#I think this is actually going to be one of the most emotional chapters in the entire fic

[malinowaj]

2024 fandom review

thank you for the tag @nerdyfangirl76 and @almostlake 💜

warning: this got really long

fics written

in 2024, i posted 3 finished fics and one currently on-going WIP. in total that was 122,542 words and i keep looking at that number in complete disbelief.

i started the year by saying, multiple times, i'm not going to write anything because it's been nearly a decade since i wrote for fun. then i had an idea and was all "well, maybe if i wrote this one short thing, posted it and then dipped never to be seen again". insert my friend laughing at me at regular intervals because we all know that's not what happened.

always losing to win is very dear to me, for several reasons, and it'll never stop blowing my mind how many people have read it and been on that journey with me.

fics read

my AO3 history is about 300 fics, but i did not sort out my logins until months into the year, so the actual number is probably somewhere closer to 350.

i tried to pick a few favourite fics i read and limiting myself to just these is hard. i regret to say none of these have received the praise, comments and love from me that they deserve, because it took me months to get over my comment shyness. but i hope this makes up for it a bit. (new year's resolution: more comments for everyone.) in alphabetical order by title:

almost is never enough by @in-amor-veritas

there's a scene in this with kent's 747 that i have the strongest, plot-wise most insignificant headcanon about and i think about it every time i hear the song. which is often. and then i end up thinking about the whole story.

another dose by stargazers

it's such a beautiful version of wilmon, because it's so them. and it's hot.

chasing our sunlight by fitz_y

if there ever was a fic that lives rent free in my head, it's this. the way it deals with so many heavy topics has made me cry, but it's such an incredibly crafted story i come back to it often.

forever i'm yours by @goldenwilmon

the way the fall in love in this one? hands down one of my favourites ever. whenever i need some fluff and happiness in my life, this is the one i go for.

little light by @unfortunate17

possibly one of the first, if not the first, wilmon fic i read in 2024. it broke something in me, but also healed something in me.

reckless abandon by @zee-has-commitment-issues

i absolutely love the concept and the way all the characters are so well-rounded. one of the fics i could not stop reading and can't wait to read again.

so loaded, eye low by @enjoythesilentworld

the chemistry, the angst. the sweet, delicious angst. and hot as hell.

where be left off by @gulliblelemon

the best way for me to fight some physical pain? some emotional pain. and this one has it, in the best, most beautiful way. very few fics have i devoured like i did this one.

the wolf comes home by @phneltwrites

after months, i still keep thinking about a particular line in this one. the trauma aftermath, the way they deal with it. also my favourite established relationship wilmon.

looking forward to in 2025

i can't wait to read and see all the amazing fics and gifs and edits and everything this fandom comes up with. i already know there'll be so many wonderful things i'll enjoy.

as for my own writing, i'm trying to get a good chunk of hope and legacy written before the insanity that'll be my life from late january to the end of february. (no context chapter 4 spoiler: simon steals a flag.)

there is also in from the cold, the espionage AU i have about 10K written for - and that's barely the beginning. i don't know if it'll ever see the light of day, but i do love the concept and all the research i've done for it.

i have been thinking about space wilmon lately, and while i said i'm not going to go down that road myself, i did remember a few lines from record of a spaceborn few that may have sparked an idea. it might become something one day, or it might never be more than the few disjointed lines and ideas i have typed in my notes.

there's also a file with a list of songs that i might want to build stories around. in general i have a lot of ideas, but very few of them might become anything. i'd like to put it down as "english is not my first language so writing is slow" thing, and while it is that too, it's mostly me being a perfectionist and not able to let go. (which is why i should probably have a beta telling me 'this is fine, go post it'. if anyone feels up for doing that...)

the biggest, warmest thank you to everyone who's read anything i've written, left kudos or comments, sent messages, in any way engaged. it has made my year, and this fandom experience so special 💜

not tagging anyone, but if any of the authors i mentioned haven't done this yet and would like to, i'd love to read your reviews.

[1moreff-creator]

Imagine Project Eden's Garden Chapter 1 but the victim and killer are reversed.

Alright, I’ve imagined it. Thanks for the ask!-

Ok no, I’ll give a proper answer ‘cuz this seems like fun xD I ended up writing a lot more than I’d imagined damn.

Spoilers for P:EG CH1. CW: Murder, stabbing, manipulation, mention of hallucinogenics

I guess the first big question is how exactly we get to a position where Wolfgang actually wants to kill Eva, and presumably want to get away with it so that the trial doesn’t last only two seconds.

The option I’ll go with is to stick to canon for the most part; Wolfgang goes down to the boiler room at 8:15, and Eva ambushes him. However, in this hypothetical, Eva doesn’t manage to hit him with the rolling pin, and instead Wolfgang defends himself, stabbing her in the heart. He makes his escape, keeping the note he received about meeting in the boiler in his pocket.

He’s probably covered in blood by this point, so he’d probably try to make it back to his room without seeing anyone in the hall. Let’s say he manages to do that, changes, washes off the blood, and quickly hides the bloody clothes under his bed or something (no one’s gonna check his room this time ‘cuz he’s not dead). I’ll say he left the knife at the crime scene, though, ‘cuz why not.

Now, before we move on, I have to say that this is twisting Wolfgang’s character quite a bit. I think he’d feel bad about killing Eva, though he’d try to assure himself he’s in the right because Eva tried to kill him and that makes her the irredeemable murderer and not him, or something like that.

However, I’m really not sure he’d actually try to win the trial. Maybe he’d try to convince Tozu to let it slide because it was self-defense, but we know that wouldn’t fly, and I don’t think Wolfgang would push further. However, for the sake of the hypothetical, let’s say that Wolfgang’s ambitions of greatness push him to self-preservation at all costs, so he tries to win the trial. I think that’s also fairly possible, maybe.

With that established, let’s move on to body discovery! While the gaming crew would probably look around for Eva when they notice she never came to set stuff up, the first discoverer would likely be Diana, going to the boiler at 8:45 because of the note she received. She becomes a suspect because of that, but in the trial, Damon and a few others are quick to make the others turn their attention to the crime itself before pointing fingers.

That would also include Wolfgang himself, believe it or not. While Eva was decent at being a blackened, Wolfgang would probably be even better. So, what’s his strategy?

I think Wolfgang would try to spin a narrative that paints Eva as some form of hero. Since Diana was her roommate, he could argue that Eva managed to read the letter Diana received before the day of the murder, and that she may have gone down to the boiler room to case out the scene and make sure Diana wasn’t walking into a trap. He’d argue that the presence of the battery, the hallucinogenic (which I’ll say was already in the boiler room and Eva wasn’t carrying it around to facilitate some things), the extension cord in the vent, the taser, etc., all implied the killer had a more elaborate method in mind, before Eva walked in on them and started a fight. The presence of two weapons in the crime scene reinforce the idea of a fight.

Why would Wolfgang do all this? To get emotional. If he paints Eva as a fallen hero, he can pretend to despise her killer with the same intensity as he hated the killer from the prologue trial. He’d act melancholic about Eva, pretending to regret ostracizing her now that he knew she truly cared about Diana. He’d shout about how the killer deserves death, for trying to kill someone as nice as Diana, only to then kill the person who tried to protect her. It’s a compelling narrative, that the others would love to believe for its simplicity and emotional weight. Diana especially, since she’d love to believe Eva really cared that much about her.

But why? Why would Wolfgang do this? Because he desperately needs to convince one specific person not to speak. He needs to make one specific person believe in his innocence wholeheartedly, for if this person were to ever think Wolfgang might be the killer, then their testimony could end the trial in one fell swoop.

And that person is Toshiko.

Because Toshiko saw Wolfgang leave his room at a time close to the time of death, and he said he was going to the gaming tournament. Since he never showed up there despite being very clearly alive, that immediately casts doubt as to where he actually was, and then he’s cooked.

Grace’s testimony isn’t damning on its own; Wolfgang could have been genuinely sick in the morning, only to get better later. It’s only with Toshiko’s testimony that his sickness comes into doubt, after all. As for Ingrid hearing Toshiko and Wolfgang talk, Wolfgang could say that happened in his room and that Toshiko just saw him walking past, and Toshiko would go with that based on their agreement. That’s why Toshiko’s testimony is the most important here.

So, right as the investigation starts, Wolfgang would pull Toshiko aside, and tell her not to spill the beans. He’d come up with some excuse for his lie about where he was going (maybe he’d say he wanted to meet with someone to discuss the motive, and he was worried she’d try to eavesdrop), and ask her to hear out what he had to say in the trial before telling anyone else what had happened that morning. He’d tell her that her testimony would only confuse people, because there’s no way Wolfgang’s the killer, right? So don’t say anything. And she’d oblige, because everyone loves Wolfgang! No way he’s lying!

And once he gets the story about Eva being a hero going, Toshiko would probably convince herself that Wolfgang hates the killer too much to be the blackened, and would continue to oblige with the vow of silence, for a while. This is the main purpose of Wolfgang’s narrative.

As for who Wolfgang would push as the blackened, uh. It needs to be someone without an alibi at 8:15, so while Damon (the first possibility I thought of) is more or less on the table, it’d have been risky for him to leave when Kai was still asleep. I think going for Wenona would be Wolfgang’s best bet, as he could argue her cutthroat attitude as the Ultimate Entrepreneur would make her the likeliest to kill first. I’m assuming here Wenona’s alibi doesn’t stretch to 8:15 btw, but I’m not sure we know that for certain.

However, the blackened never wins. Wolfgang’s narrative would fall apart when Damon points out a glaring issue with his story; Eva’s tablet. Although they’d have no idea where the tablet came from, the fact is, Eva had it (uh, let’s say she was already carrying it around in her pocket okay?), not the blackened. This is a problem because it means Eva had no reason to go down to the boiler room to “case the scene,” as Wolfgang would be arguing. She’d just check the cameras.

From there, Damon is quick to realize that Eva herself was probably the one planning the crime with the battery, based on the rolling pin. While I doubt he’d want to figure out the entire mechanism behind Eva’s plan, he’d at least figure that using a rolling pin to knock someone out was more likely to be part of said plan than using a knife to do literally anything. That would further imply Eva was the one with the plan, and that the killer was the one who likely acted in self-defense.

With that established, the cast comes to the conclusion that Eva must have also sent the killer a card similar to the one Diana received, where Eva threatened them based on their secrets. This narrows down the possible killers to those who had never talked to the person who received their secret; based on this, we can eliminate Toshiko, Grace, Ingrid, Jean, and possibly a few others based on what conversations happened offscreen. Adding in the already discussed alibis, the suspects start getting narrowed down.

Because of that, Toshiko speaks up, saying there’s something she’s been keeping secret, but she isn’t sure she should anymore. This is probably where the logos/pathos path split is; Damon has to convince Toshiko to speak up either through a logical argument or by appealing to her emotions. Toshiko obliges, gives her testimony of her chat with Wolfgang in the morning, and also says he told her not to tell. There’s some angst here with Toshiko presumably being very scared while saying all of this, as she is betraying Wolfgang’s trust, but we’re kinda skipping that.

The cast starts freaking out here, obviously. Some are mad at Toshiko for concealing info, Ingrid’s defending her, people are trying to steer back the trial, some are saying Wolfgang’s the killer 100%, some are trying to say he couldn’t have possibly done it, all the bullshit. Wolfgang’s now trying to gun for Damon (let’s say Kai had talked to his person about his secret so we can rule him out), claiming his alibi isn’t good enough. However, Damon defends by bringing up that he can’t have washed off fast enough after a murder at 8:15 to then pretend to go back to sleep for Kai’s awakening at 8:30, at least when taking into account travel time between boiler and his room.

With all the secrets and the alibis, slowly Wolfgang starts seeming like the only real possibility. The Argument Altercation with him starts when he claims that Eva herself had had his secret, but she had asked him to keep that conversation secret at all costs, so he was just honoring her wishes. This would rule him out as stated before, but it’s obviously a desperate gamble that would only work if Eva genuinely had his secret, or if the person who had his secret didn’t call him out on it, but it’s all he has. The Argument Altercation ends with Damon epically revealing that he’s the one that received Wolfgang’s secret, and that he absolutely never talked to him about it. The trial doesn’t last very long after that.

The cast would obviously be devastated after this, because Eva tried to kill someone and Wolfgang not only killed her, but also wanted to kill everyone else to save himself. I think Wolfgang would end up trying to tell the others not to fall in the same pit of despair as he had when he realized what killing Eva meant. He hadn’t meant to kill her, after all, and he genuinely wanted (most of) the group to stay together. This leads to Diana doing the same chameleon speech as she did in canon, though with different wording and promises. Overall, it’s hard to talk about changes past this point, as we don’t even know how canon will go, but I imagine Damon’s, Diana’s and Toshiko’s character arcs would be greatly affected because of everything that happened. Damon would get worse if the others keep idolizing Wolfgang even after that (which could genuinely happen), Diana wouldn’t be using Wolfgang as a role model so much, and god fucking knows what kind of trust issues Toshiko would develop after all that.

That’s all from me, hope it was fun. Thanks for the ask, this was a really interesting thought exercise!

[longagoitwastuesday]

Kusakabe, dear, you're too beautiful to be saying that kind of stuff

[caterpillarinacave]

Do you have thoughts about Baby Henry and his Great Aunt Matilda?

Oh BOY do I.

I could literally go on and on forever but I should redirect you to this entire fic which is basically a coherent, carefully constructed, novel of those thoughts:

(Those with an astute eye will notice that I call Matilda Henry’s aunt, as in his fathers sister, as opposed to his great aunt. Maybe this is due to the copious amounts of inheritance fuckery brought up in the first chapter. Maybe I forgot because rereading nothing but shadows makes me sad. Maybe I can make it work and I’m going with it.) 

[fantastic-mr-corvid]

[Belated] Wip Wednesday!

you know my life is hectic when notes ap fics while im waiting for the bus make a comeback. anyway Tesoro is being a weirdly sweet manipulative cunt<3 i need to write one of the many times Celia fucks up everyone lives shes looking to pity-able. this is notes app writing so no editing or rereading [except for the beginning with whos speaking] just stream of thoughts- i already know many places i will sit down and improve when i have time

[Tesoro] Do you know who Amelia reminds me of?

[Celia laughs] It's obvious, isn't it?

[Tesoro, dead serious] She reminds me of you.

[Celia, at the same time] Of Elen-

Seeing Celia freeze in shock, a cruel part of him was glad, to be assured that with just a few words he could still metaphorically lay Celia bare, strip away all of the stone walls and bravado, and leave behind a scared child, even after all these years.

Golden eyes were wide, the white fully surrounding. Bright pupils were growing larger, threatening to drown out the narrowing ring of gold.

Its a secret so few know that those pinpricks growing to even half the size of a normal pupil is an indicator of true fear, whereas the usual pinpricks is normal. To those who knew her younger, they think it just changed over time to be smaller, but the truth is she's in many ways conquered her old fears, and those that have taken their place are a slow constant fear, about larger factors. Celia doesn't worry that she will get physically attacked from any side. these days, its the era of mind games instead.

It was always interesting, Celias eyes. More normal than black in place of white, but those metallic eyes and bright pinprick pupils were unsettling to him even more. At first glance, human, second, anything but. Celia- of heaven, according to some old Latin books, derived from a surname meaning the same.

It was easy to see her as something other, even holy, but no benevolent god could create a soldier like her. Those who called her brother an angel were just as misguided, but the veneer of kindness and comfort that made it easy to ignore Cecios' terrifying power over people and see him as holy was lacking in his sister, who they viewed with fear, no seemingly benevolent and gracious angel but an awesome- in the most classical sense of the word- leader of man, set apart from the rest with an unsettling aura of difference. A far cry from the little girl Amelia so reminds him of. Elena was the seemingly godlike one, inspiring awe and fear, then. Celia was just another scrapper desperate to prove her worth in the eyes of her peer, and oh, how desperate she was.

It's the most likely reason why, why he can disable her like this, bypass years of walls. Because he was there before those walls became impenetrable, before she stepped up and shut everyone else out. Some lingering memories of him as her superior, in their childish hierarchy, instincts to listen to him, still dormant inside her.

For every time she learned to put up a higher and stronger wall, he had learned how to bring it crashing down.

It's the same cruel part of him that whispers it, but she truly is his greatest success, rising from the bottom to new heights - all with him by her side advising her.

[lieutenant-amuel]

You know there is one chapter in WBTL that I’m really excited to write and I have so many dialogue ideas/random phrases I find so good, I just decided to write them down because I’m worried I’ll forget them by the moment I’ll get to actually write the chapter. And you know what? This chapter is already 600+ words long.

[erinwantstowrite]

if you're stuck on a chapter there are a few reasons:

-your set up to the scene you're writing is not working. go back and check it

-you are not in the right POV. think about who would be the most interesting or the most entertaining or the most informative in that scene, depending on what impact you want the scene to have

-you're at the beginning of the chapter and the words aren't coming to you even though you have it planned out already? the solution is simple: you don't like what you have planned out as much as you think you do. do not force it

-solution to a lot of problems comes from a single question I ask myself: Do I choose the kind option, or the mean option? (Your readers will eat up either one)

-You find the dialogue lacking? Act it out

-Your scene feels boring or something just "ain't right" but you can't tell what it is? Try making yourself feel the emotion you want your readers to feel. If you didn't cry while writing a scene meant to make your readers bawl their eyes out, then you might not have connected to your character as well as you wanted to. Put yourself in their shoes, pretend you ARE them.

(And afterwards, please practice putting yourself back in your own shoes and taking care of your mental health. Sometimes the fucked up stuff might get to you. Healthy minds create healthy lives, and in turn, you get to keep creating.)

-Your environment might be bothering you. Take a look around you and see what's nagging you. Is your workspace not clean? Are your notes out of order? A clean/orderly workspace can help you organize your thoughts or get you into a more productive mood. (Trust me, I get it, sometimes it's really hard to keep it tidy.)

-Try white/brown/pink noise. Try listening to music, or to videos that create background noise you feel most productive with.

-Jumping jacks. Squats. Stretches. Wiggle around your room. That one scene in High School Musical where Sharpay and Ryan are warming up. It sounds ridiculous, but this is good for you, your body, and your mind. Release pent up energy, get yourself awake and focused. If you aren't able to do this, try something silly to wake your brain up. Do some puzzles, sing some songs, etc.

-Most importantly:

Did you do your laundry? Did you get enough sun? Did you drink enough water? Did you eat enough today? Did you get your favorite snack? Did you smile? Did you run in your yard like you did as a kid? Did you laugh with your friend? Did you see the way their eyes crinkle when they smile at you? Did you play with your dog? Your cat? Did you look at the flowers in the field near your house? Did you meet someone new? Did you learn something you didn't before? Did you try something you were scared of? Did it go well? Did you enjoy being yourself? Did you explore the world today? Did you live? Did you love? Did you feel? Did you breathe, and relax, and feel that everything is gonna be okay?

It might seem insignificant, but we write from the heart, not just the mind. Let your story sit in the back of your mind when you truly feel stuck. Take care of yourself, try getting out of your head. Notice the details around you, commit them to memory. Your story will wait for you. It might take a day, or days, or a week, or a month, months, or a year or years. But the story sits with you and you'll be thinking about it without actually thinking about it. When you come to your story again, it will be happy that you've grown, no matter how big or small

[mcrdvcks]

Could I request a one shot of Old Man Logan? Something with fluff and angst like a huge argument between him and his other half and Laura works to get them to make up after days of not talking

things i wish you said

chapter summary: You and Logan get into a fight and Laura tries to get the two of you to see the errors in your ways.

word count: 2.8k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: thank y'all for sending in requests! i've been working on the last chapter of i love you, in every time but i ran into a bit of writer's block so the requests really helped <3

anyways, i hope this was what you wanted anon!

warnings/tags: au of 'logan (2017)' aka logan doesn't die at the end, arguments, angst, laura being smarter than reader and logan, really this is just laura being a smartass, fluff

"I can’t believe you!” You set the dish towel angrily down on the counter, glaring at Logan. “You are the most stubborn man I have ever met.”

Logan leaned back against the doorframe, arms crossed, his expression hard. “Yeah? Well, someone’s gotta be stubborn, considering you’re trying to fix a situation that ain’t broken.”

“It is broken, Logan!” you snapped, pointing a finger at him. “You just refuse to see it because that’s what you do! Shut everything out, pretend like nothing’s wrong until it all blows up in your face.”

His jaw clenched, and he shook his head. “What’s wrong is you makin’ a mountain out of a molehill. I said I’ll handle it.”

“You handling it usually means disappearing for a week and coming back bloodied and brooding!” You threw your hands up, exasperated. “God forbid you actually let someone help you for once.”

“I don’t need your help!” he barked, his voice rising. “I’ve been doin’ just fine on my own for years.”

“And look where that’s gotten you!” The words came out sharper than you intended, but the frustration boiling in your chest wouldn’t let you stop. “You’re not on your own anymore, Logan. When are you gonna get that through your thick skull?”

Logan’s eyes darkened, and for a moment, he said nothing. Then, his voice dropped to a dangerous low. “You don’t think I know that? I didn’t ask for any of this, but here we are. I’m doin’ the best I can, and it ain’t enough for you, is it?”

“That’s not what I said!” You took a step toward him, shaking your head in disbelief. “But you don’t even try to meet me halfway. You just... shut down and push me out the second it gets hard.”

“Maybe I’m tryin’ to protect you,” he shot back, his words laced with frustration.

“From what? From you?” Your voice cracked, the argument chipping away at the walls you’d built to keep your own emotions in check. “I’m not scared of you, Logan. What scares me is losing you because you’re too damn stubborn to let anyone in.”

Logan’s mouth opened as if to retort, but no words came. He stood there, breathing hard, the weight of your words hanging heavy between you. Without another word, he turned and stalked out of the room, the screen door slamming behind him.

You stood there, staring at the door, your heart pounding. Part of you wanted to go after him, to yell more, to make him understand. But another part of you was too tired—too hurt.

The house was quiet now, save for the faint creak of the floorboards as Laura walked in from the hallway. She didn’t say anything right away, just hovered in the doorway, her arms crossed in that way that made her look far older than her twelve years.

“You two are so loud,” she finally said, her tone flat but edged with something that sounded suspiciously like annoyance.

You groaned, dropping your hands and looking over at her. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. We didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I wasn’t asleep,” Laura replied, stepping further into the kitchen. She pulled out a chair and sat across from you, her sharp gaze studying your face. “You’re crying.”

You swiped at your cheek quickly, though you weren’t sure why. Laura didn’t miss much. “It’s nothing, kiddo.”

“It didn’t sound like nothing,” she said, her tone even. She leaned her elbows on the table, her small hands clasped together. “You and Logan fight all the time now.”

“That’s not true,” you replied automatically, though the words felt hollow as soon as you said them.

Laura just stared at you, unblinking. “It is.”

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. “Sometimes grown-ups argue. That’s just how it is.”

“Yeah, but you’re mad at him all the time. And he’s mad at himself. It’s annoying.” Her bluntness cut through you, and she tilted her head. “Are you going to leave?”

“What? No.” The question startled you, and you leaned forward. “No, Laura. I’m not going anywhere. I love Logan. I just... wish he’d stop shutting me out.”

Laura didn’t say anything for a while. She just stared at you, her gaze as sharp as ever, like she was picking apart everything you’d just said.

Finally, she shrugged. “Then tell him.”

You blinked. “I have told him.”

“No, you yelled at him.” Her voice was flat, matter-of-fact, and it made you feel about two inches tall. “That’s not the same.”

You sighed, running a hand over your face. “It’s complicated, kid.”

Laura tilted her head. “No, it’s not. You’re mad. He’s mad. You both stop talking. Then you stay mad.”

You stared at her, caught off guard by how simple she made it sound. “It’s not that easy.”

Laura didn’t respond to that, just gave you a look—one of those looks that made you realize this twelve-year-old could probably win a staring contest with the Grim Reaper. She stood up without another word and walked back toward the hallway, leaving you sitting there with a mix of frustration, guilt, and... something else you couldn’t quite name.

---

The next few days were... quiet. Too quiet. Logan didn’t come around much, and when he did, it was brief—mostly to grab a beer or say a gruff goodnight. You didn’t push him, not yet, but the silence between you was its own kind of argument.

You also knew that he wasn’t sleeping in bed with you. You could tell because you’d wake up early for work, only to find Logan sprawled out on the couch, his legs dangling off the armrest. You would’ve woken him up—told him to go to bed while you left—but you stopped yourself every time. The anger hadn’t completely faded, but it had started to feel hollow, replaced by something heavier.

This morning was no different. You paused in the living room doorway, coffee in hand, watching him. He was fast asleep, one arm thrown over his face, the other hanging off the edge of the couch. You sighed quietly to yourself.

“Just go to bed, idiot,” you muttered under your breath, knowing he wouldn’t hear it.

---

Laura stood in the doorway of the garage, watching Logan fiddle with the same part of the truck he’d been pretending to fix for the past twenty minutes. She didn’t say anything at first—just stood there, arms crossed, her quiet presence heavy enough that Logan eventually sighed.

“You gonna say somethin’ or just stand there starin’?” he muttered without looking up, his voice rough.

Laura shrugged. “You’re not fixing anything.”

Logan’s hands paused for half a second before he went back to the wrench, a little harder this time. “Truck needs work.”

“It doesn’t,” Laura said bluntly. “You’re hiding.”

Logan froze again, jaw tightening. “Ain’t hidin’.”

“You are,” she insisted. Laura took a step closer, eyeing him like he was some kind of experiment she was studying. “You and Y/N are mad. It’s annoying.”

Logan finally looked up at her, scowling. “What’s annoying is you stickin’ your nose where it don’t belong.”

Laura didn’t flinch. She just stared at him, unfazed as ever. “If you don’t talk to her, she’s going to leave.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed, and his grip on the wrench tightened. “She’s not gonna leave.”

Laura raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

Logan stared at her, expression unreadable, but he didn’t answer. He looked back at the truck instead, as if the bolts and metal could give him something to focus on. “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, kid.”

Laura stepped closer, crossing her arms tighter over her chest. “I know you. And I know her. She cries when you’re not looking.”

Logan stilled, his shoulders tensing, but he didn’t look at her. He didn’t want to hear it—didn’t want to think about it.

Laura didn’t stop. “You think shutting her out makes her safer, but it doesn’t. It just makes her sad.”

“Laura,” Logan said sharply, his voice low.

She ignored the warning in his tone. “You don’t want her to leave, but you’re acting like you do.”

That hit something, and Logan finally set the wrench down, exhaling harshly. “You don’t get it.”

“I do.” Laura’s voice was calm, but there was something pointed beneath it. “You’re scared. You don’t want to need her.”

Logan looked at her, his scowl deeper now, though it lacked its usual bite. “Yeah? Where’d you get all that from?”

Laura shrugged. “I watch you. I listen. You’re both loud.”

Logan shook his head and ran a hand over his face, grumbling under his breath. “You’re a real pain, you know that?”

She just tilted her head. “You’re worse.”

Logan let out a low, humorless chuckle. “Great. So now I’m gettin’ life advice from a twelve-year-old.”

Laura shrugged again and turned to leave. “If you don’t talk to her, I will.”

That got his attention. “Hey—”

But she was already walking out of the garage, not bothering to look back. “You’re welcome,” she called flatly.

Logan swore under his breath, watching her disappear. He sat there for a moment, hands resting on his knees, staring at the half-fixed truck. He hated that kid sometimes—hated how she could cut right through him like that.

And worse, she was right.

---

You came back from work late, opting to eat out instead of at home to avoid any awkward interactions. By the time you walked through the door, the house was dark except for the faint glow of the kitchen light. You set your bag down quietly, not wanting to risk waking anyone up.

But as you turned toward the living room, you noticed Logan sitting on the couch, a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the coffee table. He wasn’t looking at you—his gaze was fixed on the floor, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped loosely together.

You hesitated, debating whether to say anything or just go straight to bed. Before you could decide, his gravelly voice cut through the silence.

“You didn’t come home last night.”

You froze, then blinked. “What?”

He finally looked up at you, his expression unreadable. “Laura told me. Said she noticed. I didn’t.”

You frowned, your heart sinking a little. “Logan, I—”

“I should’ve noticed,” he interrupted, his voice low, almost too quiet. He leaned back, rubbing a hand over his face. “That’s on me.”

You crossed your arms, unsure what to say. “I didn’t stay out because of you.”

“Yeah, you did,” he replied bluntly, cutting you off again. “You’re avoiding me. I get it.”

The way he said it—so matter-of-fact, like he was resigned to it—made something twist in your chest. You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I’m not avoiding you. I just needed... space.”

Logan scoffed, his lips curling into a humorless smirk. “Space. Right. Because I’m such a walk in the park to be around.”

“Logan—”

“I get it,” he repeated, louder this time, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “You don’t have to explain it. I know what I’m like. Hell, Laura reminds me every day.”

You shook your head, stepping closer. “This isn’t about Laura. It’s not even about you being... difficult. It’s about you not letting me in.”

He stiffened at that, his jaw clenching. “I’m tryin’.”

“Are you?” Your voice softened, but the hurt was still there. “Because from where I’m standing, it feels like you’re just waiting for me to give up.”

His eyes flicked to yours, and for a second, you thought he might argue. But then he sighed, slumping back against the couch. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, his voice rough, almost bitter. “I don’t know how to let someone in without... screwin’ it all up.”

You stared at him, the anger you’d been holding onto slipping away, replaced by something softer. “You don’t have to have all the answers, Logan. I don’t expect you to be perfect. I just need you to try.”

“I am trying,” he muttered, his voice quieter now. “It just... doesn’t feel like it’s enough.”

“It is,” you said firmly, stepping closer until you were standing in front of him. “But you can’t keep shutting me out every time things get hard. That’s not how this works.”

He looked up at you, his expression guarded but vulnerable in a way you rarely saw. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything, just studied your face like he was trying to decide whether to believe you.

Finally, he let out a long breath and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees again. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” you said softly, your voice steady. “But you have to let me stay.”

Logan nodded slowly, like he was finally starting to understand. “Alright,” he said, his voice low but resolute. “I’ll... figure it out.”

“That’s all I’m asking,” you said, offering a small, tentative smile.

He didn’t smile back, but the tension in his shoulders eased slightly. He leaned back against the couch, his eyes meeting yours. “You eaten?”

You blinked at the sudden change in topic. “What?”

“You look tired,” he said gruffly. “Bet you skipped dinner.”

You huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “I grabbed something on the way home.”

"Good," he muttered again, leaning back against the couch with a long exhale. His hand moved to the bottle of whiskey, but instead of picking it up, his fingers drummed against the glass absently.

You hesitated, then walked over to the couch, standing just in front of him. “Logan.”

He looked up at you, his brow furrowing slightly, waiting for you to say whatever was on your mind.

Instead, you sat down beside him, close enough that your knees touched. For a second, neither of you said anything. Then Logan let out another heavy sigh, reached over, and pulled you into his lap with a quiet grunt.

“Logan—”

“Just sit,” he said, his tone softer than usual, though still carrying that gruff edge. One of his hands rested lightly on your hip, the other settled on your thigh. His forehead dropped against your shoulder, and you could feel the tension in him start to ease as he let himself rest against you.

Your hands moved up instinctively, one settling on his arm, the other gently threading through his hair. He didn’t say anything at first, just breathed deeply, the weight of the past few days pressing down on both of you.

“You should come to bed tonight,” you murmured after a while, your voice quiet but steady.

Logan didn’t move, but you felt the way his body tensed under you. “I’m fine out here.”

“You’re not,” you said simply, your fingers brushing through his hair again. “You look miserable on this couch.”

He huffed a quiet laugh against your shoulder. “I’ll survive.”

“That’s not the point,” you pressed. “I want you in bed. With me. Where you belong.”

Logan lifted his head then, his eyes meeting yours. His expression was guarded, but there was something softer there too, like he was considering your words. “You sure you want me there?”

“Of course I’m sure,” you said, your hand moving to cup his jaw. “I always want you there, Logan. Even when I’m mad at you. Especially when I’m mad at you.”

That earned a faint smirk from him, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Didn’t think I was much for sharing a bed with someone.”

“Well, you’re not great at it,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. “You steal the blankets, and you snore.”

“Don’t snore,” he muttered, his lips twitching slightly.

“You absolutely snore,” you shot back, smiling despite yourself. “But I don’t care. I just want you there.”

Logan studied you for a moment, his hand tightening slightly on your hip. Finally, he gave a small nod. “Alright.”

You smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to his temple. “Good.”

For a few minutes, you stayed like that, the silence between you no longer heavy but comfortable. Logan’s head rested against your chest, and you could feel the tension slowly draining out of him as your fingers moved lazily through his hair.

“Y’know,” he muttered after a while, his voice low, “Laura’s a pain in the ass sometimes.”

You chuckled softly. “She’s just looking out for you. For us.”

Logan grunted, his arm tightening around you slightly. “Kid’s too damn smart for her own good.”

“She gets that from you,” you said, smiling.

That earned another faint smirk, though he didn’t argue. Instead, he let out a quiet sigh, his eyes closing as he rested against you. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”

“Good,” you said softly, your hand continuing to stroke his hair.

For the first time in days, the tension between you felt like it was beginning to mend.

[revasserium]

roronoa zoro; 21,051 words (not including epilogue), fluff and angst, ENEMIES!!! to lovers, the slowest of slow burns, canon-normal violence, on-page description of injury, excessive use of flashbacks, some banter, healing from trauma, baroque works!reader to strawhat!reader, no "y/n", emotionally constipated!zoro, hurt and comfort, angst with a happy ending; (epilogue tags will be posted separately)

summary: in which neither you nor zoro are the children you remember each other to be.

update: new chapters will be posted on @shouyuus!!!

a/n: IT'S FINALLY HERE!!! i honestly cannot believe i actually finished writing this lmfao. but anyway, this post will act as a table of contents/masterlist of sorts, and i will update links to the separate chapters as they go up. chapters will be posted every few days (but they are all done! except for the epilogue LOL). i've tagged everyone who has req-ed to be tagged in this series so far on this prologue post, but if you wish to be tagged for the upcoming chapters and you're not already on this fics specific taglist, please comment below to be added! and without further ado -- here we go!

TABLE OF CONTENTS ━

prologue: someone, somewhere

chapter one: a shadow of the past

chapter two: tell no tales

chapter three: sleep of the living, dreams of the dead

chapter four: another life

chapter five: true love's kiss

epilogue: la petite mort (nsfw)

prologue: someone, somewhere

He remembers you most as a child, in halcyon images and gold-limned flashes of his own childhood memories, the edges blurring watercolor soft, but the center (always you) carved in knife-sharp relief.

You were one of the few children that lived in Shimotsuki Village who hadn’t come from the doujou — one of the few children he knew that (at least to the best of his knowledge) had a thing called family. A mother to braid your hair, a father to chase the darkness away, a warm bed and a kitchen that always smelled of freshly made rice. And perhaps it was jealousy, or some other more complicated emotion that had been then too big to name with one single word, but he’d never gone out of his way to befriend you like the other kids from the doujou did — fascinated as they were by your soft hands and round cheeks and the bright, glittering array of homemade sweets you’d bring with you once every couple of weeks.

He’d learn later on that it was because Shimotsuki-sensei had saved your father’s life at some point in time; the story now lost to the annals of legend and withering memory, but back then, he’d only assumed it was the natural way of things. Of waking up for kata practice and then settling in for lunch, and then maybe, if it was to be a good day, you, with your basket of sweets and your blue-bell laughter.

And perhaps this is why, years later, when he meets you again in a dark, nameless village tavern, he doesn’t recognize you — not at first. Because you’d looked so different. Gone was the roundness in your cheeks, or the natural star-bright light in your eyes. Gone, too, were the bright braids that your hair had always been set in — he remembers so clearly, watching the other boys from the doujou jab their fingers into the rings of your pinned up braids, pulling down just to hear you squeak. He hadn’t said anything then, stupidly thinking him above it all, watching as you tried to jerk away, but laughing when the boys finally relented with half-hearted apologies.

You always threatened to take their sweets away; you never did, in the end.

But there, then, in that tiny tavern, you’d been thin, your hair dark as an oil spill, loose and inky as it cascades over your shoulders, your eyes lightless as the windows to an abandoned house — the hollowness made all the more visceral by the light he knew once inhabited them. The way loneliness is always more potent when coming back to it, the second time around.

He wanders up to the bar, slates you a glance before rapping his knuckles on the worn wood to catch the bartender’s attention.

“I’ll have beer and a refill of whatever the lady’s having.”

You shift slightly, shoulders hunching towards your ears.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” you say, shifting to shield your face from his gaze.

Zoro cocks his head, tossing a few Berry towards the bartender as they set down a stein of beer and a champagne flute to replace the one in front of you.

“Can’t a guy buy a girl a drink?” Zoro asks, rolling his shoulders as he reaches out for his beer. You eye him warily.

“Not for a guy that’s been tracking me for three weeks straight.”

Zoro hums, thumb poised on the hilt of his swords.

“We just happened to be going in the same direction.”

You reach out to run a forefinger along the rim of the thin champagne flute before swirling it once by the base. You watch the bubbles fizzle before leaning in to take a dainty sip.

“And they say chivalry is dead…” you murmur, almost too softly for him to hear. Zoro scoffs, allowing himself a twinge of a smirk before his mouth falls flat.

“You let me track you for three whole weeks.”

There’s no question in his words, only a harsh, accusatory certainty.

You lick your lips, leaning back in your stool, tugging your glass of champagne with you.

“Maybe I wanted the company.”

“Or maybe… you wanted me to follow you here.”

Every muscle in his body is tense, drawn taut as a tightrope, coiled tight as a spring.

You sigh, twisting a single lock of your hair around a finger, examining the ends as if looking for split hairs.

Then, quick as a flash, you’re at each other’s throats — him with a sword poised at your jugular, you with a knife pressed against his stomach.

“One move —” you warn, digging the knife slightly further into his skin. Distinctly, Zoro feels the pressure slice through his thick linen shirt, the cool kiss of the blade against his abdomen. And he’s killed enough by now to know that you’ve picked a major artery — one that would hurt, and take minutes for him bleed out. Just long enough for him to suffer, but not enough to get help.

The edge of his mouth ticks upward — not bad.

It’s then, in the infinitesimal flicker of your eyes meeting his, that he realizes who you are.

He nearly topples back, jerking away slightly with the revelation. Your eyes go wide, jolted by his sudden movement. But he’s quick enough to evade the sharp jab of your knife and a second later, you’re on either ends of the tavern, drawn blades and bared teeth.

“Y-you!” the word rips from Zoro like an unripe scab, thick and hard and still bloody underneath.

You lick your lips, eyes narrowing to slits beneath your long, lanky hair.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The hell you don’t.”

“Oi! No fighting in the bar!” the barkeep’s voice is gruff and loud, and for a second, Zoro wonders if you’ll listen. The next, the sharp clang of metal on metal stuns him backwards a few steps as you wrest your knives from between two of his katanas, snarling.

“If you’re so much of a gentleman — let’s take this outside.”

“Ladies first,” Zoro spits out as he whips both swords through the air before sheathing them. He makes a show of holding the tavern door for you as you stalk out in front of him, your hackles raised, your knives jutting out from your belt like so many pairs of sharpened claws.

“What do you want?” you ask, as soon as you’re both out of the bar and standing in the moonlit street outside, the wharf to your left, the strip of small, rundown taverns to your right.

The air twangs with the metallic smell of fish and the thick, oppressive sweetness of rotting wood.

“An explanation,” Zoro says, crossing his arms and planting his feet.

“I don’t owe you anything.”

Zoro nods, “Sure. But that doesn’t mean I don’t wanna know.”

You lick your lips, glaring at him for a second longer before turning and marching down the rickety boardwalk. A moment later, Zoro levels himself with you as you round a corner onto a small stretch of beach, pillowed against a backdrop of sharp, unrelenting rocks, the tips bleached white by the round, silver moon.

“There was a beach just like this,” you say, stepping onto the tide-soaked sand, leaning down to pick up a fragment of a broken seashell, washed ashore by an errant wave.

It takes Zoro a second to realize you’re talking about Shimotsuki village, and the tiny little beach on the other side of the dense, cedar wood.

“Yeah. A bunch of us used to play there — see who can throw rocks out the furthest.”

“You were always the best at that,” you say, your voice softer than he’d heard all night.

“Yeah, well…” Zoro shrugs, leaning down to pick up a piece of rock, weighing it in his palm a few times before whipping his arm back to snap it into the gentle, shushing waves. You both watch as the rock skids out over the water before plunking into the sea, “Guess I’ve always been kind of a show-off.”

The sound of your laughter sends summertime sparklers racing up his spine.

The quiet pools between you like spilt blood, rank and dripping.

“So. You go by Ms. Double Nines now, I heard,” Zoro says, in a flagging attempt to be casual as he turns to glance at you, both his hands resting on the hilt of his swords.

You stand next to him, your eyes focused on a point far out on the horizon, still as statue.

“What’s it to you?”

Zoro sighs, looking down. In the pale, cool moonlight, his earrings glint like baring teeth.

“What happened?”

You suck in a breath.

"Life happened,” you say, turning back towards him with a steely glint in your eyes. Zoro stiffens, his grip tightening on his swords as he sizes you up. He does the mental calculations — you’re just far enough for him to defend against an attack, but close enough where if things were to go south entirely, he’d have a hard time getting back to safety.

You grin, seemingly noticing his rough internal calculations.

“Do yourself a favor, Roronoa — and don’t ask questions you don’t wanna know the answers to,” you say, flicking out one of your blades and tossing it up into the air, only to catch it around your finger, swinging it round and round, the sharp edge of the blade nicking the air just shy of your cheekbone.

“Who said I didn’t want to know?” Zoro presses, bracing himself for a fight.

You chuckle, the sound harsh and mirthless.

“If you’d wanted to fight me properly, you wouldn’t have waited till I got you onto this stretch of deserted beach.”

“Maybe I just wanted a quiet place to kill you.”

“Or maybe…” your voice is so low Zoro almost doesn’t catch the stomach-wrenching longing in your words, “I just wanted a quiet place to die.”

The sharp shink of blades being drawn is heart-rendingly familiar, but the bone-rattling clash of metal on metal still shakes him to the roots of his teeth. Zoro grunts as he parries a blow from either side, before crossing his swords to catch your assault down the center.

You’re fast, he’ll give you that, your body smaller and quicker. You slip through the shadows with the comfort of a person who knows nothing but and he can’t help wondering at the life you’ve led that had pushed you to this point.

To having a mark on your back, a bounty on your head.

You’re a good fighter — this much, he acknowledges. But good isn’t usually good enough to best him. This much, he also knows. Yet somehow, you’re keeping up, somehow, you’re pushing him back, forcing him to retreat one step and then another. It’s not until you duck beneath one of his pin-wheeling blades and force yourself into a knife’s-breath of his space that he realizes — it isn’t that you’re good, it’s that you’re reckless.

Reckless with your own body in a way that makes him stumble back at the realization. Reckless, in the way you charge forward and thrust your body into spaces where he’d easily be able to slip a blade between your ribs — and later, when he’s wiping his swords clean of your oxidizing blood, he’d wonder why he didn’t.

Still, there’s something terrifying in the way you barely flinch when he knicks your arm, drawing a dark line of blood through your clothes, or how you jerk yourself forward when the tip of his sword catches your stomach, almost as if daring him to impale you in one fell swoop.

“You — you used to be… someone else,” he says, panting as he steadies himself against a sharp jut of moonlit rocks. Behind you, the ocean churns, dark and foaming as it throws itself onto the jagged reefs.

You lick your lips, wiping a smear of blood from your cheek. Your chest heaves with the exertion, but there’s a pale, flickering ache behind your eyes that sets Zoro’s whole body on edge.

He shivers as you grin, savage and unrecognizable as the tiny girl with mochi-round cheeks who had once upon a time offered him sweets in a hand-woven basket.

“Yeah? Well — so did you.”

TAGLIST: @brairslair @msheds0519 @yunabelless @lynndt-chocolate @lostonthrillerbark @stunies @tsumu-senpai @phroggii @ssailormoonnn @breathinginyoursmoke @guridoodles @kyllium @naomihatake @itoshiexx @mythicallystupid @mars-mizuko @astroniii @crispynutella @enhastolemyheart @fanficwriter101 @jamesbparker @dira333 @weirdowithaphone @ink-perfect

[babysukiii]

regina’s puppy (4)

// regina has a soft spot for you, but when she refuses to accept why, someone else might swoop in and take your attention away from her. //

warnings: soft!regina, fluff, pining, LOTS of pining, regina is falling for the reader hard, reader is a gay mess, regina is a lesbian who’s terrible at emotions. (don’t get too used to fluffy chapters this is the calm before the storm…)

(this part 4 of the series, read part 3 here)

you end up replaying gretchen’s party in your head over the weekend. you can’t seem to stop thinking about the look in regina’s eyes when she saw you and dani talking. it was the angriest you’ve ever seen her, and then afterwards she just pretended as if it never occurred. yet it was engraved into your brain like a branded memory; permanently there for you to think about at night.

you couldn’t figure out why regina was so enthralled by you… if you could call it that. as you started to become more aware of what dani said on friday night, how you were regina’s “puppy”… it caused you to overthink a few things. this entire time you thought regina was getting closer to you all of a sudden because she enjoyed your company. now you feared it was because she just wanted some new pet to play with.

you and regina had developed a routine on the nights you couldn’t convince your parents to allow you to stay the night. she’d call you, and you’d talk for hours; sometimes till you fell asleep. though saturday night you used a flimsy excuse of being at your grandmas house; she new it was a lie. then on sunday, you barely texted her at all. she knew something was up right away, and she wasn’t going to tolerate it.

as soon as you walked out of your house to catch the bus on monday, regina’s jeep was parked on the side of the street. your heart immediately began to flutter as it usually does whenever you see the blonde. she rolls down her window, and you catch a glimpse of how gorgeous she looks. your legs have a mind of their own as you begin to walk up to her car, furrowing your brows. “don’t you usually pick up gretchen on mondays?” you question, and she shrugs, flashing you that colgate smile that makes your knees week. “she can take the bus. get in, loser.” she taunts you.

you can’t help but sheepishly smile as you get into her passenger side. “she’s gonna freak out. she was texting the group chat all weekend about how her parents found puke in her grandmas ashes.” you giggle, and regina lets out this strained laugh that isn’t her usual one. “yeah, i tried calling you but you were busy.” she grumbles, and you tense up slightly. “and you were dodging my texts. what gives?” she asks, as she begins to drive. she doesn’t turn on music like she usually does, only showing you how serious she is.

“i just couldn’t stop thinking about what happened on friday.” you start cautiously, and she frowns, an agitated expression etching itself onto her features. “seriously? that fucking bitch deserved a slap, y/n.” she defends herself, and you flash her a look. “i’m not talking about the slap… i mean, i’m actually surprised you didn’t do worse.” you joke softly, trying to lighten the heavy tension in the air. regina lets out this tiny exhale; if it weren’t so quiet in the car you may not have heard it. that’s when you take in how wrought up she seems, as if she’s been stressing over something.

surely she wasn’t stressing over you avoiding her for two days… right?

“then what is it? why are you being weird?” she questions demandingly, sounding genuinely upset. “because i can’t stop thinking about what dani said!” you huff out, sounding the most frustrated she’s ever heard. upon seeing your exasperated demeanor, she calms down slightly. realizing something was actually wrong. “y/n, everything that loser said was bullshit—“ she starts, but you cut her off, “she was right though! i am such a different person now and it’s only been a month.” you counterpoint, causing her to bite her tongue.

regina hates to be interrupted, but she really enjoys you and whatever it is that’s budding between the two of you. she doesn’t want to lose it because some stupid jock said something at a lame party she only went to in order to save face. “and you don’t like who you are? you don’t enjoy the way we’ve been hanging out all the time?” regina questions, you shake your head. “i love spending time with you… but dani called me your puppy, gina. is that seriously what people think of me now? is that what you think of me?” you ask persistently.

the blonde shakes her head rapidly in disagreement. “i don’t think of you as my puppy… just because you have the qualities of one, doesn’t mean i consider you one.” she tells you, and you frown. “how do i have the qualities of a puppy?” you can’t help but ask, and she shrugs. “loyal, obedient, always happy to see me.” she flashes you that infamous smile, and you roll your eyes in response. “y/n, dani is just jealous because you’re hanging out with me and not her. she only said that to get under your skin, and clearly it worked.” she states, and your silence causes her to reach for your hand.

her touch sends shockwaves throughout your body. “don’t be angry at me over some comment a dumb jock made because you wouldn’t go into a basement with her.” she practically pleads, and you know it’s the closest thing you’ll get to any sort of comfort from regina george. “besides, don’t you like hanging out with me?” she questions, and you throw her a look that says “are you serious”. “of course i like hanging out with you, you’re like my favorite person.” you admit, and regina feels something tugging on the heartstrings she didn’t even realize she had.

“then stop listening to what anyone else says.” this sounds more like a command, so you find yourself nodding dumbly. your brain always goes fuzzy whenever she tells you to do something, and the only coherent thought is to do whatever regina says. god, maybe dani was right, you are regina’s puppy.

you walk into school with the blonde by your side. you’ve adjusted to the gawking students that ogle regina as she walks by. you really don’t blame them; ever since freshman year you’ve been one of those people who gaze at her in admiration. until now. regina’s strange interest in you hasn’t gone unnoticed by anyone else, and you’re now beginning to adjust to all the attention.

“please never make me take the bus again!” gretchen exclaims as she storms up to the both of you, and regina rolls her eyes. “i had to pick up y/n today. you’ll survive.” the blonde sounds unamused, causing gretchen to huff in response. “i already said i’m sorry, even though it’s totally not my fault i have a totally hot basement that makes people horny.” she says, and regina narrows her eyes at her friend. “we discussed this already. i’m going to be taking y/n to school from now on.” her tone is up for no disagreements, and you shake your head in protest. “it’s okay, gina. i don’t mind taking the bus—“ you start, but she cuts you off.

“i like picking you up. hush.” she shushes you quickly, and you try to ignore the way the back of your neck heats up. gretchen pouts, but doesn’t argue any further. as the three of you approach regina’s locker, karen bounces up to you guys. “did you guys here about the new girl who’s transferring here tomorrow?” she asks curiously, and regina quirks a brow in clear interest. “a new girl? why wasn’t i informed about this?” she questions, and karen shrugs. “i heard it from arnold who says he heard it from elizabeth g.” she explains, and the blonde presses her lips together tightly.

“a new student nobody bothered to tell me about… huh.” she says as she thinks about it for a moment. “she better be more interesting than the last new student we had. jeanette renolds is such a bore.” the blonde adds simply, and that’s that. the topic of the “new student” doesn’t come up again. at least not in front of you.

during lunch gretchen begins to talk about how close homecoming is, regardless of it being 3 months away. “you’re running for homecoming queen again, right regina?” gretchen asks, and regina glowers. “of course i am. why wouldn’t i?” she responds with a question, before looking at you. “are you going to vote for me to be homecoming queen?” she asks, her voice flirty and sweet. your cheeks flush under her gaze, “of course, i voted for you last year too, gina.” you confess, and this elicits a large smile from your favorite blonde.

“everyone voted for regina last year, and this year it’s not gonna change. i don’t even think you need a campaign manager this time either.” gretchen says, and regina rolls her eyes. “i am my own campaign manager, idiot. but i have y/n to help me with more stuff this year, like what color scheme i should go with.” she says suggestively, as her gaze flickers over to you. your eyes widen in slight panic, “what?? i can’t pick your color scheme! i’m terrible at picking out stuff. i mean, you chose my entire wardrobe.” you remind her, and she shrugs.

“don’t care. your opinion is the only one that matters to me, so we’ll start looking at dresses next week. for you too.” her tone is left for no debates, and you don’t really pay attention to anything past “your opinion is the only one that matters to me”. the heat rises to your neck and face, and regina’s grin deepens. “are we still hanging out after school, or are you bailing on me today again?” regina pointedly asks you, and you nod eagerly. “we can try that new pretzel place—“ regina cuts you off, “you’re so cute, i can’t do too many carbs but i’ll get you pretzels on the way to where i’m taking you.” she declares, and your eyebrows perk up.

before you can question the blonde the bell rings, “i’m not doing anything after school—“ gretchen tries to say but regina cuts her off. “i didn’t ask, and you weren’t invited.” she hisses, and gretchen huffs. nobody dares question why regina is so adamant on spending time with you; especially alone time. honestly, you’re a bit scared to ask her as well. not because you think she’ll be mean to you, regina is never mean to you, no, you’re just afraid you may mess up whatever this is.

you’re ashamed to admit regina has become the center of your universe. she takes up all the spaces in your brain, and you can’t even go an hour without thinking about her. you and regina end up hanging out after school as promised. you end up sitting in the passenger seat of her car, a medium sized lemonade in your hand along with your mini pretzel bites. regina steals glances at you every now and then; you contentedly hum along to the song that’s playing as you curiously gaze out the window.

the only thought that keeps circling her mind is how much she likes this. just being around you.

“are we going on a hike?” you ask your hundredth question, and regina groans. “no, i hate walking.” she reminds you, and you have this adorable expression on your face as you think about other possibilities. the further from town you get, the further your mind wanders. “the beach?” you ask, and she shakes her head. “nope; i hate getting sand in my shoes and car.” she deadpans, and you go quiet for another few seconds. “we’ve been driving for almost forty minutes… what time are we coming back?” you inquire, and regina rolls her eyes, feigning annoyance.

“you already wanna leave me?” she responds with a question of her own, and you shake your head rapidly. “no! i love hanging out with you, i just gotta text my mom and let her know before we end up somewhere with no service.” you explain yourself, and regina pretends as if she’s thinking about it for a moment. “just tell your mom you’re gonna spend the night at mine.” she orders, and you flash her a look, “gina, i can’t spend the night on a monday.” you remind her, causing her to huff.

“fine, tell her i’ll have you home by ten-thirty.” she mutters begrudgingly, and you smile in satisfaction. you send the text to your mom right as regina turns onto another highway to leave town. “okay, now i’m really curious! please tell me where we’re going.” you sound more excited than before, and the eagerness in your voice tugs on the blonde’s heartstrings. “it’s just a little place i like to go when things are too much. todays like the first pretty day we’ve had in awhile, and i wanted to take you.” she reveals, causing something inside of you to melt.

“y-you wanna take me to your spot?” you sound genuinely stunned, and regina snorts. “duh, who else would i wanna bring there? gretchen talks too much, karen doesn’t know what’s going on half the time, and everyone else only hangs out with me because i’m “regina george”… it’s only natural for me to take my special girl to my special place.” she retorts easily, causing the blood to rise to your face. regina smirks as she notes how flushed your cheeks are; she doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of the affect she has on you.

“we’re almost there; finish your pretzels.” she commands, and you don’t have to be told twice.

the sun is nearly setting by the time you both pull into a secluded area off a random road in the middle of nowhere. you can’t help but wonder how regina knows about this place; how long she was driving to find it one day. as she drives further into a green grassy area full of trees, with beams of sunlight peaking through the gaps in the tree lines. your eyes widen as she drives further, only going deeper into the beautiful woods.

you roll down your windows excitedly, “oh my gosh this place is so pretty!” you squeal tempestuously. regina tries not look at you in fear she may swerve and ram into a tree, but your sudden uncontrolled behavior causes her to smile widely. if anyone she knew were to see it, they would hell froze over. she’s glad you aren’t paying any attention to her, because you would’ve seen the unusually soft expression on her face. you turn to look at her, catching her grinning from ear to ear, “we haven’t even gotten to the really cool part.” she tells you, and your eyes enlarge as they gaze into her.

“cooler than a literal forest out of a picture book!?” you ask and she chuckles, “you’re way too easy to impress. i’m starting to think i could park behind the 7/11 with you for an hour and you’d have fun.” she murmurs, and you shrug as you look back out the window. “as long as it’s with you.” you say this so easily, and it causes her smile to fall. her expression morphs into a baffled one, and she can’t stop herself from wondering why... why do you enjoy being around her so much?

regina makes a slight turn, and you let out this breathless gasp as your eyes land on a creek with a waterfall. it isn’t big, but it’s beautiful. “oh my god… gina! this is so beautiful!” you shriek erratically and you unbuckle your seatbelt as you the car comes to a full stop. you run out, and her eyes widen, “hey! i said i hate walking!” she hisses, trying to sound angry but she can’t even recognize herself.

if the girls heard me right now, they’d never respect me again.

“come on, gina!!” you order her, and regina— the girl who never takes orders from anyone— sighs as she turns the car off and gets out. “look at how clear the water is!” your enthusiasm causes regina to approach you, and act as if she hasn’t already seen this place a hundred times before you. it looks different when you’re here… regina can’t seem to place why. she isn’t sure if she’ll ever enjoy coming here without you again, and she doesn’t care. all she can do is stare at how the light of the sunset reflects off your big, wondrous eyes.

“if i would’ve known you liked this place so much, i would’ve brought you here awhile ago. i just never thought of bringing anyone till now.” she admits softly, and your smile deepens, which is something she didn’t even think was possible. “you haven’t bright anyone else here?” you ask timidly, and she nods earnestly. “just you.”

her confession causes you to wrap your arms around her, hugging her abruptly. her eyes widen a bit; she’s never been the hugging type… yet as your delicate grasp tightens around her lovingly, in a way she’s never felt, she can’t help the way her stomach flutters pathetically. she hugs you back, and can feel you practically melt into her. you’re so happy, and it hits her that you’re happy because of her. she’s made people cry, yell, curse, and run in the opposite direction… but she’s never made anyone feel happy.

the fleeting thought alone terrifies her like nothing else ever has. regina george is falling in love with you, and she isn’t sure how to stop it.

a/n: please don’t hate me but tumblr wasn’t letting me tag some of your accounts 😭💔

taglist: @xvyzxx @spideyznss @whateveryouwantsee11 @alwaysgoodnight @chaoticcoffeequeen @mcu-junkie @lottienatswife @vanessashands @natashas-whore @southelroys @dandelions4us @ylenabelxva @probs-reading-fanfics @dont-emily-me @luz-enjoyer @flocon-neigeux @jjiwoo06 @aminetil @pyro-les @tyler-06 @justlovemaths @teenybean @emskies @tulipatheticee @marvelwomenarehot0 @syddie-reads @slaysksmska @cas-is-weird-ig @scarlettbitchx @pianogirl2121 @puppy-danvers2016 @messsor @dmenby3100 @that-one-little-soybean

[lulu-fic]

𝚂𝚄𝙻𝚃𝚁𝚈 𝚂𝙴𝙳𝚄𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽

Synopsis: Your boyfriend just cheated on you. But you can't just let him get away with that, can you?

Warnings: Cheating ( not by y/n), swearing, sfw, mdni

Wc: 2.1k

An: My first published work. Genuinely nothing too crazy just dipping my toes in water but dw next chapter will be something 👀 also the ending is a bit rushed because I was sleepy 😛

Aggressive typing sound echoed through the walls of a dingy restroom, accompanied by someone's sobbing hiccups. That certain someone was you. Who would have thought your so-called lovely evening would end up with you crying in a stall of a dirty restroom? When you thought your life was finally rainbows and sunshine, god had to give you a reality check.

Flashback

"Here's your order, sir! That'll be $6.80." You said with your fake polite voice to the customer. The said customer took his coffee and fished in his pocket for cash. He finally handed you the required amount and exited the cafe. "Huff god today is draining me." You say. You check the cafe's clock and see it's 2:00 pm. "*Sigh* Still couple of hours to go." You think. But you did not let that bother you.

You are in your most optimistic energy today. Well, today is your most awaited date with Nick, your boyfriend of one year. Your experience with dating him has been nothing but nice. And you believe he's the one. You're finally going to propose him today.

"Y/n! Give me a hand here!" You're pulled out of your day dreaming when your co-worker calls for you. "Yeah, coming right away." You yell back. "*Sigh* life is good." You thought and smiled, resuming with your day.

Time skip

It's 5:13 pm. Your shift is almost over. God, was it a busy day today? You never had such a hectic shift. "Well, my shift is finally finished." You think. You were about to start packing up for the day when the bell jingles, indicating someone had entered the cafe. It was a man.

He was intimidatingly tall and it kind of scared you. His jet black styled hair fell on his face, covering some of his features. He wore a overcoat over a three-piece suit. Perfect attire for the chilly weather. Even though he looked like a gangster. When he finally looked up, it seemed like the time has stopped.

He looked enthernal. He had sharp features- somewhat neck-to-shoulder length hair, strong jawline, siren eyes straight nose, high cheekbones- everything about him was breathtaking. He also had light eyebags, giving signs of late night work. And his lips, god his lips. He had thin, soft looking lips, like rose petals. As if the Adonis himself craved his face. If you weren't so much of a loyal partner, you would have definitely shoot your shot. But he seemed oddly familiar to you.

"What would you like to order, sir?" You ask with your most professional voice, making sure there is no tinge of emotion. "A black coffee and a chocolate muffin, please." He said. And god if you already didn't thought he was attractive, now you definitely do. His voice sounded mature, rich and gravelly. His voice was a little rough too, it felt like he spent years smoking through his stressed moments.

"Y-yeah, right away, sir." You nervously replied. Yep, now you're definitely cursing your whole existence for stumbling in words just because you thought a guy's voice was hot. Seriously, what's wrong with you?

You turned around to make his order, which wasn't some rocket science. It's just a plain black coffee. But it actually felt like that. The man just kept watching you, observing your every move. How you ground the roasted coffee beans, how you brew the coffee, how you pour the coffee into the cup. No matter how much you tried to ignore the staring, it felt like he was boring into your soul. God damn, you didn't feel this nervous even on your first day of work. Ugh!

But you forgot to ask him a crucial question, will he takeaway the coffee or drink the coffee in here? You turned around to see him...still staring at you. "Will you takeaway or drink it here, sir?" You ask. He didn't reply at first. He just kept looking at you. Okay, now you're creeped out. "Sir?" You call out again. This time he's finally out of his whatever dreamland he was in.

"Will you takeaway or drink it here?" You ask again. "Um, takeaway." He replied. You nod your head and kneel down to take out the chocolate muffin from the freezer. Genuinely, he didn't seem like a guy who would like sweets. But oh well who are you to judge someone's taste bud? You take out a white cupcake box and put the sugary treat in it. When you're finally ready with his order, you extend it to him on the counter.

"That'll will $9 dollars. Also I'll be needing your name for the bill." You say. He still just kept looking at you. Okay, now he's starting to annoy you. Why he's looking at you like you're some kind of piece of meat? "Sir?" You call out again. He still didn't reply. "Hello, Earth to sir?" You wave your hand in front of him to grab his attention, which you finally did.

"Oh, yes?" He politely ask, while blinking twice. "Your name?" You ask back with a irritated voice. He chuckles at something.

"Colter Hunt."

God, Even his name was hot. You quickly write down his name, to make it seem like you weren't just fangirling on his name. Suddenly a black card comes in front of your vision. You look up to see him holding it out with his index and middle fingers. Your attention averts to his wrist which is adorned with a silver Cartier bracelet and Rolex watch. "Damn," you think, "so he's rich rich." You add after.

You take his card and inserting it quickly in the card swip machine, telling him to punch in his passcode. He type in his passcode and takes out his card after the transaction was completed.

"Have a good day, sir!" You say, back with your professional voice. He takes his order and was just about to exit the shop when he turned around to look one last time at you, and then finally leaves.

Huff, a hectic day it was.

At the Restaurant...

You are finally at your most awaited destination for the night. You open the gate to the restaurant and are greeted by the receptionist. "Good evening, sir. How can I help you?" She asked. "Uh I have a table reserved for two under my name. Hong it is." She checks her computer real quick and give you your table number with a polite smile. You thank her and go inside.

You see Nick already seated and waiting for you. You quickly take your seat. "Sorry for being late. I had a customer last minute who was taking some time." You quickly apologize for being late. "So, what should we order, huh?" You ask while picking up the menu. "Well I wanted to try the main course of here for long time. I saw the review online and they said it's very good, even the customer service. Oh and the dessert choices are also-" You stop with your rambling in the midway when you notice Nate not responding to any of your babble. He seemed to zone out. "Hey, Nick? What happened baby?" You ask. He breaks out of whatever dreamland and finally looks at. "Huh? What did you say?" Ugh why's everyone seemed to zone out today?

"I asked did something happened. You seemed lost." You repeat. "Oh um no- I mean yes- uh I don't know." He babbles. You make a puzzled face. "What do you mean?" You ask. "Did something happened at work?" You ask again. "Uh yes- I mean no but it was someone from so technically yes but no." He again keeps puzzling his word. "Nick what are you even talking about? I don't get it." You say in a baffled voice.

"Ugh, y/n I don't know how to say this but I have been wanting to say this, but it's just I never got a chance." He explains a bit. "It's okay. You can say now." You say. "Maybe he will be the one who's going to propose me." You think with a happy voice.

"I-I...I sleptwithsomeoneonemonthagoatHalloweenparty."

"What? What did you say?" You ask not understanding his "explanation".

"I-I...y/n I slept with someone. A month ago. And I-I just feel more attracted to her." He finally says it.

"What." You depanned. "Y/n, I'm sorry! I tried to tell you this multiple time but never got a chance and-" he tries to explain but you raise a hand to make him stop. "When was it?" You ask trying to keep your temper at bay.

"At halloween party of my office." He nervously admits. "So someone from office then, huh?" You interjected. "Yes." He confirms, not trying to make eye contact with you. "Who is it?" You finally ask. "Huh?" He looks up at you baffled. "Who. Is. It." You grit your teeth.

"Rachel." He breathes out. You exhale a breath of air you didn't know you were holding. The chair makes a screeching sound as you slowly get up. "Y/n I-" He tries to utter something but you beat him to it by splashing a glass water on his face.

"Do. Not. Tell. Me. Your. Filthy. Excuses!" You yell grabbing the attention of other customer. You finally leave that place, ignoring the calls of your name from behind. You stop at your pace and take a turn and make your way towards the the restroom door that had "Staff Only" written with bold letters.

End of flashback

Tears are flowing down your face as you type out the message to your bestfriend, basically explaining the situation. You're not hurt about the fact he cheated, you're just angry on the fact that he cheated on you? Hong Y/N. You remember thinking how guys used beg for a chance to even let them take you on a date. And when you finally decide to settle down, this happens?

No, you cannot let a man control your emotions like this. Nope. You reject the fact that you are crying over a man.

You get up from the toilet seat and go outside to quickly wash your hands. You make a quick text to your bestfriend saying that you'll be late and call for a uber.

You go outside the restaurant and breath in the cold air of the chilly weather, finally feeling at peace a little. Your uber quickly arrives at your destination. "Square Town Club, please." You quickly inform the driver as you take a seat. Tonight it'll be all about you. Not someone cheating asshole.

The uber driver reaches at your said address after 10 minutes and you pay him the amount required as you get out of the taxi.

When you enter the club, it seemed like you stepped into another world. Neon red and green lights blinding your sights, party music booming through speakers, people making out or even having sex in the middle of the dance floor. "Ew, disgusting." You think. But that's main goal of tonight, only stuff like these can take your mind off that bitch.

You go over to the bar counter. You knew the bartender , Ricky, through social media. Also the reason how you got to know about this place. He looks over at you and asks, "The usual?" "No." You answer back. "Give me anything. But 10x stronger." You add. He raises his eyebrows but says nothing. As he was preparing your drink, you felt a little uncomfortable. It felt like someone was boring their eyes into you. Yes it's a club, of course you will grab attention.

But this one seemed a little off. A little familiar.

As you looked around to catch the supposed person, you attention is caught by a person sitting at the most secluded place of the club. It was a very dark corner. You try your best to ignore him. Keyword: Try.

Because the moment you look away a scary looking bodygaurd comes up to you with a drink and says, "Sir, this drink is offered by our master with the small note." Turns out the said master is none other than the guy you tried to take a good look at before.

This time you trun around and squint your eyes to take a good look at him. And this time, by some miracle, you're finally able to get a good look of him. But Oh. My. God.

It's the cafe guy.

© lulu-fic, 2024. All rights reserved. Don't copy, translate or modify my work. And Do not post my work on any other platform.

[teenidlegirl]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝓑eauty 𝓞f 𝓣his 𝓜ess ♡ 𝓒hapter 𝓣welve

꒰⠀⠀⟡⠀.⠀military!miguel⠀𝓍⠀fem!neighbor!reader⠀.⠀⟡⠀⠀꒱

⠀ ᰦ 󠄀 ྀ .⠀♥︎⠀summary.⠀with your world turned upside down, you seek help from a friend. after building up the courage, you finally tell miguel about the pregnancy but it doesn’t go well as you think.

⠀ ᰦ 󠄀 ྀ .⠀♥︎⠀content.⠀angst, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of abortions, mentions of expired birth control, negligence, major emotional distress, swearing, heartbreak

❛⠀ previous chapter⠀⋅⠀masterlist⠀⋅⠀next chapter ⠀❜

you don’t know how much tears you cried, probably broke a personal record. you don’t know how long you’ve been awake. you don’t even know what time it is or if it’s the same day. you’ve been too busy crying.

ever since you found out you’re pregnant, you turn into a fucking mess. cheeks flushed from all the crying. trash cans over-flooded with tissues, stacked up like a mountain. bed still undone, sheets all messed up. food left untouched in the kitchen.

first, you remained sitting on the cool tile floor of your bathroom sobbing and weeping for who knows how long. then finally you move on to your bed, crying into your pillow. thankfully, you weren’t wearing makeup so you pillows didn’t get stained. only small wet patches of your tears on the sheet.

you’re pregnant.

you are actually pregnant. there is a developing baby in your body, an embryo just sitting inside there. an embryo soon to be a baby, a being that will be a combination of you and miguel.

the thought makes you cry harder.

this can’t be happening. the world is collapsing and it’s all because of your irresponsibility.

you don’t want this. you don’t want a baby. you don’t want to become a mother. go through nine months of fucking hell. experience one of the most painful experiences ever just to pop out a small human. endure numerous body changes. crying echoing throughout the apartment because the baby demands milk. sleepless nights and thousands of diapers to change. buy expensive ass items such as strollers, car seats, diapers, baby food and clothes.

all of that is overwhelming, making your anxiety to skyrocket. this isn’t what you want. this isn’t what you dreamed of. this isn’t in the books for you. becoming a mother wasn’t on your bucket list.

however, it’s still possible that you don’t have to. thankfully, you live in a place where abortion and reproductive healthcare is available (fuck that orange mf). you have the opportunity to take that route.

but it’s not an easy decision.

having an abortion is a difficult process. if you wish to have one, you need to build shit load of courage. you have to ask yourself if you’re willing to live with that decision because it will remain with you for the rest of your life. you can’t feel sorry for yourself. if you got the courage, then fucking do it.

but you still have to process this first.

you have to miguel first.

oh miguel… how are you going to tell him?

never have you been so scared. not saying you’re afraid of him, no never because miguel is sweetest man to exist. he’s such a sweetheart, makes you feel happy and safe. you’re just scared of his reaction.

will he be upset?

will he be mad?

will he be happy?

not knowing is the scariest part. no matter how much of a sweetheart he is, you can’t tell what would his reaction be to such a fucked up situation like this.

while you were sobbing and weeping for hours on end, he texted you which you’ve yet to respond.

osito 🐻: hey, didn’t see you come from work. is everything okay? did you jameson let you off early?

osito 🐻: bebé, did something happened? please answer me asap.

oh your heart breaks.

how can you break the news to this sweet man?

luckily those messages were sent an hour ago which gives you time to respond so he wouldn’t worry and head over to your place. that also means it’s still the same day, it’s just been hours.

bebé 🌷: hi, sorry for answering late! yeah, jameson let us out early so i got home a little earlier and took a nap.

a hinge of guilt stand for your heart for lying but you know miguel would want to know why you didn’t show up to meet him as usual and text him back. the man is in the military for god’s sake, he knows when someone is lying. now you feel even more guilty.

you carelessly toss your phone to the side landing on the bed sheets and bury your face in your hands as tears begin prickling in your eyes once again.

not even 5 seconds, your phone dings!

osito 🐻: that’s good, you needed rest for working so hard. are you feeling better? you need me to come over?

shit, he can’t come over at least now. fuck you’re gonna have to lie to him again, no matter how much it breaks your already fragile heart.

bebé 🌷: no, it’s okay! my sister is actually visiting me soon so i can’t have other visitors lol. but i am feeling a little bit better :)

two more total fucking lies. you feel like absolute shit and your sister is not coming over.

osito 🐻: alright but let me know if you need anything, vale? te quiero mucho.

fuck, your heart.

you quickly respond to him saying you love him back with bunch of heart emojis before tossing your phone on the bed once again. more tears trail down your face, quiet sobs fall from your trembling lips.

an irresponsible liar.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ┈ ୨ ₊ ┈ ౨ৎ   ┈ ₊ ୧   ┈

not only you’re a liar but a terrible girlfriend.

ever since you found out about the pregnancy, you’ve been avoiding miguel. not answering his texts, missing his calls to answer later and give him a bullshit excuse. since you live in the same complex and are fucking next door neighbors, it’s hard to avoid him since he’s right there.

you know it’s hurting him and it kills you. one minute you two are kissing and cuddling, then suddenly avoiding him as much as possible. you feel so fucking guilty because miguel doesn’t deserve this. recently you finally told you love each other and now there is sudden distance between you two because of your fears. the guilt has been you eating alive.

the pregnancy hormones don’t help, making you more of an emotional mess. the stock of toilet paper has been decreasing due to the excessive amounts you’ve been using for blowing your nose and cleaning up your tears. you’re just a huge mess.

in addition to being a liar and a horrible girlfriend, you call your best friend instead of your boyfriend to talk about the pregnancy.

“oh my god… does miguel know?” mj asks over the phone, you can hear the shock in her voice.

you close your eyes in guilt. “no…”

“fuck… okay, um- have you told anyone else, your parents, siblings, other relatives?”

“no, you’re the first one to know.”

“okay…” you can hear her sigh heavily. “well, i promise to keep this secret because i figured you don’t want anyone else to know yet.”

you thank her, feeling a bit relieved. mj has always been a trusting friend and you’re grateful for that.

“when did the pill expired?” she inquires.

“three weeks ago.”

you hear her cursing under her breath. “have you made an appointment yet?”

“not yet but i’m planning to.”

“okay, that’s good. that’s a good start.” she said supportingly, trying to help you feel a little better.

tears begin prickling in your eyes. “mj, i’m so scared, i fucked up… it’s all my fault…”

“hey, sweetie no, no, no—”

“yes it is!” you cut her off, finally letting out those tears. “it’s my fault because i didn’t check the stupid expiration date! it was my responsibility and i fucked up! now miguel is gonna hate me—”

“he’s not going to hate you. that man loves you more than anything else in the entire universe.” she said. “i know you’re scared to tell him but i’m 100% sure he’ll never hate you. sure, he’ll be shocked but he’s a kindhearted man, i’m sure he’ll understand.”

mj is right, you know she is. miguel is a kindhearted man and you love that about him. his kindness always capture your heart. how sweet and generous he is, it’s plausible he would understand in a way.

but you’re just so scared to tell him, afraid of his reaction regardless how sweet he is. this is because of your irresponsibility. it’s your fault for not checking on your pill and now face the consequences of it. but miguel is in this mess with you. because of your irresponsibility, you dragged him into this mess.

“honey, i know you’re scared and that’s 100% okay.” she said after you didn’t respond back. “but… you’re gonna have to tell him soon because eventually he will find out and that will be even more messier.”

she’s right and you can’t afford that.

this is already bad as it is.

you can’t hide the truth from him forever. miguel has the right to know, no matter how terrified you are to tell him. you have to tell him, tonight possibly.

“tonight…” you take a deep breath to numb down your anxiety. “tonight i’ll tell him.”

“okay…” mj answers softly. “you’re gonna be fine, it’s gonna be fine, i promise.”

you really hope she’s right.

“thanks, mj. i appreciate this so much, thank you.”

“of course, honey. best friends always support each other. if you need anything, do not ever hesitate to ask. me and the girls will always be there for you.”

god, you really have amazing friends. forever grateful to have them in your life.

after saying your goodbyes and mj telling you to call her after you tell miguel, you hang up. sinking back into your bed, you stare up at the ceiling. thinking of infinite possibilities and scenarios of what will happen to tonight when you tell miguel.

fear still consumes you, eating you up. despite how sweet miguel may be, his reaction is still unpredictable. an unplanned pregnancy isn’t something to be calm about.

but you have to face your fears.

bebé 🌷: hey, can you come over tonight please? there’s something i need to talk about.

your thumb hovers over the ‘send’ button, hesitating for a moment. anxiety strikes your heart viciously. no matter how scared you are, you have to face this. with a shaky breath, you send the message.

your anxiety increases when he doesn’t respond right away. he’s probably busy right now, maybe at the boxing gym. you distract yourself by doing laundry and fixing your bed after days of leaving it undone. half an hour later, your phone dings! with a text.

osito 🐻: claro, preciosa. i’ll be there in 30 mins, on my way right now.

now you have to wait, dreadfully.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ┈ ୨ ₊ ┈ ౨ৎ   ┈ ₊ ୧   ┈

“you good, o’hara?” flash asks.

miguel blinks after spacing out for a bit, too lost in his thoughts. “yeah, i’m fine.”

flash raises a skeptical brow, doubting. “for a man who’s an expert liar on the field, you’re really shitty when you aren’t. what’s up?”

miguel has been asking that himself for the past few days. something has happened that he isn’t aware of. you’ve been avoiding him. he hasn’t seen you in almost a week. when he waits for you to return from work, you don’t show up. when he knocks on your door, you don’t answer. all he gets are text messages with various excuses. miguel doesn’t buy it one bit.

did he do something?

that’s the question that has been repeating in his mind for these past few days. has he done something wrong? did he hurt you in any way? that’s the last thing miguel wants, he never ever wishes to hurt you. you’re his beautiful girl, the owner of his heart. hurting you would be the end of him.

he’s desperate to know what’s wrong but miguel also doesn’t wish to push you. despite the negative thoughts plunging his mind, he’s still respectful.

but goddamnit he wants to know.

he wants to know so badly it hurts.

all miguel wants is to rush over to your apartment, plead to you on his knees to know what he’s done. he isn’t sure if his heart can’t handle it more.

miguel knows you love him. never doubted for a second, not ever once. the intense love you harbor for each other is unmatched, unbreakable.

“is this about your girl?” flash’s voice makes him snap out of his thoughts once again.

“she’s been… distant.” miguel said solemnly, as if it was painful to admit that.

flash only sighs and fold his arms across his chest, allowing miguel to speak his mind.

“i don’t know what happened… i haven’t seen her in almost week. every time i call her, she doesn’t answer. i knock on her door and she doesn’t answer. no matter what i do or when i try to reach her, she avoids me and i don’t know why.”

miguel truly doesn’t know and it frustrates him. it frustrates him that you aren’t able to talk to him and tell him the truth. all miguel wants is you to be comfortable to tell him anything. he wants to be that safe haven you can come to.

you mean so much to him, you have no clue.

you’re his angel.

“i just feel like… did i do something wrong?” miguel frowns solemnly. “i just don’t know what possible reason… everything was alright.”

a deep sigh escapes him as flash takes a step forward. “i’m not sure either since you two have been so lovely dovely, but i’m sure you didn’t do anything, man. maybe she’s been stressed at work but there’s for sure something going on.” he leaves a light hand on miguel’s shoulder. “don’t stress out, man. when the time is right, she’ll come to you.”

miguel takes in his words, giving him a little bit of relief yet the concern lingers. he gives him a nod, appreciating his supportive words.

as him and the rest of gang continue sipping their beers while watching the football game tonight, miguel receives a notification from his phone.

bebé 🌷: hey, can you come over tonight please? there’s something i need to talk about.

his heart skips a beat in rejoice. the first time you texted him first. perhaps flash was right.

osito 🐻: claro, preciosa. i’ll be there in 30 mins, on my way right now.

he never left the pub so quickly. eager yet a bit nervous to finally see you after what feels like forever. all miguel wants is to see his pretty angel.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ┈ ୨ ₊ ┈ ౨ৎ   ┈ ₊ ୧   ┈

heart pounding in your chest. blood pumping with anxiety flowing through your entire body, consuming you whole. you can feel the pulse caught in your throat as you wait for miguel’s arrival.

it’s time, it’s finally time to tell him the truth.

god, you’ve never been so scared in your life.

hands fiddling with each other, palms sweaty and clammy. pacing around the living room. negative thoughts invading your mind like a plague.

it’s gonna be okay, you keep telling yourself as a way to calm down your anxiety. but it isn’t working obviously. those negative thoughts just won’t stop.

miguel is gonna be infuriated. yell at how irresponsible you are and demand for the relationship to end because of you’re lack of responsibility. these thoughts just won’t stop, never-ending.

the knock on the door startles you, making you jump.

fuck, miguel is here.

taking a very deep breath to calm your nerves, you slowly approach the front door. slowly unlocking it, your heart rate skyrockets when you see miguel standing in front of you. his wide eyes meet yours.

“¿bebé, que paso? what’s wrong?” he blurts our questions, his anxiety to blame.

“come in, please…”

you walk away as miguel enters your home and closes the door before taking off his shoes and follows you to the couch. no hug or kiss, miguel takes mental note of that and it worries him more.

miguel hesitates to sit since you refuse to yourself but your pleading eyes convinces him to. he drinks in your anxious state. one hand rubbing your neck, the other over your torso. the pacing back and forth. seeing you this nervous makes him nervous. his elbows rest on his bouncing knees of anxiety, leaned forward as miguel waits for you. he wants to stand up and pull you into his arms than sit on your couch, anxious to hear what you have to tell him.

“please tell me what’s wrong, bebé?”

fuck, by his tone you can tell how worried he is.

you look at him, opening your mouth to say something but immediately closing it. you can’t do this, the anxiety is winning against you. goddamnit you can sense the tears slowly developing. quickly blinking them away, you inhale a deep breath.

“i-i know i’ve been distant and i—” you hiccup. “i’m sorry for hurting you, i never wanted to hurt you. i love you and it killed me to hurt you like this.”

miguel stares at you with big concern eyes and furrowed eyebrows. “bebé, what is this about—”

“please let me finish, miguel.” you plead with sorrowful eyes and he only stares worryingly. “now please believe me when i didn’t mean for any of this and i am forever sorry for putting you in this.”

he feels his heartbeat increase rapidly. never has miguel felt so fucking nervous in his life. what do you mean ‘putting him in this’?

“i’m pregnant.”

the whole fucking world, or the universe, stops. everything just stops, frozen in time. large silence sits unfortunately between you two. you feel your chest tightening, unable to breath, and panic as you notice the all the emotions from miguel’s drops immediately. brown eyes blown wide, color from his face gone, chest begins to heave. he appears as if he’s about to have a heart attack.

“¿qué?…” so quiet yet in disbelief.

you grimace at his reaction, anxiety now skyrocketed. god you want to burst into tears. “i’m so sorry… i’m so sorry, miguel.” those exact tears were coming in. “it’s my fault, i-i wasn’t lying about taking the pill but i—” you choke a sob. “my dumbass didn’t check the expiration date and now—”

while on the verge of tears, you couldn’t read miguel’s expression. he just sat there emotionless other than shocked eyes, it scares you.

“it’s my fault for being so irresponsible and i’m so so so sorry!” you couldn’t back those tears anymore as they slowly trail down your face. “you have every right to be mad. please believe me, i never wanted this and put you through this.” another sob. “i-i’m not even sure if i’ll keep it anyways.”

miguel still doesn’t answer but he isn’t looking at you anymore, instead at his hands in his lap.

“i’m so sorry, miguel!” you sob, hugging yourself thinking he doesn’t want your comfort right now. how could he after what has been revealed?

through your teary eyes, you look at him. still sitting in silence with no emotions. it’s understandable for him to react like this, you throw a bomb on him and flip his entire world upside down. but you secretly wish miguel would say something, a word or noise, just anything because the silence is killing you.

“m-miguel?…” you whisper, sniffling.

the man doesn’t respond.

you repeat his name and still no response. your voice falls deaf upon his ears. instead of answering, miguel silently stands up without eye contact and walks away towards the front door. you observe him putting in his shoes with slightly wide eyes, your anxiety gradually increasing again.

“miguel?…”

with no answer, he opens the door and…

he walks out.

he just walks out.

without saying anything at all.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ♡ @reverieblondie @nina-from-317 @kavimoo @aly29a2001 @marshhbs @lazyjellyfish300 @tojishugetiddies @aphinthestars @novelaaaaaaaa @imamexican @obessgurlll @deputy-videogamer @watertribeissuperior @lovehadlovelost @auiciqa @agoddoesnotplead @saintdiior @whoopwhoppghost @tomalymme @skadiloki @miguelsfavwife @asterrrrose @glossygreene @aefin @youcantseem3 @resident-clown @kutsipie @zuevcs @totorotales-08 @meowgirl1 @sukunash0e @jadeloverxd @sirendyes @leahnicole1219 @lisa-takeshi @yehet-moi-ohorat @slowlyshycomputer @wasitforrevenge @webshoootrz @f1-hoff @chaeriescola @zayai @espressopatronum454 @trocaderoisyummy @scaryplanetdestroyer @totallygyomeiswife

© teenidlegirl. don’t steal, plagiarize, or translate my work. ♡

[fushiglow]

Gojo cares a lot, actually

Perspective and empathy in Jujutsu Kaisen

Once again, I see accusations that Gojo only cared about people in relation to their strength. I can't believe that 236 and 261 haven't put this idea to bed already, but let's go over it again for the class. Here are some thoughts on the importance of perspective and empathy in JJK. Spoilers for chapter 266 ahead!

In 236, Gojo tells Geto he loves everyone. This single line, direct from the man's mouth, should be enough. However, moments later, Nanami says, "You never cared about protecting people". So why do some readers only take one of these perspectives at face value?

Perspective matters in JJK. Often, characters and even the narrator state things that are only true from their perspective in a given moment. What you choose to believe says more about you than it does about them — an idea I explored in my analysis of 236.

This is particularly important when it comes to Gojo and Megumi, because the moment they meet is the only (?) scene in the whole of JJK that we get to see from two perspectives.

The second time, the reader understands the emotional weight of it for Gojo — but Megumi doesn't. He's kept in the dark, so of course he thinks about their meeting in different terms.

Once again, whose perspective are we going to take at face value? From Megumi's point of view, he wasn't offered a choice. From Gojo's point of view, he extended to a child the little agency available to him.

Offering a choice is something Gojo does consistently throughout JJK — pick your hell. It's one of the ways he shows care for others that goes unrecognised, so it's ironic that readers and characters alike misinterpret it for a lack of empathy. However, this is no coincidence.

For much of the series, Gege keeps Gojo at a narrative distance from the reader. Most of what we know about Gojo comes from what other characters tell us, and our view of him is therefore coloured by their perspective.

However, while Gojo laments the distance between himself and others, he fails to recognise that he's the one maintaining it — and not because of his strength or his technique. He has admirable goals, but he chooses to work towards them alone.

There are many occasions where characters reach for Gojo, but he refuses to let them past his metaphorical Infinity out of a sense of duty and perhaps misplaced belief that he alone can or should bear this heavy burden.

All of Gojo's actions are about preserving the humanity of others at the expense of his own. That's precisely why he chooses to become the "monster" alone. In this way, Gojo is flawed but he isn't uncaring. Again, it's a matter of perspective.

Gojo sees strength as the solution because it's all he's ever known. However, recognising the strength of others doesn't mean that's all he sees — because Gojo knows that dehumanisation acutely. What's more, 261 also suggests he thinks of "strength" in different terms to others.

When they meet, Gojo tells Megumi not to get left behind. However, he later says he was "left behind" when Geto defected. We know Gojo's physical strength eclipsed Geto's, yet Gojo only refers to himself as "the strongest" alone after Geto dies.

Before that point, there's nothing in the text to suggest that Gojo ever stopped thinking of the pair of them as "the strongest" — as a unit, as a duo. This suggests that strength, for Gojo, is something much more intangible, much more sympathetic, and much more human too.

What do the strongest characters in JJK all have in common? Indomitable will, courage in their convictions, an overwhelming sense of self. Looking at strength through this lens shines a new light on Gojo's goal of raising "strong" allies.

When he forces a third option in Shibuya, Gojo proves that strength doesn't have to come at the expense of compassion. In the later chapters of the Shinjuku Showdown arc, Yuta, Yuji, and the rest of Gojo's allies reinforce that idea ten times over, and I have every belief that Megumi will soon do the same.

To suggest Gojo only saved Megumi for his technique is unfair when he has consistently proven himself committed to protecting the futures of others, even "weak" non-sorcerers who have nothing to offer him. Once again, it's all a matter of perspective.

Gojo's way of caring is still caring, even if it doesn't look familiar to you. His only flaw was closing himself off from others and choosing to care from afar. However, just like Gojo never stopped reaching for Geto after he left, Gojo's allies never stopped reaching for him.

There's a phrase we use to describe looking at things from another perspective: putting yourself in someone else's shoes. I think it's very telling that Gojo's allies have taken that literally — Yuta by stepping into his skin, and Yuji by standing in his place in 266.

TL;DR: Gojo cares a lot, actually. If Gojo talking about his innermost feelings can't make you empathise, and the students he supposedly "doesn't care about" recognising his burdens can't make you empathise?

Well, that says far more about you than it does about him.

Come read my fics about this!

In His Shadow explores the ways Gojo keeps his distance from Megumi, who isn't equipped with the tools he needs to reach him but finds his own ways to show he cares, born from ten years of history together.

Rivers Crossed, Mountains Scaled explores Gojo and Megumi's relationship through the vehicle of SatoSugu — why Gojo took him in, whether Gojo really gave him a choice, how Gojo sees him.

Hope you enjoyed the post! I love you, Gege Akutami ♥️

[opbackgrounds]

Brook's backstory has a unique structure compared to other flashback sections. Firstly, it happens at the end of the arc instead of someplace in the middle. Most flashbacks are meant to clear up mystery and inject one final shot of emotional energy to carry the end of the arc through the big fight scenes. Here, we already know everything that happens to Brook; nothing is a surprise. Instead we're learning how it happened.

Secondly, Brook's backstory is the only one that I can think of that intermittently bounces back to the present. In fact, it actually goes on three timelines: Brook alive with the Rumbar Pirates, Brook alone and dead during his fifty years of isolation, and the present day party with the Straw Hats.

The thread that connects these three sections is Bink's Sake. Music is the bridge between past and present, and the instrument by which Brook is allowed to grieve and put his former crew to rest.

Back during the Skypiea arc music was portrayed as a connecting force. I noted at that time all the chapter names that were musically themed (there were a lot) and the ringing of the golden bell was literally called a love song that brought peace to a warring land. Bink's Sake is much the same. There's a reason why Luffy insisted for so long that he needed a musician on the crew.

(As an aside, in an upcoming SBS Oda mentions how he wrote and commissioned the music for Bink’s Sake 4-5 years before it came up in the manga, anticipating that he would need it soon for the story. While Oda is notoriously bad at planning out timelines, it does mean that he was thinking about Brook and Bink’s Sake at the end of Skypiea. Perhaps at one time he was planning on going from the musical theming of the Skypiea chapter titles to actual, in-universe music back to back. We’ll probably never know for sure.)

Ages ago I wrote a long meta on Brook, and at that time I noted that there is nothing strictly necessary about Brook. The Straw Hats have another, better swordsman, and his skill isn't needed for sailing along the open seas.

But the Straw Hat Pirates without Brook is like life without music. You can do it, but it's a life without joy and bereft of the simple connections born from singing a song with the people you love. Luffy has understood that from the beginning, and it's why Brook is so, so important to the crew.

[kamiversee]

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 9 || The Professor and His Student

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 3.9k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——WITHIN THRITY MINUTES, you're back in Gojo's company. Shoko wasn't home when you got to your apartment so there was no one for you to rant to and you were left still pissed off because of Gojo.

Actually, even if Shoko was home, it's not like she knows anything about the list. And you're not sure if you even want her to know anything about the list. It'd be too embarrassing to explain to her how you got yourself in this position so, you really have no plans on doing so.

The most your roommate knows is that last night you went out on a date. She doesn't know that it's Geto you went on a date with, or that you've slept with both of her friends and you'd like to keep it that way for the time being. There's way too much to explain for you to talk to her.

So ultimately, that leaves you alone in your situation. You have no one to talk to about this, no one to cry to about how Gojo is nothing more than a manipulative dickhead, and no one to release the buildup of emotions he's just given you.

The worst part of it all is that you were starting to put the blackmailing aside. You were starting to even like the idea of playing this little game with Gojo where you have to sleep with some hot guys and get paid for it. But when Gojo reminds you that you don't have the luxury of being comfortable in your situation, you just go right back to disliking him.

When the man showed up at your door to take you with him to his class, you barely exchanged any words. Gojo carefully explained the things his professor was attracted to, saying how he seemed like the kinda guy to be into a woman who looks like she needs help but is actually smart.

You asked Gojo what kinda clothes you should wear, resulting in you wearing a short skirt with stockings that hugged your thighs nicely. You felt a little uncomfortable in it, especially with Gojo's eyes all over you as if he you and him didn't just argue with one another minutes ago.

"Stop staring, you don't have that privilege anymore." You spat out to him as you adjusted the buttons on the shirt you wore.

Gojo's at your room door, leaning against the frame like always. "Come stop me from staring." He blurts out.

He's so used to flirting with you that he couldn't even help himself.

You send him a glare, "You're making things worse, y'know."

He knows. But he doesn't know how to fix it and still get what he wants at the same time. "I'm sorry-"

"Don't." You say simply.

Gojo falls quiet, watching as you move away from the mirror and over to your dresser to spray perfume on yourself. The scent makes its way into his nose and he has to bite back the compliment he nearly gives you.

After that, you put some shoes on and walked over to Gojo, looking up at the man with distaste in your eyes. For a minute, he simply peers down at you.

"...Can you please move?" You sigh tiredly.

Gojo doesn't budge. "Can you hear me out for a minute?"

You can't even believe the audacity of this man. "No."

"Please?"

"What is there to hear out? If I don't do this, you'll expose me. What else is there for you to say?" You ask.

He doesn't even know the answer to that question himself. "It's not what you think it is," Gojo says in the softest voice he can manage.

"Yeah?" You scoff, moving to fold your arms at him. "So what is it then, Gojo?"

"I just..." He trails off for a long moment.

You watch as he glances back and forth between your eyes, clearly having no words for you. You can see the clear regret in his eyes but you ignore it completely-- refusing to let yourself be manipulated by any of his looks.

Slowly, you lean closer to him. "You just what? Spit it out." You urge.

He swallows but remains silent, which leads you to roll your eyes at him. You then shake your head and move him to the side, stepping past him and exiting your bedroom.

"That's what the hell I thought. Now let's go." You say with a sigh.

Gojo's behind you cursing at himself for being unable to tell you the truth.

He's so scared that you'll never help him without the blackmail and, well, he has every right to be because you're pretty sure that if it weren't for those videos he has over your head, you wouldn't be doing any of this.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

The walk to his class isn't long once the two of you get onto campus. It was on the third floor, in a section of the school you don't typically go down. You're not sure if you imagine it but you swear that every person you pass in the halls is insanely attractive.

The men, the women, literally all of them. For a moment you wonder if you're in the fashion department of your school based on the looks of those around you. It makes you wonder what Gojo's major is for a second, realizing you never actually asked him.

Your lips part to do so but... what's the point? You no longer care about getting to know the man anymore. Knowing his major won't help you complete this list any faster so, you end up closing your mouth and keeping quiet as you follow him.

When you get to the class, you notice that most of the room is full and Gojo is within the last group of people to arrive.

You're behind the white-haired man so, his professor lays eyes on him before you. You try to appear as inconspicuous as possible and thanks to the department of attractive and well-put-together people surrounding you, you don't stand out much.

Gojo makes a left to head up the stairs toward, what you assume to be, his seat, and you make sudden and direct eye contact with a tall, overly muscular man you swear isn't the professor.

Oh, there's no way in hell that this dark-haired man with a scar on the right corner of his lips is teaching this class. You refuse to believe that the man standing not too far away from you in a button up shirt that looks like it's seconds away from popping off him, is the damn professor.

Surely, you'd expected the blond man you saw in those pictures Gojo showed you to be a teacher. Definitely not this guy.

Those brown, maybe green, eyes of his skim over your entire body in one quick motion, an eyebrow raising the very second he realizes he's never seen you in his class before. In your hands are a binder and a book that you keep pressed against your chest, slightly fidgeting where you stand with the male's eyes all over you.

You wonder if you should say anything but when the large man looks back down at the papers scattered on his desk in front of him, you get the idea that he doesn't care too much about you being there.

With a sigh, you turn and follow after Gojo, quickly arriving at his seat and sitting beside him. Luckily for you, he's in the very back of the room so you get to sit in the corner with him.

You hadn't planned on learning anything today but, here you are, having no idea what you're getting yourself into.

"Gojo," You whisper and he turns to you. "What subject even is this...?"

"Uh, economics." He hums.

You freeze. "You're joking right?"

"I'm not."

"How the hell am I supposed to explain why I'm here?!" You whisper shout at him.

He shrugs casually, "I dunno."

You scowl. "Of course you don't."

Gojo grimaces at himself for his words, "Okay, well maybe-"

"Nope, save it. I'll figure it out myself." You cut off as you organize the few items you brought with you.

He sighs heavily beside you but you ignore the sound.

The class is steady to begin and your heart increases tenfold in nervousness when the deep baritone voice of the professor hits your ears. It was nothing but a lazy 'afternoon everyone' to greet his students as he went to shut the door but for some reason, it made your nerves spike.

As the professor, whose name you end up figuring out is Mr. Fushiguro, began his lecture, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. The room was filled with students who so obviously belonged there. You, a psychology major, genuinely have no excuse to be here right now.

Okay, sure, you may have taken an economics class in high school but, that was high school and it was a required course for you at the time. Now, it'll be a bit difficult to explain why you're there.

Luckily for you, you've been in a similar position before. Except, the last time you were in a situation like this, there were real reasons behind it. You had slipped into one of Shoko's classes and attended that class with her for about three weeks straight-- having needed to use the interactions of her class for a report you were working on.

So in this case, you hope you'll be able to do the same thing and pull this off.

With that in mind, you made sure to actually pay attention to the lecture to ensure that you had something to talk about if or when Mr. Fushiguro questions you.

As you did that, Gojo sat beside you unable to pay attention to anything aside from the woman attentively taking notes beside him. He couldn't help but stare at you with his cheek resting against his knuckles, watching the way you were taking real notes on the class.

He gazed at the side of your face, getting lost in his mind as he tried to think of ways to fix things. He wondered if the two of you could just brush over the argument. It's not like he didn't blackmail you before and you guys didn't move on from that.

Or maybe it was just him who'd moved on. Perhaps you're still worried about the situation you were in. It'd only been a few days since it started, not even a full week yet.

Gojo's so busy thinking that he hasn't realized he's still staring at you. When he does realize it though, he doesn't stop. Instead, the male goes on to admire you. This is probably one of the only times he'll get to be near you going forward.

I hate you, the words still echo in his mind. He's so pissed at himself for it. He should've never even done this. Maybe he could've found someone else to go and seduce these people for him, not you-- Gojo likes you.

Wait, he... likes you? Gojo blinks at his own thoughts, wondering if that's what's wrong with him. Maybe that's why he felt these urges to kiss you or be around you or even make you smile and laugh...

He finds himself replaying the events of that morning over and over. It was perfect. To wake up to you kissing him so softly, to have you in his arms all night, and to even bond a little with you without it being about the list.

It was-

"Gojo," You hummed, breaking him out of his mind entirely. Your gaze was down on the paper in front of you as you spoke, "Do you like your eyes?"

His brows pinch together and you hear him scoff a little bit, "Yeah...?"

"Wanna keep 'em?" You question sarcastically.

He blinks, "Uh, yes...?"

You turn your head to him and your voice is low and an agitated whisper, "Then stop fucking staring at me."

Gojo doesn't even look away yet. His eyes remain on yours and the eye contact is intense for a second. He hates to think about it but, you're rather hot when you're mad, as toxic as it is to think about...

The way you're eyes are all narrow and the tenseness of your face is oddly attractive to the man. Under different circumstances, Gojo would've teased you about it like he normally does but, right now, you look like you might stab his eyes out with the pencil in your hands.

Instead of taking the warning you have him seriously, Gojo only grins at you, "Make me." He whispers back, voice teasing.

You glare for a moment, and then you start shaking your head in utter disbelief. "You're an ass."

"An ass?" Gojo chuckles quietly, "What happened to asshole?"

"I might change it to a piece of shit." You say with a shrug as you turn your head away and multi-focus on both him and the lecture.

Gojo tilts his head, "Doesn't that take too long to say?"

"Dickhead." You say simply.

He frowns, "Ehh, doesn't have a nice ring to it."

With a sigh, you glance at him through the corner of your eye, "I'm not gonna play this little game with you."

"Nono, keep going," Gojo pleads, now smiling at you as if he isn't aware that he's only annoying you even more. "I like hearing all the mean names you can come up with."

You roll your eyes at him, "I hope you fail this class."

"Woahh, I need this class to graduate, sweets." He argues, pouting a little bit at your sudden words.

"Enough with the pet names," You sigh. "Hearing anything affectionate coming from you is revolting."

"You liked it this morning."

"That was before you pissed me off."

Gojo smirks, "I do that quite often though, don't I?"

"Yeah, you do."

He hums and inches a little closer to you, "And yet you still hung around me."

"I was forced to." You reply, trying to take notes on the subject ahead at the same time.

"Were you forced to kiss me this morning too?" Gojo says.

That question made you scoff. He definitely pushed all the right buttons with that one, "Were you forced to be born as an insufferable asshole who likes manipulating women into clearing your debt for you?" You question, anger embedded into your tone.

He pauses. The worst part of what you said was that you weren't even looking at him. You said that without batting an eyelash. And it came out your mouth faster than he expected.

Gojo opens his mouth slowly, almost carefully, "I-"

Before he gets the chance to say anything, the abrupt sound of his professor speaking louder is heard. "Gojo Satoru," The professor calls out with an annoyed sigh.

You think you see the hairs on the back of Gojo's neck stand up and you watch as he grits his teeth and turns his head to face his teacher.

"Plan on talkin' through my whole class?" Mr. Fushiguro questions.

Gojo looks immediately annoyed as he shakes his head, the sight of him shut up so quickly almost satisfying to you.

That earns a nod from his professor, "That's what I thought." He hummed, his eyes snapping over to you right afterward.

You swear you were shrinking under the man's gaze, even though he was on the other side of the damn room. It was so intimidating that you just knew he was about to say something to you.

But, he doesn't. It was nothing more than a quick glance, maybe even a warning glance.

You sigh and then peek over to Gojo beside you, noticing how he looks upset now. A smile graces your face as you see the man in distress, it was quite the satisfying sight to behold-- especially given the hell he's putting you through.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

The lecture was a full three hours long, something you surprisingly were able to stay awake for and focus on the entire time.

You have a feeling it was the way Mr. Fushiguro taught the class or maybe it was the way he looks. With a face and body like that, you think you could stay awake and stare for hours unprovoked. That has to be the only plus side to the list you're going through-- the fact that everyone is stupidly hot.

As the class finished, you grabbed all the notes you'd taken and wondered if you should just approach the professor yourself. Gojo waited for you to get your stuff together and then you followed behind him to leave the class.

The halls seemed to be pretty busy with how long it took for students to actually leave the classroom and you ended up waiting for people to walk out. This placed you in the back of the group of people, being one of the last to actually exit.

"You," A deep voice suddenly called from behind.

Your head turns back and you meet the professor's stern eyes. He raises two fingers and beckons you to come to him. With a swallow, you nudged Gojo on the back of his arm, silently letting him know that you were staying behind before you turned and made your way over to the teacher.

As you approached the desk, the man stool on the other side of it, eyes daunting and presence overwhelming. He was far too attractive to be a professor.

"Sir," You greeted calmly, "You called me...?"

His eyes scan all of you in front of his desk. Not in a way that seemed like he was checking you out but, more in the sense that he was confirming he's never seen you before.

He nodded toward a nearby seat, "Sit."

You don't know why your spine goes rigid at his sudden command. Perhaps it was the authority in his voice? Or the deep undeniably attractive tone of it?

Slowly, you move to sit down in the seat he's told you to. After that, you quietly watch as he awaits all the students to leave. Once the classroom is clear, the professor takes a seat at his desk and all of his tension-filled focus goes to you.

You were nervous. Ridiculously so.

And it wasn't even because of the situation itself but because of the sexy-ass man staring at you. Okay, maybe this list isn't that bad... especially if you get to interact with people you normally wouldn't.

The man leans forward, moving to rest his arms on the desk in front of him and clasping his hands together. "Well?" He asks, clearly expecting you to just explain yourself.

You instantly look down to your lap, "Uh..."

When you take too long, in his eyes, to answer, you hear the man sigh heavily. "You gonna tell me why you're in my class?" He questions.

You look up at him and take a deep breath, "Yeah, sorry. I'm a uh, psychology major and I have this project coming up soon where I have to analyze large groups of people, preferably in different classrooms, to see how different goals and aspirations differ the actions of people."

That was by far the best and cleanest lie you think you've ever given in your entire life. It's usually not hard to explain just a little bit of your major to people, the explanation alone always brings confusion.

The man blinks slowly, kinda like he didn't understand what the hell you just said. "Okay." He sighs, "Two things. One, what does that have to do with you being here without permission, and two, can you explain that in simpler terms?"

A light smile grows on your face, "Well, I meant to come here before the class started and ask if I could sit through a couple of your lectures to study everyone but uh, I forgot... A-And, in simpler terms, I'm just here to see how certain subjects affect certain people."

Mr. Fushiguro nods his head, pausing to think about what you just told him. He has no reason not to believe you, he's actually had plenty of students do this in the past.

"Psych major, huh?" He asks.

"Yes sir."

"That's uh," He clicks his tongue, "Surprising."

"How so?" You scoff, quick to take a bit of offense.

The man shrugs, "I don't usually get Psych majors in my class, you're the first."

"Oh." You chuckle, "Well, I was also curious about how the economy specifically would alter people's way of thinking."

"Yeah?" You think you see him grinning at you. He appears to be intrigued, "Why?"

"I mean, when you're talking about the economy, you're talking about money and, well," You shrug, "Who doesn't like money? I just wanted to see if that made any difference in the way people think and act in terms of education."

"Right," He nods again, "And what class is this for?"

Shit. "Uhm, sociology." You manage to say.

The male opens his mouth to comment something but he's cut off by a light knock on his open classroom door, prompting both of you to turn your head. Your eyes go wide at the man you see standing there.

Blond, tall, neutral facial expression, and, above all, mouth-wateringly sexy. Good god, where the hell does Gojo find these men? The male at the door is someone you recognize from the pictures.

"Mr. Fushiguro," The blond calls, voice stoic.

"Nanami." The professor in front of you replies, "How can I help ya?"

The man at the door takes a few steps into the classroom, "I had a few questions on the assignment from last week."

Your mind is all over the place at this point. Is this who Gojo was talking about when he said there are two people on the list in the class?

"I might have a few answers," Mr. Fushiguro, whose first name you notice is Toji based on the nearby nameplate sitting on his desk, responds playfully.

You then watch as he stands and walks over to Nanami, your heart spiraling out of control. Spotting two people from the list in one day? It's nerve-wracking.

The two stand not too far away from you and quietly go over something. You pick up on tidbits of their conversation but it's all about an assignment you know nothing about so, there's not much you can do with the information you hear.

Nanami's glance strays over to you for only a second, long enough for you two to make eye contact, and long enough for him to look away. It was a glance of simply acknowledging the fact that you're there-- not even the kinda glance where he's checking you out.

The look he gave you and the one you initially received from Toji are similar, it's like neither of them was even interested in you-

Holy shit.

You think you know why too. The way they look at you is nothing compared to Geto's first glances at you, even though the situation and setting are much different.

That's when you realize...

That asshole Gojo never told you what level of difficulty these men are considered to be.

GOJO SATORU ✔︎

GETO SUGURU ✔︎

TOJI FUSHIGURO ☐

NANAMI KENTO ☐

mlist || previous chapt || next chpt

[celaenaeiln]

One of Dick's greatest strengths is his ability to manipulate every single person in existence.

Genuinely I think this makes him the smartest person in the room. Not only is he a brilliant detective, but the fact that he's able to outmaneuver and control virtually everyone including other geniuses and masterminds makes him the most terrifying. There's a reason why his enemies have give up using intelligence against him and simply resorting to brute force.

Now hold your horses before you bring your crowbars and let me explain.

Dick once said, "On an even playing field, I always win."

And it's true. But how do you even the field if your enemies are geniuses, detectives, or metas?

"Well, if you don't like how the table is it, turn over the table."

And that's exactly what Dick does.

Let's begin from his younger years. Dick is 19, newly out of Batman's wing and in no position to take on a skilled mercenary on by himself. But the mercenary isn't going to stop just because he says please. So.

DEATHSTROKE WAS CLEARLY NOT EXPECTING TO GET OUTPLAYED BY A 19 YEAR OLD.

"You're right Slade, he's not a fool so choose a dumber kidnapping victim next time."

Ofcourse this is the least of his abilities.

This cover is perfect because it shows how two of them are literally in a constant game of chess. And evidence of Dick's tactical expertise was never more obvious than the bombing of Bludhaven.

By all means Dick had won.

And he's right. Dick is incredibly intelligent, and he has to be given how he maneuvered the entirety of the world to save him city. Not just the heroes and villains, but everyone - the heroes, the villains, the government, the civilians, the organized crime - everyone. He ruled the freaking world at that moment.

@haroldhighballjordan actually made a post about this that explains this scene so well

But yeah Slade knew he lost so in his petty vengeance what he basically did was set the whole fucking chessboard on fire.

The perfection to which Dick had calculated and moved millions of people to force Slade into abandoning their game and leave him shrieking and seething in rage over his loss. Another reminder that this game only happened because Dick manipulated Rose away from her father, away from his control to a better life.

Spyral is one of my favorite comics because it shows just how good of a manipulator Dick Grayson is.

One of Dick's coldest traits is his ability to manipulate a situation to fit his needs.

In the beginning Dick wanted to calm the meta down and take him in but the second his opponent let out the slightest hint of weakness, look how fast he flips his words. This man is brilliant.

And his planning came to fruition as the meta wore himself out, allowing Dick to take control of the situation and the opponent with no harm to himself-a quick, two second exit. He can manipulate emotions, thoughts, and people to get what he wants like he's playing chess with a child.

But it's not just other people- he can completely change himself to become a whole new person. In the earlier chapters, Dick is learning how to shoot a gun for the agency.

Dick's a terrible shot. Not a single bullet lands in the center of the target-there's no way he's ever going to shoot well....or atleast that's what he wants you to think-

"Yeah, well, that's what spies do."

"We lie."

He's a puppet master and the final boss.

part 2