#balancing acts fic

[berberriescorner]

"Balancing Acts"

Characters: Rio x Black!Reader.

Summary: Rio takes an important phone call while dealing with Beth and her minions.

Warnings: Profanity, Mentions of violence, Mild sexual innuendos, slight referencing to intimacy, implied threats, and Rio’s nonchalant view of violence.

Word Count: 1,200+.

Silence filled the room as tension wafted through a pristine kitchen. Rio posted up against the spotless island. Nerves had a funny way of forcing oneself to stress clean. His eyes bounced to the others occupying the space.

“Y’all ain't got shit to say?”

Beth and Ruby’s shoulders jumped as Annie started to stammer, “L-look I totally understand that we have an arrangement-.”

“Oh, you understand, yeah? If that were the case. I’d have my bread and we wouldn’t have this pointless conversation.”

“We—just need a little more time. There have been a few mishaps-.”

“I ain't come here for excuses. Figure the shit out. You got forty-eight hours. Get to it,” Rio barked.

His phone chirped and the three women gawked at how quickly he could turn the anger off. They watched as he answered the call.

“What's up darlin’? Yeah? Hold up, let me switch to video. Put little mamas on the phone.”

Rio's fingers moved quickly across his screen. The tiny, bashful voice flowed through the speaker on his phone making the usually emotionless man smile brightly. It quickly shifted to a frown once the little voice started to sniffle.

Your voice cooed from behind your daughter. You brushed her hair behind her ear, holding her tight, and kissing her head. You rocked her side to side, “Go ahead, baby, tell your Daddy what happened at school today.”

“Who made my baby girl cry?”

“D-daddy he said I was chubby,” she responded, lip quivering.

Rio’s eyes connected with yours. You frowned, “Some little a—boy said her cheeks were chubby and pinched them hard. She told him to stop. He followed that up with a hair pull, cackling his funky breath in her face. Miss Mamas cocked back and punched him in the face. The teacher only caught that part. She tried to explain, but the little b—terror lied. To keep things fair they both had to sit out at recess today.”

“Is that right? Look at me, my baby. You know you're beautiful, right?”

Your daughter sniffled, wiping away the remnants of her tears, and nodded.

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Then that's the only thing that matters. Okay? Daddy thinks you're beautiful. Would I lie to my baby girl?”

“No, sir,” she replied, as a small smile spread across her face.

“Fu—forget what that teacher said. You did the right thing. They say violence isn't the answer, but you should always defend yourself. You got me, little mamas?”

Your daughter giggled. Leaning closer to the screen she stage-whispered, “I made his nose bleed. His little ugly self deserved it.”

“That's my girl.”

“Unh-uh! Don't hype her up. She'll be swinging on everybody from this point forward,” you teased. “You’re trying to turn every member in this household into a TTGK.”

You and Rio had formed the acronym for when he wanted to discuss business without the little ones understanding. He chuckled at your use of ‘Trained To Go Killa.’

“I'm just trying to keep the love of my life and my babies ready.”

“I know, Papa. Stay ready-.”

“So you don't have to get ready,” your baby girl said, finishing your sentence.

“See? Just grown,” you teased, giving your daughter a little tickle. “Mommy needs to talk to Daddy. Go tell your sisters and brothers to get washed up for dinner,” you instructed, kissing her soft round cheek.

The minute she darted away, your eyes connected with your husbands. You bit your lip as his eyes roamed over the sight of you.

“Aren't you working?”

“Somethin’ like that,” he glanced at the three women looking gobsmacked. Rio cut his eyes at them, shaking his head, he continued, “I always got time for wifey and my babies though.”

“I need you to stop eyeing me like you’re about to take me down,” you squeaked.

“Oh, I plan to. When I get home,” he responded, baritone smooth as silk.

“Aht, aht! Chill. I have children to feed. I don't need to have impure thoughts at the dinner table.”

“Wouldn’t be the first, nor the last time that’s happened, mama.”

“Anyway! I tried to explain that situation to her.”

“What? That the little jerk needed his ass beat?”

“No, Rio! You act like you weren't doing the same thing at that age. His square-headed behind was flirting with her.”

“Nah, mama. I was smooth with it. You didn’t know? I’ve always had emotional intelligence. Even back then. Flirting or not, mans still needed some sense knocked into him. Do I know him? Who’s his pops? Might need to have a little chat with him.”

“First of all. Why am I not surprised you had the girlies in a frenzy, even back then? You were probably bringing them little fast-ass girls flowers and all,” you joked, playfully rolling your eyes. “You will not be going to talk to that boy’s father. You can’t threaten everybody, Papa.”

“Who said I was going to make threats? I just wanna talk.”

“Yeah, right. Keep lying in my face. Leave that family alone, Rio. If it happens again, then, by all means, do what you need to do. Hell, I might even have a chat with his mama, but let’s just wait and see. Okay, Papa?”

“You lucky I love your ass,” Rio grunted.

Marcus and your eldest daughter walked into the kitchen with rapid-fire questions.

“Your rude ass children are hungry. Let me go feed these beautiful heathens.”

“I ain’t forgot about taking you down. Be ready for me when I get home, yeah?”

Your two eldest children started to make gagging noises, reminding you that children were present. They pleaded with you not to have another baby. Jokingly, of course.

“Y’all always blocking on your pops. Chill on me. That’s my wife and I’ma love on her.”

Rio took a minute to say hello to the rest of his children. With an ‘I love you’ and promises of ‘cuddles’ later that night, Rio ended the call. He locked the device, sliding it back into his jacket pocket.

His eyes cut back to the three stooges (a name Mick had given them). The three women stared at Rio befuddled.

“Back to my money-.”

“How on earth do you do that,” Ruby questioned in amazement.

“Do what,” Rio responded curtly.

“You were seconds away from busting a cap in our behinds. In a snap of a finger, your entire mood changed. You slid right into daddy mode,” Ruby said, still in awe.

“Damn, your daddy game is on point,” Annie praised, following it with a yelp. Ruby had mugged the back of her head.

“You’re so calm and gentle with your family. It’s just-,” Beth started.

“Oh, I get it,” he responded, nodding a few times. “The thugged-out, tatted-up gangster is supposed to be the run-of-the-mill deadbeat baby daddy, right? We’ll also spin the block on me poppin’ a cap so to speak, because I still don’t see a duffle bag anywhere in sight.”

“That’s not what I meant at all,” Beth stammered, face red.

Rio cut his eyes to the shaky redhead. “Doubtful, but fuck all that. Yes, I take care of mine. I’ll give every last one of them the world if they ask for it. Now slide your asses out of my personal life, and go get my fucking money.”

Rio’s patience was dwindling by the second. He was ready to get to the money and get home to his wife. His tongue traced his lips at the thought of her.

These bitches need to stop wasting my time. I’m tryin’ to kiss my babies goodnight and put mama to sleep.

How did you lovelies like the latest update of Dad!Rio and his family of...I believe it's still six at the moment😆😂🥰? Comments and reblogs are appreciated my loves💖.

lovelies💜:

@astoldbychae @percosim @darqchilddaydreamz @thirtysomethinganduncensored @ravennaortiz

@amorestevens @abcdestinyyyy @jannavaire @novaniskye

@nobodygetsza @bisexuallyattractivebitch @1andonlytashae

@rio-reid-whoreee @lovedlover @sunshine-flower @realhotgurlshit

@thebumbqueen @blowmymbackout @tashawar @captainwithoutmakingitlove @kinkiicoils @theegoddessofmelanin

@beachyserasims @tbmotw @wroteitbutneverwatchedit @speckldsimblr

[wttcsms]

balancing act ; satoru gojo.

pairing satoru gojo x f!reader   word count 3.9k   synopsis gojo bets that he can get you to fall in love in three months, and you bet that he can't go three months with staying committed to one person and not bang them. neither of you plan on losing. content contains modern no curses!au, mentions of sex and vulgar language (but no smut yet), simp gojo <3 author’s notes i plan on wrapping things up quickly this time around, so i have five parts planned for this mini series!

Satoru Gojo is used to a wide array of reactions to any of his antics: awe (the summer analyst, Miwa, always stares at him like he himself is the one who created the stock market), irritation (Nanami is rarely ever in agreement with the comments Gojo leaves on his work), lust (Gojo gives just as much he receives because he’s benevolent like that — his words, of course). 

But he’s not quite used to being laughed at. 

He’s handsome, and he knows it, a deadly combination for any man because Shoko claims that all men are born with an astonishing amount of audacity and it only ever grows as they get older. Satoru brings up the fact that Shoko technically cheated her way through med school, and that any doctor worth her degree wouldn’t get onto patients while lighting up a cigarette of all things, but Shoko is equally stubborn and audacious as any man, and it just makes her a worthy opponent to get into arguments with. 

Being attractive and arrogant isn’t enough to keep him from suffering mild humiliation from time to time, though. The reason why Satoru doesn’t get embarrassed is because the world is unfair, so he happens to be born rich and smart enough and talented enough to just keep on getting richer. Even he is entirely aware of his privilege, but he’s got the type of personality that would be endearing even if he wasn’t hot, so everyone loves him. 

And you don’t hate him, he knows that. He also knows that you don’t love him, which is fine, because it’s not your love, or awe, or irritation, or lust (okay, maybe some lust would be nice) that Satoru wants from you. He just wants you for you, your honesty and whatever scraps of yourself that you toss to him. 

Today’s scraps are your laughter, which rings through the whole entire office, singing above the noisy clacks of keys being smashed by the analysts and the whirring of the printer shooting out hundreds of pages a minute. He feels a warmth spread from his stomach to his chest and maybe it even rises up to his neck, he’s not so sure. He should feel slightly embarrassed, he thinks, to have said something seriously only for you to find comedy in it, but he doesn’t. He just feels pleased with himself for making you laugh, like he’s done something great.

“You are so full of shit, Gojo.” You’re still smiling, even though you’re not bothering to look at him anymore. Your attention is now focused on the report one of the analysts has turned into you, and from the lack of comments you’re leaving, he assumes it’s Megumi’s work. 

“I was being serious, y’know.” Satoru’s more than tall enough to see over the cubicles, especially when he’s standing up, and he leans over it, his head and upper body leaning into your personal desk space. The cubicles don’t do jack shit for privacy, anyway, so he doesn’t feel bad when you complain that he’s invading your privacy. If it was privacy that you craved, you wouldn’t have three monitors raised, each of them displaying a jumble of numbers and words that Satoru doesn’t care about. 

“So was I.” You tell him.

Just thirty minutes ago, you walked into the office with a quad shot espresso, unceremoniously plopped your Longchamp tote onto the floor, and dramatically sighed to get your desk neighbor’s attention. Utahime is always a good sport when it comes to your antics but doesn’t bother extending the same courtesy to Satoru, which he considers to be very unfair considering that he’s technically everyone’s boss. It is his name that’s displayed on the side of the building, and his private equity firm that he’s built up alongside Suguru. 

“What happened this time?” Utahime asks you, like the good sport she is. Satoru, at that time, was pretending not to eavesdrop even though he is, because he’s a nosy bastard. 

“I hate men.” You say, leaning back in your chair. “He left me for someone nice.”

The way you say it lets him — and Utahime, who is actually the person you’re talking to — know that that nice was a direct quote from your ex.

Utahime furrows her brows, looking confused. “But you are nice.” 

Debatable, is what Satoru wants to say, but he’s remaining silent so he can get the full story out of you first.

“No. I’m a workaholic with no personality outside of my fancy finance job.” 

Ouch. 

Satoru doesn’t see an issue with you, though. So what, you’re hardworking and focused? He thinks it’s kinda hot to see someone with so much ambition and discipline. He wouldn’t have hired you if you were anything less. 

“He’s just insecure.” Utahime says, soft voice trying to soothe you, even though Satoru hears the familiar sound of your manicure typing in your login details to your computer. He knows it’s silly to think he can tell the difference between your typing and anyone else’s, and he doesn’t want to think too hard about what that could possibly mean when it comes to defining his feelings for you.

“You said the same thing about my last three exes, and they all said similar things about me.” Satoru can’t see either of you from this angle, but he’s certain that you’re opening up your emails right about now. The conversation is coming to a close, and he needs to start focusing on his own tasks, but then you say something interesting, practically baiting him to come out of his office.

“I’ve decided that from this point forward, I am swearing off men.” 

Utahime laughs. “You can’t just swear off all men because of a few bad ones.”

“Not forever.” You clarify. “Just for the time being. All the men I’ve dealt with  in Tokyo suck.”

On paper, all your exes are fantastic catches. There’s the surgeon (who found you to be too independent), the professor (who thought you were too busy to give him the attention he needed), the hedge fund associate (who thought that he liked smart girls, but apparently, not ones smarter than him), and your newest ex, the investment banker. The irony isn’t lost on anyone — an investment banker criticizing someone for being a workaholic obsessed with the prestige of their finance career? If he was going to scramble for an excuse to want to see other people, he should have chosen some other cliche line instead of using the same one someone else must have said to him. 

“What’s this about men in Tokyo?” Satoru strolls up to the divider between you and Utahime, hands in his pockets, pretending that he hasn’t been listening to the entirety of your conversation from the very beginning.

“That all of them suck.” You say, with that unwavering confidence he likes. 

“I’m a man in Tokyo.” He’s grinning.

“Yeah. I stand by what I said.” You’re not even being courteous enough to look at him, still focused on whatever email is on your screen.

His grin only grows wider.

“Maybe all the men you’ve been with are subpar, but I bet I could change your mind.” 

“Is this even appropriate for work?” Utahime interjects. 

“If it’ll make my dear employee Utahime happy, I can grab someone from HR to supervise this conversation.” Satoru says.

“It’s a trap.” You tell her, lips curling up in a smile that lets him know you’re going to say something very mean and probably true about him. “He’s already broken protocol with everyone who works there.” 

“You’re very disrespectful to your boss. Anyone else would have fired you on the spot.” Satoru only pretends to be wounded by your comments, but everyone knows that he’s as good at taking it as he is at dishing it out. Sometimes, it’s easy to forget that Satoru owns this firm because he’s not very good at professionalism himself. 

Utahime mutters something under her breath, deciding not to engage further in whatever it is the two of you are doing.

“So, whaddya say? Wanna test out your ‘all men in Tokyo suck’ theory with me?” He knows this teasing won’t go anywhere, even if he wants it to. You’re good at your job, and you’re good at being a professional. Somehow, he doesn’t think you would consider fucking your boss as something very professional. 

“I would, but I have standards.” 

Satoru wants to make a snide comment about all the guys who have dumped you, but he can’t, because it’s already been established that they’re not just decent by regular standards, but stellar. Rich, successful, well educated men who could probably make you cum. 

Well, Satoru is richer, more successful, and more educated than all of them combined, he thinks. And he would gladly make you cum like crazy, if you let him. 

“C’mon, what’s wrong with me?” 

“Promise I won’t get fired if I’m being honest?” You turn your desk chair, looking up at him with mock doe eyes, and the sight shouldn’t be both endearing and hot to him, but it is. 

“Give me your worst.” He tells you, both of you smiling at the challenge. 

“I don’t give anything of myself to a man who can’t even bother to commit to anyone.” 

Of course, you have a point. Satoru’s not known for dating anyone. He takes women out on extravagant dates, yes, but he doesn’t actually practice the act of dating. 

He doesn’t see a point to it. Most people, save for his friends (a bit weird to consider some of his closest companions are actually his employees), see beyond his shiny veneer, and dating would just complicate things. Dating means someone seeing the duller, not-so-great parts of himself.  

“I could commit if it’s you.” 

The way he says it, without that familiar teasing lilt of his, makes you burst out laughing. He really is trying to commit… to the bit, that is. For a moment, Satoru almost tricks you into thinking he’s serious. 

“You are so full of shit, Gojo.”

You’re focused on your work, not the momentary hurt look that disappears from his face as quickly as it came. 

“Don’t be such a pessimist.” He tells you. “I bet I could make you believe in love again.” 

“Who said I didn’t believe in love?” You frown at that. “I just don’t believe that the men in this city are capable of it.” 

“Bonus season is upon us.” Satoru says, suddenly having a bright idea. He’s so rich that his wealth seems to be an extension of himself, and like all other parts of his body and mind, he uses it to his advantage. 

“Ugh, don’t tell me this conversation is going to affect my bonus check. I really will go to HR, then.” 

“I’ll double your bonus pay if you let me court you for three months.”

“Court me?” You’re laughing at him again. He eats it up, savors it, lets it settle on his tongue and warm his insides. 

“If you’re so convinced I’d be horrible and only prove you right, wouldn’t you jump at the chance to make some easy money?” 

He’s trying to bait you into accepting; you know it. You also know that nothing from Gojo comes easy. He makes it entirely too convenient to forget that he’s razor sharp and cutthroat, the things he needs to be in order to remain on top of the finance scene, but he’s always joking, always teasing, that it feels like he almost doesn’t like being taken seriously. 

“Like I said, I don’t deal with men with commitment issues.”

There was a brief moment in time where you considered going out with Gojo. The two of you have always been rotating in the same social circles, way back to your high school and university days. You don’t shame him for having casual sex because Gojo is genuinely sweet when he wants to be, and you know that everyone he’s ever fucked has done so more than willingly, probably too eagerly. They all get broken up over the fact that Gojo never wants to actually enter into a relationship with them, and it’s probably because they chose not to take him seriously. He has a bad habit of spitting out the truth but presenting it like some sort of joke. A guy shouldn’t take you out to a nice dinner and make you cum twice before even thinking about himself if he doesn’t want a girl to fall in love with him. 

For as long as you’ve known Gojo, he’s never dated once. Never a high school sweetheart or a tumultuous college relationship bound for disappointment and a messy breakup. Even now, he doesn’t follow the example of the other men in positions of power like him, who pursue doe-eyed college girls to shower with affection and trap into manipulative relationships. 

He’s cute and funny and would treat you right, but you can’t deal with the embarrassment of having someone only for one night or two, only to have them do the same thing they did with you, just with someone else. It would feel like a mockery. Your pride doesn’t give you room to give in to Gojo’s charm.

“Is that really your only stipulation?” He shrugs, like this is something insignificant, and you’re being so silly. “I’ll stay committed to you for the entire duration of the bet.” 

You narrow your eyes. “You need to keep your dick wet at all times. I’m pretty sure you die if you don’t get off at least once a day.” 

Utahime coughs, but it sounds too much like a laugh. 

“True, but I bet you’d be great at keeping me alive.” 

Oh, he is definitely getting sent to HR.

“So you want me to believe in love, and you’re convinced you can do this by the time bonus season rolls around, which is only three months.” You’re entering business mode, rearranging the facts and coming up with strategies in your head. Satoru never thought that someone thinking could be so attractive, but here he is, and here you are. 

“I’ll agree to participate, but only if you can handle what I consider to be proper courting.”

“What does that consist of?” He’s got you, hook, line, and sinker. There’s nothing Satoru Gojo cannot accomplish. He’s built up his own wildly successful private equity firm, doubling his family’s fortune. He graduated top of his class. He gives every girl he’s ever been with consecutive, mind blowing orgasms using just his tongue and two fingers. There’s nothing you could possibly say that his natural talents and money can’t handle. 

“No sex. No kissing. No touching.” You lean back in your chair, looking far too smug. 

“Done.” 

He doesn’t even have to think about agreeing, but you falter, just for a second. 

“Really?”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“It’s not just you saying no to sex with me, but sex in general.” You pause, trying to spot when the realization of the severity of his situation is. When he doesn’t give you a reaction, just still continuing to tilt his head in mild amusement, you continue. “You can’t flirt or take anyone else on a date, and you definitely can’t fuck them, either.” 

“Yes, I’m aware.” 

“You’re going to regret this.” You huff, certain that Gojo is dumber than you thought. He might think this is all fun and games now, but when he’s pent up and unable to get off, you’re certain you’re going to receive a text from him forfeiting the bet altogether. It shouldn’t bother you that he acts like your addition to the bet is easy, because his failure means your pockets get fatter, but it’s no fun playing games when someone isn’t ready to fully play to win.

“Hmm. We’ll see.” He says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Make sure to finish going over all the analysts’ slide decks because I’m taking you out tomorrow night.” 

The timer for the bet starts tomorrow, then.

Satoru thinks it’s cute that you thought you had him there, dangling sex like he’s some barbarian who can’t survive without it. Sure, fucking is fun, and sure, you’re definitely denying yourself of some of the greatest experiences you could have had, but he uses his brain more than his dick. 

If any girl is worth going celibate for, it’d be you.

Sitting in his office, he can’t concentrate on his work. He doesn’t know why it bothers him so much that you think not having access to your body would be enough to turn him away. Either you really do think he’s a sex addict, or the men you’ve been with aren’t as great as they appear to be. It’s probably a mixture of both, but this conclusion doesn’t make him any happier. 

Neither does having Suguru saunter into his office, without knocking. Just walks in, like he owns the place. And with his fifty-percent ownership of the firm, and his last name right next to Gojo’s on the building, he kind of does.

“HR is going to have a field day with you,” his best friend says in exchange for a greeting. Satoru would have preferred a hello.

“HR is in charge of the payroll that I fund,” is Satoru’s retort. 

“Only you would force an employee into a childish bet instead of asking her out like a normal person.”

“Didn’t force her.” Satoru conveniently doesn’t acknowledge the latter half of his statement.

“Didn’t really give her much choice, either.” Suguru smiles. “Shit, even I’d deal with your ass for two hundred grand more.” 

“Well, unfortunately for you, I’m committed to one woman only.” 

“God help her.” And then, after taking a second to think, Suguru continues. “Actually, if He really cared, He wouldn’t have kept leading her to the same places as you.” 

“Maybe I’m her blessing.” 

No one in the office knows why Suguru is laughing so hard behind Gojo’s closed door.

“There’s no way this is legal,” Utahime tells you, taking a sip out of her iced matcha latte before continuing on her half-lecture/half-rant. “Gojo needs to be behind bars.”

A bit dramatic, all things considered. It’s not like Gojo’s comments even make the list for sleazy things male coworkers have said to you before, and you’re not entirely innocent, either. You like to poke and prod at him because it’s fun, and you know that Gojo can take it. 

Utahime does not respect Gojo, but she does like him enough to tolerate him. They’re like brother and sister, so much so that one time, someone made an offhand comment about how they should just fuck to get rid of their antagonism towards each other, and they both threw up because they were so disgusted. 

“It is a bit inappropriate,” Nanami comments, and you know he’s right because when has Nanami ever been wrong?

Granted, Nanami must have been wrong sometime in his life. He started out with a similar background as everyone else working in the firm. He landed an internship and then a return offer in investment banking, despised it, pursued academia, and was halfway done with a PhD program in economics before he decided to come back and work for Gojo and Geto. He doesn’t tell anyone why he came back, and no one is close enough with him to ask and expect an honest answer.

Nanami having lunch with you is a treat because he prefers avoiding everyone in the office, so it almost feels like you’ve won a coveted prize, one to show off whenever you get back to the office. He likes to keep to himself, but even he’s only human. The interest in your little bet with Gojo is harbored by him, too, same as everyone else who’s heard about it. 

You should feel embarrassed about having your life so publicly known, but finance is a small, incestual pool. Everyone working within it knows each other, has fucked each other, and will continue to exclusively hate and love only each other. It’s a bit cultish, if you think about it, so you try not to focus on the social aspects of the job. 

“It’s not like I’m on his team or anything. I technically only handle deals managed by Geto.” You say this in defense of yourself, as if it changes the morality and ethics of the whole bet. It doesn’t, but the attempt doesn’t go unnoticed. 

“Geto and Gojo are essentially two halves of the same whole.” Utahime replies. “Geto just has more public decency training.” 

“You’re telling me that you can see Geto betting someone that he can make her fall in love with him in three months?” 

“No. He’s not as audacious. I like Geto, he’s very cautious.” Nanami looks thoughtful for a second. “He would bet six months, just to be safe.” 

Satoru knows that he’s screwed the moment you’re being introduced as the newest student in his class. School started two weeks ago, so everything’s already been settled. Everything important, that is, so the hottest girl in class has been established, along with who’s going to be relentlessly bullied, and who everyone is going to cheat off of. He has different routes mapped out for getting to class, depending on his mood and who he’s trying to avoid, along with a new secret hiding spot that he’s not going to share with anyone, except for Suguru, and maybe Shoko. 

He likes that he’s already gotten all this shit dealt with so he can spend the rest of the year relaxing, but he’s watching you as you’re standing in front of the class, talking to the teacher and then introducing yourself.

The first thing he notices is that the ugly school uniforms are decidedly not ugly. He comes to this startling conclusion when the boxy, starchy white button-up shirt doesn’t look like cardboard on you, and that the gray wool of your skirt doesn’t wash you out. 

The next thing he notices is that you speak differently than any of the other teenage girls he’s dealt with, save for Utahime and Shoko. Shoko has no issue with speaking her mind, and if Satoru presses enough buttons with enough pressure, he can get Utahime to curse like a sailor. He spaces his aggressions out accordingly, so that way when she does blow up in his face, she does it in the presence of an adult. You introduce yourself confidently; there is nothing shy or meek about you, even though standing in front of a bunch of disinterested teens — your strange new peers for the rest of your high school years — should be anxiety inducing. 

Then, you take the empty seat next to him like it belongs to you, and Satoru is starting to think that maybe it does, that maybe it always has. 

(Well, Suguru is sick today, that’s why the seat was available.)

Anyway, all of his carefully laid out plans are now tossed out the window. He needs to figure out what route you take to get around, and what the rest of your class schedule looks like, and maybe it’s just him, but the former hottest girl in school has now been demoted to second-best. 

He feels a shift in the air, like the universe is trying to signal major change in his life, and rather than run away from it, Satoru settles into his seat, noticing how you’re not even giving him the time of day. 

There’s an unfamiliar feeling rising inside of him; something that says you’re going to constantly knock him off-balance and—

—he kinda likes it.

[mrmeepsmadmind]

rewatching this over and over again.. mainly bcs tarn makes soundwave into a manlet but also bcs it's hilarious

[ao3-crack]

(x)

[fish-bowl-2]

I miss my sons.

[partystoragechest]

A story of romance, drama, and politics which Cullen has accidentally become invested in.

Supplemental material for Unwanted, from the perspective of Cullen. In this addendum, Cullen is busy sulking :(

(Masterpost. Addendums. Words: 1,220. Rating: all audiences. Warnings: sad. Addendums may contain spoilers for Unwanted and are best read after finishing the story entirely.)

Chapters 30-31, Addendum

Darkness consumed Cullen’s office. The evening had drawn in, giving way to pitch and shadow, yet he had not cared to light a single candle. He slumped in his chair, hands pushing through his hair until it tangled into a mess of curls. Let the darkness have him.

A little knock sounded upon his door. He ignored it, as he had all the others. He didn’t want to see anyone, and he couldn’t fathom how anyone would wish to see him.

“Cullen?” they called. “Please may I come in?”

Josephine had never sounded so unsure. Sighing, Cullen pushed himself out of the chair, and trudged over to the door. He slid the bolt out of the lock, but left her to open it. By the time the sun’s dying rays had managed to slip through, his back was already turned, his palms resting upon his desk.

“Cullen, are you all right?” she asked.

One by one, candles came to life—ignited by her own. Cullen turned his head from their glow.

“I ruined everything,” he muttered.

“No—this is not your fault.”

“It is,” he growled. “She was right. I treated them abominably, without even considering the consequences.” He tensed his fist against the wood. “I needn’t have done this. But I did. Selfishly. This is what I deserve.”

“No, Cullen. You don’t understand.”

“Don’t try to spare me. It was I who—”

“Stop!” she snapped, causing him to at last look round. “Cullen, will you stop admonishing yourself long enough for you to listen to me!?”

He stared at her, confused, but only so much. Self-hatred drowned him sufficiently enough to prevent even a droplet of anything else.

“There is a darker truth to all of this,” Josephine confessed. “I am sorry, believe me, I am—but I lied to you. I told you that the Ladies were invited to be a deterrent to your enquirers, but that is not wholly accurate to my intentions.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, where to begin? You know, Cullen—you are always working in this office. Or training your soldiers. You never take breaks! We have all talked about it, tried to find ways to stop you.” It all tumbled out of her, like a dam had been broken. “Dorian and Leliana play chess with you, Bull and Cassandra spar, Varric invites you to cards—but you never come.” She sighed. “If you do not stop, you will destroy yourself doing this. And we cannot let you.”

Cullen strayed from the desk, pacing towards the bookshelf—if only to give himself a moment. A moment to digest, a moment to comprehend. Her plan, all along, was not to ward off his suitors… but to find a suitable one? Because he worked too much?

“This was your solution?”

“Not ours—but mine alone,” Josephine clarified. “I admit, it was clumsy. But, I had the faint hope that it might work. Had you not discovered their arrival beforehand, it would have all been quite natural. Accidental meetings, here and there. Nothing so forced. Simply... time to know each other.”

“Without my knowledge?”

“I thought you would object.” She chuckled to herself. “In that, at least, I was correct. But I assure you—it was not done out of a desire to make you… miserable. Indeed, I hoped for the opposite. I had hoped one of the Ladies might... catch your interest.”

Cullen placed a hand upon the shelf, and gazed at the spines of the books stood upon it. One recent addition caught his eye: a basic study of astronomy, borrowed from the library. He'd read it twice.

“Well done,” he muttered.

“Why?”

He retreated from the shelf. “It worked.”

Lady Trevelyan. A name that had rattled around his mind, for one reason or another, since he met her. The reason now was most painful of all.

“I know,” murmured Josephine. “I’m sorry. I only wanted to make you happy.”

Cullen slumped against a wall. “Happiness is wasted upon me.”

“Don’t you dare. I won’t abide by it.”

“No, Josephine. Nothing you have done justifies my actions. I hurt her, and the others. Entirely for my own benefit.” He snorted at himself. “And your greatest crime, in comparison, is believing that I could ever act in pursuit of anything other than self-sabotage.”

Something turned in Josephine. She rounded on him, furious.

“No, Cullen, don’t you dare! I will not allow you to wallow in self-pity—especially not for something I caused. Yes, you did wrong, and I did wrong. But it is not too late to make amends!” She strode closer, quietening as she did, but gesturing just as emphatically. “It will take time, and patience—things I know you struggle with. You must be willing to fail… but you must also be willing to try.”

In that moment, it was as if Cullen saw not Josephine stood before him, but Mia. Her words weakened his defences, pierced his heart, and struck him true. He wanted to try. But he didn’t know how. How did one make amends for… this?

Until he realised that he had already been told how. Lady Trevelyan had practically screamed it in his face.

“Perhaps”—he pushed himself to stand—“perhaps I could see the other Ladies?”

Josephine blinked, and she was right to. He was never this easy to get through to normally. “What?”

“I’d like to apologise to them,” he said. “Myself.”

The problem, at its core, was that Cullen did not desire some fawning noble. He wanted for a woman who would truly know him, all his facets and flaws. Who would judge him, accordingly. Who would challenge him, if necessary. Who would understand him, with complexity.

But for a man who cared so much about being known, he had certainly not extended the same courtesy to the Ladies. What little he knew of them was that the Baroness was the leader of Val Misrenne, Lady Samient was the daughter of some Duke, and Lady Erridge talked more of some other Lady than herself—which was impressive, considering how much she talked.

He saw Lady Trevelyan as different to them. She saw herself as no different at all. To insult them, was to insult her. To remedy that insult against her, he had to remedy the insult against them first.

Josephine grimaced. “That… may be difficult. They are aware of the truth. I cannot imagine they shall wish to see you.”

But that would not deter him now: “Could you at least ask?”

“Of course—I will try.”

Satisfied, he settled at his desk, and began to sort through the clutter. It was covered with documents and reports, incongruous and many. Abandoned, so readily, to see… her. Perhaps Josephine had a point.

“Cullen,” she said, “I am so sorry for putting you in this position.”

He shook his head. “I appreciate your friendship, Josephine.”

She smiled. “And I yours. I will see that you are not bothered, this evening.”

He thanked her, and she bid him farewell. He waited til she was truly gone, and then wandered to his window. The keep lay beyond, its walls concealing a sombre secret. That Lady Trevelyan was somewhere within, hurt and crying—because of him.

He would put it right. But not for himself.

[television-overload]

Writing Mulder and Scully out of sync, not talking, not getting along, is WAY harder than I thought it would be. If anyone has any advice 😅

[altschmerzes]

If Roy and Ted start sharing a bed when Roy stays over, is there an instance where Jamie ends up in the middle after like a bad dream or something? Or maybe that’s weird for like a 16 year old… idk now I’m just thinking out loud

first off i dont think that’s weird at all! we never really grow out of needing to be supported and comforted by the people who are important to us, and i know people who’ve done this sort of thing seeking comfort from their parents during times of extreme stress and trauma into their twenties. it’s one of the things that’s been interesting about writing this fic and characterizing jamie particularly once he’s gotten close to this new support system in his life - how to balance that he’s 15, 16, 17 years old and seeks independence and self sufficiency and also has a lot of reasons to be ashamed of a desire to seek comfort or a rejection of anything he sees as making him weak or childish and at the same time he’s a kid who’s been chronically starved of care and affection and that’s. a vital need for kids, even teenagers. sometimes especially teenagers. (i may or may not have spent quite a bit of time online reading psych and sociology and like. Parenting And Family Resources to get a handle on some stuff and verify if my hunches are accurate or not XD)

which is to say yes absolutely that’s on the horizon. not often, but sometimes, when things are bad and his need to be a kid taken care of and protected by his parents overrides his fear of being seen as a baby or bothering them. he remembers one of his friends getting broken up with via text while he was over for a sleepover and going and watching them leave the kidgang to go to their parents room bc they’re upset and want their parents. and if that’s okay, maybe this is okay for him to do too.

(ted and roy thoroughly encourage it any time jamie will admit to needing or wanting something. moments where he comes to them when he’s scared or upset, voluntarily seems out comfort are absolutely everything to both of them, especially given how hard it is for him to do)

[ppg-villains-defense-lawyer]

One thing I think that's significant when Sedusa was manipulating the Gangreen Gang vs when she was manipulating the Professor or the Mayor is that it was the only time she didn't use a disguise. She was open about being a villain and, presumably, a seductress (kinda hard to hide when your name is literally Sedusa). And I think that speaks to how well she knows her victims and how to approach them.

The Professor is a pretty clean cut, nerdy guy whose type is similarly clean cut, nerdy women but if not nerdy than at least good. Wholesome. Maybe even kind of introverted, as we see with Ms. Keane. So Sedusa emulated that archetype to a T, pretending to be this sweet, soft spoken woman and literally naming her alter ego Ima Goodlady. With the Mayor, she probably picked up real quick that he already had a crush on his hot secretary, so she just took over Ms. Bellum's identity.

With the Gangreen Gang, she knew that unlike the others, if they knew she was a villain, that that would be a bonus, not a turn off. She knew they were lonely and isolated and craved outside affection and played into that, and knew they'd take her "seductress" reputation as a challenge instead of a deterrent. Basically the classic "bad girl/boy" fantasy where, sure, they use and manipulate other people, but with me they're genuine. I'm the exception to the rule. And because I can get this unloving person to love me, then that means I have value.

[bittersweetresilience]

and now that i've posted fluff and romance, it's time to get back to gore and character death

[wttcsms]

guys, i don’t mind curiosity or eagerness when it comes to another update or a follow up on a fic, but i genuinely want to put out good work nowadays, and have fics that actually have some semblance of a plot or a theme to it, or parallels in my writing, or decent characterization, and i dick around on the feed a lot, but i think you guys forget that i’m a grad student with my full time internship and a weekend job, so i can’t really sit down at my desk and write fanfiction for hours on end nor do i have the energy to do so. this isn’t me lecturing anyone on asking for the ever so elusive part two or “when are you gonna update”, it’s just a friendly reminder that im a person??? not just an ai generated bot that u send a prompt and i spit out a fic

[sabraeal]

1000 Followers Celebration: Part 4

One last poll and we'll have finished all of January's schedule!

Week 1: The Man of Progress [melvik] Week 2: to all the ghosts still standing in this room [soolili] Week 3: Gojo/Marin fic

And with January almost done, it's time to move on to looking at February. The first two weeks will be dedicated to in progress obiyuki fics, so please drop me an ask with the fics of mine you are most excited to see updates for!

[cursed-spirit-manipulation]

lot of ppl upset abt the lack of. Any Real Acknowledgement of Gojo dying and I'm not saying they're wrong but I did realize that I think that's pretty much just how JJK is. Like Riko died. Anyway. Kuroi maybe? We don't know. Haibara died. Ok. Geto died. Like that's a big part of the plot but Gojo doesn't tell the first years SHIT about him. They just know there's a weird monk fucking everything up (and that's fucking Kenjaku lmao). Nanako and Mimiko. Nanako and fucking Mimiko. Like I'm not saying this is... Okay I'm mad about Riko bc like. She's a big part of the reason Geto BECAME A MASS MURDERER I'd enjoy if he mourned her more. I JUST REMEBERED THAT YUKI DIED. And Choso. ANYWAY I don't think this is Terrible Storytelling bc it does feel indicative of the way Jujutsu Society treats sorcerers (and potentialy civilians) where you're just expected to fucking Move Along. And I think there might be something genuine in Gojo, being a part of that system, still feeling like what he wants is to fade away after he dies, arguably showing that in the end he is the same as everyone else, he's human, he's mortal. And that being both a genuine desire and warped coping mechanism, and the way that's hard to truly parse. But also it does kinda sucks when the characters seem to straight up Forget the ppl who died... Like. Sorry I just got so mad Abt Larue and Miguel and THEY DONT EVEN TALK ABOUT NANAKO AND MIMIKO? TBEY TALK ABOUU MISSING GETO BUT WE CANT GET A SINGLE FUCKING MENTION OF HIS GOD DAMN DAUGHTERS? anyway the treatment of death in JJK is a good Foundation for themes and emotional resonance but uhhh Gege kinda sucks at writing so it's. It's eh

[starlight-eclipsed]

Art for GLXY:PSSNGR by socraticat

(It's a scene from chapter 23, so beware spoilers if that's something that ruins the experience for you.)

I swear this scene took over my life for the last few days. The realization, the mixed relief and grief, the trust, these two finally starting to communicate the big picture (at least to each other).

This fic is wonderful and I definitely suggest giving it a read if you haven't yet! I love the dynamics between the characters, and it's an interesting take on danny/tim as a ship as Danny is the one that gets to be the disaster this time :3

I don't know if the writer has a tumblr so I'll probably comment the link on their fic later when I have the energy and internet connection.

[autistic-katara]

writing would fix me

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

trick to fun dialogue is just to make it a little hard to understand. maybe thats a cheap trick but i dont care