#it’s been ONE day and already they’re more insufferable than ever

[mishtershpock]

.

[miley1442111]

thank god for dr. spencer reid

a/n: this was written with a fem!reader in mind but imagine what you want, reader has a period (same girl) :) spencer us such a cutie in this :)))))))

summary: your shitty family is in town and spencer is away, what will you do?

pairing: spencerreid x reader

warnings: heavy family issues, mentions of stress and sickness, very brief mention of abuse (litch not talked about just referenced dw), kinda cursing (just realised i've never warned this before... opps) and i might've missed some!

My eyes are glued to the screen with a perpetual frown playing on my lips. It’s hard to try to care about my job when I have this looming feeling of dread hanging over me like a cloud. Spencer has been MIA for days now. He left in a hurry on Monday night for a case. It’s Saturday now and he hasn’t been responding to my calls. On top of that, I have dinner with my mother and father. Both of them make it abundantly clear that they’re disappointed in my career choice, which is ridiculous because I’m a lawyer. Not the right kind of lawyer they constantly say. I’m an environmental lawyer and I make good money. The only way to satiate their insufferable whining is with Spencer. They love him. They probably love him more than me at this point. Alas, I will just have to deal with them alone tonight. And today has already been one hell of a day. First, Morgan called me,asking where Spencer was, telling me that they finished and that they should be home soon. He had not come home yet. Secondly, I feel like shit, an allergic reaction, my period and some random nausea all add up to making me feel itchy, gross, and practically vile all over. Thirdly, a huge pimple has decided to pop up on my face and  just know my mother will comment on it. My mother is one of those women who look effortlessly put-together 24/7. I am not one of those women. She does not like women who don’t look effortlessly put together. Aka, she barely tolerates me. 

I sigh and close my laptop screen, unable to reread the same few sentences again and again, hoping that they would get into my brain. I’m defending a client, one of my firm's biggest clients, in court next week. They were accused of illegal dumping (dumping they did not commit) and now they’re being sued for 2 million dollars. I slump out of my desk chair and out of my home office, locking it behind me for the weekend ahead. If I have court next week and Spencer is coming home after a difficult case, then we’ll need a day or rest and relaxation together. That is, if he even bothers to come home. I busy myself with getting ready and try to push those thoughts out of my head. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The last hour of my life has been 60 minutes of absolute misery. Why did I ever accept this invite? My mother excuses herself to the bathroom and my father excuses himself for a cigarette, I nod along. Then it hits me… my dad doesn’t smoke anymore. I stare at the door and before I can stop myself my face contorts into a frown once again. Amelia, my sister. The sister that I haven't seen in years. The sister that bullied and abused me throughout our teenage years. Fuck. 

“Amelia?” I question, looking at the blonde woman who looks… different. She’s obviously older than I remember, and a bit more… I don’t know how to put it. Her blonde hair surpasses her waist and she seems to be pregnant? Her blue eyes seem dull and lack a certain vividness they used to sparkle with. She’s the typical peaking in high-school mean girl who became a nurse girl. I honestly can’t believe I used to look up to her. 

“It’s so good to see you!” She smiles, one of her fake-bitchy smiles and I grimace as she tries to hug me. “I just wanted to know how you’re doing, especially with the baby on the way, I’ll need all the help I can get!”

My heart drops. “Oh!” Is all I can manage. She sits in the seat beside me and I instinctively move further away. Just as I think this stupid dinner can’t get any worse, her pervy fiancé, Johnny, walks in.

“No Spencer?” He smirks. “What? Did you two break up? He was always too vanilla for you, you need a real man-” 

“No, sorry. I was just late. I had to come straight from the jet,” Spencer smiles from behind him. My parents' eyes light up, as Amelia and Johnny’s faces fall. I smile appreciatively at him as he hands the flowers he brought over to my parents and sits beside me, a comforting hand on my thigh. 

“How’s work, Spencer?” My father asks, his undivided attention on Spencer.

“It’s good, strenuous but good. Our cases recently haven’t been too difficult- though there was one that had a puzzle I thought you might enjoy…”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

I walk inside our house behind him, a million thoughts at once flowing through my head. We walk to the kitchen, he sits me down and takes off my shoes for me, a true gentleman. 

He presses a kiss to my cheek and smiles. “You look beautiful.”

I just nod back, a small smile on my lips. 

“Is everything alright?” He asks, turning to me, his hands resting on my waist. 

“Fine,” I tiredly smile. “Just… you know, it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“You know, saying that makes me worry more, right?:” He smiles softly, though we both know he’s serious. 

“I just… I can’t believe she just showed up, like 7 years  of not seeing her and she just shows up? Like it’s casual? And then asks for our help with her baby? Like she did nothing to me? Like she-” I stop myself, determined not to cry right now. 

“Angel, it’s ok, let it out,” he soothes, a hand on my back, rubbing comforting circles. 

“I don’t want to cry though, they’re not worth crying over.”

“Then how about we get ready for bed, yeah angel?” He offers, a tired look in his eyes. I nod and press a soft to his perfect lips. He smiles against my mouth, his hands finding the sides of my face. I run a hand through his hair. He pulls away softly, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” I smile. “Thank you for coming, my knight in shining armour.” 

“I enjoyed it. Watching your father fail to solve a simple puzzle was amusing.” He smirks, a mischievous glint in his eye as I roll my eyes. 

“We’re not all geniuses,” I remind him. 

“You are.”

“And how am I a genius?” I chuckle.

“You’re dating me, you clearly have superior taste and intelligence,” he says matter-of-factly. I gigle at his antics and kiss him again. He pulls away and grabs my hand, leading me into our room. We both opt out of brushing our teeth and washing our faces, a makeup wipe sufficing for removing my makeup. He pulls me into bed with him, and finally, after a long week, I finally lie down in bed with him, his arms around me in a bear-hug of sorts. This is heaven. He’s my knight in shining armour. Thank God for Dr. Spencer Reid. 

[dandylovesturtles]

this is a brain worm that spawned as soon as I read the second injury prompt, bad future timeline, from the prospective of someone outside the family (civilian, fellow resistance fighter, etc), where one of the brothers/april/or either of the casey’s are injured, “Someone get the medic. Get the medic!” and the medic is leo, unknowingly responding to a gravely injured loved one

shit this is a good prompt anon, thanks

credit to @promptsbytaurie for the injury ask meme!

cw: ROTTMNT bad timeline, mentions of blood and injury

———

He finds her leaned against some rubble, the carcasses of four krang hounds strewn around her. They don’t bleed like earth creatures, but the stringy bits of their mutilated bodies are strewn across the ground, and all he can think is, Good.

There is blood, though: her blood, gushing from a set of lacerations in her side. She’s so still that he thinks, for one awful minute, that she’s dead.

Then she shifts and groans and he stumbles quickly to her side, dropping to his knees and putting pressure on the wound, the way he was taught in ROTC a million years ago.

She sucks in a breath, gritting her teeth, and then her eyes open. They rove the battlefield with a dazed confusion, and he wonders if that’s a concussion or just the blood loss. Or both.

“Commander O’Neil,” he says urgently. “We need to move you.”

Her head turns and her searching eyes find his face. She blinks rapidly and squints at his face.

“Who…?”

He smiles, because it’s a kindness he can give her. Kids in school used to make fun of his buck teeth. Weird how an alien invasion makes some things easier. “Jake West. I joined your squad last week.”

“Oh, right.” She grunts and starts to shift. “New guy. Help me up, will you?”

Jake shakes his head. “I don’t think you can walk with that wound.”

“Well, I’m not letting you carry me out of here like some damsel in distress,” she says stubbornly. She slings an arm over his shoulders, gritting her teeth. Her brow is sweating, but she repeats, “Help me up.”

Jake’s only been part of this resistance colony for two weeks, since the tattered remnants of his last group was found by one of their scouting parties, but he already has a lot of respect for O’Neil. She’s a foot shorter than him, but she embodies toughness in the set of her shoulders and her refusal to back down. She’s more fearsome than most of the old military guys Jake’s ever met.

So he helps her up.

She stumbles when she’s on her feet, and he moves in to keep supporting her. The blood drips down her side, and she hisses when she sees it.

“Can’t believe I let those hounds get a piece of me. Dee’s gonna be insufferable.”

Jake wonders who “Dee” is, but doesn’t ask. They have to get out of here - the onslaught may have calmed for the moment, but the krang always come back.

O’Neil can’t move very quickly - Jake finds himself dragging her more than he helps her walk. He suggests carrying her again and she turns it down, though only with a shake of her head this time. They stumble through the rubble in mostly silence, making for the base’s hidden entrance.

Above their heads, there is a noise like a sonic boom, a streak of orange lighting up the sky as it goes past, latching onto an approaching krang drone ship and pulling it out of the sky.

“There goes Mikey,” says O’Neil, without even looking up.

Right; Master Michelangelo, one of the turtles. Jake had felt a little trepidation, when he had first learned this resistance group was full of - and even run by - inhuman mutants.

Then he’d seen what they could do, and that feeling faded fast.

He hasn’t actually met the turtles, only ever seen them in passing. He’s heard from those have been here longer that they’re actually really friendly, or at least all of them but Master Donatello are. More importantly, they put their lives on the line every day for what remains of the people of earth. Jake hasn’t needed to be here more than a few weeks to see that.

They fight like they have everything to lose. Jake respects that.

Master Michelangelo’s cover makes the trip back to the base easier, even as O’Neil flags more and more against his side. By the end he’s carrying her whether she wants it or not, draped half across his back in a fireman’s hold. She’s too out of it now to object. He hopes that doesn’t mean he’s too late. He’s so tired of losing people, even those he hasn’t known long. He likes Commander O’Neil.

He stumbles through the tunnel and into the bright synthetic lights of the entry checkpoint. Most combatants have already returned by now, but there are still people milling around, checking for any signs of krang infection in those coming back.

“Someone get the medic!” he hollers as he enters. “Get the medic!”

There’s a few echoing shouts, and then a door flings open and out walks Master Leonardo himself. He’s wearing a makeshift surgical apron, covered in blood, gloves, and a mask hanging loose around his neck. Jake’s never seen him this close, and now he’s a little taken aback, the way the turtle towers over everyone, moving so lithely despite the bulk of his shell, a commanding but easy air to his presence that seems to demand respect but also offer reassurance to everyone else in the room.

Every time Jake’s seen him from afar, he’s been grinning, laughing, smiling. He isn’t now.

“Don’t yell unless someone’s dying,” he says, eyes scanning the room until his gaze locks with Jake’s. He sees the body slumped across Jake’s back and grimaces. “I need to learn to keep my mouth shut.”

He crosses the room and directs Jake toward one of the cots. “Alright, put ‘em on the triage bed and let’s see what we’re working with.”

“Lacerations, sir,” says Jake, as he lowers O’Neil to the cot. “She was conscious when I found her, but she’s lost a lot of blood. Maybe a concussion.”

He trails off as he turns back and sees Master Leonardo’s state. His eyes are locked on O’Neil’s face, like he’s only just recognized who it is on the cot. His mouth hangs slightly open, and there’s an open, vulnerable devastation, a naked fear on his face. One Jake recognizes too well.

Even the mutants, with all their powers and all their strength, can be afraid.

Then, just like that, he pulls it together again for a fleeting glimpse Jake saw Leonardo, but now the Master is back, and barking orders.

“Marta!” he calls, turning his head to address a woman standing at the inspection line. “Prep OR now! And get us ready for a blood transfusion- B positive if we have it.”

“On it,” says Marta, and she’s gone just like that. Jake turns his attention back to Leonardo, who has taken O’Neil’s wrist in his, feeling for a pulse.

He’s quiet for several seconds, then he nods to himself and starts asking questions.

“Any idea what did this?”

“It was hounds, sir. I found her with several dead ones.”

“Sounds about right.” Master Leonardo sounds almost amused, though he doesn’t stop his work. “Any sign of infection?”

“No. She was talking and able to walk most of the way.”

Krang infections take over the host so quickly, they would know by now, with a wound like that.

“Hounds can only infect with their bites, and these look like scratches from claws.” Leonardo comes out again, as he reaches for O’Neil’s hand and gives it a squeeze. “Knew you wouldn’t let them get a bite in.”

The way he looks at O’Neil is so tender. They clearly know each other, and not just as fellow resistance commanders. Jake can’t help but wonder how they know each other; how a human and a mutant came to have a bond this close.

He doesn’t have time to ask, of course. Seconds later, O’Neil is being moved to OR, and Leonardo is making to follow them.

“Sir!” Jake calls after him. “Is there anything else I can do to help the commander?”

Master Leonardo barely pauses. “Get yourself checked for infection, and donate blood if you can. Then get some rest. You’ve done enough today.” He glances over his shoulder. “And stop calling me ‘sir’. Makes me feel so old.”

Then he’s gone.

Jake watches the door Leonardo just disappeared through for a second, then moves to do as he was told. He thinks about the way Master Leonardo looked at Commander O’Neil. Like she was part of what he was fighting not to lose.

And he thinks, maybe, that they’re lucky here. That this just might be the resistance that saves the world.

[silentscrying]

🏀 buzzer beater | chapter ELEVEN.

nba!gojo x manager!reader

summary: you thought you'd gotten rid of arrogant NBA star satoru gojo when he left the curses after your first year in basketball management. but when your contract is up three years later, you find yourself working with him once again as the manager for the sorcerers. as you navigate playoff season alongside long-time friend ieiri shoko and the sorcerers' insufferable star player, you start to realize his sudden departure from the curses may not have been what it seemed, and maybe gojo isn't exactly the person (or player) you thought he was, either.

warnings: language, slight unwanted advances, mahito in general, fangirl todo. || sfw. 5.3k words.

THE NEXT DAY, the Curses take the series against the Foxes. It’s official: the Sorcerers-Curses rivalry will come to a head in the NBA championships, starting on Friday in San Diego.

The team went harder than ever at practice today, not only drilling but talking strategy and getting into the nitty-gritty of the psychological impact of the rivalry. Yaga knows Mei Mei and the Curses don’t go easy, or fair. They’re ready.

As you pull out the keys to your apartment, you frown at the package on your welcome mat, a weird cylindrical shape with no return address. After you make it to the kitchen, you open it and find a rolled-up sheet of glossy paper. What?

You spread it out on your countertop and see an official signed poster of Satoru, in full uniform, palming a basketball in one hand with a huge smirk on his face. With the photo’s professional editing, his eyes look even more blue than usual, and you may or may not stare at them a second too long.

“Jesus fuck,” you say.

As if on cue, your phone buzzes.

six: did you get my gift?? you: is this for target practice? how sweet six: :( you: baby six: oh it’s like that😏 you: that was an insult

When your phone goes off again after you’ve relegated the rolled-up poster to an end table, you assume it’s Satoru responding. But instead, you find a text from Geto.

suguru geto: Thought about my offer at all?

Great. He waited until the Curses made the championships and just thought he’d try again? You screenshot the text and send it to Satoru.

you: what if i turn on read receipts just for this

six: HAHAHAHA

You won’t, because you’re still planning on taking Geto by surprise on Friday when he realizes you and Satoru are actually together. Your phone rings, and your brow furrows as you realize you don’t recognize the number or the area code.

“Sorcerers management,” you greet, and a high-pitched voice comes through the speaker.

“Hi there! This is Takada with the Reggie Star Show.” You hesitate for a moment. Reggie’s show is kind of a huge deal, and Takada has become something of a personality herself, although you’ve always found her a bit over the top.

“Uh, how can I help you?” you ask finally.

“So! Reggie would love to invite Satoru Gojo onto the show before the NBA championships.” You stand stock-still in your kitchen.

What the fuck, you mouth silently to yourself. It’s not like Reggie never has athletes on the show. But only Satoru?

“Not the rest of the team?” you clarify, and Takada laughs, a high, kind of shrill sound that has you holding your phone a bit away from your ear.

“Well, you see, we’re hoping to promote the series a bit by pulling the centers from both teams! Mr. Geto has already agreed, so we’d love to interview him and Mr. Gojo together.”

Oh, Jesus.

You are 100% certain this is Mei Mei’s doing. You instinctively want to reject her now, but this isn’t really your call.

“Let me run this by Gojo and the coaches, and I can get back to you, Takada,” you say, hoping that tides her over for now.

“No problem. Thank you!” she chirps, and the line goes dead. You groan, staring at the ceiling. This is not worth the hassle. You swipe to Satoru’s contact and call him.

He picks up on the first ring.

“Miss me already?” he drawls, and you roll your eyes.

“Asshole. So, guess who just called me?”

“If you say Suguru I’m flying to San Diego early and cornering him in an alley.”

You laugh. “Okay, Jesus. No. Uh, the Reggie Star Show?”

“What?” Satoru screeches.

“They have Geto coming on before championships,” you sigh, “and they want you too. To ‘promote the series’ or whatever. Drama on screen.”

“Mei Mei’s idea?”

“That’s what I was thinking.”

“I don’t really think I have time, considering… it’s championships and we’re training every day? Yaga would be pissed, probably. Not much of a publicity guy.”

Something in your chest loosens at his words. Truthfully, you really don’t want him to go, to be in a situation where he and Geto can only verbally spar through a guise of political politeness.

“Also, I just… don’t want to?” he says. You grin.

“Good. I was hoping.”

“Aw, don’t want me to launch my television career?” You sink onto your couch as he keeps talking. “That could be a great return on investment for you, you know. You have my autograph now.”

“Shut up. And don’t tell Nobara about this. She’d be so mad at you.”

“Scaryyy,” he says, and he’s not joking. “Come over for dinner?” The change in topic has you smiling as you kick your feet up on the coffee table. “Miki and Gumi are coming. And Yuji.”

“And the dogs?”

“Am I not enough for you?” he scoffs, and you grin.

“Not even close.”

“Yes, the dogs, you heathen.”

“Wouldn’t miss it!” you say innocently, and hang up on him.

—

Tsumiki meets you at Satoru’s door with a massive grin on her face and immediately pulls you into a hug.

“Hi!” she says excitedly, ushering you inside.

“Hey, Tsumiki,” you smile, and then there’s a rapid pitter-patter of the dogs rounding the corner into the entryway, and you fall into a pile of fur and kisses. “Hi, buddies! Hi!” Shiro shoves her nose into your face and Kuro plops himself down in your lap right as Satoru rounds the corner.

“Stealing my girlfriend,” he whines.

“Dumbass,” you say, and let him help you up. He plants a kiss on the top of your head and you blush against your will.

“C’mon. Pasta’s ready.” You follow Satoru into the kitchen and find Yuji and Megumi putting plates on the small table. You raise a brow.

“Whose cooking?”

“Whose do you think?” Tsumiki asks.

“I helped!” Yuji insists, pointing to the oven. “I’m making garlic bread!”

Tsumiki pats him on the shoulder and says, “Yes, Yuji, you did a great job.”

You fire off a quick message to Yaga to confirm that it’s okay to reject Takada’s offer, and he responds within two minutes, Please do.

You step out to make the call, and when you come back into the kitchen, Yuji and Tsumiki are giggling at something.

“What are you two on about?” you ask, and Tsumiki, still snickering, hands you her phone. It’s open to a tweet of a grainy computer screenshot, and it says SOMEONE LOOK AT ME THE WAY SATORU GOJO LOOKS AT THE SORCERERS MANAGER PLS PLSPLS

That’s not even the part that gets you. First of all, it’s not from the most recent game—it’s from before you were together. You’re wearing the Limitless shirt.

Second, Kasumi retweeted it.

“Jesus,” you say, and Satoru appears at your shoulder.

“Yes?”

“Shut up.” You swat at him without looking and then pull out your phone to text Kasumi. “I need to tell her before she finds out somewhere else.”

As if on cue, your phone lights up with her name. Your first thought is that she somehow already knows and is FaceTiming you to scream at you. You swipe and her face materializes in front of you, a massive grin on her face and—has she been crying?

“Kasumi! Are you okay?”

“Yes!” she practically screams. And then she holds up her hand, and you stare for a long moment before realizing she’s wearing a ring.

“Holy shit!” you screech. “Kasumi!” The grin splits across your face, and she’s laugh-crying on the other end of the phone, and then she abruptly freezes.

And you realize Satoru’s very much visible in the frame behind you.

“Alley-oop,” she says. “You motherf—Alley. Is that—”

You can see the tips of your ears going pink in the camera in the corner of the screen. “Surprise?”

“To you, maybe!” she laughs. “Holy shit. Holy shit! This is the best day of my life.”

Muta appears beside Kasumi, squinting at the screen. “Tell me it’s because we’re getting married and not because she and Gojo finally banged.” Megumi wrinkles his nose at the other end of the table.

“Kokichi,” Kasumi scolds, but Satoru cracks up behind you and you can’t help but follow suit.

“Congrats, you guys,” you say. “I’m so happy for you. Does Akari know?”

“She’s next on the list,” Kasumi grins.

“We’ll let you go, then,” you say, and take a moment to just appreciate how fucking happy your friend looks. Her blue hair is a mess and her eyes are rimmed red, but she’s glowing. This has been a long time coming. You couldn’t be happier for her, honestly.

When she hangs up, Satoru grins and says, “Aw, basketball romance.” Then he looks pointedly at Yuji and Megumi.

“I suddenly feel like a fifth wheel,” Tsumiki announces. Then she looks at Shiro and Kuro, curled up together on the couch. “Seventh wheel?”

You plop into the chair next to Tsumiki and wrap your arm around her. “Nah, Satoru’s seventh wheeling. I’m here for you.”

She grins, and Satoru falls to his knees and dramatically fakes his own death. The dogs leap off the couch to investigate, and soon he’s laughing as Shiro slobbers all over him while Kuro decides to lay across his legs.

In truth, you don’t remember the last time you felt this content. It’s a nice feeling, warm.

And then a smell hits you, like something burning, and you furrow your brows and turn toward the kitchen. “Is something—”

“Oh my god!” Yuji screeches, practically falling out of his chair and bolting for the kitchen. “The garlic bread!”

—

The results of turning down the Reggie Star offer have, quite possibly, the funniest results of all time.

You’re curled up on Satoru’s couch two days later with your feet on his lap and Tsumiki on your other side, Megumi and Yuji sprawled with the dogs on the floor. On the TV, Todo walks on stage to a cheering studio audience and locks eyes with Takada, and you honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he just passed out right now.

“Simp,” Satoru says. You look at him incredulously. “Okay, hey, I did not say I wasn’t also.” He plants a kiss on your temple and Megumi pretends to gag.

You swear Todo literally has physical stars in his eyes when he looks at her. He shakes her hand with both of his and does a weird half-bow and says, “It’s such an honor, Ms. Ta—“

“Oh, please,” Takada giggles. “Just call me Takada.” Todo goes red again, stammering out a response.

“This is the most painful thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Megumi says. He’s only watching this because Yuji wants to.

“Mr. Aoi Todo,” Reggie Star says grandly, throwing an arm around him like they’re already best buds. “Take a seat, take a seat. Thanks again for joining us on such short notice!”

Todo takes his place on the couch while Reggie and Takada sit in opposing armchairs, the background flashing the Reggie Star Show logo as the theme music peters out. Reggie grills Todo with questions about the Samurai-Sorcerers series, playing against Yuji after playing with him in college, all the connections the team has with half of the championship bracket. And throughout, Todo just can’t tear his gaze away from Takada.

By the time it’s over you’re nearly falling off the couch, laughing yourself halfway to tears.

“Guys, it’s cute! He has a crush!” Yuji exclaims, and you all laugh harder. Tsumiki collapses into you, her hair spreading out over the fabric of the shirt you’re wearing—one of Satoru’s, blue and black and smelling like him.

After the commercial break, which consisted of an actually absurd amount of Takada promoting various useless products, Todo is nowhere to be found. Geto sits on the couch in his place with a press-worthy smile and a crisp, navy blue suit.

“And here we’ve got the starting center of one of the two NBA teams gunning for the championship title, Mr. Suguru Geto,” Reggie introduces, and the studio audience whoops and cheers as Geto waves them off, smiling modestly. You kind of want to slap him.

“Now, let’s not beat around the bush here, Suguru—you’re going up against the Sorcerers the day after tomorrow, and that means you’re coming face to face with your old teammate, Satoru ‘Six-Eyes’ Gojo.” Reggie looks pointedly out at the crowd, like they’re in on some big secret, and turns back to Geto. “How do you feel about this match-up, two starting centers with a lengthy history on the court with stakes this high?”

Geto sighs and leans forward a bit in his seat, one elbow on the armrest. “Well, Reggie, Satoru and I go back a long time.” You wrinkle your nose at the sound of his first name in Geto’s mouth. You feel weirdly defensive about it. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but we went to high school together and then college, so we’ve been playing basketball together since our early teens.”

Takada chimes in, “That’s quite the bond, going through the most formative parts of your careers together!” You can’t take her seriously, because in your head she’s still winking at the camera and waxing poetic about the merits of some new Japanese skincare line.

Reggie nods, encouraging Geto to go on. “I’ve gotta say, I am looking forward to seeing him again. He’s a hard man to get ahold of these days. It’ll be good to see him, albeit on opposite sides of the court.”

“No, it will not,” Satoru says with a false cheer in his voice, pointing a finger gun at the TV.

“And how do you think your odds are looking for this series?”

“Well,” Geto laughs, “the Sorcerers are talented, I’ll give them that. Clearly, they’ve made it this far. But I will say that the Curses are first seed with home court advantage.” He shrugs. “So do with that what you will.”

Takada glances at Reggie, as if asking permission for something, and he nods. “If I’m not mistaken, Mr. Geto, there’s another familiar face on the other side of things as well, a former manager of the Curses.”

Geto nods, a wide smile crossing his face, and you feel Satoru tense up beside you. “Oh, we miss her a lot, yes. She’s great at what she does. I keep telling her she should make her way back to San Diego if she feels so inclined.” He laughs, like this is some great ongoing joke.

“Oh, so you two still speak regularly, then?” Reggie asks, intrigued. Your jaw clenches, and Satoru’s hand encloses yours before it can become a fist.

“I just recently paid her a visit out east.” Oh my god. Oh my god.

“That fucker,” Satoru growls. Your phone buzzes with a message from Ieiri.

my wife: this little man bun bitch

my wife: what if i commit murder. what then

You’re seething, and even Tsumiki is frowning, the lines creasing her face, turning the corners of her mouth down. Paid you a visit? As if you’re friends and he came to catch up with you over coffee, not dropped in on your street in the dark to harass you about a job you don’t want?

“Well, sounds like it’ll be quite the reunion,” Reggie is saying by the time the smoke clears out of your ears enough for you to hear again.

Tsumiki reaches across you to ruffle Satoru’s hair. “He’s just trying to get under your skin. Don’t let him.”

You shoot a quick message back to Ieiri.

you: tbh i’d pay a lot of money to see y’all in a cage match

Reggie and Takada shift to broader questions about the series and you tune out most of the remainder of the segment, irritated when Geto answers one too many questions with Satoru’s name, subtly suggesting that the Sorcerers have none of the grit and discipline the Curses do.

“They’re a fun bunch,” he says at one point. “Like a barrel of monkeys. They just have a good time.” The tone is all fake, smoothed-out public relations, and it makes your blood boil. You know what he’s really implying, that it’s an insult. That the Sorcerers spend all their time hanging off hoops instead of drilling themselves into the ground. You know it’s not true. You’ve watched them work their asses off all year.

“God forbid we know how to have fun,” Satoru snorts, and you feel the tension easing from your shoulders just at the sound of his voice.

“You don’t,” you say teasingly, flipping yourself around on the couch so your head lands in his lap. “That’s entirely Kento.”

Satoru gasps and looks down at you. “You take that back. Nanami is the most unfun—“

“Not a word,” Tsumiki says helpfully.

“Everyone in this house hates me! Slander under my own roof!” He digs his fingers into your sides and starts tickling you, and you squirm out of his grasp and onto the ground, but he follows you. Soon it’s a mess of Shiro and Kuro frantically pouncing on both of you as you squeal for Satoru to let you go, and Tsumiki is definitely filming this whole thing, and it’s all so incredibly domestic and unserious and right that your heart swells in your chest.

Fuck Geto. He can’t get to you here, and he can’t take you away from the team you love.

—

Being in San Diego again is strange. The facilities are familiar, the gyms, the locker rooms, but you’re walking them a different person than you left them, experiencing the same setting in a new context that makes you feel like you’re living in one prolonged moment of déjà vu.

Nobara walks alongside you, bouncing between social media notifications and ranting about the way Geto made the Sorcerers sound on national television last night. Ieiri’s setting up in the training room down the hall, and Yaga’s pulled the guys into the locker room for a quick meeting before they launch into their last practice before the next day’s match.

You keep thinking about Yaga pulling you aside this morning, murmuring a quick warning in your ear. “If you see Mei Mei, no you don’t. Not worth the time. Just slip away.”

So far there’s been no sign of the other manager, and you’re glad for it.

Nobara’s phone starts ringing and she nods at you and peels off, pressing it to her ear and slipping deeper into the building. You lean against the wall, checking your own phone, making sure you don’t have any missed calls or emails.

The side doors open loudly, metal scraping across the floor, and you look up.

Fuck.

It seems Mei Mei doesn’t do her own damn dirty work.

“Oh, hello!” Mahito crows, making his way over to you. You didn’t like him when you worked for the Curses and you don’t like him now, his leering grin too wide for his face, hair tied into three sections behind his back. Him, you know—but you haven’t yet met the man beside him, a lanky, tall guy with oddly wide eyes and a long blond ponytail weirdly off-center on his head.

Of course, you know who he is. You’ve done your research, you’ve seen the roster. Haruta Shigemo.

“I hoped you’d be here.” Mahito comes to a stop in front of you as you push off the wall, crossing your arms.

“Mahito.” Your voice is cold, flat.

He frowns, an exaggerated, off-putting gesture. “Thought it’d be a happier reunion,” he says. He holds his arms out toward Shigemo with a flourish. “I’d like you to meet Haruta. He, ah, was something of a replacement for your Six-Eyes.”

Shigemo stares at you, unblinking, a small, close-lipped smile sending a shiver down your spine. You’re suddenly aware of how close these two men are to you, that your back is to the wall, that you’re alone in the hallway.

“Look, I really have a lot to get done—”

“Oh, we don’t mean to bother you!” Mahito laughs, high-pitched and manic. “We just wanted to welcome you back home, you know. Make sure you settled in to the old stomping grounds.” He leans in, breath smelling like some odd combination of fruity gum and stale crackers. You shudder involuntarily. “I hope you don’t take it too hard when they lose,” he whispers, too close to your face. “Should you need an out, remember we’re in your corner.”

Shigemo holds a hand up as you’re about to retort, tilting his head and studying you. “If he’s not your type,” he giggles, nodding at Mahito, “I’ve got some time on my hands tonight.”

Your face flushes deep red with anger, fists going white-knuckled at your side. “I do not need—”

“Excuse me,” says a cool, familiar voice, and the tension in your muscles goes slack as Kento comes to stand directly between you and your newfound nuisances. “I believe we’ve already taken care of any business that needed tending to before the match tomorrow, yes? Is there anything else I can help you with? We’re just about to kick off practice, and I’m afraid our time is limited.”

Mahito steps back, holding his arms up in false surrender. “Nanami! Hello!” He grins widely. “We’re representatives, of a sort. Just making sure the bunch of you are settled in.” Shigemo nods and looks Kento up and down, calculating.

“We are just fine,” he says flatly, nudging you with a hand behind his back. You nod at the two Curses players and storm down the hallway toward the gym, heart racing in your chest. Behind you, you hear Kento still talking. “Do tell Mei Mei her… thoughtfulness is noted.”

In the gym, the guys are warming up, and your eyes immediately lock on Megumi, angrily slamming an innocent basketball against the wall, over and over. Yuji dribbles between his knees without looking at his ball, watching Megumi intently.

You don’t see Satoru, and for a moment you’re worried, feeling a little off-balance, until you feel hands on your shoulders, spinning you around. “Well, hello,” he says, and you laugh, dropping your head into his chest.

“Fuck is up with Megumi?” you ask, nodding toward him, and Satoru frowns. You notice now the tension in him, the slight anger in his eyes, an energy like impatience and frustration all around his edges.

“Suguru was fucking with him. Saying shit about Tsumiki. I was dealing with him.” He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, considering as he looks over your shoulder at Yuji drawing Megumi back onto the court. “He’s such a dick.”

Kento walks in then, making his way straight over to you. “You okay?” he asks, and Satoru’s brows knit together.

“What? Why wouldn’t she—” He turns to you. “Why wouldn’t you be okay? What happened?”

“Mahito,” you say. “Shigemo, too. Fucking pricks.”

Satoru breathes in sharply, his grip on your shoulder tightening protectively. “If they put their fucking hands on you—”

“Toru,” you say, the nickname slipping out without your permission. It seems to calm him down a little, makes him look at you steadily. “Kento got them out of the way. And they won’t do anything to me. They’re just doing Mei Mei’s bidding, same as Geto, probably.” You grab his hands in yours, nodding at Kento to say you’ll be okay. He inclines his head and walks away, gathering the rest of the team in the center of the gym.

“They want to get under your skin. Don’t let them."

Your voice is steady and calm, coated with a reassurance you don’t feel. Your nerves are still on high alert, Mahito’s breathing down your neck, Shigemo’s unsettling scrutiny lingering in your mind. But you know they’re not after you. You’re a conduit for them, a way to fuck with Satoru. And you will not let them.

“Don’t let them,” he echoes, sighing, pulling you in, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“Remember, flagrantly disgusting display of public affection. Imagine their faces.”

He laughs, loud and bright, and something warm blooms in you at the sound. “God, you’re the best.”

“I know.” You pull back and shove him in the direction of the team. “Now go practice so I can watch you kick their asses.”

He grins at you, does a little half-bow, snapping back into his untouchable, unbothered self. “Anything for you.”

—

There's really no reason for you to have the clipboard in your hands. Every note you’ve taken is committed to memory. You know both team’s rosters inside and out, know every detail of the schedule, what a win or a loss means for the schedule, score projections, all of it. But you need something to do with your hands, so you hold onto it, clicking and unclicking your pen, scribbling in the margins of old brackets, trying to contain all your nervous energy into a manageable space.

And you’re not the only one overflowing with energy. The stadium is alive. The lights are bright, the crowd raucous, the massive hanging scoreboard broadcasting CHAMPIONSHIP SHOWDOWN SPONSORED BY KFC. You don’t think you could eat right now even if someone shoved a bucket of fried chicken into your hands.

“That’s just mean,” Satoru mutters under his breath, gazing up at the advertisement.

“What?”

He shakes his head. “Nothin’.”

He glances down at you and then across the court, where Geto has been tracking the two of you with searching eyes. Mei Mei hides behind a clipboard as well, though you notice her eyes flickering back and forth, studying Satoru, you, Yaga. You pointedly avoid looking at Mahito and Shigemo. Pricks.

The NBA championship series. Sorcerers versus Curses. It all comes to a head here, an endless rivalry for a championship title.

“So, I’m thinking now or never,” Satoru says, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips. When you realize what he means, it takes everything in you not to glance across the court at Geto. A smirk spreads across your face, and you grab Satoru’s jersey and pull him toward you.

“Good luck,” you say, and then you kiss him, hard and long and intentional, and you know Geto sees you.

“I think,” Satoru says, pulling back a little breathlessly, “we should do that every game.” He grins and you swat him away, making your way over to Ieiri and Nobara in the far corner, and you can’t wipe the smile from your own face. On the way there you chance a look across the court. Geto isn’t looking at you, but he’s looking at Satoru, talking lowly out of the corner of his mouth to Mei Mei.

Point for me, you think.

“You’re actually nauseating,” Nobara says when you reach her. You know she’s not serious. She knew the plan. She loved the plan.

“I’m making a point,” you say anyway. She follows your tilted head toward Geto and Mei Mei, and you watch the slow, shit-eating grin spread across her face.

“Oh, so worth it,” she murmurs.

You tug the headset on and listen to the unfamiliar announcers, wishing it was Zenin and Panda in your ears but settling for the new, faceless voices instead. They’re not the same guys who usually commentated on the home court when you worked for the Curses, and you’re oddly glad about it, that there’s not another reminder of the loaded history here right in your ears.

“Charles Bernard here with Rika Orimoto,” the new voice says, “ready to watch this long-time rivalry play out in real time.”

When she speaks up, Rika’s voice is bright and younger than you expected, animated where Bernard is entirely deadpan. Interesting partnership.

As the starters take their positions, you’re surprised to see that Satoru’s not the one taking the tip-off.

Kento is. And in front of him, eye-to-eye with a sardonic smile, is Mahito.

Ah, shit.

The ref’s expression is flat and unaffected, but his eyes dart between the two shooting guards as they face off in the center of the court. You wish you could hear what they’re saying.

“An unusual choice for both teams here as we kick off this final series,” Bernard says. “Neither of our centers taking the tip-off today.”

Kento shows no emotion as the ref lets go of the ball, and Mahito leaps, but he’s not fast enough.

“Number thirty-seven Kento Nanami swipes the tip-off without hesitation!” Rika announces. “Back to number six, the Sorcerers' Satoru Gojo, and a fantastic pass up to Fushiguro.”

The Curses' hulking point guard, Jogo, is right up in Megumi’s face with a massive hand reaching out to block, but Yuji grabs the rebound and pounds it through the hoop in seconds.

“And the Sorcerers take the lead just sixteen seconds in,” Bernard says. You look over at Ieiri and Nobara, grinning, and then back to where Mei Mei stands with a stony expression across the court.

You feel good about this.

Back and forth, back and forth. Ino is giving Jogo a run for his money, using his speed to dart around the massive point guard before he even sees what’s coming. In his breakaways Yuji keeps finding himself pitted against Mahito, and it seems like it’s always a fifty-fifty whether the block is successful.

“Some subs as we enter the second quarter. On San Diego's side we have Haruta Shigemo on for Fumihiko Takaba.”

“Yuta Okkotsu on for the Sorcerers!” Rika says, a little too excitedly, before she catches herself and calms down.

“Someone has a fangirl,” Nobara snorts beside you, holding just one side of the headset to her ear.

You can’t tear your eyes away from Satoru and Geto as they go up and down the court, always on each other’s heels, breathing hard. It’s personal, and everyone can see it. If they’re saying anything you can’t make it out.

Both teams are going all-out right now, and the fans feel it too. Megumi’s guarding Naoya Zenin like a shadow, something in the air around them tense and constant. You don’t see Yuji’s uncle but you can certainly hear him, somewhere behind you on the visitors’ side, screaming, “HELL YEAH! SHOW THEM WHAT A WIN REALLY MEANS! THESE FUCKERS WOULDN’T KNOW FIRE IF IT LIT UNDER THEIR ASSES!”

You give it two minutes before he’s kicked out.

Inumaki goes on, then Hakari, and at some point the Curses swap Jogo out for Dagon, and it’s go, go, go. You can barely catch your own breath by the half, the game wrapping around you like you’re the one playing it, and Satoru’s drenched in sweat as the team files back to the locker room. He reaches out and pinches you in the side and you stick your tongue out at him, like the mature adult you are.

“Gross,” Nobara says.

The rest of the game goes by in a similar blur of shots and blocks and heated matchups, Toge nailing a few free throws, Takaba coming back on and managing to slip past Megumi only once. The scoreboard never reads more than a six-point deficit.

You almost don’t hear the buzzer when it’s finally over, players skidding to a stop on the court, their heads turned up toward the scoreboard.

“Holy shit,” Ieiri breathes beside you. “We won. We actually fucking won.”

You rip off the headset, the grin overtaking you, relief and pride flooding your veins like a drug, and the rest of the team floods the court in celebration. They beat a first seed team on their home court.

Satoru catches your eye over the mass of people and smiles, and you wave back.

And this is only the beginning.

directory. || prev. || next.

jjk taglist open: just send me a message!

@shutuppeter @mikikkoo @reactwithjan @theclassbookworm @lilactaro

[thegettingbyp2]

sorry that this is being sent so early in the morning but Grumpy Bf & sunshine gf with Anthony Bridgerton sounds so cute!

Oddest Couple in the Ton

Buy me a coffee :)

You and Anthony Bridgerton were quite commonly known as the oddest couple in the Ton. Whilst, looks-wise, you were a perfect match, personality-wise, you couldn’t be more opposite. You were like the literal sunshine, always having a smile on your face and happy to talk to anyone whereas, your boyfriend hardly ever had a smile for anyone but you. And if the two of you were out, he’d try to avoid as many people as possible, actively trying to leave the second someone approached the pair of you.

Take now for instance, you two were taking a walk around the Ton together whilst the weather was nice, your arm linked in his as you pressed close together, talking in a tone that only the other could hear. Any onlooker would see a couple that are clearly in love, in their own little bubble and did not want to be disturbed. However, the Featherington’s were hardly just any onlooker.

Portia Featherinton stopped directly in front of you both, with Phillipa and Prudence on either side of her. The moment you came to a halt, you couldn’t stop the amused smile that grew on your lips when you heard Anthony’s impatient sigh.

‘Portia!’ you exclaimed, smiling broadly at the woman, leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek before being pulled back my Anthony’s arm wrapping around your waist. ‘How are you? We haven’t seen you in a while.’

‘I’m just fine, dear,’ she replied in a warm tone that you could tell was hiding an undertone of contempt. It wasn’t a secret that Portia was bitter at the fact you were the one Anthony had fallen for; she had been hoping that he was going to fall for one of her daughters, wanting nothing more than to have an in with one of the most prestigious families in the entire Ton. However, despite knowing the hard feelings the older woman may hold towards you, you tried to not let that bother you. ‘Just been busy trying to marry these two off,’ she gave a false laugh that had Phillipa and Prudence squirming at her sides, ‘how is the wedding planning going?’

‘It’s going rather well, thank you,’ Anthony piped in dryly, tightening his hold on your waist. You could feel in his body language next to you that he was getting ready to move you both along, already having had enough of the mindless chatter. ‘Though we really should get back to it, we only popped out for a bit of fresh air. Have a good day.’ His tone of voice giving no room for argument.

You gave an apologetic smile to the three woman and promised that you would catch up with them another time as Anthony practically dragged you away. Once you were out of earshot, you began to laugh, slapping Anthony’s chest lightly. ‘Anthony, there was no need for that,’ you said, amusement colouring your voice as you looked at him, his frown perpetually marked on his brow.

‘They’re insufferable,’ he replied bluntly as you walked up the steps to your home.

‘That may be, but it still wouldn’t hurt to smile once in a while,’ you teased.

Anthony turned to face you, giving you a smile that was reserved for you and you only; it was a smile that you adored because it was just for you. ‘Is that better?’ he asked.

You smiled softly at him, reaching up to press a gentle kiss to his lips and running your hand lightly down his jaw. ‘Much better.’

[carigm]

MAJOR POTENTIAL SPOILERS/LEAKS REGARDING S5 (WARNING)

Last Spring/Summer, a semi popular fandom account on Twitter got sent some leaks about S5, focused on the first half of the season. At this time, many fandom accounts were receiving supposed leaks, so our attention was a bit scattered and we didn’t focus on any of them too much. A popular leak account on Twitter (unrelated to ST) also mentioned that they had gotten the first half of S5 leaked, and that this source is “never wrong”. Now, it is hard to tell if these leaks are the same as the ones that the specific fandom account I’m talking about received, but something to keep in mind. Her leaks were given to her by a person named James (which I assume is a fake name). These leaks were also posted on Reddit, last year, by her (the person in the fandom that got the leaks from James) but some major things were omitted in that post. I’m gonna leave a link here in case you guys want to read the discussion.

I’m sharing these leaks with you because some things from them are kinda lining up with what we’re seeing from S5 production. Keep in mind that these could be fake/wrong, and James himself said he didn’t have info on the last couple of scripts.

According to James, Mike dies in Ep. 3. I’m adding more screenshots later for more context, but the gist of these leaks is that Mike bites it, mlvn never breakup nor do they get a resolution, and Byler is left up to interpretation but never really happens. (I don’t really need to get into how shitty this all is writing wise)

Let’s go over the things these leaks might have potentially gotten right, according to what we know so far.

1. James said that the time jump would occur in ep. 1, after an establishing scene where S4 left off. He said the time jump would place us in late 1987/early 1988. He also mentioned there would be a series of flashbacks showcasing stuff from before the time jump. The dates he gave do seem to be accurate, and David Harbour had a shaved head right before they went into filming, which could imply pre time jump scenes.

2. According to him, after Mike dies, they find a letter he had been writing. Some of us were theorizing Finn had a letter in his back pocket in those rooftop pics. Could’ve also been Finn’s script and he just stuck it there (who knows).

3. He said that Joyce gets badly injured in ep.3, and since there’s speculation Winona was seen filming at the hospital, some people think that means she was taken there because of her injury. It’s important to notice that Natalia, Cara, and Finn were also supposedly seen filming at the hospital, and that the production called for many extras for nurses and paramedics. So whatever they’re filming at the hospital, it might be bigger than Joyce getting injured in her leg. Let’s remember Max is at the hospital too. I’m not 100% sold on this part of the leaks.

4. Today it was revealed that they’re setting up to film at Stone Mountain. (This is where they filmed UD scenes for S4)

Apparently production might have purple tentacles out already. (UD vines?)

Cara Buono mentioned, in that video shared by Ross Duffer, that she was filming stuff from Ep.2. This was around 2 days ago.

The people that know about the leaks think this is where Mike dies in ep. 3. Here’s some further context:

Here’s some stuff he said about mlvn:

Which is just….meh, because like I said, it doesn’t look like him and El ever breakup before his supposed death. Plus Byler never gets any resolution.

Now some things that might disprove the leaks (I’m trying to be impartial here)

1. These leaks mentioned Argyle a couple of times, saying he has a hero moment at some point. Eduardo made it sound like he’s not coming back to the show, but tbh he could just be lying. He’s listed for ep.2 on IMDb (and yes I know anyone with an account can edit that site)

2. These leaks say that Mike is very insufferable for the 3 episodes he’s alive, basically lashing out at everyone, specially El, and just overall behaving like an asshole. I really didn’t get that from the ElMike rooftop scene, in fact he seemed very gentle with her. People that know about these leaks think that the rooftop scene is Mike maybe apologizing to El and them having a heart to heart, right before he dies (no comment).

All in all, if Mike is dying this early, I’m sure we’ll know soon enough. The rest of the cast is gonna be filming for like a year, and Finn will be done in like two weeks 💀

I also hope there’s more leaks soon (on Reddit) so that we might compare them to these and see wtf is up.

I know someone is gonna inevitably ask why leaks would be out almost a whole year before they started filming when we usually get them during filming or post production, but I’ve been told these leaks happened around the time the writer’s strike began, which is when they were originally gonna start filming. I was also told other shows had issues with leaks around that same time.

I don’t want to get too much into the truly awful writing we’re facing if these are real but…First, I believe it’s a total disservice to Mike’s character. One of your mains since S1 and you don’t even offer him the option of dying towards the end of the season? Even fucking Eddie got that. Two, it seems like a very easy cop out for not having to make Byler canon. Let’s just have neither ship be endgame and that way we don’t get queerbaiting allegations. It also stands in a zone too close to torture porn for my liking, because sure let’s kill the character two of the most traumatized characters in the history of TV love most. And yes, it’s also a disservice to El and Will’s characters. And lastly, if that supposed letter vaguely alludes Mike having some sort of sexuality problems (we don’t know atp) it is pretty fucked up they just killed him off like that. Sure let’s not explore any of that, but give a half assed explanation via letter ex machina. This is looking like Supernatural finale levels of bad to me.

Another point, I distinctly remember the Duffers saying, after S4, that they could never kill off a character like Mike because it would be too painful, and that ST would cease to be ST and lose its identity. They didn’t want to be like GOT. I sincerely hope they actually meant this and were not trying to be cheeky or whatever the fuck.

It would be genuinely insane, and quite frankly, a highlight of their lack of writing abilities.

I hope the leaks are wrong, but I felt like it was necessary to warn everyone just in case. I know I’m not watching something this awful.

[euripidestrousers]

The Bridget Jones Wolfstar AU that No One Asked For

Dear Diary, 

Even writing those words makes me physically ill so I’d like to start this off by disclosing that getting a diary was not my idea. 

You see, my best friend, James - excellent, wonderful best friend who has recently become a family man by choice, and has therefore become one of the most insufferable people on earth - gave me this diary and said it’s either this or he’s buying me therapy because one more rubbish one-week relationship of mine is going to kill him.

And I don’t need a fucking therapist, so here you are, and here I am. I feel better already.

(haha)

Dear Diary, 

James might be onto something. Today I found myself smoking my third morning cigarette while drinking my coffee and muttering that the drive to work is going to be hell because of the rain. 

I’ve become my father. 

Of course, I asked James if he ever looks in the mirror and sees Monty staring back and if it makes him want to buy a motorbike and he replied, ‘Uh, I’m literally his son, we look alike. Are you okay?’

My thirty third birthday is coming up. 

Please don’t let this be a mid-life crisis. I’m not in a relationship because I don’t want one, and haven’t had one in over ten years because the men in London either want to meet you in the park or meet your parents. It’s the last hour of the buffet and all that’s left is the salad. And I don’t need a relationship either. James and Lily are a match made in heaven since the first time he told her ugly friend he was ugly (rightfully so, the man is still hideous and a complete prick), and she told him to watch his fucking mouth. Made for each other.

But the last time I met a guy that made me laugh and was any sort of attractive and not a complete knob about being attractive, was over three years ago. 

Ie, it’s not for me. End of story.

I bought a motorbike

Dear Diary, 

I’m going to do away with the whole ‘dear diary’ thing, it makes me feel like a schoolgirl and if James ever finds you when we’re drunk he’s going to read out at least one embarrassing entry at me. They’re all embarrassing. 

I went on a blind date today.

“Long black for… Sirish?”

What? Oh. That vague jumble of mush must have been his name. Sirius grabs the takeaway cup and makes for the door briskly. He has the Binkley case to catch up on and write a piece on by the end of the week and he’s still not clear who the man is. A football star perhaps? He’s still being sidelined into the sports area of the paper because he did football for a year. Nevermind that he has an interest in politics and would very much like to report on where the country will be in ten years if it keeps going-

J: You busy after work?

Sirius grins, flopping his jacket over one arm to type back to James Potter, best friend and inarguably lesser half of Lily Potter. 

S: drinks?

J: I have a one year old

S: too early for him to start?

S: kidding. Don’t tell Lily. She’s already started making him take his helmet every time I take him for a day. 

J: It’s not for drinks. Lily has a friend who’s just come to town. I thought maybe you could show him around.

S: Worst lie ever. 

J: I haven’t had coffee yet.

J: It’s actually true though. He just came to town and doesn’t know anyone other than Lily, and Harry has a cold so we’re both staying home.

J: He’s quite attractive I’m told. Lily told me to say ‘tall Martin Freeman’, and that you’d know what it means

S: Potter, if I was so desperate that I would open to a blind date, I definitely wouldn’t start with any of Lily’s friends, they’re all college professors and about 50 years old. 

J: He’s 37

S: He has elbow patches. Guaranteed. Bet he says ‘but the Torries are actually not as conservative as they’re made out to be.’

S: Bet he has a mahogany desk and wanks to Aristotle

J: Jesus christ

J: Photo sent

Sirius glances down uninterestedly and sees a photo of a man. But instead of the expected stuffy looking balding man with a sour face, as most of Lily’s fellow professors are to be fair, instead he’s looking at a tall, brown haired man with flecks of grey at the temples and smiling softly at the camera, and he’s well, he’s not not handsome. Tall Martin Freeman is actually quite right. Hello.

He brings the phone closer to examine the photo as he blindly barges into the office building with the large Get Up, Britain sign gaudy and bright above him. 

The man is younger on second glance, although he is wearing a suit jacket with elbow patches (told you, Jamie), and standing a little awkwardly, like he’s not used to photos being taken of him, and it’s entirely likely that he’s more accustomed to being nose deep in a book ninety percent of the time. 

He’s shagged worse. 

S: I was right about the elbow patches

J: I really tried to find one without them too

J: But he sounds nice. Funny. Lily likes him, she talks about him all the time. They were prefects together in school and used to bunk off and smoke behind the bins

One the one hand: prefect. Disgusting. Hall monitors. Pigs-to-be, snooty, law-abiding to the most irritating degree (Lily being the exception, of course). On the other hand: smoking behind the bins is more his style. Speaking of, he’d love one right now-

J: I really think you’d like him. Even just friends. Moving cities is lonely and he sounds alright. He likes Manchester U?

S: Fine, I’m free after 6

S: Don’t yell at me if I shag him, work has been shit.

So that’s how Sirius finds himself, half past six, swearing up a storm and running with his tote bag over his head in the pouring rain, late for his blind date (or something).

He slams into the restaurant door, shaking himself off like a wet dog, his casual Friday jeans and black t-shirt soaking wet, his shoulder length, black hair is dripping around his face, hoping his laptop has survived, and shivering like a chihuahua at a children’s party. 

“Uh, I’m here for uh-” he consults his phone again and reads the name to the maitre d, “Reh-mus?”

“It’s Remus, actually”, comes a soft voice from his left. 

Sirius turns quickly and immediately drenches the man standing at his elbow in droplets of water from his hair and coat. Tall Martin Freeman indeed - he has one of those faces that’s even better in person, where the way he stoops his shoulders and holds himself makes him look soft and welcoming, and the warm lighting gives him that attractive, cozy professor look, rather than an uptight old man.

“Oh”, Sirius grins quickly, hoping his dazzling smile will make up for their flimsy introduction, “Right, Sirius. Are you still waiting for a table-?”

“I er, well, I was about to leave actually”, Remus says, glancing at the maitre d awkwardly, “You’re quite late.”

Sirius’ smile freezes. Well, then. 

“Got caught up at work”, he replies stiffly, brushing his hair back and letting his eyes go cold, “If you’d prefer we don’t-”

“No, no, of course not”, Remus appears to snap back, as if remembering his manners and seeming oddly distracted, “Please, let’s sit. You look like you could use a drink.”

Sirius runs his tongue along his bottom lip as he follows Remus to the table and wonders if that was a slight about him looking like a drowned rat. He notices the man has worn an absolutely hideous brown jumper that wouldn’t be out of place in an aged care home, so he doesn’t really have the right to judge Sirius’ appearance. 

“Wine?” The waiter offers politely. It’s a nice place - James said Lily had picked it because she thought Remus would like it. It is a little stuffy, honestly. Something his parents might have stopped by and deemed adequate, which is to say, the beer is fucking overpriced, Jesus-

“I’ll have the Stout again, please”, Remus answers briskly, nodding at Sirius to order his.

“Uh, yeah, Stout. Cheers”, Sirius adds, dumping his bag beneath the table and trying to surreptitiously dry his hair in the napkin. Remus looks away as if embarrassed by him. Swot.

“So, you know Lily through school?” Sirius starts, unable to keep the boredom completely out of his voice. 

“Yes. I take it you know James through yours”, Remus answers, very politely but also sounding just as bored. 

“Yeah, grew up together”, Sirius nods. 

Remus doesn’t say anything to that, just hums and sips some water. 

It’s fucking awkward. Normally, Sirius would give him an ultimatum - ‘look, do you want to liven it up a bit and turn this into a fun one-night thing? Because otherwise, I’m not feeling it and I’ve got work to do.’

But Lily knows this guy, they have mutual friends, and if this isn’t what makes blind dates the most excruciating, hellish thing on earth, worse than job interviews, worse than-

“I don’t really do blind dates”, Remus says suddenly, and then blinks as if he hadn’t meant to say anything at all.

“Right”, Sirius says, bewildered. 

“I, er, the dating scene. Not really my thing”, he says quietly, still not looking Sirius in the eye, “But I just moved here from Wales and I don’t know anyone, so this doesn’t have to be… anything. Just-”

“Oh- oh yeah. Fine with me”, Sirius finds himself swallowing down a touch of regret, offended really, because he’s not used to someone not immediately being ready to come home with him. “I’m not really looking for anything and blind dates are, well - eugh, you know? Like, thanks, my friends think I can’t get laid on my own or something so they set me up with whoever they think isn’t a serial killer, like any gay dude will do-”

“Yes, well”, Remus says tightly, taking another sip, “I rather thought Lily knew me better than that.”

His tone is rather pointed and Sirius realises he’s let his mouth run. Well… to be fair, the guy is kind of a snob. What was Lily thinking anyway?

“Yeah”, he agrees through his teeth, crossing his arms and legs and sitting back in his chair to wait for his beer. Maybe he can make an excuse after one drink. He can’t be friends with someone who doesn’t have a sense of humour and if this bloke doesn’t want to be a one-night stand, then he’d much rather be home. Alone.

“Is there anything around here you’d recommend?” Remus tries, voice clipped and still sounding slightly offended, “Restaurants? More importantly, ones you don’t recommend?”

“There’s a place that does turkey curry. It’s awful.”

“What? What curry?” The tightness in Remus’ face slips momentarily and he looks genuinely bewildered. He’s actually not a bad looker when he’s not frowning. 

“Turkey. It’s as bad as it sounds. Actually it’s worse, like eating a lamb burrito, it’s just not right. Shittest fucking curry and it’s as bad going in as it is bad going ou-”

“Two Stouts.”

The waiter delivers their beers and they fade off into silence as they drink. 

Remus sips delicately, in a way that’s completely inappropriate for a beer, and says awkwardly, “Yes well, thank you for the tip. I’ll rest easy never knowing what turkey curry tastes like.”

“Yeah, I mean, if you can avoid it then I guess this date wasn’t a waste after all.”

Remus blinks, expression dropping. 

Oh. Oh fuck. Double fuck. He hadn’t meant to say that.

“I’ve got to go to the bathroom”, Remus says abruptly and stands. He stalks away quickly and leaves Sirius gnawing at his lip and furious at both himself and this infuriating man who seems to loathe him, minutes after meeting him and who Lily apparently thinks is nice. 

He’s got other shit to be getting on with, he decides. And this bloke probably shags like a limp fish anyway, an Oxford type that thinks poetry is foreplay and once a month sex is scandalously frequent.

He drains his beer and half of Remus’ for good measure, and heads to the bathroom so he can catch Remus on his way out, only to hear his own name hissed furiously. He sees Remus standing out the front of the restaurant, shoulders raised against the cold and holding the phone to his ear. He steps closer and half opens the door to tell him he’s going to head off when he hears the conversation.

“... how did you think someone like Sirius would be good for me? After the hell I’ve had in the last year? Going on a date with someone like him? He showed up thirty minutes late, dressed like he’s going to a bar playing exclusively Metallica, and insulted me immediately. I told you, I don’t mind being alone for a while, especially after the divorce. I certainly don’t want to be shown around London by a rude, arrogant berk who dresses like a teenager and doesn’t seem to have a filter between his brain and his mouth. He probably thinks the bar scene is-oh”

Remus catches sight of him out of the corner of his eye and he spins. They stare at each other for a few excruciation moments, Remus still holding the phone to his ear. 

Sirius breaks the tension with a forced laugh, “Right. I’m definitely going home.”

“Wait, shit, I’ll call you back”, Remus mutters into the phone and hangs up, stepping forward but Sirius pushes past him, temper steadily rising into a roaring bonfire within his chest.

“Sirius, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“You’re absolutely right, I wouldn’t know the first thing about showing a bloke like you around London”, he turns and says loudly so it carries over the sounds of the cars driving by on the busy street, “You’d be more comfortable in a fucking graveyard, honestly. There’s one ten minutes that way-” he turns his back and points over to the left, calling back over his shoulder, “You’ll find someone much more your speed there, Remus.”

Blind date disastrous as expected. 

Remus fucking Lupin, a professor extraordinaire who wouldn’t be able to find his funny bone if it conked him on the fucking head, is not an exception to the blind date rule, even though he’s easy on the eyes at first glance. At second glance, he is a miserable, dried up academic whose own self-importance has completely consumed him despite dressing like his grandfather for Halloween. 

If this is what my friends think of me, I need to sort my fucking shit out. 

I should have asked him to shag before he opened his stupid fucking mouth. 

[n0sewise]

look, I think Gon and Killua are well liked by their friends and loved ones, but I also think that they’d be just the worst couple on the planet.

like maybe Gon is cold because he’s not used to that type of weather, and instead of Killua giving him his hoodie, they both just wear it at the same time, and yes it looks weird and they’re walking awkwardly but obviously this was the best solution to the problem. and they don’t set out to be That Couple, but they share everything and of course Gon is going to hold out his bubble tea so Killua can try the flavour he got because he said he didn’t want mango, but Gon knows he’ll want to at least taste it, and they’re holding hands so there’s no way to pass it over without letting go.

they’re good friends to have around, great even, but sometimes it’s annoying to talk to them because Killua will just give Gon A Look, and he’ll smile back, and somehow a silent conversation is happening that neither one will elaborate on and it’s hard to talk to someone when their partner is draped across their shoulders and playing with their hair

their friends start specifying that the invite for Boys Night is just for Gon or just for Killua and Yes, they know they’re both boys but last time they just made out in the corner and forgot to socialize.

maybe Killua has come over after school every day since the sixth grade, and Mito loves him, she really does, but suddenly the boys are sixteen and Gon is no longer allowed to close his bedroom door when Killua visits because Gon is not a quiet kid and Mito knows they aren’t studying up there

maybe the Zoldycks go on vacation to the French Riviera for the holidays and Killua is absolutely insufferable the entire time because No One has ever been in love the way he is and How Dare they separate him and Gon, and he racks up an Astonishing phone bill messaging Gon about how stupid everything is and how it’s no fun without him, and here are eleven selfies of him on an exquisite beach Not Smiling because he misses him so much. maybe Gon is slightly better over the holidays but Mito notices he’s been awfully preoccupied with his phone this year and she leans over to look at what he’s doing and ends up seeing the most explicit message from Killua, and Gon is so focused on typing out a response that he doesn’t even notice his aunt reading over his shoulder in horror. Mito calls Ging for the first time in…for the first time ever, and demands that he have The Talk with his son because she can’t look Gon in the eye for at least a week. maybe Ging thinks it’s funny until she tells him what the text said and Ging goes a little bit greenish and mutters something about being thankful they can’t get pregnant

maybe Leorio decides it’s a good idea to gently hint at the possibility that most first relationships don’t work out, and it’s okay to break up before college and Killua is already on his phone playing a game and ignoring him, but Gon is paying attention and is so offended that Leorio could even Suggest that they aren’t soulmates who will be together forever. maybe years later when they’ve all grown up some more it will be cute and sweet how Gon was right, but at the moment it’s annoying and Leorio is secretly dreading the day they break up

maybe they do break up briefly and over something stupid when they’re seventeen and they make it everyone’s problem. the Zoldycks are a pretty emotionally constipated family and they’re really not prepared for seventeen year old heartbroken Killua blasting his breakup music from his room at an eardrum shattering volume. maybe Alluka is the only one who is allowed to enter his room, but Illumi tries it One Time because Kil, you need to turn down your music and come eat dinner with the family, Mother is worr- and he doesn’t get any further than that because Killua has hurled a textbook at his head and Illumi has to duck. the water bill for the next month is absurdly high because Killua discovers that he can lay on his back in his marble shower and stare up at the ceiling while he ruminates over his exquisite heartbreak, and Silva just pays the bill because he can’t deal with it. Gon is no better. he doesn’t stay in his room like Killua, but he finds a way to bring him up at every possible opportunity. he’s doing his science homework at the kitchen table and Mito is making spaghetti when suddenly Gon sighs Loudly and says, “Killua used to love spaghetti,” as if Killua has passed away, and when Mito asks if he wants to talk about the breakup he just sighs again and says no. then they’re eating dinner and Gon sighs again, staring out the window and says how blue the sky is and how Killua had blue eyes too, and when his grandmother asks if Killua died or something, he stands up dramatically and says he’s no longer hungry and leaves the room.

when they finally get back together everyone around them is relieved because they’re even worse when they’re apart

[wonysugar]

hellooo I loved ur yunjin and yeji fics they were so smfhfhfh <333 if u don't mind could I request a chaewonxfem!reader where they've both been crushing on each other for months and have their first kiss on the floor of their friends house (and it escalates from there) this has literally been on my mind this whole day I just need someone to put it into words

also sorry if I'm not doing this right it's like my second time making a request 🥲

hello anon!! thank you so much for the kind words, it’s so appreciated<3 also OHMY GOD? i’m in love with this idea thank you for the request

word count: 1.7k

“god where are they? it’s already 9pm, they were supposed to show up ages ago.” you groan as you frustratingly put your phone back in your pocket, earning a slight giggle from chaewon.

“it’s okay y/n, we can wait out here if we have to, it’s not that cold.” she pulls out her phone to check the time. “or…”

you look at her, curiosity painted all over your face, “or?”

“…we can go to the convenience store to pass time and potentially get something to drink.” she suggests, standing up from the bench and pointing one that’s walking distance from where we are.

“i mean, it’s not like they’re coming anytime soon, so..” you grab your bag, walking towards a smiley chaewon and reaching out for her hand, grabbing it.

you knew exactly what going to the convenience store entailed; you, accidentally dropping a bunch of things, an employee getting on your ass and her, laughing loudly about it. it was basically a routine that happened every time you two hung out and you are more than happy to live it again today.

just hanging out with chaewon, talking to chaewon, holding hands with chaewon, is a serotonin boost of its own. she has a way of making people feel good, happy. she also has a way of making people fall for her, which you would know very well. ever since a few months ago, you’ve been infatuated by her. you guys met a while ago, but you’ve only started considering her a ‘crush’ up until recently. none of your guys’ mutual friends know, considering they could very well tell her at any point in time. not that you don’t trust them, they’re just very impulsive and don’t think before speaking.

speaking of mutual friends, right before you set foot in the store, you hear a loud and long ‘HONK’ behind you, causing both of you to turn around.

“now you guys think about grocery shopping?! come on, get in!” yunjin screams from behind the steering wheel.

you and chae look at each other, grinning, then run up to the car. chaewon sits next to yunjin in the passenger seat as you, sit in the back next to kazuha and sakura. you greet them as chaewon and yunjin bicker, making you guys giggle at their loudness (mostly on yunjin’s part).

*

lots of things happened when you guys arrived, first of all, yunjin had to check if her younger sister, eunchae, was sleeping. (which, she was, thankfully.)

then, kazuha thought she lost her phone somewhere. panicking, you all started looking everywhere in the living room. (turns out that the phone was literally on the dining table.)

lastly, you had to knock some sense into sakura for bringing a whole bottle of alcohol (you all assumed yunjin and kazuha were gonna end up blacked out by the end of the night.)

proving you right, yunjin and kazuha end up getting severely drunk, giggling at each other and confessing how much they love each other all whilst cuddling. sakura, on the other hand, is getting insanely tired from all the alcohol and can barely keep her eyes open.

as she drunkly glares at jin and zuha being insufferable, she says, “yeahhh, i’m going to bed. goodnight friendsss.” she stands up in a wobbly manner, then walks to the guest room, running her hand through her messy hair, causing chaewon and i to look at each other and laugh.

“you guys should go to sleep too, it’s already 2 am.” you say, gently poking kazuha’s shoulder as she giggles.

“fineeee.” yunjin gets up, dragging a groaning kazuha along with her. god, they become complete children when they drink..

you lay down on you back, enjoying the feeling of the cold hard floor on your head and arms. chaewon follows. “finally alone, huh?” she says. you respond with an enthusiastic “mhm.” she rolls over to her side, facing you. you can feel her gaze on you, so you turn your head to look at her back, taking in all of her beauty.

“you’re so pretty.”

“are you flirting with me, l/n y/n?” she jokes, giggling as she sneakily glances at your lips.

“maybe i am, kim chaewon.” you look down to your pocket and pull out your phone to scroll on instagram, concentrated on your screen. so much so, that you can’t notice chaewon still staring at your lips.

without warning, she gets on top of you and presses her lips against hers, making you whimper out of surprise. was she drunk?? but you two didn’t drink. her lips are plump and taste sweet, did she put on cherry chapstick before this? why is she doing this? your thoughts are all over the place, until she pulls away from you and interrupts your train of thought, “fuck, i love you y/n.” she pulls back in for a quick second, then, “i’ve always loved you, y/n. do you love me?”

you eagerly nod in response, still panting in confusion from the hungry kisses she stole from you.

“say it.”

“i-i love you chaewon.” you confess, looking into your eyes.

“you have no idea how long i’ve been wanting to do this.” smirking, she grabs your face and goes back for another kiss, much hungrier than the one before. as you kiss her back with the same passion, you work your hands around her body, but you slightly jump when her hand starts gripping one of your wrists as she pulls back from you.

“no touching unless i say so. got it?” she firmly says, her gaze cold. you can only nod in response, but she, apparently won’t take that as an answer.

“come on baby, use your words.”

you subconsciously gulp. you never knew she was into this whole dominant thing? i mean, you guys did talk about it once, but it was mostly on your part. either way, you were already soaking wet by this point, so you had no choice but to obey, oh woe is you.

“y-yes ma’am. no touching.” you hesitantly say. it’s not that you didn’t have sex before, you did! it’s just that you’ve never had any form other than vanilla. and despite being very into this dominant side of hers, you’ve only really watched porn about bdsm stuff, it’s not like you’ve ever lived it yourself!

“fuck, you’re so cute.” she giggles as she stands up, taking off her top followed by her sweatpants, revealing her lacy black underwear.

oh my god???

you stare at it in awe, you stare at her in awe. how can someone be so hot?? then, as if to snap you out of your very visible yearning, she grabs your hand to stand you up.

“take it off.”

“h-huh?” you say, still not fully over how gorgeous chaewon is.

“my underwear, take it off.”

almost immediately, you oblige. you unhook the clip of her bra, making her tits slightly fall in the most perfect way you’ve ever seen. then, you head for the band of her panties, pulling those down.

there she was, completely naked. fuck she looks so pretty like this.

“now, lie back down, baby.” she says, with such a lustful smile that you can’t help but feel nervous. despite that, you quite obviously do as you’re told.

“i’m gonna sit on your face, okay y/n?” she teasingly says, making you nod eagerly.

“o-okay.” you stutter.

she settles herself right on top of your mouth, teasing you, causing you to smell how dripping wet she is for a quick moment. you remember that you can’t touch her, but god do you want to right now.

thankfully for you though, soon enough, she’s riding your face, letting out some sweet noises as she grinds on your tongue. you can’t help but let out moans as you lick and suck on her gorgeous, perfect pussy while gripping on her thighs, keeping her in place. it is a little hard to breathe, but you honestly couldn’t care less.

“f-fuck.. such a good girl..” she moans out, violently grabbing on your hair and pulling you closer to her all whilst looking down at you with hooded eyes. the nickname made your heart skip a beat, so much so that you didn’t even mind the pain on your scalp, hell, you liked it. the view just made it all so much better.

as time passes, you feel chaewon get rougher and faster and notice her noises getting shorter and louder, implying that she’s close to finishing. a little bit more time passes, she grips your hair, then

“a-ah y/n, baby keep going..!” as she keeps you in place, making sure you’re staying in the same spot and working your tongue at the same speed you originally were. then, after not moving for a moment, she lets out a loud and long moan as she cums against your mouth. she’s slightly grinding on your tongue some more, her hand still gripping your hair.

and to be honest? that was the hottest thing ever.

she gets up from her seat, then scoots a little to the side, now laying down next to you sideways.

“w-was i good?” you ask, nervously giggling as she looks at you. quickly, her eyes playfully widen as she lets out a chuckle.

“are you seriously asking me that right now? of course you were good!” she laughs. you let out a sigh of relief as you laugh along with her.

“we should probably shower.” she adds.

“together?” you ask after gathering all of your courage.

she nods, smirking, “that’s what i was implying, plus, i still need to take care of your situation.”

you giggle, mostly out of nervousness and excitement. as you stand up from the floor, you remember that you guys were at yunjin’s house. what if they heard? what if eunchae heard?? panic visibly takes over you before chaewon holds a finger up to your mouth, shutting you up quickly.

“they’re all dead asleep, y/n. plus, they all locked their doors, we’re fine.” she playfully winks at you.

all you could do was believe her, besides,

you guys still weren’t done, so you could only hope that they were knocked out asleep.

ps: sorry this took so long! i tried posting it asap, the ending is kinda rushed so i’m not exactly proud of this, i hope you like it though :< i’ll do better next time

[poledancingdinos]

Hostile Territory - Chapter 25

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC (Leah Coleman)

Word count: 2.4K

Warnings: none for this chapter

Catch up: Series Masterlist

Taglist: @amberangel112 @utterlyhopeful-fics @marantha @kebabgirl67 @littleone65 @omgkatinka @luclittlepond @athenepromachos @enchantedbytomandhenry @narnianaos @geralts-yenn @peaches1958 @avengersfan25 @sillyrabbit81 @summersong69 @identity2212 @liecastillo @lena-banena @mrsevans90 @confessionbrain-writings @eclecticfashionbookszipper @happydistraction @hannah9921 @valacircareads @toooldforobsessions @kingliam2019 @rosecentury

Masterlist

Day 221

The entire duration of his flight to Iraq, Sy attempted to entertain himself with a book. Of course, immersing yourself in a fictional fantasy universe was a little harder when you were sitting in a C-130 surrounded by a bunch of fellow soldiers who carry guns rather than riding through a forest on horseback and wielding a sword. And no fantasy world was exciting enough to distract from the pain of being torn away from the person you love.

Okay, maybe ‘torn away’ was a bit dramatic but that was how it felt. Sy had a newfound understanding of why his sisters had been so insufferable after their first heartbreaks back in high school. He did not have the emotional intelligence to deal with his current predicament.

And it had only been five days.

Closing the book, Sy dug the newly purchased hardcover journal from his pack instead. It wasn’t always possible to have their phones when they were out on ops, for obvious reasons, so he’d decided he would use the journal to write down the things he would want to say to Leah. On the inside of the front cover, he had taped a copy of the drawing Leah had given him. The original he’d left safely back in the States where it wouldn’t risk getting blown up.

Turning the page, he read over the first entry in the journal. 

Dear L,

I know I already sent you a message thanking you for the drawing but a text doesn’t feel good enough for the amount of work you no doubt put into making it. It feels even more inadequate with how we parted ways. Letting you walk away, knowing I was the one who put that look on your face, was the hardest thing I ever had to do. I can only hope you’ll allow me to spend my life making up for it.

It felt like yet another betrayal not to call her by her full name but it was too risky. If something happened and someone tried to return his belongings they might start asking questions. It was also the reason he hadn’t already made Leah his phone background.

She’d grumbled every time he tried to take pictures of her but he’d managed to sneak in a few shots while she wasn’t looking. He did notice that she was much less likely to protest if he was in the shot with her so he’d taken more pictures of himself in ten days than he had in ten years.

Soon, they were landing in Iraq and Sy was in the front seat of a humvee on his way back to Warhorse. This time however, it was only a short stay. He was meeting with the captain who had taken over during his leave to do a more formal handoff of the tasks and responsibilities now that he knew it was a permanent change of command.

“Welcome back, Major Syverson.”

“Thank you.” The handshake the other man offered was pointlessly strong, even just shy of painful. Sy didn’t have the patience for intimidation games, he just wanted to do what he needed to do and get the hell out. “Is there any particular reason the locals are out there yellin’ at us?” 

“You know them hajis, they’re never happy.”

Sy bristled at the choice of words. “They may not be particularly happy to have Americans in their country but when I left the locals were not demandin’ our heads on a stake.”

The man shrugged him off, turning to walk back inside.

“They’re just mad at us for dealing with a couple of troublemakers. God forbid they show a hint of gratitude to us for cleaning up this shit stain on a map. That would be a betrayal of their beliefs.”

The bullshit coming out of Captain Dickhead’s mouth didn’t wane once the entire time they spoke in Sy’s office. Well, Captain Dickhead’s office. He made it very clear that he thought Sy had been too soft on the locals and too hard on his soldiers. How dare he write them up for innocent teasing.

Sy was relieved when they finally called it a day and went out to chow. Looking around the mess hall, Sy noticed something missing.

“Where’s Aika?”

Captain Dickhead fell heavily into his chair. “Who?”

“Aika. You know, the green german shepherd that roams around the base.”

“That mutt had a name? All I know is that I checked and there were no K9 units out here so I told one of the boys to put it outside the gates where it belonged. Told him that if he put it out of its misery while he was at it, there would be no skin off my nose.”

Sy felt the blood drain from his face. As furious as he was, he couldn’t say a thing. He technically didn’t do anything wrong.

Aside from being a supreme asshole.

Aika was a stray and keeping her on base gave the extra burden of another mouth to feed—although she usually survived by taking a single bite of food from each soldier on base—but her presence was like a small flame in a dark, windowless room.

It might have been best that Sy hadn’t been the one to put her out or leave her behind but… He wished he had at least been able to give her a final goodbye.

The sound of the chopper was loud even through the earplugs Leah wore. She kept her eyes on Benjie as she waited for his signal while running through her mental safety checklist. On Benjie’s go ahead, she lept backwards and fell.

Once her feet hit the roof below, she unclipped herself and followed the others towards the door leading into the building. They fired at the stand-ins holding guns and ‘rescued’ the ones playing friendlies. By the time they had cleared the building, Leah was panting hard.

The adrenaline was still pumping through her veins as the team clapped each other on the back and waited for their score. The exercise had been made to test speed over strategy so Leah was ninety-nine point nine percent sure they had passed but it was impossible to judge time when you were in the thick of it.

In their first runs of the course, Ethan had taken to humming the S.W.A.T. theme song under his breath which gave a vague sense of how much time had passed but he’d stopped when someone pointed out that they were supposed to be in stealth mode. To Leah’s great dismay, it had actually caught on during exercises where they weren’t required to be silent and now people kept pointing out all the ways she and Michelle Rodriguez’s character from the 2003 movie were alike. Which led to them pointing out the similarities between Leah and all the other characters Michelle Rodriguez had played. It was possible they meant it as a compliment but considering half her characters died horrible, violent deaths, she wasn’t inclined to take it that way. 

The past few days in Arizona had been dedicated to what Jer affectionately referred to as ‘voluntarily falling out of flying objects’. Though he’d agreed to participate in the MFF course, this was far from his favorite part of the job. For now at least. He did a good job of keeping his nerves invisible to the outside eye so perhaps it would eventually grow on him.

Leah, on the other hand, one would think she had a death wish by the way excitement built in her body every single time she prepared for a jump.

Whenever they were doing a drill, Leah had total focus but, when they had gone through the refresher course, her mind had wandered to a certain set of piercing blue eyes. She could prepare the ropes and harness in her sleep so it hadn’t caused any catastrophic accidents but she would need to get her head on straight before they moved on to actually parachuting out of a plane.

Now that she and the guys were taking their gear off for the day, Leah got lost in thought again, only giving a hum of acknowledgement here or there as the others chatted.

After spending the morning in the wind tunnels and the afternoon doing drills, she was exhausted and ready for some food, sleep and a much needed shower. Not necessarily in that order. 

“I can’t remember the last time my muscles ached this much,” Ethan said as she joined them in the mess hall after cleaning up in her room.

“I know, I never skip leg day but no one prepared me for the amount of effort it would take to keep that arch.” Jer stretched his back with a wince.

“Maybe next time you make a girl stick her ass out while you’re backshotting her, you’ll have the decency to make her cum as a thank you,” Leah deadpanned, taking a giant bite out of her burger.

The boys guffawed while Jer tossed a fry which hit Leah square in the chest. “You spend a lot of time getting backshotted, Coleman? Is that why you’re the only one not complaining?”

“Nope”. She swallowed, washing down her bite with some water. “I’m just used to having to hold all sorts of bendy positions. Usually while dangling upside down and spinning in circles.”

While it was true that her experience with aerial arts helped her hold the position in the tunnels, it didn’t mean she wasn’t sore all over like the rest of them. She simply didn’t dare give the slightest hint that she found their training challenging. Even if the guys wouldn’t hold it against her, it didn’t mean any of the others never would.

More than once she’d been called on to answer questions or be the first to try one of the training exercises. Luckily, she’d managed not to make a complete fool of herself in the short time they’d been there. She just hoped it would stay that way as things continued to get more difficult because she really wanted to succeed.

Day 206

Leah couldn’t spend two weeks doing cutesy couple’s stuff. Cooking together and making a giant mess, ordering takeout instead, hand-feeding one another said takeout food. Okay, maybe those things only happened in movies but the idea of spending their time cooped up in honeymoon phase isolation made her skin itch.

It wasn’t that Sy minded going out, he just didn’t want Leah to feel obligated to come up with activities to fill their days. He wanted to get to know the real Leah, not the version of her where she attempted to act like the perfect host.

When she offered to take Sy out on her favorite hiking trails, there was no way he was going to say no. Leah had spent her childhood on the trails, what better way to get to know the real her?

She’d also managed to convince him to do some rock-climbing while they were there. Actually, she convinced him to hike up a section of the mountain, rappel down the side using a fixed anchor in the rock, then climb back up again. Sy had only trained in how to rappel off the sides of buildings, not climb rock faces, but he managed not to embarrass himself. Much.

He’d panicked the first time he’d slipped and caused Leah to lift off the ground but she’d just laughed it off as if being yanked six feet in the air was part of the fun. To be fair, to her, it probably was. Luckily, some other climbers had come along and were able to belay her so she could take a turn. He remembered the basics but he hadn’t done it in years and he was not going to take chances with Leah’s safety.

As he watched her gracefully scale the wall—yes, he’d just called her climbing graceful—he determined that it was the right thing to do. Leah wore leggings that fit like a second skin and the harness framed her ass in a way that made Sy want to blindfold the two other witnesses. He would definitely not have trusted himself with Leah’s safety with that much of a distraction right in front of him.

“Okay, this is obviously way too easy for you,” one of the climbers said as Leah came down. She’d finished the climb in one go, barely breaking a sweat. “Why don’t you guys come out and do some of the harder pitches?”

“That’s okay.” Leah unclipped herself from the harness and proceeded to pull her rope down. “I haven’t been out here in forever, I’m not shooting for a personal record. I was just showing my boyfriend what I love about Colorado.”

“Why not?” Sy asked, drawing the others’ attention. “We’re here now and we won’t be back in the country for a while. Might as well have fun while we can.”

Leah gave him a bright smile, skipping over to plant a kiss on his cheek. They spent another few hours in the park after hiking over to the other rock face which had harder pitches. Sy managed to muscle his way up one that had larger holds while Leah swapped her running shoes for talon-shaped ‘torture devices’—her words—to climb some of the sections where she had to clip the rope as she went. Once they were both tired, they said goodbye to the other pair and found a quiet spot to settle down and have a late lunch. 

While Leah was looking out at the horizon, a contented look on her face, Sy pulled out his phone and took a picture of her from over her shoulder. The sun was hitting her just right and the scenery behind her was incredible but as soon as she saw him taking pictures, she angled her face down and away.

“No you don’t, come here.”

Sliding a hand under her legs, he pulled her onto his lap and wrapped an arm around her front. Sy lifted his phone once again, this time taking a series of selfies of the both of them. Leah rolled her eyes but stopped protesting, instead leaning back into Sy’s embrace.

She submitted to a few more pictures before turning around and diverting his attention with a kiss. After one final picture, Sy abandoned the phone in favor of wrapping Leah’s ponytail around his fist and deepening the kiss.

As much as he wanted something to remember that moment by, the taste of Leah’s lips would win out every time.

Chapter 26

[estrellami-1]

Soft Touch Baby

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3 | Pt 4 | Pt 5 | Pt 6 | Pt 7 | Pt 8 | Pt 9 | Pt 10 | Pt 11 | Pt 12 | Pt 13 | Pt 14 | Pt 15 | Pt 16 | Eddie’s POV | Song | ao3

(Ok so this one is like, twice the size of the others, so be warned 😂 but we’re finished! That is… if there’s nothing else y’all want to see. Let me know!)

Eddie is fucking insatiable. Ever since that night, he’s been all over Steve.

Steve fucking loves it.

He loves how Eddie’s first reflex is to grab his hand when they get in the car. He loves Eddie’s fingers drumming over Steve’s thigh to the beat of the song as he drives. He loves the kisses to his hands, his knuckles, his cheeks and temples and nose.

He even loves the bites.

They’re sitting on the couch the first time it happens. Steve’s all but sitting in Eddie’s lap as they watch a movie. He knows Eddie’s watching him more than the movie. He’s maybe more okay with it than he should be.

Suddenly Eddie turns, leans down, and gently bites Steve’s shoulder. Steve jumps, already laughing as he turns to ask, “The hell was that?”

Eddie just shrugs. Doesn’t look even vaguely repentant. “You’re very biteable.”

Steve blinks. “Biteable.”

“Yeah.”

Steve blinks again, then starts laughing, leaning in to rest his head on Eddie’s shoulder. “You’re so fucking weird.” It sounds like I love you.

Eddie just grins. “Says the one dating the freak.” It sounds like I love you too.

After that, Eddie bites him all the time. Never hard, never enough to leave a mark (at least, not where it would be visible), but all the time.

A small chomp on his cheek when he passes by, just because he can. A nip at Steve’s finger when he’s teasing, poking at Eddie’s face or hair. His earlobe when he comes up behind Steve as he’s cooking or doing the dishes, threading his hands around Steve’s waist. A scrape of teeth on the tip of Steve’s nose, just to make him smile.

Steve loves it. Loves him. Loves how insufferable they’ve become to their friends (and, admittedly, they do play it up a bit, but the kids deserve it).

They tell Wayne, who of course clocked it before they did. He’s nothing but supportive, especially after he hears how them sleeping together (“Just sleeping, I swear.” “Well…” “Eds, you’re not helping right now.”) helps with the nightmares.

Robin is nothing but supportive, of course, “As long as I’m still your best friend.”

“Of course you are, Robs,” Steve says.

Eddie grins. “I know I can’t fight for that position. It’s all yours, Birdie.”

Surprisingly enough, what Steve might love most are the nicknames. Eddie has nicknames for everyone, of course, but Steve gets a little thrill from hearing his.

There’s Stevie, of course. Basically a classic at this point. There’s honey, babe, baby. But the one he really likes, the one Eddie knows is his favorite, is sunshine.

It gets to the point Eddie calls him Steve one day, and they both freeze because of how wrong it feels. “Stevie,” he corrects. “Baby. Sunshine.”

“Shut up,” Steve grouses, but he’s smiling, wide and unrepentant.

Stevie is an everyday type of nickname, one that Steve answers to more than his actual name at this point. Honey is sweet, and it always gives Steve a little thrill because it sounds like the type of pet name an old married couple would use. Babe is more sarcastic, more teasing, but still loving. Baby is more serious; whispered into shoulders when one of them wakes with a start, or into hair when one of them starts to doze off on the couch.

Sunshine is special, and Steve can’t quite clock what about it is so different, but it is. It sets his heart to fluttering, and he can’t help the shy grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. His fingers twitch in Eddie’s direction every time, and damn that man, he knows what he does to Steve.

Steve fucking loves it.

There are nights they try to spend apart, because they’re at least self-aware enough to know they probably shouldn’t be so codependent. At least not yet. So they try, and sometimes it works, but never for more than a few nights. It just feels wrong, without the other there, they don’t sleep as well, and as soon as Eddie’s wrapping his arms around Steve in one of their beds after some such period, he’s sighing into the back of Steve’s neck, squeezing slightly before relaxing and humming, “Hey, Sunshine.”

Steve’s fingers dig into the back of Eddie’s hands. “Hi.” He wiggles back until they’re pressed together as tight as they can be. Knows Eddie wants it, but will never take the initiative. “Missed you.”

A laugh ghosts over the back of his neck, followed by a kiss. “Missed you too.”

The day after one such period, Wayne calls Steve and Eddie for a meeting. “I’m not one to beat around the bush, so I’m just gonna say it. And you know I’m not the best with emotion, so don’t toy with me, boy,” he threatens, pointing a finger at Eddie, who nods. “Good. You two are it for each other. I dunno if what I can’t ask about means soulmates are real or some shit, but even if not, you two are the real deal. Now, you’ll always be my boy, Eddie. But you’re growing up. Hell, you’re grown. I think it’s time you two had a serious sit-down and figured out what the hell you want from each other.”

Because Eddie’s smart, his brows furrow. “Are- are you kicking me out?”

Wayne sees Steve stiffen slightly, sees him reach over for Eddie’s hand. Sees Eddie let him. “Hell no, boy, you’ve gotta home here for as long as you want it, and I’d even invite your boy to move in if we had the room. But we don’t. Hence the conversation that you need to have.”

Steve turns to Eddie. “Remind me to never introduce him and Robin.”

“Oh God,” Eddie says, and laughs.

They talk—a lot—and come to the same conclusion Wayne had. Eddie moves in properly a few days later, walks in with the key he’d accidentally pocketed the night it all changed. They convert a bedroom into a music room for Eddie, all hard surfaces to write on and soft rugs and bean-bag chairs to collapse on.

Eddie attempts dinner that night and almost kills Steve. “Lies. Lies and slander.”

Steve’s still giggling, even as he’s leaning in for a kiss. “Death by laugher is still death, babe.”

“It’s not funny!”

“It really, really is.”

“It was supposed to be spaghetti!”

“Oh my god,” Steve says, and bursts into laughter again. “We’re ordering pizza tonight. Tomorrow we’ll cook together.”

Eddie sheepishly pulls their Important Phone Numbers Book out, flips to the name of their typical pizzeria. Hands Steve the phone, already ringing, as he turns to wash the dishes.

He pauses, hands sudsy, Steve behind him on the phone trying to fix whatever the fuck he did, light and happy and laughter-filled, and he just has to pause, has to turn around and stare at Steve until he hangs up. “What?”

He wants to say I know you. Wants to say I know how to help when you get a migraine, have a nightmare, have a bad day. I know you. And you know me, know how I think, why I act the way I do, and this is the most vulnerable I’ve ever been with anyone and it should scare me but doesn’t.

Instead he says, “Nothing,” shrugs, then smiles, and he’s sure all his love is pouring from his eyes. Sure Steve can read everything he didn’t say. “Just love you, is all. And I still can’t really believe this is real.”

Steve smiles, moves to press their foreheads together, moves to steal a quick kiss. “I love you too. And this is real. I swear.” It’s a big thing, Eddie hears. But it’s just us.

And with the unsaid echoing between them, Eddie turns back to the sink.

Eddie’s POV

Taglist:

@thegingervulcan @snapshotmaestro @the-redthread @tiny-enthusiast @thatonepotatochild @maya-custodios-dionach @imsociallyanxiousgetoverit @vhelt @newtstabber @huskysarelife @singmeyoursimpsong @gaysonthefloor @darkwitchoferie @vi-an-te @kato-hoeven @biatcgh @vampireinthesun @goodolefashionedloverboi @awesomeimportantfan @oreos-ate-my-balls @theotalksalot @raysreads

[radiaurapple]

Lucid Dreams of New Orleans: Chapter 9

CHAPTER SUMMARY: IN WHICH Lucifer suffers the consequences of an unexpected oversight.

FIC SUMMARY: Lucifer has always kept his distance from sinners. It's what keeps him (relatively) sane — if he gets too close, he is haunted by visions of the tragic mortal lives that landed them in Hell.

But in his new life at the Hotel, it is more difficult than ever to stay away — and when it comes to light that his daughter's insufferable facilities manager is gravely wounded, it falls to Lucifer to deliver his soul from Death.

In so doing, he falls headfirst into the sins, past lives, and heartbreaks of the one human whose contradictions he is powerless to resist.

[AO3 LINK]

It's Saturday so it's new chapter time, and I'm very excited about this one!! No promo art this time, but I do have a shiny new fic summary 📻🍎

Chapter preview below!

The days pass. On one slow afternoon, Alastor slips out of the hotel for tea with Rosie. He returns as the violet of evening bleeds across the horizon. The bar is deserted — Husker has vacated his post.

There is a low, menacing chuckle behind him. Alastor turns, sighs in fond exasperation, and plucks Niffty from her perch above the doorframe by the back of her dress.

“Alastor’s home!” Niffty screeches.

“Great!” Charlie calls from the next room. “Will you ask him to join us in the dining room, please?”

“Charlie wants you in the dining room,” Niffty says.

“So I hear,” Alastor says. He sets Niffty down and she scampers off — Alastor follows.

The hotel’s residents are gathered at the table, mid-meal; a plate has been set out for him between Charlie and Angel Dust. It is piled high with what he can only hope is spaghetti — he notes with resignation that everyone at the table is ignoring their food, apart from Niffty, who has clambered back up onto her chair and is digging in with reckless abandon.

“Okay!” Charlie claps her hands together. “Now that everyone’s here, I can finally share the good news!”

Angel grips the edge of the table with four hands. “I’m unbanned from the ice cream machine?”

“Absolutely not,” Vaggie says. ���After what happened last time, you are never touching that thing again.”

“Neither am I,” Husk mutters.

Angel frowns and slumps back into his chair.

“Actually, the news is a little more exciting than the ice cream machine!” Charlie says. “Emily reached out to me, and Heaven has invited my dad and I to visit Sir Pentious! While we’re there, they want to meet with us about the redemption exercises we do at the hotel.”

Vaggie smiles. “Charlie, that’s amazing!”

“I know!” Charlie says. “Maybe they’re finally taking us seriously.”

The table erupts with chatter — but Alastor is hardly listening. He is looking at Lucifer across the table. He has gone very still, his expression neutral apart from the faintly downturned corners of his mouth — his shoulders are drawn inward, slightly, and Alastor is reminded of the blanket he wrapped around himself when he was crying, in the memory Alastor caught only a glimpse of.

A disquieting emotion churns inside of Alastor. He himself has certain memories he would rather run from.

“It’s interesting that they requested Lucifer’s presence,” he says lightly.

“Yeah, I was a little surprised,” Charlie says. She turns to Lucifer. “Emily seemed convinced that you were the reason for our success, even though I explained that you only joined us after Sir Pentious was already redeemed.”

“Well, if they’re sure they want me there,” Lucifer says, and the thread of tension in his voice only strengthens Alastor’s assessment.

“Hold on. Lucifer — are you sure you can spare the time? I’d be happy to attend in your stead,” Alastor says — and then the gears in his mind come to a screeching halt as he processes what he’s just done. What he’s just volunteered to do. He scrambles for a way to back down and still save face, but comes up empty — when that fails, he searches for an explanation to smooth over his uncharacteristic lapse in self-interest. What dynamic was he meant to have with the King of Hell, again? Ah, yes — antagonism. “Besides, if Heaven asks any pertinent questions about our operations, I’m sure they’d prefer accurate answers, as opposed to whatever meaningless folderol you might see fit to share.”

Not his most convincing barb, but Charlie frowns anyway. Lucifer, however, seems to see through the deception and recognize the olive branch Alastor has extended. His expression is pure, unfiltered gratitude.

“I, uh — yes,” Lucifer says, too quickly. “That’s fine with me. I don’t mind at all. I’ve got lots of — uh — stuff on my plate already. Thanks.” Then he tacks on, as an afterthought: “Asshole.”

So Alastor’s interpretation was correct — and now there’s nothing else to be done but see this through. He widens his smile.

Charlie’s mouth snaps shut and she blinks in surprise. “Okay, then! It’s settled,” she says after a moment of floundering. “A week from today, Alastor and I will go to Heaven.”

Alastor clenches and unclenches his fists beneath the table. “I look forward to it,” he says.

Lucifer lasts scarcely five more minutes at the table before he mutters something about a project he needs to get back to and slinks from the room.

Alastor watches him go. There is a tightness in Alastor’s chest, one that is completely separate from the newfound dread of his imminent trip to Heaven. No — this is somehow related to the sight of Lucifer across the table, frozen in shock — to the barely-concealed tension in his voice.

“I had best be going,” Alastor finds himself saying. “Thank you for the lovely meal.”

He drops his napkin on the table and leaves the room — once he’s out of sight, he dips into the shadows.

So it seems his self-sacrificial episode in the battle with Adam may not, in fact, have been an anomaly — it may have been the beginning of a new and troubling pattern of behavior. Why this surge of protectiveness? Alastor has always been defensive of his allies, but the Devil hardly warrants such behavior.

He reforms and realizes belatedly that he has not gone to the radio tower — he’s standing at Lucifer’s door. He raises his fist to the door, hesitates —

Well. He and Lucifer have only recently settled into a mutually beneficial routine, and it won’t do to disrupt it now. So he knocks.

[AO3 LINK]

[lordisitmine]

I know I've been gone forever, please know I am writing. Here, have a very fresh, very unedited excerpt for your troubles. (Minor spoilers for TTNBD, I guess).

February 17th, 1900.

Sebastian had not been hiding himself as he followed Lady Elizabeth through the damp and frigid streets. Nevertheless, he was surprised when she turned on her heel and marched back down the pavement toward him, seizing his coat sleeve and dragging him into the nearest alleyway. Though this was less of an alleyway and more of a narrow space between buildings. It was dark and foul-smelling, and Sebastian wondered- not for the first time- why human beings always chose locations such as this for private conversations.

“What are you doing?” Elizabeth hissed, as soon as the both of them were out of view from the street.

“Following you,” Sebastian answered simply, already delighted by the red of anger in her cheeks, the ruffle in her feathers. “I should think that would be obvious.”

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” she asked. “You looked like Hell-” a small, frustrated noise escaped her lips at her own humorous choice of words. “You looked half-dead when I last saw you.”

Sebastian placed a hand over his heart and bowed in feigned sincerity.

“The lady’s concern is most flattering.”

“I’m not concerned, you arrogant-” realising, though perhaps belatedly, that his objective was her exasperation, Elizabeth took a deep breath before she continued. “Why are you following me?”

“You were nearly killed no less than three days ago. Your death would be most unfortunate. Therefore, I am following you for your protection. I should think that would be obvious as well.”

“I have bodyguards,” she began to protest. “Bard, and Mey-Rin-”

“Yes, and what an excellent job they’re doing, letting you wander the streets of London unsupervised. Are they even aware that you’ve left the house?”

Lizzy glared daggers at him and crossed her arms in a typically childish gesture of defiance.

“I see now why Ciel became so taken with you: you’re just as much of a self-righteous and insufferable monster as he is. You two really are the perfect match.”

“Once again, you flatter me. No one has ever referred to me as righteous.”

“My parents don’t want me leaving the house without the servants as chaperones. And they don’t want me seeing Sybil, either.”

“Forbidden love,” Sebastian sighed. “An age-old tribulation.”

This time, Elizabeth ignored him altogether.

“They think she’s a bad influence on me. But I’m not going to see her just now, I’ll have you know. I am on my way to meet with Chief Inspector Abberline. You can tell Ciel that when you report back to him on my whereabouts.”

Duly noted, Ciel responded, after Sebastian had communicated the thought.

“Ah yes.” Sebastian nodded. “I assume it’s to do with yesterday’s murders. The stolen souls.”

Six dead in three households. All the supposed work of the Murderer of Midtown. It seemed that Druitt must be making himself come demonic bodyguards of his own.

“How did you know about that? Abberline has kept the details completely out of the press!”

“Hm. Quite a feat. But we monsters have our ways of gaining insight into the truth of a thing. And Ciel and I are now able to divide and conquer, so to speak. He didn’t think you would appreciate his presence, so he took to investigating- and here I am.”

He waited for Elizabeth to point out that she didn’t appreciate his presence either. Instead, a shadow fell over her pale, golden face.

“You should be careful, Sebastian,” she warned. “You’re not any safer than I am. Especially after what happened at the ball.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, Trancy si going to try to kill you again,” she told him.

“How can you be sure?”

“I spoke to him, during the party. He told me you killed his brother- that you killed their entire village.” Her green eyes were dull with disdain. “Killing you is his revenge. So, he’ll keep trying until it’s done. It’s what he sold his soul for, after all.”

“I do find that disconcerting,” Sebastian frowned, “given that I am innocent of that particular crime.”

Ciel, who had been listening through the bond, growled.

I’ll kill that blond bastard. I’ll tear his head from his shoulders with my bare hands, burn his house to the ground, and salt the earth for good measure.

Why, dearest, I’m truly touched, Sebastian thought. I do believe that’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.

“I don’t know that I believe you,” Elizabeth was saying.

“I assure you; I am being most verisimilitudinous.” Not that it mattered to him whether she believed him or not. “I would swear on a Bible if I had one, but I’m afraid it might burst into flames the instant I did so.”

“Swear on Ciel,” she demanded. “Swear on Ciel’s life that you didn’t do the things Alois Trancy said you did.”

“Why does it matter,” he demanded in return, “if I did those things or not? Presumably, the young Lord Trancy believes I did these things under orders- presumably, you believe so as well. If it was at the behest of my master, how does it differ from any of the other lives I ended at his behest?”

“I don’t know,” Lizzy whispered. “But somehow it is.”

Sebastian advanced on her, then, until she had to flinch away from him until her back almost made contact with the dingy, dirty wall behind her.

“You should know that if Ciel did order me to do such a thing- to end a hundred, a thousand innocent lives- it would be because he had deemed it necessary- because he had deemed it right. And if he had been able to do it himself, he would have, without hesitation.”

“But I do not believe this is about anything Alois Trancy told you about past transgressions. I believe this is about the death of Constable Moore.”

“Shut up,” she croaked, voice caught in her throat like an animal in a trap.

“You still want to believe that he has changed, despite all evidence to the contrary,” Sebastian said softly, allowing pity to seep into his voice. “You are afraid to believe that he was always capable of the things you saw him do that night, and worse- because how could you have loved him, then?”

“Don’t-”

“You might not want to know, but you must, even if you are too afraid to ask.”

He took Elizabeth’s chin in his hand, forcing her eyes to meet his own. The shadows leapt and twisted around him.

“Well, young lady, the answer to your question is yes. And my question to you is this- would you have loved him, if you had known it all along? That even as a human, he was a creature of the darkness; that the darkness is what he chose? What he wanted?”

At her hesitation, he laughed, releasing his hold on her.

“You need not speak. I already know your answer.”

“You have your wish,” Elizabeth said. “I don’t still love him. I’m no threat to you.”

“My lady, you never were.” Sebastian stepped away from her. “He was always mine.”

“Then what is the purpose of your cruelty?”

I am a demon, he thought. My cruelty needs no purpose.

“Only to make it clear that you needn’t be concerned for my safety. There is nothing on this earth, nor above, nor below, that can take him from me, nor I from him.”

There was nothing Elizabeth could say to that, and so she said nothing- she merely turned on her heel once more.

“I am sorry to have delayed you,” he called to her retreating back. “I shall endeavour to be more clandestine in the future.

Elizabeth gave only her silence in reply, and fled.

[chronothread]

Two Heads Are Better Than One

Endwalker Spoilers.

Seventh Astral Era

Ishgard, Steps of Faith

Second Dawn of the Final Days

A child of Ishgard sits atop a pile of rubble, surrounded by their fallen brothers and sisters in arms. Only one other companion yet breathes - an almost identical figure were it not for the fox mask, ears, and nine tails that they had sported. The figure stands behind the purple-haired Ishgardian, applying ointment and some bandages.

“You know we’re stuck together now, right?”

“Mmhm.”

“And you’re not bothered by that?

“Do I really have a choice to not be bothered?”

“Ahaha! I guess not. But I thought I’d ask anyway.”

“Oh, you’re being polite now? You? The noisy little prick who takes every opportunity to fuck with me?”

“Hey, that’s not fair! I don’t take every opportunity, just…most of them.”

“And that’s better…how?”

“Simple. The breaks lull you into a false sense of security so it’s funnier when I fuck with you again. Ahahaha-ARGH! Hey, be careful! That’s an open wound…”

“Really should have known better than to provoke the person providing you with medical care.”

“You have a horrible bedside manner, you know that?”

“Oh grow up and suck it up. We’ve been through worse.” “Mmmh…worse, really? Our countrymen turn into eldritch beasts and start tearing the populace apart, and you think we’ve been through worse?”

“Your countrymen. And yes, ruining your father’s garden.” “Our countrymen, you’re one of us now. And…point taken.”

The masked figure finishes their work, securing some surgical gauze against the Ishgardian’s side. Some screaming is heard from the Gates of Judgment as droves of Coerthan citizens accompanied by remnants of a few scattered guard remnants desperately attempt to keep the citizens together, all the while driving several blasphemies back. The Ishgardian sighs, picking up their twin katanas before rising once more.

“Tell me straight doc, how bad is it?”

“Manageable for what we’re about to do. You’ll live.”

“That’s what I thought, but I thought a second opinion would be prudent.” “Finally, showing a little sense in that lust-addled brain of yours, Gale?”

“I have my moments Zephyr~”

“I really wish you had more moments like that.”

“Then I’d just be you, wouldn’t I?”

“Good. Means I’d have to worry less.” “Awww, you’re worried?”

“I’m worried for myself. If you die, I die. Remember?”

“Sure sure, keep pretending that’s why you worry.”

“Has anyone ever told you how insufferable you are?”

“Every day of my life~”

The Ishgardian takes a deep breath. There’s blood already on several parts of their body - some theirs, most from their fallen comrades. The gash that had just been recently treated went wide, but thankfully not deep. Another scar to add to the collection, should they survive today. A reminder to honor the sacrifices that the many knights of House Amante had made today. Several dead at their feet, many more injured and carted away - much to their protestations. They wondered if their most devoted knight was recovering well. Dior was most likely begging to be on the field with them again…they just had to go shielding Gale a second time. That was two that they owed Dior now.

The crowd manages to reach the halfway point of the bridge - where Ishgard’s most prodigal child had decided to make their stand. Whether they saw the masked figure bleeding dark aether or not was no longer important to them. Someone was watching over, that was all that mattered. Zephyr raises their own blades, standing next to the errant heir Amante.

“One stride left, Gale.”

“Two strides left, Zephyr.”

“Mmh. Good kill. Two strokes on my end, and this looks just like the fodder too. Am I getting slow?”

“No, you’re doing fine. They’re tougher than they look. What a pain.”

“At least they’re still small, right?” “Worse when they’re small, you’ve got a way smaller margin of error.”

“You know, you still haven’t answered my question.”

“This again? Is this really the time? When we’re fighting for our lives?”

“This-tssyaaa!-is the perfect time! Considering nothing is guaranteed, it might be prudent to get some things off our chests.”

“I think we should focus on the matter at hand.” “Well I think we should air it out before things actually start to get difficult!”

The two swordsmen enter a state of battle flow. Like a pair of ballerinas they dance across the field, felling creatures left and right in perfect sync. When Gale turns, so does Zephyr. When Zephyr strikes, so does Gale. They duo steal the show, outmaneuvering and outpacing the blasphemies at every turn, cutting a path for the poor souls trying to seek refuge from the oncoming storm. Every now and then one of Zephyr’s tails picks a stray spear off the ground and hurls it towards an opponent - only for Gale to kick off of the weapons haft and propel themself one of the creatures that dared to take to the skies, driving the polearm deeper into their opponent’s skull in the process.

“You are reckless Gale.”

“And you are enabling it. Answer the question?”

“Will you value your life while you fight if I do?”

“Yes.”

“No, I’m not bothered. In truth, you are amusing.”

“Aha! So you do like me!”

“You’re putting words in my mouth. You are simply just a very good distraction for my entertainment.”

“Mmhm, sure. I believe you, you-oh.”

The ground shakes. A larger figure appears from the Gates of Judgment, the size of a great wyrm. Only…wrong. With several heads that held several eyes, hand-like wings grasping at the sky, and a giant, gaping maw where their chest cavity was supposed to be. The creature roars, revealing the many teeth that lay inside its chest as the world shook once more from the sheer might of its cries. The swordsmen rush the creature down, knowing that must be done, but at the last second the blasphemy channels a blast of energy from its mouth that lands at Gale’s and Zephyr’s feet sending the pair careening backwards into a pile of rubble. Gale rubs their head as they attempt to reorient themself, before getting up once more.

“Ngg…shit. My head…had to be the size of a fucking house huh?”

“Your head? Fuck…my head too, sometimes I hate sharing a body with you.” 

“That wasn’t my fault this time! Look, if you have a complaint, bring it up after this. You’ll thank this body after we’re through.

“...Gale, we’re probably going to die on this bridge. You know that, right?” “No actually, I don’t. I don’t plan on dying here, and neither do you. But if you’re so worried, you can always leave me here! If I’m simply a fun amusement, I don’t think dying constitutes good entertainment anyway.”

“You know I physically can’t leave you.”

“Oh really? Cry me a river then. Maybe it’ll freeze over fast enough so that thing can slip over it and fall off the side of the bridge.”

The horrid amalgamation rears its many heads and stretches its grotesque wings. One step after the other, it approaches the two battered swordsmen - the last line of defense before the monstrosity reaches the city proper. Then, it’d be all up to whatever defenses the temple knights managed to muster while they set off on this fool’s errand. Hopefully, they bought Ishgard enough time to make a difference.

“And I wouldn’t want to either!”

“Right. Because you-”

“-yes I care! That's why I always tell you to be careful. It’s why I always scold you when you act so damn reckless all the time, why I constantly remind you to get enough sleep and begrudgingly tell you to go meet with your friends under the guise that I am annoyed with all of your banter. I like your banter! But I like it more when you’re not sulking all the time and replaying trauma in your mind!”

“...Zephyr I-”

“I only have little snippets. Tiny little pieces of who I was before, of my humanity. And I didn’t care about the even less that I had when I was drifting from host to host for the longest time. But when I’m with you, when I get to see you live your life and enjoy the world? Enjoy company? I feel like I’m getting back something that I lost a long, long time ago. And hated it at first! I hated being able to feel things again because it made everything so fucking difficult. You were a meal ticket! Nothing more, nothing less! And now here I am caring about some mortal who can’t be bothered to care for themself half the time.”

A dreadful feeling fills the air. A low, rumbling noise emanates from the creature’s chest-maw, and malevolent light begins to coalesce at the center of it. The dragon-blasphemy channels what could only be described as malice itself. Too large - too much to get out of the way in time. Indeed, it was as if it meant to obliterate the very bridge - no - the city itself.

“It’s why it hurts me when you put yourself down and consign yourself to your sheets for the day. No, Gale. I can’t leave you. And even if I could? I wouldn’t! Because you know what? I’d rather die here with you than live one more miserable moment of a voidsent’s existence, constantly paranoid, never being able to trust another person for fear of being consumed! It’s a wretched life, and I would rather die here with purpose. You are my only friend, my only family in this world Gale, and I did not know that I needed that so badly until you irritated me into loving you. So with whatever little time we have left, do not imply that I would leave you. I’ve lost everything once already. I don’t want to lose you too.”

Gale is left speechless. All they can do is look up at the creature - their doom - and dig their heels into the stone bricks that carried their people home for centuries on end. In defiance of fate. Always in defiance of fate.

“Then I guess that means that dying isn’t on the table today.”

“Gale it’s-”

“Useless? Sure, maybe. Maybe we’re going to die here anyway. But isn’t it better to try, to go kicking and screaming, to refuse our last meal? If we are going to do anything together then I want to resist together. I was born with a death sentence Zephyr. I wasn’t going to last another year before I met you. But I kept trying - I kept going on because I believed it was worth trying. And now I’m here, over half a decade later, and with almost another decade left. More if I find a cure. And it was tiring. It was painful, I cried so many nights because of how much it hurt to just exist. To have moments I couldn’t control my body. Moments where the pain was searing, where I felt like I was on fire and that my soul was to be branded with nothing but suffering. I wanted to give up so…so badly so many times. But I had people who I loved counting on me. So I grit my teeth and I kept going. In spite of the world.”

Gale takes a step forward, towards the blasphemy.

“So I’m going to keep living. In pure spite of this thing, to protect the people that I love. And if I die? Fine. I’ll make it a good death. I’ll make it mean something. I’ll burn so bright that the sight of my damaged soul is etched into the stars for all eternity. And I want to do that with you, Zephyr. So…please. Fight with me. One last time?”

The energies that the creature had collected reach critical mass. And as it flaps its wings and takes to the sky, and coils its warped body back as it reels to strike, Zephyr removes their mask and steps forward. A familiar face reveals itself underneath. A face Zephyr had forgotten. 

A face that Gale sees every morning in the mirror.

“One last time. With you, Gale.”

The pair dash forward together. Wind in their step and with a blast of levin, the duo kick off from the ground and make one final charge towards the maw - the belly of the beast - to try and save their homeland. With grim resolve, they welcome their end.

The sound of what seems to be a cannon resonates far across the bridge, and an arrow streaks through the air and buries itself in the light that the monster had channeled. The malevolent energies explode in the creature’s chest mouth, and it roars in pain and anger at this interference. In a berserk rage its many heads flail about, snapping and swiping at the two airborne swordsmen who fend them off as best they can. One of its many-eyed skulls is undaunted by their resistance and swings at the two like a bat, aiming to swat them off the bridge into the cruel embrace of the void. 

Yet a javelin soars through the air - brilliant and ornate, a wolf’s head decorated close to its tip. The weapon sinks into the blasphemy’s head, before exploding - then flying in reverse, disappearing behind the two warriors. As the Child of Halone and Child of the Void land onto the ground once more, they retreat backwards quickly. To where Halone herself seemed to have intervened from.

The pair look back, and see several familiar faces.

“Most troublesome damn sibling I’ve ever had. Next time you’re off to do a heroic sacrifice Gale, do us all a fucking favor? Call me so I can kill you first and save us the trouble?”

“Ignore your sister. But she’s right Gale. Be nicer to yourself - I don’t want to only have a spear to remember my best friend by.”

“In the name of the Fury milord, I know you like to show off, but is this not a bit much?”

Gale presses their lips together, forming a thin line on their face. Zephyr looks at them, canting their head to the side, nine tails swishing slowly in concern. Then Gale begins to laugh, and Zephyr’s ears twitch at the sound. Then they begin to laugh too - a scene that perplexes the three standing behind them. More figures come pouring out from the Arc of the Worthy. All armed. All ready to fight.

“How very like us then. To put it all on ourselves.”

“Speak for yourself. You’re insufferable.”

“ Yes, and whose face are you wearing right now?”

“Shut up. I didn’t know.”

“Well now you know where you get it from. So. I suppose you know what I am thinking…?”

There is a long pause before Zephyr speaks.

“Apple pie after we mop the floor with this son of a bitch?”

“Read me perfectly.”

[silentscrying]

🏀 buzzer beater | chapter SIX.

nba!gojo x manager!reader

summary: you thought you'd gotten rid of arrogant NBA star satoru gojo when he left the curses after your first year in basketball management. but when your contract is up three years later, you find yourself working with him once again as the manager for the sorcerers. as you navigate playoff season alongside long-time friend ieiri shoko and the sorcerers' insufferable star player, you start to realize his sudden departure from the curses may not have been what it seemed, and maybe gojo isn't exactly the person (or player) you thought he was, either.

warnings: language, mentions of smoking, absurdly cute dogs. || sfw. 2.6k words.

PRACTICE IS IN full swing at Jujutsu Arena two days later when a girl walks through the back doors with two massive dogs.

The sounds of thumping basketballs and squeaking shoes and shouts echo down the hall from the gym, the doors wide open, and you wonder if Yaga will be mad that there are dogs in here.

You don’t really care—you’re chiefly concerned with the fact that these dogs are so fucking cute and you are sprinting over to pet them before she’s halfway down the hall. They’re the same size, definitely the same breed, maybe some kind of husky mix—one is jet black and the other pure white.

“Hello!” you coo, sinking to your knees as the white one licks your face. The girl laughs and tries to pull them back, but they’re too excited. “Yes, hi! Who are you, cuties?”

“Sorry! They’re very friendly.”

The girl holding the leashes has long, dark hair pulled into a ponytail, two strands loose and curling at her chin. She looks up as you hear footsteps behind you, and the dogs pull free of the girl’s grip to jump on Megumi. “Hi!” he laughs. “Miss me?”

“Hello, my favorite sister, thank you for watching my dogs again, how are you?” the girl says flatly, hands on her hips. “Oh, great, thank you for asking!”

Megumi is fully on the ground now, the dogs wagging their tails at the speed of light and climbing all over him. He grins up at her through their fur. “Thank you,” he relents.

Ah. This must be Tsumiki.

“They’re yours?” You sink your fingers into soft white fur. “Why have you never brought them before? I will literally cuddle with them every practice—”

“That’s why,” he says, raising a brow. “You know you wouldn’t get anything done if they were around.”

“Excuse you.” You make a face, but he’s very right. You’re already fully prepared to sacrifice your entire workday to pet them.

“This is Shiro,” Megumi tells you as the white dog jumps up to lick your face, “and this is Kuro—hey, down! Shiro. Down. Good girl.” He laughs and pats Shiro on the head as she flops onto the ground.

Megumi isn’t cleared to play for two more days, but he’s been coming to practice to watch and talk strategy with Kusakabe. This is the most animated you’ve seen him since the concussion—actually, this might be the most animated you’ve seen him ever. You’ve never seen him this soft before, this affectionate. The love he has for these dogs is palpable.

“Oi.” Tsumiki walks over and yanks Megumi to his feet, standing on her tiptoes and holding his face in her hands. She glares at him. “Next time you get concussed on national television, answer your phone, Gumi.”

“Sorry, Miki,” he mumbles, heat rising to his cheeks when he realizes he’s getting chewed out by his sister in front of you. He’s significantly taller than her, but you know immediately that he’ll do anything she asks of him. The older sister aura is undeniable.

“You’re lucky Yuji called me or I would’ve flown up there myself to slap you.”

Megumi rolls his eyes and Tsumiki releases him from her hold. The dogs crowd around his legs, butting their heads up against him until he pets them. “C’mon,” Megumi says. “They’re practicing. Gojo will want to say hi.”

You initially think Yaga might be pissed about the dogs being in the gym, but he’s got a soft spot for them—they trot in ahead of Megumi, and he can’t even reprimand them. They even get Kusakabe to smile. They’re well-behaved, not venturing onto the court, just hovering around Megumi obediently.

Notably less well-behaved, Gojo drops a ball the second he sees Tsumiki and abandons whatever drill he’s running, bounding over to the side of the court. “Tsumiki!” he yells, and scoops her up in a hug.

“Satoru—ew, you’re sweaty! Stop, I have class!”

As soon as Gojo is off the court the dogs are all over him. They love him, and are obviously very familiar with him. Kuro tries to chew on his headband, and Gojo is fully rolling around the floor in a two-on-one wrestling match within seconds.

“Okay, okay,” Yaga interrupts eventually. “Back to work.” Gojo sighs dramatically and nudges the dogs in your direction.

“I’m being evicted,” he tells them sadly. “Go to Team Mom. She’ll take care of you.” You roll your eyes but immediately let Shiro sprawl across your lap. She’s too big to be a lapdog, but she doesn’t seem to know or care, which is fine by you.

You were planning to head out earlier today, but you wind up leaned against Kuro with Shiro nestled across your lap for the duration of the practice. You balance your laptop on top of Shiro. She doesn’t seem to mind.

Tsumiki’s settled in beside you, killing time before she has to leave.

“You’re the default dogsitter, then?”

She laughs, ruffling Shiro’s fur. “Yeah, when the team’s away. It’s the only form of payment he’ll take for helping me pay for grad school.” She rolls her eyes. “Even though I’d do it either way. I couldn’t drop them off tonight because I have class, and since Gumi’s not cleared to drive I figured I’d just swing by here before.” You smile at the nickname, remembering his name in Gojo’s contacts.

“What are you in grad school for?”

“Social work,” she says. “Gumi’s been really supportive about it, which is sweet. Satoru too.”

Right. Gojo considers both of them family. “That’s really cool,” you say truthfully. “Why social work?”

Tsumiki sighs, watching Megumi bent over a tablet with Kusakabe, deep in conversation. “We didn’t have the best home situation growing up,” she admits. “I honestly wasn’t sure we were gonna make it, at least before Satoru showed up. I want to make sure that kind of stuff doesn’t happen to other kids.”

Her voice is soft as she runs a hand along Kuro’s back, and she tears her gaze away from Megumi to look at you. “You can ask,” she says, smiling. “Really, it’s okay.”

You feel the heat on your cheeks, feeling caught. You are curious. So curious. You take a moment to choose the right words. “Gojo told me he met you guys when Megumi was still in high school,” you say finally. “And Megumi didn’t think he could play D1.”

“Ah,” Tsumiki says. “He didn’t think he could go to college at all, really, even though I told him to. I was… really sick, around the time he was being scouted. At that point, he was all I had. I was all he had. He was going to work full-time to pay the medical bills.”

She doesn’t have to say it, for you to put two and two together. I did him a favor.

“He paid them,” you realize aloud, looking for him on the court without realizing it. “Gojo paid your medical bills. So Megumi could go D1.”

You slam your mouth shut as soon as you say it, feeling like you’ve overstepped, jumped to conclusions. But Tsumiki’s just got that same warm smile on her face, nodding. “Yeah. He really… I don’t know where we’d be without him. Where I’d be, without both of them.”

She seems to register the range of emotions on your face, the way you’re fumbling for words, and mercifully takes the conversation in a new direction. “Which is why I’m very grateful to you,” she says, “for keeping them on track.”

You laugh, startled. “Well, they certainly make it easier than the last place I came from.”

Tsumiki hums, like she knows what you mean. “Megumi likes you,” she says. “The last manager they had here wasn’t nearly as good, he said.”

The heat rises to your cheeks and you look down, fighting off a surprised smile. Megumi isn’t the most vocal—you’ve never had the impression that he doesn’t like you, but you also never expected to actually be praised by him.

“Says you keep Satoru in check,” Tsumiki says, “which is quite the feat.”

You chuckle. “Nobody can keep him in check. Not really.” Tsumiki just shakes her head and smiles.

“But you recognize that,” she says, “and that makes you different.”

You’re not sure what to do with her quiet observation, and for a while the two of you watch practice in companionable silence, interrupted only by the thumping of dog tails and the sounds of the gym.

She heads out after about fifteen minutes, waving to Gojo and forcing Megumi into a hug.

“I’ll pick them up the night before you fly out,” she promises, and kisses both of the dogs goodbye.

“So are they your dogs now or can I have them back?” Megumi asks as practice winds down, arms folded as he looks down at you. You smile up at him, thinking about what Tsumiki said. Megumi likes you. It means a lot to you, you realize, that he thinks you’re good at your job. Something warm blooms in your chest at the sentiment.

“They are my best friends now and forever,” you announce. “I will die for them.” Kuro’s tail thumps happily beside you.

Yuji plops down beside you and Kuro sits up, licking the sweat off his face. “Hi, cutie!” he says. “Hi! Yeah, who’s a good boy? You’re the best boy. Yes you are. I love you, yep, sure do. Goooood boy.”

Megumi rolls his eyes. “You ready to go?” He throws a set of car keys at Yuji and he catches them in one hand, the other still scratching Kuro behind the ears.

“You ready?” Yuji asks the dog. “You ready to go? Yeah? Let’s go!” He must be giving Megumi a ride since he’s not cleared to drive yet.

“Bye, little buddies,” you coo, booping each of their noses in turn. Shiro licks your face and Kuro butts his head against the heel of your hand, and then they’re following Megumi down the hall.

“Met the sister, huh?” Gojo says as you stand, brushing the dog fur off your pants unsuccessfully. “Man, I love those dogs.”

“She’s cool,” you say. “I like her. And I love them. I’ve never seen Fushiguro that soft.”

“Oh, yeah, he’s an absolute sap for them,” Gojo laughs. You watch the expression on his face like you can uncover something there. He’s softer when he talks about Megumi, about Tsumiki, a relaxed curve to his lips and a warm look in his eyes. You feel like there’s an entire person in Satoru Gojo, one wholly separate from the NBA star, who you haven’t really gotten to know.

Things have started to click into place now, filled in by Tsumiki’s side of the story. It makes sense that Gojo would be so worried about Megumi getting hurt. If he isn’t able to play, he isn’t able to help Tsumiki pay for grad school. Gojo would offer to pay, and Megumi and Tsumiki wouldn’t let him—they still feel like they owe Gojo as it is.

Gojo knows all of this, and on top of it, considers the Fushiguros family. He knows Megumi would run himself ragged trying to support Tsumiki on whatever income he could. He wouldn’t let her drop out. And it makes sense, too, that he didn’t feel it was his place to say anything—you’re glad that you heard about Tsumiki’s medical issues from Tsumiki herself, even if you’re surprised she was so forthcoming about them despite barely knowing you.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Gojo asks, tapping you on the temple. You pull back and swat his hand away, snapping out of your reverie.

“I’m thinking of all the ways Utahime and I can make fun of you.”

“How dare you,” he gasps, clutching his chest. “You wound me.” He grins and tosses Kento a ball as he goes around collecting them, shoving them into a mesh bag. “Well, I’ve got a Fushiguro to annoy. See you tomorrow, Alley Cat.”

You roll your eyes and wave him off, and he whistles as he disappears from view.

—

The rest of the week goes by uneventfully. Megumi returns to practice, Yaga drills the team until they drop, and you're spending every waking hour prepping for Baltimore.

The thing is, you are worried. Worried about making it past round two of the playoffs, worried about playing a second seed on their home court.

But the Sorcerers win.

And then they win again.

And again.

You hardly have any time to yourself in the whirlwind of the next two weeks. It's a fast-paced cycle of flying and emailing and calling, arguing with Gojo over whether pineapple belongs on pizza (he says it does), and crashing in hotels after midnight with Ieiri either smoking or snoring on the other side of the room. Press requests are coming in even more than usual because of the upset. The headlines are flooding your inbox.

WOLVERINES FALL TO SORCERERS ON HOME COURT

SECOND-ROUND EASTERN CONFERENCE UPSET HAS WOLVERINES FANS ON EDGE

THIRD SEED SORCERERS ON THEIR WAY TO UNEXPECTED SWEEP?

It's too good to be true, and at the fourth game Baltimore manages to get a win over your team. Yuji's uncle Sukuna gets kicked out of Jujutsu Arena again in a rage, and the loss jars your team—Gojo tries to give them a pep talk, but it mostly centers around the idea that they're better than everyone else, and Ino seems to be the only one really listening.

It's a tough loss, but you're still 3-1. And when you fly back up to Baltimore, you have a feeling it'll be for the last time this season.

You practically fall into Nobara in relief when Ino slams the last shot in just before the buzzer, solidifying the Sorcerers' place in the conference finals. Kento grins, actually grins, and tries to give Ino a high-five that Ino immediately turns into a full-fledged hug.

A series of texts from the Samurai's manager comes in only moments later.

nitta: SEE YOU ON THE 17 !!!! nitta: utahime's so mad nitta: i'm thrilled. we can get sushi

Gojo plucks your phone from your hand and holds it up above you so you can't reach it, and you scowl and briefly consider kneeing him in the nuts in front of the entire stadium.

"Don't text and manage," he says, and you roll your eyes.

"I'm trying to set up conference finals, but if you don't want to go, that's fine," you lie. You were reading Nitta's texts; close enough. Gojo grins and drops the phone back into your hands.

"Conference finals!" he whoops, practically singing as he bounces on the balls of his feet. "Oh, I can't wait to see Utahime."

"She can wait to see you," you say, but Nobara's already pulling Gojo off to the side, camera in hand. You watch as she shoves a clip mic at him and starts barraging him with questions. He takes them in stride, answering animatedly and at one point pulling Megumi into the frame against his will.

You've actually missed talking to him the past week. It's been a hectic few days, and though you've had your share of meaningless arguments and snarky comments and eye rolls, you haven't had a real conversation with Satoru since New York. Now that you know about Tsumiki, there's a part of you that desperately wants to ask him about Geto, about why he was so against Megumi being drafted, about the conflict you can't seem to figure out.

Because despite everything, you do know Geto. And you know it wasn't mere jealousy or insecurity that had him pulling a move like that.

It jars you, shakes you, makes you question the last several years and every interaction you've ever had with him, but when Gojo catches your eye over Nobara's shoulder and smiles, you realize something.

You can't remember why you ever hated him.

directory. || prev. || next.

jjk taglist open: just send me a message!

@shutuppeter @mikikkoo @reactwithjan

shoutout to @reactwithjan for saying that gojo would order pineapple on pizza bc he would and he does.

[rev-pirate]

Okay okay so. Renchanting duo One Piece AU. LISTEN I am about to be So deranged about this. @liloinkoink and I have been going insane in the DMs. you gotta hear me out. The vision is very clear even if you dont care or know about op

So.

The most obvious thing in the world when it comes to making this a one piece au is that Ren is a pirate captain and definitely has a dog zoan type fruit. Now if you don't know what this is in one piece there are things called devil fruits which grant you powers but take away your ability to swim. They’re classed into three main categories and zoan types are fruits that allow you to transform into some creature. so Ren having a dog dog fruit model would allow him to shift between three states, full human, hybrid, and full dog. Devil fruits also have the ability to Awaken: unlocking a more powerful fourth form. which is dangerous for zoan types depending on the model type. often they lose their human consciousness and become full monster and require training the harness the form. And some zoan fruits are not what they first seem in their base form, eventually revealing themselves as something else. Now Ren ASSUMES for a long time he has a regular dog fruit model, perhaps a wolf, and that the off coloring of his coat only has his hair color to blame. We’ll come back to this.

Martyn is Ren’s first mate, the crew musician, and he also gets a devil fruit because Lew and I think it would be fun if he has the ability to just modulate his voice with it. He can mimic any sound, change his voice in any way he wants. It would be totally useless but in Martyn’s hands its the most insufferable fruit imaginable and he uses it to great effect. The crew hates him /affectionate.

Now you may be saying. The next most important thing to ask about a renchanting duo one piece au is the rise of the red king. How could you possibly adapt that?

let’s set the stage. (this is long so i put it under the break. there’s a TLDR at the bottom)

Ren and Martyn are cornered. They sent the crew away while they entered into a situation they knew there was a high chance they might not come back out of and that they didn't want to get the crew tangled up in. The worst case scenarios happen. They’re in a life or death situation with no way out and Ren is weighing his options. he’s recently had this. Hunch. you see. That there was more to his devil fruit than meets the eye. Martyn thinks he’s delusional. But Ren cant stop thinking about it.

There was this island on their travels where they heard a tale. A ghost story really. About how centuries ago there was a terrible evil man who could turn into a beastly wolf. And on the day they finally caught him, they brought him into the square to execute him, chopping off his head. The island breathed a sigh of relief that he would trouble them no longer. But the wolf man returned stronger to torment them night after night, spirit howling with rage and possessing the ones responsible for his execution and leaving them for dead. The chill of the afterlife following everywhere this creature went. He became the island’s curse. Nothing could kill him and when they returned to dig up his grave it was already torn up and empty. He really was a dead beast walking. It wasn't until they scoured the land to seize his head and destroy it that the beast was finally put to rest, freeing the island from the curse.

It was very likely that this was the work of a devil fruit. But what fruit? The only recorded fruit to ever bring someone back from the dead was the revive revive fruit. Ren starts scouring books about devil fruits for hints and traces. Trying to find inconsistencies between what fruit he does have and the wolf model fruit and seeking connections to other possibilities. But he never really finds any answers. He learns about another wolf model devil fruit user. It doesn’t make sense that there are two wolf model devil fruits. It’s impossible. The encyclopedias are just as confused as he is. Some that depict the exact shape of the fruit he had eaten never give it a model name, because no discernible dog breed matches his own. He still has a picture of the ancient art he saw of the wolf that had haunted that island. The brown and reddish coloring eerily similar to his own. He cant help but wonder.

They’re cornered. They don’t have long. It’s been Ren and Martyn since the beginning. And now here they are at what looks like the end. He asks Martyn to kill him. Not just kill him, behead him. They’re going to die anyway and if he Has to die he’d rather it be by Martyn’s hands. And Martyn is a survivor. Between the two of them, if Martyn kills Ren he has a higher chance of getting out of this alive. But if there is a Chance that killing Ren would awaken his devil fruit and bring him back, giving them to boost they need to get out of here alive together he wants to take it. Martyn says he’s insane. He’s delusional. Insert “You took me in when i was a lowly traveler...” “You showed me life” type speech. how can Ren ask him to kill him. There has to be another way out of this. There isn’t one. It’s do or die. And sometimes you’ve gotta do things that hurt. This is captain’s orders. an ultimate test of loyalty. Ren earnestly believes this is the only way Martyn will get out of this alive even if it fails. Martyn isn't sure he wants to without him.

It’s so fucked of him to ask Martyn to do this.

In the end he does. Martyn hates every second of it.

Thirty minutes go by. Ren is still dead. The blood is drying on Martyn’s axe, his hands, his cloths, the walls, the floor. The despair begins to really set in. He’s thinking about giving up what slivers of hope he has left. Ren hasn’t come back yet and it’s been long enough that he probably wont. It’s likely only a matter of minutes before Martyn is found by the marines closing in on them. And like Ren knew, Martyn is a survivor. So when they find him he tells them that he killed Ren in exchange for a pardon. That he’d been forced into a life of piracy and finally found his chance to escape it. He’d like to collect Ren’s bounty so that he can restart his life. He tell them he never saw Ren as a friend or his captain. They’re too horrified by the scene to question it.

As they take him away Martyn tries hard not to look back but when they turn into the hallway he catches a glimpse in his periphery of a couple marines stooping to collect Ren’s body and stops himself from yelling at them not to touch him. He says nothing. He cant break character now.

After they’ve brought Martyn in for questioning, interviewed him thoroughly, they find his story convincing. They agree to grant him a pardon and to pay out the money from Ren’s hefty bounty. They want to do it publicly. So that everyone knows he’s been pardoned. He doesn’t question this. He just wants this nightmare to end.

Martyn cant remember the last time he slept. Maybe not since the day before the mission went all wrong and ended with Ren dead on the end of his axe. He shoved every feeling he has about this into the deepest furthest depths of his mind. he has a character to play and he cant crack. he cant process. He just has to ignore it until he’s finally alone.

News reaches the rest of the crew via the newspaper. Captain Ren is dead, killed by his former right hand man Martyn. Skizz has been in charge while Ren and Martyn were away. He clutches the newspaper tight in his fist and tells the crew they’re setting sail. Martyn is being publicly pardoned, and it’s not far. Martyn’s betrayed them by committing the most heinous of crimes despite the years they had spent together. He must answer for this on the other end of his gun and then they can recollect the body of their dead captain to give him a proper burial. They don’t know that they’re walking into a trap set by the marines.

There is a precedent in the one piece universe for the bodies of notorious pirates being paraded around to celebrate their deaths. They do this with Ren and his head, knowing it will only stoke the anger of the already enraged crew of the late Captain Ren. They keep his body on display some distance behind the podium where Martyn is to be publicly pardoned in the city square. Martyn is going through the motions, still living the worst days of his life. Still compartmentalizing. What little hope he had of Ren coming back are swiftly dwindling away. It’s been days now. He still hasn’t slept. He cant grieve.

In the middle of the ceremony two gunshots ring out across the square. Martyn’s observation haki kicks in. (Observation haki being essentially foresight, predicting danger. sensing people’s auras, and the likes. I think Martyn would be pretty proficient at it) He barely dodges the first one in time and the second one hits him square in the shoulder. He is so. so tired. The crowd starts to panic. People are screaming. But it’s not just because Martyn has been shot. Fingers start to point beyond the podium to look behind them. The temperature in the square Plummets, the chill of the spirit realm seeping into the living.

Ren’s body begins to move. His head transforming into that of a wolf as it raises and settles back onto his shoulders, a ghastly spirit trail drawing them back together. His body then begins to change; a ghastly, huge, werewolf like creature, still covered in dried blood, taking shape before them. His powers awakened, the true nature of his devil fruit revealed. He has the Mythical Zoan Type Dog Dog Fruit Model: Inugami. The Dog God.

There’s chaos in the streets. Martyn cant believe his eyes. The lack of sleep is finally getting to him. There’s no way this is real. Ren starts attacking. People start running. There is only One thing Ren is consciously and instinctively aware of at this point, and it’s that someone important to him is in danger and they must be protected from the danger that is all around them. He kills the nearest thing that moves. The beast is entirely in control. Angry. Vengeful. The area around him so cold breath fogs in the air. Martyn explodes into action, throwing himself off the stage. Ren would hate it if he hurt civilians. He’s gotta be stopped. But more importantly Holy Shit Ren is Alive. He hasnt even processed beheading his own captain how is he supposed to process this?? People are running past Martyn, trying to pull him back to stop him as they run by. Martyn ignores them. He pushes against the fleeing crowd to run towards his Captain instead. Every part of him is warning him that in his newly awakened state Ren could kill him as soon as he’s in range. Part of him believes he’d deserve it for killing Ren first. But nothing is more important to him in this moment then ignoring that, ignoring the excruciating pain in his shoulder, blood still dripping from his finger tips, and gathering his captain up in his arms and reminding the beast that its name is Ren. Ren stills. His head detaches from his body, still floating in place, attached by a tendril of spirit energy as Martyn wraps his arms around his neck and pulls him down into a hug. It’s a bit much for poor Martyn at this point. he’s been running on fumes for days and all the pent up Everything that has been building up every since Ren pushed the axe into his hands and Oh God Ren’s head isnt actually attached. He faints. Around the square Skizz, Etho, and the rest of the crew are having another of one of the most confusing days of their lives. They showed up here to kill Martyn for the unforgivable, fight some marines, and reclaim their captain’s body. It seemed cut and dry. Skizz on a rooftop with a gun was the one that took the shots. He knows Martyn well. The first shot he knew Martyn would dodge and how, it was the second that was meant to hit him. What he didn’t expect was for the body of their captain to start moving. Someone is going to have a Lot of explaining to do and he’s going to want to hear it from Ren first. He didnt think that was something he’d ever get. Marines start to step out of hiding all around them, surrounding the square. Many step out onto the rooftop with Skizz. It’s then that Skizz realizes the marines were expecting them and it was a set up but they’d been too blinded by the news to see it. He cracks his knuckles and gets ready for a fight. Ren recognizes Martyn. And its then that things start coming back to him. Where is he? What is happening? Did it work? It must have. He’s alive. Is he though? People are screaming. Guns are being fired as the marines begin to surround the square. Oh god Martyn is unconscious. He has to get him to safety. He can work with this. So he cradles him up in his arms and runs. His ears pick up the voices of his crew within the cacophony. Martyn wakes back up after a couple minutes. He’s a little out of it. He can’t believe it worked. He cant believe Ren is alive. He tells him this. Ren really needs Martyn’s observation haki right now though so he really needs Martyn to keep it together right now. He takes a gun from a downed marine and hands it to Martyn so he can at least shoot over his shoulder or something. The chill that had surrounded Ren when he first reanimated still lingers. And once Martyn has got his feet under him again Ren eventually tests out a theory and discovers that his new abilities come with new limited ice powers. He’s going to have to work hard to hone them in. I figure if Brook’s revive revive fruit allows him to channel the chill of the spirit realm because of his connection to death than so can Ren’s and I am obsessed with that. Eventually they’re back on the ship, remaining stragglers of the crew still alive rounded up to safety, and they’re setting sail. Ren’s back in his human form too tired to even stand but he’s still shouting orders. Etho’s manning the canons. They’re blasting their way to the relative safety of the open ocean. Martyn passes out again as the adrenaline leaves his body and the last several days catch up with him. As soon as they have a second to breath Skizz is demanding an explanation for what happened from Ren while the rest of the crew watches on. He clears up the situation, taking all the blame on himself. When Martyn wakes up a day later, Skizz apologizes for jumping to conclusions. There are no hard feelings. Martyn probably would have done the same. And Yeah. that’s what we’re at and I’m absolutely deranged about it. Anyway TLDR: Ren has a mythical zoan type fruit model: inugami. It presents as a normal dog model zoan fruit most of the time. In the event a user of the fruit is beheaded, it reveals its true nature as the mythical inugami fruit. This is information suppressed about the df. Ren finds out about the possibility from a ghost story. In a dire do or die situation Ren asks Martyn to behead him in the hopes that it might be enough to save them by awakening his fruit. Eventually Martyn acquiesces to his captain’s orders. The awakening doesn’t happen immediately as Ren had hoped. Martyn is able to use killing his captain to get out alive when the marines close in on where they’d been hiding. The marines parade Ren’s body as they do with notorious pirates and they hold a ceremony to pardon Martyn for killing Ren. Martyn gets shot during the ceremony, Ren reanimates into his awakened form and is out of control. Martyn is able to bring him back to himself. They eventually escape with the crew and explain to them what happened.