#i hate my love story mp3 songs

[norikuna]

CREAM SODA — gojo satoru minors dni

prologue. → you've always known that gojo satoru is a real piece of work. arrogant, haughty. definitely has a praise kink for when people always call him 'the strongest.' but you're not even friends anymore, so this isn't any of your business...right?

what you didn't know is just how nasty he is, caging you in front of a mirror to lick away blood that he spilled from the veins of another man, one who dared to touch you.

pairing. gojo satoru x afab!reader

warnings+. secondary love interest in the form of a random oc, jjk lore being mildly twisted, history around the world, in-jujutsu universe (not an au), gojo going feral and batshit bonkers, rough séx, créampíe, INSANE glass-shattering jealousy, hate séx but only a bit, brééding, oràl (f. receiving). enemies to lovers, former friends, PLOT AND WORLD BUILDING BTW this isn't pẃp, éxhibitionísm, mirror séx, overstímulàtion, bratty reader but with a reason to be a hater, working together on a mission, mentions of alcohol and the crime underworld, DEFINITELY a bit dark because reader goes through emotional whiplash, descriptions of a fight and heavy injury, biting because i always somehow write gojo as a vampire type of freak?? the PRIME example of the miscommunication tropes and a case where neither person is in the right...nuance is your friend here, fake bodyguard!gojo, reader wears a dress + makeup for a formal event, angst, hurt, lashing out, some comfort and fluff

excerpt: part of you knows that you just aren't seeing those pearly gates of heaven.

you know there's going to be a bouncer at the doors, with your face printed on a photo titled: dni! fraud! liar! the world's most incompetent jujutsu sorcerer! would bounce into a criminal's bed at first chance!

word count. 22k!!!!!!! AURKAY!! song inspiration. cream soda — exo, is there someone else — the weeknd

a/n. spent way too long trying to learn ps for the header 😭 wrote this only because of the new grey suit gojo art <3 there's a secondary love interest in this for the ✨ plot ✨ but he's just a character i made up for this story. i would have used one of the other jjk men but it would made it into an au that i didn't feel like expanding on 😭

mp3.. feel that tinglin', that silky smooth cream, each swirl deepens the flavor, babe. baby, go dumb dumb!

"f-fuck, if i had known it felt like this, would've stuck my fingers in h-her a long time ago," gojo unfurls his fingers that only just separated from your fluttering pussy, and you can only watch.

equally mesmerised as his slender fingers are coated in strands of your slick, clinging to the curves of his short nails and coating them in a mirror sheen.

"have some c-class, gojo! you've lost your fuckin' mind -"

smack!

the dewy pads of his fingers have come down in a harsh arc, slapping right at your throbbing clit, and the jolt sends such an incredible crack of lightning down your spine that you're bucking your hips back up into his hand, back for more.

"some class? hah, 'm not able to do that now, baby," and you can feel gojo shudder under your touch, as you paw at the linen of his black dress shirt, raking your nails over his pectorals, "not when it f-feels like your pussy is about to, fuck, vacuum my fingers off."

"i swear to god, gojo. never say that corny shit a-again."

but it's hard to convey any sense of righteous fury like this. not when he's back to pushing the tapered ends of his long fingers in and out of your tight heat. each brush from the pads of his fingertips leaves you squealing, tugging at the snowy strands on the back of his head.

but gojo's teeth are sharp as they sink into the damp skin of your neck with an almost reverent press, easily snapping through the delicate flesh.

and you're squealing, shocked at how fucking bold gojo satoru has become, whining at how a sharp hiss pulses through you, and you can feel the warmth of blood beginning to bloom and pool over your collarbone.

"shit, 'm sorry, baby. so sorry. but i'm gonna need to see you l-like this," and suddenly gojo snaps away the pussydrunk babble falling from his candied mouth, and he's pressing a searing kiss to your jaw, and the air becomes hazy with the scent of an insanely expensive cologne, cedar and something...sweet, like cardamom.

still, there's hardly time to dissect that.

not when his thick arm is around your waist, handling you until you're smack bang between his legs, right between dark slacks. and gojo has shifted, so your back is flat against the hard planes of his chest, and your knuckles can only grip at the vanity sink. so your eyes can only see your naked torso twisting in the mirror.

"keep your eyes h-here, sweets. on us."

wait. you need to pause this tape, and do a little rewind.

how did you end up here, getting finger-fucked in a luxury five star suite? by the one man on earth that you swore that you could never stand?

(earlier that day)

the chandeliers had been shimmering overhead like stars, each fine crystal caught the golden light and scattered it across the grand lobby, and it was making your eyes flare and twitch.

this entire hotel felt frozen in time, some opulent relic of the roaring twenties, translated straight into tokyo's beating heart.

it was all so...pristine, and gaudy. and even the air carried that faint scent of hefty chanel no.5 and furniture polish.

but hey, this cheque wasn't coming out of your pocket, so who were you to complain?

that's how you rationalised it to yourself, right after a smartly-dressed waiter had floated past with a tray of shimmering champagne, one that you had easily helped yourself to.

ah, fuck it.

let the bill rack up on yaga's card. the least he could do after volunteering you to the higher ups for this mission.

a thick folder rested in your lap, clipped papers inside threatening to spill over from the sheer volume of information, that made your head spin.

of course, it was all courtesy of the jujutsu administration's obsession with drowning sorcerers in needless bureaucracy. and so you leafed through it idly, your thumb skimming over the crisp edges.

names, places, dates, all laid out in haphazard detail.

what a mess, it was a lot, but not enough to fill in the gaps that gnawed at you. the higher ups never gave you everything, fuck, they hated making it easy. still, your eyes caught onto key phrases.

urgent recall of cursed object. yes, that's why you were here. and not enjoying your saturday afternoon at home.

declaration of most expenses covered, in the instances of losing a limb. fair enough, insurance was honestly hell these days.

gain access to the auction being held by the voiceless. find their leader, naoki sato.

you knew of the voiceless, most higher grade jujutsu sorcerers did. a crime syndicate so shrouded in mystery. operating overseas for decades without so much as a cloudy whisper to the general public.

you made an unimpressed face as you kept reading, crinkling sheets under your fingers. smuggling, extortion, and a great deal of unexplained murders that would leave the cast of criminal minds scratching their heads.

how tasteless. still, you weren't the law, each to their own.

however, something made this case different. it made it your apparent problem.

for the voiceless were not your usual ragtag team of ruffian criminals, intent on scamming the vulnerable and sad.

their ranks comprised of wayward jujutsu sorcerers, with a hearty appetite for special artefacts, including cursed objects.

and now here they were, back on tokyo's soil, their hands covered with more than just the regular mundane crimes that could land a man behind bars for life.

you shifted in the plush, sinking seat. flipped to a page that had been practically painted in the most unforgiving shade of neon yellow highlighter.

ah, so this was the cursed object. raijin's amulet.

there was a grainy, slightly off-centre photograph clipped to the top of the document. the image was not much to look out, all washed colours and shadows that clearly didn't speak highly of the skills of whoever was behind the camera.

a circular pendant, a darkened forged creation of bronze and jade, covered in the soot of the ages gone by. spiralled with intricate carvings that reminded you of swirling storm clouds on a summer's evening.

and at it's centre sat a jagged shard of some precious golden stone, rough-hewn at the edges.

you were certain that this was the cause behind the distorted photography, for a modern camera was simply just not meant to capture such high levels of cursed energy.

there was even a faint shape of a dragon coiled around the pendant's edges, with its claws gripping the frame as if guarding it...or imprisoning it.

you weren't sure which. you're not sure you wanted to know which.

the accompanying notes were sparse, filled with frustrated gaps that left you squinting.

believed to be an ancient relic of the heian era. captured from the treasure hoard of the early medieval sorcerer, ryōmen sukuna, after his death.

huh, you hadn't heard that name since your school-days, back when you had poured over fraying history tomes, trying to pen the perfect essay to beat out suguru's flawless grades.

said to be imbued with the power of the lightning deity, raijin. capable of summoning and manipulating thunder, and disrupting various veils and curtains. last known location: the british museum, 1982. current location: unconfirmed.

clearly not an artefact meant to sit behind public museum glass.

dangerous in the wrong hands, and priceless in the hands of all. this must have been at least leagues above your current pay grade.

your thumb hovered over the corner of the page, bruising the white paper underneath as you scanned over the rest of the text, hoping and looking for a section that would be titled: and here's how to track raijin's amulet down and find it, with no bloodshed, and just in time for dinner!

no such luck.

"figures," you muttered under your breath, shoving the folder shut with a disgusted sigh.

this entire mission reeked of playing politics. for years, the voiceless had operated under the radar of other nations, disguising the tell-tale jujutsu as unexplained natural disasters and accidents.

there had been no intervention. they had been untouchable because no-one had the foreign jurisdiction, nor the guts to intervene.

but now, with the voiceless back on home soil, it seemed the higher ups wanted to make a statement. something like 'hey, we're actually useful at our jobs of protecting the jujutsu world!' and who better to clean up their mess than you and...

gojo satoru.

speak of the devil. you glanced up towards the grand entrance of the hotel lobby, as an unfortunate doorman stood by revolving, glass doors.

your...partner strode in, with dark sunglasses perched on his nose, and you scrunched your nose, taking in his appearance.

despite gojo's striking features that could render anyone speechless, he always looked like an odd bird of prey to you.

hawkish with creepy eyes, like a big snowy owl that had been hit by a curse, transforming him and forcing him to assimilate into the world of humans.

"i wasn't sure if you would come," you called, hoping that you masked the bitterness well that he had arrived, and significantly decreased the quality of your day.

"you wouldn't say that in bed," was gojo's snarky, automated reply, before he gave you a mildly embarrassed look, as if his immature mouth moved faster than his common sense did.

"still, sorry to keep you waiting," and gojo was crushing the heel of his boot into the cream marble of the floor, tapping it, all ridiculously long legs in the same uniform dress pants that you also donned, "traffic was hell."

"you don't even have a license," you grouched with a glare that you hoped was sharp enough to cleave time and space, but you stood up all the same, "and i wasn't waiting, i was working."

click! click!

gojo snapped his fingers, reaching for the folder stacked in your arms, "yes, of course you were, sweets," and he clicked his tongue, "now, why don't you hand that to me, and go check us in? i can look over what i need to do, let's get this done before night falls."

the audacity. the absolute nerve. how so typically gojo. swooping in at the last minute for kill shot, as usual, while others poured through all the paperwork, and did all the mental heavy lifting.

"you mean what we need to do, gojo," you snapped, your scowl deepening, "you're the late one. you go check us in."

gojo arched a pale brow, and the corner of his mouth twitched as though he wished he could just unwalk through those doors now, caught between amusement and exasperation. "you used to be so nice. what happened?"

"tsk! i think you happened, gojo. didn't ask to be stuck here with you."

"ah, so you do think about me, at least. but now you're jus' so difficult all the time."

"fuck off, i'm not difficult!" you shot back, before shrinking at the foul look that an elderly couple had directed your way, muttering something about how youth just didn't know how to act indoors, "i'm just saying it's not fair -"

"fine, whatever. don't care, sweets," gojo interrupted, already rolling big, blue eyes and turning away, "i'll go do it. you just stay nice and comfortable here."

and just like that, after comfortably raising your blood pressure (and heart rate), gojo satoru strode off towards the vast front desk, hands shoved lazily into his pockets, as though the two of you weren't on the clock to hunt down and find a dangerous criminal, his syndicate and a cursed object.

you trailed behind him, resisting the violent urge to grab his stupid sunglasses and fling them across the lobby. or stomp on them.

or just sit on them.

meanwhile, your eyes landed on the last and final page of the file, where a bright pink sticky note stood out sharply against the dull black and white of the case file.

final task: retrieve artefact. execute naoki sato on site. alternatively, bring in for execution.

the words were scrawled in thick, impatient strokes of a black marker. the kind that spoke more of efficiency, than humanity.

typical. there was just nothing that higher ups of the jujutsu world loved more than lopping the head off anyone that they deemed inconvenient. quick, clean and final.

still, this decision wasn't your business, not really.

you looked up to see gojo casually leaning against the counter, and his entire demeanour radiated smooth confidence as he spoke to the receptionist.

the sweet-looking woman had fumbled her worlds almost immediately, and she had dropped her pen twice. and he had caught it with an easy smile and wink that would have made you roll your eyes clean out of your skull.

you wanted to gag.

in less than a minute, gojo had the black keycard in his hand, spinning it between his fingers like some trophy as he sauntered towards the elevators.

you sighed as he stopped in front of you, extending the card with a flourish, like a knight presenting a courtier with a wreath of fresh-cut flowers.

"we're here for a mission, gojo. not to get it wet."

the tips of his ears flushed a bright, vibrant red. but his grin didn't falter as he huffed, and snatched the keycard back. leaving your arm floundering in the air before you dropped it.

"how crude. that's not even what i asked her. but still, you're welcome, sweets," he had said, stepping into the elevator and holding the door open for you with an exaggerated stretch of his arm.

"i didn't say thank you."

gojo smiled, tilting his head in that distracting, no. what? in that irritating manner of his, "no need. i could feel the gratitude radiating off you," and he's crossing his arms against his broad chest in a way that made the tailored uniform seem unfairly snug, "warms my heart."

"what if you don't have a heart?

for a fleeting moment, something unreadable flashed in gojo's eyes, irritation easily — but something unrecognisable, but he must have smoothed it away with practised ease. for that same cocky grin returned like clockwork, infuriatingly charming and just as insincere.

"what if it only beats for you?" he shot back, wiggling his fingers dramatically, and the motion was so over-the-top that it leaned closer to sleazy than heartstopping.

"now i'm worried, you need to get shoko to check that out. sounds like a serious health issue."

"your tender concern for my well-being is what keeps my blood pumping," and you know that gojo has little regard for the personal space for others, the way that the distance between you is closing once more, in a way that makes your own pulse flicker.

"please," and you take a deliberate step back to reclaim your own space, "if i wanted you gone, i wouldn't waste my time hoping for a heart attack. i'd do it myself."

gojo shrugs, tilting his head like you had just told him a sweet joke, "you're cute when you're homicidal, y'know that?"

"and you're insufferable all the time. we all have our talents."

gojo's barked out a laugh, and the sound is annoyingly genuine. it has you grinding your teeth together, making your jaw tight.

"hey, gojo," you swivel back to the towering bean-pole behind you, leaning against a steel bar.

"mhm, what?"

"i'll give you a hundred thousand yen if you keep your mouth shut during the entire elevator ride," you mutter, staring at the ground floor map, and up to where your suite was meant to be, hands fiddling over the buttons.

"deal."

you glance back, "that easy? clan money running low, gojo?"

gojo sighs, shaking his (ridiculous) snow-cone hair, "you have no idea. spent it all on a sweet talkin' girl who kicked me to the curb. even took the dog with her. who takes the fucking dog?"

despite yourself and your iron-clad resolution to not validate gojo satoru in anything, you snort, the first genuine laugh he's pulled out of you.

you choose not to notice how his eyes suddenly seem a shade brighter, as you snicker, "you're so ridiculous."

he doesn't reply as you press an index finger into the cool metal of the elevator button, and you turn around to see him sadly miming out his broke plight, with a sack of imaginary things over his shoulder, jingling the few coins he has.

tsk. you bite your lip to stop the corners of your lips lifting up to match gojo's own, wrinkling your nose in faux distaste as you spin back around, with gritted teeth. away from the mild bane of your existence.

true to his word, and shockingly so, gojo stayed silent through the elevator ride. mostly.

you caught his restless sighs, the shuffle of his ridiculously polished boots, and the occasional sharp intake of breath like he was simply dying to say something, but kept biting it back.

good. for once, it was nice to make gojo satoru stew.

the elevator dinged, and you had already stepped out, planning to ditch him in the suite, but clearly, gojo had other ideas.

"alright, sweets," he said, hand extended, "i won the bet. hundred thousand yen, i can take a cheque too."

you stopped short, glaring at his outstretched (sculpted) hand.

"right now? just as we're gonna plan how to catch a criminal? can't we do a pay later type of thing?"

gojo's responding grin was wolfish, and his voice dropped enough to make you bristle, "sure. pay later, with a kiss."

your groan must have echoed down the hall, and without thinking, you shoved past him. your shoulder colliding with his chest in a way that was deeply satisfying.

"my kisses," you snapped, refusing to look back at him, "are worth way more than a hundred thousand yen."

gojo didn't reply immediately, no. and for a second, you thought had finally managed to shut him up enough for a moment's peace to gather the thoughts that the white-haired man always managed to unravel.

but when you dared to glance back over your shoulder, his sharp gaze was fixed on you, and his lips were pressed together oddly — the faintest dusting of cherry pink peeking out underneath his sunglasses, and falling over his cheeks.

nary a peep from gojo then, save for him rushing past you to slot the keycard into the door. but holy fuck, the sheer luxury of this suite almost made you forget that gojo satoru even existed.

sleek dark woods, glowing orange accents, and a massive window that offered a panoramic view of tokyo's skyline. and then, there was the bed.

ridiculous in its decadence. a king-sized masterpiece, draped in plush linens that looked softer than the clouds dotting the afternoon sky. framed by polished ebony bedposts that gleamed in the warm light of the suite. the mattress was practically calling out to you, to sink your back into it.

wait, where was the other bed?

"nope! absolutely not," you blurted, spinning on your heel to face gojo who had sauntered in after you, pausing mid-step and clearly, equally caught off-guard with a stunned expression on his face — before morphing into something maddeningly smug.

"what?" gojo said, leaning casually against the doorframe, "it's a bed. you've seen one before, right?"

you tried to speak in a way that wouldn't quite make it show that you felt like your tongue was lead, jabbing a finger at the bed as though it had personally offended you, "there's only one!"

gojo's lips quirked upwards, his blue eyes gleaming with that irritating mix of amusement and mischief, most likely derived from your displeasure, "now look at that, we can count to ten. baby steps."

"don't start with me," you snapped, "i'm not crashing out there. i'd rather sleep in the hallway."

gojo tilted his head, the white tufts of his hair falling around his face, as though he were considering the suggestion seriously, "not sure the hotel staff would appreciate you loitering in their five-star corridors. won't stop you though, sweets."

"you can sleep on the couch," you try to offer helpfully, relishing in how it's his turn to scowl at you.

gojo's glancing towards the sleek leather sofa in the corner, most likely worth more than your monthly rent, "tempting," he drawls, "but i don't think that thing was designed for someone with legs this long," and he's slapping his hands on his thighs, and you do your very best to not track your stare down.

"then curl up like the overgrown house cat you are -"

"fuck you mean by that?"

"or sleep on the floor!"

"i'm liking these options less and less."

but then gojo straightens, and you're starting to see a small tick reach to the corner of his bright eyes, the faintest hint of irritation seeping through his drawl, "you know, for someone so desperate to avoid me, you spend a lot of time wondering where i'm gonna sleep."

you hate the traitorous flush heating up your face, "i'm thinking about it because you're my problem."

"well i hope i'm at least your favourite problem," gojo murmurs, brushing past you to toss his dark bag onto the bed.

"so, what's it gonna be?" gojo's voice was a lazy purr, patting the mattress beside him with a grin that could have launched a thousand arguments, "join me, or keep fighting a losing battle? because -" he faked a yawn, "i think i'm starting to get a bit sleepy."

"sleepy? you're a grown man, and it's barely three in the afternoon."

gojo arches a pale brow, and you have to force yourself to stop staring at the pink curve of his lips, "and? scared you won't be able to resist me in the middle of the night?"

"you should be scared you'll wake up with a pillow smothering your face."

gojo sighs, melodramatic and loud, rolling over onto his back, "i'd rather be smothered by -"

"gojo!"

his laugh is low and rich, and it vibrates in the air in a way that make your teeth itch, and your eyes roll, desparate to change the subject and actually get back on track.

you shove the hefty file in his direction, letting him flounder to grab a hold of it, "last page. naoki sato."

gojo's entire demeanor shifts, and falls under the mention of the name, eyes a touch darker, and suddenly serious in a way that almost makes you regret being on the clock. but he's pushed himself up from the bed, his legs dangling off the edge.

"what about him?"

you frowned, still turning over the situation in your mind, "well, he's supposedly working out of this district right, i mean, even this hotel? but why? i always thought crime bosses had creepy lairs in dark alleyways or something. and not," you gesture to the five-star architecture around you, "this."

gojo's broad shoulders shrug in that lazy way of his, like everything was beneath him, but there was something else flickering behind his perched sunglasses, "i've never even met him. just heard of him," but gojo seems to be chewing each word, as if choosing them carefully, "but what i've heard? not your typical criminal? he flies high, lives the wild life out in the open, rich and shameless."

you privately held back any biting comment that came to you as easy as breathing, about gojo also being the epitome of rich...and shameless. time and place, yeah?

gojo, thank the lucky stars, had not noticed you fighting demons to keep a straight face, "but then every so often sato vanishes off the radar, and then, bam!" your partner splayed his fingers, "he strikes again. always showing in a different place. the united states, france, england, egypt..."

you raise an eyebrow, tapping at your phone, "egypt?"

"egyptian artefacts are ridiculously powerful, sweets. i mean, on a whole other level. they aren't linked with y'know...jujutsu," he gestures vaguely between the two of you, "but whatever they've got is ancient and ridiculously potent. last the higher ups heard, naoki sato managed to get his hands on an old obelisk."

you shake your head at the prospect, humouring gojo, "whatever for?"

"whatever twisted things he does in his free time, fuck if i know. but of course, he couldn't control it. instead, it summoned the spirit of a massive serpent, killed a bunch of innocent civilians."

you have the faintest collection of the mythos surrounding an ancient serpent, and the thought makes you shudder, "wouldn't the local authorities have arrested him for that?"

gojo pushes his sunglasses up his head, so you're now looking back at unblinking blue eyes ringed by white lashes, "how do you arrest a guy who's practically a ghost? they couldn't even find him after all that shit. besides, his technique is something else. enhance. practically has control over every cell in your body."

you nod slowly, hoping that you're piercing it all together correctly, "so this auction is because he's got more of these artefacts? like raijin's amulet?"

gojo nods sharply, and you're struck by the intensity of big blue eyes with whorls of storm clouds lingering between his gaze, "i guess even villainous criminals want to make profit. but we can get a front row seat to whatever he's planning next."

"and stop him before that."

"right. that's what i said."

your frown deepens, "how the fuck does an entire auction stay hidden from the public?"

after all, you had scoured the floorplan of this hotel from base to rooftop, and not a single room or corner would accomodate naoki sato, and the voiceless that follow him.

gojo shrugs with infuriating nonchalance, his fingers tapping idly against the edge of the bed, "there's jujutsu that can create entire illusions. beneath this very hotel lies an entrance to a hidden ballroom, but it's been in and out of use for decades. we jus' need to slip in, find sato, and maybe shake him a few times until he spills the amulet's location."

you cross your arms, and the unfortunate truth lingers on your tongue, "if it were that easy, the higher ups wouldn't have sent you with me as backup."

"was that a compliment for me? careful, you might actually start liking me now."

and at your affronted expression, laugher is spilling out gojo satoru, sharp and cocky and awfully infectious.

you hated the sound, not because it wasn't nice, but because it was. too rich, too easy. the kind of laugh, from the strongest sorcerer to walk the earth, that made you wonder if ever took a damn thing seriously. with the unfortunate side effect of questioning why it was so annoyingly attractive at the same time.

nobody should get to look that good while being such an unbearable ass. it was unfortunate, you thought grimly, how much you liked seeing him laugh though.

"i don't think i'd ever like you at all, gojo."

but alas, the world has a cruel way of making you wish that the earth swallowed you whole. and your heart and mind certainly aren't on speaking terms with each other to coordinate properly. for the barb flies out of your mouth like an uncontrolled reflex, a rogue arrow hitting its mark.

and you're left grimacing as gojo's smile stills. not vanishing completely, but frozen while something cooler and sharper slips into his gaze. the awkward silence that follows is loud enough to make you wince and pray that a lightning bolt strikes you down right now.

gojo gives a quiet cough, and you're wondering just how much of his nonchalant facade he has left intact. fuck, you were a bit of an ass yourself.

"ah, gojo. i didn't mean -" you started, stumbling over the words, desperate to backpedal, if only for the sake of the mission. right?

"don't strain yourself pretending," gojo cuts you off, and you're mildly stung by the smooth edge of venom coating his voice, despite his relaxed smile, "let's just get this job done, yeah? it's just us two here because no-one else could put up with you. i was the only one left who actually wanted to try."

well. ouch, that was a low blow. motherfucker.

your jaw tighten, and for a moment, all you can do is stare into vibrant blue eyes. surely, that wasn't true...right? and how awful that the sharp look in his eyes softened into a smug satisfaction as he registered how his own barb had found his mark.

now, gojo satoru is leaning back with an air of victory, crossing his arms as if to bask in it. talk about drawing more blood from a wound than necessary.

"you're awful, gojo," you bit out, praying that whatever tremor lives in your throat is not enough to appear in your voice.

"yes, i know. you say that all the time."

it was almost tragic, you thought bitterly, how in those fleeting few minutes, you had found gojo satoru bearable. likeable even. insightful, in his own smug way.

but now, the two of you were back to square one, staring each other down with walls firmly back in place.

sure, your quip had been mildly unnecessary, but it wasn't like he hadn't heard your blithe and bland comments by now?

but still, gojo's words gnawed at you. the idea that no one else wanted to put up with you, except him, of all people, burrowed deeper than it had any right to.

maybe it was petty, but you weren't about to let gojo satoru have the last word.

"remember that the higher ups want naoki sato executed," you said, breaking the terse silence.

gojo didn't even glance up from the file he'd been pretending to skim, his long fingers casually flipping a page. and that nonchalance made your stomach churn with irritation.

when he finally looked up, his expression was a mix of curiosity, and disdain, as if you had become a particularly stubborn puzzle that he'd decided was not worth solving, "yes, i know that too. so what?"

"you and i both know you've had trouble executing criminals in the past."

a calculated jab, sharper than they needed to be. and you saw the impact hit almost immediately. gojo's jaw tightened, and the glint in his frosty blue eyes disappeared, replaced by something darker, furious even.

suguru geto was still well and alive, often appearing on television as a friendly priest who would cure one of all their ails such as lower back pain or bad headaches, for the low price of joining the ranks of his organisation (read: cult). but he still remained a sore point for...everyone. you, included.

gojo, especially.

and now the air between you shifted, chilling like a winter draft had snuck into the room. your eyes fell on gojo's knuckles as they tightened around the file, his expression stony.

you shouldn't have felt proud of yourself for getting under his skin, for pulling a genuine reaction from him. but you did. you'd found a crack in his flawless armour, without needing to bypass infinity.

and it was satisfying.

"f-fuck you," gojo said finally, the razor edge in his voice was matched only by the glare he pinned on you.

you crossed your arms, doing your best to feign indifference despite the adrenaline surging through you. ignoring how you felt an awful pit in your stomach sprout, rendering you rather nauseous, and quoting his previous words, "don't strain yourself pretending it's not true."

gojo satoru's glower could have melted steel, and for a moment, you wondered if you'd gone too far. but he stood, slowly, his movements deliberate as he slammed the file shut with a resounding snap.

you watched as he snatched up his smaller bag, and swung the door open with enough force that you were surprised that it didn't fall off its hinges, "just be ready by the time i get back. 'm gonna take a walk."

and you were left, alone, in a room that suddenly felt so much more suffocating.

you weren't sure how long it had been since gojo had stormed out, leaving the room icy in his absence. you hadn't moved from your spot by the door, though you told yourself that you were entirely fine.

arms crossed, lips pressed into a thin, defiant line. but even as you stared at the dark panels of the door, the lie began to unravel.

you told yourself that you just didn't care for gojo satoru. that you didn't like how he was too loud, too reckless, too overwhelming, a force that just didn't fit into the neat confines of your world.

the heat rising to your cheeks must have betrayed you, as did the tight knot in your chest. it had been...not your wisest choice to lash out at him, or to even bring up his name. suguru geto, a wound that would never close for anyone.

but more than that, you hated the memory of his expression just before he left. hurt, and anger. and something far more raw.

he would come back, you knew that much. gojo was much too dutiful to leave a mission and abandon a chance to do some good in this world. it should have been a comfort, but it did little to ease you. instead, that certainty only twisted the guilt tighter in between your ribcage.

finally, you yanked the door open, fuelled by an impulse you didn't care to name. you wanted to catch him outside, mid-pace and brooding. just so you could say...something. anything.

but the hallway was empty, stark and silent, with only the dim flicker of warm light as your witness. you bit your tongue as your stomach churned sourly with disappointment.

and instead, you just slammed the door shut, letting the sound reveberate with just as much force that gojo had slammed the door with, on his way out. you leaned against the wood, closing your eyes as you did your level best to swallow that lump of regret making a home in your throat.

pacing helped for about...three minutes. shuffling through the case files on the table did nothing but remind you of why you were here, why you had both been sent. after all, was this mission not bigger than you, or him? was this not about bringing naoki sato to justice?

it didn't feel that way.

your gaze landed on the garment bag handing from the chair, untouched from when you had pulled it out earlier, back when gojo had been inviting you...to bed.

sort of.

you unzipped the bag with (mildly) trembling hands, letting the fabric spill into your grasp. no doubt that the dress was beautiful, a masterpiece of icy, powder blue and shimmering sequins that caught the light like scattered stars.

well, this had certainly been worth half your paycheck.

your fingers brushed over the delicate embroidery, and for a moment, you felt a mild sting of your own hypocrisy and yearning heart. you accused gojo of being cold, distant and unfeeling, and yet here you were, holding a dress that reminded you of him in every way. the pale blue of the fabric, like the frost in his storm-eyes when they rested on you for too long.

if you ever came face to face with cupid, you would beat him with a baseball bat.

you sighed, dropping the dress onto the bed before gingerly stepping out of your uniform, as cool air stung your skin.

what had you been thinking, treating gojo like that? he didn't deserve your anger, not truly. you knew how much your former classmate carried, how much he gave himself to this cursed and thankless world.

but of course, the little pronged-devil on your shoulder whispered around the shell of your ear. he often drew equal blood from stinging cuts, no-one wanted to put up with you, anyway.

still, there was no use in showing up to a gathering of some of the world's most rich, wealthy and seedy looking like a hollow and shaken ghost. and this mission was just not about gojo, it was about the greater good of the jujutsu world, and that's what you repeated in your head like a mantra, as you swiped plush-red across your cheeks and lips.

a diamond necklace around your throat was the final touch. well, you say diamond, but the truth was more...cheap. still, the strand shone in linked chains of pretty crystals. and that had still been a minor fortune for one who lived on a jujutsu paycheck.

the hours had stretched the afternoon into evening, settling a fragile calm over the suite that made you ache to stretch your limbs out, and take in some fresh air.

but the silence was shattered by a sharp knock at the door, purposeful and deliberate. and it made you freeze, hands still resting on the straps of your glitzy shoes, a frown knitting your brows.

gojo had the keycard, did he not? but who else would be banging your door down?

with a sigh, you stood and lifted the hem of your dress as you crossed the room. opening the door with every intention of scolding him for whatever drama he was dragging in this time.

instead the words just about died a sad and lonely death on your tongue.

gojo satoru.

for a brief second, your thoughts emptied entirely, as though he had cast infinite void right over you, leaving you staring with a heart that hammered like a caged bird.

gone was his usual, drab uniform. instead, he had swapped the dull fabric for a sleek, black dress shirt that clung just right, paired with a crisp, grey jacket that framed his broad shoulders.

you tried to not let your gaze linger on the open gap right under the white tie that hung slightly loosened from his neck, where silk kissed creamy skin.

but gojo’s face was unreadable, distant and cool. you hated how his mere presence always seemed to tilt the world off its axis.

and you blinked, forcing your mouth to close, and you stepped back to let him in. 

"you’re late. again," you snapped, but your voice lacked its usual venom, tempered by the sharp edges of minor guilt that refused to settle in you.

"whatever. ‘m here now, aren’t i?" gojo’s tone was casual, but his eyes lingered a second too long, leaving your skin prickling with self-conscious awareness. 

it seemed that the universe needed to hit you with some karmic intervention, and you decided to take the rare moral high ground, "about earlier," you began, trying to steady yourself, "i shouldn’t have said -"

"forget it, sweets," gojo interrupted with a shrug, though his jaw was tight, "i’m not keen on hearing excuses. i get it."

you bristled, biting back the immense urge to shove him, an urge that becoming disturbingly frequent, "i wasn’t making excuses," sounding out each word slow and deliberate. anger simmering under the surface at his holier-than-thou attitude, "that was an apology."

that made gojo pause, and now he fully turned to you, expression shifting. though it was hard to read, caught between painful acknowledgement and absurd pride that would include him admitting that he was affected by what you said.

for a moment, he said nothing, and the silence stretched unbearably heavy. but then gojo’s ice-gaze dropped to the necklace scattered over your throat, and he tilted his head, "not too bad," a flicker of a scoff curling at his lips.

"tch, they’re not even real," you blurted, then immediately regretted it, what was wrong with you today? you reached up, fingers grazing the cool crystals as if to shield them from his bemused scrutiny, "just thought i needed something to fit in."

gojo slid a pair of tinted sunglasses from his pocket, sliding them up his nose, smooth and practised, "in a room full of the filthy rich and tastelessly overdressed?" his pink mouth twitched, "you’ll fit in perfectly."

gojo was right. this was just…tacky.

the ground floor of the building had been nothing but a sleek, cold lifeless maze of marble, and now he had led you down into what could only be described as a scene for criminals with bad taste. an abandoned parking lot stretched out in front of you, a grimy stretch of concrete that left you expecting a quiet dead end.

until gojo waved his hand, and the illusion clearly met for non-sorcerer eyes shattered.

before you, a set of massive double doors emerged, seemingly from nowhere, and the lifting of the veil had left you disoriented, nauseous. but when the doors swung open, you almost felt like you were stepping into a warped fever dream.

this room inside was the most bizarre mixture of garish opulence that you had ever seen. gold…everything. the walls plastered in a deep red, like someone had dipped the entire place in velvet swathes and then covered it with more gold leaf.

plush, overstuffed settees sat like soft, jewel-toned thrones in every corner, and glass boxes lined the walls, each holding what looked like nothing more than expensive junk, tacky figurines and diamond-encrusted trinkets.

it was the kind of place you’d absolutely expect a mob boss to call home after a particularly long, indulgent afternoon making questionable life choices.

the hall reeked of wealth, the kind that demanded to be seen. opulence dripped from every corner — gilded fixtures, crystalline chandeliers, and glass displays showcasing treasures that screamed money but whispered nothing of taste. you twitched as you passed a goblet encrusted with enough jewels to buy a small city-state. the thought of how much it probably cost made your stomach twist.

"focus," gojo muttered at your side, his tone clipped. he squinted slightly, his sunglasses doing little to shield his six eyes from the garish light that spilled over the room like liquid gold., and you could tell it was a bit...much for his senses, making him blink rapidly. "we’ll sweep the displays, see if the amulet’s here."

you tilted your head, gesturing toward his snowy mop of hair, the unruly strands falling messily over his face and grazing the edge of his glasses. "and you’re sure they won’t recognise you, in this whole...circus?"

gojo's responding glance was sharp, flat, and utterly devoid of humour.

"most of these people wouldn’t recognise a threat if it was biting them in the ass," he said, voice low and laced with disdain. "they’re not sorcerers. just your garden-variety rich and bored — criminals, trust fund brats, maybe a politician trying to look cultured. the kind of people who buy antiques because they match their curtains and makes them look good for their friends."

the corner of your mouth betrayed you, twitching upward at his cutting dismissal of the glittering nonsense around you. he had hit the nail on the head, making contempt seem like an art form.

and worse, you hated how there was something almost…sexy about it.

the thought hit you like a slap, and you forced it down immediately. gojo and sexy didn’t belong in the same sentence. not in the same universe. fuck, not even as a passing joke.

"charmed as i am by your high opinion of humanity," you said dryly, trying to ground yourself in sarcasm, "maybe don’t make it obvious you hate everyone here. we're not here to arrest every person in this room."

gojo snorted softly, his lips curving into what might have been a smirk — or at least the ghost of one. "you think so little of me. i don’t hate everyone." his eyes flicked toward you, just for a second, before returning to the vast hall ahead.

it wasn’t much. barely a glance of electric blue. but it was enough to send your pulse into a sprint, and fuck him, he had to know it. you turned your attention to the nearest display, praying he didn’t notice the warmth blooming in your cheeks.

traitorous.

"let’s just find the amulet, and sato. and get out of here," you said briskly, your voice a shade too sharp.

"mhm," gojo's voice was infuriatingly calm, but when you looked up, his gaze wasn’t on the displays. it was on you.

"you look lost."

a voice, smooth and low, slid over you like silk, stopping you cold in your tracks. it hadn't come from gojo by your side, thank the heavens above, but it didn't make your heart any steadier. you turned towards the source, and your stomach did a three-point flip.

well. hello, gorgeous.

the type of good-looking that just felt unfair. the type that made you forget your name for half a second, and then hate yourself for it. the strnger stood out against the room of puffed-up men in overpriced suits, glittering with real diamonds of their cuff-links, and rolled cigars in their hands.

your eyes fell on dark auburn strands that fell in perfectly tousled strands over his forehead, and a tailored black suit that hugged a slender waist.

"i hope you didn't wander into the wrong hall," the stranger said, curling his lips into a faint smile, fraught with suspicion as it was.

you forced yourself not to stare — at an absurdly sharp jawline, at big brown eyes. but words were a different matter entirely. you struggled to conjure them, grasping for anything remotely coherent.

you settled on an appropriate response.

"um. no, we didn’t."

not your finest moment. not even close.

before you could mentally regroup with a few brain cells, a sharp jolt yanked you back to reality. you sucked in a sharp breath as gojo's long fingers pinched the underside of your arm, a deliberate sting that left you glaring at him.

he didn’t even bother to meet your eyes.

his entire focus was fixed on the stranger, his posture taut with unspoken tension, gojo's jaw clenched so tight you thought he might crack a perfect tooth.

the air shifted subtly, a faint hum of energy emanating from gojo. you knew that hum. it meant trouble. gojo, ever the master of simmering hostility, was gearing up for something, and he was looking weirdly agitated.

and you found it tasteless to jump the first person you had run into here.

"i usually know most of the guests at my events," the stranger continued, his voice calm, unbothered — but there was an edge to it, like he already knew the answer to the question he hadn’t asked.

oh.

you felt your stomach plummet as recognition dawned.

naoki sato.

no wonder gojo looked ready to snap someone in half. naoki wasn’t just anyone — he was the head of the voiceless. the host of this auction. the man whose fortune was built on enough shady dealings to fill a large library. the one who had more blood on his hands than those who had been dealt life sentences.

one of the most wanted jujutsu criminals in the world.

"you've — " gojo started, his voice sharp, but you cut him off with a forced, almost too-bright smile.

"you've thrown quite the party," you said, your words tripping over themselves as you elbowed gojo subtly, hoping to god he’d take the hint. "i’m actually quite new to the area. just exploring, hoping to find something good tonight."

gojo let out a low grunt, a sound that promised retribution later. you ignored him and plastered on a wider smile, one you hoped would distract from your partner's upcoming reversal: red.

"and, ah. this is my bodyguard...genji," you added, giving gojo's arm a firm retributive pinch through the fabric of his jacket.

the look he shot you could've melted steel, but you held your ground, determined not to let him ruin this.

if for once, he could take your plan into account, a great deal of bloodshed could be avoided.

naoki's faint cherry smile widened, bemused, "your…bodyguard?" he echoed, gaze flickering to gojo satoru.

gojo who stood like a coiled spring, gojo who certainly was no method actor. his icy glare practically speaking volumes of 'i will burn this room down.'

"well," naoki drawled, his tone almost playful now, and you flushed, "i hope you find what you’re looking for here."

behind him, his entourage, a cadre of hulking men stuffed into suits barely containing their bulk, followed with synchronised precision. they looked more like walking fortresses than bodyguards, with their cold and suspicious eyes cutting through the room as they passed.

one of them shot you an odd look, and you forced yourself to feign interest in a nearby display of sapphire-encrusted forks.

the moment the criminal was out of earshot, gojo leaned down, "genji? really?"

you shrugged, ignoring how you felt your nerves fray. and refusing to meet him half-way, "what? okay, i panicked. it was the first name i thought of."

"yeah, that was so convincing," gojo muttered darkly beside you, and you caught some bitten off words about how he was never going on a mission with you again, how yaga should never have roped him into this.

all things you blithely ignored.

you didn’t need to look at him to know he was furious. it rolled off him in waves, the tension in his posture, the barely audible hum of cursed energy still crackling under the surface.

"we don't even know where the amulet is. and imagine if we show up in front of yaga without it. you can do whatever you like with him after we get our hands on the cursed object," you whispered back, pretending to study the ridiculous cutlery with exaggerated focus.

gojo lowered his head, as though he suddenly saw the worth in gemstones embedded in cutlery, but just enough so he could glower at you. "you're flirting," he hissed, "i could have blasted through half this room, and just finished the job by now."

you coughed and hackled, "not all of us think effective battles are fought with a hollow purple."

"and not all of us,” gojo bit back, "feel the need to blush like schoolgirls the second someone bats an eyelash at us."

heat shot through you, part anger, part something you didn’t want to name. "blush?” you snapped. "i wasn’t blushing."

"you just wanted to jump his bones. thought we weren't here to get it wet."

"i'm not entertaining this conversation," but your voice was mildly higher pitched, drawing attention, "is that why you were there? standing like an idiot, or a jealous ex-boyfriend?"

gojo's sneer faltered, just for a split second, but it was enough to make your heart lurch with a strange, vindictive triumph.

"i wasn’t jealous," he said, "i was doing my job. y'know, being a jujutsu sorcerer. bringing a criminal to justice."

you opened your mouth, ready to retort, but no words came. because he wasn’t entirely wrong, and that infuriated you more than anything.

so instead, you lifted your hand, placing it firmly on his shoulder, onto the crisp and fine fabric of his jacket. you didn't miss the way he stiffened, briefly disarmed.

"look, i've got this. just stay close."

gojo's jaw tightened, and you could feel the unspoken protest simmering there. before he could get a word in, you turned away and called out.

"hey! naoki!"

the red-haired man stopped mid-stride, turning his head back toward you with a quizzical look. the confident words you’d planned evaporated the moment his sharp, brown eyes pinned you in place.

"i mean, naoki sato. mr. sato," you fumbled, mentally kicking yourself.

brilliant start. truly one of jujutsu tech's finest.

naoki raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting from confusion to faint amusement. his gaze flicked to gojo, who had crossed his arms like a fortress of disdain and immense ill-will.

"found something you like?" naoki asked smoothly.

you ignored the huff that escaped the white-haired man next to you, and forced a smile, "actually, i was hoping you could help me choose something out. i'm not an expert here, and there's just so much to see."

naoki's bodyguards shifted, their expressions darkening as if you’d committed some unspoken faux pas. but the crime boss merely tilted his head, the faintest hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

"ah, well," he said, drawing the word out lazily, "i don’t usually get this forward with my clients, but i suppose i'll make an exception."

his eyes slid once again to gojo, who was now glowering at a waiter hovering too close to his personal space, on the edges of infinity. "your bodyguard," naoki added helpfully, "can walk behind you. perhaps he'd like a drink to keep him occupied."

gojo's snarl could have peeled garish paint off the walls, "i don't want it."

you resisted the urge to roll your eyes at the stubborn ass.

instead, you pasted on a smile, tight and sweet, and shot gojo a look that could cut glass, "our host is offering you something. you want that drink, genji."

"i don’t want cream soda," gojo muttered, all mulish in his six foot three glory.

gritting your teeth, you flashed naoki a helpless look, like what can you do? bodyguards, am i right?

and you reached for the waiter's tray, grabbing a tall glass of the offending soda and thrusting it into gojo's warm hand. then you leaned in, your voice a whisper, "take it. smile and act normal. ten minutes, that’s all i need."

for a moment, his blue eyes locked on yours, a storm of irritation twirling in them. you were now close enough to feel the heat radiating off him, close enough to notice the faintest hitch in his breath.

but gojo, for once, didn’t argue. with a final glare, he downed half the glass in one long, defiant gulp, his adam’s apple bobbing as he drank.

naoki laughed, watching the scene unfold with thinly veiled amusement, "you're very kind to the help. shall we?"

you shot gojo satoru one last look — a mix of triumph and warning —before stepping forward.

but your partner, predictably, looked like he'd rather swallow glass than stand a moment longer here. still, bodyguard is as bodyguard does, and he trailed after you like a reluctant shadow.

"i must admit," naoki began, his brown eyes catching the glittering lights as they swept over you, "it's rare to see someone so beautiful at these things. i think i would have remembered seeing you before, too. i'm usually stuck with old men trying to swindle me out of my fortune."

a flush climbed up your neck, unwelcome and irritating at what must have been calculated words, enough to flatter and also to disarm.

behind you, gojo audibly scoffed, clearly abandoning all manner of proper etiquette. you glanced over your shoulder to see him gripping the stem of a champagne flute, his knuckles white. the empty glass of cream soda had been abandoned in favour of something stronger.

he caught your eye and rolled his, making a slicing gesture at his neck followed by a pointed hurry up motion.

"ignore him," you murmured to naoki, pushing forward.

naoki’s eyes gleamed with amusement, easily unbothered as he gestured for you to continue walking. "does your bodyguard always look like he’s seconds away from murder, or is this special treatment for me?"

you didn’t dare look back at gojo, “he’s just protective," you said carefully.

naoki chuckled, "protective, sure. but of his job...or you?"

the words struck a nerve you refused to acknowledge, so you pressed the conversation forward. ignoring the jitter that erupted in your stomach.

"can i ask...," you said, tilting your head just enough to feign casual curiosity, "are these all cursed objects? or just pretty trinkets?"

naoki's amusement didn’t falter, but his gaze sharpened, assessing you like you were a puzzle he was only now beginning to piece together.

"why?” he asked smoothly, "are you interested in jujutsu? i thought you were here to...browse."

fuck, caught, but not completely.

you played it off with a small shrug. "some members of my family dabble in jujutsu," you said, letting a sliver of truth escape, but letting the rest of your words drip with lies, "i can only see curses, i'm not a sorcerer. but most of my family still hates me for how i was born."

behind you, gojo shifted, his movements a touch sharper than before. he hadn’t known that, hadn't known the small truth that you had snuck into your words.

but naoki's expression softened, his smile more thoughtful now. "that’s rare. and often not appreciated, i imagine.”

you hesitated, cautiously, but nodded. "not by them, no."

"i understand. my parents hated jujutsu. thought it was unnatural, and against the way of the world. my grandfather...he was the only one who didn't," and there's a quiet sincerity threading naoki sato's words, "he raised me when my parents refused to. at least, until he passed."

something in his story tugged at you — a familiarity you hadn’t expected. your family’s disdain for your own jujutsu, their rejection, mirrored in his words. it was unsettling, but oddly not unwelcome.

"i’m sorry about your grandfather," you said softly.

"and i, about your family,” naoki replied, a calm mask settling over his features once more, reminding you so painfully of the sorcerer who trailed behind you, "no-one should be made to feel lesser, sorcerer or not."

you caught your lip between your teeth, hoping the red stain didn't catch onto your teeth, "i thought most sorcerers hated humans."

naoki shrugged, "we aren't all that different. all flesh and blood with temporary lives."

oddly wise words from a mass murderer, thief and criminal.

you glanced over at gojo again, and just as you predicted, his scowl deepened and the glass looked like it was about a shatter in his hands. if looks could kill, naoki sato would be the first to go, no questions asked, followed by you.

naoki snickered, "your shadow grows restless."

"ignore him, please," you muttered, stepping closer to a glass case to distract yourself, "what’s this?"

naoki followed, stepping closer so you could catch the scent of expensive almond and saffron, "ah," he said, gesturing at the artefact inside, "a blade, from ming dynasty china. the jade serpent on the hilt grants its wearer the ability to control minds. some say it can even raise the dead."

the claim sent a shiver down your spine, but you masked it with feigned interest, nodding as naoki moved on.

"and here," he continued, pointing to a golden ring, with an oddly boyish grin for someone dealing in murderous items, "the lion's eyes. said to see through any veil, any curse. the last treasure of the dynasty of the pharoahs."

you tried to listen, but gojo's presence loomed larger with every word. his disdain for naoki sato, his barely concealed anger at the stolen objects— it was all too palpable. when you glanced back, his scowl had deepened, and the champagne glass in his hand looked on the verge of shattering.

if looks could kill, naoki sato would already be six feet under. you would be next on the list.

you swallowed hard, turning back to naoki sato and pointing at the next display. "and this?"

naoki pushed his hands into the pockets of his slacks, "the broken english crown. apparently worn by the last king to die on the battlefield, and i haven't tried it on," he shares this with you, with a conspiratorial smile, "but legends say it fractures the bones of anyone deemed not powerful enough to wear it."

this criminal was not what you had expected at all. it was hard to reconcile the image of a hardened criminal with years of ruthless ambition, with this effortless charm and disarming way of making you lose the blurred line of correct propriety. you tried not to stare at how the warm light caught his auburn hair, like the autumn leaves in the dappled sun.

and yet, it wasn’t just his looks that threw you off. it was the way he carried himself — like he had nothing to prove and everything to hide. dangerous in a different way, one that was far harder to guard against.

it reminded you of gojo satoru.

"you know, i have to admit," naoki said, gesturing to the gilded displays around him, "most of this stuff? tacky as hell. but then, you would be surprised what most people would pay for tacky."

from a swindler, fraud and scammer? you were quite sure.

"funny, coming from someone whose livelihood depends on it. isn't that gaudy by association?"

naoki winked, and you averted your gaze from long brown lashes fluttering against soft skin, "touché. but people don't want to just buy the artefact, or the cursed object. they want the story. that shit's priceless."

you swallowed, focusing on how gojo was trying to draw your attention to a glass case hidden by all the others, and you hoped you weren't squinting, "so, you're just a storyteller then?"

but beside you, naoki sato tilted his head, "you could say that."

you thought of the clipped photos printed into the file. some in black and white, and some in raging shades of colour. where naoki sato's hands had painted entire buildings in shades of sticky red, and heads rolled on the floor. where his enhance technique could burst arteries and lungs, leaving people in pieces on the floor.

"sounds dramatic," you said, though your voice came out quieter than you intended.

"life's dramatic, and too short to not take what i want," naoki replied with a faint smile, his hand lightly brushing your waist as he guided you further past long tables.

you leaned into it without thinking, a tiny movement that made a creamy, berry flush paint over naoki's features. and the sorcerer's laugh was warm, low, like he’d already won something you didn’t realise was at stake.

behind you, a sharp cough broke the moment.

gojo.

you let your lips curl into a faint smile and leaned into naoki's just a fraction more, with a very deliberate look, one that spoke of triumph and having tamed a beast.

gojo's scowl deepened, his shoulders taut with barely restrained frustration, and he started mouthing at you, silent as his lips parted. if you read his mouth carefully, well...

he was calling you rather unflattering names.

"what's that?" but it was gojo's voice that roughly cut through the air, like gravel grinding underfoot. his shaded eyes were fixed on the glass case tucked in the corner.

you followed his gaze, past his outstretched arm, and your stomach twisted.

raijin's amulet.

the cursed object you’d been hunting, the one you’d sworn to protect at all costs, gleamed innocently behind its protective glass. you could recognise the serpentine dragon coiled protectively around the stone at its centre, its intricate carving daring anyone to claim it.

your frantic eyes met gojo's. his were sharp, seething. then, both your gazes flicked to naoki.

naoki, of course, noticed nothing — or pretended not to. he let out a soft hum, following gojo's pointed stare.

"the bodyguard's interested too?"

you coughed, cutting through the rising tension before gojo could turn that look into something explosive. the glass case between them might as well have been kindling for the fire brewing.

"it's mainly for academics," you said, feigning an air of curiosity. then, with practiced innocence, you tilted your head and smiled at the dangerous special grade cursed object as if it were nothing more than an ordinary trinket.

"but it’s so pretty. what is it, really?"

naoki's hand tightened subtly on your waist, and you tried to ignore the guilt that bubbled up in your chest when his sharp features softened at your feigned interest.

"it’s just an old thing," he said, his voice lowering as if sharing a secret meant only for you, "did you know it once belonged to ryomen sukuna?"

your mouth was dry, but you kept your face blank, tilting your head as though you’d never heard the name before, "sukuna?"

naoki pressed his palm to the glass case, his expression shifting into something darker, more reverent.

"the king of curses," he murmured. "lived over a thousand years ago. ruthless. when he died, most of his treasures were plundered by clans too greedy for their own good. but this..." he tapped the glass softly. "this one? it wasn't easy to get my hands on."

you leaned closer, feigning fascination while calculating your next move, trying to figure out how you could get close enough to that glass case without shattering the illusion cast on naoki sato, "what does it do?"

for a moment, naoki's eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering in their depths. but just as quickly, his expression smoothed out, and he chuckled.

"trust me, beautiful," he said, his voice like silk with an edge of warning. "you don’t want to wear that thing. i could get you something far more...safe."

you forced a smile, ignoring the chill that ran down your spine. instead, you threw a quick, desperate glance at gojo — a silent plea for the strongest to listen to you: i'll distract him. you get the amulet.

gojo's expression tightened, but his head snapped once, briefly, in the faintest hint of acknowledgement.

time to move.

you let out a soft, breathy laugh and tugged naoki toward a table, your hand brushing his arm with casual ease. "let’s sit," you suggested, leaning into his toned chest just enough to sell the act. "all this walking is making me tired."

naoki's laughter was warm, a touch too easy, and he let you guide him without resistance, "tsk, whatever you want," he murmured.

now you're trusting gojo satoru, simply because you had no other choice. he had to get the amulet out of the glass before alarms began to blare, and before needless blood was spilt over the glimmering floor.

and so you sat, letting naoki have his back to gojo, oblivious to the white-haired shadow slipping closer to the case. your eyes lingered on gojo, pulse racing each time he disappeared behind one of naoki's own burly guards.

but then naoki sato's gaze locked onto you, drawing your attention back with a searing warmth that caught you off guard.

"so," he asked, eyes glinting, "what do you think of all...this?"

"it's impressive," and you're surprised at how the truth has found a home in your mouth, "i didn't ever think of different sorcerers, around the world."

naoki leaned closer, with his elbows on his thighs, propping his face upon his hands, "most people don't. here, it's all about jujutsu. tokyo, this. kyoto, that. the higher ups are so narrow-minded. stuck in their ways, obsessed with tradition. they don't know anything about the world out there."

for a moment, his words startled you. they weren’t the boastful musings of a crime boss but something else. they reminded you of how gojo spoke about the rigidity of the old ways, about why he fought so hard to change things, to create a better world for jujutsu sorcerers.

ah, focus.

"hey," naoki suddenly said, pulling you out of your thoughts. his gaze was sharper now, more intense. and over his shouder, you caught the faintest blur of white hair in the background, gojo's movements.

but it was hard to focus on anything but naoki sato's face — the sharp lines softened by his proximity, the warmth in his dark eyes that you didn’t want to admit was almost magnetic.

he was a man marked for execution, and the warrant must have been burning a hole through your suite on the highest floor.

yet here he was, looking at you like you were something worth risking everything for.

and suddenly, you weren’t sure you wanted to see autumn's locks matted with rusted blood. to see eyes go dull and lifeless.

you felt like you had the moral spine of a sponge.

"can i kiss you?"

the question hit like a punch to the gut. your lips parted, but no sound came out. and suddenly, the steps in the background stopped too.

naoki's hand came up to your jaw, his touch unexpectedly reverent, and all you could think was: distraction. right. distract him for gojo. what the fuck is taking him so long?

so you closed the distance.

naoki's lips captured yours with a softness that disarmed you, but the kiss was anything but tentative, and you could taste a sweet tang like lemons and sugar. but you let his large hands pull you closer and his touch was warm and intoxicating.

the kind that made you forget, just for a moment, that this was all a ruse.

his lips moved against yours with a heat that made everything else fade to black, and his hands slid down your waist and back, tracing lines that felt dangerously real.

when you finally pulled away for air, your lips tingled, and your breath came in short bursts. you couldn’t help yourself — you reached up, your fingers brushing against his now-flushed lips, glossy under your touch, and you hated the way your stomach twisted from the way naoki sato melted under your touch.

focus, again.

you hoped, prayed, that gojo was doing his part, taking advantage of the way you had naoki sato, one of the most dangerous men in the entire world, wrapped around your finger, and bruising his tongue into your mouth.

but your gaze flicked upwards, past his shoulder and collided with something that stopped your heart cold.

electric blue. devastatingly vibrant, crackling with a fury that hit the air like a thunderstorm.

gojo's eyes pinned you in place, shadows pooling in sharp cerulean, from shades that had slipped just a touch down his nose. no mask to shield whatever expression gojo had clearly painted across his face.

hurt? anger? what the fuck, was that betrayal?

your throat tightened, and you resisted the urge to dig your nails into naoki's tailored jacket, to hiss at gojo to get a move on. to stop standing there like he had been hit with a shovel.

but the words didn't quite form, didn't pull at the corners of your mouth to silently shape them. his expression just held you captive, no. shamed you.

and that made you angrier. he had no right to look at you like that, like you had just crossed a line that you didn't even know was there.

but under you, naoki shifted, tilted your chip up to meet his lips again, and you let him. you...wanted him to. but the heat of his lips didn't drown out the chill of gojo's stare. your own body betrayed you with a shiver, one that you couldn't quite place yourself.

nerves, or desire.

the kiss was firmer this time, insistent, as if naoki sato was staking his claim in front of an invisible audience. his hand cupped the back of your neck, his thumb brushing the edge of your jaw with maddening ease, over the pulse of your neck.

and for a second, it was too easy to fall into the lie. but you felt it: the searing weight of gojo's glower burning into you, not far away.

naoki pulled back just slightly, his breath fanning your lips, "hey, you're distracted," he murmured, his voice low and teasing, his eyes scanning your face as though he wanted to read every thought. "should i be offended?"

"no," you said quickly, almost too quickly, "just a lot to take in."

naoki smiles, all coy and glazed lips, clearly pleased by what he thought was pure flattery, and not the glowering six-eyes shining behind him. "good. i think 'm gonna like leaving you speechless."

part of you knows that you just aren't seeing those pearly gates of heaven.

you know there's going to be a bouncer at the doors, with your face printed on a photo titled: dni! fraud! liar! the world's most incompetent jujutsu sorcerer! would bounce into a criminal's bed at first chance!

naoki's warm thumb lingers against your jaw, and your breath hitches just enough for the sorcerer to notice. you don't miss how his eyes darken, a hint of triumph gleaming in them.

you risked a glance past his shoulder again, and gojo was still there, stony-faced as naoki's own guards. but there's something else broiling in his eyes, rolling over his face like a thunderstorm cracks over a grassy plain. the fury in his eyes hadn't lessened, but now it was laced with something sharper, something that you can finally read.

jealousy. absolute glass-shattering, world-stopping levels of envy paint over gojo satoru's face.

the realisation hits you like a punch to the gut.

was he jealous of naoki sato? of you? of this entire charade that you both had agreed to? or rather, the one you had roped him into.

the idea shouldn’t have thrilled you, but it did. and it terrified you just as much.

you let naoki kiss you again, forcing yourself to deepen it this time, your hands coming up to rest against his hard chest. you don't miss how he suddenly parts from your lips, panting softly into your mouth, and suddenly you're hit with the most awful wave of longing for a man who cannot have.

naoki’s large hands, however, weren’t idle. one brushed the edge of your dress, under the shoulder strap of your powder-blue gown, his thumb grazing against the fabric, and your breath hitched.

you shift, your breath stuttering as naoki's other hand slides higher, his fingers brushing against the flesh of your thigh, pushing your dress higher, and his hand brushes against the silver details on the side, scratching your skin. it's maddening how cool air meets the heat of your now exposed skin, and naoki's mouth crushes against yours, as if he's equally savouring the taste of you.

"t-there are people here," you gasp, your voice a fractured whisper, trembling at the edge of composure, "what if they can see or watch?"

gojo satoru is here. gojo is watching. you know your partner is close enough to hear every breathless sound you make, every treasonous whine that slips past your lips.

but naoki sato's mouth is curved into a plush, wicked smile, "let them look," and his teeth are grazing against the curve enough in a way that makes you arch your back into him, he who is now leaning over you, as if he's the one trying to capture you, "who cares - hah?"

any reasonable thought of your duty. of honour, of a mission flees from your head.

the sight of gojo's softly parted mouth and darkened eyes as he watches you in another man's arms spurs you on, and you let naoki sato press his lips against the hollow of his throat.

naoki's long fingers are blazing as they reach the very apex of your thighs. as they press two rough pads into the sopping slick that's gathered in your panties, as they run themselves along dampened fabric in a way that has you openly keening.

"can i?" and your eyes meet the mahogany gaze of the man above you. it's electrifying. you should be ashamed, furious at how you're just being taken like this, on display. but this is a room of the seven deadly sins, where each corner of the room is a lesson in hedonism, and obscene wealth.

"please."

but your eyes are only on gojo satoru behind him. on how he catches the pale-pink of his bottom lip between his teeth, and his face is seething. how his darkened eyes drop to naoki's hand working its way between your legs, and you wantonly roll your hips up to meet him there.

you let writhing fingers slip under the waistband of your pale-blue underwear, dipping into glossy, thick arousal. but you also don't miss the tent in gojo satoru's grey slacks, only metres away, and the frenzied look making him look pained.

you would be lying if you said you didn't enjoy moaning openly, spreading your legs just a bit wider, so gojo could get a glimpse of your drooling cunt.

"fuck, 's good. so good, naoki."

a finger travels up, away from your winking entrance to press a soft flick against your throbbing clit, "yeah?"

and the beautiful man in between your legs all but purrs. pleased beyond measure at how you've apparently been captured, heart and soul by him. and your attention snaps back to how he suddenly draws his fingers off your soaked cunt, and brings them up to his mouth.

"sweetest thing i've ever tasted, i think 'm gonna have -"

and then, it hit you.

a hot, sticky spray of liquid.

the scent of iron slammed into your senses as fresh blood splattered across your face, your chest, and stained the delicate blue of your dress into a deep and damning red. it clung to your skin, to your lips as you pressed your mouth shut, fighting the bile rising in your throat.

reversal: red crackled in the air, cursed energy humming sharp, and it had sliced through the hall like a whip. naoki's arm had been torn from your waist, wrenched away as he staggered back with a guttural hiss, and you avert your eyes from the blood that paints the space between you.

"that's enough."

gojo satoru's voice is like a thunderclap, reverberating around your ears, and when you finally meet his gaze, you're met with unbridled fury. you're not sure where his shades have gone, but you're met with the full weight of six-eyes, blazing and unrelenting.

naoki stumbles ahead of you, clutching his shoulder where blood seeps through his fingers, torn between shock and raw rage. his cherry-lips are curled back into a snarl, flush with indignation.

"hah, you're a sorcerer?," and naoki sato's voice drips with venom, heavy with disbelief.

you're not quite sure gojo satoru needs to answer. not when his presence alone sends waves of cold through the hall, cutting the air precisely, cleaving it.

but there's a man running towards the commotion, a guard encumbered by a hefty black suit, and there's a cold shock that runs through you as your eyes fall on the gun at his side.

"we think that's gojo satoru," the guard wheezes, breathless.

"you're telling me this now? i gave you fuckwits one job," naoki snarls, shaking the man, with his nails dug into the guard's shoulder.

and you're quickly pushing your dress down, letting the fabric spill over your legs once more, fighting back the hot sparks that sting at your eyes.

it's enough to snap naoki's attention back to you. and for a moment, for the briefest of moment, he wasn't the hardened criminal you had been playing this dangerous game with. a boy your age, wild and beautiful, and utterly undone.

and it heaves your stomach at how the fury in his gaze trembles slightly, just enough to reveal betrayal underneath that strikes you harder than any limitless could.and it struck you harder than any whip of magic ever could.

"i must be stupid, fuck," naoki's voice cracks as he spits the words, his expression twisted with something raw, something painfully human, "you’re a jujutsu sorcerer too, aren't you?"

the accusation was a dagger, his voice trembling with disbelief but its wholly true, and your head wavers in a half-shake, half-nod.

"you’re with him, aren't you? just another one of the higher up's lapdogs?"

the words weren’t a question — they were a condemnation.

naoki's lips are curled, and his bloodied arm is now trembling but steady, defiance burning through the pain.

and a whisper in your mind tells you to smash the glass case holding the amulet, to push through it with your bare hands, just so you can bleed alongside him.

but naoki sato's bitter scoff shatters that thought, and his gaze must have followed yours, sharp and knowing, for his hand has moved faster, pulling the gun from the guard's holster.

the blast came before you could even think, loud and jarring.

but you never saw the bullet's path, only gojo.

gojo, whose arm has snapped in front of you like a barrier, impossibly fast, and well within the bounds of his infinity. as if he had tore through space itself.

the bullet collides with infinity, ricocheting into the chaos of the panicking crowd.

naoki’s gaze didn’t waver. it slices back to gojo, sharp, calculating, and darkly amused. he must have seen it now, everything.

the truth was etched in the way gojo had positioned himself, the way his blazing blue eyes never left you, the unspoken claim humming in the air like a second heartbeat.

naoki sato's laugh is lower, bitter, and you watch the mesmerising plink! of crimson on the floor.

"he's protecting you, isn’t he?" his voice dripped with venom, each word striking like a dagger, "how sweet.”

and just like that, something broke. gojo's restraint, most likely.

you can see how his fingers are flexing, his hands lifting and cursed energy is coiling at his fingertips. his thumb and index finger brush, a telltale sign of an impending blast. hollow purple.

you clench your eyes shut, bracing for the devastation of the impact —

but naoki sato was faster.

his arms snapped outward, a surge of his own jujutsu ripping through the space between you. the bodyguards around you crumpled like ragdolls, their bodies bursting under the pressure. blood sprayed in thick, sticky waves, painting the walls, the floor — against the edges of infinity.

you opened your eyes in time to see gojo falter, his hands trembling as he stared at the carnage. even he, the unflinching sorcerer, the strongest, looked shaken by the sheer brutality of what cursed technique: enhance was capable of.

and in the heartbeat of his hesitation, naoki was gone.

"fuck's sake! s-satoru! let go of me!" you snap, voice cracking with fury as you fight against gojo's tight grasp.

his vivid focus shoots back to you, his expression a storm of anger and disbelief, "what?" and gojo's voice is razer-sharp, "if you think i'm letting you go after that stunt you pulled -"

"shut up!" and you can feel your own desperation cut through the air, "you go after him, i'll go after the amulet."

you toss your head to the shattered glass and the chaos erupting all around you, "if that thing gets lost in the mess, we've done this all for nothing!"

gojo's jaw is clenched, his mouth pressed into a hard and furious line. for a moment, you think he's going to argue with you again, but then you're dropped unceremoniously to the ground.

pain shoots through your knees as you land, but you're soon hauling yourself up.

"go!" you hiss, shoving at his shoulder, "i'll come find you when i have it."

gojo hesitates for a fraction of a second longer, then he's gone — a blur of movement faster than your eyes could track, leaving you alone in the chaos.

your hands tremble as you grab a heavy steel bar from the wreckage, swinging it with all your strength at the glass case. the sound of shattering glass barely registers as you reach inside, your fingers curling around the cold, smooth surface of the amulet.

wild shocks run through you, and you almost keel over, feeling the rush and pulse of such a cursed object against your skin. but it's safe. you have it now.

with it clutched tightly in your hand, you turned and run.

by now, you can't find it within yourself to stop the hot tears from running down your cheeks, streaming freely as you tear through the blood-soaked scene.

you run, the air sharp and cold against your skin, your heartbeat an unrelenting drum in your ears. the thump! making your head pound.

you can follow the residuals of gojo's cursed energy, lingering like a sickly beacon, drawing you back to the dull parking lot. you pushed open the doors with both hands, red smudging onto the concrete as you ignored the sting of your palms

and then you saw it. saw it all.

the scene hits you like a wrecking ball, knocking the breath clean from your lungs.

a body lies crumpled on the ground, its lifelessness more harrowing than the carnage that surrounds it. blood, thick and sticky, smears across the concrete. massive pillars, toppled like a child's toys in the wake of a clear explosion.

your gaze snags on a limp hand sprawled on the floor, and you feel your stomach twist. instinctively, your tongue slides against the back of your teeth, and the metallic tang of iron is already sleeping into your senses.

and then, there was gojo satoru.

he stands amid the wreckage, like a figure carved from shadows, and ice. and fury. his chest softly rises and falls, as though he had been running for miles, his hair disheveled and darkened with sweat.

the sight of him might have almost been human, almost comforting. if not for the gore streaked across his hands, and the thing he drops onto the concrete with a hollow thud.

you don't look at it. you don't think you can. your stomach knows the truth before your mind catches up, bile heaving within you once more.

the head of naoki sato. he would never have stood a chance against the strongest sorcerer in modern history.

final task: retrieve artefact. execute naoki sato on site. alternatively, bring in for execution.

you mind flashes back to that dastardly pink sticky note, still stuck to the case file.

what did you feel now? anger? sadness?

maybe both. maybe neither.

the blood pooling in front of gojo is already congealing, its sickly shine dimming in the cold, fluorescent light of the lot.

you were tired of seeing blood, of tasting it on your tongue, of breathing it in like the very air you needed to survive.

you’d thought there would be relief in the end. but instead, disappointment had rooted itself deep inside you, twisting itself.

naoki sato, for all his crimes and cruetly, had been...something. somewhere beneath the sly smirks and sharp words, there had been glimpses of something that almost looked like hope. he had said he wanted better — for everyone. for you. was it a lie? or had you twisted his words into something more comforting than the truth, desparate to see light where there was none?

your throat burns, but no tears come. just a hollow ache that matches the cold weight of raijin's amulet in your hand. you looked at it now, the thing you’d fought so hard to win, its edges biting into your skin, the dragon leaving its mark.

gojo's voice cut through the silence, low and ragged, and tired, "don’t look."

you hadn’t even realised you were staring, your eyes hovering dangerously close to the lifeless hand on the ground.

"i'm sorry," he had continued, his tone strangely neutral, as if apologising for a cracked glass rather than the irrevocable violence around him, that seemed to trail after him, "i had to do it."

you laughed then, short and bitter, the sound cracking like a whip against the cold air. "had to, gojo?" your voice trembled, not with fear, but something darker. something far more raw.

his gaze had snapped to you, and there it was — the thing that always churned between you two. a storm of emotions, tangled so tightly you could no longer tell where hate ended and yearning began.

"you think this is the resolution i wanted?" gojo shot back, his voice laced with something too jagged to be regret. "you think i enjoyed that?"

and in the most twisted, perverse theatre of your mind's eye, you see gojo's open-mouthed stare, focused on how another man touched you, made you his.

"i don’t know what you enjoy anymore," you take a step closer, your grip tightening on amulet until your knuckles whitened. but the air pushed from your lungs, "but - god, gojo. forget it. i-i don't even know. 'm sorry, too."

gojo sighs, and you see the exhaustion hanging over him too, "we'll go back tomorrow morning."

the walk back to your room is…suffocating. the air is thick with everything that you just cannot say, words that you can't even bring your heavy tongue to shape.

gojo is beind you, and you can feel the weight of his presence pressing between your shoulder blades, but you just can't turn around. you don't dare to. raijin's amulet is still clenched in your hand, and its edges are cutting into your palm, a form of self-flagellation you suppose.

you push the door open, and your breath catches and hitches as you slip inside, slamming it shut after he follows. locking it with shaking hands.

in the suite, the moonlight now slices through the half-drawn curtains, as the tokyo skyline glimmers underneath you. it's painting silver lines across gojo's spectral frame, and he strides to the amenities sink, a smaller outlet near the door.

you watch, as though you're holding a sacred vigil.

your gaze doesn't leave gojo's figure as he throws his jacket off his sharp torso with a disgusted sigh, leaving him in his black dress shirt and a loosened tie.

still watching as his movements are tense, restless as he cups water from the faucet in his hands, splashing it onto his face.

when he finally looks up, gojo's white is hair dripping, his tie slightly askew, and his tired eyes catch yours like a snare.

for a moment, you’re frozen. neither of you say a word. the air feels too thin to breathe, and his gaze is too much — too piercing, too relentless, too him.

you can’t take it.

with a sharp motion, you slam the amulet onto the table, the sound echoing through the quiet room. you spin on your heel and lock yourself in the bathroom, shutting him out.

inside, the luxurious space feels surreal. marble floors gleam under the soft glow of recessed lighting, gold fixtures glinting and stinging your eyes. it smells faintly of jasmine and mint, too perfect for the mess you're about to create.

you grip the edge of the sink as the first sob wrenches its way out of your chest, hot and raw.

tears spill over, cascading down your cheeks in waves you can’t control. they come faster, harder, until you’re gasping, choking on gulps of air that burn in your throat.

you sink onto the cool floor tiles, your knees pulled to your chest as the sobs wrack your body. the weight of everything, what you did, gojo's eyes gleaming, naoki sato's hands on you, the smell of blood, it all crashes over you like a tidal wave. it’s too much for a human heart to bear in one night.

but your hands are shaking as you reach for the hem of your once beautiful dress, peeling it off with clumsy, desperate motions. the air is cool against your skin, you who is now left in undergarments.

and you stare blankly at the blood that smears your arms and legs, before grabbing a small towel, dampening it under the sink and wiping crimson stains away.

small cuts sting on your skin, faint patches where glass struck you, and you hiss.

a knock rattles the bathroom door, sharp and unrelenting, dragging you back to reality.

you close your eyes and exhale through gritted teeth, your voice brittle, "not now, gojo."

silence follows, stretching out long enough to offer the illusion of peace. but then it breaks. another knock, louder, more insistent this time.

"satoru, i swear to god," you snap, your exhaustion fraying into something sharp, laced with more venom now.

there’s a sigh from the other side, audible even through the thick wood, "don't make me blast this door down."

you groan, rolling your eyes as you toss the bloodied towel onto the counter, "you wouldn't dare."

"try me. just open the door, would'you?"

you don’t have the energy to argue, and something in his tone tells you that gojo isn’t bluffing. and so you dragged yourself upright, swinging the door open with more force than necessary.

gojo stands there, with damp hair still clinging to his forehead, beads of water trailing down his templates. and his sleeves are rolled up now, revealing thick forearms flecked with rust and crimson. it wouldn't be his. no, gojo hasn't bled in over a decade.

you straighten, aware of your own state right now. in your undergarments, only shielding you from being entirely bare under his gaze. but the only clothes in this room with you are now crumpled on the floor, in a heap of ice-blue and dark red.

let him look. he's seen more than enough now.

and so you lean back against the sink, crossing your arms as your eyes meet blue, "what do you want?"

gojo hesitates, his jaw tightening as he braces himself. when he finally speaks, his voice is low, rough around the edges, "just...asking if you're alright."

the laugh that escapes you is sharp and hollow, devoid of any humour, "why wouldn't i be?"

gojo's faze flickers, his expression unreadable, but his eyes linger a moment too long. you let him trace the dried blood smeared across your collarbone, the faint scratches on your skin.

"after all of that tonight..." he starts, but the words hang in the air between the two of you, unfinished. his voice suddenly falters, and you're struck by how gojo's razor-sharp confidence has dulled into something weaker, more conflicted.

you know exactly what he means. the stunt he's referring to, in his own earlier words. you wonder what exactly is eating at him now. is it honest concern, pride? residual envy?

"please, trust me. i'm fine, we managed to do what was asked of us, anyway," you clip curtly, hoping your tone is final enough.

gojo looks at you like he doesn't believe a single syllable that slips from your bitten lips, but then his shoulders sag and he exhales sharply, "fine," he mutters, turning on his heel as if he's the one that can't stand to be near you any longer.

"wait."

the word slips out before you can stop it, and gojo pauses, and his eyes are narrowed with suspicion.

you swallow hard, suddenly unsure of yourself, and lift a clean towel from the counter, helping yourself to another one of the hotel's free amenities, "can you help me with this?"

an olive branch.

you gesture with a single finger, over dried blood that has streaked over your back, your neck. the hollow of your collarbone.

you can see the refusal dancing on his tongue, the hesitation in the way his throat bobs, and how gojo's eyes flicker over you once more.

but he doesn't refuse. gojo just wordlessly steps forward, taking the towel from your outstretched hand. you watch, silently, as he moves to the sink and runs it under cold water. you're sitting on the edge of the counter now so you face him, watching the warm golden glow of the overhead lights in his pale hair.

the porcelain is cold against your thighs as you angle yourself away from the mirror, facing gojo. the towel in his hand drips faintly, and you watch as he hesitates again, just for a fraction of a second before stepping closer.

at first, his movements are slow and careful. he's raising the towel, and his hand is steady as you feel the first touch of the cool fabric against your back. a shiver practically races down your spine, not from the cold, but from the way his arm snakes behind you, brushing against your bare skin.

it's subtle at first, but you notice it. the hitch in his breath, the faint tremour in his movements.

gojo, who is always so infuriatingly composed, is shaken. you hear it in the sorcerer's uneven exhale that he doesn't quite manage to suppress, the way his fingers press the towel just a little too harshly.

the suite is silent now except for the faint drip of water and the rasp of fabric against your skin. you should say something, anything, but the words don’t come. instead, your gaze fixes on him, his profile illuminated by the warm glow of the bathroom light.

gojo's features are always striking, almost ethereal: the ice-white hair that falls messily against his forehead, the long white lashes that frame those sharp, cerulean-blue eyes. there’s something softened by the warm light, as though the harshness of his presence, of a man who stands above heaven and earth, has been dulled just enough to make him seem almost...human again.

but you feel as though your heart must just give way, pounding so hard that it may burst. where the blood that fell from another man's veins had somehow drawn a line to gojo satoru instead.

an hour ago, you had been arched into another, naoki sato, one who had been a dead man walking. an hour ago, his hands were on you, his lips hot and insistent, and his eyes were warm, and now he’s gone. dead. gojo made sure of that. and that was always meant to happen.

the thought should make you furious. it should make you push gojo away, but instead, all you can do is sit there, feeling his hands —gentle now, impossibly careful, on your skin.

it's wrong. it's so deeply, fundamentally wrong, and yet the space another man left feels like it was carved out for gojo satoru all along.

gojo's touch slows as he runs the towel over your skin, tracing the line of your collarbone with a precision that feels almost tender. your eyes slip closed for a moment, the warmth of his hand lingering even as the cold water wipes away the blood.

then he moves again.

it happens fast enough that you barely register it. one second, gojo satoru is standing tall and focused on the task, and the next...he's leaning down. his breath ghosting over the hollow of your neck.

you feel your entire world tilt as his lips press softly against the curve where your neck meets your shoulder, a touch so light that it feels stolen.

but now you've frozen, every breath catching as though the air was snatched from your lungs. every nerve feels as though it's on fire, hyper-aware of how soft the brush of his lips was, the faint scrape of his teeth just shy of your skin.

how gojo's lips were almost reverent, like a prayer offered in silence. how he was worshipping something he couldn't ever have.

but your eyes snap open to meet his.

gojos's cerulean eyes are molten, the usual ice cracked and melting into something deep and desperate and all-consuming. they bore into yours, wild and unguraded, and the pale lashes framing them tremble lighting as though even he's unsure of what he's just done.

but gojo's pupils are also blown wide, and electric. like a storm trapped in glass.

you swallow hard, your pulse thundering in your throat. slowly, cautiously, you dip your head, just enough to give him permission without saying a word.

the look in his eyes shifts — hunger, disbelief, and something darker all tangled together. he presses his lips to your neck again, firmer this time, lingering as though committing the feel of your skin to memory. then again, slightly higher, his breath hot and uneven against you.

"satoru…" the name slips from your lips in a whisper, trembling and unbidden.

the warmth of his tongue catches you off guard, tracing the curve of your neck in a way that sends a jolt through your entire body, heat down to your thighs. it's...unhinged, but the part of you that should push him away is nowhere to be found.

gojo pulls back just enough for you to see the faint smile curling at the corner of his mouth, though his eyes remain dark, intense, and burning with something that feels too big for the room.

"another man got to taste you," he whispers, "now i've tasted him."

you almost laugh, sharp and bitter. the sound lodging in your throat. the absurdity of it all, the jealously lacing his words like a poison vine, the way his breath still fans against your skin.

"that's insane," you manage, your voice shaking. it does little to stop the searing heat curling low in your stomach.

for a second, gojo's breath is still hot against your neck. and then suddenly, his hands are on you.

and fuck, it's not delicate at all. there's a roughness to his touch, desparate and unrestrained, as though something inside him as finally snapped.

his palms trace along your bare shoulders, sliding down to your arms, and then to your waist. his fingers press into your skin with a heat that makes you feel like you're burning from the inside out. you don't even realise when you had opened your mouth slightly, panting as if you're trying to pull more air in.

"gojo," you manage, barely audible, and you're acutely aware of the low tense ache beginning to throb in your groin.

his hands slow for a moment, resting on your sides as if he’s trying to ground himself, or stop himself. and gojo's eyes find yours again, and they’re ablaze.

"can i keep going?"

you wonder just how you've managed to unravel this man, to leave his voice hanging by a thread in the air.

you don’t answer right away, your head swimming with confusion, slick desire, and something dangerously close to surrender. gojo satoru is watching you so intently it’s like he’s searching for every unspoken answer written on your skin.

finally, you shift — subtle, but enough. your knees part slightly, just enough for him to step between your bare thighs.

"what do you want me to do?"

you're aware of the insistent, rhythmic pulsing under your panties. of how every small shift of gojo's body against yours amplifies the soft arousal forming, as your heart pounds faster.

and so you let your fingers hook onto the pale waistband of your underwear, and you watch as his gaze follows your movements.

"i want you to touch me, there. please."

you hear the white-haired man breathe out a thankful, reverent fuck before he's following the path of your own hands, hooking a slender finger into your waistband and pulling your underwear down, and off.

and you're so painfully aware of your own arousal right now, the wet that is pooling beneath you. it feels like a relief, parting your legs so your searing heat meets cool air.

"that's perfect, look at t-that," and you're suddenly whining as gojo's fingertips begin grazing sloppy folds, raking themselves over your fluttering entrance, "she's practically been beggin' for my touch all this time, hah!"

"you - ohh, gojo!" you moan, feeling awfully faint from the rippling warmth making your cunt tighten around him, each pshh! echoing in your burning ears, "y-you wish!"

gojo's laugh is a little crazed, undone as he rolls his fingers in practiced curls, at an inhuman pace. bullying his fingers into your opening, as he rasps, "yeah, i w-wish. 'm wishing for this all the time. you never knew, huh?"

"f-fuck, if i had known it felt like this, would've stuck my fingers in h-her a long time ago," gojo unfurls his fingers that only just separated from your winking pussy, and you can only watch.

equally mesmerised as his slender fingers are coated in strands of your slick, clinging to the curves of his short nails and coating them in a mirror sheen.

"have some c-class, gojo! you've lost your fuckin' mind -"

smack!

the dewy pads of his fingers have come down in a harsh arc, slapping right at your throbbing clit, and the jolt sends such an incredible crack of lightning down your spine that you're bucking your hips back up into his hand, back for more.

"some class? hah, 'm not able to do that now, baby," and you can feel gojo shudder under your touch, as you paw at the linen of his black dress shirt, raking your nails over his pectorals, "not when it f-feels like your pussy is about to, fuck, vacuum my fingers off."

"i swear to god, gojo. never say that corny shit a-again."

but it's hard to convey any sense of righteous fury like this. not when he's back to pushing the tapered ends of his long fingers in and out of your tight heat. each brush from the pads of his fingertips leaves you squealing, tugging at the snowy strands on the back of his head.

but gojo's teeth are sharp as they sink into the damp skin of your neck with an almost reverent press, easily snapping through the delicate flesh.

and you're squealing, shocked at how fucking bold gojo satoru has become, whining at how a sharp hiss pulses through you, and you can feel the warmth of blood beginning to bloom and pool over your collarbone.

"shit, 'm sorry, baby. so sorry. but i'm gonna need to see you l-like this," and suddenly gojo snaps away the pussydrunk babble falling from his candied mouth, and he's pressing a searing kiss to your jaw, and the air becomes hazy with the scent of an insanely expensive cologne, cedar and something...sweet, like cardamom.

still, there's hardly time to dissect that.

not when his thick arm is around your waist, handling you until you're smack bang between his legs, right between dark slacks. and gojo has shifted, so your back is flat against the hard planes of his chest, and your knuckles can only grip at the vanity sink. so your eyes can only see your naked torso twisting in the mirror.

"keep your eyes h-here, sweets. on us."

and god, that's exactly where your eyes are. falling on a tense forearm around your waist, as the other works its fierce way through the clamping, gummy walls of your leaking cunt. and you're shuddering underneath him, feeling each brush of his fingers in you.

"w-we make a pretty sight, don't we, yeah?" and the words are spilling from gojo's lips with a certain smugness, but it's rough around the edges, strained. and you just can't look away from how utterly ruined he looks, from touching you.

you watch the glossed shine of your trickling pussy twinkle in the warm lights, as gojo pushes your thighs open wider. his frame leans over yours, taut and straining. and his lips are flushed and parted, betraying the deep ache of his breath.

"go onnn, say it. c'mon," and now gojo's whining in your ear, letting his hand push further into the mess as your pussy is practically weeping onto his fingertips, "won't let you c-cum if you don't say it."

your chest heaves with each desperate, gulping breath. and you can see gojo's vision narrow on how your tits threaten to spill out from their confines, the swell of your chest rising as you try to draw air through your close orgasmic daze. where the edges of your vision blur, and your heart is pounding erratically, "ahhh, gojo! 'm gonna, i think 'm gonna, oh my god!"

but there's more, you want so much more.

and against better thought, you push and elbow back into gojo's chest, heaving as he flicks his thumb over your aching clit.

"hah, what is it now? fuck was that for?" and the man is scowling at you, seemingly irritated that you drew him away from the hypnotic pull of your pulsing walls.

you swivel, away from the mirror so you're facing him. and your eyes fall on the heavy, pitched tent in gojo's grey slacks, one that must be aching and awfully painful from the way he's running his pink tongue over his bruised mouth.

"wan' more, gojo. on the bed."

you've reached up behind your back, unhooking the clip that was holding your bra together. it falls, and you toss it into the pile where gojo had flung your clingy panties, over your gorgeous dress.

and you think gojo satoru might have just had a minor heart attack.

his expression has shifted, lips parted as he takes in your naked form. you think you hear his breath hitch, as his eyes roam over you, unblinking. you're certain that the mildly brighter light in the room has nothing to do with what's overhead, rather the bright blue of gojo's six eyes.

you snicker at his dumbstruck expression, letting your hand curl around his wrist — marvelling at how he almost whines at the sight of you pushing him out of the bathroom suite, and onto that glorious bed that the two of you had argued over earlier in the day.

"n-not so opposed to sharing a bed with me now, sweets? oh, fuck," you don't let him get any more words out, since you're reaching for the sleek leather belt threading through the loops of his slacks, pawing at them so you can finally undress him. have him as bare as you are now.

something in your desparate touch must have made gojo snap, because now he's shuffling the two of you around, so you're practically splayed out under his warm, large hands. thighs spread, parted so your dripping cunt is displayed to the room, as he scoots closer. his knees pressing against the carpet.

"hnnghh, f-fuck, look at her. practically cryin' on me."

and what a sight. gojo satoru, the most powerful man to walk this earth in centuries is slumped beneath your thighs, close enough to your clit that when he breathes, he knocks his nose right over the sensitive bud, coating his face in that syrupy glaze.

and then its slow, painful. how his long tongue descends onto your weeping pussy, writhing flat in wide, broad strokes that leave you whining out his name.

you spread your legs even wider, fighting against gojo's tight grip on the flesh of your thighs. the thighs that are trembling as he brings his teeth up to graze your clit, and your arousal drips from his lips. making candied pink lips look like they've been glazed and dipped in sugar.

briefly, in the back of your mind, you wonder how you're going to continue to function tomorrow. how you're going to even be able to walk after gojo satoru has rendered you boneless.

you also wonder if there's a cosmic deity out there, looking at an invisible and heavenly camera with a dull look on their face. something like what can you do?

"mmhph, y'know i l-like this a lot better than that drink from earlier," and he's cooing at how you squeal and moan, "hah, what was that s-shit called? a cream soda."

you pull at the white strands of his hair, yanking gojo's head back from where his tongue had been lolling around your clit, ignoring his whine, "if y-you make a stupid, fuckin' joke about creaming, i'm g-gonna leave."

gojo rolls his eyes, but this time? this time, there's no malice in it, no irritation. his expression is almost fond, if not shadowed by the enormity of his own lust, "leaving before the main event is dumb choice, sweets."

"tch! get to i-it then, oh! what the fuck, gojo!"

he's found the right place to prod, to roll his fingers over the hood of your clit, occasionally propping his mouth down to suck at it lightly. your mouth is clamped shut, so you don't release an absurd amount of babble, wordless and airless about how good he's devouring you.

"hah," gojo huffs, pressing three flat fingers against your entrance, letting them curl into your walls, enough to tease you, "i can feel her beating for me. 's pulsing all over."

"c-can't you jus' make me cum?" your hands are desparate for some friction, running past your perked tits, down to his hair again. now clamping your thighs around his head, and the soft, snowy hair of his head tickles at your skin.

"can' believe you're talking shit when i'm e-eating you out," gojo chuckles, but you're just too mesmerised by the glint of your slick lighting a beacon over the lower half of his face, strands of slick as he pulls away from your pussy, "y'not that patient, huh?"

he's practically attached to your clit now, kissing it with a tender and yet firm press of his lips, seemingly aware of just how sensitive you are to that type of pressure.

you whimper and mewl as gojo's head disappeared back between your legs, deeper and lower as his tongue pushes into your pussy, flicking shallow thrusts that makes you breathe out gasps of his name.

"now i think 'm gonna cum, so close, satoru," with your hand firmly lodged in his platinum strands, you're rocking your hips messily, sloppily against his awaiting mouth.

"y-yeah? go on, sweets," he's moaning now too, and you don't miss how the edge of the bed rocks just a bit from him grinding the frame for some release on his own erection.

your orgasm makes your mind foggy, and you practically quake in gojo's large, warm hands. with a sharp cry of his name, followed by an endless chant of praise for the unearthly man between your legs, lapping at you as though you are his last drink, his last meal on this earth before he ascends elsewhere.

the hard streaks of white shoot through your vision, even as you come down from the incredible high, and you realise gojo has not stopped.

gojo's jaw is still locked as your slick dribbles down your folds, into his open mouth and onto his waiting tongue. the extra stimulation makes you deliriously cry out, "fuck, s-satoru! 's too much, holy fuck!"

you were still shaking, and a second orgam blurred your sight into an incredible spectrum of colours, white hot starlight and streaks of blue. that cascade of vivid tints flood your vision, each one jerking your hips and cunt forward until you felt your legs give way.

until gojo finally separated himself from your thighs, satisfied at how he had pulled two climaxes from you.

he's absolutely lost it, lost in that daze of being pussywhipped, and his eyes gleam with a feverish intensity. and when he crashes pink, glossy lips down on your mouth, you can feel him shake under your touch.

you moan, loud, as he nips at your lower lip. at how you can taste yourself on his tongue, syrup strands falling into your mouth as gojo suddenly twitches.

"i think 'm gonna have to be in you right now, otherwise i'll literally fuckin' die."

a breathy laugh falls from your lips as your partner pulls himself up, heavy limbs finally extracting themselves away from your naked body, reaching up to hook his fingers over the black crinkle of his rumpled dress shirt, pulling the fabric off.

leaving your mouth dry.

the moonlight spills over gojo's torso, and you track your eyes over his broad chest, rising and falling and flushed from his own arousal.

you follow the faint dusting of pale white hair as it disappeared past the waistband of his slacks that he's quickly making short work of, and you feel your pussy clench thinking about how badly you need to jump gojo satoru's bones.

but you're too transfixed by him, by the sculpted figure of a supposedly cold and arrogant bastard you've spent months and years rolling your eyes at.

he's real. all hot flesh and blood, and stunning. not that sneering, and infuriating man who's always one step ahead, always one callous word away from making your blood boil.

for a different heat has settled in you now, as your eyes fall on his throbbing cock that has sprung forth, up over his stomach. the tip is an angry, and furious berry-pink and you wonder just how you're going to make these inches fit.

"hah, didn’t think you'd be this shy, you know,” he says, voice a low, husky tease, as if he’s been watching your struggle. gojo's eyes glint with amusement, but there’s something deeper beneath it, something that you hope with lead him to take mercy on you.

"n-no. no," you repeat yourself more firmly, but it's far too breathless to be convincing, "no, 'm not shy."

but it's hard to form coherent thoughts when gojo satoru is towering over you, and his absurdly long and girthy shaft is twitching in between your slick folds.

"fuck you, s-satoru," you're whimpering, feeling the pulsing, rounded head of his flushed tip brush past your sensitive, drooling slit, "taking too long. jus' put it in already."

"mhmm, sweets," and gojo's bustling at your thighs now, pinching the soft and tender skin in retaliation for your touch undoing him so easily, "she can't even be patient, hah, trus' me. just lay back."

you comply, just this once. just because gojo satoru's cock looks so big, you think you need to gather all your thoughts so you'll be able to form coherent sentences later.

resting your head back on plush sheets, with the skyline twinkling in your peripheral vision as gojo's aligning himself with your cunt. he's gasping in low, shuddering breaths as his tip teases and hooks onto your inner walls.

"look at thaaat, oh! baby, fuck, wasn' even joking before, just sucking me up so fuckin' good!"

you don't reply, just mewling as he pushes inch after veiny inch into your dribbling walls, gasping as his large hands rest on the back of your thighs, pushing them further up so he can slot his torso in between your legs.

"oh my god, satoru! s-satoru, hnnhgh, it's too much — i don' think it's gon' fit," you always thought you would be embarrassed to lose composure like this in front of gojo, but you find yourself panting into the crook of his neck, raking nails down his flushed neck.

he's big, and you can feel every vein of his tapered curve hitting the right spots within you, as you shift your hips, desperate to let his sinuous cock kiss every inch of your pussy lovingly.

"gon' dumb already?" gojo's huffing, but you can see that he's not unaffected. his eyes are glazed over, hazy as he slowly draws his hips back just an inch, before scooting them forward already, "jus' gonna have to make this pussy learn from now on. don' worry, sweets. it'll fit."

the 'from now on' makes something in your pounding heart flutter.

but you have little time to focus on it as he bottoms out in your drenched cunt, as though you're hearing the slosh of your pussy coat him entirely, right up to the wiry, white hairs on his groin.

"hahh, there we go! the w-wonders of a positive attitude, don'tcha think?" and you're left with your eyes rolling to the back of your head, as he begins to pick up the pace. a steady staccato that has you jostling underneath his ministrations.

you let his mouth chase yours, capturing glossy lips with your own bite, letting him pant, and whine and praise the heavens above for how tight you're snatching him right now.

"she's p-perfect, isn't she? t-thought about it so much, y'got no idea, got no c-clue about how much i thought about you under me like this n' how you'd f-feel!"

gojo satoru is absolutely drunk from a nectar that he has tasted once. the same nectar that coats his cock in frothy, filthy rings as he pistons his hips out of your pussy.

"happy for y-you, satoru," and you're letting your nails scratch over the shell of his ear as he twitches and shudders, "but fuck, y'talk too much! jus' focus on fucking me!"

gojo's mouth quirks upwards, that knowing smirk playing on his lips as he looks at you bemused, and so hazy.

"god, a lot of that attitude now, hahh?" and he's drawling the words out, and you don't miss how he shudders when you clench around his shaft, on purpose. he's leaning in closer, barely brushing past your lips, and you wonder briefly for a split-second, gojo satoru might just really love you.

and then, without warning, his hand comes down to your side, just underneath the fat of your tits, pinching lightly at the abdomen. causing you to take a sharp intake of breath, and a dizzy huff of his name.

if you ever believed that gojo satoru was malicious in the workplace, a bane on your sanity, you had not been prepared for how he was stretching you out in all the right places.

that inhumane pace of the strongest had him snapping his hips sharply, over and over until he's hitting the spongy patch, deep within your walls.

"clamped around me like, ohh, like a fuckin' vice," gojo's grunting now, each breath coming out short puffs that match the timing of the slap! each whack of his cock delivers, pressing your hips together and coating his hips in sweet slick.

"mmph, feels so good, satoru!" you squeal, pressing a hand over your mouth so you don't wake up the entire top floor of the hotel, tits jostling with each shuffle and movement.

it's all coming down on you too quick, that electric haze shooting down your spine. made all the worse by gojo groaning and slipping his hand between his jackhammering hips, down to where your clit is practically throbbing for his touch.

he's running tight circles, before pressing the flat of his thumb under the hood of your clit, ripping a raw cry from the back of your throat, rolling your eyes to the back of your head as gojo's lips are leaving blooming marks over your neck.

"satoru, i t-think 'm gonna c-cum again," you moan, fluttering your lashes against your skin, rolling your hips up into gojo's quick fingers and brutal cock. but it feels different this time, nothing like your past two orgasms. you feel something draw its claws further into your groin, like you're going to burst and the breath will be stolen away from your lungs.

you hear gojo say something, snarky but tender as he laughs into your collarbone, as he's slapping his fingers down quickly over your clit, making you jolt. but you don't hear his words as blood roars in your eears, gushing all over his cock with a clear, sticky sheen that coats him deliciously.

makes gojo satoru groan out filthy praises over your marked skin, "didn' know you were that nasty? hahh, squirtin' over me on your first go, yeah? it's gettin' too much for me too, s-sweets. think 'm gonna hafta maaa -"

you have no inkling as to what gojo was aiming to groan out, fluttering his own blue eyes shut as his orgasm catches up to him, pumping you insanely full of thick, stringy seed. practically painting your inner walls a translucent white as you huff and whine.

but in the back of your mind, you think he wanted to marry you. a bridge you'll cross when you get to it.

"fillin' you up, good, aren't i?" and he's lost in a daze, and you watch as his muscles ripple in the light of the moon, pectorals gleaming as he stuffs you further, as if plugging his seed to stay in you, making you squirm from the delicious stimulation.

you should have paid a little more attention to your surroundings. less attention to the thick veins of his cock drilling a home in you. or less attention to how his lips curl up into a sweeter smile as he presses soft, happy kisses to your cheek while you lay exhausted, caged by his thick arms.

then, you might have noticed the lights flicker and then shatter for half the hotel's rooms.

the morning sun peeks through the curtains like an overenthusiastic alarm clock, dragging you out of sleep with its gentle warmth. you stretch lazily, limbs still heavy and sticky from the weight of...the previous night's activities.

the sheets feel ridiculous soft, kudos to the insanely over-priced hotel. and for a second, you entertain the thought of just staying here. forever.

that is, until your eyes fall on raijin's amulet over on the wooden table.

and the fact that gojo is nowhere to be found.

you blink, squinting at the empty space beside you. your first instinct is to check besides the bed, and then under it, for fear that the six-foot three man has simply fallen off.

but your gaze falls on a tiny pink sticky-note on the nightstand. one that you suspect was pilfered from the scattered case file on the couch. you peer at looping cursive, scrawled in a blue marker.

don't eat anything yet! gone to get a proper breakfast!

you can't help the soft huff that leaves you, fond in its escape. you feel this sudden urge to don some proper clothes, to go down and join him in the warm sunlight.

but then you pause. perhaps, you ought not to. it would be fun to let him miss you just a bit. the thought of the gojo satoru standing there, waiting in line for entirely average pancakes is amusement enough for you.

but before you can pull the crisp sheets over your head, your eyes catch a glimpse of something else by the bed. a small, satin-blue box that didn't exist yesterday, in the world of cruel choices and...semi-successful missions.

the memory of yesterday pulls a frown from you, but you shake your head, determined to clear your thoughts.

you reach for it, letting your fingers run over the smooth surface, before tugging at the silver ribbon cautiously. half-expecting to find something weird like gojo's usual idea of a joke like a half-naked framed photo of him with a lipstick print.

ah!

but instead, inside the box lies a thin necklace. you've stared longingly enough at shop windows to know that these are real diamonds. not the cheap kind either, a well-cut carat that makes you gasp to yourself, a flush running over your cheeks.

for a moment, he said nothing, and the silence stretched unbearably heavy. but then gojo’s ice-gaze dropped to the necklace scattered over your throat, and he tilted his head, "not too bad," a flicker of a scoff curling at his lips. "tch, they’re not even real," you blurted, then immediately regretted it, what was wrong with you today? you reached up, fingers grazing the cool crystals as if to shield them from his bemused scrutiny, "just thought i needed something to fit in."

you pick it up, feeling the cold weight of it in your hand. what is this, romance? a necklace? gojo satoru doesn’t even do romance. at least, not in the way anyone would expect.

he’s the kind of guy who would absolutely get you diamonds just to throw you off balance. mission accomplished.

you glance at the sticky note again, then back at the necklace. this is way too much for your sleep-addled brain. and yet, there’s this funny little thing inside you, a warm spark that you don’t know what to do with.

fuck, when did he even have the time to get this gorgeous gift?

you’re definitely not soft, but gojo does this thing to you — he has a way of turning your whole world upside down, and now…apparently, he’s gone and done it again.

your cheeks warm, but you don't admit to it. not yet. but there's no denying the softer spot that's growing in you, the urge to have gojo satoru in your arms in this very moment so you can run your hands through soft, white hair to watch him purr. to see his cheeks flush from a sweet blush as his blue eyes flutter shut.

your eyes fall on his crumpled uniform jacket from yesterday, his discarded clothes. perhaps, you could just join him. after all, you feel words threatening to spill from your mouth and you want him to hear them.

a surprise of your own? you think you want to see gojo satoru speechless for once.

do not plagiarise or repost! likes and reblogs appreciated. btw, this jenny packham was the dress i envisioned for reader but imagine whatever you like!

[mouldymp3rotations]

1224-016

BIRTHDAYMONTHです!

I use this as an excuse to dump 10 songs on you instead of the usual five :D

Last year's Birthday Month 10 Favourites

As usual : Song titles link to individual mp3 file download

All 5 songs can also be downloaded together in a zip file from the link at the bottom

Let's go !!

BLOOD - Blood ft. Exo-chika

This is easily in my top 3 favourite BLOOD songs ! The old version is good too, but I saw this being released as both a BLOOD and an Aural Vampire fan, so i'm forever gonna be biased towards this one lol :)

This version of Blood was on the Dead-Hearted maxi-single, released in 2007 (this might or might not be my rip, but yeah, file is old lol)

Blutengel - Seelenschmerz

Is anyone shocked that my re-exploring the visual kei i was listening to 20 years ago made me want to also re-explore the rest of what I was listening, back then ? Of course, some of that meant Blutengel. I went to see what happened between now and then, and really, a lot of their stuff is forgettable and I always end up annoyed at Pohl's fake deep voice sdkjasfkhjfkhj. But I still fucking love Seelenschmerz aaaaaah !!!! And i still owe Blutengel for being my introduction to darkwave and it's entirely because/thanks to their influence that I fell for Schwarz Stein eheheheh

Seelenschmerz was the title track of the album released in 2001

Chanton L'amour - L'horloge

SONG OF ALL TIME.

SONG

OF

ALL.

TIME.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Chanton L'amour was a short-lived side-project of Machi from Lareine ♥ And this one absolutely is my rip (look, i don't remember buying this either but I have it, therefore I definitely bought and ripped this :) )

L'horloge was the title track of the single single they released, in 2001

(pleeeeease let her diiie ok, she asks so nicely ;^; )

D'espairsRay - Squall

I got my partner into D'espa, this year, and this is the song that completed the conversion lol :D

Squall was a single released in 2007.

(seriously, what was it with early-mid 2000's vk and their PV taking place in derelict buildings....)

Dalida - Parle plus bas

Oups, here's Dalida again kjdjskdhjkndjkds. Yes, that's the Godfather's song. Actually, you might know this as Speak Softly Love. I'm of the opinion that this is the best version of that song to exist. I love her voice soooo much T^T/♥

Parle Plus Bas was a single from the album known as Il faut du temps, if you're French, but Dalida otherwise, all from 1972

HIM - The Sacrament

For real, i don't care much for Ville Valo, but that song has been sticking with me for about 20 years, now, so I guess it means something :3

The Sacrament is from the 2003 album, Love Metal.

(ftr, this is what i'm expecting Lestat IWTVAMC to generally look/act/sound like but blonde, if the promo vid/song is to be believed lol)

L'Âme Immortelle - 5 Jahre

L'Âme Immortelle was in a similar basket as Blutengel, to me. But when I caught up with them, I found that they had everything I liked about BlutEngel and then some ! So I've been getting more familiar with the more recent stuff, which means that I got to hear the album version of 5 Jahre ! I had only heard the shorter, single version !

5 Jahre was found on the 2004 album, Gezeiten.

The video is for the single version (i wanted the clip !), but the mp3 I'm sharing is the long version from the album :)

Nightwish - Edema Ruh

I feel like Nightwish has become a product more than a band, in the past 20 years (ngl nightwish with Floor Jansen is a huge disappointment, but that's another story and shall be told another time (all I want is a studio recording of storytime gothdamnit 😤)), but still, sometimes they still have songs that catch me. Edema Ruh is one of them, or at least the synth caught me lol.

Edema Ruh was found on Endless Forms Most Beautiful, released in 2015 (imo their last album maybe worth listening, especially if you fell off after Tarja was kicked out, but please don't hate on Anette Olzon though. We don't pit women against each other, here.)

Pierre Lapointe - Dans la forêt des mal-aimés

I think from now on, I will make a point to include at least one québécois song in my birthday month compilation, as a little personal challenge, but also because i'm from there lol.

This song, like for most of Québec, was my introduction to Pierre Lapointe. This album, at the time, gave me hope that being musically weird would be more acceptable, in the province's music scene. It didn't. Now dude's a fucking coach on our version of The Voice 💀💀💀

Dans La Forêt Des Mal-Aimés was a single off of La Forêt Des Mal-Aimés, released in 2006

Rentrer En Soi - PROTOPLASM

Oh no ! Another song of all time !

Not only is this my favourite Rentrer en Soi song, but I think this is one of the best visual kei song ever made ;w;/

Protoplasm was single released in 2006

So yeah, my favourite genre of music is still dramatic and happy birthday to me :D

↓ zippity zip ↓

♥ HERE ♥

[finnickodaiir]

Since Eras ended yesterday, I'd like to share some of my key Taylor/Eras related memories.

First coming across Taylor and her music when I was like 7 or 8 years old when I watched the movie Letters To Juliet with my mom, which had Love Story on the soundtrack, which resulted in me watching the music video, and then downloading the song and other Taylor songs I could find like Our Song, You Belong With Me, Fearless and Mine on the mp3 player I had at the time

Having Red the song, Begin Again and 22 on repeat in like 4th grade

Listening to 1989 on my old iPhone 4 during my downtime when I was 11 at summer camp

Listening to The Outside religiously when I was like 14-16 and had no friends in high school

Listening to Lover the song on repeat and including on all my ship playlists when I was like 16.

Listening to Folklore and being like, "Okay, which songs fit better with each of my fave characters/ships" and relating to This Is Me Trying since I wasn't doing well academically in the pandemic during the online school system.

Feeling seen by Tolerate It since I associated it with my dad... (no comment)

Going through a friendship breakup in December 2020 and associating Back To December and Breathe with it

Relating to This Is Me Trying even more in 2022 since my parents forced me to go to business school, because I hasn't gotten into law school, and since I didn't care for business and had only applied as a plan B, I was failing every class and going to uni everyday was literally killing inside, to the point where I dropped out. Also, Speak Now was getting played every day that year, especially Never Grow Up since I found myself hating being like 19 and wanting to go back to being a kid, when I felt as if I knew what I was doing and where I was going in life. Additionally, I was quietly hoping that Taylor would go on tour soon and that'd she tour here so that I'd get to see her live.

Blasting Forever & Always in late 2022 as I was going through a friendship breakup

Blasting Anti-Hero and Dear Reader as they pretty much captured my emotional state in late 2022

Going to the Eras Tour (November 24, 2023) and meeting @shortnsweetgf who gave me a Mr. Perfectly Fine friendship bracelet

And here's my collection of Taylor related stuff :)

Including CDs, my TTDS tour t-shirt, the friendship bracelets I got at my show (I didn't make enough bracelets because my show was right at the end of exam season last year, so that's why I only got 4), and the tour bracelet that I "forgot" to return at the end of the show

[lumarose512]

Welcome to my Blog! :>

Shinzo wo Sasageyo! "Dedicate Your Heart"

Hi! I'm Luma and welcome to my (mostly) Attack on Titan related blog! This is the background image I made for my web browser version of the blog that is in the works (please stay tuned for that ^^)

I plan on reblogging AoT related things often, sharing pictures of my own collection and figure photo shoots, my own fan-art, writing about AoT related things I think about (a lot lmao), cosplays, and edits.

I will occasionally share something related to other things I love if I need to get it out of my system as well!

A little about me:

I am a girl from Austin, Texas trying to have a positive, minimal, and deliberate internet experience surrounded by the things I love and people with similar interests :)

I got into AoT in 5th grade at the crisp age of 10 years old (some say that's a little young, but whats done is done lmao. I had a friend who I thought was soooo cool and her older sister got her into AoT, therefore I got into AoT. I quickly became OBSESSED and even more into it then my friend. That same year me and my family had a big move to a place where I was totally new and unfamiliar. I struggled to fit in at that new place for a long time and my love for AoT only grew to make up for it. I started out as your standard Levi fan-girl (no hate to you guys I see y'all lol) but as I got older my love for all the characters, the art, and the story as a whole only grew deeper as I waited for new chapters to release. I remember going to Barnes and Noble with my mom to get a new AoT manga if I got good grades that semester, or my dad drawing attack on titan stuff for me even though he hasn't seen the show. I cherish those memories so deeply :.) In high school is when I started collecting the Funko Pops and started expanding on my collection besides just the manga with my fry cook money I was earning!

Immediately after graduating high school I married my best friend and high-school sweetheart and started a VERY big girl job which AoT probably played some part in XD I'll let y'all guess what it might be. I have worked hard and now I have my own space in which I live out my nerdy little life with me and my husband as my Attack on Titan collection grows. I cant wait to share it!

My favorite characters are Reiner and Armin, with Mikasa in the top 3 right behind them! My favorite AOT songs are Attack on Titan and Call Your Name (GV) by Sawano Hiroyuki, as well as Under the Tree by SIM.

Non-AOT related interests:

While I do love AoT the most of all my intrests, I share my love with other things too of course!

I grew up in the early 2000's with a HEAVY Ninetendo influence in the household from Wii Sports in the living room or my mom teaching me secrets on Super Mario World for the SNES, or my tride and true pink DS Lite with the Mario 64 port being my game of choice. So naturally, I LOVE Nintendo!

Favorite Video Games: Super Mario Galaxy, Skyrim, Animal Crossing, Legend of Zelda (like all of them lol), Miku PROJECT DIVA mega mix, Super Mario World, and Calico.

I love to draw and do so traditionally and in procreate :) I also crochet and run!

While I love AoT I also enjoy lots of other anime and manga! Some of my favorites are Beserk, Gurren Lagann, Code Geass, Neon Genisis, and Death Note! jeez..now that I read that I think I love watching anime characters try to play god lol.

Amongst them all, I truly love Beserk. I am currently collecting the manga and on chapter 130, and out of all the adaptations 1997 is my unmatched favorite. I love Casca. She is strong and powerful and hands down one of my favorite characters of all time.

Lastly, I am a huge lover of music! My dad had a huge impact on my music taste growing up and even makes his own music. My husband recently got me a Miku themed Mp3 player that I have been LOADING with all my favorite songs and albums! I also enjoy cassettes

Favorite Musical Artist: Casiotone for the Painfully Alone

Favorite Song: Phaser by Superdrag

Favorite Album: The Mighty Ocean and Nine Dark Theaters (by Astronautalis)

Conclusion of my Yap Session

If you made it all the way to the bottom of this post thank you so much for taking the time to read about my plans for this blog and a little bit of what i'm about. If you think id enjoy your blog or some of your music recs feel free to shoot me a message and i'd love to check it out :)

[wrongcaitlyn]

After Apollo’s book comes out (because this is the first thing I’d do lmao), do you think they’d create a biopic to go along with it? (And if it was well made) Would he and the group go and watch it?

ooh OMG this is such a good question. i had to consult @wronghuntress about this because part of me is like - as much as i portray apollo as a kindhearted and really loving father (which he is), he's still apollo. no matter how much pain and trauma the spotlight gives him, he can't stay away from it - he doesn't want to,

even when he runs away from hollywood and leaves all that behind, he still jumps at the first opportunity to make music again and encourages nico to release it. he eventually writes his memoir (that goes along with songs - i don't think that's really a spoiler seeing as the memoir files are accompanied by mp3 files and lyrics with two songs revealed already), which is just making his story even more known.

so he definitely doesn't stray away from the spotlight, but in the end, i don't think that he would support a biopic. technically, he is a public figure, and people could make a biopic even if he doesn't approve of it (i'm pretty sure, i just watched a yt video comparing the elvis and priscilla biopics despite watching neither for some reasonSDKF, but i dont actually have much knowledge on how these are made) - but i don't think he would ever support that for the sole reason of his kids.

the memoir centers largely around apollo's kids, even before they're born - on his relationship with naomi and latricia and darren as well - it's just as much of a focus of the memoir as his father's abuse and the corruption of the industry.

with that in mind, a biopic would include someone portraying naomi - which apollo, i don't think, would feel he has a right to just portray from his perspective, and which would also be very hard to get right for will, as well.

then there's obviously darren and latricia as well, and the fact that kids would have to play his own kids - which he'd probably feel a bit uncomfortable with, seeing as, especially just then, will kayla and austin would just be in their twenties

i think that the only option for a biopic would end up either being unapproved by apollo (which would likely end up with it being cancelled, seeing as apollo's father would hate that portrayal as well, so with their combined control over hollywood i do think they'd be able to prevent it from happening - i know, them working together on smth is a strange idea), or after apollo's death

and i do think that apollo lives a long, long, life. like, long enough for conspiracy theorists to question whether he may actually be a god in hiding. by that time, annabeth would be too old to play naomi - who would be about 21-28, and would probably have already retired anyway (assuming apollo dies at like 100 or smth so annabeth would be in her 80s)

if it was created without apollo's approval, annabeth would immediately turn down that role - out of respect for apollo, will, and naomi.

but i think it raises the interesting idea of what if apollo didn't have a biopic - what if naomi had a biopic made abt her?

now that'd be interesting and i like to imagine she had a huge impact on country music - plus, tragic ending, lots of drama, it's exactly what hollywood would want to make a biopic about. and honestly, i think it's a pretty plausible idea, so long as apollo and will both get to look over the script before hand! in that case, i think it would be very interesting for annabeth to play naomi, maybe even also co-produce the movie, and then work for hours on end with will trying to make sure that it'd be perfect. i absolutely love annabeth and will friendship, they're like siblings in my head honestly, and i think annabeth would do an incredible job at that <3

thank you for the ask!

[night-city-valentines]

Hi-Fi Rush Review

I knew nothing about this game prior to its release, other than two things - people said it was similar to Jet Set Radio Future, and it was coming to Game Pass.

I've never played JSRF (but I've always wanted to) and I have Game Pass, so I downloaded and booted it up.

I was hooked from the start.

Hi-Fi Rush is an action-rythym game, with platforming, puzzle, and collect-a-thon elements set on the futuristic island owned by the Vandalay Corporation - a robotics company, currently giving out replacement limbs as part of their 'Project Armstrong'. Our protagonist, Chai, signs up for a replacement arm, but a mishap with his legally-distinct-from-an-iPod MP3 player ending up where his heart should be makes him perceive the world to the beat of his rock music. It also makes him Vandalay's Number One Target, as they label him a defect to be destroyed.

This all happens in the opening cutscene.

The game is gorgeous, going for an animation style similar to Spider-Verse, with the visuals being incredibly comic-like. The anime inspiration is also clear, with all the panicked and OTT movements of Chai as he scraps his way out of trouble. Along the way, you run into a host of other characters, such as a robot cat named 808, a badass hacker called Peppermint, a gentle giant called Macaron, and a therapist robot named CNMN (Cinnamon). And they aren't just supporting characters in the narrative sense, they also help you out in gameplay too (well, not CNMN, but what can ya do). Peppermint can crack through energy barriers with her laser pistols, Macaron can bust through walls and knock heavy objects into place, and 808 serves as an understated beat-counter, their lights pulsing along to the beat of the song that's playing.

808 isn't the only musical gameplay indicator, though. The entire world moves with the soundtrack, not just to the beat, but adding flair to the current track, like platforms rapidly shifting, and certain puzzles following their own beat. Even the combat has rythym to it; security lasers with unique timings, having to attack, dodge, and jump on-beat to do more damage and build your score multiplier, and parriable mini-boss moves that let you get a 1-hit KO. Chai's weapon of choice is a guitar made from scrap, and every hit, combo, and parry comes with a musical element.

The story is a fairly standard fare - Chai wants to GTFO, but he can't until he helps Peppermint take down Vandalay. Full disclosure, I haven't finished the game yet (I'm about halfway done), but what I have played I have adored. The game is packed to the brim with charm too. Chai is a quippy slacker, way in over his head, but loving every minute of his adventure. Peppermint is hot-headed, but bounces off of Chai well, and puts him in his place. The 6 bosses of Vandalay are all wonderful too, from the aggressive Southern wrestler-type Rekka, to the obviously JJBA-inspired Zanzo. Like many games nowadays, Hi-Fi's characters like to make meta-jokes, and while I am tired of that as a concept, in Hi-Fi it's sparing enough that I don't hate it (unlike a certain OTHER Game Pass game that also starts with an 'H').

And the soundtrack, oh MAN the soundtrack. It goes hard. There isn't much more I can say! It features both original and licensed music, but the originals are so freakin good I can barely tell the difference. Obviously if you aren't that into rock music, you won't like it, but that's a matter of preference.

With regards to what I DON'T like, I found the part that teaches you about parrying to be way too obstructive. Like, the otherwise fast-paced game screeches to a halt to teach you about this new mechanic, rather than all the other tutorial segments, which are over really quickly. I also find it hard to stay on-beat, even with the optional big on-screen indicator. This may be a problem with my controller, but more often than not I would hit the buttons in time with the beat, but only like 2 out of a 4 hit combo would be on time, which massively brings down your score, which sucks. Also, some of the combos just...don't work? Like I don't know if I really am doing them wrong, but I do the input, and no special move happens. That sucks too. Also I would have preferred to be given the choice to play as Peppermint over Chai but that's just me being nit-picky, let's be honest.

Overall, I have thoroughly enjoyed this game so far. I would definitely recommend trying it out if you have Game Pass, and I'd say it's worth the £30 price tag IF you like the music used. Even then, the gameplay is fun enough that you could mute the music and play to the beat on-screen if you just want a fun hack-and-slash adventure. The game is available on Steam, Windows, and Xbox Series X|S.

Hi-Fi Rush - 9/10

Pros:

- Great soundtrack

- Fun and addictive gameplay

- Wonderful characters and humour

Cons:

- Timings can be a bit wack

- The parry tutorial suuuuuucks

[wanderer-on-the-steppe]

Songs about the Khmelnytsky uprising, part 1:

I’ve been asked for more music about the Khmelnytsky uprising (the first song I posted – by Хорея Козацька, based on a poem by Hryhorii Skovoroda – can be found here), so I thought I’d do some blog posts on the songs I know. Starting with a classic that, for me, is both fascinating and thoroughly frustrating: the song about Khmelnytsky and Barabash (Дума про Хмельницького і Барабаша).

It’s fascinating because it recounts the famous episode of Khmelnytsky tricking Ivan Barabash into getting drunk at his house and in the meantime sending a servant for stealing the king’s letters from Barabash’s own house – and damn, I wish we’d get to see this in the “Ogniem i mieczem” movie. I know well that it doesn’t fit in there as far as the course of the plot is concerned... but I’d love to see it anyway. Because it has Khmelnytsky being clever and cunning, and Bohdan Stupka would have done wonders with a scene like this.

And here we have a historical song that tells exactly this episode in a style that’s just made for a performer with some acting skills – and on top of it, Bohun gets mentioned.

That’s the good part.

The scary part: In the song Khmelnytsky doesn’t only trick Barabash, but also kills him (admittedly after Barabash wanted to hand him over to his enemies, so... considering what that would have meant, it’s really not surprising) and sends his wife and children into slavery. And if I understand it correctly, there's absolutely nothing that indicates this last deed was considered unworthy of the protagonist in any way.

Thankfully, as the real Barabash is supposed to have been killed by his own rebelling Cossacks, there’s some hope that the fate of his family here is simply a literary invention. But it could have happened, and it just says a lot about the hate and bitterness that accompanied the rebellion if a detail like this could have been thought to make the story better.

Now, the frustrating part? Even though the song is well-known enough that I could find material for school lessons about it, it rarely seems to get performed anymore. And if it does, there either isn’t a decent recording of it, or… I simply haven’t found it so far ;)

What I have found is a fragment of it in an operatic interpretation – and if you want it, simply adding “mp3” to your google search for "Дума про Хмельницького і Барабаша" will make it show up in your first results, but please be aware that I cannot assess the safety of these sites. I’ve played the file online (though I didn’t download it), and so far, my computer seems alive and well, but… that’s really all I can say about it.

There’s also a more traditional interpretation by Nazar Bozhynsky (Назар Божинський), recorded in a town square – and this is on Youtube, and the link is fine –, but (did I mention the situation with this song is frustrating?) there’s a voice from a loudspeaker at a blaring volume chattering throughout the whole performance. Which, at least to me, renders the song completely unintelligible even with the lyrics at hand. Honestly… if this had been during the hetman’s lifetime, it would have ended badly for that loudspeaker ;)

So, all I have to offer is a spoken version. I promise, the next post in this series will have some actual music not drowned out by announcements!

[To avoid misunderstandings that can probably easily happen with as controversial a historical topic as the Khmelnytsky uprising: Despite my Ogniem i mieczem-related enthusiasm for the movie character Khmelnytsky (played by Bohdan Stupka), I am aware of the horrors that happened during the real uprising, and I’m posting these songs for their historical interest only – not to glorify a brutal war, and certainly not to mock its victims.]

[fizzingwizard]

Funny little thought.

From the time I was six till I was about fifteen, my family was entrenched in evangelicalism. From age 10, I started going to the school at my church, which meant I was inundated with religion six out of seven days a week. Only Saturday was free of it. And some days I would get religious lessons at school, go home, then go back to church, which was the school, for evening youth group and stuff. Looking back it just feels like a lot, but.

Somehow I still wiggled out of that mindset and I think a lot of my peers did too, tbh. After all, church is where I learned what different sex acts were and about homosexuality. Not from people saying how evil they were - of course there were plenty of adults doing that, but the kids were all totally unconcerned and eager to shock other kids with what they knew hahaha.

Anyway, there's lots I could talk about, but what I was thinking about today was pretty innocent effect of being required to think of religion and only religion as a valuable pursuit for such a big chunk of childhood. It was about music. I was allowed to read and watch anything that was age appropriate, regardless of whether it was "Christian" enough. My parents would have objected if there had been sex or homosexuality (or rather if they'd known there was those things >_>;), but for the most part it wasn't hard to keep those things private.

Music was different because I played it in my room. On a stereo. Without headphones x'D I did have an mp3 player which I took with my on walks, but the things I liked to dance in my room. Not conducive to wearing headphones. So I would blast music pretty much constantly when I was home. And my options for acceptable music were pretty much: secular music my parents had grown up with and couldn't see anything unacceptable in it, or Christian Contemporary Music (CCM).

Well, I didn't hate my parents' favorite bands, but they weren't very now. So my favorite musicians were artists no one but my best friend had ever heard of. He and I would belt their songs whenever we felt like it, so just imagine two nerdy kids biking up and down the road screeching "JESUS IS THE WAY THE TRUTH THE LIGHT" off-key because we keep going in and out of each other's ear shot xP

These were some of my favorite artists:

Point of Grace

Third Day

Avalon

Rachael Lampa

Casting Crowns

MercyMe

Skillet

Steven Curtis Chapman

ZoeGirl

Rebecca St James

Mark Schultz

V*enna

And so many more that I've forgotten. And I loved them whole-heartedly. I just went through the wikis for some early 2000s WOW Music CDs and literally my heart clenched with nostalgia seeing some of the song titles and artist names that I haven't thought about in so long. It brought back an era of my life that I feel so out of touch with now. It's not that I miss it exactly, but I suppose I miss that naivete and security I had at that age, which was mostly due to being a kid with a pretty decent childhood. It's similar nostalgia that I feel when I think back on high school, or non-school memories before that.

Music gets so wrapped up with memory that no matter what, I can't dislike these CCM artists. Nor can I forget about them. I still listen to a few favorites, especially songs by Point of Grace, which seems like such a weird group to become the favorite of a 10 year old, but me and my best friend were obsessed, like obsessed with them at that age. Bought ever album and knew all the words.

When I listen to those CCM songs now, as an adult, a lot of them don't hold up. We used to get told that "Christian content usually falls short when it's literature or movies, but music is equal to secular stuff." I don't think that's 100% wrong, but it's certainly not as clear a success story as we were told it was. My main beef is with the female artists, many of whom just leaned in so much on purity and abstinence, even while some of them pandered a lot to secular audiences. But it's not just the themes but the lyrics and music itself. V*enna, which as far as I know had only one CD, is just some of the worst music. I liked their album as a kid, but when I listened to it a while back I was just cringing. Really amateurish, so no wonder it didn't go far.

But there's a lot of fun to be had with CCM too, like Audio Adrenaline's rock cover of Little Drummer Boy which still splits my ear drums while making me ask "Why?" And there's the nonsensical conundrum of groups like Skillet or Creed, which some fans who only knew their secular stuff are stunned to learn they were included in Christian music stores. Or Jump5, a tween bobby group which sang about God, made money by putting tracks in Disney movies, and overall existed to make money.

Speaking of money. When I was fourteen, our youth group decided to start a band and I was a vocalist. The band only had one performance. You know why? The pastor at my church LEAPT on the idea because he thought we would get famous and... make lots of money for the church...?? Honestly, we were VERY amateurish, the lead singer I think was decent but very much did not want to be in the band long term, the musicians were so-so, and I was definitely so-so. But the pastor got involved and pressed us to be amazing and to have an amazing band name which I can't remember anymore and well we just flopped. None of us were into the idea but him. If he hadn't gotten dollar signs in his eyes we might've had a bit of fun, which was the only intention. But this was a pastor who was bent on his plan to make the church a mega-church and becime famous for his Idk pastor skills or whatever.

Back to music. So I do still love those artists from my childhood, regardless of how good they are objectively. But I got to wondering, what kind of music would I have been a fan of at that age (early teens) if I hadn't felt like secular stuff was off limits? I did somehow become a fan of Avril Lavigne and I am not even sure how that happened. One year my dad bought me Hilary Duff's first CD, which told me that he had no idea what my music tastes were or that we didn't even pay for the channel her shows were on so I didn't know who she was :P (But I appreciated the effort at bonding lol) That's much cleaner than Avril, at least.

Aside from Avril, I think I probably would have been a My Chemical Romance girl. Honestly, I probably would've been annoying into them if I found them at the right age. But I never heard "Helena" until this year. Fall Out Boy maybe, Green Day? Snow Patrol, Pink, Bjork, Nightwish are some groups I became fans of later, once I was out of the church. Best friend introduced me to Vienna Teng and Tori Amos. I like rock and metal now, but as a teen I didn't much, and I'm trying to think what was popular when I was in high school. I would go to the movies and not recognize any of the songs in them haha.

I just had the funny thought that I could have been so different as a teenager if I'd listened to different music... I bet I'd have been more emo or something lol. Idk, the groups that pop into my mind seem emo.

super nostalgia now whoa

/conversation with teenage fizz haha

[thegreatallie]

This was a wild start to the New Year for me.

(someone please tell me if I did the image IDs wrong.)

Now, if there’s one thing about me I’d like you to know, it’s that I love adventure games. I was raised on classic Sierra point and click games, especially King’s Quest, and I love everything about them. They’re the perfect mixture of cinematic and interactive, the puzzles range from genius to bullshit, and they kill you in increasingly absurd ways the more you play. I lamented their death so hard and to this day I still do. Even when they make a rare reappearance, they’re just not the same, especially since the few they do make these days follow the LucasArts model of not killing you in ridiculous ways you couldn’t possibly see coming.

Anyway, years ago my brother showed me this article from OldManMurray.com, discussing his theory behind the death of adventure games.

In the article, he dreams up a new mascot for adventure gaming, who he calls Francis the Talking France.

I can’t tell you how hard I laughed the first time I met Francis the Talking France. I was taking French in college at the time and I don't even know how many times I had to try not cracking up in class because something reminded me of him. I even have this specific voice I do for maximum hilarity. It's probably not that funny, actually, but I only do it for me so it entertains the right audience at least. 

However, the years went by, and eventually it got to the point where I only occasionally remembered this article. And when I did, it was about how ridiculous that puzzle was. I mean, seriously. The entire puzzle requires you following this convoluted and unhinged train of logic to make a fake mustache when the person you’re impersonating doesn’t even have a mustache how am I supposed to know to do that what is wrong with you Jane Jenson I love you but this is kind of a lot. As time went on I rarely thought of myself thinking of Francis at all.

I was reminded of him out of the blue when I was making a list of foreign language songs on my mp3 player. I have about 18 songs in French, 50 in Japanese, 3 in German, and a handful of others. I was riffing on the word France to myself, trying to come up with some amusing sounds, when I remembered there was the name of this mascot I used to love. I didn’t even remember his name, I had to keep doing mouth sounds trying to remember what name sounded like France until I remembered the name Francis exists. But I remembered and cracked up all over again. It’s funny how, out of nowhere, things from our past can suddenly make themselves remembered almost as if on their own.

But that’s only half the story.

The other half begins last summer, when I first played the game The Stanley Parable. I'd heard of the game before, but never anything about it except that it was a very artsy game on the nature of choice. I wasn't interested in learning more because I was worried it would be up its own ass about it and I can't deal with that. But what changed my mind was this tumblr post.

I don't care if it's the most pretentious art game in the world, I have got to see what the thematic opposite of the Sims looks like. So I got the game and gave it a spin.

First off, I'm not ashamed to say I was 100% wrong. This is not at all the kind of art I hate. I don't want to get in too much detail about my opinions about art because it's not the point, I just want to say that the Stanley Parable works on so many levels that even if you disagree with the message you think it's trying to send (and it's hard to tell because it can be interpreted in so many ways, some of them contradictory) you can still have fun being a horrible little gremlin pissing off the Narrator, who does a fantastic job carrying the entire game on its shoulders. I love The Stanley Parable.

So anyway, in December, I was looking for more Stanley Parable videos on YouTube. I regret that I don't even know which video this was, but one of the jokes in it went like this: it was the scene from the Team Fortress 2 video "Expiration Date" where Spy places a bucket on the table and it goes:

Spy: Gentlemen, this... is a bucket. Soldier: Dear God... Spy: There's more. Soldier: No...

and it was captioned something like, "The entire Stanley Parable Fandom" or something like that. I laughed.

Then I remembered that I hadn't actually watched that TF2 video since it came out in 2014. My brother showed it to me when I came home for the weekend, saying it just came out and talking about why it was made and all the little trivia about it. I watched it, I laughed, I had fun, and then moved on with my life. I was never into Team Fortress 2, though I've been aware of it the entire time it's existed. It's just not my kind of game and, while the humor was funny, it always came off as kind of... tryhard, I guess? I don't know. It's actually hard for me to describe my opinion then because I no longer hold it.

But basically, back in its heyday my brother showed me TF2 memes and explained why they were funny, and I laughed. I used to do voice work for this teenage boy who also would talk about it, and I'd listen. I even remember watching the Meet the Pyro video the day it dropped and everyone on My Little Brony was talking about it, and thinking it was okay at best. I did love the cosplays of Spy undercover at other conventions, like at a brony convention in a Twilight mask about to stab a Pinkie Pie in the back or something.

I have no idea what changed in me, but this time when I watched Expiration Date it was the funniest shit I'd ever seen in my life. I laughed so hard I almost cried. And then I went back and watched all of the Meet the Team videos and laughed just as hard, even at the Meet the Pyro video. And suddenly I'm trying to get all the content I can like my life depended on it. For 15 years this game meant nothing to me and now that it's basically dead suddenly it's the only thing that matters? Why is that? Who can say? All I can do is enjoy the ride.

And then it happens. Two days after re-reading my favorite piece on the death of adventure gaming with a mascot I'd forgotten existed, I was on Issue #3 of the Team Fortress comic when I come across this image

His fucking shirt.

I swear, this wouldn't have been so bizarre if it weren't for the fact that, for a completely unrelated reason, this was the second time I'd thought about Francis in years, to the point where I had forgotten his name. Then I thought about him completely randomly, again, for the first time in years, only two days before actually seeing him for the first time in years, except for re-reading that article on purpose. If I had just seen Francis on Baby Scout's shirt I would have been, "Oh, wow! Awesome, I remember Francis! But what's he doing here? This requires research." It feels almost suspicious that I was thinking about him for the first time in years because my mouth felt like making sounds.

And like, I only got to this comic because I ended up playing not one, but two old games that are so outside the scope of what I usually play that they almost passed me by completely. Seriously, The Stanley Parable is nine years old, and Team Fortress 2 is 15 years old. If I hadn't seen that one Tumblr post, I probably wouldn't care about either of these games.

THE SYNCHRONICITY OF THIS OSTENSIBLE "COINCIDINCE" IS NOT LOST ON ME. NOSIR.

I had to look up dates because I was momentarily miffed thinking that the hilarious Adventure Gaming Mascot had been a TF2 reference this whole time and I'd been duped, only to realize that no, the article definitely predated the game's release and the guys behind the website worked for Valve so it makes sense Francis would find his way into a Valve property.

It just... it blows my mind in a way I don't think I can really get across to anyone who's just reading it and probably not nearly as impressed by it as I am, but... come on, it's gotta be something, right?

(also, as an unrelated footnote, SpyDad is my other raison d'être)

[henryhina]

oh and more about. The actual thing I think about.

this is Annalise (happy and annoyed moods respectively. How I draw her really changes based off what point in my little "story" things are happening. Also pardon the elf ears, it was a doodle for a silly AU in my head)

She is a very bookish, shy and studious girl who likes playing piano but secretly adores heavy metal and rage music. Her parents are extremely restrictive, to the point where she's never been allowed to cut her hair more than dead ends. She still lives with them throughout college. She and Jaylen are childhood friends who have known one another since diapers, they've lived next to each other their whole lives. She was never allowed inside their home, but Jaylen's family consider her a wonderful family friend. If she wasn't so restricted, she would've probably been much closer with them. But Jaylen and her are way more alike than others would think. He even introduced her to metal music altogether. She keeps a secret MP3 player full of songs in her drawer to listen to.

Kane falls intensely in love with Annalise, who is completely unaware. He starts to write songs about her, dream about her, think about her nonstop, being her up in passing. Jaylen figures out something is amiss when all of Kane's musical work and taste become based on this intense love for someone who barely notices them (Even though Annalise thinks Kane is a total cutie pie).

Hijinks ensue and Kane accidentally comes off as creepy/rude multiple times before Jaylen helps translate and Annalise grows to understand him. Jaylen's inner insecurities and self-hate are exposed after he confesses that they're worried Kane will leave him after finding a partner.

Basically Kane is a silly autistic boy in love with a silly musician girl that has a secret rage inside her and Jaylen helps as an insane ADHD mediator/wingperson

They've never been even remotely romantically involved

(these are my OCs I was talking about. The one on the left is Kane and the right is Jaylen. They are Besties)

[shinadog]

helloooo~ for the rgg ask game, could you answer: A9, B3, C3, C10, D6, E2, F4 ^-^

Favorite game location(s)?

Do you have a comfort character in the franchise? If so, who is it?

Compilling two questions in a single drawing is allowed because I said so. ANYWAY. Favourite place is Morning Glory, especially the beach ! And I supposed Daigo could fit the comfort character spot? He hates it :DD

Which character(s) deserved better?

Not doing a drawing for this one but ! It's a tie between Mirei Park and Rikiya. Park because I feel like she could have brought so much more to the story, and that I really hate the way she was just discarded by the plot before she could reach her full potential (I wanted her to be the villain so bad. let her destroy the clan :////) and Rikiya because he did nothing wrong ever and I wanted him to be happy and safe.

Which game do you think should get a remake?

NONE ! I'm not a remake person, I want new content !! (that being said, I wouldn't say no to an Ishin or Kezan remake if that means we get to play those, but... Ishin is already so freakin pretty I'd really hate to get a shiny Dragon Engine remake instead)

Do you think Kiryu was a good father figure to Haruka and Daigo?

I think Kiryu would have been great if his saviour/"I must sacrifice my own hapiness immediately and at all times" complex didn't get in the way.

Also I really love how this question is worded. It's Haruka and Daigo and that's it. I can almost pictures all his other kids glaring at me in the BG as I answer this.

Bops: Haruka Sawamura, T-Set or Dream Line?

I hate idols and pop stars with all my heart but I love my daughter so I have all of Haruka songs on my MP3 she's so good ;.;

What is your Smile Burger order?

ANYTHING BUT A SMILE. God I felt so bad when I asked for a Smile in (K2? I think?) and the poor worker had to smile like. Uuuurgh x-X

[feralaot]

random scouts hcs!

I did a post like this for the warriors my beloved (here) and people seemed to like it so here's one for the scouts :) had some input from @afrival for this one luv u

no warnings I think

eren

if he had twitter he would have a vaporwave bart simpson profile picture and tweet lil peep lyrics. also uses way too many hashtags

he's scared of snakes and hates armin's ball python

his eyes are probably crusty as hell and mikasa has to wipe em for him because he won't

when he's losing an argument he goes "ooh you wanna kiss me so bad" and it always escalates things but he doesn't stop

almost exclusively wears american eagle

"what's a pronoun".mp3

uses the 💯 emoji in every other text message he sends

armin

sends his friends pictures of cats cuddling/hanging out and says "me n you <3"

genuinely can't stand when people have dirt under their fingernails. he gets so mad at eren bc his nails are dirty asf and armin forces him to clean them

he calls himself sexy a lot (e.g. "that was really sexy of me")

chews on bottle caps then is like hmm why do my teeth hurt

he hates feet. toes look weird to him. nobody in his house is allowed to take their socks off

unironically uses faces like ^-^ and :3

acne :(

mikasa

she's really bad at giving advice. don't go to her for help she'll literally be like "that's tough"

probably has like 4 instagram accounts made just to follow eren

solid black profile picture and no bio

maybe now and then she'll put a my chemical romance quote on her story but that's about it, she doesn't respond to dms or anything

doesn't wash that damn scarf so it's probably stinky

sticks staples, pins, etc through the tips of her fingers for no reason other than she likes freaking people out

probably hisses at people

jean

the only possible relationship dynamic somebody can have with him is rivals to lovers

very short social fuse and has to stay home for several days after public events bc it's just exhausting

he's an introvert adopted by extroverts (connie and sasha) and has to deal with their shenanigans. truly the mom figure between the three of them

marco has to listen to him ranting about connie and sasha's foolery and doesn't have much advice to offer bc he doesn't know either

for a long time he only knew "straight" and "gay" and when he found out about the concept of bisexuality his mind almost imploded

he sighs and yawns a lot and doesn't even realize he does it. people always think he's either annoyed or tired

probably dresses like a diet e-boy. crewneck king

connie

the kind of kid in your high school gym class that wears mismatching neon clothes. bonus points if it's nike

also the most likely to start a food fight for funsies

he doesn't yell often because his voice cracks when he does and it's embarrassing

sasha and him hate cafeteria food so he always brings an ungodly amount of food in his backpack instead to share with sasha. connie's backpack is 90% food

unironically says things like "pogchamp" and "rad"

he works at zumiez and probably lives there. always rocking their latest drip

jumps up and slaps exit signs

sasha

randomly breaks into song (usually disney songs) and connie will automatically duet

manages to fall asleep in any situation. on buses, while watching movies, sometimes even mid conversation if she's zoned out enough

tried to take armin fishing one time but he almost cried because he felt so bad about it

at least reiner will fish with her though. the himbos always come through

her instagram is all pictures of fish she caught and now and then there's an awkward candid pic of niccolo

stayed overnight in a walmart one time and got away and brags about it but she won't admit it was an accident. panicked and spent the night eating snacks off the shelves to "survive"

while she's talking her voice slowly gets louder and louder and she doesn't realize it until people tell her to stop yelling

historia

pulls people by the ears to bring them down to her level

also kicks people in the shins a lot, if she's arguing with someone they'll usually keep their distance to avoid getting shin kicked

loves climbing on ymir's back and just being carried around like the little creature she is

posts inspirational quotes on her story

would definitely be a cheerleader in high school. nobody would guess a prep like her is dating some grunge girl w a pretty much opposite personality

she always has bandaids with her for some reason. if someone gets scraped she'll whip out a bandaid immediately. her friends call her "mom" sometimes

hates grilled cheese so god damn much. can't stand it

ymir

"damn I don't remember asking".mp3

is always the first one to comment on historia's instagram posts. her comments range from "beautiful my queen!!!" to "damn ma yo ass fat"

she always called reiner gay as a joke then he came out as gay and for a while she thought it was her fault

her and reiner have wlw and mlm solidarity, they're bffs for that matter

if someone tells her that her music is too loud she'll say "huh?" and turn it up

similarly if someone scolds her for something she'll go "hm? repeat that, I'm a little deaf in this ear"

"bro stfu you always tell me you're gonna fire me for being late"

levi

really really hates cooking pasta because straining the water is for some reason more difficult than it should be

"do not underestimate me, bitches"

always refuses to get his hair cut at places in shopping centers. especially walmart great clips

makes monkey noises when he sees something he likes. he started doing this as a joke to mock zeke but it evolved and now he can't stop doing it randomly

will not hesitate to knock someone on their ass if they're talking shit

coffee makes him jittery so he drinks tea instead but won't admit to anyone that he lowkey also has a redbull addiction

hange calls him a catboy but he doesn't know what that means so he's always like "yeah" bc he thinks it means he's a cat person

hange

buys levi shoes from the kids section and doesnt tell him bc he likes them anyway

such a millennial, they say shit like "doggo" and "adulting"

"for practical reasons I don't exist. do not perceive me"

probably wants to marry mothman

levi has had to scold them on several different occasions for bringing live animals into the house

legally isn't allowed to cook bc they can and they will blow something up

goes on tipsy rants almost nightly

erwin

white skechers king

hosts barbecues in those white skechers. he talks shit about people with nile and pyxis like a bunch of gossiping middle aged fath- wait

his profile pictures on social media are probably pictures of himself taken from awkward angles with an empty expression. it's always posted like six times as well

when levi is getting Out Of Hand he'll pick him up from under the arms and carry him away like "okay, that's enough" and levi kicks around but can't escape

rubs his hands together a lot like a fly. nobody knows why he does it. what are you scheming

falls asleep on couches while watching sports games

[swinging his keys around his finger] "let's rock and roll"

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Let me tell y’all a quick story. The story of how I caught James Newton Howard plagiarizing his own music.

It is not Witcher related, but it is fandom related and hopefully it’ll make you laugh. 

Picture this: The year is 2003. I am 7 years old and I have a mad case of undiagnosed ADHD that is beginning to rear its lovely head. This is the year the live action Peter Pan movie comes out, starring Jeremy Sumpter. I see it in theatres no less than three times because my life-long hyperfixation was/still is Peter Pan and all things Peter Pan related (if you want to hear me go buckwild… hmu about my boy Petey). 

ANYWAY, I love the soundtrack so much that I absolutely beg my mother to buy it for me on iTunes so that I may 1) burn it onto a disc because it’s 2003 and 2) put it on my shitty Meijer-brand mp3 player. She is gracious enough to do so for me because sometimes she’s cool.

I listen to that soundtrack every. Fucking. Day. Every afternoon after having lunch I take my mp3 player and my aux-cord Hello Kitty speaker out to the trampoline, turn on that music, and pretend I’m Peter Pan by double-bouncing myself and landing flat on my back (a weird attempt at the sensation of flight).

Every. Day. All. Summer. 

So by the time my eighth birthday rolled around that August I knew that shit by heart. Every single song.

Cut to 12 years later. My family goes to see Mockingjay Part 2 in theatres because I was 7 in 2003, which means I lived through PEAK Hunger Games popularity (yes I pre-ordered the last book in middle school. I hated the ending so much that I threw it across my bedroom and broke a lamp, but I digress). 

As they tend to do, the movie ends, and we’re all standing up to get our shit together when… I hear it. 

It’s one of my favorite orchestral pieces from the Peter Pan OST: “Learning to Fly”. I know it’s that song because Wendy and Peter have a whole little moment at this point in the music.

But it can’t be, because this is “Track 19 (Final Credits)” on the Mockingjay: Part 2 soundtrack.

But my ears have not deceived me in the slightest; the proof is still playing right in front of me. Blasting from way too many high definition speakers. James Newton Howard thought he could pull a fast one on his audience. He thought he could just copy one of his own pieces because 12 years is too long for anyone to remember that short 11 seconds worth of music. Right? 

WRONG, JIMMY! I REMEMBER. This singular Midwestern bitch with a mad case of ADHD remembers. 

And now the rest of you know, too. 

[treasure-hwa]

as stubborn as you

pairing: seonghwa x female reader

genre: fluff, comedy, a tentative of enemies to lovers

synopsis: it's been a long way since they were kids and best friends. They consider themselves arch-enemies, but are they really?

word count: 4528

author's note: I took TOO LONG to write this one, I know! But it’s here and it’s here on this precious star’s birthday!!! I hope you all enjoy reading this. By the way, yes, I changed the story from “pocky challenge” to “pepero challenge”.

taglist: @winterviolet1 @multidreams-and-desires @ateezinmymind @devil-mp3 @little-precious-baby @hwaddict @trinityhasjams @hwa-luvs because when I did my little survey on what should I write, you voted for Hwa <3 @suni-ho

The doorbell rang and, from the bathroom, you heard your brother yelling for you to get the door. You rolled your eyes and took a deep breath, preparing yourself to see that boy's face and try not to punch it. As you opened the door, a body crashed on yours and you didn't even need to see the face to see who it was.

— Wooyoung!

— Babe!

He kissed your cheek and moved away so the other boys could greet you too, but the last one barely looked at you, he seemed displeased to see you there, as if you didn't have the right to be at your own house. It was enough to see him at school, but in your house too?

Who is he, the reader must be asking. He was Park Seonghwa, your arch-enemy. How does one become an arch-enemy? Easy. Park Seonghwa was incredibly annoying and too perfect at everything he did, which was a lot. Class president, student council, volleyball and soccer player and dancer. To top it all, unfortunately, he was your younger brother's best friend and a member of your friend group, so you saw each other too often.

Didn't Yeosang, your brother, know how much you disliked his friend? You both were constantly picking on each other, everything the other said was a reason to eye rolls and scoffs. Quite annoying and immature of you two, the group friend thought, even if they were used by that now.

— Hi, guys, — Yeosang came out of the bathroom, sat on the couch beside Hongjoong and looked at you and his older friend on the door. — Are you two gonna spend the whole afternoon there?

Seonghwa smirked and let out the first teasing of the day:

— I know I’m a very important person, but you don’t need to wait for me to get in and sit to do the same.

You breathed deeply and pushed the door close, almost slamming it.

— Anyways… what are we doing today?

— I brought my new dancing game! — Yunho exclaimed and took the game out of his backpack. — Who wants to play it?

Everybody raised their hands and started asking if they could dance to certain songs, and to your surprise, Seonghwa said the same song you did, and it only fueled him to win over you, because that was one of his favorite songs, he had to be better. Everybody was shocked that you two had at least one thing in common.

— You dance? Since when? I thought your motor coordination was super bad — Seonghwa teased, raising an eyebrow.

— For your information, yes, I do dance and I am very good at it, thank you.

— Up for a challenge?

You two glared at each other, if you were a cartoon, there would be fire on your eyes. Most of the time, your group friend would hate your competitiveness, but it could be fun right now, so they rushed you to get up and Yunho put on the dance game.

It was a girl group song, in which you knew he was amazing at dancing, just as perfect as he was on all the other things he did, but even knowing that, you had to do better, so both put heart and soul on the performance, moving bodies exactly like the figure on the TV was doing.

By the end of the dance, you were panting, sweating and collapsed on the floor. Wooyoung quickly jumped over Seonghwa's body to sit behind you and put your head on his lap, complimenting your dance skills.

— Was it worth it? Did you have fun? — Jongho asked, looking at you, not amused at all.

— Of course… it was. I was… better — Seonghwa spoke between inhaling and exhaling air.

— You weren’t! I was!

— Ha! As if! I am the best.

— Listen here, Park...

— Here we go again. 

— Mom, mom!

— In the backyard!

Seven-year-old you had just arrived from school, your dad went to pick you up, while your mother went to pick your younger brother from his school. You ran to the backyard just to be greeted with a tight hug from a slightly smaller boy, that was not Yeosang, still in his school uniform.

— Noona!

— Wooyoung! — You laughed and hugged your brother’s best friend back. — I’ll play with you and Yeosang in a second, okay?

He nodded and went back to the other boy playing ball. You went to your mother and told her:

— Mom, I need to do a project in a group with two boys.

— Really? And are they your friends?

— No. — You pouted. — I don’t know them well.

— There is no problem, sweetheart, ask them for their phone numbers and I’ll call their parents to invite them over so you can work on the project. Does that sound good?

— Yes, mom, thanks!

Then, you ran towards the two six-year-old boys running, playing a weird kind of two-people tag.

In the same week, your mother called the boys' parents and scheduled a day for them to come to your house. When they arrived, you smiled big and welcomed them, they were Hongjoong and Seonghwa.

After some minutes of talking, you noticed Hongjoong talked more and had a nice colorful backpack, which he proudly showed saying his mom had painted it for him. Excited, you told him he should be the group leader since he looked confident in everything. Seonghwa was quieter, but heard and looked at everything attentively, so he agreed with you. Even if he was older, Hongjoong sounded more suited for the position.

When you were doing the project, colouring and writing, a loud voice and quick footsteps were heard, coming closer to the living room, where the three of you were. The voice owner was Wooyoung, who came to play with Yeosang again, however he changed his path to see you first and didn't like seeing another guy so close to you, looking at what you were writing and speaking quietly to not disturb anyone.

— Noona! Who is he?

— Oh, hi, Woo! They are my friends, Hongjoong — you pointed to the boy across you with the mullet, — and Seonghwa — you pointed to the boy beside you, wearing a red hoodie. — We are doing school stuff.

The boys waved to the younger one.

— I didn't know you had a brother — Seonghwa said.

— I do, but it isn't him, Woo is my brother's best friend. I can introduce you to Yeosang later.

And you did when it was break time. Your mother prepared snacks for the five kids and called all of you to sit at the dinner table, where your friends met your brother and they instantly clicked, though Yeosang was a little shy around strangers.

— Wooyoung! Don’t make a mess — you warned him and cleaned his cheek.

— Sorry~

Seonghwa and Wooyoung weren't the best of the friends right from the start and they still had little fights over the years, but you never understood them. Their friendship definitely grew though.

That was the beginning of the group, when you and Seonghwa were super friends. The others just came along the way.

The restaurant table was large enough for the nine of you, having a booth around its three sides, however Wooyoung insisted on coming closer to you, which didn’t make you uncomfortable at all. You had discussed it before, your feelings hadn't changed since you were little kids, you would always be best friends, you would be his noona and he would be your dongsaeng. The flirt and teasing was just for comedy. He was just a super sweet person who had to give love to who he loved the most, and you accepted his love because it was him.

— Wooyoung, we can't just drown ourselves in this gigantic glass of soda! You are crazy if you think I'm swallowing all this in seconds.

— You are just a coward.

— Hey, that's no way to talk to your noona! — You took the glass out of his hand, then held his face.

— Oh, shut up — he rolled his eyes fondly.

— Make me.

The moment was broken by an annoyed voice:

— Why don’t you two just get a freaking room? We don’t want to see your flirting.

You scoffed and diverted your eyes from Wooyoung, who was now grinning, and placed them on Seonghwa, who was sitting at the extremity of the booth, sipping his soda and looking out of the big window.

— Are you jealous, Seonghwa?

— Huh, you wish!

— Never in a million years. — You threw a saggy french fry on him, and the boy gave you a murderous look, ready to throw it back on you, but everybody stopped you two before things could get violent and you all were banned from the restaurant.

★━━━━━━✩━━━━━━★

— I just can't stand him!

— Yet, you talk about him every time you get the chance — Yeosang spoke nonchalantly, keeping his eyes on his video-game.

— But I'm complaining about his behavior.

— You just hate that he is better than you in certain things — he mumbled back.

You inhaled deeply, remembering how your scores on that dance game were always close to his, but never better.

— It's not that… he just annoys me.

Yeosang was right, but you would never agree outloud. When you were thirteen, Seonghwa started being the best student of the class, the best boy of the school, the most talented, everybody loved him. You were just there, beside him, even if you were a great student too, nobody really paid attention to you.

It came a time where not even Seonghwa would pay attention to you. He would hang out with his new friends, with Hongjoong, with the group, but only when you weren’t with them. He talked to you just the bare minimum and it hurted that it seemed like the “fame”  he had in school got to his head. Seonghwa wasn’t the same quiet boy you had met when you were seven, so you decided to not be the excited girl you were back then with him.

★━━━━━━✩━━━━━━★

— But seriously, when will Wooyoung just ask her out? It's getting annoying how he never makes a real move.

Hongjoong paid attention to what his friend was talking even if he was choosing new clothes, but the boy didn't believe what he had just heard.

— What are you even talking about, Seonghwa? You know he doesn't like her like that. They are just super close friends.

— I don't know, something on those two just doesn't smell good.

— Yeah, that's your jealousy, because he is still her friend, but you are not. Now, let's go, I'll try this one.

Jealousy? Pff, please! The boy thought while he followed Hongjoong to the fitting room. Why would he be jealous? Just because you chose Wooyoung over him? It was no big deal, Wooyoung was your friend before he had showed up in your life. Sure it annoyed him when you all were younger that you kept meeting up with Wooyoung, when Wooyoung wasn’t present in the group because he was watching a movie with you, when Wooyoung was always hugging you out of nowhere... he may have distanced himself that time.

But it wasn’t jealousy, he convinced himself. Not now. He had nothing to be jealousy of if he didn’t even like you.

★━━━━━━✩━━━━━━★

Two weeks later, now at Jongho's house, you had a full studying day. While you, Hongjoong and Seonghwa were in the last year of high school, Yeosang, Yunho, Wooyoung, San and Mingi were in their second year and Jongho was alone in first year. He saw it as an opportunity to nag his hyungs and noona to help him. Needless to say, no one resisted him that long.

The studying session, however, was messy. Snacks crumbles were all over the place, covering books and the floor, San even dropped his chocolate milk on the table. You had a break time to eat something real, so Jongho and Yunho poured soda on glasses and everybody made their own sandwiches to their own likes. Later, you ate ice cream and had to hear a long discussion about mint choco ice cream between San and Hongjoong. You were about to scream, but Seonghwa took a napkin and pressed it against San’s mouth, saying “shut up! I don’t wanna hear any more words”. It worked.

After the studying was over, it was clean time. While you liked everything clean, you hated cleaning, so of course you didn't volunteer yourself. But, through a rock, paper, scissors game, it was decided that you and Seonghwa would do the dishes and clean the living room while Yeosang, Yunho and Hongjoong went to get real dinner. The others went to lay in the backyard and "breath fresh air since the weather is so nice".

— Do you think it is a good idea to let them together? They hate each other. — Yunho commented while Hongjoong started his old car.

— They really don't — Hongjoong answered. Yeosang agreed.

While that, you and Seonghwa were washing plates and throwing knives at each other. Not literally though. Not yet.

— Why are you so bad at rock, paper, scissors? — He teased. — You hate cleaning, should have done better.

— Me?! You were the one who played late and still lost! What did you even do that?

— Well, because I…

You didn’t let him finish, because your head was almost exploding, so you threw drops of water on his face, which soon expressed pure shock. Quickly, he wetted his hands and did the same to you.

— Are you a child?!

— Are you made of sugar?

So a water war started, leaving you both with humid hair and wet faces. It only ended because you slipped on droplets of water on the floor and he caught you before you could hit your head on the counter behind you. When he pulled you forward, you collided with his chest and was at a loss for words for some seconds.

— Are you alright?

You nodded slowly and got away from him when you heard the boys were coming back inside.

★━━━━━━✩━━━━━━★

When your birthday came, you were excited and welcomed all the boys and a few girl friends, who couldn't understand why you disliked Seonghwa that much. The boy was perfect and so nice with everyone. You would always roll your eyes with that. Anyways, they all gave you gifts and enjoyed the small party, one of them hoping to see a certain friend of yours. You would play cupid someday. 

Wooyoung entered your house jumping on you as always, kissing your cheek and screaming "happy birthday!". He was a cutie, but, one day, you would lose your hearing. Seonghwa came last and gave you a square shaped gift, not hugging you, just shaking your hand and offering a pause on the rivalry.

— It's your birthday, you should be happy and be better than me at least today.

You smiled, thanked him, but still squeezed his hand until he was saying sorry.

— Come on in, try not to be a pain in the ass. I know sometimes you can’t control it.

— You are it! Ah, nice outfit by the way.

You chuckled and rolled your eyes, taking his gift to your room, you would open all of them later. When you came back to your party, you saw one of your girl friends talking to Seonghwa and… laughing hard? What was wrong with her? He wasn’t even funny.

— Planning his murder again? — Hongjoong bumped his shoulder with yours, following your eyes to Seonghwa.

— What? No! I mean, yes. All the time.

— You can’t fool me, stop lying.

— I’m not lying. He’s here just because he is part of the group.

— You know… he has been talking to me about you.

— Has he? What did he say? — you answered eagerly.

The boy laughed and shook his head.

— I think he doesn’t like how Wooyoung is so close to you.

— Well, it sounds like a him problem — you mumbled. — We are just friends.

While you changed the topic and diverted your attention from the other boy, Seonghwa had excused himself from your friend and went to take a glass of soda. Yeosang followed his friend and asked if he had brought a gift.

— Of course I did. We may be arch-enemies, but it’s her birthday. I know how to be decent.

— And what did you give her? I hope it’s not a bomb.

— It isn’t. — He gave a small smile, but hid it behind his glass.

★━━━━━━✩━━━━━━★

When you were alone in your room, you opened the gifts you had received. They were all very nice, you loved them all, but Seonghwa’s probably got deeper to your heart. It was simple, nothing fancy, but held memories of when you were little kids.

— Hwa! You came!

— Of course I did! Is Wooyoung here? — He peeked inside your house. — It’s quiet.

— He is not. — You laughed. — Yeosang went to his house, so today is just me and you. And my mom, but me and you! Hongjoong couldn’t come, he had guitar lessons.

The boy nodded and widened his eyes before speaking again:

— My mom made cookies for us. I-I helped her. — He smiled and handed you a pretty pink container with chocolate cookies inside.

— Really?! That’s so cool! Thank you, Hwa.

That day, you sat around the living room center table, ate the delicious cookies that he insisted on not telling you the recipe, with crayons, colored pencils and paper scattered around you while you two drew and painted several things. You ended up drawing the two of you plus Hongjoong, to symbolize the best friends group formed two years ago in school, but, when you exchanged drawings at the end of the day, you noticed he had drawn only you and him eating cookies and hearts and flowers. It was pretty, so you kissed his cheek before he entered his car.

So, yes, when you saw the same pink container with the same special cookies — you have always loved them, but Seonghwa never told you the recipe — and the drawing you had made years ago inside the gift wrapping, your heart might have clenched and your eyes stung with tears. You kind of missed the old times.

★━━━━━━✩━━━━━━★

Joining the boys that night was an idiot choice. You realized that the moment Mingi suggested playing Truth or Dare. Why did he even suggest that? Everybody agreed excitedly, so it was a dead end, at least it wasn't like they would order you to kiss any of them.

But you were wrong. You were so wrong.

As the bottle spun and stopped at you and Yeosang, you knew he would have no mercy. He asked the question and, for some unknown reason, you answered dare. Maybe you would like to see what he had in mind.

Not good things, you concluded after he said "do the pepero game with Seonghwa". You and the boy choked on your own saliva, looking away for a moment. San took the candy out of its package and offered it to his friend.

— Seonghwa? No way. Step aside, I can do this for you — Wooyoung suggested, winking to you, making you smirk playfully.

— No. I’ll do it — the eldest spoke up, making your eyes widen.

Seonghwa took the chocolate stick from San's hand and placed one of the ends between his perfect teeth. Rolling your eyes, but sweating on the inside, you got closer and refused to touch him in any way, which he approved. You put the pepero in your mouth and when San said “start!”, both your and Seonghwa’s mouths got closer, going forward on the stick.

Nobody thought you two would really do it, they actually expected you to poke each other’s eyes with the candy at the moment Yeosang set the dare. But you loved a challenge, so maybe that was why you two were not stopping.  Seonghwa’s hand went to the side of your neck, thumb placed gently on your jaw, and, surprisingly, you said nothing, just kept getting closer and closer, dangerously close.

— Will they… — Jongho started, but did not finish as an impossible scene was happening in front of his eyes. — They are....

The dark chocolate pepero disappeared inside your mouths as they were glued together, sharing a rather steamy kiss. Your hands were entangled in his gray hair and your mind could only think “his hair is soft, his tongue is soft, his lips too and they are so skillful”.

You kept going until Yunho came back from the bathroom and yelled at surprise. At that moment, your minds seemed to clear from some kind of hypnosis and you pushed each other far. You exclaimed “who wants more soda?” and ran to the kitchen, while Seonghwa rested his back on the couch behind him and wiped his mouth with his shirt.

Yeosang went after his sister and the other six boys glared at Seonghwa with a confused look, demanding an explanation. In the kitchen, you downed glasses of water as if they were vodka shots.

— What are you doing?

— Taking his disgusting taste out of my mouth.

Your brother took your shoulders and turned you to him, looking deep in your eyes.

— Stop lying to yourself — he whisper-yelled to your face. — You like him, it’s okay!

— I don’t! It was just…

From the living room, you heard Mingi shouting:

— I can’t believe you really did the Pepero challenge with her! Isn't her your rival or something like that?

— Yes, of course. And? — Seonghwa answered, trying to sound nonchalant while fixing the strands you messed.

— Dude, you just kissed her instead of stopping eating the candy. You’re not rivals. — Yunho slapped his shoulder, as if he was comforting the friend.

— We are! I didn’t even like their kiss that much.

You couldn’t contain yourself, so you shouted back for him to listen:

— Oh, yes, Park Seonghwa, sure you didn’t like my kiss, but maybe you should tell that to your tongue. That was disgusting!

An ovation was heard from the boys and Seonghwa stomped to the kitchen, meeting you in the middle of the way.

— Disgusting, you say now, but your tongue sure didn’t mind when it joined mine. And your hands! They… They were all over my hair! — His fingers pushed his hair back and, once again, you thought how soft it was. — Stop staring!

After shaking your head, you noticed a faint blush on his cheeks and his eyes were restless, searching a safe spot to look at.

— But you held my neck first! You’re not any better.

— Do you two want a little… private time to discuss your feelings? — Yeosang tried, holding a laugh in, because, yes, it was very funny how you and Seonghwa tried to deny your feelings, when he knew this mutual hate was nothing more than masked desire bullshit.

— No! — both shouted together.

Before you run up the stairs to your bedroom, you stuttered and attacked:

— Your… your breath stink!

His eyes widened and of course he could not let you have the last word, let alone those words, so, yes, he followed you, shouting “it doesn’t!”. Your brother laughed at the way the boy’s cheeks were even redder and went back to the living room, offering to watch a movie to his other friends.

Seonghwa arrived at your room before you could close the door and held it with his foot.

— Go away, freak.

— No! Take it back.

— Take what back, Seonghwa? — you sighed, getting tired from the situation.

— My breath doesn’t stink. Take that back.

— I’ll need to check again.

All your movements ceased when you realized what you had said. The boy was still processing if he heard correctly. You left your spot by the door and threw yourself on the bed.

— Did you really say what I think you did?

— Depends. — Your voice came out muffled by the pillow. — What do you think you heard?

As the mattress dipped with additional weight, you shut your eyes, not wanting to look at him. You had basically confessed, right? Slowly, you sat up and kept your stare at your fingers, playing with them if they were the most interesting thing you had ever seen.

— I’m so-

— What are you waiting for then? Kiss me again and check it.

Your eyes widened and you turned your whole body to him. Seonghwa didn’t want to waste any more time, so he cupped a side of your face and leaned in to get your lips with his. The boy’s mouth was moving with yours slowly, tasting it the best he could and his breath definitely didn’t stink.

Going past the shock, your hands went up to his hair once again, caressing his nape and slightly pulling him closer to you, because it was the best kiss you have ever had — among three: your first one, the one that happened earlier that night and the present one —, but still wasn’t enough. Seonghwa’s kisses had plenty of the feelings that your first kiss with your pre-adolescence crush lacked, and you were already addicted. Call it whatever, but you secretly hoped he would kiss you forever.

This desire, however, couldn’t be fulfilled, because air was a thing and apparently you had to get it, but the kiss sure left you feeling on cloud nine.

— So… — he said low, his breath fanning over your wet lips. — Does my breath stink?

— Yeah… no. You’re free of this.

You opened your eyes slowly only to be met with a pair of big, round, shining eyes. The shining eyes you would always notice when you were kids.

— Hey, uhm… I know we are arch-enemies, but… — The boy scratched his neck, looking away from you. — What if we were arch-enemies with benefits?

You wanted to laugh and tease him, but the offer was interesting, so you asked more information about the concept.

— Like… we can hug, kiss, talk, maybe hang out together, but we still tease and compete with each other?

Reader must now be laughing at how silly the boy was, but he looked 100% serious and you gave it a thought before agreeing.

— If I get to kiss and tease you, it’s okay for me.

He chuckled and pulled you to another kiss, that didn’t last because you two were giggling and smiling too much.

— Can we hang out together soon? Just the two of us, I mean. — He caressed your cheek, noticing how it was warm.

— Like a date?

He stumbled on his own words, but nodded.

— Like a date.

— You are so whipped for me, Seonghwa.

— Shut up!

[slaylinski]

5 Times Something Almost Happened And 1 Time It Did

Pairing: Sam x Bucky (AU) 5+1

Word count: 8704

Warnings: angst, major character death (mentioned), grief, miscommunication, Sambucky can be absolutely idiots sometimes, mutual pining, fluff, happy ending

Prompt: Sam and Bucky are obviously in love with each other, but each secretly thinks the other is the boyfriend of their recently deceased friend (Steve) and that they should respect the bro code. 

A/N: So, I recently saw that prompt on IG and since there is no fanfiction out there that covers that I decided to write one myself. Prepare yourself for some misunderstandings, angst, grieving and sambucky fluff!

btw, shoutout to @januarystears and @gwen-novella for being my beta reader and emotional Marvel supporters🥰💕

Please be aware that English is not my first language.  

1

Bucky was looking at the tombstone in front of him, still not able to process what happened the last few days. Steve Rogers was his childhood best friend. He remembered them being 5-year old’s trying to steal some of the cookies his mother had baked; he remembered Steve calling him at 3am on a Sunday, crying and telling him about his mother‘s car accident, the one that had made him an orphan. He remembered his parents not even hesitating for a second before they took Steve in. 

And now Steve was gone. And everything Bucky had left were a few memories that were already starting to fade.

Since his parents were dead not many people came to Steve’s funeral. A few friends he had met in Chicago, Bucky’s family and of course Sam Wilson. 

After he and Steve had finished college, Steve had gotten an amazing job offer in Chicago and since Bucky had decided to stay in New York, they had had to adapt to not being able to see each other every day. They had still managed to see each other monthly, most of the times Steve coming to New York, since Bucky’s family, meaning Steve’s family, was still in New York as well. And every time they had visited each other Steve had talked about Sam. Every damn time. Bucky had felt like he already knew the other man. Obviously, he had been happy that Steve had found a boyfriend in Chicago.

Since Bucky was bi and Steve had been gay, they had had a few first times together. From having their first kiss with each other to some things he was not going to mention here. They had tried to make their relationship work, but ultimately decided they were better off as friends. Since then they had not really talked much about their relationships. The only thing that had mattered to Bucky had been that Steve was happy and the way he had talked about Sam had made Bucky realize that he had been happy.

“You okay, man? “ Bucky looked to his left and stared into a pair of brown eyes.

“Yeah, I am okay," he said quietly, which was far from the truth. He still could not believe that Steve was dead.

“I am Sam, Sam Wilson," Sam introduced himself to Bucky, which made the latter chuckle. “Yeah, I already know that. Steve talked about you, a lot," Bucky tried to smile but his eyes were still focused on the tombstone in front of him.

“You know, it is a shame that he never introduced us," Sam said.

“It really is, but I feel like I already know you from all the stories Steve told me about you. I am glad he had someone in Chicago who took care of him. I am sorry for your loss," Bucky felt terrible. He felt like he could not breathe, like drowning but not being able to swim to the surface.

“I am really sorry too, Bucky," Sam whispered. Bucky barely remembered the next few hours. They went to the Barnes house for a funeral service. He saw his sister Becca who tried not to cry but miserably failed, he met his parents’ eyes. His mom was silently crying, and his dad wore sunglasses, trying to hide his swollen eyes as well. To his parents it was like they had lost one of their children. To Becca and him it was like they had lost their brother. And Bucky could not even imagine how hard it was for Sam to lose his boyfriend, his significant other, the person he wanted to grow old with. However, Sam looked more pulled together, like he tried his best not to cry in front of Bucky. Which Bucky understood, it was not like they knew each other very well.

“Do you want something to eat?" Sam asked and tried to feed Bucky some of the cake that was sitting on the kitchen counter. It was one of the many cakes people had brought over to the Barnes house after they had found out about Steve’s death. Everybody had loved Steve Rogers and it was a real shock to them that he had died at such a young age. Bucky, however, did not feel like eating. He felt like sleeping. Like the kind of sleep that makes you forget reality, the one that comforts you. He had not slept for the last couple of days, he was afraid of dreaming, afraid of dreaming and waking up. Afraid that his mind was going to dream about Steve and then him waking up and realizing that it was only a dream and that he was really gone.

“No, thanks. Do you want something?" Bucky asked but Sam shook his head. It was the first time that Bucky took a closer look at Sam Wilson. He was a little bit shorter than Bucky. His brown eyes were warm, and they looked worried, and Bucky felt like Sam was as close to breaking down as he himself was but tried to hold it together. The longer he looked at Sam, the more he understood Steve when he had talked about how warm Sam's eyes were or how good his smile looked. Sam was exactly the type of guy Bucky would go for. Sam tried to comfort him, and Bucky did not understand why. It was not like he had lost his boyfriend. He had lost his best friend, which was pretty hard as well, but not as hard as what Sam was going through now.

“Sorry, I need to get out of here,” Bucky told Sam and rushed out of the house.

The Barnes house was pretty small, barely enough room for two children, but they had squeezed together when Steve had moved in. The backyard had a small garden. A bench facing the giant cherry tree Bucky and Steve used to climb up.

Bucky felt his lip tremble and sniffed. He was all alone now. Steve was gone and there was nothing he could change about that. He felt a tear slipping down his face and tried to wipe it away with his shirtsleeve, but his stupid shirt was too tight, and he could not reach his eyes, and everything was just stupid.

A few moment later his vision was blurred with tears and he tried hard not to sob. It was horrible. He had not even realized that Sam had followed him outside until he felt a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him. “Hey, it’s going to be alright, Bucky,” he said and tried to calm him down. The second he noticed Sam; Bucky felt like shit. Sam had just lost his boyfriend and Bucky was out here crying and not even thinking about Sam for a second.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky looked at Sam. “I just… I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now and I-,” he tried to continue but Sam interrupted him.

“If you try to apologize for having feelings, Barnes, I am going to throw you into your neighbors’ pool,” Sam pointed to his right to the swimming pool next to them. “I’m not joking. I don’t know what Steve told you about me, but I’m a man of my word,” Sam laughed. Bizarrely, Bucky laughed as well, like a real laugh, not the ones you fake to seem polite.

“You know, he would’ve hated that,” Bucky declared.

“What? “

“Us here, moping around. He would have wanted his funeral to be party. Has he ever told you about the first years of his life?”

Sam shook his head.

“When we were younger, Steve used to be sick, like all the time. He had the worst allergies and asthma and everything you could possibly imagine. Some winters were hard, there were times when he was in the hospital for week.

Then one time he had this stupid idea to plan his funeral because somehow in his 10-year-old brain he was thinking that he was going to die. And me, being the other 10-year-old, agreed to that so we were in that chapel and he was reading a text that he’d written and playing some weird ass song he’d found on his Mp3 player and then we were all mushy and crying. A couple of weeks later he was home again. A few years after that, he got his height boost and most of his allergies were gone and he became the Steve you know,” Bucky hadn’t even realized that he was crying again but it was a weird combo of crying and laughing.

“God, I miss him so much already,” he sniffed.

“So, Steve Rogers would’ve wanted a party for his funeral? “Sam grinned, and Bucky couldn’t help but start to notice Sam’s laugh. The way his eyes crinkled and the way his whole body moved when he laughed.

“We’re going to get through this, Buck. I promise,” Sam put his arm around Bucky and patted his shoulder.

“You know, you can always call me if you want to talk,” this was the first time that Bucky saw that Sam had tears in his eyes as well. Sam quickly looked in a different direction but left his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky was not mad that Sam called him ‘Buck ‘, he felt horrible. He was a horrible person. His best friend had just died and all he could think about was how badly he wanted to kiss his best friend’s boyfriend.

 2

Sam Wilson was fairly sure that Bucky Barnes was one of the strongest people he had ever met. He could not even imagine what it must feel like to lose his boyfriend. Well, until the funeral, Sam hadn’t been quite sure if Bucky really had been Steve’s boyfriend because even though he had known Steve for more than 4 years, he still did not remember one woman or one man that Steve had ever mentioned with as much enthusiasm as he had radiated when talking about Bucky. So, it was kind of weird to Sam that they had only visited each other occasionally and still hadn’t been living together after so many years, but he hadn’t wanted to ask why. It was not his business anyways.

Even though he did not know much about Steve Rogers’ love life, he considered him one of his best friends if not his best friend. Therefore, it was hard on him to have lost Steve so suddenly. He had never heard of somebody dying of an asthma attack. Especially someone who hadn’t had one in more than ten years. He remembered Bucky’s call and nearly dropping his phone. Bucky’s parents had been Steve’s emergency contacts, so it was unsurprising that they, and thus Bucky, had gotten notified first.

He had been in the middle of cooking dinner for him and Steve, since they were sharing a flat. It was not like they were poor or not earning enough money, it was more about not being alone and being able to save up a bit for the future. None of them minded living with a roommate, though.

After the call he had travelled to New York to attend Steve’s funeral. It was not how he’ imagined his first trip to New York and it certainly wasn’t the way he had wanted to meet the famous Bucky Barnes. After the death of Steve’s parents when he’d been a teenager, Bucky’s family had been all he’d had left.

Sam had felt a little anxious, and even though two of his and Steve’s friends, Wanda and Pietro, had come with him, he still felt like an intruder. He still could not believe that Steve was really gone.

He recognized Bucky immediately. He had seen a lot of picture over the years and even met him one time via face time but that could not have prepared him for what he saw the first time he looked into Bucky’s eyes.

Even though he was on the verge of crying, he looked like one of the most beautiful men Sam had ever seen, and the second he thought of that Sam wanted to slap himself. He felt like the worst person on earth. His best friend had just died and all he could think about was how good-looking his boyfriend was. He was going to end up in hell.

For the next couple of days Sam felt numb. Bucky kindly invited him to stay over at his flat in New York, so Sam didn’t have to bother booking a hotel room or anything like that.

Since his boss had known Steve as well but could not attend his funeral due to business, he kindly gave Sam two paid weeks off. Sam was not sure how he was going to handle going back to the flat he shared with Steve. He already felt lonely and was not sure if he could handle throwing out Steve’s stuff.

But right now, he was thinking about a lot of different things, for example about Bucky, who was sitting right in front of him, eating a bagel for breakfast.

Bucky’s flat was not what Sam expected. After living together with Steve Rogers for nearly three years, he thought that he knew the way Steve liked to live. Pretty messy was an understatement. His room looked like it belonged to a messy 3-year-old. Bucky’s flat however was completely clean. So clean that Sam would not have been bothered eating off the floor. The thought of Bucky constantly reminding Steve to put away his stuff made him laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Bucky looked at him curiously and swallowed the last bit of his bagel.

“Oh, nothing,” Sam tried hide his grin.

“Hey, that’s not fair. Tell me,” Bucky protested but he was smiling as well. The pretty smile, the one that made Sam’s heart flutter. He quickly put that thought aside.

“Well, you knew Steve better than me and when I see how clean your flat is all I can think about is how messy ours used to look.”

That made Bucky laugh as well. “You know, I asked myself the same question. Do you remember when you were on that business trip? That time I visited Steve, and it was the first time I saw your flat and I was shocked how clean it actually looked. Not that Steve was a messy, but I’m amazed how you managed to get along with him not putting his stuff everywhere.”

“Well at least he tried with you, whenever he was coming home, he just threw his jacket on our couch and went into the bathroom,” Sam laughed. `

“Yeah, he tried his best whenever he visited me,” Bucky answered.

‘Perks of being the boyfriend, Sam thought but didn’t say it out loud. He did not want to upset Bucky and tried to talk as little about Steve as possible, only referring to him when Bucky told him a story about them.

“You know what, Sam?” Bucky asked after they put away the dishes from their late breakfast. “I’m done sitting here and moping around. I need to get out of here, get some fresh air.”

“Do you have something in mind?” Sam looked at him. It was weird, even though he never met Bucky in person he felt like he already knew him. Steve used to talk about him all the time, mentioning him even when he was talking about the most unnecessary things. At first Sam thought it was cute, but after a while it kind of annoyed him. However, Bucky really was as great as Steve had described him. In the last days he got to know him and found out that he was one of the most generous and humble persons he had ever met.

“I actually do. I have been craving ice cream ever since I saw that Ben and Jerry’s commercial last night and thought that we could go to the Central Park,” Bucky suggested.

“Sound great. Let me get my jacket and I am good to go”.

They each grabbed their phones, wallets and jackets. Bucky stuffed his keys into the pocket of his leather jacket. Sam could swear that Bucky had at least five different versions of the same leather jacket in different colors.

Bucky’s flat was close to the Central Park since he lived in Manhattan. Sam was not quite sure what kind of job Bucky had but it must have been paying really well if he could afford living that close to the city.  They didn’t talk much while walking to the park, but Bucky took the time to show Sam some of Steve’s favorite spots, for example his favorite coffee shop. Whenever they walked past a shop or cafe Steve used to like, Sam knew immediately because Bucky tensed up.

Obviously, Sam had never been to the Central Park in New York and he had only ever seen it on pictures so far, so he was surprised how big it actually was. There were a lot of children, parents and young people walking around. A couple of them were inline skating or even skateboarding. It was a sunny afternoon, which made for a crowded park.

“What’s your favorite ice cream flavor?” Bucky asked him after they sat down on a free bench they found.

“Pretty much any ice cream flavor,” Sam laughed.

“You know, that was Steve’s answer to that question as well. He ate pretty much every flavor of ice cream I bought so I always had to hide it or buy an extra pack,” Bucky smiled but his eyes looked sad.

Sam wasn’t sure what he could do to make him feel better. And the worst was that he was still thinking about how good-looking Bucky was. “Just surprise me, okay?”

Bucky nodded and quickly walked away to the nearest ice cream van.

Sam leaned against the bank and closed his eyes. His mind was still trying to process Steve’s death. When he was younger his dad had died, and his mom had made him go to a therapist for a couple of months. The woman had told him about the five different stages of grief, and Sam was sure he was still stuck in denial. He just couldn’t imagine his life without Steve Rogers, and he still did not know how he would manage living on his own. He might get a different flat, one that was smaller.

His thoughts were interrupted by Bucky, who returned, carrying two ice cream cones in his hands. There were at least three scoops of chocolate ice cream on each one. Sam’s eyes grew big once Bucky settled the ice cream into his hand.

“I thought we might as well treat ourselves,” he only stated and started eating his ice cream.

If there was something worse than having the hots for your dead best friend’s boyfriend, it was watching his so-called boyfriend licking ice cream.

He quickly looked away and stared at the ice cream in his hand, which was slowly starting to melt.

“You know, I bought this for you so you could eat it. Not watch it melt, but you do you,” Bucky raised his eyebrows and looked at the ice cream that was slowly dripping around the cone.

“Yeah, of course. Is it a coincidence that you chose chocolate because it is Steve’s favorite ice cream or is it your favorite flavor as well?” Sam asked curiously.

“You got me there. It’s my favorite ice cream flavor, too. So now you know why I had to hide my secret ice cream stash in the freezer whenever Steve came around,” Bucky laughed.

They were quietly eating their ice cream when Bucky stood up all of a sudden and grabbed Sam’s hand. Bucky’s hand was warm, warmer than Sam had imagined. The former quickly pulled him to his feet and Sam felt himself blushing. Hopefully, Bucky didn’t see that.

“Come on, we are going to see the ducks,” Bucky shouted and ran to the lake that was in the middle of the park. Sam just laughed. Sometimes he felt like Bucky was still ten years old and not 28. He followed Bucky and found him a few seconds later, throwing the last crumbs of his ice cream cone to a little duck family that was quickly picking up the crumbs.

“You are such a child, Bucky.”

Bucky just rolled his eyes and tried to pet the small ducklings. However, the mother duck was not having that and tried to pick at Bucky’s hand. It even started to flutter towards him. Bucky let out a scream and started running to Sam. “Help me, ahh. It’s trying to kill me. Sorry duck, I was only trying to pet your babies,” Bucky exclaimed. “I wouldn’t hurt them.”

Sam was trying his hardest not to burst out laughing. He noticed a couple of other people around him who were watching them. A few seconds later he just gave up and completely doubled over. He was wheezing and already feeling the weird looks he got from the people surrounding him. Tears started to form in his eyes and that was the first time the last few days that the reason for them was not him being sad.

Bucky finally came over to him, laughing as well. “They were so cute, I just had to,” he exclaimed, and before Bucky was able to say another word, Sam grabbed him by his hips and pulled him over to him. He let his hand sit on Bucky’ waist for a short moment until he realized that Bucky was staring at him, especially at his hand. Sam felt blood rushing into his head. He probably looked absolutely flustered and he noticed that Bucky was blushing.

“Anyways. They were cute and Steve loves, I mean loved, ducks,” Bucky said quietly.

After hearing Steve’s name Sam felt guilty again. Following that awkward incident, they quickly went back to Bucky’s apartment and never mentioned it again.

 3

Ever since Sam had left to go back to his flat in Chicago, Bucky felt lonely. He had never felt that way when Steve had left him to go back to Chicago or when his other friends visited. It might have to do with the fact that Sam was the first person who really calmed him down after Steve’s death. His parents and his sister tried their best, but they were still trying to process the fact that Steve was gone. Sam’s reaction to Steve’s death was different. It almost made Bucky a little angry, because how could he not have cared about Steve, but then he remembered that Sam hadn’t know him as well as the Barnes family. Sam might have tried to pull himself together because he had not wanted to cry in front of Bucky. The last couple of days Bucky had gotten to spend with Sam he understood what Steve had loved about him. Sam was kind, made him laugh and the best thing, he was honest to Bucky.

Bucky’s last relationships had not been exactly what he pictured. The last girl he had dated had been someone named Natasha, who he’d met through work. She was nice and pretty, but after a few months she’d told Bucky that she did not see a future with him. He wasn’t sad that their relationship ended, he was sad because it meant he was alone again.

Right then, he was sitting on his couch, watching his favorite tv show. Suits. The first time he’d watched that show he couldn’t decide whether he would rather sleep with Donna or Harvey. Seeing that he was a lawyer himself, he knew the series was nowhere close to being realistic, but he still liked it. Practicing law wasn’t exactly how he’d pictured it in college but still, it made him happy.

His thoughts were interrupted by his phone ringing. He quickly grabbed it and smiled once he saw the name displayed on the screen. Sam Wilson.

“Hey, Bucky,” Sam greeted him.

Bucky felt his chest flutter but tried to ignore it. Sam was his forbidden fruit, but he already felt like Eva ogling the red apple in garden Eden. Apparently, he and Eva would share going to hell.  

“Hey Sam,” Bucky answered quietly.

There as an awkward pause.

“Something wrong?”

“Well, I don’t know if this might seem weird to you but yesterday, I was finally able to enter Steve’s room and was trying to sort his stuff and because he doesn’t have any family left, I thought you might want some of this and- “

Bucky interrupted him. “Sam, you are rambling. What do you want me to do?” he asked.

“I was just wondering if you might want to fly to Chicago and look through Steve’s stuff. Like, I know he would have wanted you to get most of his things. I understand if you are occupied with work but honestly, I don’t know if I’m ready to get rid of his things. It feels like I’m starting to forget him. I’m already starting to forget what his voice sounded like, and it’s starting to drive me crazy. And I know it’s a lot I’m asking of you and it is a shitty thing of me to cry to you about it, since he was your-,” Sam sniffed and before he could continue Bucky interrupted him again.

“To quote you, Sam: If you dare apologize for having feelings, I might throw you into your neighbor’s pool. Even though I don’t know if your neighbor owns a pool, but you get what I’m trying to say here,” Bucky could hear Sam laughing, although his voice was still a bit cracked. He sounded like he had been crying for at least a couple of minutes. Then again, Bucky would probably react the same if he’d had to sit down and sort out Steve’s stuff.

“I’m flying out to you tomorrow,” Bucky stated. He could hear Sam breathing. “You don’t have to if you have work to do or something else, I can get Wanda or Pietro to help me,” Sam said, guilt lacing his tone.

“No, you’re right. I should have thought about that earlier. It must be hard for you. Of course, I can help,” he assured Sam.

“Thanks, Bucky,” Sam replied.

“You’re welcome, Sam. I’ll text you my flight information.”

However, he did not mention that he was excited to meet Sam again. He was sure that the last thing Sam was worried about right now was finding a new boyfriend, and Bucky still felt guilty about even thinking that he had a chance with Sam. Sam had been Steve’s boyfriend and was grieving, and Bucky was selfish for thinking that Sam could like him that way.

Immediately after the phone call ended, he grabbed his laptop and started looking for flights straight to Chicago. Since it was on such short notice, the flights were way more expensive than usually, but he didn’t care about that.

The day he arrived in Chicago was rainy. The weather was characteristically bad, so he was glad that Sam had offered to pick him up from the airport. Once Bucky had grabbed his suitcase, he made his way into the arrival hall of the airport. He already noticed Sam from far away, due to the fact that the other man was waving like crazy at Bucky, which made him laugh. Sam was such a dork.

“Hey, I’m glad you made it. Thanks again,” Sam tried to carry Bucky’s suitcase, but Bucky pushed his hand away.

“I got it, thanks,” he still thought it was cute.

They walked outside to Sam’s car, talking about random things. Bucky noticed that Sam didn’t mention Steve’s name. He was probably waiting until they got home, and Bucky did not want to upset Sam any further, so he did not mention the deceased’s name as well.

Bucky could count on one hand how many times he had been to Steve’s and Sam’s flat. It was still weird to him that they did not sleep in the same bed. But after knowing Steve Rogers for nearly two decades, it was impossible for even him to sleep next to Steve. Whenever the latter had slept, he’d snored so loud that Bucky had been sure the neighbors next door could still hear him, so he did not blame Sam for having wanted a separate bed.

The flat had not changed much since the last time Bucky had been there. The walls were decorated with a lot of artwork - most of it done by Steve. While Bucky was not able to draw a straight line, Steve had been able to draw the most amazing things with only a pencil.

“You can keep some of them, if you want,” Sam commented and squeezed his shoulder.

“Yeah, that would be nice, but you should keep most of them. They’re in your home, anyway, so why should I take ‘em with me.”

Sam only stared at him in confusion.

“I guess I’ll move into a new flat once we are done here. It’s too big for me anyway. Might as well get another roommate,” Sam stated.

“Roommate?” Bucky looked at him “Aren’t you a bit old to live with a roommate?” he asked, seemingly confused. He knew Sam was nearly 3 years older than him and Steve.

“I am what?” Sam raised his eyebrow.

Immediately, Bucky felt bad. He was such an idiot. Sam had been living with his boyfriend for the last 3 years, of course he was going to feel lonely living on his own. “Nothing. Forget it. So, where did you put Steve’s stuff?”

Sam pointed to a couple of boxes that were lying in one corner of the living room. “I got rid of most of his clothes and furniture, apart from some t-shirts and hoodies. Thought you might want to keep some of these.”

Bucky’s eyes wandered to a green hoodie that was crumpled up in one of the boxes. He quickly snatched it and pressed it against his chest. It was the hoodie Steve had worn the day they had gotten their college acceptance. It even smelled a bit like Steve.

“You should keep it,” Sam mumbled, “I have so much of his stuff, and you have nothing and…” His voice started to crack.

Bucky felt helpless. He was trying to think of something that would make Sam feel better. The only thing he could think about right then was a hug.

He quickly wrapped his arms around Sam and pressed his chest against the other man’s. He could feel Sam’s breathing and heartbeat.

Sam started to calm down, still pressed against Bucky. They stayed like this for a moment until Bucky started to feel something. ‘Oh god’, he panicked. Not now. It had been a few months since he’d last had any physical contact and it was starting to show. Sam clinging and moving against him did not make things better. Bucky felt his face heating up and tried to think of a way to break out of the hug.

“You, okay?” Sam asked and quickly ended their hug. He’d probably felt something was wrong.

Bucky was still red and quickly looked away. ‘So much to not thinking about Sam in that way,’ he thought to himself.

“Yeah, everything’s alright,” Bucky just knew Sam had felt it. However, he was glad that he didn’t mention it. It was already awkward enough for him. They continued to look through Steve’s stuff and neither of them said another word.

“I am glad you are here, Bucky,” Sam whispered after a while.

“I am really glad you called me,” Bucky responded. It was going to be okay.

  4

“What movie do you want to watch?” Sam asked and started zapping through Netflix. It had been a couple of months since Bucky’s visit to Chicago, but he and Sam had been in contact with each other nearly every day. Bucky had started to slowly crawl into Sam’s daily life, but he did not mind it. Quite the opposite. The more he talked to Bucky, the more Sam caught himself thinking about the way Bucky smiled and laughed. The way Bucky’s eyes lit up when he talked about his work or his cat, Alpine. The cat was cute. Sam remembered Bucky finding her near the trash cans in the backyard of his flat and the moment he’d seen her he’d known that she was supposed to stay with him. Just like Steve and Bucky used to do, the two chose at least one time a month to meet up with each other. That month it was Sam’s turn to visit Bucky.

Right now, they were sitting on Bucky’s couch. Bucky was on his phone trying to figure out what he wanted to eat for dinner. Alpine was cuddled against Bucky’s chest.

“I don’t care. Chose something you want to watch,” Bucky answered Sam’s question. He stroked Alpine’s white fur. The cat snuggled closer to Bucky and purred. Sam could not blame her. Bucky’s chest did look comfortable.

“Okay, then.”

It still took Sam more than fifteen minutes to find a series he wanted to watch.

“Have you decided on what you want to eat?” he asked Bucky, who was still scrolling through his phone.

“No,” Bucky let out a groan. “They have so many options. How am I supposed to choose? I want fries and sushi and pizza at the same time,” he exclaimed.

Sam laughed. One of the many things he had learned about Bucky in the last couple of months was that Bucky loved food. It was close to being an unhealthy obsession.

“Well, how about we just get something small of everything and share?” Sam offered but Bucky did not seem convinced.

“Sam, I don’t want to share,” he pouted.

“Okay, well, that’s your problem. I already know what I want to eat,” Sam crossed his arms and leaned back against the couch. It was comfortable and probably cost more than Sam’s monthly salary. He had learned that Bucky was a corporate lawyer, which explained how he was able to live so close to Manhattan. It also explained the amounts of money he was able to spend on food. The first few times, Sam had tried to split the bill, but Bucky had always protested. Sam had stopped trying after that. It was sweet of Bucky, and Sam wondered if that was the way Bucky had treated Steve as well. The more he got to know the other man, the more he caught himself falling for him. He knew it was wrong, and that Steve would probably hate him for feeling that way - he even hated himself a little bit for it - but he couldn’t change his feelings. He tried his best not to get too touchy with Bucky, but he failed sometimes.

“I want pizza.”

Sam looked at Bucky. “Are you sure?”

“Yep,” Bucky started to scratch Alpine’s belly, and the cat purred in response.

Sam shrugged his shoulders. He knew that Bucky would probably change his opinion once the pizza was here, but he still called the pizza place and ordered.

45 minutes later the doorbell rang, and Bucky stood up to answer. Alpine looked up in confusion once she noticed that Bucky was gone and started walking towards Sam. After looking at him, she decided he was worthy and cuddled against his chest. Sam patted her.

“Oh, this is so cute, I need to take a picture,” Bucky had returned with two large pizza cartons and a smaller one containing some garlic bread. Sam smiled, but the second Bucky got his phone out, Alpine jumped up and quickly walked away.

“Stupid cat,” Bucky mumbled. It was almost like she heard him because she turned her head and hissed at him.

“Great, now she’s mad,” Sam sighed.

“She’ll get over it. Here’s your pizza,” Bucky gave him his carton and settled down to eat his own pizza.

“By the way, my sister wants to finally meet you,” Bucky said after a few minutes. It didn’t take him long to finish his pizza and he moved on to the garlic bread.

“I can’t wait to meet her. Steve used to talk about her all the time. He really loved her like a little sister.” Sam didn’t know Becca personally, apart from that short meeting at Steve’s funeral, but back then hadn’t really been the right time to get to know her better.

“Yeah, he really did. She is our little sister,” Bucky mumbled, a sad undertone present in his voice. Sam wasn’t going to lie, he thought about Steve a lot, but whenever he visited Bucky or got a message from him, the thought of his best friend was pushed a little bit further back in his brain. Every time he caught himself doing that, he felt guilty. Guilty for starting to forget the way Steve’s voice sounded, for getting a smaller flat because he couldn’t stand continuing to live in the same flat, he used to live in with Steve and mostly, guilty for slowly starting to fall in love with Bucky Barnes.

He wondered if Bucky sometimes forgot about Steve, too, or if Sam was just a horrible friend. He didn’t have the courage to ask Bucky about it; he did not want to lose the closest thing he had to a best friend since Steve.

They continued to watch the series. After a while, Alpine came back from wherever she had hidden. She settled into the crook of Bucky’s arm and looked into Sam’s eyes. He almost felt caught by her. He did not really like cats; however, he made an exception for Alpine.

Shortly after the movie, Sam noticed that Bucky was snoring. He was leaning against Sam’s shoulder, Alpine still lying on him.

Sam caught himself watching Bucky for a few seconds. He looked so cute and calm and the way he was resting against Sam’s shoulder gave him goosebumps. His skin looked so soft, and Sam had to fight with himself not to touch his cheek. He decided to close his eyes for a few minutes as well.

The next morning, Sam noticed something furry on his nose, tickling him. He sneezed and opened his eyes, only to look at something white. He tried to push Alpine away from his face and started to look around. He remembered falling asleep on Bucky’s couch. He noticed that somehow during the night, Bucky had shifted and was now laying on Sam’s chest. Sam’s arm was wrapped around Bucky’s torso. He tried to shift without moving too much but failed. He looked at Bucky’s face and noticed that the younger man was still sleeping peacefully.

‘Great and now I have to pee’, Sam thought. He ran his other hand through Bucky’s hair. It was as soft as he imagined. A few minutes later Bucky’s eyes fluttered, and a pair of blue eyes started into Sam’s.

“Morning,” Bucky said with a rusty voice. It took him a while to notice that he was lying nearly on top of Sam.

“Have you slept well?” Sam asked.

Bucky nodded and stared at him so intensely that Sam briefly thought he was going to kiss him. However, Bucky quickly sat up and rubbed his eyes.

“So anyways. Do you want some breakfast?” Bucky changed the topic, already half up off the couch and on his way into the kitchen.

Sam stared after at him. ‘What the hell was that’, he thought but shook it off and quickly followed Bucky into the kitchen.  

 5

Today was the 6th month anniversary of Steve’s death and Bucky’s day had already started out shitty. Firstly, he’d nearly missed his alarm clock, then his client had stood him up for lunch and finally he’d managed to spill his coffee all over himself and had to ask his assistant to get another one. He was currently sitting in his office, staring at the framed picture in front of him.

It was a picture of him and Steve when they were younger. He still could not believe that Steve had been gone for 6 months. It felt like yesterday to him how he’d called Steve nearly every evening to talk to him about his boring day.

The only thing he was looking forward today was that he was finally going to see Sam again. Thinking about the dark-haired man made him smile. The last time Sam had visited had been kind of weird. That one morning, they’d woken up all cuddly and Bucky had nearly kissed Sam. Thank God, he’d caught himself in the last moment. Sam would have probably thought Bucky was a horrible friend, and Bucky refused to lose his newest friend to something as stupid as a little crush.

He probably felt like that because the last time he’d had sex had been back when Steve had still been alive. Yeah, that was the most reasonable explanation as to why he could not stop thinking about Sam’s lips and his toned arms. He quickly looked back at the file in front of him. It was a case about a holding company that was trying to sell one of their firms they owned. It was boring, to say the least. He tried to get it done as quickly as possible.

Finally, a few hours later, Bucky was able to close the file. He looked at his clock; it was 20 past 7pm already. His eyes widened. He was supposed to meet up with Sam at 7pm at his flat. He pulled out his phone and noticed that he had a missed call from Sam and a few text messages.

 Barnes, you there?

Buckyyy

Where are you, man?

Okay, I am just going to let myself in, I know where your spare key is 😊.

 Sam had added a bunch of random emojis, and Bucky smiled. Of course, he knew where Bucky’s spare key was.

Bucky packed up his things, bid goodbye to the colleagues who were still in the building and made his way home. He was pretty sure Sam was comfortable enough in the flat to entertain himself, so Bucky ended up picking some food on the way. Thai. It was Steve’s favorite food.

As he opened his apartment door, his hands full of takeaway boxes, he could already hear the TV. Once he entered the living room, he could see Sam lying on his couch. Alpine was sitting on his lap and Sam was cuddling her. It was adorable.

“Hello, person who does not live in my home,” Bucky said and walked over to place the food on his couch table.

“Well, I decided I do now.”, Sam exclaimed. “Your cat likes me better anyways. Isn’t that right, Alpine?”

The cat snuggled closer to Sam.

“Traitor,” Bucky whispered. But he was glad that Sam liked her as much as he himself did. They were a package deal.

“What is that?” Sam pointed to the food boxes.

“Food, duh. Thai. It was Steve’s favorite,” Bucky said. After mentioning Steve’s name, he noticed how Sam tensed up. Bucky decided not to comment on it; instead, he sat down next to Sam and started opening the food boxes.

“Fuck,” Sam whispered and ran his hands over his face. “I can’t believe it’s been 6 months already. How has he been dead for 6 months? I feel like it was yesterday that I talked to him, we were planning a trip to California this summer. We wanted to take my nephews to Disneyland. There were so excited and devastated when I told them we could not go anymore and cried when I told them why.”

Bucky felt his heart aching. He knew Sam had nephews.

“I’m sorry, Sam,” Bucky said and put his hand on Sam’s shoulder, squeezing it in reassurance.

“I still cannot process that he really is gone. Some days I forget that he is dead, just for a short moment, and then reality hits and I feel like I just want to fold myself into a corner and cry. He was my best friend.” Bucky looked down and noticed that Sam had started to sniff.

“You know, I still get nightmares about the day you called me,” Sam admitted.

Bucky saw a single tear roll down Sam’s face and he quickly wiped it away with his sleeve. The man next to him looked so small and vulnerable. Bucky wanted to hug him so badly.

“I always wonder what would have happened if I had been with him. I should have made sure he’d take his inhaler with him. God, I am so sorry, Bucky,” he started to sob.

Bucky froze. It was the first time Sam cried in front of him. He felt helpless, the only thing that he could do was try to comfort him.

“It’s okay, Sam. It was not your fault. Steve was an adult, he should have known better than to not carry his inhaler with him, even if he hadn’t had an asthma attack in more than 10 years,” Bucky tried to calm him down, but that made Sam even more upset.

“I was supposed to look after him, you trusted me to look after him-“Sam was starting to hyperventilate.  

“You did, Sam. You did. It was not your fault, and it wasn’t mine either. It was just a stupid, terrible thing to happen, but it wasn’t anyone’s fault. Please stop trying to blame yourself for his death,” Bucky shouted. Apparently, this was the only way Sam understood he was not responsible for what had happened to Steve.

Sam stared at him, not being used to Bucky raising his voice.

“I’m serious, Sam,” Bucky said again.

“You are way too good; do you know that Bucky?” Sam said with a weird mixture of laughing and crying. “God, I still miss him so much.”

“I miss him too, Sam, but Steve would have wanted you to move on with your life. He would have wanted us to live the best life we could possibly have. And I know that sounds harsh but please don’t blame yourself.” Bucky wasn’t sure if his words were what Sam wanted to hear. He would either think that Bucky was a total asshole for thinking that he should move on this quickly after his boyfriend died or he would agree with him.

“Yeah, you are right. He would have wanted me to move on. He would have wanted that for you as well, Bucky,” Sam answered quietly, and the next thing Bucky knew he was pressing his lips against Sam’s.

 + 1

Sam felt Bucky’s lips pressing against his own. At first, he was shocked that Bucky really was kissing him but after a few seconds he returned the kiss. He pulled Bucky closer to himself and started moving his hand to the other man’s neck. Bucky groaned and started to move closer to Sam.

It was everything Sam had dreamed about for the last couple of months and if Bucky was ready to move on from Steve, Sam was ready for that as well. They continued to kiss for a while, none of them saying a word. The sound of them kissing was the only one heard in the apartment. Sam was already starting to slip his hand under Bucky’s t-shirt when Bucky suddenly pulled away from him.

“No, no, no-,” he exclaimed and looked at Sam, both their lips slightly swollen from their kissing.

“This is wrong,” Bucky whined.

Sam could almost hear the crack his heart made the second Bucky stopped their kiss. Of course, he thought it was wrong. Steve and Bucky had been together for more than 5 years or maybe even more, obviously, Bucky wouldn’t move on so quickly.

“God I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, Sam,” Bucky looked at him with blue eyes and Sam wanted to kiss him again, so badly.

“Sorry, I just thought that… you’re right, this is not fair to Steve. God, I’m a horrible person, Steve would hate me,” Sam whispered ashamed.

“No, I’m the bad friend. I kissed you. I kissed my dead best friend’s boyfriend. I’m pretty sure they have a special place in hell for people like me,” Bucky let out a groan.

Sam looked at him confused. What the hell was he talking about?

“I was his what now?” he asked and stared at Bucky.

“Boyfriend, partner, significant other, I don’t know what you called each other, but I’m pretty sure that if there was one rule for friendship it’s that you don’t make a move on your friends’ partners,” Bucky gestured between Sam and him.

“This shouldn’t have happened,” he was out of breath and pushed his hair out his face. His cheeks were starting to get redder.

“No,” was the only thing Sam said at first. “You’re his boyfriend”, he continued and pointed at Bucky.

“Huh?” Bucky replied, still confused.

“No, you are. He always talked about you and he visited you nearly every week and-,” Sam was starting to ramble, but Bucky interrupted him.

“You two were living together?! I thought you were his boyfriend, what was I supposed to think? I didn’t assume two grown men would be living together as roommates,” he exclaimed.

“Hey,” Sam felt offended.

Bucky quickly noticed the way Sam looked at him. “No, that’s not what I meant. It’s just…I thought you were his boyfriend.”

“No, I’m his best friend,” Sam answered, this time a bit louder. What the hell was going on?

“No, I’m his best friend,” Bucky mumbled, still trying to process what had happened in the last few moments.

“Wait. So you’re not in a relationship with Steven Grant Rogers, and you never were?” Sam asked slowly.

“No,” Bucky answered, though it sounded more like a question. “I mean we used to when we were teenagers, but that’s nearly a decade ago.”

“And you’re not in a relationship with Steve either, right?” Bucky added and looked into Sam’s eyes.

“Nope, and I never was.”

There was an awkward silence between them until Bucky asked Sam, “So, the last few months you thought I was grieving my boyfriend, while I thought you were grieving your boyfriend?”

It was the thing that made Sam crack. He started to laugh. Loudly. He even started wheezing, tears forming in his eyes.  

“I cannot believe this. That little shit,” Sam cried out. “He never corrected me when I referred to you as his boyfriend. He knew exactly what he was doing.”

Finally, Bucky busted out laughing as well. “We’re so stupid. We could have just asked each other but instead we just assumed that the other was the grieving widower.”

Sam could feel the way Bucky was staring at him, trying to figure out what to say next. Sam, on the other hand, knew already what he was going to do next. He got closer to Bucky and kissed him again.

This time Bucky didn’t hesitate and pushed himself against Sam. “You know,” he mumbled between kisses, “We could have done that way earlier.” The complaint was evident in his tone.

“Better late than never,” was the only thing Sam answered before he kissed Bucky once more.

And somewhere out there, Steve was looking at them, smiling to himself and thinking how much of an idiot both of his best friends were.

Feel free to leave any comments or any suggestions for improvement!

Thank you so much for reading my first ever English written One Shot! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. I'm really looking forward to writing more Marvel fanfiction, especially Stucky and Sambucky.

much love, your local stucky shipper xx

 ***

[serenityseventeen]

Love & Letter: To The Thirteen Boys I've Loved Before

The Sixth Letter

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

To: Lee Jihoon

From: Y/N

I'm sorry.

Jihoon, I will not blame you for anything. If I were in your shoes, I would have been even more irritated than you were. I'm still irritated, actually.

I know for certain that you probably hate me so I will begin this letter for you by reminding us of our good times when no one was there to butt in.

When we first met in tech audio, I was really surprised that you were a musical genius. You knew how to work the garage band app right away and since we sat next to each other, I could already tell that you were familiar with it.

You were also able to play the guitar and the piano. I've always liked music so seeing someone play those two instruments just fascinated me. Not only that, but you also played the clarinet well.

You've probably lived around music all your life, right? I listen to music almost everywhere I go, every day, it's one of my human needs, but I have to admit, even after learning a bit of piano from you, I still have almost no idea about music. Genres of music are still hard to identify for me and I can still barely tell the difference in chords. I'm still thankful that you took the time out of your worktime to help me understand more about music.

Honestly, when I first saw you, Jihoon, I was intimidated. You didn't like exactly friendly and I just stupidly thought that you were one of those ‘perfectionist’ students who only cared for their grades and being the best. Also, just the way you looked when you didn't smile gave me that impression. However, when you smiled, you looked completely different. You looked cute. We laughed a lot together too.

I bet you that on our first assignment, I must've looked like a complete tech idiot. The assignment was just to come up with your original piece of music by messing around on the app. Was my confusion that easy to see through?

I don't know, but I think the moment that you helped me was when I started to realize you as the person you are now. You taught me how to use the app in such a gentle tone, you know that? I still feel like I can listen to your voice forever and I won't get bored of it.

I was happy with our forming friendship. I felt like I could truly be your friend. Plus, we had one other class together so I was able to talk with you a lot about music. Everything you say fascinates me and makes me believe that you are a musical genius. I still believe that you are even if I can't hear your songs anymore.

Speaking of your music, I think you should become a ‘pro’ music producer, lyricist, composer, songwriter, of them all. Your talent in music is truly undeniable!

That first piece you showed me called “17”, I have to say that that song may be my favorite out of all the songs you've sent me. I still have all the music files stored in my phone and I'll never delete them. It's not because I still like you that I'm keeping them but it's because I like the song. I might put them into an mp3 player and stick them on the back of this letter. Out of the 13 songs you've shown me, there was not one that I disliked.

Your voice is also heavenly. I love it. I don't understand why you aren't getting yourself a whole career already! You don't know this but when I was playing your song “Rock”, my father was totally digging it! Even my next-door neighbor wanted to know who was the artist behind “20”!

There was also that time when you were helping me learn how to read music using the piano and our hands kept brushing against each other. Our shoulders were also glued together because the seat was so small. If your heart was racing just as much as how pink your ears turned, then please, believe me, my heart was beating twice as fast.

You didn't just teach me music and show me your creations, you also shared music that you enjoyed. A lot of the songs are still in my playlist. You have great taste in music too, Jihoon. I enjoyed every moment we spent just sitting at the window of the classroom, sharing headphones and listening to the songs you liked.

When they were love songs, I just couldn't help thinking that you chose the song for a reason. I'm quite an overthinker. I always thought that maybe one of the songs you showed me held your heart and maybe they did, but now I'll never know.

I'm your fan, Jihoon, even though you probably wouldn't want me to be anymore. I still admire you and I respect you a lot, that's why I'm deciding to write you this letter. I'm not going to get too close to you, I won't even try to bring us back to what we were because now, it's too awkward between us. I know that deep inside, you must feel so a deep hatred toward me, even if it wasn't entirely my fault.

I've realized what kind of person you are, Jihoon. You're kind, caring, talented in almost everything, shy, and stubborn. You love music. You hate it when someone who isn't close to you gets all up in your business as if they know everything. You also hate narcissists. You're selfless and humble.

I don't know who you told but I'm sorry. Your trust must have been completely broken. I mean, I can just imagine how painful it would be, being an introvert and telling someone your crush while trusting them to keep the secret only to have them spill it to the person's friends.

I hate my friends because they ruined our relationship but since they are my friends, I just can't abandon them as if we didn't spend years being best buddies. I've been distancing myself from them for a while now but I think it won't be long until we continue hanging out again. I want to hang out with you too but you must feel so... angry.

I heard that you're not friends with the guy who leaked the secret that you liked me. I truly hope that you can find a friend that is a true friend. I don't want you to live in fear and keep everything to yourself. I'll always be here for you though, so please, even if I don't speak with you, you can speak to me.

Gosh, what am I saying? It can't be fixed.

You must've overheard it when my friends dragged me away from your cafeteria table and whispered to me, “Did you know? He likes you!”

I was flustered and when I turned back to you, I still remember seeing your hands clench. That's when I sort of knew that we wouldn't be friends anymore.

Even after having your trust broken, you continued to hang out around me, which made me believe that if I confessed my feelings to you when the time was right, we could fall in love. So, I spent a lot of time learning about you.

That's when my friends came in again. They started teasing us in front of the whole class, saying all that stupid cheesy shit. I was ready angry and kept telling them to stop but they wouldn't because they just thought I was like them.

‘When you're in high school, you don't want the person in the relationship, you just want a relationship.’

That was not the case for me but that's what they thought. I wanted you, Jihoon. I was ready to teach you about me and get to know you better so that when I was ready to love, we would be able to stay together.

My friends are stupid.

They continued to pressure us to be together.

Knowing you, you must've gotten extremely annoyed and fed up with it, enough for you to end your friendship with me. And that's exactly what happened, right?

Each day, for a month, they came to our desks singing stupid love songs meant for children. They were so childish and I was growing so sick of it. I knew that you didn't like that shit. I knew that you were just enduring it but I couldn't stop it and I'm sorry.

We went through all that humiliation together. I think we could have had a better love story if your friend didn't leak your secret and my friends didn't act like children. I saw sparks in your eyes, that's why I had hope that we could fall in love together, but we couldn't even get ready to love.

I just remember that day when you ignored me. I was telling you that your piece sounded good and asked if I could get a listen, but you didn't reply to me at all. You still don't talk to me. It makes my heart ache.

When our friendship got ruined, I almost ruined my other friendships too. You don't know this but they kept pestering me, asking if you and I were finally dating and if we had a couple fight. They kept reassuring me as if they knew what we were going through and saying that it was just a small love fight and that we would recover soon. They didn't even know the problem was them so I yelled at them.

In the middle of the cafeteria, I slammed my hands on the table and shouted at them. I'm sure you heard me, you were in the same room. I'm pretty sure that you didn't know about this either but when I left the cafeteria in anger, I cried in the stall of a bathroom.

Now, I'm fine.

I wonder what you thought of me then. I mean, we still had to see each other but we didn't talk to each other like we were strangers. I was angry at you for not understanding me so I didn't want to speak or even glance in your direction, even if it did hurt to ignore you.

I think I know what you feel but all I'm thinking about your emotions are just assumptions in the end. You're a stranger to me now. A stranger that I loved.

You brought me the colors of music.

If only things didn't have to turn out so negatively. If only one friend kept his promise of keeping a secret... If only a group of friends didn't tease so annoyingly... Maybe then, things would be different.

Oh yeah, I'm sorry about this too. I overheard you playing a song the other day. Don't worry, I didn't record it but I cried to it. I just have a feeling that the song was about me. All the lyrics, the depressing but gorgeous sound of the piano, your emotional voice, it all brought tears to my eyes. Were you in pain?

I had never heard the song before. When I cried to it, I had my hands covering my mouth to keep noise from slipping. I don't know if you heard me because you just continued singing.

“Maybe I could have been a man

when everyone was telling me to.

But both choices were selfish,

keep you close or let me go,

so I chose

let's just not fall in love.”

I think your choice was for the better.

Sincerely,

Y/N

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© serenityseventeen

6/21/21 - 11:01 am

a/n: sigh... I feel like this letter was so relatable on so many levels. My former friends were like that, always wanting a relationship but not the person in the relationship. They're too desperate. + ARTHUR KYEOM COMEBACK!??!? SVT CHINESE DRAMA OST!?!?