#and they’re at every single game for all three no matter what

[foggysirens]

okay but din and luke would absolutely be those loud parents who get super into it when their kid plays sports, but not in the ‘yell at the refs and take the game way too serious’ kind of way, but more in the ‘constant stream of support and overwhelming enthusiasm for their kid’ kind of way where it’s just like pure aggressive affection - like they are out there cheering their kid on 100% no matter how obnoxious they are to the other parents because they just genuinely love and think of the world of their child but also they’re just both highly competitive people so it manifests itself like ‘did you see that goal?! atta boy grogu!’ and ‘take it easy on ‘em, slugger, give the other kids a chance!’ and ‘you’re doing amazing, kiddo! you show them how it’s done!’ and they always leave afterwards smiling and laughing as a family and talking about their favourite parts of the game and it’s just so clear that they all care about each other so much- embarrassing antics and all

[thenevarranaccord]

What’s really jumping out at me on my second playthrough is that the writers of the first three games understood that your character was the main character. The Veilguard writers clearly thought that the main characters were their characters, the companions.

Every scene is about setting the companions up as cool or competent or sympathetic. Often, this is done at Rook’s expense. The companions get all the witty one-liners; Rook’s attempts at humor not only frequently fall flat, but are frequently called out for falling flat (even when they’re completely automatic and the player has no say in them).

The companions have all the knowledge and skills; Rook just brought them all together and gives them all pep talks so they can focus. I’m trying to edit out all of the comments where Rook is like “Um… what????” from my videos, and let me tell you, it takes WORK. There are A LOT of them. I can count on one hand the number of times when the Inquisitor or Hawke comes across as dumb, but it seems to be a built-in, unavoidable part of Rook’s character. I have not selected a single “purple” option in all of Act 1, and Rook is still coming across as the kid who tries to be the class clown to cover for the fact that he’s always confused. Rook’s role in most scenes is to say “Uhhh… what?” so that the companions look smart.

Rook is always the one offering sympathy and never the one getting it. No one actually comes to comfort you after Varric’s death. No one asks you how you’re feeling about having to lead the team now that Varric is gone. No one tries to reassure you or give you advice for dealing with the trickster god haunting your dreams. We’re told that Neve could keep Solas out of your head, but she never actually offers to do this for you. No one comforts a Shadow Dragon Rook when Minrathous is destroyed or a Grey Warden Rook when Weisshaupt is destroyed. Rook’s problems don’t matter. Only the problems of main characters matter.

Rook is a secondary character in their own story.

[anisespice]

“ the fuck-it list ” || hq! pt. 4

one || two || three

synopsis: there’s a list going around consisting of hot guys on campus that are deemed “fuckable” with theories as to what they’d be like in bed. it’s all fun and games until somehow your boyfriend ends up on this list. 

pairing: seijoh4 x gn!reader [ oikawa, iwaizumi, mattsun, maki ]

warnings: mature content. MDI. cursing, suggestive language, mild objectification, the word “dick” said over a million times lol this chapter is basically bigdick!4 supremacy, corny behavior, camboy!maki, slight mentions of degradation, iwa’s is the shortest (I’M SORRY), some minor errors probably and i think that’s it :] !!

notes: I AM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT :'))) life was kicking my ass and the last thing i could think about was getting metaphorically dicked down lol but hope you enjoy, thank y'all so much for your patience, and the last couple parts coming soon!

tagged: @daedaep69 , @ahahadumbo , @viktoryn , @mdsb , @ourgoddessathena , @ushygushybaby , @hyori2 , @lumpywolf , @fantasycantasy, @captaincyberqueen , @tsukiran

OIKAWA would be the reason the list even exists, let’s be honest. 

But, for the sake of the plot, we’ll pretend otherwise.

Once again, without fail, after another grand win for the great king, he’s swarmed by his devoted groupies—Shoving their phones, gifts, and themselves in his face hoping to catch even a sliver of his attention.

And once again, you stood on the sidelines, impatiently waiting for him to leave the spotlight; irked your soul sometimes.

It’s not that you were against him being praised or anything, even though his head was fat enough to begin with, you loved the admiration people had for him. But there’s a fine line between being a fan and being a straight-up weirdo. 

And right now, they’re tap-dancing on that line something fierce. 

“Tooru!~ will you sign right here?” 

One pulled down the collar of her shirt, exposing more of her breasts that were pushed up damn-near to her chin whilst wearing a sultry smile. You caught a small glimpse of panic flash across his features before he covered it with a nervous laugh, eyes subtly shifting over to you as he replied. “..How 'bout a photo instead?” 

Things went on like that for the next few minutes. Someone would even take it a step further by flat out asking for his number, or if he was single. They already knew the answer to that, it was the same every time, yet they continuously tried their luck as if someday, through the power of delusion and manifestation, his answer would miraculously change despite you always attending his practices and his games, wearing his spare jersey, holding his hand, shoving your tongue down his throat, didn’t matter—Them hoes were relentless.

But, so were you. 

“Oh, Tooru!~ If you don’t wrap this up, you’ll be walking home!~” You sang, mirroring the tone of the girl from earlier. The semi-empty threat made the setter perk up like a hound, eyes wide as that same panic returned as well.

Although this time, he wasn’t so quick to play it off. 

“U-Uh,” he squeaked, then immediately covered by clearing his throat. “Yes, uh, well, it’s been great chatting with you all tonight. Thank you again for your love and support for the team, it's always appreciated. I hope you’ll continue to cheer us and myself oninthefuture—WAIT! [____]-chan! Don’t leave, y’know my poor legs won’t survive the walk back! Baby, c'mon, wait up!” 

Oikawa whined as he scrambled to catch up to your retreating form, no longer concerned with the crowd of disgruntled faces he left behind as they watched their object of affection slip away yet again. A small part of you wanted to turn back and stick your tongue out at them in petty victory, but you refrained. The sound of their great king pleading for your attention was satisfactory enough.

You barely made it outside before his long arms wrapped around your front, locking you to his chest as he leaned almost his entire weight on you. You could feel his heart thrumming against your head as he panted. Eventually, he huffed, no doubt pouting as he gently swayed you in his arms. “You’re mean.” 

Keeping your gaze forward, you frowned. “And I have the right to be. You said you’d tell some of those ‘fans’ of yours to chill out—it’s getting way out of hand, Tooru. That one girl practically flashed her damn tits at you, and you gawked like a virgin.” 

He chortled, incredulously, “I did not! She caught me off guard..!” 

“And yet, you rewarded her with a photo instead of calling out her inappropriate behavior. Make it make sense.” 

You attempted to shrug him off only for his hold to tighten, spinning you around to gaze at you with chocolate brown eyes resembling that of a puppy out in the rain—One of the unfair tactics of Tooru Oikawa to get back on your good side. You had full intent of ignoring him, standing your ground…but how could you possibly stay mad at that adorable face? 

Easy. By not looking directly at it. 

“Nuh uh. I don’t think so,” you gently pushed away the setter’s face, earning another whine in protest. “You’re not getting off the hook that easily. I’m really upset with you.” 

“Buh I dinit do anyfing,” he said through smooshed lips. 

“And that’s the problem. You need to set boundaries with them, Tooru. Things’ll only continue to get out of hand the longer you enable it. Next thing you know they’re clawing and biting at your flesh so they can take a piece of you home with them under their nails and in their teeth.”

Oikawa grimaced, leaning back. “Ew. Graphic. They’re fans, baby, not rabid animals. I think you may be exaggerating.”

You cocked a brow. “Am I now? Well. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

—

The team had never seen their captain move so fast in their entire season. This was the first time he’d just straight up avoided his entourage and head straight for the showers after practice, scurrying off like his ass was on fire. Questions would spark around the gym about this drastic shift in behavior.

“What’s his deal?” One player voiced. “Usually he sticks around at least another hour to entertain his cult.”

“Not sure. After our last game, he’s been skittish.” Another replied.

A third jumped in after taking a swig of his water. “Think it’s got something to do with that..thing we saw the other night?”

The small group thought back to when all of their phones went off at the same time, social medias in a frenzy about their very own star player. At first glance, they figured it was just highlights of their game, specifically highlighting Oikawa. But, upon further inspection…it was something else entirely.

'Tooru Oikawa. 6’3ft King of the Court, and also our hearts. Being notoriously known as the campus pretty boy, loved by many and envied by the rest, it wouldn’t be far-fetched to consider him the blueprint—The default setting of everyone’s wet dream. He’s a tall, talented, smooth-talker with playful eyes and a panty-dropping smile, a textbook definition of  ‘Prince Charming���. Everybody and they mama, daddy, even bald-headed granny would kill to jump this man’s bones. Many would see him as the romantic type, but there’s something more…unhinged hidden beneath the pretty-boy persona. After much debate, our beloved setter is to be dubbed a whole SWITCH, no nintendo. At first he’ll play the dominant role, but edge him long enough and you’ll bring the Great King to his knees, quivering, drooling, you name it. He’s shameless. 9.5/10 - half a point deducted for his inferiority/superiority complex. Get some therapy, babe. ♡’

They didn’t think much of it at the time, when it came to their attention whore of a captain, it wasn’t completely unexpected, especially if his groupies had anything to do with it. The players looked at one another, then back at the gaggle of hormones waiting for the brunette in question by the doors. It was unanimous.

“Yep.” “Uh-huh.”

The third player snorts. “‘bout time it sucked to be him for once.”

When Oikawa eventually exited the locker room, he did everything in his power to appear small, tip-toeing across the floor with his head down and shoulders hunched in crouching tiger-like fashion. He would’ve gotten away scott-free…if not for his petty teammates.

“See ya tomorrow, captain!”

It bounced off the gym walls, the setter grimacing as his devoted followers instantly looked in his direction, predatory gazes stunning him like a deer caught in headlights. Oikawa shot the players a nasty glare over his shoulder, flipping them off and continuing for the exit. He attempted to stiff-arm his way through the hoard, ducking and dodging their grabby hands and shutting down their…bolder advances.

“Tooru-chan!~ Let me show you what I’m capable of, I’ll have you begging in no time, just say the word!~”

“Unhinged men are so my type—Step on me, spit on me, call me names until I cry, I want it all!~”

“I bet it’s bubblegum pink, right? Does it curve to the left or right?”

Oikawa blanched. “Ladies, please, this is ridiculous! You all know I’m in a relationship with-”

“They don’t have to know.”

One had tried reaching out to touch him, but was quickly thwarted when the setter grabbed her wrist. Not tight enough to hurt, but enough to get the message across—Too far. Everyone came to a hush at the sudden display, cowering slightly at the intensity that pooled in his eyes, dark and cold as he fixed the whole group with a stern expression. You were right (obviously). Things escalated the second they were given an inch, with complete disregard to his boundaries and what you meant to him.

These weren’t fans. Not real ones, at least.

Oikawa deeply exhaled through his nose, calming himself down to keep from saying something he’d regret. Releasing the girl’s wrist, the setter gently moved her out of his personal space, resadjusting his bag and sporting a rather disinterested expression.

“It appears you all have misunderstood your place. I’ll forgive that disgusting comment only once. But, if this obscene, rude, and down right shameful behavior continues, I’ll have no choice but to inform the coach of your harassment and have you banned from future practices and games. Do I make myself clear?”

When you arrived to pick up Oikawa per usual, you were surprised to see that he was already waiting for you, not a single group ie in sight.

Skeptical, you looked around as you approached him, thinking those buzzards were still in listening distance, just waiting to pounce. But, when all you’re welcomed with was a big hug and kiss, you relaxed. Oikawa pulled back and gave you a sheepish smile. He explained everything that had happened, rubbing his the back of his neck in embarrassment. When he finished, he looked down at you with those same puppy eyes he gave you the other day.

“Please don’t say I told you so?”

You cooed, reaching up to fiddle with his hair at his nape. He leaned into your touch, content. Until you said, “I told you so.”

He frowned. “You’re MEAN.”

Once IWAIZUMI learned it involved Oikawa in any way, that’s all he needed to know to have no interest in the list. Sort of like Sakusa, if the topic gets brought up, he finds himself tuning out. The last thing he needed was to get dragged into whatever mess his dumbass best friend got himself involved with. But, unfortunately for him, one doesn’t simply choose to be on the list…the list chooses you.

And one afternoon, the former ace was the unlucky winner.

‘Hajime Iwaizumi. 5’10ft hunk made of pure Husband Material. We’re talking the man who’ll open doors for you, pull out chairs, hold your bags without fuss, give you massages, cook you hearty meals, the whole nine yards. With that information in mind, you can’t tell me he’s not an absolute DOG in the bedroom. I’m talking about a man who’ll bully your insides, manhandle you and call you his “favorite cocksleave” or his “pretty little whore”. He’s the type to say the nastiest shit in your ear and tease you for the cute reactions you’d give him before shoving his tongue down your throat, while his dick kisses your appendix. Definitely a Hard Dom who only rewards good behavior, so if you plan to be a brat to this man—Good luck. But, as soon as he’s fucked that attitude outta you he’s back to being such a sweetheart! So so so attentive, so devoted, and will do anything for you. He’s God’s favorite. 1000000/10.’

“Oh? .. Hey, babe.” You said, curiously. Iwa grunted in response. “You know that list thingy Oikawa-?”

“Nope.” He easily answered, eyes focused ahead and he continued bench pressing the heavy bar.

You slap his chest. “You didn’t even let me finish!” He responded with a playful smirk, making you lightly slap him again.

Straddling his lap while he pumped iron was routine. It consisted of him doing what he does and you keeping him company, soaking up his presence until you inevitably left for your next lecture. Sometimes you kept count for him, other times you’d happily just be a distraction; today you did both.

“Haji,” you whined, wiggling a little. He ignored you on purpose, stubbornly refusing to indulge the topic. But that didn’t deter you from pestering him. “Ha-ji-me!”

“Ba-by-doll,” he echoed, grunting shortly after when he placed the heavy weight back on the rack, finished with the set. Panting, he sat up and readjusted you in his lap, hands resting on your thighs as he finally looked at you, amused at your scowl. “I don’t get why you’re so interested in that shitty list.”

“I’m not…until now.”

“Why?”

Turning your phone screen to show him the updated post, Iwa’s eyes scanned it before his brows furrowed in confusion, then tightened with irritation, jaw clenched and annoyance clear on his face. He let out a heavy sigh, closing his eyes to unsee it and merely laying back down on the bench. “Block them.”

You gaped. “What? No way!”

“It’s nothing but perverts with too much time on their hands,” he grunted, lifting up the bar and beginning his set. “It’ll rot your brain. Or what’s left of it, anyways.”

With a dramatic gasp, you retorted with, “Jerk. I’ll retweet and tell them you also love sucking on toes, how ‘bout that?”

Iwa paused mid-push. He eyed you from his laying position, voice dangerously low as he said, “Try it and I’ll bench press you next.”

“Hm.”

Through squinted eyes, MATTSUN briefly scanned the bright screen of Maki’s phone displaying the updated post that started circulating around their group for the past few minutes. Without much reaction, one would think he was too buzzed to be able to even comprehend it.

But he understood all too well.

‘Issei Matsukawa. 6’2ft lazy ass with a third leg. Doesn’t matter if he looks like he uses 5-and-1 body wash, he smells DELECTABLE. And don’t get me started on the gray, low-hanging joggers he usually wears around campus—He needs to be arrested walking around with a concealed weapon in those sweats—sir, put it in me AWAY. The literal embodiment of “If it slaps his thigh when he walk, I’ll listen when he talk.” The ultimate brat-tamer tbh. You can’t get under his skin, he’s so nonchalant and laid back, your attitude would just be foreplay for him (HIS FREAKY ASS). And if you think he’s already big on soft??? Bitch. Gon head and call outta work for tomorrow. 50/10.’

“Uh..congrats?” Kindaichi gave an awkward thumbs up.

Maki snickered, tongue in cheek. “Yeah, man, how’s it feel being ‘dick of the week’? They’re even givin’ it nicknames ‘nd shit.” He scrolled further into the depths of debauchery. Peering from over his shoulder to see for himself, Kunimi‘s face scrunched in mild disgust.

“Someone called it ‘The Door-Knocker’? Fucking cringe.”

“Fucking retweet.” The strawberry blonde hummed in approval. “Oo, I like this one—‘The Punisher’. That’s badass.”

Yahaba snickered only to then start choking on his drink, snatching Kyotani by the front of his shirt for support as he hacked for air. The wing-spiker merely glared, winding his hand back to beat the shit out of his back. “Ack! Kyo—fuc-! BRO STOP.”

“I’m helping.”

“You’re killing me!”

“Same thing,” he grunted.

Mattsun snorted, taking another swig of beer. After skimming through the thread, he lowly drawled out, “Cool, I guess. No big deal.”

He didn’t know much about the list, only that if you ended up on it you were pretty much an ace in the game of dick-slanging. But, he didn’t need some thirsty randoms on the internet telling him that he fucks. He had you to attest to all that, and your opinion was the only one that truly mattered. Not that either of you would kiss and tell.

His friends, on the other hand, felt otherwise. As far as they were concerned, Mattsun was a single man. And right now, he was shitting on a blessing sent from the gods. Maki halted his sip to eye his best friend, beer can lowering suspiciously. “No big deal?”

Mattsun shrugged. “t’s what I said.”

Yahaba finally caught his breath, chiming in with a winded, “Yeah right…you’re probably itching to check your DMs. Tell me ‘m wrong.”

“Ok. You’re wrong,” he replied, chugging the remainder of his beer can before crushing it. Yahaba went to argue, but Mattsun cut him off by speaking through a burp. “Don’t got the energy…to entertain someone who just wants my dick.”

“Don’t you mean, ‘Door-knocker’?” Kunimi teased.

“I thought it was ‘The Punisher’..?” Watari asked, uncertain.

“I saw ‘Horse Cock’ on there.” Kindaichi grimaced.

Mattsun shook his head. “Whatever. Point is, ‘m not interested in racking up my body count anytime soon, so those DMs will just go unanswered. Hell, maybe even deleted.”

“Bullshit,” Maki challenged. He points an accusing finger. “There’s another reason. It’s ‘cause you’re already screwing around with someone, aren’t ya?”

A silence fell upon the group, all eyes instantly honing in on the taller male with metaphorical ears raised high in scandalized curiosity, some (read: Kindaichi and Yahaba) more obvious about it than others. Mattsun merely gave a halfhearted shrug, neither denying nor confirming the information. “Aha! See, see, look at ‘em, dodging the question! He’s so cuffed.”

“No shot,” Yahaba deadpanned, “mister ‘Noncommittal’ himself?”

Mattsun glared. “Oi. I commit to stuff.”

“He’s gettin’ defensive.” Kunimi pointed out with a wry grin.

“Must be true, then.” Kyotani nodded, mischievous glint in his eye.

The others hummed in agreement, theorizing about his type in partners and how there could be a potential special someone in their senior’s life, while the bastard behind it all watched smugly on the couch, sipping his drink like a gossiping old biddy. Mattsun squinted in annoyance at his best friend. “Et tu, dumbass?”

Maki raised his hands, “Hey, don’t get mad at me. You basically told on yourself. No guy in their right mind would ever pass up on that many opportunities unless he’s A) Stupid, B) Aro/Ace, or C) Spoken for. Now, my vote’s between A and C, but feel free to update me on your sexual orientation.”

Mattsun flipped him off, sporting a sarcastic expression.

His phone then began to vibrate on the table. As quickly as they looked at the former middle blocker, everyone’s gaze shot toward the offending device, then back on him; expectantly. Despite his calm exterior the brunette felt his heart-rate spike, brow twitching at the childish looks and jeers he started getting, borderline peer-pressuring him to pick it up.

After a few seconds of continuous ringing, Kunimi huffed in mild annoyance for him to, “Answer it, already.”

Maki added fuel to fire by saying, “Unless you want one of us to answer for you-” Mattsun snatched the phone off the table.

With the grace of a gorilla, he stood from the couch and quickly shuffled to the corner of the room. Answering it, he cleared his throat, face flushing at the chorus of snickers coming from behind him as he greeted you with a simple, but elated, “Hey.”

“Hey, ‘sei!”

“Hey,” he said again, breathing out a small chuckle. “Can’t sleep?”

You responded with your own chuckle. “Yeah, actually. I was wondering if you’d wanna maybe…ride around with me? I’m thinking McDonald’s. Oo! Or that wing place by campus, y’know, the one with the teriyaki flavor you liked? I think they don’t close until, like, 2am. Or…was it 1am?”

Mattsun snorted at your rambles, leaning against the wall as he let you continue. Unbeknownst to him, the guys were practically stacked on top of each other, stretching their ears to hear your voice. From what they could pick up, you sounded so upbeat, animated as you spoke. They watched in awe as their senior barely spoke but was engaged in whatever you were saying, nodding along and humming to let you know he was still listening. If he wasn’t faced the other way, they were certain they’d see a smitten expression on his face.

“Mhm.. mhm. Yeah, ‘m sure that squirrel really appreciated you sharing your almonds, baby.”

“BABY???” The group exclaimed.

The brunette jumped slightly, completely forgetting where he was for a moment there. He briefly looked over his shoulder before turning back towards the wall with a groan—Every single one of those bastards were either grinning or gaping in shock. Mattsun cursed under his breath. You made a noise of confusion.

“Are you with the guys? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt! We can totally chill another night if you-”

“Nah, was just about to leave. Think I’ve entertained these assholes long enough.” He grumbled, walking over to grab his jacket, but not before thumping Maki on the head; the latter hissed through his teeth in pain as he held the throbbing spot. “Rather be with you anyways. I’ll send the address, lemme know when you’re outside.”

“O-Oh, okay then!” You giggled, flattered. “I’ll see you soon. Love you!”

He turned back to look at the group, smug as they still watched him with disbelief painted on their faces as Mr. Non-committal was ditching them to hang with his commitment. Like he tried to tell them before, he didn’t need some thirsty randoms on the internet. He had you, and that’s more than enough.

“Love you too, [_____].” Then, he walks out. Leaving the room in even more chaos compared to when he first answered the phone, immediately on his ass as the scrambled after him for answers.

“[______]?????”

Who would’ve guessed their sweet, beloved volleyball manager from high school was the one getting visits from “The Punisher”.

Within his inner circle, MAKI is usually overlooked. He’s not popular like Oikawa, nor jacked like Iwa, and he’s doesn’t have the whole ‘sexy aloof’ vibe like Mattsun. He’s just…tall. And funny—The ‘Pete Davidson’ of the group. At least, that’s what your friends called him. Somehow, once again during your outing with them at the mall the topic of your relationship became the focal point of the conversation, stretching their brains for why you were so enamored with a guy like him.

“He gotta be packin’. Like, I’m talking anaconda.”

“Type shit. Y’know what they say about them tall and skinny ones.”

You rolled your eyes, wry smirk spreading across your face as you busied yourself sifting through a clothes rack. The conspiratorial discussion had been going on for the past ten minutes, throwing anything and everything at the wall until something stuck—Meaning, waiting for you to confirm. “[_____]. Be honest. It’s ‘cause of his dick, right?”

A lady standing on the other side of the rack gasped in shock, face twisting up in revulsion as she clutched her purse before stomping away, scandalized. You snorted, peeking over your shoulder to raise an eyebrow at them while they struggled to suppress their childish merriment at the poor woman’s embarrassment.

“Quit it before they kick us out.” You attempted to sound stern, but there was no hiding your own amusement. One friend playfully nudged you while the other began to snicker. “And no, it’s not because of that. It’s a bonus, though.”

The first gasped, then exclaimed, “So it is big!”

“’m not finna start with you,” you replied looking back at the clothes, pretending not to know them as nearby customers gave the side-eye. Neither one paid any mind as they continued to gossip. “We have this conversation every time we go out. Give it a rest.”

“Not until you tell us what you see in him.”

“I mean, I get it, but then I look at his friends and…” she hissed through her teeth, shaking her head. “I’m just saying. You fumbled.”

“I’m not taking that from someone who slept with a door dasher just because they got the restaurant to put extra sauce in your bag.”

The guilty party gaped, “It wasn’t included in their instructions, they were a real one for that!”

“Still don’t know why you did it,” the other friend sighed. “The food was cold, and I’m certain they took some of my fries.”

“Shut up, we’re not talking about my poor life choices, we’re talking about [_____]’s.”

“Fuck you,” you laughed. “You two need to get off my man. You haven’t even properly met him yet. He’s a sweetheart, he treats me like royalty, and I don’t care what y’all say, that man is fine.”

“Please. You’re just dickmatized.”

“Enough about his dick already!”

Your outburst drew the attention of a nearby employee; the store manager. Even though she wore a professional smile, you could see death in her eyes. With a nervous smile, you gave an apologetic wave before quickly grabbing your friends by their arms and escorting yourselves out before you got banned. Your closet was getting full, anyways.

“Look…I know the guys I’ve dated in the past were…questionable. But, I really like this one. And I swear the pictures I showed you don’t do him justice, his goofy ass just never sits still.”

They looked skeptical, having heard that one before. You huffed.

“Alright. How about I invite him over tonight? That way you have a chance to get to know him better. And if you’re still iffy, then…then you’ll have to get over it because you love me dearly and want me to be happy and just because you don’t think he’s attractive doesn’t mean I don’t, he is very gorgeous to me-!”

“[_____], honey, breathe.”

You stopped to inhale, then concluded with a small, “Please?”

They exchanged another look of skepticism, until the second added one condition. “He better not show up empty-handed.”

—

When the doorbell rang, the mood instantly shifted in the room, your friends going silent and gazes sharp as they looked at your door. Unbeknownst to all of you, on the other side of the door, Maki shivered, confused where that sudden chill came from. You gave them an eager, though strained, smile before scampering over to greet your awaiting guest. Upon opening the door, your smile slowly dropped at the sight of Maki sipping out of a large styrofoam cup with the words 'Big Gulp' written on it, dressed casually in sweats and a beanie, appearing very empty-handed.

After he swallowed, he gave a drawled, "Yo."

Your eye twitched. "Takehiro." He hummed, taking another sip of his drink. "Remember that important thing we discussed over the phone? Literally the only thing I asked you not to be when you got here?"

He thought about it, taking note of the daggers you were shooting at his cup. Maki made a noise of realization. "Oh, right. I bought snacks too, buuut I accidentally ate ‘em all on the way. My bad. But, look," he shook the cup, "technically still not empty-handed."

A small part of you wanted to be mad, frustrated at the least...but there was no hiding the giggle you rewarded him with, of which turned into more giggles. With sigh, you stepped forward to wrap your arms around his middle in a hug. "You’re so dumb."

"Missed you, too." He playfully rolled his eyes, returning the hug and craning his neck to kiss your forehead. The two of you stood there for a moment, just basking in each other's warmth. But, the moment was short-lived when he gave a long, exaggerated exhale through his nose before murmuring, "Ready?"

"...No." You groaned.

"Damn, do they bite or something?"

"No, they’re just...unfiltered. I love them, don't get me wrong, but they can work on your nerves to an olympic degree. You'll see once we get inside...They're gonna ask about your dick, by the way. Just ignore it."

Maki snorted, bewildered. "I'll try my best."

"Also...try not to mention that...other thing."

"What other thing?"

"You know," you raised your brows, looking over your shoulder in case they were eavesdropping before softly continuing, "that post."

It took a second, but he eventually caught on to what you meant.

‘Takehiro Hanamaki. 6’0ft shameless manslut (affectionately) who’s taken the campus by storm with his rather...interesting side hobby that pretty much has every student reaching for their wallets and switching to incognito mode on their browsers. Who would’ve guessed that lanky, low-eyed beanpole had the talent to film such erotic content and put a whole industry to shame with just his smartphone and a couple LED lights? After getting past the paywall and binging his videos (for research) it’s safe to say this man is very much a power bottom, maybe even a top depending on his mood, with a fowl mouth that’s not afraid to moan like a porn star. Best $200 I’ve ever spent (FOR RESEARCH). Highly recommend if you’re interested in having the best guided orgasm of your life—Link is in the thread! Get that bag, king. 10/10.’

A shit-eating grin stretched across his face instantly. He bounced his eyebrows, leaning down to teasingly say, "Ohh. That post. What? Don't want 'em to know how I make my living? Or, you scared they'll find out you're my number one supporter, always touching themselves just behind the camera-"

"Hiro!" You hissed, face set ablaze as you looked over your shoulder again, anxious. He found your reaction cute, using the straw in his cup to poke your cheek. You huffed at him. "I don't want them to pry. I doubt they've seen it since they go to a different uni, and I'd like to keep it that way. Okay?"

He easily shrugged. “You’re the boss.”

You exhaled, relieved. “Thank you.” You turned to head back inside, knowing your friends were just itching to bombard Maki, however you were stopped when he grabbed your arm.

“But.”

“…But?”

“I’ll let the dick-related questions slide and keep my side hustle under wraps, but you have to do something for me in exchange for my good behavior.”

You tilted your head, nervous. “Like what?”

His grinned mischievously, eyes half-mast as he used his free hand to hold your jaw, making you gasp softly when he tilted your head back. “Instead of being behind the camera in my next video…my number one supporter has to be the star.”

You rapidly blinked, heat traveling throughout your body once you registered his words. Fumbling over your own, you didn’t have time to protest when the door behind you opens wide, revealing your impatient friends. Maki let go of your jaw and settled for wrapping his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close as he waved at them with the hand that still had the large cup in it.

“‘sup.” He flashed them a sly grin. Maki took in their shocked faces, hoping they were a good sign as he introduced himself. “[_____]’s told me a lot about you guys. Hope you didn’t mind me crashing your get together.”

They absolutely did not mind.

You weren’t lying—Those pictures you showed did him dirty. Nothing could’ve prepared them for the uno reverse that was Takehiro Hanamaki. From his lax posture and cozy demeanor, sleepers build and cute smile, it’s no wonder you were drawn to him. Plus he’s funny with a big dick (allegedly)?????

After you composed yourself, still reeling from your conversation earlier, you eventually mustered up a triumphant smile at your friends as they gaped up at Maki, speechless. “So? You guys still think I fumbled?”

© 2023-2024 anisespice ッ all rights reserved. likes, comments & reblogs much appreciated!

[flwrkid14]

Danny Phantom x Tim Drake: The Ultimate Campus Power Couple, Football Edition

picture this: Danny has always been a huge college football fan—like, Amity Park goes nuts for it. It’s practically in his DNA at this point. So when Danny hits college, it’s a no-brainer: he tries out for the football team, and obviously, he crushes it. He’s the star running back, fast, agile, and honestly just born to be on the field.

Enter Tim Drake, aka Danny’s ridiculously supportive boyfriend. Tim’s not necessarily a football guy, but for Danny? He’s there. He’s at every single game, wearing Danny’s varsity jacket like it was made for him, sitting front row, screaming louder than anyone else when Danny scores. The other students think it’s adorable (or they’re jealous, let’s be real).

On campus, these two are the definition of “campus couple goals.” Danny’s the football star with all the charisma, and Tim’s the genius who’s always with him, supporting him in his own quiet, unshakeable way. If they’re not holding hands walking between classes, you’ll find them at the cafeteria, Tim quizzing Danny on some class they probably share while Danny’s got an arm around him, nodding but mostly just focused on how cute Tim looks in his jacket.

Game day is serious business. Tim shows up early to claim his seat (always the same one, right where Danny can see him). He’s got his routine down—Danny always gets a good-luck kiss before heading out onto the field, and let’s be real, Danny is 100% convinced that those kisses are why he’s so good at the game. The rest of the team teases him about it, but he doesn’t care—because Tim’s his lucky charm.

Danny loves to show Tim off, too. After a big win, he’s dragging Tim onto the field with him, arm around his shoulders like, “Yeah, that’s my genius boyfriend,” while Tim just stands there, trying not to look embarrassed but totally failing because he loves it. Danny’s got that proud grin, Tim’s got his almost too big varsity jacket, and the entire campus is either swooning or jealous because honestly, who wouldn’t be?

And let’s talk about the post-game routine: after every game, no matter what, they’re meeting outside the locker room. Danny’s still hyped from the adrenaline, all sweaty and beaming, and Tim’s waiting there with a smirk, ready to hand over a water bottle and steal a quick kiss. They walk back together, Danny in his football gear, Tim still in that jacket that’s like three sizes too big, and it’s just… perfect.

the best part? Even when they’re not at a game, they’re still that couple on campus. Tim’s constantly wearing Danny’s jacket, and Danny’s forever pulling him into random kisses between classes. They’re the kind of couple that makes everyone believe in love again—Danny’s the heart, Tim’s the brain, and together they’re just unstoppable.

[teddybeartoji]

survival of the fittest.

you’ve been doing this for a long time now – mercernary work, and you’re good at it.

kill or be killed.

staring out of the window, you eye the pretty birds circling the street. they’re dancing and they’re singing, boasting about how great their lives are compared to yours. you don’t mind.

a child laughs somewhere down below. cars drive by, a motorcycle, a bike. it’s never quiet, it really never is. but the sounds get more muffled with every floor you climb, and now here on the tenth one, it’s not too bad. this is where you’re staying for the duration of the job; rented under a fake name, the apartment is a studio one. the windows are big and the ceilings are high – it’s perfect for your little spy work.

it’s all just human nature.

6’3, snow-white hair, azure blue eyes, muscular, with scars littered all over his body. the pride of the gojo clan and the first person to inherit both the limitless and the six eyes in four hundred years.

satoru gojo.

your mark.

he’s got quite the hefty price on his head, a lot of people want him gone from this world; he’s too strong, he’s too powerful – everything would be better, if he disappeared. you're just here for the paycheck though.

you’ve been observing him for five days now. with your eyes, with your ears. you’ve followed him through a shopping mall, watching him try on just about a hundred different outfits in about ten different stores. the man is well dressed, other than the outfit he likes to wear at home of course. a pyjama set – it’s white and pink with some kind of a cartoon character on the front of it. cute.

through the scope of the sniper rifle, you watch him live his life. he laughs with the servants in his fancy apartments, he makes jokes with the men that stand guard all day long. he likes to play video games and he likes to watch movies, he likes to work out, he likes to drink pink-colored milkshakes. he can’t sleep. he tosses and turns around in his bed at the early hours of the day, his eyes glued to the ceiling as if that’s going to help. sometimes, he paces around the room. sometimes, he does pushups. but none of it seems to work.

you see him yawn and you see the dark bags under his eyes.

he seems lonely.

it doesn’t matter.

(you are the same.)

he walks through his apartment with his head held up high, he waves the maids good night and they return the gesture with smiles. they seem genuine, and it’s a little hard to believe – this isn’t your first rich guy, your first pampered little boy, who doesn’t even realize what his life means. he doesn’t know what the word ‘work’ stands for, he doesn’t know what it means to survive. you’ve seen how people like him usually treat their servants, how they flinch at the smallest moves.

not with him though.

the air seems relatively light. you haven’t spotted a single tear or a frown from the people who work for him, they’re all seemingly having a blast. it’s interesting. perhaps he isn’t the prick everybody makes him seem to be, hm?

not that you care.

a ridiculously big number floats above his head and you don’t care. you need to live, too.

while he’s now alone in the apartment, you know for a fact there are two guards standing in front of the door and there are three of them down in the lobby. you can see one of them conversing with the doorman just now.

your eyes trail back up the building, the lit up windows and the blurry bodies that hide behind the curtains. he’s different; not once throughout the whole five days you’ve been here has he tried to shield himself from the world. not once has he tried to make your job any harder.

you can’t tell whether it’s arrogance or naivety. you’re leaning toward the former.

there’s a grin on his face.

hm.

what’s he up to now? a jerk-off session? that wouldn’t be new. or maybe he just remembered a witty remark he forgot to tell one of his maids. or is he’s just thinking about eating that ice cream he bought just yesterday? no, it's something else.

as a mercanary, you have to learn how to balance rational thinking and gut instinct. they’re both delicate things, they can change more than you’d ever assume and you have to accept that it’s important to listen to both. right now, your brain is telling you that this is just another night at the gojo apartment. he will watch a film and he’ll eat cereal and he’ll do some pull-ups and then he’ll try to sleep. but there’s this sinking feeling in your lower stomach.

and it only spreads as his smile widens.

he’s right there in your sights, handsome as ever, with your finger now resting on the trigger.

enough.

inhale.

but your breath hitches when he suddenly goes to grab his phone; standing in front of the window, he rests his hand on his hip while bringing the little piece of technology to his ear. it's definitely arrogance. you think of the money, you think of the life you could have. it’s just another job, it’s nothing personal. he doesn’t seem happy anyway. you’re doing him a favour.

it’s a dog-eat-dog world.

it takes almost no force at all to pull the trigger. you’re used to it.

exha—

your phone rings.

blinking into the scope, you try to stay on the middle ground between logic and instinct. he’s not the one calling. he isn’t. stop panicking. adrenaline pumps in your veins but you can’t look away. you feel eyes everywhere around you. you feel sick. he isn’t the one calli—

your phone rings again.

and you watch him raise his hand from his hip to point at his own as he stares right at you.

he’s across the street. he’s so far – you’re looking at him through a fucking scope, he cannot see yo—

ah... so, that’s how the six eyes really work, huh.

alarms blare in your mind. just pull the fucking trigger. the tiny crosshair is set on his forehead.

shoot him.

the corners of his eyes crinkle.

take the fucking shot.

he has dimples.

your hand reaches for your phone without you even realizing it.

"why are you taking so long?" he sounds giddy, he sounds fucking excited. "i'm bored out of my mind here, angel. c'mon– "

"entertain me, hm?"

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Ludos Imperiales II

Summary: Princess!Reader makes a deal with the Emperor to try and save her mates.

Content Warnings: Violence, Blood and Gore, Gladiator Tournament, Physical Abuse.

Part One

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

I can’t breathe. The world spins in dizzying swirls around me. Mates.

Not one.

Not two.

Three!

All of them enemies of the Empire. Rebels scheduled for execution. Fate has always been a cruel bastard in all matters concerning me, but this feels like a personal attack on my existence. Someone in the Celestial Plain is laughing at this twisted attempt of a joke. How could I be so close to happiness and be forced to sit here and watch it be ripped from me one blood splatter at a time?

The Game Maker starts speaking again, his voice booming across the arena. I can’t make out any of the words; they’re all muddled together in my ears. This cannot be happening to me! It’s not fair! I’ve been the perfect daughter, even when it shattered me; I was a model student; I’ve upheld the law to the very letter; I make weekly sacrifices to the Mother; I built my own lararium to offer nightly prayers to the gods. I have been devought and loyal to both the gods and the Empire and this is the thanks I get?

I can’t tear my eyes away from where the three of them stand in the center of the Pit, waiting for the gates to open again. The violet eyed one, Rhysand-- gods even his name is pretty--won’t stop staring at my Father, challenging him to speak, to fight, to do something other than sit there like a coward while someone else kills for him. 

My Father must understand the challenge in that gaze, because he finally stands and goes to the edge of the booth, weathered hands splayed out against the worn stones bearing a flag with his crest embroidered upon it. “Citizens of the Empire!”

The crowd gives a raucous shout.

I simply scoot a little closer to Brannagh to be able to see around Father.

My movements do not break the silent battle happening with Rhysand, but it does draw the eye of Azriel, who’s bloodied head tilts to the side quizzically as he takes me in. I feel a blush creep its way up my cheeks, the booth suddenly too hot as I try to meet his gaze. That hazel gaze bears an intensity that keeps me in place, but I cannot help but feel like I’ve been stripped bare, as if he can see straight into my chest, where my heart still pounds an uneven beat. 

“Before you stands that which threatens our peace, our security, and most importantly the prosperity that our people hold so dear.”

The tall one, Cassian frowns at that, but Rhysand grins, as if he has won whatever silent battle he’s been having with my Father. He tips his head back and bellows, so that not a single soul here misses it, “There is no prosperity or peace in the Empire! There is only enslavement and death!”

The boos that had started coming from the crowd die, as if someone had collectively cut off their air supply. 

The muscles in my Father’s back tighten as he realizes what is happening.

“Outside these walls we all starve! Supplies to every corner of the Empire have dwindled to single bags of grain, meant only to feed the soldiers that terrorize us in every corner of the world. You do not hear from your families in the far reaches because your mail is censored. Your loved ones have been dragged from their beds and crucified without trial. The only prosperity in this Empire is for Hybern himself.”

I finally tear my gaze away from Azriel’s silent study to look at Amarantha for confirmation that it is true. 

“You should have slit his throat on the battlefield,” Dagdan snarls in her direction. 

The power seeping from my fingers tears a hole through my skirts, singing across my thighs. The errant strand only hidden by the way I keep the fabric bunched in my hands. I do not allow myself to wince against the sting and give myself away.

“Those were not my orders!” Amarantha snarls, her teeth flashing as she stands. Her slaves jump out of her way, cowering against each other for safety. “Your Highness, silence him before he incites a riot!”

No! No! No! This can’t be happening to me! Not again. It is like watching my Mother be taken away all over again. I had just stood there. Unable to cry or scream or fight. I could only watch. That was what she trained me to do. She had even nodded her approval to my stillness as they’d dragged her away, as if it had been right. None of it was right. None of this was right!

“Your Master will tell you pretty stories but we are all his slaves in the end. Illyria has had enough! We will not sit by and let our women and children starve! If that makes us rebels and traitors to the crown, so be it! But what would you do if it was your children in the streets? Your wives being carted off to service foreign elites? Your sons forced to kill and die for an Empire that can’t even feed you?” Rhysand screams.

My Father, silently, motions to one of his Praetorians, a crossbow already swinging from the clip at his back. 

The pounding of my heart in my ears will swallow me. Everything in the world slows and narrows into the motion of an arrow being fit into the crossbow.

Move! Move! Move! A dark ether of my power slithers up my wrists, catching Brannagh’s attention. She must make some snide remark about it, because I, distantly, see her lips move but no sound ever reaches my ears. I have to stop this. I have to do something!

I’m on my feet without conscious thought of what I’m doing. “Father, wait!” My hands reach for him, the sizzle of pain as my power skitters across his skin enough to make him turn and face me. I don’t know what I’m doing, or what I’m saying, the words spew as if they have a mind of their own.

“If you kill him now like this you will incite a riot!”

His face twists, a snarl slipping past his clenched teeth. I have royally pissed him off, disgraced him here in front of his Inner Circle, where they watch from nearby booths. The thought would usually send me cowering like a dog with its tail between its legs, but the fear I feel for him is nothing against the fear I feel for them. The thing that links our souls together burns and rattles beneath my rib cage, needing to defend, to fight.

“Call off your guard!” I hiss, reaching out a hand and letting that dark power that lives inside me show. I’ll strike him dead if he so much as moves a finger towards the trigger. “Let us be diplomatic about this.”

“Who are you,” Father snarls, taking an advancing step towards me. The booth shakes as his own dark power rises to meet mine. “To challenge me, child?!”

I hold my ground, even though my body trembles. It is only the dutiful teachings of my Mother that keep my chin up instead of bowing it to my chest as every muscle screams for me to do. “I am not challenging you, I am trying to think about our people.”

I clench my fists again, dimming my power in feigned submission. “Go about this a different way. Show the people that ruthlessness is not always the answer to our nation’s problems.”

“Are you suggesting I spare an enemy?” Father snarls.

I honestly don’t know what my plan is here. I’m just throwing things against the wall and hoping something, anything, sticks, otherwise my only option is to fling myself down into the Pit and hope the power thrumming in my veins is enough to save my mates.

“No,” if I am to keep all of our heads, I must be crafty. I must play the games my Father plays. My gaze flicks to where Amarantha’s slaves remain huddled together, a desperate thought forming in my head. My stomach turns at the mere idea, but if it can save them…?

“You mean to entertain the people and quell all possible chances of further rebellion, but we have seen time and time again that no execution or crucifixion has done that. We merely make martyr after martyr. We encourage others to take up the cause.”

“Let them fight,” I’m going to be sick! It feels like there’s a knot forming in my chest. “And if they survive, let them live, let them be gladiators.” It’s unthinkable, it puts them in danger time and time again. “The betting will be astronomical. The people will return time and time again in hopes of seeing them fall. That money can provide support to the edges of the Empire. Prove him wrong by sending extra aid to those outside our walls.”

To his credit, my Father does listen to me ramble. The Mother has smiled on me for once, if he had been in one of his fits today he would have had Amarantha kill me where I stood. It is a miracle the Praetorian didn’t take me out for wielding so close to him in the first place.

 “And you would have them what? Live in the slave quarters where they can incite a riot with all the dregs?” Amarantha hisses.

I’ll lose him if I let her forked tongue keep whispering in his ear. I am not blind, I know that she has more favor with him than I ever have. “No. Leaving them free to whisper with the other gladiators would be a mistake. Let someone claim responsibility for them.” 

The plan forms in my mind as I speak. I don’t like it. I’m not sure that it’ll even work, but I have to try and save them. I cannot let them die while I stand here uselessly watching as I did with my Mother. I will never be useless or silent again. “Give them to me.”

Brannagh chokes on her wine behind me.

Amarantha’s jaw actually drops in shock.

“I will take responsibility for them. They will be monitored by my guard. To our people it will look  like you mean to humiliate three great warriors, by shackling them to me. It is no secret what our people think of me.”

Dagdan’s snort is proof enough how weak I look in the eyes of our people. I am nothing but a sheltered, pampered princess to them. Up until today they didn’t even know that I’d inherited my Father’s powers. Good, let them all think me weak and useless and meek, they will never know the claws and fangs that hide beneath my skin until it is too late. Father included.

“She is not strong enough to keep them in check,” Amarantha hisses. “If you are to do it, give them to me.”

I barely reign in my powers, barely keep my teeth behind my lips. They are mine and I will be damned before I let her put her grubby little paws on them! 

“You may monitor them as often or as random as you wish, Father,” I speak over her instead, fighting to keep his attention. “I will move back into the Palace. I will sit in every meeting. I…” There is one sure thing that will guarantee his approval of this awful plan of mine. “I will marry whoever you choose for me.”

His dark brows raise in surprise. “And what would prompt this sudden loyalty to me, child?”

I raise my chin. “I have sat too long in the dark, and I could not see it until…” I have already bartered my soul, what will some more empty words mean in the end? “I could not see it until you removed that traitor and her poisoned tongue from the house. I see it now. I have failed our people and I mean to make it right.”

He flicks his gaze over his shoulder, down into the Pit. “The gorsian stone should keep Rhysand in line. And with enough guards, you might be able to keep them locked up. If they should survive the fight.”

“Sometimes death is a mercy,” I say, the words tasting like bile. 

He takes a step closer, so we’re nearly nose to nose. “And if you fail to keep them in line, it will be you that dies in this arena, do you understand?”

Better me than them. 

“You cannot be serious, Your Highness!” Amarantha squeaks, her voice shrill.

I nod, trying not to gloat in my victory over her. “I understand.”

Father grins, pleased with himself as he snags my hand and brings me back into view of the arena. “Please forgive the delay, the Princess and I were just discussing what our guests had to say about the state of our Empire.”

I feel three sets of eyes settle on me like a brand. The bond, still so new and raw in my chest, feels like chains rattling against my ribcage. I cannot tell if it is their anxiety or my own. 

“Let it be known that this Empire is a democracy, and that I, as your Emperor, care about the state of affairs that all of our people live in.”

 I try to meet the gaze of the senators and highly decorated soldiers sitting in the booths that line the upper ring of the arena. These will be the most upset by the news. The next ring of wealthy merchants and shopkeepers, tradesmen and fleet keeps will be the ones that take what they hear here back to the streets. Word will spread. The people will know what happened here, how the Emperor suddenly decided to care about them. It will be a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

I try to not look down at the Pit; try not to think about the life I’m condemning them to. 

“Our beloved Princess is very concerned about your well-being,” Father continues and there’s a collective cheer from the lower levels. “And so, we have decided not to execute these rebels today.”

The tone immediately shifts to one of confusion.

“They will compete as gladiators. Should they prove resourceful enough to survive, they will be branded as gladiators, and sponsored by our Princess.” Great, not only do they have to survive the damned arena, they have to survive any threats from other gladiators who will seek to take out well-sponsored competition. 

Even from our vantage point I hear Cassian curse in disbelief. 

“She has so graciously decided that all their winnings will be sent to any hurting corners of the Empire, should there be any to be found.”

The crowd takes a moment to process what he says. It even takes me a minute to comprehend the last part. He’d really send all the money that I’d earn as their sponsor to the poor? That’s a hefty bit of charity, even for him. There has to be some sort of catch?

“So, let these males fight! Let’s see how far they are willing to go for their people.”

There it is. They could choose to sit down and die in the arena, making themselves martyrs as Amarantha thinks they intended, and then, instead, they would look like they were not willing to make sacrifices for their people. If they fought, competed for whatever earnings were bet on them, then they would be heroes. A symbol of strength only the great Emperor Hybern could make. Father really is the best at these political games.

The crowd roars as trumpets blow three times.

Father motions me back to our seats.

“You don’t really think they can win, do you, cousin?” Dagdan questions.

The ground shakes as a giant strolls out of the tunnels. The creature is so large he has to bend over nearly double to fit. When he stands to his full height, his bald head is practically even with the edge of our booth. Terrible scars crisscross over his body like spiderwebs. Hybern went to war first with the land of Giants, the war had lasted decades. My Grandfather had taken many giants as slaves and forced them to kill each other in this arena. Some gladiators were able to earn their freedom, but the devastation that the Giants had wrought on our people made my Grandfather declare that no Giant could ever be made free. The poor creature had probably been chained here, fighting in the Pit long before I was even born.

“They survived Amarantha,” I retort.

The General bristles. “I thought you didn’t place bets on the first day?”

I reach for another glass of wine, trying to settle my nerves. “There’s a first time for everything.” Perhaps making an enemy out of her is unwise, but the bond chafes against my ribcage at the thought of her being anywhere near any of them. Better to keep her attention on me than on them. 

Another horn blows, prompting the giant to move and I hold my breath as he reaches a meaty hand down to grab one of the Illyrians. The males scatter, Cassian going into a roll between the Giant’s legs, using the blind spot to his advantage while Rhysand drags Azriel out of the way with an arm around his waist. He’s practically carrying Azriel now, who’s broken wings seem to be getting heavier by the minute. 

Cassian roars as he stretches out a hand, a wave of red tinted energy blasting from his palm. The arch or power slams into the Giant’s calf, blasting away a chunk of skin and muscle, splattering blood across the nearest wall. 

The Giant roars as he falls to one knee.

Cassian sprints behind him, out of reach of the hand that comes sweeping down at him. This time, he’s the distraction as Rhysand uses the hand not holding Azriel upright to unleash a blast of dark, obsidian power. 

My own magic flares in response. It is a darkness so like my own, the sight of it a siren call that has me leaning forward in my seat. If he can unleash a blast powerful enough to leave a gash across the Giant’s bare chest with those gorsian chains around his neck, how much damage can he do without it?

The Giant’s cries of pain echo throughout the amphitheater; using the distraction, Cassian continues to blast away at it’s leg while Rhys throws blow after blow at it’s chest. They fair far better than I anticipated they would, but I know better than to let hope get the better of me. It is far too easily ripped away in this arena. 

As if on cue, the gates open again and a pack of wargs come sprinting into the arena.

The crowd erupts in cheers, and my heart once again thunders in my chest. What have I done? It takes all my training to not start chewing on my thumbnail. How am I supposed to save them from this?

Amarantha claps gleefully as one of the wargs breaks away from the pack to lunge straight for Azriel’s throat. 

No! No! No- Azriel raises a scarred hand to blast the beast backward with a wave of blue tinted magic. There isn’t enough time to sigh in relief, not as the rest of the pack splits in two, one circling Rhysand and Azriel, the other taking a shot at the Giant. Those rows of razor sharp and needle thin teeth sink into the Giant’s already bleeding leg, momentarily distracting it as it swings wildly around the arena, arms pinwheeling as it fights to balance on one leg while the other flails in an attempt to shake the beasts off. 

“They’re not supposed to attack the Giant!” Brannagh whines. 

I gulp down my wine, hoping it will push the wave of nausea that rolls through me down. I’ve signed their death warrants. I’ve gotten my mates killed. 

Cassian, in the chaos, has managed to find half of a spear, the blade rusted from the recent rain, but he hurls it with acute precision nonetheless, piercing through the oddly shaped skull of a warg snapping at Azriel’s wings. 

Rhysand and Azriel have moved to stand back to back, their varying shades of magic weaving between their fingers as they prepare to strike the snapping beasts that circle them. 

The Giant topples over as the three wargs held tight to it’s wounded calf find a nerve. There’s not enough room in the arena to let him fall without incident. The poor creature topples right into the wall opposite us, knocking away a section of stone and nearly dragging a Senator and his mistress into the Pit.

The Praetorians launch from our booth to aid the screaming couple.

It might have been funny under different circumstances, but I cannot peel my eyes away from my mates as the blast beast after beast away with their magic. Even wounded, even stunted by the chains, they are the most powerful wielders I’ve ever seen. Even if Cassian’s and Azriel’s magic sprays with less precision than usual without the siphons Illyrians are known for, every blow is calculated. They do not miss. Warg after warg falls, their leathery skin blistered or blasted away from multiple blows. Even wounded, the males remain in perfect sync, filling in any gaps the other might lack. They manage to kill five of the eight beasts, the other three still mercilessly tearing through the Giant’s leg, even as the guards try to push him off the wall.

Brannagh laughs at the tears that fall from the Giant’s eyes as he swats uselessly at the beasts. No matter how many times his massive fists slams against them, they will not let go. His blood runs like a river through the center of the Pit.

Many of the crowd laugh too.

These are my people? This is what I am to inherit? This misery and suffering and apathy towards the suffering of others? We are monsters!

As soon as I can get my mates out of this godsforsaken Pit, I will find a way to get them far, far away from this place, where it can never hurt them again. And then, when I know they are safe, I will make sure that this place burns.

Rhysand seems to take pity on his opponent, as he steps away from Azriel’s back to blast one of the remaining wargs off the Giant’s calf. From the distance across the arena, the blow is not a killing one, and aggravated, the warg turns its attack to Rhysand.

My breath hitches in my throat as he lowers himself into a crouch, hands splaying in the damp earth. There is a sword a couple feet from him, if he runs, he might make it there first. But he doesn’t run, he waits until the beast gets close before hurling dust in it’s eyes. While it’s distracted, a rope of star studded magic unfurls from his palm and wraps around the beast’s throat. Instead of killing it, he hurls it back at the others, knocking all of them free from the Giant’s leg.

The crowd boos.

My heart clenches in my chest. He could have let them end this fight now, could have let those beasts tear clean through the Giant’s leg and won by default, but he didn’t. He chose to fight fair, to do the dirty work himself.

The three beasts turn on him as he sprints for the sword. There’s just enough time for him to get a firm grip on the hilt before the first lunges, its claws tearing through his forearm as he fights to get the angle he needs to win. Blood splatters, those handsome features twisting in pain as he adjusts his stance. Cassian runs towards him, but he won’t make it in time. 

There’s no more wine to distract me, I’ve fully bitten through my lip now. Please if there are any gods left to hear me, don’t let him die here!

Rhysand moves with the grace of a well-practiced swordsman, each step flowing into the next like a dance as he cleaves through one beast's head, and severs the paw of a second. In mere seconds, he manages to dispatch the rest, leaving the mangled bodies at his feet. His chest heaves as he fights to catch his breath and under different circumstances I might have been too distracted by his beauty to notice the Giant move. 

Rhysand might have been the better male, but that didn’t save him from the Giant’s hand as it swatted him across the battlefield like he was a pesky fly. I bite deeper through my lip to keep back a scream as his body bounces across the muddy floor until he meets a wall. 

Cassian and Azriel roar in outrage and the tether that sits in my chest rattles so hard against my rib cage I think it might rip right out of me. This can’t be happening!

The Giant rises on shaking legs, then falls back onto its knees, using its meaty fists to bash against the arena floor, in what looks like the world’s deadliest game of Whack-A-Mole. Red and blue magic flashes across the arena as the Illyrian’s throw blow after blow, leaving bleeding gashes in the Giant’s fist. Across the arena, Rhysand rolls onto his back, forehead covered in blood as he struggles to get upright. He’s alive at least. Barely. But alive.

I vow to the Mother and any other god that can hear me that if they survive the fight I will find somewhere safe for them. I will do whatever it takes to keep them out of this arena for good. 

“They are persistent, I’ll give them that,” Dagdan muses. 

I feel rather than see my Father’s frown as he takes in all the chaos with the experience of a seasoned strategist. I know that he is calculating their odds, mapping out every possible outcome. I wonder if Cassian launching into the air, wings beating so hard to get him airborne that I feel a gust of hot air on my face, was part of his calculations? If he could have foreseen the blast of energy Cassian’s hurls into the Giant’s eyes, blinding him?

The Giant abandons his attempts at smashing them to grab at his eyes, large hands clawing at his sizzling flesh. The whole arena can smell burnt skin, but Cassian doesn’t let up, he aims blow after blow at the Giant’s head, until he finally falls over backwards, neck slamming hard against the already broken stone.

I look away, stomach in my throat as the resounding crack fills the amphitheater. 

The crowd roars in disbelief as Cassian tucks in his wings and descends back into the Pit. He hits the ground running, footfalls heavy in the mud as he rushes to Rhysand’s side. Azriel is not far behind him. With their combined strength, they manage to get Rhysand back on his feet. 

I pinch myself to make sure I’m awake. They’re alive!

Father stands and makes his way to the edge of the booth again. “For whatever reason, the Goddess has smiled upon you three today! Today, you will live. Let us hope you remain in Her favor.” He doesn’t sound super thrilled by the prospect as he turns his back to the crowd, slate gray eyes pinched as they fall to me.

“Walk with me.”

I stand, trying to keep my singed skirts in my hands so he cannot see the damage I’d done. Or the blood from my palms. If he suspects I was at all nervous for the outcome, I could ruin everything. I must keep my composure.

And not run down the stairs to the gates and throw myself at my mates like every fiber of my being screams at me to do. 

The guards follow as we exit the booth. In moments there will be chaos as beings scatter to find the Games Keepers and collect their winnings, or pay their debts, but for a moment, the crowd lingers in their seats, watching as the Illyrians are led out of the Pit.

“You embarrassed us today,” he hisses once we’re out of Amarantha’s earshot. The anger in his tone is enough to make me try and take a step away from him, but he throws an arm around my shoulders to keep me against his side. To any onlookers, we are just father and daughter having a chat. His voice is low enough that no one will hear the threats he hisses in my ear.

“You hide away in the River House for months, mourning a traitor who was plotting to overthrow me and now you make a spectacle of yourself! I should have you cast out into the streets!”

My only way out is to placate him. “I am sorry, Father.”

“Sorry,” he snarls, fingers digging tight enough into my shoulder to bruise. “Your apologies mean nothing! I swear, if you do not do everything you promised to do today, I will throw you into this arena! And I will use your own advice to keep you alive long enough to ensure you have a couple matches to prolong your suffering.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “I meant what I said, Father.” Mostly. Perhaps I can secure passage for all of us out of here and we never have to think about the Empire again. The more I think about it, the more pleased I am with the idea. Yes, I just need to make it look like I am taking them as slaves, and once we’re out from the watchful eye of my Father, we can all run far, far away. Maybe I am more clever than I thought.

He leads us down the steps to a door that will eventually lead us to the gladiator cages and a guard swings open the heavy iron for us. Once we’re out from under the eye of the people, the rough stone walls closing in tight--a means to ensure none of the larger gladiators can make a run for the door and escape--he releases his grip on me. 

Torches line the walls casting his face in near shadow as he pauses at the bottom of a second, smaller, set of stairs. I shiver despite myself as the door slams shut, sealing me in. I suppose at this point I should be prepared, but I’m not, and when his open hand slams across my cheek I lose my balance and slip down the last two steps of the staircase. 

“Don’t ever question me again!” He hisses.

The guards pretend to not notice, as they always have.

I grit my teeth against the ringing in my ears, against the hot tears that threaten to escape me, focusing instead on carefully getting back on my feet. Stay down too long he’ll kick in my ribs like he used to when I was a child. Get up too fast and he’ll assume he hadn’t hit me hard enough. I put over emphasis into finding a handhold in the wall, making sure I keep my stinging cheek against my shoulder. The tremor in my hands is not feigned fear, I’ve been terrified of him my entire life, but I do exaggerate it just as my Mother taught me. 

“Spoiled brat!” He grumbles as he stalks forward into the tunnel. “I coddled you too much.”

I glare at his back once I’m sure he’s no longer looking at me. I hate him! I’ve hated him my entire fucking life. He’s ruined everything. Taken everything from me. Everything I’d ever loved he’d wiped off the face of the earth, all because I had the misfortune of being a female. All because he couldn’t have a precious son.

I grit my teeth so hard they hurt as I brush my skirts off and follow after him. I will be glad when I am finally out of his sight. Far, far away from this stupid Empire. At least I have mates; someone out in this Mother forsaken world who will care about me; who won’t hate me just for existing. At least there is one thing he can’t ruin for me.

I am too distracted with my thoughts to note the paths we take. I distantly hear the sound of injured men groaning, catch a whiff of filth and animal waste, but it’s all a blur. This will all be a bad dream soon. Soon I will have my mates and I will never have to deal with him again. I can be happy. I will be happy.

By the time he finally stops walking, I’ve schooled my features into a perfect mask; have brushed a few loose strands of hair in front of my face to hide the red mark across my cheek. He will suspect nothing until it is too late. Then he can have his precious Empire. It will be the only thing left he can control.

A guard opens what looks like a cage door, the iron old and rusted, and the guards that have been trailing behind us step in first.

“Against the wall!” They bark. 

There’s no light in the cell, just the flickering of the torch on the wall behind us. I don’t know what to expect.

“Fuck you, Imperial Pig!” Cassian.

I bite my tongue to keep back the grin that threatens to escape me, my mask slipping. He’s not so hurt that he can’t put up a fight. The thought warms something in my chest. Headstrong, stubborn, if the sound of scuffling coming from inside the dark cell is anything to go by, and sarcastic--everything I need to counter my reserved nature. I need that energy. I need him. The surety of that makes me square my shoulders. 

“Easy, Cass.” Rhysand. His voice is smooth as silk, even if the words are a little slurred. “We don’t want trouble.”

“The fuck we don’t!” Cassian shouts. “I’m no one’s fucking pet!”

The guard at the door, once sure the others inside are secure, steps away to grab the torch off its perch in the hallway, and sets it into an old rung on the inside of the cell, bathing the room in its soft glow. 

Father steps in first.

For a moment, I hesitate, heart in my throat. I need them. I need that strength I saw in the arena. Need that fire Cassian spews. The surety that Rhysand carries himself with. I need them. And if I show any sign of that, they're dead.

The guard, now back at the door, eyes me quizzically.

I draw a shaky breath and school my features back into a perfectly bored mask. 

I can do this.

I will do this.

I won’t let Hybern take anything else from me, no matter the games I have to play. 

I tell it to myself over and over as I step into the cell.

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

Taglist: @hjgdhghoe, @krowiathemythologynerd,

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist! =)

[sunshineandspencer]

Jolene

A/N: I’ve managed to get sick and the thing that roused me from my deathbed was hearing Jolene and going ‘yes, this applies to a Hotch fic, my people need me’ if it doesn’t make sense, blame the headache.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Girlfriend!Reader.

Summary: She desperately tries not to think that way about his ex-wife, but seeing them interact hurts way more than she thought it would.

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: established relationship, cutesy nicknames, Haley is alive, barely-negative self-thoughts, angst but a happy ending

be added to the taglist!!

“I can easily understand how you could easily take my man, but he’s the only one for me, Jolene.”

Some part of her knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but she’d powered through it. Aaron had kissed her softly in the kitchen and told her that it would all be alright, slowly moving her to the stairs so that she could get ready.

Smacking her ass and laughing as she yelped, disappearing into their bedroom to get dressed.

They’d been together nearly three years now, only about a month until their third anniversary, and he promised something big - but that’s not important right now.

Jack has a big soccer game this afternoon, his team - little league but still important, as both men swear to her - had made it to whatever the ‘finals’ were. Aaron coaches his team, and as much as she tries to keep up, sports have never been her thing.

Despite this, she attends every single game and cheers no matter what’s happening. Plus, she gets the added bonus of seeing her boyfriend in a loose shirt and shorts, a rare and delicious sight. All the other moms have learnt that Aaron is taken, considering he comes over to kiss her whenever he can.

Honestly, Aaron is perfect. 

Even with his job, she doesn’t mind at all. She’s a photographer, and so she does all her editing work from home, and even when she does need to travel, she does it around his work and Jack’s school times. Occasionally bringing them with her, or just Jack when Aaron is away.

She absolutely loves their little family, and every single moment they spent together, and knew early on that days like this couldn’t be avoided forever.

Of course, she knows that Aaron loves her, he tells her more than enough and he still thinks he’s lacking in that department. But he loves her so desperately that he easily makes her feel seventeen all over again.

So Aaron is not the problem, but she is.

Haley, his ex-wife. The woman divorced Aaron, and moved on a lot quicker than he had, but that’s not the problem, people move at different speeds and she fell out of the marriage a lot sooner than Aaron did. The issue that she has is seeing them together with Jack.

They’re so.. picture perfect. Clearly a family. To the point where it hurts.

Haley is utterly gorgeous, and ageing has only done her wonders. Of course, she knows that she’s also aged pretty well, but not as well as her. 

The woman exists as if the phrase ‘fine wine’ was made just to describe her, and the quiet sting of jealousy hits deep whenever she and Aaron interact. It isn’t very often, thank God, but it still sucks.

The way she still talks to him so casually, as if they were friends who didn’t have an eight year marriage between them, it sets her on edge. It feels like she believes if she wanted she could easily stroll back into Aaron’s life. And why wouldn’t she?

She’s stunning, she’s Jack’s mother, there’s nothing stopping her from taking Aaron all over again.

Except the fact Aaron has reassured her that Haley is nothing to him anymore except the woman who gave him the greatest gift in his life bar his “wonderful girlfriend”, and she believes him. God- it feels so wrong to feel jealous and small when he’s told her that Haley is nothing. It feels like she’s doubting him, and it’s not that she’s trying to, she can’t help it.

How could she, when his ex-wife looks like that?

“Where’ve you gone sweetheart?”

Blinking softly, she looked up from where Jack was excitedly talking to his mom about all the goals he scored - uncaring that half were own-goals.

Aaron had come over to sit next to her, and hesitated from placing his usual peck to her lips when he found her so lost in her own thoughts. Moving to sit next to her and immediately place a hand on her thigh, squeezing softly and pressing his thumb into her flesh by the hem of her dress.

“Nowhere, no I’m- I’m still here.” He gives her a look and she sighs, leaning in to kiss him and grumble unhappily against his lips. “Everyday you make it harder and harder to like profilers.”

Humming, he kissed her a little firmer than usual and she pulled back, looking at him confused. Not that she was complaining, but he usually had a reason.

“She may be his mother, but Jack loves you just as much.”

Her heart seized, hating that he was able to figure her out so easily, but not surprised anymore. Reaching to squeeze his hand where it still rested on her thigh and turning to look at him fully.

“Aaron, I--”

“I mean it dove, we love you. She’s had her time in my life, and that’s over, you are the only one I want for any foreseeable future.”

A bright smile drew up on her face, the one he so loves drawing out because it means that she’s getting over whatever bothered her. 

He’s not stupid, he knows how much that bothered her at the start, and it had calmed down slightly over the years, and she believes him completely. Convincing her brain to believe him, however, had been the most surprising thing to try and overcome. For her, however, he’d reassure her everyday for as long as it takes.

With her hands smoothing up his arms to thread into the hair at the nape of his neck, that little bashful smile overcame her face as she got closer. Pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“Careful there Hotchner, or someone might think you’re proposing to me.”

He huffed out a small laugh and wrapped his arm around her waist and tugged her even closer, kissing her deeply. Not caring that there were other moms watching and awing, or Jack making fake throwing-up noises, even though he really doesn’t mind.

Only pulling back to brush his nose against hers, smiling down at her and watching the way she couldn’t decide which eye of his to focus on.

“Just wait sweet girl, I’m not having you ruin my surprise.”

Want more?! Good!

taglist ( ˘ ³˘)♥ @peachsodameg @angelinajolie0213 @jiggly-puff-12 @khxna @kennedy2156 @trulycayla @none-of-your-bullshit @alexxavicry @meg-black @anotherpassiongirl @princessjax @gghostwriter (please tell me if this works because I have never done this and google is useless, also if your tag is here and it doesn't work, check your settings to see who is allowed to tag you or this might not work)

[eightmakesonebraincell]

the essence of youth is summers with you (teaser)

genre: poly!surfers!ateez x fem!reader, childhood best friend!san, sort of college!au, slice of life and coming of age, slow burn, fluff, angst

length: 1.5k (teaser) + approx. 38k (full fic)

c/w: surfer!ateez (deserves a warning), explicit profanity, more angst when you think things will get better, remaining tags to be revealed with full fic

synopsis: when you move away from your hometown at the age of six, you discover that summer in namhae takes the form of a skinny, dimpled boy who loves the sea and holding hands– choi san. but as the summers go past and he goes to seoul for college, bringing back new friends each year, you start to develop feelings that run deeper than just friendship. will your summers of youth become ones of love and dreams, or will they end in pain and heartbreak?

a/n: surprise!! we’re actually using full stops and paragraphs for once! full fic will be released in exactly one week so enjoy these crumbs until then

you’re all sitting on a patchwork of picnic blankets and beach towels spread around the small fire that san has constructed, now experienced from having made one three years in a row. haneul shares the towel with you on one side and yunho on your other.

dinner had been greasy meat grilled by wooyoung’s skilled hands paired with cheap alcohol that made you all wince when it went down. it had been finished off with skewered marshmallows– the most vital part of the night, as mingi had fervently reminded everyone.

someone had then suggested a round of ‘truth or dare’, which most definitely did not stop at one round. the flushed cheeks and tipsy slurs not only made the dares increasingly bizarre, but it made everyone daring enough to actually do them.

but as the night had continued on, the outlandish dares slowly trickled off and more of you picked to answer truth questions. with the mellowing ambience of the campfire and the clearing buzz of alcohol in your systems, it was only a matter of time before the night fizzled into calm.

“mingi,” haneul directs her question at the taller, “ if you were to date one of us excluding me, who would it be?”

his eyes dart from her to you and then to every single one of his friends.

“i’d date you all,” he shrugs. “but if i had to pick one person, then probably yunho, since he’s been there for me from day one.”

yunho knocks shoulders with him appreciatively whilst joking, “your parents would love to hear that answer.”

you spot san and wooyoung cringing at the thought and you’re reminded of snippets of a conversation about surfing as a distraction and escape from home.

“seonghwa, truth or dare?” mingi asks, moving the game on to the next person.

“truth.”

“if you had to pick between love and friendship, which one would it be?”

seonghwa hums for a while, watching the dancing lick of flames.

“i think it depends on the situation, because in the end, they’re not that much different from each other. in love there is friendship, and in friendship there is love. it’s impossible to say that one is more important than the other.”

there’s a collective boo as he skirts around the question, but you all understand where he’s coming from.

it still doesn’t stop san from retorting, “the whole point is to pick one.”

seonghwa chuckles and downs half a shot to appease the other of his apparent half answer, then tosses the same question at him.

“what about you, then?”

much to his disappointment, san actually has an answer.

“i would probably choose love. i think you’re right in saying you can’t separate love and friendship, but the thing that sets a romantic relationship apart is being in love,” he muses. “it’s hard to find friends you love, but it’s even harder to find a friend you fall in love with, so i would probably hold onto that no matter what.”

a few of you subconsciously nod along, words resonating with yourselves.

haneul nudges you curiously, “what do you think?”

you relax into her side as you slowly formulate a cohesive answer from your thoughts.

“i think i would choose love, too. i’ll admit it’s a much more difficult relationship than friendship and it often requires sacrifices to be made…it can even mean having to let go of somebody completely.”

hongjoong glances at you, guilt pricking at his chest.

“but at the same time,” you continue, “when you love somebody that much, sacrifice becomes something you want to give and are willing to offer to the other person, and you develop a depth of understanding, connection and intimacy strong enough to overcome anything that isn’t always possible with friendship.”

“you and san are both such gross romantics,” haneul pretends to gag.

“yeah, shoot us for it,” you poke her in the side. “wooyoung, truth or dare?”

“since everyone’s picking truth…truth.”

“who’s someone you’re sorry towards or thankful for?”

he whines indignantly, “why are we suddenly getting so personal,” but proceeds to think about his answer seriously.

“if i’m honest, i’m sorry towards everyone. i know there are times i fall short as a friend and make mistakes, but you all always forgive me and embrace my imperfections so graciously. sometimes it makes me wonder if i even deserve you guys.”

there are immediate noises of protest and wooyoung smiles, waving away their words of objection because he knows that he’s wrong. it’s just that knowing doesn’t always stop him from feeling a certain way.

“and of course, what i’m sorry for goes hand in hand with what i’m thankful for. but i’m also especially thankful for y/n,” he reveals.

your body reacts instantly to his unexpected answer, blood rushing towards your cheeks and ears as he looks at you appreciatively.

“i haven’t known you for as long as most of the other boys, but i’ve seen how happy and vibrant they all are whenever they return to seoul or whenever they talk about you. and i can definitely see why, now. you make them happy– you make us happy.”

mingi clears his throat, jumping in to add to the younger’s answer, “when i’m here in namhae with you, with everybody, it feels like home.”

a home that he’s never really had until yunho, san, you, and the rest of the boys came along.

“so thank you for giving me a home here,” mingi looks at you earnestly.

if he were sitting closer, you would reach over and squeeze his hand reassuringly.

“no matter how many years go by, you’ll always have a home here,” you tell him instead.

“and the rest of us?” yunho jokes, lightly slapping your knee where your legs have slowly made their way into his lap over the night.

“you all have a home here,” you amend.

because namhae is not the same without san, and namhae is not the same without the rest of your friends, either.

you continue asking each other questions, even after midnight has long ticked past and haneul has retired back to the beach house for some sleep. nobody wants the night to end, because despite already having been attached to each other’s hips all summer, the time you are spending now around the campfire is different.

life slows down and the nine of you are the only ones to exist along with the stars and the ocean waves.

“you know what we should do?” wooyoung pipes up when you are all quietly watching the fire.

he grins, “we should do that thing where we shout at the ocean.”

“just…straight up scream?” hongjoong frowns.

a smile starts to spread across san’s face as he understands wooyoung’s vision.

“no, like our dreams. regrets. confessions,” san elaborates, making a move to stand and brushing the sand off his shorts.

seonghwa questions, “are we really doing this?” and yet he stands up as well.

“when will we ever get a chance to do this again?”

one by one, you all get up on your feet and wander down the beach closer towards the water. it’s silent, save for the crash of waves, while you eye each other and wait for somebody to start it off.

yunho clears his throat, then yells his next words from the very depths of his chest, “i want to become a famous choreographer!”

there are shared giggles at the striking contrast in volume after hours of low, heartfelt conversation, but it’s enough to fill the rest of you with courage and desire to do the same.

“i want my parents to accept that i won’t be a lawyer like they wanted me to be!” yeosang calls out.

mingi takes a huge breath with his entire body, “i hope i’ll win the lottery one day!”

you all break out into laughter, happiness and vigour running high through your veins. it definitely feels a little silly and a little childish, but is that not the charm of living in the prime years of your youth and spending it with your friends?

reservations now completely thrown to the wind, the boys holler and yell both serious and unserious aspirations with their entire soul, cupping the sides of their mouths with their hands to carry their voices further out across the waters. you watch them with deep affection and tenderness and your eyes suddenly start to well up with the intensity of your emotions.

thank you for showing me what love feels like.

you can continue to love them as friends, and that is already more than you could ever ask for.

taking a deep inhale of the chill of emerging dawn and blinking away the blur in your eyes, you join the boys and yell your heart out to the ocean. your screams blend together into a symphony of dreams and hopes; the swell of the chorus and the pinnacle of the movie.

and even though you’re all half-delirious from the lack of sleep, hair ruffled and mismatched pajamas wrinkled, it feels like anything and everything is possible in this moment.

from here on, it’s the nine of you against the world and whatever it may bring.

apply for taglist | comment below to be tagged for this fic only

@thecarnivaloflies @binchanluvrr @iykyunho @ppprimary @hwas-housewife

@itza-meee @lavishloving @okshu @mizumigi @everythingboutkpop

@ayytease @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @hongjoongsprincess @booyoungie @green-agent

@darkmentalitystarfish-blog @taytayy178 @babymbbatinygirl @oddracha @sourkimchi

@itstheghostofmypast @kiki277 @kibs-and-bits @mlysalt @jjoongstar

@aaa-sia @nollamuumialaaksossa @skz1-4-3 @minkilicious @veebyvee

@ddeonghwva @delulu18 @teenyfinds @shakalakaboomboo @hxpelessxcean

@fureastel @seomisaho

[seeingivy]

bad blood

actor!ryomen sukuna x f!reader

**part of my dream girl fic

songs mentioned: bad blood by taylor swift and obsessed by olivia rodrigo

--

--

“are you of the opinion that all PR is good PR?” 

sukuna can tell that it’s not the time for jokes. that much is obvious to him from the exasperated looks on everyone’s faces at his ill-timed comment – at nanami pinching the bridge of nose, yuuji shooting him an irritated look (with a whisper of a smile on his face), and his manager shoyo’s eyes pinched shut in frustration. 

“i would be inclined to think that, but sukuna is over party trending for the past three hours is giving me a run for my money here.” shoyo responds. 

sukuna diverts his eyes back to the television, shoyo’s computer projecting the trending hashtag onto the screen, and his fingers darting to refresh every few seconds with another set of irritating tweet about him. sukuna’s gotten the hint from the first three, but he has a sneaking inkling that shoyo’s doing this part just to rub it in his face – that it’s his way of saying i told you so without explicitly doing so. 

shoyo was interesting in that way. managers were interesting in that way. 

sukuna wondered to himself how many other careers had these types of dynamics, with “mentors” who served as stand-in parents. telling someone what to do, what not to do – in attempts to guide them from right or wrong – that almost never worked in his case. 

his gut instinct tells him that almost every single profession does. but it also tells him that the other managers can’t be half as annoying as the special spot that entertainment managers take up. 

at the very least, he can appreciate the take that shoyo has on his position. like a firm, strict father figure. he spares no warmth for him – just the way sukuna likes it. 

“so what are we going to do? can we just ignore it?” sukuna asks. 

it’s a loaded question. 

what can you do when you might have possibly tanked every attempt at an entertainment career before it even starts? 

sukuna’s first manager, starla, taught him three simple facts about the entertainment industry. among other things.

in particular, that the warmth was something that sukuna needed to run far, far away from. 

first – attention is hard to attain. anyone can audition to act in a show, but only one person gets picked. you can be the best in the game but it doesn’t matter unless someone looks at you. 

second – once you have it, attention is hard to maintain. if someone takes the time to watch, who’s to say that they’re ever going to watch you again? anyone can be a one hit wonder, but it takes greater skill to stay relevant, to keep people interested in what you’re putting out. 

and third. reputation is everything. it’s best practice to avoid becoming a contrarian. it’s social suicide to your career. 

it seems that sukuna might have nipped the first two in the bud, by accidentally becoming a contrarian. again. after so narrowly missing it the first time. 

that’s the thing that’s the most frustrating in his opinion. that sukuna did almost nothing out of the sorts, that he had followed every single prim and proper rule he could have after his first few tumbles – and that this time, he very simply became a contrarian for dumping the wrong girl at the wrong time. 

sukuna had made his own additions to the facts as time went on. especially after he was dropped by his old manager, promptly when he turned twenty-three. 

lessons that he learned on his own. this situation alone added three to his list. 

first – do not date the daughter of an industry titan. who has a loving fanbase that will attack you if the two of you break up. 

second – do not crack jokes about good and bad PR when you’ve inadvertently created a mess for almost everyone around you. 

and third – tread lightly the week before the biggest break of your career. things move so fast that they’re in absolute shambles before you know it. 

“there’s nothing you can do besides follow the script that the PR team gave you. keep questions about aimee to a minimum at the event tonight. deflect to the show and only the show.” 

sukuna gives shoyo a mock salute. he still doesn’t find it funny. 

in fact, sukuna can tell that he’s had exactly enough for this meeting, marked by the almost immediate exodus he makes from the room, with nanami following in tow. nanami shoots him an apologetic smile over his shoulder as he exits and it’s one that sukuna can appreciate. 

“you know, i really do question your taste in women.” yuuji states. 

sukuna rolls his eyes. 

“you question everyone’s taste in women.” sukuna deadpans. 

yuuji gives him a laugh – the one that he had been holding in from earlier – and smacks him hard against the shoulder. sukuna can feel the pressure that he was trying to ignore compounding in his head, as he sinks down into the couch. 

“i’m being serious though. i just don’t understand what you see in these girls. none of these relationships really have a fighting chance, which at this point, you almost have to be doing on purpose. i know you’re not that dumb.” 

sukuna shrugs. he can tell that he’s being baited into having a conversation, a conversation that he doesn’t want to have, and makes a mental note to yuuji later that he shouldn’t lay it on so thick. 

“your point is?” sukuna mutters. 

“i’m not trying to make a point. i’m trying to understand why you’re so…so keen on pursing things you know won’t work out. it’s almost like you don’t want it to work out for you.” 

“i don’t know what you’re talking about. you sound like an idiot.” 

yuuji shakes his head, almost like he’s giving him a sentencing. trying to tell him, making it a point that he’s been caught red handed, that he has to give into the conversation.

“don’t tell me you’re really not trying in earnest because of what happened?” 

sukuna can feel his frustration coming to a head, right in the center of his forehead. it always felt like feelings were concentrated there, right in that sensitive part of his head that made him rush to anger. 

“it’s not about that.” 

yuuji takes the hint. he jumps over the line as often as he can, but won’t push any farther. 

“i just think that you should give things a real, earnest try. i know that none of us can really understand what happened, but…but that doesn’t mean that it’s going to happen every time. you…you shouldn’t be happy that you’re not trying to find love for real.” 

sukuna clicks his tongue in his cheek. 

“and who said i was doing that?” 

yuuji sighs. 

“you’re always the same you know. you never try for real because you’re scared you’re going to strike out. you….you still…you’re still afraid to pursue someone you actually like because you think…” 

yuuji doesn’t finish the sentence. but sukuna knows the answer, because he’s said it before. 

you’re afraid to pursue someone you actually like because you think they’ll realize there’s nothing to like about you. 

--

--

“do you ever think about pushing yourself creatively?” 

you wonder how many times someone can ask the same question, worded differently. 

in mimi’s case, you’ve reached a whopping count of six. categorically organized – three times while you were out doing your morning coffee, twice over dinner, and today marked a new first,  while writing music at the piano. 

each question exactly the same, every response exactly the same. 

“no. i want to stay exactly the same for the rest of my life.” you deadpan. 

your dry humor earns you a laugh from mimi. in all fairness, it almost always does, because it’s very easy to make her laugh. because she’s a person who is easily pleased, very outgoing, who very simply put, enjoys most things. 

“i wouldn’t even be shocked if you said that to me. your google calendar is my very worst nightmare, you know that?” 

“my google calendar is perfectly organized. just as it should be.” 

“i mean. very organized. i am very appreciative that you’re on time to all of our meetings, which is very rare with your generation.” 

“you’re in the same generation as us. you’re not even that much older than me.” you deadpan. 

“okay, but being a mother has aged me like ten years. all of my friends do pilates in their free time, make brunch plans for fun.” 

“i’m your friend. i don’t do pilates in my free time. and i eat at five in the morning on the dot everyday.” 

“yeah. you’ve just take up different odd hobbies, but it’s basically the same thing.” 

you scoff, as you flip the page on the stand of the piano. 

you wonder how often mimi thinks about that type of thing. the life that she used to live. the fact that you could be doing all the things that she couldn’t necessarily do anymore. it makes you wonder if that’s why she’s so adamant. 

“i could be doing drugs you know.” 

“you should be doing drugs!” 

well, that answers your question. 

“i can’t wait to see what your child does in the future. you’ve set such high expectations!” 

mimi rolls her eyes. she’s very easily pleased, very outgoing, and filled with an overwhelming well of patience to counteract your stubbornness. 

it’s granted that she almost never wins, that your firmness in your decision always stands at the end of the day, but it doesn’t mitigate her efforts to try. you’re betting that she’s going to give her very stubborn daughter a run for her money in a few years when she’s older. 

“i don’t mean that you should actually do drugs. or maybe i do. some of my other writers love to drink or smoke weed to get through writer’s block. it just a little shift to push you to some new limits.” 

“perfect. i’ll just try to do some ketamine before my next song so that it sounds better.” 

mimi sighs. 

“i’m not telling you to go do horse tranquilizers. i’m stating a very simple fact, that you tend to gravitate towards what is comfortable for you. in your personal life, in your friends, in your songwriting. you’ve found a sound that you work great with, themes that resonate with people. but you’ve been stuck there, right where you know people want you. it wouldn’t hurt to try pushing the limits here and there.” 

you scoff. 

“you sound like a shitty inspirational quote.” 

mimi shakes her head. 

“i often find that stubbornness to approach new things at the end of the day creates a sort of resentment towards anything that stimulates new growth. and keeps you stuck exactly where you are currently. stagnant.” 

you don’t like the evaluation. the sentencing that she’s given you, that she’s been giving you for the past few months. 

that you aren’t going anywhere. 

you not liking it doesn’t make it any less true. but her saying it over and over again doesn’t propel you into doing anything about it either. 

“and what if i fail to do this whole moving thing you’re talking about?” you jest. 

mimi pinches her lips in a line. 

“then it proves to me that you’re just approaching this entire thing wrong. you’re not winning an award, you’re writing a song. it’s not an examination that you’re completing, it’s just something you’re trying to say.” 

you give her a dry smile. 

“and what if no one wants to hear what i have to say?” 

“that’s where you and i will disagree. i fear people are on the edge of their seats waiting for it.” 

you snort. 

“are you not a fan of me sticking it to idiots like jake nicholson and aimee lynch?” 

mimi gives you a smug grin. 

“a huge fan. but i can tell that you’ve got something else under the surface that’s dying to be let out.” 

“i suppose that’ll just have to wait for today.” you respond. 

mimi shrugs. 

“i’ll try again tomorrow.” she affirms. 

you’re not sure why she tries. you’re still going to say no. 

--

sukuna’s manager’s strategy was very simple. all he had to do was save face for a week – a week until the show came out. tell people to watch the premiere on the red carpet, throw in an anecdote about filming here and there, and that was that. 

granted, his job wasn’t exactly hard. the ensemble cast did most of the work, satoru’s loud voice combined with how energetic yuuji is, allowed him to slip through the cracks and make it inside the venue without any unsavory questions about aimee. 

sukuna looks across the room to where the two of them are standing near the bar, glasses of ice in their hand, satoru no doubt flicking his charm and stupid pickup lines at everyone. he understood the strategy – that sukuna having the opportunity to talk created a greater risk for him to say something he shouldn’t – but it just made the event boring for him. 

sukuna hated being on the sidelines. 

quite literally the sidelines, because the table he was currently occupying was pushed against the wall. he would retreat back to the main table in the center when the two of them returned, but judging by how loud they were laughing, it didn’t seem like it was going to be any time soon. 

“excuse me.” 

sukuna’s thrown out of his train of thought by the voice, only to find he’s accompanied by two girls at his side. sukuna inches his glass of soda closer to him, noting the sparky stars gleaming on their eyelids, accompanied with layers of beaded bracelets on their wrists. 

fans. sukuna’s found his in. 

“can i help you?” sukuna asks. 

the two girls look at each other, a nervous laugh escaping their lips, as they squeeze their intertwined hands together. he prays to god they’re not here for aimee. 

“are you ryomen sukuna?” 

sukuna smiles, looping his elbow across the back of the chair, and smiling. there’s no distaste in their voice – so they most likely aren’t. he’s won. 

“sure am. who might you be?” sukuna asks. 

“we’re addison and abigail.” they respond. 

sukuna uses his free hand, gesturing for them to take the free chairs across from him. he watches as they both widen their eyes, stumbling knees hitting the bottom of the table as he readjusts and leans back. 

interviews and networking he wasn’t allowed to do. that much was clear. but talking to fans caused no trouble, and it wasn’t explicitly off limits.

it gave him time to do what he did best. charm people. 

“addison and abigail. to what do i owe the pleasure?” sukuna asks. 

“we don’t want to take up any of your time.” abigail starts. 

“really, we’re sure you’re quite busy. this is a big event and all and you probably have to do interviews and all that.” addison adds. 

sukuna grins. 

“i’ll always make time for you.” 

he watches as their eyes widen, abigail’s lips pinched shut together by the bluntness in his statement, as he lifts his glass and presses it to his lips. 

“i have a question.” sukuna states.

“anything!” addison replies. 

her response is too fast. so fast that sukuna can almost clock that she’s realized that it’s too fast – that she’s embarrassed at how eager she was to respond. he shoots her a kind smile in response, before leaning forward and bracing his forearms against the table. 

“how did the two of you sneak in here? secret boyfriend let you in?” sukuna asks. 

the two of them offer him an awkward laugh, slightly releasing their shoulders, as they lift their hands and very adamantly gesture the opposite. 

“not at all. we got selected to attend the event through the fan program.” abigail responds. 

sukuna smirks. 

“here for me?” sukuna asks. 

the two of them widen their eyes, almost like they’ve been caught in an awkward situation. because they’re very obviously not here for him. 

the fan invites were given for the singers and affiliated studios. and he’d be caught dead before singing live in front of an audience. 

“i’m so sorry. i don’t mean to…” 

sukuna immediately retreats. 

“you do realize that i’m not a singer, right?” sukuna asks. 

“what?” abigail asks. 

“i don’t sing. there’s no way that you could be here for me.” sukuna clarifies. 

the two of them breathe a sigh of relief, abigail giving him a jokingly irritated glare as he shoots the two of them a smile. 

“relax. i’m just pulling your leg. it’s all in good fun. we can take a picture and everything, whatever you want.” sukuna responds. 

the two of them breathe a sigh of relief. 

“really?” she asks. 

sukuna nods. 

“that’s so sweet, thank you so much. we have a friend who’s a really big fan, so we were trying to get her a signed shirt.” 

“a signed shirt it is.” sukuna responds, noting that they reach into their bag with the shirt and marker prepared. 

“oh my god. i thought you were….you were going to be a diva or something.” abigail responds. 

“me? a diva?” sukuna jokes. 

“you wouldn’t believe it. god, some people can be so rude. one time, aimee lynch got us…” 

addison’s quick to respond, shoving her elbow into her side to gesture for her to be quiet. sukuna narrow their eyes at the two of them, before rolling her eyes. 

sukuna, in the split second, debates if he should respond. if it would go against the deal he made – to be quiet, to not cause any noise – because they could go running and post about it on twitter.

he decides against his better judgment, only because it’s potently clear they’ve been terrorized by aimee before. 

“got you kicked out of an event?” sukuna asks. 

“yeah…” addison mumbles. 

“she does that often. it’s a whole load of shit. i’m glad you’re here.” sukuna responds. 

“yeah. we were just really upset because we were actually supposed to meet y/n that day. we had tweeted to her that we got kicked out before we made it to the meet and greet and her team organized a whole like facetime call and sent us merch, but it was super annoying.” abigail responds. 

sukuna nods, only because he knows all too well, that it’s exactly in her character to kick fans out of events. their “desperation” always got on her nerves. 

“well, i hope you get to meet her tonight. she is here, right?” sukuna asks. 

“yeah. she invited us personally since we missed out last time.”

sukuna smiles. 

“that’s sweet. i hope you get to meet her later.” sukuna responds. 

--

--

there’s a patterned knock on the door of your dressing room. two fast, two slow, two fast. it’s accompanied by the door swinging open and the reflection of megumi standing in the mirror with a cup of iced coffee in his hand. 

you shoot him an excited smile, apologetically shooing away your hair and makeup team from the chair, to get up and greet him. 

“coffee? for moi?” you ask, exaggerating every syllable. 

megumi rolls his eyes, placing the cold cup into the palm of your hand, as you shoot him a smile.

megumi hates when you exaggerate the syllables – which is precisely the reason that you do it. you have an inkling that he secretly loves it, because he’s a secret fan of your antics. 

“figured you needed it. you look like a hag.” megumi responses. 

you snort down a laugh, as you take a sip from the overly sweet coffee. 

“hag is a new one. you’ve always had such a way with words, my love.” you joke. 

you return back to your chair, gesturing for him to take the free one at your side, as you reach for your phone and read through the last texts you got from mimi. all confirmations – that your guitar and band have arrived, that you’re all good to go at the end of the hour. 

“is romeo here?” you ask. 

you can see megumi’s irritated expression out of the corner of your eye, accompanied with a pink flush that creeps up his neck. 

“what’s his name again? yuki?” you joke. 

“yuuji.” megumi corrects, his voice almost stern. 

“okay, relax. pipe it down three notches, juliet.” 

megumi lifts his hand, awkwardly rubbing it against the back of his neck, as you drop your phone in your lap and narrow your eyes at him. 

“what did he do today?”

“you don’t care.” megumi mumbles. 

“and that hasn’t stopped you from telling me in the past.” 

everyday, for the past eight months, you received a barrage of texts from megumi. ranging across every emotion in the human bandwidth, but always about the same thing. 

his new co-star. how great his hair look, what text he sent him that morning, how his skin looked perfect in the light. you would nip that type of dialogue from anyone else in the bud. but megumi wasn’t anyone else. 

“but you’re asking. which means you can’t complain, because you basically warranted it out of me.” 

you roll your eyes. 

“yeah, yeah.” 

“he got us matching pins for press this week. they’re like little cartoon versions of us. but he also got one for our other co-star nobara, so it doesn’t really count.” 

you shrug. 

“but he still got you one. so it does count. that’s cute.” you respond.

“but she has one too.” 

“but did he give it to you as a group or individually?” you ask. 

“individually.” megumi responds. 

you smile. 

“exactly. it means something different when it’s individually.” you respond. 

“you’re delusional.” megumi responds. 

you roll your eyes. 

“you could benefit from being a little delusional, drama queen.”  

“and then when we were coming here, i was telling him that you were going to be here and he got super excited. he remembered that i always used to get you coffee before your first show so he actually stopped our car and made sure that i was able to get some from you since you’re performing tonight.” 

you grin. 

“not technically my first show, but i appreciate the effort. I love him already. especially if he’s so passionate about my caffeine addiction.” 

“it’s from his coffee shop that he works at with his brother. they used to work there together when they were younger and like…he was telling me all about it. how the two of them used to work there after school and that the owners were like their second parents. they almost went down under a few years ago but they both had enough acting money so they invested. he was even introducing me to them and shit. like fully introducing me to people he views as family.” 

you nod. 

“wow, juliet. when’s the wedding?” you ask. 

“shut up.” megumi responds. 

“but really, that’s actually very sweet. he seems like a great guy.” 

“he is a great guy. he wants to meet you too, you know?” megumi responds. 

“that would be against your better judgment. i’m going to tell him all about your little crush. and propose marriage on your behalf like you’re my property in the 18th century or something.” you respond. 

“your jokes never get funnier.” megumi deadpans. 

“and yet you’re still here.” 

“his brother is here too. the one who used to date aimee.” 

you widen your eyes. 

“poor guy. it’s probably a blood bath out there for him.” 

“he made it through press unscathed, but they’re telling him to keep a low profile. but yuuji’s all worried because he tends to get erratic and take things into his own hands sometimes.” 

“what are they saying again?” you ask. 

“fans are mad because the report that went out said sukuna dumped her or something.” 

you snort. 

“is that even bad when she was like basically cheating on him the whole time?” you ask. 

“don’t think he knows that.” 

you shake your head. 

“really?” 

megumi shrugs. 

“i get the impression he didn’t care about the relationship too much.” 

you nod. 

“well, then my song won’t hurt his feelings too bad when he finds out they used to date.” 

you push up out of the chair, gesturing to your outfit as megumi gives you an approving nod. you link your arms together, pushing out of the door onto the floor of the venue, and continue your conversation in lowered voices. 

“do you want me to punch jake?” megumi asks.

“and ruin your pretty little baby hands? i would never.” 

megumi rolls his eyes, as the lights dim, and the two of you direct your eyes to the stage. it’s a long introduction, all of the producers and affiliates taking the time to thank everyone for attending. you’re performing at the end of the hour, which gives you enough time to zone this out and focus on the song. 

“our very first performance is from one of our affiliates at dancing lady studios – aimee lynch with guest star jake nicholson.” 

you and megumi widen your eyes as you turn to look at each other, as you all but crush megumi’s arm in your grasp. the two of them walk out onto the stage – and you note that her sparkly silver is almost identical to the outfit you had been wearing on tour for the past few months.

and that jake’s using the guitar that you gifted him on his birthday. 

you know she’s doing it on purpose. that she knows that about you – that you’ll connect dots and draw conclusions – to exactly what she’s trying to do. 

piss you off. 

Did you think we'd be fine? Still got scars on my back from your knife So don't think it's in the past These kind of wounds they last and they last Now did you think it all through? All these things will catch up to you And time can heal, but this won't So if you come in my way, just don't

Oh, it's so sad to think about the good times You and I

megumi leans down, voice quiet as he whispers in your ear. 

“this is going to do rounds on kids bop.” 

you snort. 

“they would be so lucky.” you respond back. 

'Cause baby, now we got bad blood You know it used to be mad love So take a look what you've done 'Cause baby, now we got bad blood (hey!) Now we got problems And I don't think we can solve 'em You made a really deep cut And baby, now we got bad blood (hey!)

“did you know they were going to do this?” megumi asks. 

you shake your head. 

“there’s no need to worry. i’m always prepared.” 

--

“unless i’m not mistaken, you didn’t catch any strays tonight. how can one be so lucky?” shoko jokes. 

“we can’t all be the chosen ones.” sukuna responds back. 

“the night is still young. a girl can only dream.” shoko responds. 

sukuna rolls his eyes before smiling at her and trying to shake shoko’s grasp off of him, as he turns his attention back to the stage. with the event in full swing, he was allowed to return to the central table, only because the group of them around him to keep track of him. 

shoyo’s doing, he was sure. 

but he’s sure that shoyo was somewhere fast asleep in his bed right now, having the most restful nap he’s taken in months. sukuna’s inclined that he’ll feel the same way tonight when he goes to bed, with the promise of no scolding from his team since he did, in fact, not catch aimee’s wrath tonight. 

it was attributed to someone else tonight. he’s not exactly sure who, but at this point, all he can do is be thankful that it wasn't him. 

“who were you talking to earlier?” shoko asks. 

“fans who got invited to the event.” sukuna responds. 

“poor girls. they got assaulted by the smell of your cologne and had to lose brain cells by talking to you?” shoko jokes. 

sukuna scoffs. 

“that already happened when you walked into the room. don’t kid yourself, ieiri.” 

“you should learn some manners. is that any way to talk to a woman?” shoko asks. 

“can you guys shut the fuck up?” 

shoko and sukuna turn their heads to the left to find satoru standing there, eyes razor focused and glued to the stage. 

“what stick is up your ass?” shoko asks. 

“it’s y/n’s turn to perform.” satoru seethes. 

shoko snorts. 

“don’t tell me that your dream girl is in attendance? how are you even standing straight right now?” shoko asks. 

“pure adrenaline, bitch.” satoru responds. 

sukuna and shoko widen their eyes as they share a look – a quiet communication that satoru’s being more erratic than normal and to leave him be – as they turn their attention back to the stage. 

the bright lights shine red on the stage as the visuals go up, a twisting and turning illusion against the back screen. there’s a rising platform in the center and all he gets a glimpse of are sparkly star tights. 

La-da-da-da, da-da-da, la-da-da-da-da La-da-da-da, da-da-da

If I told you how much I think about her You'd think I was in love And if you knew how much I looked at her pictures You would think we're best friends

'Cause I know her star sign, I know her blood type I've seen every movie she's been in and, oh god, she's beautiful And I know you loved her, and I know I'm butthurt But I can't help it, no, I can't help it

I'm so obsessed with your ex (uh-huh) I know she's been asleep on my side of your bed And I can feel it I'm starin' at her like I wanna get hurt And I remember every detail you have ever told me So be careful, baby

I'm so obsessed with your ex (ah) Yeah, I'm so obsessed with your ex (ah) La-da-da-da, da-da-da

sukuna can feel his heart pounding in his throat. he grabs yuuji by the shoulder, yanking him close from the fabric of his shirt, and whispers. 

“who is that?” 

“were you born under a rock? that’s y/n.” 

sukuna watches as you skip around the stage, bathed in the dark red lights surrounding the stage and the visuals with you in the background. 

maybe sukuna was born under a rock. he was one thousand percent sure that he would remember something like this. 

“the guy that was up with aimee earlier. she’s jake’s ex-girlfriend. they were singing about her.” yuuji whispers. 

“is she singing about aimee?” sukuna asks. 

yuuji nods. 

“they have some weird twisted history. especially with jake, i think. him and aimee have had eyes for each other since like…forever.” 

he watches as you walk over to the left side of the stage, crouching down into the view of the camera and right across from where jake and aimee are sitting, irritated looks painted on their faces. 

sukuna notes that you're looking right at them. full blown, direct eye contact.

Is she friends with your friends? Does she give great head?  Do you think about her? No, I'm fine, it doesn't matter, tell me Is she easy-going? Never controlling? Well-traveled? Well-read? Oh god, she makes me so upset

I'm so obsessed with your ex (ah) She's been asleep on my side in your bed (ah, whoa) I'm so obsessed with your ex (god, she makes me so upset, ah) I'm so obsessed with your, with your ex

sukuna’s frustration compounds again. 

because he can’t simply understand how he’s the one getting publicly punished, when aimee’s been in love with some other guy the entire time. and that knowing her, she most definitely leaked the news about how she was blindsided on purpose, just to ruin his career. 

“if i was y/n, i’d just punch them both in the face. then start dating one of her boyfriends or something.” shoko states.

the idea comes to sukuna almost instantly. and he makes a mental note to apologize to shoyo later.  

--

when you get off the stage and retreat back to your table near the wall, you quickly scan through your texts from mimi. 

[mimi]: Three versions slated for release. Could potentially block you getting the #1 spot. 

[mimi]: Fingers crossed, but things are faring over well. People love the song.  

[mimi]: Obviously. 

you set the phone face down at the table and sink down into your chair. you don’t even get a second to think because before you know it, someone’s slid into the chair right across from you, hunched forward into your space over the small chair. 

pink hair, arms littered with tattoos. there was something oddly familiar about him. 

“you’re just the girl i wanted to see.” he states. 

you narrow your eyes at him. you’re unsure which one he is. producers trying to poach for their studio, people looking to network, or the perverts that somehow get let into events like this. 

“is that right?” you ask, tone dry. 

the guy offers you an over-eager nod, accompanied with a glimmering smirk. 

he’s attractive and you can tell from the look on his face that he knows it. for some reason, you’re almost positive that he makes sure of it. toned muscles, hair so perfect that it has to be styled. to the point where it feels calculated.

you lean forward, placing your cheek in the palm of your hand as you smile right back at him. he leans forward almost immediately. it was almost too easy. 

“i don’t think we’ve ever met before. i’d think i’d remember that.” you respond. 

“only in my dreams.” 

you fight the urge to scoff. you’re sure that one worked out well for him in the past. It's the only reason someone would say something so corny and mean it.

you hold your hand out to him, noting that he extends the handshake for far too long. 

“y/n.”

“ryomen sukuna.” 

that’s where you knew him from. this was megumi’s co-star. romeo’s brother. 

“from jujutsu kaisen, right?” you ask. 

sukuna gives you a glimmering grin. you note that he has a dimple on the left side. 

“know everything about me, don’t you?” 

you snort. 

“sure do. you’ve got me all figured out, sweetheart.” you deadpan. 

sukuna leans back, narrowing his eyes at the comment. you can tell that he’s rethinking what to say next. 

“i know about the show because of megumi.” you clarify. 

“we go way back.” sukuna responds. 

you lean back against the chair and cross your arms over your chest. you've got him right where you want him.

“really?” you ask. 

sukuna nods. 

“when did you meet him?” 

“elementary school. he was always the quiet type.” 

sukuna pauses. 

“speaking of types, what’s yours?” 

you fight the urge to laugh. there was no way he could truly be this forward. but then again, you figure his deep urge to get back at aimee right now was probably inhibiting his good judgement at the current moment. 

“why do you ask?” 

“you’re a smart girl. i know you can figure it out.” 

you take the bait. 

“i’ll give it a shot.” you respond. 

“that’s my girl.” 

you smile before leaning forward to make sure that he hears you properly. 

“your name is ryomen sukuna. indie actor for the most part, but you recently got signed on as part of the lead ensemble for mappa’s new show, jujutsu kaisen. you’ve gotten pretty far considering all things, which i’m sure comes as a byproduct of the whole charm bit that you do and from what i’ve heard, some pretty decent acting. and while you’ve done mostly well, you made the brutal mistake of becoming a social pariah by dancing with the tabloid devil, aimee lynch. you’ve ended up on their bad side and now, in some weird type of way – i’ll admit, i’m not exactly sure how – are trying to elicit my help to get you back in people’s good graces. by lying, of course.” 

you watch as sukuna’s eyes widen, before he leans back, his cheeks the slightest shade of pink as he swallows hard. and you give him your sincerest smile before pulling out your phone and digging for the photo in your favorites. 

of you and megumi in grade school, standing hand in hand. 

“i think i’d remember if the human version of pinkie pie from my little pony was running around my elementary school, sukuna.” you state. 

and shockingly enough, he only gives you a smile in response – like he’s almost delighted by the fact that what you've just read caught him in a lie– as he sticks his tongue in the side of his cheek and makes a clicking sound. 

“got me all figured out, don’t you dollface?” 

“you’re painfully obvious, like most men. i’ll see you around, sukuna.” you respond, as you turn on your heel to walk away. 

but he’s almost too fast with it, slithering his hand down from your elbow to your wrist, pulling slightly to beckon you to turn back. and he gives you an…a more earnest smile this time as he raises your knuckles to his lips, and leaves a kiss in between the pointer in the middle. 

“that’s a promise, sweetheart.” 

--

--

next part linked here

an: hi!!!! welcome back to the dream girl universe - I thank you for your patience <3 i'll be using the old dream girl taglist, but let me know if you would like to be taken off!!!

taglist: @porridgesblog @platrom @k0z3me @sugu-love @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg @chilichopsticks @timmytimmytuckyy @dreamxiing @mamamamamarga @skunabby @meisque @hoseokslefteyebrow @thepurpleempath @shrimphutao4ever @monic19 @najaemism @haitanibros0007 @catobsessedlady @luvs4kim @ri-sa20 @thejujvtsupost @invisible-mori @satoruslipbalm @kyo-kyo1 @telepathicheartss @huhsthccvjh @sxnkuna @w31rdg1rl @lilalia3945 @multiplefandomthings @shotovhs @voids-universe @timetobegone @deeeeexx @livelovelaughisagiyochi @pelicanpizza @cowgirlikets @jeon-blue @phantomasmaniac @yoontaedotin @cowgirlikets @estrella-novella @theauthorunicorn @catastayy @ryumurin @kindadolly @th0tformikasa @r0ckst4rjk @you-always-made-me-blush @leave-rae-alone @lemonnotade @firelordazulaaaa @stuffeddeer

[tddyhyck]

opinions on who in nct would allow another member to watch them fuck you

oh bestie OH BESTIE u know i love voyeurism/exhibitionism

i think mark would almost be too nervous like not about his member seeing you but about them judging his technique you know ,,, he would have to be drunk/high to let that happen,, but if it did happen he would be less nervous about it happening again he would be very “oh well they’ve already seen it once” he would be more of the type to either let you fuck another member and he watches or to secretly fuck you and someone sees before he realizes they do

renjun would be hella confident in his stroke game ,, maybe he and hyuck are bickering about it and renjun is like babe i gotta show him something,,, and he just fucks you and he’s probably talking to hyuck more than you since they’re arguing ,, but to me that would be so hot 😵‍💫😵‍💫

jeno *shakes 8 ball* “highly unlikely” BUT BUT BUT,, i could see him doing this to prove a point like maybe someone was flirting with you or even called you hot to jeno’s face and he’s like wtf,,, so he has to show them you’re his very “see only i can make them feel like this so don’t ever flirt with them again” and he makes you tell his member you belong to him and not them 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

my little pervert hyuck very much so yes,, he’d cum so fast ,,, it doesn’t matter who it is if someone is watching him it’s 10x hotter,, i think he would suggest it for sure he’d probably make a list and try to get every single member to watch at least once,,, gosh he’s so nasty i love him

mr. certified gentleman jaemin i’m so confused about him,, very 50/50 (miss those gorls) i don’t think he would be nervous but i can see him wanting to be private about what he does with you like that’s so special to him and he doesn’t want anyone to ever think of you in a sexual way like that’s his business // at the same time i can see him being into someone watching maybe he’d be more of like let’s film it and i’ll show them later,,, like in the moment he wants to focus on you but after he can show someone only if you want him to

oh oh chenle similar to jeno in the sense that he would do it to prove a point but not in a possessive way but in the renjun way of see i’m so good at fucking ,,, also can see him doing it out of dominance idk if this makes sense but he would get off on someone seeing how submissive you are for him,,, how he can get you to do anything and how humiliating it would be for you

jisung another nervous boy but he is a closeted certified freak,, so he would be down but try to play it cool,, maybe chenle is in the room egging him on like “that’s all you got” “how embarrassing” “i would have made them cum three time by now” and jisung would be red faced but also as hard as he has ever been

[quintessenceofdust88]

Fuck it Friday

I was tagged by @bidisasterevankinard, @agentpeggycartering, @laundryandtaxesworld and @fairytalegonewronga03 (thank you so much lovelies!! ♥) Here's a snippet of chapter 5 of Tsunami Fic!

It’s been three days since the tsunami, and Tommy is finally ready to let Vivie out of his sight for more than ten minutes; they’ve spent pretty much all of their time at home as both her and Sal recover from it all, physically and emotionally. Sal’s been staying with them, and Tommy’s insisting he stays until his medical leave is over in a week.  

But now Tommy needs to go for his first shift since everything happened, and he’s pretty sure Sal is having a harder time with it than Vivie. While his daughter is happily lying on the floor, her socked feet swinging in the air as she colors a piece of paper, his best friend is eyeing Tommy warily from where he’s sitting on the couch, as he ties his shoes. 

“Tommy”, he mutters. “Are you sure you want to do this? You… I won’t be offended if you get a babysitter or take her to someone else, you know? I… I’d understand after…”

Tommy sighs; he’s tried to blow off every single apology Sal sent his way ever since the tsunami. They’re safe, and Vivie is completely fine, and Tommy doesn’t blame Sal for any of it. But that doesn’t mean Sal is convinced, and Tommy’s starting to think he’ll need an extra hand. 

“Vivie?” He calls. 

“Yeah?” She answers, still focused on her drawing. 

“Do you want Daddy to call someone else to take care of you while I work?” Tommy asks, and that makes her raise her head in alarm. 

“Why?! Is Uncle Sal not okay?! Are you feeling bad, uncle Sal?” She rushes to them, throwing herself in Sal’s lap. He wraps his arms around her, a sheepish smile on his face.

“I’m feeling fine, darlin’, don’t you worry about me.” He tells her, ruffling her hair, and she sighs in relief. “Do… you want me to take care of you?” Sal asks, sounding impossibly insecure, and Vivie glares at him in a way that’s eerily reminiscent of Tommy’s own bitchy expression. 

“Duh, uncle Sal, you’re my favorite uncle. You play the best games and you sing Barbie songs with me!” She tells him as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Tommy, in his defense, does his best not to look smug, but he doesn’t think he actually succeeds. As he finishes tying his shoes, he gets up, raising an eyebrow at Sal, who’s glaring at him.

“Well”, Tommy quips, grabbing his car keys. “I guess that settles the matter, doesn’t it? You guys have fun signing Barbie tunes as I go to work. You behave for your uncle, pixie, okay?”

He presses a kiss to Vivie’s forehead, half expecting her to say goodbye to him and cuddle up against Sal. What she does instead is gasp and scramble out of her uncle’s lap, rushing back to her paper. As she grabs it, a healthy amount of glitter falls on the floor, and Tommy doesn’t even want to think about the clean-up. He guesses he could ask Sal to take care of it, but it doesn't seem like a fair thing to the concussed guy. 

“Wait, Daddy!” She says, and then she shoves the card into his hand. “You have to take this!”

Tommy frowns, and looks down at the card. His cheeks instantly blush when he sees the wobbly ‘To: Mr. Evan’ that’s written on the top corner, along with a much neater ‘From: Genevieve’ on the bottom (she’s only five, but she’s already a master at writing her own name, Tommy is proud to say). There’s a very glittery blue heart in the middle, and when Tommy opens the card to take a peak, he sees two sticky figures: Genevieve, holding Marsh, and a bigger one that can only be Evan, based on the blue eyes and the small pink birthmark drawn above one of them.

---

Np (real np cause it's barely Friday for me, and I think it's not Friday anymore for a lot of people hehe) tagging @unhingedangstaddict @littlepaws9 @typicalopposite and whoever else would like to join!! ♥

[ilguna]

☼ clueless (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; with the help of his ex-girlfriend, Finnick realizes that the girl he's been wanting has been the one supporting him.

warnings; swearing,

wc; 1.9k

–

You’ve been friends with Finnick for over a decade now, long before he went into the Hunger Games. However, you’ve never quite seen him go through so many girlfriends in such a short span of time.

You two were next door neighbors in high school, making it impossible to escape him, not that you ever did. You’d hang out during school, and then go right home to do the same thing. And even with all the obstacles that were put in the way, and the time that’s passed, not a single thing has changed between you two. 

While he still goes out of his way to make time for you, considering you to be his best friend. You would drop everything and run, if he asked you to. You know everything there is to know about him, including the details you’d prefer to never hear, and the secrets that he would never tell his girlfriends but wouldn’t dare to hide it from you.

So watching him do this—burn through girl after girl—isn’t him. Finnick’s always been the person that looks for long-term relationships because he would rather settle down than hop from one girl to another. He’s not the image that the Capitol has forced on him. Finnick doesn’t want to be a casanova.

In fact, in the past, you’ve seen him break up with girls solely for the fact that they weren’t looking for anything serious yet, and he wasn’t going to go out of his way to change their minds. Finnick wants a girl that’s ready to spend the rest of their life with him, and will fight to stay together rather than let it fizzle out.

It doesn’t feel that way anymore.

Finnick’s always had a specific type when it comes to girls, but lately it’s been all over the place. It doesn’t matter what they look like, what they’re interested in, or what their personality is. It’s about how they make him feel inside. Every single time there’s a new girl, he swears that he likes them, because he gets that butterfly feeling in his stomach.

It was the case with one of the other victors in District Four, too. This time it was Annie Cresta. You’ve seen her at the reapings, she’s got long brown hair, and the typical sea-green eyes that many here seem to have. 

Finnick told you that it was easier to talk to her, because she understood what it was like to win the Hunger Games. She likes to spend time with him, and she could spend the entire day just being around him. She didn’t mind being around you, either, which a lot of his past girlfriends seem to be put-off by.

She was fun to be around, she wanted to do everything he wanted to do, no questions asked. In the times you were invited along, she went out of her way to include you in conversations, and half the time, Finnick would accidentally get shut out because you two were talking the entire time.

For the first time in several months, you thought that Finnick finally found one that he was going to keep. She seemed to follow most of the ideas that his previous long-term relationships had. He swore up and down that she would be the last one, and you believed him.

They lasted three months. Which doesn’t seem like a lot of time, but compared to the one month curse that he’d been a part of for the past year, it really is a feat. The difference between this break up, and the others, is that he was actually fighting hard to stay with Annie.

Finnick didn’t want to break up with her. When he realized that he was losing feelings, he tried going on more dates with her, spending time with her, buying her gifts. He asked you a couple times what he could do to fix it, and you didn’t have an answer for him.

As much as you hoped that he would stay with Annie so that he’d stop coming to you to cry after his break ups, there was a part of you that was rooting for their downfall the entire time. How could you not? You’ve had a crush on him for years, and he still hasn’t developed feelings for you.

You had your own phase where you dated guys to take your mind off of him, but the truth is that no one will ever know you as well as Finnick does. And you don’t want to go through the effort of teaching someone, when Finnick’s right there.

If you’re being honest, you don’t know how many girlfriends you can stand to hear about, meet and be around. If he’s going to end up breaking up with every single one of them, you don’t want to sit through it. You’ve tried to be supportive as long as you can stand it, but Annie might be your breaking point.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Finnick says, rubbing his face.

“Finnick, have you considered taking a break for a while?” You ask.

Finnick’s sitting on your front porch steps, watching as you water the garden in front of your house. He stops to look at you, “Take a break from what?”

“In general. You’re stressing yourself out, maybe you need some time to sort of your feelings.” You tell him.

And you’re thinking, maybe if he takes some time away from girls, he’ll think about you and what you said. How you’ve been there at his every call, comforting him, letting him sleep over, taking his mind off of things. You don’t know what else you can do for him. On one hand, you want to stop, because you don’t think you’ve ever been more miserable than you are now, but you know that if you stop, you risk losing his trust altogether.

You’d tell him how you feel about him, if it weren’t for the fact that you know he’d shut you down. He wouldn’t even bother hearing you out. He needs to be the one that comes to you, that’s the only way you’d stand a chance with dating him.

Finnick lets out a laugh, shaking his head, “Annie doesn’t think so. She says that I’ve already got it sorted out.”

Your face twists, you glance over at him, waiting for him to tell you more. This’ll be the first that you’re hearing that, and they broke up a few days ago. You thought that he unloaded everything on you already.

“What’d she say?” You ask.

“Forget it.” He mutters, “It’s what I told you yesterday.”

“That’s not true, you’re hiding something.” 

“It’s…” He starts, shaking his head. He ends up with his face back in his hands, and you swear that he’s going to start crying again, but he sighs. “She said something before I left that night.”

“Okay…?” You start watering your grass, hoping to bring it back to life. You think that you need to start over entirely and to spread more seed. That’ll give you a fair chance. “Is it about the other girls you dated? I think you told me that she knew about all of them.”

“It’s not that.” He says, you can see that his face is a slight shade of red, “It’s um—more of the fact of a girl I haven’t dated.”

“If you’re not going to spit it out, then forget about it.” You wave your hand, “I’m not going to try to read your mind, Finnick.”

“It’s not that, I’m just trying to figure out how to say it.” He takes a breath, “You know how Annie and I started fighting?”

“Yeah.”

“It was over you.” He admits.

You stop what you’re doing to look at him, and find that he’s watching you. “Did you really break up with Annie over me? You told me it was a mutual agreement.”

“It wasn’t.” He shakes his head, “Annie broke up with me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this?” You ask, resuming what you were doing, “I mean, that’s nothing new. Half the girls you date end up hating me one way or another, and most of the time it’s cause we’re so close. If that was the case, we could’ve stopped hanging out for a while.”

“It wasn’t for that reason, though. She um…” He clears his throat, “She said that I was comparing her to you too often.”

You squint your eyes at the ground. Why the hell would he do that? “Like, bringing me up in conversation?”

“No.”

You turn off the hose, coiling it up to sit next to your house in a neat pile. You don’t understand what he’s talking about, “I don’t understand.”

“Well, either way, before she made me leave that night, she said, ‘If you wanted a girl like (Y/n) so much, why don’t you just date her?’.” He says.

You take a breath to regulate yourself, because you understand what Annie meant, now. It makes perfect sense with a statement like that, but you’re not entirely sure if Finnick understands. If he was comparing you to her, then that probably means he was insisting for her to act like you in some way.

And if she said that, then that means he’s been thinking about it for almost three days now, deciding if she’s right or not.

You look at him, “Huh.”

“That’s all you have to say?” He asks.

“Well, I mean, it’s a bold statement to make.” You watch him, “But it’s obviously had an impact on you, if you didn’t tell me about it.”

“I was thinking about the other girls I dated and if it applied to them, too.” He tells you.

Oh. You did not think that this was going to be the way things happened.

You make a face, “So?”

“I think Annie’s right.” 

Of course, he’d come to that conclusion, he’s not stupid. You don’t know what you and all those girls had in common. Although, now that you’re thinking about it, it could’ve been anything. It didn’t matter to him , as long as they had some quality of yours, right?

You try to smile, but it doesn’t come out that way, “It’s a shame you don’t like me like that, huh?”

You look away, Finnick lets out a noise, “You knew the entire time, didn’t you?”

“No, I didn’t. I knew that you were acting funny, because you don’t go through girls like you drink water. It’s not who you are.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” He asks, you can see him stand up from your peripheral.

“What was I supposed to say to you?” You ask him, looking over again, “That I’ve been in love with you for years? You would’ve turned me down.”

“You don’t know that.” He says.

“It took Annie for you to realize that you liked me in the first place.” You point out, “So what now?”

“We take it slow.” He leans against the railing, “If you want to.”

“I want you to take more than just a couple of days to think about it.” You murmur, “I don’t want to be a rebound because you don’t have your shit in order.”

“That sounds fair to me.” He says. Neither of you say anything for a long moment, while he watches you finish cleaning up your garden so that you can go inside. When you’re done, he stops you. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I put you through all of that, and I didn’t think about how you might’ve felt.” 

You place your hand on his shoulder, “I hid my feelings for you on purpose, Finnick. Don’t be sorry.”

[wisteria1999]

Okay I need to get this off my chest before discussing anything else about 2.2 (warning: slightly incoherent rambling ahead)

I’m disappointed.

I’m disappointed that once again, Bluepoch has refused to include characters with darker skin. I get that there are lighter skinned people in Brazil, but to not include a single darker skinned character? You can’t even include one? Two of them look like they’ve never gone outside a day in their life they’re so pale!

And you know what? I don’t care if every single new npc in the story is poc. That’s not an excuse to not make any playable characters, the ones given vastly more attention and are more relevant, poc. It’s not and anyone who thinks otherwise is wrong. It’s not a good excuse.

And I see people keep saying “oh, I guess we’ll just have to wait for the next patch” and “well, maybe there will be more storylines in Brazil and more opportunities for poc characters” And that pisses me off! I feel like people keep waiting for representation that is never coming! And I feel like people keep making excuses for Bluepoch, to shield them from very valid criticism.

The fact of the matter is this. The game launched with really only one dark skinned character. Since then, only three other characters with dark skin have been added, all coming from the same patch. Two of these characters are arguably not even dark skinned at all, just a bit tan. And that sucks! The game has almost been out for a year, and yet there are only four dark skinned characters. To me, that feels wrong.

Let me make something clear: I love Reverse 1999. I love the story, I love the characters, I love the events, I love the gameplay. This is not going to make me stop playing the game, and I’m not saying that you should stop either. I still, perhaps foolishly, believe that Bluepoch will eventually pull through and start adding many wonderful characters that respectfully represent many different cultures. I’m just frustrated that they had a chance with this patch to do exactly that, and they didn’t take it. And I don’t blame anyone for being upset by it.

[froggibus]

Your Summer Together - Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Shoko Ieiri

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x gn! reader, Suguru Geto x gn! reader, Shoko Ieiri x gn! reader

Genre: pure fluff hcs

Summary: just some hcs of what your summer would be like while dating one of the core three

CW: established relationship, s2! Shoko, Geto and Gojo, they’re still students at Jujutsu Tech in this, mentions of drinking/smoking

so I think it’s plain to see that JJK2 is rotting my brain rn. shoko’s design is absolute PEAK and I am in love w all three of them. this is meant to take place around 2006 while they’re still students at the academy, but you could probably take it either way. anyway, would love some JJK requests of these three if anyone else has brain rot 😭 also I am now completely caught up on the manga and idk what to do w my life

————

Satoru Gojo:

lots and lots of sweets 

definitely takes you to the arcade so you can watch him set the high score on games 

“babe are you watching? babe pls”

he is CLINGY too

always following you around and practically glued to your side 

whenever one is seen without the other, Geto and Shoko always ask where your “carry on” is

he is the EXPERT at sneaking around too

knows every single place you can make out during the day without getting caught 

and makes a point of using ALL of them

takes refuge in your room whenever he’s done stuff to piss someone off (usually Yaga) 

probably sleeps more in your room than he does in his own 

like to the point your bed always smells like him and there’s always candy wrappers on his nightstand 

gives you lots of random gifts too 

from pretty flowers he found to expensive jewelry and clothes 

just loves to spoil you 

takes you to almost every summer event

fireworks? he’s taking you to the best spot in the city 

expect lots of beach days too 

this man will drag you out every day and make you watch him show off in the water 

"babe babe watch this"

also ice cream dates!! 

being stuck between two flavors so Gojo gets one and you get the other and the two of you share 

really it’s just an excuse for him to have more sugar 

you will be sick to death of him by the end of the summer

Suguru Geto:

expect lots of third wheeling from Gojo

like lots

like you cannot get rid of this man no matter how hard you try 

sneaking around a lot to avoid Gojo 

lots of sleepovers in each others dorms (and hiding from Yaga)

takes you around the city and shows you all of his favorite places too 

expect lots and lots of random dates too

like going to the aquarium and then having sushi??? 

but also plans really cute activities for the two of you 

takes you to places with really good views to watch the sunset 

and plans for you to spend a night in the city just to get away 

doesn’t like the beach but will definitely go if you want to (although he spends the whole day laying in the sand unless you beg him to come in the water)

looks damn fine in a bathing suit too

movie nights w the core three!!

definitely more of a reader and will compare the book to the movie 

and you, Gojo and Shoko will be telling him to shut up

after everyone falls asleep on the couch, definitely starts being more affectionate to you 

also brunch dates!!

this man is a sucker for brunch 

tries to get one last get away with you at the end of the summer too

Shoko Ieiri:

expect lots of teasing from Gojo and Geto 

but dw because there will be absolutely NO third wheeling 

knows every place in the city she can get alcohol + smokes 

takes you to a bunch of cool lowkey places that you’ve never heard of before either 

she’s not a big fan of public events or big crowds, but you can probably convince her to go to a couple

lots of lazy mornings and afternoons together 

also gets away with way more than the other two because she’s way less annoying 

so less sneaking around too

cannot cook to save her life so more often than not you guys go out for food or order take out

staying up way too late + sleeping in together 

makes you watch all of her favorite movies and watches you the whole time to see how you react 

not nearly as horny as the other two but definitely gets some affection in too

you guys go bathing suit shopping and she insists on seeing every single one on you

gets you all flustered with her comments too

not one for the beach but Gojo probably drags everyone out at some point 

she’ll help you apply her sunscreen but will not swim unless you drag her out there 

Gojo probably throws her in at some point and she almost kills that man

she is the cocktail queen!! 

like she will make you the tastiest, coolest, prettiest cocktail you’ve ever seen in your life 

Gojo and Geto definitely treat her like their personal bartender 

also takes lot of pics of the two of you together + has them strung up above her bed 

[nomie-11]

Chapter 17 - The Pursuit of Knowledge

<- previous chapter | masterlist | series masterlist | next chapter ->

“Tap out!” Rhiannon screams as a rider out of Second Wing fights to drag himself forward on the mat, his hands splayed wide, his fingernails digging in as Genevieve holds him in a leg lock Liam had taught her a week before, forcing his back into what should be an impossible arch.

Violet’s heart pounds with excitement as her and Liam cheer. It’s the last challenge of this portion of Squad battle, and the crowd pushes at their backs, Liam holding the two of them firmly in place at the perimeter of the map. After two events, the squad was in 7th out of 24th, jumping up from 15th after Liam won his section. If Genevieve wins hers, they’ll be up to third.

Mikael cries out in pain, the sound sharp and near ear splitting as Genevieve holds fast and presses her advantage, 

“Fuck me, that looks like it hurts,” Violet mutters over the cheering first years. 

“Yeah, he’s not walking for a while,” Ridoc agrees, cringing as the arc of Mikael’s back looks like a broken spine waiting to happen. 

“You got this, Genevieve! Hold him!” Liam yells, his voice booming over the crowd. 

With another cry, Mikael slams his palm into the mat three times, and the crowd roars. 

“Yes! Go, Genevieve!” Sawyer screams from behind Violet, and Genevieve drops Mikael to the mat, where he sprawls out, exhausted. 

“We won!” Liam rushes for Genevieve, and she’s swept up into a tangle of arms and shouting and joyous squadmates. 

“Your winner!” Professor Emetterio shouts, his voice ringing through the gym and quieting the zealous energy as Genevieve steps out of the crushing hug. “Genevieve Hale from Second Squad, Flame Section, Fourth Wing!”

She puts both hands up in victory and turns in a small circle, the sound of cheering making her ears ring in the best way. 

Genevieve grins as she catches her breath, sweat dripping down her brow The moment feels surreal, like a weight lifting from her chest. Her first victory in months. After losing again and again to Xaden, Liam, and Garrick over and over again. This victory was more than just another point for the squad—it was a confirmation that no matter what had changed, she was back. 

Liam reaches her first, his face split with a wide grin as he claps her on the back. “Hell yeah! That was brutal!”

She laughs, the sound breathless and triumphant. “Thanks for the lock,” she says, throwing a teasing glance his way. “Pretty effective.” 

“Effective? You practically snapped the guy in half,” Ridoc shouts as he joins them, still shaking his head. “Remind me to never piss you off.” 

“You should already know that,” Genevieve smirks, though there’s a playful edge to her voice. Despite the intensity of the fight, the camaraderie between her squadmates helps ease her back down from the high of competition. 

Rhiannon is next, her smile so wide it looks like her face muscle might lock in place. “You were amazing out there, Genevieve. I swear, Mikael never stood a chance!”

The praise fills Genevieve with warmth, and for a brief moment, she allows herself to bask in it. But as she glances over at the rest of the riders watching from the sidelines, she knows that this is just one victory in a long line of challenges ahead. They’re only third. 

Violet steps up beside her, her face a mixture of pride and awe. “That was incredible, Genevieve. You’re totally back on your game.” 

Genevieve meets her gaze, seeing Violet’s eyes beaming with pride. 

“Thanks,” She says quietly, her smile wide. 

Commandant Pancheck steps onto the mat, and Geneviev steps back with the rest of the squad, gratefully grabbing the towel Ridoc had brought for her to wipe the dripping sweat off of her skin. “I know you were all expecting the last portion of the Squad Battle to happen tomorrow, but the cadre and I have a surprise.” 

He has the attention of every single rider in the room now. 

“Instead of telling you what the final, unknown task will be, and giving you tonight to plan for it, your final task will begin at this hour!” He grins, throwing out his hands and turning just like Genevieve had. 

“Tonight?” Ridoc whispers. 

“Fuck, I’m so tired,” Genevieve groans. 

Violet feels her stomach hit the ground. “Dain isn’t here. Neither is Cianna.” 

“Oh shit,” Imogen whispers, looking over the crowd herself. 

“As you may have noticed, your squad leaders and their executive officers have been… shall we say, sequestered with your section leaders and wingleaders, and no, befores someone asks, your task is not to find them.” he continues to walk in a small circle, addressing each side of the mat. “You are to break into your squads and accomplish a unique mission this evening without the leadership and instruction of your squad leaders.” 

“Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of having squad leaders?” someone asks from across the mat. 

“The purpose of a squad leader is to form a tightly knit unit that can carry on with a mission after their demise. Consider your leaders… demised.” Panchek shrugs with a gleeful smile. “You’re on your own, riders. Your mission is simple: find and acquire, by any means necessary, the one thing that would be most advantageous to our enemies regarding the war effort. Leadership will serve as unbiased judges, and the winning squad will be awarded sixty points.” 

“That, with the points that Genevieve just won, is enough to put us into first!” Rhiannon whispers, linking her arms with Genevieve and Violet. “We could win the glory of going to the front!”

“What are the boundaries?” someone to the right asks. 

“Anything within the walls of Basgiath,” Panchek answers. “And don’t you dare let me see you trying to haul a dragon back here. They’ll incinerate you out of sheer annoyance. You have three hours, at which time we’ll expect you to present your stolen treasures in the Battle Brief room.” 

They all stare in silence, out of everything Genevieve was imagining the third task to be, this was last. 

“What are you waiting for?” Panchek shoos his hands. “Go!”

Pandemonium ensues. 

“Second Squad!” Imogen yells, putting her hand up. “Follow me!”

Sawyer and Heaton make sure the squad are like ducklings, following in Imogen’s wake as she leads them across the gym to the weight room. 

“You did super well,” Liam commented as Genevieve struggled to keep in step with the rest of the group, still catching her breath after the longest and hardest fight of her life. Silently, he hands her a waterskin, which she promptly drains. 

“Let’s go, let’s go,” Imogen says, ushering the group through the open door. She does a quick headcount before shutting the door and locking it. 

Genevieve immediately finds a seat on one of the benches, Liam and Rhiannon sitting next to her. 

“First thing. Who’s in command?” Imogen asks, looking at the ten of them. Ridoc throws his hands in the air but immediately Rhiannon shuts him down. “No,” she shakes her head. “You’ll turn this into some kind of prank.” 

“Fair point,” he shrugs. 

“Liam?” Quinn asks, lifting her eyebrows. 

“No way.” He shakes his head, but his gaze darts to Genevieve and then to Violet, giving his reasoning away. 

“No one is going to kill me while we’re out tonight.” Genevieve argues. 

He turns back towards Imogen and shakes his head again. Of course she nods. They’re both team Xaden. 

“You keep command,” Genevieve says to Imogen. “You’ve gotten us this far.” 

A murmur of agreement goes around the room. 

“Emory? Heaton?” Imogen asks. “As a third year it's your right.” 

“No thanks.” Heaton lens against the wall. 

“Nope. There’s a reason neither of us wanted to be in leadership.” Emery adds, sitting next to Nadine. “Any reason you wouldn’t be all right following Imogen’s command for a few hours, Nadine?” 

The entire group turns to face the first year, who hadn’t exactly been subtle in trashing Genevieve, Liam, and Imogen for being marked. She visibly swallows, her nervous gaze skittering over the entirety of the second squad. “I’m fine with it.” 

“Good,” Imogen folds her arm across her chest, her rebellion relic peeking out from under her tunic. “We have a little less than three hours. What are your ideas?”

“What about weaponry?” Ridoc suggests. “A cross bolt is deadly to a dragon, any enemy would love that.” 

“Too big,” Quinn says decisively. “There's only one in the museum, and honestly, the both aren't that deadly, just the launching system.” 

“Next?” Imogen says. 

“We could steal Panchek’s under-” Genevieve slams her hand over Ridocs mouth.

“This is why Rhiannon won't let you lead.” She arches a brow at him. 

“Come on guys, think! What's the most useful thing to our enemy?” Imogen’s brow puckers over her pale green eyes. 

“Information,” Geneveive answers. She swings her gaze toward Violet. “Violet, what about stealing something from the archives? Unreleased news? Battle reports?” 

She shakes her head. “It’s after seven. The archives are locked, and it’s the kind of vault wielding isn’t going to touch. The whole room is sealed up airtight in case of fire.” 

“Damn,” Imogen sighs. “That was good.” 

The entire room breaks into conversation, each suggestion louder than the next as ideas are hurled into the open. 

Information. Genevieve’s stomach twists as she locks eyes with Violet. 

“What are you two thinking?” Imogen asks and the room falls silent. “I can see you two practically communicating telepathically.” 

“It’s probably nothing.” Violet quickly answers. 

“Spill.” Imogen commands. 

“It’s a mad idea. Undoable, probably. We’d get thrown into the brig if we got caught.” Violet says, snapping her mouth shut before I say anything more. But it’s too late, everyone’s eyes are sparkling with interest. 

“Get up here and work it out,” Imogen orders, making sure Violet knows it’s not a suggestion. 

“Ok, we can wield, right?” Genevieve askes, brushing her hands down her sides and the hilts of the daggers she had restrapped onto her. 

“By all means necessary,” Heaton repeats, nodding. 

“All right,” Violet rocks back on her heels, a plan forming in her mind. “We know Ridoc can wield ice, Rhiannon can retrieve, Sawyer can manipulate metals, Imogen can mine-wipe recent memories–” 

“And I’m fast,” she adds. 

“Genevieve can do practically anything. Heaton, what about you?” Violet asks. 

“I can breathe underwater,” they answer. Violet blinks. 

“Awesome. But probably not useful. Emery?” 

“I can control the wind,” he grins. “A lot of wind.” 

“Damn that’s useful,” Genevieve mutters, but she’s reserved. “But that’s not what we need. Quinn?”

“I can astral project. Keep my body in one place and then walk around somewhere else.” Genevieve’s jaw drops, and she looks at Violet with a glint in her eyes. 

“Yes! That we can use!” Genevieve cheers. Violet nods, as she parcels through the easiest way to do this. 

“What are you thinking, Sorrengail?” Imogen prompts, tucking the short hair on one side of her shaved head behind her ear. 

“You’re going to tell us that we’re insane, but if we pull it off, we’ll win for sure.” She might not be enough like her mother to win her approval, but she and Genevieve have been around General Sorrengail long enough to know where the information is kept. 

“And?” 

“We’re going to break into my mother’s office.”

—-------------------------------------------------------

“It’s six flights straight up,” Violet whispers as they reach the next set of stairs. Genevieve is tense, tenser than usual. Six flights straight up is General Sorrengail’s office, and two flights down is her own personal hell. The group continues to climb the steps, bypassing Genevieve’s ashen expression. 

The adrenaline and exhaustion from earlier hasn’t quite worn off at this point, and she’s running on overdrive, every noise spooking her and every shadow causing her to flinch. This plan sounded good originally, but now she realizes that she would be much better off guarding Quinn’s body in the weight room then venturing further and farther into the very building she was trapped in. 

The group continue to climb the stairs as fast as they can without making any noise. Genevieve is so tense she has to physically stop the flowers from blooming underneath every step, slowing her down. 

Eventually, they reach the top of the steps, and Liam leans out just far enough to see down the length of what’s beginning to feel like the world’s longest hallway. “There are mage lights in sconces,” he whispers, turning to Violet. “And you were right,” he returns to the safety of the stairwell. “There’s only one guard stationed at the door.”

Was there only one guard blocking Genevieve from the outside world all that time, too? She barely has enough time to dwell on the thought before Violet responds. 

“Was there any light under the door?” She asks quietly, and Genevieve can practically hear the thrum of her heart, loud and echoing with nerves and fears. 

“No,” he turns to Quinn. “The guard looks about six feet tall, but he seems pretty athletic. The other stairwell is down the hallway to the left, which means you’ll have to get his attention and then book it.”

Quinn nods. “No problem.” 

“Everyone else knows what they’re doing?” 

There are nine nods. 

“Then it’s game time. Quinn, you’re up. Everyone else, circle back down so he can’t see us if he looks this way.” Genevieve can barely register what is happening, Liam pulling her lightly down the stairs. 

If she continues like this, she’s no longer an asset but a hindrance. She would never let herself be a hindrance. 

Genevieve takes a deep breath, forcing herself to focus, to be in the present. The sensation of Liam’s grip on her arm grounds her, and she closes her eyes for the briefest moment. She can’t afford to lose herself now—not with everything on the line. Not when they’re this close. 

“Genevieve?” Liam’s voice is low, steady, pulling her back. His concern is evident, but he knows better than to coddle her. That’s not what she needs. 

“I’m fine,” she whispers, though the lie is evident in the tremor of her voice. She hates it, hates how vulnerable she feels here, in this place. But she shakes off the creeping anxiety. There’s no other option but to press on. 

“Take a deep breath, little soldier,” Tairn’s familiar voice fills her mind. “You are not the same girl anymore.” 

Genevieve’s lips tighten at Tairn’s words. Not the same girl anymore, maybe. But the weight of the past is still heavy in this place, a darkness clinging to every stone and stair they climb. She isn’t sure she’ll ever be able to shed that completely. 

“Focus,” he commands her. “You’re stronger now. Faster. You’ve survived worse.” 

Quinn charges up the stairs, her voice muffled by the stone walls, but the guards pounding footsteps ring clear as day as he charges past the stairwell. 

“Get back here! You can’t be here!”

“Now!” Imogen orders. 

The group launches, leaving Rhiannon and Emery in the stairwell as they fly into the hallway. Sawyer rushes to the opposite stairwell, throwing the door shut and twisting the joints with his powers as they bolt down the hall. Genevieve’s vines creep up the walls, dampening the echo of their footsteps as they run. 

Nadine is already at the door by the time Genevieve gets there, Liam in tow. Nadine’s hands move in a flurry of motions as she tries to unweave whatever wards General Sorrengail has used. Liam takes the spot and position of the now gone guard, lifting his chin into position. 

“Are you all right?” He asks, and Geneveive’s chest heaves as her signet spreads over the hallway, securing the area. Now if anyone comes near she’ll know before she can hear. 

“Yep,” She replies, Violet falling into step next to her. Imogen gets to work next to Nadine, who’s signet is the ability to unweave wards, which Geneveive now realizes is quite possibly the most useful signet to ever exist.

“And I’ll be fine.” She assures him, nodding her head. “Which is funny because the last time I was in this building I thought I was going to die.” 

“Got it!” Nadine whispers, nudging the door open. 

“If you hear me whistle—” Liam starts, worry lining his forehead. 

“I’ll drag Genevieve out the window or something, don’t stress,” Violet assures him, pulling him down for a quick kiss. 

Liam smiles at Violet’s quick reassurance, though the concern in his eyes lingers as he gives a final nod and slips back into position. Genevieve watches the exchange with a mix of envy and admiration. Violet has no issue demonstrating her affection in front of her friends. Jealousy pangs through her, but she tries not to dwell on it; there’s no time for that. 

Ridoc and Sawyer brush past them, entering the room. “Don’t touch the mage lights or she’ll know,” Violet warns. “You have to make your own,” she flicks her wrist, twisting her power into a bright blue flame and letting it drift over her. 

“How nice is this?” Ridoc flops down onto the soft red couch against the wall. 

“We don’t have time for you to be… you,” Sawyer lectures, heading for the bookcase. “Help me search for something useful.” 

“We’ll take the table.” Imogen and Nadine start sorting through papers on the six-seater conference table. 

“I’ve got the desk,” Violet says, walking around the inhumanly large and daunting piece of furniture, leaving Genevieve to pray she doesn’t accidentally trigger any wards in the process of filtering through folders and papers. 

“So I got the bookshelf, got it.” Genevieve says, making her way over to the large shelves on the wall. There’s folder after folder all labeled neatly, names of people, names of places, names of weapons, and concepts that never came to fruition. 

She filters through them all, hands skimming over each and every one, trying to find anything useful, anything recent. 

“These are all…numbers,” Imogen says, rifling through the conference table papers. 

“It’s April,” Violet says cooley, reaching for the next missive. “She’s working on next year’s budget.” 

The room falls silent, and everyone stops and turns to look at her, all wearing varying expressions of disbelief. 

“What?” She shrugs. “Did you think this place ran itself?” 

“Keep looking,” Imogen orders, and everyone turns back to the task at hand. 

Genevieve’s eyes skim over the names, fallen cadets, the ones with the bigger folders have led more exciting lives, she notices, catching the wingleader patches on a few, or the squad leader patches on some too. 

And then she sees the name. 

‘Quinn Hale.’ 

Her breath catches, and her fingers freeze on the folder, disbelief and dread coiling in her chest. The name, so familiar yet unexpected in this context, feels like a punch to the gut. For a moment, she can’t move, can’t breathe. Her sister’s name stands out starkly almond the others, neatly written in General Sorrengail’s precise handwriting. 

Genevieve glances around to see if anyone else has noticed her sudden stillness, but they’re all absorbed in their search. Violet is still sorting through the papers on the desk, Ridoc is absentmindedly flipping through a book, and Liam, ever vigilant, stands guard at the door. 

With shaking hands, she carefully pulls the folder from the shelf and opens it, her eyes scanning the contents. Her heart races as she reads through the first few lines—it’s a mission report, signed by the General, detailing covert operations from. Years ago. Quinn’s name appears over and over again, alongside words like “failure,” “compromise,” “termination,” and… “venin.” 

What the fuck is a Venin?

A cold wave of nausea rolls over her, and she grips the edge of the shelf to steady herself. She had thought that Quinn died in a petty combat situation, not a full-fledged mission turned near assasination attempt. But now, with Quinn’s fate staring her in the face, it feels like the ground has opened beneath her, threatening to pull her back into the abyss. 

“Genevieve?” Violet’s voice pulls her from the fog. She looks up to see Violet watching her with concern. “You find something?” 

For a split second, Genevieve considers hiding the folder, burying the truth deep within herself where it can’t hurt her anymore. But she knows she can’t do that. Not here. Not with Violet and the others counting on her to stay focused. 

“Just…old records,” Genevieve manages to say, her voice tight. “Nothing useful.” 

Violet nods, not probing further, but doesn’t miss it as Genevieve slides the folder into her flight leathers, keeping the records close to her body as if they would vanish. Another few moments pass, the group filtering through more and more records, until-

“Hey, second squad. I know what we need to steal.” 

It takes a matter of minutes for the group to haul the map down and cut it out of its frame, then another to roll it, securing it with leather ties from Genevieve’s wrists. 

Liam whistles, and Genevieve’s heart leaps out of her chest. 

“Shit!” Ridoc races to the door and cracks it open as the group prepares to flee. “What’s going on out there?” 

“He’s pounding at the hall door! It’s going to give any second. We have to go now,” Liam whisper-shouts, holding the door open as they all race through the doorway. The map is too big to be carried by one person, and Sawyer and Imogen struggle through the doorway as the guard kicks down the door farther down the hall. 

“And we’re fucked,” Nadine announces out loud, as the guard is immediately met with a barrage of vines, dodging them as he barrels past the first stairwell. Rhiannon steps into the middle of the hallway, her arms outstretched. 

“Please work. Please work. Please work,” Imogen chants, and the map disappears out of her hands and reappears down the hallway in Rhiannon’s. 

Genevieve barely has time to register that it worked as the guard stumbled closer, almost getting impaled by the vines she keeps shooting at him, any closer and he’ll see Genevieve’s face.  

“This was not part of the plan.” Liam steps in besides Genevieve. 

“Adapt! Emery!” Imogen hisses, and the third-year steps in front of the raiding party. 

“Ok Genevieve, on the count of three,” Emery says, and he holds out his hands, prepared to send a torrent of air down the hallway in tandem with a wave of vines. 

Genevieve steadies herself, nodding to Emery. She can feel the weight of the Quinn folder pressing against her ribs, a fresh wound in her already raw emotions. but there’s no time to unravel the implications of Quinn’s involvement with… Venin, or whatever her sister’s death truly means. Right now, they need to survive. 

“One,” Emery starts counting, his voice low but charged with energy. The tension in the air thickens.

Genevieve draws in a deep breath, calling on her powers as she feels the familiar pull of her signet gathering strength. She can sense the vines crawling just beneath the stone, their roots waiting to spring at her command. 

“Two,” her heartbeat syncs with the count, and she flicks a glance at Liam, who is ready beside her, his eyes sharp and calculating. 

“You’ve done this before, little soldier. You’re faster, stronger. This guard will not reach you.” Tairn’s voice barks. “Focus.” 

“I can’t focus with you in my head, idiot!” She snaps. 

“Three!”

The moment the words leave Emery’s lips, everything happens at once. A violent gust of wind erupts from Emery’s hands, blasting down the hallway and sending the guard stumbling backward, ripping tapestries off the wall in the process. Genevieve’s vines follow instantly, thick tendrils shooting from the walls, curling around the guard’s legs and waist, pinning him in place. 

“Run!”

They sprint down the hallway, and as they pass the guard on the way to the stairwell, Violet stops, pausing at the knocked out and bound guard. she opens his mouth, and uncorks a vial from deep in her pocket, tipping it into his mouth. 

 “He’ll sleep the rest of the night now.” 

Liam’s wide eyes meet hers. “You’re kind of terrifying. I think I’m in love.” 

“Thank you,” Violet grins, and she starts to run again, following behind Genevieve.

Fifteen minutes later, their chests are still heaving as they skid into the battle brief room, just under the clock. They’re the last squad in, and the look on Dain’s face gives Genevieve the feeling that she’s going to get an earful about it. 

Presentations begin, and Genevieve watches as a squad in First Wing present’s Kaori’s handwritten manual on dragons, and a squad in Second Wing presents a uniform of an infantry professor with an ever-elusive name tag. Third Wing’s best offering is a scribe, wide-eyed and stolen straight from his bed, mouth bound by someone’s signet. 

Then it’s their squads turn. 

Genevieve’s eyes find Xaden, who’s sitting in the back, watching her intently. His eyes hold a mix of pulse-quickening curiosity and expectation. 

“It was your idea,” Imogen whispers, nudging Violet and Genevieve forward. “Present.” 

Markham’s eyes flare wide as saucers as he forces himself to stand, followed by Devera, whose mouth hands so wide, Genevieve almost has to laugh. 

Violet clears her throat and gestures to the map her squad holds up behind her. “We have brought the ultimate weapon for our enemies. An up-to-date map of all current outposts of Navarrian wings, to include troop strength of infantry battlements,” she points to the forts along the Cygnisen border. “As well as the locations of all current skirmishes in the last thirty days. Including last night.” 

A murmur rips through the quadrant. 

“And how do we know this map is, in fact, current?” Kaori asks, holding his reclaimed journal under an arm. 

There’s no stopping the wicked smile that spreads across Violet’s face as she pushes Genevieve forward to speak. 

“Because we stole it from General Sorrengail’s office.” 

Absolute mayhem breaks out, some of the riders rushing the stage as the professors battle their way toward us, but Genevieve ignores it all as Xaden tilts one corner of that beautiful mouth of his and tips an imaginary hat to her, bowing his head for a heartbeat before bringing back up his gaze to hold hers. Satisfaction rolls over Genevieve as she smiles up at him. 

It doesn’t matter how the votes come down now. 

She’s already won.

—————————————

Hello everyone!! What’s up? Did we like this chapter? What about Genevieve learning that Quinn was involved with Venin?

She’s getting so close to uncovering Xaden’s shit and I love that for her. Also, bear in fact that the next 5-ish chapter are intense. Chapter 18 chills out for a while, but then we get into war games and all that fun stuff!

Let me know- what are your theories on Quinn? Is she alive like Brennan or is she a Venin, or something else? I want to know what you are thinking!

As always, if you liked, please leave a like, comment, or kudo. I’ll be back on Wednesday with the next update!

———

Taglist: @awkardnerd , @hannraumari , @minjix

[nameless-ken]

Masterlist

Hi lovelies <3

PLEASE DNI WITH SMUT UNLESS 18+

Who I write for:

* smut

^ fluff

- angst

Bucky Barnes

Series

Friday Afternoons - currently writing

The reader is an elementary school teacher in Brooklyn, where they teach Steve Rogers’ young daughter, Elizabeth. Every Friday, without fail, Bucky Barnes comes to pick up his niece after school. He’s quiet, a little rough around the edges, and keeps mostly to himself, but he’s always punctual and incredibly protective of Elizabeth. This is just the beginning of the reader and Bucky's bond together.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six*

Part Seven*

The Stranger That Knows Me Best - currently writing

a heartfelt story about connection, vulnerability, and taking chances on the unexpected. Through letters and shared experiences, two introverts discover that sometimes, the person who understands you best is the one you’ve never met.

Part One

part two

part three

part four

Unexpected - unfinished

Our mutual friend dropped out of this trip at the last minute, so hi I guess we’re spending the next two weeks together.

Part 1 ^

Part 2 ^

Part 3 ^,-

Part 4 ~

Part 5 */^

Part 6 */^

Part 7 ^/-

Bring Me to Life - unfinished, going to continue writing

Bucky is a struggling single father trying to take care  of his daughter when a stranger welcomes them into her home and brings a  gentle love back into their life.

playlist

Part One - The Kindness of a Stranger ^/-

Part Two - Luck or Fate? ^/-

Part Three - A Home for Three ^/-

Part Four - Happy Days are Coming ^/-

Part Five - Nothing Else Matters ^/-

Part Six - No Longer Afraid ^/-

Part Seven - Breathe Easy Now ^/-

Part Eight - This is What Home Feels Like ^/-

Part Nine - Our Future is Bright ^/*

Part Ten - Your Love is All I Need

Part Eleven - More Than Anything ^/*

Part Twelve - Patience is the Greatest Virtue ^/*

Imagines/Requests

The Things Better Left Unsaid

Childhood friends secretly in love with each other reminiscence together before graduating

Hold Me While You Wait

Bucky gets enlisted into the war

Part 1 ^/-

Part 2 ^/-

A Second Home

Bucky finds out that Alpine has been treating your apartment like a second home

drabble ^

Promise?

It’s the morning of a huge mission that Bucky has to go on and you worry too much.

part 1 ^/-

Let the Games Begin

One-shot ^/-

I carry your heart with me

One-shot ^/-

Frank Castle

Imagines/Requests

Before You Go *

“You need a place to stay for the night?” ^/-

Dean Winchester

Imagines/Requests

making a pie with Dean ^

Instagram Stories/pictures

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Daryl Dixon

Moodboards

the more you love, the more you suffer

take my heart, daryl dixon

a beautiful disaster

our demons

Imagines/Requests

“Spend the night with me?” ^

“Of course I came for you, it’d take more than that to stop me.” ^/-

“I’ll be here, loving you even in the silence.” ^/-

“Most of my nightmares are about losing you.” ^/-

Eddie Munson

Series

Fearless - unfinished

Chapter One: What Dreams Are Made Of ^/-

Chapter Two: Where You’re Meant to Be ^/-

Chapter Three: Moving Too Fast ^/-

Chapter Four: Home Sweet Home ^/-

Unforgettable - unfinished

you end up as third wheel at the fair when Eddie comes to your rescue & helps makes your summer unforgettable.

Part 1 ^/-

Part 2 ^

Part 3

Imagines/Requests

“How do I know I have a crush on someone?” “Well you can’t stop thinking about them, you feel strange when they’re around and then you want to--why are you looking at me like this?”  ^/-

“they would be so mad if they found out.” “fuck ‘em”. "If I ask you to kiss me in front of all these people, will you do it?". "When we get home I'm cuffing you to the bed and going down on you all night until my jaw is sore." ^/-

Steve Harrington

Imagines/Requests

“When I’m with you, I’m not just existing, I’m living.” ^/-

Billy Hargrove

Series

Silent Confessions, Loud Masks - unfinished, going to continue writing

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Between Us and the Dark - unfinished, going to continue writing

Part One

Requests

Ribbon of Affection

Weathering The Storm

Embracing The Mirror

Roadside Assistance