#i read the latest chapter on it last night :D

[xaeorian]

i realised i could use the internet on my 2ds and… well

@hotcheetohatredwastaken !!!

[creamflix]

UNSCRIPTED — toji fushiguro x female reader [chapter 1/5]

summary: you’re a faceless author of scandalous smut — great at writing steamy scenes but totally clueless about real-life romance (and with no one to match your freak). enter toji fushiguro, a hot stranger you (accidentally) throw up on during a drunken night out. surprise! he’s also the future voice actor for your smutty novel’s main character. can you survive the awkwardness of your disastrous meet-cute while keeping your identity (and dignity) a secret? welcome to the chaos of your own erotic fantasy romcom!

content warning & tags: (erotic) voice artist! toji, (smut) writer! reader, smutty content!! [will be added over the course of the series], sort of workplace romance, secret/anon identity, slight social media au, meet-cute, virgin!reader, single dad dilf! toji, kid! megumi, strangers to lovers (?), she fell first but he fell harder, mentions of other characters (satoru gojo, suguru geto, megumi fushiguro, shoko eiri, brief mentions of ryomen sukuna)

notes: hi friends !! wow, been a hot min since i wrote something of this caliber. feels good to be back in biz ;D did you all miss persephone! suguru? because there's a LOT of him here >_< i really wanted to publish this as a oneshot but....tumblr hates me so now it's gonna be a chaptered series! oh , joy! ps @nappingmoon i got u bae, this one is for you.

read on ao3! ● series masterlist

➤ related au: persephone [business tycoon! sukuna x reader]

you never really set out to be the face of smut-lit. 

in fact, you weren’t even really a face at all — just a “faceless” author penning scandalous stories for fans who devoured them, and haters who, well… tried to eat you alive.

you’d started out innocently enough, scribbling down your little fantasies and tropes that no self-respecting romance book would touch. then one day, a friend dared you to post one on booktok. 

you thought, "fuck it" and uploaded a snippet of your latest brainchild: a steamy billionaire x star-crossed chef fic called hunger games: not that kind of hungerer. it was, admittedly, extra spicy. 

and oh, did the internet have thoughts.

soon, your comments section and dm’s became a battleground for all opinions on “what qualifies as literature.” gems included:

who even writes this crap? did a middle schooler steal her mom’s laptop? i can feel my brain cells self-destructing as i read this 💀 girl hasn’t even been within a mile radius of a dick and it SHOWS

you'd had to admit… the last comment was right. but hey, they only added to the fuel. 

like moths to a flame, they kept coming back, and the trolling just made your followers skyrocket. a lot of people secretly liked the outrageousness, the drama, and the absolute audacity of it all. before long, your books were trending, and you were raking in numbers (and dollars) most “serious” authors could only dream of.

soon, you found yourself the subject of headlines you never thought you’d see:

the faceless queen of spice: how one unknown author is reshaping romance. trolled online, loved in secret—author sells millions in ebook downloads. social media says she has no idea what she’s talking about, but her bank account says otherwise.

and the kicker?

you’d never had sex with anyone, let alone…well, rocked worlds like your characters. 

here you were, a smut writer with zero real-life experience, who’d single-handedly created booktok’s, bookstagram and hell, even the people down at twitter's guilty pleasure.

but the day big publishers started knocking on your door, it was surreal, to say the least. 

you’d been fully prepared for the anonymous online fame — hell, you’d leaned into it, posting “faceless author life” videos and doing question and answer sessions where you dropped zero identifying details, save for some vague hand gestures and blurred-out backgrounds. but now, major publishing houses wanted in on the action.

“we think your stories have broad market appeal,” one exec had said on a zoom call, trying to make “billionaire mafia love quadrangle” sound dignified. “if we could get them on shelves, we’d reach an audience beyond booktok. international appeal is the goal here!”

suddenly, your filthy, albeit occasionally cringey, tales were going global. they got translated into french (where your enemies-to-lovers series got a fancy new title: l’amour et la haine). your spicy chef saga was reborn in italian as sapore di te, which roughly translated to taste of you (and made you blush, honestly). 

and when your personal favorite, the billionaire’s forbidden touch, hit the japanese market, they titled it 禁断の夜 (which… you didn’t even want to know the translation of, because you knew it was even worse than the original).

you had to admit, though, seeing these books spread worldwide made your head spin. what started as a joke online was now somehow sitting next to classics in international bookstores, becoming a hot commodity for fans everywhere.

but the cherry on top? 

oh, that came when you opened an email from none other than gojo-sonic, the world-renowned audio company best known for its highly specialized audiobook recordings. they’d taken smut literature to the next level, hiring voice actors who sounded like they were in the room with you, all breathy whispers and seductive baritones. people had raved that these audiobooks were “too real” — like they’d been recorded in a closed room with dim lights and a whole lot of… commitment.

they offered you a multi-million dollar deal to turn your books into experiences.

one of your friends, absolutely losing it, texted you as soon as they heard the news:

homegirl [5:21 pm]: “OMG OMG so you’re gonna do it right?? u realize this means ppl will be hearing ur lil virgin brain’s fantasies out loud in their headphones right” you [5:21 pm]: “no kidding. i’m freaking out. this feels illegal.” homegirl [5:22 pm]: “but u gotta!! pls this is ICONIC.” you [5:24 pm]: “they’re giving me millions. you think i’m saying no? lmao.”

it still felt surreal that soon, the whole world would hear your books come to life with professional voice actors — ones who knew exactly how to tease and breathe and make listeners feel like they were right there.

“bring my fantasies to life, huh?” you muttered to yourself, flipping through the contract that would secure your financial future, all because of your fictional men and their, uh, moves. 

who the hell were you to say no to that?

it was surreal enough to get an email from gojo-sonic, but now, sitting across from the ceo himself, gojo satoru, you were starting to wonder if this whole experience was some fever dream.

the man was stunning in an obnoxious, immaculate way. snowy hair, piercing blue eyes, and sunglasses balanced on his head like a headband. and, okay, you had to admit: it was a little weird that he’d named his company after himself — though, frankly, it just fit.

you tried not to laugh when he introduced himself. gojo satoru, ceo of gojo-sonic. the narcissism was off the charts, but so was his charm. as a quick google search before the meeting had revealed, gojo sonic had an impeccable reputation, and there was apparently not a single scandal tied to its name.

“nice to meet you,” you said, shaking his hand and trying to keep your cool. “kinda surprised a guy is running a… company like this. no offense.”

“none taken!” he replied, leaning back in his chair with an easy grin. “if i’m honest, i’m probably the last guy anyone would expect here. but,” he shrugged, “it works. my employees say i’m a ‘girl’s girl,’ whatever that means.”

the way he said it so nonchalantly made you smirk. apparently, the term wasn’t a throwaway nickname, either; the gojo-sonic gossip mill painted him as the absolute dream boss. rumor had it he’d given his whole office a free day off because his assistant had been dumped, and when a writer complained about unisex bathrooms making her uncomfortable, he’d personally had a “feminine touch” added to every single stall, complete with pink hand soap and luxurious lotions. he was kind, considerate, a man who just got it.

“people say i’m probably gay,” he added, laughing as if that was the most absurd thing he’d ever heard. “and you know what? let ‘em think what they want.” he gave you a wink. “as long as they keep buying the goods, i couldn’t care less.”

honestly? the guy made a point. did it matter who he was taking home at the end of the day? not at all, as long as your bank account kept racking up zeros.

“speaking of,” he continued, “we’ve got the full studio ready for tomorrow. you’ll meet the voice actors, go over a few sections, and give input as needed. think of it like a live theater production, except it’s your book.”

“oh, i get to… watch them record?” you asked, wondering how mortifying it might be to sit there, watching actors give their all to lines like, “you’re mine tonight, darling.” 

yeah, you’d written it, but watching someone breathe life into it was a different level of… embarrassment.

“even better,” gojo grinned, looking far too amused by your nervousness, “you’ll get to guide them. they’ll take direction from you — however you want the line delivered, that’s how they’ll say it.”

“you mean i can… like… make suggestions? on delivery?”

“exactly!” he said with a small clap. “we want it to be perfect. i’ve already arranged for our top voice actor, toji fushiguro, to voice your main character.”

toji fushiguro?

if gojo-sonic was the industry’s top company, toji was the crown jewel of voice acting. the guy was a legend. 

he had that smoky, velvet tone that could turn a mundane grocery list into a full-on romance scene. he was also notoriously elusive; some people waited months to get him to even consider their projects. and you — the virgin author who’d stumbled into fame thanks to trolls and booktok — had him voicing your main character?

“wait, toji fushiguro is doing this?” you asked, jaw practically on the floor.

gojo chuckled, looking far too pleased with your reaction. “yep! i think you two are going to work great together. he’s intense but flexible; really good at taking feedback.”

you tried to imagine giving feedback to toji fushiguro of all people. 

“um, maybe say ‘you’re mine’ with more… conviction?” 

“can you sound a bit more possessive on that line?”

“i, uh…” you managed, trying to swallow your nerves. “okay. yeah. sounds… good.”

“great! i think you’ll be amazed. toji’s professionalism is unmatched, and he’ll bring exactly the level of…” Gojo paused, grinning, “intensity you need to really make your character come to life.”

“good luck tomorrow! i’ll make sure everything’s set up perfectly,” gojo had assured you with a big grin as you left the office. “don’t stress about a thing. our identities are always kept top secret here. toji’s included! he’s never done a face reveal, and your privacy is just as ironclad.”

oh god. tomorrow, you were really going to sit there while toji fushiguro acted out lines you’d written on a whim in your pajamas.

sure, not stressing sounded like a logical plan. but after that surreal conversation — and the realization that tomorrow morning, you’d be face-to-face with the one and only toji fushiguro, hearing him breathe life into your raunchiest fantasies — you did what any responsible, mature adult would do.

you headed straight to the nearest bar and got sloshed.

by the time you were three cocktails deep, the reality of tomorrow’s “firsts” hit you like a ton of bricks. first real direction on an audiobook, first time meeting a voice actor, first time dealing with your own steaminess out loud, and — oh god — the cherry on top, it was toji fushiguro himself.

sure, you thought, sipping from your fourth drink and trying not to scream as lana del rey sings “it’s you, it’s you, it’s all for you,” i might be slightly freaking out.

another cocktail slid your way. you squinted, unsure if you'd ordered it or if the bartender was just reading your general mood, because yeah, you did look like someone who needed another round.

“tough night?”

“tough tomorrow.” you swirled your drink, laughing to yourself. “i mean… you ever written a, uh, totally inappropriate novel and had to watch a famous guy turn it into audio?”

“…can’t say that i have.”

you shrugged, downing a bit more of the drink, when the song on the speakers switched to avril lavigne’s complicated. fitting, given that your life had just become exactly that.

“why’d you have to go and make things so complicated?” avril sang, like she knew.

the bartender, apparently used to the types who showed up for existential crises alone, leaned against the counter. “sounds like big stuff tomorrow, then. what kind of work do you do, anyway?”

“oh, just… smutty novels,” you said, letting it slip before you could stop yourself. “just… page after page of absolutely shameless, absurd filth. and now i’m, y’know, supposed to direct the guy. to make it sound like he’s really, um, in the moment.”

the bartender chuckled, raising a brow. “sounds intense.”

“you have no idea.” you sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. “he’s this insanely talented voice actor. i mean, they’ve got toji fushiguro in there, which is like… god. if he knew who i actually was, he’d probably laugh.”

why’d you have to go and make things so complicated? avril continued wailing, her words your accidental anthem.

“well, whatever happens,” the bartender said, passing you a glass of water with a grin, “sounds like you’re about to have a pretty interesting morning.”

“i’ll drink to that,” you muttered, clinking your cocktail glass against the water. you downed it, hoping that somehow, it might chase the nerves away.

and as everytime we touch, i get this feeling started blasting on the speakers, you couldn’t help but shake your head with a groan. if there was a playlist made for romantic embarrassment, it was definitely playing tonight.

in your half-sloshed state, it seemed like a good idea to turn to the stranger who’d just sauntered up to the bar — a ridiculously hot stranger, tall with dark hair, and a scar slashing right across his lip. it was the kind of look that would’ve inspired an entire chapter in one of your books, but as of right now? it was just inspiring some truly regrettable choices.

“goodness gracious, great balls of fire,” you muttered to yourself, just loud enough to catch his attention, which felt smooth, in your totally buzzed opinion. so, of course, you swung around on your stool, plastering on what you hoped was an alluring smile.

oh god, here we go. “hey there, handsome…” you paused, hiccuping “… you come here often?”

the stranger raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, leaning an elbow against the bar with a smirk that could kill. “depends,” he said, voice low and rough. “you, uh, always this friendly after a few drinks?”

oh god. 

oh god. 

but you couldn’t stop now. 

you were committed. 

you were bold. 

with all the poise of a drunk giraffe, you propped your elbow on the bar and leaned in closer, pointing a finger at his chest — totally unintentionally, because your depth perception was off by, oh, about a mile. “well, what can i say,” you replied, attempting a sultry grin. “good-lookin’ guys like you… don’t come around often enough, mister.”

“it’s like i’m drunk off your love,” played from the speakers, not helping your case at all. 

oh god, this was actually happening. 

he actually laughed, a warm, deep chuckle, as he watched you struggle through whatever pickup line was about to escape your lips.

he tilted his head, that smirk turning up a notch. “should i be flattered?”

“you should!” you exclaimed, with a bit too much enthusiasm. “you’re like… i dunno, like one of my… you look like a… a fictional character.” 

smooth, real smooth.

“oh yeah?” his smirk widened. “so, what am i, a prince?”

“more like…” you bit your lip, trying to focus, “an antihero with a… tragic past and just enough softness in his heart to make him dangerous in all the right ways.”

he looked you up and down, bemusement clear in his eyes. “dangerous in the right ways? is that your type?”

you gave a shaky wink, nearly missing because the world was swimming a bit. “maybe.”

he chuckled, his voice all rich and velvety, and leaned in closer. “so… you’re here alone? i mean, besides all the fictional men you’re envisioning.”

“for now,” you replied, trying to sound mysterious, but it just came out as a bit… wobbly.

the bartender set the stranger’s drink down with a raised eyebrow, and he took a sip, watching you with amused interest. “you know, maybe you should slow down before you scare all the good guys away.”

“oh, trust me,” you replied, hiccuping again. “i don’t scare easy.”

he shook his head, clearly entertained, and you felt yourself glowing under his gaze. you were about to continue — just as soon as the world stopped spinning — when you felt the slightest bit queasy, your stomach reminding you that you’d had one cocktail too many.

the stranger’s amused smirk softened. “you alright there?”

“i’m…” you swallowed. “perfectly fine. just, you know… making sure you’re… getting the full effect of my…” you barely managed the word “…rizz.”

he laughed outright this time, low and warm, like he genuinely couldn’t believe you were real. “is that so? lucky me.”

it was all going so well — okay, not well, but you were holding your own, kind of. you had him laughing, after all, which for someone with approximately zero charisma was an accomplishment! but then the first chords of firework by katy perry blared through the speakers, and as if on cue, your stomach decided to join in the grand finale.

“do you ever feel like a plastic bag,” katy crooned, but for you, it was more like a “do you ever feel like you’re about to ruin your night by barfing on a hot stranger?”

before you could process what was happening, the tequila-fueled fireworks decided to erupt all over this guy’s very expensive-looking shoes.

oh god. oh god.

you looked up, mortified, to find him staring down at his shoes, eyebrows raised. wow, would you look at the time? 

run.

“oh… oh no. i… i’m so sorry, i swear this never happens.”

he raised a brow, still looking somewhere between amused and horrified. “well, that’s… comforting?”

you grabbed a napkin, fumbling, still buzzing enough to not know if you should laugh, cry, or just make a run for it.

“guess that’s, uh, one way to make an impression,” he murmured, lips twitching in a smirk even as he assessed the disaster on his shoes.

“oh god. really, i’m… i’m so sorry.” you dabbed helplessly at his shoes with a cocktail napkin, somehow making things worse. “if it helps, i… i normally only vomit on hot guys.”

he chuckled, though you were sure it was mostly at you, and shook his head. “well, it’s one hell of an icebreaker.”

“baby, you’re a firework,” katy sang passionately in the background, but you were already ready to crawl under the bar and disappear forever.

you were surprised — actually, you were shocked — that the stranger hadn’t ditched you after the whole public-vomiting-on-his-shoes fiasco. instead, somehow, he was still right there, leaned in close and casually sipping his drink, just as much a mess as you were. hours had passed, and you’d been rambling about anything and everything, lost in an alcohol-fueled bubble that had turned the night into something you’d never have dreamed of.

maybe it was the booze, or maybe it was the guy’s ridiculously calm attitude, but you’d opened up about your career, the absurdity of writing spicy novels as a faceless author, and even your terror about tomorrow. he’d listened with a smirk, offering the occasional snarky remark or grunt of approval. in return, he’d told you a bit about himself too — well, at least, you thought he did. at some point, the details got hazy.

“so, what do you do?” you asked, squinting at him like it was going to make his face stop swimming in your vision.

he shrugged, swirling his drink and giving a lopsided grin. “something kinda like… acting. you know, nothing glamorous.” there was a hint of amusement there, like he was in on a joke you weren’t.

you squinted harder, your mind pulling up images of random professions. “oh, so like… theater? or like, movies? or wait — commercials? are you one of those guys that has to pretend he’s in love with a bowl of soup?”

he let out a deep laugh, and the sound sent an unexpected shiver down your spine. “sure, something like that. though i’d like to think i’m a bit more convincing than a soup guy.”

you grinned, leaning in closer, your curiosity fully piqued despite your state. “convincing, huh? so you’re a good actor, then?”

“i do my best,” he said, voice low, that amused glint in his eye again.

“you have to be really good to make people believe in, like, totally unrealistic things, y’know?” you babbled, waving your hand. “like, imagine trying to voice —” you cut yourself off, feeling a hint of embarrassment as you remembered why you’d gotten so sloshed in the first place. the irony of tomorrow, and how this entire conversation felt like it was straight out of one of your own stories.

but before you could get too in your head about it, he tilted his head, looking genuinely interested. “voice what? i’m curious, princess.”

princess. the nickname sent a bolt of something dangerously warm straight through you, and you bit your lip to keep from smiling too wide. “oh, nothing…” you said, waving him off. “just, you know… the usual. people who… um, make people fall in love with their voice.”

“and what if i told you,” he leaned in even closer, smirking as if he’d just had the best idea ever, “that i could probably do that?”

you rolled your eyes, not believing him one bit. “oh really? think you could pull it off?”

“depends,” he said with a shrug. “what kinda character am i playing?”

you didn’t realize it, but you’d inched even closer, like you were hanging on his every word. “someone… someone rough around the edges,” you started, your voice dropping, completely lost in the moment, “but with a softness underneath. someone who could make the world stop with just a whisper…”

he smirked, eyes never leaving yours, and for a second, you felt like he was taking every word way too seriously. “i think i could manage that.”

you blinked, feeling a blush rise. 

this stranger had charisma — like, the kind of charisma you’d thought only existed in your characters. 

oh god, maybe you should write him into your next story. you shook yourself, blinking the daydreams away just as he started talking again.

“... and that’s why,” he was saying, “there’s a bit of an art to saying things just right. people think it’s all about the words, but it’s the way you say them that makes it real, y’know?”

you nodded, trying to focus on his words as the room spun just a bit. “so you’re telling me, it’s all in the delivery?”

“exactly.” his gaze dropped to your lips, and he smirked, like he knew exactly what he was doing. “even the… dirtiest lines sound good if you say ’em the right way.”

oh no. that dangerous warmth was back.

somewhere between his intense gaze and that slow, lopsided smirk, dancing queen by abba blared through the bar speakers, jarring you out of your tipsy trance. the upbeat, disco-infused rhythm filled the room, all but laughing at the “moment” you thought you were having with this too-hot-for-reality stranger.

was this a moment? or were you just ridiculously drunk? did he even have a name? or were you just too far gone to have bothered asking?

“you can dance, you can jive,” abba sang, practically mocking you as you stared, wide-eyed, at the man across from you, his scarred lip twisted in a little grin as he watched you piece it all together. he must’ve seen the dawning realization on your face, because he chuckled, reaching for his drink again.

“something wrong, princess?” he asked, leaning forward with a glint of amusement.

oh, great. i’ve already been promoted to ‘princess’ by a guy i might not know the name of. you were seconds away from facepalming.

“uh, nothing,” you said, waving a hand as casually as you could manage. “just, uh, thinking how ironic it is that dancing queen is playing while… we’re, you know…”

“... having a moment?” he teased, clearly enjoying himself.

“well,” you cleared your throat, cheeks blazing, “if you can call me drunkenly staring at you while abba serenades us a ‘moment.’”

“hey, it’s a solid soundtrack choice,” he replied, looking like he was suppressing a laugh. “besides, don’t pretend this isn’t kinda perfect.”

“you think dancing queen is perfect for this?”

he shrugged, sipping his drink. “come on, you’re hammered, i’m here keeping you company, and we’re both, what… living in the moment?” he quirked a brow, his smirk widening as he eyed you, like he was daring you to argue.

and then, maybe out of pure liquid courage, or maybe because the absurdity was too much, you laughed. “yeah, living the moment… with some guy whose name i don’t even know.”

“toji,” he said, offering his hand with a lazy grin, like he’d just handed you a secret.

“toji,” you echoed, shaking his hand. he held on for a second longer than necessary, his gaze never leaving yours.

 oh, this guy was trouble, and you were in so deep.

“and you?” he asked, still holding your hand.

you barely managed to whisper your name, but it came out like a sigh, and he repeated it back like it was something precious. “well then,” he said, smirking, “guess that makes two dancing queens tonight.”

“toji…” you muttered, the name slipping off your tongue again as you tried to place it. there was something familiar about it, like you’d heard it before, but in your tequila-drenched state, nothing was sticking. 

toji, toji… where had you heard that name?

he cocked an eyebrow, clearly amused as you stared at him like he was the world’s most frustrating puzzle. “something on your mind?”

“n-no,” you stammered, then immediately backpedaled. “wait, actually, yes. toji, right?”

he nodded, a playful gleam in his eye. “that’s the one.”

“toji… toji…” you repeated, squinting at him as if a clearer view would magically connect the dots. and then, it hit you — toji fushiguro. 

the voice actor who would be bringing your spicy, shamelessly dramatic main character to life. 

the same guy you were supposed to meet tomorrow, the guy who was probably used to making everyone’s knees buckle with just a whisper.

“no way…” you whispered, clutching your head, and you could practically feel the blush creeping up your cheeks. “you — you’re… that toji?”

he gave a slight tilt of his head, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “what, surprised that i could be both hot and talented?”

you sputtered, trying to backtrack and failing miserably. “no! i mean, yes, but i just — tomorrow —  you’re… you’re the guy who’s voicing my main character?”

he leaned back with a smirk, clearly enjoying the whirlwind of emotions he was putting you through. “didn’t think the universe would give you a sneak preview tonight, huh?”

your fuzzy brain struggled to compute this twist of fate. you were drunk, mortified, and beyond flustered, sitting in a bar with the man who’d soon be giving voice to all your filthy, shameless words. this was almost too much.

“oh my god,” you muttered, sinking back in your seat. “i literally threw up on my main character’s shoes.”

toji let out a hearty laugh, patting your shoulder. “hey, if anything, i’d say it’s on-brand for the kind of night you’d write.”

just as you were processing the sheer, ridiculous insanity of the situation, a fresh wave of nausea hit you like a freight train. before you could even react, you leaned forward and… splattered the floor with a decidedly not-dignified stream of bile. this time, it was almost cinematic, complete with a dramatic gagging sound that had you doubling over.

you watched in horror as you once again spewed your insides onto the floor, narrowly missing toji’s shoes but definitely adding a new layer to the already mortifying scene. 

you’d probably just hit rock bottom.

“oh, god,” you groaned, covering your mouth with your hand as the bile burned your throat. “i swear… i’m not normally like this.”

toji chuckled, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck as he handed you a stack of napkins the bartender had generously supplied. “i’m starting to think i’m just a little too overwhelming for you, princess.”

you shot him a sheepish look as you wiped your mouth. overwhelming was an understatement. 

“yeah, maybe we can leave that out of tomorrow’s team introductions,” you mumbled, trying desperately to pull yourself together.

toji chuckled, tossing a few more napkins your way. “no judgment here. it’s a rough night for a first ‘meet-cute,’ but hey, you’re nothing if not memorable.”

you gripped the napkin, willing yourself to hold it together, at least until you could make a semi-dignified exit. “i don’t even want to know what story you’ll tell people about this.”

toji just laughed, completely unbothered, as if getting vomited on was a regular night for him. “don’t worry, i’ll keep it discreet.” his voice dipped, lowering to a murmur. “for a girl with secrets, i figure you’d appreciate that.”

he lifted his drink and gave you a small toast. “to first meetings — and unforgettable nights. and hey, maybe tomorrow, you’ll surprise me and keep it down.”

oh, god, you thought, as you attempted to bury yourself in your napkin. if only i could crawl under the bar and hide forever.

normally, you wouldn’t wake up with “dancing queen” stuck in your head, but as you nursed the remnants of a truly terrible hangover, it felt almost... pleasant? the upbeat melody cut through the fog of your brain, and you couldn’t help but hum along, even if the lyrics felt like a cruel reminder of your embarrassing escapades from the night before.

“you can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life...”

wait, why dancing queen of all songs? you squinted at your alarm clock, your heart racing as the memories started flooding back like a poorly written rom-com. oh.

OH.

your eyes widened as you bolted out of bed with a speed that could make an olympic runner blush, frantically throwing on whatever clothes you could find — did you seriously still have a piece of glitter from last night stuck in your hair? gross! but no time for a shower; you had a meeting to get to at gojo-sonic, and you were about to meet — erm, remeet — toji fushiguro.

“ooh, see that girl, watch that scene, digging the dancing queen...”

as the lyrics blared in your head like an incessant movie soundtrack, you dashed out the door, praying you’d catch a cab in time. the universe couldn’t possibly let you walk into this meeting looking like a hot mess — especially when your main character's voice was waiting on the other side.

“you’re a tease you turn ‘em on…leave ‘em burning and then you’re gone…”

you rolled your eyes at your own ridiculousness. who cared if you’d practically thrown up on the guy? all you had to do was survive your own personal dance-off with fate and hope toji didn’t remember the lovely little details from last night.

you took a deep breath, determined to channel all the confidence you could muster. today was going to be great. right?

as you walked into the meeting room, gojo practically huffed an air of relief. you couldn’t help but think it was a little dramatic — like, it’s just a meeting. you took a deep breath, trying to shake off the last remnants of your hangover and the lingering embarrassment of last night’s vomit-venture.

the room was brightly lit, filled with a few familiar faces, including toji, who was leaning casually against a table with that annoyingly charming grin plastered on his face. 

great. you’d somehow forgotten just how hot he was in the light of day. 

toji’s presence made your stomach flutter and flip, but you shoved that feeling down — this was business, after all.

you scanned the room and spotted gojo-sonic’s most valued investor suguru geto on a screen in the corner, his hair tied back and eyes sharp as he joined the meeting online. wow, great first impression! with a sudden wave of panic, you could almost hear the dancing queen lyrics mocking you in the back of your mind. what’s next, bursting into song?

“hey, look who finally made it!” toji said, amusement dancing in his eyes. perfect. if he was going to make light of your grand entrance, you had to think fast to steer the conversation away from the disaster that was last night.

“sorry for keeping you all waiting,” you replied, forcing a smile that hopefully didn’t look too forced. “i had... a crazy night.”

toji raised an eyebrow, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. “crazy night, huh? did you bring us any stories?”

you shot him a warning glance, your heart racing as you internally pleaded with him not to say anything that could ruin your career. thankfully, he just chuckled, crossing his arms and leaning back, letting the moment hang in the air without any revealing comments.

“i think we’d all like to hear that,” suguru said, his tone teasing as he adjusted the camera. “but let’s save the fun stuff for later, right? we’ve got work to do.”

you nodded, grateful for suguru’s timely intervention. “yes, absolutely! so, uh, about the voice work —”

the atmosphere shifted as the others exchanged knowing glances, and you knew you’d have to tread carefully. this meeting was crucial, and you couldn’t let last night’s incident derail everything you’d worked for. with any luck, maybe you could just keep your foot out of your mouth for the rest of the meeting.

toji always knew he was hot.

i mean, how could he not? 

with a jawline that could slice bread and a smirk that could charm the pants off anyone, confidence practically dripped off him like a cologne commercial. but the real question was: how to channel this hotness and turn it into something lucrative? great question! 

being a single dad to wasn’t easy, and running from odd job to odd job just to scrape enough money for the brat’s school was proving to be tiresome. until one day, a certain gojo satoru decided to drop a bombshell on him.

“toji, you ever think about using that voice of yours for something... more creative?” gojo asked, leaning back in his office chair, a devilish grin spreading across his face.

“creative? what, like narrating my life as a sad single dad?” toji replied dryly, rolling his eyes. “because let me tell you, it’s not exactly a page-turner.”

“no, no, hear me out!” gojo insisted, practically bouncing in his seat. “i’m talking about voice acting — specifically, erotic audiobooks. it’s the next big thing!”

toji blinked, momentarily stunned. “you mean to tell me that the former bouncer at an elite club would be voicing erotic audiobooks? saying those weird, cringey lines that women seem to love? you’re insane.”

“think about it! you have the looks, the voice, and the whole mysterious vibe down pat,” gojo urged, waving his hands dramatically. “besides, you need the cash, and i need someone to bring a little... heat to my company.”

“you really think people want to hear me read lines like, ‘take me, you wild beast?’” toji quipped, snorting.

fast forward to his first recording session, where everything seemed to be going smoothly until disaster struck. toji was deep in character, delivering his best sexy voice when — bam! — the bathroom pipe exploded in his tiny flat.

“oh god, yes, just like that —” he started, voice dripping with sultry charm, when suddenly, a muffled splash! interrupted him, followed by megumi’s wail from the other room.

“dad! there’s water everywhere!”

toji cursed under his breath, trying to maintain his composure. “i’m coming! just... give me a second, i’m — ah, it’s getting so hot in here!” he struggled to continue, desperately trying to block out the chaos around him while the sounds of the pipe gushing water filled the audio.

but it turned out hormones took over the technical difficulties, because when the snippet was finally released, women and men of all ages were devouring it like it was the last slice of pizza at a party. it even went viral on tiktok, with cringe-worthy wannabes trying to recreate his sultry lines, failing miserably while toji sat back, amused.

“really? you think you can pull this off?” he chuckled to himself, watching one kid awkwardly mimic him. “nice try, kid. but good luck sounding this good while your mom’s screaming at you for hogging the bathroom.”

because toji wasn’t just a househusband — house father — anymore. he was a household name, and everyone knew him. his rise to fame was a wild ride, but hey, at least now he could afford to get the bathroom fixed — one line at a time.

he could hardly wrap his head around how he’d managed to move out of his tiny, crumbling apartment and into a much better place for him and megumi. it was like waking up one day and realizing he’d accidentally won the lottery. “wait, how did i end up here?” he’d mutter to himself, staring at the pristine walls and polished floors. “and how the hell can i pay megumi’s school fees on time without dodging dirty glares from the accounts office?”

he’d walk into the school, head held high, while megumi proudly puffed out his eight-year-old chest. “my daddy’s an actor!” he’d announce to anyone who would listen. toji couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride. i mean, the kid wasn’t wrong. he was acting — acting like he had his life together, at least!

but did his new job stop toji from being a little hoe? oh, hell no. 

if anything, the fame went straight to his head — both up and down there, mind you. toji was like a kid in a candy store, and he was using his newfound charm to siphon money from literally every sugar mommy he could find. 

and daddies, too, if he was feeling daring. 

because people would die to be known as someone “close” to the toji fushiguro.

“oh my god, is that him?” a passerby would whisper, nudging her friend as they walked past toji at a private event.

“i think it is! i heard he’s dating someone famous,” her friend would respond, leaning in as if they were sharing a juicy secret. “i’ve seen him at that new club downtown. he’s just so... magnetic.”

“totally! i mean, if i could get him to call me ‘sweetheart’ just once, i’d die a happy woman,” the first friend would say, fluttering her eyelashes dramatically.

toji would smirk to himself, sipping his drink while casually overhearing their chatter. “yep, you’re right. i’m as available as a 24/7 convenience store,” he’d think, reveling in the attention. "i could probably charm the pants off a rock if i tried."

another group of giggling fans would walk by, whispering amongst themselves, “i met him at that charity event last week! he was so sweet! like, did you see the way he talked to everyone? he’s definitely a heartthrob.”

“sweet? you mean hot, right?” one of them would tease, and they’d all burst into laughter.

“please, if he looked at me, i’d die!” another would declare, all starry-eyed.

toji’s smirk widened. “keep it coming, ladies. i’m just here for the show.” he couldn’t deny it; being the center of attention was intoxicating, and he was loving every second of it.

with a wink and a little wave, he’d keep strutting through life like a runway model, knowing full well he had the power to turn heads and keep wallets open. “who knew being a hot voice actor could be this fun?”

great that you’d ask what toji did with all that sweet, sweet cash! save it all for his brat of a son, of course, even if he wouldn’t admit it. beneath that rugged exterior and playful swagger, he had a soft spot for the little sucker.

just the other week, megumi had been rambling on about wanting a really cool new video game console. “but daddy, alllll my friends have one! it’s so unfair!” he’d whined, big blue eyes practically shimmering with hope. toji had rolled his eyes, trying to act tough, but the moment he saw the kid's face, his heart melted like butter on a hot skillet. “fine, but only if you promise to finish your homework first.”

the next day, megumi had unwrapped a brand-new console, complete with all the latest games, and toji had basked in the sheer delight radiating from his son. “this is the best day ever!” megumi had screamed, wrapping his arms around toji’s waist. “thank you, daddy!”

toji grinned like an idiot, pretending to be unimpressed. “yeah, yeah, don’t go losing it on the first day, alright? and remember, no playing after eight!” he was basically a walking contradiction: a grumpy dad who secretly loved being the cool parent.

then there was that time megumi had been obsessed with this rare action figure from his favorite show. toji had seen the way his son’s eyes lit up every time he spotted it in a store, but it was always sold out. so, naturally, when toji found one online at a steep price, he didn’t hesitate. “i’ll just skip my overpriced rum for a week. totally worth it.”

when megumi had opened the package, he’d literally jumped in the air, screeching like a siren. “no way! you got it for me!?” and toji had played it cool, shrugging his shoulders. “what can i say? your dad’s a generous guy.”

of course, this indulgence didn’t go unnoticed by gojo satoru. the six eyes — er, eyes! — of the man always seemed to be on toji, especially when he noticed his friend was splurging just a little too much on himself — like that new leather jacket that looked ridiculously good on him. 

“i need a jacket like that,” gojo had muttered to himself, glancing at his own wardrobe with disappointment.

whenever toji treated himself, gojo would quietly slide a check over to him, nonchalantly muttering, “just a little something for megumi’s school expenses.”

some people would have viewed it as offensive or patronizing, but not toji. he’d always laughed it off, feeling grateful instead. in his mind, gojo was like a guardian angel — “if guardian angels wore sunglasses and had a taste for expensive sweets.” he saw it as gojo looking out for megumi, which made toji’s heart swell with warmth. “who else would want to help raise my kid? might as well accept it.”

“just don’t make a habit of it, alright?” toji would say with a teasing grin. “i don’t need you spoiling him more than i do.”

“too late,” gojo would quip, already plotting ways to sneak more gifts into megumi’s life. “it’s my new hobby.”

so, when gojo casually dropped the bomb that toji would be voicing one of the hottest, trending smut book — “mating with the demon king” or something equally ridiculous — toji shrugged it off. “simple enough job,” he thought. “and it must be good if they came to me for it.”

but when gojo suggested he read the book to get an idea of the material — “just a little prep work,” he’d said with that infuriatingly charming grin — things took a wild turn.

big mistake, toji would later reflect as he flipped through the pages, his eyebrows shooting up higher than a roller coaster. “who writes this stuff?” he muttered, half-laughing at the sheer absurdity of it all.

the content was downright depraved. there were scenes that had him questioning his entire existence. 

“‘he thrust into her like a man possessed, each stroke igniting a fire within her’ — what even is that?” he read aloud, only to burst out laughing at the ridiculousness. megumi, playing quietly in the other room, wondered why his daddy was cackling like a madman.

“uh, daddy? why are you reading that out loud?” megumi had peeked in, eyes wide with curiosity. toji quickly scrambled to shut the book. “uh, just… learning about, uh, cooking techniques!” he stammered, trying to play it cool. “you wouldn’t get it, buddy.”

but the laughter continued to bubble out of him, and he couldn’t help but read some of the more ludicrous lines. “‘his lips found her collarbone, trailing heat like a wildfire’ — who even talks like that?” he shook his head, utterly bemused.

by the end of the chapter, he was howling. “‘she gasped as he swept her off her feet and into a world of ecstasy’ — oh please!” toji chortled, clutching his stomach, imagining how this would all sound through a microphone. “my kid is gonna think i’ve lost my goddamn mind.”

but hey, if this job was going to pay the bills, he figured he could endure a little humiliation. “it’s all in a day’s work, right?” he muttered to himself, finally accepting that he was now the voice of “mating with the demon king.”

all that reading really took its toll on toji — physically, mentally, spiritually even. after hours spent tripping over lines like “pressed against the throbbing heat of his desire” (yeah, that one took five tries to get through without laughing), he needed to clear his head. so, he found himself at a bar, halfway through a drink, hoping to numb the embarrassment he’d just endured in the name of rent money.

then stumbles this stranger — a cute, very tipsy stranger who quickly parked herself right next to him and started chatting him up, wide-eyed and slightly unsteady. great, drunk people, he thought, resisting an eyeroll as she grinned at him, looking ready to either start a fight or profess her love. 

maybe both.

of course, what are the odds she’d go ahead and throw up on his shoes? yes, his brand-new shoes, because, apparently, the universe had decided that tonight, toji fushiguro would be the world’s personal punching bag. “can’t even get through one drink without some shit happening,” he muttered to himself as she looked up at him with a horrified expression. “we’re off to a great start here, huh?”

after some water and some awkward apologies (mostly her apologizing, mostly him trying not to laugh), they fell into surprisingly decent conversation. she was rambling about her job, the stress, the weird demands — stuff he could sympathize with, honestly. 

and that’s when he dropped it, just for fun: “i’m a voice actor.”

her eyes sparkled with recognition — a little too much recognition, actually, which made him narrow his eyes. “wait, what’s your name?” she asked, suddenly all ears.

“toji. toji fushiguro.”

the second he said it, her face went from curious to horrified to... oh yeah, she knew exactly who he was. “wait,” she gasped, putting her hand over her mouth. “you’re... you’re the voice actor for my book.”

toji raised an eyebrow, deadpan. 

so this was the writer, the one who wrote all that nonsense he’d been struggling through for days. well, wasn’t that just the cherry on top. not only was this his boss but also the very person responsible for phrases like “pulsing need” and “moans spilling like honey.” and she’d just puked on him. 

talk about a power move.

“small world,” he said, his tone dry as desert sand. wonderful, he thought. my boss threw up on me. but, hey, the night was still young. 

he took a long sip from his drink, hoping she wouldn’t take this as an excuse to unleash some kind of creative critique.

“i... i didn’t know you’d be here,” she stammered, a shade redder than before, probably realizing what this made her look like — her, the lady behind the “throbbing heat of desire” shtick.

“don’t worry,” he said, giving her a smirk. “i won’t tell anyone the literary mastermind responsible for all that... romance has a weak stomach.”

you probably don’t remember much after you composed yourself following that second round of projectile embarrassment — but don’t worry, toji remembers. the man’s got a steel trap for the kinds of memories you’d prefer stayed buried. once he’d figured out that you weren’t exactly in shape to be left wandering around, he made the executive decision to get you home. yeah, he’d just met you a couple hours ago, but somehow, through the boozy haze and questionable life choices, he’d managed to catch your address. 

impressive detective work, really… or, well, you may have blurted it out mid-ramble about how “the streetlight outside is the only thing lighting up your lonely hallway.” 

a touch dramatic, but, hey, it worked.

so he got you back to your place (no thanks to the cab driver’s judgmental side-eye), got you up the stairs without you faceplanting, and, after propping you up long enough to unlock your door, he even went the extra mile and tucked you under the covers. you, meanwhile, mumbled something about “tequila being the devil,” blissfully oblivious to the poor guy who’d just witnessed more of your personal life than your closest friends. toji took one last look before heading out, chuckling to himself as you drifted off, probably already dreaming of whatever literary nonsense you’d be writing next.

but what really stuck with him? the damn “dancing queen” chorus ringing in his ears from the bar. maybe it was still playing somewhere out there in the night, or maybe you’d just cursed him with it. because as he walked home, hands shoved in his pockets, there it was, looping over and over in his head. 

“you can dance… you can jive…” 

great, now he’d be humming it for days.

both you and toji were snapped back into the fluorescent-lit reality of the conference room, where gojo was still going on about… royalties? percentages? to be honest, the entire spiel sounded more like corporate white noise to you. 

toji, on the other hand, was leaning back in his chair, looking as disinterested as humanly possible without actually falling asleep. across the screen, suguru appeared in one of those stiff, all-business modes, nodding along to gojo’s speech. his eyes had that telltale sparkle that only appeared when money was the topic — “stakeholder perks,” as gojo would call it, though it just meant suguru got to rake in extra cash on the side.

“and once the audiobook’s live, the split from the sales will be recalculated quarterly, yadda yadda, yadaaa —” gojo’s voice broke into a sing-song, clearly amusing only himself. “anyway, you guys will see some real sweet checks from this.”

“royalties…” suguru interjected, a bit too smoothly, “remind me what those projected percentages were again, satoru?”

toji suppressed a snort. here they were, with the man himself who could barely be bothered to read a weather report straight, much less your raunchy magnum opus. good luck explaining earnings, gojo.

“oh yeah, royalties!” gojo cleared his throat, launching into a number-laden monologue that seemed to somehow both explain everything and nothing at once. toji barely listened, glancing at the digital clock on the wall. it was only when gojo pivoted, with a suddenly very pointed look, that toji actually tuned back in.

“so, did everyone do their, ah, homework?” gojo grinned as his gaze swept across the room, his eyes landing on you with a bit too much knowing amusement. “read the… material?”

you shuffled uncomfortably in your seat, and every other voice actor in the room suddenly found the table, the wall, or their own shoes very interesting.

all except toji, of course, who stretched back with the most obnoxious smirk you’d seen yet.

“homework?” he drawled, deadpan as always. “yeah, got right into it. wouldn’t want to miss a single word of that… fine literature.”

a few of the others exchanged awkward looks, clearly unsure how to respond to the dead-serious way toji said fine literature without a shred of irony. meanwhile, you shrank a little in your seat, not exactly loving the fact that the guy you threw up on was apparently the one voice actor who actually read your work cover-to-cover. not to mention, this was toji fushiguro, the voice actor who’d taken the world by storm with a single, leaked snippet. you'd heard your fans say that he was some kind of god-tier talent — practically a household name. and now? 

he was casually staring you down like he'd just read your diary.

“it’s… it’s not that bad,” you muttered defensively, feeling a prickling heat rise up your neck.

toji raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. “oh, didn’t say it was bad. just, uh… thorough.”

you felt the blush intensify, but before you could reply, gojo jumped back in, undeterred. “great! since everyone’s read it now, we’ll dive into scene breakdowns tomorrow, with input from our illustrious author here.” he winked at you in that annoyingly playful way of his, as if he’d just orchestrated the whole thing for kicks. “it’s all about bringing your vision to life, yeah?”

“looking forward to it.” toji’s tone was smooth, with just enough emphasis to hint at the mischief lying behind his calm expression. you could swear there was a glimmer of challenge in his eyes, and the fact that he’d actually read the book — a book that you wrote in a creative haze, no less — was beginning to feel less like a weird coincidence and more like some cosmic joke at your expense.

suguru’s voice broke through, “and let’s hope that translates to success, right, gojo? my dividends would certainly appreciate it.”

“oh, don’t you worry, sugu bear.” gojo leaned in with that shark-like grin of his. “with toji voicing this masterpiece, and the author right here to guide us? we’re printing money already.”

with a dramatic flourish, gojo clapped his hands together, instantly breaking the tension. “alright, dismissed! snacks are out front — help yourselves, or not! more for me, after all,” he added, a mischievous glint in his eye as he clearly envisioned his sugary hoard.

suguru took this moment as his graceful exit cue, giving a short nod before the screen blinked off. gojo sighed theatrically, clasping his chest. “oh, suguru, leaving so soon? you wound me! who’s going to discuss ‘dividends’ and ‘royalties’ with me now?”

nobody had the heart — or possibly the patience — to answer that question, which suited gojo just fine as he spun on his heel, making his way toward the snack table. 

you, meanwhile, considered vanishing altogether, at least until the next segment of the day when you’d actually need to make yourself useful. judging by the energy in the room, none of the other voice actors were in a rush to strike up a conversation with you. 

ouch. apparently, being the creator of their next project wasn’t that much of a social asset.

you edged toward the door, already halfway to freedom when, like clockwork, a deep, familiar voice stopped you in your tracks. “leaving so soon?”

you didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was. obnoxious didn’t even cover half of it. “just… thought i’d give you guys a break from me,” you muttered, gripping the strap of your bag tighter, hoping it looked casual instead of like an attempt to bolt.

toji’s laugh was low, almost teasing. “a break? i don’t mind the company. in fact, i think the others are just shy.” his words were smooth, but there was a mischievous lilt to them, like he was very aware of just how uncomfortable you probably were.

“right,” you deadpanned, summoning every ounce of sarcasm you had left. “they’re all just shy.”

he chuckled, falling into step beside you as you made your way to the snack table. gojo was already there, unabashedly sampling a tray of tiny cupcakes. he shot you both a grin that was, in all honesty, more threatening than friendly. 

oh god, why is he looking at us like that?

“so!” gojo swiped another cupcake, leaning back against the table as he took in you and toji with an almost too-pleased expression. “getting along, are we? i mean, it’s not every day you get to work so closely with the voice behind your book, right?” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, as if trying to ignite some sort of spark just to make things interesting.

toji, unbothered as ever, shrugged. “she already threw up on me. might as well be friends after that, huh?”

oh my god. 

you felt the flush rise to your face instantly, a mix of embarrassment and horror. he did not just bring that up in front of gojo, of all people.

“aww, how cute!” gojo crooned, looking absolutely delighted as he clapped his hands in that overly-enthusiastic, not-at-all sincere way. “bonding over bodily fluids. you guys are practically soulmates!”

“please, kill me now,” you muttered under your breath, glaring at the snack table like it might provide an escape hatch.

toji leaned in, voice dropping to a near whisper, and you could practically hear the smirk in his tone. “don’t worry, author. i’ve seen worse.”

“great, that’s… comforting,” you muttered, resisting the urge to roll your eyes as you grabbed a snack at random. at this point, you were ready to make a quick exit, potentially before the day’s work even started if it meant escaping this scene.

“now, don’t run off too fast,” gojo added, wagging a finger at you with a sly grin. “i’m expecting all of us back here in an hour, nice and energized. don’t want any excuses!”

toji shot you one last look, equal parts teasing and unreadable, before he turned to grab a coffee. “guess you’re stuck with me for a little longer,” he murmured, a faint glimmer of humor in his eyes.

wonderful. absolutely wonderful. well, at least there’s cupcakes.

it’s only five minutes into the recording session, and you’re already wondering if there’s a job market for earth-burrowing positions. if there is, you’d gladly take it. anything would be better than this…circus.

the sound booth is packed with voice actors delivering line after line of your book’s carefully crafted (painfully cheesy) smutty dialogue. you bite your lip, both cringing and resisting the urge to laugh out loud as one of the actors, a slender guy with an unfortunate tendency to over-dramatize every vowel, reads his line with a tragic sigh.

“i can’t help it… i just want to devour you.”

devour you? you want to throw yourself into the nearest trash can. before you can stop yourself, you lean forward into the mic, managing a half-apologetic, half-pleading tone. “uh, could you maybe… ease up on the ‘devour’ part? like, less dramatic, more… suave?”

he nods seriously, doing a quick vocal warm-up before trying again. “i can’t help it… i just want to devoooour—”

“nope! nope, nope, nope!” you blurt, a little louder than you intended, the cringe spiraling out of control. you quickly clear your throat, trying to sound as professional as possible. “let’s, uh, maybe just skip to the next line.”

from the corner of the room, you catch sight of gojo, who’s grinning so widely you’re genuinely concerned his face might stay that way forever. he’s watching you with an infectious enthusiasm that’s bordering on manic, his eyes practically sparkling with amusement. you’re half-expecting him to yell, “surprise! this is an snl skit!”

you rub at your temple, wishing the earth would do you a solid and open up beneath you, while the next actor — a petite, sweet-looking woman who’s visibly uncomfortable — takes her turn. she clears her throat, looking down at her script, and delivers the line in a barely-there whisper, “i… i want you to take me… take me as if…”

“um…” you grimace, instantly feeling the heat rise to your face. “maybe a bit louder? but, you know, sensual.”

she blushes, muttering something under her breath before raising her voice, though it’s still trembling. “i… i want you to… take me… as if…”

toji, who’s been watching the whole scene from his seat, chuckles lowly, and his smirk sends a jolt of embarrassment through you. “jeez, author, why don’t you just hop in there and show ’em how it’s done?” he mutters, voice dripping with sarcasm, though it’s not unkind.

you throw him a flat look, biting back an eye roll. not like i wanted to be here, you think to yourself. it’s just that somehow, the universe decided that today you’d be responsible for turning lines you’d never want to say out loud into something even remotely palatable.

and it only gets worse. 

another actor — a deep-voiced, well-meaning guy in his mid-40s — leans into his mic and reads out, in a gruff voice you can only describe as a rejected batman impersonation: “you’re driving me… wild.” his tone is so intense it’s like he’s threatening to fight the listener in a parking lot.

“okay… we might want to dial it back a little,” you say carefully, hoping to mask your horror with politeness. “just… a little less ‘supervillain,’ more… warm?”

you hear toji chuckle behind you, low and rumbling, clearly reveling in your suffering. and as you glance over your shoulder, you find gojo, once again, looking like this is the best entertainment he’s had in years. 

at this point, he might actually cry from laughing.

just when you think it can’t get any worse, toji stands, giving you a wink as he heads into the booth for his turn. he takes the mic, his face blank and unreadable as he starts reading the next line.

“i need you… right now,” he purrs, his voice oozing that lazy, sensual charm you’d envisioned for this character. it’s… almost unfair, really. 

there’s not an ounce of irony or overacting. 

toji’s delivery is so smooth, so confident, that it catches you off guard, a flush rising to your cheeks.

gojo lets out a low whistle, giving you a teasing look as if to say, see? was that so hard?

“finally,” you mutter under your breath, swallowing the lump in your throat. gojo raises a brow, clearly enjoying every second of your awkwardness.

you sigh, mentally bracing yourself for the rest of the recording. if nothing else, at least one actor seems to have nailed the tone — much to your embarrassment and gojo’s endless delight.

you clear your throat, attempting to regain some semblance of control over the recording session, which is proving to be harder than herding a pack of caffeinated cats. “right, everyone, let’s, uh, keep moving and go ahead with recording the dragon king’s lines. toji, if you’re ready?”

but you barely finish your sentence before gojo claps toji on the shoulder with that all-too-annoying bromance energy, grinning from ear to ear. “our star is ready, aren’t ya, toji? i mean, look at this guy! look at him! can’t believe i found this gem for gojo-sonic!” gojo’s voice carries that infuriatingly proud tone that practically drips with smug satisfaction.

you stifle an eye roll, and even the other actors exchange glances, half-annoyed, half-amused at gojo’s over-the-top fawning. but before you can jump in to cut gojo off, toji just smirks, sliding comfortably into the mic like he was born to deliver cheesy lines.

“alright, alright,” you murmur, mostly to yourself. “let’s see what you’ve got, mr. dragon king.”

toji adjusts the headphones, his lazy smirk already primed. 

and then he begins, voice low and sultry, hitting each cringe-worthy word with the same ridiculous gravitas that has the whole room mesmerized.

“i have waited eons for a beauty like yours to grace my realm. come… be mine, and together we shall rule the heavens.”

you can practically feel everyone holding their breath, transfixed by the sheer sincerity in his tone, despite the line’s absurdity. you, too, can’t help but feel a blush creeping up your neck, which is just unfair given you wrote these lines. 

you knew what they were meant to sound like, but this? 

he’s delivering them like they’re damn poetry.

toji doesn’t stop there, though, his deep voice carrying each line as though he’s serenading the mic. “my heart burns with a fire only you can soothe. take my hand, and i swear to guard your heart with my very life.”

gojo is practically fawning, batting his eyelashes like a proud parent in the corner. “see, people, this is how it’s done! let the dragon king here show you amateurs how it’s really supposed to sound!”

you resist the urge to chuck something at gojo as the other actors’ eyes widen, watching in awe.

one of them mutters under their breath, “no way we’re topping that.”

and then, toji’s voice dips even lower, the next line coming out in a growl that somehow manages to be both dramatic and, disturbingly, kind of… enchanting.

“you are the breath in my lungs, the flame in my veins. without you, i am but a shadow… a beast in the dark.”

the room is dead silent. 

you’re all fawning, gushing messes, and you’re not even sure how it happened. it’s like toji’s somehow turned this trial recording into an absurdly hot moment. you can barely believe you’re hearing the same lines you once labeled “ridiculously cringey” in the draft.

finally, he leans back, looking pleased with himself, as if he hadn’t just left everyone a little breathless. gojo practically beams with pride, nudging you. 

“so… i think you’ve found your dragon king, wouldn’t you say?”

you nod, still stunned, half in disbelief, half in begrudging admiration. if this was just the trial recording, you could only imagine how many blushing, starry-eyed listeners this final audiobook was going to leave in its wake.

the moment the trial recording session wraps up, gojo is the first one on his feet, clapping his hands like he's just watched the performance of a lifetime. “brilliant!” he practically shouts, pulling out his phone faster than you can blink. “suguru needs to hear this,” he mutters, already dialing his business partner like a kid who can’t wait to brag about his latest toy.

sometimes you really do forget that gojo is the ceo of a multi-million dollar company — an erotic audiobook company, no less. 

is he this passionate about the art, or is it just the money? either way, watching him fanboy over his own employee leaves you a mix of amused and exhausted.

there’s a charm to it, though, even if it’s a little baffling to witness in real time.

as the energy in the studio starts to mellow, you find yourself actually breathing a bit easier. for once, things seem to be going smoothly. 

maybe this whole collaboration wouldn’t be a disaster after all. 

you let yourself relax, even if a small part of your brain chides you with a quick reminder: next time, skip the cheap caffeine fix when you’re pulling an all-nighter writing smut. 

or… cheap anything, really. 

yeah, you don’t actually smoke, you remind yourself — except, well, that one time in college, but hey, that was a whole different you. one that should stay buried in the relics of questionable decisions, right next to your spiral-bound notes of embarrassingly bad poetry.

just as you’re praying to the universe that this is all going to wrap up without any extra drama, you hear it. the sound that’s become both your nightmare and… okay, maybe, a little less than that.

“well, princess,” toji’s voice rumbles, his tone as amused as it is teasing, “got anything else you want from your dragon king?”

you close your eyes and will the ground to open up beneath you, but nope, nothing. 

nothing but the sound of your heartbeat doing an awkward little tango in your chest.

of course he’d pick now to resurrect that ridiculous moniker from last night. like it wasn’t humiliating enough when he threw it out there while you were a couple drinks deep and all but glued to your seat at the bar. 

oh, you’re practically begging the universe to put you out of your misery — well, actually, now that you think about it, maybe being wrapped up in those beefy arms wouldn’t be the worst fate…

wow. get a grip, girl. this is the caffeine deprivation talking. 

definitely that.

but then toji smirks at you, an eyebrow raised, as if he’s just dared you to respond. and all you can think is… oh, lord, this man is trouble.

"c’mon, just a drink,” toji insists, flashing that devil-may-care grin that both ruins and improves your day within a matter of seconds. he’s leaning back like he’s got all the time in the world, casually ignoring how you definitely don’t. 

“trust me, princess, it’ll settle your nerves.”

it’s not like you need a reminder of the mess that was last night. every foggy memory swirls in your head, like life’s own cruel version of a mocktail — one garnished with shame, regret, and a generous helping of last night’s tequila. 

if anything, adding more drinks to this equation feels about as smart as walking blindfolded into traffic.

but toji’s already up, stretching like he’s completely unaware of the chaotic memories this whole “outing” is summoning. “just a quick look around gojo-sonic, yeah?” he says, nodding toward the maze of hallways beyond the studio door, his face the perfect picture of innocence.

“you’re new here, and it’s… important to know the lay of the land. work reasons.”

you can practically hear the quotation marks around that “work reasons.”

“you know,” he adds with a wink, “never hurts to see where the magic happens.”

yeah, right. you have a feeling the only magic here is him somehow dragging you deeper into your personal nightmare.

you don’t even get the chance to respond with a yes, no, or a “maybe next century” when toji’s phone lights up and his whole expression darkens. not exactly the look you expect from the guy whose voice practically ruined half the internet last month with that infamous line about... well, yeah, better not go there right now.

“satoru, the brat got into a fight,” he growls into the phone, and suddenly, satoru’s jaw hits the floor with such force you can practically hear it from across the studio. toji doesn’t stick around for a reply, though — he’s already striding toward the door like a man with a purpose, ignoring satoru’s spluttered, “the what did who?”

and somehow — god knows how — you find yourself tagging along like it’s the most natural thing in the world. maybe it’s curiosity, maybe it’s the thrill of seeing toji in full boss mode, or maybe it’s just because, oh, y’know, “responsible adult and responsibilities” instincts or whatever. 

but the further you walk, the more you realize that toji doesn’t mind you following one bit. in fact, he’s practically matching his pace to yours, as if you’re part of some unofficial escort mission to... whoever this “brat” is.

which, speaking of, who the hell is megumi?

you’re still trying to wrap your head around how this was supposed to be a “quick tour” of the office and not, somehow, an impromptu escort mission to the world’s sleekest car, a porsche 911 turbo — yep, that’s right, the kind of car you’ve only ever seen in movies where the bad guy’s got a mysterious, sexy side. all you can manage is, “you own this?”

toji shrugs, slipping his keys into the ignition with an air of pure, unbothered cool. “you don’t?”

oh. okay. 

you barely have time to process this response before he’s peeling out of the parking lot, narrowly avoiding a stray cat, a snail-paced truck, and an old lady who’s almost sacrificed her wig to his driving style. but hey, all part of the thrill, right?

definitely not questioning life choices here.

by the time you pull up to a cutesy primary school — you know, the kind with pastel-colored gates and cartoon murals of bears and rabbits — you’re genuinely confused. 

toji seems like the last guy who’d be here unless it was some undercover op. and “megumi,” whoever he is, sounds like he could be the school’s playground menace.

“wait, this is where we’re headed?” you ask, eyeing the building like it might suddenly make sense.

but toji’s out of the car, moving so fast you practically have to jog to keep up. the school secretary gives you both a wary glance, likely sensing the storm of exasperation radiating off toji, as he strides straight into the principal’s office. there, sitting on a chair with his arms crossed and an unimpressed scowl that screams “mini-toji,” is a little boy with spiky hair and an air of quiet defiance.

without missing a beat, toji asks, “megs! did you win?”

the principal, a kindly-looking woman whose expression is rapidly shifting from “calm mediator” to “i don’t get paid enough for this,” clears her throat. 

“mr. fushiguro, your son wasn’t... in the wrong, per se. it appears he was, um, defending his honor.”

defending his honor? you blink. what kind of second grader even knows what that means?

“that true, ‘gumi?” toji says, arms crossed, looking every bit the unbothered, proud dad of the year.

“he said my dad was a... weird voice actor,” megumi mutters, then shrugs. “so i said at least my dad works.”

you nearly choke, partly from stifled laughter, partly from the sheer absurdity of all this. here you were, thinking “honor” meant, like, taking down a playground empire or something. 

but no, megumi’s just a kid with a sharp tongue and a little too much of toji’s attitude.

“damn right, kid,” toji says, patting megumi’s head, then looking over at you with that familiar, annoyingly smug grin. “raised him right, yeah?”

“...sure,” you say, because what else can you even say at this point? it’s like you’ve stumbled into the weirdest sitcom ever, and the laugh track is somehow missing.

the principal’s expression morphs into something almost painfully polite as she addresses you, tiptoeing around the word wife with an impressive mix of caution and curiosity. 

“are you, ah... megumi’s guardian?”

and then, in perfect, unplanned harmony, you, toji, and megumi all blurt out, “no.”

the unity, the instinctual synchronization — it’s like you’re all on the same wavelength, for better or worse. soul-level understanding, or something. 

what the hell is happening right now?

with a polite smile and a “let’s never speak of this again” nod, you three finally leave the principal’s office. megumi, looking more bored than reprimanded, flicks at a speck of lint on his uniform, while you and toji attempt to navigate the hallway swarming with concerned teachers and worried front-desk ladies. and by “concerned” and “worried,” it’s more like they’re curious about toji’s parenting style and, let’s be honest, probably toji himself.

“oh, mr. fushiguro!” one particularly invested teacher coos, “we heard about the incident. is everything all right?”

toji, of course, laps up the attention, chuckling low and throwing in a wink here and there like he’s starring in some kind of action-movie dad role. the ladies are practically falling over themselves to get a response from him, their questions barely veiled as they assess you with raised brows and sideways glances, a classic “who’s she?” written all over their faces.

“and you are...?” one of the front-desk ladies finally asks, voice all sugar-coated and sharp.

toji slides in smoothly, cutting off whatever half-formed, awkward introduction you were about to stammer out. “oh, she’s a colleague,” he says, his tone effortlessly suave, like introducing a perfectly respectable coworker and totally not the author of his last, extremely explicit audiobook project.

you’re almost grateful until it hits you — this is the same guy who made a whole production of calling you “princess” in the recording booth just yesterday. 

as if he hasn’t played one of your absurdly corny dragon kings in all his full-throttle intensity. 

and now he’s here, all casual and cool, giving you a proper, respectable title like he hasn’t spent hours voicing content these people probably keep hidden under their pillows at night.

but at least he didn’t out you as the actual author of those… creative pieces. 

that’s something.

toji is out here, doing his social service to society. and no, it’s not about lending his voice to steamy audiobooks, thank you very much. 

today, he’s serving the community by providing these teachers with a generous five minutes of his attention, which they’ll probably be replaying in their heads until the next parent-teacher meeting. and — oh, what a surprise! — that’s exactly what they’re talking about now, circling back to how he must come to the next one for a “serious discussion” about megumi.

toji’s stance? why bother? if the kid’s acing his tests, staying out of trouble (mostly), and keeping a lid on the whole “honor” thing, why does he need to sit through hours of polite lecturing from the pta?

while he’s busy justifying his lack of parental enthusiasm, you feel a pair of eyes on you. glancing down, you meet megumi’s steady, curious stare. 

it’s oddly intense for a kid his age, but you’re not one to back down from a challenge. you narrow your eyes, feigning a critical, assessing look, and he visibly falters, going slightly pink around the ears.

ah, kids.

as you three make your way out of the building — toji still being all socialite with the staff and probably postponing that pta date indefinitely — you suddenly find yourself in a mini interview  with megumi. it’s as if this eight-year-old has appointed himself the gatekeeper of his dad’s life and has decided you’re the latest applicant.

“so… what’s your favorite color?” he asks, with an unblinking, serious stare.

“uh…” you pause, realizing the weight of your answer here. “blue. like, uh, light blue.”

he nods, considering. “good answer.”

a pause. “favorite superhero?”

“batman?” you try, glancing at him for a sign of approval.

“hmm. fine. but iron man would’ve been better.”

noted, you think, as he then moves to cereal brand, favorite animal, and even your preferred subject in school. you navigate each question as best as you can, almost feeling the burn of a final exam.

then, in a moment of quiet, just as you think the quiz is over, megumi looks down and asks, voice barely a whisper, “did i… do the right thing? defending my… my hone-er?”

“your… oh, honor?” you say, a smile twitching at the corner of your mouth as you catch his wide-eyed, earnest gaze.

he nods, cheeks tinting a bit as he scuffs his sneaker on the ground.

“megumi,” you say, kneeling a little to get on his level, “defending your honor is important. just… maybe don’t go for all the punches next time? sometimes words work too.” you give him a playful nudge.

he nods, seeming satisfied with that answer, then glances over his shoulder. “and don’t tell daddy i asked.”

“your secret’s safe with me,” you whisper back, giving him a conspiratorial wink.

toji’s arms were crossed, an unreadable expression on his face as he watched the little interaction between you and megumi. 

he was always careful about the people around his kid, fiercely protective to the point that very few in his line of work even knew megumi existed. the only ones who had ever met him were gojo and geto — and that was already a stretch.

but something about how you handled the kid’s questions, actually entertained them with the same patience he’d usually summon up himself, caught him off guard. the way you knelt down to answer him, even kept a straight face through the hard-hitting topics of favorite superheroes and cereal brands... it was surprisingly nice. 

almost… reassuring?

ugh, what was he even thinking? you were still the same girl who’d written, and he mentally cringed as he remembered the line, 

“dragons may have claws, but they’re nothing compared to the grip i have on your…” 

yeah, yeah, he really didn’t need to finish that thought. the memory alone had him chuckling under his breath, shaking his head.

of course, that earned him a suspicious glance from both you and megumi.

“what’s so funny?” you asked, brow raised.

“yeah, daddy, why’re you laughing?” megumi chimed in, clearly puzzled.

toji waved a hand dismissively, realizing he’d just blown his cool for no reason. 

“nothin’, don’t worry about it. just thinkin’,” he mumbled, aware he’d probably looked a little unhinged just then. 

maybe he really needed to work on his awareness — or maybe he just needed to get a grip, period.

toji’s mind was doing somersaults, genuinely debating if he could manage both you and megumi tagging along for the afternoon. megumi’s insistence didn’t help; kid was determined that toji should keep you both company for the rest of the day, despite having school hours left. 

“you’ve got work, right?” you ask, half-joking, half-serious. “aren’t you supposed to be off doing big, important actor things?”

toji only smirked, whipping out his phone with the sort of confidence that made it clear he had a workaround for everything. he tapped open a message to gojo, fingers moving fast.

you [11:31 am]: hey. kid’s dragging me to the arcade. need a few hours off. gojo s. [11:33 am]: need or WANT, toji? ;)) you [11:31 am]: like i said, KID is dragging me. gojo s. [11:33 am]: oh sure, blame megumi. what, does he have you wrapped around his little finger or something? you [11:31 am]: think whatever you want, but you’re handling my schedule for the rest of the day. gojo s. [11:33 am]: wait, are you with...the AUTHOR? ;)) you [11:31 am]: quit smiling through text, it’s creepy. gojo s. [11:33 am]: i’ll allow it. but only cause i’m such a good friend.  gojo s. [11:33 am]: tell megumi uncle gojo says hi  gojo s. [11:34 am]: and he owes me 20 bucks. you [11:35 am]: he doesn’t owe you anything. gojo s. [11:35 am]: fine, but bring me something from the prize counter.

satisfied, toji pocketed his phone and shrugged. 

“all right, kid. we’ll hang out for a bit. but i swear if you drag me into any embarrassing games —”

“arcade!” megumi interrupted, not even giving him a chance to finish. “i can show you both that i’m the best at every game! daddy taught me how to play, so you better watch out!”

you couldn’t help but chuckle at the kid’s enthusiasm.

“all right, let’s go. but you better not make me look bad, kid,” toji said, smirking down at his son, who was now practically vibrating with eagerness.

“arcade!” megumi yelled again, nearly bouncing as he grabbed your hand and began to lead the way.

megumi barely lets you settle into the leather of the passenger seat before he’s bouncing in the back, practically vibrating with energy as he plugs toji’s phone into the aux. you’re trying to wrap your head around being in toji fushiguro’s car, the man who not only voices the romantic lead in your steamiest, most dramatic book but also owns a luxury car that could probably pay off your loans twice over.

"so, uh... passenger princess, huh?" toji smirks, catching you in mid-thought.

"i… what?" you stammer, feeling the heat creep up as he settles a hand on the wheel with all the nonchalance in the world. “i, uh —” but you’re cut off by megumi excitedly blasting his choice of artist: korn.

"your son listens to korn?" you blurt out, giving toji a mix of awe and disbelief.

toji just raises an eyebrow, deadpanning, “yours doesn’t?”

ouch. okay, fair point. 

because no, you do not have a kid, or a husband, or even a boyfriend…or any romantic prospects, really. 

toji’s question leaves you fidgeting as you try to muster a dignified response.

meanwhile, megumi is full-on screaming to the lyrics of "freak on a leash," and you catch snippets like “something takes a part of me!” which, yeah, relatable — korn is honestly hitting the mood. but of course, toji catches you staring out the window, attempting to look casual as he throws you a side-eye.

"so, what’s got you without a boyfriend?” he asks, way too casually, as if this was a natural segue from whatever korn-fueled karaoke session is happening in the backseat.

you practically choke on air. "what, me? no, i’m...," you laugh awkwardly, shifting in the passenger seat. “besides, i don’t meet many guys. i'm just… you know… doing my thing.”

megumi, pausing his headbanging just for a moment, turns and looks at you with an exaggerated ‘yikes’ face, as if being single was the worst possible fate in his young, eight-year-old eyes. 

but then he shrugs, clearly uninterested in this adult drama and goes back to screaming, “feeling like a freak on a leash!”

toji, still watching you, smirks, “so, doing your ‘thing’ includes no boyfriend, no husband... what, are you just swearing off men?”

"uh, no!” you say quickly, too quickly, and feel your face heat up. “just haven’t... y’know, met anyone worth dating. been busy.”

toji gives a low chuckle, clearly entertained. “busy doing what, writing your ‘torrid love stories’?”

you make a face, biting your lip. 

“they’re not that torrid.” but even as you say it, you hear the echo of a particularly cheesy line you’d written for his character in your novel, which, mortifyingly enough, involved the phrase “my darling flame, you set my very soul alight.”

toji chuckles, as if reading your thoughts. “maybe i’ll get to hear one of those lines in real life someday, princess.”

“can we not call me that while megumi’s in the car?” you mutter, glancing back, only to find megumi fully engrossed in his self-proclaimed vocal talents.

“noted.” toji snickers, shooting you another mischievous look as korn plays on, megumi happily singing about “breaking down” in the back.

“but hey,” toji says smoothly, hand resting on the gearshift, “just so you know, even my son knows a good band when he hears one.”

you roll your eyes at him, managing to mumble, “at least one of you is a bit mature.”

the porsche pulls up to the arcade with enough fanfare that heads start turning even before the engine purrs to a stop. not that the onlookers were ready for what steps out next: a towering, chiseled man looking like he’s on his way to a modeling photoshoot, a cute kid in full confidence mode, and, well… you.

still feeling a little dizzy from the korn concert that just took place, you barely register megumi bolting out of the car with a grin, leaving you and toji to get your bearings. his energy’s practically crackling by the time toji pays for the play card, and you’re pretty sure if he has to wait even one more minute, he’s about to combust.

“okay, okay, slow down, megumi,” you say, trying to keep up as he yanks you to the nearest neon-lit game. 

but the kid isn’t hearing it. he’s already dragging you to one machine, and then the next, moving faster than you can process where you even are. each one is seemingly more intense and blinding than the last, and you’re hit with a sensory overload of neon lights, retro game sounds, and the feel of the arcade carpet sticking just a little too much to your shoes.

toji’s watching the whole ordeal with a bemused smirk. you and his kid are like a whirlwind of neon and laughter, barely stopping to catch your breaths between games. the sight is somehow… comforting. like a scene from a life he hadn’t planned but couldn’t help finding strangely compelling.

but then he catches himself. seriously? 

he shakes his head. this is not the time to get all sentimental over his kid’s new ‘playdate’ or whatever. 

he’s just here because megumi insisted, and maybe he thought it’d be amusing to watch you get dragged around by an eight-year-old with zero restraint. that’s it. 

nothing more.

yeah, right. his internal grumbling comes to an abrupt stop as he watches megumi take your hand and pull you over to a classic claw machine. the kid’s looking up at you with the widest eyes you’ve ever seen, all excitement and pure innocence, like winning one of those knockoff plush toys is the pinnacle of existence.

“you got this?” you ask, grinning at him as he lines up the claw with intense concentration.

“of course! my dad showed me,” he declares, like he’s about to go pro in the claw game league.

toji, watching from a distance, feels a twinge in his chest. 

yeah, he’d shown megumi how to play this game ages ago, more to give him an edge over the other kids than anything else. it was a dad-and-son thing, just the two of them. but seeing megumi look up at you with the same pride and excitement makes him feel… something. 

and he doesn’t know if he likes it.

you’re so focused on megumi’s moves that you don’t notice toji’s slight frown, nor do you hear his quiet mutter of, “this is ridiculous.” 

but when he sees the way your eyes light up as megumi successfully nabs a cheap stuffed animal — a lopsided dinosaur, of all things — and the way you celebrate like he’s won an olympic medal, he feels himself relax, just a little.

he chuckles, shaking his head and crossing his arms as you high-five megumi, both of you beaming over a prize that probably cost less than the game itself. but toji doesn’t move. 

he stands there, rooted, as you two bounce from game to game, his thoughts too jumbled to focus on anything else.

but maybe… maybe that’s okay for now.

toji’s phone buzzes just as he’s leaning against the side of a vintage racing game, watching you and megumi practically lighting up the whole arcade with your laughter. he glances down to see satoru’s name pop up on the screen, already feeling a headache brewing.

gojo s. [12:20 pm]: so, arcade? 😏 you [12:20 pm]: yeah, i just told you. gojo s. [12:20 pm]: nah, i mean WHY the arcade? what are we celebrating here, toji? ;)) you [12:21 pm]: why does it matter gojo s. [12:21 pm]: CUZZZZ gojo s. [12:21 pm]: lemme guess, megumi's there with her now, right?  gojo s. [12:22 pm]: bet they’re having the time of their lives, while YOU gojo s. [12:22 pm]: you’re just there all moody on the sidelines😔

toji glances up at you and megumi, who’ve now moved on to a skee-ball machine, both cheering as you score a perfect 50-point throw.

you [12:23 pm]: like i said, work stuff. gojo s. [12:24 pm]: HAHA. work stuff, right.  gojo s. [12:24 pm]: work stuff that has megumi running around grinning like that.  gojo s. [12:25 pm]: bro gojo s. [12:25 pm]: you’re terrible at lying.  gojo s. [12:26 pm]: she’s a keeper if she can deal with YOU you [12:26 pm]: keep dreaming.

he slips his phone back into his pocket, unable to shake off the grin creeping onto his face as he watches you high-five megumi. the kid’s happier than he’s seen in ages, and he…

well, he can’t remember the last time he felt this relaxed watching anyone just being with his kid.

toji stands back, taking in the moment — megumi’s laughter echoing through the arcade, your smile as you lift him up with an ease that has the kid giggling uncontrollably — and for some reason, his mind has turned the whole scene into a rom-com montage.

you are the dancing queen…

it’s absurd, really. 

he doesn’t even like abba. but there it is, the stupid song playing in his head, all set to the image of you holding his son, twirling him like he weighs nothing, both of you in fits of laughter.

young and sweet, only seventeen…

and for a split second, his heart does this awkward little stutter. 

he chalks it up to the neon lights. 

or maybe the greasy smell of the arcade food messing with his senses. but as he watches you hold megumi up, almost as if he’s flying, he can’t ignore that ridiculous, cheesy pull in his chest.

feel the beat from the tambourine, oh yeah...

oh god. 

is he seriously catching himself grinning at the way you’re both trying to get him to join in? megumi’s little hand reaches out, beckoning him over, and you’re giving him that smile, that “come on, get over here, big guy” look.

you can dance, you can jive…

the song hits that soaring note in his head just as he finally gives in and starts to walk over, and his pulse actually picks up, as if he’s not just at some run-down arcade but in the middle of some ridiculously sappy rom-com finale.

having the time of your life…

and then megumi is shrieking again, calling, “dad, hurry up!” like it’s life or death, and you’re beaming at him with that mischievous, encouraging look.

toji sighs, shaking his head at himself. 

just great. 

the two of you have officially dragged him into your world, soundtrack and all.

toji's trying his best to lock in. 

but as he walks out of the arcade — juggling not one, but four oversized plushies, two fancy new lego sets, a slinky, a bouncy ball, some glow-in-the-dark slime, and a rainbow slap bracelet — he can’t help but snort at the sheer ridiculousness of it. 

between his loaded arms and megumi curled up fast asleep in yours, it’s a scene straight out of one of those cheesy family movies.

he shakes his head, trying to push down that weirdly warm feeling creeping up on him. 

stay focused, toji. 

he doesn't need any sappy feelings right now. he's a single dad with a kid and a job, not some washed-up rom-com character, damn it. 

but watching you gently adjust megumi as he drools onto your shoulder, snuggling deeper into the crook of your arm as you carefully slide into the backseat, it’s hard not to feel that tug again.

ugh, he thinks, climbing into the driver’s seat as you buckle up up front, giving him a soft, tired smile. 

“never held a kid before, huh?” he teases, eyes glancing from the road to the rearview mirror, where megumi’s still dozing, soft breaths muffling against your arm.

“nope,” you shrug, but there’s a softness to your voice as you gently rub megumi’s back, “first time for everything, i guess.”

toji’s heart does that weird skip thing again. 

oh god, he thinks, gripping the wheel a little tighter as he tries to ignore the sappy old man vibe overtaking him.

the air in the car feels... charged, but it’s not like either of you are exactly leaning into the tension. instead, you both sit in this weird, awkward silence, save for the quiet hum of the radio, like you’re suddenly too aware of just being there with each other.

and then, as if the universe wanted to toy with you, iris by the goo goo dolls starts playing. 

oh, god. you immediately wish you could just evaporate into the passenger seat.

“...and i’d give up forever to touch you…” the lyrics croon, filling the silence, and you can practically feel the heat crawling up your cheeks.

toji clears his throat, obviously catching it too. “radio’s on a roll, huh?”

“yep,” you say, managing a weak laugh. “i mean, this is classic… everyone listens to goo goo dolls in, uh, total silence in the car with their coworker, right?”

he glances at you, a rare, subtle smile ghosting on his lips. “totally normal.”

“and i don’t want the world to see me… ’cause i don’t think that they’d understand…”

you glance out the window, eyes focused anywhere but on him, biting back a laugh at how the song somehow keeps getting more dramatic. like, who’s writing this scene, seriously?

“just tell me where to turn,” toji says, breaking through your internal monologue, and you do, mentioning a landmark close to home, hoping he’ll take the hint.

but toji only raises an eyebrow. “near it? nah. i’m dropping you at the door.”

“oh, no, that’s really fine —” you start, but he’s already shaking his head.

“don’t worry about it,” he insists, a smirk in his voice. “besides, i remember where you live. from, you know… last time.”

wait. last time? as in… when you were embarrassingly, unapologetically wasted that night?

you want to crawl under the seat as the lyrics continue, “when everything’s made to be broken…”

so when toji pulls up in front of your apartment, there’s this odd feeling hanging in the air. you catch yourself wanting to... linger, just a little longer, even if you’re home. 

and lowkey? 

so does toji. 

it’s like the two of you have hit this weird teenage crush level of awkward — just leaning, leaning, like there’s some invisible string pulling you closer.

he’s looking at you, and you’re looking at him, and you’re both just… stuck there. you can’t even bring yourself to reach for the door handle, and it’s the same for him.

but right as the moment peaks, a tiny, innocent voice cuts through from the backseat. “are you two going to kiss?”

megumi’s question hangs there, blunt and childlike, breaking whatever spell had you both frozen. you both jolt back, blinking as if you just woke up.

“what? no!” you blurt, practically tripping over your own denial. 

your face feels like it’s about to catch fire.

toji coughs, rubbing the back of his neck, just barely suppressing a chuckle.

“kid’s got a helluva imagination,” he mutters, eyes anywhere but on you.

as you finally reach for the door handle, ready to slip out and say your goodbyes, you hear a little sniffle from the backseat.

“wait…” megumi’s voice is tiny, almost shaky. you turn around, and to your surprise, his face is scrunched up, his eyes glistening with tears that he’s trying so hard to hold back.

“hey, hey, what’s wrong?” you ask, twisting around in your seat to face him. “i’ll see you again, kiddo.”

but his lower lip wobbles, and suddenly he bursts into full-on tears, clutching the giant plushie he won at the arcade. “b-but i don’t want you to leave!” he sobs, voice cracking. “can’t you stay just a little longer?”

toji’s eyes widen; he looks genuinely shocked. 

“megumi, you’re fine, she’s not going anywhere forever. what’s gotten into you?” he tries to keep his tone steady, but there’s an undercurrent of surprise. 

megumi doesn’t cry. 

ever. 

this is new territory.

megumi just shakes his head, burying his face into the plushie. “but she’s nice,” he mumbles, muffled but insistent. “and she plays games with me and —” he peeks out from the plushie with red, teary eyes. “and she talks to me like you do.”

you feel something stir in your chest at his words, this overwhelming urge to hug him even though you’d sworn up and down just an hour ago you didn’t know how to handle kids.

“aw, megumi,” you say softly, reaching over and giving his little hand a squeeze. “i’ll still see you, i promise. maybe we can even play again sometime, okay?”

“but you’re leaving now,” he says, his voice quivering, clutching your hand with a desperation that tugs at your heart. 

“and daddy didn’t even kiss you.”

the absolute silence that follows is deafening. 

you feel your face go redder than it’s ever been, and a glance at toji shows he’s equally flustered, mouth opening and closing as if he’s trying to find some way to steer this conversation back to normal.

“whoa, hey now,” toji says, forcing a laugh as he clears his throat. “that’s, uh — that’s not how it works, kid.” he ruffles megumi’s hair a little too hard, clearly floundering. “and hey, don’t go crying over someone just leaving for the night, you’re stronger than that.”

“i don’t care,” megumi sniffles, clutching your hand tighter. “i like her. and she makes you smile.”

toji freezes, the color draining from his face for just a split second. 

makes him smile. 

he doesn’t even realize he’s been smiling, maybe more in one day than he has in months. he glances at you, brow furrowed like he’s trying to make sense of it himself.

“well…” toji’s voice is softer now, almost cautious, like he’s testing out words he hasn’t said in a long time. “

maybe… maybe she could come around again. if she wants to, that is.”

“i do.” you answer without thinking, your gaze drifting to megumi’s tear-streaked face, which immediately lights up.

“really?” megumi’s eyes shine, practically bouncing in his seat. “you promise?”

“i promise,” you say with a smile, giving him a reassuring nod. “as long as it’s okay with you and your dad, of course.”

“’s fine,” toji grumbles, running a hand over his face to hide his slight grin. “besides, someone’s gotta teach you a lesson or two at the arcade next time.”

“is that a challenge, toji?” you quip, smirking. “because if i remember right, megumi here got more tickets than both of us combined.”

“that’s because i taught him everything he knows,” toji scoffs, rolling his eyes as if he can’t believe he’s even entertaining this.

megumi sniffles one last time, his eyes practically glowing with happiness. “then… you’ll come over soon, right?”

“absolutely,” you say, warmth bubbling up in your chest as you meet his hopeful gaze. “but only if you promise to keep practicing at the arcade. gotta keep that winning streak going, right?”

megumi grins, finally letting go of your hand as he settles back with a contented sigh. “deal.”

toji just shakes his head, muttering something about the “drama” gene clearly skipping a generation, though the smile tugging at his lips says otherwise.

as you unbuckle your seatbelt, ready to say goodbye, you feel the car click with the unmistakable sound of the child lock. you glance back at megumi, who’s nodding off against his plushie pile, and back at toji, who’s already climbing out to walk you up to your door. 

gentlemanly of him, sure. 

though, the way his eyes linger on you… there’s more to it than that.

“i could’ve walked myself, you know,” you say, falling into step beside him as you head up to your building. “it’s not that far.”

“maybe i just felt like making sure you didn’t trip and embarrass yourself,” he shoots back, smirking as he nudges your shoulder.

“very chivalrous, fushiguro,” you reply, rolling your eyes but grinning anyway. “honestly, you’re like a walking textbook definition of ‘gentleman.’”

“yeah, well,” he clears his throat, looking just a bit smug. “maybe i was raised right. or maybe,” his voice drops a little lower, “i just wanted an excuse to stick around a little longer.”

you blink, caught off guard by the soft rasp in his voice, the way his eyes are just a bit darker under the porch light.

“oh,” is all you manage, though your heartbeat’s doing a little somersault. “well… uh. here’s my door.”

“guess it is,” he murmurs, eyes glinting as he takes a step closer, leaning against the doorframe like he’s meant to be there, like he’s settled in the idea of being right here, with you. 

“y’know… not a bad place to end the night.”

“yeah,” you say, feeling the words catch in your throat as you gaze up at him, taking in every detail, every shadow. “definitely not bad.”

the two of you are just standing there, a little too close, the space between you narrowing with every unspoken word. he glances down at your lips, and your pulse spikes — he’s thinking it too, right? but just as the moment seems to reach its tipping point, toji smirks, a flash of mischief in his eyes.

“you know,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “still can’t believe you’re the same girl who wrote that… what was it again?” he chuckles, clearly remembering. “oh, right — ‘her legs wrapped around him like a vice, his name spilling from her lips like honey’.”

your face goes nuclear. 

that line. 

of all the lines, that one?

“you… you remember that?” you manage, mortified.

“’course i remember,” he says, that smug smirk firmly in place. “you think i just skimmed through your stuff?”

“well — i — ” your words are a mess, barely coherent. “i mean, i just thought —”

“nah, i’ve been reading it all.” his voice is low, almost a whisper as he leans just a little closer, his fingers lightly brushing your arm. “you’ve got quite the imagination.”

“s-shut up,” you stammer, unable to meet his gaze. “i was just… doing my job.”

“i know,” he says, voice soft but unyielding. “you’ve got talent.”

there’s a beat, silence stretching between you, the weight of his words settling over the both of you.

“...and you’ve got this whole heartthrob thing going for you,” you blurt out, finally meeting his eyes with a nervous laugh. “kind of makes it hard to believe you’re my colleague.”

“heartthrob, huh?” he smirks, voice dipping lower as his fingers drift to your chin, tilting your face up. 

“so that’s what you think of me?”

“i — i mean…” you stammer, your heart racing as you look into his eyes, feeling your cheeks burn. “maybe a little. just… a tiny bit.”

“tiny?” he murmurs, his lips barely an inch away. “could’ve sworn you looked a little more than just ‘tiny’ interested.”

“oh yeah?” your voice is a whisper now, almost breathless as you feel his breath on your skin, his gaze never wavering. “what if i was?”

“then i’d probably do this,” he mutters, his hand sliding up to cradle your face, and before you know it, his lips are on yours, soft and warm and impossibly gentle.

your breath catches, and instinctively, you lean into him, letting his kiss deepen, his hand tracing slow, lazy patterns against your cheek. it’s everything you’d imagined and somehow even better, his presence grounding and electric all at once.

when he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his eyes soft but searching. “so… do i still get to be a heartthrob?”

“only if i still get to be the girl with the cringe smut,” you murmur back, grinning like an idiot.

“deal,” he says, chuckling as he pulls you in for another kiss, his lips brushing yours like a promise.

ah, shit.

as toji slips back into the car, he barely manages to close the door before megumi’s voice hits him like a lightning bolt.

“daddy kissed the pretty lady!” megumi shrieks, pointing an accusatory finger from the backseat. “i saw it! you have that weird face on!”

toji’s eyebrows shoot up. “weird face? what weird face?” he tries to play it cool, adjusting the rearview mirror, but the ghost of that kiss is still painted on his lips, his pulse betraying him with every beat.

“that smile,” megumi says, wrinkling his nose in a perfect mirror of his dad’s usual expression of disdain. “you look like a… like a…” he pauses, searching for the right words. “...like a love puppy!”

toji chokes, stifling a laugh. “a love puppy? where the hell did you get that from?”

“it’s a thing, daddy,” megumi huffs, crossing his arms. “you have that goofy look, and your face is all soft. you only look like that when you’re being weird.”

“me? weird?” toji glances in the mirror, catching megumi’s glare. “kid, i think you’ve got this all wrong.”

“no, i don’t!” megumi insists, practically bouncing in his seat. “you were all ‘goo-goo eyes’ and ‘smoochy-smoochy’ and ‘mwah mwah mwah!’” he makes exaggerated kissing sounds, complete with squished-up lips and hand gestures, utterly scandalized by his dad’s sudden transformation.

“alright, alright, enough with the ‘mwah mwah.’” toji tries to suppress a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “you’ve been watching too many cartoons.”

megumi shakes his head, his expression serious. “nope. i knew it. i knew you liked her.” he narrows his eyes, as if seeing through toji’s very soul. “so… are you gonna marry her?”

toji’s eyes go wide. 

“whoa, whoa, hold on. nobody said anything about marriage.”

“but if you kiss someone, that means you wanna be with them forever, right?” megumi asks earnestly, looking way too wise for his age.

toji stares ahead, caught off-guard by the kid’s earnestness. 

that kiss… he didn’t plan it. he didn’t even know he was going to do it until he’d leaned in, felt the spark pull him closer. but now? 

yeah, the idea of just walking away feels… wrong. he tightens his grip on the steering wheel, his mind racing.

“kid, sometimes people just… feel things, okay?” he says, his voice softer, more introspective. “even if they don’t really know why.”

megumi tilts his head, watching his dad closely. “so you do like her, then?”

toji snorts, pulling the car out onto the road. “alright, detective, settle down back there. no more snooping.”

they drive in a comfortable silence for a moment, but the radio has other plans. 

as if on cue, the familiar, aching chords of iris by the goo goo dolls come through the speakers, and toji swears he could feel the universe laughing at him.

“and i don’t want the world to see me, ’cause i don’t think that they’d understand…”

toji clenches his jaw, feeling the lyrics press into him, each line stirring something restless and warm in his chest. he’s always been a guy with his walls up, always knew the stakes were too high to let anyone in. 

but tonight… tonight, he let his guard down. just for a second. 

he kissed you, tasted the softness of your lips, and the spark left him reeling.

“when everything’s meant to be broken, i just want you to know who i am…”

“daddy?” megumi’s voice breaks through his thoughts. “do you think… maybe you could see her again? so she could come play with us?”

toji blinks, glancing at megumi in the rearview mirror. “you really like her, huh?”

megumi nods vigorously. “yeah! she’s… nice. and fun.” his face softens. “and… she made you look happy.”

toji’s heart gives a strange, unfamiliar twist at that. 

happy, huh? 

he’s been around the block long enough to know that happiness isn’t exactly his best friend. but sitting here, listening to megumi, feeling that residual warmth from your kiss… it makes him wonder. 

wonder what life could look like with you in it.

but he pushes the thought away, focusing on the road. doesn’t change the fact that you’re just his colleague. right?

“and i’d give up forever to touch you…”

ugh.

he shifts uncomfortably, hoping megumi doesn’t notice his knuckles going white on the steering wheel. 

that kiss wasn’t just some fleeting thing — he’d known it the second he felt the warmth of you linger even after pulling away. the idea of letting you go now feels… impossible. something’s tugging him back, making him want more.

“hey, daddy,” megumi pipes up again, breaking toji’s brooding. “you got that look again.”

“what look?” toji mutters, trying to focus on anything but the goofy grin creeping back onto his face.

megumi smirks, mimicking toji’s soft expression. “that ‘i kissed a pretty lady’ look!”

toji laughs, shaking his head as he glances at megumi in the rearview mirror. “alright, alright. i guess you caught me.”

and as he drives home, the final notes of iris playing softly through the car, he can’t shake the feeling that this… whatever this is… isn’t something he’s ready to let go of.

ah, shit.

as soon as toji sets megumi down on his bed, tucking him in amongst the mountain of ridiculous plushies he’d somehow won at the arcade, he heads back to his room. sliding his phone out, he finds himself doing something he never thought he’d do: texting gojo. of all people.

with a reluctant sigh, he taps out a message, feeling a pang of embarrassment he can’t shake.

you [8:47 pm]: how long’s her contract with gojo sonic?

a moment later, he watches the screen, regretting even reaching out. but, of course, gojo wastes no time with a reply.

gojo s. [8:50 pm]: ohohohohooooo her contract???  gojo s. [8:50 pm]: i knew it. you’re smitten. you [8:51 pm]: don’t start. gojo s. [8:51 pm]: too late! c’mon, dish it out, big guy.  gojo s. [8:51 pm]: you guys had a moment, huh? the chemistry finally snapped? what’d ya do, kiss her?

toji clenches his jaw, hesitating before typing back. his thumb hovers, wondering how much grief he’d get for saying yes. finally, he mutters a curse under his breath and just goes for it.

you [8:53 pm]: ...yeah, i kissed her. happy?

he can practically feel gojo’s cackle vibrating through the phone.

gojo s. [8:53 pm]: WHAT???  gojo s. [8:53 pm]: WAIT.  gojo s. [8:53 pm]: oh, i need details.  gojo s. [8:53 pm]: full play-by-play.  gojo s. [8:53 pm]: like was it one of those slow, cinematic moments?  gojo s. [8:54 pm]: or was it a grab and smooch kinda deal??

toji rolls his eyes, fighting off a grin he refuses to admit is there. of all the reactions, he’d been prepared for gojo’s nosiness, but it’s still as annoying as ever.

you [8:55 pm]: shut it. i already said too much. gojo s. [8:55 pm]: pfffff as if i’m letting you get away with that tidbit and no context.  gojo s. [8:55 pm]: did she look at you all wide-eyed?  gojo s. [8:55 pm]: did you do that thing with your voice??  gojo s. [8:56 pm]: or was it just an accidental, “oh no, we tripped into each other’s faces” sorta thing?

toji rubs his temples, trying to block out how much his stupid heart rate picks up just remembering the way you looked up at him, the softness of your lips, the way it all felt so natural. he shakes his head, forcing the memory aside.

you [8:57 pm]: none of your business, and it’s private.  you [8:57 pm]: don’t you dare send any of this to suguru. gojo s. [8:57 pm]: oh relax! suguru’s not that nosy.  gojo s. [8:57 pm]: okay maybe he is.  gojo s. [8:58 pm]: but he’s a romantic.  gojo s. [8:58 pm]: think of it as getting free relationship coaching!! you [9:00 pm]: i swear to god satoru i’ll leave the company if you spill this.

there’s a pause, and for a second toji hopes that maybe he’s scared gojo off. 

but, predictably, the next message makes his blood pressure spike.

gojo s. [9:05 pm]: ohhhhh no no you’re not getting off that easy.  gojo s. [9:05 pm]: i’m calling dibs on being the flower girl at your wedding. suguru can be the maid of honor.  gojo s. [9:06 pm]: no nvm he’d wanna be the best man gojo s. [9:06 pm]: I’LL GET MEGUMI TO CARRY THE RINGS gojo s. [9:06 pm]: genius.

toji practically growls at his phone, already regretting every second of this conversation.

you [9:07 pm]: i’ll delete this whole damn thread. this never happened, got it? gojo s. [9:09 pm]: aww, toji bear, don’t be like that. i’ll take care of your little love story for you, promise. consider me your personal wingman.  gojo s. [9:10 pm]: now tell me this — when’s round two of smooch central happening? you [9:11 pm]: goodnight, satoru.

and with that, he shoves his phone onto his nightstand, rubbing his face with a hand. he can still feel the lingering warmth of that kiss, the way his heart skipped, the unexpected tenderness that’s lodged itself in his mind. 

stupid.

he shouldn’t have even told gojo.

but as much as he regrets letting it slip, he doesn’t regret the kiss itself. 

not even a bit.

as soon as you slam your door shut, you just… stand there for a minute, heart racing, and press your fingers to your lips like it’ll somehow reverse what just happened. 

you kissed toji fushiguro. 

the toji fushiguro.

colleague extraordinaire, with biceps that could probably benchpress your entire life’s savings, and that smirk… oh god, that smirk that had you in a daze.

but the problem? 

there was a mini him there. 

a little him with matching black hair and a sharp gaze. 

you thought he was, like, the cool uncle? but… he’s a dad? 

and if he’s a dad… does that mean he’s married? are you the other woman?!

you pace around, practically stomping into the carpet. 

“okay, okay, let’s think this through,” you mutter, putting your hands on your hips. 

“he… he could be a single dad, right? it’s 2024, it’s not that weird for people to have kids without, like, commitment commitments. but then again, he does look like the type who’d… i don’t know, maybe be exclusive? probably?”

your brain is racing, and you’re spinning yourself into circles. 

“i mean, i haven’t seen a ring on his finger… but maybe he just doesn’t wear it?” you plop down on your couch, practically sinking into it as you cover your face with both hands.

ugh.

“did i just kiss a married man? or worse… what if he’s, like, engaged? or has a live-in girlfriend? or — oh my god, what if he’s in some high-profile relationship and i just stepped into the middle of it? —”

you groan, flopping back. “but he… he definitely leaned in first. i’m not hallucinating. he did! but then, if he’s that willing to kiss me, does that mean he’s… a cheater?”

you sit up and shake your head, wide-eyed. “okay, no, i refuse to believe that toji fushiguro, mr. brooding and brooding-er with a kid who listens to korn, is a cheater. there’s no way… right?”

your own voice is almost pleading as you try to convince yourself, pacing again. 

“i mean, maybe he’s just… really, really committed to… being mysterious. yeah, that makes sense. he’s keeping everything a secret, so that just leaves me spiraling about him… perfect. just perfect.”

you smack a hand against your forehead. “why couldn’t i have asked literally any of this earlier?” you shake your head. “right, because i was too busy kissing him.”

you throw yourself back onto the couch and stare at the ceiling, the whole thing replaying in your head. 

that look he gave you, the warmth of his hand on your back…

stop.

but it’s too late. your brain keeps running with it.

“what if… what if he has no idea i’m freaking out?” you frown. “oh, he probably doesn’t. and here i am, making a whole drama out of one kiss.” you let out a deep sigh.

you flop onto your bed, heart still pounding, and stare up at the ceiling, fingers absently grazing your lips. 

burning loins, they said. melting from one kiss, they said. 

well, no one exactly said that — except every steamy novel you’ve ever read or written, but that’s beside the point.

you groan, kicking your feet up in frustration. this isn’t one of your own novels! it’s supposed to be real life! but now here you are, in the aftermath of what was arguably the best kiss you’ve ever had, practically combusting at the memory of it.

“if one kiss with toji — no, any man — can get me this hot and bothered, how am i supposed to handle it if i ever… you know…” your voice trails off, and you turn over, burying your face into the pillow as if it’ll smother the absurd train of thought. 

but then, just as you start to get your mind off it, his face pops back up in your head.

“oh god,” you mumble, pulling the pillow over your face. “this is pathetic.” you roll over again, laughing helplessly to yourself. 

if this is what one or two kisses do to me… what’ll happen if we actually have sex?

your eyes snap open. “okay, no. no! i didn’t mean toji, i meant, like… any guy! any guy at all! but, oh god, why is it always him?!”

you stare at the ceiling, huffing as your brain keeps looping back to him. 

his stupidly attractive smirk, the way his hand was firm but gentle on your back, how he looked at you as if you were his next breath. 

girl, get a grip.

“this is ridiculous,” you mutter, swatting at your face like it’ll erase his image from your mind. but it doesn’t work; he’s right there, all hot and smug in your imagination. ugh, this isn’t fair!

it’s like all those countless hours you spent spinning erotic fantasies are coming back to haunt you — and in the most inconvenient, infuriating way possible. you scrunch up your face, realizing with mild horror that maybe… just maybe… you wrote this scenario into existence for yourself.

“oh no… is this karma?” you groan, curling up and swatting the air in helpless embarrassment. “girl, this is not supposed to happen in real life. or with toji.”

but there it is: his face, and your wildly racing heart, and the undeniable, excruciating heat pooling in your belly that refuses to quit.

but even with the spiraling, there’s one thing you can’t deny: as much as it’s driving you crazy, as much as you’re practically scaring yourself into thinking you’ve just made the worst mistake of your life…

you kinda don’t regret it. and that’s the scariest part.

ah, shit.

you step into gojo-sonic, clutching your bag with a little more intensity than usual, and it’s as if you’ve entered an alternate dimension. 

the energy is somehow… different. you expect to be greeted with the usual casual nods and waves, but instead, gojo is practically skipping toward you, arms spread wide like he’s welcoming the new queen of the recording studio.

“there she is! our star of the show, our resident heart-throb wrangler!” he coos, louder than necessary. his grin is blinding, and you’re caught between the urge to backpedal out of the building or dive under the nearest desk.

“uh… good morning?” you reply, more like a question than a statement, glancing around to see if anyone else is picking up on his hyperness. it’s like he’s had twelve cups of coffee or ten bags of skittles. “gojo, you’re… kind of extra today.”

“extra? extra?” he throws a hand over his heart, eyes gleaming. “honey, i’m never just ‘extra.’ i am exactly the right amount of gojo for the occasion.”

“and what occasion is that, exactly?”

“oh, nothing much, just a certain someone having an… enlightening encounter last night,” he says with a wink so exaggerated it looks like he’s trying to shoo a bug off his face.

you stiffen. “wait, how do you…?”

“oh, come on,” he waves it off, laughing. “you think you can keep something like that from me? i mean, i might be blessed with an enormous amount of talent, looks, and charisma, but i also happen to have eyes and ears everywhere.” he taps his temple, looking ridiculously pleased with himself.

“seriously?” you glance around, your stomach sinking a little, looking for any sign of smirking coworkers or curious eyes, but everyone’s just… normal? going about their business, not sparing you a second glance. relief washes over you, only to be swept away by gojo’s piercing stare.

“oh, don’t worry. i haven’t shared your scandalous rendezvous with the world. only i am privy to this delightful information — for now,” he adds, wagging a finger. “and don’t look so shocked! nothing juicy stays hidden from me for long. i know all the company secrets.”

you feel heat rise to your cheeks, equal parts exasperated and embarrassed. “gojo, it wasn’t even that big of a deal. it’s not like…” you trail off, realizing he’s hanging on to your every word, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“uh-huh,” he drawls, drawing the word out. “not a big deal, you say? then why do you look like you’re about to start sweating bullets?”

“i’m not sweating bullets,” you say through clenched teeth, then give in and sigh. “look, we just… it was just a… i mean, we’re colleagues, and things got a little… friendly. it doesn’t have to mean anything!”

gojo gasps, mock-horrified. “oh, but darling, this is precisely why it’s so interesting! you, of all people, getting caught up with toji fushiguro? and here i thought you’d sworn off office romances.”

“it’s not an office romance,” you insist, voice practically a whisper. “we just… kissed. once. or twice. maybe. but it doesn’t mean anything!”

gojo leans in, conspiratorially. “and yet you look ready to combust from the inside out just talking about it.”

you huff, throwing him a half-hearted glare. “maybe it’s because someone is making this into a bigger deal than it actually is.”

“you wound me!” he presses a hand dramatically to his chest, giving you an exaggerated pout. “but don’t worry, your little secret is safe with me. i only told you so you’d know that i know. and, you know, to make things extra awkward in case mr. heart-throb walks in.”

“oh, so you’re really just out to make my life difficult?”

he grins, all teeth. “precisely.”

just then, as if summoned by some cruel twist of fate, toji strolls in. he’s the absolute picture of normalcy, no hint whatsoever of last night’s… moment. 

in fact, he gives you a polite nod, a polite nod, as if he hadn’t had you pressed against your own door just hours ago.

“morning,” he says casually, voice smooth, tone nonchalant. he doesn’t even so much as smirk.

you nearly choke. polite nod? normal greeting? did he forget the entire thing? 

“oh, morning,” you manage, clearing your throat, feeling like you’re about to combust again.

gojo, however, is having the time of his life. he’s practically vibrating next to you, watching the exchange with glee.

“morninggg, fushiguro,” he greets toji, voice syrupy with unrestrained glee. “any exciting news today?”

toji raises an eyebrow, shooting him a confused look. “uh, no? everything’s pretty normal.” his eyes flick over to you, calm, almost neutral, as if he hadn’t kissed you senseless just last night.

you clench your jaw. is he really going to act like this? you nearly feel like gaslighting yourself into thinking last night never happened. maybe you just dreamed it, right?

toji’s gaze flicks away from you, unperturbed, as he moves over to get his things ready for the day’s recording. and that’s when gojo leans over and mutters under his breath, “you sure you don’t want to just… remind him?”

“i hate you,” you mutter back, trying not to smile, knowing that he’s secretly rooting for you to fall flat on your face with this whole ordeal.

“i live for your misery, my friend,” he replies with a wink.

meanwhile, toji was absolutely in another dimension of romcom chaos himself, feeling like some kind of high school kid who just had his first crush. he woke up grinning, actually giggling as he got dressed. 

giggling. when was the last time he did that? 

he nearly skipped out the door, and on his drive to work, he found himself humming, humming, to his car stereo like some lovestruck fool. and he didn’t stop there. oh no. 

by the time he reached gojo-sonic, he’d already run through a few extra vocal warm-ups in the car — something he never did this early. he cleared his throat and ran through his usual lines twice, even testing his pitch a bit. no, not because he wanted to be extra smooth today, of course not. he was doing it for the… for the paycheck. 

definitely.

but as soon as he walked into the studio, and he saw you standing there beside gojo, looking all kinds of pretty and polished… he practically heard violins. except no, it wasn’t violins. 

it was, somehow, worse.

his mind cued up dancing queen.

“no. nope. nope.” he muttered under his breath, trying to swat the ridiculous soundtrack out of his mind. but it wouldn’t stop. 

“dancing queen, feel the beat from the tambourine, oh, yeah….”

why, in the name of all things sacred, was his brain doing this to him? he was toji fushiguro, not some idiot falling over his own feet for a girl at work. he gave himself a good shake, squared his shoulders, and tried to keep his composure. yet every time he caught your eye, his chest did a little flip — and dammit if he didn’t want to just pick you up and give you another kiss right then and there.

“morning,” he forced out, nodding as casually as he could.

and there you were, gaping back with that hint of nervousness, looking like you might combust from just a regular “good morning.” 

god, it was almost cute enough to make him actually laugh out loud.

“she’s just a colleague,” he reminded himself, over and over again, as he worked to keep the grin off his face. “a colleague. not some romcom lead you just made out with in front of her apartment.”

yet the way dancing queen kept droning in his head, as if mocking his every move? toji was seriously questioning whether he’d woken up in some kind of alternate reality.

and he just knew gojo was watching the whole thing with a smug look, likely dying to crack a joke, or worse, belt out dancing queen if he somehow figured out what was in toji’s head. 

and knowing gojo? he probably already had.

the studio door clicked shut as gojo swept out with an exaggerated bow, holding up his finger in a silent “one minute” before he launched into his call with suguru in a voice loud enough to be heard two floors down. gojo was probably already going on about the “incredible chemistry” between his favorite team members, or whatever nonsense he’d decided on for today. 

and with him out of the room, it was just you and toji. 

alone. 

in silence.

you shifted on your feet, eyes darting everywhere except directly at him, yet somehow landing right back on him. it was like your brain had a toji magnet switched on, and no matter how hard you tried to look elsewhere, you found yourself glancing back at him.

finally, the quiet got so charged that you both ended up blurting out at the exact same time —

“are you single?”

you both froze, then looked at each other, wide-eyed, like you couldn’t believe you’d just asked that out loud.

“uh,” toji coughed, scratching the back of his neck. “well. yeah, i am. single, that is.

“oh.” you tried to act cool, but it came out as a slightly breathless squeak. “good to know.”

“and you?” he asked, voice low, almost cautious, as if bracing himself for an answer he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear.

“also single,” you admitted, feeling your cheeks warm under his gaze. “which… is also good to know.”

there was a beat of quiet where you both just kind of looked at each other, a half-smile creeping onto his face as you kept shifting on your feet, practically melting under the intensity of his gaze.

“so…” you cleared your throat, your hands fidgeting a little as you gathered the nerve to ask the next thing. “didn’t know you had a kid.”

“oh, yeah.” toji chuckled, a hint of fondness lighting up his expression as he thought of his son. “he’s my kid, alright. handful and a half, that one.”

“he’s adorable.” you smiled, thinking back to the mini toji who had totally stolen your heart. “how old is he?”

“eight.” toji’s voice softened, a rare warmth in his tone that you’d never heard before. “he, uh… he means a lot to me. not that i’d ever tell him that, though. don’t want him thinking he’s got me wrapped around his little finger or anything.”

you laughed, picturing the little boy with his big grin and fearless energy. “something tells me he already knows.”

“yeah, probably.” toji laughed too, and for a moment, there was an ease between you, a shared warmth that made the whole moment feel so… natural.

“so… um, are you, like… a single dad?” you asked, careful with your words, not wanting to pry too deeply.

“yeah.” his answer was simple, but there was a weight to it. “just me and the kid. been that way for a while.”

“that’s…” you bit your lip, not sure what to say without sounding weirdly sentimental. “that’s admirable. megumi’s lucky to have you.

“i don’t know about all that,” he muttered, clearly uncomfortable with the praise but unable to hide a small smile. “just doing what i can, you know?”

“still,” you said, feeling a swell of admiration you hadn’t expected. “it’s impressive. and honestly… seeing you with him yesterday? it was… kinda heartwarming.”

toji looked at you, eyes softening in a way that made your heart stutter. 

“thanks,” he murmured, his voice almost a whisper. “means a lot, hearing that.”

the two of you stood there, closer than you realized, in this weird bubble where everything felt warm and intense and perfect. just as you felt that strange magnetic pull drawing you closer, like maybe you’d just close the gap and —

the studio door banged open.

“don’t stop on my account!” gojo sing-songed, practically sashaying back into the room, a smirk plastered across his face.

you both leaped back, clearing your throats and suddenly finding the walls, the floor, anything else in the room utterly fascinating.

“alright, lovebirds, let’s get this recording started, shall we?” gojo grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he looked between the two of you, not even pretending he hadn’t just caught a whole moment.

toji settled into the recording booth, leaning back in the chair with the script in hand, his voice dipping to that low, gravelly tone that made every line sound like an invitation.

“so,” he began, speaking as the dragon king to the main character in the script, his words practically dripping with intensity, “you think you can resist me? i see right through you… even the bravest warriors have trembled at my touch.”

your breath caught as he delivered the line, eyes wide as you watched him through the glass. 

you couldn’t help it — his character was practically staring into your soul, voice thick and slow, practically wrapping around each word.

“do you know what happens to those who challenge me?” toji continued, his eyes narrowing as he held the script in one hand, his gaze piercing. “they are forced to surrender… one way or another.”

outside the booth, you practically felt yourself melting, feeling a flush creep up your cheeks as you fidgeted with the edge of your shirt. 

toji’s voice, his delivery — it was all too much. how was it possible for him to sound that… that intense? it was like he was actually speaking to you.

“ah, beautiful.” gojo, standing beside you, broke in with a theatrical sigh. “our dragon king sounds magnificent, doesn’t he? i could practically faint!”

you shot him a quick glare, barely masking a smirk. “keep it down, gojo. he’s in the middle of it.”

“oh, i’m just here to appreciate the artistry,” gojo whispered back, feigning innocence as he leaned in to watch, hands clasped together dramatically.

“the choice is yours,” toji went on, his voice softer now, laced with something tender that made it impossible to look away. “join me… or keep pretending this —” he emphasized the word, letting it linger “ — isn’t exactly what you’ve been wanting.”

you swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his gaze even through the glass. 

was he delivering that line as the dragon king or as… well, toji?

but then —

“ohhhh!” gojo chimed in loudly, clutching his chest as if he’d been struck by an arrow. “the passion! the romance! our hero’s heart is pounding!”

toji paused, rolling his eyes as he looked at gojo through the glass. “you really gonna keep interrupting, gojo?”

“oh, don’t mind me,” gojo said, waving a hand. “i’m simply enjoying the magic in the air! please, carry on. do go on.” he pretended to dab at his eyes. “so moving.”

toji gave a small sigh but threw you a barely-there smile before settling back into character.

“and when you finally stop running…” his voice softened, a quiet urgency threading through it. 

“i’ll be here, waiting… because you belong to me, whether you admit it or not.”

your heart skipped a beat, and you found yourself leaning in, hanging onto every word, caught up in the sheer pull of his voice. 

you didn’t know if it was his talent as a voice actor, the lines he was reading, or him, but every word was drawing you in deeper, bit by bit.

“ah, what is it like to be so passionately claimed by a dragon king? how riveting!” gojo murmured dramatically, as if providing a play-by-play to an audience. “she’s helpless, entranced! they both know she’s falling!”

toji cast a pointed look at gojo, barely concealing a smirk. “you done yet, gojo?”

gojo merely grinned, shrugging. “hey, i’m just here to make sure the romance shines through. and oh, don’t worry — it’s definitely shining.”

toji rolled his eyes but kept going, lowering his voice to a rumbling murmur. “if you don’t know where your heart lies, then i’ll show you.” 

he paused, his words lingering in the air like a promise, like he was speaking directly to you.

by now, the studio felt suffused with tension, thick enough to cut with a knife. it didn’t help that every time gojo piped in with another comment, it only made you feel more painfully aware of every detail: the way toji’s gaze kept flickering your way, the way your own pulse raced faster with each line he spoke.

“the truth is right in front of you,” toji continued, his voice dropping low, rough, something smoldering behind each word. “all you have to do is reach out… and claim it.”

“gorgeous! breathtaking!” gojo burst out, clapping his hands loudly. “i can practically see the sparks flying! ah, young love!”

toji finally broke character, raising a brow at gojo with a look of pure exasperation. “you gonna let me finish or not?”

gojo waved a hand. “fine, fine. but for real — if you two don’t kiss after this, i might have to stage a re-shoot.”

both you and toji threw your hands up simultaneously, voices raised in exasperation. 

“gojo, would you please stop interrupting!”

“yeah, seriously, man,” toji added, shaking his head as he glanced over at you with a shared look of pure frustration.

“okay, okay! sheesh!” gojo shrieked, actually shrieked, as he staggered back in mock terror, clutching his chest like he’d been mortally wounded. “all i wanted was to witness some workplace romance! is that so wrong?”

“yes, gojo, very wrong,” you shot back, rubbing your temples. “this is literally supposed to be professional — you should know that.”

toji snorted, crossing his arms as he smirked at gojo. “for once, i agree. you’ve got all the dramatic flair of a middle-schooler.”

“excuse me,” gojo replied, flipping an imaginary hair strand over his shoulder. “i’ll have you know my artistic eye is very advanced.” he let out a huff, but from the grin on his face, you could tell he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

you shook your head, exasperated. “look, can we just get this recording done without any more —”

“interruptions,” toji finished for you, raising a brow as he glanced over at gojo.

“fine, fine!” gojo finally backed off, dramatically sliding into a chair in the corner, arms folded in mock offense. “i’ll be silent as a stone. a beautiful, thoughtful stone.”

you exchanged another look with toji, both of you sighing in unison. 

something told you both that it was going to be a very long day, especially with gojo’s creative direction…

toji, after finishing a solid block of recording, had ended up chatting with the sound techs, leaving you flipping through your phone while you waited. 

gojo, in his usual meddling fashion, suddenly brightened up and declared, “oh! why don’t you have a little chat with suguru? i told him you were here. he insisted on saying hello!”

you raised an eyebrow. “uh, sure?”

gojo sent you a link to join the video call, and soon suguru’s face popped up on the screen. his calm expression softened slightly when he saw you. “well, hello there. gojo wasn’t exaggerating when he said he had a new ‘star’ at the studio.”

you laughed, feeling a bit flustered. “thanks, geto! i hear you’re a partner at a... famous wine company?”

suguru gave a modest shrug. “yeah, it’s called persephone. it’s a small project that grew bigger than i expected. i handle a lot of the sourcing and marketing — keeps me away from here most of the time.”

“persephone? i’ve heard great things about it!” you said, genuinely impressed. “the way gojo talks about it, it sounds like a pretty big deal.”

he chuckled, glancing to the side as if recalling memories. “i started it with a... friend, actually. she was passionate about wine and had a vision that i couldn’t help but support. i guess i have a soft spot for her, and i... well, care about her a lot.”

you felt your heart warm a little at his sincerity, and the slight hesitation when he spoke of his partner. “it sounds like you two have something special going on,” you said, offering a supportive smile. “i’m sure she appreciates everything you do, especially with how involved you are. and honestly? best of luck. that kind of partnership sounds really meaningful.”

suguru gave a small nod, a faint, appreciative smile on his face. 

“thank you. i think she’d like you. maybe one day, if you ever make it out here for one of gojo’s wild wine-tasting parties, we can all meet up.”

“i’d love that!” you replied, already imagining how intriguing that partnership might be. and as you finished up the conversation, it struck you that you’d gotten a glimpse of a different side of suguru — one he clearly didn’t reveal often.

toji hadn’t meant to get distracted, but the second he saw you on a video call with suguru, laughing over whatever he was saying, he couldn’t help it. he’d been halfway listening to the sound tech drone on about waveform patterns, but all of that faded when he caught sight of you smiling on-screen. 

who exactly were you talking to like that? why did you look so happy?

the tech was still talking beside him, but toji’s focus was elsewhere. 

suguru. 

that damn calm, collected face of his. 

the same suguru who he’d seen only sparingly around the company, mostly through gojo’s random updates, but who was still one of the few people gojo actually respected.

toji squinted, his jaw tightening as he took a few steps toward you and pretended it was a casual stroll.

why was he doing this? it wasn’t like he had any claim on you, right? 

sure, there was that one kiss — or, well, those two kisses, actually. 

but still. 

he was a grown man, not some jealous kid. yet here he was, feeling like he had to size up suguru over a damn screen.

before he even realized it, toji had closed the distance. without asking, he leaned over your shoulder, practically shoving his face into the camera view as he met suguru’s face.

“hey, suguru,” he drawled, and the way his voice came out a little gruff didn’t escape him. “didn’t know you were interrupting a busy studio day here.”

you blinked, wide-eyed at his sudden closeness, but toji kept his eyes on suguru, ignoring your flustered reaction. suguru looked almost amused, raising an eyebrow at toji’s unannounced intrusion.

“toji. i’m just saying hi to the new talent here,” suguru replied with a smooth smile, clearly unfazed. “i’m sure you wouldn’t mind me meeting one of satoru’s top finds.”

“top find?” toji scoffed, feeling a weird pang at the words. “i’m the one doing all the work here.”

you shot him a look, somewhere between surprised and amused. “toji —”

but he just grunted and kept going, ignoring your attempt to intervene. “so, suguru, been busy with all that wine business, huh?” he went on, as if suguru’s whole life story had suddenly become his priority.

“pretty much,” suguru replied, a slight smirk in his tone. “it’s been keeping me busy, and i have a…close partner who keeps me grounded. speaking of which,” he turned his gaze to you with an amused smile, “she was the one who started persephone. i’m really just there to support her vision.”

“sounds convenient,” toji muttered, but suguru just chuckled.

you nudged him with your elbow, giving him a warning look. “toji, come on,” you whispered, as if he was the one being out of line here.

he let out a low sigh, then pulled back slightly, looking at you as if he’d just remembered himself. “what? ’m just makin’ sure you’re not getting dragged into any fancy wine scams or whatever.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide a smile. “geto’s company is doing fine, toji. it’s called persephone.”

toji folded his arms and gave a dismissive shrug. “well, just saying. i know people.” 

the whole room seemed to go a bit quieter, and toji cleared his throat, looking away from suguru's patient amusement.

“nice meeting you, toji,” suguru added, with a slight tilt of his head. “take care of our new ‘top find’ there, alright?”

toji clenched his jaw a little at the words, then nodded, pretending he wasn’t glaring at the camera. “yeah, yeah. we’re all set here.”

as the call ended, you turned to him, eyebrows raised, clearly wanting an explanation. “what was that about?”

toji scratched the back of his neck, trying to look casual. “just, y’know…making sure you weren’t getting yourself in with shady people.”

“oh? like, you?”

he let out a bark of laughter, realizing he’d backed himself into a corner. “hey, i’m not shady — i’m just thorough.”

you raised an eyebrow. “thorough? right, that’s the word you’re going with?”

“yeah. and what — you mad at me for caring?”

at that, you went quiet, a faint blush touching your cheeks. 

and toji? well, he could only think of those two kisses again, and how stupidly close he’d just gotten to the camera just to… what? size up suguru? 

he mentally groaned. what was wrong with him?

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[kookslastbutton]

Those Eyes Chico ༓ myg (m) | Teaser

✒ Summary: As the new marketing director for Min Yoongi’s upcoming D-Day album & tour, you’re expected to bring your expertise to the table. This shouldn’t be a problem—you’re the best in the business and you’re used to drawing a strict line between your professional and personal life. But what happens when the lines you’ve fought to keep as separate blur for the first time?

pairing: idol!yoongi x plus size!poc!reader

genre/AU: angst, fluff, smut, slow-burn, coworkers2friends2lovers, winter setting, forbidden love?

word count: tbd, 835 for this teaser

warnings: oc is 28, Yoon is 30, oc is not originally from South Korea, oc has light brown eyes, swearing, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of anxiety, panic attacks, body insecurities, fear of being blacklisted, emotionally restrained Yoon, mentions of smoking, unstable parental relationships, conservative parents, mentions of therapy, mentions of dating scandal, eventual sexual content, and more specific warnings per chapter.

now playing: Sweet Dreams by The Last Shadow Puppets

a/n: Okay this has taken over six months to release but it's finally beginning and I am super excited to share! 🫣 I am low-key terrible at choosing a proper teaser so hoepfull this works haha. ANYWAY, this series is dedicated to my wonderfully crazy friend and beta, Gloom @theuselessdaydreamingidiot, and to all our fellow Yoon lovers bc we miss our sweet man SO MUCH 🥺 Enjoy! 🥰 Also huge thank you to @itaeewon for designing this beautiful series header! Love it!!

Series Masterlist

“Did you get the files I sent to you?”

The woman nods her head in affirmation while sweeping a few pieces of her long, silky hair behind an ear. To strangers, she appears to look about 24 which is only four years younger than yourself but nonetheless she’s the same age as you. Hei-Ran is her name, meaning “graceful orchid” according to Korean translation.

Hei-ran is one of Hybe’s newest hires and based on her experience, a near perfect fit to being South Korean boy group Tomorrow X Together’s new marketing manager. Until about three months ago, this had been your job.

You never imagined giving up the position after three years of working in the role. But with December right around the corner Hybe had other plans for you.

"Graduated summa cum laude with a bachelors degree in BTech in Electrical and Electronics Engineering and a MBA in Marketing from NYU Stern. You worked two years as a brand manager for U.S record label Atlantic Records immediately after graduating, and are now working at BigHit Music as a marketing manager for TXT including liaison with their global marketing team.”

You recall PD Bang’s voice vibrate in the back of your mind from mid-August. You thought you were called into his office to discuss details of TXT’s latest promo, so having your resume read back to you was a sweeping curve ball. Your determination must have far exceeded the heaviness you felt in your chest because before you knew it you, you were shaking hands with your boss in acceptance of your role – the new marketing director for Min Yoongi’s upcoming D-Day album & tour.

The tedious knot that’s formed in the nape of your neck reminds you that as surreal as the situation might be, it’s undeniably real.

Months spent drafting a comprehensive marketing proposal for D-Day; often until the wee hours of the night, inevitably takes its toll on even the mightiest of warriors. An entire new team of fifty people, all of who you’ll be in charge of orchestrating for the next eight months, doesn’t provide much to relief either.

You’re excited nevertheless. Working with one of the most respected artists in the music industry is an opportunity you couldn’t let slip by, especially since the album’s rock-inspired genre aligns closely with your own music taste.

“Thank you so much for helping me get settled __,” Hei-ran’s gentle voice returns you to the present. “I appreciate the time you’ve taken these last few months to train me despite the tight deadlines you have.”

Smiling, you shake your head. “It’s no problem at all and if there’s anything you need in the future, feel free to give me a call or stop by my office.”

“On the 16th floor right?”

“1656A. Take a left off the elevator and walk to the end of the first hallway. The door on the right is mine.”

Referring to any room on the 16th floor as your own is something you don’t take lightly. For one the offices are double the size of any other office spaces in the building. Yours in particular has a giant skyscraper window draped with heavy white curtains. Secondly, the floor above is the 17th floor which is exclusive to Hybe artists only.

"How's the proposal coming along, by the way?" Her curiosity is palpable, genuine in its nature. You’ve always appreciated that in an individual.

“It’s done,” you respond. “Only thing left to do is to prepare for our meeting with C-suite executives next Monday. It’s nearly perfect as is, but the presentation could use a bit of refining in terms of organization.”

Hei-ran is silent for a moment longer than usual before her next inquiry, which is undoubtedly the question on both of your minds. “I can't help but wonder what it'll be like to meet him for the first time,” she muses.

You don’t bother asking for clarification on who the “him” is; you’re already well aware that it’s Min Yoongi. The same subject has managed to intrude your own thoughts more and more as the date of meeting him draws closer. It's peculiar honestly, considering you’ve encountered him before. Granted, it was only a small handful of times the hallway, both heading in opposite directions. Min Yoongi typically greeted you with a hoarse 'Good Morning' those instances, along with a curt nod of his head. You would nod back with a brief 'Morning' yourself. Deep down you feel he'd make a quality friend, though it's only a premonition. It’s not like you actually know much about him beyond those small exchanges.

"I'm not sure what to expect, honestly," you admit. "I imagine it'll be similar to previous professional collaborations—composed, focused, and intense. D-Day is poised to become a global sensation for the next year, so it's going to need our full, undivided attention."

Hei-ran gives a knowing nod. “Good luck __,” she wishes you well as you head towards the elevator doors. Breaks over, back to work.

a/n: Chapter one will be released soon 🙃 Thanks for reading the teaser!

Masterlist | Requests: closed | Taglist | Fic Recs

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[thebarontheabyss]

Hello Patrons!

I have released a small update to the latest chapter, which concludes the night shift.

For fans of Morgan/a, you will get the opportunity to uncover some of their witchy secrets 🧙‍♀️

This update also sets the stage for the last part of Chapter 4, which will be released by the end of April (next week hopefully): Your shopping trip to the Bazzar of Dis in Hell, accompanied by Yaga, the Raven, Shelly, and Peisinoe!

As always, please let me know your thoughts on this update and the one before it, especially regarding the plot. Your feedback helps me understand what works and how to approach the next ones!

READ HERE

*oh, another thing: If you start a new playthrough, I added something by popular demand: more save slots! Have fun in the Abyss :D

[murfeelee]

IWTV Claudia's Celebration of Life: Spark in the Dark - Alternate Universe

As the title suggests, this event is to celebrate the wonderful Claudia; her personality, her aspirations, her journey. The heart for the past two seasons of AMC Interview with The Vampire. This is to take the narrative back to her, proving she's not just a shingle roof for us.

2. Aug 13th & 14th: Alternate Universe

“It’s chaos after you die. It’s a dream from which you cannot wake.” Armand says quietly to Daniel. “Imagine drifting half in and out of consciousness, trying vainly to remember who you are or what you were. Imagine straining forever for the lost clarity of the living—” Armand stops suddenly to glare somewhere to Lestat’s left. “Lestat, I beg you on bended knee to close your mind. I cannot bear to listen to her any longer.” “Listen to who,” Louis asks, sharp as fangs. “CLAUDIA!” Lestat shouts into the swamp, spinning in his inner tube. “These drugs are making me hallucinate our dead daughter. I’ve been listening to her explain exactly how I failed her with much virulence and creativity for the last forty-five minutes.” “What’s she like?” Louis asks, eager as anything. “Magnifique,” Lestat answers immediately. “She despises me. She’s wearing a yellow… I believe it is called a tankini. She has a margarita....” Lestat twists in his tube to glare at Armand. “Montre-lui/ Show him.” Louis squeezes his eyes shut, wrists limp in front of him. Armand’s mindgift transmission is jagged and blurry from the drugs, and Lestat’s view is all the more distorted by his own intoxication, but it’s her, it’s her. Claudia rises from the dead to berate Lestat from her very own inner tube, pausing only to take sips from her human drink. At least she is granted liquor in the hopeless afterlife that is haunting Lestat. Claudia’s hair is pulled back the way it was the day she passed, but her face is baby smooth, no trace of the injury the coven had subjected her to before her murder. She smiles at Lestat, dimple still adorable, no matter how old she gets. “And I don’t give one solitary sh*t if you’ve got him d**kmatized,” Claudia tells Lestat. “He says he forgives you for letting me die?” She brings her fingers together and gestures to her own chest. “I don’t f**king forgive you! ” Claudia starts singing in mockery, bitter as her daddy on his worst nights. She cups her hands (Her beautiful hands! The simple pleasure of her hand in his!) around her mouth like a megaphone. “I don’t forgivveeee you!” “Jesus Christ,” Louis hears Daniel say in the real world before exploding into choking coughs. In Lestat’s psychosis as translated by Armand on LSD, Claudia keeps at it. She urges Lestat to find new and innovative ways to kill himself, embodying Lestat’s senselessness and Louis’ sense in her rage. Their courageous, intelligent, honest-to-God hurricane of a daughter does not look Louis’ way the whole memory, even though Louis deserves the privilege of meeting her eyes again so much more than Lestat does. Even though Louis has spent a lifetime fasting and praying for it. But she is Lestat’s ghost, she haunts him just like she said she would, and Louis figures… He hears his own laugh—hysterical—as the memory ends, the tears wet on his cheeks. Louis figures he’s just too sane to see her these days.

-- Alligator Tears, @siahatha

MY THOUGHTS & CC CREDITS

MY THOUGHTS

A day late, cuz I was busy yesterday.

This post was directly inspired by the latest chapter of an extremely good & unhinged post-canon modern AU IWTV fanfic, where Loustat are back together, Devil's Minion is a thing, and Lestat's being haunted by the ghost of Claudia's memory. Louis' sad that he can only see her through Armand, cuz he can't read his Maker Lestat's mind, ofc.

CC CREDITS

-- IP EP pool floats by me

-- Lestat heatstroke tan line in gamma by me

-- Blood bags by @thebleedingwoodland (X X)

-- Louis swimsuit at MTS

-- Gators at Simszoo

[unexpectedly-haunted]

fic rec list!

assorted hermitcraft + life series fic recommendations!

attempt thirty-three by bee_4: Joe Hills centric time loop fic. Also features Cleo, Scar, and Cub, and I love everyone's characterisation! Haunting and open ended, but still points of hope. Words: 13,617 Chapters: 1/1

To Sit in Hell with You by enemyofrome: Last Life treebark fic from Ren's POV. Focus on these two in the Shadow Alliance because man, those guys were really something else. Obsessed with the characterisation, have reread a reasonable amount. Words: 2,664 Chapters: 1/1

monsters nearby series by enemyofrome: Treebark series where the games are over but the Watchers aren't leaving Martyn alone- really fun exploration of supernatural impersonations and how that might impact your relationship with the real person. I'm not normal about these ones. Second work has a hopeful ending. Words: 13,856 Works: 2

Lifeline AU by SlashMagpie: Scifi/Fantasy AU about body-snatching aliens, also including the emptiness of space, magical worldbuilding, unreality and time travel. Main POV characters are Tango, Impulse + Pearl, but also includes much of the Hermitcraft ensemble + Skizz. Read the entire AU in one night and haven't been the same since, cannot recommend highly enough. Words: 299,349 Works: 6

Blood & Snow by SlashMagpie: Tango gets eaten by the dungeon, or close enough. Unsettling, visceral, and features possession! Has Scar, Bdubs, Cub, Etho, and Hypno POV. Words: 12,425 Chapters: 7/7

the sanctity of the mundane by crabbunch: Double Life SMP series with a fic exploring the relationships between each soul bounded pair. Found each work really fun and compelling, great variety in tone. Shoutout especially to this Cleo + Martyn! Words: 24,712 Works: 7

sculk blossom by crabbunch: Cub centric fic that works as both a character study and a look at his sculk corruption on Empires. Delighted by the horror and characterisation here! Words: 4,065 Chapters: 5/5

Deus Ex Machine by crabbunch: Bdubs POV, an existential/magical horror piece about the power of belief, storytelling, and godhood. Also some great Clethubs! Words: 13,449 Chapters: 8/16

Tangotek Evil Incorporated: Supervillain Tango and superhero Jimmy as arch nemeses. Comedy with a happy ending, and SO much fun to read. Words: 22,445 Chapters: 2/2

there are many downsides to being a marine biologist by donnerstag: Doc's marine biology gets complicated when the latest specimen turns out more human than expected: the siren he names Martyn. Really engaging and well-characterised fic, impossible to read and not end up invested in docmartyn. Trust me. Words: 74,006 Chapters: 27/27

a falling axe, a sharpened knife by sesquidpedalian: Double Life Cleo + Martyn relationship study, where soulmates also have a telepathic bond. Just really enjoyed this one! Words: 2,081 Chapters: 1/1

ectype by sesquidpedalian: Third Life AU where Martyn is there when Grian visits for enchantments. Really neat character study of two guys who aren't anything alike at all, definitely not. Words: 1,603 Chapters: 1/1

never our blood on this sand again by cosmicretribution: Scarian and treebark timeloop AU. Includes angst, the Timeloop Horrors, developing relationships, and great prose + characterisation! Words: 8,905 Works: 2

A Romance Route for the Doomed Villain?! by skelew: Treebark isekai AU where Martyn gets hit by a 2007 nissan micra and transported to a dating sim featuring the villainous Red King. Crack treated seriously, and a great parody fic that also happens to be genuinely compelling. Words: 5,012 Chapters: 1/1

feel free to add on recs in reblogs/comments! :D

[ju-vondy]

Me what,  kitten? (A short Jason X Candy headcanon scene) (OC)

Count of words: 1.996

Warning: Things get kind of hot. Not actual smut, but pretty intense feelings lmao

Also, This is an excerpt from one of the latest Chapters on my Fanfic "Dancing With The Devil" published on A03 under my username Ju_Assis and I'd be very happy if you want to read and leave a kudo in order to make this author happy :D

Good reading, sassy readers!

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Before Jason could finish his sentence, Candy interrupted him with her own dose of determination and challenge: “We agreed to forget it. So I did. You made me swear it would never happen again.” she countered, her voice firm but filled with a mix of anger and fear. “And you know what? I deeply regret giving in to your stupid charm back that day. I’ve always hated this ‘one-night-stand’ thing and-”

“Then why did you give in?” Jason raised his voice. Then, he laughed in realization “I wouldn’t be surprised if all this hatred and disdain you show for me is, actually, a mask to hide something more.”

Jason stepped forward, his eyes fixed on Candy's, his breathing heavy and irregular. His hands trembled slightly, betraying the intensity of his emotions. "Did you hear me, Candy?" he nearly growled, the anger and confusion mixing in his voice. "Maybe this hatred is just a disguise to hide what you really feel for me. Because you don’t have courage enough to confess your lust for me."

He stopped, surprised by his own words. Damn. Had he really said that? Damn. It was exactly how he felt, but he never intended to admit it out loud. He was always the someone wearing a mask to protect his feelings. But now the words had already been spoken, revealing a vulnerability he had always tried to hide.

Candy let out a frustrated grunt and said “I only agreed to fuck with you because it was a moment of weakness, okay? Drinking makes me prone to making stupid decisions. And apparently, horny as hell," Candy exhaled, irritated. Her voice sound more desperate than she intend to. “And besides, I thought I’d forget everything the next day. It was a mistake and… I’ve moved on. That’s it, Jason.”

Jason’s eyes narrowed, his expression hardening at Candy’s resistance. However, amid the confrontation, he couldn’t help but notice a redness spreading across her face, a silent proof that her words were just a bluff.

“If you had really moved on, Candy, you wouldn’t be so nervous now,” Jason declared, his voice filled with a seductive challenge. “You want more, don’t you?”

The heavy silence hung between them, charged with the intensity of their exchange of words and emotions. It was as if they were trapped in a stalemate, each clinging to their convictions while the world around them seemed to collapse. But despite the tension surrounding them, there was something more, something that interconnected them in a way that neither of them could fully understand yet.

Candy met Jason’s intense gaze, her own feelings in turmoil as she fought against the wave of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. Jason watched intently as Candy’s chest rose and fell, breathless, a palpable tension emanating from her. His eyes narrowed slightly as he awaited her response, knowing the truth was coming closer and closer.

She lifted her chin with determination, her expression defiant. “Wanting more of you would be the last thing on my mind,” she retorted, her voice filled with sharp sarcasm. “Especially knowing the kind of person you are.”

“Admit it, Candy,” Jason whispered, moving slowly towards her, making her back away. “You. Want. More…”

She retreated and he advanced, each step filled with the promise of something more. She backed up until there was nowhere else to go: Candy’s back hit the wall. She swallowed hard, tense. Jason raised an eyebrow at her.

And then, in a moment of pure impulsiveness, she grabbed his tie and pulled him closer. “You…” But she couldn't say the words she had in mind. She couldn't say no to him and she blamed the alcohol. Of course it was the alcohol which made her lean in towards him, seeking for his mouth, wasn’t it?

Jason saw the mix of feelings that were going through Candy’s face and chuckled softly. He brought his thumb up to her chin, a gentle yet firm touch that sent shivers down her spine. “Me what,  kitten?”

And there she was.

Suddenly, Candy couldn’t think straight anymore. The way he pronounced that word. Kitten. He knew how to make her so irritated and... Candy grunted, as if that would stop her from feeling the shivers that Jason provoked in her. She couldn’t even remember how to breathe. Not while being so near to him, his smell...

She pulled him even closer while a red alert sounded in her mind nonstop. As if the angels and devils were discussing in her braincells. She ignored it, ignored everything. Because, suddenly, the only thing that mattered was kissing him again...

Because his kiss was like a drug.

And Candy had been in withdrawal for too long.

She grabbed his shirt and their lips met in a searing, intense kiss, an explosion of desire that consumed them completely. Jason almost lost his balance, barely believing that Candy took the initiative this time. Amid the whirlwind of emotions and sensations, they surrendered to the heat of the moment, losing themselves in each other in a frenzy of ectasy and desire while their bodies were moving in a frantic dance of desire, growls, and touches. He gently pushed her against the small round table near the sofa, his hands exploring every inch of her skin as they called each other silly names.  

“Stupid,” Candy murmured against his lips, her hands gripping Jason’s hair.

“Ridiculous,” he replied, his hands sliding down her back, pulling her closer.

They stumbled, moving toward the pool. Jason lifted her and placed her on the soft surface, their kisses becoming more urgent and desperate. “I can’t stand you,” Candy whispered, her voice filled with desire and frustration. “You're unbearable”

“The feeling is mutual, then,” Jason replied, his hands quickly unbuttoning her cropped. She didn’t complain.

Jason’s hands slid into Candy’s right breast, drawing a moan of pleasure from her. He then kissed the skin of her chest, his voice a low growl. “When will you admit that you can’t stay away from me anymore, Candy?”

Candy’s breath hitched as his lips traveled along her skin. “Me? It seems it’s you who are always stalking me like a damn psychopath.” She started to unbutton his shirt.

Jason smirked, his lips brushing against her ear. “What did you expect? You’re like a drug. Your smell, your body, your fucking witty arguments and even your damn presence... Everything. You know?” He gently nibbled her earlobe and let his hand slide down her back, tracing a line with his fingers, making her moan softly. “Oh, I like and I hate it at the same time…”

“I can’t believe this is happening again.” Candy was breathless. “Me and you.”

“It is different now.” Jason replied, raising her skirt.

“Really?” she asked, her voice tinged with doubt, her eyes narrowing slightly as she tried to read him. Different how?

“Yes, because we’ll both remember.” The dark-haired answered and his eyes softened as he saw a flicker of hesitation in Candy's eyes. He gave her a small, understanding smile. Then he leaned toward her, lowering his voice to a near whisper: “Ah, you can’t decide if you want to spend another night with me again, right?”

Silence fell between then. Jason started to stroke her knee, tracing a gentle circle along the slit of her skirt. “What do you want to, kitten?”

“I want to…” she murmured, not sure of what to say. “To make you… I mean, you make me…’’ she swallowed hard, unable to finish “But…”

“It’s okay, you can go away if you want. I’m will not force you to do this if you have doubts.” Jason reached out to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear: “But know this,” his voice dropped,  becoming more intense, “I’m not waiting forever.”

Suddenly he stepped back, and Candy’s heart skipped a beat when she felt his comforting warmth vanish away from her skin. Is he for real? She thought. He just teased me like that and now decided to let me go?! Is this part of a bigger plan or…?  Candy cleared her throat, trying not to think about it too much.  

She began to climb down from the table, determined to leave. But then, halfway through, she stopped and turned back to him, who was watching her with his arms crossed. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. She knew that walking away would only postpone their tension. But the look in Jason’s eyes, the challenge, the desire... it was all too much to ignore.

“Jason,” she called out, her voice trembling slightly. “This is… Madness. You make feel like if we were two stupid teenagers driven by hormones” Candy  grunted, taking a step closer “Every time we meet we argue like two rebel kids.” She stopped. “And we’re not at school anymore. We are two fucking adults, damn it!”

“Sometimes even two fucking adults can be madly dragged to each other so they won’t think straight when they’re together... You know?” Jason smirked, stepping closer as well “The pull of pleasure is undeniable such as it is inevitable. I have to confess I haven’t felt this for a long time.”

“Yes, but…” Candy sighed. “This is ridiculous.”

“But you can’t avoid it, can you?” he replied, his tone a mixture of challenge and longing.

“No, I can’t” she admitted, almost in a whisper, before practically running into his arms, seeking the comfort and familiarity of his embrace. They started kissing again, something more tender this time.

Jason held her tightly, his hands roaming her back, soothing yet igniting her senses.  “See? We can’t stay away for too long. We’re both addicted to each other company.” He paused, his fingers teasing her sensitive spots on her waist. “And that began even before that night where I lost control, don’t you try to deny it...”

Candy’s body responded to his touch, her mind swirling with a mix of anger and desire. She felt herself giving in to the overwhelming sensations, her hands clutching at his shoulders as their bodies pressed closer together.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and filled with a mixture of fear and desire. “I won’t deny it,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I’ve tried to fight it, to ignore it, but it is… Impossible. You are impossible.”

Jason’s eyes softened, and he leaned down, brushing his lips against her ear. “And you are everything I can’t resist,” he murmured, his breath warm against her skin. “From the moment I met you, I knew there was something I couldn’t ignore. And now, here we are. Again. Here I am, losing control. Again.”

“I think....” Candy arched “Were both losing control...”

Jason’s hand moved lower, and Candy arched into him, her breathing ragged. She wanted to fight it, to resist the pull he had on her, but it was useless. The connection between them was undeniable, an electric burning that neither could ignore.

“Have you made your mind? Do you want t-”

“Fuck, yes” and in a moment of impulsiveness, Candy sank to her knees, beginning to unbutton his pants, her eyes glinting with desire as she quickly freed his cock from the fabric of his clothes. Jason watched it astonished and couldn’t help to let go a satisfied laugh as he appreciated her longing gaze towards him. She was just about to take him into her mouth when he grabbed her hair, tilting her head back.

“I’m sorry to say that, Candy,” Jason said, his voice husky with desire, his eyes dark with intent. “but your mouth is the last thing I want right now.”

Candy adjusted her posture, feeling goosebumps rise on her arms as his words sent a shiver down her spine. “What do you want, then?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper, filled with anticipation.

“You know what I want,” he replied, his voice a low growl, filled with raw hunger. “Now get up and give it to me.”

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Ohhh, before I forget, here's the link if you want to understand their story better:

Good reading ❤️ Chapters 1, 2 and 3 are pretty intense and into smut once it begins on the event mentioned in the synopsis/summary LMAO I hope you don't mind

( ͡⊙ ͜ʖ ͡⊙)

Also, I'm brazilian and English is not my first language... So you might see some mistakes here and there but i'm really trying my best when I make the transcription/translation okay ❤️

[floofanflurr]

Last Line Challege

Rules: In a new post, show your latest line (artwork or written), and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you feel like)!

Tagged by @finderseeker

Oooooh, this is cool! Thanks for the tag!

I just finished up writing chapter 23 of Heart on the Table last night! So for anyone that reads that, have fun reading the last line of the chapter before it's even posted!

"Maybe, just maybe, things were going to be okay for once. Frisk just had to be good, and then maybe they could keep this happiness."

I'm sure everything will be fiiiiineeeeee! (Ignore the fact that there is still 15 more chapters to go. I'm sure it means nothing! Nothing bad will ever happen! :D)

No pressure tags! For those who want to participate! (no worries if you don't!) Also I'm not tagging 24 people.... Also also, I invite anyone who wants to participate to do so! Even if I didn't tag.

@lizavet @humankk @sneakyfox55 @lizzie-tempest @just-a-soft-kid @timeofjuly @covfefeships (I JUST REALIZED I WASN'T FOLLOWING YOU, HELP????? SORRY TT.TT) @sunsestart @smol-dargon

HELP I JUST REALIZED THAT THERE ARE MULTIPLE AUTHORS WHO'S STUFF I LIKE THAT I WASN'T FOLLOWING. IF YOU JUST GOT A FOLLOW THAT'S WHY...

[morimakesfanart]

Heyya!. I just want u to know that i've just read your latest fic on ao3 NONSTOP for about 4-5 hours last night and i definitely confident to say that your fic is asuperb work of art...

It's rare to see that kind of fic like you've been working for the last few years... A story with additional comic is really such a breath of fresh air to me these days...

Please, don't stop continuing this super duper amazing fic of yours even. I'm trying not to ask nor demand you to update the fic rightaway, but at least i don't want my hopes got away after just found out about this fic of yours in less than 24 hours...

I'm glad you like it so much!! :D

I have no intentions of stopping. I'm making it for me most of all, and it's been super entwined with my growth as a person and writer/artist.

I always write 2-3 chapters at one time, so if one is posted it's because I have the start of the next set drafted. I just posted ch38, and my drafts go up ch41. There's only one more left in the current arc being posted. I need to do some final edits and the art which hopefully won't take more than 2 weeks. However, I won't start the art until I get ch41 more finalized and get ch42 started. Working multiple chapters at once helps balance the flow in and between arcs.

If I ever hit a point where I think I can't work on Sindria's Prophet ever again, I'll post all of the remaining drafts for whatever arc that ends up being without art. I don't see that happening though since this is not only the only story I'm posting right now, it is extremely meaningful for me, and I can't deny that it's where most of my paying members on Patreon are coming from. The help with the groceries has been extremely important. That pressure does more to make sure I don't lose track of time so I actually finish and post, and not a feeling of obligation tho. I am extremely grateful for the support I've gotten thank to this fic :3

On why writing & art:

I can't tell any story without also drawing it. I'm a visual thinker so I always feel like something vital is lost if I have to describe it in words alone. When I was little I wanted to make animations, but I realized when I was 12 that it would take too long, so I started making comics. I posted my first comics online on dA. They are still up if you find the account.

As it turns out, making comics takes much longer than just writing, and I am but one person. And I also eventually figured out that since I often use writing to process my own experiences there are topics that I want to write about that upset or even trigger me if I draw them to the point I will basically drop a story if I have to draw a long scene of them. That what's happening with my og series PBSN on tapas&webtoons if any one's been wondering why it only updates like 1ce a year now. So with this fic I have figured out how to do a combination of writing and comics. Now I can tell a story in a more timely fashion without losing as much of what's going on in my head as possible AND it has the added bonus of not having to draw the topics/emotions that stop me so I can actually keep working on it :D

But yeah, I am going to keep going with Sindria's Prophet until I reach the end :3

[owlsandwich]

The Mechanics of Magic

Read along with me :D - Chapter 1

I finished my first book almost two years ago, (a multiple POV fantasy - my baby and passion project) but I was never comfortable with the fact that I'd never had an editor. Now, that has finally changed!

I recieved the full edited manuscript back just before Christmas, and have finally got around to working through the edits. My plan is to post each chapter here as I finish editing it - I'd love if anyone wants to join me on the journey and read along :)

(Note - the book is technically still available to buy, but it is the old version which I haven't yet got around to taking down or setting to free - Amazon can apparently be weird with marking things as free so I don't think it's as simple as just logging in and doing it. Feels weird to say, but please do ignore that it exists!)

Next Chapter

Chapter 1 is below the cut!

Chapter 1

A shiver ran down Roy’s spine despite the warm night. His eyes landed on the gun holstered at the guard’s side, and he instinctively reached for his magic to cast a shield. Maybe security wasn’t as lax here as he’d thought.

Even knowing he could block the weapon, seeing one in person made Roy nervous. There was a reason why people rarely bothered with guns in Ardveld, but he still wasn’t keen to test the strength of his abilities. At least he was out of sight. For now.

He shifted atop the wall, long legs numb from perching amongst the sweet-smelling leaves of the overhanging tree. It had been a simple enough climb. Original stonework formed this part of the perimeter and the loose mortar had fallen away at his touch, adding to the deep indents created by time and weather to make easy footholds for his soft shoes.

From here, he had a full view of the house and grounds. There were no cameras yet; his scouting two days before had confirmed that, but still, the old place was definitely wired up. Electric light streamed from the windows on the second floor, but as Roy watched, the lights shut off. Now he could only see the glow of a lamp by the staff entrance, where the guard stood. Moonlight illuminated the rest, revealing the disfiguring silhouette of scaffolding rising at the property’s rear.

Roy wrinkled his nose. He wondered how the original inhabitants would feel about the building’s latest occupant — though really, they didn’t deserve the consideration. Whatever great magic family had lived here before, they held as much responsibility for the takeover as its current owner. Arrogant bastards.

A rumble to his left heralded the approaching car before he saw it. Bright headlights lit up the tall gate that enclosed the estate’s front courtyard, and Roy watched as a man leant out of the driver’s window to tap a password into a keypad embedded in the red-brick gatepost. With a hum, the gates swung open, and the car continued through. New enough; the plates marked the white vehicle as barely a year old, but it was still not something Felix Marek would be seen dead in. This was no doubt a staff member instead.

The shift change would be his best opportunity. Drawing a little more magic, Roy focussed on forming the illusion that would darken his clothes and red hair. Nothing special, but it had been over a decade since he’d last had to cast one, and it definitely showed. Manipulating light well enough to replicate reality was beyond his skill, but the smudged effect his spell gave would at least provide him with some camouflage.

Gravel crunched as the man from the car crossed in front of his hiding place. Roy slipped down from the wall and followed, keeping sufficient distance to hide both his footsteps and the magic radiating from him. A strong enough mage might sense him anyway, if they were paying attention, but that kind of power would make them easily detectable by other magic users themselves. With any luck it meant the man was weak, if he was even a mage at all, and the waste energy from Roy’s crude illusion would go unnoticed.

The guard at the staff entrance raised a hand in greeting as the new arrival approached. Now that he was close enough, Roy recognised the symbol on both men’s black uniforms — the sunburst logo of Sunstone Enterprises.

That explained why he hadn’t sensed their presence. Sunstone belonged to Aiden Heliodor completely now that Felix Marek had sold his share and retired to Ardveld, but apparently Marek had brought Sunstone security with him anyway. Few mages were born in Vailberg, and any magic users that Sunstone employed wouldn’t be relegated to guarding an empty house.

The two guards exchanged greetings, their conversation carrying easily across the calm air of the courtyard. From his position in the shadows, Roy analysed the staff door behind them. It had an electric locking system, which blinked with a green light as the first guard swiped a card and pulled it open.

Magic ready, Roy launched his shield spell towards the entrance. Shaped by his will, it wrapped itself invisibly along the narrow edge where the door would lock. As expected, neither of the guards seemed to notice and Roy retreated against the wall of the house, focussing his mind on maintaining both the shield and his illusion.

After some time, two sets of footsteps passed his hiding place; one guard was presumably leaving to patrol the grounds, and the other heading home to their bed. If either had looked, they would have seen that the lock’s light remained green behind them.

The door swung open at the push of Roy’s gloved hand, clicking shut behind him as he released the shielding spell.

The chemical smell of fresh paint dominated the little kitchen in which he found himself. Though the walls were a glossy white, the scuffed bare stone of the floor told him that refurbishments to this room were incomplete. A closed door at the back of the room led to the main body of the house. This one was unlocked, and after a pause to listen for footsteps, Roy passed through.

It was warmer inside and would have been cosy, had it not been the height of summer. Instead, the plush carpet had trapped the day’s heat, making the air close and heavy. Roy dismissed his illusion, the disguise no longer worth the focus it took to maintain, and drew a deep breath.

The stale air didn’t help with the sense of confinement, and he unzipped his brown jacket, flapping it open in an attempt to dry the sweat forming on his skin. He was in what looked like a ground floor foyer, composed of a small seating area below a spiral staircase that led to the top floor.

Here at least, the house retained some of the elegant, Ardveldian style that would have once defined the property. Dark green walls were embossed with an angular design, extending up to a high ceiling swirled with intricately carved patterns.

Not that Felix Marek wasn’t trying to impose his mark here, too. It was now clear to Roy that the scaffolding he’d seen outside was just one part of an extensive remodelling. Dust sheets covered the floor where a large fireplace had been installed, comprising an elaborate mantelpiece over a deep hearth. There would have been no need for fire in the original construction, not when the staff could use their magic to charge the passive spells for heat and cooling.

What had happened to them, Roy wondered, when the family that owned this place fled?

The familiar heat of rage burned through him, untempered by how simple this break-in was proving to be. He’d come for answers, but all was quiet, the security lax. Marek might have something to hide, but if this was his set-up, then any evidence was most likely back in Vailberg.

In any case, Roy was here now.

Tall windows lit the staircase with the eerie glow of moonlight, and Roy headed up to the second floor. As he turned the corner, the disapproving eyes of a portrait peered down at him from the wall. Whoever painted it must have been in a forgiving mood; Felix Marek’s wispy hair looked near dignified in this depiction, and you could almost believe he still had the muscular physique of his youth. Roy gave the painting the finger as he passed. Unfortunately for Marek’s ego, television cameras told a different story.

Roy wasn’t sure where he was going but had let instinct carry him upstairs, knowing the building work on the ground floor likely meant that nothing of interest would be stored there. The corridor here smelled of fresh paint, like the guards’ room below, but he was relieved to see that this floor also had carpet to muffle his footsteps.

Still watching for movement, Roy reached out with his magic sense. There was no answering presence of another mage and, though this didn’t guarantee the upstairs rooms were unoccupied, it gave him confidence enough to move on.

The lights he’d seen from outside had been to the left of the house, so Roy went right, running a hand along the bump where wooden panelling met newly papered wall. He couldn’t help smiling as he did so. This was the satisfying sensation of being in a place he didn’t belong, echoing the buzz that had driven him to a multitude of less-than-legal activities in his teens.

Magic flaring against his fingertips brought him to a sudden stop. At first glance, the wall here looked no different from the rest of the corridor. But then Roy spotted the narrow gap that ran from floor to ceiling. It was a magic-locked door, flush with the wall and concealed, with no obvious entry point other than a thin, metallic strip along the gap in the panelling.

He licked his lips as he saw the metal, his trained eyes instantly recognising the simple alarm that had been embedded in the wood. It would sound an alert if anyone opened the door, but he had come prepared. Roy reached into the inner pocket of his coat and grasped what he was searching for: a thin rectangular magnet. Alarms like this were common, especially on internal doors that required little security, but the wires inside were easily tricked. Held near the metal connector, a magnet would temporarily disable it. The magical lock, however, should provide a bit more fun. Magnet ready, he turned his attention to the passive spell that was keeping the door shut. The moment he extended his power to read the spell, he recognised it. He froze, blood beating through his ears as he ran over and over the familiar pattern, his shock tinged with pain and grief.

Roy had not encountered a lock like this since he was eight years old. Not since his mother had crafted simple replicas for him to solve — basic imitations of the spells that secured the palace where she had worked.

This was a palace lock.

Fear had swept the country in the days and months following the takeover and, for a moment, Roy felt that fear again. Ardveld’s most powerful mages, slaughtered by their Velbian guests without a mage among them. The Royal Family and their four Champions… All the apprentices and staff who had been at the palace that day. In the twenty-three years since, they’d never revealed how it had been done.

No one left alive should be able to craft something like this. Certainly not for the home of someone like Felix Marek.

Roy realised he was shaking and forced himself to focus. He pulled off a glove with his teeth and rested his hand against the rough wallpaper over the door, reading the spell more easily without the physical barrier. It didn’t seem much more advanced than the practice locks he’d cracked as a child.

Passive spells sustained themselves via a continuous flow of magic imprinted on a physical object. They looped via a framework created from the caster's will, beginning at the start of their intent through to the completed instruction, and so on, over and over again. Further intentions could be layered over the top; in the case of a locking spell, this usually meant adding a pass signature and additional bindings to a door that would each need to be unravelled for the spell to break.

Any spell could theoretically be broken with enough force, but by feeling the weak point in the loop — the point at which the caster’s intent began — only a slight nudge of magic was required to unhook the connection and disperse the spell’s structure.

What made the palace locks different from any other Roy had encountered was the introduction of false loops. It took exceptional focus to set up false intent within a passive spell; it was a lie, told to both caster and reader. The false loop lay over the true instruction, obscuring the weak connection point from view.

This lock had three.

Though feverishly curious about the caster, Roy focused, closing his eyes and working his way through the spell. He unhooked each true loop in turn until, with a whoosh of energy, it dispersed into nothing.

He allowed himself a smug smile, then pocketed his glove, pressed his magnet against the alarm and pushed the door open.

The room was smaller and darker than he expected, lit only by the moonlit corridor behind him. If there was ever a window in here, it had been bricked up, leaving the air stale. Roy didn’t want to risk touching the light switch. Instead, he generated a small magelight that reflected off the glass cabinets lining the walls, then shuffled further inside.

His magic sense immediately picked up the radiating energy of half a dozen spells — traces from small trinkets, faint from behind the glass. Roy directed his magelight towards the nearest cabinet and looked over the contents. A tea set, some metal cylinders, a pair of glasses… Only some had their passive spells still present, though it wasn’t like Marek would be able to tell.

Hair prickled on the back of Roy’s neck and he jerked around.

For a moment, he’d thought someone was in the room with him, but everything remained still. As he scanned the walls, his eyes picked up a faint glow from a cabinet on the opposite side. He moved closer, and the unsettled feeling grew as he approached.

Roy was surprised to find the cabinet empty except for three slim wooden rods, about half the length of his forearm. A handle was carved into the end of each one, reminding Roy of the wands used in the old fairytales. Two were dull and charred, like they’d been taken from the edge of a fire, but the last one glowed, a sickly light emanating from small marks etched into the surface.

Roy opened the cabinet, feeling out with his magic to read the passive spell that must be there. Then he realised what was wrong.

There was no spell. The magic given off was undirected. Faceless.

Whatever marks were carved into the wand were too difficult to see in this light. He went to pick it up, but as his hand tightened around the smooth wood, a jolt of energy coursed through his body. Roy reeled against the cabinet, stomach lurching as his own magic reacted with the intrusive power that surged through him. In a second it was gone, and he was left swallowing the bile that had risen at the back of his throat.

Too hot. He couldn’t breathe. Roy’s vision spun like he’d just finished a Friday night at the bar, and he staggered to the door, yanking it open. Breathing heavily, he leant against the banister until his mind cleared enough to realise that the ringing in his ears was coming from outside his own head.

“Shit.”

He’d completely forgotten about the electric alarm.

Footsteps from the floor below told him that it had alerted the guards to his presence. He backed away from the stairs, wondering briefly if he should try to leave the way he came in. The thought was quickly dismissed as he locked eyes with the man rushing up towards him, gun in hand.

Roy turned and bolted. An angry shout followed, but he was already casting a shield that would cover his back. The corridor ended in a wall, but there were more rooms to his left and he slammed through the first door that opened.

Inside were more of the building works he’d seen downstairs. Dust sheets littered the floor in front of the new hearth, and on either side were windows, through which he could see the bars of scaffolding.

Without time to think, Roy leapt towards the nearest window, fumbling with the latch. It clicked open just as the first bullet ricocheted off his shield, accompanied by a wave of exhaustion as he tried to maintain it. Ears ringing from the gunshot, he threw himself out onto the scaffolding, descending in a half climb, half fall to the garden below.

A second bullet grazed his shield, and it took all of Roy’s focus to prevent it from shattering. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold it if another shot struck. Whatever that wand had done to him, he was running low on magic, and exhaustion was further depleting his willpower. So much for guns not working on mages.

Electric lights blazed on in the house behind him, flooding the patio. Landing had expelled the air from his lungs, but Roy didn’t wait to catch his breath, instead sprinting further into the garden until he was lost in the darkness.

*

The wall at the end of the garden was as easily scalable as the one he’d used to enter. Roy hurdled it and didn’t stop running until the dirt-covered country path from the house became a streetlamp-lined pavement.

Lungs burning from the sprint, he fumbled off his jacket and turned it inside out to display its lighter lining. It wasn’t much, but it might throw off anyone looking for him. As he did so, he saw the point of the wand poking out from a pocket. He barely remembered putting it there, though thinking back, he must have still been gripping it when he left the hidden room.

Hesitantly, he brushed a finger against the smooth wood, bracing for a shock of magic. But this time it didn’t come. Roy pulled it out as he replaced his jacket and noticed that, though there was still a glow from the symbols, it was now very faint.

The sepia light of the streetlamps was enough for him to see the markings clearly. Each was a series of fine lines ending in circles — they seemed only vaguely familiar until he saw the last. It was a horizontal line with two more lines fanning up from each end, and one vertical line striking down through the centre. Small circles marked the joins with a large circle crowning each point, and Roy’s hand quivered as he looked at it.

It was the mark of the Ardveldian Royal Family.

Next Chapter

@teacupsandstarlight

[ahyesthesufferingoftvteens]

Hi again! :3

Before reeve's reveal in the fic and once moon fever was mentioned in the fic and how it affects those who have it, I had (and still do kind of have) this little theory where not only can moon fever mess up with you and throw in hallucinations at you, but can also affect your physical appearance as well... here it is!

fun fact: when I finished doing the silly on the left I called it a night and went to bed. Then the next day i finished putting on my uniform then came here and check the latest in the hollow tag, only to be jumpscared by a depressed old man that looks like he could die from sleep deprivation at any moment XD

(it also BRUTALLY debunked my theory but let me be delusional for a bit if you don't mind)

The reason why they have galaxy-like spots is pretty obvious, because it's MOON fever, I took it literally and got carried away. moon fever is of course related to jackawock but it could also be related to the moon and stars......and galaxies..... ye

the spots act kind of like vitiligo but not really since they follow a pretty specific pattern before making their entrance

sometimes and entire limb or more can be full of these spots, but it's not that common :p

they also have horns, because yes, horns are pretty cool B) (I have a little hyperfixation with horns if you could not tell)

jackawock shapes the horns for those who are bound to be cursed, if you get a set of horns that is like on the side of your head or prevents you from sleeping in a more comfortable position.... then it must suck to be you I guess xd

there are very few times the horns can be perfect to sleep with and not be a burden, but it's very rare

jackawock can make a human's appearance as fucked up as he wants it to be if he feels very silly one day, but a beautiful kind of fucked up

because of this, those who are cursed use illusion stones to help cover up their appearance in order to not scare others

the only downside to these stones (that I can think of atm) is that their effect only works during daytime, and wears of at night

because of this, it's best to sleep during the day since that solves the issue of being stuck with an unfortunate set of horns and help them to at LEAST get some sleep, it's like the horns were never there to begin with! :D

the patterns will also be covered

by the looks of reeve's design, I'm just gonna assume those who are accursed with moon fever all have eye bags under their eyes and look like they haven't slept in a g e s XD

the galaxy spots can morph into weapons like the example in my doodles, because it's cool B)

although I said the lil guy on the right's horns might be what reeve's horns could look like, I feel like the appearance of the guy on the left is what reeve would look like without the illusion stone, just a bit more fucked up looking..... just a small portion. A part of me wants to believe this theory could come true in later chapters (i'm delusional :3 :heart_emoji:)

alright enough of me rambling, after thinking about how cool and terrifying of a concept moon fever can be, at what age does it usually develop? cause if remember correctly, reeve's case started when he was still a teenager or when he became an adult (speed reading is bad for your memory guys), if that's the case then MAN he's been tormented by hallucinations for a long.. LONG time.

why do I always wait till last minute to start doing things like drawing?

reeve needs a hug, lots of love and affection too! Vanessa will be there, right? :[

speaking of her, are they like..... engaged?... married??.... are they dating or hanging out??? I'm confused :""v

I'm sorry if this is too much for you to answer or give your honest thoughts and opinions on, I'll get out of your hair now GOODBYE!!! i'm going to bed :3

YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW TOUCHED I AM I'M LITERALLY CRYIIIIIIINNG?!?!

You don't understand how little The Hollow fandom engages with each other. Someone drawing things for my AU? A dime a dozen! This is the highest order of a compliment to me!!! Please do this more often?!?! I don't care if this was just debunked theories I literally love all of this and I'm debating if I should add some aspects to this in the fan-fiction after all! Your art gave me an idea for Reeve having hallucinations of having a monstrous appearance. It would fit his issues perfectly!

To answer one question for you and those on my blog. Vanessa and Reeve in Realm of The Forgotten are not necessarily dating. They are friends with benefits. RTF Reeve and Vanessa are both very sad 30-year-olds that hold immense guilt and shame and disgust and feel they share a responsibility with what happened with Adam and what happened after Adam was comatose. They view themselves as Lilith and Brutus. They're both very stuck in the past. They drink mead and get together every family gathering and then mostly write each other letters otherwise. They do care for each other, it's just...very much closely platonic, but also they are "comforting" each other. Plus Vanessa really really really wants a child and Reeve is willing to help Vanessa achieve that goal; He heavily isolates himself in his temple. He's a man that wouldn't mind relieving some stress.

I'd be willing to answer some other questions, but that requires Mutual Access, which comes with the added benefit of knowing some of the non-revealed plotpoints...so @shadowx16 hurry up and become my mutual already! You're so coooooool!!! I wanna be your tumblr buddy! ^O^

[godihatethiswebsite]

I just wanna say, I read a lot, both books and fanfic. I consume and like 20 minutes later I can't remember half of what I just read. I went to bed last night and woke up STILL thinking about the latest chapter of Tethered Bonds IN DETAIL 'cause it hurt that bad. You said 'hurt no comfort' and goddamn did you mean it! (I love it. I love it and I'm (very im)patiently waiting on the edge of my seat for the next chapter.) That's all okay byeeee :D

Awwww thank you! ❤️ I can be the same way with reading so I totally get when you find one that wraps you in cling wrap XD

Also technically the hurt/no comfort applied to the first chapter because originally I was planning on it just being a oneshot...

[romaine2424]

Daily Blog June 24, 2023

It's Saturday, which means chore day around my household, which also means today's blog will be shorter than usual. :)

What I'm reading:

Still working my way through The Changeling. But I also read a new h/d chapter fic that was just completed, which was okay. It had it's moments but the plot fell apart at certain points. I liked it enough to finish it, but not enough to rec it or suggest others go read it. I did finish The Light More Beautiful last night. I admit I wasn't expecting what Harry's injury actually was. It was such a great read!

(New Category) What WIP I'm following:

Okay you Drarry fans turn away now because this a Dramione chapter fic. Let The Dark In is @senlinyu 's latest fic. The author is one of the premier authors for Dramione and is well known for writing Manacled (377K). I could write an essay on how good that fic is. Blew me away. One of the bravest and most satisfying endings I've read in a fanfic. Let The Dark In is an AU focused on Hermione. There is No Voldemort. Harry has his parents and others, but that doesn't make this fic anywhere close to soft. Hermione is morally grey in this. While Muggle-borns are allowed into Hogwarts, they are looked down upon by most everyone and not allowed into higher positions at the Ministry. She's striving to become Head Girl by her seventh year so she can show them all that Muggle-borns are just as good. But then in her 6th year, the Tri-Wizard cup happens and Draco arrives as a Durmstrang competitor. The fic is at 32 chapters currently and close to 170K. If you love plot, really really good plot, click that link and enjoy.

Tumblr Drarry Fic/Art Resource:

I'm guessing most of you already follow @lostdrarryfics. I admit that I love reading the asks, and despite all of my fic reading I rarely know the the fic they're looking for. @lostdrarryfics home page is a definite goto. Their pinned post has links to a wealth of information, especially the one to Drarry reccers. Can't thank them enough for all they do!!!!!!!!

As I was saying above, I love reading the asks. I find it fascinating what people actually remember from a fic they've read. It's even more interesting humbling when it's one your own. I remember years ago on LJ where there was a similar findfic service someone asked for a fic and what they remembered was H/D discussing their bathroom habits. Harry was shy to go in front of Draco and Harry teased Draco about his morning routine. I cracked up that someone put that in a fic......I about died when the answer was one of my fics. Seriously, a 500K fic filled with drama, angst, action, and this was one paragraph but it's what they remembered. Amazing. So you never know. LOL

Enjoy the rest of the weekend. Russia, Russia, Russia has me very confused.

Cheers,

Rom

[senashenta]

Horror High: Chapter Nine

Title: Horror High

Pairing: Destiel

Rating: Explicit (in other chapters)

Warnings: Sex, Violence

Summary: John Winchester plants his eldest son at Caspar High in Jacksonville because weird things have been happening there: people disappearing. People reappearing only dead and drained of all their bodily fluids. Cocoons. It’s up to Dean to figure out what’s stalking Caspar’s halls and deal with it accordingly; but then he meets the New Kid—newer than him, even, the New-New Kid—Castiel Novak, and all his plans get severely derailed. Now Dean has to juggle the supernatural case—a really hungry jorogumo—and also the fact that he’s very quickly falling in love, something that is absolutely forbidden by his dad.

Meanwhile Castiel, shoved into the third new school in a year because his adoptive father—Chuck Shurley’s—job has them moving around a lot, struggles to fit in at Caspar High, not only because he’s the New Kid but because he’s the weird New Kid. Dean seems like a saving grace, a harbor in a storm, someone who doesn’t judge him—that is until Cas finds out about Dean’s night job. Cas’s life just got a whole lot stranger—but that doesn’t stop him from falling for Dean, regardless.

Notes: Second-last chapter, only one more to go after this! Also available ON AO3! :D

HORROR HIGH TUMBLR MASTER POST HERE.

HORROR HIGH Chapter Nine By Senashenta

Four days into his convalescence, and Cas was already going stir-crazy.

Dean continued to visit him every day to keep him company for a while and help him with his bandages, but he could only stay for so long before he had to get back to the motel to keep an eye on Sam (or Cas’s father kicked him out so Cas could continue resting up from ‘the flu.’) They took to showering together each day, but somehow managed to keep their hands off each other after the first time (mostly.)

Cas had spent most of the first couple of days after being injured just sleeping through the pain, of course, but after that he started carefully puttering around his room, toying around on his laptop—looking up news reports about what had been found outside Caspar High the morning after the Hunt; apparently it was all being written off as a prank or vandals—and reading books. All things that didn’t pull at his wounds too much.

On the fourth day, he was sitting in bed, trying to read his copy of Good Omens and unable to concentrate at all when he finally dropped the worn paperback into the rumpled covers and flopped back. He winced faintly when the gashes on his ribs protested the movement and stared up at the stars on his ceiling for a moment.

He was bored.

A quick glance at the clock on the bedside table told Cas that Dean was late getting there: it was almost five and he was usually there by four at the latest. And it had been four days. Surely he could go outside now, at least for a little while. (His “I’ve got the flu” excuse could only last so long before his father got suspicious, anyway.)

So finally, he dropped his book on his desk and proceeded to get dressed, with only a minimal amount of wincing and cursing under his breath. His ribs really were on the mend, but there were some movements (particularly bending at the waist) that pulled them and made them protest. It made getting his shoes on when he got down to the front door an interesting feat to say the least. He was sitting on the little bench by the door, struggling to get his second shoe on when his father’s voice piped up: “Did I just hear you call your shoe an ‘assbutt’?”

Cas didn’t look up but shrugged with one shoulder. “I ran out of more creative insults.”

“Where are you going?”

“To see Dean.” He finally got his foot in his shoe and made a quiet triumphant noise as he quickly tied it.

“And you’re feeling better?”

Uh. Cas straightened, then stood, forcing himself not to wince, and gave his father a nod. “Yes.”

Chuck stepped forward and reached to rest a hand against Cas’s forehead, obviously checking for a fever, but when he didn’t feel one, he dropped his arm again and smiled. “Okay. Go on, then. Tell Dean I said hi.”

“I will!”

Cas scooted out the door before his father could change his mind, heading in the direction of downtown. It normally took just under an hour to walk between his house and the motel, but he kept having to stop and take rests or catch his breath, so this time it took longer. Still, his phone told him it was only just before six-thirty when he arrived on Dean and Sam’s doorstep, which he figured wasn’t all that bad, considering.

He knocked on the motel room door, listening for movement inside, and could hear Dean’s voice, raised, sounding aggravated—and it was Sam who finally unlatched the door and yanked it open with a surprised look on his face. “Cas!” And then he lowered his voice with a glance over his shoulder, “what are you doing here?”

“I was going crazy, cooped up in my room.” Cas lifted a hand to hold at his ribs almost absently, “and Dean was late, so I figured…” He trailed off when Dean’s voice raised another pitch before dropping back to normal again, “what’s going on?”

Sam looked over his shoulder again, then sighed and stepped aside for Cas to come in. Over by the kitchenette, Dean was pacing back and forth, his old flip phone up to his ear and a frustrated look on his face—he kept trying to say things, only to clearly be interrupted by the person on the other end of the line. Eventually he was down to simply “yes, sir” and “no, sir” over and over again. Cas very quickly figured out he was talking to his dad. When Dean looked over and saw him, surprise flitted across his face—and then he got pulled back into the obvious dressing down he was receiving from his father.

“Dad figured out he finished his Hunt a few days ago,” Sam explained, voice low, “he wanted to know why Dean didn’t call him right away.”

Cas winced at that. “Oh.”

“They’ve been going at it for almost two hours now,” Sam continued, “Dean doesn’t want to tell Dad about you, but I think he’s doing to have to. It’s… not good.”

Guilt crawled up Cas’s spine and he looked over, watching Dean argue quietly for a moment. “This is my fault.”

“It’s not.” Sam insisted. “All you did was get close to Dean. That’s not a crime.” The younger teen was currently shoving clothes into a duffle bag—

“—BECAUSE I MET SOMEONE HERE, DAD! I HAVE A BOYFRIEND!” Dean abruptly blurted from across the room, his voice nearly a shout. He had one hand planted on the kitchenette counter, green eyes glaring at the countertop harshly. “Yes, I mean a relationship, what else would I mean by ‘boyfriend’?! I—”

Cas and Sam both cringed when the voice on the other end of the phone got so loud that they could hear it demanding an explanation. Sam went back to shoving clothes in the duffle bag, shoulders hunched a little.

“—because he’s—sick—right now, Dad, and I don’t want to leave him while he’s—” Dean made a frustrated noise and glanced toward Cas from the corner of his eye. After a moment of yelling from the other end of the phone he kicked the counter in front of him and muttered, “yes, sir… I know, but—”

“Come on,” Cas was watching Dean worriedly, but Sam tugged at his arm, hefting the duffle bag of clothes up over his shoulder. “Knowing how Dean feels about you, and knowing Dad, they could be at it all night. There’s no point in standing around listening to it. I’m going to go do laundry and you’re coming with me.”

Though he was reluctant to leave, Cas understood the logic. There was also the fact that he was sure there were things Dean couldn’t say with him around. So, he gave a weak little wave in Dean’s direction and just followed Sam out the door.

The laundry room was just down the row of motel rooms, situated next to the office. It held two coin-operated washing machines and two dryers, as well as a vending machine with little boxes of laundry soap and dryer sheets, and a second vending machine with drinks and snacks. There were also a couple of cheap plastic chairs and a table to match, probably meant for folding your laundry on.

Sam dug in his pocket for some change to buy laundry soap, then emptied the bag of clothes, along with the soap, into one of the washers. A few more coins got it started, and the two of them sat down to wait. It was clear Sam had done this very thing many times before.

“I usually bring a book with me, or my laptop.” Sam explained, breaking the silence after a short while, obviously trying to ease the tension that Cas was feeling at the moment. “But having someone to talk with is good, too.” He paused, then asked, “Dean keeps telling me you’re doing okay, but he won’t let me come with him to visit you. How are you doing, really?”

Cas shifted in his seat, unwilling to admit out loud that the reason Dean didn’t want Sam to come along was that they kept climbing into the shower together. It would be more than a little awkward. Now he just shrugged and brought one hand up to rest against his own side absently. “I really am doing okay, Sam. I walked all the way here and I only had to stop and catch my breath a couple of times.”

“But your injuries?”

“They’re healing. They’re much better than they were before. I…” Trailing off for a breath, Cas smiled and offered, “I haven’t been able to thank you properly, but Dean says you’re the one who patched me up. So, thank you, Sam.”

“I couldn’t just let you bleed out.” Sam shrugged.

“And I appreciate that.” Cas chuckled softly. “Really, thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Cas.”

The rest of the time the laundry was washing and drying was spent with the two of them chatting about various things; classes at school, what it was like for Sam to take classes while on the road with Dean and his Dad, the times that the brothers were unceremoniously dumped off with someone called ‘Pastor Jim’, some of the times Sam had made friends along the way (he had two friends at Bedwin Junior High that he was going to miss, Andy and Ava), Sam’s views on some of his father’s views—but also books, movies and television shows. Cas was a little lost when it came to movies and TV, but he did know his books, and Sam had an impressive library in his head considering he was thirteen. The younger boy’s memory was impeccable.

When the clothes were out of the dryer and the two of them were folding them, still warm, on the sketchy table, Cas fell silent while he worked but Sam decided to address the elephant in the room:

“I see the way you look at each other,” Sam told him almost idly, then continued; “it’s okay if you’re in love with him, you know.” He didn’t even glance up from the shirt he was folding. “I’m pretty sure he loves you, too.”

Cas didn’t jump or jolt at the words, but he did blink several times and give Sam a surprised look. Sam didn’t flinch, just kept folding laundry. Cas looked away, eyes turning downward, and was silent for a long couple of minutes before he licked his lips and managed weakly, “I don’t think he can love me, Sam. With his life, with the way things are for him.”

Sam scoffed at that. “Just because he’s a Hunter doesn’t mean he can’t love. And the way he looks at you…” Trailing off a little, the younger boy laughed softly; “he looks at you like people look at Rembrandts or the Sistine Chapel. Like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. I’ve never seen my brother this way before, the way he is with you.” Finally, Sam spared a glance over to give Cas a little smile, “I think he might even give up Hunting for you, if you asked him to.”

“I could never ask him to do that.” Cas shook his head, “being a Hunter is everything to him.”

“Not everything.” Sam corrected knowingly. “And he’s already gone against Dad for you. That’s something I never thought I’d see.” He finished folding a hoodie and his hands paused halfway to grabbing the next item of clothing. He turned a frown on Cas. “The jorogumo thing.” He said firmly, “I’m sure Dean already told you, but you were stupid, Cas. You should never have gone there, never have gotten involved. You got hurt.”

Cas brought one hand up to his ribs again, pressing there with the faintest of winces, and his eyes flickered downward. “I know.”

“What I know he didn’t tell you is how absolutely frantic he was when he brought you back here. He was panicking and Dean never panics. If you’d died, it would have destroyed him.” Sam smacked a hand into Cas’s arm lightly for emphasis before going back to folding laundry, his energy full of frustration now. “Honestly, you two are driving me nuts. You spend practically every waking minute together. And some of the sleeping ones, too. You moon over each other constantly. You almost get yourself killed and he absolutely loses his shit because of it. You’re practically living in each other’s pockets, but you’re both dancing around the issue like freaking ballerinas. I wish one of you would just say it already and get it over with.”

“It’s not that simple, Sam.” Cas offered softly. “I know you know that. You’re a Hunter, too.”

“Not by choice.” The younger teen informed him flatly before frowning over at him, “and it’s not fair! When two people find each other like you guys have—people who were clearly meant to be together—they should be able to be together with no reservations.”

“You’re an idealist.” Cas accused with a little smile. “Don’t ever let the world take that from you.” And then; “Sam, listen, I… you’re right. About how I feel about Dean. I don’t know for sure how he really feels about me, but I…” Trailing off, he shook his head. “You know. And I plan to show him as much as I can before you two have to leave, even if I can’t tell him. Okay?”

Sam grumbled under his breath but nodded anyway. “Okay.”

“You care about him a lot, don’t you? His happiness.”

“Well, yeah. He’s my brother.”

Cas’s smile grew. “You’re a good kid, Sam.”

Sam gave him a little half-grin from the corner of his eye, and they continued to fold laundry until everything was done and re-packed in the duffle bag. Then they made their way back to the motel room. When they walked in, Dean was seated on the edge of his bed, his elbows propped against his knees and his head in his hands. The cell phone was discarded on the mattress beside him.

Sam just went about putting the clothes away, but Cas sighed softly and headed over to stand in front of Dean. Dean didn’t look up, but his arms lifted to snake around Cas’s waist, and he lifted his head just enough to press his forehead into Cas’s solar plexus, just under his ribs. Cas just brought one hand up to stroke through Dean’s hair gently.

“You okay?”

Dean mumbled something under his breath and tightened his arms around Cas just the slightest bit. “M’fine.”

“You’re not.” Cas continued petting through his hair, just warmth and affection. “I’m sorry about your Dad.”

“Yeah. Me too.” Dean shook his head slightly, bangs mussing against Cas’s shirt. “I’m in so much trouble.”

“You shouldn’t have told him about me.”

“I couldn’t help it. He was hounding me, and I just…”

“I understand.” Cas smiled down at him. “I’m glad you think so much of me, Dean.”

“I… yeah.” Dean’s arms tightened around him even more, making Cas wince just faintly. “I really do.”

“You guys are disgusting.” Sam protested from the other side of the room, “get a room already.” And then; “another room.”

That finally got Dean to lift his head, though he didn’t release Cas entirely, and he leaned over to glare at his brother. “Dude, we’re not even doing anything.”

Sam was just finishing putting the last of the clothes into the drawers of the small dresser that came with the motel room. He closed the last drawer and then crossed over to shove the empty duffle bag under his bed. “You’re always doing the sappy, lovey-dovey crap, though. I could live without it. In fact, you should go to Cas’s place. Like, immediately.”

Dean made a face and glanced at the clock on the wall. “Actually, that’s not a terrible idea.” Then he looked up at Cas and added, “it’s getting late, we should get you home. How did you get here, anyway?”

Cas blinked down at him. “I walked.”

“In your condition? Cas.” Dean frowned.

“I’m okay, Dean. I made it. I’m still alive.” Cas offered a reassuring smile and toyed with Dean’s hair a little more, almost absently. Dean leaned into the touch. “Do you want to walk me home?”

That made Dean smile, just a bit. “Yeah, I could do that. Maybe stay for a little while if it’s okay with Chuck.”

“Mm, I’d like that.”

Sam made an exaggerated gagging noise.

Dean glared at him around Cas again. “You are such a little bitch sometimes.”

“Yeah, well, at least I’m not a lovesick jerk.”

-- --

Cas’s first day back to school was a Friday. He’d tried to tell his father it was pointless to send him back on the last day of the week, but Chuck had informed him that if he was well enough to leave the house and visit his boyfriend, he was well enough to go to class. Cas could kind of see his point, even if he didn’t necessarily agree with it.

Dean, of course, had stopped going to class pretty much the instant the jorogumo thing was over and done with, so was obviously not there to meet him in the morning when he arrived on the steps of Caspar High. Cas hadn’t realized just how disappointing that was going to be until the exact moment that he automatically looked for the older boy and he wasn’t there. In the end he had to quash the discomfort in his stomach and just head on inside to his locker. Alone.

He wasn’t alone for long, though. He was standing in the drama hall, digging out his books for first class, when hurried footsteps approached him from the right and suddenly someone next thing to tackled him. “CAS!”

Cas nearly bit his tongue in an effort not to yelp out a curse, stumbling sideways while his wounds throbbed painfully. At least the tackle had been on the opposite side from his injuries. After a moment of catching his breath, he brought one hand up to pat against a familiar head of red hair. Platonic affection. “Hi, Charlie.”

Coming behind Charlie, at a much more sedate pace, were Jody and Garth, and Cas gave them a little wave, which they each returned in kind. Cas hadn’t been expecting much of a welcome back after being away for the week, and this was actually kind of… nice. If abrupt and somewhat painful.

Charlie squeezed him hard once more, making him wince, before releasing him and stepping back. She tilted her head slightly. “We missed you in calculus. Where were you?”

Cas rubbed at his ribs without even meaning to. “Sorry. I was sick. I had the flu.”

“Yeah, I heard that’s going around right now.” Jody commented, “I guess it’s that time of year.”

“Exactly.” Cas agreed. He felt bad, lying to his friends like this, but it was necessary. It wasn’t like he could tell them the truth about Dean and his family and the spider monster that had been living in the school’s basement. “But I’m fine, now.”

“Not contagious?” Garth joked with a grin.

Cas blinked. “Not to my knowledge.”

“Cough on him and we’ll find out!” Charlie suggested, obviously joking.

A little smile spread across Cas’s face as it occurred to him that, just maybe, the rest of his final year of high school wouldn’t approximate torture after all, even if Dean wasn’t there. He did have friends—and he was absolutely sure they would stand up for him if they needed to. (Especially Charlie.)

“Where’s Dean?” Jody again, sounding curious, “you two are practically attached at the hip these days, I’m surprised he’s not here with you.”

“Oh,” Cas wilted visibly, and everyone’s expression immediately shuttered into something obviously sympathetic, “uh.”

Charlie reached to squeeze his arm gently. “Breakups are hard. Especially when you’re really close to the person.”

Jody and Garth nodded in agreement—but Cas quickly shook his head. “No, it’s not like that, it’s—” Breaking off, Cas let his gaze fall to the floor, eyes shifting back-and-forth as he considered his words before; “his family moves around a lot, and his Dad’s job is taking them somewhere else now, so he’s… I mean. He’s in town for a couple more days, but he’s gone from school to pack up and everything. And then he’s taking off.”

“Oh,” Was the general consensus from the other three.

“Are you okay?” Garth asked after a moment.

Cas shrugged slightly and went back to digging his geography books out of his locker. “I’m… I mean. I’m not great. But there’s texting, and video calls, and video chat on the computer, and the phone and…” Trailing off, he shoved his books in his backpack and then admitted softly; “and I’m not actually okay.”

“Oh, Cas,” When Charlie hugged him this time it was gently and with more than a bit of sympathy. “I’m so sorry, I know you two are close.”

Cas accepted the hug with a sigh—even hugged back just a little. “It hurts.” He told them quietly. “I mean… it feels like we should be together forever, and instead…”

Jody made a soft agreeing noise. “Relationships can be like that sometimes.”

But Garth was the one who actually said it; “you’re in love with him, huh?”

Charlie looked up at him, curious to see his reaction even though she already knew what it would be, but still didn’t stop hugging him. Cas’s eyes skittered away and down, and he shrugged again before admitting softly, “yes, pretty much.” He was still avoiding saying the actual words out loud, though. “And I don’t know for sure, but I think… I think he feels the same way. About me.”

There was a round of murmurs amongst the three of them. Charlie gave him another gentle squeeze before finally letting him go again and giving him a reassuring smile. “I knew you two were meant to be. If that’s the case,” She told him firmly, “then do the whole phone calls and video chat thing, for as long as you can.”

“I always thought you two made a good couple. Maybe a little odd, but good.” Jody commented with a smile, “I’m sure you’ll make it work.”

“People make the long-distance thing work all the time.” Garth added encouragingly.

“That’s…” Cas offered a little, half-hearted smile in return, “that’s what I’m hoping. Because honestly, I can’t picture my life without him at this point. Even eating lunch today is going to be weird without him. I can’t just eat in our spot by myself, right?”

“Naaaaaah,” Charlie waved a hand dismissively, “Cas, my man, you are definitely eating with us at the Weird Kids table in the caf from now on. You are a Weird Kid, now.”

“I think I was already a Weird Kid.”

“Yeah, but now it’s official.” Charlie grinned, while Jody and Garth chuckled to themselves. When the warning bell for first class went off, they all glanced up, then back at Cas. “You gonna be okay?” Charlie asked, more seriously.

Cas smiled again, a bit more real this time. “I’ll be fine, Charlie, thank you.”

“Just checking.” She brought one hand up to squeeze his arm, “we’ll get you through this.” And then, “gotta go. Come to the cafeteria at lunch today, we’ll find you!”

“Okay.”

“See you later, Cas.”

“See you.”

They all hurried off to their respective classes while Cas slumped his way to geography.

-- --

At lunch time Cas made his way to the (dreaded) cafeteria, where Charlie waved him over to a table in the corner where she, Jody, Garth were already seated, along with a girl named Jo and a younger boy named Kevin. Jo was nice and kind of reminded him of Dean in a lot of ways. She wore a lot of denim and leather and after he watched her interact with the others for a little while he understood why she fit in with them so well. Kevin was a little harder to pin down because he was quiet and didn’t talk as much as the others, but what he did say was witty and sarcastic, if awkward at times, and everyone else seemed overly fond of him. Like he was the little brother of the group.

When Cas pulled his lunch out, he discovered two sandwiches—he had packed one for Dean strictly out of habit—and wilted a little, but the others quickly changed the subject and brought him back up again, even Jo and Kevin, who had apparently already been apprised of the situation.

So, lunch hour wasn’t so bad. No one bothered them in their little corner and, Cas thought, if it was like that every day then he could probably get used to it. He would always miss Dean and their little sanctuary under the gym bleachers, though, that much he was sure of. Still, this was a passable substitute. He could get used to it. Probably.

After school, once he had packed all of his homework into his backpack, Cas didn’t even bother going home, just walked straight to the Seafoam Motel, where Dean was waiting for him. He opened the door after the cursory check through the peep hole, locks all unlatching in quick succession until Cas could smile at his boyfriend face-to-face. Dean dragged him inside by the front of his shirt and pulled him into a long, drawn-out kiss that made happiness bubble up inside him.

When he looked around after they parted, he was surprised not to see Sam. “Where’s Sam?”

“School. He always goes until the very last minute.” Dean took his backpack and deposited it beside the door, then tugged him over to sit down next to him on one of the beds. “Bedwin gets out an hour later than Caspar does. Starts an hour later, too. Unfair, really. He always got to sleep in.” A shrug, then, “how was your first day back?”

“I did okay.” Cas reached for one of Dean’s hands, toying with the older boy’s fingers gently. “I ate lunch in the cafeteria with Charlie and the others, and they introduced me to a couple more people that I also don’t have any classes with. Jo and Kevin. I think you’d really like Jo, actually. She reminds me of you.”

“Is she roguishly handsome, too?”

“Stop.” Cas bumped sideways into him with a smile. “No, she’s just tough and strong and opinionated. She’s nice, though. So is Kevin. So, I guess I have a couple more friends to ride out the year with, which is good, even if I don’t have any classes with them. I think they’ll all get me through.”

“That’s good. I know I said just each lunch with Charlie and the others, but I was a little worried.”

“You always worry about me.”

“I do.” Dean confirmed, then, “speaking of which, how’re your ribs?”

“Well Charlie full-body tackled me this morning in greeting, and that was unpleasant,” Cas grimaced slightly, “she didn’t know, obviously. But other than that, they’re okay. They still hurt, but it’s more of a bruise hurt than a huge gouges hurt now, so it’s tolerable. And the actual bruises are almost gone, just a couple are left, the ones that were the worst.”

Dean made a little pleased noise at this news, though Cas was sure he would rather have made his own assessment. “That’s great to hear. I was worried you’d be in pain all day today.”

But Cas shook his head, “no. I only had to take some aspirin once. I was fine.”

“Good.”

They were quiet for a bit, then, just sitting next to each other while Cas toyed with Dean’s fingers absently. They were both going to miss little moments like this when Dean was halfway across the country. They were soaking them in while they could.

“I just keep thinking about all the kids who go to school there and have no idea.” Dean sighed finally, “Caspar High? More like Horror High, right?”

Cas just smiled, though, and leaned sideways against his boyfriend, wincing just the slightest bit at the movement. “It isn’t Horror High to me. I met you there. It could never be Horror High, even with a jorogumo in the basement.”

Dean chuckled and turned his head to kiss against Cas’s temple. “Subjective High, then? But I think that’s pretty much all high schools. Also, it doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

“Mm.” An agreeing noise. Cas turned a little to tuck himself closer into Dean’s side. Finally, he asked, “you’ll be leaving soon, won’t you?”

“I—” Dean had to pause and swallow hard. He wrapped an arm around Cas, careful of his ribs, as if that simple act would keep them from being separated. “Yeah, I—as soon as my Dad gets here from Utah.”

“Two, three days, then?”

“He’s just finishing out his case first, but yeah…”

Cas offered a sad smile and pulled him into a kiss. “So, we’ll just have to make the next couple days count, that’s all.”

“What do you suggest?” The question was asked against his lips, into the kiss.

“I think…” Cas leaned his forehead against Dean’s and met his gaze, blue clashing with green. “I want you to stay over again, even if my Father is around. I don’t care what he thinks, I just want to be with you as much as possible until I can’t be anymore.”

Dean smiled, just a sad little quirk of his lips. “Maybe we should go on a date. A real date. Before we can’t.”

Surprise. “I’ve never been on a date before.”

Dean chuckled, “neither have I, really. What do normal teenagers do when they go on dates?”

“I think the stereotype is dinner and a movie.” Cas hummed, “but we kind of did that already when you stayed over at my place.”

“Does pizza and Netflix really count, though?”

“I have no idea,” Cas admitted. He was kind of out of his depth with this sort of thing. “What if we go to a diner? I know you probably get lots of diner food on the road, but there’s one that I keep hearing about, I think it’s called Maggie’s. Apparently, they have really good cheeseburgers? I could look them up and check out their reviews.”

Dean grinned, “you had me at cheeseburger.” He squeezed his hand in Cas’s gently. “Maybe after we can just go for a walk, like normal people. Pretend the world isn’t as screwed up as it actually is.”

“That sounds nice.” Cas agreed. “And after, you can come home with me for the night. Okay?”

“Your Dad is going to kill me.”

“No, he won’t. I think as long as I’m happy he’ll be fine. As long as we’re not too loud.”

“Were we loud?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? But there was no one else home to tell us to keep it down, so.”

“Not for nothing, but it could be awkward screwing around with your Dad in the house.”

“Well, we don’t have to have sex,” Cas clarified, then, “I mean, I would like… to have that with you, as many times as I can before you go. But just being with you is enough for me, too.”

Dean chuckled, “’as many times as you can’, huh?”

“Mm,” Cas agreed, playing with Dean’s fingers where they were tangled up with his own once more; “you’re like a drug, Dean. I can’t seem to get enough. It’s been like that since day one, since we met, I…” Trailing off a little, Cas squeezed Dean’s hand again and continued; “I consider myself incredibly lucky, that you decided to befriend me, and then more. But I’ve been addicted to you since the very first moment, and it’s only gotten worse with time. The more time we spend together, the more I get to know you, the more we do together, how close we’ve gotten—physically and emotionally. It all leaves me craving more. I’m going to go through withdrawals when you’re gone.”

“We’ll still talk,” Dean reminded him, “video chat and all that stuff you drilled into me.”

Cas smiled. “I know, but it’s not the same, is it? As being able to touch you. Kiss you.”

A soft sigh and Dean joked, “Dad is going to get really pissed off with all the weekends I take off to meet up with you in some seedy motel.”

A laugh from Cas. “Specifically seedy motels?”

“Is there any other kind?”

“You just specifically look for the seedy ones, that’s all—ah.” Cas cut himself off with a wince, letting go of Dean’s hand and bringing his own hand up to rub at one ear harshly. “That hurts…”

Dean looked at him in surprise. “What…?”

He continued rubbing at his ear, even though he knew it wouldn’t help matters, as he responded, “ever since the jorogumo, when I hit my head, I keep getting this… it’s like a ringing in my ears. Or a high-pitched whine. Sometimes both ears, sometimes just one. But sometimes it’s loud and it hurts.” Not that he wanted to give Dean anything else to worry about, but… “I’m sure it’ll stop eventually, I just have to deal with it for a while until it does.”

Dean was just opening his mouth to say something, starting to look worried, when the sudden onslaught of sound stopped—and Cas worked his jaw a couple of times, dropping his hand back down again. “See? It goes away fast.”

“I feel like you should see a doctor about that.”

“Yes, but how would I explain it to my Father?”

“Just… tell him about the ringing in your ears. You don’t have to tell him about the jorogumo.”

A fair point. “I guess.”

Dean squeezed his arm around Cas and reached to take hold of his hand again. “Promise me you’ll get it looked at?”

Cas had to smile, just a little, at Dean looking out for him again. “I promise.”

They both fell into silence then, just sitting together for a few minutes before Dean asked, “did you have homework? You should probably get working on it if you do.”

“Mm-mm.” A soft negative noise and Cas shook his head, “I mean, I do. Have homework. But I’ll do it tonight after I get home.”

“I just don’t want you to stay up too late, that’s all.” Dean toyed with Cas’s fingers gently as he spoke, “you should still be resting.”

“You worry too much.” Cas accused fondly.

But Dean just came back with a kiss and: “I worry just enough, thank you very much.”

[ginnsbaker]

https://www.tumblr.com/ginnsbaker/748059224508186625/httpswwwtumblrcomginnsbaker74805638783744409

yes ! falling in love implies that there is a possibility of falling out of love, but adoration is something deeper than that. not affection and infatuation, but a deep respect and soulbound connection that lasts even if you fall apart 🙂‍↕️

also i was the anon who recently said reading if i bleed is the first thing i do when i wake up on thursdays, except due to daylight savings and me staying up late i read the new chapter last night and now my thursdays are so empty ☹️😭 shall patiently await the next update ! just thought that was funny kkkkk

I love how you explained it. So perfectly. "Deep respect", I like that.

Aw, so you didn't read anything over a cup of coffee today? Well, there's always next week :D Thank you for reading the latest update <3

[soil-just-needs-water-to-be]

I’ve finally decided to upload the whole fanfic on here this is the start of it if you’d like to see more just let me know I’ll post a chapter a day unless anyone ask for more I’m really proud of this I know there are mistakes and all but here we go

Angst involved it does get mature eventually but for now just fluff and angst

It was late the buzz of Manchester leaking through my bedroom window as I lay in bed on my laptop in the mist of an online game of Pub-G (lame I know ). I've been playing for hours. I was supposed to be going to bed at least 3 hours ago ,that was the plan as I've got School tomorrow but for some reason I can't bring myself to close the game for the night. Doing things to preoccupy my mind is all I've needed for the past two weeks I've started studying for my GCSE,s probably to finally complete them in a few weeks and I'm so stressed about them. I kept ending up in games with and user called GeoDan16 and if by fate we keep ending up as the last players in the game and battling one another. I've won 7 of the 11 games we have played. I've added his user in the lobby of the games and I'm just waiting to see if he adds me back , This was so I can possibly have someone to speak to as I play. It takes about ten minutes before the acceptance alert rings through my room , as my laptop, phone and IPad light up due to having the game on all of them for all occasions. Spotting the alert on the corner of my laptop screen I pick up my phone and swiftly type a message. Yes I know I'm using my laptop and I could message them there but it feels better to message on my phone and play on my laptop. I just type a simple

TrumanBlack: " Hey there ...... these games are wild . You played good tho ;)"

I then just put my phone back onto the bed next to me and decide I want to watch YouTube for a while and hopefully let sleep consume me. After racking through YouTube for a video to watch I come across "Daz Blacks latest video I click on it , select the big screen options and pause it before it starts. I place me laptop down next to me and slide from my bed and into my on suite so I can use the bathroom and brush my teeth for what feels like the 20th time tonight. I've smoked an excessive amount tonight and I don't understand why. Hearing my alert tone go off again I quickly finish up in the bathroom and make my way back to bed and see my notification my my phone screen "message from GeoDan16". I open my phone properly to read it

GeoDan16: "Yo :) , thanks , how many games was that ?"

Pulling my blanket back around me I press play on the YouTube video and sink into the heat of the mattress and softness of the duvet

TrumanBlack : "I believe it was 11 , and I won 7 LOSER"

GeoDan16 : "Uhhh...rude , I still won 4 so excuse me but you ain't the overall winner "

TrumanBlack : "No I'm maybe not but I still did better than you ;D "

I know this is probably weird to think as I don't even know this person but feel a buzz something that says I'm gunna love them , like I've known them years and we're just catching up

GeoDan16: "Were just going to have to have a winner takes all round someday huh....also Truman??, What kind of name is that it's kinda interesting is someone obsessed with the Truman show or something "

TrumanBlack : "Nah I just came up with the name when I was like ten and it sounded kinda edgy :D "

As I'm laying there my eyes start to feel heavy and I can feel them starting to drop and I yawn. But I try to ignore it so I can stay up a little longer and hopefully learn more about this person

GeoDan16: " So it's not your real name then ???"

TrumanBlack: "nope it's actually Matty , what about you , what's your actual name "

GeoDan16 : "Contrary to popular belief it's not geo or Dan ... the names George "

TrumanBlack: "George...That's an old guys name...how old are you....im not talking to some ancient man am I "

I laugh to myself because obviously I can't be he played well ...too well for an old guy BUT I've got to cover my tracks my mum always tells me to be more safe online

GeoDan16: "Nah man I'm 16....oldest in my year .... Year 10 what about you ...Matty is 100% not your full name what are you 12?... rebelling against anyone who calls you your full name "

TrumanBlack : "I'll have you know George that I'm actually 17 not 12 and no my full name is Matthew but I only get called that at school or when I've pissed my mum off or my best friend.....but also year ten so your from the UK then"

GeoDan16: "yeh southwest London ....Wbu "

TrumanBlack : "ay im from Manchester "

It's not very often you meet someone from the same continent as you this late at night on these games so this is quite cool

TrumanBlack: "why you up so late then Georgie???"

GeoDan16: "I ain't been called Georgie since I was 7 Matthew :D , also I just can't sleep it's soooo cold right now ....and you ?"

TrumanBlack : "just stressing about GCSE's man ....I know I'm not dumb but my maths and physics are gunna go down the drain and I don't wanna fail "

GeoDan16: "ahh I feel ya bro ....I've just started studying for my GCSEs too but your must be year 11 and going to be doing them soon right ?"

TrumanBlack : "yup they start in a few weeks "

My eyes are now struggling to stay awake and my screen has become a blurry mess as I attempt to keep my eyes open and without realising it my phone slides out of my hand onto the duvet and my eyes shut slowly

GeoDan16 ; "I could help if you like "

I don't see or hear this message come through as I'm too far gone and too tired to realise and I just fall asleep and hopefully dream of good things

GeoDan16 "g'night Matty "