#if you’re curious Hue is around 16-18 here

[dr3am-b3an]

Fuck it

Hands you a blorbo

Introducing my baby Hue!

A clumsy yet well meaning assistant that works at Rocket n is relatively close with vic

Some small facts regarding them is underneath (warning for dismemberment; nothing graphic but buddy loses their limbs)

Their relationship with victim n the mercs are a bit more complicated than this but that’s gonna be its own separate post lol

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹。these traces of love, they outline you | gojo satoru

wc: 12.9k

summary: the 5 times gojo’s sure you’ve changed his life + the 1 time he hopes to change yours. 

contains: f!reader, pronoun she, 18+ nsfw (not super explicit but the act is there), symptoms similar to synesthesia, reader’s cursed technique, sparring, drunk call, pet names (cutie, silly, pretty, baby, loml), nervous feelings, tummy ache, food descriptions, surprise appearance of one character, emotional tears!!, internal thoughts and insecurities.

a/n: primarily in gojo's pov! & best read if you’ve gone through the other parts in the series! (lots of callbacks and references + better context!), lots of songs as inspo (would gladly share if you’re curious!), will add descriptions for the food in the a/n at the bottom!, from conceptualisation to actual writing this piece is my baby!!

collection masterlist: conversations on love +04b (extra). if you're ready (let me) <- you are here

MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT.

Gojo thinks he might pass out. 

There’s a feeling of unease sitting deep in his gut, nervous and gurgling. His hands have always been restless and fidgety but never this sweaty, and his head feels like it’s floating—even more than that first time he attempted a 24-hour stint on keeping up Infinity. 

It’s eerily quiet in his office as he waits for your meeting to end, the white colon on his digital clock taunting him as it flicks on and off—16:27. 3 more minutes until you finish. 

He paces around the room. 

Attempts at any distraction are thwarted when everywhere he looks, he’s reminded of you. There’s a photo hanging by the door, the mix-and-match of couch cushions in varying hues—all souvenirs you’ve given him from places you’ve been to. The coffee table books hold your touch too, and as he runs his hand over his face. he’s hit with that signature scent, clean and subtle from the hand cream you use.

Waiting in his office today has been absolute torture, but what’s made it more excruciating is the fact that he knows you’re aware of absolutely nothing.

To you, this is just like every other Friday. 

You’d done your usual morning routine, kissed him on the nose with the promise to meet him in his office after work, as you always do. And it feels like a big joke when he thinks about it now, because while he’s been on edge this entire day about it, you really have no clue what’s coming. 

To him, this could change everything with you. 

He’s been feeling it for a while now, the ripple effect of loving and being loved by you—how he can recall every time a single drop of you has shifted something deep within him, marked and colored you. 

There’s not a lot that Gojo wants now that he feels like he truly has it all, but when he thinks about all the times he’s sure you’ve changed his life, he hopes that with this one thing, he can change yours. 

.

.

.

1 — UNDER YOUR TOUCH, WHEN IT GETS TOO MUCH

The weather today is good—sunlight peeking behind cloud pillows and the occasional gust of wind passing through the space you’ve put between you and Gojo. It’s neither too humid nor too dry and though Gojo does get the occasional sniffle from his pollen allergies around this time, he'd woken up earlier completely fine. 

So, the weather today is good, perfect even, for a brush-up on sparring practice. 

You’ve kept a sizable distance away from him since it started, and every attempt he’s made to draw nearer, you’ve only moved away farther—a push-and-pull, an old dynamic that shows itself in the ways you engage in battle.  

Gojo’s hands stay tucked in his pockets, his stance one you know perfectly well as relaxed but still guarded. He’s gotten a lot bulkier than the days you used to spar often, the past few years having filled in all the areas of what used to be slim, lean muscle. He doesn’t move because he knows the style you fight with, how you stay on defense until your opponent charges, utilizing their own strength against them. 

It’s the only way you’ve managed to win against someone as deadly as Gojo, equal-parts lethal in speed and strength. 

So when a cluster of clouds passes by and the sun glares directly into your eyes, Gojo smirks, then bends his knees as he lunges for an attack.

Your senses are sharp and reflexes quick; in the split second that a white-and-black blur appears before you, you attempt a high kick, only for it to be blocked with his forearm. He uses his other hand to twist around your ankle, trying to flip you over, but you see right through his motives. You huff, furrowing your brows as you narrowly escape, slipping your ankle out before he can fully grab a hold of it.

Most of this practice has felt like a stalemate, with the both of you waiting on the other for the most part of the hour. Gojo can see how it’s wearing you down, this entire thing being dragged out, and if he’s being honest—this is exactly what he wants.

Sparring out here with you today, while still meant for actual training, is also just an excuse to do this for old time’s sake—the way you huff and frown, jaw clenched as your fists ball up tightly like you’re doing right now.

He kind of misses seeing you like this, impatient and frustrated, so unlike the tenderness you always regard him with. 

A smile threatens to form on his lips, and he bites it back down. 

You only ever get like this sparring against him. 

The tension breaks when you decidedly throw a punch; it’s a desperate attempt to get the fight moving but he ducks, arm securing itself around your waist as he locks your hip with his. Before you can even comprehend, your body is lifted across his back and lowered down to the grass below—the only thing in sight being two blue skies, beaming at you. 

Somewhere during the commotion, he managed to remove his blindfold, hair let loose, fluffy and white almost like the clouds above you. Gojo isn’t taking this seriously at all; he’s way too soft, having cushioned your fall by carrying most of your weight instead of throwing you down like anyone seriously sparring is supposed to. 

He doesn’t care though. All he really wanted this afternoon was to reminisce with you. 

You’re kept underneath him, one of his arms remains wrapped around your waist while the other cradles the back of your head—and it’s there, that frown on your face, that pout he’s witnessed for years evolve into what it is now. Beads of sweat collect at the crease between your brows, your temples tensing as you breathe out. 

Gojo at 17 would have teased you relentlessly for this, but he feels different now, warmth settling in his chest as he stares; he can’t help it, the words coming out of his mouth—

“You’re so—”

But he doesn’t even get to finish.

Everything around him blurs, green and blue blending in motion before he finds himself on his back, completely flipped over. He’s met with the sight of you, smug smile pulled wide with your hands resting on his chest. And his heart—

Can you feel it under your fingertips? How it’s beating a mile a minute? 

A shiver runs down his spine, the pinpricks of grass tickling the nape of his neck. The shock is tingling, his eyes fully open as he processes what just occurred. 

In the lapse of time he’d been a little too preoccupied staring at you, you managed to inch your leg to wrap around his, locking it at the last minute to flip him over—it lands you where you are now, on his lap, straddling his hips. 

“Sneaky,” he gazes fondly, grin teasing.

You catch your breath, “Do I win?” 

“Only because I let you get too close this time.”

Which is a lie, he knows, because having you near him like this, with some form of touching—you could never be close enough.

You roll your eyes, his fingers grabbing hold of your thighs. The grass pricks at your knees through the fabric of your leggings, and Gojo knows that if you stay like this any longer, it’s going to start to itch.

“Did I hurt you anywhere?” you ask, already assessing him for any point of injury. Your eyes go over his face before trailing down his arms, rarely exposed today in his black compression shirt.

“Yeah,” he pouts, pointing to his lips, all pink and puckered out, “kiss it better?” 

Asking for this is against his better judgment, he’s aware; with the way you’re situated on his lap, this could escalate into something else entirely. You shake your head, swatting at his chest. His grip on your thighs loosens as you get off him, but the curl of your lips is extremely telling. 

As you stand up to dust your knees, Gojo gazes at you fondly. The sun hides behind you from where you tower over him, but the halo effect around your head is just as blinding. 

“Lie down with me,” he pats the space beside him. You quirk your brow but follow anyway. 

He requests, not asks, because the weather today is good, and it’s making him a little bit sentimental, remembering earlier days with you. 

You lie down, positioning your head to align with his. And for a few moments, Gojo doesn’t speak, just looks at you once and smiles before turning to face the sky, hand placed behind his head as he sighs. 

You do the same for a while, this shared silence warm and just right. 

“So rude,” he jokingly tuts, “interrupting me while I was talking earlier…” 

“You shouldn’t have been so distracted then,” you tease back, sneaking a glance only to lock eyes with two skies. 

He wonders if you can tell—how he’s always looking at you in the stolen seconds before you notice him. 

“Well, you shouldn't have been so distracting then,” he holds your gaze. 

It’s incredibly cheesy but a part of you still feels like melting—he sounds so sincere; no lilt, no tease, no Gojo-typical flirting laced into it. 

You scrunch your nose, shifting on your side to face him, the arm used to support your head now resting against your cheek. He follows, taking one last look around him before turning to you. His other hand rests on your hip, fingers splayed out while his thumb draws hearts on fabric. 

You reach for him. 

The gesture is small, just your finger running across his cheek, but it nudges something in him—a memory of you and how you’ve always touched him like this: softly, kindly. 

“Remember when you used to do this?” he takes your hand, long and lithe fingers wrapping around yours as he guides them over his ear. 

Your eyes widen in recognition and he blinks, taking you in as he stares, “Wanna do it now?”

Concern reveals itself in the furrow of your brows, “Is it hurt—”

“No,” he chuckles, already knowing what you’re about to say.

The last time you did this for him, he didn’t even have to ask. One look and you knew—it’d been the night of his final conversation with Suguru. His skull-splitting migraine ensued after bickering with Shoko on what to do with the body. You were there; you heard everything, and when she gave up arguing and left, there was only one thing you could do. 

With his head on your lap by his office couch, you tuned out the sounds. 

He doesn’t prefer you using your cursed technique this way; it takes a considerable amount of your cursed energy to focus its effects solely on another body—and frankly, it’s a waste of time for you to spend all of that on him, at least in his opinion, personally. 

You’d struggled a lot with your technique back in high school, having to learn how to fully manipulate different sonic hues: white noise, brown noise, any and all of it in the entire spectrum. Being able to amplify, distort, reduce, and isolate them into their respective hues covers only the bare minimum when it comes to understanding your technique.

It’s tedious work, and when one of your senses holds so much more power over the others, the information that flows through it can be overwhelming, overloaded even. Sorting through all that noise—he gets it, gets you, and how it must hurt too. 

And yet you, at 17, still figuring out how to grasp it all, came knocking on his door when you noticed he hadn’t come for dinner. Quietly, you placed your hands over his ears and selflessly offered your discomfort for his relief. 

The first time you did this for him, you’d only heard of his migraines from Shoko. You witnessed it yourself when he opened his door and looked so unlike himself: blindfold secured tightly but haphazardly, strands of hair sticking out oddly; his room seemed to be blacked out completely. 

Gojo Satoru is no stranger to sensations beyond what any human should be subjected to, but when you laid your hands on him that day, cursed energy tickling his ears as it flowed through your fingertips—he’d never felt more normal, more human to be able to hear things without conjuring a visual of it. 

It’s almost like you silenced his mind—enough to hear himself, and you, and the buzz of the white noise you’d amplified to flow through him in his blacked out room. 

You’ve gotten a lot better at controlling it now, the task in itself barely causing you any ache or struggle at all. 

“Just like old times,” he nudges you. 

So you keep your hand where he’s left it, covering his ear with your palm as your fingers rest on his temples. Cursed energy flows from your touch, all sounds drowning out. 

He keeps his eyes on yours, watching as your expression shifts with every sonic hue you focus on—an upgrade to your abilities the more you’d gotten the hang of it. 

You concentrate hard for white noise, creating your own mix to emulate radio static, transitioning out to green noise the moment you highlight the sound of birds chirping. Then, you ease it to brown noise, intensifying the soft whistles of the wind to mimic it. 

It’s weird how sentimental he’s been feeling lately—without any trigger or anything, but the more he leans into your palm, the more it gets him thinking. 

Touch had begun as extremely foreign to him—a god revered and valued but never really truly loved, untouchable with infinity, and the pedestal he’s always stood on. 

It was never supposed to be important to him. 

Until you. 

From your kindness that first day, and the many more that followed: of fingers brushing and hand-holding to breaths mingling and bodies moulding, moving—you’ve always touched him in ways no one else has, in places no one’s been able to reach. 

And if it wasn’t important then, completely foreign, it’s important now, so much that he looks for it everywhere, all the time, even. The way you scratch the short bristles of his undercut, fingers dragging down to the nape of his neck; the way you tap his collarbone thrice, run your fingers across his lip, and intertwine your fingers with his at random. 

When Gojo thinks about your touch, he thinks about how gentle it is, with intent and purpose. How it’s always been careful for him but never of him, and that’s made the biggest difference. 

He blinks, and you follow two times, focusing on him. 

All he hears is a heartbeat now, a little too fast to be at rest, but still steady and grounding—

The way he feels when he’s with you. 

Whether it’s his or yours, from your cursed technique or just the blood rushing in his ears, he knows this is pink noise, the one you’d so excitedly shown him when you first mastered it. 

The pink noise that resounded all throughout his twenty-somethings, when he first realized that you meant more to him than what you were. 

.

.

.

2 — WHEN YOU CALL MY NAME

The bed feels cold tonight. 

Gojo’s been staring at the lights on his ceiling for the past 30 minutes, and though his pillow is cool and blanket soft, he’s wide awake—nowhere near falling asleep any time soon. 

He shifts to the side, the space beside him taunting, empty. 

He misses you. 

For the past week, you’ve been off to a much-needed girls trip with Shoko and Utahime. He’d even offered to pay for the entire accommodation—to which you and Utahime declined, while Shoko shrugged, crossing her arms as she snorted, “If he really wants. At least he’s being useful.” 

You’d compromised and agreed that he could pay for an evening out in some nightclub. 

Now, he regrets it. A little bit. Maybe. 

Gojo’s bed is big, a king-size that fits the height of him and all his long limbs, and while it’s comfortable and spacious–supposed good things–he feels anything but comfortable in how spacious and vacant it now feels. 

He turns to the other side, facing his sidetable instead.

The digital clock reads 01:17 and he sighs; you still have a few days left. 

The next time you bring up being away for this long, he’s going with you. Even if he has to spend the entire day on his own, he’ll do it—as long as he gets to end it next to you. 

If he’s really thinking about it, nothing’s stopping him from teleporting there right now. He could hop in quick, give you a hug, hopefully a kiss, and maybe even get lucky if you allow him to steal you for the night. He’ll teleport you right back in the morning and it’ll be like you never left, even. 

He could do it. You can never resist him when he gives you his googly eyes. 

If you’re already back from—

Bzz bzz. His phone vibrates. 

He reaches for it over his night stand, instantly sitting up once he reads that it’s from you—the nickname he just recently changed your contact to. 

(It was always just your name, simple and straightforward, easy to find; when you return, he’s probably going to change it back because you prefer it that way—for safety purposes and everything.

But while he still can, he’s going to keep it like this: a petname with an obnoxious string of emojis that he associates with you.)

1:20 a.m. 

cutie 💞🥺☁️🌸✨

> satoourur are u awaeke??

The corner of his lips curl up, endeared at the image of you hunched over your phone, fingers slipping as you clumsily press the wrong letters. So cute. 

1:21 a.m.

< yes cutie? ( ˘ ³˘) 💕

1:21 a.m. 

cutie 💞🥺☁️🌸✨

> casll?

He stares at it for a good minute or two, trying to decipher this rare, drunken code from you. But before he gets the chance to respond, your face appears on his screen, a photo of you he’d taken months ago, mid-chew special Daifuku.

You’re calling. 

He grins, biting his lower lip. His feet slip inside the house slippers by the side of his bed as he gets up, swiping his phone to answer before holding it against his ear. 

“Miss me already?” he teases, padding out of his bedroom.

“Satoruuu,” you drawl. Definitely drunk, if not tipsy.

Even like this though, Gojo aches when he hears you speak; there’s a twinge that pokes at his ribcage, making him wish he was right next to you.

The music around you sounds muffled, almost as if you’d stepped out just to make this call—another thought that makes him ache.

He walks down the hall towards his kitchen and stops, realizing: if you stepped out of the club, does this mean you’re alone? He trusts you can take care of yourself, but if you’re this inebriated…

“Are you with Shoko and Utahime?” he asks casually, attempting to mask his worry. His hand digs deeper into his pocket, shifting his weight to his other foot. 

“‘Nside,” you slur. 

You don’t actually sound that drunk, more sleepy if anything, really, but his heart still picks up pace. Maybe he should just go to you already. 

“You should go to them,” he urges, continuing his walk to the kitchen. 

“M’be later,” you sigh, and he hears a bit of rustling on your end—a soft curse and a small thud, “w’na talk t’you.” 

Another ache. 

He can picture it: you, in some sidestreet, phone clutched to your ear as you tuck your hair back before sighing, legs buckling as you clumsily drop down to sit. 

“Oh?” he lilts, eyebrow lifting. A smirk forms on his lips, head tilting as he wedges his phone between his neck and shoulder. He reaches for his refrigerator, “Got something to tell me, pretty?”

He doesn’t really know what he’s expecting you to say, maybe a recount of your day, or something funny that he’s bound to laugh at, whatever it is. 

“Just miss you.” 

He wasn’t expecting you to say this—

—in an exhale, with a slight tremble, like it’s been waiting to be let out. Vulnerable. 

There’s another ache, and he nearly drops the water bottle.

He should really just go to you.

His phone nearly slips from his neck, the thump of his heartbeat on rampage as he readjusts it.

He swallows, “I miss you too.” 

And it’s odd, how it sounds when he says it, a bit shaky too. A stillness settles in the room and it echoes off every kitchen equipment and countertop. He can’t even get himself to tease you for this one. 

“I can go there now, if you want,” he offers, almost a whisper, before attempting a chuckle. It comes out flat, tinted a little sad, “Blink twice and I’ll be there when you open your eyes.”

You giggle on the other end, and it fills him in this moment. 

When he looks around his apartment now, steel finish and walls accented black, the backsplash of his kitchen a grayish hue of iron—it reminds him of luxury fit for a bachelor, sleek in its utility. 

He’s lived here since his mid-twenties, and he likes how it’s designed, the colors and feel of it right up his alley. The furniture remains simple, modern and minimalist, filling the spaces of his open floor plan down to the two bedrooms and office space. 

But right now, it feels so empty. 

“Silly,” you chuckle, he can hear your grin forming, affection dripping, “my silly baby.”

Now his heart really aches. 

The subtle static makes you sound unreal, strung together by radio waves; it’s rare enough for you to call him ‘baby’, and for you to say it when he can’t even see or hold you while you do it—it’s cruel; a test of his restraint. 

He rests his back against the kitchen counter, arm coming across his chest to rest under his elbow, supporting the one holding his phone–you–by his ear. His teasing is softer tonight, tinged by yearning, so he hums, “Your silly baby, huh? Any chance it could be your silly ‘Toru instead?” 

The way he says ‘‘Toru’ is a pitch lower, slower, and exaggeratingly more seductive in his banter; it’s what you call him in bed, or by accident, and in the moments you find yourself needing him in ways he can only satisfy by being your lover. 

If you say it, he’s definitely going to teleport himself over. 

You giggle again. 

“S’that your fav’rite one?” you mumble, words blending together. He can imagine your cheek smushed against your knee, arms curled around your legs as you sit on concrete, “‘‘Toru?’” 

When he thinks about it, you aren’t too big on his nicknames—at least, not as much as he is with you. You only call him three things: baby (which truthfully, he had to convince you to), ‘Toru (first whispered in the moment, heat fueling it), and Satoru (since you were 16, weighted and grounding throughout all the years you’ve known him). 

Is ‘‘Toru’ his favorite? 

For obvious reasons, maybe.

But—

“I like everything you call me,” he smirks, shifting his weight. 

“Sweet-talker.” 

He closes his eyes, head tilting back as he leans further—and he swears, he can see you, the image of you rolling your eyes and scrunching your nose seared into his eyelids. 

God damn, he really misses you.

“You love it,” he murmurs.

A beat. He hears the faint honk of a car before you drown it out, sighing. 

“I do,” you whisper, admission ringing in his ears, “I love you, Satoru.” 

He hears this all the time, but tonight it just aches; the way you say things so sincerely, so honestly even in an inebriated state—how you call him Satoru and it’s still weighted, still grounding, like who he is resides right there, in the softness of your lips. 

Gojo’s always been relevant but when you call him Satoru, he feels more than just the name.

If you’re asking about his favorite, he thinks this might be it—in every handwritten note you leave, his name scrawled in your hybrid of semi-print-semi-cursive letters; in every call you pick up, opening always with a ‘Satoru?’, end pitched higher, sweet and curious. 

“C’n I tell you somethin’?” you ask (even when you don’t need to, even when he’s already listening). 

“Let me guess, Utahime has a travel ick and Shoko—”

“Satoru,” you scold, rolling your eyes, but there’s no bite. The next bit you say under your breath, a little fragile, “‘M serious.”

The nervousness sits in his stomach; this conversation feels significant.

He takes a seat on his barstool. 

“Listening.” 

For a while, it’s only your breathing; knowing you, you’re probably thinking, crafting what to say carefully. 

You sigh again, and—

“I worry sometimes,” you admit.

He furrows his brows, “About?”

“That maybe bein’ with me’s a lil’ boring?”

And this… this aches in a different way. 

How can you even think that? 

You chuckle anxiously; he can bet you’re biting your lips, a habit you’ve picked up from him. 

He rests an elbow on his kitchen island, leaning onto it as he tilts his phone closer to his ear. 

“Apologize right now,” he commands, sternness making him feel a little guilty, “that’s the person I love you’re slandering.” 

But you only laugh, real and more relaxed, nervousness dissipating. 

“My bad, my bad,” you play along before mumbling, “‘m just sayin’, there’re lotsa others who are more everythin’ y’know?” 

He wonders what’s got you thinking like this, if it’s triggered by seeing people at the club, perhaps younger and far livelier—how you spent those years of your life exorcizing curses and making a home for two kids. 

“So what? They’re still not you.”

And he means it, genuinely.

Your breath hitches and he grins, swinging around on the bar stool. 

Those years of youth were still fun, he thinks, and it’s precisely because of you—how you’d made the apartment the four of you stayed in as fun and homely as a teen barely pushing twenty could.

You had your fair share of mishaps and adventures—rushed breakfasts and Megumi’s 'my dog ate my homework's. Tsumiki had to miss a day of school once because you accidentally booked her a birthday trip to Disneyland on a weekday. 

(And he got scolded a lot, ‘Satoru’ exhaled with a look. But it would only last a few moments; you can never stay mad at him, no matter how hard you try). 

There was no way you and Gojo had the maturity and responsibility of actual parents (maybe more like inexperienced guardians, really), but you tried your hardest to give Megumi and Tsumiki a home. 

Home, what he’s beginning to realize reminds him of you.

He looks around him now, at the details of his interior, and begins to think of yours—your apartment, a little more wooden and lived-in; there’s a lot more wear but also a lot more love, never empty like his feels right now. 

“If being with you was so boring, I wouldn’t be itching to go to you right now,” he confesses, fiddling with the string of his sweatpants. 

You laugh again before it falls into comfortable silence. 

Muffled conversations and the occasional beep sound in your background. There’s a couple giggling around you and he thinks that could be the two of you—if only he were with you. 

“Satoru,” you call him softly. 

He hums, letting it sink in—the way you say his name, distinct in how you stress his consonants despite the softness around his vowels.

When you say ‘Satoru’, it always feels targeted, speaking straight to who he is. 

“‘M so happy it’s you,” you whisper shyly, but it’s bright—unmistakably smiling, the visual of your eyes crinkling. 

He doesn’t know what’s gotten into you tonight, drunken affection and vulnerable confessions, but there’s that ache again, and all he wants to do is go to you, hold you. Be with you. 

For a while, Gojo’s been resigned to the fact that there are some things he can’t give you: how you’ll never know true peace because he’ll always be linked to jujutsu society; how choosing him means choosing the tumultuous, the unpredictable. 

And while you’ve already told him that you prefer this life with him better, for you to say you’re happy, that it’s him—

He’s thankful it’s you, too. 

Tears collect at his lash line, pools of gratitude, “I love you.”

“Hmm? you’re coverin’ the mic w’your double-chin,” you joke, just to hear him say it again, he knows. 

(There’s no way he has a double-chin from how you complain about his jawline being too sharp all the time). 

“I love you,” he repeats, louder, steadier, pressing it into his phone’s microphone. 

He’ll repeat it again as many times as you want him to. 

You giggle and he echoes it—like that couple from earlier, your own version. 

The clock reads 02:47, and he normally doesn’t like being up this late, barely getting enough sleep as is. But if you’re the reason why, he doesn’t mind staying awake.  

.

.

.

3 — TUCKED IN BED, WHEN I LIE CORRECTED

“Satoru, you can’t keep eating sweets on an empty stomach.”

He turns beside you, the dull rumbling of the Shinkansen hardly masking how loudly he asks, “Why not?” 

An old man seated across the aisle looks your way, grumpy by the folds between his brows—as if he’d been woken up by Gojo’s whining. You bow your head slightly in apology. 

It’s been an early day so far, with you and Gojo catching the first train out from Kyoto to Tokyo. Departing at 06:14 doesn’t exactly leave room for food stops, so all you have are the two water bottles handed out from yesterday’s meeting and a pack of (now) half-eaten Hi-Chew that Gojo picked up from the convenience store last night. 

“You’ll get a stomach ache,” you whisper, with emphasis. 

He fiddles with the stick of Hi-Chew, tossing it between his fingers before popping one piece out. 

The seats in the Shinkansen are spacious enough for Gojo to stretch his long, gangly legs, but despite all the free room in your row, he’s chosen to encroach on your space, sticking to you shoulder-to-shoulder. 

“Nonsense,” he tilts his face, sunglasses sliding a few centimeters down the bridge of his nose, “I do this all the time.” 

And his eye, clear and bright blue amidst the morning haze zipping past the windows of the train, winks at you. 

Heat warms your cheeks; it’s too early for this. 

The moment you look away, hiding your smile, he knows he’s got you. 

. 

Or not. 

Because you seem to have gotten him—

—tucked in bed, nursing this stomach ache that could have been avoided if he just listened. 

To be fair, he does do it all the time: a few candies, sometimes gummies first thing in the morning, last thing at night. So he’s right, it’s nonsense; he probably got this from something else. 

(Even when you’d both eaten the same meals—how you always order to share because you like tasting a little bit of everything). 

Which is why, you insist it’s from the sweets, his beloved Hi-Chew to be specific. And though he wants to, he can’t argue much when he’s curled into a fetal position, clutching his stomach while writhing in bed. 

“I made you tea,” you stand by your bedside, holding out your mug—small cereals patterned all over it. 

He opens an eye, hair mussed up from all his squirming. The pain in his stomach is radiating, a knot that tightens in waves; this is different from the twist-y pop-y sparks of jealousy, and is nothing compared to the sting of multiple slashes. 

Still, it’s a pain he doesn’t understand: a mixture of feeling gassy and bloated, like he needs to run to the toilet only for it to turn out futile. What makes it worse is that when he catches a glimpse of you, a lock of hair perfectly out of place, the sensation in his stomach intensifies—like butterflies flapping (or maybe just another wave of radiating pain). 

“S’hot,” he grumbles, half of his face mushed into the pillow.

The mug in your hand is piping hot, steam lifting from it, and Gojo doesn’t like drinking hot things; he’s burnt his tongue enough times on hot chocolate that he swears any hot liquid is out to get him.

But you don’t know that about him—he’s never told you, he thinks. 

You take a seat on the edge of the bed. 

“That’s kind of the point, baby,” you chuckle, tone doting with a hint of pity, “It has to be.” 

Your hand rests on his thigh, attempting to soothe him. He catches your eye and whines. 

“If I blow on it, will you drink?” you plead, “Please?”

At this point, he doesn’t know what hurts more: this stupid stomach ache or how nice you’re being. 

You could have said ‘I told you so’ the moment his stomach started gurgling when you both arrived in Tokyo—but you didn’t. Instead, you asked him what exactly he was feeling and had him change into his pajamas as you nursed him to bed. Then, you cooked him real food, a bowl of Okayu for his stomach to digest something plain and non-irritable. 

You haven’t stopped moving since you both got back from Kyoto, unpacking both your things while simultaneously darting in and out of your bedroom, checking in.  

How you speak to him is so gentle, caring, doting—even when you have every right to hold it against him. 

He pushes himself up, leaning back on the headrest. You smile, lovely, and beautiful, and every bit healing that it eases the pain a little, somehow. Your mouth forms an ‘o’ as you blow on his tea, scooting closer.

A gurgling sound comes from his stomach again, but it’s manageable, and he bears it as he takes you in—how you’ve barely had the time to change out of your clothes since this morning. You’re tired, he’s sure, but you don’t mention it as you take care of him. 

The bed dips as you draw nearer, bringing the mug to his lips—he’s a grown man and he can definitely do this on his own, but you always take such good care of him. 

Who is he to say no?  

Sips of peppermint coat his tongue, warm as it eases down his throat. He wraps his fingers around yours, drinking a third of the mug before urging you to set it down. 

“I’ll heat up a hot compress,” you motion to get up, placing the mug by your bedside. 

He stops you, grip loose on your wrist. 

“Have you eaten?” 

You stare at him, a little surprised, but you nod.

“Just stay with me, then. Don’t need that thing.” 

Your brows furrow, pouting, “But it’ll help,” 

“Hug me instead,” his fingers play with yours, intertwining, “or I’ll hug you. Either.” 

You shoot him a look, disbelieving, but he musters up a wink, for you, despite the new wave of pain arising. 

“Okay,” you sigh, knowing you can’t exactly argue. As you get up, you land a kiss on top of his head, rubbing his knuckles as you get ready for bed. 

When you come back, dressed in your pajamas, he’s turned to his side, lifting the comforter to welcome you in. You lie face-to-face with him, his arm reaching out to rest on your lower back, pushing you closer. 

“You sure this is enough?” you whisper, breath tickling his chin. 

“Mm, yeah,” he hums, hugging you tighter as he grins, “you’re hot.” 

You hit his arm lightly, and he chuckles.

It turns quiet, then he shifts, resting his forehead against yours. White strands, as pale as your pillowcases, tickle your eyes. 

He nuzzles your nose, hiking your leg up to rest on his hip while slotting his leg between your thighs—like a pretzel, twisted into each other tight. 

“You’re too good to me.” 

He’s said this before, and no matter how much you say it isn’t true—he’ll always think it, believe it. 

You frown, gripping his waist, “I don’t like seeing you in pain, you know.” 

And he thinks you’ve always been like this: hands outstretched farther than his, offering yourself to help carry whatever pain, struggle, or burden you can. You cry for the sadness others feel, share the hurt of anyone who needs it. You’re the pillar, the support for everyone around you—from Yuuji, Megumi, and Tsumiki all the way back to Utahime, Suguru, and Nanami. 

You’ve always been this way, ever since he met you. 

“Does it still hurt?” you mutter, concerned, fingers grazing his stomach. 

It does and it doesn’t—the pain is unfamiliar but he can take it, having gone through far worse. If he’s being really honest, a part of him just likes being babied by you. 

“Better,” he inches back a little, lips curling into mischief, “would definitely go away with some Hi-Chew.” 

You shoot him a look, then pout. 

“Satoru.” 

He figures there are still a few things you don’t know about him: how he really dislikes hot drinks, how discomfort turns him into a whiney, needy baby, and how he remains incredibly stubborn, maintaining what he stands for (but maybe you know this already). 

“Hey, you should be thanking my Hi-Chew’s. It helps with energy when we fu—” 

You swat at his chest in hopes of shutting him up.

He clears his throat, correcting himself instead, “—make love.” 

This is hardly the time or situation to be talking about the other things you do on your bed, given that he’s been out of commission, curled in on himself the entire day on it. But you sigh, resting your palm on his cheek. 

He turns to peck your wrist, hand coming up to cover yours.

“Just because you were fine doing it before, doesn’t mean you always will be,” you whisper, rubbing your thumb across his cheekbone. 

And Gojo thinks he’s right most of the time, if not all the time, but—

“We’re not old, but we aren’t as young as we used to be, you know? Have to take better care of ourselves now…” you continue.

—when you talk to him like this, you humble him. Immensely. 

He’s always known that if he were to give in to anyone, it’d be to you. 

Things are different now, he knows; his considerations have changed too—like how to lay the foundations of a new, ideal jujutsu society, with all the political and diplomatic gymnastics he knows is necessary; what to do with all this downtime, with all this life and no more death looming overhead; there’s also you, where this relationship is headed, what he plans to do. 

“What will I tell everyone when the love of my life, Gojo Satoru, the strongest, gets knocked out by sweets?” 

Then you joke around like this so casually, kissing his nose and calling him the love of your life like it doesn’t bear commitment that spans your–his–entire lifetime—it shakes him a little. 

He holds his breath, eyes staring at yours. You seem completely unfazed—a slip of the tongue maybe, so he lets it go. 

“Okay, okay,” he pinches your nose as you scrunch it, “I’ll try, but no promises.” 

You kiss his wrist in return—the softness of your lips always turning him a little delirious when he feels it. He pulls you closer to his chest, palm pressed to the back of your head as his other arm wraps around you, squeezing you tighter. 

“But don’t complain if I only last one rou—” 

He gets kicked in the thigh. 

.

.

.

4 — WHEN IT'S YOUR WAY OR DOWN THE DRAIN

There’s the right way, then there’s the Gojo way. 

Sometimes there’s an overlap, but most times he’s just unorthodox. Gojo’s always had his own way of doing things, but now, he’s throwing all that down the drain in lieu of doing things your way (which in this case, he’s decided is the right way). 

Between the two of you, you’re definitely better at cooking. 

He isn’t inept at it per se; all these years, he’s managed to get by. It’s just that, he’s only ever made quick, simple things—barely having the time or need to make things on his own when you seem to have an extra plate on standby.

Long cooks like this, for real, big meals aren’t his forte at all. 

This is the fullest his kitchen has ever been, a trip to the grocery store producing bags overflowing with the ingredients he needs. He tightens his apron (yours, actually) by his waist, pale pink a stark contrast to his black shirt and gray lounge pants. It’s tiny on him, barely fitting, but it covers enough to (hopefully) save him from any mishaps. 

With all the ingredients lined up on his kitchen counter, he stares, hands on hips as he contemplates where to begin. 

You’ve mentioned before how his kitchen is every cook’s dream: complete equipment, all high-grade with steel surfaces for easy wipe downs and more than enough real estate to move around. It’s a shame he’s barely used it over the years, either too busy out on missions or lately, too often staying at yours.

The unease makes him fidgety.

There’s an air of confidence that normally surrounds Gojo in everything he does, but it wavers just a bit with this one. 

He has to get this right. 

It’s your anniversary—the third (officially), but the number doesn’t matter as much when the years have always blurred the lines of what you are to each other. 

The past two celebrations were cute and fun, adventurous in how you’d spent the first one on a trail date up north, and the second one fruit picking in a farm, just west of Tokyo—things you’d both done for the first time, together. Now, there’s added pressure because this is your thing; everything on the menu for tonight’s home cooked dinner is based on your recipes. 

You know all of this by heart. And though he’s aware he doesn’t have to impress you, he wants to. 

He glances at the clock: 15:05 in white, 4 hours until you arrive. The table hasn’t been set up yet and he’s barely dressed, an array of ingredients on the table waiting to be transformed into four of your recipes he plans to attempt. 

Gojo is no quitter, but it’d be stupid of him to underestimate how fast time flies. 

He pulls out his phone, scrolling through his contact list—then he shoots a text, pocketing the device as soon as he hits send.

.

In the amount of time between asking for help and said help standing outside his door, ringing the doorbell, Gojo’s managed to do most of the prepwork: slice all the vegetables, set the rice cooker, and mix together all the sauces and glazes so he can set them aside for later. 

“Just type it!” he shouts from the kitchen.

Four beeps sound from the door, a soft woosh following as it opens. Help enters in the form of spiky hair and a deadpan gaze, putting on house slippers by the genkan as he drags his feet to the kitchen counter. 

“Megumi!” 

The younger boy sighs, tucking his hands into the pockets of his joggers, long sleeves wrinkling higher. “Why did you call me?” 

“Oh!” Gojo claps his hands together, “I need your help.” 

Megumi looks him over, eyes zeroing in on the pink apron, then the bowls of sauces and chopped vegetables in front of him. The rice cooker is steaming beside the sink while empty pots and pans line the burners of the stove. 

“With cooking?” Megumi shifts his attention back to Gojo as the older male nods. He mumbles, “You made it sound like an emergency.”

(“Come here now.” in proper punctuation, lacking any of his usual emoticons—only ever being used in the most dire situations).

Gojo furrows his brows, “It is!” 

Megumi stares. 

“Anniversaries are emergencies,” Gojo stares back, holding the silence for a few seconds before he continues, demeanor turned serious, “Think of it as doing this for your Sensei, not me.” 

There’s a crack in Megumi’s resolve that Gojo knows only appears when it comes to you; a soft spot that exists because you’ve always been closer, warmer—an accumulation of all the times you were adamant on being present because the kids deserved someone there, especially when he couldn’t be. 

Megumi sighs, resigned, as he pushes up his sleeves, trudging over to the sink. He turns on the tap, soaping his hands until it suds, “You should have asked Itadori.”

“Yuuji wouldn’t know how it’s supposed to taste though.” 

“Sensei’s recipes?”

Gojo nods, fanning out pieces of paper from the recipe folder you keep in your kitchen drawer, “Your favorites.”

Megumi scrunches his nose, embarrassed as pink tints the tips of his ears. 

His relationship with Megumi has always been a bit weird, a not-quite-parent-maybe-kind-of-distant-guardian-and-good-but-annoying-mentor-slash-benefactor kind of weird. And he’s sure that the boy isn’t too fond of the idea that he knows small, seemingly trivial things about him like his favorite food, but if there’s anything they can settle on, it’s definitely love for you. 

“Do you have another one?” Megumi turns to Gojo, pointing to the hair band pushing back his hair. 

.

There’s a different kind of care in cooking that he’s now realizing, coming face-to-face with the pot of dashi he’s just started boiling—a patience that comes with waiting and an efficiency meant for multi-tasking.

During the 30 minutes of soaking the kombu, they split tasks: Gojo takes duty rolling the Temaki on his own, while Megumi seasons the Wagyu and prepares the Sunomono. It’s not long before Megumi is directed to setting up the table as Gojo focuses on the Miso Soup. 

There’s a reference photo, some picture he pulled online. The gray plates and silverware on his dining table match the iron-hued backsplash and steel surfaces of his kitchen, sleek but softened by the vase of red and white camellias from the florist you frequent. 

Megumi doesn’t say anything, frankly because he’s gotten used to walking in on Gojo searching up these things: a youtube video of trail dates and articles of ‘the top 10 best farms for fruit picking’. There was also that time he found Gojo’s browser open on a catalog of lingerie.

(Megumi’s been trying really hard to forget that). 

These aren’t things Gojo’s done before, much less thought of—romance and all. 

But he admits, it’s hard work, wiping off the sweat on his brow caused by the heat from the stove. 

“Why,” Megumi sighs, “Why are you cooking anyway?” He mumbles, adjusting the silverware on the table, “Couldn’t you just reserve some place?”

Most of the cook has been silent, with Gojo too focused and Megumi barely saying a word. So while adding the katsuobushi after the kombu boils, the older male answers. 

“I would have, but she said she wanted to stay home,” he turns away from the pot, leaving the katsuobushi to soak as he shrugs. 

Megumi snorts, straightening out the black tablecloth, “Don’t you have anywhere you want to go?” 

It’s a simple question. Innocent. 

But it hits him then, how what you say follows; how ‘anywhere he wants to go’ is wherever you are, how he’s choosing to cook this meal for you instead of just ordering in—how he’s now considering you, in everything.

This isn’t his strong suit, far from it, really, but because he’s thinking of what you want—suddenly he’s domesticated, cooking for you in hopes of romancing you (even though he already has you).   

You come first now, and he finds that he doesn’t mind. 

He turns back to the stove, straining the soup through a fine-mesh sieve before adding miso paste, dissolving it into the dashi.

“I guess not.” 

The thought stays with him, even as he drops in the tofu, dried wakame seaweed, and green onion. Even as he waits for it to finish cooking, moving the pot atop a different burner while grabbing a spoon to dip in it. 

“Megumi, come taste,” he calls behind him. 

And when the boy sidles up next to him, he feels nervous, fingers trembling as he hands over the spoonful of Miso Soup. He stares at Megumi, eyes wide open, anticipating. 

The boy arches an eyebrow as he takes the spoon, blowing on it gently. He takes a small sip.

“I added less salt because—” Gojo speaks up, a bit panicked, fingers scratching at his nail beds. 

“She’ll like anything you make, even if it tastes bad.”

Gojo’s brows furrow, “Are you saying it’s bad?” 

“Or bland,” Megumi adds, smacking his lips. 

“So it’s bland?”

The horror on Gojo’s face is laughable, but Megumi continues, deadpan. 

“No, it’s okay.” 

Gojo sighs in relief, then pouts, “Don’t mess with me like that.” 

“I don’t,” Megumi sets the spoon down, walking back to the dining table to finish setting up. 

The 18:03 on his digital clock flickers, and the rest of the cook continues: he heats up the skillet for the Wagyu—Matsusaka Beef, grade A-5, heavily marbled, meant to be tender and sweet. Some oil is drizzled onto the pan before cloves of chopped garlic are thrown in, followed by the beef, cut into bite-sized pieces. He adds a bit of soy sauce and red wine, to draw out the sweetness (or so he’s read), then finishes it up by plating it. 

And, there really is a different kind of care in cooking, he’s now realizing; how, when he stares at what he’s cooked in the past hour, he’s thought of you through it all—your preferences, the way you make things. How big meals aren’t his forte, but for you, he tries anyway. 

“Do you need me to do anything else?” Megumi asks, adjusting the camellias in the vase one last time. He takes off his hair band and ruffles his hair, hands tucking inside his pockets immediately after. 

Gojo looks up from the spread of food on the kitchen counter, motioning for the boy to come closer, “Taste test everything with me.”

Lined up are a plate of Temaki, a wooden board of Wagyu, a plate of Sunomono, and a bowl of Miso Soup. For every bite he takes, Megumi follows. And honestly? He thinks everything tastes… okay. 

The Temaki bursts with the sweet umaminess of buttery salmon dotted with ikura, the yellow daikon pickles adding a tart balance that complements the salmon well by simultaneously being sweet and salty. The avocado adds extra creaminess, while the cucumber and corn provide a freshness that lifts everything else. For some added decoration, he uses radish sprouts to mimic leaves on the filler plants of bouquets—the main reason he chose to make this: it looks like the bundles of flower arrangements you keep on your desk. What ties everything together though, is the crunchy, crispy texture of the nori, giving contrast to the creaminess it holds inside. 

There’s a reason why Wagyu is so expensive, and it’s being told in the way it melts into his mouth right now, sweet and tender. He paid a pretty penny for this, but it’s worth it because he can’t wait for your reaction. 

The Sunomono is meant to be a palate cleanser—with sesame seeds sprinkled on it, mild and sweet, while wakame seaweed and cucumbers serve as the base ingredients. The sauce is meant to be light, just a mixture of rice vinegar and soy sauce, seasoned to taste—and maybe his is a little lackluster compared to yours, but he swears you have some form of magic when it comes to cooking. 

After each bite, Gojo looks at Megumi for his reaction—but the boy gives nothing away, face blank and devoid of any emotion. None of them are as good as yours, definitely, but for his first shot at this, they aren’t too bad. He’d pat himself on the back for it. 

“They don’t go together,” Megumi regards the entire spread with his chopsticks. 

All his hard work? Shattered. 

Gojo is dumbfounded. 

It’s too late to change everything now. 

Should he just scrap everything and order takeout? 

“But they’re not bad,” Megumi continues, washing his chopsticks by the sink before heading for the bathroom to change out of the house clothes he’d borrowed in lieu of an apron.

When he emerges, long sleeves and joggers, he asks one last time if that’s all he needs to do, taking Gojo’s nods as a sign to take his leave. The older male remains rooted behind his kitchen counter, frozen from the crisis he’s facing.  

. 

You arrive a little later (thankfully), giving Gojo enough time to figure out this whole debacle. He’s ultimately decided to feel around for how the night goes, then he’ll act accordingly—if you show any sign that you aren’t happy, he has the delivery app ready. 

He dresses in simple slacks and a white button down, fiddling with how he’s rolled it up; the thought of you finally seeing everything he’s prepared for tonight makes him nervous—the table set-up, the ambiance, the food.

(He’s even cleaned up his bedroom).

Then he senses it, faint traces of your cursed energy by the door, and he holds his breath. The beeps on his lock count down the seconds to your entrance; and when he sees you come in, surprised and so amazed at the entire thing, the tightness in his chest eases up immensely. 

All he told you was to wear something nice. 

And, by god you did. 

You walk up to him, pretty and smiling in the simple dress you’d opted for tonight—a midi slip-on with a cardigan thrown on top. Black has always looked good on you, uniform or not, ever since up to now. 

But in white, you’re radiant. Glowing. 

He reaches for you. 

The grin on his face is lovesick as he grabs a hold of your waist. You instantly tiptoe up to kiss him, hands on his shoulders as you land a soft peck that transfers a light sheen of lip gloss onto his lips. The view behind him shows the table set-up, a pop of white and red amidst all the food he’s prepared for tonight. 

Your eyes widen, gasping, “Did you make all of that?” 

He nods, pulling away from you as he grins cockingly, “Call me chef.” 

But he immediately bites his lips, restless as he shifts his weight. He hopes you don’t notice how nervous he is—if you weren’t able to tell from his heartbeat, pressed against his chest. 

“You didn’t have to,” you pout at him, eyes watery as you swipe your thumb across his lips, wiping off the residue of your lipgloss. 

“Guess I’ll just undo everything then,” he chuckles, hands sliding to rest on your lower back, fingers tapping against silk. 

You roll your eyes, and before his hands get the chance to grab you lower, you’re whisking him away, holding his hand as you lead him to the dining table.

He pulls out your chair and you sit, the rare gesture making you giggle. As he settles in the seat across you, there’s a disconnect between the expression on his face and his body language—eyebrows wiggling and lips smirking, meant to be lighthearted and teasing, but he won’t stop fidgeting, shifting as he readjusts his seating. 

As you reach for the Temaki, he sucks in a breath, entirely hyper aware of every move you’re making. When you bite into it, he’s waiting. Anticipating. 

Your eyes fall shut as you chew, humming, then you grin. But when you open them and they catch his, it’s like you can tell—what he’s feeling. The furrow on your brows deepens as you look at him, concerned, “Hey, what’re you thinking?” 

How he hopes he hasn’t fucked this up, this dinner. What if the Miso Soup is too bland? Isn’t at all to your liking? What if the Wagyu’s dried out? Isn’t cooked properly? 

If he can’t get this right, this seemingly simple thing, how can he do everything else? Consider you the same way you’ve always considered him? 

He’s so sure of you his heart could burst at it, but what if he can’t ever come to terms with himself? With what he’s able to—

Then he feels it, your hand on his as you reach for him across the table, rubbing the back of it, soothing. 

He doesn’t even realize how much he’s worrying. 

“Megumi said it doesn’t go together,” he stares into your eyes, breathing slowly, grounding. It’s been a while since he’s given you a non-answer, but you accept it, patiently. 

“Megumi was here?” you ask gently, brow arched curiously. 

He nods, “Asked him to help a bit.” 

You hum, looking back at the food on the table before taking his other hand, soothing, “Well, that’s Megumi’s preference. Mine will be different.”

The smile you give him is warm, like the Miso Soup you’re reaching for right now. He watches you take a sip.

“S’good, better than mine,” You hum and he knows you’re lying but it’s still comforting, the fact that you’d do this for him. 

So if this is your effort for him, he isn’t going to waste it.

The rest of the dinner has you making the most exaggerated sounds, your ‘mmm’s and ‘ooo’s emphasizing how good the food is if he still doesn’t believe it. Your reactions are over-the-top and definitely overplayed, but it makes him laugh—has him grinning in his seat the more he relaxes. 

You help clean up, even though he insists that you shouldn’t. 

“It’s our anniversary, Satoru,” you bump his hip, shooing him away from the table as you stack up the dirty plates. 

When he finishes washing the dishes and turns to find you, sitting atop his kitchen counter, nibbling on a piece of strawberry from the special Daifuku he put out for dessert, he approaches you. 

“Don’t be greedy now,” he rests his hand on your knee, coming to stand in between your legs. You hike your dress up a little bit, just to give him some space. 

You chuckle, cupping your hand under his chin as you feed him; he eats the entire thing, half-bitten by you already. And as the tips of your fingers touch his lips, sticky and syrupy from the strawberry coating, he takes them in his mouth, sucking lightly. 

He holds your gaze.  

“Thanks for doing all this,” you blink twice as he releases your fingers, interlacing them with his, “s’not everyday you have an entire dinner cooked by the love of your life.” 

You say it again—how you call him that so casually. 

What do you mean it’s not everyday you have an entire dinner cooked by the love of your life? 

You do it for him all the time.

He hums, moving closer. His other hand rises higher, kneading the flesh of your thighs through the smooth silk of your midi dress. 

“Thought you were going to spit it out for a second there,” he swallows his nerves. 

“Stop,” you frown, grabbing him by his belt loops before pressing your lips against his forehead, landing a loud ‘smack’, “go away silly thoughts.”

He chuckles when you blow a raspberry on it, laughter easing up as you drag your lips down to the center of his brows, tense from all the worrying earlier. 

You always seem to get it right, he thinks, this whole relationship thing—always knowing what to say. 

He tilts his head up, leaning closer to kiss you on the lips, fully. The breath he lets out mingles with yours, sweet with hints of strawberry, and when he catches your bottom lip you lean back, hands coming to rest on his cheeks. 

You nip on his upper lip, playful but light, and he groans, hand reaching up to slot itself by your neck. 

It’s there, underneath his fingertips, the pounding of your heartbeat. 

As you squirm on the kitchen counter, you pull away for a moment, restless from the growing heat. The action is subtle but dangerous as your cardigan slips off your shoulder, revealing the strap and lace of your lingerie. 

Blue eyes land on familiar pink, one he’s certain he’s caught you in before, but seeing it now, under white, it does something to his brain—blood rushing, ears ringing. 

He leans closer, grabbing you by the waist as he runs his lips against along your neck, nipping on sensitive skin.

“‘Toru,” you gasp, breathy as you grip his shirt. 

“Tell me what else you want,” he murmurs against your skin, muffled. He sneaks one glance at you, pupils blown, before hovering over your temple, lips barely touching, tickling as he whispers, “anything.” 

Your fingers trail lower, pinching at his shirt before you tug, untucking it from his slacks. You turn to him, finding his lips, sliding them over his as you match his rhythm. It’s careful and slow, the way you unbutton his shirt, but it’s like he said—

This is your way; he’ll follow anything you say.

.

.

.

5 — WHEN ALL I SEE IS ME AND YOU

Gojo never thought he’d make this decision all because of your joint streaming subscription. 

It’s a normal weekend, regular in every way possible—just a night in for the both of you. He usually stays over at the end of the week, but it’s been bleeding into the weekdays too, lately. 

The sound of splashing water against tile echoes along the hallway; you normally play songs when you shower, but he guesses today isn’t that kind of day. 

He plops on the couch, pointing the remote to the TV as he selects the streaming app. Normal weekends consist of movie nights, half actually paying attention to the screen, and half paying attention to other things—either way, it ends in falling asleep. 

When the homepage lights up on the screen, he spots two accounts: yours and his. And it’s joint, under one household—your home. 

And he doesn’t know if it’s because he’s been thinking about this more lately: how the past months have been a slow realization coming to terms with himself, and where he sees this relationship going, but the visual in front of him sparks an influx of things he’s been noticing. 

The pajama pants he’s wearing now exist as a pair to a matching set he has with you, but tonight, he’s opted for a white t-shirt because his pajama top is tucked somewhere in the drawers of your bedroom. 

(You keep it with you because you like how it fits more, you say, but he thinks it’s because it smells like him, and you sleep with it when he’s away). 

There’s another pair of chopsticks you always wash now, too, plain bamboo with a ring around the handle, light blue. You’d bought it from a market down the street a year ago, and told him it reminded you of him—how it’s his from now on, in the container of utensils by your kitchen sink. 

He’s always known how intertwined your lives are, a decade and more of learning one another is bound to entangle you somehow. But the past few years have caused knots, impossible to unravel—a thought that doesn’t scare him as much as it used to; a thought he now thinks doesn’t sound so bad as long as it’s with you. 

As long as it’s with you. 

The creaking of the bathroom door snaps him back, the soft pads of your footsteps growing louder as it reaches the living room.

“Oh, you haven’t picked a movie yet?” you ask, ruffling your hair with your towel. 

He puts on a smile, facing you as he hands over the remote, “You pick tonight.” 

.

You barely pay attention to the movie, snuggled up against his chest, constantly looking up to kiss his neck. He’s the same, distracted, but not for the same reasons you are. 

It’s a lot to resist, the way your hands creep under his shirt, warm against his stomach, but the sinking feeling in his gut makes it impossible to focus anywhere else. 

“Not the time?” you tap his cheek, and he tilts his chin down, acknowledging you. The look on your face is anything but disappointed, and it tugs at him, makes him feel guilty that he’s making you worry. That he can’t give you what you’re looking for right now. 

“Maybe later,” he takes your hand, lips grazing your fingertips, “I’ll get ready for bed.” 

You nod, sitting up as he taps your hip. He knows you can tell something’s bothering him—it’s impossible to hide anything from you at this point, but this realization feels like a long time coming, like it’s been brewing, now spilling. 

He gets up, kissing the top of your head before walking to the bathroom. 

When he steps in, it still smells like you—the shampoo and bodywash you use. (Technically, it smells like him too—he’s started using yours because it feels like keeping you with him, everywhere he goes). 

As he finishes brushing his teeth, reaching for his towel hooked beside yours, he remembers how none of this existed when it was just you. You only ever had one hook for one towel, how he used to share it with you only to realize that it would never dry in time for the next use.

Then he found it, some time last year, when he walked in to take a shower and saw a hook installed right beside yours, presumably his. 

The lights are adjusted for him too; fluorescent white too bright, a pain for his Six Eyes. You noticed when you caught him washing his face in the dark, so you changed the bulbs to soft white, tinged a bit yellow, warm. 

And the thing is, he never asked you to do any of this. 

You just… did. 

Because that’s you. 

And it’s making him realize even more how he wants to keep it this way, how he wouldn’t mind if this was the rest of his life, everyday.

.

The mood shifts when you both get in bed, and if you notice it, you don’t tell him. Whatever was bothering him before has settled, his head clear, more focused to reciprocate your earlier advances. 

He’s gentle when he touches you, taking the time to love you. Your clothes come off one by one with no haste at all, slowly, almost painfully. 

But he kisses you all over, leaves marks on places only he can see—by your hip, at the center of your chest, and another one, visible, on your neck below your ear. This is more than what he usually does, but he feels determined tonight.

“Off,” you whisper, as you tug at his shirt, pulling it off before throwing it to the side of your bed. 

He holds his breath when your fingers land on his chest, dragging across his collarbones before you tap thrice. This is a spot you’ve loved so intently, he’s become sensitive to it every time you come close. You leave kisses along it, some wet, others dry pecks, but it makes him shudder all the same, every time. 

As he hovers above you, arm bent by your head, his fingers trace your lower lip, tugging only to let it bounce back; he kisses you, noses bumping, softly at first before it turns hungry—lips overlapping, biting. His tongue runs over your lips, smooth and warm. 

There are more touches, more gazes; lips brushing and breaths mixing. The heat between you is shared, intermingling, and when he’s in you—

—it’s too much, how he feels looking at you right now, like you’re everything, the only thing seared into his memory. 

There’s a life he wants to give you, and though he knows there are others who might be more able to—he can’t let go of you, refuses to. He can’t bear the thought of anyone else being this close, doesn’t even want to think about someone else waking up next to you—the bed hair he always looks forward to, the lazy smile against squished cheeks, the hands that always reach for him, first thing. 

These traces of you have made him want the whole of you, and if this is him being selfish, then so be it. 

His arms wrap around your back, hoisting you up as your legs wrap around him, and you’re both moving, timing in sync, and he’s crying. 

He tucks his face into your neck, and he’s sure you feel everything—wet tears, shuddery breaths, but you don’t say anything. You hold him tighter, fingers scratching his undercut as he gets closer and closer. 

Gojo Satoru is a man of impossibilities. 

And this life he thinks you deserve—he wants to be the one to give that to you. 

.

.

.

+1 — WITH MY KNEES ON THE FLOOR, WHEN I ASK FOR MORE

He shouldn’t even be feeling this way, because what’s the worst thing you can say?

It’s just you. 

It’s just you—

And… maybe it’s because it’s you, that the .01% possibility of you even saying no—

—it makes him feel sick. 

He looks back at the clock: 16:30. The walk from the conference room to his office will take an extra 3? 5? minutes. 

The room feels tighter, smaller, floorboards practically worn down from how much he’s paced around it. 

He’s rehearsed what he wants to say, how he’ll grab your hand and look you straight in the eyes as he does it. Fear and excitement churn in his belly, how he’s imagining the look on your face.

If you were here, you’d tell him to breathe—to follow you with every inhale and exhale. 

If you were here, you’d smile at him, lips curled up softly, gently, the one he loves. 

If you were here—

—the door opens, and you step into the room. 

Now that you’re here, he doesn’t know what to say. 

You stand before him in your uniform, smiling, just as he imagined you’d be. Your eyes crinkle at the corners, sparkling, the way he’s noticed they have since you were 17. 

He must be doing a terrible job hiding how he feels because your demeanor instantly shifts, face contorting into worry, brows furrowed and frown forming. You drop your bag as you walk to him, hands reaching to cup his face. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, voice hushed and delicate, “Did something happen?” 

Your fingers are warm on his cheeks (or is he too cold?), tilting his head lower so you can look him in the eyes. He can’t breathe, can’t hear you properly; you’re drowned out by the thumping of his heartbeat. 

“Need to tell you something,” he manages to mutter. 

Your eyes widen before you nod, lowering your hands as you speak slowly, “Okay, do you want to sit first? I have water—”

He shakes his head, hand reaching for your wrist, “I think… you should sit.” 

The pause alarms you, your body turning rigid. He has no idea what’s going through your mind, and you give nothing away as you mumble an ‘okay’ while walking to the couch. 

He stays beside you, not too far but still placing a bigger distance than he normally would—for the 0.01% probability that this isn’t what you want, that he isn’t too close, forcing you into an answer you might not want to say. 

The words float in his mind, but none of them string together to form the sentences he wants to tell you. Does he take it from the start? How this whole thing has always terrified him? How he never thought this was meant for him, but here he is, still learning but loving every second of it?

There are things he’s never had to consider before that he cares so much more about now—all because of you, how it’s for you, how he wants to do better by you. 

You call him the love of your life and he hasn’t told you, but you’re that and more for him, too. 

He practiced this, damn it. 

Why can’t he remember a single thing? 

The silence between you is tense, tainted by overthinking on both ends. You look like you’re waiting for bad news, and Gojo’s too stuck in his head, turning over the right words to say instead of reassuring you. 

“I’ve been thinking lately,” he starts, fiddling with his fingers. His feet won’t stop bouncing, knee fidgeting. He’s biting his lips, a tell-tale sign that there’s a lot he isn’t saying.

You place your hand on his knee to calm him down, and he stops bouncing it, looking at you as you muster up a small smile—far from being genuine, but it’s the fact that you’ve mustered it, as if to say: ‘it’s okay, you can tell me; i’ll always want to hear all of it.’ 

He swallows, “This arrangement isn’t working.” 

Your face drops, brows furrowing, “What arrangement?” 

His heart is pounding. 

“I stay over at yours too much.” 

Too much, that mine doesn’t feel like I belong there anymore, he fails to add. 

“I think we need more space.” 

Your hand slides off his knee as you tuck it between your thighs. There’s a frown on your face he can’t seem to figure out, and the fact that you’re giving nothing away, whatever you’re thinking—he’s turning even more nervous right now. 

“Okay,” you finally say, tone flat, “when do you want me to return all your things?”

He tilts his head at you, confused, “What—” 

“Actually, can I…” you shift around, tucking loose strands of hair behind your ears before clearing your throat, “can I ask if it’s something I did?” 

And his heart drops, straight into his stomach. 

It’s not like that at all. 

He’s hit with déjà vu; this conversation feels so familiar, so similar to one he’s had with you before—on the sofa chair across this couch, laying himself bare the same way he is now. 

The couch dips as he scoots closer to you, reaching for your hands. 

“It’s not—”

You scoff sadly, “Please don’t give me the ‘it’s not you it’s me’ thing,” then your tone drops, blinking away your tears, “if you’re going to break up with me, Satoru, just tell me why. Honestly.” 

He blinks. 

There’s a secret Gojo keeps, one he once told himself he’ll never tell you. 

But now seems like it’s fitting—the right time to say it. 

“You remember when I was unsealed?” he moves to the floor, getting down on his knees in front of you. You nod as he rubs circles over your knuckles, “When I first saw you, it was pretty scary.” 

He brings one hand to your cheek, catching a tear with his thumb. You pout, the crease between your brows growing deeper. 

“You ran yourself dry because of me.” 

When he thinks about it now, he still feels guilty. 

He believes that people are accountable for their own actions, and he still believes that with you, definitely—but he knows your reasons, why you acted that way, desperate for hope everyday. And for that, he takes responsibility. 

“I didn’t want that for you, still don’t.” 

Your frown deepens, tears welling up even more. 

Do you still think he wants to do this without you? 

He can’t take this, seeing you cry; he promised himself he wouldn’t be the reason behind this anymore.

“I’m not breaking up with you,” he tells you firmly, surely. 

You blink. 

Then your shoulders drop as you breathe out—what he hopes is relief. When your eyes meet, a little less sad, he sees the stars in them, glinting like they do when you look at him.

This should be his answer already, how much you brighten at the thought of staying with him. But—

“I still think you deserve more,” he brings your hands to his lips, brushing them against it, and as you’re about to interject, he chuckles, “but I’m also too selfish to leave that up to someone else, you know?” 

“Soooo,” his hand reaches for his pocket, fishing around until he feels for what he’s looking for. He takes out his phone, swiping and scrolling until he finally stops, placing it on your lap for the both of you to see, “I’ve been thinking lately…” 

He looks up at you, the two skies you’ve always been drawn to, waiting. The unease in his stomach returns, churning. 

It’s a compilation of properties: houses, apartments, plots of land—all scattered around Tokyo, some central and some further on the outskirts. 

Your eyes widen, tilting your head to the side as you attempt to read what’s on his screen. You turn to him immediately, eyes still watery; the expression on your face is unreadable, a mixture of surprise and confusion, like you don’t exactly know what he means. 

“We don’t have to choose from these, it’s just a few brokers I talked to recently. We can look for others if you want, in quieter areas too—” 

Then you smile, beaming, tears falling from your eyes, “Satoru,” and you breathe out his name but it sounds like I love you.

There’s a quiet life he can’t give you, but he likes this one with you much better too. He takes your hands, placing one on his chest, over his heart, and the other on his cheek. Then, he leans into it, kissing the insides of your wrist before staring back at you sincerely. 

His heart is beating wildly, he’s sure, but if he can continue to make you this happy—

“Make a home with me?”

a/n: food descriptions—temaki is easy hand-rolled sushi, sunomono is japanese cucumber salad.

thank you notes: @stellamancer the actual birthday gift for u :') + @em1e for listening to me talk abt the entire plot and even reading the first few scenes!! + @mididoodles @kissxcore @itadorey @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat for always being so supportive when am sharing my progress posts ilu + @crysugu @soumies @augustinewrites no reason other than i just love u ᰔ i reply so slow when am writing smth...

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Here to Misbehave (Finale | S.R.)

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Finale |

Summary: It’s Halloween, and there are a lot of things on Spencer’s mind.

A/N: Here it is, everyone: the end of the story. Thank you so much to everyone who’s read this far. I greatly appreciate all of you, and I hope you enjoy it!   Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Fluff/Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Penetrative sex, light D/s, mostly fluff! Word Count: 7.5k

—————————————————

Autumn has widely been considered the season of change. It is an understandable characterization; from the shifting hues of the leaves to the wildly fluctuating temperatures, few things stayed consistent in the fall. Perhaps that’s why someone who loathes change, someone like me, finds the season so thrilling.

It’s like the Earth and the Sun made a pact to make changes more predictable in their own unique, chaotic way. The breeze becomes biting and the days become shorter, but for these downfalls, we are granted a beauty and calmness that can’t be rivaled by any other season.

But she wasn’t a season, and when it came to my attention and appreciation, there were few choices that were easier to make.

“Spencer. You’ve got to be kidding me.”

(Y/n)’s face was half covered by the cup she held tightly with both hands, but I could picture the hidden expression perfectly, regardless.

“What? We don’t have to agree on everything.”

The truce was received poorly, her response a heavy scoff and a shake of her head. I tried to follow along with her suddenly heated words but couldn’t contain the stars in my eyes that often accompanied my daydreams. If she did notice, she stubbornly ignored the adoration to continue, “I understand you’re a genius or whatever, but I think your opinions on cider and cocoa are... wrong. They are wrong.”

It was my turn to feign displeasure (I hoped hers wasn’t real, anyway), clutching tighter to my own drink that I found myself defending on a park bench with dozens of strangers as an audience.

“An opinion can’t be wrong!” I chirped, only hating the way my voice jumped a little bit. After all, it was hard to hate it when it made her giggle. But despite how much sweeter the liquid seemed when I drank it in the presence of her smile, I also knew that she wouldn’t appreciate my immediate agreement. So, I pushed back just a little, “It can be misguided or ignorant but not outright wrong.”

“Unless it’s yours, on this topic,” she shot back without hesitation.

I tried to flash her a pout, hoping that maybe it would work for me like it did for her. It did not. Her eyebrows shot up and her jaw dropped open with another laugh, and I decided that I preferred that outcome, anyway. The longer my bottom lip stuck out, the wider her smile got. I waited to stop until her eyes closed and turned away, just long enough for me to let the full force of my affection show before she noticed.

She saw it, anyway, in the form of a similar smile spread over my face when I softly admitted, “Fine. You’re right.”

“Oh, I know.”

Her tongue peeked between her lips, and I found myself thinking less of cider and cocoa and more about how unbelievably lucky I was to find someone that I never felt the need to prove anything to. A person that didn’t care if I held all the answers.

I might’ve continued down that sappy train of thought, but it was hard to do while she had hoisted herself halfway over the table to try and grab hold of my cup right as I went to drink from it. Of course, she had failed to take into account just how big the table was, and just how close I was willing to come to falling before I let her drink from my cup right after she’d criticized my preference of fall flavors.

For a second, I really thought she might climb onto the table to win, but the judgmental looks from the parents in the park must have beaten her desire to win. As forlorn as humanly possible, she fell back into her seat with a loud “Hmph!” which really only managed to elicit an equally immature giggle from me.

“Shut up,” she laughed before shoving my paper plate further into my chest, “And eat your stupid pie.”

All I could think as she grabbed my fork and stabbed the middle of the piece to try to lift the entire thing at once, was that I was right about one thing: Autumn, in all its vitality and beauty, could still never compare to her.

That thought persisted through the pumpkin patch, growing in intensity as she skipped through the vine-laden path like a regular fall fairy. It was much easier to get lost in her there, crouched and inspecting foliage. Her arguments regarding gourds were much less spirited, with her watching me wide-eyed and curious as I explained the stages of pumpkin growth and all the different uses for the fruit.

I still let her make the final choices, opting to analyze her selections and tease her for them later, instead. That was the plan, anyway, to continue the competitiveness lest she gets bored with me before the day was over. When she walked past me holding open the passenger side door, I thought it might’ve already happened.

But then she just placed the pumpkin into my hands so she could open the back door. Before I could even move, she carefully removed it from my arms again and placed it in the seat.

“What are you doing?” I said through a very amused chuckle.

She was decidedly not entertained by my confusion, stopping to turn to me with a bored, frustrated expression. “I’m buckling him in,” she explained slowly, like I might need the help. Then, to add insult to silly injury, she added, “Duh.”

I was too distracted by the details to tackle the absurdity of it all.

“Him? It’s a boy pumpkin?”

“Obviously. Look at him,” she snorted, finally clicking the seatbelt in before tenderly petting the top of the lucky little gourd. Once she was convinced it would be as safe as she could make it, she allowed me to begin to escort her into her proper seat.

“You know it’s safer on the floor, right?” I asked before she’d slipped past me. I wrapped an arm around her, pulling her away from the car so I could enjoy the warmth of her before it was replaced with the dry air of the engine.

“How dare you,” she balked with an open mouth that was just begging to be kissed. By the time I got close enough to try, though, her hand fervently shoved my cheek away. I tried to laugh, but she used the same hand to cover the noise, trying and failing to convince me she was being serious.

“Why don’t you just hold him?” I mumbled against her palm.

That was enough for her to abandon my embrace altogether. With a scoff and a roll of her eyes, she pried my arms off of her and finally made her way to my passenger seat. I didn’t fight her too hard, even taking the time to shut her door like my mother always insisted.

The mercy was not returned, with her eyes narrowed into a playful disbelieving glare that I hadn’t seen in some time. My mind was brought back to the first time she ever let me know she was jealous, bickering over blondes and preferences while she sat in the very same place. And, just as before, she was still wearing the same raggedy old sweatshirt of mine.

“If this is any indication of how you’ll be with a human baby, I have dramatically overestimated your competence,” she droned, obviously unaffected by the stars that appeared in my eyes every time I looked at her.

“The one and only time you’ll ever be able to say those words. I hope you enjoyed it,” I joked. A funny enough joke that she couldn’t help but smile through her facade.

“Don’t worry,” she chuckled, “I did.”

The day could have ended there, and it would have been enough. Honestly, I couldn’t think of a single thing that wouldn’t be better with her there. In a way, I think we were trying to prolong the high of ‘hooky,’ finding even the faintest interest in an activity as enough of an excuse for a detour.

… Which was probably how we found ourselves in our third park of the day. After all, I loved any autumnal vision, so how could I decline an opportunity to let them serve as a backdrop for watching her? And that was an accurate description of how I spent the day. It might sound boring, and if it were anyone else, it probably would have been. But no matter how often I saw her, I found myself learning new things about her every single time. Each freckle and scar became a part of the high-definition collection of memories that I would never let myself forget. The most beautiful images that kept me sane in the face of evil and filth.

“Do you see that?”

For a moment, I thought she might have read my mind. But then I realized that her eyes were still fixed forward, stuck on the horizon ahead of us.

“See what?”

“That,” she pointed, “Right there.”

My eyes followed the line, finding nothing but an area of carefully manicured, yellow grass and trees already set to rest for the season. It must have been clear to her that I was lost, because her pointing became more animated and her voice rose as she shouted, “Right there!”

“The giant pile of leaves?”

“Uh-huh.”

Then, in all of my obliviousness, I just sort of stared. Even when her hand grew tighter around mine and her feet started to move faster, I didn’t put two and two together until it was too late.

“What about— No! (Y/n)!” I shouted, cutting off my own train of thought and only barely letting go of her in time to watch her jump straight into the collection of fallen foliage that some poor landscaper had obviously worked hard to gather.

I have to believe that even if that unlucky, underappreciated individual saw what she’d done to their hours of work, that they would forgive her. It was hard to feel anything but joy at the sounds that came from the pile. Yet I approached her cautiously, with both hands in my pockets to avoid the urge to throw myself into danger with her.

“You’re a terror,” I said, settling for a crouched position in front of her. Still able to see her but far enough from her grasp that she had to crawl through a wall of leaves to come nose to nose with me. “This is literally the scariest thing you’ve done all season.”

“Come on in, the water’s fine,” she purred.

As enticing as the offer was, my mind was too preoccupied with statistics of spider and snake bites, not to mention the possibility of ticks still scouring the landscape for any last second hosts. The answer was easy.

“Absolutely not.”

With another exhale of pure displeasure, she threw her body back into the leaves, burying herself into a mess of yellows and reds that somehow only made her look even more beautiful. The chaotic scene matched her energy well, and the harm she was doing was minimal considering I was absolutely going to search every inch of skin for any marks later.

The only thing that was more appealing to me than watching her make an absolute fool out of herself in a pile of leaves was the intense urge to tease her about it. So, taking a regrettable seat on the grass, I sighed, “I think I’m going to have to arrest you for trespassing.”

There was a loud gasp from the center of the pile, followed by a scuffle of flailing limbs among the foliage.

“You don’t own this leaf pile! I do! I am queen of the leaf pile!” she screeched.

“Alright Princess,” I subtly corrected, “whatever you say.”

As promised, I didn’t put up a fight. Even when she finally got a hold of my hands and dragged me into the madness with her. I followed her no matter what nonsense she demanded, just as she had with me so many times. Granted, my desires weren’t nearly as dangerous or strange. They were pretty much just a collection of foreign films and reading that always lulled her to sleep.

But that day there was no sign of her energy waning. The early sun faded and we kept going. I’m not sure how, but she managed to enjoy herself in the D.C. landscape of bars and blaring car horns despite not being able to indulge in anything herself. Although she did half-heartedly attempt to trick me into buying her drinks in several different establishments, I think she was honestly proud that I avoided the drinks altogether. It was a nice reminder that sobriety could be something enjoyed between the two of us, regardless of the environment. However, we didn’t let that stop us from jumping into a crowd of very drunk women who had insisted we join their haunted tour of the city.

“Are you scared?” she whispered into my ear. The feeling of her warm breath against my skin caused a shiver to run down my spine, ruining any credibility I had in my response.

“No. Why would I be scared? It’s just history.”

“Are you sure?” she asked again.

“Yes!” I insisted with the worst possible timing. Because just as soon as the word had left my lips, I felt the distinct sensation of fingers running down my neck and arm opposite to her. I was so convinced that’s what it was that I even spun around with a yelp, crashing into at least three different people just to find a very startled woman with the worst hung scarf I’d ever seen.

(Y/n) had already put two and two together and was lost in an absolute fit of laughter. There were already tears forming in the corners of her eyes as she doubled over, barely able to stand through it all. Because there I was, her 31-year-old FBI agent boyfriend, screaming over a scarf.

“Laugh it up,” I droned. And she did. She kept laughing through any attempts at a response, and after the initial embarrassment wore off, I couldn’t help but join her.

“I hope you know you chose me. You chose this man!” I shouted, gesturing to the people around us who had already forgotten about our shenanigans, “And everyone knows it!”

“I’m sorry I can’t—” she wheezed, pausing to take a necessary breath that was all lost with another bunch of giggles “—You’re a fucking FBI Agent!”

“Well I can’t shoot a ghost, can I?” I mumbled through the hit to my ego. But any suffering was quickly dealt with as she threw dramatic arms around my waist, pulling me close and protecting me from any other errant scarves that might show up.

“I love you so much,” she said.

“I’m glad you’re having fun,” I returned with a quick kiss on her forehead. And even if I implied otherwise, I think she knew that I was having just as good of a time as she was. In fact, it was one of the most relaxing days of my life, which was saying something, considering how much walking was involved.

But no matter how tired we both were, I still had one last place to take her. It took her a while to figure out why the route felt so familiar, but I wasn’t ready to ruin the surprise. I wanted to watch the realization dawn on her. She didn’t disappoint.

“The Mayflower?” she asked with a bit of a bashful laugh before looking up at me through narrowed eyes, “Feeling nostalgic, Dr. Reid?”

“Yeah, a little bit. Thought it was more romantic than the club,” I offered, trying to shrug off the nervous butterflies that burst through my stomach. “Not by much, mind you.”

Although I got the feeling that she didn’t know, or perhaps just didn’t remember, that wonderful night from almost a year ago was one of the most important days of my life. I knew it then, too. From the second I set my eyes on her from my pitiful place against the bar, I knew that she would ruin me.

“Nothing screams high end romance like an alley and a little light law breaking,” she sighed. I almost missed it, too preoccupied with the way her arm tugged me tighter so she could rest her head against my shoulder.

“I can take you home if you’d rather.”

“Hmmm. Depends,” she hummed. Then, turning her head up to me with that playful look that always turned me to putty in her hands, she purred, “How much longer do you think you can wait before you just have to have me?”

I sucked in a sharp, sarcastic breath, eyeing her just long enough for her to start to fume, I let out all the air with a defeated sigh, “I guess we’re staying.”

That serene sort of teasing continued past the reception desk and all the way up the elevator. If there were other people there, we didn’t bother noticing. We were too busy watching one another to even look away long enough to find our room. Doubling back through the dizzying hallways until we found the elusive number, we finally settled into the only vaguely familiar layout of beige and tan.

She was much quicker at it than I was. Before I’d even finished washing my hands and checking exposed skin for bugs that I was convinced had hitched a ride from the leaf pile, she was already stretched out on the bed in nothing but a tiny piece of lacy cotton and her favorite sweatshirt. The sight made me stop, lost for breath and logic of how I was lucky enough to be there with her again.

“See something you like, Dr. Reid?” she teased through giggles, no doubt recalling the same memory as me.

My answer didn’t need to be said, but I said it, anyway. She deserved to hear it.

“Yes.”

With arms outstretched, she sleepily begged, “Come here.”

But I couldn’t.

“Not yet… I just… I want to look at you like this a little bit longer.”

How could I move on from this moment, when it was the best I’d ever felt? So overwhelmingly safe and at home despite being in a strange, sterile room. I had no desire to move any inch of me if it meant that this image would persist for the rest of my days.

“You getting all romantic on me?”

“Always,” I chuckled. Her usual disgust for my sappy behavior didn’t show itself, overpowered by the gentle curve of her lips and hands that were becoming more and more insistent to be held. Eventually, I had to move, knowing that it was the only way to hold her.

My body reacted the way it always did when it found her. All of the tension dropped from tired shoulders, desperate to touch her more. To feel the imprint of her body pressed against mine, a mess of heat and need and love.

She was the one to kiss me first, and for a moment I let her do it without reciprocation. I wanted to feel how her touch became softer and shier as she realized what I was doing. That I was spending all of my energy memorizing the way her lips parted as she tried to hold back a giggle against my almost-still lips.

“What’s happening in that big genius brain of yours?” she murmured with eyes half open but still containing universes.

“I’m just thinking of all the things you’ve done to make me fall in love with you.”

I thanked all of the gods in every pantheon that made her too tired to tease. Instead, she just laughed, playing her part in bringing us back to that night we met.

“Like quote Picard?”

“We still haven’t watched Star Trek together,” I whined.

The sound must have stirred something new in her, because she rolled us over to take her seat on my lap. She hung over me, looking down at me, hopeless and breathless at the feel of her thighs under my hands. My heart started to race, but I didn’t know why.

It wasn’t until she spoke the words that were already running through my mind, “We’ve got time. Picard can wait.”

Everything about it was effortless. Our bodies had fallen together and mouths found each other exactly like every romance novel has ever tried to tackle the metaphor of gravity.

But if we were an orbit, it was not a binary like the traditional notion of two equal souls. Despite the nickname I’d chosen for her, nothing about her soul was small. And even though she burned bright, she wasn’t anything like the fiery combustion of a star.

She was a home. A thing so full of vitality and life that I would love to watch for whatever time I had left. I was just a moon, loyally following her and trying my best to shield her from whatever might try to harm her. To protect her when she needed rest and to lead the tides to kiss her when she wished. I would be her shadow, shining a light onto her even in the darkest time. All that I asked for in return was a spot beside her.

‘One day,’ she had said before, ‘if you will have me.’

But it was never a question. Not for me. And if she really needed me to answer it for her, I was happy to give her that. I hadn’t been waiting for even a year, but it felt like a lifetime.

“Yeah, he can,” I repeated, quiet and with such a heavy waver that I’m surprised she could understand the shifting inflections. Even if she didn’t, she knew that something had changed in those few seconds of silence.

“What’s up, Spencer?”

I didn’t know how to answer. How to explain what I was feeling. But I grabbed hold of one hand, clinging desperately to her and guiding her to the heart that felt dangerously light. The rapid pace of its beating still not enough to alert her of the true cacophony of my thoughts.

“Are you okay?”

The answer was yes. Because no matter how loud and chaotic the sounds inside my head were, they all lead me to the same conclusion.

“Picard can wait, and we have a lot of time,” I tried to explain through a dry throat that was only growing tighter with the unwieldy weight of the feeling.

“Yes…” she mumbled back, just as trepidatious and nervous as I was.  

Just like I was. Because we were. We were connected by some force, whatever you want to call it. Whether it was a chemical or psychological or heavenly connection, I didn’t care. I wanted her to know how I felt. To know that there was nothing that would ever tear me away from her.

“But I don’t… I don’t think I want to wait.”

After a couple more seconds of silence, she answered with a knowing stare, “… What?”

From my position underneath her, I was able to reach over just enough to grab my jacket. Of course, it helped that she moved with me, clearly curious and terrified of the possibilities. But a good kind of terror… I hoped.

My confidence grew as her legs gripped tighter around my hips and her hands shot up to cover her chest with balled fists pressed against one another. I heard the friction of her skin as her body started to shake in a different way, with an adrenaline that I hadn’t seen from her in even the most dangerous situations.

But when I pulled a small velvet box from the internal pocket, everything stopped. She became completely still. Her eyes were wide and frozen on the object in my hands, only to look away when she heard my voice.

“(Y/n).”

“Where did you get that?” she asked like she hadn’t just seen me pull it from my jacket. The same jacket that I wore every time that I was with her. The wool fabric that she’d swaddled herself in on a number of occasions, none the wiser of how much heavier it was for me when I wore it.

“I know this is really random, a-and to be fair, I wasn’t expecting it, either,” I said through the most awkward laughs I’d ever produced (which was saying something), “I mean, I knew I wanted to marry you, I’ve known that for quite some time, hence the ring.”

I paused, but got nothing in response. Nothing except her lips quivering from their parted position, and her nose twitching as she tried to settle on just one expression. But it didn’t matter how she contorted her face; they were all exactly as they should be. Because they were all her.

“But today, with you… I-I’ve never been that happy in my life. Jumping in leaves and fighting over fall flavors and I—“

Her eyes stopped bouncing, settling with my gaze and robbing my lungs of all air. She made up her mind, deciding to leave everything exactly as it was. The honest truth of the overwhelming storm of every emotion that had been experienced in the little time we had shared together.

The knowing that everything had happened exactly as it should have to bring us here.

“I love you so much,” I whispered, careful to make every word as genuine as they were, “And I know that we have all the time in the world left with one another… but I don’t want to wait any longer for you to be my wife.”

“Ask me,” she answered immediately and abruptly.  


“Okay,” I laughed, endlessly entertained by how she could sound so aggressive even when we were both at our most vulnerable, caught in the nexus of our love.

“Um… Will you… marry me?”

There was no hesitation. No worry, no fear, and no doubt.

“Yes, you stupid old man!” she outright screamed, throwing arms around me even when it meant we both slammed against pillows and the headboard. She didn’t stop squealing even when she kissed me, struggling to find more of me to hold onto.

After she decided that tugging on my hair was the best way to express her affection, I managed to break away just long enough to shout, “Wait! I have to put the ring on you!”

“Then put it on!” she yelled, thrusting her hand in front of my face and practically slapping me in the process. But none of the pain mattered. Nothing was even recognizable outside of the feeling of her sweaty, shaking palm resting against my fingers.

I noticed for the first time that I was also trembling. I took the time to focus, slipping the ring over her finger. But once it started to safely slide into place, my eyes returned to watch what I knew to be happy tears fall over her cheeks. I wiped them away, but they were replaced with the wetness from my face when she brought us together again with a long, gentle kiss.

A calmness came over the room like the feeling following a storm. A clean slate with soil enriched for growth. A hope for a future forever changed.

“What do we do now?” she asked, biting her bottom lip and holding tight to my hands.

The answer seemed clear enough.

“Whatever we want.”

 —————————————————

 Is this really happening?

I stared at the diamond shining back at me with a clarity that had to be a metaphor for my heart. In the vague reflection of yellow light and us, I felt a warmth that doesn’t normally accompany metal. My finger’s new companion felt so comfortable in its new resting place. A constant reminder of the man I called home.

Then I turned back to him, unsure how I was supposed to move on from this moment. I never wanted to leave, but I also needed to move. I compromised and settled with my face against his chest, listening to the heartbeat he’d just dedicated to me. In that peaceful quiet, I heard him speak so softly I wasn’t sure I was meant to hear it.

But I did.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he said with fingers dancing through the ends of my hair, “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

And for once, the thought didn’t feel like a burden. In fact, it felt like freedom. I was finally free to be who I was without worry that I would be alone. Without worrying that I would be too much or too little to please him.

I was enough.

Enough.

“I love you,” I said, tasting salt from tears I hadn’t even noticed were falling.

Curiously, and in a rare role switch, Spencer was the one who took a blatantly affectionate display and turned it into something else. Pulling me away from his chest, he dragged me up until he could drag his lips over my jaw.

“Don’t cry, little girl,” he cooed with what I could only imagine was a wicked grin, “I haven’t given you a reason to yet.”

Something about that gruff rumble in his throat caused my skin to ripple with goosebumps. Every inch of me burned with flames that could only be put out by his touch. I chased after his lips with my own, but he was insistent on trailing down my throat. He knew I would be powerless to him. I wouldn’t be able to argue when my hands were knotted in his hair and my hips were already rocking helplessly against his erection.

“I want you to fuck me,” I seethed. My blood was boiling from the heat I felt within, and before he could even answer I was already working at the buttons on his shirt.

“Oh? You don’t want me to make love to you?” Spencer laughed. As if that had ever been our style.

“No, I want you to take what’s yours.”

He responded to the demand by pushing me from my seat, forcing me onto my back on the other end of the bed. I wasn’t going to complain, either. The new position allowed me access to his belt, which I unbuckled before he even had time to laugh.  

“Are you really challenging me right now, little girl?”

But despite the taunt, he did nothing to stop me. His hands were also busy removing my clothes. And just like before, our nakedness was reciprocated. With each lost layer, I should have felt lighter, but I didn’t. I felt so powerful, so aware of how our bare bodies twined together.

“Here, of all places? Do you remember what I did to you that night?”

How could I ever forget?

“I’m not the same girl you had in your bed then,” I purred. We both knew it was true, although not in the way I was implying.

Because Spencer had changed me. Irrevocably. He taught me so much — not just about physics, literature, or criminology, either. He taught me about kindness, softness, and vulnerability. He taught me how to trust that someone could hold me without the intention of letting me go. More than anything, he taught me that I didn’t have to learn these things alone. Even the smartest man I’d ever met needed help with them sometimes.

Then again, something told me that Spencer wasn’t in a very humble mood. Perhaps it was the fact he’d pinned me down again, with his hands clumsily gripping hard enough to leave crescent moons in my forearms.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he growled with a small, chaste kiss, “You’re still just a fucking brat.”

I wasn’t feeling bratty then, though. Especially not as I felt the head of his cock pressed against me, just hard enough to feel the resistance of my body. He waited there, no doubt taking pleasure in the way my whole body squirmed underneath him. My hips bucked, but he managed to keep a cruelly steady distance.

“You’re so precious when you’re needy,” he mumbled. And although I stubbornly avoided looking him in the eyes out of protest, he forced my face towards him again, anyway. “Go on. Say please.”

“Fuck off,” I whined through a prominent pout that did me no favors.

“Say it.”

“Please!”

I managed to make eye contact, but it was fleeting. As soon as he thrust forward into me, my back arched and I lost myself in the pillows. My hands found him, though, leaving angry red welts over heated skin. If Spencer was at all affected by the pain, he made no showing of it. His pace continued, steadily forcing our bodies together until I trembled in his hands.

He would hold me there, at my limit but not pleading for him to do anything different. With tender hands, he would fuck me until I swore bruises would follow. But I never felt unsafe; I felt cared for and cherished in a way I’d never known. I trusted him to know my limits better than myself.

I trusted him with all of me because I had already seen that when given the chance, he would do whatever he could to protect me.

The love I felt must have shone through my eyes because his hips got slower, drawing out each movement. My hips rose in tandem with his, allowing me to feel every inch of him inside of me.

“This body belongs to me now and forever,” he whispered.

It always has.

“You belong to me.”

And I felt it. The undeniable string of fate that tied us to each other. I could feel his every emotion as his fingers brushed over my throat. I melted under his touch, completely consumed by the love he felt for me. The kind of love that people spent their whole lives searching for only to come up empty. That powerful thing that drove gods to war and men to madness.

The only feeling that could tear down every wall that had been carefully crafted to protect myself. Because I didn’t need them anymore. Spencer’s arms would take their place, holding me through the storms that might follow the same way he had carried me through the ones that led us here.

“Yes,” I breathed, “I’m yours.”

For forever and whatever comes after.

The words were truer than they’d ever been before, and Spencer took it as permission to let go of any remaining hesitation. The slow, gentle thrusts became faster and our moans echoed in the small room without a second thought to the poor patrons in the rooms surrounding us. Because if they felt what we did, they would understand. Spencer still tried to hush the sounds, crashing his lips over mine in a sloppy, frenzied kiss.

I was suddenly reminded of every romantic story I’d ever heard. They all spoke of feeling so close to someone that they felt like an extension of yourself. I wasn’t sure if it was completely true, but there was no denying how at home our bodies were. The way our tongues wrapped around one another and how our noses bumped so gently in the chaos was unmatched by any meeting driven by lust or need.

His hips met mine over and over again, no matter how hard I tried to keep him closer. Even when my hips chased his to be held longer, Spencer was persistent in the ruthless pace. Because like me, he was lost in the euphoria. I knew it from the sound of his whimpers and the way he bit my lip just a little bit harder.

“Tell me what you want, little girl,” he begged. Not ordered. Begged.

“You,” I answered without any doubt, “I just want you.”

His response came even faster, even more desperate and scratchy as it came through his lips into mine.

“You have me. For the rest of my life and whatever comes after, I will take care of you.”

There was nothing left to say. I could feel the truth and force behind the words as he fucked me harder, eliciting one more quiet cry from me in the sound of his name.

“Spencer...”

When he returned the call, though, it wasn’t with any name I’d heard from him before.

“So you better get used to this feeling,” he said through a smile that I felt on my lips before he drew back. He looked me in the eye as he buried himself in me, tensing to hold himself back just a few seconds longer. To see the look on my face and let that be the feeling of us giving in to each other for the first time in our new story.

“Because I’m never going to grow tired of this, Mrs. Reid.”

Mrs. Reid.

That was going to be my name.

Mrs. Reid.

That was the only thought running through my mind as I felt the coil in my gut snap and all of my muscles tense around him. There were no whorish sounds left in my lungs, only little whimpers and whines as I tried to claw him closer. Spencer gave up his visual in exchange for kissing me while he finished. My walls held him so tightly that I felt each pulse and every place where his release filled me. But nothing was more compelling than feeling the way his lip quivered between mine as his body fell onto mine with no grace required.

Spencer could act hard all he wanted, but I felt the way he craved softness. Safety. Love. All things I was happy to give… for a price.

“Say it again.”

“Say what again?” he replied sleepily but animated enough to have a healthy dose of snark. Snark that earned him a rough nudge of my elbow into his ribs.

“You know!”

But naturally, the genius had to play dumb. With a happy little hum, he snuggled closer to me, burying his face into my neck so he could mumble against the skin, “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Please,” I sighed, “for me?”

He seemed to contemplate the plea for a little while longer, with wiggling toes I felt against my shins and a happy sigh that breezed over my neck. I tried to take in those small things while I waited, knowing that while I had a lifetime to learn them, this moment would never come again.

“Fine,” he finally settled, propping himself up to give another soft kiss followed by the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Only for you, Mrs. Reid.”

 ——  The Next Morning ——

 Waking up next to Spencer with a ring on my finger was literally waking up to find my dream come to life. And sure, his light snoring and constant wriggling under the sheets he continued to pull off of me weren’t perfect or picturesque, but they were real. The same way that he chirped when he felt my legs wrap around him in his sleep and only woke when he heard me giggling.

His eyes fluttered open, taken aback by something that he saw. Although I would blame it on the sunlight filtering through the curtains, I was sure that he would give me all the credit.

“Good morning,” he slurred.  

“Hi,” I answered with a smile and an attempt to pull him closer. But my hand was stopped by his, squeezing my palm between his fingers before dragging my knuckles to his lips. From there, he laid a gentle kiss over the diamond he’d placed there the night before. Although it was strange to be outshone by a rock, I let it go for now.

“I know you shouldn’t sleep with it on, but it’s so nice to see it’s still there,” he said with a heavy breath before lowering our still joined hands to rest against his heart. I could feel the way it beat a little bit quicker as I came closer, and I wondered if this was really what it would be like forever.

“I couldn’t resist wearing it.”

“You know you can still change your mind, right? We haven’t told anyone.”

“I haven’t changed my mind,” I replied unlike every time before. There was no teasing, no joke or anger or sadness. Just a pure, unadulterated joy.

… Of course, the question did bring up an entirely new anxiety. It did feel a bit silly, but it needs to be expressed.

“Have you?”

“God, no,” he laughed. Like he’d only asked the question to see the way I might panic. But as soon as I heard his assurance, I knew it was the truth.

My mind started to drift back to that first morning we spent together. It felt like a lifetime ago, but everything still felt so very much the same. I wondered if there were things I would change if given the chance. It wasn’t until after I ran through the laundry list of things that we would have been better off without that I realized I’d asked the wrong question.

It wasn’t a matter of what I would have changed, but what I would have kept the same. And the answer was simple. No matter what I would face in my life, I just wanted it to be with him. Everything would be okay as long as I had him.

However, when I tried to kiss him, Spencer still seemed hung up on the things he would have changed. Our lips didn’t connect for even ten seconds before he broke apart, happily laughing through the words, “This is so much better when I’m not hungover.”

“Old man.”

He didn’t argue back, wiggling under the sheets until our chests were pressed together. I took it as a very poor attempt at a power play, because instead of craning my neck to look up at him from my spot, I simply climbed his lanky figure until our noses were pressed together.

“Your old man now,” he corrected, followed by my own clarification of, “You were always mine, Dr. Reid.”

“But now you get to show everyone.” He grinned, letting go of my hand to roam over the curves of my body. His daily attempts to memorize each version of me he held. After a few more moments of silent reverence, I asked the question we’d have to face eventually, lest we face even more awkward, embarrassing moments with the team.

“Who’s gonna tell everyone?”

He barely even considered the options before he shrugged.

“Let’s just… wing it.”

I paused, certain that I’d heard it wrong. “You, Spencer Reid, would like to ‘wing it?’” I repeated, barely able to get the words out without laughing from the absurdity of it all.

But he was quick to assure me, “Yeah, I do.”

“Alright. Whatever you say,” I sighed. I figured that it wouldn’t be worth it to plan right now, anyway. It wasn’t exactly our style. If anything, we would find the perfect time completely by accident.

“You know what we should do first though?” I excitedly announced to the best audience a girl could ever ask for.

“What?”

“Coffee,” I drawled. To which he quickly answered, “I love you an ungodly amount.”

Taking full advantage of that admission, I shoved the poor soul who’d shackled himself to me forever away as I ordered, “Go turn it on. I am craving shitty hotel coffee in bed with my fiancé.”

“Fine,” he resigned with a smile while rolling out of the bed, “Spoiled brat.”

“Your spoiled brat!” I shouted back from safe under the covers that I could finally get back in his absence. They weren’t as good as him, but they would be enough for now. I buried my face into his pillow, snickering as I heard a very tired Spencer call from the bathroom, “Forever mine!”

Just as the sounds of running water filled the room, I lifted my head at the distant sound of familiar chiming beside me.

“Is that my phone?”

I didn’t answer, paralyzed in my place as I felt the most intense sensation of deja vu I’d ever experienced. Right there on the nightstand, I saw the name Hotchner.

Spencer was quicker this time to leave the bathroom, but just as he turned the corner, a thought must have stopped him. Because he paused, staring at me with hotel sheets gathered around me and his phone against my ear.  

He didn’t try to fight me for the device. In fact, he didn’t move at all, watching from a few feet away with a smile I’d never seen before. The kind that I felt so deep inside of me that I realized this was what they meant to share a soul with someone.

 “Hello,” I spoke softly and filled with love, “this is Mrs. Reid.”

 The End.

—————————————————

Epilogue

[minnochu]

Lustrous (pt. 20)

Hybrid!Kook x f!Reader AU

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3 | Pt 4 | Pt 5 | Pt 6 | Pt 7 | Pt 8 | Pt 9 | Pt 10 | Pt 11 | Pt 12 | Pt 13 | Pt 14 | Pt 15 | Pt 16 | Pt 17 | Pt 18 | Pt 19 | Pt 20 | Pt 21

Warning: A little non-con if you think about it.

.

.

You have to commend Seokjin, for sitting through the obvious awkward tension between you and Jungkook. There was nothing wrong with Jungkook shoving you with the intent to make you fall to the ground, after learning how to slap out when falling on your back. It was shits and giggles at first, because how could you really take him seriously? 

You could only swear Jungkook was ready to leave the country when the warlock instructed him to get on top of you. The two of you were walked through basic positions like full mount, side control, and half guard, and how to maneuver from each. It was very unlikely that you’d have to fight like this, given you were about to fight a whole clan of witches and warlocks. Although, it was still knowledge that you were grateful to learn in the event that maybe just maybe you would be knocked off your feet and onto your back.

Or maybe Seokjin just wanted to have fun knowing both of your true feelings for each other and got off on exploiting it to the fullest. Embarrass the shit out of you both, obviously.

Your instructions were to get the wolf on his back in a full mount while he started off in half guard and was instructed to resist and move into a full mount. What could possibly go wrong, really? Jungkook and his superhuman strength, and your lack there of. Was this really a good exercise when every possible dirty scenario distracted both of you. 

Seokjin couldn’t have been that dense to not notice the flush of your cheeks and the way your eyes could barely look at the other. Certainly the other wolves inside couldn’t have missed the trace of attraction and excitement. Even Jungkook must have smelled it rolling off of you. 

Not that you stood any chance against the hybrid’s brute strength anyways. Even with the instructions to hold back, this was Jungkook he was trying to instruct. 

You were pinned within seconds, his legs on both of your sides. The same fate repeated with you starting on top and landing swiftly on your back once Seokjin gave the go ahead. 

“Ah… you really got me good,” You drawl as you finish up the day with spells, both offensive and defensive. Plopping down on the grass beside the wolf, you both sit in comfortable silence while replenishing yourselves with water. 

He sits silently beside you, tending to his own drink, although not saying a word in response. Curious, you glance over to his form beside you. The wolf anticipates your actions and quickly turns to look away, but the scarlet shade that colors the tips of his ears are bright and noticeable. 

“What’s wrong? Are you embarrassed about the little exercise we had to go through today?” you tease to his disdain. 

“Don’t act like you weren’t any less distracted, letting me pin you down so easily, are you actually a pervert?” He accuses back, although the flush on his face is darker and spreads to his cheeks now that he faces you, “I can’t believe I’ve been letting a pervert sleep in my bed…”

“You act like you don’t end up crawling into bed with me by the end of the night,” You scoff, though the playful lilt is still there, “What am I supposed to even do against your supernatural strength, hello?”

The boy makes a face, his expression twisted but you know that you’re technically right; given that he’s always adamant on sleeping on the floor and is found curled around you in the morning. You’re not sure if he does it knowingly, or just unconsciously finds your sleeping form and seeks out your warmth. That didn’t even make sense. His skin had to be multiple times warmer than yours. Especially when he almost always sleep in his wolf form, not mention with pounds of fur on his body with plenty of heat.

“...so what are you planning on doing?” He later asks after you both have taken a shower, dinner long past and gone, and you’re currently lounging on his bed with a spell textbook. 

“What do you mean?” You shoot back, laying on your stomach as he takes a seat on the other side of the bed.

He makes a gesture with his hands, and you’re just even more confused by his vagueness.

“Your coven,” He finally relents.

You wonder that too. Was it even right to call it your coven, when all you experienced for much of your childhood was endless loathing and ostracization. Were you really a part of the Blackwells, the people who had also killed your mother and used her body against you? 

You were bound to face them after all. They were going to keep coming after you with the intent to kill. What were gonna do? Talk them out of it? Were you going to avenge your mother? If they stayed alive… they’d continue to go after you and even hurt Jungkook the same way those bounty hunters had. 

“I’m not quite sure… I don’t want to keep hiding and running away… and I don’t want to keep putting you and the others in danger because of me…”

He scoffs. 

“You’re mistaken if you think a little wolfsbane was gonna take me out. Hurt like a bitch, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle.”

You frown, “I don’t want it to happen again, at my expense.”

“Will you be fine… if it means having to kill?” he mumbles after a brief silence, watching as you flip through the pages. 

“I don’t have that kind of a resolve… I don’t think… I know talking won’t mean anything… but that kind of thing might be inevitable.”

Jungkook nods thoughtfully. If it really came down to it, he wondered if you could do it. He wondered if no one had stopped you, would you have gone through with your massive magical skill and killed both Seol and Suho? You held no killing intent, nor did he think you were ready to handle the weight on your shoulders at the thought of having taken someone’s life. It would ruin you. 

“Ah…. I’m feeling nervous…” You sigh, rubbing your palms together, “Practicing it is one thing, but having someone coming at you and actually hell-bent on killing you is another. And facing spells instead of animated mothers and weaponized hunters and an out of control hybrid, seems foreign.” 

The wolf shot you a dirty look for that last one. But you had a right to be nervous. The Blackwells were notorious, they were known to be both powerful and skilled. It’s no wonder they would not want their name tarnished by a witch who couldn’t siphon from her own innate magic and had to steal from others. 

Should he do it? 

There was no telling the future, but his gut felt heavy with nerves and dread. 

“I’ll tell you what,” he started hesitantly, gaining your attention effectively, “We survive your family, and I’ll let you in on my secret.”

Secret? 

His eyes flashed knowingly. A quick glare of his ocean hue and you figured he was referring to the identity of his imprintee. 

Oh. 

“Are you sure? Now that I think about it… I don’t think I should know…” You say suddenly, to his apparent surprise. If it was really someone else and he knew who it was exactly, what were you going to do with your feelings. Just the very thought was heart wrenching. You were getting so comfortable, feeling like home finally, having a place and family to return to and experience the ups and downs of life with. And yet here you were, dreading the thought that Jungkook was just out of your reach despite being right there sitting beside you.

The frustration is evident in the way his eyebrows furrow, the scrunch of his nose, and the frown that crosses his mouth. 

“Make up your damn mind, you kept running away ‘cause I wouldn’t tell you, and now I’m gonna tell you if we survive,” He sighs aggravatedly.

“Yes but now I’m saying you don’t have to worry about it because it’s not my business!” You snap back with just as much fervor, “And stop saying if! We’re going to survive you ass.”

He reaches to flick your forehead when his digit hits a hardened surface, clicking his tongue when you smirk triumphantly at your success in guarding your forehead with a crystallized shield that hovers just before it. 

“Stupid witch,” the wolf grumbles.

You raise a brow at that, “Oh? That’s new. But I’d prefer the term siphoner, given that I’m a mutant after all.”

He snorts. 

As the night grows later and he’s preparing his bag for the next day of school, your head falls onto your crossed arms. Eyes closed from studying spells and skills, you hum as you listen carefully to his footfalls on the wooden floor. The boards whine and creak before the mattress shifts and dips, springs squealing at the added weight. 

“Hey, get some rest already, you’ve gone through enough training today,” He mutters, grabbing the book and closing it. Stretching his arm, he reaches over your body to toss the book on his desk, but not before your voice startles him. 

Murmuring, voice no more than a whisper, wistful and almost dreamy as you instinctively shift closer to his heat. 

“Say, you tasted my blood…”

The word is almost like a trigger. His mind races, nearly choking on his own spit at the immediate mental image of you both in the forest. Heart beating right out of his chest. Your scent invading his senses. The excitement in both your scent and the loud pounding of your heart, urging him to continue. The way his mouth salivated at the thought of your blood, his stomach near growling in anticipation of having not been satiated with it’s required monthly intake at that time. 

How could he forget? Not when he felt dread fill his very core when he’d gone too far and nearly drank past what was healthy.

“Did you like it? You didn’t look quite happy about drinking the pig’s blood caprisun the other day.”

You giggle, having noticed the twitch in his brows in recognition of the liquid at that time.

“What the hell are you on about?” He grumbles finally, although he’s at odds with himself because of course not. Not one transitioned vampire would enjoy being a vegetarian vamp after having a taste of human blood, or another vampire’s in a hybrid’s case. 

To answer...

Of course not. Not when your blood tasted like liquid gold on his tongue. His mind went haywire the second just a drop of the sanguine liquid had hit his appendage, scent permeating the air and sending him into hazed fury of sucking your wrist dry. 

If he had no control, he’d have killed you then. If he had no control, you lying on his bed, defenseless and unknowing, would have him pouncing on you in seconds to just get another taste. 

You don’t respond, having already entered the blissful embrace of sleep. His eyes soften as he lets his fingers drop and brush over your wrist, grazing the area he’d drawn from. 

“Sometimes I wonder if you’ve secretly put a spell on me, you idiot witch,” He drawls, letting his gaze drag over your arm, along the curve of your shoulder, before settling on your neck. 

Dizzy. 

He can’t help himself. Maybe the nerves are getting to him the longer your situation draws longer. What were the Blackwells planning? Why not send someone of their own to do the job, rather than hire other beings who had nothing to do with their personal vendetta against you. 

“Fuck,” He mutters as he does little to resist his urge to shove his face in the crook of your neck. Curse the way you so coincidentally shift in your sleep, just enough to tease the supple flesh of your neck, curving and arching as you turn your head over and reveal more and more. 

His eyes flash dangerously. Marine hues glaring down greedily at the juncture between your neck and shoulder, trailing upwards towards your ear. Tongue peeking out of his lips, gliding over his bottom lip before scraping underneath the sharp tip of his canine. It was a soft reminder of his intentions. 

This was not about your blood. 

No, he thought with a sigh, leaning down to breathe in much of your scent. Warm vanilla and him. It was only faint, a possessive growl leaving his throat. Rolling around in the grass today drenched you in Jungkook’s scent, he oddly liked it. The shower had washed much of his smell away, but it lingered. It lingered as you lay in his bed, wearing his shirt because it comforted you in some way after all the things you’ve been through (despite his protest that you had your own clothes to wear). He secretly bathed in the fact, and sight, that you wore his shirt. 

It was like his own temporary mark on you. He could do it now, his wolf thought. Then the scent would stay longer and stronger, no one could approach you. Not those vampires, not those wendigos. Who would dare approach the mate of a hybrid? 

That sounded tempting. Little of his self control holding him back now, fingers curling into his bed sheets, so much that his knuckles pale and the fabric nearly ripped under the tension. 

Lips parting, he watches the wave of goosebumps rise over your skin once his warm breath washes over. You tense at the sensation, humming in your sleep before relaxing once more. 

His mouth parts, exposing his canines as he lowers his face into your neck, nose brushing against your hair. Blood rushes to his cheeks, savoring your mixed scent as he laves his tongue contently over your skin.

The tip of his fang scratches over the surface and he has to keep himself from keening as just the slight touch makes his senses burst. He’s tempted to bite down fully, sink his canines further, permanently make you his, when you sigh and he freezes. 

“Ju—ngkook…” you whisper softly, making his whole body burn with adoration at your voice calling for him. 

His clouded mind clears and he sits up immediately, covering his mouth with his arm. 

Oh fuck. 

Oh fuck indeed when his pack mates stare at him pensively in the morning. The scent is clear as day. No mark, thank gods, but it’s awfully clear that he’d tried marking you last night. Yoongi is the most prominent expression out of them all, his eyes flashing a warning gold hue at the youngest when you joined them. 

“I don’t wanna know,” the second eldest grit out after the meal while you were getting ready to leave with the three youngest members. He’d dragged the hybrid to the side, glaring accusingly at him. “But why the fuck would you mark her?! She doesn’t even know you imprinted on her. What if you couldn’t have stopped yourself? What if you suddenly awakened your other side and sucked her empty?!”

“Hyung relax, we’re lucky it was just a graze,” Namjoon steps in, expression stoic as he places a gentle hand on the elder wolf, “Punishable, but he was able to control himself at the very least and not leave a mark.”

Just one look from the leader of their pack is enough make the hybrid whimper.

Jungkook bit his lip. He’d gotten too ahead of himself. 

Yoongi saw this and let his expression melt. 

“I know you’re getting impatient aren’t you? A little bold, given that you were dodging her questions about who you imprinted on just days ago,” He teased, “I guess I commend you for stopping.”

The hybrid knew he wouldn’t have if you hadn’t breathed his name out last night. He would’ve kept going, just like that time in the forest, and that scares him. It was impossible, the amount of power you hold against him. The ability to captivate him and put him in a frenzy one second, and calm him and ground him back to reality the next. 

“Come on Jungkook, we’re gonna head to school without you.”

Your voice immediately snatches his attention, allowing one last glance at his scolding elders before joining you and Jimin and Taehyung. The two sharing a knowing smirk with him. 

“Can’t believe you beat me to it once again,” the vampire sighs dramatically, causing you to tilt your head at him curiously. However, both the hybrid and wolf jab him in the sides at his comment. 

You don’t question it as you wave to the older members and open the door. 

It’s not until you’ve opened the front door does your whole being stiffen with recognition. Dread filling your stomach at the impressive aura waiting for you outside.

“No!” You cry as you press your hand behind you, looking back to catch a glimpse of the boys’ startled expression as you hum the incantation of a simple skill, a blast of wind shoving the three back into the cabin and shutting the door as you fall forward onto your shoulder.

You don’t meet the wood of the porch, in fact, there’s no sign of forest life around you. Your body hit the marble hard. Definitely a potential bruise if you manage to figure out the fate of your sudden predicament. 

“My— look at how much you’ve grown.”

The voice confirms your growing dread and the reason for your senses going haywire at the incredible aura. 

Your head rising to regard the head of the Blackwells.

.

+Taglist! (Can’t tag in bold)

@twilight-loveer​​ @reinyrei​​  @mistytail​ @mygukandonlyficrecs​ @xanny91​​ @unpocodesoledadywisky​​ @xxqueenwxtchxx​​ @lildemonangele​​ @gukworld​ @sunnyoongles​​ @serendipity-secrets​​ @ilaria-np​​ @jules-park​​ @treetops68​​ @mischiefmakerliesmith5​​ @jeonkooksgirl​​ @coffeeismylife28​​ @nshitae​​ @bookoffracturedescapes​​ @ellsbells72​​ @zamirayinyue13​​ @hannahdearr​​ @tiredjedi @sushibunn​​ @perrshian​​ @lovinggalaxies​​ @ditttiii​​ @cookies-are-done​​ @mintyrae​ @blackravena​​ @lilacdreams-00​ @fujinoye​ @moonlightjoonx​ @softescapism​

[ee-furoido]

TwstOBer Day 29

For TwstOBer Day 29 prompt: IGNIHYDE, from @raven-at-the-writing-desk‘s prompts found here. All Prompts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31

Jade and Floyd glanced around the Ignihyde lounge. It doesn’t take long to hear the telltale sound of the gears whirring to keep little Ortho Shroud afloat. He’s humming to himself, flitting from table to table, dusting and clearing it down, keeping busy. It only takes a moment for him to realize he isn’t alone.

“Ah! Floyd Leech-san! Jade Leech-san!” Ortho chirped excitedly.

“Hey~ Clione-chan~” Floyd’s cheerful voice rang through the lounge, waving at the little one. “I see you’re flying again, did you get bored of the feet we got you?”

“What! Of course not! It’s just easier to help out around the dorm when I can float! I still walk when I want to outside!” Ortho’s smile was bright and cheerful, the pinnacle of innocence. “What are the two of you doing in our dorm?”

Jade gave him a polite smile, “Well, I am only here to discuss something with your Dorm Leader on behalf of ours,” He glanced over at his brother, “And Floyd felt like joining me today, it seems. I sure didn’t invite him.”

“Ehh~ Jade, you’re so mean.” Floyd pouted and shooed Jade away lazily. “You can go see Hotaruika-senpai, I’m going to stay here and play with the little Clione~”

“Fufufu, I do hope you enjoy yourself, Floyd. I’ll be back in a little while.”

As Jade made his way towards the recluse Dorm Leader’s room, he could hear Floyd’s ecstatic laughter coming from the lounge, as well as Ortho’s own timbre of elation. He knew that Floyd had brought a few magazines on his favorite types of sneakers, all the more to let the little one look at all the possibilities, and enjoy his legs more. Jade gave a silent chuckle. He only hoped that his mood would stay well long enough for him to finish his duties.

He knocked on Idia Shroud’s door, lightly, calling out. “Idia-san, I have a message for you from Azul, can you come out for me?”

…..

There was only silence on the other side of the door, so Jade pressed his ear up against the door, curious as to whether he had possibly come when the seemingly agoraphobic had actually left his room- but no, he could hear the sounds of the computer pings from inside, he was playing his usual favorite game.

“Idia-san?” Jade repeated, to no avail. He pressed a hand to his chin, a light smile on his face. He raised his voice deliberately, “Oya, oya. It is quite unfortunate that Idia-san isn’t here… Whatever shall I do with this bag of sea-salt candies? It seems I’ve come all this way for nothing…”

…..

After a moment, the door quietly slid open, only enough for a single hand to stick out, a pale hand reaching out. Jade audibly chuckled again at how easy it was to get him to open the door, and grabbed the door tightly, forcing it open a little more. Just enough to poke his head in.

“Hello, Idia-san.” Jade’s smile, backlit from the hallway against the darkness that was from inside the room. Idia shuttered back, away from the door that his taller junior was curling his fingers around. “I’m sorry to shock you, that is not my attention, fufu.” Idia pulled up his hood over his head.

“J-jade-shi- what do you want-?” He stammered, his eyes wide before the grinning mer-eel.

As if he hadn’t just intruded on Idia’s on private space, Jade casually pulled out a small notepad and flipped through some of the pages, finding his place. “Ah yes. The Mostro Lounge has recently been attempting to be seen on a larger scale, and we think that your expertise will be quite helpful with the customers.”

“E-expertise! No, I can’t talk to people-” Idia shuddered, trying to find a way to escape from his own room that Jade had slinked into. His voice lowered, almost inaudible. “.....I don’t even want to be talking to you right now-”

“Oya oya, no need to be so frightened, Idia-san.” Jade gave another hearty chortle. Somehow seeing his senior so terrified amused him further, allowing his job to be that much more entertaining. It made his decision to take this errand that much more warranted. “We only wish to request your artistic skills. Perhaps we could collaborate with you, where you draw something for us. Something that perfectly encapsulates the heart that is the Mostro Lounge. I’m sure with your expertise in sketching, you’ll be able to blow away all future possible customers…”

Idia glanced at him from inside his hoodie, his eyes narrowed and skeptical. “A-and what do I get in return?”

Jade’s eyes glinted maliciously in the room, the golden hue of his left eye somehow brighter in the dark room. A low grumbly laugh escapes him. “In return, Idia-san? In return, perhaps we continue to keep the little secret that we learned about you from our last encounter.... when you decided to deny your own brother the glee that is legs. I’m sure that everyone would be exhilarated to hear, Idia-san…”

“Hiiiii~” Idia whimpered, pulling his hoodie up past his nose again. “No, don’t- don’t tell anyone about that secret- I’ll…. I’ll draw something if you guys just…. Keep that to yourselves….” His eyes shifted to the ground, muttering once more.

“.....Ahhh, of course they’d hold this over my head for so long, this is why everyone says not to trust Octavinelle, I’m going to be trapped forever, aren’t I…?”

“Did you say something, Idia-san?” Jade asked, cocking his head, his smile a little more dangerous than Idia was willing to test.

“Hiiii~ N-no!” he said, “I’ll work on something for you, Jade-shi~” he said, trying to shoo Jade out of the room. Jade gave a small head bow and moved to depart the room.

“Oh yes. I almost forgot. This would be for you.” Jade said, pulling out a bag from inside his jacket coat, those sea-salt candies that he had teased him with earlier appearing almost out of thin air. Idia’s face changed from fear to surprise to a sharp-toothed grin in one smooth transition, his hands tightening around the bag. “I look forward to working with you, Idia-san. Fufufu.”

[chimpukampu]

Adrinette April Day 20 - Scarf

@adrinetteapril

AO3 | Fanfiction | Wattpad

Week 1: Just Friends - Day 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7  

Week 2: Falling in Love - Day 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14

Week 3: Reveal - Day 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20

Sorry for the delay. I'm sick rn 🤒

"Hey Princess, do you still have some sewing commissions this weekend?" Adrien asked after their class ended.

"No, I don't have one yet, Kitty. Why?"

"I would like you to fix something for me," the blond said as he scratched his neck incessantly. "I...somehow damaged an important item that was given to me as a gift."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Did you bring it with you?"

"Oui," he answered then rummaged something in his bag. "I'm not sure if it was Plagg's fault or what but the threads are starting to get loose."

Marinette felt like someone punched an air out of her gut when he presented her a blue scarf.

The exact scarf that she gave to him on his birthday.

"It's my most favorite scarf since it's blue and so comfy during winter," he told her. "Did you know that my father gave this to me on my birthday?"

"Y - Yeah! I - I heard you when you told Nino about it!" she sputtered as she averted her gaze from his green, observant eyes. "Y - You were so happy about it!"

"I see."

There was something odd on his tone but she brushed it off casually. She pried the blue scarf from his hands to check the seams.

"You might have snagged it by accident. Probably a zipper or some sharp item when you put it in the laundry."

"Is it repairable?"

"Of course," she told her with a wry smile. "O - Once I found the exact shade and quality of the yarn used here, I - I can finish this in just a day."

"Oh, thank you, my Lady. You're awesome as always."

.

.

.

"I'm horrible, Tikki," Marinette bemoaned as she slammed her head repeatedly on her study desk. She has been doing that for almost an hour after she finished dinner.

"You should have told him the truth, Marinette," the red kwami replied while cradling her second cookie. "I don't think Adrien will be mad at you for keeping it as a secret."

"But I don't want to crush his happiness for the sake of truth!"

"How about your happiness?"

Marinette was not able to provide an answer. Instead, she pulled out the blue yarn she had used to create the scarf and began to mend the loose strings on the article in silence.

"His happiness is my happiness, Tikki." she finally said as her hands busied itself knitting. "I don't mind being just his friend forever. I know it hurts, but seeing his genuine smile is worth the pain. You don't need to worry about me..."

She held back a scream when familiar green eyes were staring at her on the glass window. He waved his gloved hand excitedly then pointed her skylight door, gesturing her that it was locked.

"Cha - Adrien?! What are you doing here?!" the girl hissed as she slammed the door open. "You startled me, you stupid cat!"

"Forgive me, my Princess, but I came bearing some gifts," he released his transformation then handed her a bag of potato chips and popcorn. "Since it's Friday night with no homework or upcoming tests next week, not to mention that you don't have commissions to be done this weekend, I was wondering if we can have some anime marathon tonight?"

She darted him a beady glare "If this is another Shippuuden or Ouran High School shit again, I swear I'm going to kick your ass out of my balcony."

The blond gasped incredulously with a hand clutching his chest "How rude, my Lady! Naruto is an all-time favorite hero and Tamaki is a legendary gentleman!" before she could sass back, he passed her a DVD case. "What I have here is a fashion-themed anime. Have you heard about Paradise Kiss?"

She scrunched her nose cutely, which told him that she didn't know it yet curious to know the story.

"Alright, I will let you in because you have some food." she sighed exasperatedly. "Make sure you clean your paws first before you jump on my duvet."

"Absolutely!"

Adrien was barefooted, wearing a loose drawstring pajama pants and a white cotton shirt. Ever since their reveal, he would often drop by at night wearing his most comfortable clothes like sleepwear or onesie jammies. Sometimes he would spend the entire evening there and sleep on her chaise lounge then wake up and leave before Nathalie noticed his absence.

It was a common routine for them, and Marinette didn't want to change it for a bit.

"What's this, Princess?" Adrien picked the blue yarn that was attached to his scarf. "How come you have the yarn already?"

"Ah, uh...I didn't know I have that yarn lying around." she lied, grabbing the yarn and the article away from his privy hands.

"With the same shade and quality?"

"Ye-Yeah! Ca - Can't you believe it?" she winced at her squeaky voice. "N - Now let me tidy up my things so that we can watch that Paradise Kiss - "

"You don't need to lie to me, Marinette."

The raven-haired girl paused then forced herself to look at his emerald hues with guilt " Wh - What?"

"I already know the truth about the scarf, my Lady," the blond reached out for her as they sat on the chaise lounge. "I might be a dunce, but I pay attention to details. Remember what you said during the bowler hat competition? You said that you always sign your creations."

She gulped audibly when he flipped the edge of the scarf and traced the subtle linings by his finger, "I might have missed it if I wear this on rare occasions."

"I'm sorry, Kitty," Marinette groaned, covering her face with her hands. "I didn't mean to hide the truth from you. It's just that...I don't want to spoil your happiness."

"But I feel like a fool for being happy with something that is not real."

"I know but..." she dropped her hands on her lap and chewed her bottom lip "We weren't that close that time, Adrien. Besides, you already announced it to everyone that your father gave you this scarf. What do you think you will do if I told you the truth back then?"

"I will thank you for the wonderful gift that you have given to me."

She shook her head "You might, but you will never treat this scarf the same way as you always did before you know the truth."

There were a few beats of silence before he uttered "I'm such a terrible person."

"Huh?"

"I'm terrible, Marinette. I'm a horrible and very inconsiderate friend." he raked his blond locks out of frustration. "Never once had I ever treasured your gifts - like the Santa hat for example; I gave it to Santa without any second thoughts. The lucky charm that I'm so proud of? I almost lost it on the subway. And now the scarf that I claimed to love..."

One of her hands wrapped around his clenched fists while the other caressed his cheek "Hey, look at me Chaton. Look at me, please."

Marinette couldn't help but chuckled when Adrien turned his head with puckered lips. "You did nothing wrong, Kitty. You made a good call when you gave your hat to Santa Claus, and it wasn't your fault that the lucky charm fell on your pocket - and you never lost it since I found it on Gorizilla. About the scarf...well, that's inevitable."

"You mean I'm careless."

"This is the first scarf that I've ever made," she said as she took the material from his lap. "So it's not as sturdy as my recent knitted creations. I'm glad that you allowed me to fix this because I can correct those knitting mistakes that I've made and at the same time, I can make this bigger enough to accommodate your new measurement. If you want, I can add some trinkets like pawprints or ladybugs."

"What can I do to repay your kindness?" he asked with sincerity.

"These material gifts are nothing compared to the countless times that you saved me." she smiled. "I want nothing in this world but your happiness, Adrien."

He pulled her closer "I'm happy as long as you're happy, Marinette."

.

.

.

Bonus:

"Hey, Princess, can you also add 'I'm fur-eezing!' line on my scarf?"

"No."

[livingcorner]

These Amazing Kitchen Decor Ideas Are Just What Your Favorite Room Needs

Haris Kenjar

Updating your kitchen can be as simple as a refresh (think: a quick one-day project like swapping out lighting or cabinet hardware) or as complicated as a full remodel (think: you’re calling the contractor, and the next thing you know it’s demo day). But there are plenty of projects in between that will make your kitchen feel more fun, more functional, and in many cases, brand new. Just imagine what giving your cabinets a fresh coat of paint would do for your space. (If that’s sounding like a good idea, check out our guide on how to paint kitchen cabinets.)

You're reading: These Amazing Kitchen Decor Ideas Are Just What Your Favorite Room Needs

If you know the heart of your home needs an update, this comprehensive photo gallery of 100 kitchen ideas is sure to stir up some ideas. Need additional seating and more prep space? We have tons of kitchen island ideas to check both boxes. Not sure where to start? Browse pretty all-white kitchens, farmhouse decor ideas, and kitchen trends for 2021 to cook up gorgeous design looks to suit your space and taste.

No matter if you’re penny-pinching or splurging on a full renovation, there are kitchen design ideas here for any and every budget. Even if you’re just curious for some creative tips, check out this list of the best kitchen decor ideas for some instant inspiration.

1 of 100

Work Table Island

An old printing-press work table is now a one-of-a-kind kitchen island. Shallow drawers that once held type pages now house cooking utensils.

SHOP BREAD BOARDS

2 of 100

Creative Wall Storage

A peg board (painted a sunny yellow) keeps tools at the ready and creates smart storage. Butcher block countertops from Ikea warm up the otherwise white kitchen.

SHOP PEGBOARD PANELS

3 of 100

Create a Bar Area

A pass-through bar connects the kitchen to the game room, allowing for easy entertaining. It makes a great casual spot to grab breakfast too!

SHOP WHITE METAL BARSTOOLS

4 of 100

Classic Country Color Combo

Blue and yellow make for a classic country color combination, as seen here with happy canary yellow cabinets and a quilt-like cement tile backsplash.

SHOP WHITE TEA KETTLES

5 of 100

Carve Out a Breakfast Nook

Turn an under-utilized corner into a useful breakfast nook with a tiny round table and pair of wooden chairs.

SHOP GLASS CANISTERS

6 of 100

Read more: Laminate Vs. Two Pack – An in-depth comparison – DIAMOND INTERIORS

Tiny Blue Kitchen

To give air to this itty-bitty kitchen, the designer painted the lower cabinets a happy blue hue but matched the upper cabinets to the light wall color.

SHOP BLUE AND WHITE PLATES

7 of 100

Unconventional Cabinetry

Lacquered plywood is an unusual material for kitchen cabinets. Normally matte, the lacquer finish gives a great shine and makes them wipeable. Brass hardware, modern lighting, marble countertops, and a creative backsplash complete the unique design.

SHOP JUICERS

8 of 100

Eye-Catching Backsplash

Encaustic tile really pops in this kitchen along with a cool blue island topped with easy-to-clean quartz countertops. Tractor-seat barstools, wood cabinets, and a wood ceiling add warmth to the open layout.

SHOP FIESTA MIXING BOWLS

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Super Sized

Instead of a standard cabinetry island, a built-in marble-top table anchors this kitchen. A pair of bold-colored oversize pendants hang overhead.

SHOP COPPER COOKWARE

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Fun and Function

This kitchen is equal parts fun and function, thanks to a massive 5-by-10-foot island made from an old trophy case, commercial-grade appliances, and super-durable concrete countertops mixed with fun vintage collections, like plaid patterned coolers and colorful dart boards.

SHOP PENDLETON BLANKETS

11 of 100

Checkerboard Floors

This total kitchen renovation captures this home’s old spirit, thanks to crisp board-and-batten walls, open shelving, a retro refrigerator, and classic black-and-white checkerboard floors.

SHOP BATTER BOWLS

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Sink Skirt

Achieve ultimate farmhouse-chic status with patterned fabric to make a sink skirt that looks vintage and sweet.

SHOP TIER CURTAINS

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Salvaged Wood Peninsula

The trendy-looking peninsula in this kitchen is actually made out of salvaged wood that’s been wrapped around the existing piece.

SHOP WOODEN BARSTOOLS

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Upcycled Bar

Store all your mixology items and more in a cute upcycled freestanding cabinet like this one, with whimsical wallpaper inside for an eye-catching effect.

SHOP BASKET STORAGE

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Tone-On-Tone Color Scheme

This kitchen establishes its cozy feel by using a similar blue tone on the floors and cabinets to beautifully complement all the dark wood.

SHOP WOODEN BARSTOOLS

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Read more: Hell’s Kitchen Season 5 Where Are They Now?

Displayed Pots

A long brass pot rack displays these vintage copper pots and pans, turning kitchen tools into stunning kitchen décor.

SHOP POT RACKS

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Reclaimed Wood Shelves

Butcher block countertops look lovely alongside reclaimed wood shelves. Produce baskets are a great way to keep your kitchen feeling open and organized.

SHOP APOTHECARY JARS

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40+ Easy & Inspiring Updates for Every Room of Your Home

It’s the small touches that can freshen up a room. Now you can get dozens of easy makeover ideas you can finish in just a weekend (really!) with Country Living’s new digital guide!

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Basket Lights

These rustic, yet chic, oversize basket lights pair nicely with the soft hues in this charming kitchen.

SHOP BASKET LIGHTS

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Open Shelving

Nothing says “country kitchen” like open shelving for a casual, yet intentional, look. The baskets under the counter add even more of an organized feel.

SHOP BASKET STORAGE

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Terra-Cotta Tiles

These terra-cotta floor tiles bring an earthy tone without overpowering the room. Brass hardware and colored cabinets add an even cozier feel.

SHOP BRASS HARDWARE

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White on White

Don’t be afraid to go for an all-white vibe in your kitchen! Accents like brass pendant lighting, iron hardware, and a dazzling pine island will stand out against the clean backdrop.

SHOP PENDANT LIGHTS

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Rolling Island

Take a tip from the queen of the kitchen, Martha Stewart: “I like using restaurant rolling carts topped with marble. I have three, and they’re useful for moving around heavy equipment,” she says.

SHOP CLOCKS

Source: https://livingcorner.com.au Category: Kitchen

source https://livingcorner.com.au/these-amazing-kitchen-decor-ideas-are-just-what-your-favorite-room-needs/

[eris0330]

Hiraeth - Four

☽Pairing☾ ; BTS | Reader

☽Genre☾ ; Angst | Fluff

☽Word Count☾ ; 1.6k

☽Summary☾ Returning back to Korea after years of being under the ground, to see your parents. You wished it was all it took, to feel complete again. The aftermath of confusion, betrayal and sorrow was the reason to never come back into the boys presents. But it wasn’t until, seeing one them enter the same cafe, at the right time.

☽M. List☾ ;  1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // 7 // 8 // 9 // 10 // 11 // 12 // 13 // 14 // 15 // 16 // 17 // 18 // 19 // 20 // 21 // 22 [ongoing]

--------

"When was the last time we spoke about this?" Jin murmured with his drowsy coloured voice, as the drink became heavier in the bottom of his stomach. The tingling feeling evaporating through his whole body, and the sound of each member's breath clogging the practice room.  

"The last time Yoongi lost his head" Namjoon spat from afar, receiving the approximately glare from the light blonde guy. His glasses tipped and gently fogged by the warmth of the surroundings, with empty bottles neatly positioned in the centre.  

"Why is it always the ones who have had a crush on Y/N that lashes out the most?" Hoseok questioned, as the only one who didn't give into the alcohol and stayed with his carbonated drink. He was never great at drinking, but truly knew how to have a good time regardless. Jimin and Yoongi spared a glance to each other, before giving the typical "You're right, but whatever" huff.  

"Says the person who can barely keep a straight face when her name gets mentioned?" Jungkook spoke, leaning against the office chair, while raising a brow of annoyance as a 'kid'.  

"Don't tell me, you haven't gone a period of time, without having the idea of being her boyfriend? Besides Namjoon-" Yoongi replied along the lines, twirling around the half empty beer-can and letting the exhaustion of his lids close. The boys spent hours talking about you, or more like themselves. But it had always something to do with you, the flawed memories of bad choices and happy memories gathered with smiles. It was all brought up, thankfully to the youngest of the members. Suggestion of alcohol to boost their esteem to open their mouths, to share what had been clenching at their chest ever since that faithful Christmas.  

"Who says I didn't?" Namjoon added, folding his arms as the tilt of curiosity struck him harder than expected. Yoongi's eyes flashed brighter and looked for a second pained, but shrugged it off as usual. That's what he always did.  

"You have Jia" Taehyung remarked, still in the same position against the mirror, joining the circle of friendship and 'group therapy' as they disliked to call it. Namjoon chuckled, yet sighed deeply afterwards with his smile faltering. "Yeah, I had Jia."  

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" Taehyung's lips moved quicker than his mind could process, as Namjoon gave out a familiar smile. It was heartfelt and understanding, as if it was something he knew was coming. "Don't apologise, it's okay. It's a long time ago anyways" He answered quickly, looking down on the bracelet that were symbolic for their connection of friendship and love.  

"Do you still hear from her?" Jimin questioned, curious of what happened during the time of abandoning and heartaches. "I try to. It's only a text message now and then, but it has been lacking a bit the past month. Christmas season, you know." Namjoon excused, even though he clearly had no idea, why Jia stopped answering his messages.  

It didn't surprise him, when she never greeted another 'Good morning' or a simple 'Good night' text. He had it coming, but when she didn't answer his 'How are doing?', is when his own world fell apart, even if it already were in the first place. Could he blame her? No. Namjoon was the one who decided it was better off in their own pace, than trying to keep up with each other. Jia never accepted the fact you were gone, and even worse when she was family, yet she had zero boundaries containing of any connection between cousins. Namjoon was less frustrated and that's what made them stay up late at night, fighting over the same thing, you. The way he never tried to push Jia, but couldn't get himself to support her fight for trying to see you. It was a lost cause, and that's how it ended with their backs against each other every single night. Though, she understood why he couldn't. Why he didn't feel the need to cry out or seek comfort, because, he did it alone in the bathroom when no one was looking.  

"Did you ever get to tell Y/N how you felt, when that 'period' of time came?" Jin switched the subject, as he noticed the facial expression of joy on Namjoon, slither away into himself. Jimin took another glance at the rapper near to his side, unsure whether it would be appropriate or not in this case. But the pink hue above his cheekbones, and the fuzzy feeling in his toes didn't hold him back.  

"I didn't. Well... It was kind of blunt but we were both sort of drunk so I don't think it counts" He explained, bouncing the question further to Yoongi, who was more or less able to fall asleep in the chair. Everyone's ears tickled at the sound of his deep hum, but waited eagerly at his answer.  

"I never did. If you didn't notice, I screwed up quite a lot doing my time with Jisu... So, confessing my feelings for Y/N wasn't quite my priority" He calmly explained, letting the members eyes widen of his blunt honesty. Maybe it was the alcohol in his blood, but something else told him that he was being himself for once.  

"Wait a second. You had feelings for Y/N during the time with Jisu?" Taehyung blurted out in an unknown speed, making the rapper slightly smirk at the words. The member's curiosity peaked even more, before sorting out the puzzle themselves.  

"I would be lying if I said I didn't try to make Y/N jealous during my time with Jisu..."  

Silence, but it wasn't the unpleasant quietness of having to talk about something. Because, they all understood Yoongi at some point. They have all been there before, or always have. There was a mutual feeling towards you as a group, as close friends with the hint of a one-sided love. Even though how painful it was to stand beside you every day, to see your blank canvas across the hall with the same pair of joggings and sweat all over your body during practice, was like being punished. But as long they could be close to you, their status didn't matter. You did.  

"It's already 3 am. We should get back to the dorm before rehearsals tomorrow" Hoseok spoke, checking the dark clock on the wall and Yoongi checking his Rolex out of habit. Jungkook bit on his lip, seeing the members rise from their position unaware of the time flying by sharing different memories and hopes.  

"C-Could we do this again some time?" Jungkook mustered up the courage to speak, sensing the eyes fall on his tired frame while only an arm surrounded his shoulders. Jimin gave him a warm smile, before glancing at the other members. "Sure. It looks like we still have a lot of things in pandora’s box to open" He replied, ruffling the youngster's hair out of habit before Jungkook noticed the other members with the same kind of smile and an assuring nod. This is what he had been waiting for, the release of pain gravitating from his chest.  

--------

"What are you doing here?" An opened door to see a familiar woman come to sight. Her dark brown hair and small frame, with her newest red lipstick and captivating smile. Her aura of confidence and mischief, was something that made every hair on ones body stand straight.  

"Relax. I only have a restraining order from Yoongi. Besides, I got news Wonho, do you want to hear?" Jisu snickered, stepping inside the small apartment, remembering the same furniture as they have always been. Wonho didn't move on since your absence, but drowning himself with worry and the fact that the group's spirit and team work has been faltering the past years. It was noticeable for everyone, but no one dared to question it.  

"You're here to tell me news?" Wonho questioned with a raised brow but not feeling ecstatic about her appearance, closing the door behind, letting her familiar body posture rummage through the room. The only things left of your fateful smile framed behind another picture, to not let anyone see. Jisu knew this apartment, inside and out.  

"Awh, acting so defensively already? You didn't mind me coming here a month ago..." Jisu bit on her bottom lip, staining her bright white teeth with her lipstick. Unattractive, but it was one of Wonho's weaknesses. Jisu stepped in on the vulnerable man when he lost the 'love of his life' to the faith of shadows and emptiness, secluding a hideout in the arms of an enemy. Sharing his warmth with Jisu, from time to time when he needed it. It went on ever since, the day you left.  

"Get to the point, Jisu" Wonho spat, clearly tired of being toyed around in the middle of the night His abs flexing out of habit, when he was getting to the point of exhaustion and triggered of anger. It was a bad reaction of his body, because it always became that time, he called for Jisu. 

She sits comfortably on the black leather couch, letting her black skirt slide gently further up to reveal her glistering skin. Her perfume was tickling his nose, so slightly that it dragged him towards her like a siren. Only a single touch to let their fingers brush to their thighs, searching for comfort as two lonely people. Her lips brushing softly against his own, and the same exhale of releasing stress merging together. It was like being invited to dance and there was no way, to tell each other no.  

"I saw Y/N today in a café." Jisu's blunt news spread in Wonho's brain like poison, stopped him from moving any further. His blood shot eyes, feeling like they are going to explode any second. The idea, of you walking around in Seoul again after so long, but the fear of being played with, was battling against it, did nothing but made him shocked.  

[closedspeciesdrama]

Burningwhite - PSA

Hey! LunarLilac here from DA sharing this journal with some updates!~

This is a PSA to beware the person known as @/Burningwhite on DA also known as MunkWhite on Discord/Skype and Shire on FA. They may go by other names as well, but these are the ones I know of.  I implore all of you to share this journal! Post it everywhere, DA, Tumblr, FA, Facebook, on everything you’re on! Save others from going through the same thing and protect your fellow artists! ————————————————————————————————– Update 9/3/2017: Linking whites accounts that I know of for people to block~ Toyhouse - toyhou.se/Burningwhite and toyhou.se/Input Furaffinity - www.furaffinity.net/user/shiir… and www.furaffinity.net/user/burni… and www.furaffinity.net/user/degil… ————————————————————————————————– Warning 9/5/2017: Unfortunately I have to mention this. Any comments regarding the LGBTQ community will be hidden. That is not the point of this post just because it is mentioned that White is trans doesn’t make all trans people bad. Please keep all commented related to White’s actions (not her sexuality/identity of what she identifies as), what they’ve done to you and the degil species. You are entitled to your own opinion, but as I stated, White being trans is NOT the main point of this journal.  ————————————————————————————————– Update 9/8/2017: So if any of you have been checking degils or looking at my gallery and may have noticed I tried to revoke the Sunset Tiger mascot design from degils. Turns out I cannot legally revoke this design since White now owns the copyright and will not relinquish it back to me, but I’ve just learned something else. White seems to be trying to find “sleazy loopholes” to revoke designs from people.  I have blacked out the name of the person I spoke with about legal rights of my design and revoking it as I do not wish to cause any drama for them. I am assuming the person they’re talking about is @/Roiell-arts also known as Zena because white has been trying to get their Roiell character ever since Zena left the degil species and took the design with them.  Roiell also has a small psa on white - 

PSADA/FA user Burnignwhite/Shirree and any alt accounts. White has tried to blackmail Zena out of 150$ to allow them to keep their own character and so White would back off from taking that character. She did not “sell” Roiell to Zena since Roiell was already Zena’s. She blackmailed 150$ out of Zena to make her leave Zena alone. White manipulated another user into taking the 150$ from Zena into their paypal as white did not want Zena having her paypal. This money was later returned by the 3rd party user and white turned around saying that user “scammed” them out of the 150$ - sta.sh/2mlosaz22ki However no sooner after telling me that she left Roiell alone she turns around and tells me she wants to stress Zena out more. White was giving them trouble before for no reason just because she wanted to get a character (Vesta) back from them -   ————————————————————————————————– I will not be taking down this journal regardless of what they say even if they post on this journal or have their friends post on here.  For those of you who care about pronouns please let me state now that White never told me whether them to call me he/she/they/it. Therefore you may notice I tend to call White “him/he” more than anything as that is just my default pronoun and I truly apologize if this offends those of you who care about pronouns.  White has caused a lot of people grief and stress, including myself. Earlier this year White had asked me to make a base for the @/Degil-Hollow group after I had entered a mascot contest for the group. I had agreed to try making a base, however they never discussed payment for this. They had later also asked me to do the trait sheets to which would be asked as compensation for backing out of the base, trait sheets, and most of all their Shara commission. White had asked for all of these things to be done in 1 month and every time I tried to do them they were pushed to the back burner and he asked me to do something else be it his shara ref or a piece of gift art.  This is the commission of Shara he asked for -  This is not all of it, it is missing the nsfw portion on it as I am still a minor and I didn’t want to draw those pieces. When I am 18 those sketches will be posted to my FA. I was offered a single character as payment for this whole ref. Some things on there were not agreed to when he first asked for it such as the 3 outfits. During the process of the sketch which White constantly had me stream to him, he was extremely picky about every little detail passed the point of frustration. When I had asked for more payment I was thrown low quality adopts as “payment” to pick from. When I said no to those they showed me the two characters of theirs I liked and told me I could have them on the terms that I - 1. Don’t make gore art of them. 2. If the “friendship” between white and I broke off the character would be returned to them. and 3. Any ships the character was in with whites characters had to stay the same. I declined those terms as I do not think its fair that I would have to return a character over a friendship. White would be making off with a free reference of his char pretty much while I had lost the “payment” I would’ve gotten for that reference.  Now before I go on let me say that White is a minor, they are only 16 years old. They have been commissioning NSFW stuff from other artists and asking other minors to do gift art of nsfw things even if they decline it. This can get people into trouble as it is illegal to sell NSFW things to minors. White had also guilt tripped a piece of gift art out of me.  There are 4 different versions to this gift art. The two shown above are the SFW versions, the other two are the same ones above except with nipples on the art. There was only supposed to be 1 version of this piece of art and White forced me to make 3 other versions, one without the halo I had put on it and then two others with nipples on the first two versions.  White also had me design their kobalt creature for them for their animation class which I tried colors I wanted to test on them that White hated so he went with different colors. I later used those colors on one of my characters in slightly different hues and White forced me to change them calling it a ripoff of his kobalt and that he’d see it as his character because it was basically one of his “old” designs from the designing process of his character. On top of all of this, White had been trying to get between me and my current boyfriend of 2 years. At the time I had known White only a few weeks if maybe a month and he claimed to have loved me. He tried to force me into a poly relationship with him to which I did not agree to. He then told me he was trans (male to female) and wanted me to be bi-curious/lesbian for him when I told him many times I was straight. His response to me being straight was “a noodle is only straight until its wet.” When that did not work White constantly complained about my boyfriend and tried to find ways to make me break up with him, even trying to force me to split my time by giving White 50 percent of my time and my boyfriend 50 percent of my time. He demanded movies every Fridays, calls every night before he went to bed at 2-4am my time and wanted me to spend every single evening with him talking about art, degils, fluff, and his characters.  He tried to get me to teach him art, but most of the time he just sat there crying about not knowing how to do the sketch and didn’t even bother trying to do it. He later blamed me for the reason he couldn’t draw.  This is the proof for everything above - sta.sh/2daftob1pj4?edit=1 Soon after this I had blocked White for the first time on Skype, White then contacted me on DA crying that they missed me and wanted a second chance. He begged to try to regain my trust back on DA.  So I decided to give them a second chance. It took something drastic to make them lay off a little.  They had recently opened up designer applications in their degil species and I decided to try it out, but I found out that was the worst choice I’ve made. On all the designs I’ve made so far from their species they constantly complained about the nose being wrong and they forced me to change themes on their whims because they thought a certain pose looked more like this theme. They were constantly making me do the designs to what they liked, they have a bias against leopard/cheetah spots and hate the color black so they tried to force me not to use either of those things. On the egyptian blues, I had put snow leopard spots, I was forced to remove them because White hates spots and believes they are overused and has told me they’re not allowed on degil designs, however this would mean requiring all previous degil designs to remove any type of spots they have. During the sweltering fire designing process white had forced me to change its pose from a rainbow theme to a fire theme, when I said I was going to do a black base he claimed there had been too many black bases recently as to why I couldn’t use the color black at all on the design, but when I looked there was only 1. He had approved the fire I had on the hooves and when it was finished he changed his mind and forced me to remove it and fought with me about the color of the fire being green. When I told him the green fire did not match the design he went on to complain about the silk color being ugly since it was black and constantly nagged “what about the silk?” until I changed it.  According to white he thinks designers do whatever the owner tells them, when they tell them to do it and it has to be exactly their way down to every detail meaning that designers don’t really get to pick anything about the design. The designers aren’t even considered staff to him.  I had asked White to remove me from designer as I was tired of the drama and instead he cried about being stressed as to why he does everything he does (he uses this stress excuse for every single thing). He then turned me over to the co-founder to tell her what was going on and she understood completely. All white had to say to me was “please don’t leave, think about staying, you’re the only designer I have!” The other designer White had in the group was not making any designs, hence why I was the only designer. White refused to remove them from their designer status for whatever reason despite both me and the co-founder telling him to get rid of them if they’re not doing their job. The degil species will die with White so long as he is owner. White’s co-founder was the one doing everything in the group and once she is gone he will be lost with how to run the group. A few of us have been telling White to step down from owning degils as they can’t run the group properly and don’t treat their staff nor members with the respect he demands from us. White refuses to give up degils and claim they will either succeed with them or die with them. White currently claims to be trying to change within 3 months and will probably claim that this is ruining his reputation even more that he says hes trying to “fix” right now.  This is the proof from this recent bit - sta.sh/23dve9jh2lx?edit=1 I apologize for how long this journal is. Those of you who have had dealings with White are welcome to share your proof in the comments, but for those of you who have yet to deal with White let this be a warning to you as this is what may happen to you. 

If you cannot see the stash files above here is the drop box with my screencaps - https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/0B8sJSUUHwaO2b205S1U0ZW5qaWc?usp=sharing

[that-black-parade]

V’s Route Walkthrough (Day 9)

[Previous Day | Next Day]

00:56 Seduction of the Moon. Selection 1

Feels very afar… (V)

I don’t want to think about that. (V)

Selection 2

What are you up to now? (V)

Something disastrous will happen if you can’t control the darkness within you, Rika. (V)

Selection 3

Of course. V will be with me from now on. (V)

I think it was a realization essential for V. It’s not something that derived from fear. It’s something that he needed for himself. (V)

Selection 4

Whichever it is…I don’t care. As long as V comes to me. (V)

I’m not on any side. (Nothing)

That’s more natural to me. (V)

Selection 5

I’m not afraid of anything. Because my true nature is closer to the light. (V)

I’m afraid, but is something that I want. (V)

I strongly believe I should be nice because of my fear. (Ray)

Selection 6

I…actually want to be free. (Ray)

I…want to grow by agonizing and feeling those kinds of thing. (V)

I…want to prove that the good will prevail in the end. (V)

Selection 7

It seems you’re using fear but have an ideal completely opposite from it. (V)

Idyllic…I understand what you mean. (Ray)

Sounds unrealistic to me. (V)

Selection 8

Mint Eye may be right for me… (Ray)

I’ll…choose the RFA. (V)

I’m confused! (Nothing)

Selection 9

I’ll…wait for the sun. (V)

Are you going to awaken me? (Ray)

Rika, you should let the sun be! (V)

02:43 I can Make You Have More. Selection 1

You’re new, aren’t you? (Nothing)

Ray…? (Ray)

Selection 2

Is Ray okay? (Ray)

Sleeping? What do you mean?

Selection 3

Do you tend to sleep a lot?

Why did you wake up now? (Nothing)

Selection 4

I don’t like Ray’s indecisiveness as well.

Get rid of him!? (Ray)

Selection 5

You…seem dangerous. (V)

How are you going to do that?

Selection 6

Give me back Ray. (Ray)

No, thanks.

Selection 7

I’m not going back! (V)

I’m curious about you.

Selection 8

Please leave us and V alone… (V)

Will we be together if we start from the beginning?

Selection 9

There’s no way that’s going to happen…! (V)

… (Nothing)

06:21 Stop It. Selection 1

How are you feeling? (V)

Why did you come in here? (V)

Selection 2

I know, right? You don’t think you can do anything without me, can you? (V)

I’m okay! You don’t have to be sorry! (V)

Selection 3

I’m sure the others are doing well! (Nothing)

The harder it is, the better outcomes it should come to… (Nothing)

Selection 4

Merely hiding things wasn’t the answer…But you can change that from now on. (V)

It must have been tough for you too, V. You can rely on me… (V)

Selection 5

Wouldn’t Rika feel the same guilt? Rika used to do a lot of good things before… (V)

I think you’re the only getting hurt because of Rika. (V)

Selection 6

Stop trying to sacrifice yourself, V! That’s good to Rika as well. (V)

Are you planning to leave me? Don’t say such thing! (V)

Selection 7

I want you to treasure yourself more, V, you’re a precious person to me as well. (V)

Don’t betray me…! (V)

Selection 8

Then what about the people who care for you, V? Stop saying such irresponsible things and get a grip! (V)

If that makes you feel relieved…then do as you wish.

Why don’t you just say it straight that you like Rika more than me?! (V)

Selection 9

V…if you go I’ll be disappointed… (Nothing)

V, please… (Nothing)

Selection 10

V, is there no way for you and me to be happy? (V)

V, if you want everyone to be happy, you have to stop pampering Rika. (V)

Selection 11

Thinking of others is great, but you should really think about yourself, V! (V)

That boy…? (Nothing)

Aren’t you sick and tired of living your life for someone else? The two of us can be happy!

VNM— Selection 1

V? What were you doing?

V, how are you feeling?

Selection 2

Once this passes, only happiness will await you. Happiness with me.

It’s alright. You’re good enough just the way you are.

Selection 3

There goes your habit again. You’re trying to handle everything by yourself -;

You don’t have to do this alone. We can work together.

I’m so jealous of Rika…You love her this much.

Selection 5

There’s nothing that you shouldn’t have started. Back then you only had innocent intention…You only wished to experience love.

It’s not your fault, V. Who would’ve thought that RIka was such an evil person?

Selection 6

You’re not a monster, V! You’re just…you’ve experienced tragically sad love. That’s all.

I don’t care if you hurt me. I want to be yours.

Selection 7

If it’s complicated, just embrace the way it is… I’m here for you.

You can find your hue from now on. You can start discovering yourself from the beginning.

Selection 8

Please don’t go. Stay away and find a new path.

I’ll come with you. I don’t want to let you go alone.

09:04 Third Person Perspective. Selection 1

A hacker! There's a hacker here!

Seven?? (Nothing)

Selection 2

Are you fiddling with Seven's phone? (Nothing)

Seven!!! Vanderwood is using your phone! (707)

Selection 3

What's wrong with the design of our app?

Oh…the design’s like this because it was hacked. (V)

Selection 4

It is a test lol Let’s talk nonsense!

No. Not a test…but Vanderwood, the hacker can see the messages you write here. (V)

Selection 5

Say something! Anything! (Nothing)

Does the camera work?

Selection 6

It’s reeking with tiredness.

In truth…I think you’re good-looking. (Nothing)

Selection 7

Why isn't he answering them?

Who's the call from? (Nothing)

Selection 8

He probably thinks of his life dearly... (Nothing)

Isn't there something you wanted to say to 707? This is your chance. (Nothing)

Selection 9

Now I have no idea where this party is heading, either… (707)

It seems like a series of disasters... I joined because it was a group doing good deeds... (V)

Selection 10

He was always like that. (707)

He's sacrificing to protect everyone. (V)

Selection 11

He codes with his…toes? (Nothing)

Maybe he likes the RFA that much…

Selection 12

Why? You like it? (Nothing)

Hereditary, maybe…?

Selection 13

Allow me to thank you in his place ^^; V had many difficult things going on. (V)

You’ve very good at cleaning. I’ll compliment you on that.

Selection 14

I thought you were avoiding us. (Nothing)

Don’t you want to join our association?

Selection 15

It might not be the time yet…but you never know about the future, right? (V)

I think our relationship is somewhat ambiguous…

Yes. We will soon start our relationship.

Selection 16

Is there something wrong with Seven? (Nothing)

So that’s how you give a legitimate excuse for being single… (Nothing)

What are you saying?

Selection 17

What’s wrong with Seven’s impression?

How is that job from Seven going?

But this is exceptional situation! Exceptional! (V)

Selection 18

What kind of photos are you comparing? (Nothing)

I think it’ll be a good idea to give up for the sake of your eyes. (Nothing)

Selection 19

What other jobs do you do other than keeping watch on him, Vanderwood? (Nothing)

Seven is safe, right? (707)

Selection 20

Run run run — (Nothing)

He wouldn’t be angry, would he? (Nothing)

12:07 Rika’s Feelings. Selection 1

He’s trying to do everything he can to stop you,Rika. (V)

He want to protect everyone. (V)

Selection 2

Don’t belittle yourself that much. (Nothing)

That’s not completely wrong… (Nothing)

Selection 3

Do you have to prove yourself like that? (Nothing)

The idea that someone will save me is just a fantasy. (Nothing)

Selection 4

Rika, you have a lot of people around you. Why do you feel lonely? (V)

It may be love to you, Rika, but…it might have been obsession to V.

Selection 5

You two are people with completely different ideas. (V)

Then you should let go of V now… (V)

Selection 6

You’re only using them. (Nothing)

Then take your hands off the RFA and V. (Nothing)

Selection 7

Rika, will you be satisfied when you make the whole RFA fall into the darkness? (Nothing)

That’s even scarier… (Nothing)

Selection 8

They will not want to be healed. (Nothing)

Rika, how much do you know about RFA? (Nothing)

Selection 9

Rika, that’s really dangerous…I can see why V is trying to stop you by himself. (Nothing)

Even without you, Rika…they will find ways themselves. (Nothing)

Selection 10

Are you saying you’re different? (Nothing)

At least V is a leader with a warm heart… (Nothing)

Selection 11

Rika, you’re also using other to prove yourself. (Nothing)

If it slips to one side, that’s called obsession. It’s obsession for you as well. (Nothing)

VNM — Selection 1

You’re not even doing well! Stop being so stubborn.

V, please calm down…It’s too dangerous to go there by yourself.

Selection 2

V, you’re so stubborn.

Please, stop being obsessed with Rika.

Selection 3

Are you sure you’re okay with that, V?

You tried to embrace it.

Selection 4

So what it your real answer?

V…can’t you take courage and let us work this out together?

Selection 5

Is that the reason why you live on?

Enough with your obsession with Rika! You should treasure yourself some more!

Selection 6

You don’t have to sacrifice yourself for Rika. You’re already priceless to me.

You think like that? That’s an obsession, not an idea. No more obsession!

Selection 7

Of course, as long as you love yourself.

14:11 Reason Trying to Stop Her. Selection 1

He just fell asleep…Rika and V’s relationship’s extremely complicated. (Nothing)

Yes…he’s asleep. Seven…did you see what Rika wrote? (Nothing)

Selection 2

Isn’t saying beyond repair kind of harsh…? (Nothing)

Yes, Rika is now like a bomb. (Nothing)

Selection 3

Then you’re saying that Rika can take RFA to the Mint Eye if she wants to? (V)

Who in the world would believe in Rika’s words? (V)

Selection 4

But I think lying that she committed suicide was too much. (V)

I can’t imagine what V would have gone through…it breaks my heart… (V)

Selection 5

The reason why Rika could act so violently was because V’s love was too ideal… (Nothing)

Since when did Rika change like this…? (Nothing)

Selection 6

I think he’ll eventually follow Rika. (Nothing)

Yoosung..will be in a mental catastrophe. (Nothing)

Selection 7

Yes, of course. (V)

V seems to want to go to Rika. (V)

Selection 8

You weren’t interested, were you? (Nothing)

She might have hidden her dual side very well… (Nothing)

Selection 9

Would there be someone like that? (Nothing)

You can see that, Seven? (Nothing)

Selection 10

Is there no way to change her mind back? (Nothing)

That’s..sad… (Nothing)

Selection 11

See you, Seven. (Nothing)

Alright… (Nothing)

16:39 You Change Me. Selection 1

I’ll hate you for the rest of my life if you disappear without a word…I’ll hate you more than Rika! (Nothing)

Why do you keep coming into the chatroom? (Nothing)

Selection 2

If you know I’m having a difficult time, hurry up and recover! Let’s think this positively! (V)

We should be happy soon…Throw away your lingering feelings for Rika! (V)

Selection 3

She might stop if you leave Rika dead on. (V)

No…She’ll probably keep doing what she wants. (V)

Selection 4

Stop playing that, and rather, how about you forget Rika? (V)

I don’t mind suffering, as long as my words have reached you, V… (V)

Selection 5

Then there’s one more reason why you shouldn’t go… (Nothing)

You know that’s not the way to save Rika, don’t you? (Nothing)

Selection 6

I’m different from Rika…You don’t have to be scared. (V)

We can fill that in together. We have time ahead of us. So don’t leave. (V)

Selection 7

You’re going to sacrifice yourself by meeting her? You know that’s not the answer. (V)

What are you going to do after meeting her? (Nothing)

Selection 8

If you of to Rika, it means I won’t be able to see you again, V… (Nothing)

…So are you really going to go? Putting everyone behind you…? (Nothing)

Selection 9

In whatever shape it is, we will be happy soon, as long as Rika is taken care of! (V)

You can start again. Even love and art…Please listen to me. (V)

Selection 10

V, your change is…entirely up to you. I told you to think of yourself first! (V)

So, now I’m more influential to you than Rika, right? (V)

18:35 Seven’s Persuasion. Selection 1

Return “jumin cat” (Jumin)

What are you doing? (Nothing)

Selection 2

Ray…! (Nothing)      

Did you come in to interfere us? (Nothing)

Selection 3

Seven, is Ray baffled because we’ve won? (707)

Ray, calm down… (Ray)

Selection 4

Ray…any plans on shifting over to the RFA? (Nothing)

He’s right, Ray…you should rather go with Seven. (707)

Selection 5

Why are you so afraid of losing? (Nothing)

Ray…you should let go of us now. (V)

Selection 6

Don’t trust Rika too much… (Nothing)

You have a brother? (Nothing)

Selection 7

Did you eat something wrong? (Nothing)

Are you in pain again…? (Ray)

Selection 8

Seven, you seem to be very interested in that hacker. (Nothing)

Do you think you know him, Seven? (Nothing)

Selection 9

I hope V can endure to the last moment… (V)

Good luck till the end! (707)

20:12 Winner Seven!!! Selection 1

Heart-beating faster? (Nothing)

Can we now get rid of the mInt Eye? (V)

Selection 2

Hmm? Did something change?? (Nothing)

Hmm. It’s the same background as before. (Nothing)

Selection 3

Wow!! (Nothing)

Is the security system back? (Nothing)

Selection 4

Are we safe now? (Nothing)

Why aren’t the other coming in? (Nothing)

Selection 5

Yes! Can we now move V to a safer place? (V)

Would V want to go to the hospital? (Nothing)

Selection 6

Will Ray not attack again…? (Nothing)

I wonder what Ray’s real identity is… (Ray)

Selection 7

Take him to the agency. (Nothing)

Wouldn’t it be more transparent by receiving the law’s orders? (Nothing)

Selection 8

I want to share this emotional momento with V… (V)

Let’s celebrate the recovery of our messenger! (Nothing)

Selection 9

I want to see the messenger buzzing again with everyone logged on. (V + 707)

Can the RFA members come into the messenger now? (Nothing)

Selection 10

What is it?! (Nothing)

Selection 11

Then make them exit the room and add the RFA members. (Nothing)

Wasn’t it all recovered? (Nothing)

Selection 12

If the members login, can they read the messages Rika and the hacker wrote…? (Nothing)

Selection 13

This will be the last, won’t it? (Nothing)

Good luck! (Nothing)

21:49 I Missed You All Selection 1

The messenger’s security system has been recovered, Rika. (Nothing)

Mistake? (Nothing)

Rika, soon you won’t be able to log in anymore. (Nothing)

Selection 2

Are you planning to talk to the RFA members here? (Nothing)

What do you want? (Nothing)

Selection 3

We did. But Seven would have blocked it. (Nothing)

It’d be better for them not to see. (Nothing)

Selection 4

What kind of text? (Nothing)

Quit it if you’re trying to seduce them to join the Mint Eye. (Nothing)

Selection 5

That’s a lie…What trip? (Nothing)

I hope everyone believes your words, Rika. (Nothing)

Selection 6

For making V like that? (V)

For being absent for the past 6 months? (Nothing)

Selection 7

You do know…that your words can confuse him, don’t you? (Nothing)

You don’t even plan to do that… (Nothing)

Selection 8

You know very well about V’s father when you don’t really talk about your own parents. (Nothing)

Are you planning to say hello to every member like this? (Nothing)

Selection 9

Rika…whats is it that you really want? (Nothing)

Rika, your attitude is very double-side. (V)

… (Nothing)

Selection 10

I don’t plan to…Rika, stop being like that in front of me… (V)

Yes, the three of us should get together. I’ll reveal what kind of person you are, Rika! (V)

Selection 11

Keep away from V and the RFA! It’s really sick and tiring! (V)

If it were possible, he would have… (V)

Selection 12

It’s now getting pitiful… (Nothing)

The RFA won’t be able to read what you’ve written. (Nothing)

Selection 13

One last thing…? (Nothing)

---------------------------------------Branch----------------------------------------

VNM — Selection 1

Okay. Here, lean on me. (Nothing)

Are you sure you’ll be alright?  (Nothing)

Note: If from here you only see single-choice answers you have a bad end (Bad Story Ending 2). 

Selection 2

Alright. Let’s go together. (Nothing)

Selection 3

What is it? (Nothing)

Selection 4

(Embrace V). (Nothing)

Selection 5

Have you never had someone hug you before? (Nothing)

No, thank you…For finding me in my life. (Nothing)

Selection 6

Regardless, thank you for wading throughout such a trail of thorns and making it here. (Nothing)

There is no perfect love. I think every love has at least a twist or two. (Nothing)

Selection 7

I hope you’d get your chance soon! (Nothing)

I’m sure you can. (Nothing)

Selection 8

Are you sure you’ll be fine? (Nothing)

But it’s night…I’d be dangerous. (Nothing)

Selection 5

Then, please excuse me. (Nothing)

23:24 V Has Been Stabbed Selection 1

I have nothing to say to you now, Ray. (Nothing)

Ray, we might get to see each other soon! (Nothing)

Selection 2

….. (Nothing)

Ray? (Nothing)

Selection 3

Then…about the text Rika wrote…the others can see it as well, right…? (Nothing)

Wouldn’t Rika and the hacker participate in our chats? (Nothing)

Selection 4

Can the others come in now? (Nothing)

Why don’t we first take V to the hospital and contact the others later? (Nothing)

Selection 5

That’s not what’s important right now! Get V to the hospital first! (V)

Yes. I’m innocent! (Nothing)

Selection 6

Zen, call the others! (Nothing)

V’s here as well! (V)

Selection 7

Yes, I’ll keep him awake! (V)

Should I try pinching him? (Nothing)

Selection 8

I’m okay. So is Seven. V’s the only one hurt badly. (Nothing)

I don’t feel good since V’s hurt. (Nothing)

Selection 9

I have to look over V so it’ll be difficult for me to tell you in detail. (Nothing)

It’s a long story…you should go read it yourself. (Nothing)

Selection 10

Yoosung, V’s been hurt badly! (Nothing)

Did you read the message Rika left? (Nothing)

Selection 11

It was between the tow of them…some of it might be true (V)

Of course that’s a lie. Rika was the one who attacked the RFA using the Mint Eye. (V)

Selection 12

Everything’s been done but he couldn’t kick out Rika and the hacker. (Nothing)

Yes. Seven said he recovered it all. (707)

Selection 13

Yoosung, you don’t trust Rika anymore, right? (Nothing)

Do you want me to find proof or something? (Nothing)

Selection 14

Make up your mind after listening to both side of the story, after V recovers. (V)

It’s frustrating that you’re in denial even when the situation says it all. (V)

Selection 15

Having a party when someone’s life is in danger is a bit… (Zen)

Yoosung, you’re trying to look after the RFA in you own way…aren’t you? (Yoosung)

Selection 16

Don’t worry. V will be okay. He’s strong! (V)

Leave V to me and you two should contact the other members! (Nothing)

Selection 17

I’m okay…but I’m worried about V… (Nothing)

I’m relieved as well to see the members doing fine. (Nothing)

[samanthasroberts]

Bali: Insider Travel Guide

(CNN)Many would argue that Bali is a paradise lost. It isn’t. It’s just evolved.

It now offers as many experiences as the varying hues of green found in a plot of terraced rice paddy.

Whether you’re a hardcore partygoer determined to eat, drink and not sleep your way through Seminyak; a yoga devotee seeking peace and tranquility in Ubud’s tropical rainforest setting; a die-hard surfer whose only agenda is to paddle out and catch the monster swells at Padang Padang; or a curious traveler charmed by Bali’s sacred temples in Manggis — you can do it all (or do nothing at all) in Bali.

The best of Bali has everything, the good, the downright ugly (braided, Bintang tank-top-wearing hordes in insufferable Kuta) and the sublimely beautiful.

Here’s what to do in Bali:

Hotels

W Retreat & Spa Bali — Seminyak

The new rock star on the island, there’s no denying the high-octane glamour that comes with this beachfront property.

It’s large by Bali standards, but exudes its own sense of cool and calm.

A room in the main building gets you close to the action.

Back from the beach are the hotel’s brilliant, and affordable, private villas and pools.

Very useful is the best of Bali AWAY spa, which remains open 24/7.

That’s great news for late-night revelers in need of a foot massage after stumbling in from a night at Woo Bar — Bali’s newest hot spot.

Equally useful is the hidden sliding door that conceals and reveals bathroom and bedroom areas, and the three-tier main swimming pool for ample lounging and photo opportunities.

The hotel is far enough from the main array of hotels to keep the beach quiet, while further north is the even quieter Canggu beach.

The hotel can arrange a motorbike rental for US$5 a day.

The Colony Hotel

There’s one big plus point about staying at The Colony Hotel: no children under the age of 16 allowed.

Another bonus is the on-site Jari Menari massage facility.

Not to be overlooked are the 20 rooms done up in a pretty but minimalist decor.

The junior suite comes with a spacious balcony that overlooks the 16-meter pool.

Amankila

Located on a headland in Candidasa, high heels are not recommended while staying at the Amankila, as there are plenty of stairs to navigate.

Luckily, golf carts are readily available to transport you down to the beach club where a generous strip of black sand beach remains tout-free.

If you’re tired of the sand and wanting to know what to do in Bali come sunset, try watching the changing color of the sky from the hotel’s signature triple-stepped swimming pool.

Early bookers, try to get upgraded to villa 37 — reportedly the resort’s most requested villa — which enjoys the best view of the ocean.

Anantara Resort Seminyak

Bali has a quirky local rule stating that buildings should not be higher than a palm tree.

This five-story property just makes the cut.

Sitting front and center on Seminyak beach, all 59 suites (and one penthouse) come with ocean views.

Penthouse suites come with attached outdoor lounge space and a terrazzo bath, so you can fall asleep to the sound of crashing waves.

Michi Retreat

Ubud is where artists flock, so if you’re staying here, it makes sense to put up at a property with artistic inclinations.

Michi is a work in progress, and its creator, the septuagenarian Professor Kung, calls himself a nomad.

Hence, the resort near Jukut Paku is an eclectic collection of rooms that are always changing.

Adding another dimension to the experience are mosaic grottos that overlook a particularly spectacular stretch of the River Wos.

Harmony Hotel

Cheap and cheerful, and located just minutes walk from Seminyak beach, this is one of the best values in Seminyak.

The rooms are decent sized and come with Wi-Fi and a TV.

All rooms are located around a common mosaic pool.

Breakfast included.

Four Seasons Resort Bali at Sayan

Away from the coast, amid dense bamboo jungle and perched looking over the sacred Ayung River is this wonderful, peaceful retreat.

Jungle wildlife and the occasional screams of rafters thrusting along the river are the only sounds to intrude upon the privacy of each villa at Four Seasons Resort Bali at Sayan.

All 42 thatched maxi-huts/villas come with an outdoor shower that overlooks the river valley and a plunge pool that releases itself endlessly into the jungle’s steamy abyss.

There are also 18 suites.

You are far from the maddening crowds and if a non-beach stay is what you are looking for, your budget is well spent here.

AYANA Resort and Spa Bali

Since it relaunched in 2009 as AYANA Resort and Spa Bali, this hotel has bagged a whole slew of significant awards for its bar (see below), its accommodations and the spa.

And it is clear why.

Despite the size of the place (there are over 350 rooms, suites and villas — some on the cliff with staggering sunset views) there is still a sense of privacy and space.

The rooms and hotel design are very well done — well appointed without the over the top ‘luxury flourishes.’

The hotel sits high above the Indian Ocean near Jimbaran Bay on Bali’s south-western peninsula so it is a bit of a schlep from the busier Seminyak, Kuta, Legian stretch.

Not a bad thing, but it is harder to pop away should, for some reason, you want to escape.

The above are some of the reasons the hotel is also proving a popular wedding (and honeymoon) destination.

Restaurants

Metis

If you’re wondering what to do in Bali, start with great food.

The charismatic chefs Said and Dou Dou, have taken bits of magic from Warisan — their former haunt — and elevated it at Metis.

The foie gras (all six types) is Bali’s best, and then some.

The kitchen is equally adept at putting out a freshly grilled sole as it is an aromatic plate of fork-tender osso bucco served on a bed of creamy risotto.

The Grand Marnier souffl and passion fruit martini are highly recommended.

After dinner, you can hang out at the lounge overlooking paddy fields.

On Thursday night, there’s live music.

Sardine

More than 120,000 bamboo shingles and 10 types of bamboo were used in the construction of this restaurant.

But you’re not really here to do an architectural survey.

Sardine focuses on fresh produce and organic greens. Brilliant side dishes include smoky miso eggplant and wasabi mash.

The scallops with ravioli and creamy panna cotta are outstanding.

Sari Organik

You’ll break a sweat getting to this restaurant — it’s surrounded by its own farm — where you can pick your own vegetables for the chef to cook.

Take a pre- and post-meal walk through fertile paddy fields — this is a great thing to do in Bali — and revel in a meal of nasi campur crowned with chunks of tempe fried to crisp perfection.

Sarong

We’re not sure which we like better, the spiced Asian fusion with a strong Indonesian slant (the caramelized duck is a hot favorite) or the sexy fleur-de-lis and chandelier setting.

Then there are some of Bali’s best cocktails. Sarong’s extensive cocktail menu is one of the most original we’ve seen.

The Bill & Ben is a gin and pink grapefruit concoction topped with chamomile foam.

The Sarong Cappuccino is made with vodka or brandy, maple syrup, Kahla and espresso.

Mozaic

If there’s one dining destination in Bali, it’s Mozaic.

Part of the Les Grande Tables du Monde, since opening in 2001 the restaurant has had a flurry of global food critics eating out of its hand.

Market cuisine is led by French Laundry-trained chef Chris Salans, who blends French and American culinary techniques with Balinese ingredients.

Salans’ use of black olive Balinese Kluwek sauce is brilliant, and addictive.

Expect to pay up to US$175 per person.

S.O.S Supper Club

If you prefer your sunsets unobstructed, and like to enjoy them without grains of sand stuck in hard-to-reach crevices, S.O.S. is your spot.

The rooftop bar offers one of the best views of the Seminyak sunset slowly melting behind the horizon.

Service is swift and the drinks icy cold.

This is where to be and what to do in Bali come happy hour.

La Plancha

While most other beach bars roll out designer cocktails and fancy finger food, La Plancha keeps it simple with laid-back reggae beats, a selection of beer, oversized beanbags and jugs of potent sangria.

It also helps that the bar has an uninterrupted view of the pink-to-red-to-orange sky.

Bali Joe

There’s rarely any room for women in Bali Joe, except for those that get up on the bar and lip-synch to Beyonc anthems.

The bar is popular for its energetic vibe and nightly drag shows that feature plenty of audience participation.

Performers can be persuaded to extend a few private DIY diva tips.

Rock Bar

Rock Bar’s mixologists pour creative cocktails set to the beats spun from a DJ booth carved into the stone — although some nights are devoted to live music.

Designed by Yasuhiro Koichi of Japan’s Design Studio SPIN, this is one of the best, and most crowded, places to watch the sunset in Bali.

A word of warning: wear suitable clothes.

No board shorts or sleeveless tops for guys. T

hursday to Saturday nights are extremely busy, so be prepared for a long wait.

A scooter from the main Kuta/Seminyak stretch will take 30 minutes-plus to reach the bar.

Ku De Ta

No trip to Bali is complete without catching a sunset at this local institution.

Arrive early or you’ll have to sprawl out on the lawn.

Drinks are pricy, but the mojito, raspberry and lemongrass cocktail and Kuve Margarita made with lemon sorbet is worth the coin.

Potato Head Beach Club

Bali’s newest, hippest beach bar is housed in an impressive geometric facade that you won’t miss.

It’s the best place to be seen drinking and partying.

Celebrity DJs often play weekend gigs.

Other nights see island residents streaming in at sunset for cocktails and tapas.

The kookaburra is a popular order, a curious concoction made of lemongrass gin, passion fruit and mint, and topped by the club’s signature vanilla foam.

6 dishes every Bali visitor needs to try

Shopping / Attractions

Jenggala

There’s plenty of shopping to do in Bali, and few visitors are able to resist the urge to take home a full 24-piece set of Jenggala crockery in pale green jade or plain white.

What started in 1976 as a small, experimental cottage industry has become a global ceramic force.

The high quality, handcrafted ceramic decorated with painstaking detail is a pretty addition — and nicer reminder of Bali — to any home.

Simple Konsep Store

This store is anything but simple.

At this concept space that fuses Bali’s traditional artisan skills with modern European designs, you’ll find everything from origami folding leather bags, Melissa shoes, commissioned ceramics objects by Gaja Gallery, jewelry by local and European designers and unique batik print apparel.

Simple Konsep Store, 40 Jalan Lesmana-Oberoi, Seminyak; +62 361 730393

Mount Agung

What to do in Bali after you’ve seen all the beaches, sampled all the menus and hit all the bars?

Scaling the majestic Mount Agung — at 3,142 meters the highest point on the island — makes for a worthy challenge.

A strato-volcano that last erupted in 1963, locals believe it’s a replica of Mount Meru, the central axis of the universe.

There are two routes to the top.

Both take up to four hours.

And while you can scale it without a guide — they can be found lingering at the start of the trek — employing one is highly recommended.

Tanah Lot

Supposedly the work of the 15th-century priest, Tanah Lot is one of Bali’s most holy, and touristy, sites.

Located in Tabanan, the sacred Hindu temple sits on a large rock out in the ocean and is said to be guarded by sea snakes.

Head toward the footpath leading to the raised cliff area where the view of the sun setting behind the temple is outstanding.

Only in Bali

Paddy fields

OK, they’re not only in Bali, but terraced rice fields in varying shades of brown, gold and green make for one of Bali’s most calming and beautiful sights.

Keep Walking Tours runs daily excursions, but you can also head off exploring on your own.

Start at Ubud Palace, head west on Jalan Raya Ubud and follow signs that bring you past the River Wos, Campuan Ridge and the village of Penestanan.

Ubud Palace, junction of Jalan Suweta and Jalan Raya Campuan

Balinese avant garde

Balinese art is more than topless women and rice-paddy landscapes.

The artist-run Sika Gallery in Campuan, Ubud, condemns commercial art and seeks to push Bali’s visual arts envelope.

Ask after artist-curator I Wayan Sika and see if you can coax out the story of his artistic journey, during which a coma-like state inspired him to produce some of his best works.

Balinese avant garde, Jalan Raya Campuhan, Ubud, Gianyar; +62 36 1975084

Medicine man

Poor Ketut Liyer.

The elderly medicine man has been kept busy all hours of the day since “Eat, Pray, Love” catapulted him to global fame.

Consultations on your life and love prospects don’t come easy or cheap.

Expect all tickets — yes, there’s a docket system — to be snapped up by 9 a.m.

Prices vary, but often start from US$25.

10 minutes’ walk south of Pengoseken, follow the signs; +62 361 974092

Babi guling at Ibu Oka

When in Bali, a meal of babi guling (roast suckling pig) is a must.

It’s essentially a whole roasted pig stuffed with spices, carved up and served with rice and vegetables.

While there are many places to get it around Bali, Ubud’s Ibu Oka is a famed institution serving up platefuls of the stuff daily till mid-afternoon, when the food runs out.

This is a meal that works your jaw.

You’ll need to chew hard till all the flavors are released from the succulent meat.

Around noon, staff usually carve up another pig.

It’s a great photo op.

Jari Menari massage

There are massages and then there’s a Jari Menari massage.

The name means “dancing fingers” and your body parts will be in perfect harmony at the end of the treatment.

The all-male staff employs a mixture of techniques (Swedish, deep tissue, Balinese) and emphasizes the rhythm and movements of your body.

Book well in advance to ensure a spot.

There’s another branch at Nusa Dua, and a one-masseur facility at The Colony Hotel.

Introductory massages classes are held on Tuesdays.

14 of Bali’s best beaches

World’s 100 best beaches

12 crowd-free Asia island escapes

Source: http://allofbeer.com/bali-insider-travel-guide/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2019/02/17/bali-insider-travel-guide/

[adambstingus]

Bali: Insider Travel Guide

(CNN)Many would argue that Bali is a paradise lost. It isn’t. It’s just evolved.

It now offers as many experiences as the varying hues of green found in a plot of terraced rice paddy.

Whether you’re a hardcore partygoer determined to eat, drink and not sleep your way through Seminyak; a yoga devotee seeking peace and tranquility in Ubud’s tropical rainforest setting; a die-hard surfer whose only agenda is to paddle out and catch the monster swells at Padang Padang; or a curious traveler charmed by Bali’s sacred temples in Manggis — you can do it all (or do nothing at all) in Bali.

The best of Bali has everything, the good, the downright ugly (braided, Bintang tank-top-wearing hordes in insufferable Kuta) and the sublimely beautiful.

Here’s what to do in Bali:

Hotels

W Retreat & Spa Bali — Seminyak

The new rock star on the island, there’s no denying the high-octane glamour that comes with this beachfront property.

It’s large by Bali standards, but exudes its own sense of cool and calm.

A room in the main building gets you close to the action.

Back from the beach are the hotel’s brilliant, and affordable, private villas and pools.

Very useful is the best of Bali AWAY spa, which remains open 24/7.

That’s great news for late-night revelers in need of a foot massage after stumbling in from a night at Woo Bar — Bali’s newest hot spot.

Equally useful is the hidden sliding door that conceals and reveals bathroom and bedroom areas, and the three-tier main swimming pool for ample lounging and photo opportunities.

The hotel is far enough from the main array of hotels to keep the beach quiet, while further north is the even quieter Canggu beach.

The hotel can arrange a motorbike rental for US$5 a day.

The Colony Hotel

There’s one big plus point about staying at The Colony Hotel: no children under the age of 16 allowed.

Another bonus is the on-site Jari Menari massage facility.

Not to be overlooked are the 20 rooms done up in a pretty but minimalist decor.

The junior suite comes with a spacious balcony that overlooks the 16-meter pool.

Amankila

Located on a headland in Candidasa, high heels are not recommended while staying at the Amankila, as there are plenty of stairs to navigate.

Luckily, golf carts are readily available to transport you down to the beach club where a generous strip of black sand beach remains tout-free.

If you’re tired of the sand and wanting to know what to do in Bali come sunset, try watching the changing color of the sky from the hotel’s signature triple-stepped swimming pool.

Early bookers, try to get upgraded to villa 37 — reportedly the resort’s most requested villa — which enjoys the best view of the ocean.

Anantara Resort Seminyak

Bali has a quirky local rule stating that buildings should not be higher than a palm tree.

This five-story property just makes the cut.

Sitting front and center on Seminyak beach, all 59 suites (and one penthouse) come with ocean views.

Penthouse suites come with attached outdoor lounge space and a terrazzo bath, so you can fall asleep to the sound of crashing waves.

Michi Retreat

Ubud is where artists flock, so if you’re staying here, it makes sense to put up at a property with artistic inclinations.

Michi is a work in progress, and its creator, the septuagenarian Professor Kung, calls himself a nomad.

Hence, the resort near Jukut Paku is an eclectic collection of rooms that are always changing.

Adding another dimension to the experience are mosaic grottos that overlook a particularly spectacular stretch of the River Wos.

Harmony Hotel

Cheap and cheerful, and located just minutes walk from Seminyak beach, this is one of the best values in Seminyak.

The rooms are decent sized and come with Wi-Fi and a TV.

All rooms are located around a common mosaic pool.

Breakfast included.

Four Seasons Resort Bali at Sayan

Away from the coast, amid dense bamboo jungle and perched looking over the sacred Ayung River is this wonderful, peaceful retreat.

Jungle wildlife and the occasional screams of rafters thrusting along the river are the only sounds to intrude upon the privacy of each villa at Four Seasons Resort Bali at Sayan.

All 42 thatched maxi-huts/villas come with an outdoor shower that overlooks the river valley and a plunge pool that releases itself endlessly into the jungle’s steamy abyss.

There are also 18 suites.

You are far from the maddening crowds and if a non-beach stay is what you are looking for, your budget is well spent here.

AYANA Resort and Spa Bali

Since it relaunched in 2009 as AYANA Resort and Spa Bali, this hotel has bagged a whole slew of significant awards for its bar (see below), its accommodations and the spa.

And it is clear why.

Despite the size of the place (there are over 350 rooms, suites and villas — some on the cliff with staggering sunset views) there is still a sense of privacy and space.

The rooms and hotel design are very well done — well appointed without the over the top ‘luxury flourishes.’

The hotel sits high above the Indian Ocean near Jimbaran Bay on Bali’s south-western peninsula so it is a bit of a schlep from the busier Seminyak, Kuta, Legian stretch.

Not a bad thing, but it is harder to pop away should, for some reason, you want to escape.

The above are some of the reasons the hotel is also proving a popular wedding (and honeymoon) destination.

Restaurants

Metis

If you’re wondering what to do in Bali, start with great food.

The charismatic chefs Said and Dou Dou, have taken bits of magic from Warisan — their former haunt — and elevated it at Metis.

The foie gras (all six types) is Bali’s best, and then some.

The kitchen is equally adept at putting out a freshly grilled sole as it is an aromatic plate of fork-tender osso bucco served on a bed of creamy risotto.

The Grand Marnier souffl and passion fruit martini are highly recommended.

After dinner, you can hang out at the lounge overlooking paddy fields.

On Thursday night, there’s live music.

Sardine

More than 120,000 bamboo shingles and 10 types of bamboo were used in the construction of this restaurant.

But you’re not really here to do an architectural survey.

Sardine focuses on fresh produce and organic greens. Brilliant side dishes include smoky miso eggplant and wasabi mash.

The scallops with ravioli and creamy panna cotta are outstanding.

Sari Organik

You’ll break a sweat getting to this restaurant — it’s surrounded by its own farm — where you can pick your own vegetables for the chef to cook.

Take a pre- and post-meal walk through fertile paddy fields — this is a great thing to do in Bali — and revel in a meal of nasi campur crowned with chunks of tempe fried to crisp perfection.

Sarong

We’re not sure which we like better, the spiced Asian fusion with a strong Indonesian slant (the caramelized duck is a hot favorite) or the sexy fleur-de-lis and chandelier setting.

Then there are some of Bali’s best cocktails. Sarong’s extensive cocktail menu is one of the most original we’ve seen.

The Bill & Ben is a gin and pink grapefruit concoction topped with chamomile foam.

The Sarong Cappuccino is made with vodka or brandy, maple syrup, Kahla and espresso.

Mozaic

If there’s one dining destination in Bali, it’s Mozaic.

Part of the Les Grande Tables du Monde, since opening in 2001 the restaurant has had a flurry of global food critics eating out of its hand.

Market cuisine is led by French Laundry-trained chef Chris Salans, who blends French and American culinary techniques with Balinese ingredients.

Salans’ use of black olive Balinese Kluwek sauce is brilliant, and addictive.

Expect to pay up to US$175 per person.

S.O.S Supper Club

If you prefer your sunsets unobstructed, and like to enjoy them without grains of sand stuck in hard-to-reach crevices, S.O.S. is your spot.

The rooftop bar offers one of the best views of the Seminyak sunset slowly melting behind the horizon.

Service is swift and the drinks icy cold.

This is where to be and what to do in Bali come happy hour.

La Plancha

While most other beach bars roll out designer cocktails and fancy finger food, La Plancha keeps it simple with laid-back reggae beats, a selection of beer, oversized beanbags and jugs of potent sangria.

It also helps that the bar has an uninterrupted view of the pink-to-red-to-orange sky.

Bali Joe

There’s rarely any room for women in Bali Joe, except for those that get up on the bar and lip-synch to Beyonc anthems.

The bar is popular for its energetic vibe and nightly drag shows that feature plenty of audience participation.

Performers can be persuaded to extend a few private DIY diva tips.

Rock Bar

Rock Bar’s mixologists pour creative cocktails set to the beats spun from a DJ booth carved into the stone — although some nights are devoted to live music.

Designed by Yasuhiro Koichi of Japan’s Design Studio SPIN, this is one of the best, and most crowded, places to watch the sunset in Bali.

A word of warning: wear suitable clothes.

No board shorts or sleeveless tops for guys. T

hursday to Saturday nights are extremely busy, so be prepared for a long wait.

A scooter from the main Kuta/Seminyak stretch will take 30 minutes-plus to reach the bar.

Ku De Ta

No trip to Bali is complete without catching a sunset at this local institution.

Arrive early or you’ll have to sprawl out on the lawn.

Drinks are pricy, but the mojito, raspberry and lemongrass cocktail and Kuve Margarita made with lemon sorbet is worth the coin.

Potato Head Beach Club

Bali’s newest, hippest beach bar is housed in an impressive geometric facade that you won’t miss.

It’s the best place to be seen drinking and partying.

Celebrity DJs often play weekend gigs.

Other nights see island residents streaming in at sunset for cocktails and tapas.

The kookaburra is a popular order, a curious concoction made of lemongrass gin, passion fruit and mint, and topped by the club’s signature vanilla foam.

6 dishes every Bali visitor needs to try

Shopping / Attractions

Jenggala

There’s plenty of shopping to do in Bali, and few visitors are able to resist the urge to take home a full 24-piece set of Jenggala crockery in pale green jade or plain white.

What started in 1976 as a small, experimental cottage industry has become a global ceramic force.

The high quality, handcrafted ceramic decorated with painstaking detail is a pretty addition — and nicer reminder of Bali — to any home.

Simple Konsep Store

This store is anything but simple.

At this concept space that fuses Bali’s traditional artisan skills with modern European designs, you’ll find everything from origami folding leather bags, Melissa shoes, commissioned ceramics objects by Gaja Gallery, jewelry by local and European designers and unique batik print apparel.

Simple Konsep Store, 40 Jalan Lesmana-Oberoi, Seminyak; +62 361 730393

Mount Agung

What to do in Bali after you’ve seen all the beaches, sampled all the menus and hit all the bars?

Scaling the majestic Mount Agung — at 3,142 meters the highest point on the island — makes for a worthy challenge.

A strato-volcano that last erupted in 1963, locals believe it’s a replica of Mount Meru, the central axis of the universe.

There are two routes to the top.

Both take up to four hours.

And while you can scale it without a guide — they can be found lingering at the start of the trek — employing one is highly recommended.

Tanah Lot

Supposedly the work of the 15th-century priest, Tanah Lot is one of Bali’s most holy, and touristy, sites.

Located in Tabanan, the sacred Hindu temple sits on a large rock out in the ocean and is said to be guarded by sea snakes.

Head toward the footpath leading to the raised cliff area where the view of the sun setting behind the temple is outstanding.

Only in Bali

Paddy fields

OK, they’re not only in Bali, but terraced rice fields in varying shades of brown, gold and green make for one of Bali’s most calming and beautiful sights.

Keep Walking Tours runs daily excursions, but you can also head off exploring on your own.

Start at Ubud Palace, head west on Jalan Raya Ubud and follow signs that bring you past the River Wos, Campuan Ridge and the village of Penestanan.

Ubud Palace, junction of Jalan Suweta and Jalan Raya Campuan

Balinese avant garde

Balinese art is more than topless women and rice-paddy landscapes.

The artist-run Sika Gallery in Campuan, Ubud, condemns commercial art and seeks to push Bali’s visual arts envelope.

Ask after artist-curator I Wayan Sika and see if you can coax out the story of his artistic journey, during which a coma-like state inspired him to produce some of his best works.

Balinese avant garde, Jalan Raya Campuhan, Ubud, Gianyar; +62 36 1975084

Medicine man

Poor Ketut Liyer.

The elderly medicine man has been kept busy all hours of the day since “Eat, Pray, Love” catapulted him to global fame.

Consultations on your life and love prospects don’t come easy or cheap.

Expect all tickets — yes, there’s a docket system — to be snapped up by 9 a.m.

Prices vary, but often start from US$25.

10 minutes’ walk south of Pengoseken, follow the signs; +62 361 974092

Babi guling at Ibu Oka

When in Bali, a meal of babi guling (roast suckling pig) is a must.

It’s essentially a whole roasted pig stuffed with spices, carved up and served with rice and vegetables.

While there are many places to get it around Bali, Ubud’s Ibu Oka is a famed institution serving up platefuls of the stuff daily till mid-afternoon, when the food runs out.

This is a meal that works your jaw.

You’ll need to chew hard till all the flavors are released from the succulent meat.

Around noon, staff usually carve up another pig.

It’s a great photo op.

Jari Menari massage

There are massages and then there’s a Jari Menari massage.

The name means “dancing fingers” and your body parts will be in perfect harmony at the end of the treatment.

The all-male staff employs a mixture of techniques (Swedish, deep tissue, Balinese) and emphasizes the rhythm and movements of your body.

Book well in advance to ensure a spot.

There’s another branch at Nusa Dua, and a one-masseur facility at The Colony Hotel.

Introductory massages classes are held on Tuesdays.

14 of Bali’s best beaches

World’s 100 best beaches

12 crowd-free Asia island escapes

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/bali-insider-travel-guide/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/182857376542

[allofbeercom]

Bali: Insider Travel Guide

(CNN)Many would argue that Bali is a paradise lost. It isn’t. It’s just evolved.

It now offers as many experiences as the varying hues of green found in a plot of terraced rice paddy.

Whether you’re a hardcore partygoer determined to eat, drink and not sleep your way through Seminyak; a yoga devotee seeking peace and tranquility in Ubud’s tropical rainforest setting; a die-hard surfer whose only agenda is to paddle out and catch the monster swells at Padang Padang; or a curious traveler charmed by Bali’s sacred temples in Manggis — you can do it all (or do nothing at all) in Bali.

The best of Bali has everything, the good, the downright ugly (braided, Bintang tank-top-wearing hordes in insufferable Kuta) and the sublimely beautiful.

Here’s what to do in Bali:

Hotels

W Retreat & Spa Bali — Seminyak

The new rock star on the island, there’s no denying the high-octane glamour that comes with this beachfront property.

It’s large by Bali standards, but exudes its own sense of cool and calm.

A room in the main building gets you close to the action.

Back from the beach are the hotel’s brilliant, and affordable, private villas and pools.

Very useful is the best of Bali AWAY spa, which remains open 24/7.

That’s great news for late-night revelers in need of a foot massage after stumbling in from a night at Woo Bar — Bali’s newest hot spot.

Equally useful is the hidden sliding door that conceals and reveals bathroom and bedroom areas, and the three-tier main swimming pool for ample lounging and photo opportunities.

The hotel is far enough from the main array of hotels to keep the beach quiet, while further north is the even quieter Canggu beach.

The hotel can arrange a motorbike rental for US$5 a day.

The Colony Hotel

There’s one big plus point about staying at The Colony Hotel: no children under the age of 16 allowed.

Another bonus is the on-site Jari Menari massage facility.

Not to be overlooked are the 20 rooms done up in a pretty but minimalist decor.

The junior suite comes with a spacious balcony that overlooks the 16-meter pool.

Amankila

Located on a headland in Candidasa, high heels are not recommended while staying at the Amankila, as there are plenty of stairs to navigate.

Luckily, golf carts are readily available to transport you down to the beach club where a generous strip of black sand beach remains tout-free.

If you’re tired of the sand and wanting to know what to do in Bali come sunset, try watching the changing color of the sky from the hotel’s signature triple-stepped swimming pool.

Early bookers, try to get upgraded to villa 37 — reportedly the resort’s most requested villa — which enjoys the best view of the ocean.

Anantara Resort Seminyak

Bali has a quirky local rule stating that buildings should not be higher than a palm tree.

This five-story property just makes the cut.

Sitting front and center on Seminyak beach, all 59 suites (and one penthouse) come with ocean views.

Penthouse suites come with attached outdoor lounge space and a terrazzo bath, so you can fall asleep to the sound of crashing waves.

Michi Retreat

Ubud is where artists flock, so if you’re staying here, it makes sense to put up at a property with artistic inclinations.

Michi is a work in progress, and its creator, the septuagenarian Professor Kung, calls himself a nomad.

Hence, the resort near Jukut Paku is an eclectic collection of rooms that are always changing.

Adding another dimension to the experience are mosaic grottos that overlook a particularly spectacular stretch of the River Wos.

Harmony Hotel

Cheap and cheerful, and located just minutes walk from Seminyak beach, this is one of the best values in Seminyak.

The rooms are decent sized and come with Wi-Fi and a TV.

All rooms are located around a common mosaic pool.

Breakfast included.

Four Seasons Resort Bali at Sayan

Away from the coast, amid dense bamboo jungle and perched looking over the sacred Ayung River is this wonderful, peaceful retreat.

Jungle wildlife and the occasional screams of rafters thrusting along the river are the only sounds to intrude upon the privacy of each villa at Four Seasons Resort Bali at Sayan.

All 42 thatched maxi-huts/villas come with an outdoor shower that overlooks the river valley and a plunge pool that releases itself endlessly into the jungle’s steamy abyss.

There are also 18 suites.

You are far from the maddening crowds and if a non-beach stay is what you are looking for, your budget is well spent here.

AYANA Resort and Spa Bali

Since it relaunched in 2009 as AYANA Resort and Spa Bali, this hotel has bagged a whole slew of significant awards for its bar (see below), its accommodations and the spa.

And it is clear why.

Despite the size of the place (there are over 350 rooms, suites and villas — some on the cliff with staggering sunset views) there is still a sense of privacy and space.

The rooms and hotel design are very well done — well appointed without the over the top ‘luxury flourishes.’

The hotel sits high above the Indian Ocean near Jimbaran Bay on Bali’s south-western peninsula so it is a bit of a schlep from the busier Seminyak, Kuta, Legian stretch.

Not a bad thing, but it is harder to pop away should, for some reason, you want to escape.

The above are some of the reasons the hotel is also proving a popular wedding (and honeymoon) destination.

Restaurants

Metis

If you’re wondering what to do in Bali, start with great food.

The charismatic chefs Said and Dou Dou, have taken bits of magic from Warisan — their former haunt — and elevated it at Metis.

The foie gras (all six types) is Bali’s best, and then some.

The kitchen is equally adept at putting out a freshly grilled sole as it is an aromatic plate of fork-tender osso bucco served on a bed of creamy risotto.

The Grand Marnier souffl and passion fruit martini are highly recommended.

After dinner, you can hang out at the lounge overlooking paddy fields.

On Thursday night, there’s live music.

Sardine

More than 120,000 bamboo shingles and 10 types of bamboo were used in the construction of this restaurant.

But you’re not really here to do an architectural survey.

Sardine focuses on fresh produce and organic greens. Brilliant side dishes include smoky miso eggplant and wasabi mash.

The scallops with ravioli and creamy panna cotta are outstanding.

Sari Organik

You’ll break a sweat getting to this restaurant — it’s surrounded by its own farm — where you can pick your own vegetables for the chef to cook.

Take a pre- and post-meal walk through fertile paddy fields — this is a great thing to do in Bali — and revel in a meal of nasi campur crowned with chunks of tempe fried to crisp perfection.

Sarong

We’re not sure which we like better, the spiced Asian fusion with a strong Indonesian slant (the caramelized duck is a hot favorite) or the sexy fleur-de-lis and chandelier setting.

Then there are some of Bali’s best cocktails. Sarong’s extensive cocktail menu is one of the most original we’ve seen.

The Bill & Ben is a gin and pink grapefruit concoction topped with chamomile foam.

The Sarong Cappuccino is made with vodka or brandy, maple syrup, Kahla and espresso.

Mozaic

If there’s one dining destination in Bali, it’s Mozaic.

Part of the Les Grande Tables du Monde, since opening in 2001 the restaurant has had a flurry of global food critics eating out of its hand.

Market cuisine is led by French Laundry-trained chef Chris Salans, who blends French and American culinary techniques with Balinese ingredients.

Salans’ use of black olive Balinese Kluwek sauce is brilliant, and addictive.

Expect to pay up to US$175 per person.

S.O.S Supper Club

If you prefer your sunsets unobstructed, and like to enjoy them without grains of sand stuck in hard-to-reach crevices, S.O.S. is your spot.

The rooftop bar offers one of the best views of the Seminyak sunset slowly melting behind the horizon.

Service is swift and the drinks icy cold.

This is where to be and what to do in Bali come happy hour.

La Plancha

While most other beach bars roll out designer cocktails and fancy finger food, La Plancha keeps it simple with laid-back reggae beats, a selection of beer, oversized beanbags and jugs of potent sangria.

It also helps that the bar has an uninterrupted view of the pink-to-red-to-orange sky.

Bali Joe

There’s rarely any room for women in Bali Joe, except for those that get up on the bar and lip-synch to Beyonc anthems.

The bar is popular for its energetic vibe and nightly drag shows that feature plenty of audience participation.

Performers can be persuaded to extend a few private DIY diva tips.

Rock Bar

Rock Bar’s mixologists pour creative cocktails set to the beats spun from a DJ booth carved into the stone — although some nights are devoted to live music.

Designed by Yasuhiro Koichi of Japan’s Design Studio SPIN, this is one of the best, and most crowded, places to watch the sunset in Bali.

A word of warning: wear suitable clothes.

No board shorts or sleeveless tops for guys. T

hursday to Saturday nights are extremely busy, so be prepared for a long wait.

A scooter from the main Kuta/Seminyak stretch will take 30 minutes-plus to reach the bar.

Ku De Ta

No trip to Bali is complete without catching a sunset at this local institution.

Arrive early or you’ll have to sprawl out on the lawn.

Drinks are pricy, but the mojito, raspberry and lemongrass cocktail and Kuve Margarita made with lemon sorbet is worth the coin.

Potato Head Beach Club

Bali’s newest, hippest beach bar is housed in an impressive geometric facade that you won’t miss.

It’s the best place to be seen drinking and partying.

Celebrity DJs often play weekend gigs.

Other nights see island residents streaming in at sunset for cocktails and tapas.

The kookaburra is a popular order, a curious concoction made of lemongrass gin, passion fruit and mint, and topped by the club’s signature vanilla foam.

6 dishes every Bali visitor needs to try

Shopping / Attractions

Jenggala

There’s plenty of shopping to do in Bali, and few visitors are able to resist the urge to take home a full 24-piece set of Jenggala crockery in pale green jade or plain white.

What started in 1976 as a small, experimental cottage industry has become a global ceramic force.

The high quality, handcrafted ceramic decorated with painstaking detail is a pretty addition — and nicer reminder of Bali — to any home.

Simple Konsep Store

This store is anything but simple.

At this concept space that fuses Bali’s traditional artisan skills with modern European designs, you’ll find everything from origami folding leather bags, Melissa shoes, commissioned ceramics objects by Gaja Gallery, jewelry by local and European designers and unique batik print apparel.

Simple Konsep Store, 40 Jalan Lesmana-Oberoi, Seminyak; +62 361 730393

Mount Agung

What to do in Bali after you’ve seen all the beaches, sampled all the menus and hit all the bars?

Scaling the majestic Mount Agung — at 3,142 meters the highest point on the island — makes for a worthy challenge.

A strato-volcano that last erupted in 1963, locals believe it’s a replica of Mount Meru, the central axis of the universe.

There are two routes to the top.

Both take up to four hours.

And while you can scale it without a guide — they can be found lingering at the start of the trek — employing one is highly recommended.

Tanah Lot

Supposedly the work of the 15th-century priest, Tanah Lot is one of Bali’s most holy, and touristy, sites.

Located in Tabanan, the sacred Hindu temple sits on a large rock out in the ocean and is said to be guarded by sea snakes.

Head toward the footpath leading to the raised cliff area where the view of the sun setting behind the temple is outstanding.

Only in Bali

Paddy fields

OK, they’re not only in Bali, but terraced rice fields in varying shades of brown, gold and green make for one of Bali’s most calming and beautiful sights.

Keep Walking Tours runs daily excursions, but you can also head off exploring on your own.

Start at Ubud Palace, head west on Jalan Raya Ubud and follow signs that bring you past the River Wos, Campuan Ridge and the village of Penestanan.

Ubud Palace, junction of Jalan Suweta and Jalan Raya Campuan

Balinese avant garde

Balinese art is more than topless women and rice-paddy landscapes.

The artist-run Sika Gallery in Campuan, Ubud, condemns commercial art and seeks to push Bali’s visual arts envelope.

Ask after artist-curator I Wayan Sika and see if you can coax out the story of his artistic journey, during which a coma-like state inspired him to produce some of his best works.

Balinese avant garde, Jalan Raya Campuhan, Ubud, Gianyar; +62 36 1975084

Medicine man

Poor Ketut Liyer.

The elderly medicine man has been kept busy all hours of the day since “Eat, Pray, Love” catapulted him to global fame.

Consultations on your life and love prospects don’t come easy or cheap.

Expect all tickets — yes, there’s a docket system — to be snapped up by 9 a.m.

Prices vary, but often start from US$25.

10 minutes’ walk south of Pengoseken, follow the signs; +62 361 974092

Babi guling at Ibu Oka

When in Bali, a meal of babi guling (roast suckling pig) is a must.

It’s essentially a whole roasted pig stuffed with spices, carved up and served with rice and vegetables.

While there are many places to get it around Bali, Ubud’s Ibu Oka is a famed institution serving up platefuls of the stuff daily till mid-afternoon, when the food runs out.

This is a meal that works your jaw.

You’ll need to chew hard till all the flavors are released from the succulent meat.

Around noon, staff usually carve up another pig.

It’s a great photo op.

Jari Menari massage

There are massages and then there’s a Jari Menari massage.

The name means “dancing fingers” and your body parts will be in perfect harmony at the end of the treatment.

The all-male staff employs a mixture of techniques (Swedish, deep tissue, Balinese) and emphasizes the rhythm and movements of your body.

Book well in advance to ensure a spot.

There’s another branch at Nusa Dua, and a one-masseur facility at The Colony Hotel.

Introductory massages classes are held on Tuesdays.

14 of Bali’s best beaches

World’s 100 best beaches

12 crowd-free Asia island escapes

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/bali-insider-travel-guide/

[junker-town]

Your 2017 NFL cheat sheet to get through Thanksgiving conversation

This NFL season has been eventful, to say the very least. Get caught up with all the major storylines so far.

Maybe the NFL hasn’t had your full attention this season. We get it, you’re busy. But now it’s Thanksgiving, and you don’t want to feel left out of the NFL conversation.

That’s where we come in. Let us help you get you all caught up, RedZone style, so can impress everyone at Thanksgiving dinner with your football knowledge — or at least fake your way through it.

Here’s what’s been happening during a, let’s say chaotic, season in the NFL:

Injuries. So many injuries. The league may not look quite like you’d expect it to these days. So many popular players are out for the season with injuries.

Packers quarterback Aaron Rodgers is out with a broken collarbone. Rookie phenom Deshaun Watson is out for the season after his great start with the Texans was derailed by a torn ACL. The Texans are also missing J.J. Watt and Whitney Mercilus on defense, which makes it a lot harder for them to get by with Tom Savage under center.

The Giants lost the heart of their receiving corps, Odell Beckham Jr. They’re missing Brandon Marshall, too. DeShone Kizer’s rookie season in Cleveland is a lot tougher without left tackle Joe Thomas. Seattle’s Legion of Boom is more like the Legion of Whom without Richard Sherman and Kam Chancellor. The Cardinals are without Carson Palmer and David Johnson, and the list goes on. It’s been a brutal season.

It’s not JUST the same old teams in the playoff race. Yes, the Patriots and Steelers will be there, as always. But the postseason is taking shape around some surprising teams this year.

The Eagles are good. Like, legitimately good. They’re 9-1, which is the best record in the NFL. The Saints are on top of the NFC South again after three straight seasons of 7-9 finishes. The Jaguars’ defense is such a force that they’re able to carry the team despite Blake Bortles. The Titans missed the playoffs last year, but they’re in the mix now. Same thing for the Rams. They’re on top of the NFC West after winning just four games last season.

Who are the award frontrunners? Here are the top possibilities for each of the league’s major awards for this season.

MVP: Carson Wentz, Tom Brady, Jared Goff (really)

Offensive Player of the Year: Carson Wentz, Tom Brady, Jared Goff, Le’Veon Bell, Antonio Brown

Defensive Player of the Year: Calais Campbell, Demarcus Lawrence, Joey Bosa

Offensive Rookie of the Year: Kareem Hunt, Leonard Fournette, Alvin Kamara

Defensive Rookie of the Year: Marshon Lattimore, T.J. Watt, Tre’Davious White

Coach of the Year: Doug Pederson, Sean McVay

Comeback Player of the Year: Before the season, we would have said Rob Gronkowski or J.J. Watt. But injuries are slowing Gronk down again this year, and Watt’s out for the season with a torn ACL. He missed some time with a hamstring injury, but we’re going to go with Earl Thomas for this one.

Who’s winning the Super Bowl? Well if we knew, we’d be grossly rich like Biff Tannen in the alternate 1985. BUT, here’s who has the best odds, if you’re curious:

Patriots - 11/5

Steelers - 7/2

Eagles - 4/1

Vikings - 10/1

Saints - 10/1

Chiefs - 16/1

Rams - 16/1

Falcons - 18/1

Have the Browns won a game? Lol nope.

Have the Browns found a starting quarterback yet? Haha, no. Adhering to tradition, three players have thrown at least 20 passes for the Browns this fall. Right now, DeShone Kizer (poor guy) is still the starter, despite 14 interceptions and six fumbles in nine games. But surely the Browns will try again next season.

No coaches have been fired ... yet. Ben McAdoo looked like the most likely candidate for a midseason axing after losing both his locker room and a buttload of games, but last week’s win over the Chiefs may have bought him enough time to finish the year. Dirk Koetter has followed up on Tampa Bay’s nine-win 2016 campaign by sinking to the bottom of the NFC South like cement. At an even 13-13 for his head coaching career, he could be headed toward the chopping block depending in how the Bucs finish the year.

Vance Joseph has lost six straight games in Denver and has John Elway calling his players “soft,” which is certainly not a good sign. Chuck Pagano currently oversees the league’s least watchable team in Indianapolis. Hue Jackson is 1-25 as an NFL head coach and apparently just part of some weird sadness experiment in Cleveland. The firings haven’t started yet, but the Monday after Week 17 is going to be messy.

The NFL is at the center of a culture war. Last season Colin Kaepernick started protesting police brutality and oppression that people of color in the United States. It continued into this year, when Michael Bennett and Marshawn Lynch both sat during the national anthem in the preseason.

But then it took an unexpected turn, when President Donald Trump decided to go after players who either sat or took a knee during the national anthem, calling them “sons of bitches.” It led to a wave of demonstrations that were ignited by Trump’s comments. When it appeared it had stopped, Vice President Mike Pence pulled a political stunt, walking out of a Colts game after 49ers players had knelt during the anthem.

It continued into Week 11, as Marshawn Lynch sat during the U.S. anthem, and stood during the Mexico anthem, and Trump retaliated with more tweets.

What’s the latest with Colin Kaepernick? Kaepernick still doesn’t have a job, and likely won’t. Instead, we get compelling (not) quarterback matchups like Blaine Gabbert vs. Tom Savage one week, or Blaine Gabbert vs. Blake Bortles the next.

Kaepernick filed a grievance against the NFL and its owners for collusion last month. Jerry Jones, Robert Kraft, and Bob McNair, and other owners will give depositions and submit phone and email records as evidence in the case.

The power struggle between Jerry Jones and Roger Goodell. As if Trump’s antics weren’t enough, the NFL also gets to deal with a feud between its most powerful owner and its commissioner. Dallas Cowboys owner Jerry Jones, who won’t follow through with his threat to sue the league, is fighting other NFL owners over Roger Goodell’s contract extension.

Jones says it’s because he wants all 32 owners, not just the six-owner compensation committee, to approve the final contract. But the impetus of Jones’ rage seems to be that Goodell reportedly promised him that Cowboys star running back Ezekiel Elliott would not be suspended. And then Goodell suspended Elliott, for six games. After a few months and many court battles over the fairness of the NFL’s disciplinary process, Elliott’s suspension finally began in Week 10.

So what happens next? Well, Goodell is close to getting that extension, which shouldn’t be a surprise: He’s made the owners a lot of money. But don’t count out Jones getting something he wants, too.

Celebrations. OK, enough with the downer stuff. Let’s talk touchdown celebrations. They’re back!

And the wave of players who have joined is greater, because group celebrations are now legal. Teams got off to a slow start with their celebrations, but over the course of the season, everyone’s bringing it. We’ve seen re-enactments of Soul Train, games of leapfrog, hide and seek, baseball games, the Temptations, a taco stand, a solid bench press, and more.

It’s been one of the purest joys of the whole season — and one that we needed.

[lunarlilac1]

PSA - Burningwhite

Hello! This is a PSA to beware the person known as @/Burningwhite on DA also known as MunkWhite on Discord/Skype and Shire on FA. They may go by other names as well, but these are the ones I know of. I implore all of you to share this journal! Post it everywhere, DA, Tumblr, FA, Facebook, on everything you're on! Save others from going through the same thing and protect your fellow artists! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Update 9/3/2017: Linking whites accounts that I know of for people to block~ Toyhouse - toyhou.se/Burningwhite and toyhou.se/Input Furaffinity - www.furaffinity.net/user/shiir… and www.furaffinity.net/user/burni… and www.furaffinity.net/user/degil… ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Warning 9/5/2017: Unfortunately I have to mention this. Any comments regarding the LGBTQ community will be hidden. That is not the point of this post just because it is mentioned that White is trans doesn't make all trans people bad. Please keep all commented related to White's actions (not her sexuality/identity of what she identifies as), what they've done to you and the degil species. You are entitled to your own opinion, but as I stated, White being trans is NOT the main point of this journal. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Update 9/8/2017: So if any of you have been checking degils or looking at my gallery and may have noticed I tried to revoke the Sunset Tiger mascot design from degils. Turns out I cannot legally revoke this design since White now owns the copyright and will not relinquish it back to me, but I've just learned something else. White seems to be trying to find "sleazy loopholes" to revoke designs from people. I have blacked out the name of the person I spoke with about legal rights of my design and revoking it as I do not wish to cause any drama for them. I am assuming the person they're talking about is @/Roiell-arts also known as Zena because white has been trying to get their Roiell character ever since Zena left the degil species and took the design with them. Roiell also has a small psa on white - PSA White has tried to blackmail Zena out of 150$ to allow them to keep their own character and so White would back off from taking that character. https://sta.sh/0qqxsi7rj99 She did not "sell" Roiell to Zena since Roiell was already Zena's. She blackmailed 150$ out of Zena to make her leave Zena alone. White manipulated another user into taking the 150$ from Zena into their paypal as white did not want Zena having her paypal. This money was later returned by the 3rd party user and white turned around saying that user "scammed" them out of the 150$ - sta.sh/2mlosaz22ki However no sooner after telling me that she left Roiell alone she turns around and tells me she wants to stress Zena out more. White was giving them trouble before for no reason just because she wanted to get a character (Vesta) back from them -  https://sta.sh/221nrhcracfv?edit=1 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I will not be taking down this journal regardless of what they say even if they post on this journal or have their friends post on here. For those of you who care about pronouns please let me state now that White never told me whether them to call me he/she/they/it. Therefore you may notice I tend to call White "him/he" more than anything as that is just my default pronoun and I truly apologize if this offends those of you who care about pronouns. White has caused a lot of people grief and stress, including myself. Earlier this year White had asked me to make a base for the @/Degil-Hollow group after I had entered a mascot contest for the group. I had agreed to try making a base, however they never discussed payment for this. They had later also asked me to do the trait sheets to which would be asked as compensation for backing out of the base, trait sheets, and most of all their Shara commission. White had asked for all of these things to be done in 1 month and every time I tried to do them they were pushed to the back burner and he asked me to do something else be it his shara ref or a piece of gift art. This is the commission of Shara he asked for - https://lunarlilac.deviantart.com/art/Shara-Ref-Canceled-Commission-WIP-665825150 Drawings & Paintings > Other"> This is not all of it, it is missing the nsfw portion on it as I am still a minor and I didn't want to draw those pieces. When I am 18 those sketches will be posted to my FA. I was offered a single character as payment for this whole ref. Some things on there were not agreed to when he first asked for it such as the 3 outfits. During the process of the sketch which White constantly had me stream to him, he was extremely picky about every little detail passed the point of frustration. When I had asked for more payment I was thrown low quality adopts as "payment" to pick from. When I said no to those they showed me the two characters of theirs I liked and told me I could have them on the terms that I - 1. Don't make gore art of them. 2. If the "friendship" between white and I broke off the character would be returned to them. and 3. Any ships the character was in with whites characters had to stay the same. I declined those terms as I do not think its fair that I would have to return a character over a friendship. White would be making off with a free reference of his char pretty much while I had lost the "payment" I would've gotten for that reference. Now before I go on let me say that White is a minor, they are only 16 years old. They have been commissioning NSFW stuff from other artists and asking other minors to do gift art of nsfw things even if they decline it. This can get people into trouble as it is illegal to sell NSFW things to minors. White had also guilt tripped a piece of gift art out of me. https://lunarlilac.deviantart.com/art/Thrayn-Without-Halo-659785220 https://lunarlilac.deviantart.com/art/Thrayn-659778171

There are 4 different versions to this gift art. The two shown above are the SFW versions, the other two are the same ones above except with nipples on the art. There was only supposed to be 1 version of this piece of art and White forced me to make 3 other versions, one without the halo I had put on it and then two others with nipples on the first two versions. White also had me design their kobalt creature for them for their animation class which I tried colors I wanted to test on them that White hated so he went with different colors. I later used those colors on one of my characters in slightly different hues and White forced me to change them calling it a ripoff of his kobalt and that he'd see it as his character because it was basically one of his "old" designs from the designing process of his character. On top of all of this, White had been trying to get between me and my current boyfriend of 2 years. At the time I had known White only a few weeks if maybe a month and he claimed to have loved me. He tried to force me into a poly relationship with him to which I did not agree to. He then told me he was trans (male to female) and wanted me to be bi-curious/lesbian for him when I told him many times I was straight. His response to me being straight was "a noodle is only straight until its wet." When that did not work White constantly complained about my boyfriend and tried to find ways to make me break up with him, even trying to force me to split my time by giving White 50 percent of my time and my boyfriend 50 percent of my time. He demanded movies every Fridays, calls every night before he went to bed at 2-4am my time and wanted me to spend every single evening with him talking about art, degils, fluff, and his characters. He tried to get me to teach him art, but most of the time he just sat there crying about not knowing how to do the sketch and didn't even bother trying to do it. He later blamed me for the reason he couldn't draw. This is the proof for everything above - sta.sh/2daftob1pj4?edit=1 Soon after this I had blocked White for the first time on Skype, White then contacted me on DA crying that they missed me and wanted a second chance. He begged to try to regain my trust back on DA. So I decided to give them a second chance. It took something drastic to make them lay off a little. They had recently opened up designer applications in their degil species and I decided to try it out, but I found out that was the worst choice I've made. On all the designs I've made so far from their species they constantly complained about the nose being wrong and they forced me to change themes on their whims because they thought a certain pose looked more like this theme. They were constantly making me do the designs to what they liked, they have a bias against leopard/cheetah spots and hate the color black so they tried to force me not to use either of those things. On the egyptian blues, I had put snow leopard spots, I was forced to remove them because White hates spots and believes they are overused and has told me they're not allowed on degil designs, however this would mean requiring all previous degil designs to remove any type of spots they have. During the sweltering fire designing process white had forced me to change its pose from a rainbow theme to a fire theme, when I said I was going to do a black base he claimed there had been too many black bases recently as to why I couldn't use the color black at all on the design, but when I looked there was only 1. He had approved the fire I had on the hooves and when it was finished he changed his mind and forced me to remove it and fought with me about the color of the fire being green. When I told him the green fire did not match the design he went on to complain about the silk color being ugly since it was black and constantly nagged "what about the silk?" until I changed it. According to white he thinks designers do whatever the owner tells them, when they tell them to do it and it has to be exactly their way down to every detail meaning that designers don't really get to pick anything about the design. The designers aren't even considered staff to him. I had asked White to remove me from designer as I was tired of the drama and instead he cried about being stressed as to why he does everything he does (he uses this stress excuse for every single thing). He then turned me over to the co-founder to tell her what was going on and she understood completely. All white had to say to me was "please don't leave, think about staying, you're the only designer I have!" The other designer White had in the group was not making any designs, hence why I was the only designer. White refused to remove them from their designer status for whatever reason despite both me and the co-founder telling him to get rid of them if they're not doing their job. The degil species will die with White so long as he is owner. White's co-founder was the one doing everything in the group and once she is gone he will be lost with how to run the group. A few of us have been telling White to step down from owning degils as they can't run the group properly and don't treat their staff nor members with the respect he demands from us. White refuses to give up degils and claim they will either succeed with them or die with them. White currently claims to be trying to change within 3 months and will probably claim that this is ruining his reputation even more that he says hes trying to "fix" right now. This is the proof from this recent bit - sta.sh/23dve9jh2lx?edit=1 I apologize for how long this journal is. Those of you who have had dealings with White are welcome to share your proof in the comments, but for those of you who have yet to deal with White let this be a warning to you as this is what may happen to you. Dropbox with all my proof screenshots in case the stashes above cant be seen - https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/0B8sJSUUHwaO2b205S1U0ZW5qaWc