#it starts off a bit slow but this story is VERY canon-divergent

[myokk]

before it felt like a sin, ch. 1

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

word count: 3000

summary: Eloise never wanted to be different.

And yet, her differences are what have defined her life up until this point: growing up as a squib in one of the most prominent wizarding families, being exiled to muggle society, and then attending Hogwarts at the age of sixteen.

She finds herself thrust into the life she should have been prepared for from birth but was denied. As she navigates this new life and her new precarious position in her family, she must come to terms with the fact that maybe what she dreamed of her whole life isn't turning out how she ever expected it would.

a/n: Hi everyone!! I decided to post this here too...I'm slowly going through everything I've written so far, and I want to post each chapter here as I edit them. I'm hoping that this can be a way to a) get back in to writing more, and b) get better at my art as I make full illustrations for each chapter. Let me know what you think!! :)

There is nothing quite as horrible as being a muggle, Eloise thought savagely as she ripped out yet another stitch in the landscape she was embroidering. At least, it was supposed to be a landscape. Maybe with her head tilted to the left and with her eyes almost closed so everything blurred together, it might resemble one. She did just that, trying her hardest to make out some recognizable shape and blast the stupid practice of manually pushing colored thread through a fabric in some sort of -

“And what is this, Miss Babbit?”

Eloise jumped at the sound and looked up at the scowling face of her teacher, and then quickly back down at the tangled thread in her lap. Behind her, she could hear the hushed giggles of the other girls in her class.

“Oh! Er…it’s -”

“How long have you been here?” the woman interrupted.

“One hour…I just -”

“Don’t be smart with me. I mean, at this institute.”

“Five years.” Eloise glared down at her embroidery as if it had personally offended her. It wasn’t like she was actively trying to be bad at everything, but she had the distinct disadvantage - how had it ever come to be that she would be at a disadvantage to muggles? - of not having spent a lifetime being prepared for muggle society and all that it entailed. The last five years had been a monotonous, endless cycle of lessons designed to turn her into the perfect lady: French (a waste of time as Eloise was already fluent), embroidery (a waste of time as the things she embroidered weren’t actually useful), dancing (a waste of time as she was already engaged to be married - why would she bother trying to woo another silly man?), and her most dreaded class of all: etiquette. No matter how many years had been spent trying to assimilate into muggle culture, her thoughts still got muddled when she tried to remember the steps to a dance, or how to properly address the son of a duke.

Did it really matter, anyways, what the other girls thought? She had pretended her whole life to be the daughter she thought her parents had wanted - now she was simply pretending that she hadn’t been thrown into the muggle world without a second thought. What was a bit more pretending - that she didn’t care? That she hadn’t been tossed aside without a second thought?

“Exactly. Five years. And yet, you have shown no progress whatsoever. This -” a finger jabbed accusingly at the embroidery - “is absolutely horrendous. If your parents hadn’t continued to make such a sizeable donation every year, I would have deemed you a lost cause and sent you packing when you first arrived. How your family ever managed your betrothal to the son of an earl is beyond me.”

Eloise grimaced at the mention of her fiance as her teacher clapped her hands together to get the attention of the class - a wholly unnecessary action due to the fact that it was already being given. “Class is dismissed. Please collect your belongings and put them in the correct place. Remember, as future wives and mothers, you must be organized in all aspects of your life. Many of you will be managing important households and the slightest misstep -“ a slight glance to Eloise out of the corner of her eye - “can cause the biggest of scandals.”

Eloise raced to gather her things and leave the classroom before everyone else. No matter how many years had been spent at the school, she couldn’t help but hate sitting through the classes amongst the judgmental stares and snide remarks. Although things had started out shaky at the finishing school - to be expected, really, when you’ve grown up in wizarding society and then are then forced to live as a muggle - it still stung that after all these years, she still hadn’t found a friendly face. She was treated as if she were a pariah: it was as if the other girls just knew that something was different about her. But…wasn’t that the great irony of it all? She wasn’t different than them. She was a filthy squib.

When she first arrived at the school, she was an anomaly. A twelve-year-old girl who didn’t know how to play the piano or who the queen was. It was clear to everyone that Eloise wasn’t the charity case of the school - her parents were obviously quite wealthy - and yet they seemingly wanted nothing to do with her. Whereas the others got regular letters and visits from their family, it was as if Eloise were an orphan. Nothing new to her of course, but to her peers this otherness aided them in her ostracization.

Upon entering her room, she was abruptly pulled out of her thoughts. Something wasn’t right. Everything seemed the same: a twin bed perfectly made opposite a small wardrobe, a plain wooden desk placed between them. The weak afternoon sunlight shone through the window, illuminating her desk. But…there.

That…

Placed on her bed, resting on the pillow, was a letter.

She never received letters.

Eloise shoved her embroidery under her bed and hungrily grabbed at it, pausing when she saw the address. Miss E. Babbit. The Third Bedroom on the Left… It seemed vaguely familiar to her in a way she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

As she read the letter, though, it became apparent to her exactly why this was. Although not exactly the same as the one her brother had received six years earlier, it quickly became apparent that this was a Hogwarts letter. For her. For Miss E. Babbit.

Hands shaking, she set the letter down on her desk and sat on the edge of her bed. She smoothed her hands over her skirt over and over, taking comfort in the familiar softness as she tried to even her breathing.

How was this possible? She had all but accepted the fact that she was a squib. The shame of her family, a dirty secret to be hidden away and never talked about or mentioned again. Her parents had suspected as much by the time she had turned seven without any signs of magic whatsoever manifesting around her - not even a basic transformation of brussel sprouts to sweets during dinner. It was ultimately confirmed, however, when her own Hogwarts acceptance letter never arrived. She had spent the whole year before her banishment daydreaming about her life at Hogwarts, still optimistic that there could be something magical inside of her. Her brother, Leo, came home every holiday with wonderful stories of his new friends and teachers, and the subjects he was learning at school. Even back then, at twelve years old, Eloise hadn’t been sure if he was actually hopeful she wasn’t a squib, or if he had been trying to prolong the fantasy for her before it all came crashing down.

Although she had had five years to come to terms with her new life, there was still a small part of her that hoped. A small “what if…”. She had tried time and time again to squash that tiny ray of optimism that would escape every so often, tried so very hard to cultivate a hard exterior that wouldn’t let any sort of vulnerability shine through. And that optimism was a vulnerability, after all. It was that vulnerability that had made it absolutely impossible for her to fit in the muggle world, and made it so that she didn’t really want to try.

Five years to come to terms with the fact that she needed a new purpose for her life and…

…not anymore?

Eloise grabbed the letter and greedily read through it again, drinking in all of the words. She paused at the end, thinking. Was this a forgery? Some sort of awful joke orchestrated by her brother? Leo had never been cruel to her in the past; in fact, he was the one who always encouraged her and was the most probable source of the small optimism that remained within her. However, she had no way of knowing how he had changed since she had last seen him. It had been, after all, five very long years. And not once had she heard from him, even though he had promised her through huge sobbing gulps that he would never abandon her. Maybe their parents had slowly poisoned him against her. It would be right on the nose for them, after all.

Looking at the envelope again, however…Third Bedroom on the Left…no. It was too specific. Nobody in her previous life had any reason to even want to contact her again, and nobody in her current life even knew what Hogwarts was, let alone have the ability to convincingly forge a letter just to have some fun at her expense.

A light, bubbly feeling began to spread throughout her body as it sunk in that this was real. She was going to Hogwarts. Soon, a - squinting at the letter again - a Professor Fig would be contacting her and giving her things to study. A huge grin slowly spread across her face and she hugged the letter to her chest as she fell back on her bed. She read through it again. Was it the fifth time already? It felt as though no amount of times rereading the letter would ever be enough.

Eloise got up and walked over to look at the calendar on her desk. She was surprised to see that September 1st was in only two days. The days at the finishing school moved in such a strange, sluggish way. They all felt the same. Monotonous. French and Latin and embroidery and household management and Merlin even knows what else all blending into each other in an endless parade of dusty classrooms and gossip and boredom.

The light feeling left her in an instant as, after years of practice, the optimism was squashed back down. But how will you even get to London? And, her brain added sneakily, you haven’t even shown any signs of magic. Maybe you’ll just be returned back here after they realize their mistake.

No, she thought fiercely, gripping the letter. Until -

A tapping came from the window. A tentative smile returned at the sight of a tawny brown owl with another envelope in its beak. She ripped it open as soon as it was in her hands (again addressed to Miss E. Babbit) and along with the letter a small, purple pouch fell out of the envelope and onto her bed.

Miss Eloise Babbit,

I am pleased to be the wizard charged with such an important task as escorting you to Hogwarts in two days’ time. It is something extraordinary to be accepted in your fifth-year, and as such, I expect extraordinary things from you. I have enclosed a small pouch along with this envelope, and in it are some items that will be vital to you in the upcoming days. I have included books for you to study at your leisure, and a small gobstone that will bring you to our rendezvous point in London. All you have to do is touch it at noon on the 1st and you will be transported instantly.

Your family has not been informed of your acceptance. I am sure you understand why - at this, Eloise scoffed quietly to herself - which is why I will personally be your escort.

I am looking forward to meeting you and bringing you to the sorting ceremony in two days’ time.

Yours,

Eleazar Fig

The handwriting was tiny and spidery and cramped, but it didn’t stop Eloise from reading it with the same vigor as the previous letter and as many times. Finally, she turned to the small pouch that had fallen onto her bed when she opened the second envelope. It must have had an invisible extension charm, because it was filled to the brim with books on basic spellwork and general wizarding history. Professor Fig had no way of knowing, but Eloise had already read many of these books and many more during the year her brother had started Hogwarts, as she had needed to know absolutely everything about what would be awaiting her. A few years may have passed since she had stepped foot in her family’s library, but she couldn’t get the books or their contents out of her brain even if she had wanted to. She had really wanted to forget everything she knew about the magical world when it was confirmed she was a squib but it was a futile effort. As she zoned out during her piano lessons, she would find herself mentally going through the movements to cast different charms.

It was painful to be thinking about things from the life that had been ripped away from her, to know that what she was thinking about would never come to pass, that she would never be able to wield magic - and yet she couldn’t find herself able to stop.

As Eloise picked out one of the books and settled into her armchair, a steely resolve overcame her.

She would prove that she deserved to be there, and was just as capable as any of they were. She would make her parents regret ever discarding her like she was nothing.

She was worthy. She was capable. And she would prove it.

The morning of September 1st dawned cold and rainy. Absolutely perfect.

Eloise had pretended to be sick the night before, and no one had suspected a thing when she stayed in bed long after all of the other girls had gotten ready and headed to breakfast. As the last of the chattering faded away down the hallway, Eloise finally got out of bed and prepared herself for the day. It was difficult to sit still long enough to braid her hair. Her fingers wouldn’t stop trembling and she had to restart countless times. Finally, she tied the black ribbon at the end into a neat bow and turned to the drawer of her desk to retrieve the small purple pouch she had hidden away.

Everything she deemed important enough to come along with her had already been placed inside: the books from Professor Fig, the hair ribbons gifted to her by her brother many years ago, and some clothing. Nothing else was coming with. She needed the fresh start. Besides, anything else she might need would be supplied, as her acceptance letter had specifically stated that any school supplies would be provided to her.

Waiting the hours before noon came along proved to be more difficult than Eloise had imagined. Time seemed to be moving slower than the molasses that had come with the breakfast sent up to her, the steady patter of the rain becoming a sort of metronome keeping time as she paced back and forth. Wasn’t there anything that could distract her, even for a bit? She glanced at the clock. Only five minutes had passed since the last time. 10.35.

The second hand ticking away in tandem with the sound of rain splashing against her window.

What if this was all a trick? What if she arrived at Hogwarts, and they turned her away because they realized they had made a mistake? After all, why would they admit a sixteen-year-old? Surely she was too old; every other student had started Hogwarts at the age of twelve and had shown signs of magic much earlier than that. She still hadn’t shown any signs of magical capability whatsoever, and didn’t feel any different than she had before receiving the letter. It had to be a fluke.

As her thoughts started veering into the melancholy she was prone to, she shook her head. No. Today was a happy, exciting day. She wasn’t going to squash the optimism down today, not when she needed it most. All of these thoughts she was having were simply that: thoughts. Not reality. Hogwarts never made a mistake, and in all of the history books she had read, she couldn’t recall an instance of someone being turned away at the door. Granted, she had also never heard of someone being admitted so late. But, better to focus on what she did know, which was that she had gotten the letter. It must be right in its assumption that she had magic.

Trying to pass the time was easier said than done. She ended up quizzing herself on all of the charms she had memorized in the books sent by Professor Fig, moving an imaginary wand in the precise movements needed to successfully cast and focusing on her pronunciation. She had studied all of these forms late into both nights she had had the books, and when she would eventually close her eyes to sleep, the wand movements were all she saw.

Eloise was determined that she would receive pity from nobody. Nobody was going to look at her like she was lacking. She had gotten enough of that to last a lifetime, and now that she was given this opportunity she wasn’t about to waste it.

When noon finally struck, Eloise was ready and waiting. She eagerly grabbed the gobstone that was sitting on her desk and felt the familiar tugging sensation in her navel as she was whisked away to London and the beginning of her new life.

next chapter

[wangxianficrecs]

A Brother's Choice by Admiranda

A Brother's Choice

by Admiranda (@admirableadmiranda)

M, 8k, Wen Ning & Wei Wuxian

Summary: Once upon a time, there was a genius and his friend, who thought more fondly of each other than friend could cover, although they had yet to admit it to each other. The genius, thinking wistfully on days when they were younger, had been struck by an idea then. After some experimentation he had created a talisman that essentially created a door to another time, where one longing to see a long lost face could go and see that person again, and return back at the end. After all, he was not interested in reliving those long, painful years even if he could change some things for the better. Once had been more than enough. He offered it to his dear friend first, thinking of a young woman who had inspired and sheltered them both in times of turmoil “Wen Ning, you could see your sister again! You should get the chance first, then you can tell me if it's safe for me and Lan Zhan to use it as well.” So he had taken the chance, to wander back many many years, to when they were children, and the world was simpler. But he didn't tell Wei Wuxian of all of his plans back in this time. Kay's comments: This story was much darker than I expected when I started reading it! Wen Ning travels back in time and decides to change Wei Wuxian's life for the better and he won't let anyone get into his way, neither animals nor humans... I actually really liked how it explored Wen Ning's dedication to his goal and how he won't let anything get in his way and his and Wei Wuxian's relationship as brother. Little A-Ying was extremely adorable as well (though he has seen some shit). Excerpt: Wei-gongzi hadn't told him how timid he must have been on the street, there was almost none of the confidence he associated with his friend. “They were going to hurt you, so I stopped them.” he said, keeping his voice slow and mellow. A shiver racked his friend's small body and he reconsidered a little as to whether the stammering was from nervousness. “Are you cold?” The boy nodded, his eyes wary and hopeful. He did his best to smile, but it was hard to move those muscles on his face enough to make it comforting. “My cloak is very strong and warm, it will help,” he knelt down slowly and shook the gathering snow off of it. Wei Ying nodded, but hung back still, looking over him as he made up his mind on what to do. He searched his memory for the bits of his past that Wei-gongzi would sometimes let slip here and there, never all at once, but like scattered pearls on the ocean floor, easy to miss if you weren't listening closely. “It's okay A-Ying, I want to help.” At the sound of his name, Wei Ying lit up like the sunrise, a child's version of the smile he was used to spreading across his face. “Did you know my parents?” he asked even as he came forwards to be wrapped up in the cloak. Immediately Wen Ning was aware of how little it was just to do that, but he hadn't thought about all the things he would need to make sure that a little Wei-gongzi would need before he decided on the best place to leave him.

pov wen ning, canon divergence, time travel, time travel fix-it, time travelling wen ninbg, minor character death, burial mounds ensemble as family, post-canon, pre-canon, blood and violence, families of choice, wei wuxian isn't adopted by the jiangs, wei wuxian & wen ning & wen qing, yiling siblings, animal death, dark wen ning, murder

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[totallynotlx]

Playing House in the Ruins of Us

You never really had control over your life from the very beginning. You are but a pawn to your clan—a means to expand your family's power. Your marriage to some noble was inevitable, set before you could walk. Meanwhile, in comes Gojo Satoru. A snobby little future head of the Gojo clan, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer in the world. A womanizer. Unserious. And yet, he cannot let you go, a girl who never really had any control of her destiny. You envied each other as you represented something that each couldn't have, yet he is the only escape from your cruel world… but in exchange for your sanity.

Aka, Gojo learns to mellow down… but he is not going down with a fight. And neither are you. Why would you fall in love with such a self-centered (but gorgeous) man?

Notes: Canon-divergent. Gojo adopts Tsumiki and Megumi when they're a bit older. Some events also happen a bit later on in the timeline.

A/N: Bruh, this is such a fever dream. It's been a while since I've written anything, so pardon me if I'm rusty. I blame this lanky ass white-haired little meow meow for bringing me back from the dead. We came up with the whole story in two sittings… So yeah, we know how this goes, and we planned to make it hurt. We are just your typical hurt/comfort enjoyers uwu

Tags: Arranged Marriage (Reader to someone else), Eventual Smut, Smut, Drinking Games, One Night Stands, Masturbation, Porn Video (oop), Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

Words: 13.3k

Ao3 link if you prefer

✦﹒chapter 1: encounters over drinks﹒✶﹒﹒

A glass clinks. A nearby clock ticks endlessly. The music is booming, but he can barely hear it with how he's feeling. He takes a swig from the amber drink from his glass, sunglasses hanging low on his nose bridge, not hiding the prettiest snow-white lashes. One of the few reasons he earned a couple of stares from people around the nightclub. Except for the neon lights flashing every couple of seconds, there is no reason why a person would need sunglasses in a dark place like this… Well, an average person anyway… and he is anything but. Pristine albino white hair dangled freely on his forehead, hiding the most luminous cerulean blue eyes one will ever see. He is incredibly tall. His feet reached the floor despite the tall bar stool he was sitting on. Eye candy is an understatement to describe him. Girls would ogle from across the room, daring each other to try and talk to this man who seemed out of place. He looked almost too elegant for a nightclub. One particular girl started to make her way toward him. Her strides are confident, hair swishing with each step she took in her high heels. Unbeknownst to her, he was painfully aware of her approach, a smirk already forming on his lips. The girl sat down to his right and was about to order her drink when he called the bartender instead.

"Make her whatever she wants. My treat." The voice was almost melodic. The girl internally noted a tinge of playfulness and boyish charm dripping from his voice. "Ah,  where are my manners? I’m Gojo, Gojo Satoru.” He extends his hand. "Nice to meet you."

Sleep slowly escaped from his grasp. Blue eyes slowly take in the early morning rays of the sun. The room was unfamiliar but neat, and Gojo slowly took in his surroundings. He could feel the slow breathing of the person beside him and remembered the heavy breaths and sweaty bodies giving in to pleasure and passion. 

Right. That happened.

He sat up, scanning the room for his clothes. They were all over the place. Guess he had a fun night. A smirk creeps up on his lips as he slowly gets off the bed, careful not to wake up the person beside him. He slowly picks up his clothes on the floor and puts on his pants, brushing his hair away from his eyes. He picks up his sunglasses and puts them in his pockets before leaving the room. He heads to the kitchen and grabs and sips a glass of water before getting another drink and returning to the bedroom. He sets the glass on the bedside table before putting his shirt on, not bothering to leave a note before teleporting away. 

In the blink of an eye, his surroundings changed as naturally as one would breathe—perks of someone with complete mastery of their technique. The penthouse apartment he owned was mainly empty except for the minimalistic pieces of furniture. Gojo Satoru wasn't the type to decorate as he didn't spend much time in this house, traveling all over Japan, sometimes even overseas, but he kept his place tidy. He drops his sunglasses on his kitchen counter and heads to the shower.  

He turns the showerhead on, letting his hair get soaked as he stares at his feet. Another night, another woman. It's always the same old song and dance. Who wouldn't? In his experience, no other person has been able to resist him. A smile, a suggestive head tilt, a flirtatious conversation, and they'd be head over heels. It was too damn easy.

He continued to prepare for his day. Despite being a bit hungover, he still has responsibilities to the jujutsu world that he cannot escape from, and his day has barely started.

A loud ringing stirs your peaceful sleep, and you open your eyes just as the sun's rays pierce through the gaps in your curtains. Even the little light filtering into your room makes your eyes hurt as an aftermath of your all-nighter. Studying and practicing the law wasn't something you wanted to do, but you're already in too deep to back the fuck out. It's the weekend after your exams, and you wonder why the hell your alarm was ringing… or was that even an alarm? You drowsily fish your phone from your bedside table and realize it's not an alarm but a call.

Shit.

In the next hour or so, you try to make yourself as presentable as possible. Scouring your wardrobe for one of your formal kimonos, you tie your hair in a neat bun before heading down from your apartment. As told by your mother over the phone, your family has sent one of the family cars to fetch you. When he spotted you, the driver headed out to open the door for you. You silently got in the car, and it wasn't long before the engine started.

You were heading back to your clan's ancestral home for a discussion. A discussion you would rather not have: your marriage arrangements. Your marriage to another powerful clan's son was already set in stone when you were born. Everyone in the family was abuzz with excitement the moment you turned eighteen. Not just because it was your turning of age but because you can finally be a pawn to your clan's motives to become a more powerful, prominent clan in Japan. You scoff at the idea. If not for their offering you freedom in exchange for your obedience, you would have left long ago. Despite taking your choices for a longtime partner, they let you choose your profession. They allowed you out of the house and gave you your apartment. A small price to pay if you are being honest…

You reached the compound gates, greeted by the same old trees and rows of houses you knew growing up. As you approach the main house, you steel your nerves, looking into your phone one final time to ensure you are "perfect" before the car stops and the driver opens the door for you. You put on the bravest face as you step out of the car and into the house, taking a deep breath as you do so.

You've met your fiancé before but have yet to like him. And whenever you two were to spend time together, you both found new ways to disagree. To say that you never got along was an understatement… and to think you are resigning yourself to this fate. You two were to join families, produce children to carry on your families' bloodline, and stay together for better or worse. God, you both hated each other for no reason other than that the other represented each other's misery.

The discussion took forever, and the sun was already setting when you exited the house— as much as you were relieved it was over, the clan head's decision rang in your head loud and clear: Next spring, they said. When flowers are in bloom, they said. It'll be a beautiful wedding, they said. Neither you nor your future husband utters a word or opinion. Never looked at each other, just plastering fake smiles and nodding in agreement with whatever they recommended. You sigh as you enter your apartment, putting your slippers neatly on the genkan. You headed straight to your bedroom, eager to get out of your kimono as if it was contaminated. It was the weekend, and you're sure as hell not letting some shitty ass marriage discussion ruin your mood. You worked your ass off during the week on your studies, and it was finally time to unwind. Yes, tonight you needed release. A little bit of freedom. A little bit of control over your decisions. 

In a couple of hours, you walked up to the bar of your favorite exclusive nightclub. You had no intention or plans to be there, but what transpired earlier that day warranted a night out instead of a night wallowing in your misery and sleeping it off. You ordered your favorite drink, a lemon sour, and after downing a glass or two, you danced with anyone and everyone in your vicinity. 

Gojo Satoru had also seemingly found himself here. He'd made himself a little non-sorcerer friend after saving him from the malice of a curse. This guy had no way of thanking Gojo other than getting him into this club. As to how this man had exclusive rights to invite guests to said club, Gojo had yet to learn. Very peculiar, honestly. So he went. He went to drink his night away. He went to find his next delectable prey. And fate moved you to each other just as the moon pushed water to land.

After dancing for maybe an hour or so, you wanted another drink, and that was when you noticed him. This white-haired man, seemingly, gets beer as any other average person. In comparison, you get another lemon sour. You stood beside each other respectfully, waiting for your drink, when he looked at you. He hadn't entirely decided who he would devour next, but a salacious smile spread on his face when he saw you. If he only knew that he, too, was nothing but prey that night.

When you approached the bar, you noticed him immediately. And you knew you weren't the only one. It had taken every nerve in your body not to stare at this white-haired man, who stood out slightly more than the other men in the club. I mean, with that hair and those tinted glasses, who wouldn't notice him? But you'd instead break your wrist before being caught ogling him. 

He slowly leaned towards you, "Such a sour drink for such a sweet-looking girl," he bent down to your ear. You shivered. His sensuous and breathy voice had you licking your lips. God, his voice is delectable. You steal a glance at this man. And you catch a hint of blue behind the glasses that sat low on his nose. Pretty, you thought, and it took everything in you to steel your nerves and discreetly clear your throat.

"You're one to talk. Your words don't match your eyes." You tell him, earning yourself a chuckle, and you're convinced that this man is blessed by the gods.

"Why? Pray tell what you think they are telling you, hm?"

"Your words are flirtatious, sweet even, but your eyes... It looks like you're already undressing me with them." You raise an eyebrow. A challenge.

Snarky, gotta love that, Gojo thought. He likes a good challenge… especially if it's worth it. And you look like you are… and if there's one thing that doesn't lie, it's his Six Eyes.

"What if I am?" He smirks, and you feel the wind knocked out of your lungs, and you can't help the heat that travels to your face. How did one sentence affect you so much? You thought you were both hunters looking for prey, but with one look, he has you feeling like you are nothing but an easy target. You swallow the lump in your throat.

"What's wrong, sweetheart? Cat got your tongue?" He smirks at you before you blink the confusion out of your eyes. You immediately grab your drink and down it, hoping to give you some of your boldness back. He laughs as you down your glass and orders another. "Whoa, slow down there, hotshot."

You raise an eyebrow at him, the gears in your brain turning your mind-to-mouth filter off. "Those won't be the words coming out of your mouth tonight." You smirk.

At the moment, you wish you could have captured it. The way his eyes widened and darkened with arousal. Satoru didn't expect the spark he noticed in you was not just an ember but a full-on flame. 

"Oh? Is that a promise?" He leans in closer, his face inches from yours, and you can smell his cologne. 

"Hm. Maybe." You answer as your next drink arrives. 

"Y'know, I never got your name." He whispers to your ear as you stare at your glass, trying to distract yourself more than anything. You slowly turn to him, meeting his eyes. Even in the dark, you can notice how luminous they are. 

"Dance with me, and maybe I'll let you know." 

You didn't have to say anything before he downs his beer and takes your hand towards the dance floor. The music comes and goes, and so did the both of you. You and this mysterious, handsome man alternate between dancing and drinking the night away. As time goes on, you get more and more drunk. The next thing you know, you were stumbling to the nearest hotel with him. The next couple of hours were a blur. All you know is the heat that trailed after his touches. The passionate kisses that were borderline bites all over your body. This man was unlike any other you've ever shared a night of passion with. He not only had the stamina, but he made sure that you felt every ounce of pleasure he was feeling. He was nothing short of amazing.

The morning creeps up too soon for your liking. The bed felt strange, and an unfamiliar warmth emanated from beside you. You rub your eyes with your hand when you hear a light snoring beside you. You struggle to open your eyes and can only guess you only have a few hours of sleep. When you finally open them, you see the man beside you. His face was peaceful, his breathing steady. Due to the dim lights, you couldn't notice it the night before, but he has the prettiest and longest lashes you've ever seen. So, it does match his hair… You thought like you haven't seen his— 

He stirs. He reaches out to you and pulls you close, which catches you off guard. That's also when you realize that you two were skin-to-skin. It wasn't new, but sleeping beside such a gorgeous being made you conscious of yourself more than usual. You stay still for a few seconds until you feel him relax again. Exhaling a breath you didn't know you were holding, you unwrap his arm around you. You get out from under the covers and try to leave the bed quietly, picking up your clothes scattered around the room. There was a visible limp in your step. God, that man had you writhing under the palm of his hand all night, and it shows. Slowly, you tried to put your clothes back on, making yourself as presentable as possible. You turn to the en suite bathroom to wash your face and fix your hair. Walking was still uncomfortable but tolerable, and you gave the sleeping man in the bed an almost offensive side-eye.

"Fucking bastard with endless stamina." You curse under your breath with a shake of your head. You would be lying to yourself if you were to deny that last night was similar to an out-of-body experience. I'll outdo him next time, you thought, as a defeated laugh escaped you. The thought was wishful thinking as the chances of meeting this man are slim, and you probably won't meet him again. You walk and reach towards the door, opening it as quietly as you can before closing it behind you. 

One ring. 

Two rings.

Then another.

Gojo grumbles as the sound rouses him from his deep sleep. He stretched an arm to the other side of the bed, seeking warmth, but it was cold. Forcing his eyes open, he looked around the room but found no sign of his alluring companion. 

Another ring brings him out of his reverie, and he sighs. He kicks the covers and hops out of bed, looking for his pants where his phone buzzed. He rummages through his pockets for the damned thing and sees Principal Yaga's name on the caller ID. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he presses the answer button. 

"Gojo speaking~." He says in a tone that will most likely annoy the older man. 

"Satoru, where the hell are you?! You're late to the meeting. AGAIN. " His former sensei admonishes.

"Yes, yes, I know." Gojo scratches the back of his head sheepishly. "Gimme thirty minutes, and I'll be there." Yaga begins to argue about his attitude, but Gojo quickly ends that call. He drops his phone on the bed and sighs again. 

Well, that's new. Gojo thinks to himself. That was the first time that he overslept on a one-night stand. Usually, he's the one who leaves the other person first. This was a first, even for him. He didn't want to admit it, but he slept comfortably beside that woman. He wonders internally if he'll ever find her again, but he doesn't dwell on it. The strongest doesn't dwell on the minuscule things... lest it leads to... other things. His musing is cut short as his phone buzzes. Another message from Principal Yaga. 

I didn’t even get her name. He thinks, disappointedly, before he finally starts preparing for the meeting he was already late for.

The week after that felt familiar, other than the uncomfortable fact that you could still feel the consequences of your weekend escapades. Working on your studies that Monday felt like it took ages. Sure, the long hours kept you preoccupied, but you would be lying if your mind didn't wander to that gorgeous stranger you had a fun night with. It's a shame you couldn't get his name, but oh well. With your marriage arrangements finally official, meeting someone wouldn’t change a thing.

Another few weeks pass, another week of savoring the last year of your freedom before you get sold off to your fiance. By the following year, your whole life would be shifting. And that idea irks you. Your independence is closer to a sham,  but at least it allows you to do whatever you want. You're guessing that after the wedding, both clans would demand that you two do your responsibilities of continuing the bloodline. You don't even love the man you're going to get married to! And they expect children from that?

I need a drink. You thought, massaging your temples as you looked over the school papers you were working on. 

8:00 PM, the digital clock reads on your screen. It was still pretty early, but you felt the fatigue deep in your bones. God, you felt so tired. You stretch your back and briefly lean back on your chair before closing your eyes. 

You don't remember how it happened, but you somehow ended up in your bed. In your exhaustion, you may have just crawled to your mattress. You were comfortable enough, but you could audibly hear someone else in the room with you. Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you realize two things. One, your wrists are bound above your head, secured by one large hand. And two, soft lips and warm hands trailing your upper body.

"What the—"

"Shhh..." He murmurs before kissing your neck. It took your eyes a couple of seconds to adjust to the dark before you could recognize the familiar white hair.

"How—? A-Ah, how did you find me?" You manage to ask as you feel his hand travel from your side to cup one of your breasts, and you tremble at the touch, just like that night. "I didn't even give you my name—"

"Mmm..." He hums, lips sucking at your skin. You were sure it'd leave a mark. "Call it luck, but I just had to find you."

At this point, his thumb started to brush over your hardened nipple, and you let out a gasp. "Ah! Wait—" 

"Such pretty noises." He comments before his lips meet yours. His hand that was massaging your nipple, now ghosted over your skin as it traveled down your body, back arching toward his caresses unconsciously.

Apart from his touches, your brain is going haywire trying to understand how this nameless man had found you. You struggle to push his advances back as you lay down helpless. His kisses lingered, and everywhere he touched ignited a fire within you. He left you panting,   wanting.

"Aww. Look at you... You're already a mess, baby. And I've barely done anything." He gives you a smirk as he lets go of your wrists. His large hands grab you by the hips, and he pulls you to him.

You squirm but don't retaliate anymore. The man before you groans at your unintended movement, and he uses it to his advantage. He rubs his erection against you, and you moan.

"Yeah? Tell me. Let me know how much you want me. Show me how much you missed me."

You wake with a jolt, almost falling from your chair. Your cheeks flushed, and you felt hot all over as your heart pounded in your chest. One sentence rang in your head as you tried to steady your breathing, "What the fuck was that?"

Gojo lounges in his office lazily. His mission was shorter than expected, the curse being a tad weaker than he thought it'd be, making him available for the rest of the day. He opens his phone and looks at the time. It was almost nighttime, and surprisingly, his schedule was free. Well, he had been taking more jobs recently to let off steam and due to this it was recommended (forced) that he take a break. On his way home, his mind wandered back to that night. He remembers how her hair was sprawled on the pillow, how loud her moans were, even the sting of her nails digging crescent moons on his back as she pulled him closer, deeper .

He didn’t want to admit it, but she was the first one who kept up with him all night, and the fact that she was the first one to leave the hotel was remarkable. Especially after all he put her through. He could have kept going in the morning but knew he shouldn't because of the way she was heaving and quivering by the end of the night. God, she was gorgeous, though. She looked so good as sweat dripped down her body, and how she responded to his body was heavenly.  

He shakes his head lightly as he pockets his phone after changing. He rummages through the drawers of his room, looking for one of his casual sunglasses. He didn’t need to look at himself in the mirror to know he looked good. Instead he walked past it and the empty wall behind it. It wasn’t always empty. There used to be pictures and decorations but that was another time. He’s no longer that person anymore.  He leaves the room without a second glance. 

"Well, whatever." Shrugging, he begins walking out of his apartment and towards the nightclub where he met you. He then swaps his blindfold for his glasses, ruffling his hair down before he teleports away.

When Gojo arrived, there were a fair amount of people—groups of people on the dance floor, a series of bodies intertwining. Some are on the lounges, drinking, talking, or making out. He notices a free spot by the bar but not one sign of the familiar face he hoped to see. Sure, he could have easily tracked you down using his family connections, but the strongest jujutsu sorcerer doesn't chase after women; women would beg to crawl into his bed every time. 

He takes one of the barstools and sits. He doesn't drink alcohol often, so he orders his usual beer. It doesn't take long before his order arrives, and he takes a tentative sip before scanning the crowd again. Still, no sign of her.

Well, it doesn't matter if she's not here. There's always another. And Gojo was right. Not long after, a woman begins to walk towards him. He didn't need to, but he lowered his glasses down his nose to "take a good look" at her. He gave her a tilt of his head, and the way she smiled at him was all the sign he needed. It was always way too easy. 

The case that you studied today dragged on longer than you liked. It was a difficult one that you had to pull unexpected extra hours of research, and you were rushing home to be able to change for your usual nightly shenanigans. Decided to go to a more casual bar this time as you didn't really have time to doll yourself up much, and seeing as to how stressed you are about your studies, you just wanted to let off some steam. You get out of your clothes as soon as possible, shower, put on one of your casual dresses from your closet, and bolt out of the house. As much as you didn't like yourself turning into an alcoholic, with your situation? Sometimes, a drink is all that makes you forget. 

Even though it's the weekend, only a couple groups of people are in the bar. A few played tabletop games, and a couple sat on the lounges and listened to the live band. The atmosphere was just what you needed after a hard day's work. You approach the bar with plans to drink the night away.

Gojo saunters towards the bar a couple minutes after you. He surprisingly had the weekend off again. Apparently, he didn't notice that he was going on a rampage against the curses all over the city. A blessing and a curse, as per Principal Yaga. As much as he appreciates it, he doesn't want Gojo to overwork himself. He already upholds most of the jujutsu society, so he had him take the weekend off.

It was just an impulsive decision to come here. Gojo doesn't drink that often, and after last time's failed attempt to find that woman, he wasn't hopeful. He sighs as he enters the bar, eyes downcast, and he plans to stay here for a couple hours before switching to his usual nightclub. Music was already playing over the speakers, and he could hear a group cheering over some games; that's when he looked up and spotted a familiar silhouette by the bar. Any other person would doubt their eyes due to the dim lights, but unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how one looks at it), he was blessed with keen eyes in his case. His strides become more confident as he approaches the bar. He sits beside you, seeing the same drink you had the first time you met.

"Why's a sweet girl drinking such a sour drink?" Your head turns almost immediately to the familiar question. "Yo~!" He gives you a playful wave of a hand and a wink as he gains your attention. "Mister, give me a beer and another of whatever she’s having." He says before turning to you. "My treat."

You raise an eyebrow at the man before you. It's him again. "Well, if it's on your tab, I'll get some wine instead." You smirk at him.

"I see we're feeling fancy tonight," a devilish smile on his lips, "Mister! Scratch my first order. Give me a bottle of your finest wine." He remarks as he grabs the bottle and two glasses the bartender slides towards him. "Why don't we take this to a table instead? Care to join me?"

"As long as you keep supplying the alcohol," you laugh as you follow his lead.

Gojo leads you to one of the empty tables and kicks the chair instead of pulling it for you since both of his hands are occupied. You shake your head at the gesture but appreciate it anyway. He pours you a drink setting the wind down, and you mutter thanks under your breath. 

You grab the bottle and pour him a glass, as well. "So, what brought you here tonight?" He asks, breaking the silence. You look at him for a few seconds before shaking your head no. You take a gulp of wine, and the man before you chuckles as he watches. 

"That bad you don't even want to share, huh? Alright, keep your secrets," he says with a smirk before taking a sip from his own glass.

You sit there in silence before he breaks the ice again. "You come here often?" 

"After a stressful day at school? Absolutely." You scoff, swirling the drink in your hand.

"Hmm..." He raises an eyebrow at you.

"Enough about me." You wave him off before he can even ask another question. "What brought you here tonight?" 

"I usually hit the bars first before I—" He cuts himself off. Before I go to the nightclub and find a woman to bed tonight. 

"What? Say it, where are you going?" You challenge.

"Nah, nothing important. And, no place is as interesting as here right now." He smirks, and it almost makes you blush. "But I digress. What's got you drinking so much this late in the evening?"

You give off a sound between a scoff and a laugh. "What is this? 21 questions?"

A mischievous grin spreads at that thought. "You know, that's not a bad suggestion." He comments. "But maybe we could switch the wine for some harder liquor for that. What do you think?"

"I'm not saying no to a free drink." You shrug as you finish your glass of wine. He smirks and gestures to order a bottle of shochu.

"Alright, you can start since you didn't answer my first question." He gives you a mock pout, and you can only laugh at him.

"That's very kind of you." You tell him as you start thinking about what questions to ask this mysterious man. "Okay, I got one."

"Shoot."

"What's the worst date you've ever been on?"

"Never been on one." And you look at him with disbelief. "No one wants to hang out long enough for that. It's always the bedroom." He shrugs.

"No fucking way. How the hell have you not been on dates?" With that face and all. But you keep that last thought to yourself.

"Hey, you only get one question. Drink." And so you drink a shot, the burning sensation of the alcohol lingering in your throat. "My turn." It takes him a few seconds before he asks, "Are you a cat person, a dog person, or something else?"

"Definitely a cat person. Not that I ever had one." 

"Really? I thought you'd be a dog person." 

"Ah, ah, my turn now." He gestures for you to continue. "What do you do for work?" Without hesitation, he drinks, and you give him a sideways glance. "Alright, keep your secrets then. " You tell him as he chuckles.

"Do you like coffee or tea better?" He shoots you his next question.

"Coffee, the more bitter it is, the better. And you?"

"Tea, but very sweet."

"I never thought you to have a sweet tooth." You remark as he shrugs once again.

"My turn. Why are you single? Or at least I'm guessing you are..."

Well, that's a no-brainer. You mentally thought before taking a shot.

"Alright,” he lets out a laugh at how quickly you avoided that question, “Moving on then." He comments as he braces himself to be asked the same thing, but the question never comes. Instead, he finds you deep in thought for your next question. Huh.

"What's your love language?" 

"Hmm..." He takes a second to think. "I'm not too sure."

You gesture to his glass. "You gotta drink." And so he does, and you watch as he downs a shot, eyes wandering to his throat as his Adam's apple bobs as he drinks.

He sets down his glass and pours you another. "Alright, my next question... What are you most proud of yourself for?"

Gojo's watchful eyes fell on you as you answered the question silently and drank without reluctance, the alcohol going down smoothly now that you've had a couple shots. You came here tonight to rid yourself of your problems, not to think of them.

"Oh, it's like that then."

"Shh. My turn." You shush him as you pour him another. "Have you ever had your heart broken?"

He drinks, and you mockingly scoff at him. "Are we just going to avoid all the difficult questions then?"

He smirks at you as he finishes his glass. "Double question~." He says in an almost sing-song manner as he pours you another shot, motioning for you to drink. You purse your lips together in mock irritation before drinking anyway.

"My turn again." He says as he pointedly looks at you. "How do you like to spend your free time? Or rather, what's a perfect day for you?"

You think long and hard about your answer. Given your situation, your home life could be better. You've never known "normal," even as a kid, not when you were raised as your family's pawn. You sigh before you drink. Again.

"You gotta be kidding." He looks at you inquisitively. "There's no way you don't know what a perfect day is for you... Do you mean to say our little night of mischief a couple weeks ago wasn't ideal for you?"

You shake your head with a chuckle but don't say anything. Sure, you usually end up in other men's beds during your nightly adventures, but it's not really something you would consider perfect. You gesture to his glass. "Double question. Drink."

He puts his hands up in surrender before downing another shot. You can feel that the drinks are starting to affect you, and you feel lightheaded, but in a way that you don't remember why you were drinking in the first place. It was like the first day you met him. He made it easy to forget everything other than the now. You internally thank fate for this mysterious white-haired man with pretty blue eyes who kept you company. Ah. 

"What's your favorite thing about yourself?" You blurt the question after that line of thought.

He laughs heartily. "My face." He says without any doubt, which makes you look at him in disdain. "What? At least it gets me laid." He adds as he wiggles his eyebrows at you with the same boyish smile you remember from your first meeting. The same smile he gave you in your fever dream of him, the smile that hinted that he was up to no good. Oh god... You look away, but you know it is too late. You felt your cheeks heat up, your eyes widening as if you were a child caught stealing candy from a jar. "Oh! So you agree!" He notes with such excitement, trying to steal a look at your face as you look away.

"Oh, shut up!" You pushed him away, but really, it was understandable.

"Aww, you're no fun~" He sounds sulking but settles down before asking his next question. "Fine. My question. Where would you go if you could go anywhere?"

That makes you pause and consider. "I'm not sure. I've never really thought about that. I've never been too far out of the city." Not with your family holding you by the neck.

"Tsk tsk," he waves an admonishing finger at you, "drink. That's such an ambiguous answer."

You fidget with your glass before you down your shot. You can barely feel the aftertaste of the alcohol with how much you have drunk. "My turn. Who is the most important person in your life?"

With no hesitation, he drinks. 

You look at him in a bit of a shock. His eyes look somewhat distant than it was a second ago. "We should probably start hitting the harder stuff, huh?" You suggest as you try to reel him back to reality.

"Agreed. Especially if you keep asking these types of questions..." He shakes his head with a defeated laugh. Shortly, he stood up and ordered another bottle of drinks from the bartender. As he approaches, you recognize the bottle of whisky in his hands.

Well then.

He opens the bottle and pours you a glass before settling down in his chair again. "Oh! I got a good one."

"Go for it."

"Have you ever cheated on anything or anyone?" 

You take a second to think. You think about your marriage arrangements... Is it still considered cheating when you've never been with your fiance? You don't even have that kind of feelings for each other. Ah, shit. Internally, you erase the thoughts as quickly as they came and drink instead.

He gives you a sideways glance. "What's that supposed to mean?" 

"Stop asking double questions. Drink." You scold him with a subtle slap on his arm. "But to be fair, that's karma for the last question." He rolls his eyes playfully as he downs another shot.

You lean into the table as you hold your glass in your hand, trying to get a good look at this mysterious stranger's face before presenting your next question. "What would you change if you could go back in time and do something differently?"

A look of sentimentality bleeds into his eyes, and Gojo briefly thinks of Amanai. There wasn't a mission after that where he didn't think of how much better he could have handled things. Okay, nope, not tonight. "You're asking some real tough ones, huh? But unfortunately for you, I'm not answering that either." He says before taking a swig.

"Whatever." You say with a laugh and drink with him anyway as the alcohol starts to cloud your mind. 

"Have you ever failed at something?" He asks, swirling the drink in his glass. 

Not even a split second later, you find yourself chugging your drink. You think about your situation, and even though you have your current freedom, your family still controls most of your life. Well, it's not that you failed to get your liberty entirely. Still, you didn't succeed either... and you don't plan on elaborating on that tonight. Meanwhile, Shoko and Geto's faces flash before Gojo’s mind, and he finds himself drinking after you on the same question he asks. The drinks even hit harder on your next question.

"Have you ever made a promise that you didn't keep?" You ask him just out of curiosity. He doesn't say anything and feigns a laugh. He sure is thinking about the past a lot tonight. It takes him a second to down his shot, the questions getting more instinctive than the first few.

"Who in your life most makes you feel a sense of home?" He throws you back a question just as quickly. You reflect on it. Your childhood flashed at the back of your mind. It wasn't a welcome memory. Sure, you were given all your necessities, but that was all. It could have been better. And right now? You don't think there's a place you call home. You drink a mouthful of your drink as it is easier to swallow than explain that in detail.

"Do you believe in soulmates?" You blurt out almost spontaneously. He opens his mouth to answer but stops before the words leave his lips. Instead, he reaches out for his glass and drinks. You give him a once-over, and his question follows not even a second later.

"Do you believe in second chances?" He asks.

"Hmm... That depends..." You rest your cheek against the palm of your hand. "You know what, never mind." You add, before drinking. Surprisingly, he takes a drink with you.

You wipe your lips with your thumb before asking him your next question. "Have you ever changed your mind about something you were once sure about?" 

The back of a particular black-haired man flashes again at the back of his mind. Ah, fuck it. Satoru internally cusses before grabbing the bottle and chugging it. As he places the bottle back on the table, you smirk. You take it from his hand before taking a swig. So many questions. So many drinks. And both of you were just being tight-lipped now.

"Alright, last one." He smirks right back before leaning into you. "What's your name?"

You peek at him from under your lashes before intertwining your hand with his. "I got something more interesting for you." You remark as you stand up from the table, dragging him out of the bar.

He smirks at you, knowing. He wanted to bury his memories; he knew you could help him with that.

Unlike last time, this time you ended up in the first-class district of the city, courtesy of this white-haired man. You may not know his name, but one could think he’s filthy rich. Being able to book such a luxurious hotel in this part of the city on a whim. You should have known better about following rich men around this part of town, but here you are, cuddled up to his side as his fingers traced circles on your skin. 

Gojo keeps himself awake this time, feeling your warmth against his body. Everything felt... perfect. And that felt weird. Nothing felt right since that incident in his life, so why was he feeling this way now? He leans into you, letting go of his initial thoughts as his cheek settles on your head, inhaling your scent with a smile. You smelled like cherry blossoms in full bloom. The calm before the storm that's called his life. The sense of normality. He hated to admit it, but maybe he was hoping to see a glimpse of you anywhere because you brought this sense of peace to him. Only one word could describe what he is feeling right now: satisfied.  

"Hey? You still with me?" He murmurs, and he feels you nod against his side. Another surprise. Usually, the women he beds wouldn't be able to keep up with him, but if the first time you met wasn't much of a hint that you were different already, this confirms that. "I'm surprised you're still awake."

"Mm... barely." You say with a slight giggle. You can feel yourself slowly drifting to sleep.

"Then sleep." He slaps your arm playfully, chuckling after you. "You deserve that much." He remarks, turning to his side before he pulls you close to his chest and sighs contentedly. 

Another month passes in the blink of an eye. Your mind wanders as you take a pause from working on your paperwork. It was a weekend, but after that last meeting with your tall, silver-haired friend, you haven't had the chance to go clubbing recently. Every case you handled the past month took it out of you, making you crash and sleep whenever you had the opportunity. You wonder where he is now after you left him in the hotel. Now that you think about it, you've already done that twice, never leaving him anything. He probably won't pay attention to me again if we ever see each other. You thought disappointedly before taking a sip of your coffee. 

You sigh as you turn your attention to your surroundings. The cafe is quiet except for a few people. It's one of the few places you love in this cursed city. You love the brewed coffee here, and it is your go-to whenever you have to motivate yourself to work on weekends. You switch your focus on the pile of documents you have to review on your table. You are making progress, no matter how small, but it felt like you weren't doing enough, not even when you've been pulling all-nighters. You sigh at the thought.

"Ah! It's you!" A familiar voice exclaimed, and you turned towards the sound and blinked at the figure you saw. The friendly white-haired man trotted towards you with visible happiness before settling on the chair across you. He's right before you, but you refuse to believe it. He was wearing a dark, zip-up-looking jacket with a high and wide collar and pants of the same color, his signature sunglasses surprisingly absent. His hair and those blue eyes look even more vibrant with his outfit— 

"What? Cat got your tongue?" He smirks. You recall that callback from when you were caught staring at him. And you're doing it again. With that, you are brought back from your reverie.

You shake your head lightly, blinking your eyes from your daze. He's really here. Weirdly, fate makes you two meet whenever and wherever. "What are you doing here?"

He shows you the bag of kikufuku he had brought from a popular store you recognize. Now you remember that night you were playing 21 questions—almost what? A month ago now? "Ah. Sweets, of course."

"I was in the area while... doing some stuff for work." He states. "And for your information, before you start accusing me like everybody else, I'm not slacking off either. I just finished early." He says almost too proudly. You now also remember that he didn't elaborate on his line of work. And with his outfit? It didn't stand out enough to be recognized.

"I see." You shot him a look of suspicion and curiosity as you grabbed your iced coffee from the table to take a sip. He glances at your current work desk. His pretty eyes darted from the strewed papers everywhere and the few books and notebooks that were open on specific pages before returning to your face.

"Law school?" He gives you an inquisitive look.

"Yeah."

"Hmm. That explains your drinking habits." He remarks with a laugh.

"Oh, shut up. I needed to let off steam." You wave him off.

"And let off steam, you did." He gives you an enticing look, and you lowkey feel the heat travel to your face. You furrow your brow and bite your lip as you look away. "Aww, don't be shy now. You and I know we both enjoyed those nights."

That you cannot deny. 

"What? Are you suggesting that we make this a regular thing?" You joke, trying to at least take control of a little bit of the conversation.

"Your words, not mine." He smirks. The bastard. 

You narrow your eyes at him, though his smug look doesn't even melt for a second. So, you decide to play his game. "Well, third time's the charm?"

His smile becomes more expansive as he leans in, taking his phone from his pockets and sliding it across the table. "Give me your number then."

You roll your eyes playfully as you let out an exasperated sigh. You take this man's phone anyway and tap your contact info away. As soon as you were done, you handed him back his phone, fingertips grazing his large palm.

"L/N Y/N, huh?" He says, reading your name out loud. It was the first time you've ever heard your name sound so sweet upon another person's lips it was almost intoxicating. You nod silently as he starts typing away on his phone. A few moments later, your phone buzzes in your pocket. You take it out to check. 

From: Unknown Sender

Gojo, Satoru sent you his contact info

“Gojo?” The surname sounded very familiar but you couldn’t put a finger on it right now.

“Yep. That’s me. But please, call me Satoru. It’s finally nice to meet you, Y/N.”

You have your nose stuck in a book that Monday after your classes. A research paper was due in the next couple of weeks, and you were trying your best to focus on getting your shit done earlier than the deadline to be able to review your work. It was barely the start of the week, but you couldn't wait for the weekend for many reasons.

When you met at the cafe, you and Satoru agreed that you could meet on weekends only if both of your schedules permit. Keyword: If.

"I'm not promising anything, but I'll try. Things might get busy now and then, and I might have to work on my papers on the weekends, too." You can hear yourself say to him as you sip your coffee.

"I don't mind that. At least I can get in touch with you now, unlike before when I'm just relying on chance on when I'll meet you and where." He shrugs as he eats the second slice of the cake he ordered. Good god, what a sweet tooth.

"Hey, I'm serious." You furrow your brows at him. "I can't make this a ‘normal’ regular thing," you tell him, "so don't expect much—"

"Ah, ah. Don't even worry about it." He waves off your concern. "I wouldn't even consider giving you my number if I wasn't amenable to adjustments."

Satoru has been texting you for the past two days. Asking you about your day or what you have been up to. You have been at the back of his mind, and he's been struggling not to let it have a more physical effect on him. But to his dismay, he was more hung up than he thought. 

It was the evening of Sunday after you met him when he lay awake in his bed. It could be more accurate to say that he couldn't sleep as he tossed and turned in his bed uncomfortably.

"Fuck." He huffs, covering his eyes with his arm, restless as he lays on his back. He peeks at his crotch, wincing as he sees his stiff erection. For what fucking reason was he feeling this way? He doesn't know, but thoughts of you swirled around his mind endlessly, how your hands would look so dainty, held by his big ones as his other hand travels all over your body. How your scent lingered on the bed as it did the last time you slept in a bed together, how his lips would feel against your smooth, supple skin. 

This shit is not helping. Satoru thought to himself, sitting up. He reaches out for his phone on his nightstand. He stood up, pulling his pants to peek from under it. It was so bad he was leaking. An intrusive thought flits through his brain, and he smirks. He takes his phone to snap a photo before tapping a message.

To: Y/N

*You sent a photo*

Thinking of you tonight. I hope you sleep tight~ Coz I know I won't.

The moment you saw that picture, you almost dropped your phone with a squeak. Now that you're sober, you realize how massive Satoru is. No fucking wonder he got you limping that first time you slept together. The sentiment makes you take a sharp inhale of breath, putting your palms together as they start to sweat. Insufferable. But it was your type of "insufferable" not that you’d openly admit to that.

Back to the present, you try to distract yourself with your notes. A few students were littered all over the library, but overall, it was quiet. Well, other than your heavy breathing, probably. A few minutes pass, and you try to bury yourself in your papers, attempting to forget about the photo incident. Your phone buzzes a few moments later.

From: Satoru

What are you up to?

To: Satoru

School stuff. I'm at the uni library.

From: Satoru

Boring stuff?

To: Satoru

Yeah. What about you?

From: Satoru

Working. I'm in the suburbs of Tokyo. Hopefully, it doesn’t take long. 

To: Satoru

Good luck. 

From: Satoru

Are you sure I can't see you any time earlier this week? 

You bite your lip. Heavens, you would love to see him, too, but your busy schedule said otherwise. You would kill for a break from your academics, but the deadline for your research paper is fast approaching, and you can’t afford any distractions.

To: Satoru

You know I can’t… Not right now.

You sigh as you press send. You thought that would end the conversation for now, but you were wrong.

From: Satoru

Aww, c’mon, babe. I’ll make it worth your while~

You can almost hear the lilt of Satoru’s voice through the text message, the playful tilt of his head, and the smirk plastered on those pretty lips. You try to erase the image of him before typing your reply.

To: Satoru

No.

I’ll let you know if my schedule changes.

Sent. This time, instead of pocketing your phone, you opt to put it in your bag, away from you, so that you won’t know when Satoru replies… because if the last message he sent you was any hint, you know he definitely will.

For the rest of the afternoon, you worked non-stop, only taking pauses in between to take bites of the snacks you bought. I should get some real food after this, you thought. You made some progress, much to your satisfaction; not enough to be ahead, but progress nonetheless. As the day ended, you wanted to reward yourself a little, hoping to be as motivated again for the next day. You gathered your things and started to pack your stuff when you caught a glimpse of your phone in your bag. You grab to check it, curious if Satoru replied to your last text.

From: Satoru

Oh, believe me, it will.

You don’t hear from Satoru after that last message. Not a text or call in sight. Alright then, you thought, but you didn’t dwell on it. You have more important things on your plate right now. You can take care of Satoru on the weekend. You continue to work on your papers until late evening, until your phone beeps. The blue-eyed man’s name was splashed on the screen, and the preview only showed an attachment instead of the usual text message. You furrow your brow, intrigued as you pick it up. What is he up to this time?

From: Satoru

*Satoru sent an attachment*

This is what you do to me.

The video starts dark like the camera was face down on something. There's a slight rustling in the background before the view clears. Satoru's face comes into view, flushed, and he is biting onto what looks like his shirt, exposing his upper chest. His pristine white bangs stuck to his forehead as sweat glistened on his skin. You can hear something from the background, too. Something rhythmic, something... wet. Your brows furrow as you fail to comprehend what that was until the camera turns black again for a split second before you see the same sight you saw in the photo he sent a couple days ago. Only this time, he has his fist around his cock. His movements were slow and deliberate. Hushed moans escaped his lips every once in a while. Your eyes widened, and your jaw fell slack at what this man had sent you, but at the same time, you couldn't take your eyes away from the video. 

"This is what you do to me."

The statement rang in your mind, loud and clear, making you lick your lips. All of a sudden, you feel parched as hell. The video continued to play, and your eyes darted from one detail to another. How big he was, the vein that ran around his length, how slick he was as he fucked his hand. You squirm unconsciously in your seat. 

"Fuck..." The curse trails off from his lips. "Maybe I shouldn't be thinking of your body too much." Satoru's voice had an audible quiver as his movements never faltered. "But hey, I'm letting nature take its course... and leave you with a little preview of what you can expect over the weekend if your schedule remains unchanged." You note a tinge of sarcasm in his tone. He's still trying to persuade you, it seems.

The silence drags on for a couple seconds before his voice returns. "I know you are as excited as I am for the weekend. You just hide it well." He lets out an arrogant laugh. "I want to feel you squirming under me. Your body, sprawled on the bed, slick and ready for me... Have I ever told you how much you fit me just right?" He continues as he teases his tip with a thumb, and you notice his legs tremble a bit from the stimulation. Oh, he's so sensitive. 

" I wanted to be on top of you again. Kissing you. Biting you. Marking you as mine." He rambles on. "I can almost feel your fingers pulling at my hair, trailing down my shoulders, your nails scraping my back." 

"I'd hook my thumb under your chin, tipping your head back, giving me access to that pretty neck of yours." He takes a sharp inhale, his breath hitching. "I want my tongue on your skin, tasting your sweat. God, you make me so fucking hard, baby... But I'm not in any rush. Especially since I won't taste you until the weekend, right? I gotta slow down and stroke slow." He laughs, but there is a noticeable tremble in his voice this time. "Savor every last bit since you're out here starving me." You can almost see the teasing smirk on his face.

He was true to his word, though. His strokes never stuttered. It was the same unhurried pace. Only his moans filled the air, coming and going as you excitedly eyed what he'd do or say next.  

"My kisses would move lower, down your body, slowly." His voice deepening. "Down the hollow of your throat, your collarbone, then to your chest. My hands would linger over your perky breasts, fondling them, giving them what they deserve, what you deserve."

"God, what would I do to worship your body right now." He says through gritted teeth. "I'd press myself down onto you. Legs intertwining as I grind my cock against your thigh."

You notice his pace quicken before he speaks again. "I can almost feel your hands move down my body. From my chest, trailing down my hips before squeezing me at the base." He groans. "Mm, it's gonna be hard to take my time once I see you over the weekend, babe."

"Fuck, I want you. Now. I want to feel you tightening around me. Me, bucking into you as you close your eyes and your mouth falls open, moaning my name." He blabbers on. "Your nails leaving trails on my back. Your hair would be a mess. And speaking of messes," he says as he taps a finger against his tip and a string of pre-cum stuck to his fingertip as he moves it away, "I'm already making one right here, just for you."

His breathing was starting to get erratic. The way he was holding the phone was also getting more and more unsteady as it blurred with each stroke. "Maybe... maybe hold your wrists against the bed," he says, "leave you writhing as I try and find out all of your weak spots. You'd pull me against you, squeezing your legs around me."  

The camera adjusts as you can almost feel how hot he must be from just watching. "And I'll, uh, I'll, uhm, I'll lean down," he starts to stutter, "slide two fingers into your mouth, tell you to suck as I kiss down your neck and grind down against you." 

His pace quickens once again, his strokes getting more erratic than calculated. "We'd both be dripping wet. Push my fingers deeper, telling you to swirl your tongue around them. Fuck... Then I'll pull them out of your mouth, slick with your spit. I'd trail it down, down, down your body before ending up in between your legs. Press my wet fingers against you before pushing slow and deep, letting you ride my hand."

Another sharp breath is heard in the video. "Fuck, I'll slide down between your legs, wanting to bury my face into you. I'd slide my tongue to replace my fingers, eating you up. Oh god, I'd eat you out so good." He moans, his voice changing into a deeper pitch, sounding something closer to a whine, if you were being honest. "I can't even fucking think straight. The only thing left in my head is you. Oh fuck... Your taste. Your scent. Your tight heat. Your thighs squeezing my head. I'd want your hands on my hair, guiding me deeper into you. Oh, I’d love to use you to get off. I just want all of you… and I know you’d want all of me, too. Oh fuck... I'd— I'd let you cum with my mouth on you. Fuck... Oh, goddamn it. Oh fuck, Y/N. I need you—" His rambles were cut short as he came, ropes of cum spilling over his hand. He continues to stroke himself a little more, riding the high until the very last moment.

"Oh fucking hell..." He laughs nervously before switching to the front-facing camera with his free hand. His face was flushed, his shoulders heaving. "I can't wait for the weekend, baby. Then I'll show you how badly I've missed you in person." He snickers at the camera before taking a deep breath, trying to steady his breathing. "Fuck... I'll talk to you later. Bye, babe."

The video ends... but you feel hot all over. He came with your name on his lips. You didn't even realize how hard you were gripping your PJs. Your knuckles were white, and your breathing was uneven. God, this man's promiscuity knows no bounds, you thought as you took a deep breath before typing a reply.

To: Satoru

Meet me tomorrow.

Satoru goes about his day with renewed enthusiasm. From the perspective of his other colleagues, it was almost creepy. The Six Eye user was always known for his happy-go-lucky attitude, but they can tell there's something... different. He smiled smugly, thinking how he quickly got you with the hook, line, and sinker. Ever since he was little, it was easy to get his way; it was always that way. He may have matured over the years, but living life where you're considered an anomaly in the jujutsu world gives a person a sense of pride. The hum of the car engine was steady as he went through the city streets. It was a rare occurrence that he had to drive himself around. As much as it could be funny to let Ijichi fetch and drop you both at the hotel, he thought he'd spare the man some mercy today. Satoru only drives a little as the managers (mostly Ijichi) do that for him for missions, but today's an exception.

Lights flickered on in his vision as he passed them by. The sun was setting, and people finally heading home from school or work littered the streets as he leisurely tapped a finger on the steering wheel to the beat of a nameless song playing over the speakers. He wore his usual work clothes, the same old zip-up long sleeves, but he ditched the blindfold for the more normal round sunglasses. As much as he wanted to change into comfier clothes, he didn't have enough time. Doesn't matter. It's not like the clothes will stay for that long anyway , he thought with a smirk as he pulled up on the street of your university. He parks near the entrance and gets out of the car. He leans against it, takes out his phone, and taps you a message.

To: Y/N

I'm here by the entrance. 

People who passed him spoke in hushed whispers, curious about who this stunning man was waiting for, but he paid them no mind. Nobody came close compared to you... Well, right now, anyway. Anticipation bubbled in his stomach, and he couldn't wait to get his hands on you. Oh, the things he'd do to you tonight. He pockets his phone back, closes his eyes, and lets the early evening breeze ruffle his hair. 

"I'm sorry I'm late—" A familiar voice approached him, and his eyes immediately snapped toward the sound. You looked like you just ran a marathon to get to him. "Class dragged on and—?!"

Satoru hooks an arm around your waist, pulling you close, kissing you without warning. Your eyes widen as you try to push him away, but that only encourages him, and he deepens the kiss, holding your face steady as he does so. A moment later, you both come up for air. You could feel your warm cheeks, and you felt like your mind was melting. 

"Satoru..." You say his name, breathless. "Not here." You scold him, but really, it was a half-hearted effort. He says nothing but lets you go just enough to open the car door for you, hand still lingering on your hip.

"After you," he gestures, and you bite your lip before getting in. He follows suit shortly after, going around and getting in the driver's seat. Not even a moment later, he leans in, his large hands cup your cheek again, and leans in for another kiss. A kiss that could easily have you jumping over to his lap—

"Satoru," you call his name when he lets you go, "we can do it here, but decorum says we shouldn't. " You tell him before he sighs in surrender.

"Fine." He rolls his eyes playfully. Not today… but maybe someday. He smirks at the thought as he starts the car. He keeps a hand on your thighs throughout the drive. His fingers caressed you in ways that had your imagination running wild. At some point, you had to hold his hand in both of yours just to keep your desires (and sanity) in check.

You both make it to one of the luxury hotels downtown. You are in disbelief. Every instance you slept with this man, he has taken you to different fancy hotels. Mind you, the other two occasions were spontaneous decisions, further proving that he either has a high-paying job or he's from a very wealthy family. In conclusion, he's rich as fuck. He stops by the hotel entrance, gets out of the car, and goes around to open the door for you. As you both enter the hotel lobby, he lets the valet take care of the car. The room was spacious; lounges were scattered along the hall's walls, and a few people with fancy outfits walked past occasionally. You felt out of place with your casual clothes, but at least you weren't the only one. Satoru kept his arm around your hip, making you struggle to keep up with his long strides. He pulls you close, breath caressing your ears, "I sure hope you're not having second thoughts." He teased before giving your ear a nibble as you approached the front desk. You let out a hushed gasp as you try to push him away, but the effort only makes him chuckle. Your eyes dart around. Nobody seemed to be paying attention to you other than the clerk squinting at you judgingly, making your cheeks flush. 

"Good evening. Do you have a reservation?" She mutters monotonously. She eyes you from head to toe. What's her problem?

"Ah, yes." Satoru chimes in a little too enthusiastically. "It's under my name. Gojo Satoru." 

For the next few seconds, the woman taps away at her keyboard. "The penthouse suite, correct?"

"Yep. Nothing but the best." He smiles before hooking a finger under your chin, making you look at him before his lips meet yours. Your hands clutch at his clothes instinctively. You hear the front desk clerk sigh disapprovingly as if saying, "Get a room," or, in this case, "Wait for your room."

Satoru doesn't seem to notice or care for the matter. He smiles at her cluelessly after kissing you as you both wait to be checked in. He was handed the keycard shortly after before he started guiding you towards the elevator.

Two things happened as the doors closed. One, the tall man corners you at the far end of the elevator. Two, his leg slipped between yours as he cupped your face, crashing his lips against you again, this time more passionately. More hungrily. His large hands fiddled around the edges of your blouse, fingers slipping underneath, making you shudder. His carefree demeanor suddenly disappeared into thin air, catching you off guard. Your mind clouded as his tongue found yours, and you couldn't help the soft whimper that escaped your lips. He unexpectedly breaks the kiss, and you suddenly find yourself stumbling towards him, trying to chase after his lips. He smirks, waving an admonishing finger toward you.

"Greedy."

"Me?" You look at him, confused. "You were the one that couldn't wait." You shot back as the elevator dings. 

He only gives you the same signature smirk before dragging you out of the elevator towards your suite. He taps the keycard on the door, and as soon as it clicks open, he pulls you inside. The door slams shut from the outside world. It's only you and him now, no more, no less. The thought alone makes him let go of his other inhibitions. He backs you to the doorframe, caging you in with his arms. He stares at you, eyes hungry with want, making you look away, feeling a tad too self-conscious.

"Don't look away." He tells you. He cups your cheek, making you look up at the tall man. Your breath hitches at your throat as he kisses you again. Whimpers escape your small frame as his other hand continues its interrupted tour under your top. He only releases your lips as he slowly peels your blouse off, exposing you to the room's cool air. He devours all your sounds, tongues intertwining as your hands slowly and instinctively find the back of his neck, trying to further deepen the kiss. After a fleeting moment, his other hand moves to your back, unhooking your bra easily. Your hand moves to his zip-up jacket in return, unzipping the thing impatiently and slipping it off him. His smooth immaculate skin shouldn't have been a surprise, but damn, his chiseled abs, lean muscular arms; his body is a work of art. Your mouth waters at the sight, but he doesn't give you any time to process that information further as he grabs you by the wrist and turns you around. You brace yourself with the palms of your hands and bend down just a little without even thinking, grinding against him. 

He pauses, making you look hurriedly at the man behind you. "I'm so glad I'm not the only one feeling impatient." He remarks before you feel his hand fiddle around the button of your pants. His skillful fingers only take a second before he's unbuttoning and unzipping your pants. He slowly slides it down your legs, and you step out of it when it lands on the floor. Kisses snake up your legs and thighs before he spreads your folds with his thumbs. You feel his hot breath against your cunt, watching as it starts dripping . He barely did anything to you, yet you are already a mess. He gives it a kiss. Then, a lap of a tongue. You gasp at the sudden motion, and he grins. He's tempted to eat you out, but there will be other chances. For now, he needs you. He needs to be inside you. He slowly stood, trailing kisses along your lower back and shoulders before ending at the back of your ear. With the way he leaned against you, his erection was grinding at you deliciously, promising the pleasure that was about to come. He teases your clit with two fingers, making you arch your back at his movements.

"Fuck, baby. You sound even prettier than I imagined," he whispers. "All those pretty moans, all for me. Did you moan like this when I sent you that video earlier this week?" He asks as his free hand, the one caging you by the doorway, moves as you hear the rustle of his pants as he tries to undo them. Satoru's cock springs free, and he wraps a hand around his base, starting to stroke himself. God, he can't wait to be inside you.

"S-Satoru." Your voice quivers as he rubs you relentlessly. "Fuck... Mmm, so good..!"

And that's what pushes him over. Hearing his name come out of your delicate mouth. He lets out a sharp breath, almost a hiss, as he pulls his fingers away. "Fucking hell." He curses as he hastily aligns his cock against your entrance. "You ready for me, babe?" He asks as he rubs the tip against your leaking cunt. "Heh, I think your pussy can answer for you, huh?"

His movements were electrifying, making your skin prickle with anticipation. "Sa-Satoru~," you whine, "stop... stop teasing..!"

"Tell me what you want then." His voice is condescending. His tip barely slipped inside you, making you feel even more deprived. "Tell me how much you want me, need me ."

"Fuck, Satoru..! I need you. I need you inside me. Please..!" The whines that escaped your lips were almost automatic. He smirks, realizing how much he has you wrapped around his finger.

"Hm? You gotta be more specific, baby." He taunts, rubbing his length between your thighs, making you dig your teeth into your bottom lip. "Tell me what you want."

The sounds of your mewls mingled with the sloppy sounds between your legs made your head spin. "Fuck, baby, please. I need... I need your cock. I need it— Ah!" Not even a moment later, he pushed into you, gripping your hips so hard you think it'll bruise. Your face contorts in pleasure at the sudden penetration. He takes it so achingly slow, your mind blanks and  you can't even discern whether or not you want him to go further into you. You may have been drunk the first two times you've fucked, but you remember this feeling of fullness. The photo and the video were proof of that, too. But now that you're sober, your brain is short-circuiting at how big he is. He reached places you couldn't with your hands or toys, making your toes curl. 

"You like that, babe?" He taunts you, pulling back a little, then pushing back in. Giving you something, but you need more. You dig your teeth into your lower lip, suppressing your whines. When he is met with silence, he pulls back all the way back before slamming back into you. The gasp you let out sounded so sinful it went straight to his dick. He groans at the way you are already clenching around him. "You can keep quiet all you want, but this pussy can't lie. Not to me." He remarks before he slowly starts to move. He wouldn't have moved until you've begun formulating words again, but fuck was he impatient. He couldn't wait a week, for fuck's sake, and he'd be damned if he were made to stay still for a minute longer. He kept a steady pace, hitting all your spots. Heat starts to pool in your stomach fast as he slowly but surely amps up the pace. Your knees feel like jello. You would have buckled a long time ago if it weren't for his hands on your hips, pulling you in and out onto him. 

"F-Fuck! Sa-Satoru..! Too much!" You cry out in pleasure as he lets out a breathy chuckle from behind you.

"Aww, don't say that. I've barely started with you." He says as he starts to slam into you deeper. Tears threaten to fall from your eyes, and you could guess that anyone passing by the door would be able to hear your cries. "I know you can take it. So take it like the good girl you are."

A broken moan escapes your lips. Your skin prickles as you feel yourself tethered over the precipice of pleasure. Although Satoru wanted to stay in control , he couldn't help his needy groans echoing in the room. God, he felt so desperate. It's like he hadn't had anything like you before, and it's addicting. He leans on you, lips latching onto the back of your neck, sucking, kissing, biting, marking you as his.

"You take me so well," he whispers against your skin. The closeness makes you reach an arm to the back of his head, trying to pull him into you. He whispered words of praise as he planted fleeting kisses upon your forehead. With each moan that escaped your pretty lips, his resolve to make this last longer, crumbles. His movements started getting erratic. His fingers dug into your skin as you tangled your fingers in his hair with each thrust. Your body felt so warm. Your legs started to tremble as you uncontrollably clenched around him tighter.

"Fuck, Y/N, I'm gonna... fuck, I'm gonna cum—" His words were cut short as he crashed his lips against yours, muffling your cries and groans. "Cum with me, baby. Fuck, cum with my cock inside you..!" He demands. Your body responds to him not a second later. The waves of pleasure that washed over you as he emptied himself inside you sent you to your ecstasy. Hiccups wrecked your body as it trembled, and he rode every last second of it. You let out a whine of complaint from the sensitivity, but he pressed soft kisses on your temple while murmuring words about how good you were. He lets you catch your breath before pulling out of you. You let out a groan of complaint at the sudden emptiness, but he makes up for it when he carries you bridal-style in his arms. You lean into him as you open your eyes to see this man, eyes drooping.

"Hey, don't tell me you're already tired?" He smirks at you. "The night is young. And I'm sure as hell not done with you yet."

A couple more weeks passed after your last encounter, and despite your initial agreement with Satoru, there were times (multiple times, by the way) that this rule was disregarded. Every time, you told him it would be the last time. It was broken every time, and you always found ways to justify it. You needed a break from your studies. You wanted to see him. Being with him just felt that good. You couldn't help yourself. And so did Satoru. He found himself craving your presence, your touch, your kisses. He found that his thoughts seemed to wander to you even when he was at work. His smug smiles were proof of that, not that Ijichi appreciated seeing that. It gave the man the shudders.

As you submitted the last of your papers, you left the campus feeling lighter as all your headaches now seemed to float away. It was almost the weekend, and it was finally time to unwind. You take your phone out and start tapping away.

To: Satoru  

How's work going?

Not a minute later, your phone buzzes.

From: Satoru

Boring... And you? Done with school?

Now that you think about it, he has yet to tell you about his work. To be fair, after your drunk questions, you have yet to bring it up again. Not that you have any reason to. He hasn't done anything that would raise your suspicion. 

To: Satoru

Are you just slacking again?

You snicker as you send the message. You've heard Satoru complain about his job sometimes. Something about the elders? His superiors maybe? He tends to grumble about how they're such a pain in the ass.

From Satoru:

Hey! I wasn't slacking! <;(๑`^´๑)>

Not today, anyway. 

You suppress a laugh bubbling from your throat.

To: Satoru

Alright, alright, don't pout. Are you still at work?

From: Satoru

Nah. I just finished, actually. Wait for me by the entrance. Let's go out and eat! There's a cafe I'd like to try out!

You can literally hear the elation from his text message. His sweet tooth knows no limits, so it seems. Well, at least it gets you free coffee, which works well for you.

To: Satoru

Okay. See you there... then my place tonight?

Your face heats up as you bite your lip in anticipation. You suggested that you take turns visiting each other's houses for the past couple of weeks instead of meeting up in hotels. As much as you've proven that this man is filthy rich, you didn't want him spending such unnecessary money over impromptu overnights at luxury hotels. 

From: Satoru

Sure, babe ;)

Comments from my beta reader/co-creator while checking the draft:

I know I wrote the timeline but you didn't have to do it

I don't wanna read this fic anymore

I'm gonna highlight all of the things I hate in this fic *highlights the whole document* /jk

I don't want to involve myself in the demon shit that this is *skims a paragraph*

He is wearing his ugly ass onesie

I know what I said but don't @ me

Stay tuned for Chapter 2! uwu

Lemme know if you want me to make a taglist for this!

[azenorie]

morston ficrec

some (goddamned) faith by manic_intent

rating: explicit. archive warning: no archive warnings apply. categories: M/M. additional tags: that AU where arthur goes with john on his sabbatical / alternate universe - canon divergence / first time / christmas prompts/ pre-canon.

summary:

“You didn’t have to follow me,” John said, after half a day of Arthur saying not a goddamned word.

a haunting of men by ididnotmakethemoon

rating: teen & up audiences. archive warning: no archive warnings apply. categories: M/M. additional tags: vampire.

summary:

"If Arthur didn't live, at least he didn't die, either."

stangers in the night by manic_intent

rating: explicit. archive warning: no archive warnings apply. categories: M/M. additional tags: that AU where john and arthur belong to different gangs / alternate universe / alternate universe - canon divergence / first time.

summary:

John’s hand closed on the holster of his pistol. Before he could draw, someone hauled the stranger back. Big, handsome man with a red bandana and a blue flannel shirt. He smiled at the stranger with very white teeth. “Jameson, why’re you bothering a kid for?” Jameson scowled. “Ain’t none of your business, Morgan. Fuck off.” “It’s the middle of the day and I’m angling for a quiet drink. You starting a fight ain’t gonna be so quiet,” Morgan said.

new blood by manic_intent

rating: explicit. archive warning: no archive warnings apply. categories: M/M. additional tags: that omegaverse AU where alphas and omegas are a different species of people / omegaverse / alpha/beta/omega dynamics / non-traditional alpha/beta/omega dynamics / alternate universe / first time.

summary:

“You trying to get me in trouble, kid?” Arthur said as he slowed Boadicea to a walk. The skinny kid who Hosea and Dutch had fished out of some nowhere town out west scowled and straightened up in the saddle. He wasn’t much of a horseman—his ‘borrowed’ horse, the usually docile Lady May, snorted and chewed at the bit. If he’d stolen Lady May out from under the noses of everyone in camp though, he was in trouble. “Not a kid,” said the kid, sticking out his lower lip. “Name’s John.” “And how old are you, John?” Arthur gave John a pointed once-over.

rearrange me by dandywarholic

rating: explicit. archive warning: no archive warnings apply. categories: M/M, F/M. relationships: john marston/arthur morgan, mary gillis linton/arthur morgan. additional tags: growing up story kinda / crushing real bad but youre a rat man / and the person youre crushing on is a large Rat man / id tag low honor morgan but this is just kinda how i hc him when he was in his twenties / A BITCH / First Time / they dont have great sex education in the west / nothing happens while john is underrage / arthurs a fuckhead but hes not THAT big of a fuckhead / dubcon / sorry to anyone who read before I tagged that / I had one job

summary:

Ever since John was young, Arthur had always been incredibly mean to him. This wouldn't matter to him if it were anybody else. And he really wished Arthur Morgan were anybody else.

eye of the beholder by Yuu_chi

rating: explicit. archive warning: creator chose not to use archive warnings. categories: M/M. additional tags: hurt/comfort / post injury / pining / chapter three spoilers / Arthur's Journals.

summary:

He thinks of John last night, on his back flicking through the pages with the faintest look of wonder on his face. Of the way he’d clutched it close when Arthur had tried to pull it away. It’s enough to make his sore heart ache, and he wonders why he does this every time.

two fools west of chicago by atqi

rating: explicit. archive warning: no archive warnings apply. categories: M/M. additional tags: fluff and smut.

summary:

"You're acting strange." John said warily, his voice soft, slow, careful. It was like staring down his rifle scope at a herd of deer. One false move and he could find himself in the middle of a stampede he couldn't escape. Arthur held his jaw tight. He moved to sit up and turned, looming over him. - A younger Arthur Morgan and John Marston take a job to track down a businessman's mistress and discover an affection for each other on the road that ends up giving them both what they need. All sexual content is 100% consensual and everyone has a good time except for the one guy who gets shot, but that's not during sex.

hear the river say your name by midnights

rating: not rated. archive warning: creator chose not to use archive warnings. categories: M/M. additional tags: pre-canon / angst / fluff and angst / angst with a happy ending / major character injury / (everyone ends up ok tho) / recovery / injury recovery / kissing / smoking / anal fingering / oral sex / anal sex / getting together / hurt/comfort / they're dumb / blow jobs / outdoor sex.

summary:

figures, it would take a bullet to the gut for john to get his shit together. ft. aggressive smoking, pining, and cowboy fools

samaritan by fallen_arazil

rating: explicit. archive warning: graphic depictions of violence / major character death. categories: M/M, F/M. relationships: john marston/arthur morgan, eliza/arthur morgan. additional tags: child death / alternate universe - canon divergence / angst / relationship(s) / protective john marston / families of choice / alternate universe - bounty hunters / POV third person limited / divided loyalties / hurt/comfort / dysfunctional relationships.

summary:

Second epilogue added   Arthur Morgan followed his own advice and left the gang when he had a child (the canonical Eliza and Isaac), taking up as a bounty hunter. Along the way he picked up a young John Marston, who thus never runs with Dutch. Despite leaving, Arthur never truly left his connections behind him, and when Dutch asked for help, he always answered. In 1899, during the event of the game, this arrangement might eventually force Arthur to choose to whom he truly owes his loyalty. John sneered. "You think I'd protect Dutch Van der Linde? Believe me, if I knew where he was, I'd tell you. Hell, I'd go get him myself. He's worth 10 large right now." Milton sneered right back. "I am not a fool, Mister Marston, kindly do not treat me as one. You would do nothing without Arthur Morgan's say-so, and that will be what puts you on the gallows right beside him."

we are lost men by drow

rating: teen & up audiences. archive warning: no archive warnings apply. categories: M/M. additional tags: the classic sharing a room scene.

summary:

He wonders what John is thinking right now, with his hand raised as if to stroke his cheek. He wants to say, 'what are you doing, you damned fool' but instead. Instead, he closes his eyes.

white december by WhyWouldIEver

rating: teen & up audiences. archive warning: no archive warnings apply. categories: M/M. additional tags: alternate universe - canon divergence / pining / oblivious pining / kissing / john and abigail are bff / soft boys because it's christmas / arthur angry arthur sad arthur is confusion / now they’re treeeeee tree fallin’ / i love myself for that pun / legend of the east satchel logic / blizzards & snowstorms.

summary:

John's been avoiding Arthur for years, much to Arthur's confusion. A blizzard rolls in when they're riding back to the gang after a job and now they gotta find a way to keep warm while cooped up in a tiny shack to wait out the storm. Naturally, some secrets are revealed.

don't let it fool you by midnights

rating: not rated. archive warning: creator chose not to use archive warnings. categories: M/M. additional tags: pre-canon / first kiss / pining / angst / angst with a happy ending / hand jobs / bonfires / drinking / john has a crush / young arthur morgan / high honor arthur morgan / (obviously) / fluff and angst / brokeback mountain if it had a happy ending and was about arthur and john / and was also... totally different

summary:

dutch sends arthur and john to a ranch in big valley to tame a herd of wild horses. ft. horse tamin', star gazin', and pining

all of them wolves by thegoodreverend

rating: explicit. archive warning: creator chose not to use archive warnings. categories: M/M, multi. relationships: john marston/arthur morgan, abigail roberts marston/john marston. additional tags: SLOW BURN y'all / touch-starved arthur / the trapper au nobody asked for / AU / trapper!arthur morgan / bisexual arthur morgan / bisexual john marston / one good boy and one screaming raccoon trying to get out of that outlaw life / there's some abigail/john/arthur mostly just mentioned / rancher ot3 au is the fandom hill i will die on

summary:

Arthur Callahan has left a name and a lifetime behind him. He's content with a life of solitude in the foothills north of Big Valley. Things are simple, and safer than his time riding with Dutch van der Linde. Until one day, they aren't.

moving right along by devils_trap

rating: explicit. archive warning: underage*. categories: M/M. additional tags: pre-canon / john marston and his fight to prove himself / would it be weird to tag for home invasion bc that's...what this is / homestead robbery home invasion / bisexual john marston / bisexual arthur morgan / crossdressing / genderplay / not sure how to tag for that since it's all john and all kinda nebulous / period-typical homophobia / implied/referenced child abuse / period-typical sexism / though it's...arthur pigtail pulling more than anything / alcohol use / this became a super long character study sorry y'all / praise Kink / anal sex / anal fingering / rimming oral / sex / top arthur / bottom john

summary:

There’s nothing like it: the knowledge of a job well done, a plan carefully crafted, Arthur fucking Morgan's stamp of approval. Even though it hasn’t exactly happened yet, it’s going to go flawlessly, John can feel it. John made sure of it.

* john's age is not stated.

a problem shared by laetificat

rating: explicit. archive warning: no archive warnings apply. categories: M/M.

summary:

Arthur knows John like he knows his own skin.

[shadyruinskryptonite]

Titan Bending Chapter 19

Warning: Violence consistent with cannon, NSFW so MDNI, language, major character death (both consistent with canon of both AOT and ATLA as well as diverging from canon), so much trauma literally everyone is so traumatized, very much slow burn, a little enemies to lovers, SO MUCH ANGST, hurt/comfort, hurt and delayed comfort, AFAB reader

Chapter Warnings: Talking about past severe injuries and near death experiences, extreme burns, sparring with swords, y/n beats the shit outta someone, one mention of bloody knuckles

WC: 3597

A/N: Okay so this is the first time a real reference is going to be made to the multitude of languages I hc are spoken in the four nations. I mentioned this in the hc that I published recently, but for Katara, Sokka, and y/n I hc that the native language of the watertribes is Russian so that’s included. Please note that I don’t know any Russian so everything that is written is ala Google Translate so I apologize if it’s wrong. This conversation is pretty silly, so feel free to translate it but you also don’t have to and it doesn’t change the plot of the story. Later however Zuko says something to y/n and I have written it in wingdings because I’m not immediately going to translate it, but rather I intend that it will be something that’s revealed later in the story.

Previous Chapter, Next Chapter

Masterlist

Tags: @mochminnie @sseleniaa @naruwitch

The tour ended at the mess hall, where everyone was able to sit together and share a meal. The conversation was kept mostly light, with the kids just asking the Gaang questions about our general experiences and getting answers similar to ones I had given them myself. 

From the other end of the table, I hear Sokka and Katara speaking the native Watertribe language.

“Она действительно кажется счастливой,” Katara says.

“Я согласен. Забавно видеть, как эти дети краснеют каждый раз, когда она смотрит в их сторону. Думаешь, она знает, что они все по-щенячьи влюблены в нее?” Sokka responds.

I can tell my kids are mesmerized by their conversation and it dawns on me that they’ve probably never heard anyone speak another language before.

Oh, well, this’ll really knock their socks off then.

Before Katara can respond, I smugly say, “It’s rude to speak another language when there are people that don’t know it in the conversation. But, yes, I’m very happy. Кроме того, они всего лишь дети, а я для них какое-то странное, экзотическое существо, отдохните.”

Now everyone’s eyes are wide and on me, and in the ensuing silence I say, “What, you two didn’t really forget that we have the same first language, did you?”

Looking like scolded children, they say in unison “Sorry y/n.”

I just shake my head and giggle.

Still in complete disbelief, Hange says, “I thought I was having a stroke for a minute when I didn’t understand what was being said.”

I laugh hardily and say, “No, that’s just the language native to the Watertribes. There are a bunch of different languages all across the four nations.”

Suki chimes in, “Yeah and y/n knows all of them.”

I whip towards her. “What? That’s crazy no I don’t!”

She rolls her eyes and says, “Oh yeah? How many languages do you speak?”

“Fluently? Just Watertribe and Universal!” I exclaim.

Zuko scoffs, “You’re so full of shit. You also speak Mainland Fire Nation.”

Toph adds “Not to mention Sand Bender and one of the romantic languages from the Western Earth Kingdom.”

“Yes but I’m not fluent in any of those!”

Suki turns to Hange and says, “She’s being humble.”

“What?! No I’m not! I seriously don’t know that much of any of the languages you just listed! I just lived in those places or around people from those places for so long that I started to pick up bits and pieces!”

Suki just playfully rolls her eyes at me as I huff a little.

A little incredulously Connie asked, “Any other fun facts or stories about y/n we should know?”

I roll my eyes but I can’t help but notice a spark of mischief wash across the entire Gaang.

Katara, my sweet angle baby, says “I feel like every story with y/n is a fun one. Even when things were tough she’s just…I don’t know, she’s like a ray of sunshine.”

I wasn’t expecting her to say something so heartfelt and I immediately blushed and looked down at my tray, suddenly feeling extremely bashful. Despite looking away, I could see just about every one of my new friends nodding in agreement.

Sokka manages to ruin the moment, though. “Yeah, she’s great when she’s not on death’s doorstep.”

This makes the Gaang cackle, and through my own laughter I say, “Fair enough.”

 But my new friends don’t see the humor.

Noticing the mirad of furrowed eyebrows, Suki lightheartedly says, “Oh, let me guess, she’s told you absolutely nothing about her past.”

Hange responds a little defensively, “No, she’s told us quite a lot. Just nothing about a near death experience…”

Snorts and scoffs can be heard coming from the Gaang which only deepens everyone else’s confusion. Suki points at me and continues, “If I know this one at all, she’s told you plenty about the four nations and our overall experiences but nothing even remotely personal. I mean, there’s a good five years of her life that we don’t even know anything about so I’d be surprised if y’all know. And, based on your faces, my guess is she hasn’t told you that she’s sort of on borrowed time-”

Sokka jumps in “Yeah, she’s like a cat with nine lives. Well…I guess it’d be what, six now?”

Confusion quickly turns to concern as I nod and dismissively say, “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

Seeing the worry on my squad’s faces, I quickly reassure them, “I mean, I’m here aren’t I? I’m all good. If anything that should make you guys feel better because it means I’m resilient as hell.”

Again, the Gaang laughs. Having been there through each of my brushes with death, they’ve accepted the same opinion about all of my close calls. Everyone else, however, is getting impatient.

Jean finally cuts us off. “Is anyone going to tell us what the fuck you’re talking about?!”

I smile and ruffle his hair across the table, immediately short circuting the kid. “Relax, Jean Boy. It’s not that big of a deal, I promise. But, if you must know, yes, I’ve had a few…close calls. The first one was when I was just honestly kind of in the way when Azula shot Aang with lightning. I was underneath him as he was entering the Avatar state and so I was the quickest path for the lightning to find the ground again. The second was during the Day of Black Sun invasion. It was before the end of the 100 year war. Just like I’ve explained that water benders get their strength from the moon, fire benders get theirs from the sun. So a solar eclipse gave us the perfect opportunity to invade the Fire Nation palace. They had anticipated our attack and retreated to some tunnels underground to wait out the eclipse and Sokka, Toph, Aang and I found Azula. Basically, she baited us into waiting until the sun came back out and the moment it did, she hit me close range with her fire. That would have been bad enough on its own seeing as she was about as close to me as I’m sitting to you right now, but something we didn’t explain earlier about Azula is that she’s a prodigy. She’s such a gifted fire bender that her flames burn blue because they’re thousands of degrees hotter than normal fire. It, um…it essentially melted about a third of my torso…”

As I trail off, Aang quietly says, “We might have been making light of the situation earlier, but that one was really scary. Y/n was basically unconscious for about a week.”

Trying not to let the atmosphere become too dark, I say, “But, thanks to Katara’s healing, I’m obviously fine now. Then, as we sort of alluded to earlier, there was the fight Azula and I had during Sozin’s Comet. She had tried to shoot Katara and I with lightning but Zuko jumped in the way. While Katara healed him, Azula and I fought and I redirected her lightning back at her. That’s what I thought killed her, actually. But, because that’s a really advanced move, it was my first time bending in three years, and the fact that it’s actually a fire bending move and not a water bending one, it also knocked me out. It kinda fried my chi and took a bit for me to recover.” I quickly added, “But again, I’m completely fine now so all of this is just kind of lore about me, I guess.”

There’s a long silence. Finally, after a silence that seemingly stretches on forever, it’s Eren that speaks for the first time in what feels like days. “You weren’t kidding when you said you’ve been through worse than that concussion you got in Shiganshina.”

I burst out laughing which prompts everyone else to join in.

Thank god someone broke that tension.

As eloquently as she says everything, Toph then states, “Bet she hasn’t told you she can fire bend either then, huh?”

My eyes go wide as there are a cacophony of gasps, whats, and huhs.

“No, no, no,” I say frantically looking between Toph and the rest of my friends, old and new. “I didn’t mention that because I can’t do it on command! Believe me, I’ve tried. I have fire bent twice in my life and it’s only ever happened when I’ve been beyond angry. Beyond furious, even.”

Glaring at Toph before realizing exactly who I was glaring at, I continue, “I had good reason not to tell you that I’ve done that because I didn’t want to get your hopes up that it was something that I could do or use regularly.”

I finish by mumbling, “Toph, I’m glaring at you by the way.”

Hange only seemed to hear what she wanted to out of that discussion, because she excitedly starts going on, “Y/n you are going to have to tell me everything about this! How it happened, what you did, everything! We are going to get you to firebend if it’s the last thing I do!”

Levi, seeming as curmudgeonly as ever, says, “Cool it shitty glasses. She said she can’t do it on command.”

The look that Katara and Suki exchange is not lost on me, but what’s more perplexing is the expression Hange immediately gets on her face. It’s both knowing and ornery, but I’m really surprised that she doesn’t press the issue or say anything that seems to warrant her face.

It’s Sokka that changes the subject this time, asking, “So, you gotten to spar any or have you been too busy bending now?”

Connie huffs out, “Has she ever.”

Again, this makes me laugh as I explain to the Gaang, “I’ve been helping them with their sparring lately. Eren asked for lessons to help his titan combat and everyone else has sort of tagged along. It’s been fun.”

“Damn, I was hoping you’d be outta practice so I could smoke your ass,” Sokka quipped.

“Sokka, I could have been in a vegetative state for the last two years and you still wouldn’t be able to smoke my ass,” I say matter-of-factly.

Everyone but Sokka laughs at this as he huffs, “Yeah?! Well…I’ve been practicing too! And I’ll have you know I’m in a totally different league than the fifteen year old boy you last sparred with!”

I raise my eyebrows and tease him, “Oh yeah, hot shot? You wanna bet on that one?”

Getting more indignant as everyone continues to laugh, Sokka all but shouts, “You know what? Yeah! Let’s spar!”

The disgust is evident on my face as I say, “Right now?”

“Yes! Right now! Let’s go to your little training field!” He shoots up as he speaks.

I sigh and begrudgingly stand up as well. As we walk towards the field I hear Toph somewhere behind me say, “My money is on y/n putting him down in less than four seconds.”

We get out to the field and at this point the sun has set and the ground is illuminated by an almost full moon. We take our stances across from each other and he pulls out his sword. 

Just as we’re about to start, I hear Levi call from the sidelines, “Does y/n have a weapon?”

Suddenly Sokka is exasperated, saying, “Yeah, do you?!”

I shrug dismissively. “I mean, I have my knives on me but I always have those. It’s never been a problem when we’ve sparred before.”

Sokka shakes his head violently. “Uh uh, no way. I’m not taking any chances.”

So, with a heavy eye roll, I take one knife from my waistband and the other from my ankle strap and chuck them at a tree on the side of the field, lodging one on top of the other.

With my hands out, I say, “There? Ya happy?” with clear annoyance in my voice.

“Very,” Sokka says with a grin.

I can tell there’s a slight commotion on the side but I’m not sure exactly what’s happening.

“She’s going to fight him without any weapons?” Levi asks, only barely concealing his concern.

Suki smugly responds, “Of course, wouldn’t want her to have an even more unfair advantage against him.”

Sokka swings his sword from the side and in one swift movement I block up and crank his arm backwards, trip him, and then pin him with his own weapon.

“Ha! Called it!” Toph cackles.

Sokka huffs and puffs as he swats my hand out of the way when I offer to help him up. As I hand him is sword back he immediately seems to ready himself for another round.

I raise an eyebrow. “Again, hot shot?”

Without another word, Sokka swings from the side just like he did before. I block up and grab his arm again, but instead of knocking him to the ground and pinning him I say, “You do realize the reason I beat you so fast every single time is because you start every fight we’ve ever had the exact same way, right?”

My comment seems to fluster him so I let go and motion for him to start again. This time he takes a different approach and I have to jump back to avoid being hit.

“Much better!” I say with genuine excitement.

He swings and jabs a few more times before I lay him out again. “See? That was much longer this time! Don’t be predictable.”

I go to help him up and this time he takes my hand, clearly done with this little experiment. I begin walking towards the tree where my knives are lodged when over my shoulder I hear, “I don’t think we’ve ever sparred.”

Turning around slowly, I see Zuko standing in the field, his dual swords already drawn and mischief written all over his face.

Cautiously, I say, “Is that so?”

Again, it’s Toph that makes a snide remark. “Yeah that’s because you two hated each other for a while.”

Making direct eyecontact with me Zuko says, “No, I never hated her.”

I choose not to respond, instead getting into a much more firm stance than I had held with Sokka.

He swings his blades artfully through the air and I do a dive roll over the top of them. While I’m still on the ground the tips of his swords come racing towards me and I have to roll back on my shoulders to avoid the front swing and then spring forward and onto my feet to avoid the back swing. 

At this point I’m within inches of him, but I bide my time before I strike. Our moves are almost perfectly in sync; as he swings left, I jump right. As he swoops right, I spin left. At one point he anticipates my dodge and fakes me out to swing in the direction I was planning on moving, forcing me to flip up and over his swords.

After this goes on for a few minutes, I figure that he’s probably tired enough to be exactly where I want him. So, for the first time since the start of the fight, I back up to a position where we’re squared off against each other. Just as he’s about to move in, I move in a flash; I throw a spinning kick that hits one blade, two blades, then his face. As I knock each sword out of his hands I’m quick to grab it in one fluid motion without breaking the momentum of my kick or letting the swords clatter to the ground. By the time my feet are back on the ground he’s reeling and I’m able to sweep his feet out from under him and pin him on his back, his own swords drawn in a cross over his neck.

We hold this position for a moment, both panting. He holds my gaze for longer than I’m comfortable with so I suddenly back off, getting up and handing his swords to him. Again, I move to retrieve my knives. With my back towards everyone, suddenly my hair stands on end all across my body.

I whip around just in time to see a fire ball hurling towards me. On instinct, I dissipate it just like I would water.

Then, I just stand there staring at Zuko, dumbfounded. With my palms towards the sky, all I can ask is, “What the fuck, Zuko?”

He doesn’t say anything, but even from across the field under nothing but the moon I can feel the fury radiating off of him. He throws another punch of fire my way, and I deal with it the same way I did before.

Now, I’m aggravated. I stand deathly still, eyes narrowing, one eyebrow raised as I practically growl, “I will give you one. chance. to rethink what you’re doing.”

For some reason, he didn’t take my threat seriously and decides to bend at me again. Without hesitation, I absolutely turn it on. Dodge his fire, grab ground water, blast him once with a large cannon of water. 

As he gets knocked back, I slowly approach where he stands and continue my onslaught. I freeze him in place and see him frantically try to melt my ice to no avail.

Stuck, he’s completely at my mercy. I get so close to him that he likely felt my breath fanning across his face. 

Keeping my voice threatening and low enough that only he could hear me say, “This has nothing to do with losing a sparring match. Get over it.” I liquify the ice and he stumbles a bit as I stand there watching him to make sure he doesn’t pull anything.

I turn around to walk away but I’m stopped cold when Zuko says, “✌︎⧫︎ ●︎♏︎♋︎⬧︎⧫︎ ✋︎ ♎︎♓︎♎︎■︎🕯︎⧫︎ 🙵♓︎●︎●︎ □︎◆︎❒︎ ♌︎♋︎♌︎⍓︎.” 

My blood runs cold, my eyes go wide, and my mouth drops open.

Did he really just say that?

As I’m trying to process, I’m overcome with rage at his sheer audacity. In a flash, I’ve spun around and elbowed him in the jaw before cracking him with a right hook, a left roundhouse, and grabbed his shoulders so I could thrust my knee into his solar plexus. By the time I was done everyone had descended and was trying to break up the fight, but I held firm to his collar.

Through gritted teeth I spat, “You’re a piece of shit Zuko. You’re no better than your father.” With that, I threw him on the ground before stalking off to rip my knives out of the tree. While people were busy tending to Zuko’s injuries, I slipped off unnoticed. At least, I had hoped I hadn’t been noticed. 

As I made my way to the roof, I was overcome with embarrassment.

Fuck, I hate losing my temper like that in front of people. 

I flop down on the ledge at the edge of the roof and stare at the sky, trying to force my anger to dissipate. At the sound of the door opening, I have a pretty good idea of who it is but without looking up I simply bite, “I’d like to be alone, thank you very much.”

Just as I had suspected, the steps that draw nearer to me indicate that it’s Levi that’s joined me. As he quietly sits down next to me, I try to pretend he isn’t there.

Little shit is quiet enough, I might as well still be alone.

We sit in this silence for a while and I do honestly forget he’s there after a bit. Actually, by the time he speaks up I’ve pretty much entirely cooled off.

Gently, he says, “You alright?”

I heave an extremely heavy sigh before sitting up and saying, “Yeah, I mean, I guess. Zuko just knows exactly how to get under my skin.”

Just as I had hoped, this was enough to satisfy Levi without having to go into anymore details. Now that I’m sitting up though, I see that he’s brought a cup with him. Nodding towards it I say, “That doesn’t look like tea.”

He snorts and passes it to me. As he does so he says, “You hit him with every ounce of strength you had. I figured your knuckles probably hurt so I thought you could use this to heal yourself.” He completely trails off towards the end, but I still heard him loud and clear.

As I take the cup from him I put my hand on his arm, causing him to snap his head towards me.

Damn, you’d think I’d just burnt him or something.

Without removing my hand and staring directly into his eyes -- Wow have his eyes always been this sparkley? -- I quietly say, “Thank you, Levi. That’s super thoughtful and I really appreciate it.”

Despite it still being the middle of the night, I can see that he blushes hard at what I just said. In fact, this was the first time I was absolutely certain that it was a blush that I saw and not just a byproduct of the environment.

Huh. I wonder if anyone has ever told him they appreciate him? They had to, right?

Silently, I bend the contents of the cup over my knuckles. Until he mentioned it, I hadn’t paid any mind to my cracked and bloodied knuckles but now that I’m actively thinking about it and healing them, they do smart quite a bit.

I’ve finished my healing in no time and throw the remaining water off the edge of the roof. As we continue to sit in silence, I’m suddenly struck by the fact that I’m actually glad to have company and, more than that, I’m glad it’s Levi as opposed to anyone else.

Huh. Maybe Katara and Suki were onto something.

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

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1. Hello! Looking for a Wangxian fic where WWX + JZX + JYL are reincarnated (or time travel? not sure) to modern times and slowly remember their past lives. Wei Wuxian somehow transports LWJ to modern times, angst and misunderstandings happen, and the ending is they go back to the past/their original times. I know it's a completed fic, and Jin Zixuan is like the main narrator? Still racking my brain but this has been driving me crazy

FOUND? atlas in his sleepin' by anatheme (E, 48k, WangXian, XuanLi, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Reincarnation, Family Reunions, Dimension Travel, temporary transmigration, Transmigrator!LWJ, Yunmeng Shuangjie Reconciliation, jzx motherhenning wwx, First Time, Sharing Clothes, Angst with a Happy Ending, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies)

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2. hello! thank you guys for your hard work, if it's okay, for the next fic finder i'm looking for a fic where wangxian is established and they think ayuan died on a night hunt (eaten by a monster i think). jc goes to find his body but can't if i remb correctly. also in the end ayuan isn't dead and turns up after a few days. thank you! @bi-bi-bitteraf​

FOUND! I think the fic is Setting Of The Sun by heartsdesire456 (M, 8k, wangxian, character death, or is it, grief/mourning, child loss, heavy angst)

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3. Hi! I've been loving scrolling through your fic recs. I've been looking for this one wangxian fic and I can't find it and it's driving me CRAZY. It's post sunshot campaign, where wei wuxian is still in lotus pier with his siblings. He sleeps with lan zhan in a tavern, but in the morning lan zhan acts shocked and leaves (it turns out he was drunk and didn't remember the night before and thought he forced himself on wwx). Cue protective Jiang siblings. If you could help, that would be AMAZING!!!

FOUND? could you find a way to let me down slowly, if you’re leaving baby let me down slowly by ravenditefairylights (M, 36k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Golden Core Reveal, Implied/Referenced Sex, Miscommunication, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Dynamics, Hurt WWX, Mutual Pining, Unreliable Narrator, Self-Esteem Issues, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Feels, Protective Siblings, Trauma, Slightly dubious consent, courtesy of drunk sex, Inventor WWX, Genius WWX, Phoenix Mountain, Chronic Pain, Getting Together, Fix-It of Sorts, One Braincell Trio, PTSD) 

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4. Hi I’m looking for a fic that has Jiang Cheng pulling Wei WuXian up from the cliff after Wen Chao throws him off of it. I can’t remember if it’s a time travel fic or if he just wakes up from the surgery early and rushes after them. He ends up getting his arm cut off when pulling Wei Ying up but then goes on to be a badass in the war. Jiang Cheng does end up with Lan Xichen as well

FOUND? Yearning for Miles by Murahi (M, 378k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Angst, Fluff, Slow burn, Mutual Pining, seeing the future)

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5. Hi! I was wondering if you could help me find a fic that I've read a few months ago. Wei Wuxian was never adopted by the Jiangs and he ended up living on the streets. He isn't a cultivator either and work for the emperor instead. I remember the emperor wanting WWX marry his daughter half way through the story. I apologise if I can't describe much but its been a while since I've read it and the details are a bit foggy. @galaxiastarblr

FOUND? Copying Scriptures by chiyukimei (E, 31k, WangXian, Genius WWX, Palace, background ningsang, canon wangxian dynamics, Angst with a Happy Ending, LWJ Bites, LWJ is the baby of the Lan Clan, Good Uncle LQR, WangXian are parents, Fluff, Blood and Injury, Self-Harm)

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6. Hello~ For the next fic finder I'm looking for this wangxian modern au fic. Established relationship and there's also background xuanli. I don't remember exactly how but a-yuan dies and the fic deals with what happens after (a-yuan is a toddler in the fic). Wwx takes it very badly but they slowly start to heal. I would be really really glad if you could find it for me! Thank you and have a nice day ♡ @vntaebun

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7. Can anyone in mdzs fandom link me to a fic? It’s a wangxian Hades AU where wwx gives up his godhood and agrees to stay in the underworld, but hears his sister is in danger and he tries to break out of the underworld over and over again. LWJ is the god of death and keeps meeting him. I think it’s called “Who cares when they’re gone” by a camellia alice but I cannot find it on AO3 for the life of me! @sothisiswhyiamhere​

FOUND! who cares when you’re gone by camellialice (M, 22k, WangXian, Hades (Video Game) Fusion, Canon-Typical Levels of Self-Sacrifice, Canon-Typical Levels of Spitting Up Blood, Canon-Typical Levels of Pining)

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8. Hi. I'm looking for a fic where LZ was a doctor (ER I think) and WY was an IT/programmer specialist (he worked for the nies?) and gave music lessons at elementaries and kindergartens. They met when LZ was late to pick LY up and WY stayed behind to look after LY. Also at one piont WY got sick with strep I think.

FOUND? Come Around and Stay by trippednfell (M, 160k, wangxian, modern, slow burn, kid fic, found family, it gets worse before it gets better, PTSD, blood and injury, dissociation, trauma, angst w happy ending, musicals, alternating pov, JC & WWX reconciliation, hurt/comfort, panic attacks)

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9. hi! i hope the mods are doing great :)) i really need help looking for a fic, i'm pretty sure it's a time travel au where before they were transported to the past, both wwx and lwj apparently dies on a night hunt together. I remember there was a chapter wher lsz was already grown up and has his own family. he held wangxian's funeral along with his siblings that wangxian adopted along the way. I swear i found it here before but i completely lost it again, thanks so much for your help !! @makkachiin​

FOUND? Could be Time Charm by Jenrose  (E, 141k, wangxian, later queerplatonic LWJ/WWX/WQ, LXC/JGY/2nd Madam Mo, time travel fix-it, post-canon, everyone lives au, genius inventor WWX, BAMF wangxian, first time, pregnancy, childbirth, asexual character, aftermath of time travel, telepathic bond, slice of life)

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10. For FF: Can you help me find a fic of WWX having a child with NMJ? I'm certain I've read it before but now I have no clue if my brain just...made it up or not lol

It does involve WWX getting resurrected into MXY's body though. If I'm not wrong WWX had "memory issues" that leaves holes from his past ones, that's why he doesn't remember having a Nie/Wei baby until he's back from the ritual like maybe weeks after. He also asked NHS for helping him find the child tho and kind of created miscommunications everywhere with LWJ (he also got kind pissy because he thought WWX is leaving him for somebody else). One point in the story LXC got bodyslammed by the Nie/Wei kid into the mud, and that was funny as hell

I think it's a/b/o, WWX/NMJ (Past) and WWX/LWJ (present), ft. LSZ as the middleman for everything

FOUND? Broken Memories, Broken Sabers by JaenysBloodcourt (T, 43k, MingXian, WangXian, ZhuiLingYi, Dynamics, Mpreg, Past MingXian, Jealous LWJ, Protective NHS, Protective WN, Angst and Feels, Misunderstandings, Oblivious WWX)

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11. Looking for a fic where Wangxian starts dating because LWJ sent an anonymous ask to a Tumblr blog, which WWX saw. I think the blog was the xxx-culture-is type blog?

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12. If a may ask help finding a fic it would also help me a lot, is one where the juniors time travel to the sun shot campaign and go all "Oh, the sunshot campaing isnt important" and Mingjue like "not important?" And tje juniors: "nah, is what happens next the important thing" "another war" "yes!" "No!" ... "what do you mean Jin Ling? That wasnt a war!"

Anf thats all I remember; I'll be forever grateful if you could help me 🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️ @astarlith

FOUND? aim to repaint these days by NinthFeather (T, 2k, Time Travel Fix-It, Junior Ensemble Shenanigans, Humor, Sunshot Campaign, Additional Warnings In Author's Note)

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13. I’m looking for a fic where Weiying and Mo Xuanyu are in a relationship, and they take Lanzhan to bed. Wy and mxy are like extensions of the same person, and wy is still utterly infatuated with lz. Rated E, I think. Thanks so much! @where-pansies-grow

FOUND? you and me alone by plonk (Not rated, 6k, wangxian, MXY/LJW/WWX, modern)

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14. There’s I fix I’ve been trying to find and I can’t find it anywhere 😭 wangxian dates when they’re in high school and Lan zhan’s uncle does not approve so he sends him away and tells him he will not be family anymore if he goes back to Wei Ying. Wei Ying breaks up with him and then 13 years later they find each other again when the lan institute hires Wei Yings company to change the school’s system or something. It is all I remember but I know it was really good. Please help!! 😭 @danbun-22

FOUND? Tempo Rubato by Spodumene (E, 107k, WangXian, Modern AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, Romance, Persuasion au, Separations, Mutual Pining, Depression, Miscommunication, Emotional Roller Coaster, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Reconciliation, Eventual Smut, Jane Austen Fusion, Underage Kissing)

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15. Please help me find a fic, post cql, where lan wangji is in cold recess but is in contact with Wei Ying through letters. Cloud recess is attacked during a conference by local area bad people who oppose lan wangj’s ideals. He is injured and find a 2-3year old girl with high cultivation and hides/protects her in jingshi , Wei ying comes to his aid and fight off bad people! @dramaqueenrolf

FOUND! Rabbit Heart by Suaine (M, 56k, WangXian, during the separation in ep50, some animal cruelty (not committed by main characters), WWX adopts a puppy (YES I KNOW), Family Issues, Sexual Content)

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16. Hello! I was wondering if any of you know a fic where during the Cloud Recesses Arc, WWX was working on some arrays? And I think QHJ has been the one to help WWX with them since he himself specialised in arrays but I don't remember if it might have been a time travel fix-it or not, sorry that I don't have much details :( in the event of not knowing which fic this is, do you happen to know any fics where QHJ emerges from seclusion to be more proactive in the story without him being portrayed negatively? Thank you for all your help, have a good day, mods!

FOUND? the time traveling letter series by MichelleFeather (G, 26k, WangXian, LSZ & LWJ & WWX, LWJ & QHJ, Time Travel Fix-It, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Sad LWJ, Genius WWX, QHJ Lives, Parents WangXian, Not Jiāng Family Friendly, First Meetings, Love Confessions, Love Letters, Wangxian say 'fuck it' and leave the cultivation world, Requited Love, Not LXC Friendly, Not LQR Friendly, kind of, Good Father QHJ, Angry LWJ, Married WangXian, Established WangXian, LWJ & WWX Are LSZ's Parents, QHJ Lives, Good Father QHJ, WangXian Wedding, Sunshot Campaign, Abusive Jiang Family, Jiang Family Dynamics, Not JFM & YZY Friendly, WWX Creates a Sect | Yiling Wei Sect, Kinda) in it QHJ emerges from seclusion to be more proactive and in the second story he uses arrays

FOUND? The Tamed by Escheria (T, 459k, WangXian, LWJ/XZ, WYB/WWX, YiZhan, WIP, YLLZ WWX, The Untamed (TV) References, Overpowered WWX,XZ is WWX, Canon Divergence, Transmigration, Isekai, Demonic Cultivation, Genius WWX, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Fluff, Soulmates) the search for QHJ and him being a master of the CR Arrays, i am 99% sure, its The Tamed, the huge story that is at 460,000 words and ongoing its this story, from chapter 56 ff on, he appears at the end, WWX and QHJ, they both bond over the arrays, that they created to protect CR.

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17. hello! for the next fic finder, can you guys help me find this fic where wwx is in lan sect after sunshot with lan qiren researching about something (i forgot if lqr knew about his core, i think they're're searching scrolls abt cores, idk) then there's a specific scene where they accused wwx on putting the hundred holes curse, then i think someone demanded that wwx should open his robes. lan qiren defended him that wwx is with him that past few days and that he's not the one who put the curse.

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18. Hello! Can you help me find the fic where Wei Ying is a secret heir. He has fake identity, I think to protect him. Lan Zhan found him in an event. Wwx is bestfriends with Nhs and some of them thought that they're in a relationship. Wwx is cousins with Jiang Cheng, he sometimes the pretend boyfriend of Wwx. Uncle four is also there, as bodyguard of Wwx. There's also a scene where Lxc is worried that his baby brother got a boyfriend and he investigate who Wwx is with the help of Nhs. He is worried that Wwx only after the Lans money but he is more richer than them.

I dont know if this is one fic Wwx posted a post of his lips using Lan Zhan's account?

FOUND! Is My Brother Being Conned? by Director_XuanWu (T, 49k, WangXian, NieLan, Modern AU, Attempt at Humor, Fluff and Crack)

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19. Hi! I have request for fic finder! In this one Lwj is Wwx's neighbour and wc is Wwx's stalking ex. One day someone breaks into Wwx's house but it turns out to be Jc but they (Wwx and Lwj) had suspected the stalking ex.

That's all I remember, thanks!

FOUND? We Get To Have This by ImTaakofromTV (M, 35k, WangXian, NieLan, Modern AU, Domestic Fluff, Happy Ending, Wholesome, Neighbors, Past Child Abuse, Past Domestic Violence, Panic Attacks, Self-Worth Issues, Bunnies, past home invasion, Breaking and Entering, Learning to Trust Again, Light Misunderstandings)

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20. thank you - your recomendations help find new favorites!! I like your compilation posts too, but haven't been able to find a story i vaguely remember from years ago, when i was first discovering the Untamed. a modern fic, crossed with the Grave Robbers world - in it Wen NIng has a refuge on a mountain top, with gardens (and rabbits?) and he sort of hibernates there, waiting to reunite with Wei Ying. Zhang Quilin is curious about him, and makes it through his wards. this is all i remember!

FOUND! Wen Ning the Friendly Ghost by bookjoyworm (T, 17k, WN & ZQL, The Grave robber’s chronicles fusion, Implied/Referenced Pingxie (preslash), stories and legends, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Courtesy of Xiaoge's Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Childhood (nothing graphic), Zhang Qiling deserves friends who he won't outlive, and just yk in general, in which I take advantage of zql's hole-filled backstory, 5+1 Things)

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[orchidsncrake]

and watch them fall

pairing: joe goldberg/rhys montrose

rating: explicit

tags: au - canon divergence, s4 rewrite, obsession, strangers to lovers, POV Joe Goldberg, murder, bookstore owner Joe Goldberg, Rhys Montrose is a real person, developing relationship, slow build, eventual relationship, eventual smut, tags to be updated

word count: 3,512

chapter 2/?

ao3

A mugging. First, it was a mugging, and now, it was a jealous stalker. Only Malcolm Harding could afford to die twice. Joe squints at the TV critically, eyes trying to bore through the little screen tucked into the corner of the bookstore. The few customers mill about its cramped floor, fingers drifting over books they won’t buy, reading summaries and feigning interest. An older woman – she must be in her 70s – comes up to the counter and sets a cookbook down, then follows Joe’s gaze to the television.

“Could you turn it up, dear?” Joe nods and grabs the remote from beside the register, cranking the volume. The posh English accents bark into the small building, demanding attention.

" ...Police have arrested Maddie Key for the murder of Malcolm Harding, whose body was found in his flat in London on Tuesday. Law enforcement says Key has supplied a confession, claiming that she did not intend to kill Harding, but when he rejected her romantic advances, she flew into a rage. Law enforcement is seeking charges of stalking and murder, but Key’s lawyers are alleged to be pursuing voluntary manslaughter on grounds of insanity. The autopsy puts his time of death sometime late Monday. This story will be updated as law enforcement… ”

The old woman scoffs, and Joe returns the volume to a low murmur as Maddie Key’s mugshots flash across the screen.  She shakes her head and faces Joe as he rings up her book. “Who goes and kills someone they love? Doesn’t make any good sense to me.”

I do. “No sense at all, ma’am.” 

She nods curtly, makes a chuffing sound, and signs the receipt messily. She tucks the cookbook under her arm and looks at the TV on her way out. “Bloody psychos.” The bell chimes, and the woman is gone. Joe signs, fixing his hair momentarily before sliding out from behind the counter. The landline suddenly rings behind him, and he starts, clipping his hip into the counter’s edge in his haste to get to the phone. He hisses a swear, pressing his lips together in annoyance, and picks up.

“Subtexts, this is John speaking. How may I help you?”

“Oh, lovely. May I speak to the owner?” A feminine voice chimes loudly, making Joe recoil for a moment. He clears his voice and straightens his posture uselessly.

“Speaking.”

“Perfect!” She bubbles. “My name is Irene Crosby. I’m the PR representative for Mr. Rhys Montrose, I’m sure you’ve heard of him.” She pauses, expecting some sort of fawning and only getting shocked silence. “Well, Mr. Montrose is set to go on a second tour for his memoir since the first was such a hit, and I’m looking to connect a bit more with the common people of London for this one.” Real nice, lady. “And Mr. Montrose visited your bookstore a couple days ago and raved about how… quaint it was! Now, I’d like to offer you the honor of hosting a meet-and-greet for London’s next mayor in your very own bookstore!”

Joe stares at the phone. This woman works for Rhys fucking Montrose. The man he assumed he’d never see again because, hello, why would he?  He’s tempted to say no just because of her pretentious attitude or maybe go full American and hang up without another word, but he doesn’t. In his hand sits his connection to Rhys. Rhys wants to visit him. Or his bookstore, at the very least, which is still something. Still – would it be beyond stupid to accept and welcome him back here? What if he makes a fool of himself? Would it be even worse to decline? He doesn’t even want to imagine the impression that would give, especially if Rhys runs and gets elected. Then he’s just the guy who told the mayor to fuck off and hold his meeting elsewhere. He clears his throat and pinches the bridge of his nose, forcing his foot to stop tapping.

“When would this be?” He asks, trying to sound more rational than he feels.

“Oh, well, let’s see. It’s the 24th, and the tour is going until the 15th of next month… so, how about Saturday?”

Joe pulls the phone away from his ear to stare judgmentally. He smiles apologetically at a customer when they give him a look. “As in this Saturday?” “Yes, this Saturday. How does that sound?”

“Impromptu,” he blurts. The line goes silent for a long moment.

“Yes, well, you see,” Irene starts nervously. “Oh, alright. Mr. Montrose’s second tour has already commenced, and he wants to add your bookstore as a last-minute venue. This of it as an encore. He said the atmosphere would be charming for a smaller event, as he quickly tires of the extravagant panels.” She pauses for a moment. “So, what do you think?”

He should decline. Hosting a last-minute PR event for one of London's most famous men is a bad idea from every technical standpoint he can imagine. The store is too small, and there isn’t any seating other than some library-style tables and chairs in the back. Never mind the fact that Rhys is, all things considered, a complete stranger. Who sics their PR manager on a bookstore clerk they met once a couple of days ago? Crazy people, that’s who.

Still, is it not flattering to have made a good enough impression to get this opportunity? It’s a compliment, really, and a huge one at that. It’d be rude to decline. If it goes well, he may even be able to buy some armchairs for the store through publicity and increased sales. It’s practical. “What do I need to do to prepare?” Lunatic. 

“Oh, wonderful, Joe!” He cringes at the name but quickly reasons it as a misstep on Irene’s part. No deeper meaning, just a reckless disregard for the most basic information about a person she called. Next, he’ll probably be Jim. “I’ll send over a folder. What’s your email?” He rattles off the handle to her, listening to the smashing of keys in the background. One loud click and the noise stops. “Perfect! Please contact me if you have any questions. Mr. Montrose will be thrilled!” Joe opens his mouth to wish her goodbye or thank her for the opportunity, maybe even suggest a Xanax, but the line goes dead. He sighs, sets the phone in its base, and looks over the counter. The same customer squints at him suspiciously and then looks at the phone. 

“Witness protection,” he says before he can catch himself. The customer only grins, and Joe smiles back faintly. God bless cultural sarcasm. 

***

The clocks are really starting to piss him off. He stares at the ceiling, listening to the soft hum of the occasional car driving by his apartment. Going postal with a hammer on everything ticking in his apartment seems increasingly rational. He rolls over to look at his alarm clock – digital and silent, thank god – and groans. 4am. What an awful time of night. The only people awake now are petty criminals, insomniacs, and bookstore owners obsessing over the potential next mayor. He feels ridiculous even as his mind whirs, throwing imagined images of and conversations with Rhys at him. He knows it’s absurd, and yet he can’t sleep to stop it. Sleeping means closing his eyes, and closing his eyes means being greeted with an absurdly charismatic smile and gunmetal blue eyes. He shouldn’t even know how to imagine his face with such detail, but the television is constantly streaming an interview with him or showing off pictures of his stupid fucking face. Or maybe he’s constantly watching that one news channel and hasn’t changed it in a week. Either or.

He swears and rolls onto his back again, blinking at the ceiling. The irrational anger part of sleeplessness is beginning to kick in, making his skin feel too tight. His own breathing pisses him off. He squirms a bit and lays his hand over his abdomen limply, the other pressing against his eyes. Why had Rhys sent his hyperactive flying monkey on him? And complimented its ‘ambiance’ of all things. As much as he loves it, the only time the media would praise his bookstore would be in retrospect once it’d burnt down. Oh yes, such a lovely little place with its lack of floor space and suffocatingly tall shelves. Such a shame it’s all ashes now. Now, onto Jack with the weather. 

It had to have been to see him, hadn’t it? Joe thrashes out with his foot, tugging his comforters to one side, and removes his hand from his face. He knows he has a certain tendency for presumption, but he can’t discern any other reasoning. London is full of bookstores with nicer atmospheres and more reliant HVAC systems – so why his? He can’t imagine he’d charmed Rhys to that degree or even charmed him at all. Joe’d felt like the one on his back foot when they’d met, vulnerable to the flurry of unfailing comebacks and the smile that reached his eyes. He wonders if Rhys is always that lighthearted, or was it just for his public image? He clearly cared about it, if his attire was anything to go by. He had only been wearing a sweater and slacks, an admittedly casual outfit, but they had been noticeably well-fitting. A tailor, then? However, Joe doubts all the credit is due to the clothing. He’d read from some particularly invasive article that Rhys follows a strict workout routine, including but not limited to calisthenics and ungodly amounts of cardio. That has to do the body good–

Oh, what the fuck? 

That’s… new. Not entirely welcome, either. Joe yanks his hand back from where it’d been creeping down his abdomen and stuffs it under his leg as if it needs to be restrained. As if it’s not part of him. He stares at himself incredulously, shocked by his own train of thought. He shifts and realizes, mortified, that he’s half hard. What is that about? He – he doesn’t like men. Even when Cary, who is objectively the prime specimen of masculinity, had stood in front of him jerking off (a memory that softens him a bit, thankfully), he’d felt nothing but uncomfortable. Why is it now that he’s fantasizing about another man’s body? It wasn’t really fantasizing, was it? Can’t a guy just idly wonder about another’s workout routine? Sure, but you can’t then wonder what he looks like naked and try to jack off about it.

Joe groans, throws the comforters back impatiently, and sits up, running a hand through his hair. 4:30 am. His socked feet thud dully on the floor as he pads to the bathroom, almost making the mistake of turning the light on. He yanks his hand back, not wanting to be flashbanged. He pisses quickly, happy for once that his hamster-wheel of a brain is a turn-off, washes his hands, and wipes them on his sweats. Joe freezes a step out of the doorway. A dark figure ducks out of his periphery, and his head is consumed by his own heartbeat. Had he left the door open?

No, of course not. He’s better than that. Still, as he slides down the hall quietly, he tests the knob. Still locked. He’s not hallucinating, is he? He’s unsure if he’d rather have that or someone in his apartment. Reaching the junction between the hall and the living room, he cranes his head in, half expecting to be hit from behind. It doesn’t happen, and air rushes from his lungs in relief. Emboldened, he scans the entire room and decides it’s empty. As he turns back to the bedroom, the wind whips into his apartment. He furrows his brows and returns to find a window open a few inches. Confused, he shuts it firmly and locks it. Odd

That handled, he pads back and crawls into bed, turning his alarm clock to face the wall. His pillow is warm, and he flips it and smashes his face into it. It strikes him for the umpteenth time how ridiculous it is that to fall asleep, you have to mimic it when the last thing he wants to do right now is lay motionless and control his breathing. The strife of being alive, he supposes. He doesn’t know what time it is when he finally falls asleep, but the last thing he registers is the tweeting of a bird and the flash of rage that goes with it.

***

The email from irenecrosby@gmail.com (how much did she have to pay to get that handle?) arrives promptly in his inbox at 8am. Joe’s phone dings where it sits on the counter as he makes coffee, and he reaches for it, browsing through the slew of PDFs and links attached. He would think he’s being visited by the queen with how exhaustive it all is. The message of each is essentially the same: don’t ask for personal photographs, no recording, and don’t tell your friends. He half expects to find a DNR at the bottom of the list, but he doesn’t. Joe’s phone returns to the counter when the coffee maker bubbles loudly, going about preparing a mug and pulling out the creamer. The kitchen reeks of cheap coffee, but it’s welcome. White blooms up from the mug’s bottom as he sweetens it, then returns everything to its rightful place and settles at his dining table. 

He reads the lists carefully on his laptop and finds that most of what he’s instructed to do is clean. While vaguely offensive because it presumes that he doesn’t ordinarily clean, it is easy enough. He’s to close the bookstore all day Saturday, and the event will start at 11am. The PR team will arrive at 9am, and Rhys himself will be at 10am. It runs until 4pm, leaving an hour after for the unofficial signing session (presumably to affluent customers who have enough money to presume time doesn’t apply to them; evidently, it doesn’t). Another hour after that is allotted to disassembling whatever decorative banners and balloon nonsense the PR team will desecrate his bookstore with. That means eight hours of Rhys in his bookstore, and even the presumed presence of Irene the Hurricane can’t dispirit Joe.

He’s suddenly acutely concerned about what he’ll wear. He wrinkles his nose as he sips his coffee, disgusted at himself. He’s thinking like a teenage girl, but he wants to be presentable for the event. Isn’t that reasonable? A possible mayoral candidate is going to be in his store, and it’s an excellent opportunity for publicity for Rhys and Subtexts, and it’s only reasonable to look good when he knows there’ll be cameras–

Fuck! Cameras! How could he have been so stupid? He can’t be surrounded by cameras; he’s supposed to be dead. While highly effective in obscuring his face, the beard isn’t cover enough, especially when he’s going to be in close quarters with the literal press. And he didn’t exactly ‘die’ under unassuming circumstances. He doesn’t have the luxury of melting into the muddled group of the nameless dead. He sets his mug down and scrubs his hands over his face, eyes darting to his phone. He could cancel. He could call Irene, curtly call everything off, and then hang up before she tries to convince him otherwise. But what would Rhys think? 

He can’t think about Rhys right now. He needs to do the reasonable thing and continue disappearing into London. Oh god, what if someone recognizes him in the back of a photo, and it gets back to the States? He’d have to run again to some even less favorable corner of the world. What if he had to hurt someone to get away? That’s precisely the last thing he wants, and he’d have to uproot his life all over. The skin of his face tightens as panic sets in, and he hardly notices that he’s rocking in his chair. His phone screen suddenly jumps to life, ringing deafeningly into the room. He blinks at the name, finding there is none. Just an unknown number. He’s unsure what possesses him, but he lunges for it, fingers fumbling over the screen until he accepts the call.

“Jonathan Moore?” His voice is shakier than he’d like it to be. The voice that hums over the line almost makes him drop his phone.

“John? This is Rhys. Rhys Montrose.” Joe stands up abruptly, almost knocking his chair over. He catches it with a bitten-back curse, then smooths his hair. He can’t think of what to say.

“Oh, Mr. Montrose. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you. I got a call from Ms. Crosby-”

He gets cut off by warm laughter. The sound seeps into his chest, soothing his panic like honeyed tea. He exhales heavily, lets his shoulders droop, and slumps back into his chair. “Please, just call me Rhys,” he says. “Irene told me you agreed to hold the event, and I wanted to call you to thank you myself.”

“Oh–,” Joe starts, then takes a breath again. He just needs to quit panicking; he’s not some prey animal, and Rhys doesn’t bite. “I appreciate that. I was surprised to hear from her.”

“Ah, yes, well, it was admittedly an unusual ask. An impulsive one, at that.” Rhys exhales, sounding timid. Joe cocks his head curiously. “Which is why I was so pleased to hear of your acceptance. I trust you got the email from her this morning?”

“Yes, I did. I’ve been reading through the PDFs, though I’m only part way through.”

Rhys laughs, and Joe can imagine his smile. “To be entirely honest with you, most of them are bullshit.” Joe straightens at Rhys’ swearing. He doesn’t know why he likes it so much. Must be the accent. “It’s all largely bureaucratic and functionally useless. As long as you don’t outright stab me, you should be fine.”

Joe grins, air puffing from his nose. “That’s a pretty low bar to set. What if I had a history of stabbing mayoral candidates?” He knocks his palm into his forehead as he says it. Really?

“I’d still be safe, wouldn’t I? I don’t fit the M.O. quite yet.” Oh, he’s funny now.

Joe taps his forehead a few times, scolding himself. It doesn’t stop him. “I guess you’ll escape the event unscathed.”

Rhys’ voice rumbles with laughter. “From you, at least. Fans can be a bit touchy, but luckily, I have a cockney goon-squad to deal with that.”Goon-squad? “Now, I don’t mean to hold you too long–” Please do. Wait, what? “– so I’ll let you get your day started. Thank you again for accepting. I think it’ll do the book well. I’ll see you Saturday, yeah, John?”

Joe swallows, trying and failing to find a way to extend the conversation. “Yeah, I’ll see you Saturday. Uh, good luck with your ‘goon-squad.’”

Rhys laughs. “I knew I wasn’t going to get away with that.” The call ends.

Joe drops his phone on the table and plants his elbows just to facepalm. Did he just threaten to stab Rhys? He drops his hands and stands up to wash his mug. Mortifying, unintentional threats aside, it had been thoughtful of Rhys to give him a call. Not only thoughtful, but it had dissolved all worry about the event, probably dangerously so. He could dodge a few cameras, couldn’t he? He’s evaded the less-than-rigid line between life and death (at least legally). The English paparazzi are nothing in comparison.

Joe sighs and sets the mug on the drying rack upside down. It had been irrational to panic and even crazier to consider canceling. He can’t do that to Rhys, not when the other had specially requested his bookstore. It would be rude. Worse than that, he’d forfeit a second chance to talk to him. He needs to meet Rhys again. He couldn’t read Rhys as well as he could the others, and the not knowing is killing him. He shakes his head at the grouping; Rhys is not one of them. He’s different. Rhys could be a friend, a confidant – well, maybe not that far. Rhys may be remarkably intelligent even in the first meeting, but he surely wouldn’t be down for befriending a serial killer. No matter how much of a progressive he is.

That settles it, then. Joe’ll clean, help decorate, and hide the corner as the media have their field day. He doesn’t think that’d come off as too weird. What else would a bookstore owner be around a celebrity and his followers but awkwardly-almost-creepily shy and holed up behind the counter? He looks up at the clock; 9am. Picking up his keys, he makes for the apartment door and then locks it behind him. He gazes down the stairs at the wooden floors of his bookstore. Time to clock in, sell books, pretend to care about unprompted personal anecdotes, and not obsess over the fact that Rhys will be back in a matter of days.

[disgruntled-screaming]

I Wanna Talk About My YuGiOh Project

Hey, hi, hello again! Instead of something Voltron related, I wanted to try and talk about something different. Going to put a read break, since this is going to be a very long post. I have no idea if there's a character limit, but I'll find out today with this post.

Fates Converge is my YuGiOh project that has been in production stages since 2011. Yes. Over ten years. I have a problem. During that time, I never learned how to make comics, but I've been studying.

The amount of research I have done for this project on various topics is insane. INCLUDING Ancient Egypt. The amount of fans that have unknowingly helped me is INSANE. YuGiOh fans with a passion for Ancient History are my saviors.

For those interested, Fates Converge is a canon compliant, possibly canon divergent, story that involves ocs and canon characters interacting. There's me, back on my bullshit again. If there's a story for a fandom I'm working on, there will be OCs involved. I am sorry.

Unlike my typical projects, however, there will be some other ships involved. Romance is not the main plot, but it is a subplot that more acts in the background. Basically if a scene happens to have romantic chemistry, only the characters involved will think about it. I wanted to try my hand at a slow burn-esque story. The pairings that I know will be 100% involved are the following: Peachshipping, YamiYugi/AtemxKutso (OC), JoeyxKatsu (OC), RyouxShanna (Friend's OC). I don't want them to be paired off once the ending comes, I still shiver at the end of Digimon 02 (why did it end like that). Hell, one pairing will literally be official in the middle of the plot. I shit you not.

I do GENUINELY want to explore the interpersonal relationships between the characters. I will jump DEEP into headcanon territory with this one, since I do love these characters deeply. As much as YuGiOh is about card games, which wasn't the original intention when you read the start of the manga, I pay more attention to the characters since it's them that got me to stay with the show. I will try my absolute hardest to implement the card game into the story. I have been working on a few plots that involve the Duel Monsters game and it's honestly hard since I'm more of a character writer above all else. For some reason, my mind wants two OCs to have some sort of connection to the God Cards just how Yugi has a connection to Ra. That's still in the planning stages.

I will warn everyone that this project is also going to be a bit dark compared to other stuff I make. I know I'm not very well known on this platform, but I assure you if you find some of my friends they will vouch that my work is not as dark as this piece of work. This project will involve some topics that will be very triggering, and I have a lot of sources of these topics. Some also are from my experiences, which are not fun. That being said, I will not be graphic with the depictions of certain topics. I already thought of a way to tell a traumatizing core memory of a certain character without any details needed.

There's an idea I have of fixing up the DOMA arc. As beloved as this arc is, I can't in good faith say that it was well written. I have some ideas floating around, but like with my Voltron fic, I'm still planning chapter 1. That will be a topic of discussion when we get there.

That's basically all I have to say at the moment, maybe I'll do a little journalling series for this project. Only time will tell. Stay safe everyone!

[wordsbyarwen]

my top 5 works/chapters of 2022

@ehay has tagged me in this in the past, but i’m the actual #Worst at doing these things no matter how much i want to. But this year i produced a lot of work that i’ve really enjoyed not only writing but also looking back at for a revisit for my own enjoyment. We’re our own worst critics for sure, especially six months after the thing is posted, but some of these resonate with me continuously.

I feel very blessed to be able to continue to produce works not just for myself, but that other people enjoy ^^ Listed chronologically by publication.

1. like a river loves a stone (Rated E, 10,719 words) Kicking it off with the fic that was supposed to be a quick 2k M rated bit and turned into... this. I love the ideas that came out of it though, and the tender playfulness at the end. Canon-divergent rewrite of the bath scene in the beginning of s2 of The Witcher, occuring after my work “stone in your water” but sort of its own little pocket universe. Characters: Tissaia, Yennefer, Sabrina, Triss, Murta Ships: Tissaia/Yennefer, Sabrina/Triss (drive-by, only if you squint)

2. (and you knelt beside) my hope torn apart (Rated G, 2922 words) I wasn’t too thrilled with Yennefer’s return this past season, nor of how she claimed to travel the world trying every remedy in one month. Not the best-executed story (it was written quickly and with no beta for the Witcher Bows and Arrows prompt “home”), but i have a lot of feelings about this take on Tissaia and Yennefer’s reunion. Characters: Tissaia, Yennefer Ships: Yennaia

3. Chapters 2 and 3 of you’ll be an architect, so pull up your sleeves (Rated M, 15,713 words total) Listing this as one entry because the two chapters were supposed to be published one. I’m glad i split them into two though, because i wound up devoting a lot more time to the content in chapter 3 than i intended, and i’m so, so glad i did. I come back to this fic over and over again, and i can definitely say it’s my favorite of those listed here. Follows Yennefer and Tissaia as Tissaia has begun to finally really recover after the events of the Coup. The path to recovery is not easy, and it’s filled with bumps in the road. This one features gentle hand-holding, new clothes, tender touches and, somewhere in the desert, a hidden well. Characters: Tissaia, Yennefer Ships: Yennaia

4. i feel my heart start to tremblin’ whenever you’re around (Rated M, 6618 words) Was this the best executed fic of the year? No. Those 6600 words were written and edited in 2 days and had no beta. Chekhov’s six guns are scattered across the stage. AND YET, this ballroom dance au lived in my head for about 6 months before i wrote it down, and i’m so glad i finally did. A very quick slow-burn, in that it takes place over months but those months go by rather quickly in the fic, and a delightful little romp of a modern AU with a very sexy Tissaia and a very hopeless Yennefer Characters: Tissaia, Yennefer, Triss Ships: Yennaia, Sabrina/Triss (but only mentioned)

5. still your hands an still your heart (all the morning glows anew), chapter 8 (fic rated M, 62024 words, ongoing) It was hard to pick only 5 works, especially only one chapter from this fic, because i’ve had SO much fun writing it, but this first glasshouse tour between Tissaia and Yen in the florist!au is just so much. Yennefer is high-key, Tissaia is stunning, Triss is an angel. There are plants, and tender touches, and misplaced concern and gay floundering. It’s got a lot of the good stuff! And it has STUNNING artwork by ehay right over here! Characters: Tissaia, Yennefer, Triss (Jaskier and Rita feature in other chapters) Ships: Yennaia (bonus Geraskier, Sabrina/Triss, and some not-so-drive-by Rita/Tissaia, not romantic, in other chapters)

Honorable Mention: a tender green is showing (rated G, 2959 words) Another one that may not have been super well-executed, but this one was slammed out and got all of its edits done in 3.5 hours so forgive me. A longer-form version of an au headcanons post about organic farmer Tissaia and chef/cafe owner Yennefer. I loved this silly prompt, so i wanted to give our girls a little more time on the screen, so to speak. A micro-slow-burn if you will. Yennefer is smitten. Tissaia said “pretty sure she’s smitten so i am going to Present Myself Before Her until she takes the hint that i feel the same.” Purely lighthearted fluff.

[succubusphan]

Two Man Team - Chapter 5

Summary: This is the story of two struggling friends who after many trials and tribulations find their way back to each other and build the life they've always dreamed of.

Or how Phil changed his life by talking to random strangers on the internet.

Rating: E

Tags/warnings: Friends to lovers, Friends with benefits, mental health issues (mainly anxiety), Slow burn, Dan is a psych student. Canon divergence (the timeline is altered and some things never happened), Slutty Phil, Angst with a happy ending. The fic spans many years.

Author's Note: Written for the OSPBB 2023 @oldschoolpbb. Thank you @effingmeteors for being my life saviour and beta as usual and to my artist Lin @anironsidh.

Edits and the art will be added at some point, we are busy bees.

POSTING EVERY DAY UNTIL IT'S COMPLETED.

Total Word Count: 75k ish

Read on Ao3

CHAPTER 5: La Vie en Rose

The next few months were a haze. Their channels started to grow by the thousands and they had become YouTube partners, meaning that they could actually make money from doing videos! On the other hand, Phil’s family was supportive of his creativity but not of his lack of a stable income. He was desperate to make his YouTube career work, he knew that he could do it, that they could do it, but he needed a little help.

After much whining and begging their parents for support, both Dan and Phil decided to give YouTube a shot and actually make it a priority in their lives by having filming schedules, collaborating with other youtubers on the regular and going to conventions. Things were getting pretty wild.

Phil suggested that they move in together to have a better filming space but Dan was hesitant to move away from campus. It hurt Phil’s feelings a bit, especially when he could feel Dan pulling away from him at times, but on the other hand, he understood. Dan was very set in becoming a therapist and helping kids just like him, giving them a safe space to talk like the one he wished he’d had back in high school. 

While their “careers” were taking off, both of their mental health started to… decay, for lack of a better word. Dan was shutting himself in, trying to cram while also filming his videos in the confines of his dorm, not socialising with anyone other than Phil. Phil, on the other hand, was experiencing an insane amount of feelings and pains and aches at all times; he often felt like he was going to be sick or pass out or like he was actually losing his mind. 

After a particularly bad week and hours of ranting to Dan, he sent Phil a link to a questionnaire he learned to use in one of his classes. It went into some hard topics such as the urge to not be alive anymore and, to be honest, that crossed Phil’s mind fairly often. The end result was clear: 98% depression. 

Phil frowned. He had never considered himself depressed, but Dan stopped him right there. He said it was actually anxiety, like really bad anxiety. Having a lot of context to Phil’s replies helped him to reach a more accurate diagnosis, not that Dan was qualified yet, but it was a start.

He recommended therapy and a brand of natural sedatives you could buy without a prescription, but Phil snapped and yelled at Dan like he had never yelled at him before. 

He was not crazy, he didn’t need therapy, right? 

He mulled over the thought, but he was not crazy, he didn’t need therapy at all so he was not going to waste money he could be saving on something he didn’t need. The sedatives… those were a different matter. At first, he had rejected that idea as well, but when visiting his own parents became too much for him, he relented - they were crushed flowers after all. 

Phil approached the pills as a sort of experiment, he just wanted to try them out and see if they helped at all, as Dan had suggested. After reading the leaflet several times over and making sure that he wasn’t taking too many, he took the first dose. It was weird, they took the edge of anxiety and put him to sleep, at least at first, his body too exhausted after being so tense for months at a time, but they weren’t a magical solution, by night, the nasty feeling in the pit of his stomach would come back to haunt him. 

Eventually, he started to get used to them and instead of putting him to sleep, they helped him cope a bit better by taking the edge off his anxiety. 

Apparently, what he’d been experiencing on the regular were not panic attacks, according to Dan, because he didn’t believe he was dying during them, but anxiety attacks. The sedatives held them back for the most part. Although Phil had to admit that he took more than the dosage on occasion, feeling emboldened by the fact that the O.D. amount was like 4 full boxes and he couldn’t even afford that many anyway, not with his YouTube earnings.

Dan was happy with the progress he was making, even if it was not a lot and Mark said that he looked less dead since he started taking them, and he would know, since they had moved in together after Dan’s rejection.

Dan was in therapy and into some weird forms of meditation that had nothing to do with science, like reiki, but he was still having trouble with his mental health himself so Phil really tried and failed to not burden him with his issues but at least he repaid the favour quite often. Sometimes Dan would call him in the middle of the night to talk and Phil always stayed up with him, trying to unravel whatever was eating away at Dan’s mind, talking about everything and nothing at all and Phil kind of loved it.

It was a difficult dynamic all around. After that week in December, Dan had never offered Phil sex, even when he’d stayed over and slept on the same bed, but he still behaved overly territorial about him in public. Dan seemed to be jealous of Mark as well, although Phil didn’t understand if it was because of their friendship or the benefits that came with it. 

The sexual part of his friendship with Mark had settled a bit anyway. Mark and Phil still had sporadic sex if they both felt too desperate, but the excitement was out of the equation, it was more out of familiarity and as a way to comfort each other. Ever since Phil’s interest had shifted to Dan, Mark and Phil’s friendship had blossomed into something more stable and almost brotherly. The emotional connection was still there, but there was nothing else muddying it.

As roommates, they woke up together, cooked together, cleaned their flat and Mark even helped him film sometimes - just behind the camera. 

---

June 2011

Phil went out of his way to throw a little birthday party for Dan since he had mentioned wanting to finally celebrate the occasion this year because he now had good friends to keep him company, but the party almost didn’t happen.

As it turned out, Dan was feeling quite overwhelmed with his newfound fame. The fans had started recognising him out and about, taking pictures of him without his consent and the shippers that constantly teased him about being gay. Dan still hadn’t come out as gay or bisexual to his fans, so this was quite rude and Phil could tell that it was really taking its toll on him. But with everything going on, Phil hadn’t expected Dan to plan a trip to Whockingham with a new friend he’d made at uni. A friend that he had admitted having a crush on.

To be perfectly honest, Phil was jealous, and admittedly frustrated because he didn’t know much about this person or their intentions, and Dan was very tight-lipped about them. All Phil knew was their name: Sam. He didn’t even know if it was a Sam or a Samantha. His stomach turned when he heard about Dan’s plans but he didn’t want to ruin them so he didn’t mention it. Still, Dan noticed that something was wrong and pushed until Phil fessed up about the party. He tried to wave Dan off and let him do his own thing, but his eyes were quickly filling with tears just thinking how easy it was for Dan to dismiss his efforts and still want to leave.

Dan thankfully put his foot down and said that he could take Sam home to meet his parents the following week; he had just forgotten Phil had mentioned something about them celebrating together.

He’d forgotten… Phil shook his head and put on a brave smile. It was fine, Dan had decided to stay after Phil mentioned it and that had to mean something, right? 

Phil let out a sigh of relief at the thought and Mark was happy enough to help him set out the place, even offering to stay at a friend’s and give them privacy, but Phil didn’t want to consider the possibility that Dan would want to have sex with him again, it was probably a lost cause at this point - even if he sometimes did things that confused Phil.

Sam hadn't arrived with Dan for his party and Dan hadn't even mentioned them once, which confused Phil even though he hadn't mentioned inviting Sam either. It just came as a shock to see Dan walk in alone, making Phil realise that he had been half expecting Dan to bring Sam along, and he didn't quite know what to do with that information. In the end, the party consisted of just them three, video games, an endless supply of Malibu and movies. 

At one point the doorbell rang while they were watching the conjuring and Phil managed to pour an entire bowl of popcorn onto the floor. Still laughing, Dan stumbled to the door and opened it before letting out a high pitched scream as Sarah and Anja pulled him into a hug, not that Dan knew who they were before they pulled Dan’s ears 20 times in honour of his birthday.

“Happy birthday, Dan!” Yelled Anja.

“Yeahhh, happy birthday little man!” Sarah said and patted Dan’s back a bit too hard before dragging him back to the sofa. “I’m Sarah, Phil’s old roomie, by the way. Sorry about that, we got a bit carried away,” she said and plopped down next to Dan. This is Anja, I’m sure Phil mentioned her.”

Dan nodded. “I was wondering if we would ever meet. Every time we see your group you guys never come! I was starting to think you were avoiding me,” he laughed.

“Nah,” said Sarah, waving him off. “You know how it is with new relationships, we were spending most of our time at home.” She wiggled her eyebrows. 

Dan blinked repeatedly. “I didn’t know you guys were together.”

“Phil didn’t tell you? Cheeky bugger!” She said, popping some popcorn into her mouth. She looked at Anja. “Uh, it’s only been, how long?”

“Five months next Tuesday!” Anja said. “We met over the phone a few years ago and I was with someone else at the time, but when I came to visit Phil in January of this year I was free and I asked her out even though I didn’t know if she was a lesbian or not. Luckily she said yes.”

“Wow,” Dan said, grabbing his drink from the coffee table and giving Phil a side-eye. “You make a cute couple! I didn’t even know Sarah was gay.”

“I’m bi actually,” said Sarah. “I didn’t know until I met Anja either. I gave her a shot and it’s honestly been the best relationship I’ve had so far. The more you know, right?”

“Do you guys want to come to a gay party tonight?” Anja said. “We’ve only stopped for a bit because we’re heading there.”

“Uuhh,” Dan said. “No, I don’t think I can do that, but you guys enjoy it.”

Sarah gave him a knowing look. “I understand,” she said. “So what are we watching?”

“The conjuring!” Mark said. “Phil likes to torture us.”

Anja groaned. “Oh, Sarah will keep us here until it ends.”

Sarah nodded. “Just this one! It’s halfway through as well so it won’t be that long.”

Mark shook his head with a small smile and handed them drinks.

Anja grabbed the crisps and rested her head on Sarah’s shoulder.

When the movie was over, the girls started to say their goodbyes and Dan was well past the point of being tipsy, so he asked everyone for a kiss on the lips and as good friends that they were, they all obliged. Phil was overthinking things once again, making it in his mind as if Dan had taken way more time kissing him than the others, but he shut that inner monologue down and poured himself another drink instead. 

Mark walked the girls out and once they were alone Dan turned to Phil. “You didn’t tell me they were together,” Dan said with a frown.

“Who?” Phil asked absentmindedly, his mind a bit clouded by alcohol.

“Sarah and Anja. I didn’t even know they had met.” 

Mark walked in and raised his eyebrows at Phil but said nothing, grabbing his drink from the table and taking a sip instead.

“I didn’t know you wanted to be kept up to date with my other friends’ lives. Sorry,” Phil said, taken aback. That had come out a bit rude and he didn’t even know why. He was a bit upset about Dan’s sudden mood change and questioning.

“I don’t know, you used to tell me everything and I feel like you don’t anymore,” Dan retorted with an icy tone.

“Why are you trying to start a fight? I made this party for you, I introduced you to my friends, I always try to make you feel included, and no, I don’t keep things from you. When you talk to me I talk to you, you have just been talking to other people more.” There, he’d said it. The thing he shouldn’t have said. He was being a bad friend, he was being needy and he hated himself for it. He shouldn’t have drunk at all, now he couldn’t take his sedatives and his anxiety was just trying to crawl out of him.

Dan frowned and lowered his head. “Shit, I’m sorry. I ruin everything.”

Phil rubbed at his forehead, letting out a deep sigh and shook his head. “It’s fine. I’m sorry too. Things happen, people get busy. You’re not a bad friend because you are doing other things now.”

“But you feel neglected,” Dan said, finally meeting his eyes.

Phil shook his head again. “My feelings are not your responsibility. We both know I can get upset about the craziest of things. I will handle it.”

“I want to be there for you, like you are always there for me.”

“You are,” Phil tried.

“Here,” Mark said, giving a drink each. “I will leave you guys to talk this out,” he smiled reassuringly. 

“That’s not n-” Phil started but Dan cut him off.

“Thank you, Mark!” Dan said with a tentative smile and extended his hand towards Phil.

Phil accepted the offer and let himself be guided to the balcony, grabbing one of the garden chairs and sitting outside.

“Actually, give me a sec,” Dan said and ran back inside to turn all of the lights and the TV off before returning and sitting at Phil’s side. “There. The stars are so beautiful, I like to sit outside and stargaze when I’m struggling.”

“I remember. You must spend a lot of time outside at night,” Phil joked.

“I do. Every time I call you in the middle of the night I’m out, just looking up and trying to figure things out.”

“You’re going to get stabbed one day, this is Manchester, not Whockingham,” Phil commented, taking another sip of his Malibu. “What have you been struggling with lately? You seem so far away sometimes.”

“Myself, my identity, what I want from life. I don’t know. Do I want to continue doing skits on YouTube? Do I want to become a therapist? I don’t think those two are compatible, who would take me seriously? And most importantly, what I’m always struggling with: the meaning of my life. Why do things matter? I don’t think anything matters at all.”

Neither of them mentioned Sam or what they were supposed to be 'figuring out', but Phil couldn't have cared less at that moment. He placed his hand on Dan’s and squeezed lightly. “I think you matter a lot, Dan.”

“I don’t, I’m a nobody.” Dan looked away into the night.

“You matter a lot, to me. You’re my best friend,” Phil clarified. “You have been my friend for… six years now. You’re twenty and more mature than I am at twenty-four. You have it all more figured out than I do, you just don’t know it.”

“Do you think so?” Dan asked, finally looking into Phil’s eyes.

“I do,” Phil said. “I am so proud of you and who you have become.”

Dan frowned. “What if it’s all just an illusion and I’m pretending to be this way? What if it’s all a mask?”

“I don’t think you could pretend with me. I know you, Dan. I know literally all of your secrets.”

Dan paused for a moment, as if considering that statement and nodded. “Actually, you do. Nobody else knows me better than you. Thank you.”

“Any time.”

Phil’s alarm went off. It was midnight and Dan was officially twenty. “Happy birthday,” he said, raising his glass for a toast.

“Thank you,” Dan smiled and raised his glass as well, knocking it to Phil’s a bit too hard.

“Go get the cake from the fridge.”

“But it’s my birthday and I’m comfy,” Dan whined, in that squeaky voice that Phil loved. 

“Stop complaining, I’ll get the candle so you can get your wish.”

They both groaned like eighty year olds as they got up and went to get the cake and candle. It was a bit silly to be the only one singing for Dan but they were no strangers to silliness and the bright smile Dan gave him made it all worth it a million times over. Fuck, Phil would kill to see that smile every day. 

Dan blew the candle and turned towards Phil, taking a step forward and getting into his space. He looked down at Phil’s lips for only a second, making him breathless, making him want to do something stupid.

Phil cleared his throat. “What did you wish for?”

Dan shook his head and ran his nose on Phil’s, looking into his eyes, searching for something, Phil didn’t know what, but after only a second, Dan smiled and kissed him deeply. They kissed and kissed and talked and laughed until they fell asleep on Phil’s bed still fully clothed.

---

Things were sort of back to normal after that. They were friendly, and often flirty, but nothing more. 

All of Phil’s friends knew of Dan even if Phil didn’t want to go into detail; they had all gotten the impression that if they were not dating, at least, Dan was a good friend and therefore welcomed him accordingly. In fact, Ian invited them up north to meet his baby and it was one of the best trips they had ever taken together. Dan felt completely at ease with Ian and his wife and he was obsessed with their little girl. Phil snapped a pic of her taking a nap on Dan’s lap, one of his favourite memories of the trip, and later shared it with the internet. 

Ian was still a good friend. Even if their life choices had been very different and he had gone and gotten a whole wife and kid, he was still very much a part of Phil’s life and invited him over as often as he could, not minding that Phil hardly ever said yes. He didn’t judge Phil for his sexuality, his Youtube career or his lack of achievements; he was just happy that Phil was happy. He even helped Dan and him set up a liveshow in his living room and allowed them to show the cute baby, which made everyone lose their minds.

It was a fun trip. Phil felt at ease watching Dan chatting and connecting with his friends, slotting perfectly into his group and even exchanging memes with Richard and when the guys suggested a repeat as soon as they all could in Manchester, he didn’t hesitate to say yes.

For a moment Phil allowed himself to think that their issues were resolved and they could move forward whether they got together or not. They could still be friends and have a clear separation between their friendship and the unresolved sexual tension/flirting, but he was proved wrong shortly after.

Dan routinely asked him for help to get into Sam’s pants and Phil didn’t want to be a bad friend, so he advised him as best as he could while also calling out the clear red flags Sam displayed, like when Sam constantly flirted with Dan even though they had a girlfriend. 

In fact, Dan didn’t even know if Sam was out or not, or if they were even bi, maybe they just wanted someone to do their uni work for them and Dan was quite good with his papers. As it turned out, Sam was a non-binary person, which had taken Dan long enough to figure out and this was perhaps, their most intriguing quality, what caught Dan’s eye. In his own words, the androgyny of this person allowed Dan to be attracted to them and he didn’t know what that meant.

A few weeks after their trip, Phil almost got green with envy seeing pics of Dan and Sam spending lots of time with Dan’s family. He even took them to his nana’s house, and Phil had not been to hers. It seemed that Dan felt more comfortable sharing Sam with his family, taking pictures of his mum with them and showing them around, unlike Phil who barely got to see Dan’s room 90% of the time. Phil wondered if they had shared a bed but he drew the line at asking. That would’ve been too low, even for him.

In October they filmed the third instalment in what was now a series, Pinof, and the fans went crazy about it. It was exciting but nerve wracking because Phil had no idea if the format would work a third time without people getting bored of it, but luckily, it did. By December Phil was burned out, he was constantly exhausted but he couldn’t sleep at all even with the sedatives, so Dan offered to send him Reiki from his dorm. 

Phil had a very vague understanding of what it was, but he trusted Dan enough to let him do his thing. If Dan said it would help him, he figured there was no hurt in trying. So after a particularly exhausting filming day, Phil went to bed as instructed and tried to sleep but it was useless, until- 

He started to feel tingles all over his body and shut his eyes, feeling himself relax, all worries leaving him, at least for the time being, and before he knew it, he was asleep.

The following day was insane for many reasons. First, he asked Dan if he’d started the thing at 9 pm which was when he felt the tingles and Dan confirmed that yes, that was the time. 

“You are possessed and I’m scared of you,” Dan said over Skype.

Phil laughed. “What do you mean?”

“You know how my dorm is full of pigeon nests and they are always hanging out on our windows?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been here for over a year and I’ve never seen anything like it. When I started sending you reiki, the pigeons went wild and one of them crashed into my fucking window like it was trying to kill me!”

“Oh my god! What does that mean?” Phil asked, still laughing. That was so creepy but it made him weirdly proud. If anyone was to be a demon child, it made sense that it was him.

“I don’t know, but animals dying while trying to kill me for sending you good vibes is mental. I think you need to call the Vatican, mate.”

“Yeah… but can you do it again in a few weeks? It was good.”

Dan laughed. “Maybe, if you’re good.” He winked.

----

December 1st 2011

Phil looked out the window and let out a tired sigh. The storm raging outside reminded him of his own mood. 

“Life is hard sometimes,” he said, looking into Dan’s eyes through the screen.

“I know, but things can always be worse,” Dan said with a cheeky smile. He always did that, find comfort in sarcasm.

“True, but I still feel upset sometimes. Yesterday I watched my favourite movie again and I cried so hard I couldn’t breathe. But I guess that’s normal, I can never watch it without crying.”

“Oh, what movie is that?” Dan asked, suddenly sitting up straight.

Phil blinked, realising that he had never mentioned it to Dan which was odd since they had watched so many films together. “What dreams may come, with Robin Williams.”

“Why does it make you cry?” 

“It’s very sad, most of his family dies and he’s just lonely, but it has a good ending,” he said, trying not to spoil the main plot point.

Dan hummed. “Would you recommend it to me?”

Phil considered it and shook his head. The way one of the characters died... better not send Dan that kind of thing. “No, I don’t think it would be good for you. It’s too sad.”

“My favourite movie is sad too.” Dan shrugged. “Do you know Edith Piaf?”

“Uh, the singer?”

“Yeah, ‘La Vie En Rose’ is a movie about her life, and she had an awful life. She was a very strong woman.”

Phil swayed side to side, considering if he was curious enough about Dan’s tastes to watch another sad movie so soon. “Should I watch it?”

“Absolutely, it’s a beautiful movie.”

Phil flinched as thunder hit way too close for comfort and decided to call it a night. “I’ll watch it tonight then. Better go to bed before something explodes here.”

“Yeah. Let me know what you thought.”

“Alright, good night!”

“Night, Philly!” Dan said before disconnecting the call. 

It took some time for Phil to get snacks and find a semi-decent website to watch the movie for free, but he eventually did and settled down under the covers before pressing play.

The movie started sad, truly sad, more than Dan had let on, but things eventually started to pick up for Edith. She pulled herself out of poverty and a horrible living situation with her talent alone and found a modicum of success in time, which was amazing, but she struggled to find love for the longest time. 

Phil couldn’t help but relate to her and empathise with her and feel the sheer glee she felt when she met the man that had inspired her most popular song and the name of the movie. She was so happy and in love.

It reminded him of how he felt when he met Dan and how happy Dan made him, but that proved to be a double-edged sword when Edith’s love died in a plane accident, shattering her heart and leaving her hopeless and loveless for the rest of his life. 

Phil’s eyes welled up with tears; he could relate to that as well. It reminded him of the uncertainty surrounding his situation with Dan, the hopelessness he felt as Dan slipped through his fingers. 

Phil cried, he cried for Edith, who only knew love once and lost it and he cried for himself because he got to know real love only for it to be thwarted, confusing, intense and maybe even unattainable. He covered himself up in bed and sobbed until his entire body hurt, hoping to fall asleep soon, but just as he shut his eyes, his phone vibrated. It was a message from Dan.

“How was the movie?”

“Fuck you.”

“I told you it was sad, lol. I watched your movie anyway. I like the concept. It’s like us. I don’t believe in soulmates, but I know I could find you in any world.”

“I hate you.”

Phil knew that Dan didn’t mean it in the way he needed him to and that only made it worse. He wondered if he was destined to die sad and alone like Edith because he too was losing his soulmate.

---

December 25th 2011

Just after 3 am Phil’s phone rang and it was Dan, of course. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Dan said, sounding a bit sad. “How are you doing?”

“Great. Martyn and Cornelia are here being all over each other and that doesn't help to keep our parents off my back about when I’m going to bring someone home.”

Dan laughed humourlessly. “You’ll find someone.”

“Yeah,” Phil said, wanting to argue but knowing that something was wrong with Dan. “Are you alright? You sound a bit off,” he said before Dan could deny it. 

“Sam is considering breaking up with their girlfriend because they are having issues. The girlfriend cheated, and she’s honestly not a very good person, but at the same time Sam doesn’t really want to break up after two years together but they keep flirting with me, running their fingers through my hair and they even slept over at my dorm one day when we were cramming. I don’t know, I feel like I’m going crazy. Do you think Sam likes me?”

“Um - If I had to guess, yes. But the signals are not very clear with the whole girlfriend situation. Why does Sam keep flirting with you while they are in a relationship? I can’t find the logic in any of it.” Phil was proud of himself for biting his tongue instead of saying exactly what he thought about Sam.

Dan hummed. “I think their relationship is pretty dead but they are just trying to pretend like it isn’t.”

 Phil frowned. “Do you think you should be holding out hope? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Probably not,” Dan admitted and let out a long sigh.

Phil bit his lip and took a moment to gather his thoughts. “I don’t know. I think that Sam may be interested in you but flirting while being in a relationship isn’t good. What if you got together and they did the same with someone else? Would you trust them to not do the same?”

“That is actually a good point,” Dan admitted. “I just don’t know if this is a thing. Are they interested in me? Are they just playing? At this point I don’t even know if we are actually good friends or I’ve imagined that all on my own.”

Phil swallowed thick and shut his eyes tightly, bracing himself for what could be the devastating truth. “Are you in love with them?”

“Jesus, Phil!” Dan said. “I don’t know if I’ve ever been in love with anyone, let alone with Sam.”

“So you were never in love with Emilio?” Phil pressed. It was wrong of him to bring Emilio up but he wanted to know.

“No, I don’t think so,” said Dan, sounding very small. “Maybe I just can’t love anyone. I don’t think anyone has loved me either so maybe that’s for the best.”

Phil bit his tongue a bit too hard to stop himself from telling Dan that he loved him. He actually hadn’t thought about it, what kind of feelings he had for his friend, that is. He hadn’t wanted to think about actual love, hoping that avoiding that train of thought would help him keep his emotions at bay, but Phil should have realised that he was awful at that. “Someone will love you. Someone who is good for you, not like Emilio…”

“Not like Sam either?” Dan asked. “That’s what you were thinking, right?”

Phil paused for a bit too long.

“You don’t like Sam for me, do you?” Dan pressed.

“Well… You know about my experience with cheating and Sam sounds like a cheater, if not a physical cheater, Sam is emotionally cheating with you. I don’t like that, but I’m not the person who has to like it, that’s you.”

Dan huffed. “You are not making this any easier,” he snapped.

“I don’t know what you want me to say. What should I say?” Phil mumbled, trying not to let Dan know that his comment hurt.

“Don’t be like that,” Dan pleaded.

“What?” Phil asked, his voice breaking.

“I’m sorry, it’s not your fault,” Dan said. “I just don’t know what to do.”

“Ok,” Phil whispered and cleared his throat. “I’m going to sleep now.”

“I’m sorry,” Dan said, sounding a bit more desperate to placate Phil.

“It’s fine, I’m just tired,” Phil tried. “Bye,” he whispered and hung up before Dan could reply. He turned off his phone and got to bed and covered himself up to his head, letting the tears flow freely. The entire situation was shit, he was exhausted, Dan only cared about Sam and talking about Sam and he was getting more distant with Phil when all Phil could do was love him.

Dan sent Phil a Merry Christmas text in the morning, but Phil didn’t reply.

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

The New Teen Titans Part 2 The Judas Contract

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/HVczsln by KatScythe THIS IS WHAT 'TITANS' SHOULD HAVE BEEN A new, adult revamp of the original 2003 Teen Titans cartoon, with bits and pieces from all the different media versions of the Teen Titans out there. Filled with blood and gore and foul-mouthedness, and real consequences to five superpowered idiot teenagers running around blowing stuff up and causing general mayhem. THE STORY CONTINUES… Dick Grayson—Robin, the Boy-Wonder—is finally out from Batman's shadow, and finds himself the newly minted leader of his own fledgling team: Victor Stone, cybernetically enhanced tech-genius; Koriand'r of Tamaran, alien Princess with explosive fire power; Garfield Logan, animal-shapeshifting goofball; and Raven, dark telekinetic with a mysterious past. Fresh off their victory over the aliens that attacked their city, the five young heroes begin their training, learning about their powers, their strengths and weaknesses, and how to work and fight and live together as a team. Then, a new, untrained meta appears, in desperate need of their help. But as the unexpected newcomer joins the group, they start to wonder if there may be more to Terra than meets the eye… updates every Friday-ish... Words: 4901, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Series: Part 2 of The *New* Teen Titans Fandoms: Teen Titans - All Media Types, Teen Titans (Animated Series), Titans (TV 2018), Teen Titans (Comics), New Teen Titans, DCU, DCU (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Justice League - All Media Types, Teen Titans: The Judas Contract (2017) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: F/M Characters: Raven (Teen Titans), Dick Grayson, Robin (DCU), Koriand'r (DCU), Starfire (Teen Titans), Garfield Logan, Beastboy (Teen Titans), Victor Stone, Cyborg (Teen Titans), Bruce Wayne, Batman (DCU), Nightwing (DCU), Justice League (DCU), Batfamily Members, Terra (Teen Titans), Slade Wilson, Slade (Teen Titans) Relationships: Dick Grayson & Koriand'r & Garfield Logan & Raven & Victor Stone, Robin & Starfire & BeastBoy & Raven & Cyborg, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Garfield Logan/Raven, Dick Grayson/Koriand'r Additional Tags: TITANS GO!, BOOYAH!, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, AU, DC threw canon in the garbage so I'm going dumpster diving, if Titans had been done right, i fixed it!, Teen Titans as Family, Raven-centric (Teen Titans), Empath Raven (Teen Titans), Demon Raven (Teen Titans), she's kind of an eldritch horror, BAMF Raven (Teen Titans), BAMF Dick Grayson, BAMF Beastboy (Teen Titans), BAMF Starfire (Teen Titans), BAMF Cyborg (Teen Titans), how are those not recognized tags!?!?, they're all badasses and they deserve to be put in the tags, and dorks, they're all adorable dorks, Dick Grayson is mad sexy and it's giving me a complex, stop it, Romani Dick Grayson, these guys being domestic gives me life, and Dick Grayson's horrible puns, and the dick jokes...those too, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Bruce Wayne is Trying, at least he's a better parent than Steve Dayton, and everyone on Azarath, there's definite child abuse, they are definitely not the good guys in this story, RobStar, bbrae – Freeform, idiots to lovers, Slow Burn, and i mean VERY slow burn, but they're just SO STUPID, I mean I know I made them but yikes, get it together guys read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/HVczsln

[willemdafinky]

I have some recs 🤭

•The Long Road Home and What-Ifs of Telltale’s Walking Dead by @thecrusadercomrade. The former being an adaptation divergence starting from S2 that gives much needed fixes and expansions on characters like Nick and Sarah while also having an engaging original character in the form of Jesse while the latter is a series of well written one shots of what’s exactly on the title, such as “what if Larry survived”, “What If Ben Told The Group About The Deal” and my personal favorite “What If The Motor In and Cabin Group swapes roles” which is a two parter!

•I’ll Die Trying by j3kiipop, where Luke survives being turned into a human popsicle. It follows canon until the scene where Mike and Bonnie run away with Arvo only this time Jane joins as well, which leaves Luke and Kenny the only ones to take care of Clementine and AJ which escalates into an fantastic rendition of the fabled Kenny and Luke showdown which I don’t want to spoil. Just read it it’s great.

•Cause and Effect by Osos213. A first time writer tells the simple premise of Clementine and AJ going back in time to the beginning of season 1. It is a bit of a slow burn, with its adaptation of S1EP1 just being finished in its lastest chapter but this isn’t a bad thing since the story is updated very frequently. It’s a fun read that has the signs of getting better.

•Violet and AJ by Suicide_Wolf. A short story of AI and Violet just talking about Clementine while she is away hunting. Short and sweet

•Not Another Dog by Pinkperson. Another short fic, this takes place after the Leave Wellington ending where Kenny and Clementine encounter a stray dog on their travels which triggers the latter’s tramua. It is a wonderfully bittersweet story and Kenny and Clementine are written perfectly here.

•Tables Turned by BehindTheCorner is one of the few fanfics, if not the only fanfic, to tackle a simple yet tragic question: what if Clementine got bit in S1 instead of Lee. The first chapter, which covers this topic headon, is incredible. Lee’s heartbreak over what’s happening to Clementine is soul crushing to the reader, aided by how the author cleverly depicts Clementine being succumbed to the infection slowly. I do have problems with the rest of the story after this, notably in the changes with S2’s story beyond just Lee being there such as Carlos being killed off before Lee meets the cabin group and the removal of characters like Alvin, Rebecca and surprisingly Kenny who is replaced by Lilly but that doesn’t change how expertly written the first chapter is.

We should all make a list of twdg fic recs to pass around to each other

[confetti-cakemix]

Third Times a Charm

Series Synopsis: Reader wakes up in none other than Detroit, Michigan, except it doesn't look like any part of Detroit she knows. With no clue as to the why or how she ended up there, she must venture out into this new futuristic world and only hope she can find out.

Pairing: Connor x Reader

A/N: Not quite sure where I'll be going with this (also not sure about the title but we'll see), but I plan for it to start around the beginning of DBH with some canon divergence, of course. Also, I will be using Y/N (hello copy and paste lol). 💙

Chapter One

Your breath comes out in deep and harsh huffs, your chest rising and falling quickly as you try to regulate your breathing. What was that rule again? In through the nose and out through the mouth? You try but fail miserably, your lungs greedy to pull in oxygen-rich air. You pause your running to walk instead, your body grateful for the break. 

Your legs have that pleasant burn in them still from your mini-hike yesterday, the nice kind of ache that comes from hard work. You reach a curve in the path and decide to take a seat on the wooden bench that sits in a little clearing to the side of the trail. You place your small bag next to you, noting the chipped green paint peeling away from the dark wooden slats that make up the bench. 

You peer up into the canopy of greenery and take another lungful of crisp cool air. You scan your surroundings and take in the fluffy white clouds sparsely painted in the sky; the sway of the trees and the ruffling sound that accompanied. A flurry of yellow powdery pollen is illuminated by the warm sunlight. 

Something catches your gaze almost immediately though, a staggering stop to the organic world around you. To your right, a glowing form, which seems almost like a geode pushing out from the muddy earth, sits, waiting. It's sleek and futuristic look is strange and alien. You narrow your eyes at the sight, standing up fully despite the fatigue, and cautiously approach, slinging your back over your shoulder.

You hadn't seen the thing (whatever it was) when you were here last week nor the week prior. You can see a blue handprint glowing quite brightly and are immediately tempted to touch it, but hold off. You're not even sure what it is, maybe you shouldn't be messing with it. You step closer, looming over it and eyeing it before you step around it and to the back.

Nope. No plug, no… well, anything. I guess it made sense, solar power is very popular nowadays. It stood proudly and dominantly above everything else despite its small scale. 

Was it a new invention to get kids interested in nature? Maybe it'll tell me about the trees around here, or what to do if you're approached by a coyote (note: do not throw your granola bits at it in hopes that it'll let you pass, yep that definitely didn't work, and is definitely not a personal story). 

You circle around again, the glowing print too inviting to turn down after a second look. You take a breath before placing your palm down on it unceremoniously. It seems to glitch for a bit before returning back to its bright glory, but nothing happens.

Nevertheless, you try again lifting your palm slightly and putting it back down, hoping it'll just take a moment to get situated and wake up finally. 

And….nothing. 

"Hmm" you mumble to yourself. Maybe the third time's a charm, you think. You perform the same action as before but this time it's different. As soon as your palm covers the cool smooth glass, you get a tingly sensation in your palm and it makes its way up your arm. The glow seems to grow even stronger and the blue hue stands out in the golden sunlight of the soft warm sunset. 

An indescribable intensity fills you just then and you feel a bit lightheaded, as if you're floating. The intensity culminates and your thoughts quickly become muddy and slow. In fact, you feel like taking a nice long nap right about now.

So you don't fight it, closing your heavy lids, being pulled toward unfeeling bliss. 

[epicsteddieficrecs]

Epic Steddie Fic Recs: WIPs edition

Steddie writers are really keeping me well-fed 😊❤️ Here’s a few WIPs I’m currently subscribed to!

Listen to Iron Maiden, Baby (With Me) by DoneInLove (Post-S4 | 2/3 | 12K | Explciit): Steve was getting real sick of defending his friendship with the other man, who was actually an amazing person, thank you very much, and also fuck you for thinking otherwise. Eddie was one of the first people that let Steve feel like he could actually just let go of everything and just be. Alternately: Where Steve Harrington realizes he doesn't want to live up to other people's expectations, he and Eddie flirt through discussion of Eddie's past sexual exploits, and Steve shows that he really wants to be a good boy for Eddie.

better by you, better than me by palmviolet/ @palmviolet (Canon Divergent, Season 1 | 8/? | 43K | Mature | Warning: Violence): November 1983. Between unpaid bills, the supposedly straight jock he’s seeing, and letters from his convict dad, seventeen year old Eddie Munson’s got enough to worry about. But when Will Byers goes missing, it sparks a chain of events that will show there are more depths to Hawkins — and to certain people in it, like infamous Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington — than he realizes. / or, the excessively long slow-burn in which Eddie is involved in the Upside Down from the very beginning.

to be cut adrift by cydonic (Post-S4 | 8/10 | 43K | Mature): It starts as a routine. Steve drives past all their houses, just to make sure they're home. And then it's not so easy to sleep any more without checking and rechecking. Eddie catches him out. (a story about healing in small parts with someone who understands, about the give and take, the sharing and the listening - and maybe falling a little bit in love along the way)

Slow Change by thesurefireway/ @multidimensional-wavelength (Post-S4 | 9/11 | 44K | Explicit): One week in hell. Three days in the hospital. Five months in jail. All in all, nearly six months of misery and one persistent thought taking up space at the front of Eddie's brain: Steve Harrington. or Eddie Munson finds himself back in Hawkins after the universe decides that '86 really is not his year, but Steve and his band of world-saving friends decide it's not too late to turn it all around.

Ahoy, Big Boy by ChronicRabbit/ @chronicrabbit (Canon Divergent, Season 3 | 14/? | 50K | Explicit): Scoops Ahoy. America’s favorite place to cool down, and quite possibly the lamest summer job under the blazing Indiana sun. Especially if you were former High School royalty, brutally rejected by each and every university you’d applied to and promptly cut off by your shitty parents in an effort to teach: “some goddamned responsibility.” Between accidentally intercepted secret Russian communications, a meddling preteen matchmaker with no collarbones, and increased proximity with Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson, a measly $3 an hour plus tips is nowhere near enough to deal.

boot theory by crybaby (No Upside Down AU, BDSM, The Hanky Code | 8/? | 102K | Explicit): Steve wears a red bandana and accidentally opens Pandora's box.

Roll For Seduction by spikeisthebigbad (Post-Season 3, Canon Divergent | 26/35 | 46K | Explicit): When Steve reluctantly agreed to play Dungeons and Dragons with the Hellfire club he expected to hate every second. He did not expect to spend his Friday nights flirting with Eddie Munson.

Darling (I've Been Having Dark Dreams) by DrowningByDegrees (Canon Divergence, Time Travel | 2/? | 10K | Explicit): On March 21st, 1986, Eddie wakes up from the worst nightmare of his life only to find himself desperately trying to keep it from becoming reality.

[hexfloog]

henlo. how do you headcanon evil cone starting? like when his presence first starts making itself known?

Hi :D!! *waves*

Short answer: I imagine Conan’s emergence-- particularly that of a vile, evil thing-- to be a gradual, slow burn.

Long answer: Below the break :)

I like to think that he comes into being the instant Shinichi commits to the lie. 

As soon as he cooks up the name Conan Edogawa and deceives Ran about his identity, they split - if only because the act of assigning himself a pseudonym for the reasons he does effectively commits him to consciously sequestering his “real” self from every part of his new life going forward.  Conan must now be introduced as an entirely separate person henceforth and, whether he intends to or not, this starts giving his creation legs to stand on... but it’s innocuous at this point.  There is no active hatred of this other self (although you could argue there is, at the very least, a passive dislike) and so Shinichi-- let alone Conan himself-- isn’t even aware that he’s there.  They cooperate together as a single entity, thinking the same thoughts, acting on the same instincts, etc. etc. etc.

Since Conan’s existence is reliant on Shinichi-- from the scale of the lie surrounding “Conan Edogawa” to the way he thinks about him-- he only starts to really emerge the longer the bit goes on.  Another day goes by and Shinichi perpetuates the lie to yet another person, hates himself just a little more for it.  Maybe some days he has to lie a lot, has to make up an additional story or another fake person to supplement it, and then he despises that people remember the lie-- that it was Conan who's marked these people’s lives rather than his true self, Shinichi Kudo.  Each day adds another fleck to Conan’s impending self-awareness, even on days where Shinichi tells no lies - because not telling the truth is still lying.

I like to headcanon the (noticeable) start of the split in Coffee Shop Murder Case:

(Definitely not because of the way Shinichi is portrayed as completely separate from Conan during Shenanigans... definitely not.  I’m pretty sure even the JP dub for this one has Shinichi-- rather than Conan-- speaking for his own thoughts a few times, the thing that's the norm for the Funi dub??  Hello????)

His behavior is obviously being driven by a combination of jealousy and denial for romcom laughs, but he also really fantasizes about mauling a complete stranger, which... well... 

Not that I think he doesn’t already tend towards violence or anything sksksk (Episode 1)

As early as the first episode Shinichi is already established to be both reckless and... at least a little violent, to put it mildly (frankly, I think he’s more desensitized than anything, and so his threshold for acceptable violence is completely fucked), which really just lends itself to the slow-burn-nature of this AU.

(In this AU, canon proceeds pretty normally up until around... ehh... The Desperate Revival? with small, off-kilter details here and there being the only indication up until then that something is... awry.  From there, canon returns back to normal but the divergence is on the uptick... something weird happens in one episode that maybe gets dismissed as a fluke... then it comes back twofold in the next and stays... wash, rinse, repeat... until the whole thing eventually forks off into its own canon.)

I guess what I’m getting at is that Conan’s emergence starts as the barely-perceptible, merely more frequent tendency towards brutality or impatience or any number of negative traits which Shinichi usually has a handle on, and that I interpret whatever rascal behavior he exhibits going forward as just that: the slow reveal of Conan.  Shinichi doesn’t notice when it starts happening (nor would he be able to) because it’s so gradual and creeping: maybe a violent thought here, an angry thought there... They should be punished, he thinks one afternoon on a case.  They deserve to be punished, he thinks on another.

An outsider looking in-- if they even notice-- would likely dismiss the shift in demeanor as coming-of-age behavior.  And even if they don’t, whatever it is is hardly insidious, just as the sometimes-entertained thought that Conan and Shinichi could be one and the same in the first place is absurd.  “Does Conan seem different to you, lately?”  No, no, he’s merely growing up, they’ll say.

Why is Conan so violent?  Why would he be so hateful, why is that the indicator of his presence above all else?  It’s not necessarily the only indicator, but he is the receptacle for all of Shinichi’s lying, all the unspoken-- but apparent-- self-loathing for feeling like he has to lie in the first place, and when the base personality is already proven to be prideful and somewhat zealous...

So just as Shinichi’s lying continues unbroken, so do these these bouts of uncharacteristic behaviors.  Little by little they become more frequent, more severe, more strange, and by the time Shinichi inevitably notices something’s wrong, Conan is already entirely self-aware... though not necessarily evil.  There is no defined moment when it happens, no specific point where you can draw a line in the sand and declare that this is when Shinichi was still fully in control, and this is where Conan starts to take the wheel.  Shinichi has a hard time really knowing whether he’s still calling the shots or if he’s just a passenger in his own body.  Is the sound of his own voice only in his head?  He doesn’t remember doing those things...  Is he still even making any decisions?  ...To which the answer is yes; Conan is separate, but still cooperative in the way a younger sibling looks up to and listens to his big brother, but switching between them is such a seamless, effortless process that the resulting ambiguity only hastens Shinichi’s habit of othering Conan as something lesser, something to be hated.

And indeed, Conan eventually swinging towards evil intentions is entirely fed by and triggered by the progression of passive dislike into active hatred.  Time keeps ticking and so far Shinichi has told no further truths, so Conan-- the lie-- is still technically gaining power (and this is why his abilities are technically limitless - the lie becomes so big that no-one really knows how deep it goes).  By the time he “takes over,” he’s already fairly well-anchored in the real world, and Shinichi knows-- at least on a subconscious level-- that he’s marked too many lives, good and bad, for there to be any easy way back... so on top of believing him to be an “inferior” version of himself, he’s also being replaced by said “inferior” version.  People aren’t necessarily remembering Conan in place of Shinichi (the Detective Boys, for example), but as the fabricator of the lie, in his mind... being forgotten is the same.  Nobody can know they are two people, but they’re also no longer a single person, either - how can he not project his grief onto Conan, who has committed the great sin of existing? 

This gets especially bad during the few times he transforms back into his adult self.  These are the only instances (prior to the physical split) in which Conan is definitively caged in the back seat, and so under the spell of some false sense of security Shinichi has a tendency to cast away his inhibitions and tell him how he really feels, so to speak.  Conan is not unaware that he is disliked by his maker, but as the part of Shinichi which wants to impress is also present in Conan... he extends the olive branch at just about every turn anyway, regardless of the sustained animosity between them, the worst of which manifest in dreams.

The nightmares-- which are shared-- escalate alongside their increasingly strained relationship.  Shinichi dreams of losing loved ones-- specifically Ran-- to the Other Him... Conan dreams that he will disappear suddenly, and forget the joy of living... Shinichi dreams that Conan will grow into his identity (a la OVA 9)... and Conan dreams that Shinichi was right all along and that he will be revealed as a monster, which finally breaks him.  “Enough,” he seethes.  “If it’s a monster you want, it’s a monster you’ll get.”

There’s no reason for me to put this here, I just really like this vibe and it’s appropriate skdjfskjdf (Movie 4)

A N Y W A Y

I think I may have overanswered but this is pretty much how it plays out!  I’ve thought about this a lot (apparently) and am always excited to share to anyone who asks or will listen ;;  Thank you for allowing me to indulge my headcanons <333

[basedsakura]

s-tier sasusaku fics

disclaimer: not all of these are necessarily romantic sasusaku, or even healthy sasusaku

these are my all time favorites for different reasons, but i guess i should establish some sort of standard according to which i judge fanfics: 

characterization: i don’t expect the characters to be identical to their canon counterparts, otherwise i wouldn’t be reading anything other than the original material. however i’m also not fond of fics in which the only aspect of the character the author had gotten right is the name. i don’t like fanfics in which sakura is a cold and calculated genius or ones in which sasuke is a sexually deviant casanova. you might as well create a whole new character and write original work

prose: ok so obviously this is very subjective and considering my taste has changed immensely from the start of this year, let alone during the last 5 years, all the fics below are going to differ greatly. i like to read stuff that hits the spot between purple prose and bland just right. vivid descriptions, exposition, world-building, all that jazz, but without treating me like an idiot. leave some stuff up to the reader. a bit of negative capability didn’t kill anyone

grammar: i mean -- yeah. not much to expand upon here. i’m not a native speaker, so i’m not exactly an authority on this, but solid grammar is a non negotiable for me.

style: i’ve got some serious pet peeves in regards to formatting (when the author doesn’t want to separate their paragraphs for some reason for example) but another thing is i hate when there’s random japanese throughout the fic. it’s fine if the author decides to use suffixes the way the characters do in the manga, or if they want to use japanese words for terms that are well known in the fandom (shinobi, bunshin, hitai ate, jutsu etc.) but stuff like ‘’teme’’ ‘’ hime’’ ‘’baka’’ ‘’kami’’ is cringe (to me (especially since its mostly used improperly))

pacing: obviously this is a matter of preference, i personally love slow burn, but pacing is SO crucial for a good romance fic. the writing can be great, the characters can be on point, but if i feel the relationship is moving at an unnatural pace, if the development feels unearned, it instantly throws me off. i understand a lot of authors wanna get to the sauce quickly, but if sasuke is a rogue ninja focused on revenge, no he’s not going to want to marry sakura as soon as he sees her again. he would be impartial, nostalgic at best. there’s nothing wrong with letting the feelings develop naturally

there’s probably more but im honestly too lazy and i wanna get to the fic rec part. these are in no particular order: 

blind by ObsidianSickle

It was almost time, Orochimaru was going to take his body as a vessel. He hated being used...he refused to be used. With that thought, he took the kunai in his hand and slashed across his eyes.

this is like a classic imho. i’ve read it after 5 years and while i do have some issues with the writing, it’s nothing terrible. it’s a sweet, sweet character-study slowburn

monomoth by Ohtze

Everything ends, eventually. Eight years after the war, Sakura's unhinged and Sasuke's obsessed. The fields are filled with corpses. AUish, canon-divergent, Sakura-centric.

this MAY be my all time favorite. the story, the pacing, the atmosphere -- probably one of the most serious and talented authors in the fandom. it’s a pretty dark AU-ish fic, definitely not the healthiest either sasuke or sakura have been, but a hell of a read. still not finished though

instant message by Keelah

She gave him names to kill, in order not to be killed herself. But having blood on her hands was turning out to be much worse than dying. "…There's still round 2…3…4…" When does this game end? She asked. "Don't you see, Sakura?" He said, "It never does."

i can’t believe that a first person POV, highschool! horror stalker AU fic is probably the finest slowburn i’ve ever read. each interaction feels so earned, you genuinely feel like you’re reading about sakura and sasuke from naruto and how they would act in this AU situation, not some random characters the author decided to call sakura and sasuke. possibly abandoned

once more, with feeling by jinnyskeans

Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time.

this is a fun ballerina!sakura and tattoo artist! sasuke fic. the characters are not all that IC, but it’s definitely a fun read, and while it’s not a current favorite, i remember i used to cry over this shit when i was 14 lol. so there’s definitely some quality here if this seems like your thing. plus the author is an SS fic powerhouse, so plenty where that came from

i let it fall, my heart by arabesque05

Sasuke's memories of Sakura are not based on sight. No: Sakura was a press of desperation along his back, a sob to "please, don't hurt them". Sakura was a cool hand around his wrist, startling against his feverish, new-cursed skin. Sakura was the taste of apples; the breeze of an open hospital window; the stinging pain of a third Chidori. Sakura resides in the heart.

from their ss anthologies to their meta, this author came and went and left me with a gaping hole where their writing has been. honestly some beautiful stuff. this is a oneshot, but i seriously recommend everything this author has written 

shinobi: team 7 by gallyrat

while this is a team 7, not a sasusaku fic, it’s worth reading for both the world building, the team 7 dynamic, the sasuke and sakura as the author imagined them. i felt like their relationship was very ic, among many other things that are great with this fic. unfortunately discontinued

string theory by diwata

The aftermath of the war brings many things to Konoha; Sakura copes poorly. (1970s AU)

“He’s a war hero, now. So are you. It’s nice to have you home, Sasuke-kun. Welcome.” “Things are different now. But -- I’m home, Sakura.”

this is an anthology, but same as arabesque05, i recommend literally everything this author wrote. so incredibly good

ok im getting tired and bored i’ll probably update this but here you go for now