the screen.

“Kang Sujin, you’re pretty.” Sujin recited in her monotone voice. “Yes. I know.” She said without looking up.

“She is also super smart!” Jukyung gushed. “She was one of the top students in class.”

“Could never beat me though.” Suho said smugly, still sore about the affair comment. Both girls turned to Suho and stared. His mouth became small. “Sorry.”

Jukyung went back to explaining her tutorial, slowly performing each step as Suho patiently sat. She made his eyes look bigger and applied a natural lip tint to finish off.

Both girls couldn’t help but gawk at how good Suho look by the end. Jukyung removed the pink blow clip from his hair in a daze.

“How do I look?” He asked Jukyung.

“Too good, Lee Suho.” Sujin clapped. “Too good.”

Jukyung blushed but couldn’t articulate her thoughts. She stuttered, “Uh-ah! Let’s look at the c-c-comments again!”

Suho grinned.

“Lim Jukyung, you were amazing as always!” Sujin read aloud.

“Thank you.” Jukyung bowed.

“Watch the latest and best movies for free at—”

“Sujin that’s just spam.”

“Oh. Right.” Sujin continued, “Lee Suho looks prettier than the both of you.”

The girls’ face fell flat. Suho just looked innocently at the camera. The girls cleared their throats.

“Ah that’s all the time we have!”

“Ah, yes! Time to move on!”

The two pushed Suho out of the frame together.

“I can still be on camera if you—”

“No, I think the people have seen enough of you.” Sujin said while smiling widely at the camera.

Jukyung went wide eyed when she looked into her computer screen. “Ya! This live got 3.3 thousand comments!”

“Daebak. Good job Lim Ju!” The girls grinned, but then Sujin squinted her eyes disapprovingly at something on the screen. “Lim Jukyung, you look so ugly without makeup? Ya, who wrote this comment? User name KimChee23? Why don’t you show yourself to me and then we can see who’s really ugly?”

“Sujin-ah. It’s just a comment.” Jukyung tried to calm her.

“Comments matter too! Otherwise people wouldn’t be writing them! Ya KimChee23 where do you live?”

Seojun laughed out loud as he saw Jukyung try to calm Sujin down on screen.

“So, is everything all settled now?” Chorong asked Seojun.

“I think, yes. Just look at all the comments praising Sujin.”

He was right, the comments section was flooded with statements of Sujin being a brave person for apologizing and changing her bad behavior. 

“Great.” Chorong shook his friend’s shoulders. “Now you don’t have to be so troubled about Lim Jukyung.”

“Lim Jukyung? Why would I be troubled about her?”

Chorong was confused. He had not known about the scandal. The matter Chorong had been referring to was Seojun’s theory that Kang was apparently still after Lee Suho.

“I mean... haven’t you been in a bad mood all week because of her?”

“Why bother asking Chorong?” One of the boys said, “You know the answer to all of Seojun’s heartaches is Lim Jukyung.”

Seojun didn’t bother responding. He returned to his phone screen where Jukyung and Kang Sujin were wrapping up the live, waving at the camera with wide smiles. Suho was trying to get back in the frame and Sujin kept pushing his out of it.

“Ooh. Look at how Han Seojun is smiling.”

“Something good must have happened.”

“See! He’s always thinking of Lim Jukyung.”

“No I’m not!” Seojun protested. Quietly, he admitted. “I wasn’t thinking of Lim Jukyung.”

ix.

Han Seojun had arrived at Kang Sujin’s building an hour ago, but for the life of him he could not muster the courage to go up to her apartment.

“I have no reason to see her. So, why should I?” He argued with himself. He paced back and forth, going up the entrance and then going back again, unable to enter.

In his hands, Han Seojun held a beautiful arrangement of white tulips and yellow roses. White tulips as an apology and yellow roses as an offering of friendship. It was his way of apologizing for being a jerk.

After hearing everything she had said on the live event, Seojun had no doubt that Kang Sujin wasn’t who he thought she was. Certainly, if Jukyung and even Suho could trust her, then he could at least give her the benefit of the doubt. 

It had felt like a good idea at the time to try to make amends with flowers. But now that he was actually here, at her home, he felt stupid.

What would Kang Sujin say when he showed up at her place? Would she laugh at him and tell him to go to hell? Would she be offended that he just showed up, unannounced? The uncertainly of it all made him anxious.

As he went back down the steps to the building entrance for the thousandth time, Seojun bumped into a lady.

“Oh ma’am. I’m so sorry!”

The woman had been carrying tote bags with plastic containers of food in them. The bags had fallen to the ground but luckily, the containers and the food inside them were unharmed, just a little shaken.

Seojun looked at the woman with an apologetic face. She appeared to be a very dignified lady, as old as his mother. Her hair was up in a chic bun and she wore well fitted, albeit a little worn out, clothes. Her brows were crinkled in disapproval. But upon seeing Seojun, her face softened.

“Are you okay, ma’am?” Seojun asked and his humble words spoken in that rich baritone subsided the woman’s irritation further to the point where she smiled.

“Omo, how can someone be so handsome?”

Seojun beamed. Elders had always loved him. “Ah, thank you.” He responded shyly. “Let me help you carry these.” He took the heavy bags from her, putting the flowers under his arm, careful not to smush them.

“Oh no. I don’t want to bother.”

“It’s no bother at all, ma’am. I insist.” He didn’t let the woman say another word, walking past her into the building. The woman smiled and followed.

“Are you going to visit your girlfriend?” The woman asked, eyeing the flowers.

“A friend. A friend who is a girl.”

“Is that what the youngsters are calling it these days?”

“Ah-nee-heyo. It’s not like that.”

The woman just smiled knowingly. “I’m going to visit a special girl too. My daughter lives in this building.”

They entered the elevator. Seojun asked which floor the woman wanted to go to. “Oh, I’m going to the same floor. Maybe my friend knows your daughter.”

“I’m sure she does. My daughter is a wonderful girl.”

When the lady walked in the same direction as Sujin’s apartment, Seojun said, “Oh. My friend lives this way too. What a coincidence. They might live right next to each other.”

“Then you should come over with your friend. I will cook for you.”

And when the woman stood in front of Sujin’s apartment, Seojun said, “Oh, this is my friend’s apartment. Are they roommates?”

“Young man, is your friend’s name Kang Sujin?”

“Yes, ma’am. How did you know?” Seojun asked, surprised.

The lady patted Seojun’s face, “At least you have good looks.” She punched in Sujin’s passcode and went in. Han Seojun stood outside for a full minute before he connected the dots. And then his eyes went wide.

“Sujin isn’t home yet. Why don’t you wait inside?” Mrs. Kang called out.

“I’m so sorry Mrs. Kang. I didn’t recognize you.” Seojun entered, placing the bags on Sujin’s counter.

“It’s okay, Son. You’ve known Sujin long?”

“I went to Sujin’s school. I knew her through Lee Suho.” He had only seen Sujin’s mother a couple of times at school. But never up close. She had seemed so stuck up like Sujin at the time; with her fur coats and expensive jewelry. Now she seemed like just another lady. Her appearance seemed to have humbled after the divorce.

“Oh Suho! Lovely child. How is he these days? Sujin doesn’t tell me anything.”

“He’s good ma’am.”

Mrs. Kang started lining the containers on the counter. It seemed like too much food for one person.

“Sujinnie never eats properly. She always scolds me for worrying but what can I do? She never takes care of herself.”

Indeed, when Mrs. Kang opened Sujin’s fridge, it was empty save a few water bottles and expired milk that Mrs. Kang threw away.

“And look at you! All skin and bones! It is unfashionable to be healthy these days?”

It was a complaint he had heard from his mother as well. But Seojun had to maintain a lean figure for his job, as he was about to explain to Mrs. Kang.

“Ma’am I actually have to diet beca—”

“I won’t hear it! Sit. I will get you something to eat. I’ve brought more than enough.” Mrs. Kang commanded. Seojun could see where Sujin got her tough exterior from.

“I don’t want to be a bother…”

“Nonesense! It’s no bother at all. Especially not for,” she eyed the bouquet Seojun had placed on the counter, “Sujin’s friend.”

Seojun wanted to protest Mrs. Kang’s assumptions but figured that denying it would only reinforce the idea. He would let Sujin clear up the matter.

“Well if you’re going to cook Mrs. Kang, you might as well let me help.” Seojun often cooked with his mother and was used to being in the kitchen so his culinary prowess impressed Mrs. Kang greatly.

“Your mother must be so proud of you.” Seojun grinned at the compliment. He decided that he liked Mrs. Kang.

Likewise, Mrs. Kang decided that she liked Seojun. She put the flowers he had brought in a vase and brought it to the table. As they cooked, she went on and on about Sujin and her many accomplishments. The woman was very proud of her daughter.

Seojun listened diligently as Mrs. Kang explained how much she was worried about Sujin. The non-profit sector didn’t exactly offer a lucrative career. Not as much being a doctor would have.

“I remember how much she had wanted to be a doctor as a child. Omma, I want to heal everyone, she would tell me. But when her father started pushing her and pushing her… suddenly it was all about ranking number 1, not helping people and her heart just wasn’t in it anymore.” Mrs. Kang lamented. She gave Seojun a considering look. “Has she told you… about her father?”

About the divorce? “Yes. I know.”

Mrs. Kang looked at him tenderly, “You must really be close to my daughter then. She’s a very private girl.”

Seojun didn’t understand why the woman as acting like it was some secret. Everyone knew about Mr. and Mrs. Kang’s separation.

The woman stared into the distance. “If I look back, I can only blame myself. I should have stopped it the first day her father started hitting her. But I was blind. I believed that it would all stop if she got good grades and got into a good university. My husband was always a tough man, but had never been like that to me, you see. I didn’t realize what he was doing to Sujin till it was too late.”

Seojun froze. He felt he had been told something he wasn’t supposed to know.

“And then, she started taking her anger out on other people… it might have been late, but I finally put my foot down. I’m glad my girl is in a better place now.”

Mrs. Kang looked down in remorse. Seojun found it hard to keep looking at her. He suddenly recalled what Sujin had said in Jukyung’s video.

I was foolish. I let my personal problems cloud my judgement and I took my frustration and anger out on Lim Jukyung. 

Ah, crap. Seojun thought.

“My daughter is a sensitive girl, despite how strong she appears. I just want to know that she is with people who will care for her, and not hurt her.” Mrs. Kang looked at Seojun meaningfully. He swallowed.

“She is Mrs. Kang. You don’t have to worry.”

The woman pressed his hands gratefully. “You must have heard… about what Sujin was involved in recently.”

Seojun was sure he was going to die today. His heart felt like guilt had wrapped its sharp claws around it and was squeezing tightly.

“Ah. Yes.”

“Don’t believe any of it! My Sujinnie isn’t that kind of girl”

“Ah. Yes.”

“She did go a little astray in school, but what kid doesn’t go through a phase like that? Show me a teenager who has never made a mistake!”

“You’re absolutely right ma’am.” Was all Seojun could say.

“If only I could get my hands on that Han Seojun.” Seojun felt his heart stop. It was then that he realized that he never really introduced himself to Mrs. Kang. “How dare that no good idol take advantage of my daughter? Ah-nee, what kind of a person stays over a girl’s place like that? And doesn’t even help when she gets into trouble because of him?”

Seojun could see his funeral now, his mother crying for him as his friends lined up to regret their loss.

Guys… take care. Please check on my mother for me.

The door chimed as Sujin entered. She stopped in her tracks when she noticed Han Seojun and her mother sitting at a table full of food, waiting for her.

“Ah, Omma why have you come all this way again? Do you really like tiring yourself out so much?” Sujin scolded as she hurriedly put on her indoor slippers.

“Is that any way to greet your mother?” Mrs. Kang scolded back.

Sujin was undeterred. “You know I can always come and visit you and Auntie. Why do you have to come here? And look at all this food! How is this okay for one person? It always goes bad and then I have to throw it out.”

“It goes bad because you don’t eat enough, bad girl! You see what I have to deal with?” Mrs. Kang turned to Seojun who had gone white.

“Ya Han Seojun, what are you doing here?” Sujin asked him.

There was a second of silence where no one spoke. A pin drop could be heard.

“Han Seojun?” Mrs. Kang looked at Seojun. On stage, with makeup on, Seojun looked different. Here, in person, it was difficult to recognize him. But now that his name had been spoken, Mrs. Kang could see the young man whose face had been plastered all over the articles concerning Sujin.

“You… you’re the Han Seojun from the scandal?”

Sujin quickly caught on. “Seojun. Run.”

And then all hell exploded, or rather, one Mrs. Kang. Sujin jumped in her mother’s path as the woman got up with a slipper in her hand. Han Seojun lept off his chair and bowed furiously.

“I am so sorry Mrs. Kang. I am so sorry for all the trouble caused!”

Sujin desperately tried to block her mother’s blows but Mrs. Kang was a formidable woman. She smacked Han Seojun with her slipper.

“Do. You. Have. Any idea. What. Problems. You. Caused!” She punctuated each word with a smack. Seojun, for his part, did not run but rather took it like a man. He was just glad she was beating him with a slipper and not a heel.

“Run! Why aren’t you running?” Sujin asked him as she tried to grab her mother’s wrists.

“Are you protecting him? After everything that happened?”

“I’m really sorry Mrs. Kang.” Seojun said.

“Sorry? What good will an apology do? Will an apology undo the pain you’ve caused?” Her words sounded eerily familiar.

“Ah Omma, stop hitting him! He didn’t do anything. It was my fault. It was all my idea.”

Mrs. Kang stopped. “What?”

And thus, it became Kang Sujin’s turn to be given the mom-smack down.

“Ah Omma WAEEEE??”

“It was your idea to bring him home?!”

“Omma you’ve already beaten me about that!”

“I haven’t beaten you enough.”

“Mrs. Kang please! We were both drunk. Sujin had no choice but to—”

“What?” Mrs. Kang went ballistic.

Sujin glared at Seojun, “Han Seojun do you actually want us both to die?”

“YOU WERE DRUNK?!”

“Omma it wasn’t like that!”

“Mrs. Kang it really wasn’t.” Seojun chimed in.

“If it wasn’t then why is he bringing you flowers? Why is he showing up at your place?”

Sujin looked at the tulips and roses on her table. White tulips, a flower of regret. And yellow roses, flowers of friendship. Sujin knew exactly what they meant. She wondered if Han Seojun knew too or if he just got really lucky with his choices.

It was a while before Mrs. Kang calmed down. Seojun felt thoroughly sore. Both he and Sujin sat on the floor with guilty expressions on their faces, looking like school children being punished.

“Get out. I don’t want to see the likes of your around my daughter ever again.”

“Omma.”

Seojun bowed his head to the ground. “I am really sorry Mrs. Kang. I’m really sorry for all of the trouble that I’ve caused. I assure you I will never let anything like that happen again.”

Mrs. Kang crossed her arms and looked away.

“Omma. Neither of us had any idea that something like this would happen. Its not Seojun’s fault. And besides, he got into trouble too.” Sujin nudged him with her elbow.

“Yes, ma’am. I was almost kicked out of my company.” Which wasn’t exactly true but Seojun didn’t mind fibbing a little.

“You should have been!” Mrs. Kang fumed but then softened when she saw Seojun’s best puppy dog face. Han Seojun was always good with ladies, especially ones that were mad at him.

He inched closer to Mrs. Kang. “Mrs. Kang. I’m really regretful about what Sujin faced.” He took her hands in his. Sujin watched in astonishment as Han Seojun turned her mother’s boiling anger to a low simmer. “But I promise you, I will do everything in my power to make sure that this never happens again.”

Mrs. Kang cleared her throat.

“And look, the food we both prepared has gotten all cold. Wouldn’t it be better if we all eat and talk calmly?”

Sujin scoffed, not only at the blatant pandering but at the fact that it was working. Mrs. Kang’s anger all but disappeared. It came to a point that as they all ate, she began taking his side.

“How could you risk an idol’s reputation like that?” She asked Sujin who could only roll her eyes.

“Omma, how can you say that?”

“I mean, now that I think about it, it isn’t Seojun’s fault that his fans came after you.”

“Ugh, I can’t believe this.” Sujin scowled.

As dumb as Han Seojun had appeared, Sujin had to admit this was pretty shrewd. It made her wonder what else she had misjudged him on. He even got himself invited by Mrs. Kang to come by again for dinner.

“Your mom is incredible.” Seojun told Sujin as they walked to the convenience store. Mrs. Hand had sent them out for some ice-cream since she had brought nothing for dessert.

“She’s changed a lot after the divorce. She’s more herself now.”

They walked slowly, enjoying the night air and the silence. Oddly enough the quiet didn’t feel awkward or strange. Neither of them felt any pressure to speak. They got papico, the ice-cream that came in squishy bottles, and sat by on the benches outside.

“Kang Sujin,” Seojun began, “about what happened… are you… You know when I, um… I guess what I’m trying to say is…”

Sujin laughed, a clear gurgle of joy that made Seojun feel strange in his stomach. “Mwo-ya? Has the great Han Seojun been rendered speechless?” She laughed some more and Seojun didn’t stop her. “Relax Han Seojun. I’m fine.”

Seojun looked at his feet. “I… wasn’t happy with what happened to do… with the articles and how everybody was talking about you.”

“Gwenchana. It’s over now. I mean I had to make another Instagram account but all in all, its not as bad now. Besides,” she tilted her chin, “do you think a bunch of cowards who hide behind usernames are enough to take me down? I’m Kang Sujin, remember? Badass of Saebom High.”

“I thought I was the badass of Saebom high.” Seojun raised a brow.

“You were the gangster.” Sujin grinned, eating her ice-cream.

“I’m glad you’re tough. You don’t let these things bother you.”

“I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me. People telling me that I’m the worst and I should die wasn’t exactly easy.” She said grimly. “But you know what upset me the most?”

“What?”

“That I couldn’t beat those cowards up for saying what they did.” Sujin got up and punched the air. “If I could just get my hands on those twerps then I would teach them a lesson or two.” She punched the air.

The fire in Sujin’s eyes was so comical that Seojun burst out laughing.

“Don’t laugh! Hajima! I’m not joking.”

“Kang Sujin, were you always such a fighter?”

“Yup!” Sujin stated simply. She sat back besides Seojun, closer this time. And he noticed. “What about you?” She asked. “How are you doing?”

Seojun leaned back leisurely, “Eh, I’m fine. I don’t worry about public perception anyway. The people who matter will know me. Everyone else is just noise.”

“I bet your fans would leave you in a second.” Sujin teased.

“Don’t diss my fans. They’re all cool and awesome.”

“What, all two of them? Do they also happen to be named Jukyung and Suho?”

“You’re forgetting Chorong.”

The two giggled.

“Did your co-workers ask for more autographs?”

“Nope. Got fired before they could.”

“What?” Seojun stood up. Sujin relayed how her company had let her go after details about her past misconduct were released online.

“How could they just fire you? Isn’t that illegal?”

“Calm down. It’s normal for that to happen.”

“How can you be so calm?”

“Would you rather I get angry? There’s no point in doing that. I won’t get that job back.”

Seojun pressed his lips together in a tight line and sat back down.

“I’m surprised that you’re actually defending me.” Sujin sounded impressed.

“I mean… its wrong. Even if you and I don’t get along, what’s wrong is wrong.”

Sujin chuckled. She looked at the time on her phone. “I should get back. How are you getting home?”

“I brought my bike.”

“Your company lets you ride motorbikes?”

“Nope.” Seojun grinned.

“A’ight. Good night, Han Seojun. Stay safe.” Sujin walked back in the direction of the apartment. Feeling light and happy. While her online image hadn’t completely recovered, her relationship with Han Seojun had. She might not have to simply tolerate his presence now. They might genuinely get along.

“Kang Sujin!” Han Seojun called out to her, the woman who he thought was vile and destructive. The person that turned wasn’t that woman. It was the little girl who had looked to her father with love but only got his abuse in return.

“I’m sorry I misjudged you.” Seojun told the little girl.

The girl smiled. “I’m sorry I misjudged you too.”

x.

It was unfamiliar territory, getting along with Kang Sujin. More for the group than Han Seojun and Kang Sujin. They all looked at the pair in wonder and shock when Sujin asked Seojun to pass the soy sauce and he obliged. It shocked them further when Sujin laughed when Seojun bragged about being recognized at a department store and being asked for pictures.

“Hey, you feeling okay?” Jukyung asked Sujin quietly.

“Yeah, why?” Sujin replied.

“Nothing. Just asking.”

“Hey, what’s up with you?” Suho asked Seojun privately.

“What?”

“You’re acting all weird around Kang Sujin.”

“Weird how?”

“You’re being nice.”

“Am I not supposed to be?”

“Okay! Who’s going to go first?” Taehoon asked the room, interrupting Suho and Seojun’s conversation. 

They were at Suho’s apartment where he had a karaoke machine set up. Seojun had finally relented to visiting their place and it was just as painful as he had thought it would be. It was a mishmash to Jukyung’s bright and lively style with Suho’s dark and moody one.

The posters of rock bands and Junji Itou’s mangas were something both of them shared. It was fascinating how the two of the most caring people in Seojun’s life were into such dark things. Seojun saw Sujin eye one of the horror comic book posters suspiciously, as if the monster drawn in them could come out any second.

Chorong sang first, sharing a duet with his girlfriend. Then Taehoon and Suah went next. Duets seemed to be the theme of the night. Jukyung and Suho went next.

“Alright? Who else?”

Sujin was the only girl left.

“Well I’m not going up there.” She said when everyone looked at her. She eyed the other boys, all of whom were terrified of her. Even they could still hear Kang Sujin saying Ya Han Seojun, are you a gangster?!

“Jukyung-ah. Sing with me.” Sujin grabbed Jukyung’s hand and led her up before she could say anything.

“I’m singing too!” Suah joined.

Seojun went next. His was a solo and he clearly was the best performer. His rich baritone singing in a soft melody made everyone pay attention.

“Isn’t it nice to have an idol as a friend?” Suah asked. “Its like having a private concert.” Jukyung and Sujin nodded in agreement.

Everyone swayed their heads to the beat, except for Kang Sujin who was noticing the lyrics Han Seojun was singing.

I want to give you all of my days

I want to tell you all these feelings of mine

The sleepless blue winds

Brightly light up this night

He was singing about Lim Jukyung. Sujin looked over to her friend, who was looking longingly in Suho’s eyes. The two were entranced with each other, not noticing Han Seojun who stood just a couple of feet away, pouring his heart out.

After all the fun had been wrapped up, Seojun and Sujin had been the only two to stay back. Sujin had helped Jukyung clean up while Suho went to throw out the trash.

As Sujin cleaned the dishes, Seojun sat in the living room, looking at all of the pictures Jukyung and Suho had hung up. He could see how Suho and Jukyung would sit on the very couch he was on and watch TV together or lie around reading books.

He tried to replay those images, with himself there with Jukyung instead of Suho but he couldn’t. He couldn’t lie to himself about who she belonged to.

“You know, Han Seojun, I just realized something.” Sujin called from the kitchen.

“What?”

“You have two hands.”

Seojun looked at her like she had lost her mind. “Wow, Kang Sherlock. Your powers of deduction amaze me.”

“So, since you have those two hands, and you’re a gentleman, why not help me out over here? I assume you would feel bad that I’m the only one doing any actual cleaning.”

“You assume incorrectly. I have no issues with you doing all the cleaning.” Seojun turned back to the TV and was promptly hit in the head with a dish rag.

“Oops.” Sujin said flatly.

Seojun got up, dish rag in hand. Wordlessly, he took out the dishes from the washer and lined them up in the cabinets.

“Aren’t you ever afraid that Jukyung will be uncomfortable about you singing love songs to her?” Sujin asked in a low voice.

“What do you mean?”

“That song you sang. My heart is full of you, I’m starting to take after you?”

Seojun eyed her. “She won’t know.”

“I did.”

“Yeah but, you’re you and Jukyung’s Jukyung.”

“So?”

“So…” Seojun leaned closer, “you ranked number two in class for a reason.”

“Sujin-ah! I told you I would take care of everything.” Jukyung appeared from her bedroom.

“Don’t worry about it. Han Seojun helped.” Sujin assured.

The pair said their goodbyes to the couple and exited together. Han Seojun said nothing when he started walking his own way, while Kang Sujin turned to wave at him but was unseen. He was too lost in his own broken heart to notice anyone or anything.

She simply sighed, took it as just a Han Seojun thing and started walking in the other direction.

xi.

“I still can’t get used to this.” Suah said, waving a spoon between Han Seojun and Kang Sujin. The two sat opposite each other and were eating their food peacefully.

It was this peace that bothered Suah.

“I mean, how can you two just get along?”

“We’re adults Choi Su. We can learn how to get along.” Sujin stated.

Suho spluttered in laughter. “I thought you said that Seojun was a giant baby with no manners?”

Seojun gave Sujin a scathing look. Sujin went pink, “I never said that! You take that back!”

“It’s still strange.” Suah leaned closer. “What happened? Have you guys settled your differences?”

“Han Seojun got Sujin flowers.” Suho said cheekily.

“Yah!” Seojun protested. But it was in vain, the deed was done, and everyone oohed and aahed at this news.

“Did you really get her flowers?”

“Wait, when did this happen?”

“Does that mean that Seojun apologized first?”

“What kind of flowers?”

Seojun looked at Suho with the rage of a thousand suns. Suho just grinned back.

“Aren’t flowers romantic?”

“Ya! There was nothing romantic about it. All I got her were yellow roses and white tulips.” Seojun defended.

“OoooOoooh. Roooses. Roses are totally romantic.” Taehoon teased.

“They were yellow. Yellow roses are for friendship!”

“So, are you two friends?” Jukyung asked and everyone looked at Seojun and Sujin.

“Meh.” They both shrugged at the same time.

“Omo! Look at how in sync they are!”

“We are not.” They both said in sync.

Seojun had to admit, their group gatherings were much more comfortable now that he and Sujin had cleared the air between them. He enjoyed discovering how Sujin was less the ice princess he had thought her to be and more a regular girl. She also turned out to be much cooler than he had expected.

She had been the only one to see his discomfort when Jukyung and Suho suggested they all go on an overnight trip with them. Going to see their apartment; the very proof that Lim Jukyung and Lee Suho ate and slept—Oh God, don’t think about them sleeping—together was painful enough. Seojun didn’t need to see them canoodling for an entire weekend.

“What about it guys? Shall we go?” Jukyung looked around as everyone nodded excitedly, including Sujin.

But then her eye’s met Seojun’s. He said nothing but he didn’t need to.

“Lim Ju, it’ll be difficult for me to join. I just lost my job, remember? An overnight trip is...” Seojun knew Sujin was just making up an excuse.

“Oh, oh right. Sorry Kang Su-ya. I totally forgot. Something else then!”

The group moved on to discussing other options. Seojun sent Sujin a grateful look. She acted nonchalant, as if she had not just overturned everyone’s plans for him.

“Thanks. For what you did back in there.” He told her as they were all leaving.

“Forget about it.” She waved a hand in dismissal.

The next time the group gathered at a fancier restaurant than usual. A suggestion by Suho who had offered to pay for the food tonight.

“This place is so beautiful.” Suah commented looking around the interior.

“Are we celebrating something?” Sujin asked. “This doesn’t seem like a regular get-together.”

Sujin had only asked for the sake of asking. But something about the way Suho looked at her told Seojun that she was on to something.

“Well,” Jukyung held up her hand, “we do have something to announce.”

And announce she did. The big fat diamond resting on her ring finger had a lot to say. And suddenly everyone erupted with joy. The girls took Jukyung in their arms, squealing and crying with joy. The boys surrounded Suho, patting him on the back, congratulating him.

All except Seojun, who just sat there in a daze. Sujin happened to look over and see him, frozen in his seat. Sujin wasn’t alone in her observation. Taehoon also noticed but missed the implication.

“Look! Han Seojun is actually so shocked he—"

Sujin made it look like an accident, her bumping into the table and sending a glass down on the floor, shattering into a million pieces. The sound shook Seojun out of his daze and also distracted everyone from realizing Seojun’s inner turmoil.

“Oh shit.” Sujin said looking down.

“Hey, be careful.” Jukyung said.

“You okay?” Suho asked Jukyung, taking her arm.

“Excuse me, can we get someone to clean this up?” Taehoon asked the waiter.

The fuss over the broken glass gave Seojun enough time to recover. He then congratulated Suho with a massive hug.

“You both deserve each other. I mean it.” He told Suho and he meant it.

Maintaining a fake smile over dinner was easy. Everyone else was so chatty that Seojun’s and Sujin’s relative silence went unnoticed. Suah pestered Jukyung for details: “How did it happen?”, “When?”, “Why didn’t you call me immediately?”. Taehoon made jokes about marriage being the end of romance to which Suah started an argument with him and then it became about settling matters between the two.

Sujin didn’t remember much of what happened after that, the rest of the night was a blur. She just hoped that she had maintained enough dignity to not appear as bitter as she actually felt.

Even though they all parted very late in the night, Sujin couldn’t go directly home. She needed something to ease the pain. So naturally, she went to the nearest tent bar she could find. The place seemed to be overcrowded, with people waiting outside for others to leave. Sujin managed to sneak in and grab a table.

She downed half of a soju bottle in one go but then couldn’t muster the energy to drink further. Her side dishes went untouched. All Sujin could do was stare and wonder if there was any way to just take her heart out of her chest and throw it away. Because there seemed to be no relief from this pain she was feeling.

She banged her head on the table. “Ah wae? Why can’t I just move on?” She asked herself in frustration.

“Ugh, why the hell are you here?” That irritated tone and deep voice could only belong to one person. And indeed, when Sujin looked up she saw Han Seojun a few tables over looking at her in disdain.

“Wae? You have a claim on this place?” Sujin raised a critical brow.

“And what if I do?”

“Then give me everything for free. Since we’re friends who get along.”

“No. Friends pay double.”

“How stingy.” Sujin took another shot of soju.

The man running the tent bar came over. “Why don’t you two share a table since you know each other? I have customers waiting to be seated.”

“No way, I’m not sitting with her.” Seojun grumbled.

“Aha! I knew it! Being all nice to me was just an act.”

The owner ignored Sujin, “How can two youngsters be so rude? Get up! I’m moving you over there.”

This was how Han Seojun came to drink with Kang Sujin for the second time. They both looked at each other with scowling faces.

“What happened, Kang Sujin? You were acting all happy for the lucky couple.” Seojun taunted. He seemed a little tipsy but so was Sujin.

“Of course, I’m happy. I’m so, so happy.” She said wistfully.

Seojun scoffed. “Is that why you were whining about not being able to move on? I thought you said you didn’t like Lee Suho anymore.”

Sujin narrowed her eyes. “I don’t. And even if I allegedly did, at least I held it all in. You were clearly about to run away with Jukyung before I saved you.”

“Saved me? Puh-lease.”

“Why? Do you think that glass fell on its own?”

Seojun gave her a sideways look before taking another shot.

“You gonna eat that?” He pointed a chin to her plate.

“Nah, have it.”

They sat in silence for a moment. A comfortable silence where neither felt compelled to say anything.

Sujin shook Seojun when she suddenly smacked her glass down on the table. “I’m over Lee Suho.” She declared. “I’m over Lee Suho… but…”

“Just because you’re over him, doesn’t mean you stopped loving him.” Seojun said what she was thinking.

She looked at him, her pain evident on her face. In that moment, he let himself be vulnerable too.  

“Isn’t it funny? Out of everyone I know, you’re the only one who gets… this.” Sujin said.

Seojun chuckled. “Exactly. Who woulda thought? Kang Sujin and Han Seojun having something in common.”

“You know it’s gonna hurt even worse from now on, right? We’re the closest to those two. That means we’ll be involved in everything.”

Seojun rubbed his faced. “I can’t think about that right now. Or I really will die.”

Sujin understood what he meant. “You know what I want?”

“What?”

“I want Suho to never find out that I still like him.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I can’t help that I feel this way right? You can’t stop yourself from feeling what you feel. But… I wanna keep my dignity. I wanna still be cool and… not be seen as some pathetic loser who’s still after her best friend’s boyfriend.”

Seojun took a shot, nodding.

Sujin leaned forward. “That’s why, I suggest we help each other out.”

Seojun gave her a look. “How so?”

“Well, if we see the other being too transparent, then we stop them, or at least take the attention away so that the other can collect themselves.”

“Like the broken glass today?”

“Like the broken glass today. And if it’s getting too painful, then we can just talk about it.”

Seojun laughed. “Kang Sujin, offering therapy. That’s rich.”

“Not therapy. Friendship. It helps if you talk about stuff like this.” Sujin insisted.

Seojun gave her a considering look. “What’s in it for me? These seem like things you want to do.”

“You’ll be able to attend Jukyung’s wedding without feeling like you’re dying on the inside.”

“There’s no guarantee that will happen.”

“You’re right, there isn’t. But at least that’s what it’ll look like. Think about it Han Seojun. Do you want Jukyung to always see you as the friend who is in love with her? Or do you want her to see you as a cool friend who she can comfortably rely on, without wondering if she’s hurting his feelings.”

Seojun thought about it. It felt like a bad idea. But there was a part of Han Seojun that was tired of his own attachment to Lim Jukyung. If it meant that it would help him move on, then he was willing to try anything

“Alright, Kang Sujin.” He raised his glass. Sujin clinked hers with his. “Let���s try this.”

I am bad at making memes but I do it any way

[birbleafs]

[fic] in liminal spaces, with (un)wavering hearts

Series: Jujutsu Kaisen Rating: E Category: Gen, Canon Characters/Pairings: Fushiguro Megumi/Itadori Yuuji, Fushiguro Megumi/Ryoumen Sukuna, Mahito, brief mentions of other characters Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Blood and Injury, Blood Drinking, Canon-Typical Body Horror, Mild Gore, Choking, Rough Sex, Dubious Consent/Non-Consensual Sex (In A Dream), Ambiguously Implied Monsterfucking??, Sukuna is His Own Warning, Nightmares, Trauma, Survivor Guilt, Character Study, Manga Spoilers, Hurt/Comfort With A Bit of Fluff, Angst With A Bittersweet/Hopeful Ending you hurt the characters you love the most lol Summary:  Post-Shibuya. Yuuji struggles to work through his nightmares, to piece himself back together again through the trauma and guilt, through the weight of his wretched existence. Still, Megumi refuses to let go, refuses to give up; “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: Shibuya is our fault.” A/N: Takes place sometime after Ch.146. The timeline for the first half of the fic might seem ambiguous/weird at first... for reasons that will hopefully make sense later. Many thanks also to Digi for helping me check for writing inconsistencies and for necessary cw tags ♥ Fic can also be read on AO3. _______ Yuuji is hunting, his gaze searching and slow-burning, golden embers piercing through the endless white blizzard like a blade of light. He is hunting, stalking and searching, for what—for whom?—he’s not... quite certain yet, but that simmering, seething rage emerges from somewhere deep within, somewhere visceral, boiling and bubbling over like the scalding heat gushing out of an awakening geyser, a volcanic cloud spiralling up overhead as adrenaline courses through him, stirs up the sediments in his blood, and compels him forward still. Searching, always searching for— A movement flashes ahead, catches his eye; slate-grey fur, a glint of gunmetal-blue amidst the lashing snow and ice. There. Yuuji pauses, fangs bared and head angled towards the sound, his hunter’s instinct a roiling fury within him, a sharpened blade held poised and ready. Ready for the kill. The were-rabbit with its broken patchwork muzzle leaps several jumps ahead of him, trailing scarlet and inky tendrils of cursed energy in its wake, dark red arcs and slashes staining the frost as it crawls, scrabbles desperately through the howling storm on frost-bitten paws, on gangly, mangled legs... Mahito. Yuuji feels the growl rumbling deep in his throat rather than hears it, his rancour and bloodlust flaring just from the sight of his prey. He narrows his eyes as he gauges the distance between them and lunges forward in two easy strides, easily knocking the were-rabbit over with a strike of his arm, trapping it against the cold, hard ground.

The were-rabbit thrashes in his hold, kicking out wildly with its back legs while its front paws twist about like grey putty, deforming and then remoulding its shape to resemble long, sickle-like claws. Mahito swipes his claws once, twice, raking them across Yuuji’s face and the corner of his mouth, the fear in the curse's eyes momentarily replaced by a victorious glint. But Yuuji dodges aside from Mahito’s next swipe and grabs the were-rabbit’s front paws, wrenching them back violently against the ground. Mahito howls in pain when his wrists break with a grisly snap, choking when Yuuji’s other hand clamps vice-like around his pale throat. “I’m going to kill you,” Yuuji snarls in a voice unlike his own, brimming with raw, unfiltered fury. “Even if you die and return again as another being in another life. I will kill and destroy you, over and over, as many times as I have to, as I need to. For all the lives you had toyed with. For Junpei, for Nanamin, for Kugisaki... I will—!” Mahito only pulls his bruised lips back into a wide leer, however, ivory teeth rimmed with blood as he says, “Of course you will. After all, we are one and the same, Itadori Yuuji.” There’s a low, gravelly chuckle sounding at the back of Yuuji’s mind that cleaves through his wrath, followed by another sinister voice— To think you took this long to finally accept the killing intent that has always been a part of you. Yuuji continues to twist his fingers around Mahito’s neck with slow precision, ignoring both Mahito’s strangled laughter and the taunt of Sukuna’s disembodied voice inside him, digging his fingers deeper into the slate-grey fur. Mahito squirms and jerks about, shifting his shape from that of a grotesque were-rabbit into something almost humanoid again, the gunmetal-blue of his eyes flickering, dilating until all Yuuji can see are pools of verdant green, a piercing gaze glaring up at him through long, dark lashes, the shape and colour all too familiar and reminiscent of another set of eyes— Yes... That burning defiance. Truly an alluring sight to behold, Fushiguro Megumi... Yuuji blinks then, struck with unease by the malevolent edge and hunger now present in Sukuna’s hum of approval, in the deep timbre of his voice; by the abrupt muted silence that had descended all around him, save for a dull, barely perceptible but persistent ringing in his ears. He frowns, shaking his head to clear his mind, not quite processing the sounds and sights around him, of the movement below him. “Itadori won’t allow for this, he’ll stop you somehow...!” Fushiguro? He should have noticed that something’s amiss at the sound of Megumi’s voice, at Mahito’s sudden disappearance from his hold, grains of sand slipping through his fingers when he sees neither the curse nor the snow-covered landscape they had been trudging through earlier. Instead, the skeletal remnants of a broken city are now strewn around him, debris and concrete lying haphazardly in the dust, an eerie sepia-tinted haze lingering in the twilight skies above him. What—Where am I...? But Yuuji’s anger is still a volcanic fire raging through his system, the seething fury now tempered with the same insatiable hunger he’d earlier heard—felt—in Sukuna’s voice, a dark veil slowly descending over his five senses, merging with his thoughts, his emotions. He glances down, sees that his grip is tightened around Megumi’s bruised and broken wrists as he restrains them above Megumi’s head and against the hard ground, while his other marked hand is splayed over Megumi’s bare chest with enough force to drive the air from his lungs, leaving Megumi coughing and heaving in pain beneath him. No, Yuuji thinks distantly, his confusion filtering through the searing rage clouding his mind, his heart. This is... This is all Mahito’s trickery. It has to be. Mahito’s using his own thoughts, his own conflicted feelings against him, to blind him, to evade— It shouldn’t be happening, I shouldn’t be—! Doubt latches onto him, however, and he watches, almost dreamlike, as Megumi struggles to break free of his iron grip. There’s a harsh rippling beneath his skin, and Yuuji shudders, flesh and muscles quivering, reshaping themselves into something more sinister. He feels his face distorting like melted wax, the slits above his cheek bones manifesting into an additional pair of blood-red eyes, his jaw now unhinged with sharpened canines. At the same time, his body is shifting, morphing as it grows larger to accommodate two extra limbs sprouting from his torso. Foolish brat, is this not what you have yearned for? Sukuna’s derisive laughter thunders through his mind and in his ears, thick with condescension. To claim Fushiguro Megumi and take him as your own? Your dreams are sickeningly full of this desire alone and you know it. No! Not like this... I won’t let you hurt him! Yuuji shakes himself frantically, trying to dispel the veil, the heavy sluggishness settling over his limbs. How pathetic. I had no qualms with sharing before, since he displays such natural affinity with you. But perhaps now I will just ravish every inch of him, devour him however I please while you watch.    Sukuna lets out another mocking laugh, and Yuuji can only watch in with a growing panic and abject terror as his body moves against his will even as he fights the compulsion with every fibre of his being; as he slowly, but surely loses control to the lures of Sukuna’s carnality, and is left a drifting spectre in the deepest recesses of Sukuna’s mind and innate domain, to the unfolding brutality before him. No—Yuuji watches in horror as he easily rips through the rest of Megumi’s uniform and pins Megumi’s hips down with his third and fourth hands, long black fingernails grazing into soft flesh and drawing blood, pressing reddish purple bruises and welts into Megumi’s skin. Even though his body now only moved according to Sukuna’s wishes, Yuuji could still sense and feel every sensation, every action he inflicted upon the shaman caged and trapped below him. With a shove of his knees, Yuuji spreads Megumi’s lean thighs apart, blood roaring in his ears as the intensity of Sukuna’s perverse hunger within him grows and grows and grows— You can’t do this, I won’t let you...! “Let go of me! Itadori, he’ll—” Megumi snarls valiantly, only to choke when Yuuji’s large hand moves from his chest to encircle around his throat with a crushing pressure, the banded markings on all four hands and arms visible now, glistening muscles rippling under the bold, dark stripes. “No, Fushiguro Megumi,” Yuuji says in a deep, gravelly voice that isn’t his own, one that only promises violent suffering and bloody nights. “There is only one name that should concern you now, and it is mine and mine alone. The brat is worthless.” “Screw you. Itadori is more than you’ll—” Megumi counters hoarsely before he wheezes again when Yuuji’s—Sukuna’s iron grip tightens around his neck. Strong fingers clamp over his mouth and press against his cheeks, forcing his jaw open. He recoils when Sukuna’s palm splits wide open into a leering maw; retches in pain when a thick, clammy tongue slithers down his throat, suffocating him. His lips and teeth are flecked with blood, green eyes over-bright with panic as he struggles to breathe, before Sukuna finally pulls his palm away, allowing Megumi to cough and draw desperate gulps of air into his burning lungs. “Such petty taunts,” Sukuna’s amusement rumbles deep from Yuuji’s chest, his four demon eyes savouring both the resistance and anger in Megumi’s crystalline glare, like a bloodthirsty cat contemplating how best to exploit his favourite catnip toy. “Still, that burning defiance and your boldness delights me so, Fushiguro Megumi—I will relish all of this, all of you.” Sukuna spreads Megumi’s legs further apart and lifts his hips up, nails digging deeper as he leans forward, poised and ready like a hunter. A hunter, a tiger with claws unsheathed and fangs bared, ready to eviscerate and devour his prey. No... Dammit, Sukuna, don’t you dare! Everything in Yuuji howls at him to pull away, to release his hold, and for a few heart-wrenching seconds, Sukuna’s grip falters, restrained and subdued by Yuuji’s sheer willpower alone. But a malicious grin that isn’t Yuuji’s own splits across his distorted, tattooed face then, and Yuuji hears, feels, the venom in Sukuna’s cold voice reverberating through his entire core as the King of Curses whispers into his mind—Watch and learn, insolent brat—right before he plunges into Megumi in one jarring movement, burying himself all the way to the hilt. Megumi screams then, wrecked by a blinding pain, body twisting, convulsing from the force of the sudden intrusion and violation.  Stop this! Yuuji yells over Megumi’s anguished cries as Sukuna fucks him viciously, relentlessly. Sukuna’s laughter rings in Yuuji’s ears, taunting him, and he detests himself for that spike of intense arousal and hunger flaring from deep within the pit of his stomach when he feels Megumi’s body seize up and grow taut below him, clenching hard around him with every rough thrust. Yuuji inhales deeply, struggling to focus, to regain control. But he’s torn by the mixed sensations of horror, bloodlust, and desire rushing and crackling through him like molten lava, like lightning, and god, Megumi is so tight and hot and slick around him, it’s too much, too good, too easy to succumb and be engulfed by this unending pleasure, and—No! No, this is wrong, all wrong! This is Sukuna’s own abhorrent pleasure, not his, never his! Still, Yuuji’s body is moving on its own volition, the all-consuming hunger burning now within his gut and his groin, in the tingling ache of his elongated canines. He feels Sukuna quicken his pace, feels Megumi’s spine arching, quivering involuntarily against each forceful thrust and drag of Yuuji’s thick, engorged length inside him. “I-Itadori—” Below him, Megumi exhales raggedly, eyes clouding in agony as he endures and fights against the tug and pull of the sensations burning through him, endures the building friction and pressure against the sensitive firm spot within him that’s jolting and fraying his nerves, fracturing his resistance piece by piece, while Sukuna continues to ravage him with each violent but precise snap of Yuuji’s hips, erratic and fast at one point, and then achingly slow and measured at another, trapping him precariously on the edge between pain and pleasure. “You know what I want, Fushiguro Megumi,” Yuuji growls in Sukuna’s voice, before he releases his hold around Megumi’s wrists and neck. He digs his fingers through dark raven locks to yank Megumi’s head back, nipping hungrily at the lifeblood pulsing at Megumi’s exposed throat. “So beg, and I may consider some kindness. After all, there’s still something I need you to do.” “I won’t... He will—Yuuji will…!” Megumi forces out, fighting with all his strength to dislodge Sukuna off him, even as Sukuna rakes his wicked nails languidly all over him, leaving scores of lacerations over his chest, down his arms and his sides. “The brat won’t be returning, not when I’ve banished him away,” Sukuna chuckles with twisted mirth. “Not to worry, since he can still feel and taste every inch of you like this.”  Wrong, this is all wrong, I have to stop this, Yuuji despairs, watching Megumi flinch in revulsion when the hands holding him down split open into ravenous, salivating maws yet again as they latch on to his chest and waist, biting, sucking away at his nipples, his groin, at his own hardening length. “It’s just you and me now, and I can do this for as long as I want,” Sukuna drawls in a voice edged with poison. “So I will only say this once more: Beg, Fushiguro Megumi, and perhaps I may even grant you pleasure.” Stop it, Sukuna! Yuuji screams over the desperate rage roaring in his ears, fighting with all of his resolve to wrest control of his body. Or I swear I’ll kill you! “I—Please... Sukuna, please stop... A-ahh!” Megumi pleads in distress, voice strained and breathless from the torment, just as Sukuna bites viciously into his throat again, puncturing skin and flesh with too-sharp teeth, and laps greedily at the rivulets of blood pulsing from his jugular with a thick, leathery tongue. “Wonderful,” Sukuna’s voice is a dark purr of approval when he draws back, licking flecks of Megumi’s blood and sweat from his canines. “You’ve earned something, I think. For yourself and perhaps even for the brat.” Please just stop, Yuuji begs again. The metallic tang of Megumi’s blood is sharp and alluring against his tongue; the building heat and wet slickness of Megumi’s body clenched fiercely all around him, smothering and drowning him further in a heightened delirium. Don’t make me do this, please... I don’t want to do this to him! Lies, it’s all you desire in your dreams. Sukuna’s laughter rings coldly through Yuuji, before he realigns himself again, forcing Megumi’s left leg up over his shoulder, while his other hands keep Megumi’s arms and body pinned against the hard ground. With a victorious glint in his eyes, Sukuna ploughs in deeper, harder, and Megumi jerks, writhes, with a broken scream that wrenches at Yuuji’s heart when all of the coils within Megumi finally snaps, his back arching sharply as Sukuna drags an orgasm from him, like a hunter slowly reeling in his prized catch through waves of intense ecstasy and searing pain. Pure delight dances blood-red in Sukuna’s four eyes as he savours every twitch and shiver down the length of Megumi’s spine, every choked gasp and heave of Megumi’s chest at the burning rush through him, before Sukuna is thrusting again as he continues to fuck Megumi in a euphoric frenzy, forcibly wringing a series of climaxes from him, reducing him into a shuddering, bruised and battered mess. Something in Yuuji breaks then, curdling in the pit of his stomach—all of his boundless fury, revulsion, and self-hatred bursting forth from the dam, his cursed energy surging as he swings his fists to pummel forward, as he tries to break free of Sukuna’s control and his innate domain, the veil over his vision flashing red; his eyes glowering, burning with unshed tears, his mouth open and twisted into a soundless howl of rage and despair. Yuuji watches helplessly, unable to tear his gaze away as the light in Megumi’s eyes flicker out; watches as Megumi lets out one last agonized gasp—“Yuuji, I’m sorry...”—before he succumbs to the excruciating pain and creeping darkness, going limp in the curse’s hold; watches as Ryoumen Sukuna sinks his teeth further into Megumi’s soft throat in a feverish delight, ravenously drinking up all of Megumi’s gushing lifeblood and cursed energy; watches as his own hands run red, dark crimson stains blooming from his palms, down the length of his arms and blossoming over his chest. The blood of thousands, dead and desecrated in Shibuya, Fushiguro Megumi’s blood— No... No, no,no,nO,NO!!

*** Yuuji bolts upright with a harsh gasp. There’s a roaring in his ears that cuts through the silence of the night, a drumming in his chest as if he’d just run a marathon. Cold sweat slips down the slope of his neck, between his shoulder blades to the small of his back, the thin blanket he’d thrown around himself earlier now damp and entangled around his limbs. Disoriented, he throws a frantic, cautious glance around the room to take stock of his surroundings. No broken, crumbling city buildings, no twisted, screaming bodies… None of the lingering shards of a horrific nightmare spun on the whims of the monster lurking inside him. Nothing, except an empty chair and table by his bedside, a thin sliver of moonlight spilling through the curtains by the window. Swinging his legs out from under the blanket, Yuuji sits up at the edge of the bed, feeling a wedge of emotion lodged at the back of his throat. It takes him yet another moment to remember how breathing worked— Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. —and he feels the tightness in his chest and his throat gradually loosen as he fights against the tumultuous flutter of emotions, against the weight of his own crushing guilt and wretched existence. A nightmare. It’s only a nightmare, it’s not real— No, it’s real, Yuuji squeezes his eyes shut, willing the tears away even as he trembles and releases another long, shaky breath. It’s all real. Gojou-sensei sealed, Nanamin and thousands dead, and Kugisaki… Kugisaki is... He can’t quite stifle the quiet sob that escapes his lips as he folds into himself, hands fisting into his hair. He drags his fingers over his face, clawing away at his skin with all the intensity of ripping the mask off to reveal, to destroy the monster festering deep inside. (But it’s always you under that mask—you’re a murderer too, the monster chuckles faintly back at him from the void whenever he finds himself staring into a polished mirror, into his own burning amber eyes.) Yuuji senses movement at the foot of the bed then, the shadows around him shifting like tendrils of velvet ink, curling into a solid shape. There’s a soft whine and the wet brush of a tongue against his cheek; he lowers his hands and looks up to see Megumi’s black divine dog nuzzling at him. “Hey there, Gen,” Yuuji calls, smiling despite the tears welling up in his eyes. He wraps his arms around the shikigami, burying his face into Gen’s fur for comfort. “Who’s a good doggo, huh? Who’s a good doggo? Yes, it’s you!” Gen wags his long, bushy tail lightly and whines softly again, licking the stray tears from his face and Yuuji chuckles at the touch, grateful for the brief distraction, for the warmth and the simple scent of dog enveloping him. Even if the sight of Gen still brings a dull ache to his heart, a grim reminder of Haku, Megumi’s other divine dog, lost and killed in their mission against the first finger-bearer curse in the juvenile detention centre. If Yuuji had been stronger then, if he hadn’t needed to resort to Sukuna taking over, if he hadn’t lost complete control and allowed Sukuna to run amok in Shibuya— If only, if only— “Itadori?” Yuuji freezes at the sound of Megumi’s sleepy voice drifting from the bed space beside him. Rubbing a hand over his eyes, he wills away the swirl of images plaguing his mind—Megumi’s unconscious form, bruised and broken, cradled limply in his own bloodied hands—and releases the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding amidst his spiralling thoughts. He can sense Megumi’s hesitation when he props himself upright and glances over, the barest hint of emotion flickering in his eyes; Yuuji wonders if he’s wrestling with a decision of sorts, to voice what surely must be his frustrations—and disappointment, Fushiguro should never have saved you at all—at Yuuji. But the moment passes and Megumi only releases a sigh. He says nothing as he shifts closer to sit beside Yuuji on their shared bed, his movements tentative and slow, as though seeking an unsaid permission from Yuuji to be allowed into this private space of grief and mourning. “Ah, sorry, Fushiguro. I didn’t mean to wake you,” Yuuji blurts out when Megumi leans into him, his shoulder pressed gently against Yuuji’s. “I’m—I’m fine, really.” He attempts a soft laugh, brushes aside the fears, the scenes of carnage and destruction that’s still swimming at the back of his eyelids and tucks them away behind a smile as he’s inclined to do. Megumi furrows his brows at the facade, however, and he nudges at Yuuji with his shoulder, his gaze steady and disarming—like he already knows, he always knows—and Yuuji finds himself gradually relenting, his vulnerabilities buoyed up from the depths once more. He slouches forward, the tension unwinding from his shoulders even as his fingers are still twitching restlessly, wrung tight into the sheets beneath them. “It’s just weird, you know,” Yuuji says at length. “Gramps used to grumble about how I’d fall asleep anywhere and how I’d sleep like a log through the entire night. And well, I’d never thought it’d ever get this bad… It’s just been a little hard to sleep, like really sleep, you know? Not when...” Not when Yuuji can still hear Junpei and his mother’s laughter at their dining table every time he closes his eyes. Not when he can still smell the acrid tang, see the burnt skin flaking off from Nanami’s charred torso, or the way Kugisaki’s limbs are splayed out around her when she crumples like a broken doll against the hard ground. Not when both of them are gazing brightly ahead at him with their remaining good eye, their lips bloody and curved into a contented smile, stiff and frozen in rigor mortis. Itadori... I'll leave the rest to you now. Hey, Itadori...Tell everyone it wasn’t all that bad. Yuuji shuts his eyes at the images, fighting against the despair threatening to rise and sink its hold into his heart again, dragging him deep into the endless pool of darkness while Sukuna’s disdain curdles thick and loud in his ears. “I have them too.” Megumi’s voice is characteristically low and soft, but it cuts through the swirl of Yuuji’s thoughts like a steady blade, a beacon flickering brightly amidst the regrets dancing within him. On his other side, Gen nuzzles closer, head lying across his lap. Yuuji feels his breath catch in his throat, anxiety churning in his gut, but he finds his centre again at the measured cadence of Megumi’s voice, at the tickle of the shikigami’s black fur against his palms. He turns slightly towards Megumi, brows arched questioningly even as his gaze is still transfixed on Gen’s fluffy head. “The nightmares,” Megumi says again, his expression a stoic paper-mask still. “I’ve been having them for a while now too. Ever since...” Ever since I couldn’t save you the first time and had to watch you die, is what he doesn’t say aloud, but Yuuji understands anyway. He sees it in the way Megumi lifts a hand to rub gingerly at his left shoulder, in the shadowed, haunted look that crosses his eyes then, as though he’s ensnared in the dark memory of watching Yuuji’s lifeless body collapse and bleed out into the rain before him again. The silence hangs over them for a beat, like a thundercloud, full and bursting at the seams, before Yuuji exhales slowly once more, swallowing down the lump in his throat. “What kind of nightmares?” he prompts, if only to dispel the tension, the cloud of unsaid regrets hovering between them. “In the past, it had mostly been about Tsumiki and all the terrible things I had said to her right before she was cursed and fell into a coma. Some nights it’s not even about anything in particular, just an amalgam of dark images—curses I had exorcised in the past, people I wasn’t able to help in time. A flurry of emotions.” Megumi leans forward, arms braced against his thighs, the shock of raven hair curtaining his expression and eyes. “Lately it’s been about Sukuna. The carnage, the things he would do to m—to you…” Megumi’s voice falters if only for a heartbeat; Yuuji doesn’t miss the tremble in his fingers, the slightest wince at the corner of his eyes, before Megumi shakes his head lightly, as if to chase the dark thoughts away, and pushes on. “About all the things I’ve done, or shouldn’t have done in Shibuya, how I couldn’t protect you—” “Shibuya’s my fault, Fushiguro,” Yuuji cuts in abruptly, the bitterness of his admission stinging the back of his throat like bile. He’d tried to, he really did, but he can’t stop himself from interjecting, not when the spike of despair is curling heatedly once more in the pit of his stomach. “My doing. All those lives, utterly destroyed. Everything is because of me, because I lost control and let Sukuna out.” He grits his jaw, feeling his throat constrict with emotion again. “I should’ve been stronger, should’ve been able to suppress Sukuna even after eating all those fingers! Then Shibuya wouldn’t be in shambles and all those people wouldn’t have died!” Yuuji lowers his head into his hands, digging at his face with blunt nails in anguish and revulsion. “Itadori,” Megumi begins gently.  “And... And Nanamin and Kugisaki...! Even Haku, your divine dog could’ve still been here if I hadn’t been so disgustingly full of myself back then at the detention centre!” “Itadori—” “Maybe the higher-ups are right, I should’ve been executed right away. Everything right now is my fault, I’m an abomination, a mistake, I have no right to even be here now—” “Damn it, Itadori, will you just stop punishing yourself?” Megumi snaps tersely, frustration colouring his tone as he reaches forward. Carefully, he pries Yuuji’s hands away from gouging more scratches and bruises over his face. “Stop hurting yourself like this.” “If I can’t punish myself for all these sins, then who will?!” Yuuji sobs miserably, flinching away. But still, Megumi keeps his hold firm and steady around Yuuji’s wrists, refusing to let go, refusing to let Yuuji hurt himself again. “Life as a shaman in jujutsu society is punishment enough. We don’t need to help push ourselves further into the dirt.” Megumi continues heatedly. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: Shibuya is our fault. You couldn’t suppress Sukuna enough to stop the killings, yes, but you weren’t in full control of your actions—it wasn’t your choice to go on a rampage! But I was in control of my decisions. I chose to summon Mahoraga even though I knew the risk it entailed. And because of that, because of me, Sukuna went berserk and destroyed everything! If I hadn’t done so, maybe Sukuna wouldn’t have done what he did, and maybe we wouldn’t be having this conversation at all!” Megumi pauses when he notices the strain in his own raised voice, brows knitted in exasperation. Yuuji can still hear the roar of adrenaline in his ears, propelled by his own self-hatred and anger. The tension stretches long and thin in the abrupt silence between them for several long moments, before the fire in Megumi’s eyes finally mellows out into something softer and more apologetic. He lets out a sigh, a short gust of air, and drops his gaze. “I was desperate, so I did what I had to, what I thought was the best at that time. Sometimes that’s all we can do as shamans, to the best of our abilities, to try to save those we can and want to save. To continue proving the worth of our existence.” “But Sukuna—Whatever his plans with you are, it’s just too dangerous! I can’t risk that!” Yuuji knows Megumi is probably too stubborn to budge from his decision by now to accept whatever excuse he can come up with, but he tries anyway. Even if Yuuji himself had stopped resisting or pulling away from Megumi’s touch since a while ago, desperate to hold onto the warmth and feel of Megumi’s fingers encircled around his wrists, rubbing soothingly against his skin. He gives Megumi a pained look, before turning away again, voice hollow as he says, “I would never be able to forgive myself if Sukuna did anything to hurt you.” Yuuji had expected heated protests or more sounds of frustration at his admission then—anything but the soft, amused huff that escapes from Megumi’s lips, or the wry, battle-scarred (almost bordering on deranged) smile that’s tugging at the corner of his mouth now.  “This might seem inconceivable but I think hurting or killing me is possibly the last thing Sukuna wants right now.” Yuuji blinks as his eyes widen by a fraction, certain that they had both finally cracked and lost it. “What...? What are you saying, Fushiguro?” “I wasn’t sure of it at first,” Megumi says, scratching at Gen’s snout lightly with his free hand when the shikigami licks his arm. “Not until Ieiri-san told me they’d found me unconscious and unharmed, and when I’d realized Sukuna’s rampage had occurred around the same vicinity where I’d summoned Mahoraga. There was no way I could have survived that exorcism if Mahoraga hadn’t been defeated, let alone come out of it completely unscathed if Sukuna hadn’t done something.” Yuuji says nothing as he watches Megumi’s profile from the periphery of his vision, silently admiring the way moonlight ghosts over his pensive expression, his delicate features. Despite the grimness of the situation, Yuuji still can't help but marvel at just how much Megumi had managed to figure out on his own. “And if Ieiri-san wasn’t the one who had healed my injuries,” Megumi continues, brushing his fingers lightly over Yuuji’s wrists, as if in reassurance, “then the only other person who could have—who is able to use reverse cursed technique and was coincidentally close enough to me—is Sukuna. He could have easily left me for dead in Shibuya, just like the others. But he chose to heal me instead, which means he prefers me alive and out of immediate physical harm. For now, at least.” Megumi glances at Yuuji, only to narrow his eyes at the single demon eye and leering grin that had abruptly manifested on Yuuji’s left cheek. “Isn’t that right, Sukuna?” “Perceptive as ever, Fushiguro Megumi,” Sukuna hums an approval, his crimson eye gazing back at the shaman with a twisted, possessive sort of fondness, his elongated canines glinting with malevolent hunger. “The brat should learn a thing or two from you, but he’s hardly worth the effort.” “Itadori is a good person and worth so much more than you will ever be,” Megumi counters sharply. Yuuji looks up in surprise then, feeling a touch of wonderment and awe—and just a slight thrill of exhilaration that he isn’t quite sure is purely his own or Sukuna’s—within him at the sudden ferocity and the crystalline edge in Megumi’s voice, at the sureness in his defiant gaze. The curse sharing his body only blinks back at Megumi, chuckling darkly at the declaration, but says nothing more; the bodiless fangs and crimson eye fades from Yuuji’s cheek as Ryoumen Sukuna returns to the boundless depths of his innate domain. Megumi is still glowering frostily even after Sukuna disappears from sight, but his irritation doesn’t last. With a mildly vexed sigh, he relaxes again. “I don’t think we have to worry too much about what Sukuna wants with me right now. Whatever it is, I’m better off alive in his books and I’ll take that over everything else.” Yuuji doesn’t know if he can wholeheartedly agree with that sentiment just yet—not when Sukuna’s malicious hunger continue to bleed into his nightmares, engulfing both Yuuji’s heart and mind with his own insatiable desires of carnage and violence, a constant latent reminder that continues to gnaw away beneath the layers of his subconscious even in his waking hours. He can’t even bring himself to look directly at Megumi now, even when shrouded in the shadows and fractals of moonlight spilling in through the windows. It’s silly, Yuuji knows—Megumi is one of the least injured of the shamans recuperating here in Jujutsu Tech—but he’s afraid that if he looks too closely and for too long, he would see all-too-familiar fingerprints and puncture wounds marked over the length of Megumi’s slender neck, the purple-red bruises and ugly teeth marks still burning bright and vivid like a sickly brand against his pale throat in Yuuji’s mind. “Itadori... Hey, Itadori,” Megumi’s voice breaks through his morose thoughts and Yuuji jolts to attention when he feels gentle but firm hands reaching for his cheeks again, when Megumi turns Yuuji’s face towards him.  “Look at me, Itadori,” Megumi pleads, voice soft, and Yuuji feels his breath catch in his throat when their gazes finally meet and hold. Sitting this close together, he can see the brilliant green of Megumi’s eyes reflected in the moonlight, the dappled leaves of a forest in spring. Yuuji wets his cracked lips with a tongue, and exhales slowly, chasing away the darkness from his thoughts. “Sorry, but I’m not ready to give up just yet,” Megumi says, gently brushing beads of  dried blood from Yuuji’s split lip with his thumb. “Not on Tsumiki, not when she’s deserving of so much better. I’m not giving up on Gojou-sensei either and certainly not on you—I never have, not while we’re both still alive. I know I’m being selfish and maybe this will never be enough for you... but I still don’t regret saving you; I never will because you’re still here and alive, and you’re still Yuuji.” Megumi finally breaks eye contact, dropping his hands back down to his side. He keeps one hand over Yuuji’s still as he glances back down at Gen, who had now comfortably settled his long body across both their laps, tail swishing about slowly in content. “That has to count for something, and it does to me. I’ve made grave mistakes too, so this is my burden to bear alongside you. Even if I risk my life, I’m not going to just throw it away. I can’t—” Megumi draws a long breath, and for the second time that night, Yuuji sees the slightest flicker of hesitance and fear over his features, before the steel returns and Megumi’s gaze turns resolute, sharp as a blade when he looks back at Yuuji again. “No, I don’t want to do this alone. And I know you don’t either, so please. Help me... And help me save Tsumiki.” (Help me make sense of all of this, of us, is what Yuuji feels in the warmth of Megumi’s fingers laced tightly around his, as if he’s hanging onto a life-line while the world continues to race alongside them, fire and ash blazing at their heels, the path before them murky and lined with spider lilies blooming a deep blood-red. “You’re a strong kid, so help people,” is what Itadori Wasuke imparts to him as a final farewell, a final curse—) “Don’t go where I can’t follow, Itadori...” Megumi whispers. “Please.” It strikes Yuuji then, just how fiercely and deeply Megumi cared for those he chose to protect, to save, and Yuuji almost feels terrible, undeserving even of such concern. And part of him is still uncertain despite all the hope and steady resolution in Megumi’s declaration—he’d only trust Sukuna as far as he could fling the King of Curses into the blazing sun. But Yuuji is also weary, so very weary—of the grotesque images coalescing endlessly deep in the recesses of his mind while Sukuna’s incessant taunts rings through his ears; of keeping his distance and running away into the emptiness with nothing but curses reaching out for him; of the dull and hollow weight sitting heavily in his heart, of loneliness. He lifts his eyes again, to meet the look in Megumi’s quiet gaze that’s filled with such tenderness, concern and yearning that Yuuji feels his chest would almost burst from aching, as though he’d been torn wide open once again, all of him—fears, anxieties, vulnerabilities—laid bare and pulsing through his heart, warm, relieving. And Yuuji realizes again, there and then, just how much he wants to believe, to be needed and cared for; how much he wants to reach for the support and camaraderie Megumi’s holding out to him now, to be engulfed and nourished by this sensation. He breaks into a smile, and then a soft laugh—the first genuine one he’s had in what feels like a long time—before he leans forward, burying his face deep into the crook of Megumi’s neck, much to the other shaman’s surprise. “For all the smart things you’re always spouting, you can still be pretty dense at times, you know.” Yuuji grins into Megumi’s skin, embracing him tightly, gratefully. “You’ve always been enough for me, Fushiguro.” “You’re incorrigible sometimes,” Megumi grouses, not unkindly, and Yuuji laughs again as he presses an apologetic kiss against Megumi’s collarbone, feeling the soft, indignant huff reverberating from his friend’s chest. (And Yuuji thinks then, that maybe in another lifetime, in any other circumstances they would have shared together, he could freely say, Fushiguro... I think I love you too. To which Megumi would only fix him with that same quiet, perceptive gaze, before his features soften and the corner of his lips quirk upwards into the tiniest of smiles—a smile that’s reflected in the luminous green of his eyes, that makes Yuuji’s pulse race, and his heart swell with warmth and exhilaration all at the same time; a smile that Yuuji thinks he loves seeing more and more—as Megumi replies simply, almost affectionately, I know you do.)

  —End—

_______ End Notes: - It's implied in this fic itself (though idk if it was clear), but the previous one-shot is a companion piece and is one of Megumi's nightmares/visceral fears, a hypothetical JJK bad end, so to speak. - I headcanon that Megumi doesn't name his shikigami except for his divine dogs, since they first appeared when his cursed technique manifested, which is implied to have occurred when he was about 5 or 6. Gen [玄] = "mysterious" and Haku [白] = "white". -JJK has really taken over my one brain-cell, my existence nowadays is solely --> this soundtrack + whelmed by brain-rotting itafushi feels + PAIN & CHARACTER CONFLICT/SUFFERING = this fic...??? Yeah.. yeah. - I do also have some cute fluff/comedy ideas I'd like to try writing for the itafushikugi trio, so !! Someday !! - Comments and critique are always welcomed for my fics—I'd like to hear what you think, if you've enjoyed this! Thanks for reading :)