#and it feels stupid and ridiculous but it literally makes me so anxious for no reason because it isn’t even relevant to me anymore

[dorkydiaz]

.

[milswrites]

The Trials of Aphrodite Part Three

~ Azriel X Fem!Reader

Series Masterlist

Series summary: Hopelessly in love with Elain, Azriel enlists your help in order to win her over. The only problem? You have been in love with Azriel for as long as you have known him.

Chapter summary: Azriel receives a lesson in flirting.

Warnings: A bit of angsty pining. Teeny bit of suggestiveness.

It was a familiar scene; you staring at Azriel.

And Azriel staring at her.

Want swimming in his hazel eyes as he absorbed Elain's glowing figure as she pottered about in her garden, lips parted in awe as he took in her soft features and natural beauty.

All the while your eyes stayed locked on him. Wonder filling your own gaze as you marveled at the admiration which flowed freely from the male next to you. Azriel's intense stare providing you with an insight into all the love he had to give. A love that would never be reserved only for you. A type of love that he would only ever feel for Elain.

"So how's this going to work?" you ask in an attempt to break Azriel from his lovestruck spell, swallowing your pain as you noticed the love draining from his eyes as he turned his gaze to you.

"I don't know, I was hoping you would tell me what to do" he nervously mumbled, peeking back over the rosebush the two of you were hidden behind to double check that Elain hadn't spotted you.

"Gods this is ridiculous, Az just go over and talk to her!" you exclaimed, your raised voice being met with the anxious shushing of your worrisome friend who was afraid of being caught.

"Gee thanks I wonder why I haven't thought about doing that before. . . It's because I can't!" his sarcastic reply was met with a flat look from you, certain that the only reason Azriel was finding this difficult was because he was the one making it that way.

"Az, how hard can it be? Just compliment her or something!" you sighed, wondering how Azriel could ooze confidence in every aspect of his life apart from when it comes to romance.

"It's not that easy. I've tried. . . look last time I complimented her I asked her if she was the cauldron because I wanted to drown in her eyes" he awkwardly admitted, embarrassed eyes cast to the ground in shame.

"You compared Elain to the cauldron?" you asked unimpressed, astounded at your friend's boundless stupidity, "Elain who quite literally drowned in the cauldron in what was probably the most traumatizing event of her life."

"I didn't say the line worked" Azriel grumbled, not liking the chuckle of disbelief which slipped from your lips at his hopelessness.

"Obviously not, we wouldn't be crouched behind a bush right now if it did" you retorted, unable to stop the fit of giggles which followed as you tried to imagine Azriel's pitiful attempt of flirting backfiring on him.

"Are you going to help me or are you just going to sit there and laugh at me?" Azriel huffed, not sharing in your amusement at his misery.

"Fine, fine. Just go over there and compliment her dress, girls like it when guys notice that kind of thing" you suggest, trying not to turn red as you recall the time when Azriel had first complimented one of your own dresses, having continued to wear it every time you saw him for the next few months with the hope of him praising you again.

"Great, what do I say?" your friend asked, but not before you shoved him right into the heat of the fire by pushing him out from behind the rosebush. Azriel stumbling away from the safety of his hiding spot.

"Azriel? What are you doing here?" Elain's gentle voice called out from where she was stood. A quick flash of Azriel's burning gaze a warning that the two of you would be talking about this later.

"Elain!" Azriel loudly starts as he slowly makes his way towards Elain, his awkward manner already making you cringe in discomfort, "Your dress! it's nice. . . and pink. Nice and pink."

It took everything in you not to hang your head into your palm in shame, finding it incredulous how one person could fail so miserably when it came to talking to someone.

Thankfully, if Elain found his behaviour strange she didn't let on, instead replying to his strange attempt of a compliment with an airy giggle and a polite thank you.

"Great! Well um. . ." your ears perk, brows furrowing in confusion as you wait to see what Azriel says next, "Hope you have a nice day!"

With that Azriel swiftly left, abruptly ending the painfully awkward conversation before leaving the garden, hurriedly making his way up the nearest street in order to escape his discomfort. Chasing after your flustered friend, you followed after him, hoping that Elain hadn't noticed you were also there listening in on their conversation.

"Nice and pink? Have a nice day?" you laughed, having caught up to Azriel, “I’ve met Middengard Wyrm’s that flirt better than you just did." Not failing to miss the dusty pink hue that had blossomed across Azriel’s cheeks in wake of his embarrassment. 

“I can flirt,” he swiftly defended, hazel eyes rolling towards the back of his head as he noted the teasing smile which had graced your lips, “I was just caught off guard that’s all.”

“Ah ok, you were caught off guard. Is that the reason why you practically screamed in Elain’s face?” you smirked, working to deepen your friend’s blush until the growing redness spread to his ears.

“I didn’t scream-” Azriel didn’t fail to miss the way your face contorted into a wince at his hopeless denial, his once heated words now converting into a low conscious murmur, “Was it really that bad?”

You stretch out a reassuring hand to come and rest against Azriel’s slumped shoulder, thumb instinctively moving to rub comforting circles into his taut muscle. Eyebrows knitting together in pained sympathy, you answer honestly, “Maybe it was a little pathetic. . .You won't be tending to Elain's garden any time soon if that was anything to go by."

There was no stopping Azriel’s despondent sigh, not even the gentle caress of his shadows against his shaking hands brought the male any solace, the swirling black tendrils failing to sate their master's rising panic as it washed over him.

It was a horrible sight, seeing your friend so dejected. Your heart twinging at the way his anxious breath rattled in his chest. You would offer him your understanding if you could, take his trembling hands into your own and tell Azriel that you were all too familiar with the feeling of getting tongue tied around the person you so longed for. Yet no confession of your shared failures in the romance department would fix this, not when Azriel was the one who owned your heart. Not when you had promised him help in winning over another.

And so you didn’t share your hidden truth with the male, instead opting to lock it away into the darkest depths of your heart. It was a secret you were willing to keep forever, so only to ensure the happiness of your friend. A secret you would carry with you to your grave if Azriel’s plan goes as intended. 

Instead you offer Azriel the only thing you could; your comfort. The supportive hand which had been resting on his shoulder now travelling down his arm. His shadows parting briefly to allow you to lock your fingers with his own, the smoky wisps resuming their soothing dance once your hands were comfortably entwined.

One touch. That was all it took to pull Azriel from the wave of panic that had consumed him. The familiar touch of your palm against his own enough to steady his uneven breaths and calm his shaking hands.

"Its ok," you promise, confident gaze meeting his own uncertain stare, "you've not ruined anything. All you need is a little more confidence and she'll be under your spell. Trust me, one flirty little one liner from you and it will be impossible for her to be anything but in love."

"I can manage one I suppose" Azriel attempts to agree confidently yet his words read more like a question, removing his hand from your own to ruffle his hair in thought.

"Maybe you could ask Lucien for tips, Feyre tells me he's quite the flirt'' you tease, hoping the mention of Lucien's name would spur on Azriel's desire to act on his feelings for Elain.

"I don't need help when it comes to flirting, and certainly not from him" he grit the words through his teeth having predictably taken the bait you had laid out for him.

"Hmm I'm not sure, your skills were a little lacklustre from what I could see" you continue to goad him, each prod and poke working to build your friends confidence bit by bit.

"Lacklustre?" Azriel scoffed in disbelief, all anxiety having been drained from his eyes and replaced with the spark of a challenge.

"You wouldn't have me swooning" you shrug casually, mouth twisting into a playful smirk at Azriel's displeasure.

“No?” Azriel asked in faux surprise, the male taking a slow step towards you, “not even if I did this?”

 A gentle push of the tips of Azriel's fingers against the exposed skin of your chest found you stumbling backwards until you were pressed against the wall. Your teasing smile fading as your shock consumed you, heart fluttering as Azriel's arms came to cage you on either side. “Or this?” he continued, leaning in close enough that the warmth of his breath against your neck began to send shivers down your spine. Your knees wobbling at the intensity of his gaze.

“I thought flirting included words?” you breathed out heavily, trapped under the heat of his gaze.

“Why use words when I could take you apart with less than that?” he lowly whispered into your ear, a glint of darkness in his eyes as a cruel smirk appeared on his lips. You found yourself speechless, entranced by the playfulness of his devilishly handsome features, your deep breaths falling in time with his own as he witnessed your stunned reaction to his words.

"I think Elain will find my flirting perfectly adequate" he smiled, shattering the moment as he mentioned the woman that he truly wished was captured between his arms. Reminding you that his flirtacious quip wasn't for you; it was for her.

"Maybe that's a bit much Az" you state sourly, moving your hand to his chest in order to push him away and slip under his outstretched arm, "I don't know how well Elain will take it if you come on that strong."

"You didn't seem to mind" he answered cheerfully, failing to notice your sudden change in mood, the male still trying to continue his teasing banter.

"I think you'll find there's more to women than just sex and physical attraction" you scoffed, desperately wanting nothing more than to move on from this conversation. Yet Azriel wouldn't provide you with that mercy, his next question almost enough to make you sick.

"What would you say then? To someone you loved, someone you pined after?"

You debated not answering him, dismissing his curiosity to spare you from the pain and embarrassment that would no doubt ensue. Yet a small part of you wondered if this would be your only chance. That perhaps you had the wrong idea, locking away your feelings, maybe all you needed was to get them off your chest. To lift the weight from your shoulders, allow yourself to finally move on from the male who would never be interested in you.

So you took the leap, looking your fear in the face as you stared into Azriel's expectant eyes.

And you confessed.

"I would tell him the truth. Tell him how not a day passes where I don't feel madly, uncontrollably in love with him. That any moment I'm not near him I find myself unable to breathe, unable to be satisfied until I am in his company. And I'd tell him that loving him makes me a fool, that I would never fail to sacrifice my happiness if only to see him smile. That love has made me it's servant and I am all too willing to bow before it."

"Sounds to me like you're an expert in love" Azriel answered after a thoughtful pause, a flicker of a smile working its way onto his face.

"I don't think I know what love is" you replied, still waiting for the moment of relief to come, failing to understand that it was a gift you would never receive.

"Nonsense, he's a lucky guy. I'm sure he feels for you as deeply as you do for him" Azriel cheerfully reassured you, looking absolutely delighted by the prospect of you being in love with someone. Completely unaware that he was the male you were speaking of. That he was the person you would struggle to live without.

And as you shook away the consoling shadow which had tentatively approached you, you wondered if your heart would ever be free from the chains of Azriel's own design.

Part four

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Notes: Thank you to @daily-dose-of-sass for unknowingly falling into my trap and giving me the most perfect pick up line for Azriel to have used 😌

Bit more of a look at the dynamic of their friendship in this one!

Taglist Part 1:

@a-cup-of-nightshade @yearninglustfully @illyrianbitch @ninaduchess @sarawritestories @annaaaaa88 @antiquecultist @madelyncullen @erencvlt @chaytea06 @dxjaaaa @saltedcoffeescotch @spark1epuffba11s @thestartitaness @amysangel @historygeekqueen @thelov3lybookworm @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @willowpains @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife @dreamlandreader @sidthedollface2 @leeknows-wife @riorgail @eve175 @evergreenlark @anuttellaa @daily-dose-of-sass @Jesus-is-me @tothestarsandwhateverend

[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | ch 8.5 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, this chapter contains mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: peach, curses, luxury, alcohol, jungkook's family, they are so gone for each other my dude, explicit content: hickeys, dom!Jungkook, big dick!Jungkook, jerking off, oral sex (male receiving), exhibitionism (sort of but not really), protected sex, marking, ass slapping, praising, clit play

☆word count: 6.7k

☆a/n: tried writing smut in jk's pov, i hope you guys liked it <3 also this is supposed to be a drabble but it's literally a full chapter HAHA hope it doesn't disappoint :')

☆join the discord server here!

☆series masterpost

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Jungkook has been happy. Ever since you got to New York yesterday, he’s been happy. It’s a feeling he’s not accustomed to when it comes to the city he grew up in, yet one he’s finding to love far more than he ever imagined he would.

Maybe it’s you, and the dress you got yesterday. To say that you stole the breath from his lungs when you stepped out of the changing room would be an understatement. The second he saw you, he felt like all the stars had aligned in his night sky, with you as the centerpiece. It felt like you were the center to his universe, and frankly, it’s a feeling he wants to get used to. 

If he wasn’t sure about you before yesterday, he sure as hell is now. No matter what Taehyung says, what anyone says, he knows he wants to be with you.

He can’t wait for you to charm his brother, too. He’s not stupid enough to believe you’ll charm his parents as well - they are extremely classist, and they hate everything that Jungkook likes. You could be the goddess of a religion and they would still hate you. But Junghyun… Jungkook hopes Junghyun will love you.

Something aches in Jungkook’s chest, because he should have warned you about his parents. Should have told you, and anxiety stabs him in the gut. He glances at you, and you look just as anxious as him, which he reckons is comforting somehow.

He’s not alone for this engagement party. Not when you’re here, even though maybe he was a dick not to tell you anything.

“Smile, peach,” he forces out as he nudges you with an elbow.

You glance at him, your light makeup accentuating your features in a way that makes him gulp as your gazes connect.

“You smile,” you throw back at him, and he finds he can’t resist.

He smiles, laughing lowly. “Do you want something to drink?”

He reckons it could help. Both you and him, chasing away the lingering anxiety.

You look down at yourself, wincing. “I’m afraid I’ll ruin the dress.”

You’re adorable. Downright adorable, and he holds in a laugh as he looks at you, heart fluttering in his chest. “So you’re just going to stand still the whole evening because you’re afraid to ruin your clothes?”

A muscle feathers on your jaw as you roll your eyes. “Precisely.”

“Loosen up, peach,” Jungkook teases.

He hopes you know that he wants you to be comfortable more than anything. That he wants you to prove everyone wrong, to prove that you belong to his strange, ridiculous world. And maybe that’s why he invited you here: to prove himself, too, that you can handle being in his life, with no secrets between you. Because he knows you deserve it, he’s just afraid his world will chew you out.

You don’t deserve that.

“You know what?” you let out. “Sure, I’ll take a drink.”

Jungkook sighs in relief, and he grabs glasses for you and him from a passing waitress, and you drink while talking about the skyline, which he has to admit is not half as beautiful as you.

Not that he would ever tell you.

You’re almost finished with your drinks when Jungkook glances at the door, noticing his parents walking in. Everything stops, and he feels like someone is clutching his heart, a second away from crushing it in their hold. His mother notices him, and he stiffens even more, preparing for the inevitable fight.

“Are you okay?” you ask, resting a hand on his arm.

Jungkook startles, and he pulls at his piercings, nodding curtly. “All good.”

“Is that…” you trail off.

“Yep.”

“What should I do?” you ask, tugging on his arm.

Jungkook finally looks at you, and he wonders if you can hear the loud beats of his heart. Hell, he thinks he even has trouble breathing, and he gulps before saying, “Just be yourself.”

Because you’re perfect just the way you are, and he wouldn’t want you to change, ever.

You offer him a small smile, and his gaze drops to it. It warms something in his chest, soothes him like a lullaby, and he finds he’s finally able to breathe. He’d thank you for it, for your presence here, but his mother is upon you, and he readies himself to face her.

“Jungkook,” she says, voice just as grating as it always is.

“Mother.”

“Glad to see you came around and decided to come.”

He doesn’t reply right away. Instead, he wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you just a little closer. Your presence is steadying, and he knows that, for the first time in his life, he won’t fail in this fight against his mother.

“I wanted to introduce Y/n to the family,” he says.

His mother looks at you, and he hates the way she cocks an eyebrow in judgment.

“I don’t think we know each other,” she says, contempt dripping from her tone.

Jungkook wants to intervene, but you’re ready. You reply, “I don’t think so.” You bow your head, much more polite than Jungkook has even seen you, before adding, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Jungkook’s father, who’s been standing next to his wife the whole time, pats his wife’s hand before leaving, like he doesn’t even think you’re worthy of his attention.

It’s nothing new - Jungkook knows he is not even worthy of his father’s attention.

“Likewise,” his mother replies to you. She scans you up and down, noting the dress Jungkook got for you, and then her gaze stops on your heels. “Nice shoes.”

Now, Jungkook is done. You don’t deserve his mother’s contempt, not when you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

“Mother,” he intervenes.

“You thought dressing her up in a nice dress would make us forget that she’s not from our class?”

Jungkook hates her. He’s always hated her, felt like an outcast in his own family, but the insult makes it starker, truer, like the hate he holds for his mother is a law of the universe.

“Excuse me?” you let out, surprising Jungkook.

Surprising his mother, too, as she glances at you, eyes slightly widened. “At least she’s got a tongue on her.”

Because obviously that’s something his mother respects, in her own twisted way. 

“And I’ll ask you to make a fucking effort for once,” Jungkook spits in his mother’s face.

She frowns. “Do not curse, boy. It doesn’t suit you.”

Jungkook sees red, and he laughs dryly. His mother clenches her jaw, and he wonders if he should tell her just how shitty of a person she is. Instead, he holds her gaze, refusing to back down from the fight like he would have if you weren’t here.

It lasts for longer than he expected, his mother not once blinking. But then she looks away, and Jungkook almost screams victoriously as she looks at you again.

“Where do you come from?” she asks.

Jungkook listens to your answer, still reeling from the victory against his mother.

“What do your parents do for a living?”

He’s surprised that his mother is trying. That she’s actually talking to you, and he thinks maybe you actually impressed her more than he imagined you would. Which, he’d thank his stars for it, because he really wants you in his life.

“My mother is a nurse,” you reply. “And I do not know my father.”

Jungkook’s mother blinks once before looking at him again. “Junghyun will be happy you came.”

She turns on her heels and walks away, and Jungkook looks at her back. He waits until she’s out of earshot and out of sight before glancing at you, his heart skipping a beat in his chest by your calm beauty.

“I apologize for this,��� he says, and his arm drops from your shoulders.

“I think I’m starting to get why you wanted me to come with you,” you say, meeting his gaze.

He sighs in defeat. “I honestly didn’t think she would be flat-out rude like that.” He downs what’s left of his champagne, hating that there aren't more than a few sips in his glass. He puts it away on the tray of a server as she walks past, before saying, “I promise we can go home as soon as Junghyun shows up and sees that I came.”

Because he wants Junghyun to see you. Wants his brother to like you, to approve of you, because his parents never would.

But at least Junghyun can.

“We can stay longer too,” you reassure him. “I can handle the aristocracy.”

Jungkook can’t help his laugh, especially not when you look at him with that mischievous twinkle in your eyes. “The aristocracy?”

You nod wisely. “Yeah. Because obviously we’re not from the same class.”

He’s falling in love with you. Inevitably, irreversibly falling in love with you, and he’ll forever be thankful for meeting you.

“Fuck, peach.”

And just like that, you fall back in your usual playful banter, and Jungkook forgets all about his unease. It helps that you drink more, the alcohol numbing his senses slightly, and Jungkook introduces you to some of his cousins, those that he knows aren’t as judgy as his parents. Though there’s a language barrier, Jungkook translates for you, and he’s decently buzzed by the time Jungyun shows up, his fiancée on his arm.

Jungyun grins at the sight of Jungkook, immediately making his way towards where Jungkook is standing with you. Jungkook prepares to make the introductions, his heartbeat picking up in his chest as he can’t help the anxiety from flooding back in.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” Jungyun says as he stops in front of you, pulling Jungkook into a tight embrace.

Jungkook grins. “I thought it’d be a good surprise.”

“It sure is,” Junghyun agrees, pulling away. He glances at you, offering you a welcoming smile. “And you are?”

“My girlfriend,” Jungkook says before you can say your name. He’s proud to say it too, like you’re the best thing he’s done in his entire life. And though right now it’s false, and you’re not really his girlfriend, he really does believe you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him. “From college.”

“Nice to meet you,” Junghyun says.

Jungkook is happy after that. Laughing lightly, smiling wide, and he loves how more comfortable you seem now. Because Junghyun and Nara, his fiancée, are welcoming, much nicer than his parents were earlier, and you enjoy their company until they excuse themselves to go greet the other guests in the room. 

Jungkook smiles at you. “Do you want me to go grab a refill for you?”

You nod, gaze shining. “Yes, please.”

Jungkook obliges, walking away to do so. He has to go to the refreshment table, so it takes him almost a minute before he’s walking back towards you. He notices his mother with you, and his grip tightens on the champagne flutes he’s holding, so much so he thinks they might shatter in his hands. The second you catch sight of him you walk away from his mother, and the tears pooling in your gaze are enough to make him want to go up to his mother and punch some sense into her. 

“What did she tell you?” he asks in the gentlest voice he can summon.

“Nothing,” you say, and he knows it for the lie it is as you blink some tears away.

“I’m really sorry,” he apologizes. “She’s…”

“It’s whatever,” you interrupt before he could finish his sentence. “I just want to spend time with you.”

After that, Jungkook finds he can’t leave your side. And so he stays with you, enjoys his time with you, too, because there’s nothing else he’d rather do right now. Later, after his brother does a speech, he suggests to go eat something, mostly because he’s starving and the entrées they are serving here would never be enough, but also because he wants intimacy with you, a moment just for you two to erase everything his mother said to you.

He knows she likely told you something shitty, because you seem uncomfortable, like it’s troubling your thoughts. He doesn’t want to mention it right now, though, not when you’re still at the engagement party.

You accept Jungkook’s suggestion to head to a restaurant nearby, and Jungkook looks at you. Truly looks at you - you’re an angel overlooking the city, in that blue dress he got you.

He feels small in your presence, and it’s a humbling experience.

“Then wait for me here,” he says and, unable to help himself, he leans closer to press a kiss on your forehead.

The look on your face is entirely worth it, making his heart beat just a little louder in his chest, and he walks over to his father and brother with his heart feeling full and warm, a feeling he’s not too accustomed with, but a feeling he definitely wishes to get used to.

Junghyun notices him first, and his eyes slide to you over Jungkook’s shoulder as Jungkook stops in front of his brother.

“We’re leaving,” Jungkook says, not wanting to beat around the bush when you’re waiting for him.

His brother cocks an eyebrow, chuckling. “Not her crowd?”

Jungkook widens his gaze. “What?”

Junghyun sighs, looking almost apologetic, and he leans closer to speak directly in Jungkook’s ear, low enough for only him to hear.

“Listen, Jungkook, you know she shouldn’t be here,” Junghyun says. “She’s not from our social circle, the parents still want you to marry Gabrielle, and they will literally drag Y/n to hell if that means you break up with her.” He pauses, and Jungkook feels his heart sinking in his chest, all the warmth gone and replaced with winter cold. “She’s clearly just in it for the money anyway.”

Jungkook clenches his jaw, not knowing what to answer. Not expecting Junghyun to say something like that at all, but then again, Junghyun is his mother’s son. Jungkook should have expected it. And he wants to say you didn’t even know anything about the money before yesterday, so he clearly knows you’re not in for the money, but he’s silenced.

Especially when he knows you’re not in at all anyway. You’re just a fake girlfriend he invited so that this party wouldn’t be so excruciating. Yet his heart sinks all the same as he realizes it, like the Titanic headed for the bottom of the ocean. 

“Anyways,” Junghyun adds. “Have fun while it lasts.”

He pulls away, enough to look Jungkook in the eye, though Jungkook can’t find the strength to hold his brother’s gaze. Junghyun scoffs condescendingly, and then he’s walking away, their father in tow.

Jungkook hasn’t spoken to his father in years now. Ever since he decided to study at that college almost four years ago, instead of attending Harvard like Junghyun. It still hurts to be ignored by him, part of Jungkook still begging for his father’s attention despite never really having it, and Jungkook feels his nails digging into his palms as he clenches his fists.

He watches Junghyun leaving, their father leaving, while his heart bleeds. Does Junghyun know how much Jungkook wanted his approval? 

He was stupid enough to believe he’d get it. Hell, he’d thought you’d charm Junghyun easily, yet it seems he was wrong. 

Of course he was. He’s always fucking wrong anyway, isn’t he? 

It’s hard to think about something else after that. To escape the prison that’s been built around his mind, and when he finds himself alone in the elevator with you, he does the only thing he thinks could help.

He kisses you stupid, kisses you dumb, craving to remind himself that you’re real. That you’re here with him, that what his family believes doesn’t matter. And it doesn’t. Not when you’re with him. Not when he apologizes for his family again, and you tell him that you’re happy to be here with him. It undoes him, and he decides to let it go. 

To let his family go, to focus on you. You’re the center of his universe, after all.

And so, for the rest of the evening, Jungkook decides to show you how much he appreciates that you came with him to this stupid engagement party. He forces himself to smile and laugh, and after the first fifteen minutes, it comes naturally to him, like it always does when he’s with you.

He thinks, the evening can only get better from there on. And it does - the club you find yourself in later is electrifying, buzzing with an energy Jungkook loves, and he drinks with you, dances with you, kisses you like you really are his girlfriend.

Like Taehyung doesn’t exist, like it’s just you and him. And for a very selfish moment, Jungkook wishes it could be that simple.

“Fuck, JK,” you whisper when you pull away from said kiss, breathing raggedly.

“What?” Jungkook lets out.

“Kissing you like this, where anyone can see…” you trail off, glancing at the crowd. Jungkook waits for you to finish, his blood slowly heating up in his veins. “It’s turning me on.”

He’ll go insane. As a matter of fact, he thinks he’s gone insane a long time ago. But right now he wants you so bad he almost wants to fuck in the bathroom of the club, which he reckons would be disgusting.

You deserve much better than that.

“Peach,” he says, voice low and husky. He feels his dick twitching in his pants, his arousal suddenly so intense he needs to make you his. “Then I’ll bring you here more often. I’ll show everyone that you’re mine, mmh?”

He doesn’t know how he makes it to his childhood home, later. Doesn’t know how he manages to keep his hands off you the whole way from the club to the condominium, except for holding your hand. He’s relieved he can steal a languid kiss on your lips when you ride the elevator, and he’s about to explode by the time you walk into the condo.

He wants you. So damn bad, yet when you say you have to take a shower, Jungkook agrees. If only so that he can calm down, because he knows he’ll bust the second you start fucking if he doesn’t calm down first.

You head to his room, and Jungkook watches you as you watch the city skyline. You’re beautiful, so beautiful he wonders how he’ll be able to survive if he can’t make you his.

“Do you want to take a shower with me?” you ask as he’s helping you out of your coat.

His mind empties out, and it turns him on even more. “Want me to wash your hair?” he teases, flicking your nose.

You scrunch up your nose as you instinctively move your face back, and he can’t help but smile at the sight.

“Yes,” you say, smirking mischievously. “Maybe if you’re nice I’ll wash your back.”

He narrows his gaze. “I’m always nice.” And then he walks to the walk-in wardrobe, putting your coat away and then taking his off.

“Are you?” you ask as he walks back into his bedroom.

He can’t help himself. He bends down, picking you up bridal style, and he chuckles as you yelp. “Always,” he says, pecking your cheek as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“You scared the shit out of me,” you grumble as Jungkook carries you to the bathroom, setting you down on the counter.

“I’d say I’m sorry but I’m not even a little bit sorry,” he teases, and he steals a quick kiss on your lips.

He walks away, heading towards the shower so that he can turn it on. He feels your eyes on the back of his head as he does so, and he glances back, smiling softly. His heart flutters as you smile back, and it takes everything in him to focus on the task at hand.

“How hot do you want the shower to be?” he asks.

You smirk, and it nearly undoes him entirely. “What kind of hot are you talking about?”

He laughs, rolling his eyes. “Water temperature, dummy.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. “Just put it how you like it.”

He nods, and he adjusts the settings until all the shower heads are on, steam soon wafting out of the shower. He then walks back to you, toying with his piercings. He watches as you spread your legs for him, and it’s so sinful he thinks he won’t be able to make it through the shower.

Jungkook manages to wrap his arms around your middle, and he pauses as you rest your forehead on his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” you ask in a murmur.

He wonders if you can hear the beats of his heart in his chest as he picks you up, and then puts you on the floor.

“Gotta get you out of your dress, mmh?” He lightly brushes his fingers on your arms as you hold his gaze, your pupils blown wide. “Turn around, peach.”

You obey, and Jungkook starts to unzip your dress, admiring every inch of skin revealed. Once he’s done, he pushes the dress off your shoulders, holding on to it just long enough to press a soft kiss on the back of your shoulder, and then he lets go. The dress falls, pooling around your ankles, and Jungkook feels so much for you he wonders how he’ll make it out alive.

“You know,” he breathes. He eyes your perked nipples in the mirror in front of you, and he wraps his arms around you, pinching the sensitive buds. “Every time I see you, you get more beautiful.”

“JK…” you breathe out.

“It’s true,” he insists. He turns you around, his eyes getting lost in yours. “There’s something about you…”

That makes me insane, is what he was going to say. But you pull him down into a soft kiss, one that means so much more than words ever could. At least to Jungkook, and he holds your waist as you kiss, his heart soaring in his chest.

“Peach…” he sighs.

He watches you as your eyes flutter open, stark emotion swirling in their depths.

“I think you’re supposed to undress too,” you whisper.

He chuckles, and he forces himself to take a step back. “Wanna help?”

You gulp, yet don’t answer as you raise your hands between the both of you so that you can unbutton his shirt. Jungkook watches you as you do so, his eyes never once shying away from your pretty features. When you’re done, you push his shirt off and rest your hands flat on his chest, right above his racing pulse.

Jungkook takes over then, taking off his pants, and they fall to the floor to meet your dress and his shirt. 

“I’m so going to take my time with you tonight,” he breathes.

He cups your cheek, thumb swiping at your skin, and you lean your head into his palm.

“Yeah?” you let out.

He tilts your head back with a finger to kiss you softly. It grows hungrier, needier, yet he pulls away. “Definitely.” His hands slowly go down your body, stopping at the hem of your panties. “Can I take this off?”

You nod. Without an ounce of hesitation Jungkook drops to his knees. He hits the floor hard, and he’d wince if he wasn’t entranced by you. Instead, he slowly takes off your underwear, trying his best to ignore how your pussy is already glistening for him.

The second he straightens, Jungkook takes off his underwear too, and he sighs in relief as his dick is freed. You eye the precum leaking from his slit, and Jungkook wonders if you can see how he’s shaking from the restraint of not taking you right now.

“Shit, Jungkook,” you breathe.

“I know,” he lets out. “I’m fucking hard for you.” He chuckles and grabs your face to force you to meet his gaze again. “From the mess I saw in your panties, I know you’re already soaked for me too.” He pecks your lips, and then your forehead. “But shower first, right?”

He wants you to say fuck it, to touch him right now. When you kiss him, he thinks you’ll succumb to the desire too, and he sucks on your bottom lip, teasing it with his teeth.

“Shower first,” you agree the second you pull away.

Jungkook hides his disappointment behind a smirk and a wink, and then he walks over to the shower, stepping in as you follow him. He closes the glass door behind you, waiting for a second as you turn to look at him.

“What?” you ask.

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what is going on, just that he’s drunk on you and it’s the best feeling he’s ever experienced before.

“Nothing,” he replies. “Pass me the soap?”

You nod, and then the shower passes in a blur of him washing you and you washing him. Jungkook can’t really produce any coherent thoughts, especially not as you say, “Now that you’re clean…” You smirk, and Jungkook knows he’s about to crash into his lust for you when you add, “Maybe I can actually take care of you?”

You really make him insane. Indeed, the second you drop to your knees, Jungkook goes insane, feral, so much so he thinks he’d be your slave if you asked.

“Yeah?” he lets out. “You want to suck me?”

He carefully redirects the shower heads away from your face, and then you jerk him off, once, and he reckons he might be in love with you. You swirl your tongue around his tip, the sight sinfully hot, and then you suck on it lightly.

“Fuck…” he breathes out, and then he leans a hand on the wall for support he knows he’ll clearly need. “Don’t be shy.”

You smirk before dragging your tongue on the side of his dick, from base to top, never once breaking eye contact. Especially not as you wrap your lips around him, hollowing your cheeks as you take most of him in. Your mouth is hot and wet, and Jungkook moans softly as he hits the back of your throat, cursing underneath his breath.

Your mouth is heaven. Your mouth is ecstasy in its purest form, and Jungkook is swimming in bliss when you suck harder, your eyes fluttering shut as you start bobbing your head on him, jerking him off at the same time. He instinctively holds your head, yet he lets you take the lead as you start moaning around him, the vibrations sending lightning strikes to his balls.

He clenches his jaw around his next curse, his head throwing back as you tease his frenulum with your tongue. His breathing is ragged, and he realizes he’s about to come the second you take him all the way in again, and he feels your throat closing around him.

“Peach,” he moans, quickly pulling out of your mouth so that he doesn’t come.

You lick his slit, and his balls tighten. “That feels good?”

He nods. “Way too much.” He chuckles breathlessly, then adds, “I’m going to fall in love with your mouth if you keep sucking me like that.”

He wants to pull you away, but you’re back on his dick and he feels his climax lingering nearby, though it doesn’t hit yet. His dick is rock hard, and it only gets worse when you tentatively tease his balls with one hand. He moans, not caring that the sound might be weird. All he wants is your pussy on him, now.

“Peach,” he lets out, a whiny sound he’d be embarrassed for with anyone other than you. “Stop. I want to fuck you now.”

You pull away, offering him an innocent look that is far too sinful for him, especially as you keep jerking him off quickly. “You don’t think you’d be able to go for round two?”

You’re a brat, and he fucking loves that about you. He chuckles, slightly shaking his head. “Not when I drank. And I really just want to make you feel good too.”

He pulls you up to your feet and, unable to resist, he pushes you against the wall as he ravishes a languid kiss on your lips. You moan as he pushes his tongue in your mouth, and a second later, he feels your fingers wrapping around his shaft as you jerk him off again.

He hisses, pulling away from the kiss, and then glances outside of the shower at his discarded pants. “I have condoms in there,” he says before meeting your gaze again. “But you deserve better than to be fucked in a shower, mmh?”

He means it. He wants to take you in his childhood bed, to feel your pussy wrap around his dick where the whole city lies at your feet. And even though some twisted part of him wants people to see, when you’re in his room a few moments later, he asks, “Do you want me to close the curtains?”

“You think people can see us?” you let out, glancing at the windows.

“Maybe if they’re looking up here,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s never bothered me, but I’ve never been with anyone in this bed, so…”

Your gaze widens in surprise, and it’s a comically cute expression on your features. “You’ve never fucked here?”

He realizes the confession too late, and he scratches the back of his neck, his cheeks burning. “I’ve never brought a girl here at all.”

You let out a laugh. “I’m sorry what?” 

All he can do is wink at you, eyes going down your frame. They stop on your perked nipples, sitting so prettily on your chest he wants to touch them, to have them in his mouth again. 

“You’re the first girl who’s ever come here,” he says. “The first I’ll fuck in this bed.” Lust clouds his thoughts again, heating up his blood and making his dick twitch. “And maybe I do want the city to see me fucking you. I want them to see how beautiful you are when you come.”

A few steps towards you is enough for him to kiss you again, savagely, his desire for you getting the best of him. He pushes you back towards the bed, up until you fall, looking up at him. 

“I’ll be right back.”

He goes to retrieve the condom from his wallet, and he makes sure it’s safe to use on the way back. A moment later he’s putting it on his dick, eyes trailing to you when he’s done. He steps closer to you, kneeling between your thighs as you spread your legs wide open for him. Your pussy shines from your arousal, and he has half a thought that he wants to taste you again, though he needs you on him before.

“Already?” he teases you as he strokes himself slowly, mindlessly, at the sight of your spread thighs. “I thought you’d need a little bit of foreplay before.”

“Trust me,” you let out. “I’m already wet enough for you to rearrange my guts.”

He knows. He can see it, and it’s so hot he might burst into flame right then and there. 

He moves closer to you, rubbing his dick on your folds to collect your juices. “You are.” He aims for your clit, smirking as your mouth falls open, your eyelids fluttering shut. “So you want me to fuck you? To rearrange your guts?”

“Jungkook…”

The sound of his name in that breathy tone of yours almost makes him come on the spot.

He pushes his tip in, stopping himself there. “Tell me what you want, peach.”

“I want you,” you say in a whiny whisper.

“Where?” he asks, and he pulls out to rub on your clit again.

You reach for his dick, and Jungkook grabs your hand, pinning your wrist over your head. “Be nice, mmh?”he says in your ear, and then he straightens again.

“I want you inside of me, Jungkook.”

“Yeah?” He pushes in, stopping with just the tip in again. Even then you still feel heavenly, and he knows the sex tonight will be amazing. “Like this?”

“Fuck, stop teasing,” you grumble.

Jungkook laughs, but he too is done with the teasing, needing you more than he needs oxygen. He slams home, pushing all the way in until he feels his balls hitting your ass. You moan, and he wants to give you time to adjust, wants to be gentle with you, yet he’s possessed by lust. Indeed, he grabs your waist, and he starts pounding into you almost right away, establishing a wild rhythm of skin slapping against skin.

Your walls clench around him, the friction so good on his dick he imagines just how good it would be without the condom on. 

He bends down slightly, aiming for a better angle, and you moan loudly, indicating that he’s reached his goal. You say his name, and this time he bends down all the way, leaning on an elbow. He holds your shoulders in place so that his thrusts don’t push you back on the bed, and then he’s jackhammering into you again, his bed starting to bang into the wall.

You’re a whiny moaning mess underneath him, and when your nails dig into the skin of his back, Jungkook grunts. His pace doesn’t falter, not when he thinks he’s in nirvana, and though sweat is clinging to his forehead, he never stops.

“Shit, peach,” he curses, and then he pulls out. He wants to see your ass, to feel the way that his pelvis hits it whenever he pushes in, and so he spins you around, and you let out a surprised sound as he repositions himself over you.

His dick rests between your ass cheeks for a fraction of a second before he pulls away enough to align it with your entrance, and then he’s pushing in again. He doesn’t move right away, instead massaging your ass, loving the way it feels in his hands.

You have the best ass he’s ever seen. He slaps it, admiring the way the skin tinges with red, and you push your hips back into him, seeking friction.

“You want some control, mmh?” he asks, and he pulls back to give you some, watching as you start fucking yourself on him, his dick going in and out of you in a relentless race, coming out covered with your juices each time. He hits your cervix, and you roll your hips. It’s almost enough to make him come again, but he holds it in, not wanting this to end already.

“You’re so big,” you let out. “So deep.”

He curses. “And you take me so well, peach.” He slaps your ass again, massaging the sting away. “Like your pussy was made for me.”

“It was.”

Damn right it was. You’re his - no matter what happens, you have to be his in the end.

He thrusts once, so hard the bed slides on the floor, and you rock forward, though he holds you in place.

“Good girl,” he says in a low, husky voice, and then he goes back to pounding into you as you clutch the sheets. 

This time, he’s determined to make you come, and he leans on one hand, wrapping his free hand under you, blindly searching for your clit. He knows he found it the second you moan unabashedly loudly, and he rubs on it in quick circles as he keeps fucking you, your pussy growing impossibly tight. A few snaps of his hips later and you’re coming around him, your walls pulsing on his dick so devilishly good he lets out a moan.

You, on the other hand, have been moaning since you started coming, and it just keeps on coming as your back arches into him, your legs twitching. He milks it out of you, slowing down to help you ride the wave, and when you finally calm down, he stops, pressing a feathersoft kiss on the side of your face.

“You came hard.”

“Holy fuck,” you curse.

He chuckles. “One day, I want to feel you come on my dick without a condom on.”

The mental image that it gives him unleashes him completely, and he rams into you, chasing his own high. It almost hits when he feels you coming again, yet for some reason, he can’t climax, his orgasm evading him. He pulls out then, flipping you on your back, and then he’s kissing you, pushing back into you.

He establishes a slower, deeper rhythm, his lips never leaving yours. Your hands get lost in his hair, and you pull on the strands just enough to hurt a little. He loves it more than he’d admit it, the pain setting his nerves alight with desire, and his balls tighten, a sign that he’s finally nearing his high.

You wrap your legs around his waist, and he hits deeper then, the drag of you on his dick so completely perfect he knows he’ll finally be able to come.

More than that, he knows he’ll never be able to fuck anyone else again.

“I’ll fall in love with your pussy,” he whispers against your lips.

He means more. He means you, in your entirety, but he’s not stupid enough to say it, not when it would probably scare you away.

He rests his forehead against yours, and your grip on him tightens.

“JK…”

“Peach,” he echoes. He kisses you again, all the while fucking you slow. Once he pulls away from the kiss, he straightens, going back to kneeling between your legs. “Now be nice and let me come, mmh?”

You smirk, your blown wide pupils finding his. “Come for me.”

Fuck.

“On it.”

He’s close. He’s so fucking close all he can do is pound his hips into yours, watching you as you moan, your nails digging in his thighs. He nears his high like the crescendo of a song, and then he explodes, his motions growing sloppy as his dick twitches and twitches. He releases his load in the condom the second he pushes deep inside of you and he stills there, cursing and grunting as he comes.

He doesn’t move for a while, just enjoying the feeling of your pussy around him, and then he pulls out, lying next to you. You’re visibly fucked out, and he’s proud of himself for it - he hopes no one’s ever fucked you like he fucks you.

His hand rests on your stomach, and you slowly regain your breath. Jungkook feels the need to clean himself - the feeling of his dick swimming in his cum growing uncomfortable - and so he kisses the side of your face, going to the bathroom. He quickly cleans up, needing to be back with you as soon as he can. He walks back to the bedroom with a wet washcloth, and he lets you clean yourself as he looks outside, admiring the way the rain on the windows distort the lights of the city.

You go to the bathroom, and Jungkook settles in bed as he waits for you to come back. 

“Come here,” he says as he opens his arms for you to come cuddle.

You do so, pushing one leg between his as you wrap an arm around his waist. He feels content, perfectly so, his heart so full and warm in his chest he feels like maybe he’s born again. Maybe he didn’t live before you, and you blew life into his lungs, into his heart and soul.

He’s falling hard. So hard, and though he should be scared, he finds he isn’t, not when he’s falling for you.

There’s nothing scary about falling in love with you.

Read chapter eight here!

☆☆☆☆☆

soooo how did you guys like it?? jk is so in love with her, help :')

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate

[sorcerersseestars]

LIMERENCE (II)

Gojo Satoru x gn!reader

part i here

summary: Gojo is uncharacteristically insecure and unsure to the point of double guessing himself—something practically unheard of for the self-proclaimed Honored One. Meanwhile, the ever-feared blood-laden flowers make an unwelcome appearance.

word count: 6.7k

warnings: mentions of sickness and blood, descriptions of vomiting (caution to fellow ppl with emetophobia), characters are anxious and stressed!, cussing (obvs), use of (Y/N), kidnapping!

genre: hanahaki disease au, hurt/comfort, DRAMA

a/n: Here is part 2 (finally lol)! It is a whole 6.7k words (😫) to make up for not updating until now haha. This chapter features serious!Gojo and worried!Gojo 😳. It seems out of character but it’s intentional (or so I claim). Also, I kinda make a pun out of Utahime’s name—hime (姫) means princess in Japanese! Two last notes: for clarification—I use italics to emphasize things, but also for characters’ thoughts. Geto is still alive (still excommunicated tho) in this timeline. More notes at the end of the chapter!

“Hey, ‘Hime, when’s your lunch break today?”

He hears a scoff that hardly conceals the crackly laugh that follows through his speakers. Her laugh is delicate and bright, even over the phone.

“Don’t call me that, Gojo. Never been into the princess thing.”

“We’ve been over this, it’s Satoru. And what should I call you then? Hime is perfect, it’s literally in your name.”

“I’ll call you Satoru if you call me by my real name: Utahime.”

“You’re so boringgg! Come on!” He whines, pretending to pout.

Utahime breathes in sharply at his words, “Satoru…you shouldn’t say things like that.”

Gojo stops walking. His brow creases in confusion: this is how he has always behaved, with obviously facetious and playful words. Even the people that claim they can’t stand him the most, like Shoko and Nanami, recognize when his words are intentionally over the top or ridiculous. Utahime also knows this: he has not concealed this aspect of his personality from her.

He can’t stop his next words from being spoken with a twinge of annoyance. “I was kidding, you know. Is something wrong?”

Utahime sighs, “No, no. Sorry, I’m just a bit stressed since the higher-ups asked for a meeting with me. Have no idea what it’s about…”

“They did? So, you’re not free for lunch? Please say you are…”

His words feel unnatural and stilted, but he brushes the feeling aside. He’s probably just nervous since it’s her, right?

“Yeah, I’m going to my meeting in a few, but I should be able to make it. Could you get the reservation for us?” Utahime asks, tone leaning on snippy.

“Mm, maybe. What’s the magic word?” He teases with a playful tone, trying to lighten her mood. This should work, it should make her feel better. He has experience with this.

“C’mon Gojo, not now,” She groans, apparently disgruntled. “But, fine, could you please make the reservation?”

He frowns. Not exactly the reaction he anticipated.

“Okay, but next time you gotta call me Satoru,” He says with a small awkward chuckle, this time easing up a bit on his teasing tone. “I’ll let you off the hook this time, though.”

“Sure,” She snorts, but not in the way that she would if she thought it was funny. It’s a sardonic snort, rather, and he would bet money that her eyes are rolling.

A loud click signals the end of conversation, but his phone remains pressed to his ear. He lowers it slowly, a strange feeling swirling in his chest. It’s an uneasy, heavy feeling from deep down, but he can’t discern what exactly it means.

“Why would I expect that to work?” He mutters to himself. “That’s so annoying, who would tolerate that?”

Suddenly, an image flashes under his eyelids, almost making him flinch at how intensely it conjures itself. A vivid apparition of you doubled over in laughter appears in his mind. It’s a memory, he realizes: you’re leaning on him as tears part from your eyes, unable to catch your breath due to how hard you’re laughing at one of his horrible, stupid jokes.

He remembers this moment well. You had been crying for real before—quietly sniffling, trying to hide it from him. He knew that you hated crying in front of others—trying to always appear strong, he knew this feeling well—so he started direct attention away from it with the corniest jokes he could make. That’s when your tears, first full of the hurt that he could clearly see in your crumpled expression, turned into ones of relief and joy. Your eyes had sparkled with some other emotion he couldn’t identify—something familiar, something that made him feel warm in the chest, but also made him feel so, so scared.

He never did figure out what it was. Or, rather, he has tried not to dwell on it. Every time it pops into his head, he pushes it down, the fear rising in him each time he comes closer to the answer.

Utahime never made him feel like that. That must be better. He never feels scared like that when he thinks of his feelings for her. That must be better, it has to be.

He enjoys talking to Utahime. He likes that he can get under her skin with little effort, likes how easily he can get a rise out of her: and most of the time, she’s amused by it, giggling and slapping his arm. He’s never scared with Utahime, but…why does something feel wrong?

His fingers, typing in his name for the reservation, pause and begin to tremble when he sees what he typed. He typed your name. His eyes widen beneath his blindfold—he’s grateful it helps to conceal his expression, even if nobody he knows is around. In truth, this is partly why he seldom removes it; he masks his true emotions more often than not. Not that anyone suspects it, though, too convinced by his saccharine smiles and forever jocular personality.

The blue horizontal line blinks in and out of existence as his fingers hover over his keyboard. Your name, though written in normal text, appears bolded to him: it sucks his attention away from anything else on his screen. He begins to break out in a sweat.

Sweating just from their name? How pathetic…

He shakes his head, frantically backspacing, trying to erase all traces of you from his mind. He’s been trying to do this for months, ever since he began to distance himself from you. There is a legitimate reason he has been giving you the cold shoulder, but it feels like an excuse to drive away this fear that grips him when he thinks of that warmth, that sparkle in your eyes.

Fuck. Now he can’t get that image of you out of his mind—his chest aches, his breathing comes quicker, but he does not know why.

He walks almost endlessly in the town he booked the restaurant in, in a pace-like fashion. His large stature and height make the brisk pace he walks at look absurdly hurried to passerbys: they stare at him unabashedly and he barely notices.

It’s only when he checks his phone that he realizes how much time has passed since he called Utahime. His reservation is soon: he will be late if he doesn’t start walking there now. Shit.

His breath comes heavy when he finally reaches the restaurant. It’s a casual yet nice ramen place—something familiar yet suitable for a lunch date. He’s wearing a baby blue button down shirt, nice slacks, and trades in his blindfold for heavily shaded sunglasses: also suitable for a lunch date.

A date. Yes, that’s what he’s on. A nice lunch date with a girl whom he kissed before the first date. A bit untraditional, not that he would be one to mind.

He approaches the hostess, about to ask for a table for two, but then he spots a familiar red ribbon perfectly adorning the dark strands of hair she always pulls back. She’s already here, sitting alone in the corner.

Gojo sighs. Fuck, ‘messed up again.

He hurriedly stumbles over to Utahime, probably looking a bit disheveled. She gives him a questioning glance at his appearance—Gojo laughs and immediately plasters on an easy smile.

“Hey,” He says nonchalantly, slowly lowering himself into the chair opposite her.

“Hey. You’re late,” She notes, but she doesn’t sound as bothered as he thought she would. “Did something happen? You look…like something happened.”

He goes along with it, sighing dramatically, “How’d you know? Yeah, Yaga was bothering me about some mission stuff. Dumb paperwork I’m supposed to do and whatever.”

She smiles, but it’s tight lipped, “Of course. But that doesn’t explain why you’re all sweaty.”

“I am?” He questions, feigning confusion, but his next words are partly true. “Ah, well, I realized I was gonna be late since he was pestering me so much. Guess I walked too fast.”

“Hmm,” Is all she says. She stirs the tea in front of her with a small spoon, expression blank as she does so.

Once he realizes she isn’t going to initiate talking further, he takes it upon himself, “How did the meeting go?”

She stops stirring. She sets down the spoon more harshly than she means to: it clangs loudly on the tea tray.

“I have some questions,” She says seriously.

“Questions? About what?” He asks.

Her dark, stormy eyes meet his. “…About you.”

He gulps, “Sure! What type of questions? You know, people ask me a lot of stuff. I’m sure I can handle anything.”

He winks at her, his usual smirk spreading across his face. Maybe if he jokes he can diffuse this god-awful tension. Not that it worked before, but he can try.

Utahime blinks slowly, exhaling deeply, as if attempting to calm herself down. He can see the fire in her eyes between blinks.

“How about that the higher-ups were asking me about my relation to you, when they believed you to only show interest in someone else?”

No. They can’t still believe that.

Terror strikes Gojo’s heart, electrifying his nerves, but he tries to play it off. He breathes out a chuckle and a few weak words, “That wasn’t a question.”

“For once in your life, be serious! We’ve only been dating for 3 weeks and I–” She inhales deeply. “I don’t think it’s a good sign that you’re intentionally avoiding answering me about this.”

“I’m not, I just don’t know what you’re talking about. Who did they even ask about? I can’t think of anyone they could say that about.” He’s lying through his teeth. Alarm bells are ringing through his head, and he dreads her answer.

She narrows her eyes, but seems convinced enough at his alleged cluelessness.

“They were asking about (Y/N). Asking about…your relationship with them. About how close you are. Asking if it’s changed.”

Gojo takes a sip from his glass, avoiding her eyes.“Well, did they say why? Seems awfully strange to ask you about it.”

She’s silent for a few seconds, mulling over her next words. They end up making Gojo bristle. “Satoru, you know I couldn’t tell you even if they did.”

His tone is abruptly serious. “The hell does that mean?”

She blinks at him slowly, with anger flashing in her dark eyes. “Gakuganji is very involved with them. If I told you, it would definitely get back to him. Who knows how he would punish me.”

"So you'd rather possibly endanger (Y/N)?" Gojo scoffs.

“Who said anything about danger?” Utahime says lowly, suspicion clear in her voice.

“Well, when the higher ups ask questions about my life, it usually isn’t just for fun,” Gojo says with a shrewd smile. “I don’t know what the hell they’re thinking so I can only assume the worst.”

“Does this really matter right now? (Y/N) is capable enough if it does turn out like that, and besides, I sorted it all out. Told them that your ‘relationship’ is fine and dandy and yada yada.”

Gojo sucks in a breath, nerves beginning to turn in his stomach. No. No! That’s not what I wanted…

Utahime doesn’t seem to notice his discomfort and continues, “You two have always been close…didn’t you have a thing for each other in high school? They have always had these eyes for you.”

Her tone is strange, gushing and gossipy yet also jealous.

“What?” Gojo says more loudly than intended as he takes in all of the information Utahime just casually dropped.

“You know, I even told them that you two were meant to be together,” She chuckles. “Funny how things work out—or, rather, don’t work out.”

Gojo’s stomach twists painfully at her insinuation—even though it shouldn’t. He likes Utahime, he’s with Utahime. Not with you. He’s not with you, he has never been with you.

“Gojo,” Utahime says suddenly. He blinks rapidly in surprise, eyes finally landing on hers. “Can we agree to be honest with each other?”

“Of course. What do you mean?” He says easily, nervously.

“That’s exactly what I mean,” She shakes her head. “You’re deflecting at every question I ask. You’re not as slick as you think you are.”

Gojo lets himself sigh this time.

He studies her expression. She’s beautiful, he has to admit. She’s beautiful, but she’s not you.

“Utahime…what is this all about?” He asks slowly.

“I should be asking you that,” She counters. “Why did you ask me out if you won’t actively participate in our relationship?”

“What do you mean? I’m here, aren’t I?” Gojo responds carefully.

“But you mind isn’t,” Utahime sighs. “You’re miles away, Satoru. You always are. When you’re with me, you’re not thinking of me, are you?”

The question is so accurate that it seems rhetorical to Gojo, to the point of him not responding for many moments before he realizes she is genuinely asking him.

It’s so true and yet he physically cannot bring himself to admit to it. “I mean, I think about the higher-ups and work related stuff a lot. I’m sorry I haven’t been that present on dates and stuff, but–”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it, Gojo!” Utahime hisses out, tone bordering on venomous. “You’re always thinking about them. You make decisions thinking of them. I bet even when you kiss me, you think about them. Are you going to deny that?”

“Utahime…” He says softly, guilt constricting his vocal chords.

“I don’t understand you, Gojo. You asked me out and have taken me on fancy dates as if you want a committed relationship, but then your mind is always wandering away. I know that you still care for them, but then I heard from Shoko that you’ve been ignoring them for months. And then the fucking higher-ups ask me your relationship with them. Why would they ask me that and why would they even care? Something isn’t adding up. What’s really going on here?”

Gojo blinks in surprise at the depth of concern in her voice. It’s like she has already moved on from her jealousy towards you, and now is worried for you.

He must look surprised, because she adds on, “Just so you know, I’m not that sad. You’re kind of a shithead for doing this to me, but this wasn’t that serious for me. Obviously not for you, either.”

Gojo winces. Everything she has said so far has been true, but he wishes it wasn’t.

“Iori, I’m sorry. For everything. I didn’t even realize that…that I was doing that,” Gojo sighs. “And to answer your question—I didn’t want to tell anyone, but I think I owe it to you. I don’t know what’s going on either, and that’s what scares me. I have no idea what they want or what they’re plotting, but it can’t be anything good.”

Utahime sits there with a small smirk on her face. When he raises an eyebrow at her expression, she just chuckles and shakes her head. “You can’t even say their name. Just how much denial are you in?”

He can’t even answer. He just sits there, a hand brushing his cheeks in order the cover the warmth the rises at the mention of the depth of his denial concerning his feelings for you.

When she realizes he isn’t going to answer, Utahime rises out of her seat. “Well, I guess I can say I’m officially breaking up with you, not that you or I really care. Just…if you need help with this, just know I’m in your corner, yeah? Unless it’s something to do with Gakuganji, and in that case my hands would be tied. Otherwise, just ask. You know, I wasn’t joking when I said I rooted for you guys in high school. That’s a fact and I can’t deny it.

You should really figure this out—for their sake. It sounds like they’re not having the best time with it. And besides, as much as it pains me to say it, you owe it to yourself after fighting against whatever feelings you have had for them for so many years.”

He doesn’t interrupt her even once, instead quietly absorbing her advice. He fidgets at the mention of his feelings for you, still uncomfortable even at the thought of them. Still scared.

“Goodbye for now, Satoru. I hope you figure all this shit out. Have a nice lunch,” She says coldly as she readies her things. Her coldness stings a bit, but what else could he expect?

“Oh, one last thing,” Utahime pauses. “I’m surprised you didn’t ask me this, but I guess you’re too in over to head right now to think straight. I think I might know partly why they have taken an interest in (Y/N).”

Gojo’s gaze turns to her sharply, blue eyes bright with curiosity behind his shades. “Why? How do you know?”

“I think the higher-ups must have asked Yaga about them. I forgot until now, but they were asking me if I knew anything about (Y/N)‘s identity. And who would know better than anyone? Your nosey principal who digs deep on everyone,” She rolls her eyes, huffing out a small but humorless laugh. “Well, that should be it then. Bye, ex-boyfriend.”

She gives him one last look, then struts away with her head held high. He sincerely hopes she isn’t hurting too much, despite her very “okay with it” façade.

So it has to do with your identity? In Satoru’s view, you have somewhat of an average identity for a sorcerer. A grade one sorcerer who comes from a sorcerer family. You had not inherited your clan’s special innate technique, but you are still pretty strong regardless. There’s nothing unusual about your background, or at least to the best of his knowledge.

And yet this sickening feeling has begun to creep into his stomach, that feeling that something is horribly wrong. What he does not know is what he cannot control, and each heartbeat and breath of his feels tortured with the knowledge that you may not be safe.

Shoko won’t stop texting you, almost on the hour, despite your radio silence. It’s strange when you think about it—she has always hated texting, always grumbling that it’s going to give her carpal tunnel someday. And yet here she is, blowing up your phone with notifications.

You haven’t been to school in weeks, taking mission after mission instead. It’s very obvious that you’ve been avoiding Shoko and Gojo, but you won’t admit that.

The missions have been grueling and gruesome—your stomach turns when the curses you exorcised spring to mind. They were ghastly and frankly were some of the most mentally scarring curses you’ve encountered. So, you’ve decided to take a break.

You feel your skin crawl when you’re sitting at home doing nothing—the curses come to mind much more easily, and also thoughts of him—so you abandon being cozy for the sake of your mind. It’s cold outside, so cold that your breath greets you in a cloud with every puff of air you release. Winter has arrived, and it nips at your cheeks and numbs your extremities just to remind you.

You haven’t been coping well, and you know it. Avoiding thoughts of Gojo has not been working very well, even after physically avoiding him. You try to forget what you heard that day, but it won’t escape your mind no matter how much you distract yourself. You think of Utahime: her beauty, her quiet strength, of how she always seems so calm and collected and yet somehow always makes her voice heard. She has everything that you lack.

The skin of your face burns with envy when you think about her. And when you picture her with Gojo—her dark eyes looking into his pooling blue depths, her leaning forward and up to kiss him—your chest crumbles in on itself.

It hurts. Right now, everything surrounding Gojo Satoru hurts.

But today, you will change that. This will definitely help. You’ve taken yourself out of your apartment and straight into a place that has always lifted your spirits—the local florist.

You scour the aisles, wincing at the very romantic red roses and the bright yellow daffodils. But then something catches your eye: an array of festive bouquets.

You end up picking out a bouquet fit for the season: it features a string of cranberries, enveloped by branches of pine and pinecones, with a striped garland draped around it all. Despite all of your poisonous feelings inside, you crack a small smile at the sight.

You take it home, putting care into the beautiful and yet flowerless bouquet. You carefully mix the plant food into a vase full of cool water, cut the ends of the stems under running water, then submerge the bouquet.

It brings a sense of homeliness that you’ve been desperately missing ever since you’ve starting living on your own. It almost soothes the ache in your chest.

But, as always, reality swoops in to remind you that you cannot run from your feelings within. Within only minutes of arranging the new bouquet, you accidentally swipe at the vase. It crashes to the floor, the glass shattering everywhere, glinting beautifully as it spins through the air. The cranberries begin to bleed into the water, the impact too much for them to tolerate.

You bend down, slowly processing the collision. When you stare into the expanding pool of water, you see wild eyes brimming with pain. Brimming with heartache. It is then that you are painfully reminded what cranberries represent: a cure for heartache.

The irony is not lost on you. You begin to howl in laughter, and the voice that reverberates back to you sounds crazed.

Then, it begins. You abruptly stop breathing; you are choked, silenced, almost as if something is blocking your airway. And then your throat begins to convulse, an instinctual reaction to choking, and you have no choice but to obey your body. You stumble through the shards of glass and collapse at the foot of your toilet. You heave and heave—whatever is lodged in your throat is large, making it difficult and painful to retch up.

When you finally use enough force to hack up the offending object, you freeze at the sight in front of you. Vibrant hydrangeas the same color as his eyes float in a murky red cloud. Blue hydrangeas: a symbol of rejection and regret.

Your chest bursts in pain at the realization. You are in love with Gojo Satoru, and he doesn’t love you back.

You feel another bloom emerging from within. You shudder in fear, knowing that you have little time left. Once the flowers present themselves, death is almost always imminent.

You spend the next few hours by the toilet, conjuring a newer, more painful bouquet than the one that lays in shattered remains in your living room.

“You told them what?” Gojo exhales deeply, a sigh following his exasperated words. He pinches the bridge of his nose—a gesture uncharacteristic for someone as self-assured as him.

“That (Y/N) is important to you,” Yaga Masamichi states calmly. “Satoru, there is no reason to fret. Their intentions concerning this matter are pure.”

“Do you even hear yourself right now? The higher-ups intentions are anything but pure.”

“I can sense that you are agitated,” He observes, eyebrows beginning to furrow. “But you are blinded by your bias. They first and foremost protect our community. (Y/N) is of no threat to Jujutsu society, thus they should be in no danger.”

“You don’t understand,” Gojo shakes his head. He is clearly angry, but now his nerves are showing through more: his voice is uneven and his tone has an air of desperation. “The higher-ups are out to get them. I don’t have any answers for that, even though I’ve been searching for months. I’ve had to show indifference towards (Y/N) to convince them that there is nothing between us, and it was starting to work. Why did you tell them this without consulting me first?”

A frown etches Masamichi’s stony features. Behind his shaded glasses, his eyes rake over his former student, taking in his state. Gojo isn’t one to openly show fear or anxiety, yet his breathing is audibly shaky and his fingers twitch by his side.

“I see I have made a mistake,” Masamichi concedes. “But why are you so convinced the higher-ups have ill intentions toward them?”

Gojo begins to pace back and forth in front of Yaga’s desk—also very unlike him.

“They called me to meet them a few months ago, asking what my relationship with (Y/N) is. I brushed it off at first and basically told them to stop sticking their nose into my business, but then I started to notice something.”

Gojo pauses by a window. The light streams down onto his face, illuminating his rather uncommonly stoic portrait.

“They started assigning (Y/N) missions that were labeled as second or first grade, but actually turned out to be special grade. And it can’t be coincidental—the incident rate of this happening is much higher for (Y/N)’s assignments than any other person.”

“That does seem to be true,” Masamichi comments, thinking back to reports he’s reviewed.

“No, not seem,” Gojo snaps. “That is the reality of this situation. Ever since I realized that, I’ve acted coldly towards (Y/N), distancing myself as much as possible. And guess what? No more special grade missions. Less injuries. And—”

“Satoru!” Masamichi raises his voice, pulling Gojo out of his frantic spiel. He blinks in surprise; he didn’t even realize how much or how fast he has been speaking.

“I don’t know what they are thinking or planning, but stressing like this will not help the situation. This is our world; this is how they operate,” Masamichi says, leaning forward and resting his chin on steepled fingers. “We will find a way around this.”

“It shouldn’t be like this,” Gojo says, voice rumbling deep and low, dangerously quiet.

“They are resistant to change,” Masamichi counters. “We can’t directly influence their decisions.”

“Not if they can’t make them anymore,” Satoru snorts, a dark and bitter smirk curling his lips.

“That is completely out of the question,” Yaga says firmly in a warning tone.

“Their thinking is antiquated,” Gojo argues. “I think we need a complete refresh.”

“And yours is too radical and rash. No, Gojo. I will not even entertain your idea.” Yaga says with a note of finality.

“Won’t you let me have my fun?” Gojo sighs, exaggerating his disappointment. “You’re such a drag, old man.”

Yaga almost smiles. He’s back to his normal antics.

“So, there is nothing that you can think of that would cause the higher-ups to go after them like this? I know you looked into all of your students closely even before you became principal. You must know something.”

Yaga frowns. You were his student and, as Gojo claims, he did thoroughly look into your background. But—how can you truly be thorough when the information presented is so little?

“There was little to nothing on them,” Yaga says. “Even when I tried digging further, I didn’t find much. However…there are rumors that they have made a Binding Vow.”

“A Binding Vow?” Gojo echoes back. “That’s very vague. That can mean practically anything.”

“But it’s still interesting, is it not?” Yaga says with a wry smile. “If the higher-ups have heard, we can only assume that the Binding Vow is with another entity, not with themselves. Otherwise, why would they be interested? That is assuming this is true, of course.”

“Who did you hear this from?” Gojo asks. “Someone credible?”

“I’m not sure about their credibility. And you can’t really go out and interrogate them, even if you wanted to. If you did, there would be another expectation for your visit.”

Gojo grows suspicious from his obvious attempt at a non-answer, “Yaga, who?”

He sighs, “Geto Suguru.”

There’s silence. Then, Gojo cackles—it’s a bitter and sardonic laugh, slightly crazed as well—and shakes his head.

“Of course. Of course it was from him,” Gojo continues laughing, a hand covering his face this time. “Guess you’re right—there’s no avenue for conversation there. In that case, I’ve gotta go. See ya, old man.”

Yaga bristles at the nickname, but does not attempt chastise Gojo as he walks away without waiting for Yaga’s response. It simply doesn’t work, so why waste his breath?

Gojo walks out, digging his cell phone out of his pocket. He opens his text conversation with you, fingers twitching over the keyboard. But what would he even say? The last texts are all from you, scattered over a few weeks from literal months ago. He didn’t respond to any of them. He feels the need to contact you, but how would he even start that? ‘Hey, I know I’ve been ignoring you for months, but I heard that you might have told Geto that you made a Binding Vow and I think the higher-ups know about it.’

Nope. That’s not gonna work. He swipes the texting app out of existence, then locks his phone and puts it back in his pocket.

He leans back on the pillar, resting his head while he closes his eyes. Why does everything surrounding you have to be so complicated? Then, a series of hurried footsteps meets his ears, and he doesn’t need to open his eyes to know who it is. Gojo is ambushed by someone he hasn’t seen for a few days—your mutual friend, Shoko.

“I heard what happened from Utahime,” She says immediately.

Gojo exhales loudly, not even trying to conceal his annoyance, “Shoko, I really don’t have time for this right now.”

“No. Tell me what’s going on.” She says firmly, her tone hard.

“What? We broke up. What’s more to say?” Gojo says dismissively.

“No, Gojo. That’s not all there is. Things have been going on. She told me that she’s concerned for (Y/N) but wouldn’t tell me more. And it just so happens that I have been texting them just about every day for weeks and have heard nothing back. Tell me there’s ‘nothing more to say’ again! Because obviously something is going on.”

Gojo inhales sharply, his breath suspended at her words. He shifts his weight forward, finally leaning away from the pillar. Shoko takes notice of his surprise.

She sighs, deciding to clarify one detail, “They’ve still been taking missions so I assume that they’re fine…but they’ve never ghosted me like this. Even back then, when Geto…they didn’t…agh. Well, you know what I’m saying. I don’t know what they’re thinking.”

He only really gathered one thing from that. So you’re safe for now. Gojo recovers, his expression evening out into something more normal.

“Shoko, I don’t want to complicate things further,” Gojo sighs. “Too many people are already involved in this, ones I had no intention of involving. I’m sorry, but I don’t know if I should say anything.”

“You ass!” She shouts at him, making his eyes widen under his blindfold. Shoko never blows up like this—she’s always indifferent and sort of passive. “They’re my friend too, and I want to know what’s going on!”

“I don’t know what’s going on!” Gojo blurts out. Shoko blinks rapidly, shocked by the volume of his voice. He hates getting emotional like this, but he can’t help it when he’s so fucking worried. “I don’t know, Shoko. The higher-ups have been probing into my life, but this time– this time it’s about them, and I don’t know why they want to know. I don’t know what they’re looking for. I’m just praying every day that they stop, but then somebody else in our circle tells me that the higher-ups keep mentioning them. I don’t know what’s going on, but it can’t be good.”

She looks at him, finally noticing how…un-Gojo-like he looks and sounds. Worrying about others isn’t something that Gojo does, or at least not something he ever speaks about. He never has his brow creased like he does right now. He doesn’t bite his lip in worry, either, so why is he biting down so hard he’s almost pulling blood?

“Okay,” Shoko yields. “Okay. I believe you. I didn’t realize…I didn’t believe that you still cared so much.”

“You don’t even know,” He mutters under his breath, but Shoko still hears it. She acts like she doesn’t.

“Well, if you hear anything, tell me, okay?” Shoko asks him with a low exhale. “They’re really stressing me out.”

She pulls out a lighter and a cigarette, prepared to light up. The blinks, and the cigarette now lays on the ground, mysteriously absent from her grip.

“Fuck you,” She grumbles. “You know, that’s littering.”

She hates to say it, but her chest, heavy with worry, lightens a bit as his regular smirk spreads across his face. She feels a bit more hopeful as Gojo disappears in front of her, the wind from the teleportation blowing her hair and lab coat around furiously.

“If only you two weren’t idiots, this mess might have solved itself ages ago,” She chuckles to herself. “The densest people I know.”

Your lungs ache. You wheeze with each breath. You blink blearily, rubbing your eyes with one hand. You’ve been drifting in and out of sleep while you’ve been laying on the cold tile in your bathroom. The air is tinged with iron—the smell of your own blood curdles your stomach.

“What time is it?” You mutter to yourself, and jolt at the sound of your own voice. It’s raspy and weak; you almost don’t recognize it as being your own.

Your hands skate across the smooth tile as you try to locate your phone. When you finally do, you grab it and bring it close to your face. Your eyes, barely cracked open, ache at the bright light of your screen.

The time reads as 3:31 AM. You’ve really been here for that long? Under the time, a plethora of texts from Shoko appear. You groan and slam your phone back down on the ground, ignoring the guilt that rises from how long you’ve been flat out ignoring your friend.

I’m being just like Gojo. Your lips curl down at the realization.

You feel a wave of weakness wash over you, and you are forced to lay back down on the ground. You are half conscious, vision swimming half through dream and half through reality. You can barely think, barely process your own actions.

You feel cold metal in your hands, smooth glass under your fingers. You are tapping randomly, the light blinding you so much that you can’t open your eyes to see what exactly you’re doing.

All you hear is your own horrible breath. And then you hear a voice.

“(Y/N)? You called me?”

You blink blankly in confusion. Did you? You can only assume that you did.

“‘Guess so,” You try to say, but you can barely get it out with how sore your throat is. “Who…who is it?”

“What do you mean? You called me, silly.” They say with a small chuckle. “It’s like 3 am. Are you drunk or something?”

Why can’t you recognize their voice? Their voice sounds underwater to you. Your head is spinning so much and your ears begin to ring. Your feel yourself slipping from reality.

You hear yourself saying words, but you don’t remember thinking them.

“No…gonna pass out. Or die. Can’t tell.”

“What? (Y/N), what’s going on? Tell me where you are, I’ll come get you right now.”

You swear you know that voice. It’s deep and smooth, but filled with so much worry that you barely recognize it. He’s never sounded this scared before.

“Oh, you’re…you’re Satoru,” You wheeze out. “Why? Why you?”

You’re not making much sense, you don’t think. But you can’t, not with how far from reality you are right now.

You called him? It’s just too painful, too cruel a fate, that you accidentally called the man you’re in love with and who doesn’t love you back while you’re knocking on death’s door. You cough violently and choke on the bloody petals that rise to your throat. You wince in pain and struggle to breathe.

He is bordering on panic now, but he fights to keep it out of his voice. “It’s okay, (Y/N), just tell me where you are. You’re on a mission, r-right? I’ll come get you. Just hold on.”

Confusion floods your brain. A mission? Are you on a mission? Is that why the scent of blood is clogging your nose?

Your heart beat pounds in your head, faster and faster. It’s scary just how confused you are—how do you not know where you are?

“I don’t know,” You choke out. You didn’t even realize you were crying. “I don’t know where I am.”

“It’s okay, c-can you check your phone for me? It’ll tell you your location. Just open it and–” His breathing is fast. “And check in your maps. Please. Please (Y/N), I need you to do this for me. Then–then everything will be okay. Okay?”

“Okay,” You answer softly. “How do–”

You startle at the sound of a loud bang, your own gasp cutting off your words.

The door to your bathroom—that’s where you are—is knocked down, nearly missing your form where you lay on the tile.

Satoru is calling your name desperately, his voice louder with each repetition of your name. You can’t decipher any other words, but you know he’s shouting things, trying to get you to say something, to say anything so that he knows you’re okay.

A dark shape towers over you. You can’t make out who it is with your blurry vision and with how dark it is—but you are immediately intimidated by their large, broad frame.

“There you are,” They snarl. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this to happen. I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner.”

You scramble to get up, grabbing your phone while you unsteadily rise on your shaky legs. You are an inch away from passing out and you fight the feeling with every ounce of your strength.

“Not looking too good, are we?” He says, tutting mockingly. “That’s perfect. Remember what we agreed on, my dear (Y/N)?”

You stare at him blankly, no recognition in your eyes.

“Silly me! Of course you don’t remember. That was intentional, you know. A good move on my part,” He chuckles, and it’s a soft sound that juxtaposes his words. “While you’re the one who has to suffer. Don’t blame me too much, though…this is all situational. It’s not like I ever disliked you or anything. It just has to be like this.”

You hear Satoru’s voice again, and this time it sounds dangerous, “Who the fuck is that?”

Anger runs through the man’s features, and he strikes the hand that carries your phone harshly. You yelp loudly both in surprise and in pain. Your phone clatters to the ground, instantly silenced. Probably broken beyond repair.

His words are chastising and almost playful, but he is furious. “You shouldn’t talk to him anymore, (Y/N). That’s not part of our agreement.”

Then he grabs hold of you and begins dragging you out of the room. You scream loudly, kicking and punching him as much as you can as you’re moved against your will. You are a strong sorcerer, but all of your cursed energy and strength has been sapped away by this horrible disease that afflicts you. You are powerless to stop this man.

There’s one thing you were mistaken about. With the crunch your phone made as it shattered against the ground, you assumed it was completely broken. That’s only partly true: the speakers were damaged, no sound coming out, but your phone actually survived. Your microphone continued to pick up every scream and cry you made as you were dragged against your will—kidnapped. He heard every whimper of pain and every plea of yours for the man to stop! and to let you go!

Even in this state, your heart would ache if you had heard the unadulterated fear that gripped his voice as he shouted and screamed for you through his phone.

Even if you didn’t recognize the man who manhandled you out of your apartment, Gojo Satoru has no doubts about who it was. It makes his blood boil thinking about it—he’s never going to forgive him for this, even if they used to be best friends.

next part

a/n 2: Thank you so much for reading, it means a lot!! This got a bit out of my hands, I will admit…I ended up writing some details I hadn’t planned on (and a lot more lol) 😅 But I think it actually makes it more interesting!

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Some of these tags didn’t work, but I hope it still tags you…Lmk if I typed anything in wrong haha. 😌

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

points at u. how do u play eridan so well!!! hes such a tricky bastard to write for 4 some reason

It's because he's got so many problems and playing him is basically Mental Illness Simulator :') Whipped up a small (that's a lie, it's large and extensive) guide under the cut

ERIDAN DOES NOT HAVE FUN

First most important thing about playing Eridan: THIS BOY DOES NOT DO JOKES. He does NOT DO BITS. He does NOT HAVE FUN. If you check out his logs, pretty much every time he talks to somebody, he has a very clear purpose in mind (usually flirting or grandstanding). One of the few times he does strike up a conversation without a clear goal in mind, it's absolutely disastrous:

CA: fef CA: hey CC: ? CA: glub CC: Glub glub! CC: 38) CA: yeah CA: hm CC: W)(at is it!!! CA: wwhat

He's sooooooo so so so bad at conversation. He doesn't tell jokes. He doesn't know how to lighten the mood. He has no chill. He has no sense of humor. When playing him, if you are making jokes, you are doing it wrong!

The reason for this is because, psychologically, you have to imagine that he is constantly teetering on the edge of a murderous freakout. If he is not, at all times, Being Useful (AKA murderous, sea dweller-y), then Something Bad Will Happen. His entire life is about duty, pressure, responsibility, and, accordingly, at ALL TIMES, he feels an extreme, anxious weight on his shoulders, which makes him incapable of indulging in "frivolous" behavior, like making smalltalk or doing things for fun. In fact, sarcasm and facetiousness are literally considered childish by Alternians, and Equius associates it with lower blood colors:

CT: D --> Humorous insincerity is for pedantic wigglers AG: Pshhhhhhhh, I know! I know you never make jokes. I was the one 8eing sarcastic, you stooge! AG: I was 8eing sarcastic a8out you 8eing sarcastic. Duh. CT: D --> That's because you're a little worse than me

That's why it's also kind of important to make him not really have hobbies. Eridan DOES have interests: he loves wizards and magic, and he's a hipster. HOWEVER, he only ever talks about magic in pursuit of some other goal, like finding a date or winning at a rivalry, AND he's constantly denying his own interest in these things, because they're frivolous, stupid, ridiculous, and deviations from what he "should" be like. He actively distances himself from things that make him happy. In fact, we only know he's a hipster because it's part of his design and Karkat mentions it once - Eridan himself has never talked about it. That's how far he's buried anything that actually brings him joy.

If your Eridan is smiling for ANY REASON, you are DOING IT WRONG!

While we're on the topic, things Eridan is NOT ACTUALLY INTERESTED IN:

History (he only ever talks about history in the vaguest possible terms; I think he is book smart and genuinely knows a lot ABOUT history, but his actual interest in it is middling. He's just expected to be really obsessed with history, especially military history, as a member of the aristocracy, and he reads it in the same way as one doomscrolls on twitter - it's a way for him to self-reinforce his own mental illness and soothe his cognitive dissonance)

Marine life/marine anything (he's TERRIFIED of the ocean, and has spent a few days underwater TOTAL. He knows nothing of the sea.)

Weaponry (he HAS a lot of guns, so he definitely knows how to use and maintain them, but there's a reason he outsources the building of all his doomsday devices. Also, he got a "god weapon" early on in his life, and has kind of just been... using that. He neither has a need to know much about weaponry, nor has ever displayed any particular interest or knowledge. He leaves fully loaded harpoons just lying around on the floor of his house. It's knowledge of necessity, not interest.)

Hunting/Violence/Murder (he's really good at it, he knows a lot about it, he will teach you on request, he will mention it constantly, but he doesn't actually derive any particular joy out of it, especially since we know his thought process after each kill is "that's going to make an orphaned troll very sad. they will be culled soon :/")

Fashion (he has more of an interest than the average Alternian, but it's still not a lot. He dresses up to emulate Dualscar, and his actual clothing choices beyond that are pretty disastrous. Canon Eridan has never shown an interest in fashion. Even if you do want to play him with an interest in fashion, which I think is fine, you have to remember that he deliberately distances himself from anything that brings him joy, so even if he likes fashion, he'll keep that a secret and insist he only does it for utility purposes.)

Pale Romance (just throwing this in there, it's the one quadrant he is *never* shown to pursue. He's tried Feferi and Nepeta in flushed, Sollux, Terezi, and Kanaya in ashen, and Rose and Vriska in pitch. if anything, he goes out of his way to AVOID pale romances, both because he just had a painful pale breakup, and because he freaks out at the implication that he's weak in any way, which pursuing a pale romance would all but be admitting)

The thing that makes playing Eridan so hard, I think, is that he's abjectly fucking miserable, BY CHOICE, and for most RPers, playing a character who's abjectly fucking miserable kind of goes against the appeal of RPing in the first place (that is, having fun). All of the things he says he's really into are things that he either has no interest in, or that actively make his life less enjoyable. All the things he spends all his time thinking about are things that make him feel anxious and hopeless. All the things he actually likes and would have fun with are the things he actively, deliberately, and loudly decries and suppresses.

So that's point 1: Eridan does NOT have fun.

ERIDAN IS AGGRO AS *FUCK*

The next most thing I see that trips people up is that they make Eridan too friendly, usually as an extension of accidentally giving him too much chill. There are two main factors here at play: the first is that he's desperately trying to be a violent, casteist, oppressive, dangerous sea dweller, and outright pushes that image, and the second is that he's really fucking anxious ALL THE TIME, and most peoples' sociability goes down when they feel the cold breath of the reaper on the backs of their necks 24/7.

When looking at the 4 responses to danger - fight, flight, freeze, and fawn - Eridan will overwhelmingly choose "fight," with "fawn" as his secondary option. This makes absolute sense in context: all his trauma comes from its inescapable nature - if he tries to run from his duties, everybody dies; if he freezes up and fails to complete them, everybody dies. Therefore, his only two options are to Fight, and to channel that violent response into completing his duties, and to Fawn, to capitulate to the things that are hurting him - much moreso the former than the latter. Unfortunately, that bleeds over into everything else. Great!

We can see this illustrated really well in his conversations with Kanaya: Eridan does not ask for favors or help, he makes demands:

CA: kan make her talk to me do somethin ... CA: so help me out tell her to talk to me i think she blocked me you got to

ERIDAN: you should of told me about this ERIDAN: if theres goin to be any sort a hope for our race as the prince of hope i demand to be invvolvved ERIDAN: so dont go anywwhere wwithout me got it

The only time he ever really backs off is in confessions, where he's willing to be like "hey, I think we really got something here, don't you think so?", or when talking to Karkat (Karkat is really the only person that Eridan doesn't feel the need to put on airs around, and we can only speculate as to why. It's because they're destined moirails for each other.)

He will also do this for statements that he isn't 100% sure about. If he's going to say something, he is going to ASSERT IT as if it is IMMUTABLE FACT, even if he's immediately disproven. In which case he will admit fault, but then his NEXT wild assumption is the IMMUTABLE FACT.

CA: wwell fine you dont havve to behavve vvillainous if youre bent up on actin against the grain a your nobility or somesuch CA: i can play that role its not like i evver didnt get my gills dirty before TT: Nobility? What are you talking about? CA: wwell arent you TT: No. What gave you that idea? CA: the wway you CA: ok CA: i had a misconclusion about that so my fault CA: obvviously you got rich blood so maybe when you crash landed you wwerent recognized for it by wwhatevver vvehicle upholds the class structure in human society

I feel like he's the type who, if he's genuinely unsure about something, he just won't say it at all. Basically, Eridan is always operating at either 0% or 100%, with almost no in-between. NO CHILL. Given that he only strikes up conversations when he's trying to achieve something from it - whether that's actively getting someone to do something for him, or just trying to assert that magic is fake - he treats every conversation like it' i's a battle, where the prize is whatever it is he's attempting to do, and his conversation partner is an enemy that he has to beat into submission. (Karkat is the only exception. He actually just likes talking to Karkat, and will do more traditional "hey man you wanna talk about your feelings" kind of dialogue with him.)

If your Eridan has chill, you are doing it wrong!

ERIDAN STRUGGLES WITH EMPATHY

This really needs to be qualified: he does HAVE empathy. He DOES care about his friends. But his brain is really cooked, and he has an extremely difficult time actually working up the emotional energy to express or experience it.

He's kind of downright sociopathic, lol:

ERISOLSPRITE: iim of the miind2et that wwhen you havve a rock 2oliid piiece of a22 tiied twwo the dock, you dont bloody wwell tug the knot loo2e and 2hovve the fucker off wwiith the heel a your boot. ERISOLSPRITE: but then another part of me ju2t wwonder2 wwhat the FUCK ii ju2t 2aiid there? liike that wwa2 ju2t 2uch a wweiird 2ociiopathiic thought ii had, ii hone2tly had no iidea howw bad ii could po22iibly feel about my2elf untiil ii BECAME my2elf, iif THAT make2 2en2e.

Like, okay, how do I explain this. His body count is 2000+. He has an EXTREMELY difficult time caring about life or death. He's had to watch kids cry over their dead parents. He has had to kill kids trying to protect their parents, whom he has then had to kill. And he has done this over, and over, and over again, as long as he can remember, to the point where he calls it "all i evver done practically."

Just for the sake of preserving what's left of his sanity, he's had to learn how to not care about that. If he sees someone crying in front of him, it's unlikely to even emotionally register to him as anything beyond "factually, this person is sad." Shit happens, people die. Violence, tragedy, murder, injury, and death are literally daily occurrences to him. For you, the day I killed your lusus was the most important day of your now tragically short life. For me, it was Tuesday.

Vriska is in the same boat, BTW. I think a combination of just being a less sensitive person to start with, the existence of a support network (Equius and Kanaya and Terezi as friends + she was friends with Team Charge before the... incident), and the lack of all the Duty(tm) and Responsibility(tm), helped her cope a bit better, and be better about opening up to people and relying on them for emotional support.

What this means, in terms of playing/writing him, is that his priorities are extremely skewed, and he is genuinely not going to understand things like "maybe I shouldn't tell this land dweller I'm trying to kill all land dwellers," or "maybe this person is sad and I should comfort them," or "maybe my constant talk about murder and death is offputting to other people." Here he is, literally not understanding why insulting and belittling Kanaya has led to her not wanting to help him, as well as not understanding why Vriska might've blocked him:

CA: wwhatEVVER you are so the vvillage twwo wwheel devvice wwhen it comes to auspisticing CA: you cant let a grudge go by you wwont stick your busy stem betwwixt so get wwith the program fussyfangs GA: If Your Slander Werent So Predictable Id Block You Too For Saying That GA: Has It Occurred To You She May Have Blocked You Because You Are Vvery Ovverbearing GA: I Just Said That Aloud Now In Your Silly Accent And Had A Private Moment Of Enjoyment CA: wwho givves a shit wwhy she blocked me or about my fuckin manners come on youvve got a wway wwith her

His brain is constantly running at a fevered 100% full-tilt run; he doesn't have the space, leisure, or energy to spend considering things from the perspective of other people. It leads to weird paradoxes, where he IS considerate of other peoples' feelings, but doesn't actually consider their feelings. After spending almost the ENTIRE conversation with Kanaya belittling her and demanding she be his and Vriska's auspice, he abruptly switches gears:

CA: fine i get it ill step off CA: you dont wwant to be our auspistice cause you dont wwant to get locked into that sort of relation wwith her i can respect that GA: No Thats Not It CA: yeah it is your real feelins run pretty awwful RUDDY methinks evverybody knowws it CA: especially that assblood karkat he and me havve you so pegged about that its upright silly CA: but its cool its totally fine dont wworry ill leavve you alone and givve you a shot

Because he LIKES Kanaya, he REALLY CARES ABOUT Kanaya, he WANTS GOOD THINGS for Kanaya... and yet is entirely, wholly, not taking her feelings into account at all.

BUT! This also applies in reverse! You can make all the death threats and casteist insults and demands towards Eridan as you want, and he won't give a shit aside from his usual grandstanding protests. The only time we ever truly see him offended is when he's genuinely trying to do Jade a favor by giving her the code to his gun, and she calls it a piece of shit and tosses it out with the trash - and even then, he doesn't take THAT much offense. Judge for yourself:

GG: so ill just dump it outside the house with the trash GG: and if it is fated to find my penpal one day then so be it! CA: god damn it CA: its like you people go out of your wway to think a howw to disrespect me GG: maybe you should have been nicer to me! GG: in any case i dont appreciate the spirit in which the gift was given so this is what i will do! CA: fine fuck it wwhat do i care CA: this has been a completely flippin useless exchange as havve they all been wwith your species

After all, he's accustomed to much, much, much worse. His emotional response here is indignation, not even really HURT. Karkat also makes a bunch of genuine death threats towards Eridan, which get entirely written off as "wwitty repartee." He's just really bad at processing hostility! Hostility is very normal to him!

So basically, before letting Eridan engage in any act of empathy or compassion, you have to ask whether or not he's going to recognize that the situation would call for that in the first place, which he is REALLY BAD at identifying. He only asks Karkat if Karkat wants to talk about his feelings after Karkat explicitly says that he's freaking out in every possible way, and without that explicit indication, I don't think Eridan would've even noticed.

If your Eridan has social skills, you are Doing It Wrong!

This also means that, even if Eridan has realized that he needs to act compassionate, he's still going to be really fucking trash at actually providing emotional support. He can't even emotionally support himself, you think he can figure it out for other people?

The most he can do is call it like he sees it - "this is a stupid thing to get worked up over," for example. Or he can jump straight to solutions, like "so what, are you gonna kill that guy?" Being as charitable as humanly possible, he might be able to fire off a "that's rough, buddy" at ABSOLUTE maximum.

ERIDAN KIND OF JUST SEES SLURS AS FACTUAL DESCRIPTORS (AND OTHER GENERAL NOTES FOR HIS SYNTAX AND VOCAB)

And, let's face it, on Alternia, they kind of are. Kanaya doesn't even bother to call him out for calling Karkat an assblood, Terezi and Feferi and Sollux don't bother taking offense to calling Sollux a mustard blood, and Karkat calls himself a gutter blood at one point. Like, even if you're playing/writing an Eridan who's rejected Alternian society, he'll still probably be out here calling people slurs? Things that would be considered hostile from other characters are very much just neutral coming from Eridan. There is no emotional difference to him, calling someone a rustblood or a burgundy, but he's expected to say rustblood because of his sea dweller status, so that's what he goes with.

Also, make some grounded but wild assertions about people and things. This boy loves to Assume. Writing Eridan is a lot of going "ERIDAN DON'T SAY THAT!!!" it's great. Really painful. Highly unrecommended.

He's obviously quite book smart and uses a lot of big vocabulary words. You guys need to have Eridan go on these insane purple-prose rants more often. They're so fun to write and so cringe to post.

CA: yeah go ahead and kiss us off but therell be blood on your hands CA: you could either play along as our auspistice and do a little mediating like you wwere fuckin hatched to CA: or wwatch she and me devvolvve into fuckin full fledged kismesisses the kind like you dont get once in ten thousand swweeps CA: you knoww thats wwhat it wwould be there wwould be rainboww rivvers runnin through star systems and all nebulizin like liquid firewworks CA: it wwill be beautiful and heartbreaking all at once

CA: but the thing is i need a rivval wwho can pose me a challenge CA: and frankly shes not evven fit for holdin my cape anymore CA: at this point i find all her adorable black pixie dabblins to be prime kiddie playtime shit CA: all of her FRAUDULENT MAGICS cannot come close to posin threat to my mastery ovver the TRUEST SCIENCES CA: an wwith my empiricists wwand i servve as the righteous hope that wwill incinerate delusion and the deluded alike CA: my holy fire is the wwhite fury bled from the wwrath-wweary eyes of fifty thousand nonfictional angels CA: and wwhen theyre finished wweepin they wwill boww before their prince GG: wow what are you talking about

For no reason at all. I'm going to post a little Karkat for comparison.

PCG: THE FUNNY THING IS IN THE FUTURE EVERYONE WILL RECOGNIZE ME AS THE UNDISPUTED LEADER, EVEN YOU. PCG: YOU WILL BE STANDING ON THE TIPPYTOES OF YOUR IDIOTIC METAL SHOES, TAKING DELICATE PURCHASE OF MY NUBBY HORNS AND HOISTING YOURSELF OVER MY HEAD TO PUT YOUR SWEATIEST TOUGH GUY SMOOCH UPON MY TWITCHING SPINE LUMP. PCG: IT WILL BE TENDER AND DEFERENTIAL, LIKE A PAUPER KISSING A NOBLE'S RING. PCG: JUST SCROLL DOWN, READ THE LOGS.

Also, notes about his typing quirk:

First, the ww and vv stuff is actively a fake accent he puts on for the #Aesthetic, and his natural way of speaking doesn't include those at all, so it's entirely likely that if you're writing him after he's rejected Alternian society, or if he's trying to be really really emotionally sincere, he wouldn't be bothering with that part of the quirk specifically.

He doesn't ALWAYS drop the G at the end of words ending in -ing. It's frequent and common, but don't feel bad about letting a word end in a g, especially if it would sound or look better (for example, "being a kid and growwing up" doesn't bother to drop the g's at all).

Similarly, he doesn't ALWAYS change "of" to "a," especially preceding a vowel sound. You gotta be careful with when you change this up, because he pretty much only does it when it would make sense spoken aloud.

In phrases like "must have" or "could have," he will often (but not always) change "have" to "of" (so "must of" or "could of").

Dropping the D from the word "and" happens only one time in the entire comic, so it's probably a typo, and if it isn't, it's REALLY REALLY infrequent.

He will sometimes use shorthanded words, like "em" instead of "them" or "ya" instead of "you." I'd say it's occassional, a bit rarer than the G-dropping. He does tend to use "got to" instead of "gotta," however. Again, try saying his lines out loud, to figure out when best to use what.

Given his loquaciousness and clear command of the language, it's likely that this is for Style, but he also doesn't always bother with proper grammar. Places where "[person] and I" would be used are often switched out for "[person] and me," and he might forgo a contraction like "I've" or "we've" and just post the pronoun (for example, "you got to" instead of "you've got to."

He references ocean shit, and ocean anatomy, like his own fins and gills, pretty often! He just doesn't do the puns. Try using "flippin" instead of "fuckin" every now and then, or "glubbin" instead of "talkin," or nautical analogies.

Also throw in some British "bloody"s every so often.

Cusses like a sailor, though, has one of the highest "fuck" counts relative to wordcount out of all the characters (cough like Karkat cough).

HE DOES NOT USE PUNCTUATION. EVER. (Ok, he does use a period once while talking to Terezi in Alterniabound, but I think that that's a mistake because it's literally the only time). This is actually in STARK contrast to other characters that don't generally use punctuation, like Aradia or Nepeta, who will still use ellipses, exclamation points, and question marks. Eridan actively, consciously forgoes using ANY punctuation, EVER, even for questions (which you shouldn't be asking too many of, because Eridan makes DEMANDS).

ERIDAN DOES NOT ANGST

This is another thing that I see a lot. Yes, Eridan thinks that he's worse than everybody. Yes, he deliberately keeps fun things at bay and focuses on things that make him miserable. Yes, he's sad, anxious, emotionally neglected, etc. etc. But I often see this self-loathing played for dramatics - Eridan being withdrawn, quiet, moody, and sad. Or being consumed with guilt and regret, and wishing he didn't have to be a murderer or wasn't forced into the position he was. And that's just not the vibe.

Because Eridan has a lot of pride. He refuses to appear weak, and he has genuinely lost the emotional capacity to feel too guilty about all the killing. Moreover, here's something I often see get overlooked:

He would think of the murders he committed, and the fact that he's so good at murdering, as good things.

It's not only useful, but oftentimes NECESSARY, for somebody on the team to be willing to make those kinds of sacrifices, to be willing to pull the trigger. Very literally, murder kept him and his friends alive long enough to play the game.

There's no universe in which Eridan would denounce killing and violence, because to do so would be to say that he shouldn't have kept his friends alive. Even in a hypothetical golden ending, where everybody survives to the end, Eridan would be the guy on the team who posits murder as a potential solution to problems, reminds people that society is built on sacrifices and suffering, and offers to do the dirty work himself if nobody else has the stomach for it. As much as being the orphaner was DISASTROUS for his mental and emotional well-being, he wouldn't regret the things he did.

And this is reflected in the comic - the rare times he does break down and show that he kind of hates himself, the focus is never on guilt or regret, it's on his perceived shortcomings - calling himself an idiot or pathetic. Because that's what his real insecurity is - he doesn't hate himself because he sees himself as this awful piece of shit, the way Sollux does, he hates himself because he thinks of himself as not good enough, because if he's Not Good Enough, then Something Bad Will Happen.

Remember, his danger response is FIGHT. It's a different paradigm than what most of us are used to, which is why I see his inner turmoil so often represented by him being moody and broody, which he's never really done in the comic. Eridan doesn't get sad, even though he is sad; he gets mad, aggressive, combative. He doesn't wallow; he just keeps swimming.

CA: i got to keep tryin thats howw all the great military masterminds became great through upright persevverance

Again, his response to being insulted is indignation, not hurt. He doesn't sit in his room feeling sorry for himself, he obsesses over genocide and murdering all the land dwellers. His response to seeing the love of his life turn on him with killing intent is to flip out and start killing right back. After being broken up with, his response is to go and pester his friends (and yell at Gamzee a bit) until he can get some emotional support. He doesn't angst, he tries to solve the problem, and, if he can't solve the problem, he starts shooting.

He's awfully violent! If your Eridan is not awfully violent, you're probably doing it wrong!

BUT, ERIDAN LOVES HIS FRIENDS

At his core, however, as tangled up in all of the above as he may be, Eridan loves:

His friends

Wizards

Magic

Probably hipster shit

Happy endings

He is still, after all, a HOPE player. He struggles as hard as he does because he can't give up on the idea that things will get better, eventually. Even if he's struggling in the wrong direction, toward the wrong ideals, and even if emotionally, he's feeling more and more hopeless and closed in, he can't stop himself from trying, and trying, and trying again.

He loves magic. As much as he tries to push it away and calls it stupid and fake and lame at every turn, he still brought his shitty wands onto the meteor. Why does he love magic? It's an extension of his inability to give up. No matter how hopeless the situation, no matter how awful he feels, no matter how unrealistic salvation might seem, if only magic is real, then there's a solution. He wants to be a wizard so badly because wizards can do magic, and magic can overturn reality, and reality is this awful, inescapable nightmare. He is constantly being caught between nihilism and pessimism and hope and belief. In the comic, the nihilism won, but that's the great conflict at the core of his being.

So ummmmm yeah, I hope any of that helps with writing the fish boy at all. Basically, if you aren't constantly cringing while writing the bullshit that comes out of his mouth, you're probably doing it wrong...

[beanghostprincess]

I hc Sanji as being afraid of the dark bc of his trauma too.

I know Mosshead wouldn't tease him about it if he knew the reason behind it, but do you think he ever teased him about it BEFORE finding out why he's scared?

Yeah, obviously. I think Sanji would not talk about it explicitly but he'd try to make up excuses for them to just keep a light on or for him to sleep in the kitchen instead of the boys' quarters. And it's quite obvious that he doesn't like the dark much (that's how he says it but actually he's extremely scared of it and often has nightmares/panic attacks when it's too dark and quiet) so Zoro makes fun of it. I mean- To Zoro it's such a ridiculous fear to have and I'm pretty sure he'd make fun of that. Sanji would fight back but he wouldn't show (at least the first times they fight for this) that he's actually hurt by that. I think one day, for random reasons, Sanji has to deal with being locked in a dark place, and he has the worst time of his life. Maybe it's a bet or some shit like that and because Sanji is too proud he doesn't say no to Zoro, and he's scared but he doesn't want mosshead to know he's afraid. Yadda yadda. Things go terribly wrong and after they've taken care of a very shaken up and anxious Sanji, Zoro says he's a fucking moron and that he should've said this earlier, but of course, Sanji is like "yeah, and have you laughing at me again? No, thank you, I already have enough with this, marimo". Zoro would genuinely feel bad but he knows that no matter how many times he apologizes, Sanji is just going to blame himself. So Zoro throws some poetic bullshit like "fear isn't something to be ashamed of. And you have to fight against it every day, don't be so stupid and stop blaming yourself for shit like this" (poetic more or less, kind of). And they'd just understand each other then.

Also, to make it romantic because I am like this always: Sanji doesn't like sleeping in the kitchen either because it's uncomfortable and lonely and Zoro knows, so he just kind of forces Sanji to stop being so proud and sleep with him if that will make him feel safer. And Sanji is like "??????? no, no. What the fuck are you saying now, mosshead??? The only people I'm sleeping with are pretty girls-" / "You fucking wish. Why does it have to mean anything, anyway? You're so dramatic" and Zoro ends up holding Sanji like a big pillow so he doesn't escape and turns out that's, like, the best sleep he's ever had. It's either that or Zoro sleeps in the kitchen too with him without giving any sort of explanation and Sanji (<- idiot with a crush he won't accept) is literally dying.

[tabithatwo]

I know you'll be busy answering ship asks for awhile but like. I think So Much about how Nat would not have let Jackie die. Jackie's death only works for me because Nat has this perfect reason for not being there - out searching for Javi with Travis all night. Like they must've made a fire, and also had each other for warmth, but Jackie was just. Alone. And if Nat had seen her she would have DRAGGED her ass back inside suicidal tendencies be fucking damned !!!! Jackie: I'm gonna kill myself. Nat: NOT ON MY WATCH! But she wasn't there. She couldn't stop it. I'm so sad lmao. Also let me acknowledge Shauna's part in all this lol. This is gonna sound wild(?) Mayhaps but I almost feel like the wilderness kept her asleep? Does that make sense? Because here's the thing Shauna is 100% mean petty stupid stubborn etc enough to just. Not bring Jackie inside lmao and obviously none of them knew that it would snow, or that she wouldn't put effort into starting a fire. Jackie is also obviously all of those things as well and would not have come inside without Shauna going to get her. And I'm not trying to give too much weight to the vague supernatural element, it's tragic no matter what, but in my mind that Death Dream that Jackie and Shauna share was almost hypnotizing both of them in a way. And it could have gone differently. Like I read it as: their connection is that strong, Shauna sensed that Jackie was dying, and she COULD have woken up in time, she could have !!! But the wilderness wanted Jackie so it kept them both asleep and in that dream. This isn't something I've shared on here or told anyone lol it's just for me < 3 no one has to agree with it. I think the reason I buy into it is that yes Jackie and Shauna are dumb enough to create that ridiculous of a situation but for Shauna to sleep through the night.... Without waking once... Without some sort of influence THAT I find hard to buy. She would have been too anxious to fall asleep even. But, they were Out There, and they were both lulled into sleep, Jackie so she could die, and Shauna so she couldn't save her. And Nat had to be gone too, so the wilderness hid Javi away ((not literally, hopefully you get what I'm saying)) idk the 3 of them just make me so insane and so sad. It's always felt to me like Jackie died by the skin of her teeth, her girls would have, could have, should have saved her, but. The wilderness kept them at bay.

I did in fact proof-read this after the fact pls post this version (if you decide to post it at all) xnjxjxxjdj

ANON!!!!!!!!!!!! HELLO?????? YOU HAVE BLOWN MY MIND IN THE BEST WAY???? THANK YOU????

everyone clap for anon for putting this in my inbox cause holy HOLY! you. are. so. onto. something. and i cannot believe i never noticed this or connected these dots, because i am ALL ABOUT the wilderness/it using the dream realm to fuck with them. this is the natural conclusion to come to from that perspective!! like!! yes!! i always found it bizarre that shauna could fall asleep after the emotional fight of a lifetime/her secrets being exposed like that, and that is especially true when we see her up late in the attic over smaller things in s1 or over other big moments in s2. this in genius. i'm adopting this into my worldview i am obsessed this is everything. love love love it and thank you for dropping this wisdom in my asks!

[stargazer-sims]

The More Things Change...

... the more they stay the same.

Victor and Yuri have grown a lot since their early days together, but no matter how much time passes, some things remain as consistent as ever.

Yuri matured significantly and managed to conquer his paralyzing self-doubt. He runs his own successful communications firm now and is well respected in the business community. But, he still dissolves into a sad little puddle and demands all the attention when he's not feeling well.

As for Victor, he's still working at the hospital and he continues feeling fulfilled by his profession. He likes caring for all his patients and makes their comfort his priority, but the patient who'll always be first on his list of priorities is the clingy and still impossibly cute one he has at home.

Yuri: I’m sorry I’m ruining your day off. I know you wanted to go biking with Davey and Lindsey, but now you’re stuck with me instead.

Victor: I’d rather be stuck with you than with anybody else.

Yuri: Not when I’m ill.

Victor: Any time, no matter what. You know that.

Yuri: I feel bad that you’re missing your adventure because of me.

Victor: It’s okay. The mountain bike trails aren’t about to disappear, and the weather will probably be warm enough for a few more weeks. I’ll have other chances to go.

Yuri: I wish I wasn’t so anxious about being alone. Otherwise, you could’ve gone anyway.

Victor: Honestly, I’m anxious about you being alone when you’re sick, too. Even if you didn’t mind, I don’t think I could’ve just left you.

Yuri: I need you.

Victor: I know.

Yuri: You make it better. I know that probably sounds like a silly thing to say since you can't actually make it hurt less, but you just... make it better. I don't know how to explain it.

Victor: It’s all right. You don’t have to explain anything.

Yuri: Stay close to me. Please.

Victor: I'm here.

Yuri: I was doing so well for so long, but I suppose this was inevitable. They don't call it a chronic illness for no reason, do they?

Victor: I'll take care of you. Don't worry.

Yuri: I know you will, but that doesn't stop me from wishing this wasn't happening.

Victor: Do you think you’d be more comfortable in bed? I can go upstairs with you and we can cuddle for a while if you want. Maybe I could give you a belly rub.

Yuri: I’d really like a belly rub, but I’m not certain I can move. Not until the painkillers start to work.

Victor: That bad?

Yuri: Yes. It's that awful cramping pain, like someone's twisting my insides.

Victor: Do you feel nauseous too?

Yuri: Mm-hmm. I've been feeling uncomfortable for the past few days, but it's gotten quite a lot worse since this morning.

Victor: You didn’t say anything.

Yuri: The pain was manageable, and I've been busy. But I'm worried this might be the start of a new flare-up, and I don't have time for my body to betray me like that right now. I've got too much work to do.

Victor: I don't think your body understands your work schedule, love.

Yuri: *grumbling* Stupid body.

Victor: *laughing* Would it be inappropriate for me to say how ridiculously adorable you are?

Yuri: Probably, but I won't complain.

Victor: Let me know when you feel like you can move. I'll help you upstairs, and I'll take your temperature.

Yuri: Do I feel warm?

Victor: A little.

Yuri: Oh... brilliant. This had better not be another infection, or I'll—

Victor: What?

Yuri: I'll cry. I'll quite literally cry.

Victor: It might not be as bad as you think.

Yuri: What if it is?

Victor: If you have a fever or if you're still in a lot of pain tomorrow, I'll take you to the urgent care clinic. In the meantime, try to rest, okay?

Yuri: Maybe we should go now. I mean, not this minute, but when Caroline gets back from shopping with your mother.

Victor: Do you want me to text Mom and let her know what's up? I'm sure Caroline can have dinner with her and Julian, and hang out there for the evening.

Yuri: No, it's fine. I can wait until she gets back at least, and I think she's old enough to stay by herself while we're gone.

Victor: I don't like the idea of her staying alone, and I'm not sure I can handle being worried about both of you.

Yuri: If anything happens, your parents are across the street.

Victor: You're not concerned at all?

Yuri: Of course, but she's seventeen years old. She needs to be independent at some point.

Victor: I know, but maybe not at this specific point. Maybe we can let her stay on her own for a few hours when you're feeling better, when we can both be available if she needs anything.

Yuri: You know you're being overprotective, don't you?

Victor: You say that like it's bad.

Yuri: It's not necessarily bad. You can overprotect me all you want, but Caroline has a much different temperament than me, and she might not always appreciate being protected as much as I do. I think you need to let go, just a little.

Victor: I don't know. I don't like it.

Yuri: What do you want to do, then?

Victor: I still think she should stay with Mom and Julian.

Yuri: Okay.

-----

Caroline: I'm back from shopping! I can't wait to show you the cute... Oh! Papa, what's wrong?

Yuri: It's all right, Caroline.

Caroline: How is it all right? Are you sick? You were fine when I left. Was it something you ate, or...?

Victor: Papa hasn't been feeling good for the past few days. It seems it finally caught up with him.

Caroline: You're going to take him to the doctor, right?

Victor: We were just talking about that, as a matter of fact. We decided we're going to urgent care.

Caroline: Urgent care? But that's like, for when it's really serious. Papa, you haven't needed to go there in ages. Not since just after we got back from Sulani last time. That's like, almost two years. This isn't going to be like the times you've had to be in the hospital for weeks, is it? 'Cause those are terrifying.

Yuri: That's what I'm hoping to avoid.

Caroline: Well, if you're going to the urgent care clinic, I'm coming with you. I'll hold your hand while we're waiting, and I'll do whatever you need me to.

Yuri: Well, I guess that's your dilemma sorted, Victor.

Caroline: What dilemma?

Yuri: He didn't want you to stay here by yourself.

Caroline: What are you even talking about? There's no way I'd stay here by myself in this situation. LIke, I'm already freaking out, so can you imagine how much worse it'd be if I was here worrying about you all alone?

Yuri: I thought you might like to have the house to yourself.

Caroline: Maybe if it was just a normal day and I had a few hours to myself to do something fun, but not right now. Maybe you can let me have the house to myself some other time. You know, like when you're feeling better and I'm not losing my mind over all the worst-case scenarios and stuff.

Victor: There's not going to be a worst-case scenario.

Caroline: I'm coming with you so I can hear the doctor say that.

Victor: Because I'm totally not a fully-qualified registered nurse.

Caroline: Victor, that's not what I mean! You totally are, but you know there's a hierarchy or whatever. Husband first, then nurse. And you can't say there isn't, because I've seen you acting even more panicked than me when Yuri's sick, and I know for sure you'd never be like that with your patients.

Victor: I do not panic. I'm one hundred percent calm. Trust me, I'm a professional.

Yuri: I don't think you're convincing her, love.

Caroline: You're not. Now, stop pretending to be a tough guy, 'cause we all know the truth. And don't tell me I'm not allowed to come with you because this is one time I'm not gonna do as I'm told.

Yuri: Oh? Just this one time?

Caroline: Ugh! You guys are so infuriating! How can I even love you so much when you're so annoying?

Victor: We're not going to tell you not to come. I'd like it if you did.

Yuri: I would too. I certainly wouldn't turn down the offer of you holding my hand while we're waiting.

Caroline: I know that's not much. It's not going to fix anything, but I also know you really don't like going to the doctor, so hopefully it'll make the whole thing a bit easier.

Yuri: Don't say it's not much. You might be surprised how much it truly can fix when you know you're with somebody who loves you.

[rogerswifesblog-updates]

Chapter 5 - it’s all about the…

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A/N: Hi! I’m sorry for not updating so long but I’m busy with work and also the 1K follower special on my main blog ( @rogerswifesblog )! I hope you’ll enjoyed this chapter<3 Please let me know how you like it<3

Summary: You get an unexpected call in the middle of the nights. Everything changes after.

Warnings: mention homophobia, harassment, injury, blood, hurt Stevie:(

This time Steve stayed for four days at your place, but after noticing how much he enjoyed waking up in your home, eating with you whenever you made something to eat for him (even when you often forgot to eat yourself, you always made sure Steve didn’t). And Steve felt…at peace. Good. In a way he hasn’t in a while. He liked how you took care of him, not with money, but with these little gestures like massaging his shoulders when he sat hunched over his sketchbook complaining about his tense muscles.

He knew he shouldn’t feel like this.

Not when everything you did was because you were supposed to do it. Steve knew he accompanied you because you paid for it.

And he was stupid for enjoying it so much.

After you drove him home, once again with huge grocery bags and all his new clothes. This time you even had to help him carry it all to his apartment. (Maybe he should’ve called Clint instead of asking you? He felt awkward opening his apartment door to you, showing you how much different your living quarters were. And he was also terrified of Bucky or Sam hearing you and deciding to…introduce themselves. He hadn’t told them everything about you, yet, especially how big the age gap was…).

Thankfully nobody was home, well, at least nobody greeted you, which made him unintentionally sigh. “That’d be all. I should go to work now”, you smiled, wrapping your arms around Steve’s midsection and leaning your head against his chest.

You may stop being so attached to the young man, especially since he didn’t feel the same. You were literally paying him to be like this. To hug you back, rub his hands along your back and brush through your hair. Spend time with you, making you feel loved.

It’s all because of the money.

Nothing more.

To him.

But you?

Oh you knew you fucked up, already.

You were falling for him.

Every Time you spend another day, another moment with him, you are falling more, more, more…

Steve was incredible, nice and ridiculously attractive.

He could never fall in love with you. To him you were just there to fill his wallet and pay for his needs. You were too old, too boring and too overworked. Steve could have any girl his age.

Day after day, the time went by and you definitely felt your heart tingle whenever the young man texted you, which he actually did quite often, sometimes just to ask you how your day was. Sometimes you two went on dates, ate lunch together or grabbed a coffee before Steve’s classes started.

It was nice. Even a bit…like a real relationship. You enjoyed it a lot, even without having sex. Of course there was some intimacy, some touches and kisses. Steve loved making you feel good, especially after buying him a laptop, another pair of shoes or the occasional groceries. Even after telling him he didn’t need to do anything for the money, he wanted to. He said he enjoyed it. He liked kissing your throat, feeling your thighs trembling around his head, your taste on his tongue. It was addicting.

But you knew, to him there were no feelings involved.

At least that’s what you thought.

So it surprised you when a phone call woke you up, in the middle of the night. Steve’s picture lit up, the time showing it was past three in the morning. “Steve? Is everything okay?”, you mumbled tiredly. There was some shuffling on the other side, a quiet sob and wet gasping. “Steve? What’s wrong? Talk to me.” Still not hearing an answer made you feel anxious. The tiredness now gone, fear creeping up in your chest.

“Can you…can you get me? I got jumped-at the club”, he hiccuped, his voice sounding weak. You didn’t even notice when you had left the bed and started putting some clothes on-not caring about looking fashionable or classy, just quickly throwing on a hoodie and sweatpants. “I’ll be right there-don’t-dont go anywhere. Stay where you are-and don’t hang up, Steve.” Within minutes you were already on the road racing to the club Steve still sometimes worked at. After today you’d definitely tell him to finally quit. You’ve always been scared of a situation like this.

You definitely drive over a red light, or maybe two. Your chest felt incredibly tight, imagining in what condition Steve was. It sounded serious. There was still some quiet painful gasping coming from the other side, while you slowly pulled over at the club Steve should be at.

But he wasn’t anywhere at the front, making you feel even more anxious. Just when you wanted to ask him where exactly he was you noticed a sitting silhouette in the alleyway.

“Oh Steve, here you are”, you mumbled, kneeling down to him, gently brushing over his hair. Steve lifted his head, his face bloody and swollen, the beautiful blues red from crying. You could see it all in this dim light. God, you didn’t want to know how he felt. “Oh baby, I get you to the hospital and then-” “no-just home. I’ll be fine. Nose isn’t broken…some bruises…split lip..”, he mumbled, while you helped him up.

When you finally sat back in your car and you could finally really look at him. His nose didn’t seem broken, but it definitely did bleed a bit, his clothes were torn and bloody, too. “Who did this to you Steve?”, you asked quietly, still feeling your heart throb uncontrollably. Out of the corner of your eyes you could see him shrug.

“Four guys…I’m assuming homophobes since they called me…names. Said people like me are trash and stuff. I didn’t know them, but I think they assumed I’m gay since the club is lgbt friendly. Everyone knows it”, he looked back at you, the corners of his mouth twitched upwards. “At least now you can believe me I got into fights a lot…” He made it sound like a joke but you knew he didn’t find it funny himself.

For the first time in his life he had actually been scared in a fight.

Because it wasn’t a fight.

Steve was beaten. He knew they wouldn’t have stopped till he stopped moving-that’s the only reason they let go of him, after he acted unconscious.

And he felt even worse about acting like that. Like a coward. But he was alone and they took him by surprise, so what was he supposed to do? He tried to fight back. He really did. But…

He sighed.

“I’m sorry for waking you and…for all this. I shouldn’t have done that. I think…I think I just panicked. You can drive me home if I’m annoying you”, he mumbled, looking out of the window. Ashamed.

You looked at him for a second, before needing to concentrate on the road again. “Steve, please don’t feel like that. You’re going home with me tonight and I’m taking care of you, okay? That’s exactly what I’m here for. Whenever you need me, I’ll be there”, your voice was gentle, while you took Steve’s hand, squeezing, but he still wasn’t looking at you.

Only a couple minutes later you drove into your garage, guiding Steve into your home and onto the couch, where he sat down. His clothes were definitely unwearable for the future-the people really made sure to show Steve how they felt.

And it made your blood boil.

You wouldn’t stop till you’d find out who did this to him.

And you’d personally take care of them.

To help Steve clean his wounds you grabbed the first aid kit and sat down next to him, close enough for your thighs to touch. Looking him over again made your hands tremble from the anger you were holding in.

“Maybe let’s get you out of these clothes first, hm? And maybe a shower would be good first”, you mumbled, licking over your thumb and wiping away some of the dirt from his face. Feeling you rub your finger over his face made him blush a dark red, while he looked at you from under his eyelashes. A tingle expanding in his whole chest, his breath hitching a bit.

It was such a little gesture but made him feel so…

So safe.

He couldn’t stop himself from launching forward and pressing his lips onto yours.

To say it surprised you was an understatement, but you kissed him back, gentler and carefuller. It was the first real kiss you two shared and you never expected how it’d made you feel.

You felt your chest tingle, while you slowly wrapped your arm around his midsection-and that’s when the jumped a bit, a quiet gasp escaping his lips. You immediately pulled away looking down at where you touched him. Right where your hand was, was also a boot print on his hoodie. “Oh I’m so sorry Steve”, you whispered, but Steve already tried to kiss you again. This time you didn’t let him.

He whined quietly. “I want to kiss you-“ “Steve. You need to go shower. You’re hurt.” Steve definitely didn’t like this idea, especially when you noticed him still looking at your lips, but he nodded anyway.

“Would you…join me?”, he asked barely audibly, his face heating up and blushing furiously, while he looked down at his dirty hands, trying to wipe them clean at his pants.

You weren’t sure what to do, but seeing him so hurt, so…broken made your heart ache. “I can join you, yes. Come with me sweetheart”, he didn’t protest when you took his hand and guided him to your bathroom, attached to your bedroom instead of the one closer to his room.

In the bathroom you stopped in front of him, taking the material of his shirt in your hands and slowly pulling it up, making him wince while lifting his arms. “Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?”, you asked quietly, caressing your palm over his naked, slightly bruised, chest.

Once again Steve shook his head, taking your shirt and pulling it up before carelessly dropping it onto the floor. His hands found your waist again and he pulled you closer against him, so close you were curled against his chest, his chin on your head.

“I’m sorry for waking you-” “don’t you dare feel sorry, Stevie. I’m glad you called me. Thank you”, you lifted your head, gently kissing his cheek before your hands slowly pushed down his pants. “Is this okay or did you change your mind? You still want to shower with me?” You asked once again. He nodded immediately, before you were even able to finish the question.

“Okay…do you want a bath or a shower?” He thought for a moment, before shrugging. “I think a shower…I just want to go to sleep”, Steve sighed before taking off the rest of his clothes. You did the same and you both looked at each other for a second. It’s the first time you were actually funny naked in front of each other, so you both couldn’t stop the blush.

You took Steve's hand and walked with him into the big shower, turning the hot water on. A quiet moan escaped his lips when the water bug his tense muscles, making him immediately relax a bit more. While he enjoyed the feeling you took some shower gel and started washing his chest. He looked at you in surprise, the redness on his cheeks reappearing.

He really enjoyed your touch. The gentle and careful movement of your hands. The smell of your shampoo surrounding him, making him feel dizzy. So overwhelmed.

But in a good way.

He enjoyed every second of it.

“Could you turn around?”, you asked quietly and he did just that without needing to be told twice. You started washing his back, masking his shoulders carefully, feeling how the tight muscles slowly slackened. He pressed himself slightly more into your palms, making you smile as you slowly and gently wrapped your arms around his waist, kissing his back.

You caressed his skin with kisses and gentle touches, while Steve just enjoyed feeling so close to you.

He shouldn’t feel like this.

This… needy and independent. Like he needed to be taken care of by you. Not only that. He just wanted to be close to you. Be touched by you. Kissed.

A quiet sob escaped his lips. He didn’t realize when he had started crying but he couldn’t stop as you hugged him a bit tighter, the warm water patterned over his hair, dripping from his face and skin, his tears running down his cheeks,

“Come on, Stevie, let’s go to bed, you need to rest”, you kissed his back again, delicately moving him till he was facing you. “And I’ll make you some food in the morning…I’ll take the day off, okay? We can stay at home together”, You kissed his chest, before taking his hands and slowly stepping with him out of the shower. You took one of the softest towels you had, drying him before wrapping him in one of your bigger cosy bathrobes.

When he felt the fluffy material a smile crept onto his lips. Only now did you notice how dilated his pupils were. How soft his expression was. He had stopped crying too, but there were some salty trails of the last tears, but he seemed happier now.

More content.

Smiling at him you took his hand and a cooling cream for his bruises before leading him to your bedroom. He waddled behind you like a lost puppy, holding into your hand tightly, like he was scared of getting lost. Even though he knew his way around at this point.

You sat him down on your bed, slowly pushing the bathrobe from his shoulders. His skin was bruised at many places, some little cuts were there too. His face looked a bit better than before without all the blood and dirt. “It’ll help you with the pain, ‘kay? The cream will cool the tender skin”, you smiled? Kissing his forehead while you slowly started putting the cream on his bruised skin.

Since you were still naked his face was right in your breasts and he couldn’t stop himself from slowly leaning his face against them, his nose brushing against your stiff nipple. You chuckled quietly, brushing over his hand with your clean hand. “What are you doing?” You kissed his head again, while he pressed his face further in your breasts.

“Just…dunno”, he mumbled, slowly starting to kiss your skin, his lips always brushing over your nipples over and over again, before he even gently licked them. “Wanted to….dunno. Can I?” You giggled at his words. “Sure Stevie, I don’t know what you want to do but yeah, it’s fine.”

With that he kissed your breast again, slowly wrapping his lips around your nipple and sucking gently. A gasp escaped your lips as he did that. His arms slowly wrapped around you, pulling you a bit closer as the sucking deepened.

It took him a few minutes to finally release your nipple from his lips and when he looked up at you, you could tell he felt all mushy and needy. “You’re such a cutie, sweetheart….but we should go to sleep, so maybe-Oh no, no don’t worry Baby you can sleep here. With me. You don’t have to go back into your room, I promise”, you quickly smiled when his lips quivered, not wanting him to start crying again or feel like you’d just send him away.

You’d never do that,

Especially not in a state he was currently in.

“Come on, let’s take this off and you can lay down.”

You helped him out of the bathrobe, climbing after him into bed, pulling the blanket over your bodies. As you laid down on your back, he immediately cuddled up to you, his head nudging your breasts, before he shyly sucked at your nipple again, taking the other breast in hand he started playing with it.

You chuckled, brushing over his hair and letting him do whatever he needed to do to feel safe and good.

Within a few minutes you noticed his sucking and movements getting slower as he slowly started falling asleep.

“Good night, baby”, you kissed his head again, smiling when he lifted his head to kiss you on the lips before laying back down.

“Night Mommy.”

Next

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[drbased]

You’re highkey one of the cleverest people on tumblr. I always enjoy reading your posts, and I’m always inevitably thinking the same thing : “damn she is smart!” Can I ask you if you did hight studies (as after high school) , and if so, which ones ? Or you just read a lot ? I’m just really curious, I hope it doesn’t sound intrusive

Thank you for this, I don't know if it's just a coincidence you've sent this now or if you've sent this after seeing my vent post - if it's the latter I really appreciate it. I mean I appreciate it regardless but you know what I mean.

I studied computer science at university level but that's not been very relevant to my thinking.

I don't read much unfortunately. I just think. I think think think think think. I have a great density of thoughts and frankly I don't have much control over them. Something happens to me and it brings about an emotion and my head launches into this chatter and it doesn't stop. Literally today I saw a post describing a theory of autism: 'intense world theory' and whilst I'm still not diagnosed so much of it sounds exactly like what I'm going through. It's honestly quite exhausting and overwhelming to be me, I often feel as if my mind isn't really quite my own, I have enough emotions and thoughts in here for at least two people.

It wasn't until that time when I hotboxed a room and actually talked to myself that I started to get a real handle on what's going on inside my head. Plus in reference to the 'vent post', I got really good at explaining because part of the nightmare was explaining the same things over and over again like a broken record. And the more I explained, the more I tried to explain, the more I discovered that nothing is out of the bounds of explanation. I learned how to use the english language all over again. And I had a looooot of practice saying out loud all the wisdom stuff and radical feminist stuff, so eventually with a bit of trust in myself I was able to start writing it down.

All of this was accomplished by listening in to the chatter in my head and instead of getting anxious at my emotional responses, to actually take them seriously. Whenever I have a thought about something I now trust it and take it seriously - and I seriously urge every woman to do the same. Every time you find yourself starting down a train of thought and then go 'nah, that's ridiculous' I urge you to humour yourself instead. Every single flight of fancy you have has an underlying worldview that is valuable because it came from you - even if you come to the conclusion at the end that you were wrong, by taking it serious you've learned something. There's no such thing as a stupid question, so the saying goes. And that's so fucking true. Nothing - and I MEAN nothing - you think or feel is vapid. All of it came from a brain, and you're safe to trust it, even if it turns out to be wrong. The brain is your safe space to engage with ideas - it's YOU, and you're always free to trust YOU.

I love connecting gaps, I especially being able to connect supposedly contradictory beliefs that people have and find the root value system. I like analysing, it's both my favourite pastime and also makes me feel very grounded and safe in the world. I used to pathologise this as 'overanalysing due to trauma' and since I stopped doing that and started to embrace who I actually am, I've been able to actually enjoy this analysing, even if it's 'unhealthy'. I used to get trapped in these thought loops that wouldn't go away for years; now I can get really quickly to what I'm feeling and why. I'm gradually rebuilding trust in myself after a decade of feeling obligated to do everything 'right'. I don't even judge that part of me - she valued getting things right, and that's a beautiful thing. But it hurt me and destroyed my trust in myself, so I won't do it anymore. That's all the 'logic' I need. What was once destroying me - my own brain - I've turned right back around into my greatest asset, all through the power of taking myself seriously. I think anyone can do this; I just have that density of thoughts and deep discomfort with cognitive dissonance and a pathological need to be consistent in everything - my logic, behaviour, even emotions - that drove me down a really dark path where I was suffering emotionally all the time and had to do something to feel better. Weed was instrumental in giving myself the confidence to do all this. It allowed me to really listen in on what I was feeling, and by the end I was entirely using it medicinally. Some of my earliest writings on here were done whilst high - the heightened sense of self-awareness it gave me allowed me to recognise what I felt comfortable writing, when I was actually done writing instead of just losing confidence, what tone I wanted to use, if I wanted to use a tone at all, if I felt it was flowing - basically just all of these hyper-specific things about who I am and how I want to create and express myself that I had entirely buried because I felt driven by obligation into providing the best 'product' possible. Hell, if it wasn't for weed I wouldn't be typing here at all; I probably would still not have written anything because I'd be saving myself for writing a book which I now know I basically have no intention to write. My heightened sense of self-awareness used to fill me with so much terror instead now it's my biggest source of self-love. I don't care if it's not 'healthy' or comes from a place of trauma; it's who I am now, and pathologising myself hurt me so, so deeply and I will never ever ever do that again. I'm an inpenetrable shield of thought now; I can hurt myself more than anyone else can and that's actually a strength of mine and not a weakness. I went through a lifetime of terror around people and what emotions they can induce in me and I'm not afraid anymore.

Anyway thank you for this opportunity to indulge myself because I've just had an incredibly harrowing and heart-breaking interaction with someone and I'm sleep deprived and have a horrible headache and my shoulders ache and frankly I feel very much at the end of my tether with this world. The fact that I can communicate like this is really the only thing keeping me going; it's literally saving my life. I always 'needed' to be understood, so much so that I was afraid of saying things that people might not understand - and since I flipped my attitude I decided that if I need to be understood then I bloody well need to act like it and show I'm willing to risk not being understood sometimes for the end goal of achieving that. Turning avoidance into success, showing myself what real self-love actually looks like. I used to think self-love was wrapping myself in bubble wrap and never challenging myself or risking anything but it's the opposite - it's about showing yourself how much you value something by showing yourself how much you'd risk for it. And I decided I wanted to value my personhood, so I tried a bunch of completely mental stuff that I made up entirely on the spot whilst high and risked scrambling up my brain and now I've changed my entire life around. And other people have extraordinarily resonated with what I've said and have said how good I am at explaining stuff. So I'm now living in the real world and that congealed mass of thoughts are now out there, for other people to read and hear.

Anyway I'm probably going to cry now and get myself some cake. I've been through hell the past several years and it has been thankless and miserable. I'm just so grateful that I'm my own best friend now.

[longeyelashedtragedy]

⭐^⭐

⭐ ⭐ both below the cut!

first, let's do: something from the unpublished fic colloquially known as "Jamie did a bad bad thing." I guess the working title is "red red red." it's too disjointed to have a proper title yet--

“I’ll just be honest, Jamie.  Some of my friends think you’re gay.”

Jamie’s heart is instantly pounding so much he feels like he can’t breathe. “Who does?  Which friends?”

“Does it matter?”

"Of course it fucking matters. I want to know who's saying that kind of shit about me."

"As if being gay was the worst thing in the world, Jamie. Jesus Christ."

Jamie thinks he should have a good, snappy response, to show Louise just how wrong she was, but he comes up so blank that she just snorts out of some kind of disgust, shakes her head, and turns away from him.

What was bad about it? Well...the things Dad and Uncle Frank always said, for one. 

He feels stupid not having a proper answer for Louise. And for his only answer to be something about his Dad and his uncle, like he wasn't a full-grown adult. 

He closes his eyes he doesn’t want to see Louise he doesn’t want to think about her but when he closes his eyes—

Red red red on the pink lips.  The hand that haunts him (all those movies he was so scared of back then were just a preview…) The chubby hand that haunts him, a little damp from the sweat of Ayia Napa nights, a little sticky.  Hitting at his arms kind of uselessly.  Sloppy.  Jamie Jamie Jamie Jamie.  What kind of hand was it? 

--throughout this fic, Jamie has to encounter a few things over and over that haunt him, and one of them is his own learned homophobia vs his obvious wanting of another, uh, man. I was thinking about how hate and bigotry are just such pathetic, empty concepts. like, if you stop to break it down for a second--unless you're some kind of leviticus bible thumper, there is literally nothing wrong with being gay, and if you only think so cause you grew up hearing it from adults, that's extremely pathetic, and could be embarrassing to be caught in by someone who thinks your homophobia is ridiculous. I know that not everyone is gonna think like this--trust me, i've experienced homophobia of my own--but themes of infantilization kind of run throughout the Lampardverse and i like the idea of jamie's own issues getting thrust back in his face to make him feel even more pathetic and insecure. (I also experienced something like this in real life--a person trying to make a homophobic remark who got shut down by everyone else around him making him feel like shit about it, and it was kind of epic ngl). But then also we have Jamie--canonically insanely anxious and fearful and haunted Jamie--getting drawn away from reality by the disjointedly remembered nightmare of his Past Actions.

the next one: from the Christmas Chapter (TM, 'tis the season!) of Dangerous AU. warnings: being a little gross with blood, gratuitious mention of Killing. it's dangerous AU, you know! blunt but pulpy and silly.

“This blood is very sexy on you. Let me take a picture.”  And Granit pulls out his phone.  “This will be very nice to have when you’re not with me, you know.”

Mikel barely thinks about what Granit means.  He leans back down and takes another taste. 

“Hey, hey, what the fuck!”  Granit’s hand grips his arm too hard and pulls him up to his feet.  “What are you doing?”

“This is part of what I do.”

“But—you—”  Granit is confused, and Mikel can practically see his mind working and fail to make sense of it.  No one could possibly.  “You’re—But aren’t you going to get sick?”

“I haven’t yet. But if I do…I do. Does it matter?” Who would even care, he’s always wondered, if he was gone? His family, sure. But they’d never known the real Mikel; they’d be mourning someone else. So would it even matter?

“Yes it does. Of course it matters.”  Granit is angry at him.  “What about your Granit? Do you think he wants to lose you?”

Granit places his hand over Mikel’s fast-beating heart. “Don’t—don’t be stupid. Okay? Kill them as much as you want, you deserve to have some fun, maybe I can watch again someday. I hope I can.  But don’t be stupid.”

There’s so much Granit still doesn’t know. 

“Okay, shpirti im?”

Mikel just nods. There’s no need to argue this right now. 

He wraps his arms around Granit and presses his forehead, where no blood is, against Granit’s heartbeat. 

They are still singing in the church. He used to like midnight mass—the songs, the incense and shadows and mystery. 

This is better. 

Here we get a little glimpse into serial killer Mikel's, uh, behaviors. i haven't figured out when in the trajectory of this fic this chapter happens, but by the time it does, the reader will know plenty about mikel's behaviors after he murders and why he does. however, this'll be granit's first time seeing it, and he's kind of horrified. remember, of course, that granit is a murder machine and a sadist who kills for fun in a way that mikel does not, but--BUT!

this is one of my favorite parts of writing dangerous au, see, it's over the top and silly, and a recurring theme is that both of them are often on a kind of moral high horse about their own killing methods and motivations. for example, granit--and Taulant when he finally shows up (who, in canon, mikel is slightly afraid of) and all of his people think the concept of serial killing is weird and disturbing, while mikel thinks granit & co are slightly unnerving and deranged. this is FUNNY (to me, because i have a dreadful sense of humor) because obviously neither of them has ANY place to judge. also what's important here is the running theme of granit sincerely believing mikel has so much worth and having a huge heart of gold--in his very own way--when it comes to him. in fact, granit loves and values mikel so much that mikel's lack of self-worth makes hm rather angry!

[daz4i]

ok ok rather than make a bunch of annoying vent posts i'm just gonna put everything on my mind all in one post to let it out 🔥 you absolutely do not need to read this, this is honestly so ridiculously long. my brain better feel clean for like at least 2 days after this fr

i knew i was gonna crash after this week and i think this is it 🥲 i was so tense for literally a whole week (even more tbh, bc i was preemptively scared of how much i have to do too) and i think the adrenaline drop kicked in after the peak of this one (aka being in a big social event. haven't been to one of those in literal years)

also. my parents have been sick this week and i think i maybe have contracted it too? 😭 if that is indeed the case it literally kicked in in the last like hour of the event, i was perfectly fine beforehand bc i avoided being in the same closed space as them when i could (aka kept my distance or made sure windows were open around me all the time jic). bc suddenly my whole body hurts like it hasn't in a long while. tho that might be the adrenaline crash too who knows 🥲 ig i'll see how i feel when i wake up

i have not been creative in awhile and i can feel my brain drowning in gunk lol. technically i tried writing songs a couple of times lately but they came out so bad i can't finish them. or anything. and i feel like shit abt failing to create literally anything. and i keep seeing people be creative and make so much or sharing their work fearlessly and it's always so much better than mine too that i'm burning with jealousy that i can't turn off (and can't channel into my own creation bc well. it comes out shitty! so the cycle not only continues but in fact gets worse each time). every time someone tells me i'm good it feels like they're lying to make me feel better or bc they love me so they're. biased and see everything i make as good bc it's me, so i can't count that. every time *i* feel like smth i made is good there's some glaring imperfection i don't know how to iron out so i start hating the whole piece. i don't know how to become better when every time i try to practice i end up wanting to claw my own eyes out as punishment for being so talentless and dumb

(the dumb thing too is. oh my god this is gonna sound so silly but. i try to make myself feel better by solving puzzles or trivia or riddles etc bc these are things i'm usually good at. but lately i can't be proud of myself for succeeding at any of them, and i keep beating myself harder for every time i fail or don't do as well as i used to, bc it feels like i'm failing at the only thing i'm supposed to be good at. also i just generally keep doing stupid things lately esp when it comes to my time management or taking care of my body in various ways, i keep forgetting things which is smth i almost never do, i struggle to get through conversations with others bc i trip over my words or make mistakes constantly, generally i'm just being stupid in various ways)

right now i am. so anxious. about so many things. here let me just make it into a list starting with very small to. probably still small but it feels big to me

1. this is so silly but. i am literally too tired to put small earrings back in after changing them to long one for the party. and i'm scared the holes will close up in my sleep. but this is literally so much work 💔 idk if the holes haven't healed properly or if i'm using the wrong metal so i keep getting infections bc it's been A While (two years. apparently. maybe more??) and they haven't healed yet. like i said a silly thing to get stressed over but i am. very tense

2. i don't know. if the people i knew in the party actually didn't recognize me or if they ignored me on purpose. bc i stood next to some of them while my besties were talking to them too and they didn't even say hi (or like introduced themselves the way others that i didn't know have done). one of them was literally my bestie for a good few months a few years ago and even tho i grew a beard i. don't think i changed THAT much??? also i don't think it's hard to make the connection abt who i am given how tight this community is. someone i haven't talked to since like 2015 bc we had beef recognized me even. so how come they didn't. i met one in a con recently and she did recognize me so. h. did i do something wrong. did someone say smth bad about me. i don't know i don't understand social rules enough to figure it out 😭

3. this is another thing abt that tbh 🥲 while it was very fun and a super cool event, it did remind me very painfully of why my social anxiety is so bad 😭 i felt like i made 10 social errors per minute. i didn't know what to say half the time so i just smiled or laughed and i think that made me seem creepy idk. a lot of people were very nice and i think i did mostly fine with them but also maybe not. idk. i am definitely overthinking things but what if i'm right. it's not that out of the question. i am known to fail social interactions there's a reason why i do my best to avoid them

4. and this is kinda bringing me to a thing i have on my mind a lot recently. bc i'm doing the recovery thing. and a lot of people - friends family and professionals who help me there - tell me i am capable of more than i think or admit. and i get WHY they think that bc i *am* doing a lot compared to the literal nothing i've been up to for years. but i am very much pushing outside my limits, which is why i'm constantly feeling like shit lately i think (not that i was doing great before but. yeah). it probably seems mostly effortless bc i just do them without beating much around the bush but that's only when i mentally prepare myself days or even weeks ahead (for reference, i'm talking about things like. being in public. or taking a bus). or the work i do for projects that... honestly idk how i'm doing that either. i am the laziest person ever and i have no ability to concentrate yet i managed to sit down and do work and do it well and learn text by heart and research and write for hours and ??? it does not feel like myself. but it also kinda does bc i need to very forcefully push myself into it and berate myself for hours until i actually get up to do anything so. it's not smth that comes naturally to me. i don't consider myself capable of things. i'm just very good at pretending i'm unbothered (up until i start crying uncontrollably at least lol) so ppl think i am. unfortunately. bc then they expect me to do more. or they pressure me into it then get disappointed when i can't do it (ig that's the core of it for me... i don't want anyone to develop expectations about me, bc i know i won't be able to meet them, at least not long term. so i insist i can't do anything, bc sometimes - often - i really really can't. i don't wanna be judged by my best. feels false to even call it that tbh. but that's bc it's so rare, it's the best for a reason, the absolute peak i can get to, as pathetic as it is. bc the problem is, when this is already beyond my limits, i literally can't go further, but that's what they want me to do 💔)

5. god. this is also a small thing probably but the accidental lie i mentioned. for context i am giving a lecture abt p5's mythology in the next con, that's the thing i was working on lately. anyway when i signed up i gave background information about myself, and to make myself sound more fitting for the job i said that i learned the topic in [university that specializes in said topic] bc i did - just. 2 classes. that's it. i was telling the truth there, technically (most of my knowledge on the topic comes from independent research, but the classes i took did help with that too, as in i knew where to look for info and things to look out for) (also for reference i'm gonna be fr. i did not finish these classes. social anxiety got to me and i was scared to go to anything outside zoom lessons which weren't an option anymore unfortunately)

ANYWAY when they told me i got in they sent me a "revised" bio which was just what i originally sent them, so i said okay. but now the whole thingie was posted and i can see my bio there and. they said i graduated from [uni] and used language that implies i have a degree in it, probably to make me sound more credible, but it's not true!!!! 😭😭😭 the thing i said was definitely embellishment but it WAS true enough that if asked directly about it i could spin it somehow ("oh i haven't finished yet" "yeah i took a couple of classes when i could to enrich my knowledge") but this. makes it so much harder

chances are i won't be asked bc why would anyone ask abt that. but ever since i started writing the script i was so stressed about people calling me out for being wrong abt info, so i even added a disclaimer of "these are old texts that have many versions that vary according to location or were changed with time uwu if you know a different version of this story that's probably why uwu" and "due to the time constraint i'm giving a very simplified and short version of this topic uwu" bc given that i'm talking a lot abt judaism. to a mainly (or most likely, entirely) jewish audience. it's enough that there is someone who is religious or previously ultra orthodox in the audience that if i make a mistake they could point it out. and then i'll start panicking and lose my train of thought and fuck everything up while i'm already so stressed as is and-

so like i've been super stressed abt all that^ until now but that misinfo in my bio is raising the stakes for me 😭 bc now what if someone who went to this uni and majored in this topic calls me out on never seeing me there. or they can tell the info i'm giving isn't smth that's taught there or isn't the way it's taught there. this is such a specific and unlikely fear but i can't not stress about it because TECHNICALLY it's possible, it COULD happen even if that's not too likely

6. all of this is while i'm also struggling with bureaucracy around that art program i'm signing up to, idk if i'll get in yet or not bc i need some files to be approved and idk if they would, and idk what i'll do if they don't. or what if they do! i'm honestly so scared to start it, idk how i'm gonna go from nothing to waking up early and driving an hour 4 times a week to be active and around people for a few hours. tbh i don't think i can, but also if this gets approved then i have to, so the government's money doesn't get flushed down the toilet bc of me.

7. all this shit has a major impact on my physical health 🥲 not getting into details bc that's def tmi territory but. i'm fighting for my life over a certain stress-caused medical thing for weeks now. only other time i had it was when the war originally started so naturally i was extra stressed then, but like, this is to give you a reference for how majorly stressed i am now. my regular pains are flaring up more often too which makes things harder to handle as well (like, stressing abt not doing enough work, bc i'm literally in too much pain to do anything but lie down. or being scared of the plans i have for the week bc what if these pains catch me when i'm outside or with people. how am i supposed to push through them. what if they catch me when i'm in public and i have to sit down in the middle of the street. what if i'm with people and i'm holding them back from doing smth bc of that. etc etc)

8. ofc all this is happening during the war and i keep seeing things i really don't wanna see from ppl in my country and the west 🥲 and it's like, the mix of guilt over this happening at all, and the frustration over feeling like i have nothing to do about it, and fear about how things are gonna escalate in either direction, and seeing friends from other countries posting things i agree with but can't condone full heartedly bc well. this'll hurt me directly, as selfish as it sounds (tbf, when i say hurt me directly, i'm talking about me and my loved ones' lives being endangered), but also seeing said loved ones talking about things i can't agree with morally, yet can't fully refute either because life is. complicated. i have a lot more to say tbh but i'm too tired to acknowledge every single facet of every single related issue which will open me to a lot of hate so. best to leave it here. unfortunately

idk where to put this. sorry for the sudden topic change. it feels bad to be stressed over that but, there is a guy who i know likes me like a lot. i think i'm like exactly his taste and he's always so excited about seeing or talking to me. one of my besties - or maybe more. idk - really wants us to get together bc tbh it'll probably be good for both of us, and y'all know how desperate i am to be loved lol. but i can't bring myself to like him the way he likes me 💔 he's fun but i have a hard time with one on one interactions so i can't really progress things and tbh, idk if i'm currently in a mindset where i even should, given all that^. also i know for a fact i can't handle an actual relationship, and i'm scared i'll disappoint him or drive him away if i'll be my real unfiltered self, and ik i need to be obsessed with someone to get attached this quickly but i can't force it either. and to put it more directly... i'm perfect for him and his taste, but not the other way around 🥲 (tho tbf idk what my taste even is. i identify as aroace for a reason). i don't wanna string him along but i think i already kind of am 😭 i like him but not as much as he likes me, but what i probably like here even more is the feeling of being liked. and that makes me feel like a dick. i also feel guilty for not liking him the same way ig even tho ik it's stupid bc it's not like i can control it. and yet

so yeah this is. a lot of shit. all at once. both silly and not silly at all. my brain is in constant overload. i get violently suicidal every time i have a moment alone with my thoughts or when i see anything that reminds me of that. bc all this stress makes life feel so impossible - it IS impossible - that i can't handle the thought of it, but half of the things that cause me stress are supposed to be for the purpose of distracting me from how stressful everything is. so. what the fuck am i supposed to do about all that. how am i supposed to live like at all

[gettothestabbing]

I got my air conditioner working again! Finally called an electrician, and the visit was free because apparently the problem was super obvious and easy to fix.

I wasn’t embarrassed about it when the guy was here. But when I had to tell my sister about it, I definitely was. Because I had been trying to fix it on my own, on and off, but I was pretty scared to make a mistake. I was sure I’d fry all my lights or fry myself if I did. And yet I was also reluctant to call a pro because I was dealing with car issues the same week. All I could think was “I’ll kill myself fixing this” and “I’ll never financially recover from calling a pro, I bet all my wiring is whack, and that plus the car is gonna put me in debt and then it’s so over.”

In hindsight, both fears are ridiculous.

I find it interesting that my sister, who is such an anxious person, can clinically observe my own fears and dismiss them from afar. As a result, I feel stupid and unreasonable. But when I’ve tried to help her dismiss her own fears and concerns when they get overblown, she argues for them, and even after the issue is overcome, she can’t admit to having been wrong. 

Maybe it’s just that she can’t admit it to me, but does admit it to herself. It’s hard to tell. I tell her almost everything, because that’s how I process stuff, but especially since she met her husband, she tells me much less. She processes more stuff internally, which is fine, but when you look at our convos, I come off as much more needy and emotional despite being the older sister. I don’t really have many people to talk to, so this is unlikely to change. But it’s embarrassing and annoying anyway. 

As a child, when you become an older sibling, you’re told you will have to help out and be a good example and a leader to the younger child. But when you can’t do that, or when your attempts are rejected by your sibling, it feels like you don’t really have a defined role in the family. My dad, the oldest in his family, has criticized and mocked me for not playing the older sister role better. My sister essentially took that role from me years ago: she’s more confident, social, put-together, pretty, handy, etc. She’s also already a happy wife, mother, and homeowner. (This is someone who said she would take a vow of chastity because there were no men worth her time around.) 

I can’t help but constantly compare us to other sibling-pairs I’ve known, like my dad and uncle or two family friends who are sisters. And when I make those comparisons, I don’t like what they foreshadow for my life at all. I tell myself I’m being dour and superstitious. But the longer I remain the way I am, the more I fear I’ll never be able to change into the person I want to be. Even as I continue to strive towards that ideal, and see small steps of progress, the actual final picture feels unattainable most of the time.

And I’m not like a shut-in or anything, I have achieved plenty which my sister has not. But the things I’ve done aren’t valued in our family the way her accomplishments are. On family phone calls, I’m constantly giving news about her life because I’m the one who stays in touch with people and yet her life is the one they prefer to talk about. My grandparents literally talk shit about my faith and work behind my back (confirmed by multiple third parties). But when they call I get a few polite questions about it, after I get at least half an hour’s worth of questions about my sister and her son. I’m not even that close with them, so it could be worse.

I really want to build my own family, and it just feels like it’s never going to happen, and I’ll only ever be supporting her family and our older relatives while they do the things they want, while I stay poor and increasingly isolated from them due to my work situation.

[coffeebanana]

7

... this one is targeted /lh Thanks for the ask!! (From Fanfic Asks For The New Year)

7. Will you change anything about the way you interact with other writers?

Ha! okay so. yes and no. No, because realistically I will not just magically become chill about all things overnight. Yes, because adnfksjfbd. Did y'all know that we writers sometimes do this silly little thing where we actually fangirl over each other's work but are convinced we'll make a fool of ourselves if we try to interact with the other writer? We think, oh no, they won't want to hear from me. They're just commenting to be nice they don't mean it even though it's literally a page of gushing over my words haha they're just being silly goofy 😝 And it's hilarious, because I've seen that happening to other people and it's so silly to hear about? Like...of course you are two talented writers who enjoy each other's content! Why wouldn't you want to be friends? And then I get trapped in the middle of it like a giant hypocrite 😂 I have this really weird quality of having pretty good self-confidence but assuming that other people don't feel the same appreciation for me/my talents/etc... I'm not sure that makes sense but it's like... I think I'm great, I just don't expect other people to feel the same about me because...maybe that's hubris? It's applicable to a lot of things in my life but this is specifically about writing. So there have been people who've been reading my fics for a long time, who frequently leave kudos/comments/etc..., and I'm still like "eh, but they probably don't like my writing that much". AND THAT'S STUPID THINKING IT'S RIDICULOUS WHY AM I LIKE THIS. There are like a bazillion different reasons people don't comment on fics but I think more often than not it comes down to one of three things. - 1. Sometimes you just don't have the mental energy, and that's 100% valid. - 2. People are nervous about commenting in general. They don't know what to say or maybe are socially anxious. I don't really have tips on the anxiety front except to say that even a keyboard smash or an emoji are valid and very much appreciated comments. And also that commenting is a skill like anything else. You can start small and learn to be better. - 3. People literally just don't think their words are going to mean anything significant to the writer so they don't bother. The old, "oh, why would they want to hear from me?"

I'm absolutely guilty of number 3, and I've gotten a lot better at it but it's hard sometimes. The funny thing is though...like any sort of relationship in life, someone just has to make the first move? I've gone and read people's fics because I remembered seeing their username in my comments and have a positive connotation with it and I want to support them too. I've also noticed the opposite thing happen, where people start to comment more on my fics once I've started interacting with their works. And I think that's actually really lovely and says something beautiful about humanity. Like...we want to make people feel good because they made us feel good. We appreciate each other and sometimes we don't say it enough but DAMN IT we are trying. Anyways askdfjbsk this got a little rambly because some of this is stuff I've been trying to work into a post about commenting for a while and this seemed like a good opportunity 😂 Hope that answered your question, "anon"...

[farfromstrange]

Using tumblr to share stuff about my life that literally no one cares about, but I just recovered from an emotional outburst, that in hindsight, is absolutely ridiculous but at the same time very sad.

I literally took one look at my lock screen today (5 minutes ago) because I went to check my messages and the second I took that look, I started bawling. Not because of my messages, oh no. I looked at this:

And I cried. I cried for five whole minutes.

I’ve been so wound up, anxious, fucking stressed and touch-starved lately that the thought of a man who I’ve only met once hugging me makes me crave the same goddamn hug RIGHT NOW. And I saw his face and I straight-up just bawled my eyes out and now I don’t know whether to laugh at how stupid that sounds or continue crying. I’m probably going to do the latter. I just need a hug, even a ‘hi’ would be enough. ‘How are you?’ THAT WOULD BE ENOUGH. Just someone who shows me love without even knowing me or what’s going on. A fucking ‘how are you?’ From a stranger goes a fucking long way, Charlie proved that because I felt so much fucking better that day. ‘Cause I’ve been lacking some real life love lately and I could really use some when I’m stressed, which I am. But no, here I am, writing angst and hurt/comfort with Matt Murdock to deal with my feelings because no one else in my close circle seems to give me comfort lately. That’s why I cried, probably, because I feel alone. Explains a lot.

So yeah, I’m not okay. Send help.

[wikiangela]

911 lone star 4x05

it seems that the season is finally picking up, and this is my fave episode so far 😂

more thoughts and spoilers ahead!

jfc Rob Lowe is so good in comedic roles fr, I think that's why I enjoy Owen now, because he gets funny stuff 😂 that scene was so funny 😂

the boy calling about the math problem was so adorable, and Grace's reaction was even more adorable, she's so fucking cute I can't 😩😍😍 that smile with a nose scrunch??? 😍😍😍😍

"not a math whiz, just a math fan" SAME I love math, I miss it, why did I go study English at uni lmao

we should see more of the 911 dispatchers, like we do in the og - like, I'd love to at least learn like 3 names of something 🙄😂

ngl, I have no memory of this paramedic they're talking about 😂 (also, the music in this scene is kinda loud isn't it? like the drums or whatever? idk, it makes my head hurt lol)

waaait, I knew it was a more Marjan focused episode from the promo, but... someone complained about her to HR???? what the fuck about, she's a delight 😂

oh my god the lady from the mobile home?? over the word "crazy" when Marjan saved her life?? seriously?

we're focusing a lot on Linus, huh - I bet something bad is about to happen (clearly something's wrong with the mom, and I'm anxious waiting to see what haha)

jfc it was one stupid word, that people used to throw around at anything and anyone, jfc I don't wanna be one of those "why are people these days so sensitive" bitches but... she saved you life lady, leave her alone

I love seeing more Marjan but I feel so bad for her

I almost forgot about this dude since the beginning tbh, I'm enjoying this episode a lot haha - no idea what his deal is but it's stressing me out

I am loving getting more of the dispatch - if this is how this season continues, I might change my opinion about it (which is that this season is kinda whatever so far, but maybe just the first four episodes were bc this is good)

I kinda like Marjan and Owen's dynamic, this is fun (pls give me more Owen and TK tho, I miss them, and I'm always a sucker for a father son relationship 😂)

this couple is so ridiculous, jfc, Owen's right, how is that guy not in jail 😂 and they want her to post an apology for calling her "crazy"? and tag their gofundme? lady, you are fucking crazy 😂😂

they're blaming the fire department, aka people who rescued her life, for destroying their home??? that dude fucking took it - oh my god they're insane and it's infuriating but also kinda funny 😂

I love Grace and Judd and I missed them, we barely saw them the last couple of episodes haha (and Charlie is the most adorable baby 😍😍)

thank God for Grace and her instincts about what's happening, and that Judd nudged her to go over there right away

also, Tommy is amazing and I love her and her friendship with Grace

Paul "notices things" - I completely forgot about that because it hasn't been referenced since like s1 - pls give him an actual storyline that includes all aspects of him, including this superpower of his 😂

Paul and Marjan are one of my fave friendships, they're really ride or die's, I just love them (also, I just love the way Paul speaks if that makes sense? I'm weird about voices and cadence and pronunciation idk 😂)

sooo, Asha's sticking around, right? 😂 they wouldn't have her know Paul from way back when if they weren't starting something here right? 😂 I'm not complaining, pls give Paul a storyline, and if it's finally a good love interest, even better haha

I'm sorry, but making such a big deal over the word "crazy" is literally so ridiculous I can't help but laugh

nooo, don't tell me she's really leaving

I'm crying

not Nancy and Mateo being the parent friends 😭😂

like, she's not gone forever is she? I'm sure she'll be back eventually... right?

okay, promo: I am so excited for this bomber storyline, it seems more interesting than the first 4 episodes of the season (like, I loved the Carlos episode - 4x04 but like... eh)

so, I loved this episode, please tell me this is when the season picks up finally, I was finally engaged from the beginning until the end, and enjoyed all of it

I did miss Carlos, and he's my fave character, but also, like I mentioned a lot already, the tarlos storyline so far with Iris etc was so fucking boring and it took a lot of time in those first episodes (and it's crazy I'm even saying that because I always say to give Carlos all the screen time 😂) so it was nice to kinda have a break from them haha and I'm so glad we're over the whole FBI thing

now, I adore Grace and I loved her storyline this eps, it was great and interesting

I feel like Asha's gonna stick around and I'm excited if they're gonna do anything with her and Paul (or just fucking give Paul some more screen time ffs)

I loved that we got more of other dispatchers aside from Grace and please keep it up, I wanna know them like we know Josh and Sue and Linda, for them to be around you know? 😂

and Marjan.... I don't believe she left for good, and I don't wanna believe that, and I get her reasoning, because fuck those people, but also.... this was just so ridiculous, do people really get that offended over the word crazy? I know it's offensive or whatever but since when it's a slur? 😂

anyway, it was a great episode for Marjan, loved seeing her more and her struggle with this whole situation, and her and Owen actually have a great dynamic, wish we'd seen more of that (if they didn't give 90% of screen time to Owen alone 🙄 I like him but sometimes it's like.... there are people who are more interesting that I wanna find out about lol)

genuinely can't wait for the next one, and it's the first time this season I'm actually looking forward to the next episode, I hope it's gonna only get better now haha