#maybe i need to get back to writing worlds apart lmao

[lovebugmusings]

my brain has just decided right this second to revert back to neteyam rot. he's so pretty and neat and tragic and i want to hold him so close :(

[chxnsgirl]

황현진 & 한지성 ─── pas de trois

♡ pairing ៸៸ ballet dancer!hyunjin x ballet dancer!jisung x afab!reader ៸៸ genre ៸៸ love triangle, ballet academy au ៸៸ cw ៸៸ none really. just jisung pining and hyunjin being a womanizer. ♡ synopsis ៸៸ in the world of ballet, every step is choreographed—but love never follows the script. what happens when you get accepted into the ballet academy of your dreams? a/n ๑ hi hi i decided to make this multiple parts because it's long as FUCK and i couldn't make you guys read over 10k words per part LMAO. ive been working on this for about two weeks and im STILL writing this story. comment below if you want to be apart of the taglist for this series, there will be smut in the next part ;3 ♡ masterlist

it was a day filled with nerves and anticipation.

today marked your first day at lumière ballet company—the most prestigious and renowned company in the country. you, along with fourteen other dancers, had earned a coveted spot to train, undergo rigorous evaluations, and prove your potential for a place in the company.

getting accepted into lumière ballet company had been your dream for as long as you could remember. now, here you were—far from home, chasing that dream with everything you had, determined to turn it into reality.

the only thing that unsettled you was the distance. your parents had always been supportive, but they hadn’t been thrilled about you leaving. they feared for you—not because they doubted your talent, but because they worried about the heartbreak if things didn’t go as planned. they didn’t want to see your dreams shatter before you even had the chance to live them.

you pushed those thoughts aside. after all, here you were—standing in front of the very place you had dreamed of since childhood.

as you struggled with your bags, pulling them out of the taxi, you heard a voice behind you.

“need some help with those?”

assuming it was just some random person, you rolled your eyes, irritation creeping into your tone. “no.” you tugged at your largest bag and turned around, ready to brush off whoever it was.

but your heart skipped a beat when you saw who was standing there. hwang hyunjin, the star dancer of the company. famous for his flawless technique and striking good looks, he stood before you with platinum blonde buzzed hair, plump lips, piercing dark eyes, and glowing, honey-toned skin.

you fumbled for words, a nervous chuckle escaping your lips. “oh, um…” you couldn’t help but take him in, a little starstruck that he was actually standing there, talking to you.

“‘no?’” he smiled, his eyes scanning you briefly.

“i mean… no, thank you.” you hugged your bag to your chest, politely declining his offer. he nodded, his expression unreadable as he took a step back.

“okay,” he said simply before turning and heading toward the company entrance.

you watched him walk away, a dazed, goofy smile spreading across your face.

you were definitely starstruck. you had seen hyunjin on tv and in performances before. he was undeniably talented, and adored by so many. it took you by surprise that he had even spoken to you, let alone offered to help carry your bags to your dorm.

the arrival at your dorm was quick and seamless, and you were relieved to find that your roommates were nice. yeji had been at the company for a while—she practically grew up there, and her seniority made you a little nervous. the other girl, celeste, was beautiful and kind, though you could tell she had a sharp tongue that might get her into trouble.

as you were walking around the dorms, you ran into yeji’s friend, minho. the two exchanged a friendly hug before she introduced you both.

“this is minho, and minho, these are my roommates—y/n and celeste,” yeji said, gesturing to you both.

minho gave a casual wave, leaning on yeji’s shoulder. “nice to meet you. you two new?” his tone made it clear he already knew the answer.

“yep, we are. that obvious?” you chuckled shyly. he laughed, shaking his head.

“maybe just a little. what are you guys up to, walking around the dorms?”

“i was just showing them around,” yeji explained.

“i see. want to play stakeout with me and felix? we’re keeping an eye out for our third roommate. supposedly, he’s coming from across the country,” minho said, nodding toward his dorm.

yeji looked to you and celeste for approval, waiting for your responses before agreeing.

“sure, we’ll hang for a little,” yeji smiled.

you spent the afternoon lounging around, getting to know minho and felix. the conversation flowed easily, filled with lighthearted jokes and stories. you learned that minho had been at the company for about four years—a fact that surprised you, given how effortlessly he carried himself. felix, on the other hand, was just as new as you and celeste, which brought you a sense of comfort. it was nice knowing you weren’t the only one still finding your footing.

the five of you were sprawled across minho and felix’s beds, laughing and sharing stories, when the sound of the door clicking open caught your attention.

in walked a stunningly handsome guy with clear, glowing skin and tousled dark brown hair that framed his sharp jawline. his cheeks had the slightest hint of roundness, giving him a boyish charm, but it was his eyes that truly struck you—warm, expressive, and impossibly friendly. he took in the unfamiliar faces before him, offering a small, hesitant smile as he waved.

“uh… am i in the right room?” he asked, shutting the door behind him and tugging out his dorm papers.

“you’re jisung?” minho spoke up, looking him over. you could’ve sworn there was a hint of pink dusting his cheeks.

“yeah, jisung.” he smiled warmly before setting his bags down next to the empty bed in the corner.

for a moment, minho didn’t respond, as if he had momentarily lost the ability to speak.

“um, i’m felix,” felix stepped in, standing up to shake jisung’s hand. “nice to meet you. that’s minho.” he motioned vaguely toward minho, who managed a small wave.

“nice to meet you too,” jisung replied with a grin, shrugging his duffel bag off his shoulder.

yeji stood up next, introducing herself, and celeste followed. finally, you extended your hand. “i’m y/n,” you said, offering a friendly smile.

jisung’s eyes flickered toward yours, his gaze lingering just a second longer than expected before his lips curled into a soft smile. “nice to meet you.”

“you too.” you hesitated before adding, “minho mentioned you’re coming from across the country?”

“yeah,” jisung sighed, running a hand through his hair. “i flew in from la. my girlfriend dumped me for leaving her there.” his expression faltered slightly, the disappointment evident in his tone.

from the corner of your eye, you noticed minho let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, subtly relaxing against the bed once more.

felix let out a low whistle. “oof, rough. long-distance is tough, huh?”

jisung shrugged, forcing a small smile. “guess she didn’t think it was worth it. but, honestly, i can’t blame her. i left pretty suddenly when i got accepted here.”

yeji tilted her head. “how did you hear about lumière? i mean, it’s the top ballet company in the country, but la has some incredible programs too.”

jisung sat down on his bed, leaning back on his hands. “i’ve known about lumière since i was a kid. my old instructor used to talk about it all the time—said it was the kind of place that could turn a good dancer into a great one. so, when i saw the audition announcement, i figured i had to at least try.” he glanced around the room. “still can’t believe i actually made it.”

you nodded in understanding. “i know the feeling. this place always felt like an impossible dream, and now we’re actually here.”

minho, finally finding his voice again, smirked. “impossible dream or not, don’t think they’re going to go easy on you. lumière’s training program is brutal. if you survive it, you’ve got a shot at a contract, but only a few of us will actually get hired.”

jisung raised an eyebrow. “only a few?”

yeji sighed, crossing her arms. “yeah. it’s tough. there are fifteen of us in the program, but in the end, they only offer jobs to about five or six. maybe less, depending on the company’s needs.”

celeste groaned, flopping onto felix’s bed. “ugh, way to kill the excitement. let us enjoy the moment before we start panicking.”

felix laughed. “she’s right. we just got here, let’s not stress yet.”

jisung chuckled, shaking his head. “nah, i’d rather know what i’m up against. so, any advice? what’s the secret to surviving lumière?”

minho exchanged a knowing look with yeji before shrugging. “work hard, don’t mess around, and for the love of everything, don’t get on the instructors’ bad side.”

felix raised a playful brow. “sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”

minho smirked. “let’s just say… they don’t forget easily.”

you laughed along with the group, but deep down, you felt the weight of their words. this wasn’t just a school—it was a proving ground. and if you wanted to stay, you’d have to give it everything you had.

the next morning, your alarm blared before the sun had fully risen, jolting you awake. a mix of nerves and excitement swirled in your stomach as you hurried to get ready, slipping into your leotard and tights before pulling your hair into a neat bun. this was it—your first official day at lumière ballet company.

by the time you arrived at the studio, the air was buzzing with hushed conversations and the occasional nervous laugh. the room was vast, lined with mirrors and ballet barres, the polished floors gleaming under the bright lights. the other dancers were already stretching, their movements graceful even in casual warm-ups. 

you spotted celeste and jisung near the back, exchanging a few words before he playfully nudged her, making her roll her eyes. yeji and minho were at the front, both exuding an effortless confidence that only came with experience.

you found a spot near the middle, smoothing out your leotard as you took a deep breath. just as you were about to start warming up, the studio doors swung open. the room instantly fell silent.

a group of instructors filed in, their sharp eyes scanning the room with quiet intensity. among them, a tall, distinguished man with graying hair stepped forward. his presence alone commanded respect, and you immediately recognized him—emile laurent, the head of lumière.

but he wasn’t the only notable figure in the room. behind the instructors, a small group of dancers followed, each one standing with an air of effortless poise. among them, your gaze caught on a familiar figure—hyunjin.

he was even more striking up close, his platinum blonde hair glowed under the lights, his black warm-up attire accentuated his lean, sculpted frame. you swallowed hard, suddenly hyper-aware of his presence.

émile cleared his throat, and all attention snapped back to him.

“welcome,” he began, his voice deep and steady. “you stand here today because you have proven yourselves among the most talented young dancers in the country. but talent alone will not secure your place here. over the next several months, you will be tested—physically, mentally, and artistically. some of you will thrive. some of you will falter.” his sharp gaze swept across the room. “only a select few will earn a permanent position within this company.”

the weight of his words settled over the group like a heavy blanket. you tried not to let it shake you, but your fingers instinctively curled into the fabric of your tights.

“as you train, you will work with our esteemed instructors, as well as the company’s leading dancers.” émile gestured behind him, and that was when hyunjin stepped forward alongside the others. “these artists represent the highest standard of excellence. watch them. learn from them. and, if you are lucky, perhaps one day, you will dance beside them.”

a murmur rippled through the room, dancers exchanging glances of awe and quiet determination. you were no different—your gaze flickered toward hyunjin once again, and to your surprise, he was already looking at you.

your breath hitched.

it was brief, just a moment—his dark eyes meeting yours before a small, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. he tilted his head ever so slightly, as if amused by your reaction. 

you quickly looked away, heat creeping up your neck.

“your training begins now,” émile’s voice snapped your attention back. “we will push you. and if you survive, you may just earn the right to call yourselves dancers of lumière.” murmurs began to be heard, but before you could break to hide in your thoughts, he spoke up again.

“one more thing, we have the company gala next week, we invite our advanced students, such as yourselves, to attend the performance and help with the party afterwards. i expect to see you all there.”

with that, the instructors began splitting the group up, but your thoughts remained elsewhere.

“i hope he didn’t think that was inspirational,” you heard a voice behind you.

you turned, seeing jisung leaning against a barre, arms crossed over his chest with an amused glint in his eyes.

you let out a breathy chuckle, still trying to shake off the weight of émile’s speech. “yeah, if the goal was to make us all fear for our lives, then mission accomplished.”

he smirked, pushing off the barre and stretching his arms over his head. “honestly, i think that’s the point. they want to weed out the ones who can’t handle the pressure.” he glanced around the room, where some dancers were already practicing their footwork, while others whispered amongst themselves, their nerves palpable. “some people thrive under that kind of intensity. others…” he trailed off, watching a girl in the corner shakily adjusting her pointe shoes.

you hummed in agreement, then glanced at him. “and what about you? are you one of those people who thrive?”

jisung shrugged, a lazy smile playing at his lips. “i guess we’ll find out.”

his confidence was subtle—not the overbearing, showy kind, but the kind that felt steady, reassuring. there was something about the way he carried himself that made you feel at ease, as if no matter how difficult things got, he would take it in stride.

you exhaled, shaking your head. “i get that they want to push us, but still… i was kind of hoping for at least one encouraging word.”

he chuckled. “guess you’ll have to settle for me.”

you turned to him with a teasing smile. “oh? and what words of wisdom do you have to offer?”

he pretended to think, lips pursing in exaggerated contemplation. “how about… ‘don’t pass out on your first day’?”

you rolled your eyes playfully. “wow. so profound.”

“i try,” he said with a grin, nudging you lightly with his elbow.

you gradually became acquainted with a few other girls in the class, aside from celeste and yeji. yeji, being well-connected within the company, had a couple of close friends she primarily stuck with—yuqi and lia, both senior dancers who carried themselves with the kind of effortless confidence that came from years of experience. it didn’t take long to realize that they seemed to know everything about everyone, from which instructors were the toughest to which dancers were secretly dating.

sensing an opportunity to learn the ins and outs of the company, you made an effort to spend more time around them. their presence, along with celeste’s, gave you a sense of comfort amid the overwhelming newness of it all.

with their guidance, you managed to survive your first class. the session focused mainly on warm-ups and refining positioning, easing you into the company’s expectations without immediately throwing you into the deep end. you concentrated on every movement, working to ensure your form was correct, and though you were nervous at first, it quickly became second nature.

oddly enough, time seemed to slip away faster than you anticipated. what started as a nerve-wracking first class soon became a blur of controlled movements, stretching, and quiet concentration. by the time the session ended, you were left feeling relieved.

as class ended, you fell into step with the girls, chatting idly as you made your way toward the commons. the conversation quickly turned into playful gossip about various company scandals—who was secretly dating whom, which instructors were the toughest, and who had mysteriously dropped out of the program.

it wasn’t until yuqi casually mentioned a name that you had already become all too familiar with that the conversation took a more intriguing turn.

“did you see hyunjin’s back from korea?” yuqi asked, slinging her bag off her shoulder before settling onto one of the couches.

your ears instantly perked up. you and the rest of the group followed suit, finding seats around her, the air buzzing with curiosity.

“i’m surprised he’s back so soon, considering what happened,” yeji added with a knowing grin, the kind that suggested she was sitting on a particularly juicy piece of information.

“what happened?” celeste beat you to the question just as you were about to ask yourself.

yeji leaned in slightly, lowering her voice as if afraid someone else might overhear. “right before the end of last year, hyunjin got dumped by madeline picard—one of the best dancers this company has ever seen.” she let the name linger, watching for your reaction.

your brows furrowed. madeline picard. the name sounded vaguely familiar, but before you could dwell on it, yuqi picked up where yeji left off.

“yeah, and apparently, it wasn’t just a normal breakup. he totally lost it—had a complete meltdown and accused her of cheating because she ended things so suddenly.”

you blinked, surprised. hyunjin didn’t exactly seem like the type to be dramatic over a breakup.

lia, who had been mostly quiet until now, tilted her head, her expression amused. “i heard all he did in korea was go clubbing and hook up with every girl he came across.” she raised a brow as if challenging anyone to refute her claim.

your stomach twisted slightly. you weren’t sure why. maybe it was because you had only just met hyunjin, and already, there was so much weight behind his name. or maybe it was the idea that, beneath his striking looks and undeniable talent, there was something messy lurking underneath.

"apparently, he hasn’t spoken to anyone from last year," yeji added, her tone dripping with intrigue.

"he talked to me."

the words slipped out before you could stop them, and the moment they did, regret settled in your stomach like a rock. instantly, all eyes snapped to you, a mixture of disbelief and curiosity flashing across their faces.

"what?" yeji practically narrowed her eyes at you, a sharp, almost jealous glint in her gaze.

"wait, hold on," yuqi leaned forward, gripping the edge of the couch. "you actually spoke to hyunjin? when?"

you swallowed, suddenly feeling very small under their intense stares. "it was nothing," you said quickly, waving a dismissive hand. "i mean… he just offered to help me with my bags yesterday."

silence. then—

"you’re telling me," lia started slowly, eyeing you with suspicion, "that he randomly decided to help you with your luggage?"

"it wasn’t like that," you rushed to explain. "i didn’t even recognize him at first. i thought he was some weird guy bothering me, so i kind of snapped at him."

yuqi gasped dramatically. "you snapped at hyunjin?"

"well, yeah, but i didn’t know it was him!" you defended.

celeste let out a low whistle, shaking her head in amusement. "wow. bold of you."

yeji folded her arms, tapping a manicured finger against her elbow. "and what did he say after you oh-so-graciously rejected his help?"

you hesitated, recalling the way his dark eyes had flickered with something unreadable when you told him no. how he had looked you over before flashing a knowing grin.

"he just smiled and walked away," you admitted, shifting uncomfortably under their scrutinizing gazes.

another round of silence followed.

then, to your utter shock, lia smirked. "oh, he’s interested."

your eyes widened. "what? no, he’s not! it was just a random encounter—"

"please," yuqi scoffed. "hyunjin doesn’t go out of his way for just anyone. and you’re new, so it’s not like he has some pre-existing friendship with you."

"yeah," celeste chimed in, grinning. "sounds like someone caught the star dancer’s attention."

you groaned, covering your face with your hands. "you guys are seriously overthinking this."

"are we?" yeji quirked a brow. "or are you underthinking it?"

you shook your head, but the butterflies in your stomach told you otherwise.

as the weeks passed, the reality of your position at lumière ballet company began to settle in. you quickly realized that, compared to many of the other dancers, you had a lot of ground to cover. your turnout wasn’t as refined, your footwork wasn’t as naturally strong, and the effortless grace that others seemed to possess still felt just out of your reach. every class was a reminder of how much work lay ahead of you.

celeste was a constant source of encouragement, always quick to remind you that progress takes time, but even her reassurances couldn’t stop the nagging doubt from creeping in. what if it wasn’t enough? what if, no matter how hard you pushed yourself, your technique still paled in comparison to the others? the thought of being cut prematurely haunted you, lingering in the back of your mind like a storm cloud threatening to break.

but it wasn’t until you were unexpectedly called to the headmaster’s office that true fear gripped you. your heart pounded as you made your way through the halls, every step feeling heavier than the last. was this it? had they already decided that you weren’t good enough? the possibility loomed over you, making it nearly impossible to breathe.

as you reached the emile’s office, you hesitated for a brief moment before gathering the courage to knock.

“come in,” a voice called from the other side.

taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open and stepped inside. the office was grand yet intimidating, with towering bookshelves filled with ballet history, framed photos of past company stars, and the sharp scent of polished wood lingering in the air. seated behind an ornate mahogany desk was emile, a man whose presence commanded respect. across from him sat miss cassandra, your primary instructor, her sharp eyes scanning you the moment you entered.

“take a seat,” he instructed, motioning to the chair across from him.

your heart pounded as you settled into the seat, your palms pressing nervously against your skirt. miss cassandra crossed her legs, folding her hands in her lap as the headmaster leaned forward, scrutinizing you for a moment before finally speaking.

“you’ve been here for a few weeks now,” he began, his tone calm but firm. “and i imagine you’ve realized just how competitive this company is.”

you swallowed, nodding.

“the reality is, ballet is as much about physicality as it is about artistry. this company—this industry—demands precision, discipline, and most importantly, the right body for it,” he continued. “your lines, your turnout, the way your feet work—it all matters. you have potential, but potential alone doesn’t earn you a place here.”

miss cassandra finally spoke, her voice carrying the same sharpness you were used to hearing in class. “you’re a hard worker, and that’s good. but hard work only goes so far when your technique isn’t where it needs to be. your turnout is lacking, and without proper turnout, your movements will never have the seamless quality we expect here.”

you gripped your hands together, your stomach twisting uncomfortably.

“the workshop performance is approaching,” the headmaster reminded you. “that performance will determine whether or not you earn your spot in the company. if you don’t show significant improvement by then, i’m afraid you won’t be able to continue training here.”

the words struck you like a blow, knocking the air from your lungs. you had known this company was difficult, but hearing those words so plainly was different—it was a direct challenge, a warning that time was running out.

“we aren’t saying this to discourage you,” miss cassandra said, her gaze piercing. “we’re telling you this so you understand the reality of what’s at stake. you have work to do, and not much time to do it.”

emile nodded. “if you truly want this, you need to prove it. show us that you belong here.”

you felt the weight of their expectations pressing down on you, but beneath the fear, there was determination. you had fought too hard to get here—leaving wasn’t an option.

“i understand,” you said quietly, but with conviction.

miss cassandra studied you for a moment before nodding. “good. then i suggest you start working twice as hard, because the clock is ticking.”

with that, the meeting was over. you stood, offering a polite nod before turning toward the door. as you stepped into the hallway, the reality of the situation fully set in. you had only a few weeks to prove yourself.

back at the dorm, you sat on the edge of your bed, your hands clasped together in your lap as you tried to process everything. the headmaster’s words played over and over in your mind, intertwining with miss cassandra’s sharp critiques. the weight of it all felt suffocating.

celeste sat beside you, her arm draped around your shoulders in a comforting squeeze. “hey, don’t let it get to you too much,” she said softly. “you’re working hard. that has to count for something.”

you let out a shaky breath. “i don’t know if it’s enough.”

celeste frowned, nudging you gently. “of course it’s enough. you’re not some talentless beginner. you got accepted here for a reason. if they didn’t see potential, you wouldn’t be here in the first place.”

you wanted to believe her, but emile’s warning still rang in your ears. potential isn’t enough.

before you could respond, the door to the dorm swung open, and yeji walked in, dropping her bag onto the floor with a thud. she glanced at the two of you before cocking her head. “what’s with the sad puppy look?”

celeste shot her a look. “she just had a talk with the headmaster.”

yeji raised a brow. “oh?” she tossed her shoes off and sat on her bed, crossing her legs. “let me guess. he told you your technique isn’t good enough?”

your silence was enough.

yeji sighed, shrugging as she pulled her hair into a ponytail. “well… he’s right.”

celeste stiffened beside you. “yeji.”

“what?” yeji leaned back against her pillows. “i’m just saying. this isn’t some feel-good ballet academy. if you can’t keep up, you get cut. that’s how it works.”

your stomach twisted at her bluntness. you knew she wasn’t saying it to be outright cruel—it was just how she was. but that didn’t make it any easier to hear.

celeste shot up from the bed, glaring at yeji. “she knows that. she doesn’t need you rubbing it in.”

yeji rolled her eyes. “i’m not rubbing it in. i’m just being realistic.”

you exhaled, rubbing your temples. “she’s not wrong.”

celeste groaned, turning back to you. “no, don’t listen to her. you can do this. you just have to work harder, and i’ll help you however i can, okay?”

you nodded, offering her a small smile of appreciation.

yeji sighed dramatically, swinging her legs onto the bed. “i’m just saying, you should get used to criticism. if you can’t handle a little tough love, you won’t last here.”

celeste threw a pillow at her. “your love is just tough. there’s no love in it.”

yeji smirked, catching the pillow with ease. “fine. then consider it free advice.”

celeste huffed, plopping back down onto your bed with a determined look on her face. “alright, enough of this depressing mood. we need a distraction.”

you blinked at her, confused. “a distraction?”

she nodded, a mischievous grin forming. “yes. you, my dear, need a break. and i have just the thing—clubbing.”

your eyes widened. “clubbing?”

“clubbing,” she confirmed, already pulling out her phone. “we’re getting dressed up, going out, and having fun. you’ve been working your ass off, and it’s time to let loose for one night.”

yeji scoffed from her bed, stretching her arms over her head. “you? at a club?” she eyed you skeptically. “are you even the type?”

celeste shot her a glare. “of course she is. she just doesn’t know it yet.” then, without waiting for a response, she started texting. “i’m messaging minho, jisung, yuqi, and felix. we’re making a night of it.”

you groaned, already feeling exhausted at the thought. “celeste, i don’t know—”

“nope! no excuses.” she stood, hands on her hips. “you’re stressed, you’re overworked, and you’re doubting yourself. what you need is a night of dancing, drinks, and good music. trust me.”

yeji smirked. “i’ll go.”

“of course you will,” celeste muttered before turning back to you. “come on, y/n. when’s the last time you did something fun?”

you hesitated. you weren’t exactly the clubbing type, and the thought of being in a crowded place with loud music and flashing lights wasn’t something you typically sought out. but… maybe celeste had a point.

you had been completely consumed by ballet. the stress of proving yourself was weighing heavier by the day, and if you didn’t let loose even a little, you might actually implode.

“…fine,” you finally relented with a sigh.

celeste cheered, throwing her arms around you. “yes! i knew you’d come around.”

yeji chuckled, shaking her head. “this should be interesting.”

celeste turned back to her phone, quickly typing away. “minho says he’s in. jisung too. yuqi and felix are coming, so that means we officially have a squad.”

you bit your lip, nerves bubbling in your chest. what had you just agreed to?

celeste clasped her hands together. “alright, girls. let’s get ready. y/n, you’re gonna look so good, no man will be able to take his eyes off you.”

when you walked up to the club with celeste, yeji, and yuqi, jisung’s eyes lit up. it was almost as if he was in awe of you. of course, you didn’t notice, still too hung up on what the headmaster said to you that afternoon. 

jisung’s eyes roamed over you as you approached, his lips parting slightly as if he had something to say but couldn’t quite find the words. you looked different tonight—more than just dressed up. there was something about you that drew his attention like a magnet, something that made his chest feel a little tighter.

"you look..." he started, pausing as if searching for the right word. "wow."

you blinked, momentarily pulled from your thoughts. "huh?"

jisung let out a small chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. "you look beautiful, y/n." his voice was softer now, almost hesitant.

you stared at him for a moment, then scoffed lightly, shaking your head. "yeah, right."

his brows furrowed. "i'm serious."

you offered him a small, polite smile. "thanks, jisung," you said, even though you didn’t quite believe him. it was a sweet thing to say, but after the afternoon you had, it was hard to see yourself as anything other than inadequate.

jisung frowned slightly, as if he could sense exactly what you were thinking. but before he could say anything more, minho clapped a hand on his shoulder. "are we going in or what?"

jisung gave you one last glance before nodding. "yeah. let’s go."

as the group made their way into the club, jisung couldn’t help but wonder why you brushed off his compliment so easily. and why, no matter how many people were around you, you still looked like you had the weight of the world on your shoulders.

once you all stepped inside, the pulsing bass of the music vibrated through your chest, the dim, colorful lights casting a glow over the crowded dance floor. the group pooled their money together for a table near the edge of the club, a spot just far enough from the speakers to talk but still close enough to feel the infectious energy of the room.

drinks were passed around, laughter filled the air, and everyone seemed to be letting loose—everyone except you. no matter how much you tried to shake it off, the nagging weight of earlier conversations pressed heavily on your mind, dragging you down. you sat there, absently swirling the liquid in your glass, your gaze unfocused as your thoughts spiraled.

that was when jisung carefully reached over, plucking the drink from your fingers and setting it down on the table.

blinking, you turned to look at him, confusion flickering across your face. “what are you doing?”

his fingers wrapped gently around your hand, giving it a light tug as a playful smile tugged at his lips. "you didn’t get all dressed up just to sit here and overthink, did you?"

you opened your mouth to protest, but before you could, he nodded toward the dance floor, where bodies moved fluidly under the flashing lights. “come on,” he urged, his voice warm and inviting.

for a second, you hesitated. but the way jisung looked at you—like he wanted nothing more than to pull you away from whatever storm was brewing in your mind—made it hard to say no.

you hesitated for a moment, glancing between jisung and the crowded dance floor. the pulsing music, the flashing lights, the bodies moving in sync—it was all so overwhelming. but then you looked at him. his eyes held no pressure, only warmth, only the unspoken promise that he was there, that he wanted you to have fun.

with a breath, you gave in. “okay,” you said softly.

a grin broke across jisung’s face as he gently led you onto the floor, weaving through the crowd until you found a space of your own. the rhythm of the music pulsed around you, a beat so infectious that it was impossible not to move. you started off slow, still a little unsure, your body stiff with lingering stress.

but jisung was different. he wasn’t stiff, not even a little. he moved with an effortless ease, his body in tune with the music like he was born for it. and as he danced beside you, he encouraged you with little smiles, playful nods, the way he subtly matched your movements to make it feel less like you were dancing alone.

“see?” he leaned in, his voice low but audible over the music. “not so bad, right?”

you let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “i guess not.”

the tension in your shoulders began to melt away as the music took over, and for the first time that night, you felt lighter. jisung noticed it too—the way your movements became freer, how your laughter slipped out more easily. and god, did he think you were beautiful like this.

the flashing club lights illuminated your features in shifting shades of blue, purple, and red. your hair framed your face just right, your eyes shining even in the dim light. jisung had always thought you were beautiful, but here, seeing you loosen up, seeing you smile after looking so down all evening, it made his chest tighten in a way he wasn’t prepared for.

you twirled, laughing as the movement made you stumble slightly, and instinctively, jisung’s hands found your waist, steadying you before you could lose your balance. it was just for a second, but when you looked up at him, your faces only inches apart, he felt his breath catch.

his hands lingered just a little longer than necessary before he cleared his throat, stepping back with a grin, though his heart was racing. “careful,” he teased. “don’t go falling for me now.”

you rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself. “as if.”

but the way jisung looked at you in that moment, his gaze lingering, his playful smirk softening into something fonder—if only you knew just how much he already had fallen. 

after what felt like an eternity of dancing—your body light with adrenaline, the weight of the past weeks momentarily forgotten—jisung finally pulled away with a breathless grin. “alright, alright,” he laughed, running a hand through his tousled hair. “even i need a break.”

you chuckled, nodding in agreement. “yeah, i could use a drink.”

together, you weaved through the throng of people toward the bar, where the neon glow cast everything in shades of blue and purple. jisung leaned against the counter, signaling to the bartender while you stood beside him, catching your breath. your skin was still warm from dancing, your heart racing—not just from the exertion, but from the lingering feeling of jisung’s hands on your waist, the way he had looked at you under the flashing lights.

you exhaled deeply, shaking the thoughts away as the bartender slid two drinks across the counter. you reached for yours absentmindedly, lifting it to your lips—

“didn’t expect to see you here.”

you froze, your fingers tightening around your glass. you knew that voice. slowly, you turned your head, and there he was.

hyunjin.

up close, the dim club lighting softened the sharp angles of his face, but his presence was just as striking as ever. his platinum hair fell slightly into his dark eyes, which were locked onto you with an intensity that made your heart stutter. he smelled faintly of expensive cologne and alcohol, the scent mingling with the warmth of the crowded club.

you swallowed, willing your expression to stay neutral. “didn’t expect to see you either,” you replied, keeping your voice even.

hyunjin tilted his head slightly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “didn’t take you for the clubbing type.” his eyes flickered over you, taking in the way your dress hugged your figure, how different you looked outside of the company’s strict ballet attire.

you raised a brow. “and what type did you take me for?”

he chuckled, resting his elbow on the bar beside you, leaning in just slightly. “hardworking. serious. someone who wouldn’t waste time on things like this.”

you scoffed, crossing your arms. “so i can’t let loose once in a while?”

“i didn’t say that.” he lifted his drink to his lips, taking a slow sip before continuing. “it’s just… surprising.”

you chuckled and shook your head. “do you even know my name?” you raised a brow as you looked up at him. he looked down at you, that smirk never leaving his stupidly gorgeous face. 

“y/n l/n.” he smiled. “how could i forget a face like yours?”

something about the way he said it sent an odd thrill through you. it wasn’t just his words—it was the way he was looking at you.

before you could come up with a response, another voice cut in.

“everything alright here?”

you turned to see jisung standing beside you, his gaze flicking between you and hyunjin. his usual warmth was still there, but there was something else too—a quiet protectiveness, a subtle tension in the way he held himself.

hyunjin looked at jisung, then back at you, his smirk widening slightly, as if he understood something neither of you had said out loud. he straightened, stepping back slightly. “didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said smoothly, though the glint in his eyes told you he had done exactly that.

you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “we were just talking.”

“of course,” hyunjin mused, swirling the ice in his glass. then, with one last glance at you—one that lingered a second too long—he gave a small nod. “enjoy your night, y/n l/n.”

and just like that, he was gone, disappearing back into the crowd, leaving behind the scent of cologne and the faintest trace of something else.

jisung watched hyunjin disappear into the crowd, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. he turned back to you, studying your face—the way your eyes lingered on the spot hyunjin had stood, the way your fingers still gripped your drink a little too tightly.

“you okay?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.

you nodded, but it wasn’t convincing. “yeah.”

jisung let out a breath, forcing a small chuckle. “you know… for someone who just met him, you sure look at him like he hung the stars.”

your eyes snapped to his, caught off guard by the edge in his voice. it wasn’t anger—not exactly. but there was something there, something deeper than his usual lightheartedness.

you shifted on your feet, suddenly feeling exposed. “i don’t—” you cut yourself off, shaking your head. “it’s not like that.”

jisung gave you a look, one that told you he wasn’t buying it. “isn’t it?”

you swallowed, trying to find the right words, but none came. because deep down, you knew there was truth in what he was saying. there was something about hyunjin—his presence, his reputation, the effortless way he pulled you in. it was exciting. addictive, even.

jisung sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “look, i’m not trying to ruin your night.” his voice was softer now, but there was a weight behind it. “i just…” he hesitated, then forced a small smile. “never mind.”

“no, what?” you frowned, stepping closer. “tell me.”

jisung studied you for a moment, then shook his head with a chuckle that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “nothing. just… be careful with him, okay?”

you wanted to ask why. wanted to pry into whatever was making his expression so guarded. but before you could, celeste appeared beside you, draping an arm over your shoulder.

“there you are! come on, we bought another round.”

you glanced back at jisung, but he had already taken a step away, masking whatever he was feeling with his usual easygoing grin.

“yeah,” you murmured, forcing yourself to focus back on the present. “let’s go.”

but even as celeste dragged you toward the bar, you couldn’t shake the feeling that jisung’s words weren’t just a warning.

they were a plea.

the air in the studio was thick with tension, the usual routine of class disrupted by the presence of an audience. against the far wall, the company’s most renowned dancers, including hyunjin, sat in a neat line alongside the instructors and the director himself, their watchful eyes scanning the room as they whispered amongst themselves.

it had been a few months since your first day at lumière, and you’d finally begun to settle into the rigorous schedule, but today’s class wasn’t just another routine. today, they were scouting for dancers to be featured in the upcoming workshop—a performance that could solidify your place at the company.

your heart pounded as you stepped up to the barre, standing between celeste and yeji. yeji, always composed, adjusted her arm with practiced ease, while celeste rolled her shoulders back, flashing you a reassuring glance. “relax,” she mouthed.

you tried. you really did. but when the pianist began to play, signaling the start of class, your limbs felt stiffer than usual.

the warm-up passed in a blur of tendus and pliés, and as the class progressed, the instructors led everyone to the center for adagios and pirouettes. it was there, under the relentless scrutiny of the panel, that your nerves truly took hold.

“focus on turnout,” miss cassandra’s voice rang out as she walked the floor, correcting postures with a tap of her stick. “shoulders down, breath through the movement.”

you moved into your développé, willing yourself to remain poised, but as you extended your leg, you felt the slightest tremor in your ankle. it wasn’t much, but you knew the observers were trained to notice every detail.

beside you, yeji moved with the elegance of someone who had spent her entire life training for this moment. she was fluid, controlled, every movement effortless. it was no surprise—she was practically a shoo-in for the workshop.

celeste, meanwhile, danced with raw passion. even if her technique wasn’t as pristine, her expressiveness more than made up for it. you could tell she was determined to stand out today.

then there was jisung. though he was newer to classical ballet, he moved with an ease that made it seem as if he had been doing it all his life. his jumps were strong, and his turns were quick yet smooth, full of a quiet confidence that was captivating.

when it was time for pirouettes, you swallowed hard. you weren’t bad at them, but they weren’t your strongest skill either. you tried to keep your focus on the movement, on your breath, on the control of your core—but the moment you spotted hyunjin watching you from across the room, your rhythm faltered.

you stumbled slightly on your third rotation, stepping out of the turn to catch yourself.

you heard a quiet hum of disapproval from the instructors’ side. heat rushed to your face, but you kept going, forcing yourself to push through.

out of the corner of your eye, you saw hyunjin tilt his head, an unreadable expression on his face. he leaned in slightly as if saying something to the dancer beside him, and for a split second, your stomach twisted with uncertainty. was he talking about you?

before you could dwell on it, the instructor clapped her hands. “next group.”

you exhaled sharply and stepped back, catching jisung’s glance as you did. he gave you a small, encouraging smile, one that you tried to return despite the weight in your chest.

the class continued with across-the-floor exercises, and though you did your best, you couldn’t shake the feeling that today had not been your strongest performance.

as the final reverence came to a close, the director finally stepped forward.

“thank you all,” he said, his hands clasped behind his back. his voice was calm, measured, but held a weight that made your stomach churn. “we’ve been observing closely, and over the next few days, we will be making our selections for the workshop.” his sharp eyes swept the room. “work hard. your future here depends on it.”

with that, he turned and left, the rest of the observers trailing behind him.

hyunjin was the last to go.

as he stepped out, his gaze flickered toward you once more.

you had only meant to make a quick stop at the drugstore, picking up a few necessities—shampoo, toothpaste, maybe even a face mask to treat yourself after the grueling week of training. but as you browsed the shelves, a familiar figure caught your eye from the corner of the aisle.

at first, you froze, your mind scrambling to process whether or not you were seeing things. maybe it was just someone who looked like him—platinum blond hair wasn’t exactly common, but it wasn’t impossible. still, curiosity got the best of you.

gripping your shopping basket a little tighter, you stepped out of the aisle and glanced in the direction he had gone. the moment your eyes landed on him, any doubt vanished. it was hyunjin.

he was standing by the skincare section, intently reading the label of a serum bottle, his sharp features relaxed in concentration.

without giving yourself time to overthink it, you strode toward him, adopting a casual air as you stopped beside him. “i’m starting to think you’re stalking me,” you quipped, a teasing grin tugging at your lips as you pretended to inspect the same shelf he was browsing.

hyunjin turned his head slightly, his lips curling into a smirk as he met your gaze. “oh?” he mused, raising a brow. “and here i thought you were stalking me.”

you scoffed, picking up a random moisturizer just to keep your hands busy. “i was here first.”

“so you say.” he let out a soft chuckle before setting the serum back on the shelf, shoving a hand into the pockets of his hoodie. “didn’t expect to see you outside the studio. you look different compared to how i saw you the other day.”

you blinked at him, momentarily thrown off. “different how?”

hyunjin tilted his head, scanning you briefly. “less serious. less…” he trailed off, searching for the word before finally settling on, “stressed.”

you let out a small laugh, though the statement made something twist in your chest. “guess that means i should work on my poker face.”

his smirk lingered as he leaned a bit closer, voice dropping slightly. “or maybe you should learn to loosen up.”

your breath hitched at the proximity, but you quickly masked it, rolling your eyes instead. “says the guy who takes himself so seriously he can’t even enjoy a simple trip to the drugstore.” you gestured toward the products in front of him. “what are you even looking for?”

“face cleanser,” he said, picking up a bottle. “ran out.”

you feigned interest, tilting your head as you examined it. “is that the secret to looking like a prince on stage?”

hyunjin scoffed, shaking his head. “it’s just face wash.”

“sure it is,” you teased, placing the moisturizer back on the shelf. “next you’re gonna tell me you don’t have some ten-step skincare routine.”

he chuckled, running a hand against his hair. “maybe i do. gotta keep up appearances, right?”

you found yourself smiling, the usual nerves you felt around him easing just a little.

for a moment, the conversation settled into a comfortable pause. then, with a glance at your basket, hyunjin nodded toward it. “what about you? shopping spree?”

you scoffed. “hardly. just grabbing some things i ran out of.”

“hm.” he tapped his fingers against the edge of the shelf, studying you for a moment before flashing a lopsided grin. “well, don’t let me keep you from your very important purchases.”

you rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. “yeah, wouldn’t want to get in the way of your skincare journey, either.”

just as you were about to turn away, hyunjin’s voice stopped you in your tracks.

“hey.”

you glanced back at him, heart inexplicably picking up speed as he casually dropped a bottle of cleanser into his basket.

“have you had dinner yet?” he asked, his voice smooth yet unreadable. he took a slow step toward you, his head tilting slightly as he studied your reaction.

you froze, caught completely off guard. your fingers instinctively tightened around the handle of your basket. “um… no. not yet, anyway.” the words tumbled from your lips, slightly uneven.

hyunjin’s mouth twitched in amusement, clearly noticing your sudden shift in demeanor. “then let’s eat something,” he said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

your brows lifted slightly. “what, like… together?”

he let out a breath of laughter, shaking his head. “no, separately. at the same place. sitting at different tables.”

you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t fight the tiny smile forming at the corners of your lips. “alright, smartass. i just wasn’t expecting you to—” you paused, suddenly hesitant. was this… a date? or was he just being friendly?

“wasn’t expecting me to what?” hyunjin prompted, watching you with an unreadable expression.

you shifted on your feet. “to, i don’t know, invite me to dinner?”

his smirk softened, and he shrugged. “why not? i’m hungry, you’re hungry. might as well eat together. better yet, how about we go to my place?”

it was such a simple reason. no deeper meaning, no hidden intentions—at least, none that you could decipher. and yet, something about the idea of sharing a meal with hyunjin made your stomach flip in a way you weren’t sure how to handle.

“okay,” you said before you could overthink it. “yeah. sure.”

hyunjin grinned, satisfied. “good.” he glanced down at your basket. “you done shopping?”

you nodded, and together, the two of you made your way toward the checkout counter.

as you stood in line, you stole a quick glance at him. this was the most time you had spent with him outside of class, and despite your initial nerves, it felt… natural. easy, even.

little did you know, jisung had texted you while you were shopping. and when you didn’t answer, he’d decided to call.

just as you placed your items on the counter, your phone buzzed in your pocket, you pulled it out, seeing the screen light up with a familiar name. jisung.

you hesitated, glancing at hyunjin, who was now placing his own items on the counter.

as the phone buzzed in your hand, you hesitated for a second before pulling it out and answering.

"hey, jisung," you said, trying to sound casual as you stepped slightly away from hyunjin.

"hey! i was just wondering if you wanted to grab some food or something? you kinda disappeared after class, and i figured you could use a break." his voice was as warm as ever, that familiar lilt making you feel at ease.

you chewed on your lip, glancing at hyunjin, who was busy paying for his things. “oh, um… i actually just made plans to eat.”

“with who?” jisung asked lightly, but you could hear the slight shift in his tone.

you hesitated. “hyunjin.”

there was a beat of silence on the other end. not long—just a second—but enough for you to notice.

“oh,” jisung finally said. “cool. guess he’s finally got you under his spell, huh?” his attempt at humor didn’t fully mask the disappointment in his voice.

you sighed, feeling a slight pang of guilt. “it’s just dinner. it wasn’t even planned or anything, we just ran into each other at the store.”

“right.” another pause. then, a forced chuckle. “well, have fun, then.”

you frowned at his sudden change in demeanor. “jisung, don’t be like that.”

“like what?” he let out a small laugh, but it lacked his usual warmth. “look, you can hang out with whoever you want. i was just calling to check in, that’s all.”

you exhaled through your nose, wanting to say more, but before you could, he beat you to it.

“i’ll see you later, okay?”

and before you could respond, the call ended.

you lowered your phone, staring at the screen for a moment. something about the way he had sounded unsettled you. you knew jisung cared about you—he was one of your closest friends here—but this felt different.

“everything okay?” hyunjin’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. he was standing next to you now, his bag in one hand, yours in the other, both receipts discarded. you didn’t even realize he bought your things for you, you were still hung up on what han said.

you forced a small smile, tucking your phone away. “yeah. just… my friend checking in.”

hyunjin raised a brow, but didn’t press. “ready to go?”

you nodded, pushing aside the lingering thoughts of jisung as you followed hyunjin out the door.

taglist: @ritsmith @bluesungology @jeonginsleftcheek @babigriin @tirena1 @nickgurl4life

©chxnsgirl do not repost, translate, or copy my works in any way, shape, or form.

[whyareyouhere66]

Ok im back in my JJ Maybank era 🧎🏻

Could you do a JJ Maybank x male reader with them being in an established relationship, and the pouges (+reader obvs) are having a bonfire party and reader maybe drinks a little more than the others. Everyone is talking and just mingling with each other when out of no where reader comes out with a microphone/mini karaoke machine (?) and starts singing 'That should be me' by Justin Bieber to JJ in front of everyone. Reader being too drunk to remember that they're literally already in a relationship and wants to 'win him over'. And probably ends up with JJ having to pick up reader and dragging him away to get him to stop 'declaring his love' in front of an audience lmao (All light hearted and fluffy ofc <3).

I would like to firstly apologize for such a long wait 😭 this request was sent in before I closed my requests, making it basically one of if not the last one I accepted so felt the need to make it good for you. It’s been in the process of being made for months now, so. It is very much possible you are no longer in said JJ Maybank era but nonetheless I hope you enjoy this Anon despite it not being perfect, and anyone else who is reading. Thank you for the request and anyone reading, enjoy. (It was actually kinda fun to write this when I got into it again)

JJ Maybank x Male! Reader

“Love You Like a (drunk) Love Song”

cw: alcohol, one mention of weed. Possibly a little ooc? I haven’t watched the show in a while. Loosely edited. Silly. Mid ending. Kinda long.

x

The world is spinning.

Just a little bit, though.

Or maybe more.

Hold on.

Bumps and valleys from peoples footprints indent the sand, grains of tiny rocks flying behind their dancing shoes. 

In the middle of the drunk crowds, teenagers stumbling about with bottles in their hands, is you, with your own bottle tucked between curled fingers. Number 3 maybe? You’re not sure anymore.

Through blurry vision, you stumble around with a lopsided grin, drunken laughs falling from it at every bump and nudge. Music pumps through the Boneyard, ringing in your ears from some indie-pop song you don’t know the name of. 

People begin to blur together, just bodies you push through as you and Pope jog through the crowd, whooping with each beat. It’s one of the few moments when Pope’s awkward smile has faded and all that’s left is a stumbling, giggling mess. And of course, sand. Lots of sand. 

Tiny rocks prod at your heels, filling the bottom of your shoes as you run. Your eyes dart to them- the roughed up converse that could probably fall apart at any given moment. Without thinking, you reach for your shoes.

“Wait-waitwaitwait-“ 

Pope doesnt slow down until your hand is clapped over his shoulder, eyes snapping from the Touron next to him, as suddenly he’s supporting all your weight on one arm.

“What- what are you doing?”

You don’t answer immediately, coming to a stop just outside the crowd of dancers. 

“Sand.”

Pope watches you with a dazed stare, the somewhat distant light from the bonfire all there is to light up his face, casting shadows across his nose and jawline. 

“Deal with it.” He says it like it’s obvious, though doesn’t try to move as you wriggle around to get your shoe off your foot- much harder than it should be. You click your tongue and grunt.

“Gotta sit-“

Like two mangled cats- you and Pope fall to the ground, bracing yourselves on your arms and elbows. Landing right on your ass- you begin to struggle with your shoe once more. Pope groans, brushing sand from his arm and his lap. A mumble falls from his lips, muttering curses at you for bringing him to the ground with you. However, you pay him no mind, tugging the sneaker off your foot, sand draining out through the hole as you flip it upside down. 

The distant reflection of the fire is all you have as you play with the ties of your shoes, shining faintly across the two wobbly figures you and Pope have become. He begins scooping handfuls of sand into his palm, letting it slip through his fingers as he waits for you to finish. For a second, he brings his hand towards your shoe- sand threatening to slip into the sole of your just emptied sneakers. You slap his arm away before he can succeed. 

“That fire is so hot.” Pope complains out of nowhere, wiping his forehead for some imaginary sweat. You twist your head to look at it, palm weakly slapping the bottom of your shoe. 

“Dude, it’s like….” You squint, unsure, “100 feet away. You’re just drunk.”

He rolls his eyes.

“Alcohol doesn’t make you hot.”

At that, you scoff, though it comes through your nose like a snort. “Speak for yourself.”

Pope’s head slowly turns to you, eyes narrowed and mouth popped open like a fish. He looks like he’s trying to jam the logic of that sentence into his brain, but failing. 

“I have no idea what to say to that.” He concludes. 

In all fairness, you only sort of know what you meant by it in the first place. 

The topic quickly loses relevance as you finish dumping your shoes, tugging them back onto your feet and jumping up. He stumbles to join you, and soon enough, you’re at it again. 

Walking through the sand, there’s less people to weave around now that you’re out of the crowd that’s formed around the speakers. Some Kook has jumped on to a log, taking over the mic from the cheap karaoke machine and is currently belting the words to Katy Perry’s “Last Friday Night”- except her version has a drunken slur thrown in with the melody. The sound is…amusing at most, but no one cares enough to complain, watching and some even dancing around her log. 

You and Pope stagger right past it, your arm now slung around his shoulder. 

You both stumble and laugh until you catch a familiar face in the crowd- JJ. 

You grin.

JJ.

The blonde sits on the edge of another log, sitting with a few others around the ring of the bonfire. John B and Kiara are on the log next to him, while other Pogues and the occasional Touron fill in the remaining space. Some redhead leans into Kiara’s shoulder, choking on her own laugh while being completely oblivious to the side eye Kiara gives her in return. Two Pogues pass a blunt back and forth over John B’s shoulder, grinning wickedly when he comments on it.

In Pope’s eyes, he sees the group, and without thinking points his next few steps in that direction. Not you, though. 

Your eyes become still, tuning everyone else out, not even seeing the giggling redhead, or John B’s easy smile. All you see, is JJ.

The crackling fire casts an orange shadow over his features, creating a shadow on his cheekbone, next to his nose. It contrasts perfectly with the blue of his eyes, the usual mischievous glint behind them showing through with his laugh as he makes yet another stupid joke. 

He’s so pretty. 

Dilated eyes follow his every move, the twitch of his smile- and you’re completely oblivious as Pope leaves you behind, moving up towards the group without another thought.

“What’s up, guys.” Pope reaches his hand out for a greeting as he makes it to the group sitting around the fire- JJ’s hand meeting his as their palms “clap” in unison. 

“There he is!” JJ loudly greets, watching the boy make his way to a seat on the log. The others say their own hello’s, as Pope easily molds into the atmosphere of the smaller group. And still, he hasn’t noticed that the your drunk (far more drunk than him, at least) self is still standing in the sand with parted lips and heart eyes. 

Your eyes flicker across his figure again, wishing through alcohol-tainted thoughts that you could capture the sight with a picture. From his nose, to his lips, to the muscles in his shoulders to the wave of his hair falling across his forehead. Your vision is starting to blur around the edges when you stare too long, but you can’t look away just yet. 

‘Is he single?’

Suddenly, you can’t remember anymore. 

Your eyes trace over every feature you can catch with the orange light, hand twitching with an empty warmth. You wonder what it would be like to hold his hand. 

JJ is oblivious to your stare, downing half his cup between conversations as Pope and John B joke about something next to him. In your mind, despite the influences making your thoughts sway back and forth- you come to a conclusion.

‘I should flirt with him…’

A simple task, just a small goal. Anything to make the pretty boy look your way.

However instead of walking up to him like a normal person, you turn around- stumbling to the crowd behind you with nothing but the makes for a headache and a plan. 

Pope, back at the bonfire, whispers into JJ’s ear, “Your boyfriend is drunk as hell, by the way.” 

The blonde seems completely unfazed, shrugging his shoulders and stretching out like a cat, cup teetering in his hand slightly.

“No surprise there,” he responds nonchalantly.

“He gets it from you.”

John B’s words are met with nothing but an eye roll from JJ, and a small grin from Kiara.

“Speaking of- where is he?” Kiara asks, brushing some hair out of her face as she’s finally released from the redhead’s grasp, as the random girl turns to talk to some pogues next to her. This catches everyone else’s attention, Pope speaking up first.

“Oh uh- he was just over-“ he goes to point to where you had stood a minute ago- only to pause when he sees the spot empty. His eyebrows furrow, “…there.” 

The other three turn their heads to follow the point of Pope’s finger, looking around for your missing figure. 

“Uh oh.” John B deadpans, and in seconds JJ is on his feet.

“Where’d he go?” His blue eyes scan the crowd, now searching for you in the mass of sweaty teenagers. 

“He was just there a second ago.”

Kiara stands up, doing the same as JJ. There’s too many bodies huddled in one spot to pick you out easily, everyone still gathered around the speakers, red solo cups littered about. It’s like “Where’s Waldo”, except not really. Her brown eyes shift from group to group, skimming over everyone, when she catches a glimpse of your figure.

“Guys, he’s right there.” she deadpans, now watching you as you seem to be making your way to the center of the crowd.

Her eyebrows furrow, and the others follow her gaze.

“Ok, and…what is he doing?”

No answer can be found, as all 4 now watch as you squeeze through the rowdy teens around you. 

Your mind is caught in a rush. Everything in your surroundings seems to blur, the music turning into a thrumming against your ears as you shove your way to the front. You know what you’re gonna do, impulsive plans fueling every step. All you want is to impress that hot blonde painting back at the campfire, make sure you’re the only one he’s looking at.

You know JJ, you know how he’s quite a magnet for the wandering eye. In your drunken state, you find yourself desperate to be his only focus. 

You make a quick stop at the computer connected to the speaker, changing the song cue, before continuing on your way. Some girl, who you vaguely remember from your science class, is currently barely getting out the words to “Call Me Maybe” through fits of giggles, karaoke microphone seconds from slipping out of her hand. Without a moment of hesitance, you stumble right up to the make-shift stage and reach for the microphone. 

“That’s real nice, Katy,” you murmur, putting your hand on her shoulder as she looks at you slightly confused, her poor rhythm suddenly interrupted, “‘s my turn now.”

She quirks an eyebrow at you, but makes no argument as you nudge her off the stage, stumbling back to her friends who only laugh. The sleek surface of the microphone is slippery on your sweaty palms, but you hold it firmly, spinning around and puffing your chest. 

The log isn’t exactly a perfect stage, but it’s just big enough so you can see through the crowd from a higher angle- and across the way, you catch the gazes of your friends, a variety of expressions on each of their faces. 

Pope has his eyebrows furrowed down in that classic Pope stare, his thoughts loud. “What the fuck”, would be your guess. Kiara seems to have the same thoughts running through her head, but her eyes hold more amusement. John B and JJ both sit here with open mouths. 

You don’t really process any of the confusion in their gazes, though, because the second you meet eyes with the blonde boy, your heart is racing. The beat, begins to play, and you bring the microphone to your lips.

“What the fuck is he doing?” John B asks, but again, no one has an answer. 

“This can’t be real.”

“Oh my god.”

The familiar tune of Justin Bieber starts to flow from the speakers, and Pope slaps a hand over his mouth. This is too good. 

“Everybody’s laughin’ in my mind…”

“We gotta get him off that stage-“ John B starts to stand up, only for a hand to get in his way. It’s JJ’s. 

“Nah bro” he doesn’t dare look away from you, “one more minute.”

A few cheers and shouts come from the front row, the crowd pretty divided between “invested” and “pays no mind”. You continue to sing, your voice wobbly at first, before you start to really get into it. 

“Did you forget all the plans that you made with me? Cause baby I didn’t-“ 

JJ cracks a small grin, looking back at the others as if in confirmation, before turning back, still completely lost as to what you are doing. 

“Cause that should be ME-“

Oh!

“Holding your hand!”

Kiara bursts out laughing. 

“That should be me, making you laugh! That should be me, this is so sad-“

“That’s one way to say it.” John B smirks, earning a prompt nudge from JJ.

You’re shamelessly making eye contact with him, losing your balance on the log as you make up for every crack in your voice with devoted theatrics. He might not make it through this. 

“Y’think we should go get him?” Pope asks, hiding his grin with his fingers. You start to finish up the chorus, completely invested.

The rowdy crowd has become blurry faces, a swarm of bodies dancing around you while you stumble on the log. Halfway through the second verse and it becomes clear you don’t really know most of the words to this song, glancing over to the computer and trying to read the poorly-animated lyrics off the 8 year old YouTube video you found. But finally, the chorus comes back around, and you’re coming in strong again. 

“That should be me, holdin’ your hand-“ you stare into his eyes and thrust your finger into his direction, turning heads.

“Ok we gotta get him off that log.”

“Yep, that’s enough.”

JJ stands up and quickly makes his way to where you stand- or perform, rather. Shoving through the various bodies, he pushes his way to the front, and the whole time you follow his figure with your eyes.

“This is so wrong, I can’t go on-“ you point at him, wobbling on the log, “-till you believe that that should be me, that should be m-“

“Y/n,” JJ stands in front of the log, gesturing for you to join him. You don’t, instead moving your finger to continue to wag it in front of his face. He sighs, looking at the ground to hide his smile. When he looks back up, you’ve launched into a high note that definitely is not in the original recording. 

“-meeeeEeEEEee-“ 

“Oh god,” he mumbles to himself, not entirely sure what to do. You’ve never been this wasted before- and even more, he’s not used to being the designated caretaker friend. The roles are completely switched, yet he’s not even sober! He does the first thing that comes to mind- reaching for you and tugging you into his arms. You fall with a small gasp, dropping the microphone into the sand, slight feedback echoing through the shitty speaker as he literally drags you away from the crowd. 

“What’re you doing-?” you demand, though blushing slightly at how close you now are to his chest. There’s a few snickers and curious remarks within the group behind you, not that you really pay attention. And they quickly go back to their own business anyways, leaving you to be dragged away to the side of the party.

JJ is supporting your body with his, as if you’re injured instead of just wasted, but with your uneven steps and his own tipsiness you both end up just stumbling off. Your arm slung around his shoulder and his hand keeping you close to his side. He’s even prettier up close. 

“Man, how drunk are you, babe?” He asks as you come to a stop, moving to stand in front of you, your hands now on his shoulders. 

This scrambles your mind a little bit. “Man” and “babe” used in the same sentence? Wild. 

“‘M not that drunk.” You retort, eyes peeking up to take in his features once more. You don’t even think about how obvious you’re being- dazed eyes raking over his face, morphing into an expression with so much awe you’d think his face was made up of the stars above. 

He notices the look, just as your eyes not-so-subtly flicker from his eyes to his lips. It makes him flush slightly. 

“Mhm- and that talent show, huh?” There’s a hint of amusement in his tone this time, you can tell, “what about that?”

“Why, did you think it was hot?”

JJ’s grin starts to grow, the cogs in his brain turning. Was this really all for him?

“…were you trying to impress me, baby?”

That one sends a small rush of butterflies through the pit of your stomach- not really mixing well with the alcohol. 

You feel as a grin starts to spread on your lips, cheeks hot. 

He called you baby. 

“Maybe. Are you single?”

It’s really ‘no think, just do’ at this point, your thoughts becoming words in a matter of seconds. This visibly catches JJ off guard- that was not where he thought that was going. He pauses, and if you were to look hard enough you could see the throbber of a loading screen on his forehead. 

“What?”

You’re starting to lean into him a little bit, subconsciously. 

“Do you have a boyfriend.” You restate the question, and it all starts to click in his head. The singing, the pointing. 

‘My boyfriend just drunkenly sang Justin Bieber to me as a way of flirting.’

A giant smirk takes over his lips. 

“Wait wait wait,” he starts, looking down for a second, “let me get this straight- you went up there and sang that whole song as a way of…as a way of flirting?” He looks back up at you, finding this whole thing quite humorous. 

“Maybe,” you say again, “did it work?”

JJ cant stop the chuckle that escapes his lips, the laugh rumbling in his throat. You furrow your eyebrows, “what’s so funny-“

He shakes his head, “nothing, nothing, don’t worry about it.” He looks you up and down, a glimmer in his eyes that you notice but can’t name in this moment. But it doesn’t answer your question. 

“JayJayyyyy-“ you groan, and it just makes his smile grow. It becomes clear he’s just gonna play into this. He places his hands on your hip, leaning into you, so now you’re both close enough to smell the alcohol lingering on both of your tongues. He chuckles again, swaying slightly.

“Do I got news for you.” Is all he says, and it’s clear he’s gonna have a field day with this one. 

[ayyy-pee]

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝟤 - 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝐻𝒶𝒹 𝒴𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒

Discord 18+ - Twitter - Series Masterlist - Previous Chapter

Pairing: Hotel Heir Satoru Gojo x Club Heiress Female Reader Genre: Fake Dating/Arranged Marriage AU/Rivals to Lovers

WC: 7.4k

Story Summary: One unforgettable night out leads to a lifetime tethered to the one man you absolutely can't fucking stand. The feeling's mutual, but now you both have to find a way to make it work in your favor.

or

You and Satoru's parents give you an ultimate that you both quite literally cannot afford to refuse.

Story Warning: Fake Dating, Arranged Marriage, Profantity DUH, Gojo and Reader being fucking bratty and annoying, Slow Burn, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior. Smut Maybe? (probably), No Y/N usage here, Gojo is such a shithead here fr LMAO

Art by: nameissiyo on X

A/N: I have been having so much fun writing this little shit LMAOOOO

You slowly enter your apartment in a daze, dragging your feet along before slipping your shoes off at the door. You’ve just had a bomb dropped on you, metaphorically blowing up your entire world and you’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to wrap your head around it. Your mind replays the conversation – well, the demand from your father. There was no actual conversation to be had. You were doing what was asked of you. 

Point blank period. 

------

“Daddy, please don’t do this to me,” you begged, knowing your pleas were falling on deaf ears. “I’ll clean up my act, I swear.”

“It’s far too late. I’ve given you multiple chances to get it together. I’ve let you do whatever you wanted for too long. This is the push you need to grow up, to take this seriously. Starting with you taking on a position within the company and learning the inner workings. And you will let Satoru court you, and you will marry him.”

Your head was spinning. “Daddy…you don’t understand. I can’t marry Satoru.” Even his name on your tongue tastes vile. But that may also be all your emotions working their way out of your gut.

“Why is that?” Your father asked.

‘I just don’t like him!’ It’s what you wanted to scream. Or even ‘He’s insufferable and fucking annoying!’, you already knew it wasn’t a valid enough reason for your father.

“I just…” you racked your brain for reasons that you think your father would accept. None come to mind, because to him, you didn’t need to like your partner to make things work.

Your father scoffed, shaking his head. “This marriage will go through,” he told you. “And so will this merger, because it is contingent on your marriage to Satoru.”

The trembling in your lips returned with a vigor and you plead once more. “But why? Why do we have to get married in order for the merger to go through? I’ll learn about the company, I’ll take on a formal position, I’ll party less and do more, that’s fine! But marrying Satoru? Why does that make a difference?!”

“They have their reasons,” your father states. “and honestly, I can’t say I disagree with them. That’s all I’ll say on the matter.”

You were back to begging for your father to take pity on you, to let you get away with just this one last thing and you swore you’d never fuck up again, never make the company look bad. But he didn’t budge. He didn’t even look in your direction. He simply turned away from you, ignored the fat tears and black mascara that ran down your cheeks and onto his pristine, white marble floors and went back to his desk. He sat down and went about his day like you weren’t standing to the side muttering that you didn’t want to do this, that you’d do anything else but this. He picked up his phone and dialed his secretary. 

“Nitta, please patch me through to CEO Gojo. Thank you.” You stood, rooted to your spot as you listened to your father practically sell you off to the Gojo family in exchange for a chance to continue his quest to build his empire. You were simply a pawn here.

------

This is unbelievable, a nightmare! You even pinch yourself, hoping that this is all just a very bad dream and you’ll wake up in your bed, but you’re still standing in your living room and feeling the weight of the situation on you.

One night. One stupid night out after you let dumbass Utahime and Shoko convince you to do something that you’re now going to have to spend your entire life paying for. 

Your father spent a good hour on the phone with CEO Gojo working out the details of this arrangement. You’re to meet with the Gojo family sometime within the next few weeks for dinner at their estate. You’ll hear from CEO Gojo’s secretary so they can pencil you in for some time with your future in-laws. The thought makes your stomach churn.

Why do you have to marry Satoru Gojo? He’s one of the most obnoxious and annoying men you’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting. The two of you have only ever had maybe a handful of interactions and each one was a disaster.

There was your first meeting as teenagers…

------

Your families and many others of the upper elite had gathered together to honor the late Chairman and CEO at the time, Satoru’s grandfather. While the elder Gojo had not been involved in company matters for some time, he hadn’t stepped down as Chairman and CEO officially until now. His son, the current Chairman and CEO had been acting as the interim for years before they finally announced it. Tonight, they were setting things in stone, making a statement to the public that the line will be continuing and Satoru will now be next to inherit the position as head of the company.

“Thank you all for joining us,” the elder Gojo says. “If you’ve been invited here, it’s because we hold you in close regard and want you to be here to witness this transition - me finally being able to pass the torch on to my son.”

At this, Satoru’s father stands from his seat on stage and comes forward to join his father. You didn’t miss the way his eyes seem to scan the room, likely searching for someone. The older Gojos drone on, and you tune out. You’ve always found these things to be boring. Of course, at sixteen years old, you would have loved to be anywhere else in the world than at some stuffy corporate party full of old people, but your father was out of town trying to close a deal and your mother went with him. 

The invitation specifically requested the families of these companies, and so you were stuck acting as the company representative in your father’s stead.

“I hate these things,” a soft voice whispers from across the table, and your eyes rise from the intricate patterns on the fancy tablecloth you’ve been staring at the last several minutes to meet kind, violet orbs and a mischievous feline smile staring at you. “I’m Suguru…Geto.”

He tacks on his last name like he’s reluctant to say so, but mainly like it means something to you. You don’t really care who’s who here, but like you, it seems Suguru’s been practically trained since birth to network and make connections, to know every face you come across. You rack your brain for the last name Geto, and when nothing seems to come to mind, he fills in the blank for you.

“Geto Holdings.”

Right, the real estate conglomerate. If you remember correctly, Suguru is an only child, just like you, so he’s also meant to take over if his parents deem it so.

You give Suguru your name and watch his brows rise, impressed with the family you hail from.

“Well…” he sighs, leaning back in his chair and taking you in. “Pleasure to meet you. We should exchange info after this.”

You nod, the tiniest smile curling at the corners of your mouth. “Yeah…yeah, I’ll get your number after.”

You two leave it at that, turning your attention back to CEO Gojo. He talks on and on about how honored he is to be taking over the company. How he’s been raised to do this and it’s all he’s known, that he can’t wait to make his father proud. He also shares some of his plans for the company going forward, which means absolutely nothing to you. Gojo Hospitality exists in a whole different world than your father’s company. Whatever plans CEO Gojo had in store, you couldn’t care less about.

It’s when he’s about to wrap his boring speech up that a loud ruckus at the entrance of the ballroom grabs everyone’s attention. The new CEO Gojo’s jaw clenches, watching long legs carry a young man across the room.

“Sorry I’m late!” The intruder practically yells, buttoning his wrinkled dress shirt sloppily. His white hair is messy, almost like he just woke up from a nap. But you doubt it with the way he’s struggling to get through to the front of the ballroom.

You’ve been to enough rich kid teenage parties to know he’s wasted.

“Shit,” you hear Suguru hiss, standing from his seat and watching the boy make his way across the room.

The boy stumbles up the steps of the stage, joining the Gojo family, and you think he must be the son. Satoru, you believe his name is. He makes his way to the older Gojo who wears a tight smile on his lips, as he reaches for the boy once he’s closer. He leans away from the mic, wrapping his arms around the boy, lips beside his ear, whispering. And whatever he says to the young man works, the glassy look in his eyes vanishing and replaced by hardly concealed disdain.

It’s all awkward and suddenly tense in the room, the atmosphere thick as molasses. You hadn’t even noticed that Suguru had left his seat and went to grab the boy, hauling him back to your table where he plops him down in the seat right in front of you.

The party resumes, the new CEO Gojo continuing with his speech, not even bothering to address what just took place.

Suguru says your name, smooth and already familiar. “This Satoru Gojo. Satoru, this is ___.” Suguru takes a seat beside him, not even giving you a chance to truly introduce yourself because he instructs Satoru to “just shut the fuck up and they can leave after his dad’s speech.”

You’re just sitting there, thinking that you’ve just been casually introduced to the son and heir of one of - if not the largest - hospitality companies in the world. If your father were here, he would be thrilled. This is your chance to act like you give a little bit of a damn about the company and get to know Satoru.

But as you watch him, all scrunched brows and pouts, you feel a little bad for him.

He looks visibly deflated after receiving what you think was one hell of a scolding from his father, cheeks red and blue eyes downcast, staring into his lap. This is the first time you’ve seen this guy. Most large gatherings of the upper class that you had been to, he wasn’t present for. Or maybe you just hadn’t noticed him, which you think would be rather difficult given his unique appearance; striking azure eyes, snowy tresses and freakishly long legs. Yeah, he’d be hard to miss.

You don’t realize that you’ve spaced out yet again, staring at the boy who has just made quite a scene, and seems to be in the mood for another.

He’s grinning at you, all crooked and goofy looking. “Like what you see, Princess?” He teases, elbow on the table with his head resting in his palm, and it’s enough to snap you out of your trance. You sneer at his lack of manners.

“Pardon?”

Satoru chuckles, nudging Suguru with his elbow and his friend doesn’t seem to find anything amusing.

“Pardonnnn?” He mocks you in a sweet voice, followed by him snorting. “So cute when you all play dumb.”

Beside him, Suguru mutters quietly, “Satoru, that’s enough.”

You’re still in shock, can’t seem to wrap your head about this boy practically calling you stupid. How dare he? When he’s late, drunk at his own family’s party and has his elbows on the table!

If your mother were here, she’d have a conniption seeing this.

“Aww, come on, Suguru,” Satoru slurs, gaze piercing into you as he looks you up and down, assessing you. “I mean, she’s not really my type - new money and all,” he waves his hand in your general direction, laughing when he does so. 

New money. That’s what those who want to insult your family say. It’s referring to the fact that your father only came into his wealth about 30 years ago, when he took a chance on some rundown shitty building in Shinjuku and opened the first Club Echo that ended up skyrocketing in popularity and launching your father into the same playing field as those who had been in possession of extreme wealth for far longer than him.

Whereas Satoru's grandfather's grandfather had started Gojo Hospitality from the ground up, slowly building it into the empire it is today. They’re the definition of old money, richer than rich. You’re not even on the same playing field.

It doesn’t seem like the boy in front of you wants to let you forget that.

“Stop it, Satoru,” Suguru chides, gripping onto his friend's arm who snatches it back. 

“Why? You want her?” He asks, and your eyes widen which only makes Satoru laugh. “I mean you did see her first…but wow, she's got a cute face, so maybe I’ll make an exception and take her for myself.”

‘You’re here to represent your family, your father,’ you have to remind yourself. You are to be on your best behavior, or it won’t bode well for you when your father gets home. You’ve made it through a good majority of this snoozefest tonight and you only need Satoru’s father to hurry and finish his speech so that his son can get the hell away from you.

But with the way Satoru continues to grin at you teasingly, leaning his gross arms on the table, you feel your patience begin to wear thin. You try to ignore him, no longer giving him your attention like he wants and instead focusing on his father and the words coming from his mouth, hoping his speech ends soon, but it’s to no avail. 

Especially when Satoru’s long legs stretch beneath the table and stomp right on the toe of your Manolo Blahnik’s and you feel any semblance of restraint snap.

Satoru peeks beneath the table, always so crude, it seems, and you snap your legs shut because you’re wearing a damn dress! Does he have no manners at all? Apparently not, because Satoru only offers a hum when he sits back up, shrugging. “My bad, Princess.”

Your dad will surely understand that you’ve killed the Gojo heir, right?

You close your eyes, inhaling sharply as you slip your foot out of your shoe. Reaching for the heel, you hold it in your hand to see the large scrape of Satoru’s big ass Louboutin oxfords sitting right on the tip. You’re trembling with rage, glaring at the man on the other side of your table as your fingers wrap around your shoe, purposely leaving the heel part exposed. 

In the fifteen minutes since you’ve met Satoru, he’s continuously added into the reasons you’ve decided that you don’t like him. He’s insulted your intelligence, spoke about you like you were a piece of meat to be torn apart between him and Suguru, insulted your family and now, he’s committed the worst crime of all in your book - scuffed your brand new shoes that you bought just for this stupid event.

Wide eyed, Satoru chuckles nervously, forcing a smile to his face. “Come on, it’s not that big a deal. I’ll replace them!” He offers, no apology anywhere to be found.

Rude – another thing to add to the long list.

Fuming, your teeth grind together as you murmur, “They’re vintage.”

Satoru rolls his eyes, pretending to yawn. “They’re just shoes.”

Uncultured – another thing.

Satoru sighs, reaching into his pockets and pulling his wallet out, pulling his black card out and holding it out to you. “Vintage or not, I’ll replace them. If you can’t afford it, you can just say so.”

Fucking asshole – and it’s the last reason you need.

“I’m going to gouge your eyes out and wear them as earrings,” you promise him, and the bastard leans forward, amused again.

Satoru smirks up at you, fluttering his lashes. “They’re pretty, right?” He winks, head tilting when he asks, “Wanna wrestle for ‘em?”

You quickly rise to your feet, chair falling back and slamming onto the floor loudly as you reach across the table for Satoru, only managing to snatch a clump of hair from his scalp and he howls in pain. The sound is so satisfying, you can’t help the obnoxious laugh that escapes you.

“What the fuck?! Over some shoes?!” He screeches, hand pressed to the sore spot on his head.

You ignore the gasps and wide eyes that stare, the hard gaze of Satoru’s family on the back of your head as you try to get to their son. Satoru leans back in his seat, scowling briefly at you before it’s replaced with another smile, only fueling your anger. 

Does he take anything seriously? There’s no apology, no remorse, just an asshole sitting in front of you probably thinking he can flash his pearly white teeth at you and you’ll fall to your knees even if he does insult you and your family.

You couldn’t be less interested in Satoru Gojo, and after meeting him, you’re absolutely certain that there’s zero chance you’ll ever care about him. 

“Satoru…” Suguru chides. “You need to apologize.”

At this, Satoru scoffs. “No. She’s fucking insane! Trying to kill me over some ugly old shoes, and I should apologize?”

No, you’ll never give a single damn about Satoru Gojo. But you are interested in knocking his head off his shoulders.

“They’re vintage!” You shriek in response, lunging for Satoru again, but this time Suguru is there to intercept, grabbing a hold of your wrist and pulling you across the table into his arms.

You stare up at him, all anger melting away when you meet his violet eyes. He leans down, lips grazing your ear as he urges, “Stop. In about ten seconds, security is going to barge in here and drag you out and I don’t think your family would like that image plastered across the blogs.”

His words feel like ice cold water, dousing the flames raging inside you. He’s right. Your family would certainly not appreciate opening their phones and seeing pictures of you scalping the Gojo boy on front page news.

“If you walk out with me now, you can leave with your dignity still in tact. I’ll offer an apology to the Gojo’s on your behalf–”

You make a disgusted face, and Suguru shakes his head.

“Trust me, it’s in your best interest if I do.” He glances up, seeing the security team entering the room. The Gojo’s assistant points in your direction and Suguru holds a hand up, effectively stopping them for a moment. “Walk out with me, and let me handle everything else after.”

So you inhale deeply, let Suguru slink his arm around your shoulders and bow, apologizing to everyone for what just transpired. Of course, Satoru remains seated. His face is already checked out, scrolling on his phone instead of offering an apology to you in return, let alone to his own family. You’re tempted to snatch a few more strands from his head, but when Suguru brings you closer to his body in an attempt to calm you again (which works), you decide it’s better to just take your leave.

------

That was your very first time meeting Satoru Gojo. And every run in after went just as well.

Satoru spilling a drink all over your new dress “on accident” that you just know will stain at an art gallery event that your parents had insisted you attend, and you digging your stiletto heel right into his foot, earning an echoing yowl. Suguru was kind enough to offer you his suit jacket. The gesture made Satoru roll his eyes, and the blogs couldn’t wait to fuel rumors of you and Suguru dating when a picture dropped from the event showing him giving you the clothing.

There was also the time Satoru reserved all the VIP tables at your families club, and you had to party amongst the commoners when he refused to give a table to you and your friends. “Sorry, got a super important thing happening here tonight. Need every seat,” he had told you with a mocking pout on his face, only for you to find out later that it was just him and about four other people the entire night! And you couldn’t do anything about it because of course, according to your father, the customer always comes first and there are plenty of other places for you to hang out.

And you’ll never forget running into Satoru while you were on a date and him telling the man that you “have quite the temper” and then proceeding to take a seat and tell him of all the negative interactions you two had had. All of it made your date look at you differently, the image of the sweet and kind girl he was getting to know now skewed thanks to Satoru’s words. He ended up ending your very short lived relationship only a few days later.

You hate Satoru Gojo. It’s not an exaggeration. You truly, absolutely hate him.

It’s been so long since you’ve seen him, and you like it better that way. You stay in your little bubble, and he stays in his, and any time your bubbles threaten to meet, you’re quick to change paths. Satoru obviously doesn’t like you either, and you weren’t too proud to say that you were happy the feeling was mutual.

It’s starting to sink in now. The fact that soon you’ll have to see Satoru again when you haven’t had to be in the same room in years. Worse, you’ll have to see Satoru everyday for the rest of your damn life. Your hold on your purse handle tightens until you’re shaking. And then your purse is flying across your living room, smacking against the wall and falling to the floor along with all the contents of your purse. A piercing shriek erupts from you as you finally let your rage out.

This is hell.

------

“You're what?!” Suguru practically shrieks on the other end of the phone. 

“I'm getting married apparently,” Satoru repeats, boredly as he slips off his shoes in the foyer. 

“...To ___?…The Heiress…of Club Echo…”

“Yeah, I said that already.”

Suguru clears his throat. “I just wanted to make sure I was hearing you right.”

Satoru’s brows rise in amusement. “You jealous? You guys used to hook up, didn’t you?”

There’s a brief beat of silence before Suguru mutters, “That’s what the tabloids say.” He sighs, and Satoru knows he’s doing that thing where he frantically runs his fingers through his hair. “And no. Not jealous. Just…shocked she agreed to this.” 

Satoru frowns. “Why wouldn't she? She gets to marry into my family, which is like…the biggest sell here. Not to mention she gets to be with me. Other girls would kill to be in her position.” 

“Yeah, sure. You're such a catch,” Suguru deadpans. “But ___ fucking hates you.”

Satoru snorts, shaking his head as he fiddles with the buttons of his shirt. He slips it off, only just noticing the smudged pink lipstick on the collar. He rolls his eyes and tosses it aside. “Nah, she’s had a crush on me for the longest. Trust me. That’s why she’s so mean to me. It’ll just suck for her I guess, since I don’t like her like…at all.”

At this, Suguru bursts into laughter, making Satoru’s frown deepen the longer this goes on. “You’re such a child,” he says. “No, Satoru. She actually fucking hates you. Like, if she hears you’re showing up somewhere she’s at, she will leave because she can’t stand to look at you.”

Satoru falls back onto his sofa, scowling. “You guys really were hooking up, weren’t you? I feel like that’s the only way you’d even know that.”

“You jealous?” Suguru teases him back. But Satoru shrugs off his friend’s words. 

“No. I don’t need her to like me to marry me. It’s a business contract essentially. If this wedding goes through, my dad will get the hell off my back, at least for a while. She doesn’t need to love me, because it’s not like I’m gonna love her either.”

Suguru hums. “And if that changes?”

Satoru scoffs. There’s no way that’ll happen. You guys don’t really know each other, don’t care about each other in the least, truly can’t stand each other. It’s a marriage of convenience for your parents and their companies. Love has nothing to do with it. Satoru isn’t interested in loving you, or even learning to love you. And if Suguru is correct in saying that you really do hate him, then you probably feel the same way.

But Suguru’s question hangs in the air. What if it does change? What if you do fall in love with him? Or worse, he falls in love with you? Unlikely given your off putting personality and your vapid interests. Seriously, you almost killed him over a shoe at one point. Even still…

He can’t risk it.

“No chance of that happening. I’ll make sure of that.”

Suguru changes the subject, droning on and on about the multiple business trips he’s set to take this month. He’ll be leaving for Singapore in about four days, on Monday and from there he’ll head to Jeju Island, and then to America for a week. He takes his meetings seriously, works hard and actually makes his family proud.

In an ideal world, Suguru would have been born the heir of Gojo Hospitality. He actually enjoys the inner workings of the business world and was eager and ready to begin his apprenticeship with his parents and learn what it would take to run his family's company. Even as teenagers, Suguru was like this. He knew exactly what he wanted out of life. His family didn’t pressure him to take over, it was the path he chose for himself. 

Satoru, on the other hand, never cared much to know about how business worked. He liked living life the way he saw fit and doing what he wanted. And his father and grandfather had let Satoru do whatever he felt up until now. Suddenly, he had no choice in the matter. But he supposes he never actually had a choice in the first place. It was all a dream they let him have until they were ready for him to wake up. 

He was the only child, only son of his parents. He was always meant to take over the company. He just doesn’t understand why he has to marry someone – marry you – to do so.

“Did you hear me, Satoru?” Suguru calls for his friend.

“Huh?”

Suguru says your name, and Satoru rolls his eyes.

“What about her?”

“You should reach out. She’s probably not happy about this, either. It may help to meet up and see if you can at least be on the same page about this whole arrangement, at least get on good terms. Maybe apologize for being a dick every time you’ve seen her. I’m sure it’ll make things easier for the both of you.”

Again, Satoru rolls his eyes. Of course Suguru is worried about making things less of a headache for him. He’s a good friend, always has been. But it seems he’s always been a good friend to you as well, if the way he’s looking out for you is any indication. Satoru isn’t sure what to make of Suguru’s concern for you. But all of that can be handled later. Suguru is right. He needs to meet up with his fiancée. 

It’s been a long time since Satoru has seen you, in person at least. Sure, he’s seen you on your mutual friends' social media posts (he’s blocked on your actual page), or when you make rare appearances for your family’s business and it gets posted online. He’s even seen you on the blogs in passing when he’s scrolling through to see what’s been written about himself. Though he’ll never admit that last part. 

“Yeah, okay. Fine. Send me ___’s number – I know you have it – and I’ll text her.”

Shortly after ending his call with Suguru, Satoru reminisces on the day’s events.

------

Soft moans, and wet kisses can be heard through the door of room 601.

“Satoru, we shouldn’t…” a woman whines into his ear, though she kisses along his neck the way she knows he likes. “I could get fired…”

Satoru chuckles, nudging against the woman’s face so he can switch places with her, now nipping and sucking along her neck, surely leaving marks along the way. His hand skirts up her thigh, hiking her leg up and wrapping it around his waist. He rolls his hips forward, pressing the evidence of his arousal against her core, and pulling a whimper from the woman.

“I’ll never let them fire you,” Satoru swears against her skin, popping open her uniform blouse’s buttons until he can see the swell of her breasts. “You’re my favorite maid here. They can fire anyone else, but not you.”

The woman moans, hands tangling in Satoru’s hair as he leans down to plant kisses between her breasts. He groans at the feeling of her nails on his scalp and just as he’s about to dip a finger into the cup of her bra to expose her nipples, the irritating sound of beeping, followed by a door opening halts his movements.

With a sigh between the woman’s bosom, Satoru stands straight, his nimble fingers fixing her shirt as she hurriedly makes herself look presentable. When she’s set, she gets back to her tasks just in time for another woman to enter the space.

The other woman sighs, eyes roaming the scene – Satoru leaning seemingly innocently against the wall while the maid pretends she’s been cleaning the entire time. But for Satoru, this is normal, so she clears her throat and proceeds.

“Your father would like to see you,” she states simply. His father sent his assistant after him, it seems.

“Why?” Satoru moves from the wall, not sparing a glance back as he moves past his father’s assistant and out the door. “And don’t lie, Manami.”

Manami shakes her head, hurrying to catch up to Satoru. “I honestly don’t know. He just asked me to find you.”

“And let me guess…” Satoru taps the elevator button to go down, maybe a little harder than he means to, but the idea of meeting with his father is already an unwelcome one. “He had every hotel management team on the lookout for me so they could report back to him where I was.”

The doors to the elevator open and Manami follows Satoru inside. She wraps her arms around the tablet that seems to be practically glued to her arms these days and taps the screen a few times before turning the screen to him. There’s a map pulled up, a little blue dot blinking on the screen. “You shared your location with me when I first started and you tried to get in my pants.”

Manami hits Satoru with a sly grin, giggling to herself while Satoru stares down at her with wide eyes. “Don’t you remember? You told me, so you can find me when you get off, and I'll show you a good time.”

She imitates Satoru’s voice, making him cringe. That was so long ago. He couldn’t imagine hitting on Manami now, viewing her more as an annoying older sister than anyone he’d want to be intimate with.

“Is that how dad always knows where I am?”

Manami hums. “Makes my life so much easier,” she brags. She turns to Satoru, holding up a finger with an angry face behind it. “Don’t unshare it.”

When they reach the lobby, Satoru’s security team is already waiting for him. They escort him to his car where he climbs into the backseat with Manami, who manages to dodge every question Satoru has regarding what this meeting his father wants is about.

When he realizes he’ll get nowhere with his interrogation, Satoru finally settles for silence, scrolling through his timeline and absentmindedly liking his friends posts. 

They arrive at headquarters, the elevator ride a straight shot up to the corporate department. Outside of his father’s office, Manami wishes Satoru good luck, and he knows this isn’t going to be good. He enters his father’s office, taking a seat in front of his desk as he waits to be acknowledged, which unsurprisingly, takes forever. His father doesn’t even bother to look up from his computer as he speaks.

“We’re going to be merging with Club Echo,” he declares.

“...okay? You called me here for that?” 

His father glances up just briefly, then resumes his tasks. “This merger is very important, Satoru.”

“We’ve merged with companies before. What’s this one gotta do with me?”

His father’s fingers still on the keyboard, eyes as blue as Satoru’s meeting his gaze. “This merger is arguably the most important we’ve ever had. We need it to go through at all costs.”

Satoru thinks he gets it now. His father needs him to go shmooze up some old bag of bones to make sure they’re happy with the direction this merger is headed. He supposes it’s his way of trusting Satoru, giving him a chance to prove that he’s capable of doing something useful for the company. It wouldn’t be the first time. When Satoru wants to, he’s able to talk up whoever he wants, get his way and close deals. It’s just that most of the time…he doesn’t want to. But this is a big opportunity for him, so he supposes he’ll do it.

It’s almost like a transaction. Satoru does something right, his dad leaves him alone for awhile until he needs him again.

“Okay? So what? You need me to travel somewhere? There’s what? Like thirty Club Echo locations? Which branch am I meeting with? What location are we merging with?”

“All of them.”

“Oh…the entire company?”

Even for a company as large as Gojo Hospitality, this is a big move. Satoru knows this.

“Alright…what do you need from me?”

Satoru’s father leans forward, folding his hands together as he stares his son down. And there’s this sudden dread that washes over Satoru. He has a feeling this isn’t going to go the way he expected. The confirmation comes a second later, when his father speaks.

“I need you to get married.”

------

There was a lot of yelling, and admittedly throwing of items, mainly from Satoru, reminding his father that you’d once tried to kill him over a shoe and threatened to poke his eyes out and use them for jewelry. But it didn’t matter to his father, who just typed away on his computer as Satoru went ballistic. 

“That was a long time ago,” was all he offered to Satoru’s concerns. “Move on.”

And when all was said and done, Satoru still finds himself where he is now – on his sofa, staring at your number that he’s now saved in his phone under ????💍 after Suguru sent your contact information to him.

He knows he should follow Suguru’s advice and just call you, ask if you’d like to grab dinner later this week and iron out the details of this arrangement. It would make sense really since this is an arrangement set up by your parents, not one that either of you opted for. Because, let's be real, if given the option, neither of you would have chosen each other to get married to. 

Hell, even Satoru’s father admittedly would have chosen someone else for him. But Club Echo was growing and only getting bigger, and the idea of merging the companies and building clubs within hotel locations to create a powerhouse unit among hospitality and nightlife was just way too good of an opportunity for his father to pass up, his son’s happiness be damned. But when had he ever given a shit about that?

Now, he’s here, struggling to decide on whether or not to text his future wife who he doesn’t really care for, and who absolutely despises him.

Suguru’s earlier question rings through Satoru’s mind, asking what he’ll do if the fact that you don’t love each other changes. And Satoru realizes that he has to do everything in his power to make sure that doesn’t happen. He enjoys his freedom, likes being able to do what he wants whenever he wants and with whomever he wants. Having a wife will surely ruin that. But from what he’s seen of you in the blogs, you seem to live a similar lifestyle. He doubts you want to be weighed down by a wedding ring either. It gives him an idea. Perhaps you’ll be more willing to meet up if he has something worth meeting for.

So Satoru hits the text button, writing out a message – because honestly, he doesn’t have the courage to dial your number and hear the hatred out in your voice just yet – and he quickly hits send…multiple times.

SATORU: hey wifey ;) it’s satoru

SATORU: DONT BLOCK ME PLS 

SATORU: SAVE MY NUMBER

SATORU: wanna grab dinner next Monday?

SATORU: u kno…talk marriage and stuff

He waits for a response. And waits. And waits.

About forty minutes pass before his phone vibrates, and he doesn’t notice the tiny smirk curling on his lips when he sees your response.

????💍: Could you possibly send more texts?

‘Still snarky as ever,’ Satoru thinks, and more little dots pop up at the bottom of the screen. 

????💍: I’m traveling next week. We can have dinner the Monday after to talk over everything. Might as well figure out how we’re going to make this work. 6pm. Don’t be late. See you in two weeks.

Your text is final, not leaving an opening for a response from him. He’s tempted to message you again, just to annoy you, but decides against it. The point of meeting up is to ease the tension before the marriage, not cause more. He’ll just send you a text on Monday of where to meet.

So he puts his phone away, mind going a million miles a second as he thinks of all the ways he could possibly make a marriage work between two people who can’t stand each other.

------

The next two weeks go by much faster than Satoru anticipated, and now he finds himself sitting alone in a rooftop lounge - of your choice, of course - as he waits for you. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t feeling this strange sensation in the pit of his stomach, the idea of seeing you in person after so many years making him feel like he should run. Aside from what’s online, he doesn’t know much about you. 

You like shopping, which he could have guessed back when you were sixteen. Given how you reacted when he accidentally stepped on your shoe, he’d say you’re quite passionate about your little hobby. You’re also quite the party girl from what he’s seen online, with rumors always swirling about who you’re dating. 

One of them being his best friend. Multiple times, he’s noticed. No matter, though. Suguru was quick to deny the rumors, so there’s nothing to worry about there. Though, Suguru does seem to be pretty aware of your hatred of Satoru. He wonders just how close you two really are. But only for a moment, because it won’t matter in the long run.

Another thing Satoru has noticed about you is that much like him, it doesn’t seem like you’ve ever been interested in the family business. Yes, you occasionally show up to represent your family at certain events, but you have no actual position within the company from what he’s been able to gather. At least Satoru is listed as the Chief Marketing Officer, though he doesn’t do shit. It’s all for show until he hopefully comes to his senses and decides he wants to do something for the company. That’s not happening if he has any say in it, which his father has seemed to pick up on, so it looks like he’s using his son to further his business and keep Satoru tethered to it as well. A bullshit play, but he’s spent the weekend going over what could be done about it.

But you? Your father doesn’t seem to care that you don’t want to be involved, hence all the partying and freedom, so he wonders what it was that got you roped into this mess. It’s something he can try to pry out of you when you get here. 

For a second, he lets himself ponder what you’re like in person now. You have somehow managed to avoid any and all events that would have you two in the same room over the last couple of years, so this being the first time you’ve been together and without anyone running interference?…well, Satoru is worried he may be leaving here with yet another bald spot. The one you left him with a decade ago still hasn’t grown back quite the same.

He checks his watch, the clock hitting 6pm exactly, and he glances up to see you strolling towards the table right on time.

Of course, you’re decked out in all the finest that money can buy. He spots the designer heels, expensive gems that cover your ears, neck and wrist. The little dress you sport (which you fill out quite nicely, he lets himself think) looks like something straight off of a runway, and Satoru wouldn’t be surprised if it was.

His eyes take in your features. Your face has changed a bit as well, more mature and he can’t deny, very pretty. But as you meet his curious gaze, he sees those even prettier lips of yours twist in disgust and he remembers then that aside from being rich, the only thing you two have in common is the fact that your parents are basically forcing you to get married.

You stand beside your seat, glaring down at Satoru and he leans back, not daring to look away. Your eyes narrow, darting to your seat and back to him quickly. But you don’t say anything, don’t simply speak up and say what you’re wanting, so Satoru says nothing as well. 

It’s a standoff between you two, and he’s not backing down. He could sit here for days, staring up at you with the same smirk that he’s sure gets on your nerves the same way your uppity attitude irks him. He’s not sure what it is about you that makes him want to get under your skin so badly. You’re an annoying heiress just like most of the women Satoru surrounds himself with that just wants to drink and have fun, the same way he does. He doesn’t typically care about any of them, but he’s always found this weird satisfaction in annoying you.

You finally break eye contact, Satoru cheering internally when you figure out he’s not standing up to pull your seat out for you like a true gentleman would. You politely wave the waiter over, ordering a glass of wine for yourself, a brow raising when Satoru doesn’t order anything for himself.

“I don’t drink anymore. Haven’t in years,” he answers the question you don’t ask.

You’re staring at him again, but with less ferocity than when you first arrived. You inhale deeply before you ask, “So…why did you want to meet?”

At this, Satoru points to the stack of papers he has sitting in front of him. “To do business.”

“Business?”

Satoru nods. “I want to propose…” He pauses, having to hold back the laugh bubbling in his chest when your eyes nearly pop out of your head at his words. “...a deal,” he finishes, and you scowl. He doesn’t miss the sigh of relief that leaves you before you slip your businesswoman mask on, a look he’s never seen before.

“What did you have in mind?”

[gatorbites-imagines]

SPIDER NOIR⁉️⁉️⁉️

So I've read that spider noir has a organic web, which means there is a hole on their wrist that shoots webs.(wristussy)

So please, if you could.

I want reader (male/gn) to find out about the organic web

Maybe they were in the couch, holding hands, and reader rubs the lil hole,teasing it while noir is just squirming and saying to reader to stop (but they didn't, infact they did it harder) and then the web shoots out (i like to think its pretty sensitive), and noir is just being a flustered mess while reader is AMAZED lol.

-🥚

Peter Benjamin Parker/Spidernoir x Male reader

Headcanons

Artfight is pretty much over, so now I actually have time to write lmao

You and Noir had been dating for a while before you learned about the spinnerettes, especially if you don’t know that Noir was spiderman in the first place, then you’d have to figure that out first.

Because it’s the 30s you two aren’t able to be as open and affectionate as you may want, which most likely spills into your home life as well.

Most people just believe you are two poor guys who share an apartment, which wasn’t too unusual. Mix that with Peter being Jewish and antisemitism always being a thing, Peter needing a roommate would be even more plausible.

But because of the world you two live in, it’s difficult even being affectionate to one another when you are alone, because there’s always the fear of being caught and hurt because of it.

Maybe at some point in your relationship you two are able to move into an apartment building owned by another member of the lgbt community, where others like yourself and Peter live, allowing some of the paranoia and anxiety to leave you two.

It just means Peter has to be extra careful as spiderman, so that he wont lead the authorities to the building or somehow have the image of your community worsened by being associated with spiderman.

But living somewhere safe means you two dare being closer than before, especially if you live in an apartment where no one can see through your windows, except for maybe Peter who can climb up there.

It would lead to you two being able to be more affectionate, kissing more, holding each other, and cuddling on the couch as you watch your clunky tv play whatever was on back then, or listen to your radio playing music.

It might even cause you two to get a little bold, holding hands inside Peters pocket in public, or hooking your pinkies when no one is looking. It wouldn’t surprise me if Peter pulled you into dark alleyways or around corners to steal some kisses either.

Because you two can easier share affections now, it isn’t unusual for you two to just cuddle up on the couch holding hands, your thumb rubbing the back of his hand, or running your fingers over his knuckles.

Its when you are messing with his hands one day that you discover it, a small barely noticeable slit on his wrist. You learn later it was only visible because peters web pouches were full, as he hadn’t been out as spiderman in about a week because of injury.

You, of course, are curious. So, you immediately touch it, rubbing your thumb across it and pulling at the edges of it a bit in interest. To your surprise Peter jolts and makes a noise you rarely hear from him.

He would be extremely flustered as he covers his face with his other hand, quietly asking you to quit doing that, but he doesn’t pull his hand back to himself or anything, so of course you keep it up.

As you rub at the spinnerettes Peter would grow louder in his noises, his entire spine straightening as a whimper leaves him. Under his hand he’s biting his lip hard enough to break skin, his face completely dark from the flush that’s spreading all the way down his neck.

At some point you press hard enough on the slit that suddenly Peter seems to have had enough, lunging at you, and pinning your hands above your head as he pins you down. His hair is ruffled, and his glasses are askew, and his still chewing his lip as he looks at you with a flustered face.

You learn that night that his spinnerettes are quite sensitive, but might be just what you need to get him worked up if you need it.

[seasonal-writes]

Hey there! So, it’s been a while. I have done a lot of thinking, some writing, some attempts—but I have come to the conclusion that I do not think I will be writing out the continuation and end of When Fate Finds Golden Rings. It took me a while to get to this point, and I'm so sorry to anyone who was hoping or expecting me to eventually come back to posting it on ao3. You know, you just.. don’t write on a fic for over a year-ish and surprise! Maybe you really lost the energy and passion for this piece after all. Which is okay. 

BUT. Instead,

Welcome to: Ro gives away the plans for the ending, rambles about that process, and gives other weird notes about their first big boy AU. Because I saw a post about bullet point-ing fic and realized I am, in fact, allowed to do that. 

Strap in because this is going to be a Big Post. Sorry in advance. And if it wasn't very obvious, um. Spoilers for When Fate Finds Golden Rings below the cut. <3

It’ll probably be starting at chapter 14. 

So, I want to disclose, before we begin: the ending is not totally up to my current standards as a writer. And this isn’t going to be me bashing my own creative process or my burnout or anything like that. I just feel like noting that… had I thought about the ending in more detail instead of flying by the seat of my pants, I think that it would be more put-together and interesting. I think that applies to the entire story, honestly. So. Yeah. If the ending falls a little flat, that is why. I was too busy daydreaming over my epilogue—which I will be talking about as well!! It's honestly my favorite aspect that came from continually thinking about the fic rather than writing it. LMAO.

Interestingly enough, I originally wrote that there were going to be at most like, 7-8 chapters left. realistically, that would probably not have happened. Considering this outline was in SHAMBLES, I can safely say it would’ve been a whirlwind last few chapters. sincerely, future Ro after writing out the mess you’re about to see.

The place where Joel, Lizzie, and Etho live was going to be the place where the ending took place. All the chapters in this “arc” as I'd call them—even though that’s not really what they are—were going to be here and were originally intended to be a deeper dive into Tango’s background. Since the first half of the story is really steeped in Jimmy’s world, it had only felt right to give Tango his own section and exposition as a character.

This was going to become the part of the story where it’s like, Jimmy and tango are in a more stable place for a moment so it gives them more time to reflect. It also would’ve given them time to be away from each other, which I thought was important for two guys who had been subjected to good ol’ forced proximity and were finally given little outs to be apart; i.e. Etho taking tango away for a day, Jimmy spending time with Lizzie and/or Joel. That was a chapter idea I had: both basically kinda being like: yeah! no! I can be alone. I don't miss him at all. not even a little. it feels weird without him here though, right- and just dealing with that. Plus the fear of getting caught, the fear of the OTHER one getting caught and not knowing. yeah. <3

Something I had planned on happening between Tango and Jimmy was that Jimmy was basically going to very much avoid his own feelings all around. He’s so attached to this guy, very much falling for him, and convinced that he is in the way despite it all. He’s kinda… under the impression that maybe he’s in the wrong for not wanting to stay, because OBVIOUSLY Jimmy knows better than to stay in one place like this after the whole journey thus far, when Tango seems so happy. So Jimmy, flawed as this idea is, just assumes Tango will be better off if he stays close to his home and Jimmy doesn’t want to make Tango feel like he has to keep running. The best way i can describe this is like

Jimmy: Man. Tango seems really happy here. I don't think he needs me. I bet he wants to stay. No, I'm not gonna ask him, that’s crazy. What I WILL do, however, is leave without telling him. 

and then he did. :) 

That was basically going to lead into a chapter where Jimmy is ~kidnapped~ on his way out of town by ANOTHER set of characters I was excited about: the mercenaries, Ren, Martyn, and BigB! Golden Rings!Ren is fun to me because he keeps the Red King aesthetic. For some context of why they exist: the three stooges mercenaries heard through the grapevine that if the two princes were captured and returned alive, there would be a big reward. I never actually decided if they’d been tracking Jimmy and Tango for a while, or if it was a coincidence that the reward went out and they happened to stumble into town. but all that matters is that Ren ‘n Gang are in fact successful, and smuggle Jimmy off to a camp somewhere along the road headed back to the palace with full intentions of bringing him home, with or without tango. 

behind the scenes, tango is actively losing his mind. so, fun fact here: I never actually…wrote down how this next bit happens. please forgive me i haven’t touched this outline in like a year and a lot has happened since then- but OoOoh wow! Tango manages to find him!! at the camp!! at night. please note here that golden rings!tango has reflective animal eyes. like cats at night when light shines on them? that’s tango. 

I had this whole scene planned where I would riff off the Tango Rage and make him go nuts on these guys. The funny thing is that Tango can’t really fight, but I think he would do an effective job on scaring the shit out of them and chasing them out of camp. Like, spooky story level shit—crackling twigs, snapping branches, etc.. At the end, Tango manages to untie Jimmy and they make a quick getaway back to town. 

When I tell you this was gonna be one exciting chapter after exciting chapter, I mean it. The next big part, dear rancher enjoyers, was going to be the confession scene. 

Basically, imagine. Tango and Jimmy are walking home. tango is really quiet, won’t look at jimmy except to make sure he’s still right there. There is a storm brewing in the sky, and they’re trying to get back as soon as possible. but suddenly, tango freezes in place. Jimmy gets a few feet ahead, but stops and turns when he notices tango isn’t in pace with him. tango looks hurt. more hurt than jimmy’s ever seen him. which makes Jimmy feel awful. and it’s like:

T: If you wanted to leave, you should have told me.  J: …Tango. T: If you wanted to leave, you should have come and told me. We are friends— a team, you've said it yourself. I would’ve been ready to go.  J: I wasn’t…I was hoping you wouldn’t follow me.  T: Why wouldn’t I follow you? J: I just thought it’d be easier on both of us if I left you to your devices here. I’m sorry.  T: You’re sorry? You think that’s gonna just- just make this better for me? After you just up and left me there, worried that you’d been taken back to your family? T: And- And you almost were, too! You were this close, Jimmy! If you were that scared of staying then- J: You know, there was nothing forcing you to come get me, I could’ve just gone and you could’ve stayed and lived the life you wanted back in the palace! I thought that was the plan! Freedom for both of us! T: ….You really just don’t get it, huh? Are you that dense? J: What? What don’t I understand? T: I am in love with you, you idiot! J: …You.. you what? [dialogue taken from the scene i started writing but never finished<3]

And then more things happen and then they KISSSSSSSS !!! 

Realistically, I want to note that the transition between here and the ending was very finicky and not written down. so, instead, i will be giving you a general run down of what the ending was supposed to be. 

With tango and jimmy now having confessed and acting upon those feelings, they think they’re safe for the moment. However, soon after, etho finds them and basically alerts them of an uptick of Nether Guard, having heard that the mercenaries reported their sighting and now, rather rapidly because ~portal transport~, the kings were sending search parties out once more. etho suggests they get out of the city, and the two agree, prepping quickly to leave what became a very good few allies and safe place for the roads once more. 

The day they are supposed to flee, the overworld’s royal party arrives; Grian heading the way, seeming to be the one sent to find his little brother. 

This part got really fuzzy for me because I don't think I ever actually plotted out the transitionary period between "you two need to run" and "we're running, it's bad."

What I do know, though, is that the final scene would’ve been a confrontation with Grian, who attempts to convince them to come home. but when Jimmy explains, begs his brother to try and understand (i also think he uses his secret relationship with Scar as a bit of an example. leverage, even); Grian eventually wishes his brother goodbye, and turns a blind eye to let them run. 

Epilogue: Tango and Jimmy, fittingly, escape to the countryside. When they eventually outrun search parties and the call for their return dies down, they settle on a tiny cottage out on a tiny farm with wishes to expand it and make it their own. Jimmy tends to the animals. Occasionally, he sends a letter under a false name, and he gets one in response; a brother, far away, still keeping him in on happenings in the kingdom and in his life. Tango dives into his redstone, creating and building and making things he never would’ve had much time to while being a king. He thinks of a guard, long left behind, and wonders if he thinks of him too. 

The two never marry, as marriage doesn’t leave a very sweet taste in their mouths—but they do make vows, whispered promises to stay together forever. A prophecy haunts them; but they were never really the type to obey any plan laid out for them, anyway. 

Some years later, a quiet life has been established—but one day, someone arrives. Tango has gone out to gather supplies, so when there’s a knock, Jimmy answers the door. 

Before him, there is a tall figure with a familiar set of eyes. Impulse, knight and ex-personal guard of the Nether Court, stands before him. When Tango returns to find him, a beautiful reunion is had; one with tears and relief and all the love in the world so present in one moment. 

GUESS WHAT !!! TANGO/JIMMY/IMPULSE CANON IN GOLDEN RINGS EPILOGUE!! IMPULSE COMES BACK TO HIS BOY AFTER ESSENTIALLY GIVING UP HIS GUARD POSITION BECAUSE IT’S NOT THE SAME!! THEY CAN BE SO SILLY TOGETHER NOW!! AAAAAAAAA I’VE BEEN WAITING TO SHARE THIS GOD-

please god someone ask me about this dynamic i’m not okay

And, yeah! That was kind of it for the story. As I said, it falls flat to an extent. It’s not the ending that I would give it today. I still wanted to share it, even if it wasn’t the best or most detailed. I love this story, I love this universe and its characters and all the work I did on it. I still want to think about it, talk about it, etc. I’m not letting it go completely, just.. the fic won’t be finished. I am of the firm belief that I could’ve done a lot of things differently, that the story could be even better if I rewrote it entirely. But that’s not a project for right now. :) Because holy shit this fic is at 65k and that would be… hoooo.. a lot of work. Just like picking it back up and finishing it would also be quite a bit of work. It’s hard—I’ve had people tell me just to do it, just to finish the damn thing for the sake of finishing it and not quitting. So, this is my version of that, even if it isn’t the same. I don’t feel like I’m quitting, I'm only a little sad about how it's ending for now, but it feels right. I’m just like 99% sure I won’t enjoy writing the rest out. And, like I said at the start, that’s okay. Passion and motivation changes. People grow.

Anyway, that’s all! Thanks for listening to my silly little ramble about this AU that is old but still lovely. If you guys have questions or wanna chat about the AU at all, my ask box is always open even if I am terrible at answering them. If I find anything else or think up anything, maybe I’ll post about it! But, for now, I hope you all enjoyed my sillies. I love everyone who set foot in this space and read what is still my most favorite fanfiction I've ever written. :)

[grxndprix]

yan!gojo sneakpeek

--take this sneakpeek of an upcoming oneshot lmao more notes at the end

tw; implied noncon, chasing !!

--

“What happened? You were so confident a few seconds ago, sweetheart, don’t pussy out now.” Satoru spoke nonchalantly, an air of ease to each movement. He took the lapse in response to lean closer and cage the girl in with his broad arms. She could only respond with more silence, an infinitesimal hesitation stretching further and further into oblivion — The lone and level sands stretch far away.

King of Kings — That is Satoru Gojo’s title. He was the god of this world, the next, the next, the next—  Gaze upon his works, ye mighty, look upon this rabbit caught fresh on the arrow, and despair.

The apartment suffocated all life out of it, holstering lain two corpses — One stuck in metamorphisis while the other decayed — Both rotting. Blue walls, once a sunny sky’s color now the endless void of an ocean, gray ceiling matted with the flickering, broken light. She’d known damn well Satoru had a better house, some wealthy mansion-like place, but he never offered for her to stay there, he always just showed up here at hers — And she realized he was waiting for her to beg. For her to rely on him.

But, she didn’t, never. Instead, she worked her own job. She paid her own bills, she paid her rent, she bought all the necessities. She lived for herself. If her own boyfriend took notice of her hardships and decided to stay a sadist? To wait for her to end up begging for his help, to land on his doorstep like mutton on a silver platter? 

Hell fucking no.

She assumed the deity just got tired of her stubbornness, because what was once just annoying, his ignorance had become like white noise to her — But recently, she knew he’d been sabotaging her. Coming over more, using up more of her utilities, breaking things she’d try to excuse with a strained smile, ignoring his smug one — He was getting impatient.

The other, well, larger issue that bothered [name] was the fact that he put nothing into the relationship. She was the one with intimacy issues, but she had to initiate every bit of touch, or else he’d ignore her completely. She was the one with a busy schedule, juggling a terribly-paying job, but she paid at every restaurant because Satoru conveniently forgot his wallet when she knows it’s in his pocket.

So, [name] had tried to end it. Gathering up every bit of confidence she had, fighting against the memories of sunset walks and shy handholding — They’d never even kissed — And texted him that they were over. Why give someone who didn’t put anything into the relationship any kind of real closure?

One could assume where that led to.

Here he was, snow-white hair and all, glare piercing straight through her skull, as if it could see everything — And honestly, it probably could.

The silence remained of course, but [name] brought a loose fist to her face, slow and steady. A notion that could be passed off as her brushing away a tear or maybe even rubbing her eyes—

Until her other fist came up as well in a right hook, aimed directly at Satoru’s face. It was stopped by some invisible force that she had no care nor time to question, because the man had been caught off guard. In that split second, the king of kings’ knees threatened to bend.

[name] knew that some demented thought that she wouldn’t hurt him had passed through his mind, which sent a partial shiver down her back, but it only fueled her legs to move. She ran past him, then past the guest bedroom, and straight into her own. He covered the only actual escape, so she needed to barricade and call the police—

A hand stopped the door before she could close it.

☆ OKAYY time for a debrief !! i !! am !! so !! sorry!! for disappearing oh my god jsdhkj i literally ran into the WORST writing block ever, and then studying hit, and then my hiphop recitals fucked with everythingg ughh --- anyway, back to the point !! i am going to try to get back to posting as frequently as i can, especially now that winter breaks here. side note; i also have covid and a supposed csf leak (brain fluid leak) !! doc says ill be fine dwdw lmao no wonder im gonna fail my classes

☆ anyways hope this sneak peek builds up anticipation for the full thing which will be, ofc, full on smut/noncon for my readerss -- byeeeee see u when i post it !!!

[madaqueue]

playlists

such a pretty house | "no surprises" x radiohead

synopsis: walking through the empty halls of what should have been your home, you reminisce on the life you could have had with gojo

pairing: satoru gojo x reader

themes/content: semi-canon curse au. angst. language. mentions of death/loss.

word count: 2.5k

a/n: thought of this mini series idea since i found this song and literally could not stop thinking about a tragic backstory to it with gojo, so if you wanna get the "real" experience listen to it while you read ! this is like...not conventionally happy lmao but here it is anyways :) i'll get back to the regularly scheduled series tomorrow but i just had to write this one

a sigh leaves your lips as you walk up the familiar stone path, now overgrown with long grasses, tickling against your bare ankles. the cool autumn air bites at your skin, dead leaves falling from the old maple trees and crunching under your shoes as you make your way up to the house.

this house.

reaching the front door, you turn the now-tarnished gold handle and step inside. the old wooden floorboards creak under your weight; it’s likely been years since anyone has been here, further evidenced by the thin layer of dust settled over the empty space.

the space that was supposed to be your home.

your eyes gaze to the right and your legs follow, taking you into the living room. the bay windows overlook the front yard, the wooden bench beneath them bare. it was supposed to have red pillows, a reading nook for you. he always knew how you loved those books, consuming knowledge like it was the only type of nourishment you needed. the stories, the worlds that let you forget time while he was away on missions. but now, every word you read feels baren. you haven’t picked up a book since then.

continuing your journey through the empty house, you find yourself in the kitchen. the cabinet doors are now falling off, and surely the stove wouldn’t turn on anymore - not that it really worked in the first place, but the two of you made do. you’d bring in pizza on nights when the shitty electricity died out, sitting on the floor lit only by candles, talking about your futures.

well, what was supposed to be your future.

the window above the sink looks over the backyard, the remnants of the flowers you planted now overgrown with weeds. what a pretty garden it could have been.

“can you plant me the blue ones?” he asked, his arms wrapped around you as you stood outside under the heat of the summer sun.

“you only like those because they match your eyes,” you tease, turning your head to face him.

“maybe so,” he grins. “how ‘bout this, let’s find ones that match your eyes too, so it’s like i’m lookin’ at you every time i see ‘em?”

“deal,” you giggle, leaning against him.

you find yourself at the stairs, slowly making your way up as your hand traces along the railing, dust collecting on your fingertips.

you aren’t even sure why you came here, after all this time, back to this house, the physical tomb of your past.

it was supposed to be for you and satoru.

–

you were just kids, stupid, young kids. when you met in your first year at jujutsu high, the two of you were inseparable. every class, every meal, every mission you did together. it got to the point where you practically lived together, trading off which dorm room you slept in so you wouldn’t have to be apart. the two of you were attached by an invisible thread that kept looping itself around your necks until it became too tight.

the mission was supposed to be easy: exorcise a grade 2 curse and save the family it had kidnapped. you’d done it before a hundred times, and having gojo by your side only simplified the whole thing.

that is, until you got hurt. until you were unconscious, at the brink of death. until you found out why they had sent gojo with you - you didn’t think much of it at the time, but this was the lowest grade curse he’d been assigned to for a while.

it was a test. the higher ups wanted to see what gojo would do when he lost someone. they needed him to prove that he was what they thought he was: the strongest.

except, like always, he never failed to surprise everyone. he wouldn’t let you go that easily; not you, his world, his love, his everything. they picked the wrong person to sacrifice.

by the time you awoke, it was too late. you couldn’t quite place it, but something was different inside you, inside your very essence. as your eyes fluttered open, all you could feel was the warmth of his embrace around you, his hair hanging forward as he clutched your body. hot tears streamed down his face and landed on your chest.

“i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry,” he muttered over and over, softly rocking on his knees as he holds you.

“s-satoru,” you manage to croak out, the taste of blood in your mouth.

his eyes shift up to yours, a darkness and fear in them you’ve never seen before.

“it’s okay, it’s okay now, i’m here,” he whispers, his voice shaking, pulling you into him.

–

reaching the top of the stairs, the empty hallway looms before you. you turn into the first room on your right, what should’ve been the library. empty shelves line the walls as you stand in the middle of the space.

“y’know,” his voice smooth as he sits across from you, “eventually i’m gonna get promoted, and i’m gonna need a big office.”

“oh yeah?” you respond, shifting so your head rests on your open palm, propped up against the table between you. “what makes you so confident about that? you know the higher ups literally hate you, right?”

“psh, they love me,” he pauses, reaching across the table to shut the book in front of you so your full attention was on him. “and then, i’m gonna fix up this house, and i’ll build you a library and an office for me, and we can spend every day in there together.”

you pretend to consider the option for a moment. “fine, but it’s still gonna be my library. i’ll let you put a desk in there but don’t you dare forget that it’s mine,” you joke.

his hand reaches up to the side of your face, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. “as long as i’m with you, sweetheart, it can all be yours.”

you sigh, leaning against the wall before sliding down to sit against the old wood beneath you. he would’ve given you everything, he would’ve done anything for you.

–

it didn’t take long after the mission to figure out what had really happened: the grade 2 curse was actually a special grade, something you were woefully underprepared for. however, the higher ups had planned for that, even wanted it - they needed you to die. not because of any inherent value you had, no, but for satoru. they needed to see if he could handle a special grade curse on his own, something he had already proven he could do, but with a new challenge: loss. could he control himself, his emotions, his power, when he was forced to confront your death?

no. he couldn’t.

the only good thing about this being a special grade curse is that it was smarter, more cunning, than an average curse. not smart enough to beat gojo, but still.

when satoru saw you, your body slumped in the corner of the room, blood covering your face, something happened inside him. he snapped.

so, he did what any completely irrational person would do: he made a deal with the curse.

if it would heal you, it could have your cursed powers. this sounded like an exceptional deal to the curse, thinking that surely with your cursed technique it could easily kill gojo and leave the ordeal more powerful than when it began.

but, like always, gojo surprised everyone. even with your cursed energy he managed to exorcise the monster. he was glad you weren’t there to see it, the way his body took over as he pulled it apart limb by limb, eviscerating any remnants of the thing that dared to harm you. he didn’t even use his cursed technique, he needed to feel the life draining from it in his own hands.

when it was done, he ran to you. he held you. he cried over you. until you opened your eyes, whispering his name.

–

stepping out of the library, you continue down the hall and into the next room. the bedroom, the one you and satoru spent weeks planning.

“okay, what about purple?” you ask, holding up paint swatches to the wall.

“bleh,” he stuck out his tongue. “no purple. what about a nice green?”

you rolled your eyes at his theatrics. “honey, we have too much green already. by the time you’re done with it this entire house is gonna be green.”

his eyes light up. “what about honey?”

“what about it?” you ask, tilting your head.

“that’s it, that’s the color! it’ll be perfect, it’s warm, and sunny, and it’ll make me think of you whenever i’m in here,” he explains, nearly running over to you and picking you up, spinning you around. your arms wrap around his neck as he holds you in the air, both of you smiling with joy.

as you look at the room around you, the unfinished grey walls feel more empty than any other part of the house. it’s like looking at a skeleton, the raw, old bones of something you once loved.

–

of course, after you lost your cursed technique, you weren’t allowed to continue at jujutsu high. they had no purpose for you there, and you felt out of place with everyone anyways. gojo begged them to let you stay, offering to let you live in his dorm so they wouldn’t even need an extra room for you, but his request was repeatedly and ubiquitously denied.

“fine,” he huffs, pacing around your room as you sit on the bed, all of your belongings stuffed into boxes around you. “if they won’t let you stay, then i’m going with you.”

“gojo, you can’t. you know you can’t,” you explain calmly yet sternly.

he stops momentarily, looking over at you. “i have to,” he murmurs, “this is my fault, anyways.”

you stand up and walk towards him, reaching a hand up to his face, cupping his cheek in your palm. “the only thing that’s your ‘fault’ is the fact that i’m still here, and you better not be blaming yourself for that.”

“but-”

your lips press into his, the only way you could think of to get him to stop talking. he’s soft against you, his arms lowering to loosely hang around your waist. for a moment, you stay like that, just the two of you in your empty room.

pulling apart for a moment, you just stare at each other. finally, he breaks the silence. “okay, but if you won’t let me officially leave with you, can i at least sort of leave with you?”

“gojo, what the hell does that mean?” you smirk, not understanding what he’s even asking.

a smile breaks through his lips as he looks down at you. “i have something i want to show you.”

the house.

he holds your hand, pulling you up the stone pathway next to him, leading you to the freshly-painted front door, gold handle practically glowing in the sunlight.

“ta-da!” he shouts, throwing the door open and allowing you to see inside.

“it…it’s an empty house?” you ask jokingly.

“no,” he turns to you, holding your waist, “it’s our empty house.”

“what-”

“i got it for us,” he cuts you off, beaming down at you. “when i first heard that you might be asked to leave jujutsu high, i bought it, thinking we could move in here together.” you don’t say anything, stunned by his kindness, tears beginning to form along your waterline as you think about just how much you love him. “i wanted to give you a home. i hope we can make it one, together.”

leaning up, you kiss him again. finally, together, in your home.

–

why did you even come here? the cold, stale air stirs around your lungs as you rest your head back against the wall.

despite everything that happened, you had to see it one last time. you overheard someone at the store saying how they were finally going to be tearing this place down, putting in some new luxury apartments or something. it’s not like anyone lived here anyways, maybe it’s for the best. give the grave of your past a new life.

it had been nearly ten years since you were here last. a part of you wanted to move on, to forget it, but it hung in your mind like it had been nailed there.

you finally stand up, dusting off the grime that clung to your clothes from the floor. every step another memory you had here, another painful reminder of the life you never got to have.

–

it started slowly, at first. gojo kept getting tasked with harder missions, and he kept handling them with ease. even the higher ups were at a loss with what to do with him, his raw power developing into something they had never seen and had no idea how to control.

as you sat in the empty house, alone, you tried to not let it get to you, but the feeling ate away at you all the same. the glares you’d get when the two of you went out together, the whispers from other classmates or the higher ups, they clung to you.

you knew you were less than gojo - you always were, and it never bothered you. but now, with no cursed energy, you felt like nothing compared to him.

the words replayed in your mind, reminding you what you were.

failure. broken. fragile. useless. a burden. a hindrance. a flaw. a weakness.

of course, satoru never said any of these things, going out of his way to make sure you never heard the insults his so-called colleagues muttered about you, but it wasn’t enough. it ate and ate and ate away at you until you were empty.

when you left, his world collapsed. he begged you to stay, pleaded to let him come with you. he’d leave jujutsu, all the sorcery, all the hierarchy, all the bullshit behind if it meant he could be with you. but you knew he couldn’t; if he left with you, you’d just be proving them right. you’d be dragging him down with you.

“i love you, satoru,” you whispered, your thumb wiping away the tears that fell slowly down his cheek as you stood in the doorway of the house you promised would be your home. “that’s why i have to leave.”

–

making your way back down the steps, you sigh again, a single tear rolling down your cheek, your heart heavy with loss, the loss of the life you should have had. you and satoru, making breakfast together in the morning, falling asleep next to one another, planting flowers in the garden. the simple, quiet life. but instead, you’re here, alone.

your steps are heavy as you trace back through the rooms, the last time you’ll likely ever see them.

the floor creaks in the entryway.

slowly, your eyes follow the sound.

white hair, black uniform, and those bright blue eyes. he has a few more wrinkles around his cheeks, but it is absolutely, unmistakably, him.

“satoru?” you whisper.

he smiles at you.

[sleekervae]

lmao so you hate fascism but you're out here writing a fanfic about it?? make it make sense girl

... Okay... Im gonna assume you mean my Snow fic? If so, I’m gonna need you to take a deep breath and engage those critical thinking skills for just a moment, girly pop.

The age-old argument: if you write about something, you must support it. Because, obviously, every horror writer is pro-murderer and every crime novelist is out there committing heists on the weekends. Absolutely diabolically genius!

Yea, I’m writing a story set in a world of mass authoritarianism, where power is an addiction and morality is a slippery slope, yada yada yada. Yea, my main characters are people who embody ambition at its most dangerous, whose charm makes it easy to forget the rot underneath. And yes, it has been incredibly fun to write. But does that mean I’m sitting here, twirling my Dali-esque mustache, wishing for a fascist regime? Absolutely not!

Yes, It’s been impossible to ignore the eerie echoes of real-world politics while putting this story together, and characters whose entitlement and belief in their own supremacy lead them to justify the unjustifiable. Fiction, at its best, reflects reality back at us—sometimes in ways that make us uncomfortable.

... AND THAT'S THE FUCKING POINT!

Storytelling has always been a means of exploring human nature, even (or especially) the ugliest parts of it. We engage with dark, complex characters not to glorify them, but to understand them, to pick apart what makes them so compelling—and, if we’re lucky, to remind ourselves why we should never let people like them rise to power (even though by some means of the greater divine it keeps fucking happening).

At the end of the day, fiction is an escape. We all have our problematic faves, we all have characters we’d probably slap in real life but can’t get enough of on the page. That’s the beauty of storytelling—it lets us explore the most fucked-up aspects of humanity from a safe distance. And if you think that means I’m out here romanticizing fascism, well… I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe go read a different book and let me do my fictional morally gray scheming.💋

[striveattemptfail]

You'll be there to push me up the hill | Logan Howlett/Wade Wilson, 5.4k, PG-13

@poolvertober: Day 30 – Treasure

Summary: Five times Logan finds out something new about Wade's friendships, and one time Wade finds out something new about his relationship with Logan. Spoilers for Deadpool & Wolverine deleted scenes. Mentions the extended cut of Deadpool 2. Rated for language. Takes place some time after the movie's events; assume Logan and Wade are back-up X-Men. Read on Ao3

A/N: This was just an excuse to write about Wade's movie friendships because I adore all of them lmao. Un-beta'd and I wholeheartedly apologize—this is a Mess™ y'all. Title is from Aretha Franklin's You're All I Need to Get By.

❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛

My neighbors and my friends / are very dear to me / They are always there / whenever there is a need

We talk to each other / and we borrow and lend / Such treasures they are, / my neighbors and friends

How lonely and cheerless / a place my soul would be / Without such neighbors / and good friends as these

My Neighbors and Friends Edited Poem by Ellen Bailey

❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛

0.

Ever since he moved to Wade’s timeline, Logan takes to his new world with relative ease. There are minor differences here and there—pieces of history that shook out differently, random names of things that are slightly altered, everyone he once knew just smells different here—but by far his biggest learning curve has just been integrating himself into Wade’s life. Deadpool out of his suit is as chaotic as he is in it, just with marginally less violence.

(Only marginally less because Wade never leaves home without at least one pistol and Baby Knife.)

But it’s not that Wade has the eating preferences of a child addicted to hot sauce, or that he can’t function without a quarter of a boner, or that he literally never shuts up (ever) that confuses Logan the most.

It’s Wade’s little mish-mash group that he calls a family.

Individually, everyone is fine. They don’t blink twice at Logan moving in with Wade and Althea, a dog in tow and a teenage quasi-daughter following shortly after. They’re all wonderfully kind people who welcome the three of them into their little fold of found family.

But he is pretty confused by how this eclectic group is friends with someone like Wade. Between Yukio’s bubbliness and Peter’s awfully mediocre lifestyle, half the folks Wade saved his universe for are some of the last people Logan thinks would hang out with Wade.

Willingly, at that.

Much less actually maintain a friendship with him.

It takes Logan a while to figure out that they fit into Wade’s life the same way he does.

Everyone stays because they somehow, some way, really do love Wade Wilson, and he gives them all the love he can possibly give in return.

❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛

1. Dopinder

Dopinder’s driving Logan and Wade to a drop-off point where they’ll meet the X-Men for their next mission. When they first left the apartment, Wade had loaded up with Logan in the back. After about five minutes of highway traffic, the idiot decided to get into the passenger’s seat to sit next to Dopinder.

On the one hand, Logan’s pissed that Wade is pulling this shit. Getting kicked in the face by one of Wade’s boots when he squeezes through the taxi’s partition certainly doesn’t help.

On the other... well, it’s a great view of Wade’s ass.

(He will never admit that he kind of, maybe likes sitting next to Wade; finds his presence comforting before big missions like this one. But he’s not a fool. They may be dating but Logan’s never going to admit anything out loud, lest Wade starts to annoy him even more than he already does.)

Logan tunes out Wade and Dopinder easily, his mind occupied by mentally reviewing the details of their mission. He only tunes back in after another five minutes of traffic because Dopinder says something that piques his interest.

“But why does Peter get to go on X-Force missions and I don’t?” the cab driver whines, and Logan’s ear twitches at the name.

Dopinder can’t possibly mean Peter W—

“Because sugar bear is a bit more insane than you, my little toaster that could,” Wade answers easily.

Which means, yes, the two are talking about Peter Wisdom, Wade’s middle-aged ex-coworker from the Drive Max car dealership. Even though Peter had shown up in an ill-fitting Deadpool suit while fighting the Deadpool Corps, Logan still has no idea what the hell Dopinder’s talking about. He thought Peter’s interference during the Time Ripper fiasco was a random one-off thing. Does that mean Wade lets Peter tag along on missions regularly?

”I can be insane!” Dopinder retaliates. “I ran over than pervy orphanage headmaster, didn’t I?”

Wade nods. “That you did, Dopinder, that you did.”

“He fuckin’ what now?” Logan interjects, because the cab driver did what?

“Don’t you worry about it, honey badger,” Wade waves him off easily. “It was in the second movie—I’ll give you the run down later. It was actually pretty hilarious though, I’ll admit—”

“And I’m great at humour!” Dopinder points out. “You just said it yourself!”

“You don’t need an excellent sense of humour to become a hitman, but it does certainly help, in my very humble opinion,” Wade concedes. He looks out the window. “And yes, I said humble, not honest—you can pry that from my dead body, which is fucking never.”

Logan’s getting whiplash already and their mission hasn’t even started yet. What the fuck are they talking about? Dopinder wants to be a hitman? And is asking Wade for advice?

Logan can’t dwell on his questions for long because Wade turns back to Dopinder with a sigh. “Listen, goose, I already told you what you needed to hear last time: You’re an eagle and you gotta spread your wings! Seize the opportunity! Carpe that diem and all that jazz!”

He catches Dopinder’s confused expression. “I-I don’t recall you ever saying that...?”

“I agree that the metaphor was severely lost when I said it but I did say it!” Wade insists.

“O-okay... But then how am I supposed to seize it, Mr. Pool?”

“Just like you did with that pedophilic shitstain at the orphanage!” Wade pats Dopinder’s shoulder reassuringly. “When the time comes, you’ll know, my young Padawan.”

“I suppose...” he trails off with a nod. “Thank you, DP.”

Wade bows his head regally. “I am but your noble Jedi master.”

Logan almost feels dizzy by the exchange that just flew past him. Between Dopinder admitting he ran over a pedophile and Peter apparently being more insane than that, he almost misses the sincerity in their conversation. Dopinder looks genuinely comforted by Wade’s advice, which itself was surprisingly honest and helpful.

Who would’ve thought?

“Okay, we’re here!” Dopinder presses a button on the fare counter, where Logan catches the $38.19 price tag before Dopinder resets the machine back to zero. Logan’s about to ask why he did that even though they haven’t paid yet when Dopinder says, “Put it on your tab?”

“As always, my favourite cabbie.”

“Your tab?” Logan asks.

“Oh, DP doesn’t bring his wallet on missions,” Dopinder explains. “Ruins the lines of his suit.”

Wade shoots finger guns at him. “You got that right!”

“Are you fucking serio—you’re a dickhead, bub,” Logan sighs, reaching for his pocket. “Dopinder, I’ll cover the fare this time.”

“No, no! It’s okay, Mr. Wolverine, sir!” Dopinder shakes his head. “DP always pulls through when it comes to paying me back.”

“Peanut, I’m insulted you’d think I wouldn’t pay this earth angel,” Wade gasps, hand on his chest. “What kind of man do you take me for?”

“A mooch who also doesn’t pay rent on time.”

“How dare you! I always make things work.” Wade turns to caress Dopinder’s ear, and Logan suppresses the urge to start growling. “Don’t listen to him—our system is perfect and don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise.”

Dopinder laughs.

Wade unlocks his seatbelt. “High tens until next time?”

Dopinder raises his palms to meet Wade’s. “Until next time!”

As he exits the taxi, Logan wonders if he even wants to know what the hell just happened in front of him. Wade and Dopinder seem content though, so he leaves it be.

❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛

2. Peter

Logan finishes jogging with Mary Puppins for her morning walk when he strolls up to their apartment. He’s not sure why Peter is there, just that the man greets him at the door when Logan comes home.

“Hey, Logan! Miss Puppins!” Peter says cheerfully, opening the door for the two to step in.

“Welcome back, honey badger!” he hears Wade call from the kitchen. “And welcome back to my little princess, too!”

Mary immediately skitters over to Wade’s open arms. Logan nods his hello before heading to the bathroom to take a shower. Once he’s done and changed, he steps into the living room to find Peter and Wade talking over coffee at the kitchen table while Mary naps on her bed in the corner. Logan walks over to pour himself a cup before grabbing the morning paper off the kitchen counter.

“Pfft, you’re such an old man,” Wade teases.

Logan doesn’t even bother dignifying that with a response and simply kisses Wade’s temple to properly greet him now that he’s cleaned up. Taking a seat, he lifts the broadsheet to his face after sipping his coffee.

“Hey, don’t make fun—I read the paper too!” Peter pokes Wade on the arm. “Anyway, did you give Agent B-15 my email?”

Logan isn’t even looking at him, but he can hear the utterly baffled face that Wade is making when he says, “Why the fuck would she need your email?”

He doesn’t expect Peter’s response at all.

“We kissed!”

He nearly drops the newspaper.

“Excuse the fuck outta your beautiful moustache?!” Wade exclaims.

“Didn’t I tell you?” Peter sounds honest in his confusion.

“No, the flying fuck you did not!”

Logan does his best to continue reading, but between the close proximity and Wade being loud as ever, it’s hard to ignore their conversation. He at least tries to make it look like he’s not blatantly listening to them, only peering over the top edge of the newspaper when Wade and Peter aren’t looking at him.

“Oh!” Peter pauses, and Logan catches a sheepish smile crossing his face. “Well, yeah, we kissed.”

Logan can’t describe the high-pitched noise that escapes Wade—he’s not entirely sure there are words in the English language that can.

“I’m so happy for you, sugar bear!” Wade cheers, leaning over to wrap Peter in a hug. If they were standing, Logan’s positive that he’d sweep Peter right off the floor. “Way to land a babe!”

When he releases a now laughing Peter, Wade punches him in the shoulder. Peter’s laughter quickly turns into a yelp.

“Ow!”

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?!” Wade demands.

Rubbing his shoulder with a whine, Peter says, “I really thought I did! I told—oh.”

“‘Oh’?!”

The appalled expression on Wade’s face is so hilarious that Logan has to cover his face with the paper again to hide his own laugh.

“Maybe I didn’t tell you,” Peter agrees. “I forgot I only told two people.”

“Before me?!”

Logan subtly drops his newspaper again just in time to catch Peter’s pinched expression. He takes another sip of coffee while Peter tilts his head side to side in a so-so motion.

“Um, technically you? Kidpool and Headpool live with me now—”

“WHAT.”

“—and I guess I mixed them up with you, ha!” Peter scratches the back of his head with an apologetic grimace. “Sorry.”

Wade takes a very deep breath, resting his elbows on the table to fold his hands together with a dramatic flourish.

He then begins to count with his fingers as he asks, “One: Did you fucking adopt two AU versions of me? Two: Whatever. I’m still so happy for you!”

Peter’s smile returns, growing even wider. “Thank you!”

“Now,” Wade squeals, “spill the tea, sugar bear! I want all the deets.”

He grabs both of Peter’s hands, practically vibrating in his seat like a high schooler listening to the latest gossip about the popular kids at school. It reminds Logan of the students at the X-Mansion back in his old world, way back when.

“Was there tongue action? Hand action? Groin action?” Wade waggles his non-existent eyebrows.

“Oh, gosh, Wade, I—”

Wade’s face splits into a scandalized grin. “There was?!” Even Logan’s eyebrows jump at that.

“No!” Peter immediately cuts in. “But, um, she was the one that kissed me.” His smile turns more bashful, red now colouring his face.

Wade nods at him encouragingly. “And...?!”

Peter squirms excitedly in his seat. “And she waved me goodbye.”

“FUCKIN’ SCORE!” Wade reaches a palm out that Peter meets with a high-five.

“Thank you, buddy!”

The two continue to talk about Peter’s apparently budding relationship with B-15, as well as how the hell he ended up with Kidpool and Headpool. All the while, Logan continues to read his paper and drink his coffee, confused but appreciative of Peter’s grounding presence whenever Wade starts going off the rails.

❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛

3. Althea

At first, Wade’s friendship with Althea baffled Logan. But within 24 hours of living with them he realized why they’re thick as thieves: Neither of them takes the other’s bullshit. It’s apparent when Wade steers Althea into making better choices than spending a whole afternoon snorting cocaine, and Althea yells at Wade to act like an adult human being.

“Motherfucker, I wish left your sorry-ass homeless all those years ago,” she had hissed after Wade, yet again, said something stupid. Logan immediately became on edge—was this really happening at his first dinner here?

But Wade didn’t bite back. Instead, he had calmly asked, “Then who would be the one paying for the Hulu account?”

“Bitch, do you think I can’t swap out Disney for Hulu?”

“No, I think you wouldn’t realize that I cancelled your D+ subscription six months ago because you hated the mid-rolls.”

“Oh, right.” Althea had made a face, apparently remembering she said that. “Well, shit. Thank you, baby.”

“Yeeeup, that’s what I thought,” Wade had replied easily, shovelling more food into his mouth. “Also,” he muffled around a mouthful, “you’re welcome.”

“Don’t talk with food in your fucking mouth!” she chided, smacking her hand in Wade’s general direction.

Wade just stuck his tongue out at her with a disgusting mound of chewed up food, making a taunting noise as he did.

“The dipshit is sticking his tongue out at me, isn’t he?”

Logan could only nod. “Yes, he is.”

And that’s how their banter goes.

It especially turns up when they watch reality TV together. Logan doesn’t get the appeal, probably never will, but he does find it amusing to see how passionate both Wade and Althea are over who wins this week’s challenge, or who gets eliminated from the island, or who takes home the grand prize at the end.

“I swear to god,” Althea grouches one evening, “if that bitch Claire gets a rose and Tamia doesn’t—”

“You fuckin’ said it, Al!”

“My ass is blind and I can still see that she’s gonna divorce that boy two months in.”

“Exactly!”

The two argue over the contestants they like, shit-talk the contestants they hate, and argue during commercials over why their favourite deserves to win with an intensity that would probably count as verbal assault in the legal system. Whenever Wade gets up for drinks and snacks, he never asks Althea if she wants anything. He automatically grabs her favourites from the kitchen and sits back down without missing a beat of whatever heated debate they’re in. Althea wordlessly passes Wade the tissue box when he starts pulling down his sleeves to cover his face because a kid/widowed spouse/senior contestant tells their sob story during solo interviews.

Neither of them ever hesitate to lean their head on the other’s shoulder, or hold hands when things on screen get intense.

Once the show is over, Wade allows Althea to berate him for keeping her up way past my bedtime, goddamn it, I’m gonna be late for bingo again. And Althea allows Wade to bid her goodnight by calling her a geriatric cunt who can’t hang out with young things like me anymore!

(This is, of course, regardless of how late they actually stay up, because Althea never gets out of bed before 10am. Bingo starts at 9.)

They do this every night when Wade isn’t on a mission. In fact, Logan eventually realizes that Wade is usually the one who reminds Althea when their programming is on, mostly because when he and Wade are gone for jobs, she’s more than happy to catch up on their shows by herself.

Logan suspects that Wade not only enjoys their routine, but probably needs it more than Althea does.

❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛

4. X-Men

At the next mission, he’s waiting with Negasonic and Yukio at the X-Mansion while Wade runs off to find Colossus. Logan just rips the Band-Aid off.

“Why the hell are you two friends with him?” He jerks his head towards the direction Wade left in.

“I’m not,” Ellie says.

“She is,” Yukio says. Ellie rolls her eyes and playfully pokes her girlfriend in the side. “Also,” Yukio continues with a sincere smile, “Wade is always nice to me.”

Logan grunts his acceptance at that—this universe’s Yukio is so friendly to everyone, he’s not surprised Wade took a liking to her. What she sees in Wade, he still has no clue, but he’s less perplexed by their friendship considering that (to Logan’s knowledge) Wade’s interests align with hers.

Eloise, on the other hand, he is still confused over. So Logan presses on, undeterred. “I’m surprised you haven’t blasted him to smithereens,” he says to her.

“I have.” After a pause, she tilts her head with a pinched expression. “Well, kinda.” At Logan’s concerned silence, she explains, “He was on top of a raft and I blew him up to the sky to help him save Vanessa.”

Logan has no idea what to say to that, so he goes back to his original point: “That doesn’t explain why you’re friends with him.”

He and Ellie stare at each other in silence.

“This ain’t an interrogation, bub,” he eventually says, voice soft. “You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t wanna.”

Ellie continues to stare at him, clearly trying to figure out if Logan has an ulterior motive. As curious as he is, he’s honest about not pushing her if she doesn’t want to tell him anything.

Finally, she sighs, crossing her arms. “He didn’t make fun of my codename.”

That... is not the answer he was expecting. “Really?”

Yukio wraps an arm around Ellie’s waist as she says, “From what I’ve heard, it’s actually quite sweet!”

“No, it isn’t,” Ellie refutes. “He just happened to be the first one to tell me it wasn’t weird or stupid.”

Negasonic Teenage Warhead is a mouthful, Logan does not say out loud.

“I thought he called it ‘the coolest name ever’?” Yukio asks with an innocent look on her face. Ellie rolls her eyes again but doesn’t dispute anything.

Then, she adds, “He also changed the labelling system in the kitchen from tape to velcro labels.” She looks away, but Logan can see the fondness cracking through her expression all the same. “But I’m pretty sure he only did that because he saw me bitching about people stealing my shit all the time and ripping off my labels.”

“Wade’s super nice,” Yukio confirms with a nod.

Logan mulls over this information with a quiet hum and a nod of his own.

Later, once the mission is completed and everyone is scattered around to help victims or talk to the authorities, Logan manages to corner Colossus alone.

“NTW tells me you are ‘grilling people’ about Wade, yes?” he asks in lieu of a greeting. Apparently, the Russian has been expecting him.

Logan doesn’t give a spoken answer but Piotr accepts his silence as one nonetheless. He places his hands on his hips, looking away to nod at Wade in the distance. Logan follows his gaze to find Wade with Laura, the two of them sitting with a little boy and girl—siblings, if Logan had to guess. It looks like Wade is trying to teach the three of them a hand-clap game.

“Wade is... not always good man,” Piotr starts, “but he can be. And he always give second chances, even to people who may not deserve it.”

Logan recalls Wade telling him about his misadventures with X-Force after their ride with Dopinder. “Like that Russell kid?”

“Yes,” he concedes, “but also me.”

“Hm?” He turns to look up at the giant again with a raised eyebrow.

Piotr meets his gaze. “He has told you I left him to Ice Box?”

“Hrm,” he grunts in assent. Logan knows better than to comment on that whole situation, even if he did get super pissed when Wade told him that the X-Men punished him and the kid so harshly.

“I did not give him second chance after his first and only mission as trainee,” Piotr admits with a regretful shake of his head, “but he still came to me for help with Russell, even after I betrayed him.

“He believed that I, a hero, could still save someone after I refused to save him.”

Piotr’s eyes wander back over to where Wade is, whose hands are in the air as he enthusiastically elaborates on something to a very patient Laura. The two siblings laugh at something he says.

“Wade is not perfect,” Piotr finally rumbles, “but perhaps what he is doesn’t need to be.”

❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛

5. Vanessa

Civilian life does not suit Wade at all. Logan’s barely been in this timeline for a year and even he knows how goddamn awful Wade is at anything resembling normalcy. However, the one thing he apparently kept from his brief stint at it was game nights.

(Logan supposes there are worse things Wade could’ve continued doing, like using that god awful toupee that Wade still vehemently denies is a toupee.)

The majority of Wade’s game collection is of the tabletop variety. Logan knows the popular board game classics like Scrabble, Trivial Pursuit, Candyland—but there’s also card games with names like Exploding Cats and Cards Against Humanity.

(Wade and Althea have strict rules to never bring Monopoly, Settlers of Catan, or Uno into the apartment. Logan never asks why.)

Tonight they settle on Pictionary, with teams split into pairs randomized by an online generator: Laura and Yukio, Dopinder and Negasonic, Peter and Colossus, Vanessa and Logan, Dermot and Wade. Althea opts to be the referee and time keeper.

It’s unfortunate that Wade isn’t drawn as the pair’s illustrator (he’s surprisingly competent with crayons when given the chance) because that leaves Dermot as their artist, and he starts drawing god knows what as Wade yells nonsense guesses.

“A donkey? A horse riding a donkey! Donkey on a princess carriage?”

“No!” Dermot cries in despair.

Wade puts his hands up in surrender. “Okay, fine! Not a donkey at all, what the fuck—”

Logan doesn’t even try suppressing his fond smile at his boyfriend’s increasing frustration. Wade looks ready to flip a table with each passing second—though, to be completely fair to him, Logan also has no idea what the hell Dermot is supposed to be drawing.

Since he and Vanessa already finished their turn (they got “chess” as their prompt, for which Vanessa drew the board and pieces easily), they sit next to each other on the sofa, watching their struggling partners with amusement.

“Last minute!” Althea calls out.

“Fuck!”

“Oh god, shoot, okay—”

Logan gently nudges Vanessa’s side with an elbow. “Shouldn���t you be saving your boyfriend from this? I think Wade’s about to pull out Baby Knife.”

“Nah,” Vanessa giggles, waving a dismissive hand. “They’re both adults—they can handle a round of Pictionary.”

Logan shoots her a skeptical look. “I disagree with Wade being an adult, but sure.”

Vanessa giggles again, her laughter turning into a cackle when Althea calls time, and Dermot and Wade groan in defeat. Then, Wade looks at the prompt.

“THAT THING IS SUPPOSED TO BE A GODDAMN BICYCLE?!”

“I’m sorry!”

“For fuck’s sake—”

The two argue (more like Wade bitches about losing while Dermot apologizes profusely for his lack of artistic skill) as Laura and Yukio get ready for their turn. Dermot tries to explain the exact parts of the bicycle he had drawn, and Logan lets out a snort at Wade’s appalled reaction.

“So,” Logan says as the next round begins, “Dermot’s okay with this?”

Vanessa turns to him with raised eyebrows. “‘This’...?” she trails off.

“You and Wade still being close enough for game nights?”

That’s an understatement to say the least. The two meet each other for coffee once every other week and maintain a long text thread filled with gossip and life updates. Vanessa always kisses his cheek hello and Wade never hesitates to hug her goodbye.

Her expression softens. “Dermot’s the most patient and understanding guy I know. I could never just abandon Wade, and he gets that.” She shrugs. “Game nights are nothing.”

“Hrm,” Logan grunts.

“Besides, Dermot likes hanging out with us,” she says. “I know Wade thinks he’s super boring, but it just means that whatever the fuck is going on in this apartment is already more than enough entertainment for him.”

Logan grunts again.

“What I’m surprised about is how chill you are with me, big guy,” she admits. When he makes a sound of confusion, she bumps her shoulder with his. “I could ask you the same thing, you know? Wonder why you’re okay with me still being close to Wade.”

Ever since he and Wade became official, Logan has managed to keep his simmering jealousy under control, if with a fair amount of difficulty. It’s not like anybody would be okay with their partner being best friends with their ex-fiancée, and Vanessa is still a huge presence in Wade’s life. Perhaps they’re not as inseparable as Wade and Logan are, but they’re still much closer than most would expect. Their casual physicality used to bother Logan to no end, even though both of them have reassured him that they really are nothing more than friends now.

Truthfully, Logan doesn’t know how the two manage to keep such a comfortable friendship after breaking off an entire engagement, but he doesn’t have it in him to worsen their relationship. It’s not just because Wade basically saved the entire universe for her, or that Vanessa is always so kind to him and doesn’t deserve Logan’s ire. He knows that Wade and Vanessa are good for each other in ways that he might never understand. And, at the end of the day, Logan is the one Wade will always come home to.

He doesn’t want to make the same mistakes he made in his old world and lose his family all over again.

Which means letting go of his pride, reigning in his possessive streak, and letting his boyfriend’s ex and her new boyfriend hang out in their apartment on game nights.

“You make Wade happy,” he answers honestly. “That's enough for me.”

Vanessa gently pats his hand, flashing him a small smile, and Logan knows that he’s doing the right thing because she stays in Wade’s life.

❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛

+1. Logan

Wade and Logan are just outside of Who Gives A Fuck Town in It Doesn’t Matter State on a non-official X-Men mission. Charles had let them know about yet another Weapon X branch that popped up, blah blah blah, everyone knows the plot from here. The most important part is that the facility is so small that it technically doesn’t exist—even in a super secret underground government capacity—so dismantling it is out of the X-Men’s jurisdiction.

It’s a good thing Deadpool isn’t an X-Man then.

Wolverine tagging along on a freelance basis just happens to be a lovely bonus. Besides, Wade is all for letting his boyfriend take a much deserved slice of revenge pie against the program that tortured him.

Before they left, Hank gave them everything they needed to shut the shit down. From what X-Men’s intel could gather, the facility is laughably tiny and understaffed, with less than five so-called “test subjects” (gross) being experimented on. Once he and Logan subdue all the baddies and free the patients, all they have to do is plug in a USB to download the facility’s files before activating a trigger that completely corrupts their digital infrastructure. Typical superhero shit.

When they arrive, they’re met with what appears to be an abandoned specialty clinic about half an hour away from the closest town. The building is dilapidated and depressing as all hell—Wade is going to thoroughly enjoy fucking up the place and the shitheads in it.

Once they handle the expected group of gunmen that try (and hilariously fail) to stop Deadpool and Wolverine, they do unfortunately hit one snag: one of the patients apparently mutated into a slightly smaller, femme Juggernaut. Subduing her takes considerably more time than expected. Luckily for them, she isn’t wearing any protective gear—just her Weapon X uniform. After Logan gets thrown into the ceiling, Wade telepathically yells at Charles for help to take her down, and before long she’s passed out on the floor.

(Thank fuck old Chucky-boy can do that, to be honest. Wade almost wishes he could do the same, but he knows he enjoys violence too much to take the easy way out.)

He runs over to where Logan is groaning under the remains of the ceiling. After uncovering Logan from the debris, he’s able to stand up on his own when Wade pulls him up by the hand.

“You good, honey badger?” he asks, patting him down and assessing for any major injuries.

(If he happens to cop a feel of Logan’s giant arms and tits, he’s just trying to be thorough!)

“Yeah,” Logan says, slapping Wade’s hands away before wiping off excess dust and debris. “Just knocked my head a bit.”

Wade lifts his mask just enough to smack a kiss onto Logan’s cheek. Elbowing him playfully, he says, “Good thing your skull is made of metal, huh?”

Logan just shoves him with a dismissive noise in response, making Wade laugh as he pulls down his mask again.

They split up after that, Logan going to the holding room where the other patients are while Wade skips over to the control room to download this shithole’s entire digital existence. He quickly finds a computer and plugs in Hank’s USB, letting the device do its thing. In the distance, he can hear Logan easily taking down another group of armed men, presumably the guards in charge of keeping the patients in their fucked up prison test tubes.

When the computer beeps at him in completion, Wade hums as he pulls out the USB and makes his way over to where Logan and the others are. He’s about to turn the corner when he hears Logan talking to someone.

“I gotta ask,” a male voice (likely one of the guards) says, “are you dating Deadpool?”

Now that makes Wade pause in the middle of his stride. He stops at the room’s entrance, standing in the hallway because he doesn’t want to interrupt the conversation taking place. It’d be rude, after all.

“That’s none of your fuckin’ business, bub.”

“It’s just—I heard him flirting with you the whole time before you walked in here, man.”

“Still none of your fuckin’ business.”

“That’s not a no.”

Nope, Wade readily agrees, it certainly isn’t!

“The fuck is it to ya if I was?” Logan grumbles.

“I mean, really?” the guy says in a tone a little too incredulous for Wade’s liking. “What the hell do you see in that asshole?”

If he didn’t already ask himself the exact same thing a dozen times a day, Wade would be even more pissed than he already is at how disgusted the dickwad sounds. Give him some fucking credit!

He’s about to announce his presence—and extreme displeasure—when Logan growls, “He makes me laugh, you shithead.”

The statement is followed by the familiar sound of someone getting punched, a pained yowl, then silence. Wade stands quietly in the hallway, chest filling with warmth as he smiles to himself like an idiot in love.

(Well, he is an idiot in love. God’s perfect idiot, actually, and very much in love with Logan Howlett the Wolverine.)

“Hey, peanut!” he finally calls out, stepping into the room as he holds up the USB. “I got everything Hank asked for.”

They easily wrap up the mission from there but, to Wade, that’s not the biggest success he walks away with that day.

He makes me laugh, you shithead.

Oh, Wade cannot wait to unleash that tidbit one day.

——————————————

(More notes on Ao3.)

[euniexenoblade]

Mordred do you have any anime or manga recommendations you havent talked about recently?

I feel like there's a lot of anime I never talk about for one reason or another, like RN I'm writing up a whole thing about maidime (maid anime) for my anime blog and if I ever get it done then yay but it's dragging lmao

But yeah, I really liked the adaptation of Children of the Whales, the world building is insane and the animation was so spectacular for a TV anime. Really stands apart from most shows.

I really like the show Erased. Time travel and time loops aren't that uncommon but still I felt that Erased found a really neat way to tackle the topic of it. It's a real fucked up story so trigger warnings for child murder and serial killer shit, but for real spectacular show. Basically there's a serial killer and dude goes back in time to be his kid self and uses his adult knowledge to try and stop the killer.

I mention this show plenty I think but I always need to sing it's praises, Humanity Has Declined is probably in my top 15 TV shows. It's such a fun, bright take on a post apocalypse and it's so funny. If you take anything away from this post, watch this show. Whenever I try to compare it to anything, the only thing I can think of is Adventure Time, it's a bright whimsical comical telling of happenings after an apocalypse. Though plot wise it's nothing like AT so, maybe the comparison isn't the best. But essentially the protagonist is a UN representative to go between the remaining humans and the newly evolved fairies. The arcs are in reverse chronological order and its lovely tbh lol.

Time of Eve is one of the first shows I really hooked into. It got rereleased as a movie, so whatever version you find is right. But it's about a world where there's robot house keepers and shit and one day the protag follows his robot to a coffee shop where robots meet and have the ability to be free. It's very nice and I should rewatch it I haven't seen it in a long ass time.

To get that yuri rep in there, if you've never watched Maria-sama ga Miteru (Maria Watches Over Us) you gotta drop your toes in. It's four seasons but you'll know if it's for you or not right away. A girl attends an all girls Catholic school and gets caught up in the student council and the personalities in it. Imo this is the premier Class S yuri and I love this series so much.

I could go on and on honestly.

As for manga, I'd say my manga opinions are very known cuz I post all sorts of screencaps and shit as I read, but considering most of that was on my old blog.

Read Liberta. Just do it. Vampire lesbian escapism fantasy. It's awesome.

The Summer Hikaru Died is a gay horror. Basically a dude's best friend goes missing and then suddenly turns back up months later. But the dude knows it's not his friend because he saw his friend's dead body in the forest. That's not a spoiler, that's like 4 pages in. It's phenomenal.

I think I see people try to disparage it these days, but Future Diary was a really good read. Dude ends up in a weird game where his cell phone tells the future and he has to kill other people who have prophetic phones (and vice versa) so they may become a new god. But on top of this one of the players is a yandere girl obsessed with being with him. The anime adaptation is good too just be ready for them to show. Too much. Watch the TV show version and not the Blu-rays, they uncensored stuff in the Blu-ray and it's such a weird decision when you see it.

Goodbye Eri and Look Back are both one shots by the Chainsaw Man author. Both deal with losing someone dear to you at a young age and both handle it in completely different ways. Both are fantastic though.

I could go on and on and on

[messrmoonyy]

I saw this on your Tess NSFW headcanons and I want to scream!!

Dare I say… gun kink. Knife kink. HEAR ME OUT

YES YES YES !! PLEASE give us Tess x female reader - gun kink or knife kink. It would destroy me!!

Thinking about Tess fucking you at gun/knife point aaaagh!

Down the barrel

Tess Servopoulos x fem!reader

A/N- I have been waiting patiently for someone to give me the excuse to write this but look. Look. I just I have no words for this okay and I will be retreating into a dark hole in the ground and just peeking my head out to see how people react to this cause. Fuck me. It’s filthy in every sense of the word and I don’t really know what to say here. But anon you asked for 13/10 feral so. That’s what you get. I edited this a fair bit, chopping shit out cause I was like ‘this is too much they’ll send me to therapy ‘ but yk. Here we are. Goodnight.

Warnings: 18+ || god this is gonna be a long warnings list: tess. I think this could dip into being dark!tess if you squint, smut: gunplay ( no one is hurt ), degradation , praise cause come on now. It’s me. You should know by now my degradation and praise kinks go hand in hand when it comes to tess , thigh riding, reader talks/thinks about dying/death but is not actually harmed, and Tess makes some threats but of course she doesn’t actually do it, and. Look. The gun goes places a gun shouldn’t go. And I have no other explanation to give you, Tess and her Dacryphilia are out in full force, mentions of death and violence, reader is desensitised to violence and is low-key unhinged lmao,

Word count: 4.1k

Masterlist

Reblogs and comments are always greatly appreciated <3

Sometimes you liked to think about what life was like before the world fell apart. How different you were now compared to then. How desensitised. Pre apocalypse you hadn’t know death, or struggles or violence. You hadn’t actually ever laid eyes on a gun in person before, which was saying something for fucking America.

So it was sometimes a little odd to think about, even funny maybe, just how much had changed. How much you had changed. Of course the world had, it had fallen to shit. If you had told pre outbreak you what your life would soon become you’d have laughed. Joked that it was clearly something from science fiction. But no. It was real. The world had changed. And so had you.

Even just in that one singular day you had seen more death than you had in all the time pre outbreak combined. And it scared you sometimes, how little it now bothered you. How easy it was for you to take another life if it meant saving hers. Or upholding honour. But she was just as bad. Maybe worse. She never thought twice about taking the life of another if that person had hurt you, had touched you, had even looked at you wrong. She didn’t care. It was easy.

And you loved it. Craved it. Some deep visceral, primitive feeling that lived in your chest and begged for her to never stop. To stay possessive, to be so completely and utterly devoted that she would kill in the most violent of ways to keep you. And she did. She always had. And she knew that you would always return the favour.

You never wanted it to stop. Never wanted that desperate, obsessive streak you both had for each other to leave. You needed her constantly. Needed her completely. You wanted her with you all the time, embedded in your skin like shrapnel. Swimming in your bloodstream like whiskey.

You watched her intently as she sat opposite you, kitchen table littered with rounds and bullets and a box of stolen firearms that were hers. That had been miss sold and she had been determined to get back. And of course, she had. With your help.

She was cleaning the gun in her hand, an alcohol soaked rag wiping away any traces of blood that remained. Blood of the man that had crossed her, that had sold on the goods that were meant for her. Of the man that had dived on you in some hopes she wouldn’t dare touch him if he had you at his mercy, wouldn’t risk it. Wouldn’t shoot him when he could so easily push you in front of the bullet.

But he underestimated her. And he underestimated you. As so many poor, unfortunate souls did.

Pre outbreak you couldn’t imagine what it was like to stab someone, but present you had done it with ease. No care. No tears. You had stabbed. She had shot. Again and again and again. Because how dare he even think about laying a hand on you.

His blood had stained your shirt, soaked through to the tank you still sat in now. Specks of it littered Tess’ face, adorned her skin like freckles.

And it made something twist deep in your belly, made your chest heave with shaking breaths as you watched her. That burning, desperate ache that came when she showed just how much she cared. Just how far she would go to keep you safe.

It fascinated you to a degree. At how disgusted your past self would be to know that someone killing for you was making you so wet. Arousal swirling in your veins as you watched her there, her perfect hands cleaning away spots of blood like it was something completely normal.

You shifted slightly in your chair, attempting to ignore the ever growing ache between your thighs. You’d murdered someone together less than an hour ago and yet there you were, turned on by the way she’d handled it. How she handled the gun across from you.

She seemed to feel you watching her, her eyes flickering up to look at you across the table. You didn’t need a mirror to know what you looked like. You’d seen it enough when she forced you to watch yourself in the bathroom mirror as she railed you from behind. Knew your pupils were blown, your cheeks flushed red, chest heaving with shaking breaths. It wouldn’t take her long to figure exactly where your head was at. She could read you like a book. She knew what made you tick.

She could tear you apart and put you back together again, could push you to your limits and know exactly when to stop. She was just as fucked up as you were. It’s what made you such the perfect pair.

She looked away again, giving one final swipe of the rag to her gun before speaking.

“ c’mere “ she didn’t look up as she said it, eyes looking for any spot she may have missed in her cleaning. Turning it from side to side to examine it. You were on your feet in an instant, always obedient to her every command no matter what it was, rounding the table to stand beside her.

She still didn’t look up right away, sighing a little when she deemed the metal clean enough again. She shifted in her chair slightly, leaning back and patting her leg. You didn’t need to be told twice.

Her eyes trailed up from where your legs straddled her thighs, up to your face in a slow ascent. She held your gaze and reached forward, slipping her hand past the waistband of your leggings and cupping your damp underwear for a second. She scoffed and shook her head, withdrawing her hand as quickly as she’d put it there

“ fuckin knew it could see it in your eyes“ you squirmed in her lap and she folded her arms over her chest, eyebrow raised as she looked at you “ how long have you been wet? “ you didn’t answer her, fiddling with a loose thread on the hem of her shirt “ I asked you a question “ she sat up and you gasped as she pressed the cold metal of the muzzle of her gun to your forehead “ don’t be a fuckin brat. Answer. The question “

You had to force yourself not to move, your cunt aching with a desperate need to be filled as she held the weapon to your head. You should be terrified. Scared for your life that she could take in a second. But you weren’t. You were as far as you could possibly be from it.

You were soaking your underwear, thinking every disgusting, vile thought of what you wanted her to do to you with that gun to your head. And you had no shame.

And besides, if you were going to die… what a good fuckin way to go.

“ a while “ you finally answered, making her shake her head again and bring her face close to yours

“ you’re fuckin sick, you know that? “

“ yes “ you breathed out, arching into her in some silent request for her to touch you. Anything more than the fleeting touch to your damp underwear moments ago.

She moved the gun down, nudging the cool metal of the muzzle under your chin. And you smiled. You fucking smiled. A giggle bubbling past your lips in a way that probably made you look a little manic, but she didn’t care. You didn’t care. She looked like she wanted to tear you apart and devour every single morsel of you. And you knew she would, knew you’d set her off and she was going to break you down, not stopping until you were a useless wreck of a woman.

And you wanted it no other way. No. Needed it.

You might be sick but so was she. You knew she was just as turned on as you were. She loved power, especially power over you. She was getting off on holding you at gunpoint as much as you were.

“ you. Are a little. Fuckin psycho “ she said quietly, a small laugh leaving her own throat as she pressed up under your chin harder.

“ says the woman with a gun on me?“ you were pushing, egging her to snap. That deep craving in your chest so strong it was taking your breath away. You needed her. Desperately “ maybe you’re the psycho here. You ever think about that? “

“ fuckin attitude on you “ she said with a scoff, dropping the gun and gripping your chin in between her fingers now. There was a smirk planted on your face as your heart hammered in your chest, curious as to what she would do next “ are you that stupid that you’ll act like a brat when I could blow your fuckin brains out any second? “

The smirk was still planted on your face and you shrugged, pushing her again. Pressing her buttons. Urging her to test you. Testing her.

“ sounds like a good way to go “

Her eyes moved across your face, reading you, before giving a small nod. Seeing the look in your eyes, noting the way you silently told her to ruin you. To do what she pleased with you.

“ open your mouth “ you did as you were told in an instant, letting out a breathy laugh as she pressed the gun against your tongue. Your lips wrapped around the barrel without further prompting, fingers wrapping around her wrist. She was watching you intently, a mild sense of awe on her face and a smug smile tugging at her mouth “ well look at fuckin you “

You were determined to put on a show, the fact that your brain was already starting to retreat making it all the more easier. When she got you in that state of pure and utter submission to her every will and command, there’s nothing you wouldn’t do.

You moved your head, sucking the barrel as if it were the strap currently hidden in a box under your bed. Your tongue tingled with the mix of metal and the alcohol she’d used to clean it. It wasn’t exactly pleasant but it still made you drool, still made your cunt ache just with the realisation of how truly pathetic you were.

“ that’s my girl “ Tess brought her spare hand to the back of your head, taking control of the way you moved “ that’s my good little slut “ you choked on a moan, fingers tightening their grip on her wrist as she pushed your head further. Your lips pressing against the trigger guard, muzzle brushing the back of your throat in a way that made your eyes water.

And you almost hated the way your hips moved without you meaning to, grinding down on her thigh in some hope it would do something to elevate the throbbing in your clit.

Tess sighed, still guiding your head so your lips dragged across the barrel, and shook her head slightly.

“ you’re unbelievable “ she whispered, a mock sense of disappointment in her words “ I killed someone for you earlier. With this exact fucking gun “ you knew. You were fully fucking aware of what she’d used it for. You’d watched her do it. Had felt that fluttering feeling in your chest as she had “ but you liked that. Didn’t you? Hmm? You get off on it “ you hummed an answer, choking again as she pressed against the back of your throat again and held you there.

Your hips were still rolling against her and you were mildly surprised she hadn’t stopped you yet. But the simple fact that you were getting off to her seemed to be riling her up too much to completely care. Drool was running down your chin, your fingers were still gripping tightly to her wrist, your jaw ached. You must have looked a sight.

“ that’s it, take it for me. That’s a good little slut “ the roughness of her jeans combined with the friction your own clothes provided was bliss. You were like an animal in heat, grinding against her in an increasingly desperate fashion “ you. Are so fucked up baby girl “ you couldn’t deny it and you made no attempt to, in fact you smiled as she withdrew the gun from your mouth “ haven’t even touched you and look at you “ you looked down at where you were grinding your soaked cunt against her leg, the evident damp spot on her jeans “ naughty little girl that likes to play with guns “ she hummed seemingly more to herself as she watched you, tracing the muzzle across your jaw.

“ mhm “ you grabbed at her wrist again, bringing the gun back to your mouth a pressing a kiss to the barrel with a giggle. She narrowed her eyes as she watched you, a small breathy laugh leaving her. You dragged your tongue up the length of the barrel, eyes locked on hers.

You laughed again as she moved to press the gun to your temple, eyes fluttering closed as you gripped the table behind you and honed in on the way your clit throbbed as you moved against her strong thigh.

“ that’s my good little slut “ she wrapped an arm around your waist pulling you closer to her, her gun pressing harder against your temple in a way you were certain would bruise. Her lips brushed against the shell of your ear and it sent a shiver down your spine “ you gonna come with my gun against your pretty little head? “ you nodded feverishly, arms looping around her neck as you increased your pace.

“ yes. Fuck yes “ she tutted lightly, pressing a trail of soft kisses against your neck.

“ I could pull this trigger any second and you’re about to fucking come? That’s fucked up baby “ you whined as she said it, some kind of disgust at yourself at how your cunt clenched around nothing at her words “ don’t worry baby I’d never. It’d be such a waste of such a pretty girl. Pretty girl. With a pretty cunt. Pretty tits. Such a waste, don’t you think? “

She lifted her head from your neck, gripping your jaw as your chased your orgasm. The never ending string of whines and moans that had been leaving your throat increased in pitch, your hips stuttering as you got closer and closer

“ my pretty girl “ she cooed, pushing your head lightly with her gun as if to remind you it was still there. As if you could possibly forget. As if it wasn’t the sole reason you’d been wet in the first place “ my pretty, fucked up girl. Show me just how pretty you look when you come with my gun to your fuckin head “ two more rolls of your hips was all it took, your fingers twisting into the collar of her shirt as your orgasm wracked your body “ there you go, good fuckin girl “

It was like something out of a fucked up sex tape. The pathetic sounds that you made filling the apartment.

She didn’t drop the gun even when you levelled out your breathing again, body twitching slightly through the aftershocks as she flexed her thigh muscles beneath you. She traced it across your jaw, down your neck, trailing it down your chest and tugging your tank top with it until it snapped back up into place, brushing it over your sensitive nipples as they poked through the thin material.

She always looked at you the same way. Like you were something special. Something to be worshipped and appreciated. Which was funny in a way when she was the one that acted like a god, that had you down on your knees begging for her guidance and care.

Tess begged for no one. And nothing. She took what she wanted and exactly when she wanted.

“ stand up. Not done with you yet pretty girl “ you couldn’t imagine what else she possibly had in store for you as you stood, letting her grab at your hips and pick you up. She shoved some things out of the way and sat you on the edge of the table, placing the gun down for a second to wriggle you out of your leggings and underwear in one go. She picked up the gun again, tapping it against your knee “ legs apart, that’s it good girl”

She nudged her fingers under your chin, holding your face in place as she leant forward to kiss you. You sighed dreamily into her mouth, hands pulling at her shirt lightly. She was gentle, careful, as she nipped at your bottom lip, tugging it lightly between her teeth.

You shivered as you felt the metal press against your skin again, pulling away to smile as she nudged it back against your temple.

“ shall we see just how fucked up this pretty little head is? “ she said, her voice low and lips brushing yours as she spoke. You nodded. Not even entirely sure what she was suggesting, but you’d trust her with your life. Literally. She had your life resting in her hands. All it would take was one movement of her finger, one trigger pull and you’d be gone. Just a mess of red on the walls.

She kissed you again, pressing her mouth to yours harder than before. The kind that would leave your lips swollen and red when she was done with you.

She moved the gun down again, trailing over your chest, prodding at the soft flesh of your belly. Your breath hitched as you realised what she was doing. You pulled back and looked down at where she was trailing the gun up and down your inner thigh.

“ fuck “ you breathed as she trailed the muzzle over your sticky lips before nudging it between the slick folds of your cunt, brushing against your sensitive clit in a way that made you shiver “ Tess “

“ what if we just… “ your breath hitched again as she pressed the gun against your clenching hole, tilting her head to the side like some kind of cat. Curious of her own actions. You gripped her shirt in your fists, eyes locked on the firearm in her hands as she pushed it further.

“ holy fuckin shit “ you breathed out, unable to tear your eyes away. It wasn’t exactly comfortable but you couldn’t stop the way your walls clenched around the cool metal of the barrel, a desperate sob of a moan escaping your throat. It was almost too overwhelming. Too much but also not enough. She wasn’t even moving but the sensation and simply the realisation of what she was doing to you was enough to make you want to come on the spot.

“ my dirty fuckin girl huh? You like that?” You nodded instantly, a desperate primal desire scorching through your veins.

“ move- move it please. Fuck I- Tess “ Tess smiled and pressed her mouth close to your ear as she started moving the gun, dragging the heavy metal against your slick and sensitive walls.

“ how does it make you feel knowing I’ll be walking around with this gun after it’s been inside of you huh? What do you think people would say? If they knew what a dirty fuckin slut you were? “

You couldn’t think straight, brain scattered as you tried to focus but failed. Her hot breath against your skin, her fingers pressing and caressing the back of your neck, the heavy drag of the gun inside of you. You could feel your arousal dripping onto the table beneath you, couldn’t stop the noises leaving your throat no matter how hard you tried.

Tears were streaming across your cheeks and she smiled, she’d always loved when you broke and cried.

“ so pretty when you cry “ she said, her voice low and grip on the back of your neck tightening so you wouldn’t look away from her.

Your nails were scratching at her now, trying to keep her close and beg for something your brain couldn’t put into words. You felt despicable, twisted and unhinged.

She had a gun buried in your fucking cunt.

A gun that she had used to blow a guys head open a couple hours ago.

And now was inside of you. Stretching your dripping hole in a way you weren’t used to, the original burn now twisting into some deeply delicious ache instead.

It was too much.

She’d barely been inside of you for a few minutes and you were already coming again, sobbing and shaking as your nails dug into the flesh of her arms. Your walls clenched almost painfully around the intrusion in your cunt, holding the offensive thing in place as you practically screamed through your release.

She held onto as your whole body shook, riding you through your world shattering orgasm until you were well and truly wrecked. Tears streamed across your face, you muscles burning from how tense you had been as your climax peaked.

“ that’s my girl, that’s it. Steady baby steady “

If she hadn’t been holding you, you’d have fallen. Your legs were shaking as you collapsed against her chest, hands gripping at her shoulders to keep yourself up right. You winced as she careful withdrew her gun, leaning over and tossing the gun onto the table, a gentle hand on your back as she did.

“ alright baby, nice and easy “ her voice was tender, quiet, as if she were scared to startle you. You gave a small nod, still gripping at her as if she were going to evaporate beneath your fingers any second. She soothed a hand up and down your spine, holding you as your shakes began to slow and you tried to regain a normal rhythm to your breathing “ Let me clean you up Yeah? “

She helped you down from the table and lead you through into the bathroom.

“ I’m so tired “ you said with a small sigh, leaning against the sink. You felt like every ounce of energy had been drained from your system, muscles aching from unknowingly tensing them as she worked you up.

“ I know. I know baby. We’ll take a shower then go to bed, okay? “ You’d both gotten accustomed to showering together, simply because you were all on rations for water. The water never reached any temperature higher than bordering on lukewarm, and the water would automatically shut off after 5 minutes anyway. So it worked easier to just share. But you were quite thankful for her being there with you in that moment.

She stripped you of your remaining clothes so gently it were as if you were made of China, her voice soft as she whispered a never ending string of praise as she did.

It was strange to think only a couple hours ago that same woman had shot a man in the head.

“ you hurt? “

“ no “ you whispered, voice croaky and hoarse “ aches but I’m fine “

She brushed the backs of her fingers against your cheek and along your jaw, smiling softly when you leaned into her touch.

“ you did so good “ she said, her voice as soft as her touch “ so fuckin good baby. Proud of you “ you twisted your head to press a kiss to her wrist, a silent thank you “ didn’t think you take it that well. But you’re always so good for me aren’t you? “

When you stepped into the shower she reached behind you and turned the tap on, not wasting the precious time with the water and gently guiding you under the mostly cold stream.

She worked quickly but kept her touch soft as she helped you wash the sweat and the blood and the sticky mess that was spread across your thighs, making quick work of herself too before the water shut itself off.

The journey between leaving the shower and getting into bed didn’t register in your mind fully, too tired to really process anything anymore. Brief flashes of wrapping you in a towel, pulling one of her shirts over your head, climbing into bed beside you.

You let yourself melt into her embrace as she held you against her chest, her hand running through your wet hair to free it of knots.

No matter how rough and brutal she could be, she could always switch to that caring side in a flash. A few hours ago she’d killed someone. A few minutes ago she’d threatened you with a gun to get you off. And now she was cradling you like you were the most precious person alive. Because to her you were.

“ sure you’re okay? “ she asked after a few moments as you were drifting into sleep.

“ I’m good. Promise “ you lifted your head from her chest and cupped her face gently “ I’m. So fuckin good “

The ache in your chest felt satiated for now, though you knew it wouldn’t be too long before it reared its head again. And she would be there to assist you with it. Because yes, perhaps you were as fucked up as she’d said you were. But she was just as bad. And that was how it would always be.

[amidstnamjin-and-binchanlix]

i wanna see the sun rise (on your sins, just me and you)

Warnings: Uhhh. Not much. Just some v v light angst, and mentions of hospitalization and stuff, also inaccuracies because i'm not a doctor (no matter how much my parents want me to be lmao)

Pairings: Bangtan Boys | BTS Ensemble/Reader, Kim Seokjin | Jin/Reader, Jung Hoseok | J-Hope/Reader, Park Jimin (BTS)/Reader, Jeon Jungkook/Reader, Jackson Wang/Reader

Plot: Regrets don't always come in the end, and they're hell-bent in making it right this time

Genre: light angst

'Cause I wanna touch you baby

And I wanna feel you too

I wanna see the sun rise

On your sins just me and you

Light it up, on the run

Let's make love tonight

Make it up, fall in love, try

Baby, I am right here

mixtape: all i have left to give - part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - ending 1

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK hi hello i have nothing else to say except my world is falling apart and me writing is saving me a little see you again in a few months!

🌇

"How is she?"

Seokjin is tempted not to answer the question directed at him. So much has happened today, and his nerves are shot from everything that had transpired. If only he listened to his common sense, if only he fought for you. If only, if only.

"Hyung—"

He pulls his wrist away from Hoseok's grasp, ignoring the hurt painted in the younger's eyes when he does so.

"Why don't you go see her and find out for yourself?"

"I don't think—"

"Don't think what, Hoseok? That she's worth fighting for? That this shit's been dragging for too long and that maybe, just maybe, she deserves better than what we're doing to her."

Hoseok hangs his head in shame.

"I stand by what I said. This is no time to be neutral about it. You and Jimin, what did she ever do to the two of you to let the others get their way?"

Seokjin sighs heavily.

"She never asked anything from us, she did things for us that we didn't even know about without shoving it in our faces. She never even asked us to love her, but we do. I do, Hoseok. I love her, no matter how much you all beg me not to."

Seokjin tilts Hoseok's face tenderly.

"I do love her, Hobi. Don't you, too?"

Hoseok knows to himself that he does.

Seokjin is wrong. Hoseok's never really been neutral at all. Stoic about it, yes; he didn't want to break apart the group, after all. But in his heart, he slowly but surely fell in love with you. There's nothing neutral about it, he just learned how to be quiet about it.

In the times he sees you (without you seeing him), he sees your kindness shine. In your industry and this cutthroat world, you never let those old money sons of bitches trample on you, but he has yet to see you be as callous and evil even towards those who deserve it.

He remembers seeing you almost cry in indignance when a project went wrong and threatened employment displacement for those who are not at fault, even when they're not your employees. He had been watching and listening in secret from afar, but he could see how you wanted to burn your office to the ground when you knew that taking an important and needed step would mean that hundreds of families might potentially lose stable income.

He had seen you go undercover in the middle of the night so you could almost buy out an entire convenience store, just so you could feed the homeless one cold night.

He had seen you adopt your (now nth) cat Nori because you had seen it lost and without its mother on the sidewalk.

He had seen you love them from afar and mask it when they're around, even when it hurts him to watch too because that's all he can do when his hands are tied and he's had to keep it to himself or risk hurting their group.

He's seen you love them unconditionally, but not beg an ounce of it back because that's how love should be.

He loves you for your kindness, and everything in between.

"It's okay to love her too," Seokjin says in his silence. "It's the right thing to do, Hobi. We don't have to get scared anymore, not when she would go to lengths to give us what she thinks we want.

"But I don't want that." Seokjin drops his hand, sniffing lightly. "I don't want to lose her, not before I can even love her properly. I never wanted that."

"I don't want that, too, but the others—"

"Will come around eventually on their own. It's not our responsibility to do it for them." Seokjin says.

"And if they don't?" Hoseok asks, eyes wide with questions.

Seokjin sighs. "Then we can do nothing for them. It'll be a regret they will have to carry for the rest of their lives."

---

Talking to Jimin went a whole lot easier than expected. He was neutral about the whole thing, but it didn't take long for Seokjin and Hoseok to convince him.

"Hey," Seokjin says in lieu of greeting as Jimin sits on the balcony of his suite. "Can we talk?"

"If this is about what I think it is, I'd rather—"

"Please, Chim." Hoseok is the one who speaks this time. "Hear us out first."

"But the group, hyung." Jimin shakes his head. "I can't risk losing anyone of you."

"On what, the expense of someone else's life? She nearly died, Jimin." He ignores the gasps from both Jimin and Hoseok's lips. "She nearly died."

"What?" Hoseok speaks again. "You never told me this."

Seokjin sighs, his eyes shutting in pain as his mind flashes back to your prone figure lying on the hospital bed. "Yeah," he croaks. "She had to undergo surgery due to some heart damage, and she's in a coma right now."

"Coma?!" Hoseok and Jimin shout in unison. "What do you mean 'coma'?" Jimin stutters.

"She has to recover, so they put her there to help her heal..." Seokjin trails off.

When Seokjin doesn't continue, Hoseok asks, "But?"

"She's still in critical condition. They're not sure if she'll wake up."

"When she'll wake up," Hoseok tries to correct, but Seokjin shakes his head.

"If, Hobi. She had been so sick that she nearly died."

Silence befalls the three of them.

"How's Jungkook?" Jimin eventually asks, to which Seokjin shakes his head gloomily.

"He didn't take it too well. He got into a fight with Jackson."

"That asshole, again?!" Jimin bursts out but Seokjin stops him.

"As much as it pains me to say this, he has more rights to be there than we frankly do. Maybe legally as much, too."

"What?" Hoseok asks. "What do you mean by that?"

"I can't go into technicalities right now. My brain's too fried." Seokjin rubs his aching temples. "But when we left her, Jackson was there for her. She trusts him with everything, and I can't blame her."

"So we can't go see her?" Hoseok whimpers.

"We can." The other two sigh in relief. "But we can't touch her."

"Fuck that, I don't care if I have to put my fist against Jackson's fa—"

"It's not that." Seokjin shakes his head for the nth time that night. "We'll burn her skin. It's a side effect of her treatment."

Jimin can't even describe the emptiness he's feeling right now. When it comes to you, he has always chosen not to get too involved, not when he thinks it can tear their group apart. He doesn't want that, so better be safe than sorry.

Right now, however, he thinks that what was supposed to be safe turned out to be the biggest sorry.

"I'm sorry," Jimin whispers. "It wouldn't be like this had I not been detached from this."

Hoseok shakes his head. "We're all at fault here, remember? We all agreed to this, so there's no sense taking that burden by yourself." But even he feels the same way, the regret heavy in his gut.

"So what do we do now?" They both turn to Seokjin. "We're not banned from seeing her, are we?" Hoseok asks.

"No," Seokjin says firmly. "It would take more than that to ban us by law. We're still her soulmates, after all."

"Can we go visit her?" Jimin asks.

"Not right now, Chim." Seokjin smiles sadly. "We all had a long day, and we still have a lot of things to talk about, so I suggest we take some rest. Okay?"

Hoseok and Jimin look ready to disagree, but both sigh in defeat. Unbeknownst to them, Taehyung is listening in to the whole conversation. When he hears the suggestion to take some rest, he quickly but silently exits out of the room.

---

They all slept fitfully that night. Every time Seokjin tries to close his eyes, all he sees is your figure lying helplessly on your hospital bed. When his body eventually gives in to exhaustion, he dreams of losing you over and over again.

It was horrendous.

He wakes up to a weight on his chest, figuratively and literally.

Jungkook has his arm slung over Seokjin's waist, head tucked between his shoulder and neck. He's sniffling, clearly crying.

"Come 'ere." Seokjin wraps his arm around Jungkook's shoulder. "It's gonna be okay."

"We don't know that," Jungkook sniffs.

"It will be." Seokjin squeezes his arm gently. "We're not yet done making it up to her, so it will be. We haven't even started yet, so we can't lose hope. Not right now, not when she needs us."

"I just want her to be okay," Jungkook sobs.

"And I do, too. But all we can do right now is fight for her." He kisses Jungkook's hair, petting it gently to calm him down. "We can't afford to lose hope if we need to fight for her. Okay?"

Jungkook nods.

"We can visit her again soon. You and me, and Jimin and Hobi."

Jungkook pulls away slightly. "They will?"

Seokjin nods, and Jungkook puts his head back on his chest. "I talked to them last night. It was pretty easy to convince them."

If only it is easy to convince all of them, the thought hangs heavy in the air.

"Hyung?" Jungkook asks after a while. Seokjin just hums. "Do you ever think of what could have been if we didn't turn her away?"

"All the time," Seokjin admits. "I try not to because it's painful, but I always do.

"She's not hard to love." Seokjin swallows the pain in his throat, willing himself not to cry. "She's lovely and kind, and she never once asked us to love her back. That's what stands out the most for me because that love is unconditional."

A tear finally falls from his eye.

"I cannot imagine what pain she went through at all, and I still can't bring myself to because if I do, it'll be the end for me." He shakes his head. "She nearly died because of love—it was supposed to be the other way around. It was supposed to breathe life into you."

"Hyung..." Jungkook whimpers.

"I'm sorry," Seokjin says as he wipes the tears from his eyes. He doesn't know if he's saying sorry for crying, or for the things he failed to do for you.

"I feel like I don't deserve to cry because I failed her."

"That's not true, hyung. You didn't fail her. We'll still fight for her, won't we? That's not failing her."

Seokjin doesn't answer.

"I love you, hyung."

He hugs Jungkook tighter. "I love you too, Kook-ah."

---

The first thing that Seokjin does in the morning is to call Sejin, which was apparently expected of him because Sejin didn't even bat an eyelash, just agreed to come over and talk.

"Hear me out first, please," Seokjin says first thing when he arrives.

Sejin stares him down before sighing in defeat. "I already know where this is heading, Seokjin. I've seen you grow up and I know you better than yourselves sometimes."

"I know, Sejin-nim. But I can't, for the life of me, not try to make things right."

Sejin shakes his head. "You've fucked around, and all of you found out. This is what this is. I can't undo this for you this time."

"I'm not asking you to undo it, Sejin-nim. I'm just asking for your help. We just want to see her as much as we can."

Sejin's expression is pinched.

"She specifically asked not to let you interact with her unless it's for work. My hands are tied."

Seokjin shakes his head, desperation bleeding from his tired eyes. "What she doesn't know won't hurt her. We'll be out of there before she even wakes up."

"I—"

"Please, Sejin-nim. She doesn't even need to know."

Sejin takes a moment to respond. He takes a look at the kid he helped raise, at the tired slope of his shoulders and the despair in his eyes.

"Okay." However, before Seokjin can even react, Sejin raises his hand, "But, I have to warn you not to do stupid shit like picking fights with Jackson, as tempting as that sounds. His camp warned us last night."

"We're her soulmates," Seokjin says.

"But Jackson is made next of kin, and he can have you hauled out of the room if he wants to. He just chooses not to for [Name]. So please, be the sensible one."

Seokjin sighs in relief and nods. "Thank you, Sejin-nim."

"Are you taking Jungkook with you?" Sejin asks.

"And Hoseok and Jimin," Seokjin lists. "I'll have them behave, I promise."

Sejin's eyebrows raise at that. "You talked to them?"

Seokjin nods. "Last night. It was pretty easy considering they're both neutral about everything."

"How about the others?"

A shake of the head. "I haven't talked to them," Seokjin says softly. "I can't face them just yet."

Sejin just looks at him and nods. "I understand."

"Can you please ensure that Jackson's not there every time we visit her?"

Sejin nods. "That's easy, but I can't promise that every time. Jackson can only stay or visit for a few days because of his world tour. He's also gearing up for his new album, I think. I'll have to check that out."

Seokjin only nods. He'll take what he can have with you, and he's not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"I also need to talk to her soul therapist," Seokjin says. "I have to know if there is something we can do to help her heal faster."

Sejin narrows his eyes.

"Is that really all, Seokjin?" When Seokjin opens his mouth to refute him, Sejin shakes his head at him. "I just said I know you better than yourself sometimes. This is one of those times."

Fuck.

How can he tell Sejin that he wants to be able to love you wholly and alive without the therapy present? He knows he can't do it with you undergoing the soul-scraping therapy, so he can only think of one way to do it.

"I... I want to know if there is any way her therapy treatments can be stopped." Seokjin swallows. "I can't let her suffer any longer than she already had. I want it to stop."

Sejin tsks. "You do realize that it can't be stopped like that, can it? It cannot be reversed like that. She's under research, for heaven's sake!"

"We don't know that!" Seokjin exclaims. "Maybe it can be stopped, and she can heal slowly. Treatments are being stopped when not working all the time!"

"It is working, and it is not your decision to make, Seokjin!" Sejin's temper flares. "It's not your call to make, not your decision or say, and not your signature on the damn dotted line. Regardless if you're her soulmate, I won't let you do that to her because that's breaking her trust."

"Letting her die is breaking her trust?!"

"Think twice before you say anything further if I were you, Seokjin." Sejin shakes his head in disbelief. "Who put her there in the first place, me? I was merely a messenger."

And he's right, isn't he? It's not Sejin's fault after all. Sejin puts his hands on Seokjin's shoulders gently.

"I understand and want your happiness too, Seokjin. But it's not our call to make." Sejin pauses. "What if this is what she's happy with? Would you take this from her just to make yourself happy?"

"B—but she's dying!" Seokjin sputters. "I don't care about my happiness at this point. I'd rather she hate me alive than see her die."

"It'll be up to the doctors to do their job, and we have to trust them, okay? She'll be okay. She's a fighter, she'd get through this alive."

Seokjin can only nod in defeat.

"I can set up an appointment with Dr. Im, but that's all I can do. I doubt he'll let you stop the treatments, and that's all we can do at this point."

"Okay, Sejin-nim." Seokjin smiles weakly at him. "Thank you."

"Now go get some more rest. God knows you need it."

---

"Jackson's going to be there, so please no picking fights." When none of the four men in the car answers, Sejin continues. "I'm looking at you, Jungkook."

"Yes, Sejin-nim."

"For her sake, let's keep it civil. I've talked to his camp, and they promised to keep him in check, but regardless if he picks a fight, don't be baited."

"Yes, Sejin-nim," they all repeat.

It had been a week since they last saw you. They've been trying to visit more frequently, but they still have appearances and commitments they need to fulfill. It's hard, playing pretend like everything is fine, especially with the other three, but they have no choice or everything will fall apart.

Sejin had been giving the same pep talk every time their visit overlapped with Jackson's. No matter how it grates them, what with Jackson's side comments, they have to endure it. Anything just to see you.

The first visit almost didn't go well. Jackson had been there and it had been bearable, yes, but Hoseok and Jimin didn't expect what they would find when they arrived.

Their reactions were similar if not the same as how Jungkook and Seokjin reacted the first time they saw you. They did this to you, how can they possibly make it up to you in this state?

"Now you know what you did," Jackson says, "you can leave her alone and never come back."

But the boys are anything but weak-willed.

They had been visiting as much as they could, much to Jackson's anger. Not that he can do anything about it. Being next of kin can only give him so much power over them being your soulmates.

"Here again?" Jackson sneers once they reach your room. "You're not needed here, and you're not welcome here either, so why don't you all just leave?"

Seokjin's jaw ticks but he says nothing, just sits on the comfy sofa of your presidential suite. Hoseok silently replaces the flowers in the vase with the ones he brought just for you. Sunflowers, he knows you like them and it suits you just as well.

"Jackson," his manager says. "You're needed for the shoot in an hour. We need to go."

Jackson huffs in annoyance and the four men can barely keep their glee off their faces.

"Fine. But we'll be back later, yes?"

His manager nods tiredly, apparently desperate to hurry him out of there.

Jackson stands by your bedside and caresses your hair softly before leaning down to kiss you on the forehead with a tender smile on his face. "I'll be back later, okay? Wait for me." You didn't respond, the machines around you beeping in your silence.

It takes all of Jungkook not to punch him in the face for the blatant display of affection, knowing the other men present can't do it with you.

Jackson leaves but not before sparing you a longing glance.

"I want to punch him in the face," Jungkook says once Jackson left. "I won't, but I want to."

"Please don't," Seokjin says tiredly. "Sejin-nim made us promise."

"And besides, his world tour will start in a few days, Kook-ah." Hoseok says, trying to cheer the youngest. "Just a few days, okay? You won't have to see his face for months after that."

Jungkook just smiles weakly, happy at the prospect of seeing you freely without that asshole hanging around like a pest.

It's then that Doctor Choi comes in.

"Ah, gentlemen. You're here again," he smiles at them. It will never stop stinging, the way the doctor always seems surprised seeing them every time they visit you. It's not for no reason, they know, but it will always hurt nonetheless. They all give their greetings and give way for the doctor to make his examination, Jimin giving out their gloves. Once Doctor Choi is done, he turns to face them.

"I would normally ask where the Next of Kin is but seeing as he's not present and you're her soulmates, it should be fine."

"Why, Doctor-nim? Is anything wrong with [Name]?" Jungkook asks anxiously.

The doctor smiles at them and shakes his head. "Not at all. In fact, I have some good news."

They all perk up at that.

"Miss [Last Name] has been responding well to the treatments so far, so we've decided to take her out of her coma."

Relief floods through the four other men in the room.

"Really?" Seokjin asks hopefully. "So she'll wake up soon?"

"Hopefully, yes. She should start waking up soon once we administer the drug to wake her up."

"Thank you so much, Doctor-nim." Hoseok smiles widely for the first time in what feels like ages.

"Mr. Kim, I believe you have an appointment with Doctor Im, yes?" Doctor Choi asks Seokjin.

"Yes, Doctor-nim. Is he in?"

"Yes, he is. He asked to let you know that he'll be speaking with you later."

"Thank you, Doctor-nim."

When Doctor Choi leaves, all three men turn to Seokjin.

"What was that about, hyung?" Jimin asks.

"Nothing you guys should worry about." When they stare at him skeptically, he sighs. "Seriously, it's nothing you should be worried about. I just want to ask some questions about [Name]'s treatments."

The other three thankfully decide to let it go.

They all fuss over you as much as they are allowed to but Jungkook is notably silent.

"Hey," Hoseok says quietly to Jungkook. "You alright?"

Jungkook smiles weakly. "Yeah."

Hoseok shakes his head. "You don't need to lie to hyung."

Jungkook looks at him and bites his lower lip. "It's just that once [Name] wakes up, we might not see her as much as we want to."

Hoseok falls silent at that. He honestly hadn't thought of it that way. Seokjin, having caught their conversation, shakes his head.

"No," he says firmly. "Don't think of it that way because we will find a way."

"But—"

"No 'buts'," Seokjin shakes his head. "We can't give up just yet, no matter what."

Seokjin's right, they can't give up just yet. If every setback will deter them, they will get nowhere in making it up to you.

Their silence is broken when Seokjin is called by Sejin for his appointment with Doctor Im. When he leaves, Jungkook asks the one question plaguing their mind.

"What do you think it is for?"

Jimin shrugs, completely at a loss himself. He had been noticing Seokjin being out of sorts these past few days, but he chalked it up to him worrying over [Name]'s health, as well as the group's well-being.

"I can't see any other reason other than him checking up on [Name]'s condition. It's not like he'll be signing up for the soul-scraping therapy himself, I know he won't." Hoseok says seriously. "We'll just have to trust him when he said it's nothing to worry about."

In a way, they are correct. As Seokjin sits across from Doctor Im in his office, he can't help but feel like he's betraying all of the trust given to him by the people he loves. You, and the rest of the group.

"So Mr. Kim," Doctor Im starts, "I heard from you Manager that you wish to speak to me about Miss [Last Name]. Is that correct?"

Seokjin fidgets in his seat. "Yes, Doctor Im."

Doctor Im levels him with a look, not dissimilar to Manager Sejin on that morning.

"I think I know where this is going, Mr. Kim. Is this about her therapy?"

Seokjin can only nod, feeling like a deer in the headlights. The Doctor sighs.

"If my guess is correct, you would want her to be pulled out, which I unfortunately cannot do. For one, she's in the middle of a worldwide research. And even if she's not, only she can consent to stop the treatments. Otherwise, it will be a breach of patient-doctor confidentiality."

"But will it be a breach if I'm acting on behalf of her as her soulmate?"

Doctor Im, instead of getting angry as he expected, only smiles.

"Unfortunately so, still. Part of the contract for soul-scraping patients states that unless they explicitly step down from the research, nobody can do it on their behalf.

Seokjin's heart drops to his stomach. Doctor Im just smiles softly.

"If you don't mind me overstepping, there was a bond rejection early on between you and Miss [Last Name], isn't there?"

Seokjin nods forlornly. "On our part, regretfully, yes."

"I see." Doctor Im hums. "That's interesting."

Seokjin says nothing.

"I'm afraid I cannot help you with this, Mr. Kim. Unless Miss [Last Name] steps down from the research, we are to continue with her in it. I hope you understand."

"But will it not be dangerous, especially after what happened to her?" Seokjin pauses. "I really don't know how to say this without being disrespectful because I know you're just doing your job, but maybe she can be made aware of what can happen if she continues with the therapy."

Again, instead of getting angry, Doctor Im just chuckles. Seokjin just looks at him like he's grown two heads.

"My apologies," Doctor Im waves him off. "It's just really interesting considering your history with her."

"I had no choice," Seokjin defends himself. "I sadly had no choice, and I didn't know what to do."

"Forgive me for being frank, but you always have a choice. But I do understand now where you're coming from.

"From a professional point of view, you'll be hindering my research and I would have to say no," Doctor Im pauses. "But I've seen enough cases like yours that end in regret and pain more than the freedom the patients thought they'd be getting. And Miss [Last Name], she's so young, way too young to be in this situation."

A terse pause.

"I cannot promise anything, Mr. Kim. I can only tell her what can happen if she wishes to continue with the treatments, but nothing else. Everything else is up to her."

And that is enough for Seokjin. He just hopes you'll stop altogether.

"Thank you, Doctor-nim."

Doctor Im nods with a gentle smile. "I'm aware Doctor Choi spoke to you earlier and told you that we'll administer the drug to wake Miss [Last Name] sometime this week, am I correct?"

"Yes."

"The effects might take some time to manifest, so don't be disappointed if she doesn't wake up right away. Okay?"

"Okay, Doctor-nim."

Seokjin rises from his seat just as Doctor Im rises from his as well.

"Thank you for taking the time to see me, Doctor Im."

Doctor Im nods kindly.

"No matter what happens, you will always have a choice. That's what I always tell my patients."

"Yes, Doctor-nim."

---

It has been three days since, and they're taking you out of your coma. The boys know you will not wake up right away, but they can't help but feel disappointed when you don't wake up once the drug has been administered.

"What matters right now is she'll be okay," Hoseok says. "She'll be okay."

"Yeah," Seokjin can only hope you'll change your mind about the treatments once you wake up. "She'll be okay."

---

Heavy.

Your body feels heavy the moment you wake up.

You try to speak, but the tubes in your throat prevent you from doing so. You try to lift your arms, but it feels like they're made of lead.

"She's awake! Hyung, she's awake!"

You can't decipher the rest of the words being spoken as you succumb back to the darkness, unaware of the chaos around you.

---

The second time you wake, your body feels a little lighter than before.

There's a mop of curls on your bed and a gloved hand wrapped around yours, the figure appearing to have fallen asleep.

Your eyes are bleary, and you can't see who it is.

"J...Jackson?"

You squeeze the hand around yours and they slowly rouse.

"Jackson...?"

The figure finally wakes.

"You're awake," the deep-voiced figure says. Had you not been drugged and still hazy, you would have noticed the awe in their voice and the emotions being spoken in those two words.

And that the figure is definitely not Jackson.

"You're here." You smile placidly. "You're here."

The figure nods, face obscured by the darkness of the room. Only the light of the lamp by the corner illuminates the otherwise dark room.

"I'm here."

"Not dead?" you ask.

The figure shakes their head.

"No. Thankfully not."

You nod, the last vestiges of your consciousness slowly slipping.

"Don't... don't leave."

Silence.

"Don't leave, m'kay?"

The figure nods again.

"I won't this time."

Satisfied, you fall back to sleep.

----

*cardi b's voice* wha' is that?????

[the-cult-of-riley]

Sleeping With Ghosts (Act One: Chapter Two)

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Female OC

[[Masterlist]]

A/N: As Act One progresses, you'll notice the time skips between chapters get a little bigger. These guys have an eight year relationship and it would take me forever to write out the entirety of it lmao. The point of Act One is to give you insight into their relationship so you understand for Act Two.

The inspiration for this story was the prologue and Act One was never supposed to be as big as it got. I just wanted to lay a foundation for their relationship and got reeeeal carried away lololol In my opinion, the real meat of this story is Act Two. The whole of Act One is just a build up lmaooo

Placebo - Special K

Coming up beyond belief On this coronary thief More than just the leitmotif More chaotic, no relief

I'll describe the way I feel Weeping wounds that never heal Can the savior be for real Or are you just my seventh seal?

No hesitation, no delay You come on just like Special K Just like I swallowed half my stash And never ever wanna crash No hesitation, no delay You come on just like Special K Now you're back with dope demand I'm on sinking sand

Gravity, no escaping Gravity Gravity, no escaping Not for free I fall down, hit the ground Make a heavy sound Every time you seem to come around

They walked down the street, his apartment building luckily on the road the bus stop was on so they didn't need to go far. He fished his fob out, holding it up to the scanner and hearing it beep to signal the door was open. He watched her as she glanced around, wonder on her face as if she was impressed by the foyer as he led her to the lift. Didn't want her trudging up four flights of stairs. 

“This is so… swanky,” she murmured, an amused smile on her face as she looked at him.

“It's alright,” he shrugged as he pressed the button for the lift. He knew it was nice, much nicer than his childhood home. He didn't think it was too fancy though. Wasn’t some fucking penthouse in the middle of the city centre. 

“It’s more than alright, Simon…” she scoffed, “it’s probably best we came here and not my place,” she added and when he looked at her, she had a guarded look on her face that made his brows furrow. He didn't like it. The doors to the lift opened and he led her inside, pressing four and watching the door close.

“Love… you could live in a council house in the middle of Moss Side and I wouldn't judge you for it. I grew up in fuckin’ Gorton, for fuck sake,” he muttered as he squeezed her hand. He didn't need her thinking he was some stuck up snob when he was far from it. She smiled then, raising a brow at him.

“It's not that bad,” she snorted and he felt himself relax as she seemed to lighten up again. “It's just a small studio thing. It's above a florist’s, makes the rent cheaper. I work at Cafe Metro in town, doesn’t exactly equal great pay,” she explained softly, looking a little self conscious. He knew the cafe she talked about. It was opposite the Arndale centre and he’d passed it a fair few times. He tugged her closer, nuzzling the side of her head and relishing in the light laugh that he caused. 

“Maybe you should show me sometime,” he murmured hesitantly, unsure how she’d react to suggesting seeing her again when they hadn't even fucked yet. Instead of recoiling or making a comment to refute him, she smiled brightly as her cheeks flushed a pretty pink. 

“We’ll see if you get sick of me yet,” she smirked but he saw something flash behind her eyes and he wondered if she’d briefly thought of her piece of shit ex. He had every plan to make her fucking forget his name by the end of the night.

“Don’t think I'd ever get sick of you, sweetheart,” he admitted, unsure why he even told her when he couldn't quite understand his own feelings. He'd known her less than an hour yet he felt like he’d known her a lifetime. The resulting smile from her made everything worth it. It was the kind of smile that stopped the world turning. The kind of smile that caused men to go to fucking war. He was doomed and he wasn't even mad about it. 

The door opened with a ding and he led her once again out of the lift and down the corridor to apartment 4F. He turned the key in the lock, hands shaking with anticipation as he led her in. This wasn’t like him at all, he wasn’t the type to fucking tremble at the thought of touching a woman. It struck him then that he’d never invited anyone to his apartment other than Tommy, Beth and his mum. He’d never brought a girl back here because he could hardly sneak out at first light if he fucking lived here. 

It felt right though, bringing her here and he watched with some hesitance as she looked around and took it in. He felt a little self conscious then. He didn't have much, the bare essentials and since he was off with the Army a lot, it looked slightly unlived in. It didn't help that he was a neat freak, cleanliness being instilled in him from the military. There were a few items though that meant things to him. The quilted blanket his mother had made him that was thrown over the back of the couch, the pictures of Tommy, Beth and his mum around on the walls. The newest addition was a scan of Tommy and Beth’s baby that was tacked to his fridge by a magnet in the shape of an army tank. 

His eyes were glued on her as she took it all in, wandering over to the couch and touching the quilted blanket with a little smile on her face. It was made of black and camo squares. She turned her eyes to him then and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly. He wasn't used to this. 

“You want a drink or anythin’?” he asked, wondering what he even had in his fridge since he wasn't expecting company. She fluttered a smile at him as she shook her head, sauntering over to him looking like a fucking angel that fell from heaven just for him. She stopped in front of him, toying with the hem of his jumper as he looked down at her. 

“I just want you,” she purred, batting her lashes all innocent like and it did him in. He grabbed her face, crashing his lips to hers with such ferocity that she squeaked and grabbed him to find purchase. 

He felt like he couldn't get close enough as his hands wandered, one splaying over her back and pressing her body flush with his. The other hand slipped over her curves, loving how the silky dress aided him in his exploration. Her body was fucking something else, he couldn’t get enough of her delicious curves and her tiny waist. His wandering hand slipped up her hip, running up her ribs before they cupped her breast. He felt her nipple hardening, confirming his stray thought that she wasn't wearing a bra and he moaned as his thumb brushed over the hardened peak through the fabric. 

She mewled into the kiss, such a cock hardening noise that he growled, grabbing her thighs and hoisting her up. Her legs wrapped around his waist and his hands settled on her arse as she giggled into the kiss. He moved into the bedroom, setting her carefully on the bed as he regretfully separated from her. 

She watched with heavy lidded eyes as he knelt on the floor in front of her, unlacing her boots and tugging them off one at a time. She had a look on her face as if she wasn't used to being taken care of like this and he found himself wanting to do it more often. He wanted to take care of her, make her happy, make her content. Once the boots were off, he tugged her socks off, making her smile as he stuffed them in her boots so they wouldn't get lost. He watched her from his spot on the floor, hands smoothing up her silky soft legs and his eyes were glued to hers. When he got near the side of her knee, she jerked her legs with a giggle and he found himself smiling. 

“Ticklish, love?” he asked ruefully and she pouted playfully at him.

“Maybe,” she smiled and he placed a kiss at the spot, making her giggle again.

He stood up, pulling her to her feet before his hands grabbed the hem of her dress. He allowed his hands to slide up her curves, grabbing the dress up with it. His hands bunched into the fabric as it got to her waist and he pulled it up, revealing more and more of creamy alabaster skin to his hungry eyes. He pulled the satin over her head and dropped it on the floor, eyes glued to her. 

She stood there in nothing but a black pair of lacy french knickers and his cock was throbbing at the sight. He could see more of her ink now. She had what looked to be flowers poking out from her underwear on the left hip bone and some words along the inside of her left arm at the top. He couldn’t wait to get a closer look. She blinked up at him, a shy look on her face that the animal inside of him preened at. 

“So fuckin’ beautiful, love,” he murmured with a rough voice, thick from his desperate arousal. She flushed, a smile curling her lips and he kissed her again, slowly this time as he allowed his hands to wander her body, feeling her bare skin against his rough hands. He groped her thighs again, hoisting her up once more before moving over to the bed. He crawled onto it before depositing her on her back, head on the pillows with her hair fanned out like a halo around her head. He leaned down, grabbing her hands and putting them above her head, lacing his fingers with hers and being mindful of her sore arm that still had his bandana around it. His eyes trailed curiously to the words on her skin, seeing some kind of quote. 

‘Since I was born I started to decay. 

Now nothing ever-ever goes my way’. 

He wondered what it was from, maybe from a book or song lyrics, wondered if he’d get the chance to ask her one day when they weren’t too preoccupied. He nuzzled the side of her face, loving how her breathing picked up and she arched at him. He kissed her cheek, trailing kisses down her jaw.

“Safeword love,” he murmured. He wasn’t really planning on going too far with her today, his main focus was just to prove he could get her off. He hoped there would be many more times for him to explore all the wonderfully sinful things she wanted to get up to. 

“Um… uh…” she stuttered, breathing laboured as his kisses trailed to her neck and he smirked into her skin. “Donuts,” she replied, sounding confused and aroused all at the same time and it just made him chuckle against her neck. He nipped at her then, ripping a moan from her that hit him right in the dick.

“You like that, sweetheart?” he asked huskily and she nodded.

“Yes,” she whispered and he groaned before biting the delicate skin and sucking on it. She squirmed with a desperate moan and he loved how wanton she was being. He moved away, admiring his handiwork as a bruise was already forming on her pretty little neck. 

Giving her a wicked smirk, he moved off her and stood up, grabbing his jumper and practically ripping it over his head. She watched him with rapt interest in her eyes and it made him feel good. She didn't take her eyes off him as he undid his jeans and tugged them off, leaving himself in his boxers before he crawled back on the bed. He settled between her legs, allowing her to feel just what she did to him as his hard cock pressed up against her wanting cunt and she gasped, hands gripping his waist. 

Her reactions to him were intoxicating, made him feel like he was the most powerful man on the fucking planet. He’d never been one to drag this out, never knew it could feel so good. Just like how he’d never been interested in kissing before. It always felt far too intimate for his liking and yet now, he couldn't get enough of it.

“Ready to have your mind blown?” he asked with a sinful smirk and she flashed him an impish smile as her hands smoothed up his back, causing him to hum softly. 

“Still overconfident, then?” she smiled, looking all pretty for him as she blinked her long dark lashes at him. 

His smirk widened into something predatory as he moved away to kneel between her legs, hands trailing over her soft body as he went. He was settled between her parted thighs then and he toyed with the lacy fabric of her knickers, watching as she stared at him with wide eyes. He hooked his fingers into the fabric, slowly dragging them down her legs and finally getting a peak at the flowers. They were roses, three black ones and one yellow that stood out from all the rest. 

He manoeuvred her legs until he chucked the knickers on the floor carelessly, his large hands going to her knees to part her legs that were now trying to close in front of him. He pried them apart, knowing she was feeling somewhat bashful by the slight resistance he felt and by the blush that swept up her entire body. He let out a delighted groan at the sight of her glistening pussy once it was bared to him and he felt his mouth water. 

“Fuckin’ hell, love. That all for me?” he rasped, eyes finally leaving her soaked cunt to look at her. She had this awed look on her face and he hadn’t even touched her yet, but it made a fire ignite inside of him. She nodded and while part of him wanted to chide her to use her words again, he was far too desperate to touch her. 

Teasingly, he dragged his fingers through her soaked folds and she let out a startled gasp, body tensing up in anticipation. She was more than soaked, pretty little thing was more touch starved than him it seemed and he couldn't wait to end her torment for her. 

He slowly started circling her clit, eyes darting between where he was touching her and her face, watching her lips part with little moans and feeling how she writhed against his hand. She was a sight to behold like this, he didn't think he’d seen anything more beautiful and he felt honoured to be the one making her feel that way. 

He slid his fingers down, sinking one into her and his pleased moan got drowned out by the sinful noise she made, her back bowing a little. She was so tight, wet and warm around just one of his fingers, he started to worry he might not fucking fit in her. He eased a second finger inside, feeling her tighten at the intrusion and moan softly, her eye fluttering shut as her head angled back on the pillow. She was a picture of ecstasy and he felt like he’d barely touched her yet. 

He started fucking her with his fingers and he was helpless against the rapt attention she demanded of him in her pleasure. One of her hands bunched in the sheets under her, the other clutching his wrist in a death grip. He found a rhythm she liked, one that had her thighs trembling beside him as sweet little moans left her lips. 

Without moving his hand, he leaned over her, propping himself with a hand beside her head as he stared down at her. His thumb started rubbing against her clit as he pumped his fingers in and out of her and she let out a keening moan, eyes flying open.

“Oh, fuck,” she gasped. Her pupils were blown wide, he could barely see the blue anymore. “I-I…” her words trailed off into incoherent noises that bounced off the walls. He was pretty sure the whole apartment building would be able to fucking hear her and he wouldn’t be shocked if someone called the police on him, thinking he was committing a murder. He’d never had someone so responsive before and his entire body fed off it. It felt like a drug to him, hearing those noises he was causing, seeing her blissed out face. Her moans got higher in pitch and more frequent, her cunt fluttering around his fingers and telling him she was close.

“That’s it, Charlotte. Cum for me,” he purred, feeling like he needed it almost as much as she did. Those words seemed to snap something inside of her and she let out a hoarse cry, her back arching harshly as she shattered around him. He felt her tighten impossibly around his fingers as he eased her through it, her whole body seizing up before it relaxed and the look on her face was fucking delicious. Totally fucked out. He stilled his hand, not wanting to overstimulate her too much given he still had plans for her. 

He watched her lay there blissfully for a moment, eyes shut and a serene look on her face. She looked like an angel.

“You alright there, love?” he asked with a wry smirk and her eyes fluttered open. Her face was flushed but she gave him a radiant smile.

“I think I might be dead,” she replied with a grin and he snorted at her.

“Sorry about that,” he remarked and her grin widened.

“Don't be. At least I died happy,” she sighed dreamily. He slowly eased his fingers out of her, making her gasp a little. His eyes darted to his fingers, coated with her and he brought them to his mouth without a thought. He sucked them clean with a groan. Fuckin’ hell, she tasted good. He didn’t get to go down on someone often since he was the fuck ‘em and leave ‘em type, liked it dirty and quick to get it over with. But he had a desperate need to put his mouth on her cunt and it had been in his head since they'd been back at the bus stop and he promised to get three orgasms out of her. 

When he looked down at her, she was watching him with wide eyes. Her cheeks were dusted with pink but something flared in her eyes that made him smirk wickedly at her as he finished cleaning his fingers off. He leaned down, capturing her lips and forcing her to taste herself. She melted under him, small hands smoothing up his chest as she kissed him back. She was so warm and pliant under him like this and he loved it. He broke the kiss to kiss along her jaw and to her ear, his still clothed bulge rubbing against her pussy that was so soaked, his boxers were getting damp.

“One down, two more to go, yeah?” he asked devilishly, making her squirm as he started kissing down her neck and then her chest. She blinked at him, watching as he grabbed one of her breasts, latching around the nipple with no warning. She let out a loud moan, hand flying to his head, fingers digging into his hair. 

It had grown out a little since his last deployment but he lamented that it wasn't long enough for her to really grab. He thought he’d like it. He sucked on her nipple for a short moment before moving to give the other one the same treatment. Couldn't be playing favourites now, could he? When he had her a squirming mess again, he felt satisfied to continue his journey. He placed kisses down the delicate flesh of her stomach, moving lower and lower.

“Wait!” she called out, making him still instantly. He lifted his head from where he was, devastatingly close to where he wanted to be the most. He wouldn't continue if she wanted to stop though, no matter how gutted he’d be about it.

“What is it?” he asked carefully, running quickly through his head for something he could have done to make her uncomfortable.

“I just… no one’s ever… you know…” she stuttered, gesturing her head to him and what he was clearly on his way to do. He blinked dumbly at her for a moment, his eyes narrowing a little.

“Seriously? I’m startin’ to question your taste in men, love,” he tutted, shaking his head. He shouldn’t be suprised her arsehole ex didn’t go down on her, but he was shocked it hadn't happened even once, even someone else. Something primal surged in his chest at the idea of having this first with her.

“Got you in bed in under an hour, didn't I?” she asked cheekily and it startled a chuckle out of him. She was something else, this one. 

“You're a cheeky bitch, you know that?” he asked, raising a brow at her with a fond smile on his face. Can't say he'd ever had an exchange like this during sex before. She gave him a wide grin that made his heart beat all funny in his chest.

“You like it though,” she countered and he shrugged, because it wasn't a lie. 

“You want me to stop?” he asked her, getting serious for a moment. She nibbled her lower lip and shyly shook her head.

“No, but… do you even want to? You won't hate it?” she asked him, a small frown marring her features. 

“Why would I hate it?” he asked in confusion, not sure what had given her that impression.

“Well… Ethan always said-” she started but he cut her off swiftly.

“Don’t say his fuckin’ name, not here,” he growled and her eyes widened, mouth snapping shut. He hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, so fucking possessive like that, but the idea of her uttering that arsehole’s name in his fucking bed made his blood turn to lava in his veins. Shouldn’t have been fucking shocked that the tosser probably told her he didn’t like going down on a woman, probably didn’t like the taste or some other stupid shit. He wanted to punch him. 

“I’m sorry, that was bad etiquette,” she huffed, covering her face with her hands but not before he saw her red cheeks from the embarrassment. “I just… I’ve never had to do this before, I’ve only ever been with one person. I’m ruining it,” she lamented, her voice slightly muffled from her hands. 

Something tugged in his chest at her words and he moved over her again, one hand propped against her head as the other gently pried her hands away from her face. She wouldn’t look him in the eye and it made him frown. 

“You’re not ruinin’ it, love. I wanna do this, I’ll enjoy it,” he tried to reassure her. She finally looked at him, eyes darting over his face worriedly.

“Are you sure? I don't wanna be a bother,” she frowned and the tugging in his chest got worse. That absolute fucker, Simon was gonna cave his face in if he ever saw him. Making her feel like some kind of burden to take care of. Taking what he wanted from her and leaving her high and dry. Making her feel like her needs weren’t important. 

“Just let me take care of you, sweetheart,” he implored, leaning down and rubbing the tip of his nose against hers affectionately. Her breathing hitched a little, hands splaying on his chest again as she closed her eyes. She seemed to like the little affectionate touch from him and he stored that away for later. She finally nodded and he smiled, happy he’d eased her worries. She had no use for them here, not with him. 

He moved back down her body, settling on his stomach between her parted thighs and he licked his lower lip at the sight. Despite the hitch they’d had in his plans, she was still sopping wet and he smoothed his hands up her soft thighs. He could see her breathing ragged, her hands by her sides, clutching the sheets she lay on. 

He placed a kiss on her thigh, enjoying the soft noise she made when he did. He was overwhelmed by so much being with her like this. She smelt divine. Not just the slick he’d caused but the smell of her skin. He felt like he was getting drunk off her as he kissed and nipped his way up her thigh, sucking on one area to leave a mark behind. She gasped and her hand went back to his head, her body wriggling on the bed a little. He hummed at the sight of the blooming mark, feeling satisfied with it as he continued his trail upwards. 

When he finally got to her cunt, he wasted no time, his patience well and truly thin. He gave her a long lick from her entrance to her clit and she let out a keening moan. He lapped at her clit for a moment, loving how she squirmed against his face before he latched onto it. 

“Simon!” she cried out desperately and he moaned against her, suckling harder at the little bundle of nerves as her body bucked and bowed. How neglected had this poor little pussy been? He hooked his arms around her thighs to keep her in place, sucking on her like a man starved as she gasped and moaned loudly, without care. She started chanting his name like some fervent prayer and he felt himself get lightheaded from the sensation, never thinking his name had sounded so fucking good. 

It didn’t take long to bring her to her second orgasm and he almost came himself at the noise she made, could hardly stop himself from rutting against the fucking bed to find some friction. He moved away from her, licking his lips greedily before kneeling back up to look at her. She had that blissed out look on her face again and a smug smirk tugged at his lips at the sight. 

“Ready for three?” he asked mischievously and she cracked her eyes open, blinking at him slowly. 

“I think you might have fucked the bones out of me. I’m not sure I can move,” she whined playfully and he chuckled. 

“You're doin’ wonders for my ego, sweetheart,” he grinned and she laughed lightly, looking at him with warm eyes. He moved to pull his boxers off then, shuffling himself out of them and tossing them somewhere. Her eyes drifted down to his painfully hard cock and they widened, darting back to his face.

“Will that even fit?” she asked incredulously and another chuckle rumbled in his chest. She really was doing wonders for his fucking ego. He moved to grab a condom out of the bedside drawer, tearing the wrapper open.

“Guess we’re about to find out,” he drawled, an impish smile on his face as he rolled the condom on and moved back to hover over her, propped up with one arm. 

His other hand grasped his throbbing cock and the excitement that ran through him was like nothing he’d ever experienced before. He rubbed the tip around her soaked entrance, gathering her slick, and he moaned softly. She already felt so fucking good and he wasn’t even inside of her yet. He idly wondered how she’d feel without the barrier of a condom. 

Her breathing was heavy, lips parted with desire shining through her blue hues at him. He locked eyes with her as he slowly started to push in and she gasped, hands digging into his shoulders as he let out a noise suspiciously like a whine. Fuck him sideways, she was so fucking tight. If he didn’t know any better, he’d have thought she was a fucking virgin. It was taking all of his self restraint not to just shove his cock into her until he was in all the way and he resorted to pulling out before dipping back in, pushing himself ever so slightly further to ease her open to him. She didn't look like she was in pain so he kept at it, pushing in a little further after pulling out each time. On the last one, they both let out moans as he finally sheathed himself in all the way.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he hissed, jaw lax and eyes shut as he tried to calm himself before he blew his load like a fucking teenager. He kissed her, needing to stay still for a moment and gather himself. The hand not propping him up grasped her jaw as his tongue tangled with hers slowly, tasting every inch of her. She moaned into the kiss, arms winding around his neck and he didn't think he’d ever felt so weightless before. 

He hadn't dared move for fear of not being able to control himself but he was caught off guard when she arched up at him, making him gasp against her lips. He broke the kiss, opening his eyes to look at her. She was flushed but her eyes had that cheeky glint to them he’d seen at the bus stop and he knew she’d done it on purpose. He started moving then, slowly at first as he allowed them both to adjust to the sensation.

“Feel so good, love,” he purred, resting his forehead on hers as she moaned, pushing back against him. He remembered her saying she liked guys being vocal in bed so he was sure not to hide any of the noises she was ripping from him as he started fucking into her a little faster, watching how her face lit up at each and every one. 

“Such a good girl for me, sweetheart. Takin’ my cock so well,” he moaned and she whined, hooking a leg up and over his hip and he almost shot his load at the angle change.

“Simon… Simon, please,” she begged helplessly, sounding like she wasn’t even sure what she was begging him for, but fuck if it didn’t turn him on more.

“Don’t worry, love, I got you,” he replied, moving a hand to slide under her lower back, just above her arse. He used it to tilt her pelvis just a little but the guttural moan he got from her told him it was enough. He was hitting that spot inside of her and the angle change had his pubic bone rubbing on her clit. She looked like she saw stars for a moment and he couldn't tear his eyes away from her, watching as she snapped like a rubber band by his hand. She was moaning and gasping, body writhing as she tightened like a vice around his cock and he couldn't hold himself back even if he wanted to at this point.

“Good girl, such a good girl,” he rambled through his lust filled haze, rutting into her harder and faster as he chased his own release. Didn't take him long to find it. He came with a deep moan, a wave of pure euphoria starting at his dick and spreading throughout his entire body, even the tips of this fucking toes. 

He’d never felt such a release before and he could barely catch his breath. He cupped her cheek, kissing her lazily as they both came down from their highs. He enjoyed the closeness, enjoyed the softness of the moment as he felt himself come back to earth. He didn't want to crush her, so reluctantly, he pulled out with a hiss, tying off the condom before tossing it in the bin near his bed and collapsing next to her. 

“Told you I’d get three outta you,” he smirked breathlessly and she snorted.

“I’m impressed and very, very satisfied,” she murmured, sounding half asleep. He glanced over at her, watching how she struggled to keep her eyes open.

“Glad to hear it,” he replied softly, rolling on his side, some subconscious need to be closer to her. She opened her eyes then, looking at him warily.

“Should I… Do you want me to leave?” she asked, sounding self conscious. He was reminded she wasn't used to this and to be honest, neither was he. He didn't bring girls back here for this very reason, because he’d want them to leave but didn't want to look like a right bastard. It was easier just to slip out of their place instead without them knowing. But looking at Charlotte, he didn't want her to leave and he found himself dumbstruck with the idea.

“No, you can stay…” he said quietly, “if you want,” he added quickly, suddenly concerned that maybe she’d asked if he wanted her to leave because she wanted to leave. She shook her head quickly though, putting his worries to rest.

“I’d like to stay,” she admitted shyly and he felt relief flood his system, a bright warmth kindling in his chest. 

He reached out, rolling her over to face him and she smiled, moving to snuggle up against his broad frame. She fit against him perfectly, face tucked under his head with her arms pressed against his chest. He slid one arm under the pillow under them so it wasn't in the way, his other slung over her waist, hand splayed on her back to keep her as close as possible. He’d never slept with someone before. When his usual partners fell asleep, he’d be wide awake, biding his time before he could rush out the door. He thought it would be more uncomfortable for him but it wasn't. It felt right. He allowed his body to relax with the feel of her soft and warm body in his arms, getting the best night sleep he’d ever fucking had.

[natreads]

Ramblings about uni and the future

I'm trying to make a difficult decision. Since I've spent the last five years trying to break into the publishing industry and mostly failing (I'm freelance but can't get a full time job), I've been thinking very seriously about going back to uni to become a librarian instead. It's not really a career I've ever thought of, or wanted, but the same can be said for publishing. I decided I wanted to go that route when I already had a my bachelors degree. It felt like the "right" path, but I wasn't aware of how difficult it would be. The industry is so closed off, and I'm not very good at putting myself out there, so I've been struggling a lot. Not to mention people keep getting fired left and right so even if I do get in who knows how long that will last. I guess part of deciding to study something else, despite already having a masters degree and over six years of uni studies behind me, is that I feel like I need to essentially give up this dream, which would make the past five years feel like a waste even though I don't necessarily think they are. But I will have to give up the identity I have built around the industry. But I also feel like going another route won't mean I can't one day make it there too. But I also don't want to get another degree just to still be focusing on an industry that's this unattainable. I will have to focus on making it as a librarian instead and the idea of having to properly give up publishing makes me so sad, but I also know it will bring me relief once I actually do it. I need to study something where I will actually find work.

Another issue is that I really really REALLY don't want to study for another three years lmao. I talked to some people and there's a possibility that I COULD skip one semester due to previous studies, but I feel like it will be complicated and also not necessarily set in stone to manipulate the degree like that. I also got the tip to go take a masters instead which is two years, but here are the pros and cons to all of this:

Three year undergrad:

The school I did my BA at, so it's familiar

Since it's undergrad I'm not worried I will fail

Close to home (even if I move)

Unfortunately it's three years

It feels "silly" to get another BA when I could get an MA immediately instead

Two year masters program:

It's only two years

It will probably be hard

Could be done online, but I don't know if I have it in me to sit at home for two years again

It's in another city, but only takes an hour by train to get there

Unfortunately the train (pendeln) SUCKS and is super unreliable

And I would have to pay a bunch each time

But I like the idea of experiencing something new, since I both like the city (it's a college town) and don't think one hour is that bad

Another problem is that we'll be doing lots of group work so I might have to be there a lot which will be annoying

If I knew just HOW often I'd have to go I feel like it would be easier

I'm gonna be moving soonish to an apartment in the city here in Stockholm so I don't wanna move to Uppsala and do student housing, but my lease will only be one year so maybe I COULD during second year. I've never expeirenced student life like that before

Do I really wanna write another fucking masters thesis omg

I like the sound of two master degrees tho lmao

One semester will be dedicated to writing my thesis so I will mostly only have to commute for 1.5 years I guess, which makes the student housing in year two maybe unnessecary? But my lease will be up anyway soooo. In an ideal world I would be doing student housing my first year and then move into the other apartment after, but I can't do that and I don't wanna give up on a great opportunity

We'll be visiting libraries and whatnot and if it's in Uppsala (I kinda assume it is) I will have to figure out the public transit looool

Essentially, I think the undergrad one is safe but longer, while the MA is shorter but scarier. If I do the MA online I will be more comfortable, but also probably lowkey go crazy. Maybe if I knew if and how much I would be working at the bookstore after the summer I would pick the online version, since work would get me out of the house, but none of us know how needed I will be.

I know I need to change lanes, since I'm getting older and I need stability. Working in a library is the next best thing I can see myself doing after publishing (I kinda wanted to do marketing but I've realized it unfortunately goes against a lot of my morals and libraries are ethically the one and only place I stand 100% behind).

Idk if anyone has any insight or advice please lmk I'm so torn

[professionallydeadinside]

OK HERE WE GO AGAIN LMAOOOO also this is a pretty fresh and new story so stuff is very subject to change (and i also haven’t been writing stuff down just keepin it in the noggin so again ive been forgetting stuff)

Ok Kairos is off to try and meet Andromeda. He wants to try and keep this shit from becoming an all out mess and war. He finds Andromeda, still in her shadowy form, but also very recognisably human. She explains what happened, and Kairos is like damn girl thats cray cray. I guess i can help or smth. So Andromeda goes back to attack Phaedra, and Kairos takes the Blackmont men to help him. It takes time to actually find Phaedra, she’s bouncing around Aralul to make alliances and conquer new places, but so is Andromeda. Because of the lack of confrontation, Kairos doesn’t actually see what Andromeda’s power does, and what it turns her into. Now, Andromeda is trying to turn this into a whole war, she wants people on her side, and she wants to rip Kholeno apart too, not just Phaedra. She takes Kairos and goes to Cerania (another nation in Aralul. It’s actually the home of Kailyn and is an ancient place. Very neutral and it’s seen as near sacrilegious to attack) for a whole world council.

Ok now we need to get into some light biology of Sylla’s people because it’s important to what happens next. Since Sylla is a hive leader, that gives her special abilities. Not just her shapeshifting from Hadeon, but being a hive leader means you can yknow. Control the hive. And it takes a LOT to make a new little fucker that can do that, especially on top of shapeshifting and (spoilers ig lmao) gifts of prophecy. Because of all that, it’s custom but also literally biologically necessary for a bearing hive leader to fall into a coma-like state. Sylla can be woken up, but it’s dangerous, and it could risk her and her child eating each other alive. There just isn’t enough magic and power and strength to keep Sylla awake, alive, and to devote to the child. So, until she has the child, she’s pretty much asleep the whole time. Caliban, in the absence of Kairos, takes care of her and the hive. He’s the one that will wake her if a true emergency happens, and he’s the one that deals with all the problems. But, because Sylla HAS to stay asleep for her safety, it means she’s vulnerable. They don’t really have to worry about the hive knowing, because their first loyalty is always to the hive mother, but those outside the hive are a different story. So, when that letter from Cerania comes, only Caliban is there for it. He’s left with a choice; wake his sister up, and risk her life and his unborn niece/nephew, go to Cerania himself and risk people catching on that Sylla is indisposed, or leave Sylla asleep, and nobody goes to Cerania, which makes it look more like a political stance than just nobody can fucking go. He chooses the last one, and another contributing factor is that hive leaders dont often have many children. It takes so much out of the bearer, like, Sylla is better off than most, and she’s still playing peekaboo with death, and it’s to help keep conflicts down. It was risky for Hadeon to have both Sylla and Caliban alive at the same time, usually a hive leader will only have one child alive at a time, and if they fail, they’ll eat them once the next possible heir has been born (which Hadeon did. A lot. Sylla and Caliban have a ton of dead half siblings, but he had Reasons to keep Sylla and Caliban alive). Caliban is trying to just make sure that the child is born, and he knows his sister probably isn’t gonna fuckin eat her kid, but maybe. He wants her to have the option to eat him later.

All of that is to explain this: Andromeda goes to Cerania, hoping to gain allies and aid in her quest, and she brings Kairos with her. He’s excited, since Andromeda sent for Blackmont, and he’s so giddy to see his wife, but then. The chair for Blackmont is empty. Nobody is there, not even Caliban. What happened? Why hadn’t he heard anything from them? Was Blackmont in danger? If it was, he needed to get back. But, Kairos also swore to help Andromeda. He decides he’ll quickly deal with Phaedra, since that’ll also stop Andromeda’s war, and then Blackmont really will be safe.

YEAHHHHHH MORE SILAS OC LORE !!! Sylla and Caliban,,,,,,,I love them,,,,,,,the siblings ever