#and the bad takes on her character will be the end of me

[lostfracturess]

symptoms and causes | ch. 16

pairing — professor gojo x med student reader

summary — he's arrogant, self-centered, and he's your professor. renowned for his brilliance in neurosurgery and infamous for his allure. too bad you have to work with him on this research team. now you're stuck with dr. satoru gojo, delving into the complexities of both the brain and the heart — and of how far you'd go for a love that could destroy not only him but you as well.

word count — 11.5 k

warnings — 18+ ONLY. contains explicit sexual content, substance and alcohol abuse, dark and themes, unhealthy relationships, codependency, trauma, medical content and mentions of death, illness, abuse, and blood. full trigger warnings available on the masterlist. reader discretion is advised.

previously — unable to watch satoru turn to his abusive family for help with naoya's massive lawsuit, you're heading to his party against satoru's wishes, hoping to find something, anything, that might help his situation. but what happens when satoru decides to crash the party? and what will you find in that locked room?

author's note — hello lovelies, welcome back !! this chapter picks up right where we left off, but through satoru's eyes this time. also important note: this chapter contains a brief mention of SA concerning a background event not related to any of our main characters. as always, please mind all trigger warnings. and now enjoy the chaos <3

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

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I saw her the moment I stepped into that goddamn party, and everything inside me went still. 

Like that moment right before you drown, when the water first fills your lungs and the world goes quiet. Terrifying and so still.

She stood there under those cheap neon lights, looking scared and yet so beautiful—beautiful in that terrible way that makes you want to destroy something, that makes you want to tear it apart just to prove it's real.

Every fiber of my being screamed to go to her, to grab her and get her the hell out of here. Away from this place, away from him, away from all of it. 

But I couldn't move. Couldn't let the mask slip, not here, not with all these eyes on me. So I plastered on that easy smile and played the part of the mildly annoyed professor who just happened to crash a student party.

As if my skin wasn't crawling with the need to use again, veins begging for something—anything—to take the edge off. As if the mere sight of her didn't make me feel like someone had reached into my chest and ripped my fucking heart out, her next breath away from something I might regret.

She looked up at me with those pretty eyes of hers, and I saw the guilt there, swimming just beneath the surface. And for one horrible moment I thought, Good. Let it pull her under like it's pulling me. Let it fill her lungs the way fear is filling mine.

I almost hated her then — for lying to me again and again, for doing stupid things behind my back again and again, for making me feel this goddamn helpless again and again and again and fucking again.

But what lay beneath was worse. Because I knew why she was here. Always trying to save me, even if it meant throwing herself into the deep end, drowning right alongside me. And that's the worst kind of torture, isn't it? 

Watching the person you love cut themselves open on all your broken pieces, bleeding themselves dry, yet still reaching for more. And that thought made me want to scream.

"We'll talk about this later," I said, forcing that easy smile back onto my face though everything inside me was screaming to get her out of this goddamn house before she got herself into more trouble. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I need a drink."

I pushed past her, shoulder grazing hers, and I had to clench my fists to keep from turning back. Had to bite my tongue until I tasted blood to keep from saying something I couldn't take back. She had no idea what she did to me. Or maybe she did, and that was even worse.

Love and hate tangled together in my chest until I couldn't breathe. Because that's what she does to me — makes me feel everything at once, until I can't tell what's real anymore. Until I can't tell if I want to love her or ruin her. Until I can't remember which one would hurt more. Who I was before her. If I was anyone at all.

And it hit me then, as I left her standing there, all defiance and reckless stupidity and so unbearably precious it physically hurt—this must be what they mean when they say love and hate are two sides of the same coin. Because I loved her so much it felt like hatred. Hated her so deeply it could only be love.

Always on the razor's edge. One wrong step, and we'd both bleed out. Maybe we already were.

When was the last time I even went to a party like this anyway? Years ago, probably. Back when I could still pretend I had my shit together. Before I understood what it meant to love someone so consuming that self-destruction became a form of worship.

I needed a drink. Maybe ten. Maybe something stronger. 

Bass thundered through the floorboards as I shouldered my way deeper into the house, some shitty pop track slamming in my skull. Or maybe that was just the rage still burning in my bloodstream.

Sweaty bodies pressed in on all sides, but I barely noticed, lost in the chaos raging in my head. Lost in the desperate need scratching at my throat to turn back, to find her, to make sure she hadn't slipped away like every other good thing in my life.

I ordered vodka. First sip burned, but not enough. Never enough to wash away the fear, to forget that she was here, in this house, with him. The same bastard who'd tried to—My grip tightened on the glass. Yeah. Definitely needed something stronger. Here's hoping these kids still remember how to party.

"Professor Gojo! No way!"

A group of my students appeared beside me at the bar, their faces flushed with alcohol. Aoi, of course—that kid was everywhere. And Miwa, looking starstruck as always. Just my fucking luck.

"Is this what you all do instead of studying for my exams?" I asked, letting that easy smile slide into place.

"Come on, Prof, we've been killing ourselves over your damned hard exams," Miwa chimed in, all bright eyes and alcohol courage. "We deserve a break."

I let myself slip into the familiar role. The cool professor. The guy everyone wants to hang with. It was easier than I expected, letting their drunken energy wash over me, cracking jokes, making them laugh. Almost enough to wash out the withdrawal that made it nearly impossible to think straight. Almost enough to forget why I was really here. Almost.

Aoi was rambling about something, but I wasn't listening. Instead, I turned slightly, catching her gaze across the room. She looked at me like she wanted to kill me. Funny, how we wanted the same thing sometimes.

My woman. My stubborn, reckless, absolutely infuriating woman. Even now, with me watching her from across the room, I could see that defiance bright in her eyes. Even now, even here, in defiance of everything I'd asked of her, she stood her ground. 

It was admirable, really. And sometimes, that very defiance made me want to break her. Perhaps only to prove I could. To prove she wasn't in control. Perhaps because I was terrified that I wasn't. That I never was.

It's terrifying how thin that line is.

"See? Fucking legend!" Aoi raised his beer, at something I said, I think. I can't remember. Something clever, probably. Something that fits the role. "To the coolest professor on campus!" 

I raised my glass, I think. I can't remember. And that's when I caught sight of them by the front entrance. Suguru walked up to her, still standing where I'd left her, and cradled her face in his hands, tilting it up to meet his gaze. My god, could he be any more obvious about it?

I knew that look in his eyes. Had seen it countless times before, during all those long hours in the lab when he thought I wasn't paying attention. The way he'd lean in close to check her work, his hand lingering on her shoulder a moment too long. The way his eyes would follow her every move.

My best friend, in love with the love of my life. What a sick fucking joke.

He was examining her face now, probably making sure she was alright, being the good, caring friend he always was. His thumb brushed across her cheek, and something violent stirred in my gut. Because she didn't pull away. Of course she didn't. She never did, not with him.

They looked good together, standing there in the dim light. The brilliant researcher and his gifted student. No addiction between them. No sharp edges that sliced you open if you got too close. And I hated that.

I watched as she placed her hand over his, the gesture unbearably tender. Watched as he smiled down at her, that gentle smile he reserved only for her.

And just for a moment — one single, agonizing moment — I let myself picture a world where I hadn't reached her first. Where she'd chosen him instead. The better man. The one who'd never drag her down into his own personal hell.

The thoughts spiraled darker, louder, until I could barely breathe through the noise. Glass creaked under my grip. I needed a fucking pill. Needed something, anything, to make this stop. To make everything just fucking stop.

"Professor?" Miwa’s voice. "You okay?"

More students crowded the bar, blocking my view of them. One of them—what was his name? Third-year, not a complete idiot—shoved another beer into my hand. I chugged it in one long pull, their chatter fading to background noise.

"Well." That voice. That fucking voice. "Look who decided to crash my party after all."

I turned, meeting Naoya's scarred face with a smile that was all teeth and no warmth. "Zenin. Quite the gathering you've got here."

"Indeed." He signaled the bartender. "I gotta say though, I'm surprised to see you here, Professor. Don't tell me you're playing chaperone tonight?"

His words stripped away any pretense. He knew. Of course he fucking knew why I was really here. Not that I'd been particularly subtle about it.

"Just felt like reliving my youth," I said, taking the drink he offered. Anything to keep my hands busy, to keep myself from finishing what I'd started with his face.

Zenin's smirk widened, the scars pulling his flesh into something even uglier. "Ah yes, the good old days. Back when teachers knew their place and didn't go around screwing their students."

The fake smile slid off my face, the glass creaking in my grip as I pictured how easily his windpipe would crumple under my hands. How satisfying it would be to watch that smirk disappear for good.

"Careful, Zenin. Your face is already fucked up enough as is. Would be a damn shame if something happened to what's left of it."

He laughed, the sound grating on my last nerve like nails on a chalkboard. "Always so protective. But tell me, Professor, does she know the real reason you're here? Does she know about the—"

"Enough," I bit out.

"Oh, did I hit a nerve?" His eyes flicked across the room, landing on her. The way he looked at her made my vision bleed red around the edges. "She really is something else, isn't she? Too bad I didn't get a chance to get her alone that night—"

My hand lashed out before I could think, fisting in his collar. The fabric bunched in my grip as I hauled him close enough to see my own fury reflected in his eyes. "You fucking—"

Then Suguru was there, his hand slamming down on the bar between us. Silent, steady—a wall between me and a one-way ticket to unemployment. He didn't say a word, just fixed me with that look. The one I'd explicitly asked for earlier. Stop me before I do something I'll regret.

Fuck, I was really starting to regret that request right about now.

Then I felt her—her touch impossibly gentle as she laid her hand on my bicep, the heat of her skin seeping through my shirt. She leaned in close, "Satoru, can we talk for a minute?"

Her soft plea sliced through the haze, and suddenly I became acutely aware of the deafening silence that had fallen over the room, of the countless eyes boring into us.

I uncurled my fingers from Naoya's collar one by one, even though everything in me screamed to finish what I'd started. To paint the walls with whatever was left of his face. But I couldn't. We both knew. So I stepped back and followed her.

─── ·✧· ───

She led me through the crowd, her fingers still wrapped so gently around my arm. We pushed our way past the prying eyes, down a hallway, until she found what looked like an empty office. Probably belonged to Naoya's father, judging by the dark wood and that rich people smell.

For a moment, we just stood there, neither of us willing to shatter the fragile silence. Moonlight sliced through the blinds, turning everything silver and strange, like we were underwater. Maybe we were. I wasn't sure anymore. Her hand slipped from my arm, and suddenly I felt cold.

I collapsed into the chair behind the desk, the leather groaning under my weight. She stood silhouetted at the window, arms wrapped tight around herself, and I had to look away. Had to focus on something else, because I knew one glance at those eyes and I'd break.

My fingers found the pill on their own. Out of habit, really. Without thinking, I snatched up the silver letter opener next to me and crushed the pill beneath it, watching the powder scatter across the polished wood like fresh snow. I bent down and let the burn fill my nose, sear through my brain, numbing everything in an instant. 

When I looked up, she was staring. Always fucking staring, with eyes that flayed me to the bone. And she did it so effortlessly. Saw through everyone around her with that unnerving precision. Or maybe she saw through everything so clearly because she looked for the very things she wanted to hide from others.

"That's new," she said. Not an accusation. I was glad it wasn't.

"It's faster."

I averted my gaze and sank deeper into the chair, letting my head fall back against the headrest as warmth flooded my veins and the ceiling blurred and shifted above me. And then everything went soft around the edges, like looking through frosted glass.

A long exhale escaped my lips. Finally—fucking finally—the constant noise in my head, all that shit I can't shut up—the love, the hate, the fucking terror of it all—it faded to a whisper. The world got a little quieter, a little less sharp. A little more bearable.

For one perfect moment, I could actually breathe. Could almost convince myself I was in control. That this wasn't killing me. That I could walk away if I had to. That I wasn't fucking terrified of losing her. Of becoming him. Of everything.

I groaned, fingers raking through my hair, pulling, needing the pain. My hands were shaking again. Or maybe they never stopped. I couldn't tell anymore.

"You're angry," she said.

"No shit. What gave it away?" I scrubbed my hands over my face. "You showing up here after I specifically fucking told you not to? Or me nearly rearranging Zenin's face again?"

"Satoru—"

"Don't." I squeezed my eyes shut, fingers yanking at my hair again, trembling worse now. From the drugs, the rage, the fear, who the fuck knew. It all bled together these days. "You have no idea what he'd do. If something happened—" I stopped. Couldn’t continue.

"I'm not alone," she said, like that made a difference. "Maki, Yuta, Toge—they're all with me. We're being careful."

"Careful?" I sat upright, forcing myself to meet her gaze. "There's nothing fucking careful about this! It's reckless! You shouldn't even be—"

"I'm doing this for you—"

"Don't." I cut her off. "Don't make this about me."

"But it is!" She stepped closer, eyes blazing. "What, you expect me to just stand by and watch? While you fall apart?"

"This isn't your problem to fix—"

"Like hell it isn't!" Another step. Her eyes seared into mine. "I can't fucking take it anymore. You're in this mess because of me. Because you protected me that night. So don't you dare tell me this isn't my problem to fix."

I stared at her, something in my chest fracturing. "You think that's why I'm doing this? Because I feel obligated?"

"I think you're trying to protect me, like you always do."

"Then don't make me protect you all the goddamn time!" I shoved up from the chair and braced my hands on the desk. "I beat him within an inch of his life that night. I would've killed him if—" My throat closed around the words. "And I'd do it again. In a fucking heartbeat. That's what scares the shit out of me. What I become when it comes to you."

She went still.

"And if he hurt you again," the words scraped out of me, "I—I don't know what I'd do. So please. Just please don't make me find out."

I said the words I'd been turning over in my head for what felt like eternity. Don't make me find out, don't put yourself in danger, don't break my fucking heart. Which really meant break me all you want, just don't leave. I wouldn't survive it.

Her gaze dropped briefly to my hands, and she said, "You done?" 

Her question threw me. Done? God, this infuriating woman. But then I followed her line of sight and saw my hands clenched into white-knuckled fists around the desk’s edge. I slowly released them, my knuckles cracking in the sudden stillness.

I slumped back into the chair, exhausted, defeated, throwing an arm over my eyes. "God, I fucking hate you." The way she stood there, unflinching, unafraid—it made me insane. "I hate that you make me feel like this—so fucking terrified all the time."

"You don't hate me," she said.

"Sometimes I'm not so sure anymore," I answered.

How does it never get easier, I wondered. Loving her. Needing her. It just cuts deeper, spreads further, until I'm drowning in the ache. Until I can't breathe without feeling it in my lungs. And yeah, I hate her for that sometimes.

I couldn't look at her. I knew she'd be there, unyielding, waiting, enduring everything I threw at her, as she always did. Never breaking. Maybe that's what I hated most.

"You're so fucking stupid," I breathed, but it came out wrong. Too soft. Too much like 'I love you'. Too much like 'Please don't leave.' 

"I think that's mutual." She crossed the room then and leaned against the desk, arms folded over her chest. "I'm sorry I lied to you."

I lowered my arm and looked at her. "No, you're not."

"I am sorry for worrying you," she tried again, and I almost believed her, wishing desperately that she'd never have to worry about anything the way I worry about her. "Go ahead, say it. Tell me how stupid I was to come here. I know you're dying to."

"Why would you think that?"

She kept her eyes fixed on the floor. "Because it's true. I make the wrong choice every fucking time."

I watched her, this brilliant, stubborn woman that I love so much, beating herself up over choices that weren't really choices at all—just impossible situations with no right answers. Like there was ever a right answer. And sometimes she reminded me so much of myself. As if I hadn't spent years doing the same thing, and probably still do.

But seeing her do it—it was like staring into a mirror and seeing not just my reflection, but the reflection of everything I hated about myself.

"I think that's mutual," I echoed her words back to her.

With a heavy sigh, I pushed up from the chair, gripping the edge of the desk for a second. Then I reached for her, hands landing on her hips, tugging her close, needing her close. My lips ghosted over hers. Hesitant. Unsure. When she didn't pull away, I kissed her. My hand came up to cradle her face, thumb skimming her cheekbone as I deepened the kiss.

"Alright, what's the plan?" I murmured against her mouth.

She told me about the locked room upstairs and her plan to get it. So calm. She told it so calm. Like it was that simple. Like this wasn't the most insane thing I'd ever heard. But I knew she'd go through with it no matter what I said.

"You seriously think I'm gonna let you anywhere near him with alcohol involved?"

"No," she said. "I think you're going to help me."

"Times like this, I'm really feeling that age difference between us," I said, but we both heard the resignation in my voice. The moment I'd already lost this fight.

"So you'll help?" she asked, ignoring my comment.

Before she could celebrate her victory, I yanked her closer, fingers twisting in her hair. With a sharp tug, I forced her head back until she had no choice but to meet my gaze, her throat bared. Our eyes locked, and I saw the instant her breath hitched.

"On one condition."

"What's that?"

"When we get home, you're gonna make it up to me for all the stress you've caused. Got it?"

"Is that really how you want to play this?"

"Oh, love, I think we're way past propriety at this point."

A shiver ran through her — one that made me almost smile. I could feel her pulse racing beneath my fingertips, could feel the way she melted into me despite herself. It almost made this whole mess worth it.

"Now then." I pulled back just far enough to look her in the eye. "let's have some fun, shall we?"

─── ·✧· ───

So, here's the fun story about how I ended up playing beer pong with my arch-nemesis (besides Sukuna, that is) against my future lovely wife and some chemistry nerd who wouldn't shut up about covalent bonds. Not exactly the Saturday night I had in mind.

I mean, here I was, standing next to Naoya — yeah, the same guy whose face I'd rearranged a few months back — trying to aim at red plastic cups while you were absolutely wiping the floor with us. Turns out that whole '10 years of grief training in alcoholism over your dead father' wasn't just a cute phrase you threw around. Who would've thought?

But really, trying to out-drink an opioid addict? That's like challenging a fish to a swimming contest. Except the fish is in heavy withdrawal. So like, with no fin. Not my finest analogy. I blame the alcohol. What was my point again?

Anyway. Most annoying part? This chemistry department kid with these wide, bright eyes wouldn't stop talking to you about molecular structures. And you were actually entertaining him. At a party. About electron transfers. Of all the insufferable things.

"So if you consider the aromatic compounds—" he was saying, and I swear on my medical license, I didn't mean for the ball to hit him. And I definitely didn't mean for it to hit him that hard. Pure accident, really. 

The ball bounced off his shoulder, effectively shutting him up. They both turned to look at me. "Molecular restructuring in organic compounds? Really?" I shrugged. "At a party?"

She shot me that look. You know the one. The classic 'I-can't-believe-I'm-sleeping-with-this-idiot' glare. It's become quite familiar these days.

"Trouble in paradise?" Naoya said beside me, and I briefly considered rearranging his face again. For symmetry's sake, of course.

But then she bent over to pick up the ball, and suddenly organic chemistry was the furthest thing from my mind. I definitely shouldn't have let her leave the house in that skirt. Though knowing her, she probably wore it just to torture me. 

"Getting distracted, Professor?" she said, straightening up with that little smile that never fails to make me want to do wildly inappropriate things to her in very public places. She leaned across the table, deliberately tapping one of our cups with her finger, giving me her most innocent eyes. Because apparently, driving me insane was her new favorite pastime.

"Me?" I lifted the red cup she'd tapped to my lips, taking my sweet time with the drink, my eyes never leaving hers. "Never."

And somewhere in the haze of beer and the way she was looking at me, I tried to remember why the hell we were even here. Oh right—something about stealing keys. Real professional operation we've got going here. The medical board would be so proud. Their star surgeon, reduced to playing beer pong as a distraction tactic. 

Naoya's keys were right there on the table, practically screaming to be grabbed. But between her legs in that skirt and the way she kept biting her lip every time she lined up a shot, I found myself giving fewer and fewer shits about saving my career and more about how quickly I could get her alone. Priorities. I clearly had them. Alcohol might have scrambled them a bit, I guess.

I caught a glimpse of Suguru standing off to the side of the beer pong table. He was pinching the bridge of his nose, his eyes darting back and forth between me and her like he was watching the world's most stressful tennis match. I really owed him one for putting up with this shit.

Near the chemistry kid, a girl approached who looked a bit like Higurama's intern—though I wasn't entirely sure. She looked different, wearing makeup and dressed up. But that couldn't be her. She'd avoid places with flashing lights because of her epilepsy. I must be seeing things.

Then Naoya, because clearly this shitshow wasn't enough of a disaster already, decided to "level up the process." He snapped his fingers at a passing bartender, and before I could process what the fuck was happening, there was a tray of perfectly lined up tequila shots on the table. Complete with cinnamon and orange slices, because apparently, we're keeping it classy while trying to get my future wife drunk.

"New rule," Naoya announced, his scarred face pulling into what I can only assume was meant to be a grin. "Next shot I sink, you drink both. Beer and tequila."

I glanced over at her, my gut churning. Not from the alcohol—it'd take a hell of a lot more than this to get me there—but from the way she met Naoya's challenge with a nod. That stubborn tilt of her chin that always meant trouble. My palms started to sweat.

Of course, Naoya's ball dropped perfectly into her cup. Because the universe really does have a sick sense of humor.

Watching her reach for both drinks, I found myself wondering what the medical board would be more pissed about — me playing drinking games with students, screwing one of my students, or the fact that I was seriously considering murder. Again.

Then, by some physics-defying miracle or sheer dumb luck, the chemistry kid actually landed a shot. He looked as shocked as the rest of us when the ball plopped into Naoya's cup. But it was her next shot that really got my attention — perfect arc, clean landing, like she'd been doing this her whole damn life.

"Drink up, Professor," she said, but there was something different in her voice.

She reached for the tequila, and then—fuck me—propped one leg up on a nearby beer crate, the motion making her skirt ride up just enough to flash a strip of skin above her tights. Wait. Those weren't tights. Those were fucking stockings.

My brain short-circuited as I realized she'd been walking around all night in stockings. Actual stockings, with what I knew had to be a garter belt hidden under that criminally short skirt. The same spot where she was now deliberately sprinkling cinnamon.

The sight of that exposed sliver of skin between stocking and skirt made my blood boil. When the hell had she even bought those? Had she worn them just for tonight, knowing they'd make me lose my goddamn mind? Was she trying to get herself killed?

Because right now, watching her purposely dust cinnamon on that band of exposed skin, I wasn't sure if I wanted to murder her or fuck her. Probably both. My mouth went dry, and it had fuck-all to do with the alcohol.

"Well?" She tilted her head, all innocence except for that knowing look in her eyes. "Coming to get your tequila?" 

Like she had to ask twice. Yet I hesitated. With all these people watching? What was she playing at? It was reckless, careless, like she was deliberately trying to expose us. It was power play, a challenge. And I knew, that she knew, that I couldn't resist.

A slow smile spread across my face as I sank to one knee before her, the crowd fading into a blur of noise. All that mattered was her—the way her breath hitched as I gripped her calf, the way she tensed as she realized that I made a whole show for her (poor girl didn’t expect that now, did she?)—the feel of her skin on my tongue.

I took my sweet time with the cinnamon, letting my tongue glide over the exposed strip of flesh, feeling her shiver. My teeth grazed her skin, just enough to draw a soft gasp from her lips. If she wanted a show, I'd give her a show. And part of me wanted to shove that skirt higher, to chase that taste of salt and cinnamon further up her thigh until—

Focus. Fucking focus.

I straightened, stepping into her space. She held an orange slice in one hand, the shot glass in the other, and I couldn't help but notice how her pupils had blown wide, how her chest rose and fell just a little faster than normal.

I plucked the orange from her fingers with my teeth, my lips brushing her skin, then took the shot glass, using the movement to press closer, my mouth right by her ear, "What exactly is your plan here?"

"Create distraction," she breathed back.

God help me, but it was working. I was definitely distracted. Whole damn crowd was distracted. And watching her play this game—watching her play me—was probably the hottest and most infuriating thing I'd ever experienced. And I'm pretty sure everyone could see I was hard too.

"You're distracting the wrong audience," I whispered before knocking back the shot.

In the midst of trying to control my homicidal urges over those goddamn stockings, she caught my eye and subtly jerked her head. I turned, making it look like I was just checking something, and spotted them—Zenin, Okkotsu, and Inumaki hovering on the other side of the table behind Naoya, waiting for their chance. 

Right. The keys. The whole reason we were here. I almost forgot.

The game continued, the tension building with each shot. We were down to the last round — winner takes all. That's when she decided to really test my patience.

"Let's make this more interesting," she announced, her voice carrying over the crowd. "Losers jump in the pool." A pause, then because apparently she was hell-bent on giving me a coronary. "No clothes."

"You wouldn’t dare," Naoya scoffed.

"Try me," she replied. 

I shot her a warning look. She subtly chewed on her bottom lip, meeting my gaze with an unnerving calm, perhaps her way of saying everything's gonna be okay. It did little to ease the knot in my stomach.

One shot left. If she made this, Naoya and I would be stripping down for a midnight dip. If she missed—

I tried not to think about her in that pool. Tried not to think about those stockings getting soaked. Tried not to think about murdering every sorry bastard who might lay eyes on her. Either way, this woman was going to be the death of me. If I didn't kill her first.

Naoya landed his shot, fucking prick. I missed mine for obvious reasons. Chemistry kid missed too, leaving everything on her shoulders. The ball left her hand, arcing through the air in what felt like slow motion. It circled the rim, then rolled away.

The crowd went wild. Naoya's victory smirk made me want to punch his face in. I glanced over at her, wondering for a second if she'd missed on purpose. But there was no time for that.

"Well?" Naoya's voice. "I believe the losers owe us a show."

"The game wasn't exactly fair—" I started, but she cut me off.

"Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted, Naoya?" She turned to him, her words sharp. "To see me undress without having to drug me first?"

The crowd went dead silent. Naoya's scarred face contorted into something ugly. "Watch your mouth, little girl. You're not as untouchable as you think."

"And you're pathetic," she spat back, then turned away from him. "At least I get to choose when I undress, right?”

She started walking toward the pool, each step deliberate, commanding. I followed, caught between pride and sheer terror at what she was about to do. At the edge, she turned back to me.

"Don't," I pleaded, but she was already reaching for the hem of her skirt. It fell, revealing the dark lace of her stockings. Then her top followed, and I stepped closer, trying to shield her from the leering eyes.

"This is insane." But my protest died as she stood there in only black lace, and then I saw them—the bruises from the fire still painted across her waist and ribs. Dark purple and yellow marks that hadn't yet faded, cruel reminder of how close I'd come to losing her.

The sight sobered me instantly. Something twisted in my chest, sharp and painful. The bruises I'd carefully tended to, the ones that still made her wince when I changed her bandages—on full display for this crowd of drunk idiots, turned into a spectacle.

"Please," I begged, my voice barely audible. "Don't do this."

She met my gaze, and for a fleeting moment, I thought I’d reached her. But then that smile—the one that sealed my fate—touched her lips. "Sorry, Professor," she whispered, and then she was gone, falling backward into the pool, taking a piece of me with her.

The splash echoed in my ears like a gunshot, and I was already shrugging off my jacket, ready to either dive in after her or use it to cover her when she surfaced. A cold, hard fury settled in my gut. Naoya was going to pay for this.

The crowd roared as she surfaced, her hair plastered to her face, water tracing the curves of her body beneath the soaked lace. Our eyes met across the distance, me standing at the pool's edge, and I didn’t bother to hide my disappointment. Something flickered across her face—regret maybe, or shame—before she looked away.

Hell broke loose. Bodies crashed into the water, sending waves across the pool. Even Naoya stripped off his shirt and dove in, reveling in the attention. The whole party seemed to shift to the pool in a matter of seconds — clothes flying, drinks splashing, the pristine water turning into a churning mess. 

Perfect distraction.

But I barely registered any of it, my world had narrowed to her. I watched as she climbed out, leaving a trail of wet footprints on the concrete, practically sprinting past me, her gaze fixed on the floor, while water dripped from her hair, her skin, the dark lace clinging to her form.

Behind her, the pool had turned into chaos — exactly what she'd planned, I realized. 

I gathered her clothes from where they'd fallen and followed her inside. I caught a glimpse of Okkotsu's quick movements near the discarded clothes by the pool. 

Well played.

─── ·✧· ───

Her dripping form drew curious eyes as we moved through the foyer. Each step felt like a penance—hers for the recklessness, mine for letting it happen. Heads turned, conversations died, the sudden silence punctuated only by the soft drip, drip, drip of water from her hair.

Kento’s face flashed past, but I barely registered him. No doubt he'd give me shit about it at the university later, like he didn't already know something was up with me and her.

I wrapped my jacket around her shivering shoulders, fighting the desperate urge to reach for the opioids hidden in my pocket. Withdrawal, guilt, and fury burned together in my veins, making me want to crawl out of my own skin. 

I stepped in front of her, partly to block all those eyes on her, partly to hide how bad my hands were shaking. None of it was worth it. Not the keys, not avoiding my parents, none of it. How did we end up here? How did I allow things to get to this point?

Upstairs, she dressed quickly, water still dripping from her hair, leaving damp patches on her clothes.

"Are you cold?" 

"I'm okay," she said, avoiding my gaze. 

She was shaking. I could see the goosebumps on her arms. "You're shivering," I said and reached for her, but she pulled away.

“I’m fine, really.”

Despite her words, I pulled her close. She didn't resist this time, tilting her face up to mine. Her eyes were bright, and for a second, I thought she might cry. The world could have been watching, for all I cared. If those tears fell, it would be my undoing.

And then I thought of everything she'd done, everything she'd had to do—for me. My twenty-four-year-old student, forced to protect me from my own damn parents, to beg for my own money. Because I’d hit a guy who tried to hurt her. Why was it all so fucked up?

The high was long gone, leaving this gaping hole. My limbs felt heavy, detached, like they belonged to a stranger, unable to reach out and fix what I’d broken. And we were so far from where we started.

"You're disappointed," she finally said. She wasn't asking.

"We should leave." Because I couldn't bear to watch her sacrifice one more piece of herself for me.

"You can leave."

Before I could say anything back, Zenin came bursting into our corner, Okkotsu and Inumaki right behind her, her eyes all lit up. "That was fucking insane!" she yelled, waving something around—Naoya's keys. "But it worked! I can't believe it actually—" She stopped short, finally noticing the tension between us.

The win felt empty. Yeah, we got what we came for. But what did it cost? Looking at her, still shivering a little in my jacket, I wasn't so sure it was worth it. I was supposed to protect her. Instead, I just kept watching her throw herself in the fire for me. 

Some professor I was. Some man I was.

Strange how winning can feel so much like losing, especially when you realize you're not the one paying the price.

─── ·✧· ───

I stayed outside Naoya's room, playing lookout. At least that's what I told them. Truth was, I couldn't stand being in there, couldn't bear being near her, watching her fight my battles while I was barely holding myself together.

The itch under my skin had spread, making my whole body crawl with invisible insects while she did the dirty work. Even after everything, she was still trying to save me. 

And I was still letting her.

I slid down the wall, my head hitting the floor. How did we end up here? What the fuck were we doing? What the fuck was I doing?

I'm thirty-five years old, for fuck's sake. Why was I acting like a goddamn teenager? I should've stopped her, shouldn't have let her leave the house to begin with, should've been the adult. But instead, I let it happen, standing by and watching where it led. Again.

This whole situation was insane. We were in too deep, and I knew it. But I couldn't seem to find my way out, couldn't seem to stop this trainwreck we were on. It was like I was watching it all happen from outside my own body, powerless to change course.

What kind of man was I? What kind of professor? I was supposed to be her mentor, her… something more. Instead, I was dragging her down with me.

I thought back to that night, the one that started it all. The night I found her in the lab, working late, hunched over her microscope. She looked up at me with those eyes, those damn eyes that seemed to see right through me. And I was lost. I knew it was wrong. I knew I should have walked away. But I didn't. I couldn't. Drawn in. Consumed.

And now, here we were. Trapped in this fucked-up situation of our own making. I wanted to blame her, to say it was all her fault for being so reckless, so damn stubborn. But I knew that wasn't true. I let this happen. I didn’t stop it. But why? 

I could replay the events in my mind, frame by frame, but the crucial moment, the point where I should have intervened, remained a blur. It was as if some part of me had wanted to see where this ended.

Music still drifted up from downstairs, the bass thumping through the walls. It felt wrong, out of place. Like we were in a different world, a fucked-up one, while everyone else was living their normal, happy lives.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block it all out, trying to pretend, just for a moment, that this wasn't happening. That we weren't here. That everything was okay. But it was happening. And I was in it, and I knew I couldn't hold my breath much longer.

My hands wouldn't stop shaking. Kept seeing things in the corners of my vision. Shadows that shouldn't move but did, faces that weren't faces at all. The wallpaper breathed. In and out. In and out. Like a lung.

Stop it. Just stop all of it. Make it stop. But it won't stop, can't stop, because she's in there right now, digging through his things, trying to save me save me save me why won't she just stop trying to save me?

Everything felt wrong, sick, twisted. Too bright and too dark all at once. My skin didn't fit right anymore. Nothing fit right anymore. God, I needed a goddamn fix.

A cough. I pressed my hand against my mouth. When I pulled it away, my palm was red. 

Huh. That's new. 

I stared at the blood, watching it pool in the lines of my hand. It looked wrong somehow, too dark, too thick. The longer I stared, the more it seemed to move strangely, crawling along the creases of my palm.

Was blood supposed to move like that? Like it was alive? Like it was trying to tell me something? I couldn't remember anymore. I couldn't remember a lot of things lately. The blood kept moving, kept spreading. 

Maybe this was it—maybe I was finally losing whatever scraps of sanity I had left, sitting here on a dirty floor watching my own blood drip down my palm.

A part of me wondered if he'd been right all along, that I was becoming him, the very thing I’d always feared. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. I was supposed to be better, different. Not this—huddled on a filthy floor at a college party, watching my blood move as if in psychosis, while she risked everything for me. Again. 

The door handle turned. Shit. I wiped my palm against the dark carpet, smearing the blood into the fibers where it vanished like it was never there. I scrambled to my feet just as they emerged. She moved quickly, shoving something beneath the waistband of her skirt. Before I could speak, she grabbed my arm.

"Let's leave." There was something like panic in her voice. "I'll tell you outside."

I gripped her hand, my own pulse quickening, and we went downstairs and pushed through the mass of drunk students. But then the music cut abruptly, plunging us into a moment of strange silence before panicked voices filled the void. 

"What the hell—?" Okkotsu’s shout cut through the din from behind us.

Then I saw the flashing lights—red and blue strobing through the windows. Fuck. 

"Cops!" Someone shouted, and the whole house erupted into chaos as people scrambled in every direction.

"Everyone freeze!" A voice boomed through the foyer. "Nobody moves!"

We reached the entrance as two officers shouldered their way through the front door. The bigger one looked like he benched trucks for fun, taking up almost the entire doorframe as he planted himself there.

"Listen up!" he bellowed, one meaty hand resting on his belt. "Party's over. Nobody leaves until we check IDs."

Perfect. Just fucking perfect.

I felt her tense beside me, those things hidden in her waistband might as well have been burning her skin. I could practically feel her panic.

"Look, officers." I stepped forward, forcing my voice into something professional. "There seems to be some confusion—"

"No confusion here," Truck-Bencher cut me off, the scar on his lip twisting as he frowned. "Got noise complaints, reports of underage drinking. Everyone stays put."

"I'm faculty at the university. These are my students and they're all over twenty-one. You're wasting everyone's time—"

"Nobody leaves until we say so."

"You really want to process IDs for over two hundred students?"

"You telling me how to do my job?" He shifted closer, chest puffed out despite me having two inches on him.

Withdrawal crawled beneath my skin like insects, each bite feeding the rage that built vertebra by vertebra up my spine. "Depends. Are you actually doing it, or just power tripping?"

"Back the fuck up." His hand dropped to his belt. "Last chance."

I felt her fingers digging into my arm, trying to pull me back. But the rage was a living thing now, burning away anything resembling sense or restraint. "Or what?"

The punch came fast. I dropped, and heard the sickening crack of bone against flesh—not mine. Some poor student next to me. For a heartbeat, everything stopped. Then chaos.

Bodies everywhere. Screaming. Shoving. Radio static cutting through the roar. Her hand in mine as we pushed through the surge. Her friends somewhere behind. Everything blurred. I can't remember when she let go of my hand.

I just remember the scream. Different from the others. Then her voice, "Get her on the ground!" I shoved through the mass of bodies. Saw the girl on the floor. Ice flooded my veins.

I knew that face. Higurama's intern. My patient. My responsibility.

I dropped beside her, my hands shaking so violently I could barely feel them. Her eyes rolled back. Withdrawal made everything too sharp, too bright. I couldn't think. Couldn't—

Satoru. Satoru. Satoru. Satoru. Satoru. Satoru. It was her voice. Fingers gripped my arm. "Satoru, look at me." I met her eyes. Steady. Unnerving. "Focus."

Everything snapped back into place. My phone was in my hand before I realized I'd moved. "This is Dr. Gojo from Jujutsu Medical. Twenty-six-year-old female, epileptic, pre-seizure presentation. We need immediate assistance."

My voice was mechanical, professional. Inside, my mind screamed. Why was she here? Had she been drinking? Were her meds interacting with something? I should know this. Should be better than this. Should be fucking better. 

Nausea rose in my throat and I'd never felt more like a failure in my entire fucking life.

Behind us, the fight continued to rage. A man’s voice bellowed, trying to restore order. Then Suguru was there, kneeling beside her, his hands gentle as he cradled her head. He murmured something, soft and low. The tenderness in his movements caught me off guard. 

"The ambulance is taking too long." His voice cut through everything. Before I could process it, he had her in his arms, head protected against his chest and moved.

─── ·✧· ───

I can't remember how we got to the hospital.

Everything blurred into fragments. Flashing lights, squealing tires, the weight of everything crushing my chest. Each breath scraped like broken glass. My hands wouldn't stop shaking until I swallowed three pills. Maybe four. I lost count.

The fluorescent lights overhead were too bright, too harsh, making my skull feel like it was splitting open. I wanted to crack my head against the wall.

Some part of me was still moving, still speaking in that detached doctor voice — rattling off medical history, medications, possible interactions. Years of training overriding the screaming in my head. But they never trained us for this.

Never trained us for how guilt tastes like acid in your throat while watching your mistakes breathe shallowly on starched white sheets.

They taught us to make clean incisions, to suture arteries, to restart hearts. But not how your own heart would seize when you recognize the face on the floor. Not how your girlfriend’s hands would be steadier than your own worthless trembling ones as you fumbled for your phone, your throat closing around the words "this is my fault", "please" and "I'm sorry."

Didn’t prepare us for withdrawal turning your hands into treacherous strangers while someone seized at your feet. For the shame that festers in your gut as you come down, struggling to remember basic fucking dosages through the need scorching through your veins.

They never warned us how love would carve you open worse than any scalpel, making you both butcher and victim, instrument and incision. Never warned us about loving someone while you’re falling apart. How it feels like drowning in open air, your chest cracked wide and your beating heart wrenched out into daylight, desperate and terrified and somehow still pumping, still fighting, still so fucking afraid.

Higurama's intern lay still now, the steady drip of the IV marking time like a metronome in the silence. I watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest, my mind replaying the medications, the dosages, searching for the mistake I must have made. There had to be one. There was always one.

Perhaps he was right about me after all. Funny how even now, even here, I could still hear his voice so clearly.

"You okay?"

She sat across from me, swallowed by my spare clothes—an old t-shirt and sweatpants that draped loosely on her frame, a blanket draped over her legs. Anything was better than those clothes from before, those fucking stockings I'd personally thrown in the trash.

"Satoru?" she tried again. "You okay?"

I couldn't bring myself to answer.

"Talk me through her meds again," she said, resting her head in her palm. Her eyes, piercing and unwavering, never left my face as she waited.

I rubbed my temples, trying to focus through the exhaustion. "Standard anticonvulsants. Levetiracetam, 500mg twice daily. Added phenytoin after the first seizure." I fell back into my chair, scrubbing my hand over my face. "She couldn't tolerate the Levetiracetam, so I switched to Topiramate, 500mg thrice daily."

She was quiet for a moment. "Side effects?"

"Minor. Tremor in her extremities sometimes, but nothing she couldn't handle. It was working." I paused. "It was supposed to be working."

"EEG results?"

"Showed mild abnormalities. Nothing that would explain a seizure this severe." I scrubbed at my face again, harder this time. "I should have seen it. Should have caught something."

"Satoru." Her voice held that gentle firmness I knew so well. "You did everything right."

"Then why did she seize?" I stood abruptly, the chair screeching against linoleum. I turned away, unable to bear her gentle gaze. Outside, dawn was breaking in shades of grey. No color, no warmth, just an endless stretch of concrete and clouded sky bleeding into each other. "If I did everything right, why is she lying here?"

"Because sometimes that's just how it goes. You know this better than anyone," she said. "Medicine isn't perfect. Neither are we."

My reflection stared back at me, ghostly and distorted in the glass. Dark circles, stubble, hair a fucking mess. A doctor coming down from a high while his patient lay in a hospital bed.

"I should have increased the dosage earlier. Run more tests. I should have—"

"Seen the future?"

"I should have been better."

"You are already the best," she said, but it felt like a lie to me. "But even the best can't control everything."

Higurama's intern stirred slightly in her sleep, and we both fell silent, the moment stretching taut between us. I dragged myself back to the chair, sinking down with my face in my hands.

"You didn't do anything wrong," she whispered, leaning forward to brush a stray strand of hair from the girl's forehead. "Sometimes life just happens, and all we can do is be there to pick up the pieces."

I wanted to believe her. God, how I wanted to. But the truth sat like stones in my stomach.

"I hate this," I whispered.

"I know."

Silence.

"Do you blame yourself?" she asked quietly.

"How can I not?"

Because it's stupid, you know this. I could feel them in my bones, the words forming on her lips before she could speak them. "How did that ever change anything?" I said before she could start.

She leaned back, the chair creaking slightly. "Do you think we are terrible people?" she asked, her voice so soft I almost missed it.

I turned to look at her then, really look at her. Even exhausted and worried, wearing my old clothes, she was still the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. Like a drug I couldn't quit, a high I'd chase until it killed me. 

And what did that say about either of us? That I wanted to crack her open, crawl inside her skin and nestle myself in her marrow? Wanted to consume her, devour her, until there was nothing left but the two of us, fused together in the most depraved way possible?

It was as if we were always meant to find each other. But it was a penance, for both of us.

"I think I am what I am because of you," I finally said.

And it was the truth. She'd molded me, shaped me, just as I'd shaped her. We'd ruined each other for anyone else, stripped away the innocence and left only the filth and grit behind.

Her hand fell from her face, her eyes meeting mine. "And I am what I am because of you."

"Does that scare you?"

"I think one gets used to it."

"Yeah," I said finally, my voice rough. "I guess you do get used to it. Until you don't."

She frowned, but before she could voice something, Suguru stepped inside. 

He said we should leave, and maybe that was for the better anyway, though I couldn't quite shake the feeling that there was an edge to his voice. Anger, perhaps. But I couldn't blame him. Not really.

I grabbed her things, my hand finding its familiar place at the small of her back as we headed for the door. Suguru's voice followed us down the corridor. "What did you find in Zenin's room anyway?" he asked, as if it were something to be discussed in the doorway.

I walked ahead.

I didn't need to hear again about the unconscious women on the Polaroids. 

─── ·✧· ───

Too quiet.

He was never this quiet.

"How bad is it?" I asked, perched on the edge of the exam bed where the paper sheet betrayed every nervous shift of my weight with stupid crinkles. Pale morning light filtered through the blinds, casting thin stripes across the linoleum floor.

I'd coughed up blood again earlier this morning. More than last night. The metallic taste had filled my mouth before I even opened my eyes. I'd stumbled to the bathroom, careful not to wake her—she needed the rest after we spent the whole damn night at the police station.

I stared at the red running down the drain. Way more than there should be. I'd blamed it on stress and alcohol last time. But now? It meant my liver was probably failing faster than I'd thought. Coagulation system breaking down, blood vessels becoming fragile. Textbook end-stage.

I called him then. He was still at the hospital, had slept there while looking after Higurama's intern. His face had gone pale when he saw me walk in. Guess I looked as bad as I felt.

We ran tests. All of them. Blood work, chest X-rays, the works. And now here we are. I watched him reading what I assumed was my death sentence, waiting for him to finally look up, while the clock on the wall ticked away the seconds.

But he kept his eyes fixed on the test results, holding himself with the careful rigidity of someone handling explosives. Another bad sign.

"Suguru."

He exhaled slowly, finally meeting my gaze with eyes that said everything before his mouth could form the words. "You should have started treatment sooner. We talked about this months ago."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." I tried to wave off his concern. "What do the results say?"

His fingers tightened on the papers until the corners creased. "Your liver enzymes are through the roof. AST over 1000, ALT even higher. Bilirubin's climbing while albumin's dropping. Your PT/INR values—" He trailed off, shaking his head. "Your liver is failing, Satoru. Not just damaged anymore—failing."

I let the clinical terms wash over me. The doctor in me understood the implications perfectly. The addict in me wanted to laugh at the irony.

"Well," I said, forcing lightness into my tone, "guess I should have listened to you sooner, huh?"

Suguru's expression hardened. "This isn't a joke. Without immediate intervention—" He caught himself, but I could read the rest in his eyes as clearly as any lab report.

Without immediate intervention, I was dying. Fitting, really. That my body would choose to betray me just when I'd finally found something worth living for.

"How's the withdrawal going?" Suguru asked, setting down the test results.

"Managing." I ran a hand through my hair, trying to ignore how even that simple movement felt like too much effort. "Reduced the hydromorphone gradually. Down to about 5mg now."

"Satoru." His voice carried that familiar note of frustration, the one I'd heard a thousand times before. "You need to stop completely. Not reduce—stop. Your liver can't handle any more strain."

"I'm trying," I snapped, then immediately regretted the harshness. "Sorry. I know you're trying to help."

Suguru pulled up a chair, sitting down with a heavy sigh. "We need to start treatment immediately. The protocol won't be pleasant—high-dose corticosteroids, immunosuppressants, possibly plasmapheresis if things get worse."

"Sounds fun."

"It'll be brutal," he continued, ignoring my sarcasm. "The side effects alone—you'll need to be monitored constantly. Multiple blood draws daily, frequent imaging. And absolutely no narcotics—your liver won't survive it."

I absorbed this, the clinical reality of what lay ahead settling into my bones. "So basically, I get to feel like shit while you stick me with needles and watch me suffer."

"That's about right. But it's either that or start planning your funeral."

"At least you're honest." I attempted a smile that felt more like a grimace. "When do we start?"

"Tomorrow morning. I'll admit you tonight, get you set up in a private room," Suguru said, already reaching for admission forms.

"Monday morning."

He looked up sharply. "What?"

"I have a family dinner on Sunday," I shrugged. "Can't skip it."

"Are you insane?" Suguru's voice rose to fill the small room. "Your liver is failing, Satoru. This isn't something you can postpone for a damn dinner party."

"Monday morning," I repeated firmly. "I gave my word I'd be there."

"Your word won't mean much if you're dead."

"I can manage two more days."

"No, you can't." Suguru slammed the test results down with enough force to make me flinch. Since when is he always so fucking tense? "Your numbers are critical. Every hour we delay treatment increases the risk of complete liver failure."

"Monday."

"For fuck's sake, Satoru—"

"I said Monday. I need to do this, Suguru. Please."

He stared at me for a long moment, jaw clenched so tight I could hear his teeth grinding. Finally, his shoulders slumped.

"Fine. Monday morning, first thing. But if you show any signs of deterioration—any at all—I'm admitting you immediately. And no alcohol at that dinner. Not a single drop."

"Deal."

"I mean it, Satoru."

"I know," I said, trying to inject some levity into the heavy atmosphere. "You can do all sorts of things to me on Monday. Not like I have much on my schedule anyway."

"So Yaga has exempted you?"

"Temporarily relieved of my teaching duties until further notice." I tried to keep my voice light, but the words still choked me. "Apparently, licking your student's leg in public view isn't considered acceptable behavior. Who knew?"

"Everyone would have known that."

"Most people were too drunk to remember anyway, or too busy dealing with the police raid afterwards to care." I shrugged. "Silver lining?"

"This isn't funny. Do you have any idea how serious this is? Your career—"

"My career?" I almost laughed. "In case you missed the memo, my liver's failing. I think my career concerns just got bumped down the priority list."

Suguru fell silent.

"Besides," I added, "maybe it's for the best. Can't exactly teach while going through treatment, can I?"

"Yaga doesn't know about your condition?"

"No, and he's not going to. As far as he's concerned, I'm just taking some time to... reassess my professional boundaries."

"And when he asks why you're not fighting this?"

I sighed. "Let him think what he wants. I've got bigger problems right now."

"Like a family dinner you're insisting on attending despite being on death's door?"

"Exactly." I flashed him a grin, this one a little more genuine despite everything. "See? You're getting it."

"You're impossible."

"That's why you love me."

"That's why I'm going to enjoy sticking you with needles on Monday."

"Kinky."

His expression sobered, eyes searching my face. "You should tell her."

The mere mention of her sent a knife twisting in my gut. "No."

"Satoru—"

"I said no. She has enough to deal with right now. This stays between us."

Suguru shook his head but didn't argue further. He knew me too well to waste his breath.

"I will," I added softly, more to convince myself than him. "When I'm a bit better."

"This will kill her."

"I know."

Silence.

"I'm sorry," I finally managed. "For being an asshole. For everything. And... thanks for coming to the party with me."

"You already apologized."

"I mean it." I met his gaze. "You've always been there, even when I didn't deserve it."

Something shifted in his expression—a flicker of the friendship we'd shared before everything got so complicated. Before I'd dragged us both into this mess.

"Just don't die on me," he said. "I've invested too much time in keeping your stupid ass alive."

I pushed off the bed, steadying myself against the sudden dizziness that threatened to knock me over. "See you Monday."

"You're a stubborn idiot," he called after me. I didn't disagree. 

I stopped at the door, turning back. "Hey, what's going on between you and Higurama's intern anyway?"

Suguru stiffened slightly. "Nothing. Just concerned since she's my patient now too."

I studied him, noting the subtle tension in his shoulders, the way his gaze shifted slightly left—his tell when he wasn't being entirely truthful.

"Sure," I said, too exhausted to push it further. "See you Monday."

As I walked away, I wondered if he knew how obvious he was. Then again, who was I to judge? I was hardly an expert at handling matters of the heart.

─── ·✧· ───

I paused outside our apartment door, my hand trembling on the handle. Withdrawal clawed through me, a living thing twisting my gut. Each breath was a struggle, my lungs constricting as if they'd forgotten their purpose. Just breathe, idiot. In, out. You're almost there.

Relief flooded through me the moment I opened the door. Her shoes were there, neatly arranged next to my scattered ones. Her coat on the hook. She was home.

Strange how that simple fact could lift the weight crushing my chest, made breathing a fraction less painful. No matter how bad things were, coming home to her felt like breaking the surface after being underwater too long.

Dog bounded up to greet me, tail whipping back and forth, before darting off toward the bedroom. Smart boy knew exactly where to find her. I kicked off my shoes, let my jacket fall where it would, and followed.

She was there, sprawled across our bed in a sea of papers, bathed in the warm light of the bedside lamp. The sight of her stole what little breath I had left. Hair messily pulled back, drowning in one of my old t-shirts, completely lost in whatever she was reading. Beautiful. It was a beauty that made my heart ache.

Without a word, I crawled onto the bed, dragging myself up until I could rest my head on her stomach. I paused, remembering the bruises on her midsection. But before I could pull back, she gently tugged me closer and I surrendered, resting my head against her warmth. 

I wrapped my arms around her waist and her fingers found my hair instantly, like they belonged there, gentle strokes that made my eyes flutter closed and I thought, this was home. This was peace. Even as my body screamed for relief, even as guilt gnawed at me, here with her, I could almost believe everything would be okay.

"What are you reading?" I mumbled against her shirt, already knowing the answer. Why did she still throw herself into this project? Did it even matter anymore? But I already knew that answer too. Distraction.

"Research papers. For our project." Her fingers never stopped their magic. "Everything okay at the hospital?" I wondered for a second how she knew where I went, but then she said, "Antiseptic smell."

Did I always smell like that? Like the harsh, sterile scent of the hospital? I hated it. Hated how it seemed to cling to my skin no matter how many times I scrubbed my hands raw. Hated the way it reminded me of sickness and death.

I hugged her tighter, breathing in her familiar scent as that was so unlike the clinical smell of the hospital as I crafted the lie. Yeah, everything's fine, I told her. Had to check on something with a patient. Normal stuff, nothing to worry about. Standard procedure.

But even as I spoke, the guilt in my stomach twisted. The truth was, I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep going like this. I could feel myself slipping, losing my grip on the things that mattered most and I couldn't help but wonder if I'd even make it to the end.

If I'd be there to witness the results of our research, to stand by her side as we perhaps do something great. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to drown out the intrusive thoughts, focusing on the feel of her beneath me, the steady rise and fall of her breath.

Her fingers paused momentarily in my hair, and I knew she sensed something off. She always could read me too well. But then she resumed the gentle stroking.

"You'd tell me if something's wrong, right?"

"Of course," I whispered, another lie to add to the growing pile.

I tightened my arms around her waist, as if by holding her close enough, I could somehow make up for my betrayal. As if loving her fiercely enough could somehow balance out the pain I was about to cause her. Monday felt both too far away and not nearly far enough.

Desperate for a distraction, I asked about how it went at the police station. She said it was fine, her friends were with her as they'd needed to clarify their statements, she explained, her fingers still weaving through my hair. Everything had been too hazy right after the party.

She mentioned they needed me to verify my own statement again too. I bit back the urge to say that they'd likely have to come to my hospital bed for that. Instead, I just hummed in response. Whatever it took to make that little shit pay for what he'd done.

"He won't hurt anyone else," she added. "We'll make sure of it."

Something about her struck me as odd. How could she be so unaffected by everything that had happened? Like we didn’t just discover that Zenin Naoya was—

"You're so calm about it." 

"And what would you have me do?"

I didn’t know. Maybe I should be grateful that at least one of us could keep it together. 

I turned my head, pressing a kiss to her palm. I wanted to tell her how proud I was of her, how sorry I was for dragging her into this mess, how I feared the rumors that would follow her through university halls. How fucking terrified I was. How much I loved her. But it all just crowded in my throat, tangled with all the other truths I couldn't voice.

Instead, I just held her tighter. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

"For what?"

I didn't answer. Couldn't answer. Or lie again. I clung to her, as if she were the only thing keeping me from falling apart, pressing my face into her stomach, trying to blur myself into her very being. "Satoru,” she winced, a small sound escaping her lips. "You're hurting me."

"Please," I pleaded, tears pricking at my eyes. “Just… bear it for a moment. Please.” But then, a sudden tickle rose in my throat, and I sat up abruptly, he movement sending the room spinning.

"You okay?" she asked, sitting up as well, her hand cradling her side.

"Yeah," I managed, before another cough clawed its way out. I stood, turning away from her, my hand coming up to cover my mouth. When I pulled it away, blood glistened on my palm.

"Satoru? You sure you're okay?"

"Everything's fine." I curled my fingers into a fist, watching red seep between my knuckles. "Just need some water."

I should call him again. Should probably head to the hospital right now. Every logical part of my brain screamed at me to seek help, to stop this madness before it was too late. 

But Sunday's dinner loomed in my mind. One last chance to fix things with her, to make things right before everything inevitably crumbled around us. Just two more days. I just needed to hold on for two more days and then I could let the chips fall where they may.

Even as blood painted the back of my throat red, I clung to that desperate hope, that foolish notion that I could make this right. I knew I was being stupid. Reckless. Playing Russian roulette with a fully loaded gun. 

But then again, what did it matter anyway?

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

author's note — welcome back, i hope this wasn't too intense, even tho i went through all stages of grief writing this chapter, but i'm quite happy with how it turned out. hope you all survived seeing things through satoru's eyes once more. writing from his perspective is always both challenging and thrilling in some strange way.

quick note, as this is somehow not obvious to some people: i understand that this story deals with controversial topics and might not be everyone’s cup of tea but this is purely fictional work, and i'm just here to enjoy a stupid little hobby. i am not looking for criticism. if the story makes you uncomfortable, feel free to block me and move on.

for those following the spin-off: yes, this chapter runs parallel to remedies and reasons chapter 04 ! if you want to see how certain events played out from a different angle, definitely check out the suguru spin-off.

and i want to thank you all for your incredible support. your comments, messages, and theories continue to blow me away. seeing how deeply you connect with this story and catch all the little details i sprinkle throughout brings me so much joy. your thoughtful analyses and wild speculations make writing this stupid story so much fun !! :''))

also a massive thank you to @/nanamis-baker who beta reads all these chaotic chapters, listens to my rambling about plot points, and talks me down whenever i'm convinced everything i write is terrible <3

& second quick note about the alcohol consumption in this story: while it's serve the narrative of the story, please remember that alcohol is toxic to the body and brain, with no "safe" amount. please be mindful of your health and wellbeing.

next chapter we'll be back to our regular pov as we deal with the aftermath of... well, all of this. until then, take care of yourselves ! and as always, thank you for joining me on this chaotic journey and being patient with my slow updates <3

ps: if you want to get notifications for future updates, you can join my taglist here !

tags — @browrm @panteramarron @starlightanyaaa

@myahfig4 @rosebluod @bloopsstuff @depressedemosantaclaus @nanamis-baker

@tofumiao @shoruio @s3vtrue @rosso-seta @bnha-free-writing

@chiyokoemilia @bonequinhagojo @janbannan @mikkmmmii @yeiena

@coeqi @faustina @glenkiller338 @yenmrtnz @buni-bunnydoll

© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.

[whatdidtheydotomygirljinx]

Jinx just never really liked Vander that much.

One of the things that, to me, seemed like a main theme in Jinx's arc in season 1 was the contrast between her two families, and how her switch from Vander's daughter to Silco's drastically changes the way her personality takes shape.

And I hate that the fandom, and now the show, too, has reduced Silco to an unhealthy influence in Jinx's life, pushing her towards her "bad" side (being Jinx) when, for all his flaws... he gives her a better childhood than she ever had with Vander. The first three episodes of the first season, to me, when I watched them, illustrate quite clearly that Powder feels unhappy in her family life. She is the most mal-adjusted of Vander's kids. Her older brother constantly berates her, and it's quite clearly having a big effect on her self-image. She later takes up the Jinx name and persona once she feels like she has become irredeemable as a person. Her other brother never defends her. Vi is the only one who is there for her, and they care for each other, but at the same time you can see there's still a little insecurity in their relationship. Vi is worried that maybe Powder is indeed too weak, and Powder worries that maybe Vi does indeed see her as a Jinx like her brother does.

And when it comes to Vander... he's just not really all that present in her life. And I don't blame him, the man has four kids to take care of, on top of keeping things running in the Undercity. It's clearly not his intention. But it doesn't change the fact that he's not there for Powder, not as much as she needs. To me, when I watched the first season, it seemed like Vander was a figure that felt far away to Powder, someone that she admired but also feared being completely herself around, and someone that she ultimately wished to be closer to than she actually was. It's worth mentioning that Jinx never says his name post time skip, and he is not a hallucination for her, not until Vi brings him up in the finale. Hell, Claggor is somehow a hallucination for her and he never even speaks. Vander was just not an influential figure in Jinx's life.

I always found the scene at the end of ep3 of s1 fascinating, because Powder never once mourns Vander. She never once cries for him and never once says his name. When she sees his dead body, she becomes shocked and starts crying, but it's not actually what breaks her. What breaks her is Vi's rejection. Had it just been that she accidentally caused the deaths of her brothers and adoptive father, she would not have crumbled mentally. It's Vi's rejection that destroys her. Now, of course, a little girl that cares more about her sister's affection towards her than the lives of her family members is kinda messed up, but that's what makes her character interesting. And we can see that that little girl doesn't go anywhere, as Jinx displays the exact same one-mindness about her sister. Because Jinx and Powder were never really that different, after all.

She is quite clearly placed with her back to Vander's body, that she never turns to, barely looks at, only enough to recognize him and see he's dead, and never says the name of. She's turned towards Vi, calling for Vi, crying because of Vi, and no one else. Heck, Vi had just been crying over his body a few moment ago. Vi is clearly distraught over his death. Vi is devastated, she literally punches her sister and curses her in the exact worst possible way she can, in the way she know it will hurt her sister the most. But Powder... she just honestly dgaf.

So to then hear Jinx say this line in season 2...

...is just straight up jarring. I was pulled out of the story when I heard this. This is Jinx saying this to Vi. This kinda makes it seem like it was Jinx who was most attached to Vander, or at least that she was just as attached to him as Vi was. Which is just not how things seemed in the story at literally any point until this one. And then season 2 continues this way, and somehow makes Jinx seem like the closest daughter to Vander. Flipping Warwick literally acts more attached to Jinx than Vander ever did to Powder. Like literally. Season 1 clearly sets up that Vi is the favorite daughter, and then they just... flip it?? Warwick cares more for Jinx and responds better to her than to Vi. It's actually insane. It's true they sanitized Jinx's character to hell and back this season, but this is a straight-up rewrite. I can't wrap my mind around why they did this. Plus, the entirety of act 2 they set up this weird and pointless arc of Jinx rekindling her relationship with Vander or something... and like literally her story was genuinely never about that.

(This COULD have been Vi's story. And that might have actually been cool, and made sense. Maybe Vi is the one who finds him, and she is the one who helps him calm down. And then she brings Jinx, and maybe Jinx is terrified because she was never that close to Vander, and then she literally killed him, so seeing him again is the last thing she wants. Maybe VI is the one who tells Jinx that "he was your dad, too", which would make A LOT more sense, and maybe that's the first time that Jinx thinks that oh, yeah, he was... And then maybe they have a cute moment where Vander forgives her. Or maybe she sees the state he's in right now and loses it completely. Or maybe they look at each other and they both see the monster each of them has become. And then maybe Vi looks down at the enforcer uniform she's wearing, and, privately, sees it too. Idk. The things we could have had.)

Silco was actually a good dad to Jinx, in all the ways that Vander wasn't. He gives her all the attention that she never had before. He not only listens to her, but actively asks for her side of the story. He never insults her, and he defends her against Sevika. He trusts her and gives her opportunities to prove she's capable. She goes from being one of four siblings, and getting lost in the shuffle and often ending up feeling forgotten and alone, to being the most important child, always taken into consideration and almost put on a pedestal by her dad (this, like, has to have cured some inner wounds, i think).

Silco understands Jinx better than any other character in the show, and I'm genuinely sad that we didn't get to see any flashback of Jinx growing up with him. Because their relationship was so unique, and so integral to Jinx's character and to the rest of the story, that the fact that we never get to see any other glimpse into their bond is just...

As a final note, I'd also like to add that I dislike when people say that Silco "groomed" Jinx. I think a much more realistic analysis is that he enabled her. And as for all the times he tells Jinx that Vi "betrayed her", that's just a reflection of his own trauma, and also because he fears that if Jinx knew Vi was alive, she would go back to her and leave him (which, considering what goes down in the s1 finale, not an unfounded fear). It's wrong that he does that, but it's not out of malicious intent (also tbh Jinx never really seems to believe him anyway).

And for all the people who say that Silco "turned Jinx into a terrorist" (dumbest people in this fandom fr, im sorry), that's just straight up not true. Powder was already like that. That is quite literally why Silco adopts her. Because he sees that she's like him. Silco would not have taken Powder in if he thought she was just a cute, innocent kid who was orphaned (to, what, raise her for years so that, MAYBE when she's older, she MIGHT be useful to him? when they meet he doesn't know she's the one that caused the explosion, he just knows that she's been abandoned by Vi). This is the kid who thought playing around with explosives was a fun hobby. This is the kid who giggled at the thought of hurting others. This is the kid who already suffered from explosive emotions. This is the kid who saw her father and her brothers dead, because of her, and all she cared about was whether her sister was mad at her because of it. This is the kid who throws herself at the first person she sees, someone who her sister hates, who is the cause of all this destruction, and with an anger that shocks most viewers, declares that Vi is not her sister anymore. She is livid in that one moment.

Powder already had it in her from the beginning. And it's also ok to like a character (and to write one) even if they are not 100% morally pure in every single way under the sun, cause that is quite literally what stories are for.

[srslylini]

is it just me who finds this anti pregnant shit a lot of people carry in fandom spaces weird?

Do not get me wrong I get it to an extend. Making a person end up pregnant in media who has, throughout the entire time, expressed the want to not get pregnant is weird and there is definetly a lot of media that... does it wrong. I'm not dumb. I see it, too.

but a character getting pregnant in general is... not bad? It doesn't take away from a character (especially not if written right) and why shouldn't it happen?

This is mostly in general but I'm also again thinking about when a lot of people thought Mel will be pregnant. At first I was also like "no way, no way are they doing that trope".

but the more I think about it the more I'm like

"Why ever not?"

Mel never expressed NOT wanting to be pregnant, getting pregnant wouldn't go against her character and it would've been sweet had it happened. At times a lot of people take this stuff so far that they bite themselves into their asses and hurt the cause they try to stand up for. A person being pregnant does not destroy them, it doesn't have to take away from their character if done right, it can even ADD a lot of things to them as a person. And it makes for a good, engaging story, (again if done right) do not even try to say it doesn't.

I also do not wish to become pregnant and that's fine. Just as it is for people to want that. At this point it is just getting weird. You are not advocating for a strong character anymore you are advocating for a lonely shell of one.

[trippinsorrows]

dreamland: leya's struggles

authors note: this is super short and not anything major. literally wrote this in like half an hour. i could expound on it if people are interested. just wanted to give some insight to what it was like for roso and leya dealing with her ocd when she was younger.

only gonna tag a few people. if i end up expounding on it, i'll tag my usual "everyone" list.

words: 800

masterlist

warnings: angst, depiction of ocd in children

The sound of horns honking startles both Leya and Tama, the latter of which starts to stir in his car seat, single handedly exacerbating an already nightmare of a situation.

“Hurry up!”

It’s a single voice that’s followed up with several others, all expressing the same level of pressure and rudeness.

Solana is seconds away from marching over to the woman directly behind the suv behind her car when Tama’s soft, sleepy voice serves as a deterrent. “Mama, I wanna go home….”

A shared sentiment, one that makes most sense for him, as he’d either be back in bed by now or cuddled on the sofa with her while he takes a nap. 

Obviously, that’s not an option. 

“I know, baby,” she comforts. Solana does take a step back but instead of acting out of character, she directs her clear, unmistakable command to Jacob. “Shut them up.”

With a nod, Solana only catches his face shifting into that infamous scowl as he walks over to the cars lined up behind her, a line that has to be backed out into the street at this point.

With that handled, Solana moves back to the issue at hand. 

Leya continues to cry, sniffling as her little chest moves up and down. Solana can see the tips of her fingers turning red from the repeated, forceful buckling and unbuckling of her seatbelt.

“Leya….” Solana’s voice breaks. As best as she’s doing to maintain her composure, it’s a slowly losing battle. “Baby, it’s okay. We can g—”

“No!” Leya cries, shaking her head, still not looking at Solana as the concerned mother continues to gently stroke her hair. “I gotta—I gotta do it right, mommy, or something bad will happen!”

“Cataleya, I promise you nothing bad is going to happen, baby.” A reassuring statement she’s had to have stated at least ten times now over the past almost half hour that’s passed since the start of Leya’s episode. “But, you have to get out the ca—”

“No!” Leya begins to cry harder, once again going to remove her seatbelt, counting to three with her fingers before doing it all over again. A repeated, consistent, obsessive act that’s led to the situation they’re in now. A situation Solana has no idea how to handle. This is the first time it’s ever been this bad.

“What’s wrong, Leya?” Tama asks in his sweet voice, worry filling his little face as he tries to comfort her. Unfortunately, that only does the opposite. Leya cries out and jerks her body away, swatting his helping hand, prompting his bottom lip to poke out as he too starts to cry. 

“Leya, please don’t hit your brother.” It’s hard for Solana to be upset with or even scold her daughter, because she knows Leya can’t help it. Knows that it’s only because anyone else’s touch other than hers feels “wrong” to Leya, thus her reacting the way she did.  “Tama, it’s okay, baby boy. Leya just doesn’t feel good.” 

Solana is sure none of them are feeling good, especially herself, her hand moving to her small baby bump as a sudden wave of nausea washes over her.

God please, not right now.

Of all times, not now.

She just can’t handle this.

Solana moves to open the passenger door and reaches over to grab her cell phone out of the cupholder. Shaking, trembling hands move to Roman’s contact, as she too quickly hits the call button.

Three rings followed by a soft, feminime voice. “Mr. Reigns office, how can I—”

“Shit,” Solana curses and closes her eyes. She dialed his office number instead of his personal cell. “I’m sorry, Alicia, this is Solana. I need you to put me through with Roman.”

“Oh, hi, Mrs. Reigns,” she greets, voice kind but almost unsure. “Ummm—Mr. Reigns is in the middle of—”

“Alicia,” Solana doesn’t hesitate to interrupt. “Get my husband on this line now.”

The woman nervously clears her throat. “Of course.” A pause. “Just a minute.”

And it’s just about a full minute that passes when Solana hears her husband’s deep, baritone voice on the other end. “Solana? What’s wr—”

“I need you to meet me at the school,” she cuts in, emotion in her voice as her eyes start watering all over again. “I can’t—I can’t get Leya out the car. She’s—she’s stuck in a ritual, and I’ve got Tama, and he’s crying, and I can’t—I don’t know what to do.” Her voice breaks at the end, the overwhelming nature of it all finally trampling her

“Mommy, don’t cry,” Tama comforts, eyes focused on Solana from the backseat.

Solana is unsure if Roman can hear their five-year-old, because he’s doing the same, “baby, don’t cry. It’s okay.” It provides some solace but not as much as Solana knowing how to help her daughter could provide. “I’m on my way.”

[multi-fandomsfreak]

Heya! I was wondering if you could make a lil fanfic of shadow the hedgehog and mobian!reader

where the reader has a fascination with death and everything morbid due to seeing and being in lots of tragedies and shadow is mostly unaware of this but finally starts noticing the reader’s obsessive like fascination with death and wants to confront them about it

Shadow With A Mobian!Reader Who Has A Fascination With Death

Hey there! Thanks for the ask!

Sorry it took kinda long to do this. Honestly kind of lost motivation to write stuff lately but I think it’s coming back. I don’t know. Regardless, I hope you like it.

Pronouns: Not Mentioned

Warning: ⚠️Mentions Of Death + Suicide (Not Actually Committing But Talks About Wanting To) + Spoilers For Shadow’s Backstory⚠️

Requested: Yes/No

Characters: Shadow + Mention Of Maria

Proofread: ❌

Credits: Art by CoffeeBearSama on Twitter/X + Banner by salintvll (Edited by me) on Pinterest

———————————

- Honestly at first Shadow never noticed or asked about your obsession when it comes to death. He’s quite the loner so he doesn’t really indulge in anyone or their personal interests. That’s just what he’s like. Not that he’s completely dismissive of any of your interests, it's just his response to you telling him or him hearing about it is just ‘okay’. Maybe you could persuade him to join in but it may take a while but he does partake in it.

- Though eventually he does notice your interest in death. He might have heard it from someone else, maybe from you or he just so happened to discover it himself. At first admittedly he was a bit put off by it not outright it’s just he’s never really seen someone even remotely interested in death unless they’re willingly want to experience it. And to be honest even before he discovers how obsessed you were with it he’s still a little concerned that you want to end yourself so he decides to keep a close eye on you in case you actually do want to end yourself.

- However, his worry does become way worse when he slowly discovers how obsessed you actually were with it. He started to notice how you talked about it. The fact you were talking about it so casually, talking in depth about it makes him more concerned than when he discovered it. In his own way he’s genuinely worried about you. I feel like this kind of evolved from what happened to Maria that he feels compelled to make sure it doesn’t happen to anyone else especially if he’s somewhat close with you.

- When he does confront you about it you may have to spend most of your time convincing him that you're okay. Honestly with the way you're talking about it he’s thinking you genuinely want to end yourself and he doesn’t want that. To him you’ve still got a lot to live for and you shouldn’t cut it short. It probably took a while for him to be convinced that you were alright. You’d probably have to explain how you gained interest in it, more specifically the shit you had to go through which made you like this.

- When you do tell him about the horrible tragedies that’s when it hits him about your obsessive fascination with death. Now he understands why you're like this. He does feel bad for you for experiencing the things you did and thinks that it must be a coping mechanism for you in a way. Even with you convincing him that it's genuinely an interest nothing more he’d still be concerned for you and tell you that if you ever need to talk he’d be there for you and listen to what you need to say.

- I do kind of feel like Shadow would be kind of interested in a way. Not like how you are, I have a feeling it’s mostly for confirmation or reassurance. It’s not that big of a surprise that he’s greatly affected by the death of Maria, someone who he’s undoubtedly the closest with. Even if a lot of time has gone by since it deep down even if he doesn’t want to admit it he still wishes that she was still alive and misses her greatly. With your interest in death he may go up to you and ask about it. He really would like your opinion about it though at first not going in that great detail about it. Even though he claims he is not interested in it he kind of wants confirmation that she’d be alright and is proud of him.

- Oddly enough, having these talks with you is very comforting for him. He finds himself being more calm about his feelings when it comes to death himself. I think the fact that he doesn’t have to bottle them up like he usually does and is free to just let it out. As soon as he’s done ranting he can feel himself just relax as he thanks you for letting him talk about it. He likes having these moments with you and he really appreciates you listening to him and the other way round.

———————————

[qu0rky]

The day people on Tiktok learn about media literacy is the day i can finally rest, but alas they have not, guess what bullshit they’re on about today!

I saw an edit of the I.M.P. customer from Sinsmas, so far so good, then i open the comment section, and am suddenly reminded that people are stupid.

“She kinda had a point” no tf she didn’t😭😭 What are you on about, genuinely?? You can enjoy a villainous character who’s clearly a bad person without having to make up excuses for their shitty behavior.

The woman is violently homophobic, she made plenty of jabs about gay people in that short conversation, and claimed her husband “probably cheated” but it was so clear to me that she got pissy because he divorced her and then got with a man, and she already had preconceived notions about homosexuals.

I’m convinced they watched the episode with their eyes closed, because a person legit said “oh but she said nothing about hating gay people”. Maybe if you’re straight, it might’ve gone over your head, but she said, verbatim, “He doesn’t deserve to live this heinous lifestyle and poison my daughters with it” clearly referring to him being gay😭

Her husband did not cheat, she just hates gay people, but Stolas is still in that self-hatred mode which is just heightened by the lack of medication for god knows how long, which is why he took it to heart. And people on Tiktok love the narrative that they (as in Stolitz) cheated and somehow that’s the worst moral thing they’ve done in the show, must i remind you that they kill people??

For the last fucking time, whether or not what Stolas did counts as cheating, Stella did not give a shit. Had he done it with a (female) Goetia, she would’ve probably only cared about taking a slight hit on her reputation, but since not only did he do it with a man, but with an IMP at that, she felt embarrassed because she only cares about her social status. Easy as that. She said it herself.

They were never in love, Stolas was never straight, and never pretended to be. Do y’all not remember EP1S2 which legit establishes the fact that they were arranged?? And that Stella is an abusive piece of shit? So regardless, she gets no sympathy from me for being “cheated on”, since the cruelty started way before Stolas and Blitz met again.

No, they couldn’t have divorced earlier, Stolas only gained enough confidence to go through with it and finally stand up for himself AFTER and BECAUSE of Blitz. Also he most likely wanted Via to reach 18, but as we all saw he couldn’t sustain these lies anymore at the end of that episode. And while the divorce made him free, there’s still consequences, especially with the custody, so tell me a way he could’ve escaped this nightmare without being “morally incorrect”. Perhaps death. Would you have preferred that? After all, the only perfect victim is a dead one.

[austenpoppy]

People : "Dick can be too serious and autocratic as a team leader, look at the way he berated his team in Titans (1999) #13 !"

You mean, after the mission during which several members acted out more for themselves than for the team or were not completely focused on what they had to do ? As a reminder, Vic got tempted by Vandal Savage who was offering him a new body and went to see him, Roy was desperate to save Cheshire and lashed out at Dick, Kory was apparently more interested in her relationship with Dick (I love a lot of what Devin Grayson wrote, but her portrayal of Kory in Titans leaves a bad taste in my mouth and I mostly ignore it but still) than the task at hand plus ended Adeline's life and lashed out at Dick too (telling him he wasn't present enough when Dick'd just spent a month in "No Man's Land" to take back Gotham), even Donna got irritated by Roy...

Meanwhile, Roy as team leader when Kyle was late to his training session on Christmas Eve :

Green Lantern #57

Ah, and he put him on monitor duty, too.

Just to be clear, this isn't me criticizing Roy (though I find Roy turning into a drill sergent when he was a leader of the Titans hilarious), but this is more a way for me to challenge perceptions of Dick fans may have. In other words, though I may expand on the subject another time, Dick's outburst in Titans #13 was perfectly justified, and here I included an example of a leader being actually harsh, and that coming from a character who's generally very easy-going and perceived as such by other characters.

And also a reminder that context matters when you show comic panels. I've seen this one panel of Dick being unhappy with the team's performance in Titans #13 as proof that Dick is domineering as a leader when there's very little evidence to support this.

[rorakora]

I’m gonna start by saying this is a valid analysis, and I think understand what you mean. And also that I haven’t listened to the whole fireside yet (just a clip they posted), so if I’m missing big things I apologize.

But I think the context of the rest of the story is left out here and changes a lot.

Because everywhere else they go, there are just as many flaws, just as many ignorant people and harmful systems.

I need to listen to the newest episode a few more times (I’ve listened to most of the show multiple times), but it did not stand out to me as a notably different treatment of people. I’m rural, have been my whole life, and this did not stand out to me as unfair.

Rural especially America (because that’s what I can speak on) is as a whole more conservative, and a host of other harmful behaviors. That’s a generalization and unfair to always assume, and I have a lot of problems with the way urban people talk about rural people and places, but these places are conservative, partly because of the way rural communities are treated, which reinforces itself.

But think about The Citadel. They spend a whole arc there, and show how uncomfortable the actual foundations and daily lives of The Citadel are, beneath all the surface beauty and innovation and convenience. They show the exploitation, the surveillance, the bureaucracy, the all around imperialism.

Or Port Talon, how the communities are kind of disparate and uncommunicative, how this apparently rogue imperial project has affected them, but how most people are just trying to get by. Plus getting into the Azure Battalion somewhat, showing lower ranking military.

And then think about Toma, about Ame’s home, about Ame. Ame is rural. It would be a whole other discussion to talk about her life there, being alienated even in this community that’s supposed to be small and tight knit, because of who she is and how she approaches the world.

But I think the nuance of that, combined with the urban places of Umora not being glamorized or (imo) held any higher than the rural places, is important. We don’t just get to see shitty and dumb lower ranks and rural people. I think the cast are good at not dehumanizing or just dismissing characters who act ignorant and shitty. Those people being kind and helpful doesn’t mean they can’t also be extremely biased and think and do bad things, especially under the pressure of an active war and not having access to the same information as other places.

Plus the focus during the end of arc one on the soldiers who were killed. They are not just a footnote or unimportant, and the main 3 are confronted with that. The narrative doesn’t dismiss them even though to us they are literally faceless and nameless. We didn’t know them, and they’re important regardless.

We’ll have to see how the next few episodes go, and I’m not saying this concern is unfounded or that there is no bias here, that it can’t be improved, but I think picking just this example doesn’t take in the bulk of the important nuance.

To be clear up top, I really love Worlds Beyond Number, and I love the stories and the authenticity and groundedness of it. But listening to this last episode and then the fireside was doubly difficult because:

- I come from a military family that is not officer class (aka my fam would have been imperial infantry and not wizards)

- I grew up rural around lots of farmers and hunters

And some of the statements around both rural people and rank and file military (while likely very true in the story and in this world) in the fireside rubbed me the wrong way. I love Brennan and his mind and worldbuilding, and I understand the purpose of this episode was to lean into the tensions in Ame’s worldview and the truth of Eursolon’s backstory, but damn. The whole ‘these people are stupid and ignorant’ thing sucks, because yeah, there are stupid and ignorant people for sure that are rank and file and rural, but also the perspective feels quite privileged. We got to see good wizards AND bad wizards, but we only get to see shitty and dumb lower ranks. And that’s not the truth I knew growing up military, at all. We got to see very kind but stupid farmers, and while the kindness was a bonus the stupidity across the bar sucked, because some of the smartest people I ever met didn’t make it through grade school.

There was talk in the fireside about xenophobia, and it just felt kinda bad that this person I see as a very clever smart and educated person couldn’t see some of the hypocrisy in that.

So to counter some of what I heard, I want to put out some of my experiences.

Military

- there are xenophobic idiots in the lower ranks, that’s for sure, but there are also a lot of people who are much more involved in the ‘boots on the ground’ field work, especially in peace-keeping, in the lower ranks. This includes cultural exchange and engaging and helping the populace. They often see more and know more, speak the language, and learn proper customs.

- Promotion is supposed to be a meritocracy, but often it is not. If you buck against the system and call out its errors, you won’t be promoted, much like my mother, who was a woman, a corporal, and got the wing commander’s commendation more times than most officers in her squadron, started a mediation program, and was an outspoken feminist who was constantly pushing for justice and fairness.

- typical, lower ranks consider anyone above a seargent fairly ‘out of touch’ with reality, and may have to do their best to work around bad orders, because often, officers are seen as ‘not getting their hands dirty/knowing the truth of a situation’.

- typically higher ranking officers are arrogant and rude and have an elitist mentality, thinking they are better than the lower ranks. In my experience, this is often not the case, as higher-ranking officers typically pay their way for their rank (can afford officer training) which is typically not something available to they generally poor and lower class rank and file.

- sometimes people in lower ranks think very simplistically, and are not good people, but that’s a general outlier in the same way that it is for other groups of people. The bell curve applies to pretty much everything.

- many people in lower ranks join up because they are poor and need money, and the military pays for schooling and is an opportunity to travel. They typically don’t join up because they’re stupid, crude, crass fuckos who like to hurt people. The military is predatory and it feeds on the poor and lower-class citizens who don’t have much social mobility. They’re often not stupid, but they are typically pragmatic, and yeah, the language can be crass, but speaking crassly speaks to culture not goodness.

Rural

- intelligence is, in my opinion, situational. I might be able to quote Shakespeare and get into a deep philosophical debate but that’s not doing me any good when I need to help a cow that’s scared and in pain give birth to a breeched calf. But this very cool farmer I knew could talk down this cow and know just where to position his hands to turn a calf inside the womb. Show me a typical master’s student who can do that.

- I knew people who could read weather sign, bird sign, tree sign, and bear sign, who could read the woods and the trails like a picture book. They might not be able to speak much about the science of climate change, but they damn sure know it from a micro level by being able to spot the size of tree buds in the winter to know spring’s coming earlier, and that’s bad for a lot of plants and animals and the ecosystem that sustains itself, which they are intimately aware of.

- I also knew farmers and rural folks who were highly educated and moved out to the country to enjoy the wide open spaces and privacy, who had big libraries and talked about history with me, who fed my curiosity and helped me stay humble and ask questions.

- I knew rural folks so poor they lived in a shack and ate squirrel, and I also knew how everyone in the community took care to give their kids’ piano lessons because it was the only money coming into that household, and took care to just have accidentally bought a little more than what they needed of this or that and ran it down to that family.

- I also know we were so poor sometimes that I went without a winter coat in northern Alberta for 3 years, but that I was always given lots of hats and scarves and mittens and sweaters by the neighbours.

- I also knew lots of shitty, stupid, sexist and racist people who were essentially brainwashed by a cult and who were never taught to think critically or encouraged to do so. I know that they are afraid of the world because that’s what they’ve been taught. And yes, it’s on them for never getting out and being way more comfy in their bubble than outside of it, but that’s what being in a cult does, it stacks the deck against your own intelligence and curiosity.

- I knew too, many of rural folks who would have been extraordinarily embarrassed to be impolite and refer to a trans woman as a man, or vice-versa, because manners and politeness matter a whole lot in a small community. At the same time, there was definitely the opposite as well, and I knew kids who gotten beaten up regularly for being 2SLGBTQIA+.

It’s complicated, complex, and nuanced everywhere. No group is a monolith, even if it feels justified and easy in the world we live in to lump all ‘like’ people together. I just really hope in the next few episodes we see some nuance in the infantry and the officers, as well as with any rural folk they engage with too. They’re all usually so good with a nuanced take, and I really really hope this was just one episode and an off-the-cuff, didn’t-really-think-about-what-he-was-saying discussion.

And I get it. To my knowledge, Brennan grew up in New York (or at least a city?) and may have not had a ton of experiences living rural outside of the summer camp he was a counsellor at, so he may not have had a lot of time or opportunity to engage with rural people at a true community level. I don’t know his engagement with the military community either, and my experience is with Canadian and not American military, so there’s likely some difference and nuance too.

I dunno. I have a lot of hope and faith in this very cool group of storytellers, and they have not disappointed me in the story thus far, so I believe we’ll see some great nuance to come. Just had to put it out there.

[bonebabbles]

Star Thoughts

I'm going to gather up all of my thoughts on the Arc as a whole in another post, but for now, I'll just drabble about my thoughts on the ending

I did not like it

I saw a lot of potential in this arc, and I was really optimistic to begin with. ASC actually got me back into WC after a long time away from it, and it was the impetus for me to really jump into the fandom.

But the ending really bites. It was going off the rails for a while, but Star in particular gave me a terribly empty feeling.

It wasn't entirely bad. There was some good in it. But not enough.

First of all, Berryheart.

I hate where they went with her. Sincerely, what the fuck.

We closed off the last book with Sunbeam feeling dread at seeing her xenophobic, radicalized mother taking deputyship in another Clan, thinking about how she will be absolutely ruthless towards foreign people she sees only as pawns

...and then that just gets dropped.

Berryheart reveals to ShadowClan cats that she's actually just teaming up with Splashstar to get rid of Tigerheartstar, but she talks too loud and her stupid ass plan gets reveled

And Splashstar is like "oooo i never trusted you anyway!"

Which gets Owlnose angry at her because "Harelight died because of you" BUT. WHY??

WHY DID THAT EVEN "NEED" TO HAPPEN. SPLASHSTAR JUST DID THAT

Why even take Berryheart in as a deputy?? Why was any of this necessary? How did any of this happen and what did Splashstar gain???

This whole thing feels like an idiot plot. Or, worse, a plot the writer doesn't have to justify because "Splashstar Craaaazy"

But anyway, a fight happens because Splashstar tells her to kill her sister Yarrowleaf and Berryheart says no

Sunbeam comes to help, Berryheart pushes her out of the way, gets a dumbass redemption death saving her daughter.

We already HAD one of these, it was Curlfeather at the beginning of the whole arc. I massively resent that Berryheart did a Dollar Store Curlfeather-- it cheapens what Curl did.

Even the way that Spireclaw rolls up to tell Sunbeam "yeah she was mean but she died saving u" just. Ooooooughhh.

SHE TRIED. TO KILL. YOUR WIFE.

BERRYHEART TRIED TO KILL YOUR WIFE WITH AN ADDER, BRO.

We SAW IT. On the SCREEN. She (Berryheart) (your mom) sent YOUR WIFE (Fringewhisker) (wife) through a PART OF THE GORGE (log bridge) (snake inside) (deadly) YOU KNEW WAS UNSAFE

The way the narrative is desperate to be sympathetic towards violent xenophobes through this whole book absolutely infuriates me, but Berryheart in particular is insufferable

We didn't need "mom heroically dies to save daughter" twice, and we definitely did not need Berryheart to be the one between the two characters to get showered in emotional flashbacks.

Frostpaw had 6 entire books to explore the complicated feelings she has for her mother, and slowly come to unpack them in a nuanced and satisfactory way

So Berryheart's felt tawdry and tacked on, to me.

And poor Fringewhisker, a victim of bigoted harassment for several books, barely gets any say about this. Her tormenter is gone, her mate is eager to forget the bullying, and Star doesn't give a hoot about how she feels on that.

That said...

It's not the idea of Sunbeam having complicated feelings about her mother's death that bother me. Most of those scenes are enjoyable.

I even like the way that Sparrowtail tells Tigerheartstar that Berryheart was the only cat he would ever betray ShadowClan for, and now that she is dead, it is the only thing he's loyal to.

It's that Berryheart had to die by saving her daughter, this "entitles" her to a protracted mourning session with her sacrifice at the forefront, while the narrative's sympathy for Curlfeather runs totally dry.

Just totally jacked Curlfeather's thing; that her ambition ends where her family begins. Man.

And Owlnose. Guy who killed her.

Owlnose what did they DO to you

I stopped liking him the minute he said that RiverClan was just following Splashstar's orders.

And the way he started lamenting how he wished he'd taken responsibility and become RiverClan's leader-- that was the moment i gave up on him.

This is not my beautiful wife.

It would have been one thing if he was constantly framed as pathetic and weak-willed, someone who stays away from power because he hates being stressed out and knows it...

But he becomes deputy at the end of the book, so, no. Everything he did was intended to be legitimately insightful.

I dislike him now.

Then again, I dislike most of RiverClan now.

Star's ultimate statement about the fact the whole Clan fell in line behind Splashstar is that "They Were Just Following Orders."

For those unaware, this is an infamously bad argument called The Nuremberg Defense. It is called that because it was very popular during the trials of Nazi officials who had taken part in the Holocaust.

The Nuremberg Defense, at best, can reduce the severity of your punishment. Pleading this still results in you being held accountable for your crimes.

Unfortunately this is not even the first time WC has posited the Nuremberg Defense unironically... but honestly it shouldn't have even happened once if they're going to botch it this badly!!

Throughout this book and the previous one, RiverClan was growing increasingly xenophobic. They beat the shit out of Wasp, steal kittens to hold as hostages from SkyClan and ShadowClan, try to drown Whorlpelt, and eventually attempt to publicly execute Nightheart.

This is all completely and utterly handwaved away with the death of Splashstar.

Xenophobia and radicalization are not properly addressed at all by Star. In fact, it misses the point so entirely that I have to believe it's on purpose.

He Made Them Bad :(

They all say sorry to the cats they did hate crimes to and it's ok :)

They were just following orders because Splashstar was threatening to kill babies. They Had No Choice.

I swear to god I really try not to throw around the term "idiot plot" lightly, but ALL of ASC from like Book 4 onwards has been Idiot Plot after Idiot Plot. I don't have any other words to describe this!! These characters don't THINK. Most of them seem to only have beliefs at all when the plot needs them to.

And like, circling back around to Splashstar, I honestly think calling all of this an idiot plot is being charitable, because the alternative is that the writing team is being horrifically ableist instead

They turn Splashstar into the stereotype of a "blood-crazed lunatic" in the blink of an eye.

He's yelling at a hallucination of Curlfeather's ghost, experiencing delusions about his righteousness, suddenly snapping and turning violent towards people, acting completely irrationally so he can do whatever the plot demands.

All the while, other cats are noting how he's "crazy" and has "gone mad"

It's REALLY bad.

It almost makes me miss the Evil Chick Tract Atheist of Book 5. At least when I'm getting shit on I know how to make it funny

His death is whatever.

There was a really ridiculous line about how the Clans are going to send an Eviction Notice Patrol to him to "inform him that he is no longer welcome at the lake, not kill him, because we must be better than him 😇💕" but at this point im used to Warrior Cats being Neoliberal Cats. Meowliberal.

And then they kill him lmaoo

Me when i send a Friendly Reminder Squad into Osama Bin Laden's house to let him know he is no longer allowed at McDonald's

I don't have strong feelings on Frostpaw being the one to kill him. I kinda wish it was someone else, but there's also no other worthy or fitting cats in RiverClan.

Just feels odd to me that Harelight died in 1 hit while Frostpaw, who has only really trained to fight for a short time, manages to end him. But whatever.

If I've been talking a lot about Frostpaw it's because she's the most interesting. Sunbeam and Nightheart have never felt more obviously out of place.

The book comes up with SO many excuses to separate Night and Sun that you could probably make a drinking game out of it.

This book needed more time on the editing floor. Errors aside (numerous errors), some chapters feel padded out by Sunbeam and Nightheart telling each other to leave

I feel like you could fill an entire chapter with the scenes of them saying the other should go. Like a Scooby Doo "LET'S SPLIT UP GANG" compilation.

enough has been said about Frostpaw's coma. Tree sucks, I hate how he barges into her dream to yell at her about how she needs to fix RiverClan.

I resent that no one hit the RiverClan cats who started whining about how Frostpaw needs to come back and fix their mess with a baseball bat.

I wish Frostpaw could fire a laser at them from heaven or something

Don't like the way that the narrative sets up Tree demanding she come back like a good thing, and Jayclaw telling her she's allowed to rest and make her own choices like a bad thing.

For the love of god let her have a crumb of autonomy

This book makes me wish I was a paper wasp so I could chew it up into paste and make a sculpture of the RiverClan symbol and then light it on fire, but it's not the worst WC book I've ever read. 4/10

[keelt9]

DAHLIA

Masterlist

I slowly entered Joe's room while he’s still fully asleep, laid down at his left. I carefully light on the candle trying to make any sound, emphasis in trying because the lighter makes so much noise that Joe opens his eyes slowly.

“No.” I whisper but it’s useless. Joe is awake. “No, sleep, please.” I try to cover his eyes, making him giggle.

Joe grabs my hand over his eyes with a smirk on his face. “Ok, I can do that.” 

He pretends to fall asleep but inevitably laughs one second later. “Enough?”

I roll my eyes. “We can say that.” 

He opens his eyes, blinking, realizing on my other hand I had a small cake with a candle of Ness, his character from Super Mario.

“Happy birthday.” Joe laughs sitting on the bed.

“What is this?” It’s a small cake I made earlier in the morning trying to mute any sound of the kitchen, without counting the sound of the lighter. “This is great.”

He points to the candle. “Well, blow it up or it melted completely.”

Joe closes his eyes blowing the candle, making a wish.

“A good wish?” Joe nods, taking a small bite of his cake.

“Sorry, but if I tell you, it won't make it true.” Joe observes narrowing his eyes. “You have something on your face.”

“Where?” Joe approaches, catching my upper lip in a kiss. 

“Butter cream.” He licks his lips. “Yeah, it tastes really good.” 

I blink speechless as I grab my heated face with my free hand, hot like a bonfire.

“Let me try again.” He tries to kiss me one more time, my useless attempt to avoid it, ends in him grabbing the cake quickly, putting on the night table beside him with me under him on his bed.

Take a little bit of the buttercream putting on my lips, kissing me as he grabs my neck.

“Yeah, really good.” I giggle, giving him a small peck.

The sound of his alarm distracts us; Joe knows he must get ready for training.

“Save it for the bell.” He stands taking another bite of his cake. 

I sit watching him with dazzling eyes, as he goes to his closet.

“Guys are preparing a small dinner for my birthday, would you like to come?” I hissed. I met a few of his friends in casual conversation, this is another step.

“I have to travel home tonight.” Joe smiles leaning to me, grabbing his pink hoodie for don't fall over my face.

“I know, I know, it's my last attempt.” He kissed my forehead.

“Sorry.” I stand giving him a hug. “Happy birthday Joe.”

Although it is Joe's birthday; tomorrow it's my grandmother's birthday too, all the family are gathering to celebrate her. 85 years old is a big number. 

“Are you planning to come back before Christmas?” Joe starts to put all he could need inside of his bag. “You work for a place here, you know, it will be…”

“I'll try, I'm not promising anything, besides I've always been working remotely.” He laughs going to change his clothes.

“Before I forget.” He takes a paper bag. “Let's consider it as a previous Christmas gift.”

I opened the bag, a Bengal shirt with the number 9 on it.

I roll my eyes. “You don't have to look for it anymore, failing in the attempt.”

However, in the corner I notice something unusual next to his number. 

“Wait, wait, what is this?” I lift the shirt, pointing to the tiny orange heart, next to the big white 9.

Joe pretends looking at his phone. “I'm going late, let's go for breakfast.”

He pulls me from my hand going downstairs, giggling as a kid.

Before Christmas I had a special present for Joe. 

I got to be in Cincinnati a couple of days ago, however it is the second week they’re in a game out of home. Right now they're in Seattle after a bad loss, with a defense that has been imperceptible.

Joe seems disturbed in the press conference, still he texts me, hoping to arrive on time before I take my flight home.

He thinks I'll leave tonight to be on time and help my family before travelling to spend Christmas with my mother's mother.

“This is the last one.” Jason brings the last tray of food.

As Lilian sits on a chair. “I feel I could be arrested in any minute.”

I chuckle as I set in their place the last mistletoe.

“Ready!” I smile seeing around all the arrangements, happy with how everything is settled. “Now let's go, that I don't have so much time.”

I push them to the door not before taking the last look, it's perfect.

After a quick shower and changing my clothes, I just left myself enough time to drive back before Joe arrives from Seattle.

All should be according to the plan with my “little” helpers. 

And it was, as I kept waiting for a couple well-known voices, that I heard at the entrance.

“Come on guys, this could wait.” Joe complains. “Y/N leaves tonight, I haven't seen her in weeks, and I really want to say goodbye to her.”

“Joe, this mustn't wait, it's urgent.” Tee said, even though he sounds tired, his voice is cheerful.

I heard them opening the crystal door of the training camp, but I know they just make sure Joe gets inside before leaving.

“The lights aren't even turned on!” Joe screams as I light on.

“Merry Christmas Eve Eve!” Joe blinks, getting used to the lights. 

When he does he smiles brightly tilting his head when he sees me in a green velvet dress and an elf hat..

“What is this?” He walks to me to hug me. “This is pretty amazing!”

I smile as I surround him with my arms. “And I make dinner.” I think for a second. “Sorry, we made dinner.”

“We?” Joe split, noticing the dinner set in a small table behind me.

“Lilian, Jason and me.” Joe grabs my hand as we walk close to the table.

“How did you get in?” Joe looks around seeing the Christmas lights hanging around a small area.

I pretend thinking. “You have good friends willing to help.” 

Tee, Ja’Marr and BJ helped me to convince Zac to intercede for me and get a special permission. 

“Should we?” Joe says with a bloated eyes but a side to side smile.

“Yeah of course.” I give him a small peek in his cheek.

The dinner is delicious, you can see it for the way Joe barely speaks until we finished.

“Delicious.” He cleaned the corner of his mouth. 

“Big thanks to my mom.” She guided us through all the cooking processes. 

Joe put his elbows over the table. “Why here?”

I scoff rolling my eyes. “Joe, do you know how many security cameras you have in your house?” 

He laughs. “A few.”

“A few, yeah, a few.” I take out a box under my chair. “Here.”

Joe giggles, his hands on his hair.

“What is this?” I smile seeing his cheek in a soft pink.

I tremble with fingers on the top of the box. “Don't get too excited, ok? It’s not a fancy thing.”

Joe clicks his tongue. “Damn.” For after, wink at me.

“Open it.” I smirk as he takes the upper part, tiling his head confused.

“I'm lost.” He takes another small box with twelve candles, small white candles.

I point to the box with the candles. “One candle, one wish. Simple as that.”

Joe and his rich laugh is music to my ears. 

“Can I begin?” Joe opened the box taking out one. 

“Now?” I cough for the surprise.

“Yeah now.” He digs in the big box and finds the matches. “I'm supposed to write on this.” 

He takes the small piece of paper tied to the candle and the pen, I nod. “If there is something I can help, let me know.” 

Joe smiles. “One more time, how many candles are there?” He keeps writing.

“Twelve.” He folded the small paper and carefully burned it.

“Then you owe me eleven wishes.” He winks at me, but I just point the ashes on the table. “Don’t worry, this is for me, to myself.”

I lean on the table giving him a small peck on his lips.

“Merry Christmas and happy new year Joe.” He has that naughty smile on his lips. 

He caresses my cheek. “Merry Christmas.”

On Christmas Day Joe made sure to send me a photo of the second candle with his wish written on it.

 >Eat well and keep healthy.

Like every year we spend Christmas in Buffalo, this year the cold and the snow are at their top.

Streets are covered in white, you need 3 minutes outside to be covered in a white cold veil. 

“So, darling, your mother and Collin said you've been quite happy, these months.” Grandma said as she took out the special cake that Collin loved from the oven. “A special reason?”

I finished cutting the last strawberries she will use for decorating. “It’s not a reason, grandma, it’s a person.”

Bad time to eat a strawberry that almost killed me. “A QB.” 

Grandma softly patted my back giggling. “There is a reason why Colin must be far away from wine, he tends to speak way too much.”

I take a sip of water thinking of a way to punish him as soon as he appears at the door.

“Ye…Yes. But, we’re just hanging around, dating, seeing how things work, it could be just a…” Grandma tilts her head as he takes out all the things she will need. 

“Darling, darling, how many times have I told you about your Grandfather and me?” She has that face of utter love.

They met in middle school, after grandpa helped her to hide from her friends in what seemed like a cringe double date; breaking his glasses on the way, for crashing with him as she covered her face walking outside the school.

“It’s not the same.” Grandma raises her hand so she can keep talking. 

“I fell in love with that guy with clear vision problems in less than 3 months, now look at us, happily married after 47 years.” She smiles proudly with a voice full of adoration.

The loud hit on the door with laughs from grandpa and Collin, makes her roll her eyes. 

“Sorry! We bought it!” Collin appears in the kitchen sweating covered in snow as dad and mom carry the boxes inside of the house.

“You didn’t go for a box of chocolate bars?” I asked Collin as he drank all my water.

“It's supposed to be! But Grandpa saw the discounts and said we’ll buy a few.” He makes quotation marks with his hands. “He bought one box; for you, one for me and one for mom and dad.”

“Collin!” Mom shouted for him from the door. 

He leans his head on my shoulder. “Did I mention their friends?.” He takes a deep breath. “Walking a meter on the snow it's like walking three miles.” 

His breathing is fast even you can see a big smile on his face. “I’m coming!”

He runs to the door leaving a trace of snow from the kitchen to the main door.

“See, how not falling in love with him?” Grandma smiles and grabs my hand. “What I am saying is, when the feelings are real time it doesn't matter; what you feel here.” She pointed to my heart. “And here.” Then to my head. “It’s the most important.”

I see Grandpa entering with three chocolates bars, one for grandma, one for me and one for him, kissing her head. 

“For you.” Grandpa takes out a dahlia from his coat. 

We came back just in time for I could see the last game of the year from the Bengals, a wonderful defense even though the offense was a little bit imprecise, work for getting them to keep the win in their home.

But for Joe that wasn’t enough, you can see for the twisted lips at the end of the press conference. 

“You’ll have a full week to make an adjustment. Don’t be so hard on you.” I called Joe when he texts me he’s in his home. 

Joe nods and as he leans on the couch, nodding avoiding my eyes through the video call. 

“Joe?” He sighs and sees the camera nod one more time. “Now, please, stop pulling your fingers.”

He giggles. “I’m tired, sorry.” He put his hand on his neck moving around his head.

“It’s ok, go and rest, I’ll call you tomorrow, ok?” I stand on my bed wanting so badly to be with him but he needs a little bit of space.

“What a way of ending the year with me, huh?” I scoff as he gets down his head, pulling his finger one more time.

“It couldn’t be better.” He saw the camera with a surprise expression. “I mean it.”

The knock on my door as Collin stays in the door distracted me. 

He scrunched his face when he noticed I’m on a call. “Sorry Y/N, but it’s time.”

I nod, tonight one of my father's best friends invited us for a last dinner before New year.

I smile at Collin before he goes out of my room. “Well, time to go, too.”

I stand on the bed, ready to hang out the video call, searching for my coat.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on a second, let me see you.” Joe takes his phone like he could see it more in detail.

Switching the camera in front of my mirror Joe can see me; wearing a cute black dress, a Christmas present of Lilian.

“No way.” I can see Joe hiding his face on a pillow. “You look… whoa.” 

Feeling shy and adored, that’s all I can say.

“Y/N! We’re going late!” Dad passed in front of my room screaming. 

Joe mumbled a couple of things that I couldn’t hear. “Sorry, text you later, bye.”

As we get in the car Joe sends a photo with the third candle and the note.

 >See you in person. ❤️

Even though both of us knew we couldn't see each other before new year, it was still a little bittersweet situation. We have to settle with a quick call at midnight, under the mischievous eyes of my family observing me through the crystal door of the backyard. 

Next morning all of us wake up really late, with the appearance we just sleep one hour; by the time I get down to the kitchen dad is making coffee with his PJs on.

“Mom?” I take four cups from the counter regretting leaving my sweater on my bed.

“Trying to stay awake.” Both of us laugh, that laugh increases when Collin enters, messy hair closing his eyes as he hits the door of the kitchen. 

He put his hand over his forehead. “We should change that for a normal door, let’s get rid of the crystal door.”

Dad served three cups of coffee observing us sitting on the stool, with a smirk on his face. “Serving coffee, years ago, milk and cereal.”

“Dad!” Collin rolls his eyes. “It’s the first day of the new year, let’s not be sentimental.”

I push his arm. “Speak to the big, not sentimental boy.”

Collin cried yesterday, probably drunk as he remembered in a few months he will be far away from home.

“Whatever, Y/N, do you mind going to your grandparents' greenhouse?” Dad asked to take things for breakfast.

“Sure.” 

My grandparents have a greenhouse in the boundary of the city. We spent a lot of time during our childhood; they had an amazing place where Collin and I passed such beautiful moments.

He was learning and helping, I was just observing and paying attention to the details, notebooks on my lap, taking notes.

I arrived around 7 pm, all the lights, most of them turned off.

I knocked before getting in, just the lights of the main office turned on, they left a small note.

 >We're in the one next to the big three.

I perk through the window seeing all the lights there on, I smirk, they love that place for sure.

As I walk the cold wind makes me shiver, but I notice something weird; the cold lights of always now are in warm lights.

“What are you do…” My words stuck in my mouth when I saw the lights coming from the back of the greenhouse.

As I walk in, small bouquets of flowers are situated along the main corridor, I narrow my eyes taking in one, it took me a couple of seconds realizing the bouquets are conformed of heartseases, opium poppies, bignonias and marigolds.

As I keep walking, I realize the back curtain is slightly open; the warm light coming from that spot, so I removed it carefully. 

He is there. 

Joe is standing surrounded by flowers and Christmas lights.

“Happy new year.” He smirks, extending his arms. 

Raising my hands full of bouquets he rolls his eyes. 

“I don't think about that.” Both of us laughed as I gave him an attempt to hug.

“That's why you've been so quiet these days, huh?” Joe barely replay one text, my eyes seeing lights all over the place, I understand why.

“Such nice people are your grandparents” I see a small table where I can leave all the bouquets. “And Collin that helps a lot too.”

That explains why my grandparents didn't call right away as they saw or heard Joe Burrow. “I couldn't make the dinner, I owe you that.”

“I feel lucky enough, I imagine you have been locked in the building since the very first hours of the day.” I put all my bouquets so I can have my arms free.

“Ha ha ha, so funny.” Joe clicks his tongue. “Come here please, I need your help.”

“Another wish? I can do that.” Joe narrows his eyes. “I'm in a row, 2 of 2.”

“That confident?” Joe nods.

I touch my jacket. “I'm healthy and warm and you already saw me.” 

“I mean wearing that black dress.” Tilting my head Joe bit his lips.

“Believe me Joe, you have to work a little bit harder to see that dress.” I know I pinch his pride for the way he pouts.

“Sounds like a bet. I like that.” He shakes his head and focuses one more time. 

Turning around he takes a small box. “You should light one candle, you know?”

“Omg, could you just open it?” I laughed, enjoying seeing him so exasperated.

I take the lid and see a small crystal ball, I scoff, imagine another flower, to my surprise it's just the small paper of the candle inside of it. 

“What is this? Should I break it?” Joe chuckles, twisting around the ball to open it. 

I unfold it, the number five in the corner.

 >Please say yes.

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?” Joe asked, making my eyes focus on his face. 

My heart is beating fast enough to cloud any coherent answer.

“I know you probably think this isn't a serious thing, but for me this is so real, we just met for a short time, and… you have been a breath of fresh air every time I see you.” Joe scratches his chin. “I love flowers isn't a secret… you know what Ja’Marr asked me when a month passed since I met you?”

I shake my head. “Joe, how many flowers do you need?” Joe takes my hands one more. “My house was full of flowers, a bouquet in every corner, still, it takes me a lot to reach this point.”

“Joe… I… It's…” Dammit I can't form a phrase.

Joe squeezed my hand smiling at me. “Tak..”

“Where are the fourth and fifth candles?” I hit my temple on my mind. Really that's my answer?

Joe looks to his right at a small table, two candles are burning slowly with a gold glow.

“My fourth wish is please that I don’t shutter so much as I speak.” I cover my face with the crystal ball as I whisper. “What? I don't understand you.” 

“Oh my. Yes!” Joe takes the ball off my face. “Yes, yes, yes! A thousand times yes.” 

I jumped to hug him, he quickly lifted me from the ground, kissing me.

“No, no, put me down.” He raised his eyebrows. “I want to have a healthy QB to hug when you win the championship.”

“You're so...” I shut him down, kissing him tenderly. 

“I guess I have to rush all my preparations” My useless attempt to go down failed one more time.

“Rush?” I side eye to him as I notice dahlia between the small lights, so accurate, after all we are making a compromise.

I surround his neck with my arms. “I was thinking of moving to Cincinnati after summer.”

His eyes move from my lips to my eyes. “Now probably, just probably think of doing it sooner.”

Joe cleared his throat. “You know if you need a place to stay, I can make you a space in my house.” 

I give him a small peck, feeling his grip on my thighs trembling, not for the lack of strength just because he's trembling.

“Mhm, what about for quite a long time? I don't want to be the third wheel with Lilian.” Joe laughs, his rich laugh.

“Right, that will be awkward.” He fakes thinking. “Are you a good roommate?” 

I hit his chest softly. “You won't have any complaints.” 

One more kiss, this time more saccharine and consuming; I understand now what Lilian said, it's like we built a world just for us.

“I love to have you with me.” Joe smiles right to my lips.

I kiss his forehead. “Deal.” 

What a way of beginning the year, after all Mr. McNeil has right after all, love comes right through our door

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Omg, I just took a more detailed view to the full series and I’m blown away by the response. Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed from the very first flower until the last. 🌸

I’m preparing something… special? or at least that's what I believe, anyway, wait for it! 

I’ll write to you soon!🍒

[chiaseed149]

Arcane S2 Rant (Felicia and her Daughters)

This is just a rant off the dome about the inclusion of Felicia into the arcane s2 narrative and why the show massively fumbled it imo

I may be reaching but something about Arcane s2 that really rubbed me the wrong way was that the narrative made it lowkey feel like Jinx was more Felicia's daughter than Vi was.

There are countless visual and character parallels made between Jinx and Felicia (especially in episode 5 and 7) isn't inherently bad but when coupled with the fact that Vi has none; it doesn't sit right with me.If anything, Vi should be more like Felicia because she knew her longer and yet we see a majority of Felicia's legacy through Jinx instead. From mannerisms to looks to philosophy, it's all from a woman that Jinx most likely does not remember vividly.

also the inclusion of Silco partially taking Powder in because she is Felicia's daughter like Vi isn't equally her daughter. Now knowing how close Silco was to Felicia AND young Vi makes it so much more sinister the lengths he went to cause her harm knowing full well who she is. Like he wanted that girl DEAD and yet is implied to have cared for Felicia and her children as Vander did ABSOLUTELY NOT. I can no longer accept the argument that Silco saw Vi as more Vander's child than Felicia's when Jinx spent the same amount of time and her more formative childhood development years with him...

I wish we had gotten one of the childhood flashbacks from Vi's point of view (we already have countless flashbacks on Vi's part of Caitlyn and Vander, what's one more of her actual mother) because she was a ful 10 years old when Felicia dies and yet we never really see her mention it. Especially with how much we see Caitlyn deal with the loss of her mother, it would have been really insightful for Vi to take about losing her own mother in a similar fashion just on the otherside of the war (but this would require the writers to not be cowards and actually have meaningful and challenging, nuanced conversations between Vi and other characters... the writers really did not like doing that this season). Ideally, I think the flashback should have happened at the end of epsiode 9 when Vander dies again -- in this, I think it should have been a flashback of ALL the things people Vi has lost at this point (Felicia, her father, vander, mylo, claggor, her youth, powder, warwick, etc...) but the narrative doesn't allow vi to have these moments of vulnerability so i guess not.

Alas, I think that the inclusion of Felicia was entirely for Jinx's benefit which is really disappointing because I feel like a lot of things were also done for her benefit when the story is about two sisters, not about a girl and her sister's girlfriend while the sister in question is left to simply react to their actions.

[grlsbstshot]

NEON LIGHTS

Pairing (Original Characters):

Jameson Lucas (Aaron Pierre) x Imani St. Cirie (Megan thee Stallion) Genie Adesanya (Jayme Lawson) x Ellington “EJ” Dupree (Kelvin Harrison Jr.)

Chapters:

Neon Lights Masterlist

Chapter Synopsis: while imani processes her lingering pain over jameson’s constant betrayals, jameson reels from her inattention. torn between loyalty to her best friend and processing her own feelings, genie grapples with guilt and anxiety while ej does his best to take care of her. sloane attempts to celebrate the split between jameson and imani but genie intervenes.

Warnings: toxic relationship, them b words! (watch them b words!), explicit terminology, dirty talk (kinda), usage of the n-word (if you white and read it, you owe us $20) -- if we missed anything, let us know!

Word Count: 5.6k Divider Template: @cafekitsune

Notes: 

The following characters are original creations. Their voice claims are Usher / Lucky Daye (Jameson) & Summer Walker / SZA (Imani). We have no affiliation to any of those artists.

1 week after Sloane's party

Jameson leaned against the kitchen counter, his phone clutched in his hand as he stared at the screen in surprise. The image of Christian reflected back at him and he briefly wondered when he even started following that nigga. A quick glance to the left-hand corner told him it was Imani's Instagram account. Imani? With Christian? He couldn't even see that bastard's face but knew he was probably happy as fuck to be with Imani.

Look who came to visit.

The caption made his stomach churn. There was nothing downright explicit or implicated more but the simple fact that she had taken the picture, thought of the caption, and posted it? It made him sick. He knew for a fact she couldn't stand him. After things ended abruptly between Christian and Genie, Imani hadn't seen it for him. Ever. But now they were close enough for him to visit?

Texts left on read. Calls that went straight to voicemail. The silence was deafening.

Jameson immediately left the app and went to his messages, texting her a blitz of...admittedly emotional responses. She still hadn't responded to any of the ones before. He put his phone face down on the counter, trying to rein in his temper. He didn’t need to read the comments to know what they said. Fans were undoubtedly cheering it on. Shit talking about how 'cute' he probably was. Wondering if she had finally replaced him.

What if she had? What if the space where he stood was going to belong to another person? Not just Christian -- anybody? That was enough to turn his stomach.

Jameson's hand clenched into a fist and he turned around, hitting the first thing he saw...which so happened to be EJ's fridge. His fist dented the medal but it hurt him a hell of a lot more than it did the inanimate object.

“Ay, muhfucka! I got that imported from France. Watch that shit. What's your problem?” Jameson glanced up to see EJ rounding the corner, a cup of coffee in his hand. He couldn't quite blame his best friend for being irritated but he was going through some shit.

“Her Instagram.” Jameson muttered, nodding toward his phone. EJ walked over, picked up the phone, and whistled low when he saw the post. “Ain't this a bitch.” He scrolled through the comments briefly before setting the phone down. “They have a ship name too. Chrismani sound stupid tho.”

Jameson glared at him and EJ quickly put the phone down, shrugging. "My bad, man." “What am I supposed to do? She’s not answering my calls. She’s ignoring my texts. And now she’s letting him—” Jameson cut himself off, shaking his head. He didn't know what the fuck the two had going on but either way, he didn't like that shit.

“Letting him what? Exist?” EJ raised an eyebrow. “Because that’s what it looks like to me. You give this nigga way too much power, man. Genie has a history with him, right? You know Imani. She not going too far with him."

Jameson frowned at EJ. He was right but he also knew..."Please. If you saw the girl you loved posted up with somebody else a week after ignoring your calls, you'd be tripping too." He didn't know what to do when it came to Imani. “She told me to choose. I could be friends with Sloane or I could be with her.”

EJ set his coffee down and crossed his arms, leaning against the counter as he stared at his best friend. “Okay? So Sloane's out. Now what?" Jameson began to rub his hand over his fist, rolling his eyes in agitation. "It's not that easy!"

EJ cocked his head, leaning against the counter as he stared at Jameson with wide eyes. "Fuck you mean it's not that easy? Lose a friend, gain a girlfriend. Besides, Genie don't like her and Genie likes everybody. That's how you know something is up with her."

Jameson sighed softly, reaching to snatch his phone off the counter again. EJ had a point. Genie and Sloane had fallen out around the time he and Imani had become serious. He never knew what happened but wanted them both to feel like they could count on him. He didn't want to take sides. His friend vs his sister? He didn't want to decide. "Sloane doesn't have anybody."

"She had a house full of people at that party last week." "None of those people give a shit about her." "And you do?" "Of course I do." "You want that girl?" "No! No. I'm so fucking tired of being accused of that shit. I've known her since she was fifteen. I knew her when she could barely look you in the eyes when she was talking to you. She was lonely as fuck. And she's still lonely. I'm sorry I feel guilty abandoning her."

Jameson saw EJ's face change. From confusion to understanding all in an instant and for some reason -- he hated it. "You keep saying you're 'abandoning' her. You're not, man. She's a grown up." Jameson braced himself, knowing what EJ was going to say next. "She's not you and you are not your father."

He shut it down within a second, shaking his head as he quickly moved out of the kitchen. His father was a forbidden subject. Nobody brought the man up. Not his mother, not the press. Nobody. As far as the world was concerned, it was just Anais and James Lucas against the world. "It's not about that, man. I just don't want to abandon my friend."

"Do you want Imani back?" EJ called out to him, following. "Of course I do." "Let Sloane go. You can't let her think Christian is the only muhfucka that cares about how she feels. Let her go."

Jameson stared at him, the words sinking in.

“You’ve got options,” EJ said, approaching him and patting his hand against Jameson's shoulder. “Write her a song. Send her flowers. Show up at the studio if you have to. You flew to fucking Italy within a minute. Why are you hesitating now? Don't sit there and let this nigga come take what's yours."

Jameson hesitated. “You think that’ll work?”

EJ shrugged. “I think it’s better than...you know. Punching my shit and stalking her on Instagram. You’ve always been a fighter, J. Don’t stop now.”

Jameson nodded slowly, his mind already spinning with ideas. EJ clapped him on the shoulder before heading out of the kitchen, leaving Jameson alone with his thoughts. He unlocked the phone in his hand and went back to Instagram, staring at the picture of Christian on her page. It was bullshit but EJ was right. He couldn't give up on her. He swore he never would.

The texts came through fast, almost as if he didn't have to think about what he was sending. She didn't take any pleasure in his reaction. Not really. But Imani needed something to flip that damn switch in Jameson's mind. He needed to know she wasn't playing. The mention of Genie made her heart hurt though. She texted her before she posted the picture of Christian but there had been no response. There hadn't been a response afterward either and Imani was praying she didn't hold this against her.

She forced herself not to finish reading Jameson's texts. She closed out the messages and went back to Instagram. Cross-legged on her couch, the soft glow of her phone screen illuminating her face in the dim living room, she scrolled through the comments on her post.

The likes were climbing rapidly, as they always did. Thousands of comments flooded in, a mix of excitement, speculation, and blatant nosiness.

"With your bestie ex? Oh, messy Mani." "What about Jameson tho? 👀" "Girl, you’re glowing without him. Keep winning!"

Her thumb hovered over that last comment, her heart clenching. Glowing without him. Was she?

She tossed her phone onto the cushion beside her, leaning back against the couch. The praise and speculation didn’t fill the hollow ache that had been gnawing at her for days. It wasn’t about Christian—he was nothing. She felt absolutely nothing for the man. She got the vibe that he wanted something with her but Imani couldn't tell if he was delusional or just stupid to really think she'd give him the time of day after he was with her best friend. Then again...People thought that's exactly what she was doing.

The post wasn’t about him though. It was about the one person who wasn’t tagged, wasn’t mentioned, but was still present in every corner of her mind.

Jameson.

He kept letting her down. Choosing other people over her. She wouldn't him do it again. She closed her eyes, and the memories came rushing back like a tidal wave.

It was late, and the city lights outside their hotel room window shimmered like stars. She remembered sitting on the edge of the bed, the air thick with tension. Jameson stood in front of her, his hands trembling as he admitted the unthinkable. The night he ruined their relationship. All their problems went back to that one moment. “I slept with her.” he’d said, his voice raw and cracking. “I'm so sorry. Mani, I...I don't know what the fuck I was thinking. I was drunk. I swear to god.” Her heart had shattered in that moment, the weight of his words crushing her. She remembered the way her chest had tightened, the disbelief that had turned into anger, then grief. They were done, she knew that. He knew that. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Huh? It's fuck me, huh?!” she’d whispered, her voice trembling. Her entire body shaking. “I trusted you. I gave you everything.” “Mani, please,” he’d begged, dropping to his knees in front of her, reaching for her hands. She snatched them away, trying to get up from the bed but Jameson grasped her by the waist, keeping her trapped. She pushed against his shoulders, twisting out of his grasp as tears filled her eyes. “I'm going to fix it, baby. I swear to god, I'll fix it. I'm sorry.” "Let me go! You can't fix this shit!" "Yes, I can. I can fix it. I'll be better." "Jameson. You just told me you fucked another bitch and you really think I'm going to give you a chance to fix it? We're done. It's over."

She opened her eyes, the memory dissipating like smoke, but the sting remained. She reached for her phone again, scrolling back to her post. The comments about Jameson were multiplying, each one a reminder of the life they’d shared and the pain he’d caused.

She couldn’t go back to that. She wouldn’t.

Her thumb hovered over the delete button for a moment before she pulled her hand away. No, she thought. Let him have to keep seeing it. Let him wonder. Let the tags in the comments be a reminder. “You won't get to the chance to play me again.” she whispered, her voice steady.

With that, she exited the app, her resolve solidifying. If Jameson wanted her back, he’d have to do more than beg. He’d have to prove he was worthy of her trust—and she wasn’t sure she’d ever believe that again.

Imani opened her texts, shooting a message to her engineer and manager. She had written so much shit when she was trying to get over the betrayal Jameson had done -- it was enough for albums. Why not use this pain to start a new chapter in her life? She spent so much of her time worrying about him. It was time to worry about herself. Her music. Her career.

Genie had done her best to put it out of her mind. The picture was exploding all over social media. She'd been tagged in it almost as much as Jameson was and each time made her chest tighten. The knot of anxiety she’d been carrying all day pulling tighter. She promised to meet EJ for lunch and had arrived early, sitting primly and perfectly -- covered in Chanel. Her beautiful dark coils pressed perfectly and swept back in a french curl. She looked much better than she felt.

She had known Imani was going to post it. The text had come hours before, but Genie hadn’t responded. She’d stared at the message, her thumb hovering over the keyboard, unsure of what to say. What could she say? No one knew the whole story of she and Christian. All she told Imani was that it was over. But shouldn't that have been enough? Of all the men to use to make Jameson jealous, why him?

She had complicated feelings about Imani playing with Jameson's feelings as well -- but it wasn't as if she didn't have good reason. He was her brother but he was an idiot sometimes. The image was out in the world and Genie felt that her silence was almost complicity in hurting Jameson. If the gossip was correct, Sloane was a thorn in their relationship and Genie knew a surefire way to get her out.

EJ finally arrived and Genie glanced up to see him making his way to their table -- led by the hostess. A smile curved her lips as the two maintained eye contact. She had never been so enamored with a man before. Even that crush she had on Christian had been bullshit compared to how EJ made her feel. They kept their relationship fairly casual. After their night at Sloane's party, he had been with her every step of the way, reassuring her and being patient with her. He was more than she deserved.

Before he sat down, he came to her side of the table and kissed her softly. It was a brief touch of his lips but the stiffness in her shoulders relaxed. She felt the tightening of her chest relax and for a minute, she felt like she could breathe. "Hi, baby." He told her softly, moving to take his seat as she poured him a glass of wine. His sharp eyes flicking to the phone on the table. “I guess you've seen it.,” he said, nodding toward it. “Jamie isn't too happy either.”

Genie hesitated, then nodded to confirm she saw it. “She said it was to make Jameson jealous, but…” She trailed off, placing the bottle back on the table. "I don't know. It seems so out of character for her. Mani can be petty but she doesn't waste her time with people she doesn't give a fuck about. I don't think she understands what she's getting into."

EJ nodded, lifting his hand to gesture to a waiter for a glass of water. He was totally different from her. He worried about their friends but Genie took it totally to heart. Probably because she loved them both. EJ loved Jameson -- she was sure he hadn't decided how he felt about Imani yet. "I told him to go get his girl back. But I kind of regret it now."

Genie prepared herself to defend Imani. Jameson was her brother but she wasn't ready to absolve him of his sins. Especially when the reason their relationship was so chaotic was because he cheated a year ago. "They love each other so that wasn't a mistake. They just...they can't seem to get it together.," she said softly. “This is going to make everything worse. For her. For Jameson. For everyone.”

EJ leaned back, studying her with a mix of concern. “Did you tell her that?”

“I...I couldn't." Genie sighed, then immediately regretted the admission. “I mean, I wanted to. But what was I supposed to say? ‘Don’t post him because he’s a jerk who’s going to ruin your life?’ I didn't want her to think I was jealous.”

EJ raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you?”

Genie opened her mouth to deny it, but the words caught in her throat. She had been jealous at the party. It had caused a twinge to her heart to see a man she used to want choosing other women over her. Women she loved deeply and respected. He had already taken Sloane. Now Imani? She had been scared. But as she gazed at EJ, she knew he was one of a kind. There wasn't a man like him in the world. How dare she be jealous over a man who wasn't worth it when one who was sat in front of her. “I’m not jealous. Anymore.,” she said finally, reaching across the table to take his hand. “I’m scared. For her. For Jameson. I don’t want to see either of them hurt. Between Sloane and Christian, their relationship could easily snap.”

EJ’s expression softened. He reached out and took her hand, brushing his thumb back and forth across her skin, “You worry too much about other people, Genie. It’s gonna tear you apart if you let it.”

Genie looked down at his hand, the warmth of his touch grounding her. “I can’t help it,” she murmured.

“I know. You got the kind of heart I love. But maybe it’s time you focused on you,” EJ said gently. “Let them figure it out. You’ve got your own life to live, Genie. Your own man to worry about."

"Oh? Are you my man?" "Didn't you cum on my face a few times? I could have sworn last night that you begged me to --"

Genie's eyes went wide as she peered around the restaurant to see if anyone heard him. No one did but her reaction made EJ laugh. She snatched her hand from his, reaching over to slap his wrist.

"Stop it! Don't say that out loud!" "It's true. You did. And you're gonna do it again when we leave here." "Is that all you're going to do?" "For now." "What if I want more?" "I gotta make sure you're ready. So stop babysitting everybody else and let me take care of you for a change." "Yes, sir." "Ooh. Keep that up. I like that."

She smiled faintly, though the knot in her stomach didn’t loosen. For the rest of the lunch, she and EJ didn't mention Jameson and Imani but her gaze kept straying to the phone. Thoughts of Christian and Sloane filtered through her mind. For her last act of babysitting -- she was going to make sure they didn't ruin Imani and Jameson's second chance. If they couldn't get it right, it had to be on their own terms. Not anybody else's.

It was nightfall by the time Genie managed to convince EJ to let her out of bed. He asked her to let everyone figure their shit out but she had to get this out. Once she promised him she'd wash her hands of it after talking to Jameson, he gave her a kiss and let her go. Texting Jameson and telling him it was an emergency was probably dramatic but he shared his location with her. When she pulled up to the recording studio, he was waiting outside -- leaning against his Range Rover.

He watched her curiously as she parked and got out, lifting his hand to press to her shoulder as he escorted her inside -- like an annoyed but worried older brother would. When they were settled in a quiet, private studio, finally he leaned in and nudged her arm. "Talk. You kind of scaring me."

They sat in front of the mixing console, a track playing lowly in the background. Genie could tell it was one of his. She knew his voice anywhere but hadn't heard this song before. She understood a few words here and there but couldn't catch the rhythm of the song. Jamie looked tense, his shoulders stiff. She knew he hadn't been able to shake the thoughts of Imani and Christian from his mind.

“What’s going on?”

Genie hesitated, the weight of what she was about to say pressing down on her. She took a deep breath and shrugged out of her jacket. "There’s a lot you don’t know. Things I’ve been keeping to myself because I didn’t want to -- Well, I wasn't brave enough to do what Imani did. I didn't want to make you choose. But after everything that’s happened -- Imani, that post, the way Christian's been acting -- I can’t stay quiet anymore.”

Jameson’s expression darkened, a storm brewing in his eyes as he grasp her hands in his. “What did he do?”

Genie exhaled shakily, her voice trembling as she began. “Christian and I -- it was a fluke from the beginning. Maybe I was too presumptive but I...I told Sloane how I felt. She encouraged me to pursue him. So I did. I put myself out there." Tears filled her eyes as she thought of the way she had embarrassed herself. The sting of being rejected had faded but losing Sloane -- knowing what she had done? That would never go away.

"I found them together. At your afterparty for the Grammys. They were...Well, they were fucking. In your pool house. I didn't say a word. I turned around and left but I confronted Sloane afterward." Genie took a breath and forced herself to continue. "She didn’t even deny it. Said it was no big deal because...it wasn't like he wanted me anyway. He liked someone else. She knew and didn't tell me. I stopped talking to her that night.”

She felt his grip around her fingers tighten for a moment before they relaxed. The look on his face was...a lot like hers the night Sloane had shown who she was. Devasated. Confused. Disbelief. “She said that to you?”

Genie nodded, her throat tightening as tears fell. “I told Christian I was sorry. Can you believe it? I apologized for not being who he wanted. It was embarrassing. I'm starting to think who he wanted...was Imani.”

Jameson shook his head but all the pieces were falling into place. “That’s why you’ve been avoiding her.”

“Yes,” Genie said, her voice firmer now as she pulled her hands free and wiped her eyes. “And it’s why I think you need to let her go, J. Do what Imani said. Choose her. Sloane only cares about herself and she’s only going to drag you down.”

Jameson leaned back in his seat. “She was your friend. I wouldn't even know her if it wasn't for you. You loved her before anybody else and she...she did that to you.”

“Yes,” Genie said gently. “If anybody knows what it's like to see the best in Sloane, it's me. I always saw it. Until she showed me something else, Jameson. Don't wait until she shows you.”

He looked up at her then, a spark of anger in his eyes. "And Christian?”

Genie’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I don't know. He may really like Imani but she...she deserves better." She may be there to help Jameson fix things but she couldn't bring herself to tell him that Imani was just trying to make him jealous. Loyalty to both kept her conflicted.

They sat in silence for a while so Jameson could process everything. He was distracted, clearly overwhelmed, but she knew what he would do when he spoke next. "I love you, you know?" he told Genie softly, his voice thick with emotion. "You and your dad...you two gave me and Ma everything we needed to feel like a family. You're my sister, Genie. I wouldn't ever let anybody hurt you."

She gave him a faint smile, tears filling her eyes again. For somebody who could write music, he had never been eloquent with her about his feelings. They irritated each other like siblings but she had never truly said it to him. "I love you too." Genie said softly. “I wouldn't ever let anybody hurt you either. That's why Sloane has to get out of our lives. Now.”

Jameson nodded, agreeing without words. “I threw everything away with Imani to be loyal to somebody who didn't deserve it.”

Genie reached out, squeezing his knee. “It may not be over. Try it. Let her know you choose her. Over anything. Even if you guys don't work it out, at least you’ll know you did everything you could. But you can’t move forward if you’re still holding onto people like Sloane.”

He nodded slowly, the weight of her words sinking in. “You’re right,” he said finally.

Genie smiled faintly, relief washing over her. “Good. Now, go clean up your mess.”

He gave her a small, rueful laugh. “I'm not good at that.”

“Get good at it.,” she said, standing and placing a kiss to his forehead...before slapping him on the back of the neck. Jameson flinched but only stared up at her. “Consider this my retirement from worrying about you and Imani. My man told me to stop.”

His brows furrowed as she turned to leave the studio. "What man?!" he called out after her. Genie ignored him and continued on to her car to get back home to EJ.

God had to have a sense of humor. No sooner had he watched Genie zip off in her car, he'd gotten a text from Sloane. A dinner invitation. He had been seconds from texting a denial but he knew this message was better delivered in person -- so he agreed to show up. He spent the entire drive to her place stewing in anger -- pissed at her and himself. He had spent months bringing this girl around Genie, around Imani. Begging them to give her a shot. He hadn't even asked why she and Genie had fallen apart. He was a shit friend and a shit boyfriend.

The elevator doors slid open, and Jameson stepped into the hallway leading to Sloane’s penthouse. His jaw tight and he had no idea how to release his tension. He had no idea what he planned to say. There was so much in his head. All he wanted to do was yell at her. Make her give him a valid reason for the shit she'd been doing. The weight of Genie’s confession bore down on him, and the idea of confronting Sloane left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He knocked twice, his knuckles rapping sharply against the wood. Moments later, the door swung open, and Sloane appeared, her face lighting up like the sun.

“Jamie! Just in time! Dinner is almost done.” she exclaimed, pulling the door wide for him to enter. When he did so, she immediately wrapped her arms around him. “Hi. I missed you.”

Her perfume was light and airy. In another place, another time, he probably would have complimented her on it and told her that he missed her too. And that would have been the wrong thing to do. Becoming disillusioned with Sloane made him notice everything. The way she clung to him, the way she looked up at him with bright eyes, the darkened apartment, the Ella Fitzgerald album -- one of his favorites -- playing softly in the background. He stood stiffly, not hugging her back but it didn't seem to phase her. She took her time hugging him, only pulling back when she deemed it was over.

Jameson’s expression didn’t waver. “We just saw each other last week at the party, Sloane,” he said, his voice cutting sharper than the edge of a blade.

She blinked, momentarily thrown off by his tone. “I know. It still feels like it’s been a minute…”

Jameson stepped further away from her, his movements deliberate. He glanced around, noting the intimate setup of the dining table—a bottle of wine, two glasses, and a single candle flickering softly. The oven lit up with the smell of a dinner that he couldn't quite place. Genie had lit the match but everything was ablaze now. Imani's accusations were crystal clear in his mind. God, she had been right.

“I saw Imani posted Christian on Instagram,” Sloane said, her voice carefully measured. “I’m sorry…you don’t deserve that.”

Jameson’s jaw tightened as he stood with his back with her, trying to get a grasp on his anger. “Imani's mine to worry about.”

“I-I know,” Sloane stammered, moving closer to him. Her voice softened, dripping with concern. “I just want you to know that I’m here for you, Jamie.” She reached out for his hand, her fingers brushing against his. “You can call me if you need anything.”

Jameson didn’t move. His demeanor was rigid, his body language screaming discomfort. He didn’t bother to touch her hand, his gaze fixed on hers with an intensity that made her falter.

“Is everything okay?” Sloane asked, her voice uncertain. She tilted her head, her lips curving into a small, confused smile. “You’re not acting like my Jamie.”

"Did you fuck Christian?" he asked her abruptly, tilting his head to look at her. He saw it for a second. For one second, she looked caught off guard. She looked...exposed. But then the guard went up, her brow furrowed and she gave him a laugh. He could see her about to lie. "Don't. Don't you dare lie to me. I've had enough of that."

She hesitated but then moved away, heading back to the table. She tripped over her own heels and clumsily poured herself a glass of wine. Jameson finally moved, the tension draining from his body the more he confronted her. Sloane lifted the glass to gulp down wine before Jameson continued on. "Genie told me everything." He watched her choke on the liquid, leaning forward as she coughed loudly and took deep breaths. "And I got to thinking -- if she could do that to her best friend...what else could she do?"

She turned wide eyes to him as she continued to try to catch her breath. "Christian was...a mistake." She gasped out, shaking her head. "It was just a night. We were drunk! We got carried away!"

He heard the same mistakes he gave Imani and his stomach churned again, shaking his head. "You destroyed someone who loved you. Better than anyone else. Do you think that excuse works? You hurt the kindest fucking person in the world. And you hurt her because you could. You humiliated her! And you act like nothing happened! You didn't even have the fucking decency to tell her you're sorry!"

Sloane’s lips parted, but no words came out. She looked at him, searching for some sign of forgiveness, but all she could see was disappointment and anger. It's all he had left for her.

“I believed in you. Imani told me to choose and I...I said I wouldn't but I did. I fucking chose you because I thought you were a good person. I thought you needed me. A friend.” Jameson continued, his voice low and steady.

"I do need you!" "You don't need me! You want me. There's a fucking difference, Sloane!"

He heard his phone notifications go off but he ignored it. Even when it continued, he kept going. His gaze didn't leave Sloane's. Her eyes filled with tears as she reached out for him but he sidestepped her hand. She clenched her fingers tightly and sobbed quietly but he didn’t flinch. "Jamie, please. I’m sorry. I never meant—”

“Are you in love with me?” he interrupted, his tone weary. He didn't need the confession but he asked anyway. “If you ever cared about me, tell me the truth.”

Sloane froze before she gave the slightest nod. That nod hit him hard in the gut.

"You want to hear what I feel?" He asked her and watched as she closed her eyes tightly, shaking her head. She knew he didn't love her. She couldn't bear to hear the words. But Jameson figured it out now. A hard lesson to learn but...he had to give them to her. "I love Imani. I love everything about her. I love her so much that I don't know how to live without her. She makes me want to be better. I love the way she loves Genie. I love the way she loves me. And I gave that up twice. I keep hurting her and I did it again. This time...for you. And I regret it."

The more he spoke, the more she cried. "I'm sorry I brought us to this. You can blame me for it. Not Imani. Goodbye, Sloane." He moved towards the door and she followed him. Her phone rang out loud and she hesitated, tears blurring her eyes as she turned back to the kitchen. He didn't stop moving.

As he reached for the handle, she called out, her voice breaking. “Jamie, wait—Please! Don't leave me.”

He paused but didn’t turn around. Guilt grabbed a hold of him again but he pushed it away, knowing that enabling Sloane would only hurt her further...so he opened the door and walked out. It clicked shut behind him and for a moment, he stood there, trying to catch his breath. He heard her scream, throw things across the room, and yell out for him -- but he pretended he didn't.

Jameson walked towards the elevators, the anger he had carried up with him left behind in her place. He fished his phone out of his pocket, pushing the button for the ground floor as he read each text that came through but one caught his attention: a text from EJ that contained a link to Apple Music and an article.

R&B Sensation Imani releases surprise EP, Diary

As he browsed the article, the elevator doors pinged open and an avalanche of notifications from Instagram came in. Even more than when Imani posted the picture of Christian. To make matters worse, he got a shit ton of texts from friends and acquaintances. Half of them were the fucking eye emoji.

"Shit." He muttered to himself.

[nightmare-of-homophobes]

You Know You're My Favourite - Avis Amberg X gp!reader

Words: 5,4k (more or less).

Summary: Avis searches for her favourite girl after a fight.

Warnings: porn without plot; NSFW; sub!Avis, Dom!reader; oral (both receiving); penetration (Avis receiving); swearing; use of titles; weird/unconventional power play; light praise kink; breeding kink; mommy kink; rough sex; flirts a lot with BDSM; tits play; implied previous conversations of boundaries; implied internal homophobia; implied unilateral love.

Tag list (those who commented or reblogged on the tag post): @alittlewitchyone @emilynissangtr @greek-freak101 @live-laugh-love-lupone @multixfan @thoroughly--confused @likealayka @thegoddamnfeels @kenzie-floops @amethyst-bitch @acciosoftbroom @missquints @mrsines

Special thanks to the lovely @live-laugh-love-lupone who kindly beta read this for me <3

English isn't my native language, so bare me! I didn't watch more than three episodes of Hollywood and hadn't written gp for a while, so I'm sorry if Avis is too out of character and if the sex is awkward 🥲. This story is based on an ask I received some time ago (I hope this finds you, anon!). I wanted to try something different by mixing the request - sub!Avis - with what I took from the character and from the fanfics I’ve read about her - the power play and titles.

Hope you enjoy it! Xoxo!

(Also, I wrote a good part of this while listening to “Red Wine Supernova” and “Good Luck, Babe!”, kind of mixing the songs to set the vibes to the characters.)

***

It was late and your shift was almost ending. It had been a boring day with no clients for you so you got pretty occupied with pumping gas and cleaning cars all afternoon. 

You were just about to go to the bathroom to change yourself out of your uniform when you heard a car approaching. You got irritated by that, but that slipped off your mind as soon as you recognized the car.

Putting on your best smile, you approached it.

– What a lovely surprise… – you said leaning into the window to look at the ginger woman. You didn't miss how she seemed distressed. – How can I help you, Mrs. Amberg?

– You're taking me to Dreamland.. – she demanded, her tone letting you know she wasn't in the mood for your playfulness.

You nodded quietly.

– I just need to let Ernie know you're taking me out. – you said and went back into the gas stations to do it, returning as quick as you could and entering the car.

She drove off the station in silence, the only sounds between you being the roar of the motor and the background sounds that driving through Hollywood involved. You could practically feel the tension irradiating from her body, so you put a hand on her thigh, slowly drawing patterns close to her knee - not wanting to drive her attention to you at all, but to calm her down a little. It seemed to work since she relaxed a bit.

– Tough day, mama? – you dared to break the silence.

– I don't want to talk about it. – she said, leaving no room for other attempts. 

– What do you want to talk about, then? 

She sighed loudly and you felt bad for pushing her, but she answered anyway:

– What about your career? Have you got any offers lately?

You hummed in confirmation. For some reason, Avis always liked to learn about her lovers and she loved to discover how you wanted to be a professional photographer. You deep down wished she would, one day, pose to you.

– Yeah, I'm covering an event this weekend. – you told her excitedly.

– That's great, what is it? – you told her the name of the event, but it wasn't one from her social circle so she didn't know it. – … But I know you'll do amazing, baby, you always do.

She met your eyes for the first time in the night, a small proud smile on her lips. That made your chest warm. It was good to know you had someone to make proud.

– You're just saying it because you know I'm a sucker for being told I'm doing a good job. – you accused her, earning a chuckle from her.

– You caught me. 

You fell into a very much lighter silence as she drove into the night. You weren't recognising the route she was taking, so you imagined it was somewhere she hadn't taken you yet. When she parked in front of an expensive looking hotel, you were sure you hadn't been there before. Not that she didn't take you to fine places, she did, but that was… Too much, in your opinion.

The parking valets opened the doors of the car for you both and you jumped out of it, feeling a little bit conscious of your clothes. Maybe you should've made Avis wait for you to change it when you were still in the gas station but now it was too late to regret.

Letting the ginger woman lead the way inside the hotel and into an elevator, you were able to relax again when the doors closed and you started to go up to your floor. But your relaxed state didn’t last too long since Avis was needier that night.

Being pressed against one of the walls of the elevator, your lips crashed against her red painted ones, her mouth as demanding as she always liked to portray herself. The kiss was messy and harsh, mirroring Avis mood and making you know exactly how she needed to be treated that night.

Holding onto her waist, you pulled her body flushed against yours, your tongue darting out to try its way into her mouth. As soon as she let it slip past her lips, you started to slowly dismantle her demanding attitude. Avis usually liked to have control over everything happening in her encounters, needing to guide what and how things would go. She tried to do it with you in your first encounters, but she was quick to discover that when it came to you, you simply wouldn't bend over anyone’s power without fighting for it - and that she honestly enjoyed having someone to tell her what to do sometimes.

You could still taste the wine on her tongue, which was another clear sign that something distressful happened and she really needed you to make her forget whatever it was that upset her. You could already piece together what probably happened: one more fight with the powerful Mr. Amberg. You didn't even know the man or had a hint of how he looked, but you despised him the same way. How could a man be married to a woman like Avis and not try to satisfy her?

The elevator’s door rang while opening and you quickly disentangled ourselves. She laughed at you.

– It's fine, doll. I made sure to rent a room on a floor that was empty. – she said, already leaving the elevator.

You laughed at yourself and followed her down the corridor. Your eyes didn't resist falling to her ass, admiring how rounded it was as you watched how her hips swayed as she walked. You couldn't wait to put your hands on it.

As she unlocked the door and pulled you inside the room, you met her halfway, crashing your lips together again as you closed the door with your foot before slamming her against it.

– Hmm, did you miss me that much? – she asked, putting her arms around your neck.

You hid your face on her neck, kissing and sucking it softly.

– No… I'm actually had been very busy fucking some pussies around. – you teased her, knowing how she could get jealous when at your work.

It worked because you heard how she grumply groaned and turned her face to the other side when you tried to kiss her on the cheek.

– Oh, mama, you let me get into your head so easily. – you poked her side. – You know you're my favourite client.

Though you meant those words, they left you with a bitter taste on the tongue. You had a strict rule of trying to not get attached to your regular clients, but sometimes you would get yourself wondering how it would be to be something else than just a prostitute to Avis. Something more.

But of course you would never speak those desires out loud. No. She was married and you were both women. And, in the end, she only saw you as a passing fun. Someone she could get distracted with when her true life got tough.

– You're distracted today… – she called your attention, making you snap out of your thoughts. She frowned. – What's in your head?

You let a peck on her lips, diverting her attention.

– Nothing at all. – you brushed off the topic. Letting your hands fall to her butt, you gave it a playful squeeze. – Now… What about going to prepare yourself for me? – you asked against her lips before leaning to her ear again. – I'm so hungry, mama…

You heard how her breath hitched and felt how her hands buried themselves into your hair. Leaning back to look at her, you saw how her eyes had darkened. You always loved to watch her eyes. Especially when she was under you trying so hard to keep them open while cumming around your cock.

Leaving your embrace, Avis went to the double doors in one of the walls of the living room (that you only noticed once she approached because you were too busy paying attention to her before), opened it and disappeared inside of it. The bed was probably inside those doors. You heard another one being opened before the shower was turned on.

She always liked to dress up on encounters like that, but she liked to be extra clean and use her fanciest gowns and lingerie for you. She was sold for compliments and you suspected that was a thing for her.

Trying to busy yourself, you poured down two drinks, swallowing yours in one go.

You hadn't to wait too long before you heard heels clicking on the floor and arms flew around you to embrace your body tightly.

– Do you want a drink? – you asked softly, enjoying how she cupped your breasts and kissed the back of your neck.

– Right now I just want to drink whatever comes out of you. – she answered, sending shivers down your spine.

– I can arrange that. – turning on her arms, you started to undo your belt, feeling how she was getting impatient. 

Drinking the shot of whiskey you had poured for her, you swallowed a little before bringing your lips closer to hers. She quickly accepted it, opening her mouth so you could spill the drink into it. Of course that wasn't what she meant, but she wouldn't deny you.

Kissing down her cheek and her jaw, you buried your face back on her neck, your hands found the knot of her robe to untie it. She was smelling so good you wanted to wrap yourself around her and never leave.

– I like this colour on you… – you muttered against her skin, hearing her whimper softly. – But unfortunately I need this off.

Letting it slide off her shoulders, it was your turn to lose your breath.

– Did you like it, baby? – she asked with a sultry smile and tone, faking innocence. She knew you liked it. Actually, she could feel just how much you liked it.

There, standing confidently in front of you, she was wearing a red corset that hugged her curves perfectly, but that wasn’t all. Your eyes ranked up her legs, admiring the black long socks attached to something underneath the corset - probably a, also black, garter belt. Finally, your eyes met what you considered to be the cherry on top: lace black panties that left so little for your imagination.

You ran your fingers over the details of the corset, your mind already picturing how it would be to take it out of her later. The rest would stay in place, it wouldn’t bother you.

– I loved it. – you said, playing with her garters. – And because of it I’ll let you pick what we’re doing first. What do you want baby to do? – you asked, pulling her hips closer so one of your knees was placed between her legs.

Under your intent gaze, Avis squirmed. She enjoyed your attention so much. Starting to undo the buttons of your white shirt, she asked:

– You mentioned being hungry, right? 

You laughed and helped her to get yourself undressed. Once you got rid of your shirt, tie and shorts, your hands returned to her hips, starting to push her in the direction of the couch, you made her sit down. She made mention of untying the garters but you pulled her hands off it harshly.

– None of it, I didn't ask you to take it off. – you reprimanded her while kneeling on the floor.

– I don't need your permission… – she said under her breath and lifted her hips towards you.

One of your eyebrows shot up as you looked at her. So she was naughty tonight? How bad.

– Are you looking to be punished, mama? – you asked severely. – You know how long I can keep you on edge.

She seemed to fight her pride and own words before looking away and muttering:

– I'm sorry.

– That's better. – you tapped the side of her thigh, satisfied. – Now where were we…

You spread her legs, starting to kiss the insides of her legs and massaging her feet while doing it. She loved receiving a good massage. 

– Yes… – she sighed, opening her legs even more, if it was possible.

Her skin was smelling so sweet and her socks brushing against your bare skin were so soft that you were feeling yourself getting hard faster than usual. Avis would certainly drive you mad anyday.

– Baby, please… – she whined, her hips bucking in the air, asking to be touched. – Please, Mama's so hot…

Complying with her requests, you brought your lips higher, your fingers cleverly finding her panties and pushing them to the side. You licked from her entrance to her clit, feeling how she clenched and how the foot you were still holding curled into your hand.

Bringing your hands to her hips, you pulled her further to the edge of the couch, placing her legs over your shoulders.

– Look at this, mama.  – you breathed against her core, letting soft kisses all over her mound and playfully sucking at her bundle of nerves, feeling her squirm and moan shakily. – Your pink hole is so wet for me already, I bet I could slip inside right now without any trouble… – you fully slid your index finger into her fluffy folds as if to prove your point to her. – See?

– God… – she groaned and you could feel how her hands were clutching at the couch on your sides. She could feel your finger searching for her weak spot, scratching her walls sweetly in its path.

You were steadily letting kitten licks on her clit, your finger caressing her point over and over again, reducing her to a pathetic moaning mess. When you started to suck her, her hands flew to your head, holding you impossibly closer.

– Fuck! Yes! – she rolled her hips against your mouth, starting to ride your face in chase of her orgasm.

You let her do it while adding another finger inside her, scissoring and opening her so you could replace it with your tongue later. 

– Hmm… Mama, you’re taking me so well. – you complimented her, your voice sending vibrations against her clit, making her grind harder against you. 

Her moans were louder with each thrust of your fingers, every rub of her clit against your tongue making her legs twitch and her hole clench around your fingers. You knew she was so close and you were loving it. Satisfied with the stretching, you finally slipped your tongue inside her, tasting her flavor straight from the source. 

Her grip on your hair tightened, her thighs creating a fluffy - and strong - cage as they closed around your head. A loud, obscene moan left her lips, her whole body losing control as she reached her orgasm.

– Ah, baby! Fuck! Fuck! – she cried out.

Her walls were tightening so hard around your tongue it was practically expelling you from inside her and you couldn’t help but whimper at that. Staying still, you let her use your mouth to ride her orgasm.

You caressed her thighs all the while, soothing her and waiting for her to calm down. It didn’t take her long before you could finally free yourself from her legs, resting your head on her thigh as you had done before. You looked up at her with what you knew were your loving eyes.

– Everything alright, mama? – you asked as she panted, her chest rising and falling heavily. 

All you received from her was a soft groan, her eyes shut tightly. Getting up from the floor, you sat on her lap, drawing her attention back to you. 

– I’m fine. – she said dreamingly, opening her eyes to meet yours. 

– That’s good… – you said and leaned to kiss her.

She welcomed your mouth with her tongue, more than willing to taste herself on yours, moaning at it.

– Can you taste how sweet you are, mama? – you mumbled against her lips, making sure to press your tongue down at hers, wanting her to commit her own taste to her memory.

The kiss was heated and messy and you didn’t even notice when you started to roll your hips on hers, brushing your covered erection against her corset, missing the feeling of her chubby belly. You liked the corset, it was pretty, but you liked even more to have her breasts and tummy on display.

– Stand up, let me take this thing from you. – you panted against her lips, getting off her lap to sit beside her.

She did it and you pulled her down on your lap, moaning at the feeling of her ass hugging your dick perfectly. She rubbed her ass over you playfully, earning a quick slap on her right buttcheek, which made her quiet down.

Starting to open her corset, you took the opportunity to also undo her complex updo. She usually didn’t let you do it, since it took time to put her hair back in place, but you didn’t think she was planning going anywhere or returning home that night. As you finished with the corset and brushed her hair with your fingers, admiring its redness, you made no effort to resist reaching around her body and taking her big boobies into your hands, loving their weight and softness. The sigh she let out told you how relieved she was to get rid of the corset.

– Feeling better, Mama? – you asked while playing with her breasts, squeezing them and rubbing her nipples to get them hard.

She only hummed in answer, her ass not staying still on your lap, teasing you as much as you were teasing her. You kissed your way to the back of her neck, biting down hard on the skin there, making her squirm and whimper above you, her hands reaching up to hold yours in place. You pinched her nipples and flicked it on your fingers, making her breath get elaborated again.

– Baby, please! – she finally gave up, understanding you wouldn’t take any action if she didn’t beg. – Please, I need you… – she tried to push one of your hands down to her pussy but you prevented her from doing so. – Please, I need you inside me so fucking bad!

Reaching to her neck instead of between her legs, you held it and squeezed it weakly, pulling her towards you until her head was on your shoulder.

– You know what to do if you need my cock that much. – you said against her ear, enjoying how her desperate eyes found yours. Such beautiful eyes.

You smirk down at her and bite her ear softly.

Sliding down from your lap, she got on her knees before you, her hands fumbling with your tight underwear while letting mouth-opened kisses on your erection through the cloth. She looked so sexy doing that.

– Aren’t you forgetting anything, mama? – you asked and she looked up at you confused. You gestured for her to keep eye contact and she nodded.

Letting her take control of that small moment, you leaned back on the couch helping her to take off your underwear by raising your hips. She bit her lips at the sight of your cock on display.

– See how excited I get everytime you come to see me, mama? – you asked, running a finger on her lower lip before slipping it inside her mouth, watching how she accepted it, sucking it into her mouth.

Bringing her closer by her chin, you let her replace your fingers with your cock, sighing heavily at the velvety and warm sensation of her mouth around you.

– That's it, mama… – you hold her head, not leading her, just letting it rest there. – Take it all inside.

She obeyed, bit by bit taking all your length into her mouth, not having any trouble. The idea of her being so used to doing that kind of turned you on. Between the two of you, you might have been the prostitute, but she was definitely the slut.

You moaned as she bobbed her head up and down a few times before returning to your head, sliding her tongue against your slit.

– Fuck, mama... – you bite your lower lip, your free hand going to your tits to play with them. – You know exactly what to do to make me lose control.

You groaned when she sucked the head, her cheeks hollowing as she did and her eyes searching your reactions through heavy lids and battling of lashes. That woman would certainly kill you one day.

Letting her work her magic on your cock, you took that moment to just enjoy the pleasure she was giving you, focusing on your sensations as soft groans and moans kept falling from your lips, your chest heavy and heart racing as you watched how she switched between sucking your cock and teasing the slit at the tip or sucking your balls while jerking you, all the while never breaking eye contact.

– You're doing so fucking good… – you panted as your release started building, your dick throbbing into her mouth. You almost came when, in one go, she put all your length deep inside her mouth, the tip reaching the back of her throat. – Fuck!

You held her head in place, closing your eyes at the intensity of the wave of pleasure that teased you, unaware of how she also closed her eyes, moaning around you and sending another wave through you. She always found it so hot when you were rough with her and she could feel her arousal sliding down her thighs, her pussy aching to be filled again as she made her best to not gag around you. You released your grip on her.

– Keep going, I'm so close. – you gasped.

With that, she doubled her efforts, your hips bucking to meet her meet her mouth halfway, your cock brushing the back of her throat at every damn thrust. A strain of swears were falling from your lips and, when you finally couldn't help it anymore, your hand hooked into her hair and you harshly set the rhythm you wanted, making her choke sometimes while supporting herself on your thighs, trying to relax her jaw the most as she let you fuck her mouth. She knew her throat would be on fire the next day but she didn't care. She would never stop you from doing what you wanted to her. 

She was exactly where she wanted, receiving exactly what she needed.

With a final rough thrust up, you held her still, cock buried impossibly deep inside her as she fought the urge to push you off her so she could breathe. When she couldn't take it anymore, she patted your thighs and you let her go while growling through your orgasm, your seed spilling from her throat to her face since she couldn't hold your dick down her throat for so long. 

Both of you were breathing heavily for totally different reasons.

– Sorry. – you apologized as soon as you got enough air to do it.

Her head was resting on your hip, her hair in all directions. Her face was flushed and painted with your cum while her lips were swollen and her cheeks had stains of tears. She was a fucking mess.

– It's okay, doll… – she muttered raspy, her chest rising and falling in quick puffs as she still was trying to calm herself down. – You know I like it.

Gentler than you were before, you ran your hand through her hair, putting it a bit back in place, not because you were finished with her, but because you wanted to bring her some tenderness after such roughness. You waited until she was ready to keep going.

Watching her standing up, you stood too, catching her lips into your in a soft, caring kiss.

– You know we can stop at any moment, right? – you reminded her in a whisper.

– I want to continue. – she reassured you. You nodded.

Taking her by the hand, you led her to those double doors, entering it to find your way to the bed. It was very large and fit the luxury of the place.

– Get on the bed. I'm gonna get another drink. – you said while caressing her back.

As she moved to do so, you returned to the other room, pouring you a drink while you still felt cloudy from your previous orgasm. Something strong like whisky would definitely help, you thought to yourself. Yet, it wasn't the whisky at all that snapped you from your current state of mind, but the vision of your tie lying in a corner of the room. An idea popping into your head.

Drinking the liquid in one go, you walked over and picked up the tie, returning to Avis immediately.

You weren't waiting to find her on her fours on the bed, waiting for you with her ass high in the air and face buried in the sheets. All the while she was touching herself, two fingers deep inside her drenched pussy.

That pissed you off.

– I didn't say you could touch yourself! – you exclaimed as you reached over and pulled her fingers out of her harshly. –You’re really looking for that punishment, lady!

You turned her over so you could pin her down, you face hovering over hers as you angrily asked:

–Now choose… – you lifted the tie. – Hands or eyes?

She didn't miss a beat before answering:

– Eyes. – she could bear not being able to see, but being restrained was a torture for her.

You grimaced at her answer, an unsatisfied expression on your face. 

– You don't deserve it. – you said. – Mama has been acting very bad.

You flipped her over again, using your weight to hold her still as she fought you and your decision to tie her hands instead. As you finished, you leaned and growled on her ear: 

– You will learn how to please your baby!

Getting off her, you helped her to return to her previous position: ass on the air and face buried in the sheets. Aligning your dick with her entrance, you entered at once, knowing that she was more than prepared after so much teasing. She moaned unashamed at that, ass moving to meet your hips halfway.

– Yesss… – the word lingered on her tongue, turning into a hissing as you slapped her ass once more.

Settling a steady rhythm of thrusts, you watched, hypnotized, how her pussy took your cock so well, as it was designed especially for you. A soft and warm place for your dick to rest and empty itself.

Oh, that was another great idea. You would adore to cum inside Avis again and again until she was filled and carrying your seed deep inside her.

Keeping to fuck her in that slow and steady rhythm, you knew exactly what you were doing to her: making her lose her mind again. It wouldn't take long until she was pathetically begging again, her brain melting from having what she wanted from the start but it not being enough to satisfy her.

And you were right, it didn't take long.

Once she realised you had no intention in changing your pace, she cried out muffled:

– Baby, please… – she tried to fuck herself against you, but reaceived another harsh slap. – Mama is so sorry, please… She won't do that again… Please, please, please… Mama will do anything baby wants her to do, promise… – her whimpers keep going, but you already have heard the words you wanted to hear so you leaned into her again, one hand getting tangled in her hair again.

– Anything, mama? – you asked and, to provoke her, you gave a particularly rough thrust. Just the way she liked.

– Yes! Fuck, yes, please… – she cried.

Your free hand winding its way through her body until it finds her clit, rubbing it in tight circles, enjoying how she gasped and moaned even louder.

– Do you know what I would love, mama? – you kept whispering against her ear. – To have you carrying my babies… – a soft “yes” came as an answer and you closed your eyes. – Wouldn't it be lovely, mama? Me buried deep inside you? Feeling you so good? Spilling all my seed so mama could take it in her perfect body for me? It would make me so happy, mama… 

Hearing her confirm every question you made her was an otherworldly experience, but the words that set you wild were those who came from her lips in sequence of that:

– Please, love, give me your babies… I'll carry your babies, please…

Pushing her face against the mattress harder and holding onto her tied hands, you started slamming into her, the sounds of your skins meeting each other extremely obscene. You were panting and whimpering, lost in Avis body as you finally gave her what she was so pleased to beg for, her moans fully turning into screams of pleasure now, her hands twitching and trying desperately to free themselves from the tie while her toes curled and she bit the sheets to muffle her sounds.

Every thrust of yours sent her higher on her from the force you were using to fuck her, almost as if trying to forge your bodies together, so it was a good thing you were keeping a good hold on her, otherwise her head would be banging against the headboard.

When she started clenching painfully around your cock, you knew she was close to her orgasm. You were too. Flipping your positions, you laid on bed and pulled her above you, untying her hands so she could support herself to ride you. 

– Yes! Yes! Gimme your babies, yes! – she kept exclaiming as she bounced hard up and down the entirety of your length, seeming to want as bad as you to bury your cock deep inside her. – Fuck, yes, mama feels so good! Mama is gonna cum!

You helped her to bounce, supporting her hips and meeting them with yours halfway as well, wanting to make her cum again. 

Sitting down on the bed, you held her hips down, burying yourself inside her while helping her to grind on you, one of your hands searching for her clit to send her over the edge. You were feeling goosebumps all over your body and it was becoming harder to fight your orgasm.

– Cum for me, mama, please. – you asked and, lowering your head to her chest, you caught one of her lips into your feverish mouth, sucking it hungrily.

That was enough and, with her orgasm finally washing over her, she stopped her movements, her entire body tensing up.  Being squeezed like that, you didn't even try to resist your own orgasm, spilling yourself inside her body as a guttural moan escaped from the back of your throat.

Both of you stayed still, practically breathing each other's air as you panted with your foreheads pressed together. For a long moment, none of you dared to move, both sensible to touch and still feeling the aftershocks of your blissful orgasms. Finally, you turned her again on the bed and slipped out of her, both of you moaning from the loss of the sensation.

You watched how your seed spilled out of her mistreated hole once you were out. You weren't preoccupied with coming inside her. She was past her fertile age and you were infertile, so there was no risk at all.

Laying beside her, you welcomed her into your arms.

– Feeling better? – asked softly, running your fingers through her hair and kissing the top of her head, your eyes were feeling so heavy.

– Much better. – she said and yawned.

– Go to sleep. – you told her, knowing that all would end very soon.

Soon she would have to return to her husband and you to your clients. Soon she would pretend that all those nights with you were nothing more than usual fun, even though both of you know she had stopped seeking other prostitutes after finding you. Stopped seeking men.

And you, well, soon you would have to pretend that you didn't let her affect you. That you didn't let yourself hope that, one day, she would need more than just sex. And, certainly, that you didn't caught yourself thinking of her when fucking others or wishing she would accept what the nature of your encounters were saying about her.

– Good night, doll. – she said sleepily.

– Good night, Avis. – you answered, kissing her head once again.

You knew she would have already left you when you woke up the next morning.

.

.

.

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Comments are very appreciated because I'm a sucker for validation!

[blackbackedjackal]

Soul Eater has always been a bizarre case. on one end of the spectrum there's characters like Kilik Rung, Mira Nygus, and even major manga antagonist Noah. on the other end there's the infamous bg jazz band that are straight up minstrels (they look identical in the manga. this was not studio bones' artistic liberty) and the death scythe repping Africa named Dengu Dinga who wears a mashup of "african flavoured" clothing. and then there's Sid, obviously i can't pass judgement on what's good or bad design rep but there certainly was a scene where Maka literally calls him a "mean blue gorilla"..

sorry for rambling, but Ohkubo absolutely takes inspiration from graffiti art and hip hop aesthetics in his work which makes the antiblackness even more disrespectful

Feel free to ignore that ask if the topic is bogging you down btw, I didn't see your last post if you're done engaging with the topic for now feel free to delete it. Looking forward to what you do with strawberry moon <3

Oh dude you're good. I just needed a nap before I answered more lol. I'll try and answer as many of these as I can because I'm honestly enjoying the discussion even though I have to step away from it for a bit. It's triggering to me but not in a way that I can't talk about it, just bogs down my mind ya know?

Anyway, I've never watched Soul Eater so I had no idea of the Black characters in the show! I had to look them up and I see what you're saying. Mira is a stereotype because I'd consider her a sexualized Black woman in this context. Kilik is like 100% fine to me at a glance, like he just looks like a Black guy though there may be some writing I'm missing that still makes him a stereotype.

I had no idea that he was influenced by graffiti art but I TOTALLY see it now in his shape language. Sid is by far the worst since he still has the big white teeth and a more 'gangster' aesthetic. Especially considering the time period Soul Eater was released, it's in poor taste at best and still perpetuating Black stereotypes at worse.

Anime is it's own sub-genre of racism in animation. White people LOOOOOVE to say "oh it's a different culture and they don't know" LMAO YES THEY DO DON'T PLAY stop infantilizing Asians you fucking sickos.

Colorism alone is such an issue in Asian countries. I've lived with people from China, South Korea, Thailand, Taiwan, and the Philippines. I've heard first hand accounts of people from the Philippines being treated like lesser human beings just for having a slightly darker skin-tone and don't get me started on how Chinese imperialism has impacted Taiwanese people. I'm not going to speak for disenfranchised Asian people but it's easy to find if you look it up. But my point is if colorism is that prevalent, imagine how much worse it is when your entire culture has a history of being exploited to the point that blackface is a worldwide issue.

Also the Boondocks exists and though not a perfect example, it still has some of the best depictions of Black people in an anime style. There's no excuse to draw racist stereotypes when there's literally 5 seasons worth of overall solid Black character designs that can be referenced for other series.

[thesugarchanotaku]

Let's talk about Octavia

With the newest helluvaboss episode out and season two cming to an end there was a lot of discussion about Octavio even before the epsiode dropped. That's why i decided to look at her a little more in depth. Spoiler ahead (duh)

My realtionship with Octavia is kinda rookie. I love this asexual queen as much as her dad but find myself a little annoyed at her behaviour sometimes. Let's recap what we know about her.

Octavia is a royal teen, deeply loved by her father, troubled by the divorce of her parents and 17 years old. But if we look past the more obvious characteristics there is a lot going on in subtext.

Octavia is oblivious: Octavia grew up quite sheltered and as much as it is understanable (since they tried to assissinate stolas at loo loo land) that she is well protected the problem is that she has little to no clue about the outside world. Much like her father in the recent episode she is seen being scared of the world in seeing stars. She is THAT unaware that she was walking around without a disguise in broad daylight.

Octavia loves her father: So you might ask where the problem is for that point. She sees Stolas as JUST her father. She fails to see Stolas as a person with needs, wants, dreams and wishes. We have to point out that Octavia is never seen with any other people despite her parents (not counting loona in seeing stars). So it's save To assume that she is quite isolated and ultimately fixated to on her parents.

Octavia lacks comparission: As we grow up we compare. We always do. It helps us to decern right from wrong. The outside world helps us contextualize. Octavia probably never had that. Growing up with mostly her parents she has no other love relationships to look at and compare. Therefore she might not see Stella as an evil person like we do. For us the audiance it is hard to understand why she always puts her mother next to her while talking to Stolas and about the broken "family". But forOctavia Stella is an integral part of her life. (As a mother should be) She has no chance to see the behaviour of her mother as toxic and harmful, because that is how her mother ALWAYS was. Its the only thing Via knows. She cant understand why her father was "fine" with the antics of her mother until a certain point and "suddenly" isnt anymore.

Octavia is a child: That point kinda put me at odds a long time. My parents divorced when i was 12 and I could understand the situation better than her. Octavia is nearly an adult. Most children her age don't want to be that close to their parents, they want to be free, start their own live. Octavia doesn't. She clings to memories, to promises her father made to her and she just feel so so SO young. She tries to be that edgy teen but she feels way more like a child. Which isnt exactly bad but plays a huge part in her character.

Octavia and Stolas

The relationship of father and daugther hit a fallout and it was important that it happened because both characters need to GROW up.

While Stolas never had the chance to grow into his very own charcater due to the fact that his life was planned out for him, he tried to shelter Via from the same fate by protecting her and sacrificing for her. He did basically the other extreme of what he experienced.

Stolas slowly grows into himself, making decisions for himself and realizes that while having the freedom to make decisions for yourself is great, the consequences are yours to bear too. And he just realized how overwhelming these consequences can be in the recent epsiode.

Via on the other hand still needs to grow up. The fallout with her father is over due because stolas isnt JUST her father. She tries to remind him of his role on every step he takes further to himself - his true self.

Octavia needs to finally learn about the world, how healthy relationships look like, and what her father truly did for her. Right now she is angry and dissapointed and from her perspective she has every right to be but she lacks the understanding for her own father. It shows how little she truly knows about the relationship of her parents. She need to question why her father took pills rather than judging him for it. She needs to ask why her mother is so degrading towards him rather than accepting it as a given. She needs to see the true intentions of her uncle and mother rather than overlooking it.

and there clearly is hope. She protected her dad, still called him dad and i belive that if both of them grow and want to mame an effort it can work out. If Via learns more about her parents and the world - if she manages to grow up both father and daughter can grow into a healthy relationship. And if it takes a bruning bridge for now, than so be it but I'm certain that they will find each other again sooner or later.

[venusbyline]

Jacaerys Velaryon — Under the Mistletoe

— summary: When you decided to spend the Christmas Break at your best friend Helaena's house, you did not expect her half-sister's family to be there too. Meeting your ex-boyfriend after the messy breakup was something you did not want for the holidays. At least that was what you thought before looking at him again.

— pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x ex-girlfriend!reader

— type: smut, dark, modern AU

— tags/warnings: female!reader, dark!Jacaerys, ex-boyfriend!Jacaerys, dubcon, modern AU, Christmas smut, rough sex, vaginal fingering, fingerfucking, semi-public sex, kitchen sex, degradation, finger sucking, cum eating, cum licking, dry humping, rough kiss, past infidelity, referenced cheating, argument, possessive behaviour, past relationship, toxic relationship, college students, Targtowers mentioned, Lucerys Velaryon mentioned, Rhaenyra Targaryen mentioned, curse words, ambiguous/open ending, implied Lucerys Velaryon/reader, toxic!Jacaerys, dom!Jacaerys, sub!reader, no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

— author's notes: Jace was the most voted in the poll I did asking about that modern AU one-shot for Christmas <3 <3 I hope you guys like it and enjoy the holidays.

— author's notes²: The mention about Lucerys Velaryon/reader is really just a mention. But anyway, he's already 18 years old in this one-shot. Also, I'm considering writing fics about Lucerys. It's hard for me to find fics about him and he's really a character that I love very much. So if you want read these next stories, don't forget to tell me. <3 <3

When your best friend Helaena invited you to spend Christmas Eve at her house, you thought it might be a good idea. You loved her family, despite everything. Alicent, her widowed mom, always treated you like you were her second daughter. Aemond, Helena's younger brother, was so introverted and quiet that he never ended up causing any problems between the two of you. Daeron, the youngest, was sweet to you and loved telling you about how his high school was going.

The bad thing usually was Aegon, Alicent's firstborn, who always drank before and during the celebration and end up causing some intrigue in the family. However, Helaena had assured you that this time Aegon was traveling to another corner of the world and would not be in England for a few weeks. She said his big brother was enjoying Copacabana beach with his friends in Rio de Janeiro, taking advantage of the fact that summer days had started in Brazil, unlike winter in London, and you would only need to catch a glimpse of him on the college campus when classes start again.

The only problem about that night was the sudden presence of Jacaerys Velaryon during Christmas dinner. Eldest son of Rhaenyra, Helaena's half-sister. Your ex-boyfriend.

"Where are you gonna spend the Christmas Break?" Jacaerys murmured without much enthusiasm while you were alone in the kitchen, finishing baking a pie with lemon cream, cornstarch biscuits and meringue.

You turned to face him across the room, the dark red turtleneck he wore matching perfectly with the black jeans and leather jacket of the same color. And especially with that dark, long wavy hair. You sighed, looking away and focusing on the oven again, despite answering him with another question. "Why you wanna know?"

You hoped that Jacaerys would understand your attempts to divert the topic so you could just ignore his existence, even though you knew he did not give up on anything very often, his little side smile proving your point. "Whoa... Don't be so rude, sweetheart. I'm trying to be polite."

"Well, I don't give a shit about your fake polite manner. I shouldn't even be talking to you more than necessary, actually." You murmured in a low but firm voice, standing up and putting the red gloves back on so you could turn off the oven and remove the pan from inside, the hot steam from the pie floating throughout the kitchen and collaborating along with the heater on the wall to warm up the natural cold of winter.

Jacaerys took a few steps, moving closer so he could look at the dessert as you placed it on the table. Even without saying anything, it was impossible not to notice his curious face, seeming surprised by how the pie looked good. However, he cleared his throat and teased you again.

"Aren't you mad that Helaena didn't tell you that my family was going to spend the holiday at her mom's house?"

His invasive question made you roll your eyes, taking the gloves off your hands and putting them back in place, moving around the kitchen to look for a lemon in the fridge and a grater in one of the cabinet drawers. With the object and the citrus fruit in hand, you returned to the table so you could start scraping the peel, small and thin yellow pieces decorating the top of the dessert now.

"Maybe. I wouldn't have come if she warned me."

Jacaerys lose focus on watching the finishing of the pie after your bluntness words, letting out a giggle. "Goddamnit, pretty girl. Still so freaky mad at me?"

You stopped decorating the candy, your hands clenching around the grater handle. "And that surprise you? That I'm still mad about you kissing that stupid bitch during your college friends' Halloween party?"

Jacaerys hummed at your aggressive sarcasm, the smirk playing on his lips while he leaned on the table next to you. "Not really. But I'm impressed that you admitted something like that to me."

When he leaned his face closer to yours, you let out the breath you had been holding since he placed his large, firm fingers on the marble. The woody fragrance of the Jacaerys' fancy cologne made you sigh slightly, your mind filling with memories when you felt that smell very often, especially lying on the bed with him.

You struggled to put the grater and the rest of the lemon on the table and Jacaerys took advantage of the fact that you had not moved away. You could have done it. You should have done that. You had promised to yourself that you would not fall for another Jacaerys Velaryon's stupid apology again. Not after what he did. Not after he kissed another girl at the same party you were at, just to piss you off over a silly argument.

"Stop overthinking, sweetheart. You're so gorgeous when you just understand that you belong to me." Jace teased, using the height difference to his own advantage, his tall body practically covering yours as he moved behind you, his face in your neck and smelling the perfume. "Fuck, pretty girl... You have no idea how much I missed you and your body."

You did not even say anything when he reached up to the medium-sized velvet red dress you were wearing, pushing the fabric with an almost irritating calm and moving his hand to the waistband of your pantyhose. As soon as he lowered it enough and ran his fingers through the lace of your panties, you finally let out a sigh. "We shouldn't be doing this, Jace."

Jace did not bother to answer at first, kissing the back of your neck and playing with your folds covered by your panties, eliciting a few weak whimpers from you until you repeated. "Jace, I said we shouldn't be doing this."

The boy snorted, the small warm gust of air near your face causing you to shiver, his large hand going to your chin and pulling it without much affection to his side, your eyes meeting now. "What shouldn't we be doing, sweetheart? Finally fucking a few months after our stupid breakup or fucking in the kitchen of Alicent Hightower's house, while my family and your best friend's are in the other rooms, almost no one knowing that their beloved guest is nothing more than a needy and dramatic cockslut?”

Your eyes widened at the accusation, knowing full well what he was talking about. "I-I'm not... I'm not dramatic. How can you say something like that? How can you think I'm the wrong one even after you cheated on me?" You exclaimed a little louder, and Jace rolled his eyes, the fingers that was holding your chin now covering your mouth, not worrying about whether or not it would stain your lip gloss. "If you hadn't pissed me off that night, so I wouldn't have cheated on you." You growled under his hand when he whispered in your ear, wanting to push him far away from your body, although his hand inside the lace that covered your pussy made any shred of sanity disappear from your mind.

“J-Jace, don’t…” You whimpered muffled and almost impossible to hear, your ass pressing against his crotch as you squirmed. "They'll hear us..."

"No one will hear us if you keep your pretty mouth quiet, sweetheart. But maybe some of them would like to hear or see you like this. I bet on my little brother Lucerys, the freshman has a secret crush on you. That's why he's always watching you in the college hallways." Jacaerys mocked, nibbling on your earlobe, the tip of his index and middle finger playing with your clit, going down to collect some of your dripping juices and moving his hand up to caress your bud again. "You're so fucking wet. Have you been like this since I came into Hel's house?"

You trembled at the teasing, your hands imitating what he had done before, gripping the edge of the table to keep your body steady without falling to the floor. Jace's fingers gradually increased the pressure and you moaned, trying your best to open your eyes, seeing the mischievous gleam in his brown eyes and the smile widening while he slid the same two fingers in and pushed them inside you without any difficulty. The tearful and loud moan that would echo through the kitchen was interrupted by Jace's mouth on yours, desperate and hungry lips kissing you without worrying about how messy the kiss was being.

Jacaerys was not someone who disliked wet and aggressive kisses, in fact he was totally into it. You knew about that since you dated him months before, so it was not a big surprise when his arousal began to grow inside his jeans, your ass rubbing against him to tease him just like he was doing to you.

"You fucking whore. Are you trying to make me cum in my pants?" Your skin crawled at the sound of his growling whisper.

Jacaerys bit your lip while you were still panting, only letting out soft whimpers when he increased the speed of his fingers and took the opportunity to rub his soft palm over your sensitive clit, making you see stars and moan his name one more time, mentally thanking the universe for Jacaerys loving being DJ at the university parties and know how to use his pretty hands very well.

At least there was something good about always hooking up with Jacaerys Velaryon.

Without taking out of you, Jacaerys pulled you towards the other door in the kitchen with his free arm, the one that led to the hallway stairs. For a moment, you looked at him in silence, confused but thinking he would take you upstairs and fuck you in the guest room. However, the boy let out a nasal scoff and pointed to the green and red mistletoe decorated at the top of the doorframe. Your furrowed seeing the Christmas ornament above your heads, but you did not have time to question anything, not when Jace fucked his fingers in and out of you.

The wet noises of your pussy being used by him was as lascivious as the sound of his tongue searching for yours again, tasting your mouth as if it were the best candy in the world. The moment you distanced yourself so you could lift your head and shake through the overwhelming orgasm that possessed your body, that was when you understood.

Jace kissed you under a mistletoe. And not just that... he also fingering your pussy and made you cum right there.

Taking a deep breath to calm your body and your mind about what happened, you opened your eyes, watching Jace licking one of his fingers creamy with your release. He smirked to you, a sticky noise echoing when his full lips stopped enjoying your juices. He did not care about your look of disgust and carefully slipped his other finger into your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself as he placed soft kisses on your forehead. A false affection that you both knew would not make up for all the hell and toxicity that had been your situationship.

"You came hard around my fingers and under the mistletoe too."

"I noticed…" Your voice came out more breathless and grumpy than expected and Jace chuckled, caressing your soft cheek.

"You'll spend the next few days of the Christmas Break here at Helaena's house, together with me. Then you'll be my good girlfriend again when we get back to campus." It was not a question but an order, your eyes immediately widening, not knowing how you were going to explain that whole damn turn of events. Not knowing how you were going to explain to your best friend that you were giving in to Jacaerys as you had promised never to do again.

Running the tips of his fingers still dirty with your cum across the pie's meringue, he gave you one last kiss for now. "Happy Christmas Eve, my pretty girl."