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loganlermanstanaccount · 2 years ago

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Show me where it hurts (part 1)

Miguel O'Hara x spiderwoman!reader

(AO3 Mirror), Part 2, Main Masterlist

summary: Miguel's acting weird, and you make it your mission to find out exactly what's going on.

warnings: no warnings for this chap, pg-13, swearing and canon level violence. smut next chapter xoxo

a/n: this is a combination of 2 asks and this post I saw on here a while ago: flirty/ snarky fem reader, Miguel during a ""rut"" (I don't know if it counts as a rut really, but its to do with his animal instincts/DNA) and Lyla playing matchmaker. I had so much fun writing this, enjoy :D

(i wrote this pre seeing spiderverse 2, so i think characterisation is a little off, esp for Lyla, apologies! I'll fix it in my upcoming fics)

edit: I use the term "bichita" which I have been informed can be read not as I intended in Spanish. I'm not a native speaker so I want to apologise in advance. I'm doing more research for my future fics and leaving this up as a testament to my stupidity. Spanish speakers, feel free to correct me / clown my ass in the comments. My bad guys :(

wc: 3.6k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You think Miguel is avoiding you.

One of your closest friends, giving you the runaround for months, it seems. Calling the two of you close friends is a little extreme, sure. You've only known O'Hara for two years, and been in love with him for slightly less than that, thank you very much. And yes, he refuses to call you by anything but your last name. And the last time you saw him he wouldn't so much as look at you, but that was besides the point.

"..the point," You tell Lyla, in between exasperated bites of cereal, "... is that aren't elite forces of spiderpeople supposed to, you know, have some spiderpeople kick ass once in a while? And where exactly is our fearless leader? I haven't seen O'Hara's scary ass in weeks, and I'm starting to miss it."

She gives you a look, one that says this isn't what I'm programmed for , but you pointedly ignore it.

"His ass, by the way." You clarify. "I very specifically miss his ass. Remind me to get his routine. I know girls that would kill for…"

"How the fuck did you get in here?" A voice croaks. You turn behind you and see Miguel, not in his suit, but wrapped up in a blanket like he's just woken up. And he looks rough, like a train ran him over on the way here: puffy eyes, splotchy skin, tension kneaded into his brow.

"Wow." Your spoon drops into the milk. "You look like shit.."

He furrows his brow even deeper, if that was possible. " Mierda. You shouldn't be here."

"This isn't quite the welcome party I was expecting, man. I'm the only one to actually turn up to one of your meetings, and this is what I get?"

"I thought I told Lyla to cancel," He mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Cancel? Since when do you miss a chance to talk about rules and protocol?"

"I don't have time for this-"

"-and I'm not leaving without a proper explanation. Is everything okay?"

"It's actually way worse now you're here." He deadpans.

"Haha ." You turn to Lyla. "You drop everything to travel halfway across the multiverse and this asshole won't even say thanks."

"Thanks, but this asshole needs you to leave. Now."

This is the most he's spoken to you in forever, and you hate that you like it. You just want his attention, however it comes. If that means dragging this out so maybe he acknowledges you, touches you, looks at you - then so be it. Squinting, you get closer to him. You scan his face for anything to latch onto. You put a hand on his shoulder, still searching.

"You sure you're alright? You know you can tell me if-"

"Si, si." He grits his teeth, looking away. "M'just fine. I'll explain…. later."

"...because I'm your right hand man?" You grin, poking at his brow. "Stop frowning so much Miguel, you're gonna ruin that pretty face of yours."

He flushes, nervous, and swats you away. "-what? N-No. You're not my right hand man and I like my face just the way it is. Now, leave. "

Making your way to the door, you tap your nose teasingly. "You know where to find me!"

When the door closes with a click, you make your way down the corridor, and stop in your tracks when you hear it. It's muffled, but with the strain of your supersenses you can make out Miguel's voice just beyond the wall.

"I just…. don't want her to see me like this… Lyla, it's not happening… I can't tell her…." Tell her what, exactly?

Resolutely, you make up your mind. Miguel O'Hara's got a secret. And before you leave for home, you're gonna do everything in your God given power to wear him down and find out.

~~~

Despite his insistence otherwise, you liked to think of yourself as O'Hara's right hand man - and most of the other spiderpeople thought so too. You were one of the very first he recruited, after crash landing onto your earth like a spiderman-shaped meteor; the two of you were inseparable. Miguel was stubborn and headstrong and thought he was right all the time. Infuriatingly, he was, but that didn't stop you from telling him to get his head out of his own ass when his ego grew too big.

He was different around you, you think. Softer, sometimes. Harsher, other times. He told you what you needed to hear whether you wanted to or not; the result of mutual respect and agonising persistence. Slowly, you had chipped away his hard exterior; the one he built because he thought he needed to push people away. In that regard, you were similar, but this need manifested in you like a weed - an awful, awful compulsion to joke and laugh at your own expense, to keep others at an arm's length. You had spent your whole life picking and pruning away at yourself, looking for perfection. Even after all this, multiverse-hopping and fighting alongside people who were the closest things you had to friends , it wasn't enough. There was still something missing.

Ironically, Miguel had told you something similar the one of the last times you had spoken. You had fucked up a mission, well and truly. In the aftermath, all you can remember is coming back to base, limping on Jessica's arm.

"She's hurt!" She cries out. Lyla materialises and leads you both to the med bay, inspecting any visible wounds. There's a deep laceration, sticky with blood, at the base of your stomach. You shift onto the bed and hiss with pain.

Miguel is quick to follow, face twisted with confusion, pain, sadness. Even in your haze, you feel the tension radiating off of him as he drags over a cart of supplies.

"What happened?" He strains.

"I don't even… it happened so fast. We got ambushed, and all of a sudden I'm on the ground. I wasn't thinking straight and… " She sobs. "...she jumped in front of me. God, she saved my life-"

"-wasn't your fault, Jess." You croak, trying to sit up. "And I'm fine. Just need to walk it off…"

"Sit, bichita," His nickname makes you frown, despite yourself, and you settle back down. "Lyla, what's the damage?"

Your vision goes spotty, and Lyla's voice barely registers. All you can feel is searing pain in your side, but Miguel is warm, oh so warm. You clutch his arms, and force him to look you in the eye.

"M'ready, Miguel." He nods weakly, but you don't think he understands. "I mean it . I can lead, j-just need another chance and I won't let you down… Jess, tell him that I can-"

"It's okay. I believe you. You just need to relax for me, hmm?" He clutches at your hand, tight, and it's like you're the only two people in the world. "You did good. I promise."

Faintly, you nod. You feel a pinch at your arm, and Jessica's there, with an empty vial of something in her hands. The pain washes over you, and you fight to keep your eyes open. In those last few moments of light, you swear you feel a shaky kiss pressed to your temple.

"Sleep, mi bichito amoroso. Sleep."

When you come to, you're still in the medbay, moonlight streaming through. Well, artificial moonlight. Time worked a little differently here, something Miguel explained to you a while ago - God knows what about dilation and quantum interference. It makes you smile now, remembering his frustration as he tried to explain to no avail. You were the only spiderman this side of the multiverse without a degree in quantum tech, you had said with a lopsided smile.

You move to sit, and pain shoots up your side. Groaning, you push through it, determined to get out of this bed and find the others. As if on cue, Miguel walks in, almost leaping towards you.

"You should… mierda ! You should be resting in bed."

You pout as you stumble into his chest. He hooks an arm around you and leads you back. You clamber in, sighing. "M'fine, O'Hara."

"Your guts were halfway out of your body less than 24 hours ago. So stay put, or you might give me another heart attack."

You scoff, incredulous. "You were worried?"

He shrugs. " 'Course I was."

"Why? You know I'm practically indestructible." You give him a shit eating grin, and poke the frown appearing at his brow. He doesn't bat you away like he usually does.

"Famous last words, bichita." He sighs. You can't speak a lick of Spanish, but you know he only calls you that word when you've frustrated him to his limit. So you take it as a win, for now.

He drops into the chair next to you. "How are you feeling?"

"Just peachy, dollface." You wink, and he doesn't so much as groan.

"I'm being serious. You went through something pretty traumatic…"

"You want me to tell you it hurts, so, so bad, daddy? " You pout and flutter your eyelashes mockingly. Miguel shifts in his seat, unable to make eye contact.

"That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean, O'Hara? I feel fine. And in a couple of days, I'll feel even better, and I'll be up and about. I can finish what we started and-"

"-no, absolutely not." He frowns. "A couple of days? I'm sending you home-"

"You can't do that! On whose fucking authority?"

"On the authority of you almost fucking died ! Keeping you safe is our priority right now-"

"God, is this my punishment? This is a low blow, O'Hara. You know how hard I've worked for this: months of surveillance and intel a-and I did everything by the book, just like you told me to." You croak. "I fucked up . I know that, and I feel terrible. Give me a chance to make things right; that's all I'm asking. I can do it, I know it. "

He looks at you for a moment, something heavy in his expression. His face contorted, he strips you down to the bone with just his gaze. His voice is so quiet, you almost miss it.

"....you're still trying to prove yourself, aren't you?"

Honestly, it catches you off guard. You don't even know what the fuck that means, let alone why he said it.

"I don't… I d-don't…?"

"They all love you. Respect you. More than me I think, sometimes." He chuckles at that. "You're good at what you do. The best . What else are you trying to prove? What else do you need ?"

Your throat goes dry. You couldn't speak if you wanted to.

"I'm not punishing you. You made a mistake, but you don't need to be crucified for it. I just want to keep you safe. I can't… we can't lose you."

"Miguel-"

"-this isn't a discussion. And I'm not trying to argue, although I know how much you like to argue." He inches closer, cupping your face gently. You try to move away, blinking back tears. But his hands are steady and he strokes your jaw with so much tenderness you think you hear your heart break. He's pretty, so pretty. You don't deserve him, you think. "There'll be time to fight, bichita. Rest. That's your mission right now."

"C-can't sleep." You breathe. "It hurts."

Miguel pauses, head tilted like he's thinking. He taps your shoulder. "Scoot over."

You do as he says, and he slips into the bed with you. It's a tight fit, but he manages, placing you on his chest with an arm gently around your shoulders. You bury your face in his hoodie, sniffling and hoping he doesn't notice you choking back sobs. Absentmindedly, he settles into a rhythm, gentle breathing and playing with your hair, soothing you softly. He pretends he can't hear the tears.

"M'gonna stay here until you're asleep. For as long as you need."

You nod, unable to speak for fear of breaking down.

~~~

The days after felt like a blur. You woke up to Miguel gone, and an ache in your heart. Jess visits as much as she can, and Ben calls you a couple times, to see if you're okay. Peter B brings Mayday, and she clambers all over your bed, bringing some life into the room. Miguel doesn't visit per se - you hear whispers of him, Lyla visiting in his stead for comprehensive status updates. Once, you wake up in the night to see him on the adjacent chair, head lolling in deep sleep. He looks peaceful, calm - one of the first times you haven't seen his brow furrowed with worry. Of course, he's gone by the morning.

The very last time you saw him, he opened the portal home. It was weird, after everything, but if Miguel felt the same you wouldn't know. Talking at a thousand miles a minute, he alternates between assuring you they'll be fine without you and situation reports from spider people all across the multiverse. Things you'd missed whilst bedbound, asking for advice before you left. He trusted your judgement and the thought warmed your heart, almost making you forget that he completely brushed past the previous nights before.

You still remember the last thing he had said to you, which would've been weeks ago, now.

"...and if you need anything, and I mean anything, you call me directly. Not Jess, not Ben, and certainly not Peter B. Call me, and I'll answer, I promise. You need help, you need advice, you just need someone to talk to, then-"

"-I call you. I get it, O'Hara. Will do." He opens the portal, watching as you walk towards it. He can't take his eyes off of you, even though you can't see him. At the last moment you turn, and run towards him. You almost knock him over with a hug. Burying his head in the crook of your shoulder, he hugs you back, ever careful of your injury. Separating, your smile almost knocks him over again. Weakly, he smiles back as you head through the portal, back home.

You're left with that feeling, of his arms around your body - warm, so warm - as you putter about by the switchboard. After careful deliberation (you were really, really bored ) you'd taken to manage the Multi Modal Multiversal Switchboard - as aptly named by Miguel. Everyone else called it the Big Red Phone of course, but he had insisted on calling it by its proper name . Every. Time.

The thought makes you chuckle as you call up Peter B. His icon flashes on the screen in front of you. With a click, he picks up the call, his face materialising holographically in front you. A little hand reaches up and tugs at his ear.

"Ow… ouch … Dad's on the phone, honey."

"Aww! How's my favourite Parker doing?"

"Not bad, actually! MJ just made us probably the best burger this side of New York-"

"-sorry, Peter? Me and May are trying to have a conversation." You hear her giggle in the background. Her gap toothed grin pops into frame and she babbles excitedly. "...yeah, exactly May. That's literally what I said."

"Okay, okay, that's enough." He puts the toddler down and watches her scurry away. "You're feeling better, I see."

"Yeah, back in action. Thought I'd check in."

"All good here." He squints, trying to take in your surroundings. "You're at HQ?"

You hum.

"Could've sworn Lyla cancelled…"

"Yeah, didn't get the memo. But I think something's wrong with O'Hara."

He gives you a weird look. "Uhhh, what makes you think that?"

"He won't even look at me. Was it something I said? Something I did?" Your eyes narrow. "...what do you know, Peter?"

"Nothing! Absolutely nothing!" He scoffs, a little too quickly, clutching his chest like you've offended him. He's stared down some of the scariest villains around, but the look you give him is truly chilling. "Just… uhhh. You didn't hear this from me."

"Naturally…"

"We tracked 'em down, the guys that ambushed you and Jessica."

"The Sinister Six? From Earth-215?"

"Yeah, but by the time we got there, it was just Kraven and some of his goons. Miguel got there first, and…." He gulps. "He was pissed. Trashed the whole place looking for the rest of 'em. Beat Kraven half to death and we had to pull him off."

"Shit."

"Yeah, it was pretty rough. Never seen him like that before. And just generally? He'd been weirdly quiet, a little grumpy, more aggressive on missions. I don't know what's gotten into him."

"Hmmm. Thanks, Pete."

"No problem, sweetheart. And if the big guy asks… "

"...this didn't come from you, I know." Weakly, you smile. "Say hi to my favourite Parkers, for me."

" 'Course I will. We should celebrate, if you're back officially. Mine and MJ's is always open."

"Good to know. I'll see you around."

He waves goodbye, and the hologram clicks off. Sighing, you try to piece together what you've just heard.

Miguel: acting weird. Well, you knew that already. Aggressive was new. And Lyla? She had canceled, but not for you, for some reason. An honest mistake, perhaps. But Lyla doesn't make mistakes…

You stew for a couple of hours, puttering about the switchboard, twiddling your thumbs. Something's wrong, and for some reason you're afraid to see him. To have him look straight through you, again, when you ask to do the same. Show me where it hurts. Tell me how to make it better.

On the way there, you chew your lip in anticipation. In the corridor, you're outside the door to his place, hand hovering above the door. To knock, to call. In the harsh fluorescent light, you hesitate.

"Lyla?" Nervously, you sink down onto the floor. It's hard to explain, but you don't expect her to actually come; to materialise in front of you.

"How can I assist you?" She says with a ding.

"Uhh… hi. Just wanted to talk." You pause, clicking your tongue. "Can you be honest with me?"

"I can only be honest with you. It is not in my programming to lie, unless specified by my owner."

"Sure. Cool. It's about him, actually. Is Miguel okay?"

She tilts her head, as if processing your request. "Okay is a subjective term. Is Mr O'Hara alive? Yes. Is Mr O'Hara physically well? Yes. By those terms, he is okay ."

Too vague for your own liking. "I guess I meant more… his emotional state. To the best of your knowledge… in your opinion , Lyla: is Miguel okay?"

"...I believe Mr O'Hara is experiencing some emotional turmoil."

You frown. "Oh. Do you know why?"

"Mr O'Hara has instructed me not to disclose that information with you."

"Fair enough. But you don't have to tell me… I could just ask questions?"

She nods. "There is nothing in my programming that prevents me from answering some questions within certain parameters."

"Did I do something? Not just today but… last time I was here. Did I say something to hurt or upset him? Is that why he's acting weird?"

"No." She says blankly. "And yes. I suppose it is… complicated." She gestures around that word.

"I'm a little confused, Lyla."

She sits next to you, on the cool tile. Not that she could feel it, but it feels more intimate - like two friends talking. The extent of Lyla's consciousness, you weren't sure of. Was she alive? To you, she might as well be. Could she think, feel, emote? Maybe, maybe not. You weren't smart enough to understand the nuances of her programming. But you were human enough to see it in her - something glittering beyond the surface.

It could be projection, but you swear her voice is softer. "He has a name for you. When he speaks about you, and to you. I have it logged in my memory database. Do you know what that is?" You shake your head.

Lyla opens up her palm and projects videos and images - little Miguel's popping up in her palm, tinny and gruff voices ringing through the hallway. They say your name, shout your name, whisper it. Some say other things in Spanish. Curse words had always been your assumption, and he had given you no reason to think otherwise. Now, having it played back to you, you hear a tenderness in his voice you would've missed. Words and phrases that come up again and again…

"Bichita." She repeats. "Bichito del amor. Mi bichito amoroso. "

You shake your head, still confounded. "...I don't speak Spanish, Lyla."

"Little bug. Sweetheart. Lovebug. My little lovebug." She clears her throat. "I believe they are terms of endearment."

Steadfast, she directs you towards her palm. Another small Miguel appears, and you think it's him from this morning.

"I thought I told you not to let anyone in, Lyla?"

"I did not let her in. She let herself in using the code you previously gave her, Mr O'Hara."

"Yeah, for emergencies. Fuck. Mi bichita, too smart for her own good."

"...If you are in distress, I believe she would understand, Mr O'Hara."

"I just think it's too much. I don't want her to see me like this."

"According to Alchemax files, previous subjects showing this kind of aggression benefitted from-"

"Lyla, it's not happening, no chance. I can't tell her."

The figure blinks out of her palm. "Mr O'Hara has forbid me from telling you about certain things."

"...but not from showing me." Your eyes meet hers. You give her a watery smile. "Thank you."

With a hint of a smile, she nods and is gone from the corridor. You are left alone, with nothing but your thoughts of little lovebugs rattling around in your brain.

#miguel o hara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #across the spiderverse #kat_writes😼#this gif is fucking crazy btw

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mynameismad · 2 months ago

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What have I been up to?????

Hey all! I'm sure you're all cycling rapidly through the stages of grief like I am, but I thought I'd just check in and let everyone know what's going on with me and when they can expect more comics!

GOOD NEWS: I got a concept art job! I've been working freelance for a client for about two months now and things are going great! Honestly working on short assignments with weekly deadlines has been an amazing break from the slow, constant march of longform comics. I am surprising myself every day and haven't been this excited to learn and grow as an artist in a very long time. Moving forward, I would like to find a full time job in games and stay there, rather than continuing to hustle full-time in comics. I've paused my Patreon for the foreseeable future.

THAT BEING SAID: I will always be making comics!!!!!! I love them a lot, they've been good to me, and I have all these ideas in my head that NEED to be let out. I want to start making them in my own time, rather than as my main source of income. We'll see how long it takes to find true stability in concept (maybe never, lol) but in the meantime I will keep drawing my silly little guys and posting them online for everyone to see. I have to! I have to keep going and making the art I want to see in the world! We have to keep going!!!!

SAKANA: hoping to get back to the fish boys sooner rather than later. I've been stuck on whether to end the latest chapter right away or get a few more pages in there. We're moving into a HEAVY part of the plot, which will be trickier to write, so I've been procrastinating lol. Please don't take my extended absence as proof that I'm walking away from the story: I've just been busy with a new job and I don't know exactly how to get to the next chapter yet!! (also, jsyk, the Webtoon mirror is something I was doing for fun! not a priority!!)

RR: I actually have a few different projects started for RR! Chapter 2 is like 9 pages in, but then I paused and started work on a 20ish page minicomic, which is like 7 pages in. I'm going to finish the mini first and hopefully upload it to itch.io. For Chapter 2, I created this really elaborate environment in an effort to force myself to learn Blender, but then I got a job....so I have no time to learn Blender lol. Still trying to figure out whether to simplify or push forward.

OTHER: yeah...I am a comic artist at heart so obviously I have a million things I want to do. But SAKANA and RR are the highest priority right now!

UPCOMING: I am pursuing other freelance work for shorter, more manageable projects! If you need somebody to redline all your thumbnails, critique the first draft of your synopsis, or make a 20-40 page comic, please keep me in mind!

In closing: I'm locking my twitter accounts tonight and moving away from the platform for now. I'll be here, Instagram (@/mad_rupert), and BlueSky (@/madrupert). Thanks for sticking with me, let's hold onto and support each other in the coming weeks, months, and years! Let's keep going!!!!! I love you all so much!!!

#sakana #mad rupert #text post #robber robert

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dwaekkicidal · 7 days ago

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Sharing is Caring [3.5: ChanLix]

˚ʚBang Chan x Lee Felixɞ˚

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: Chris comes home to a seemingly empty dorm, ready to relax and relieve the stress from the day away. Though... he really didn't expect to relieve it like this.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: 5.6k (don't look at me.)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: member x member content: dont like dont interact <3 (you can also block the #mxm tag), lots of yapping (if you cant already tell by the word count), mentions of poly relationships (specifically skz x female and felix x han), dom!channie and sub-slightly bratty lix hehe, brat taming, slightly meandom chris?, brief mention of chris having a solo-jerking off session, lots of jerking off, multiple rounds, overstimulation, unprotected sex, slight dubcon? (felix says wait a few times but he doesn’t really mean it), i thiiiink thats it?

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ notes: this took waaaaay too long for me to get out LMFAO but i finally got it done!!! small update on this series: i think im going to make an ot8 x reader (with a mxm sub chapter lol) and then close out this series >.< i wanna keep writing for it but i just have a jumbled mess of mxm ideas so i think i finish with ot8 and decide later on what to do

Sharing is Caring Masterlist

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

The events of that first Friday night had haunted Chris. But not in a bad way. It was more so that he hadn’t expected any of his members to… explore each other in that way. Even after they all had agreed to the polyamorous relationship, he didn’t expect anybody to make moves on each other. Let alone the fact that they had done it prior to the main relationships starting.

Though, the more he thought about it, the more sense it made that it was the sunshine twins out of everyone. They got along great, both in public and in the comfort of privacy, and he could recall certain times where rather suspicious looks between the two were exchanged before they disappeared not to be heard from for an hour.

And he sure as hell can’t deny how hard he gets at the imagery of what these encounters would look like between the two. Especially not when his jeans manage to get tighter and tighter as the seconds pass and more visions flood in about the smallest two of the group.

But all of this comes to a halt as he takes the final step to be in front of his door. He blinks a few times, not realizing that he had indeed gone up the elevator and walked through the hallway to get to his dorm amidst all his daydreaming. He sighs loudly and digs for his keys in his pocket

Aside from those dirty thoughts lingering, it was eerily quiet as he walks through the hallways of the dorm. He simply assumed that Hyunjin had taken their girlfriend and left the dorm, so he didn’t bother to check the younger’s room. Instead, he just beelined it for his bedroom and closed the door as fast as possible.

He all but tossed his bags on the floor and threw himself onto his bed, exhausted after the hours and hours he had spent in the studio fighting with countless tracks that he just couldn’t seem to get right. He laid there like a pile of bones until he eventually pushed off the bed and forced his way to his dresser. A small pile of clothes is picked out and his robe is grabbed before he mozeyd his way to his shower.

The water is much colder than usual. It’s just barely tolerable but he hopes that it will break down his nasty thoughts, so he sits under the water for much longer than he usually would have. The water trickles down his toned back and he takes a few deep breaths as the last few hours replay in his head.

Han and Changbin had sent him home early, they could tell something was on his mind and he was more distracted than usual. He’d never admit that it was thanks to the youngest in the room, so he kept quiet and just brushed it off. But after a few hours of working and the two other producers trying to get him to talk about it, and failing, they told him to just go home and relax.

They promised to take care of everything as long as he went home and de-stressed. “Maybe even ask Bunny for help.” He sighs as Changbin’s words replay in his mind. It wasn’t a bad idea… A very specific type of release sounded pretty good right about now but considering she wasn’t around, he was at a standstill.

Either he takes care of himself and prays that it’s enough to satisfy him, or he waits however long he has to for his girlfriend to return home and ask her to help him out. And he decided on the latter. Though, part of him hoped the thoughts would go away naturally during the cold shower.

But once the water becomes unbearable and he’s still plagued with the same images from earlier, he grows even more frustrated. He subconsciously rolls his eyes and groans as he shuts the water off, forcing himself out of the shower. He doesn’t bother tying the robe, he just slides his arms through the sleeves and wears it wide open as he walks over to his bed and plops down onto it.

Welp. Plan B.

Some minutes later, his cock aches as he jerks himself off with nothing but thoughts of a certain blonde boy on his knees below him. As if it’s actually happening, his legs spread wider and his hips buck up into his hand. His whole body shivers as his thumb runs through his slit, some of the precum spreading around his tip and making his eyes roll into the back of his skull.

Chan feels like he has no control of his body as he throws his head back and sinks his teeth into his bottom lip. He finally allows himself to make a noise- a quiet whine escaping his throat as his stomach clenches, his orgasm right on its cusp.

Then, a sudden, loud knock on his bedroom door makes him jump out of his skin, and his head spins as his hand flies away from his cock, his orgasm already fading away. He wasn’t expecting any visitors and, as far as he was aware, the dorm was completely empty aside from him.

He wholeheartedly thought about ignoring it, hoping that the unknown person would just leave. But then, an all too familiar deep voice calls out to him from the other side of the door, making his arm hairs stick up. “Channie-hyung, are you there? You wanted to talk?”

His eye and his dick twitches and he stares at the door in awe, jaw dropped on the floor. Speak of the devil. He immediately covers himself with the robe, tying it half-assed and rushing to call out to the boy. “Y-Yeah! Come in.”

The door knob turns and Chris almost moans at the sight of Felix clad in a tank top and shorts. Even the slightest semblance of skin would send him spiraling but seeing so much of it, and seeing the outline of his entire torso through this tight shirt makes his dick twitch against his robe.

“Earth to Chris~ Hello?”

“Ah! Sorry, mate..” He clears his throat and tears his eyes away from the younger’s chest. “What’s up?”

Felix’s face starts to burn red and he smiles knowingly, but he bites his laugh back and repeats his sentence with a more teasing tone. “A little birdy said that you wanted to talk to me about something~”

Chris blinks a few times, staying quiet as he rummages through his foggy brain for an explanation. “Ah! Right- Uh…” He scratches the back of his neck and saunters over to take a seat directly next to him, shivering when Felix leans in and their thighs touch.

“Uh…” Chan rakes his mind as he tries to find the right words, but they don’t come. So he opts to simply explain himself and then hopefully find the right wording. “So. First things first- I don’t want to make you uncomfortable so if this crosses a line, we won't speak about it ever again.” Felix’s eyebrow twitches up in curiosity and he nods slowly.

“So… Han told me about the two of you.” Felix chuckles and mumbles out a quiet, teasing ‘Yeah?’ that makes Chris’ head spin. He has to bite the inside of his cheek to hold himself back from moaning as Felix’s voice meets his ears again. “Actually… Han and I spoke the night you three hooked up with our angel, so I know that he told you.”

Felix smiles at the wide eyes he gets in response, but he continues nonetheless. “It doesn’t make me uncomfortable. In fact-” He leans forward even more, placing a hand on Chris’ thigh and smirking to himself when the older man whimpers, barely audible. “In fact, I think it’s pretty hot.”

He leans forward all the way and lays his cheek on Chris’ shoulder, hand sneaking up his thigh more and more. His breath is hot on the older’s neck and Chris has to physically bite back yet another moan. He can't, however, bite back the strong twitch from the prominent bulge in his robe.

Felix smiles to himself and tests the limits further, ghosting his hand along Chan’s bulge before walking his fingers up his torso. “We’ve spoken about it before, you know?” Chan’s breath gets caught in his throat but he hums in acknowledgement, signaling Felix to continue. “He told me how big and pretty your dick was. And how submissive you made him feel~. ‘Said you were a real good Daddy.”

This time a moan breaks through and falls past Chris’ lips in a low tone, his legs twitching and arms shaking as he leans back onto them and gives Felix more space to work with. “Shit- Really?” It comes out desperate and deep, to the point where it riles up Felix in all the right ways.

“Mhm. Made me want a go.” Chan’s eyes snap open and he turns his head to meet the younger’s gaze. Their faces are inches apart and he can feel his composure fading away with each second. “Y-You- Yeah?”

Felix doesn’t bother holding back the breathy laugh that comes out. He just nods with his cheek curling up in a smirk. His hand is on Chris’ collarbone at this point and he traces small circles into the sweaty skin there.

The air is heavy as silence fills the room, but Felix doesn’t seem bothered by it. He has a small smile on his face as he continues to tease Chan’s neck with his finger tips. This goes on for a few more seconds as the eldest takes many deep breaths, doing everything in his power to calm his racing heart down. After he finally calms himself down, he finds it in himself to hype himself up.

“So… you want me as bad as I want you?” Felix’s ears start turning red as he nods slowly, lips still pulled up in a smile. Chris only bites his lip, racking his brain for the smallest amount of confidence so he can take control of the situation. The continued silence from the younger man gives him an idea and he finally makes a move, settling his hand on Felix’s cheek to start. His thumb strokes the freckles there and he can feel his confidence grow when the younger melts into his touch.

“Mmmm… And if Han told you about what happened that night, then I would have hoped he told you that I don’t like brats.” Felix’s smirk finally falters and he nods at the older, eyes glossy as they look up at him. Chris sighs and his hand trails down to Felix’s neck where he squeezes it experimentally. “Then… You should know better than to not use your words. Right?” Felix exhales deeply and nods again before catching himself.

“Yes… Sorry.”

Chris’ chest swells with the confidence that he needed and he squeezes his hand again, watching as Felix’s eyes flutter closed. “What is all this for, then? You’re trying to slut yourself out to me?” Felix shivers and doesn’t answer right away, making Chris squeeze his hand tighter and wait until their eyes meet again to loosen the hold. “Huh?”

“Yes, I-” He takes a deep breath, “I want you to play with me- like you did with Hannie.” The second the confirmation left his mouth, Chris wastes no time and shoves his lips against Felix’s. The hand around his neck stays there almost possessively as their tongues breach each other’s mouths. They moan into the kiss as Felix’s hands move to Chan’s biceps. He’s gotten so big recently, and Felix couldn't lie about how hot and bothered it got him.

The information would have to pried from their cold, dead hands, but neither Han nor Felix could deny that they both got off on just how muscular their members have become recently. Even when they would “have fun” with just each other, they tended to bring up one of their members and their sexy bodies.

It’s not until their lungs burn that they pull away from each other. But even then, Chris is already so pent up from weeks of fantasizing, and that mixed with his orgasm getting denied just minutes prior leads to needy impatience. So he, again, wastes no time. He pushes Felix onto the bed by his shoulder and crawls on top of him, sinking his hands and his knees into his mattress as he hovers over him.

His knee pushes up against Felix’s cock through his shorts and his thick lips latch onto Felix’s neck, making the boy moan louder than he expected himself to. He goes to react and cover his mouth with the back of his hand, but Chris reacts faster. He reaches up to capture both of Felix’s small wrists in one of his hands and pins them above his head.

“What happened to wanting to play like Hannie? You know, he was really well behaved then.” Felix whines at first at the gruffness in Chan’s voice, but eventually laughs through it once he realizes what he said. “Mmm… I hate to be the one to tell you, but Hannie and I aren’t exactly well behaved in bed. Even to each other. You just got lucky.”

Chan’s hands falter and Felix laughs out loud when he hears the quiet “More brats? Are you fucking kidding me…” Chris sighs loudly and rubs circles into Felix’s hip as can already feel the future headaches coming on. But, obviously, now is not the time for that. Especially not when he has one of said brats at his disposal, with their consent to play.

“You’re really gonna make me fight for this? Don’t even wanna try being my good boy?” Felix’s eyes shimmer at the pet name and he quickly finds himself in a dilemma. “You’ve been on my mind all fucking week. If you seriously can’t find it in you to be good, I’m not going to hold back when I fuck you like a whore.” Felix shivers and his leg kicks up as Chan’s knee pushes against him harder.

Their lips lock and Chris’ hands move to trail up and down his body, from ghosting over his chest to sliding up under his shirt just to rake his dull nails down Felix’s stomach. Then they drop lower and tug Felix’s shorts down just enough so that his V-line is on display. As he tugs the shorts down, he kisses down Felix’s throat, making a pit stop there to leave dark hickeys into his skin.

Felix’s hips buck up and Chris indulges him by running his hands on his hips, squeezing them in appreciation before swinging around to knead his ass, spreading him through his shorts just to push them back together.

“Pretty thing. You really gonna let me play with you?” Felix nods eagerly and whimpers when Chris yanks his shirt over his head and then kisses down his chest.

“H-Hyung..” Chris only smiles in response. He bites his lip and looks Felix up and down once more, ghosting his hands over the younger boy’s hip bone.

“Hmmm?”

“Please take them off! I need you so bad.” Chris isn’t one to tolerate being bossed around, but he did ask nicely with a cute little comment at the end, so he lets it slide this time. He tugs Felix’s shorts down to his ankles as he nibbles on his hip. When he pulls away, his eyes widen at the sight of Felix being completely bare now- his pretty cock twitching just inches from his face.

“Felix… Where is your underwear, baby.” Felix’s face flushes and he smiles sideways.

“We played a little before you got home. Hyunjin and I made her squirt like two hours ago.” Chan’s eyebrow cocks and he slowly nods with a smirk.

“Good job…” Chris mutters under his breath. He kisses Felix’s waist and squeezes his hips, humming against his skin as he appreciates the younger’s smaller form. “Can’t wait to fuck this pretty little ass.~”

Chris reaches into his nightstand and pulls out a small bottle of lube, spurting some onto his fingers before poking at Felix’s puckering hole. He slides a finger in all too easily, and for a moment the thought of somebody other than Han getting Felix’s ass before him. He frowns at the thought, jealousy filling his veins, and he shoves that finger in to the knuckle suddenly, almost as a punishment for Felix.

The younger moans high-pitched and keens, his back arching off the bed. Chris smiles and nibbles at Felix’s stomach, leaving hickies all along his v-line. Felix already feels so full by the time Chris adds his second finger, then even more when a third gets added- stretching Felix out more than his small fingers ever had. Or Han’s finger’s for that matter.

He revels in the stretch for some time, rolling his hips back and forth onto the knobby fingers that dig into his walls. As he’s doing this, Chris sneaks his other hand from palming his cock through his robe in favor of wrapping around Felix’s base, squeezing it softly before starting to stroke him slowly.

“Was it just Han?” He gives Felix time to answer, understanding that it can be overwhelming, but when the boy stays quiet he curls his fingers roughly, digging perfectly into Felix’s prostate and making him cry out, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“I asked you a question, Lix.” Chan’s fingers speed up as his other hand focuses on tight, long strokes, causing Felix’s eyes to flutter shut as he moans and clenches around the fingers inside of him.

“Y-Yes just him! I swear! I haven’t- ah! I haven’t talked to any of the others about it yet.” Chan’s eyebrows perk up and he smirks, “‘Yet’?” He laughs and pulls his fingers out, manhandling the younger boy to flip over and lay on his stomach instead.

He’s in the process of sliding his robe off when Felix starts to wiggle around too much for Chan’s liking, so he tsks and sends his palm onto the flesh of Felix’s ass. The younger yelps and halts his movements, allowing Chris to take hold of his wrists and pin them to his lower back.

Chris whistles and massages the reddening flesh of Felix’s ass, admiring just how red it got from one small spank. His tongue poked the side of lip as he grew distracted with thoughts of making them even more red, but was brought back down to earth by the whines coming from below him.

He shushes Felix and tightens the grip on his wrists. Then he moves his hand down to pump himself a few times, even putting a show onto circle his tip around Felix’s rim, much to the younger’s dismay.

“M-Man… Chris hurry the hell u-” He’s interrupted by a yelp caused by the much harsher slap to the same ass cheek as before. Chris huffs and his hand comes down on Felix’s other ass cheek, making the boy twitch with a whimper.

“Lose the ‘tude.” Chris finally pushes in, moving his hands to hold onto Felix’s hip in order to lift his ass up higher, making him rest on his knees instead of being flat on his stomach. Once he’s nearly bottomed out all the way, he gives Felix some time to get used to the feeling of being full and slithers that same hand down his stomach so he can wrap his hand around Felix’s dick.

“Oh my g-od… ‘So big-” His veiny hand pumps slowly, making the younger moan and clench harder around him, and making himself groan in response. “H-Hyung.. Please move. I-I can’t-” Chris hushes him, placing a kiss on his shoulder as he starts to move slowly. Felix shakes and arches his back, he’s still sensitive from the orgasm he had earlier and he can’t help but clench even harder at feeling so much fuller than he’s used to.

“F-Fuck.. You’re so tight Lix. You gotta relax, baby.”

Felix shivers and tightens his hands in the sheets as Chris squeezes his hips and thrusts his hips upwards experimentally. When Felix moans and arches his back, Chris moves to rest on his forearms near the younger boy’s head, nails digging into the sheets as his hips gradually grow rougher and rougher. He moves cautiously though, eyes locked onto Felix’s as the younger shakes beneath him.

Every time Chris bottoms out, Felix’s voice cracks in a moan. His small hands release the sheets in favor of digging his nails into Chris’ forearm. “Channie!” Chan responds by slamming his hips against Felix’s, bottoming out in one fell swoop. “Use your words, baby. Be a big boy and tell me what you want.”

“I need it faster Hyung- Please-” Chris fixes his posture and uses the grip on Felix’s hips to pull him backward. Then he slams his hips forward and pulls Felix back onto him at the same time, making the man below him silently scream. He repeats this action, harshly fucking into Felix and pulling him back onto him with each thrust.

Felix is drooling onto the sheets at this point, and Chris can feel his sanity slipping from him as he relishes in the feeling of Felix’s heat around his cock. Chris’ jaw drops and he breathes heavily as Felix’s ass milks him dry, his own cock twitching as it drips cum onto Chris’ sheets.

They stay there for a moment, catching their breaths and calming down from their orgasms. Chris is the first to recover, pulling out of Felix slowly as if to tease him further. Felix shivers and swats his hand back at Chris with a whine. The older man laughs and holds him still until he’s finally out all the way, then his hands on Felix’s hips move to his ass cheeks, spreading him open and allowing him to watch his cum drip out of Felix’s gaping hole.

Felix’s head is still spinning, so he can’t bring himself to complain at Chris’ heavy gaze. He barely notices when he’s pulled to his feet, the only thing ground him being Chris’ thick lips pushing against his. It’s a short, sweet kiss. Just one that Chris used to make sure Felix was ok.

Once he’s sure, he leads Felix to his bathroom and digs in the cabinets for a washcloth to clean the younger man with. When he finds one and turns back around, his cock twitches back to life at the sight of Felix studying the hickeys and little red marks- soon to be bruises- on his hips. With a smile on his face.

Chris feels his cock twitch at the sight and he finds himself slowly stalking towards the bathroom mirror where he settles himself behind Felix, his arms wrapping around the younger's waist. Felix’s smile doesn’t falter as they make eye contact and Chris acts before he thinks, grinding his hips against Felix’s ass as his lips latch onto the boy’s shoulder.

Felix’s eyes widen and he laughs in disbelief, “You’re hard again??” Chris giggles against his skin and bites down, angling his hips to push his cock between Felix’s ass cheeks. “I wasn’t lying when I said you’ve been on my mind all week. ‘Been dreaming about fucking your brains out.”

One of Felix’s eyebrows cocks up and he bites his lips to hide his smirk, his inner brat coming back out now that he can think straight. “Who said you fucked my brains out? Last I checked I can still think properly.” Chris’ eyes roll in faux annoyance and he closes his eyes for a second, opening them back up with a fire in them as he pulls away from the new hickey he just left.

“Really?”

Felix smiles and reaches out to turn on the water for the washcloth, not expecting much more out of Chris right now considering he just came an insane amount inside of him- the cum still dripping down his thighs as they speak.

What he didn’t account for was how pent up Chris was. He didn’t know how bad his cock has ached the last few weeks for him, or how distracted and frustrated he’s been at work- unable to focus on anything but the thoughts of Felix below him at his mercy.

Chris doesn’t have much patience at this point, and even less self control, so it’s no surprise to himself when he angles Felix forward just slightly and slides a hand between them to slide his tip into the younger boy’s hole. It surprises Felix though, and his eyes roll into the back of his head as Chris sinks in all the way, his balls hitting his ass in the process

“W-Wait- Hyung-?” Felix’s fingers dig into the counter as Chris starts moving right off the bat. He’s had multiple orgasms in the last few hours and he can feel himself slipping into some sort of subspace as Chris’ hands sneak a tight grip into his hair.

“Hm. For somebody who’s ‘not fucking your brains out,’ you sure look like a brainless slut on my cock.” Felix moans loudly at Chris’ mean words, even more so at how unbothered he sounds, and his eyes snap open. His eyes quickly fall to the mirror in front of him and he shivers at the reminder of the hickeys littering his neck, feeling like he’s been claimed of sorts.

Chris’ eyes meet his in the mirror and he shakes aggressively when Chris thrusts harshly, his hand wrapping around Felix’s base at the same time. His hands move fast and Felix cries out as his orgasm builds insanely fast out of nowhere, the stinging feeling on his head only egging him on further. His body doesn’t give him anytime to warn Chris as he cums suddenly, his cock spurting onto the counter and some onto Chris’ hand.

He can see the smirk grow on Chris face, but his overstimulated body could care less about that, only focused on the squeeze around his cock. His own hand bolts down to Chris’ and he moans at the difference in the size of them. He wraps his hand around Chris’ wrist instead and tries to pull him away, only for Chris to squeeze him tighter and growl into his ear.

“Wait...” Felix shakes his head as tears prick his eyes. Chris would normally stop himself and allow the other person some time to breathe, but he feels this is a sufficient punishment for Felix trying to brat out- just for him to fail anyway.

The hand in his hair moves in favor of pinching his nipples and Felix’s eyes roll shut at the extra attention on his body. His legs shake almost nonstop and he can barely hold himself up. But despite all the overstimulation, his hips still push back against Chris’, making the older man huff out a laugh.

Soon enough Chris’s hand releases Felix’s cock, allowing him to breathe for a moment, and only a moment, because that hand digs into the muscles on Felix’s thigh and lifts it up. He angles his leg to rest his knee on the counter, allowing Chris to thrust even deeper now.

“Chris… I’m- shit!” His head drops and his arms shake, struggling to hold himself up. The new depth mixed with the sensitivity of his entire body makes Felix clench constantly around Chris.

“Gonna cum again, angel? ‘S Channie gonna make you cum again?” His voice wavers as he talks, his own orgasm dangerously close.

Felix’s chest heaves as he cums and Chris follows, a string of curses leaving his lips as he pushes them against Felix’s jawline. As he continues fucking into Felix to ride out his orgasm, Felix cums again, this time with a desperate cry that makes his voice crack and the tears in his eyes finally fall. Chris pulls out suddenly and holds Felix tightly against his chest as he jerks the younger off, making him convulse in his hold.

He whimpers and digs his nails into any part of Chris that he can reach, leaving red marks in his hand’s wake. He only calms down once Chris releases him fully, causing him to sob quietly at the overstimulation.

“You okay?” Felix nods slowly and leans back, putting all his weight on Chris as he feels his mind hovering elsewhere. Chris recognizes the general signs of subspace all too easily, having already experienced it multiple times with their girlfriend, and he chuckles lowly. “Shower time and then we’ll cuddle to sleep.”

He leaves no room for disagreements, and even if Felix could talk, he wouldn’t bother. So he simply holds onto Chris tightly as the older man washes his body off, being cautious when cleaning below his belly button. They only separate for a minute or so, so that Chris could wash himself off again, before they’re stepping out of the shower.

Chris manages to dress Felix then himself in a few minutes, laughing to himself when Felix wobbles over to the bed and throws himself onto it. Felix whines loudly when Chris doesn’t join him right away, and then again when he realizes Chris is trying to speed clean the mess they left.

“I’m coming, I’m coming~” He giggles and hurriedly tosses their clothes into a combined pile out of the way before sliding under the sheets. “Anything hurt?” Chris’s fingers soothe Felix’s scalp and the younger of the two’s head bobs as he feels sleep pulling him. “Uh-uh” He doesn’t bother shaking his head and just melts into the warm embrace.

“Sleepy…”

“Go to sleep, Lixie. I’m not going anywhere, pinky promise.”

The morning after is colder than he expected. Chris wakes up to an empty bed, and the revelation makes his heart feel emptier than ever. He lifts his head briefly to scan the room, and then closes his eyes in relief when he sees Felix’s clothes still in a pile with his own clothes from last night’s events. Then, the sound of familiar laughter coming from elsewhere in the apartment immediately comforts him.

“Morning sleepyhead. Care to explain why Felix came out of your room last night, in clothes that are deeeefinitely not his?” The shit eating smile on their girlfriend's face makes his face flush, even more so when he realized that Felix kept quiet in order to let him decide what to tell them. ‘Not well behaved’ my ass. Just gotta fuck the brat out of you.

He clears his throat to hide a laugh and shakes his head. “Straight to the point. Can’t even let me have my morning coffee before I get interrogated?” She rolls her eyes at him but smiles and doesn’t press further. “I expect details later!” She places a kiss on his cheek and then runs off to the living room to join Hyunjin in watching some artsy YouTube video, allowing Chris and Felix to have some space to talk.

“Good morning, Lix.” He leans over the younger man and husks out into his ear teasingly, caging him in with his arms planted on either side of the counter. “Slept well?”

“Like a fucking baby…” Felix’s neck flushes and they both giggle quietly. “Good morning, though. Sorry I left you alone in bed, I heard them out here and got ‘FOMO.’”

Chris smiles and shakes his head, “It’s ok, I was a bit sad but I guess it’s best to not lay in bed all morning.” Chris makes his coffee immediately after he separates from Felix, using the coffee they had made before he woke up to do so. He notices Felix doesn’t leave him after that. Had he not known the boy for the last decade almost, he would have been confused as to why. But the nervous picking at his fingernails gives him away to his leader all too easily.

“Sit with me? What’s on your mind, Lix?”

He makes a face of surprise before smiling and shaking his head knowingly. “Might sound dumb, but I just wanna know- Like… So what now?” His voice drops almost to a whisper as he finds the confidence to ask such a heavy question, and he’s happy when he does when Chris smiles sweetly and tilts his head.

“Now… You’re mine and I’m yours.” Felix smiles and bites his lips, playing around with his fingers in excitement.

“Mhm… What does this mean for everybody else then?”

“Whatever you want it to mean. Baby girl and Han will still love you the same as before- if anything the three of you might unite against me into some sort of fucking brat-brigade.” He rolls his eyes and takes another sip of his coffee, smiling into the cup when Felix bursts out laughing.

“Oh… And since we’re on the topic of ‘everybody else’…” Chris clears his throat and cracks his neck to shake the bits of shyness he feels. “Last night when you said you hadn’t talked to any of the others ‘yet’… Is that something you want?”

Felix’s face flushes and he laughs nervously. “Yeah… I think so. I’m not sure who would want me like that, but I’d be open to all of them to be honest. I think Hannie feels the same, but I think we both know he has a favorite he would want the most.” Both men laugh and Chris scoots his chair closer to Felix.

Once he’s close enough, he slugs his arm around Felix’s shoulders and pulls the younger into him. “Let me help you then, yeah? Make your life a little easier.” Felix’s eyebrows widen and he snaps his head up to see a soft smile on Chan’s face followed by those thick lips pushing against his temple. “Whatever my babies want, my babies get.”

“...Even if that means conquering all of our friends in bed.”

Taglist: (red=can't be tagged)

@valkyriexo @lunearta @jabmastersupriseee @rylea08

@yaorzu-blog @amararosesblog @jiminssluttyminx @clemissleepy

@miss-daisy04 @kittyxnoa @dwaekkiiracha @bubblerizz

@mariteez @fun-fanfics @honeyybbuubblleess @kittycatkrissa

@nicora04 @chuuyaobsessed @moonlightndaydreams

@maisyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy @paborachaslvt

@aeri-skzver

#sian’s writing #skz mxm #mxm #chanlix smut #chanlix #bang chan smut #lee felix smut #felix smut

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defectiveporcelaindoll · 5 months ago

Text

Chapter II : Guilty as Sin

“If long-suffering propriety is what the want from me—

They don’t know how you’ve haunted me so stunningly.”

series masterlist Chapter I

pairing: post prison/ cm:evolution Spencer Reid x BAU AFAB!Reader (I like to think this is where Spencer is during the current seasons.)

summary: an unsub with a taste for couples and power imbalances leads Doctor Spencer Reid not only back into the classroom but down the hypothetical aisle with the BAU's newest Probie for an undercover assignment that may change his life.

genre: slow-burn romance, hurt/comfort, fluffy angsty

cw: age gap (Spencer is in his 40s, reader is 24), a couple y/n's (I'm sorry, I know I'm sick of it too.), fake marriage, hurt/comfort, harsh words and gossip about reader and Spence; info-dumping Spencer; pet names (angel) possibly eventual smut in later parts, female reader she/her pronouns, bad writing! lemme know if I missed anything and as always, lemme know what you think!

note: still third person pov, but this one is more from the readers perspective. Thinking maybe I’ll go back and forth between chapters if you see a quote in purple it’s readers perspective, if the quote is green it’ll be Spencer’s 🩵

wordcount: 2.1k

Of course, Penelope did not disappoint, popping a tiny confetti popper at the newlyweds as they made their way out of the conference room and into the bullpen, which felt like an awkward makeshift reception. The rest of the team offered playful congratulations, with Alvez going so far as to wolf-whistle and point out the way the couple's linked hands which in turn earned him a swift knock on the back of the head courtesy of Tara. It felt safe and joyous. Y/N tried to smile, hesitantly dropping Spencer’s hand as she collected her things, the anxiety of being away from these people, from her home and normal life, just starting to settle into her chest.

The flight to Seattle was long. Though Y/N had traveled by jet multiple times, it had never felt so massive as she and Spencer sat at the small table combing through the case file in comfortable silence. So far, three couples had been found dead in their quiet Seattle homes. Of the couples, two of the men had been professors at different colleges in the area while the third was the head of a non-profit organization. The women, were all nearly twenty years young and had worked for their husbands in some way before being married. At each crime scene, the unsub left a calling card of sorts. A feather in the hands of the woman and a beautifully written poetic line alluding to the dangers of an “unruly” woman in the hand of the man.

“These cards are beautiful,” Y/N mused, turning the evidence bag with the delicate stationery over in her hands. “Each line is poetic in nature but not quite right. See, ‘Wise men once said Wild winds are death to the candle’? And these feathers?”

“I don’t think any of these are actual published poems, more like plays at various poets' works. But the feather, by the look of it, it looks like it’s possibly from an albatross. They’re seabirds with wingspans that can reach up to nearly ten feet. There are several poems regarding that particular bird. The first one that comes to mind is Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s ‘The Rime of Ancient Mariner,’ in which an albatross is wrongfully shot down because a mariner thought it to be a bad omen. In older mythologies, the albatross was seen as good luck, bringing wind to sailors. In the poem, the mariner is forced to wear the lifeless albatross around his neck in place of the traditional cross.” There’s an excitement in Spencer that y/n hasn’t seen before, the way his eyes light up and his hand flail almost wildly. It’s endearing— cute she would almost say.

“It’s not a super common metaphor, but the albatross is also often used in association with guilt or shame,” Spencer continued, sitting back in his chair, eyes looking anywhere but at the woman in front of him. “Some authors use it to symbolize a curse…sorry.” He cleared his throat, shaking his head, his curls hanging gently around his face as he dropped his gaze back down to the file on the table.

“No-no, don’t apologize. That was all incredibly fascinating. I knew you are wildly academic, but why exactly do you know all of that about some random bird I’ve never even heard of?” Y/N's tone wasn’t teasing or harsh; it was full of genuine sincerity and curiosity, which took Spencer completely by surprise.

“My mentor… when I started at the BAU, he had a thing with birds,” Spencer chuckled, offering a small shrug as his gaze came back to meet hers. “I guess I just really wanted to impress him.” The jet fell back into a comfortable silence, except for the rustling papers, for another hour until Y/N decided she’d had enough and retreated to the small couch to rest her eyes for a bit.

The drive from the airport to the university was quick. The house they’d been assigned was cute, small, quaint, but certainly big enough for a professor and their spouse to be comfortable. There was an office for Spencer, a decently sized kitchen, and a living room that opened up to a sweet little patio. Truly, there should’ve been no complaints. As Y/N entered the bedroom, she frowned, her go-bag in hand as she shuffled around the nicely sized room, sizing up the singular king-sized bed. A knock at the bedroom door pulled her from her thoughts.

Spencer cleared his throat, his eyes falling between the bed and the woman in front of him before nodding. “Don’t worry, you can take the master if you’d like. The office has a pullout, and I really don’t mind.”

“That’s ridiculous. You can sleep here—we can...” her voice going up an octave as she tried and failed to play it cool. “It’s not a big deal, Spencer. We’re both adults.” She shrugged, tossing her bag onto the bed and turning to sit at its foot, her arms crossed tightly against her chest. Spencer read her like a book, seeing the young woman in front of him in the midst of a battle with herself, her pride and anxiety both fighting for control, though he knew she’d likely never admit that.

“Really, I’m okay. Thank you, though. I’ll be in my office if you need me.” He gave her a tight-lipped smile and a little wave before retreating down the hall.

For the next week or so, the duo did their best to make the space feel like a home. What it lacked in size, it surely made up for it in atmosphere. For a state that had a nasty rap for rain and gloom, it was surprisingly peaceful. There hadn’t been any rain yet, and the summer sun stayed up well into the night. There were moments where Y/N caught herself thinking that had it not been for work, this would be a really nice life.

When the semester started, they fell into a comfortable routine. During the day, Y/N carried the full course load of a grad student, while Spencer spent most of his time tucked away in his on-campus office, prepping lectures and reviewing assignments. At night, the real work would begin as they’d sit at their quaint little dining table with a pot of coffee or take-out containers and go over any developments in the case that the team had found back in DC. In the two weeks they’d been in Seattle, the body count thankfully hadn’t gone up.

As the weeks went on, the rumblings of the new “hot” behavioral psychology professor spread like wildfire. Those rumors were quickly followed by the fact that he was not only married, but his wife was a student. It didn't take long for people to begin connecting the dots. With every professor calling out her name and immediately sizing her up, the other students caught on fast. Of course, after that, y/n became hyper aware the way almost everyone looked at her and the whispers from professors and students alike that she was “the girl,” the reason Doctor Reid had to move out west. She’d expected it from the students; it was incredible gossip that she herself would’ve eaten up back in her first round of university. What she hadn’t expected were the comments made by her partner's new colleagues, whispers usually a little too loud as she’d make her way into a room.

“She really should be ashamed of herself. You know, I heard he only married her to minimize the scandal. I bet he’s miserable.”

On a normal day, the comment would’ve rolled right off her back, she’d file it away with the rest of the case's details. Maybe she was overtired just exhausted from the workload of simultaneously playing a grad student and an FBI agent, but today, she let the words seep beneath her skin, poisoning her mind. She hadn’t stayed for the class, instead turning on her heels, tears threatening to roll down her cheeks as she made her way back to the house. She felt absolutely ridiculous, letting her emotions consume her this way. The words weren’t true, nothing about her current life or situation was true, so why did it hurt so much hearing that people thought Spencer was miserable beside her?

Am I allowed to cry?

When she entered the house, she crumbled against the door, the tears freely flowing as she allowed herself to fall apart in the privacy of the home that was supposed to be empty.

“Y/N?” Spencer called, his footsteps echoing against the hardwood floors as he made his way down the hall. “What’re you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in class?” He froze at the end of the hall, taking in the crumpled form of his pseudo-wife. “W-what happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” The words came rushing out as he sunk to his knees in front of her, his hands hesitantly reaching out to cup her cheeks, his thumb trying to brush the tears away as quickly as they fell.

“I-I’m fine... You-you weren’t supposed to see this,” she sniffed, trying to pull away, to hide her face in her sweater, but Spencer wouldn’t let that happen. His hand staying planted firmly on her cheek, keeping her in place. “You’re supposed to be in your office...” she said, practically whimpering as another round of tears betrayed her.

“I came home to grab a book and a bite to eat... angel, what’s going on?”

“It’s silly—no, it’s stupid, and I shouldn’t even care, and none of this is real, and I—I...” She caught herself, her breaths coming short and quick, but Spencer didn’t move. He sat, patiently waiting for her to continue. “I know that it’s a story, that I am not really your wife, that you were never really my professor, and that six months ago you didn’t even know who I was.” Finally, she took a deep breath, her hand slowly taking his from her cheek and holding it in both of hers in her lap. “But it’s so awful, Spence... I’m just so tired of hearing how I’ve ruined your life, that I’m using you, that...” The last words caught in her throat as another silent sob racked through her body. “...that you’re miserable.”

“Hey, hey, hey. Do I look miserable? No, I don’t think I do and if I do, I sincerely apologize, I think it just may be my resting face.” his voice dripped the kind of sincerity that made Y/N’s heart flutter, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lip. “You’ve got a good face Spencer, not too miserable…”

Spencer chuckled, taking the compliment with a little nod, as he offered her hand a small squeeze. “I’m sorry, you’re going through this seemingly alone, and if it would make you feel any better I can have a conversation with the other professors… and though I’ve never been in your exact position, I do remember what it was like to constantly be torn down by everyone around you. You’re allowed to cry, angel, allowed to feel all of the things you’re currently feeling. And while I might only be your temporary husband, I did sign that paper, and I do promise to take care of you and make you smile and protect you from every awful thing I can’t control outside that door. Okay?”

She nodded, her gaze falling to their joined hands in her lap as the last of her tears stained her now rosy cheeks.

“I’m going to need a verbal response, angel.” His tone shifted; it wasn’t quite as delicate or gentle as his previous vows had been, but it was just stern enough to draw her gaze back up to his.

Without ever touching his skin, how can I be guilty as sin?

“Y-yes. Okay.” With another nod, she took her hand from his, dragging it down her dampened cheeks. “I’m sorry about all this.” She offered him a small smile and a shrug. “I swear I’m not usually like this—”

“Stop it. There is nothing to be sorry about.” He rose to his feet, his hand immediately reaching out to help his partner up. “Now come on, I’ve got classes to cancel, and we’ve gotta get you cleaned up. I think we deserve to take the rest of the day off.”

“Doctor Spencer Reid, are you—are you proposing we play hooky this afternoon?” Y/N clutched her metaphorical pearls, mock shock consuming her features. Spencer rolled his eyes, a genuine chuckle passing his lips as he shook his head.

“What can I say, we’ve been here—what, going on three weeks? I think we deserve to see the sights. And besides, how else am I gonna show the world just how miserable I am by your side?” He teased, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to the side of her head. “Now come on, seriously, up, moving. Let’s go, I’m taking you out.”

“If it’s make-believe, why does it feel like a vow we’ll both uphold somehow?”

Chapter III: So High School

taglist: @olives-and-sunshine @iniyalovesall @suzysface @spencereidbasis @tatilolz @herbookgarden @guiltyyassin

#mgg #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds evolution #criminal minds posting #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff

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melancholy-of-nadia · 24 days ago

Text

heart on the window #1 (m) | ksj

title: heart on the window (m) pairing: ksj x reader(f) rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; roommates au / streamer/cam boy au / office worker au, childhood rivals to awkward roommates to lovers? au summary: You lost your job, got cheated on by your boyfriend, and had to give up your home—all in the span of a few weeks. Life hasn’t been kind lately, and just when it feels like you’ve hit rock bottom, your mom suggests an unexpected solution: move in with Seokjin, her friend’s son, who you vaguely remember as your annoying childhood rival. You haven't talked to him in like 15 YEARS. But begrudgingly, you agree, hoping for this to be a temporary fix, only to find yourself in a more complicated situation when you discover Seokjin has some dirty little secrets. As you attempt to rebuild your life under his roof, tensions rise, boundaries blur, and you’re forced to confront not only your messy circumstances but also your growing fascination with the man you thought you once knew. note: i actually didn't plan to drop something so soon post me starting my new job, but i had this mostly done but had to edit it up a bit. i've been debating to write a roommate au but couldn't decide which member, until i read @daegudrama's moon over flowers fic where jin is a "content creator" ;) also that jin dating simulator game that released yesterday was a perfect combo to add this with warnings: mild language, roommate! seokjin, stressed out reader, fluff, emotional vulnerability, jin being jin, jin's college frat buddy! namjoon cameo, drinking, implied sexual fantasizing, implied adult content live streaming (camwork), very descriptive solo mast*rbation, voyeurism, dirty talk drop date: November 28th, 2024, 9:00pm pst word count: 7.9k crossposted on ao3 here -> chapter 2

–

This is the state of affairs of your life at the moment. 1. Your boyfriend cheated on you. 2. You lost your job (not your fault) 3. Andddd now you have nowhere to live.

Well… it’s not that you don’t have a place to live, but you don’t want to crawl back to your parents' home after making a very big declaration when you were 18 that you would not be coming back to live there.

Now in your mid 20s (that are slowly creeping into your late 20s), you regret being that loud mouth girl that didn’t understand a damn thing at that age.

You should’ve been smarter about your decisions, starting with your taste in men. You should’ve listened to your friends warnings about Mingi.

You’re on the phone listening to your mom scolding you over your stupidity and lack of preparedness. You roll your eyes as you continue packing your items into boxes. She suggests you coming home, just as you figured she’d do, but you tell her that you feel bad about coming back at your big old age. “Then why don’t you live with Sunghee’s son?”

Who the fuck is Sunghee? “Who?”

“You don’t remember? The mother of the Korean boy you went to school with in elementary school?” You have no clue who she’s talking about. This is something that happened like 15 to 20 years ago. You can’t believe she remembers something so obscure. “I still don’t have a clue.”

“Agh, i’ll go search through some of your old elementary school photos and send you the photo of him later.” You hear some shuffling on her end, probably guessing she decided to get up and go look at your old photographs in the living room shelves.” But I recently saw his mom at a coffee shop! And she told me her son was living in the same city as you and was looking for a roommate. I mentioned that you were in some situation where you might need to move soon and she gave me her and her son’s contact info.”

“I see.”

“Oh wait, hold on, I found it.”

You hear her snap a photo and within a few seconds, you see the notification on your phone peep behind the call. You click on it and when you open the message, the memories of long ago have finally clicked.

“SEOKJIN?! That weird Korean kid?!”

“Weird kid?! You were friends with him, weren’t you?”

You scoff, “Barely, I mean, he and I were always at each other's necks because he always tried to one-up me in any way that he could.” Recalling those annoying memories from that era was making you get upset all over again. If it wasn’t him completing the times table tests at a faster speed than you, it was him showing off the Pokemon cards that you didn’t have. If it wasn’t that, it was him showing off his level and ranking in Maple Story. That damn nerd.

It’s been years, but the thought of it still urks you.

She sighs, “Well, if you’re willing to look past that at your big old age, this is probably the best option you have.”

Could you do that? Maybe. But knowing how he was back then, he’s probably grown to become some loser virgin shut-in with no life. Maybe he’s a tech bro, which would make this even worse now.

“I think about it, but this is probably the last resort option I’d even consider––”

Your mom cuts you off with a sharp sigh. "Fine, suit yourself. But you don’t have many options, do you? Just call him. He might have changed!"

You don’t answer her right away because the idea of calling Seokjin still doesn’t sit well with you. You’re stubborn, yes, but the universe has also served you a big slice of humble pie lately. It’s probably time to stop holding on to petty grudges from a childhood you barely even remember.

"Okay, okay, I’ll think about it," you mumble reluctantly.

The call ends after a few more half-hearted lectures from your mom about responsibility, and you toss your phone onto the bed, glaring at the contact info she forwarded. You can’t help but click on Seokjin’s number. There’s a photo of him attached to the contact, and for a moment, you don’t recognize him at all.

He’s…hot.

You blink. This cannot be the same kid you argued with over best MapleStory boss (Seokjin opting for Pink Bean, while you said Guardian Angel Slime). The Seokjin in this picture has flawless skin, sharp cheekbones, and full lips curled in a smirk that screams confidence. His hair is styled perfectly, and his outfit—a crisp button-up and a fitted blazer—makes him look like he just stepped out of a magazine.

"No way," you mutter under your breath.

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you find yourself typing his name into Instagram. It doesn’t take long to find his profile because he has mutual followers and a blue checkmark.

Huh? Why a blue checkmark?

…he has 200,000 followers?

Scrolling through his posts, you see screenshots of video games, clips of intense gameplay, and the occasional selfie with gaming equipment in the background. His captions are filled with gaming slang and memes you barely understand, but the sheer number of likes and comments on every post is undeniable.

One clip catches your eye—a short highlight from a League of Legends game where he pulls off an impressive play, and the comments are flooded with people hyping him up. “JinGod strikes again,” one comment reads. Another says, “Of course he’s the best mid-laner NA. Who else?”

Curious, you dive deeper and discover he has a Twitch account.

Oh! So he’s a streamer?!

Not just any streamer, either—he’s big enough to have sponsors and a massive following. His Twitch bio is straightforward:

Seokjin | Variety Streamer | Big laughs, bigger Ws | 1 PM KST

His stream schedule includes games like Elden Ring, Valorant, League of Legends, and even Getting Over It. There’s a link to his YouTube channel with clips of him absolutely demolishing opponents, mixed with funny moments of him raging at frustrating games.

You stare at your phone, trying to reconcile this version of Seokjin with the kid you used to fight over the last Uncrustables sandwich at lunch. This Seokjin is smooth, funny, and clearly thriving in a world you know nothing about. The comment section on his posts doesn’t help—it’s filled with people thirsting over his voice and his “handsome gamer vibes.”

“Great,” you mutter. “He grew up to be a famous nerd.”

You hate to admit it, but you’re impressed. And irritated.

Of course, Seokjin grew up to be that guy.

You put your phone down and stare at the pile of boxes scattered across your room. It’s not like you have a ton of other options, and if you’re being honest with yourself, the idea of moving in with Seokjin suddenly feels a lot less horrifying. Maybe he’s not the same insufferable kid you remember.

Or maybe he is, and this will be your worst nightmare.

Before you can chicken out, you force yourself to pick up your phone and dial the number your mom sent you. It rings twice before a deep, smooth voice answers.

“Hello?”

“Uh, hi. Is this…Seokjin Kim?” you ask awkwardly, suddenly hyper-aware of how unprepared you are for this conversation.

“Yes, who’s this?”

“It’s, um, [Y/N]. You probably don’t remember me, but—”

“[Y/N]?” he interrupts, and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice. “The same [Y/N] who used to cry every time I beat her at anything in elementary school? Of course I remember.”

There it is! The Seokjin you cared about so deeply.

“I did not cry!” You roll your eyes, grip on the phone tightening.

He laughs, a low, rich sound that’s somehow both infuriating and…nice. “Sure, you didn’t. So, what’s up? Why are you calling me after, what, fifteen…twenty years? Where did you even get my num–”

You take a deep breath, already regretting this.

“My mom said your mom said you’re looking for a roommate.”

There’s a pause, and then he says, “...I am. Why?"

"I need a place..."

There’s a long pause, and for a moment, you think he’s going to hang up.

“Ah, well why do you need a roommate?” he asks finally, his tone careful, almost guarded. “I thought someone like you would have, I don’t know, a penthouse or something by now with the amazing corporate job my mom told me you have.”

Now this is going to suck to explain to him that whatever decent apartment you had earning a 72,000 salary at your old job is… nonexistent.

You blink at the assumption and quickly fumble for a response. “Haha, not quite. Most places are too expensive in this economy and I’m, uh, downsizing.”

“Downsizing?” he repeats, skepticism dripping from the word. “Why?”

“Because I want to focus on… minimalism.”

There’s silence on the other end, and you can practically hear him trying to decide whether to believe you.

Oh this was a terrible decision to make. Now he must think you’re a fool!

You glance around your room at the boxes piled with all the clutter you couldn’t bring yourself to throw away and wince. Minimalism is definitely not your thing.

“Minimalism,” he echoes, his tone still doubtful. “Right. Well, I do have an extra room, but I’m not sure you’ll like it here.”

Your grip tightens on the phone. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Let’s just say I stay up late…,” he replies vaguely.

He must be referring to his streaming career that he isn’t telling you about right now. Wonder if he’s embarrassed by it.

“And I don’t really have time to deal with a high-maintenance roommate.”

The audacity! You did not ask to be attacked right now.

The jab makes your jaw tighten. “I’m not high-maintenance!”

“You sure? Last time I checked, you were the type to lose it over someone messing with your stuff.”

“That was elementary school! I’ve grown up since then.”

“Hmm,” he says, the sound light but still noncommittal. “We’ll see. Come check the place out tomorrow. Noon okay?”

You pause, thrown by his sudden shift. So he’s actually down with you as a roommate? Let’s not get high hopes up now. And if that doesn’t work, you know what? That’s okay. You will find a way… you hope.

“Yeah, that works.”

“Good,” he says, then hesitates before adding, “And bring references.”

“References?!”

“You can never be too careful,” he replies smoothly, but there’s a faint edge in his voice that you can’t quite place.

“Fine,” you snap, already planning to forge something if necessary.

“Great. See you then.”

The call ends before you can say anything else, leaving you staring at your phone. Something about the conversation feels… off. You can’t tell if it’s his hesitance, the cryptic mention of odd hours, or the subtle curiosity in his tone when he asked about your situation.

Or maybe it could be that it’s been around 15 years since you last talked to him so this entire situation feels like a fever dream.

Whatever it is, you’ll find out tomorrow. One way or another.

The next day arrives quicker than you’d like, and before you know it, you’re standing in front of a massive gated complex that looks like it was ripped straight out of a luxury lifestyle magazine. The building towers above you, a blend of sleek modern design and Mediterranean touches. Creamy stucco walls, wrought-iron accents, and lush greenery climbing up the sides of the buildings make it feel more like an exclusive resort than an apartment complex.

The entrance is lined with tall palm trees swaying gently in the breeze, and the scent of freshly mowed grass mingles with the faint floral fragrance from meticulously arranged garden beds. A stone fountain, its water cascading in perfect tiers, sits in the middle of a circular driveway where luxury cars are parked like they belong in an auto show.

You glance down at your outfit, a simple pair of light wash boyfriend jeans and a blue collared sweater, suddenly feeling underdressed.

“He’s living here?” you mutter under your breath, squinting at the address Seokjin sent you last night again to make sure you’re in the right place.

As you shift awkwardly with your bag slung over your shoulder, the wrought-iron gates buzz, and Seokjin steps through.

If the apartment complex wasn’t enough of a surprise, he certainly is.

Gone is the awkward kid from elementary school, and in his place is a man who seems perfectly at home in his expensive surroundings. Dressed casually in a fitted white shirt that clings to his broad shoulders and a pair of ripped jeans that look way too good on him, Seokjin walks toward you with an easy confidence. His dark hair is styled effortlessly, and even from a distance, you can see the faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“[Y/N],” he calls out, his voice smooth and unmistakably amused.

You shift your bag again, suddenly hyper-aware of how you must look standing there in front of the grand gates. “Seokjin,” you reply, your voice coming out a little more clipped than you intended.

As he approaches, he looks you over, his smirk growing wider. “You’re on time. I wasn’t sure if you’d actually show up.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” you ask, crossing your arms.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he says, his tone teasing. “Maybe because I’d be the last person you’d want to ask for help.”

“Desperate times,” you shoot back, ignoring the way his eyes glint in amusement.

Seokjin chuckles and gestures for you to follow him. “Come on, let’s see if you can survive the tour first.”

He leads you through the gates, where a polished path lined with greenery opens into the main courtyard. The sound of water trickling from another fountain fills the air, and you catch glimpses of the complex’s amenities—an infinity pool that looks like it belongs in a five-star hotel, cabanas with flowing white curtains, and a fitness center with floor-to-ceiling glass walls showcasing state-of-the-art equipment.

“This place is ridiculous,” you say under your breath, craning your neck to take it all in.

Seokjin glances back, his smirk still in place. “You’re not wrong. But wait until you see the inside.”

As you step into the lobby, you’re greeted by marble floors that gleam under the warm glow of chandeliers. The air smells faintly of citrus and something luxurious you can’t quite place, and the concierge greets Seokjin with a polite nod as he leads you to the elevator.

“You’re really living the dream here,” you say, unable to hide the note of disbelief in your voice.

He shrugs, leaning casually against the elevator wall. “With the jobs I have. it has its perks.”

The elevator dings, and as the doors slide open, you catch a glimpse of the hallway—plush carpeting, modern art lining the walls, and soft lighting that makes everything feel impossibly serene.

“Ready?” he asks, stepping out and turning to look at you.

You hesitate for just a second before following him. “As I’ll ever be.”

Seokjin leads you down the hallway, his footsteps silent on the plush carpeting. You’re still processing how this guy, the same kid who used to shove his Pokémon cards in your face, is living in a place so fancy it makes your last apartment look like a broom closet.

“This is my place,” he says, stopping in front of a sleek black door with a digital keypad instead of a regular lock.

He types in the code, the lock clicks open, and he pushes the door wide to reveal his apartment.

Your first thought is that it’s huge.

The open-concept living room stretches out before you, its floor-to-ceiling windows flooding the space with natural light. The view outside is stunning—a panoramic sweep of the suburban city skyline and the sparkling blue ocean in the distance. Inside, the place is immaculate, every piece of furniture modern and deliberately chosen. The couch is a neutral gray sectional big enough to seat a small crowd, and there’s a massive TV mounted on the wall, flanked by minimalist shelves filled with what looks like expensive collectibles and gaming gear.

The kitchen is just as impressive, with marble countertops, a matching backsplash, and stainless steel appliances that gleam under the recessed lighting. A sleek island with barstools separates the kitchen from the living room, and you can’t help but wonder if this is where Seokjin spends his time making whatever expensive coffee you saw on his Instagram feed.

“Well?” he says, stepping inside and kicking off his sneakers near the door. “Don’t just stand there gawking.”

You snap your mouth shut and step in, slipping out of your shoes and placing them neatly next to his. The polished hardwood floors feel cool under your socks, and you hesitate, unsure where to stand.

“It’s… nice,” you say finally, trying to keep your tone neutral.

Seokjin chuckles, clearly amused by your reaction. “Nice? That’s all you’ve got? Most people would be drooling right now.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” he says, his grin widening. He crosses the room and gestures for you to follow. “Come on, let me show you where you’d be staying.”

He gestures toward the main living area, leading you down a short hallway on the left side of the apartment. “Your room would be down this hall,” he says, motioning for you to follow.

You step into the guest room as he opens the door. It’s spacious, with a queen-sized bed dressed in crisp white linens and a tall, minimalist dresser tucked against one wall. A sleek desk sits by a large window, which offers a view of the glittering cityscape and the ocean beyond. The soft gray walls and warm lighting make the room feel both modern and inviting.

“There’s an en-suite bathroom,” Seokjin says, pushing open another door to reveal a compact but luxurious bathroom with marble finishes and a rainfall shower.

“This is… nice,” you admit, turning to glance at him.

“Only the best,” he replies with a shrug, leaning against the doorframe. “Your hall is completely separate from mine. My room’s on the right side of the apartment, so you won’t have to worry about me invading your space.”

He nods toward the opposite end of the living room, where another hallway extends. “My room’s down there on your left. I have a bathroom in front of it too. Oh. and you’d also have the laundry room and a storage closet near your side.”

You glance back at the main living area, noting the layout. His section of the apartment seems just as private, and you can’t help but feel a little relieved that you won’t be tripping over each other.

“It’s set up pretty well for roommates,” you say carefully, trying to keep your tone neutral.

“Glad you think so,” he replies, leaning casually against the doorframe. “This room used to belong to a friend of mine. He was here for an internship a little over a year ago, but he didn’t stay long. Left everything the way it is in case other friends needed a place to crash.”

“That makes sense,” you say, looking around the room again. “So why are you looking for a roommate now?”

Seokjin hesitates for just a second, his eyes flickering toward the window.

“Well, it would help with a couple of expenses,”

Your brow furrows. Expenses? You glance around the luxury apartment, mentally tallying the rent for a place like this. With what you know about Seokjin’s successful streaming career—and the office job your mom mentioned—he’s probably doing more than fine financially. But you decide not to press him on it.

Instead, you nod. “Makes sense, I guess.”

“And…” He trails off, his expression softening. Oh, so he is going to explain. “I don’t know, as I’m getting closer to thirty, I guess it might be nice to have someone around. Keeps things from feeling too…quiet.”

The honesty in his voice surprises you, and for a brief moment, you see a different side of him. One that’s not teasing or smug, but… a little lonely, maybe.

You nod again, this time more slowly. “Fair enough. This does happen as we age.”

Seokjin straightens, the moment of vulnerability passing as quickly as it came. “Anyway,” he says, his tone shifting back to its usual playful edge. “We can talk about me more later.”

He gestures for you to follow him back toward the living room.

“Why don’t we sit down and talk first?” he continues, his smirk fading slightly as his expression turns unreadable. “Just want to make sure we’re on the same page before I let you move in.”

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes. “Sure. Let’s talk.”

You follow him to the couch, your curiosity about his reasons for taking on a roommate still lingering in the back of your mind.

As you settle onto the couch, Seokjin sits across from you in a sleek armchair, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp. It’s like he’s studying you, trying to piece together the situation without asking directly.

“So,” he begins, leaning forward slightly, “I already know you lost your job.”

You freeze. The words hang in the air, and your stomach sinks.

“How do you know that?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He tilts his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “My mom told me earlier today. She’s the one who convinced me to even think about this arrangement.”

Heat floods your cheeks, embarrassment prickling at your skin. Of course. Your mom couldn’t just leave you well enough alone so she told his mom.

“Oh,”

“It’s not a big deal,” he says quickly, likely noticing your discomfort. “Things happen, you know? Besides, knowing you, you probably have some savings tucked away to cover rent, right?”

His words hit harder than he probably intended. Sure, you’ve got a little money saved, but it’s dwindling fast. The thought of handing over any of it feels like admitting defeat, a glaring reminder that you’re not where you thought you’d be at this point in your life.

As Seokjin keeps talking, his tone casual and reassuring, his words blur into the background. You’re trapped in your own thoughts, spiraling.

How did it come to this?

Broke, jobless, and now sitting here asking for a place to live like some helpless kid. You remember being so confident, so sure of yourself when you left home. You went through grueling years of studying finance in college and graduating. Now you’re here, facing the reality that you’re nowhere near where you thought you’d be.

It’s just so pathetic.

You don’t realize you’re crying until a tear slips down your cheek and lands on your hand.

Seokjin stops mid-sentence. “Hey,” he says softly, his voice cutting through your haze. “Are you… crying?”

You wipe at your face quickly, but it’s no use—the tears are falling faster now, and you’re too overwhelmed to stop them. “I’m sorry,” you mumble, mortified. “I don’t even know why—”

“Don’t apologize,” he interrupts, his voice gentle in a way you didn’t expect. He shifts forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he watches you carefully. “It’s okay.”

You shake your head, still swiping at your cheeks. “This is so stupid. I just… I hate being in this position. It’s not where I thought I’d be, and it’s just…” You trail off, your voice breaking.

For a moment, Seokjin doesn’t say anything. Then, he reaches for a tissue box on the coffee table and holds it out to you.

“Here,” he says simply.

You take a tissue and dab at your face, trying to pull yourself together.

“I get it,” he says after a pause, his tone softer now. “Life doesn’t always go how we plan. Trust me, I’ve been there.”

You glance at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. “Really?”

He nods, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah. But you’re not alone, okay? And if you need a place to figure things out, I’m offering you one. No strings, no judgment. But knowing how you’d feel bad for not paying back, just pitch in for some groceries or takeout every once in awhile.”

His words hit you harder than the tears, and you feel a small spark of hope for the first time in a while. Maybe, just maybe, this could work out.

You take a deep breath, the tissue in your hand crumpled from how tightly you’ve been gripping it. “Thanks, Seokjin,” you say, your voice shaky but genuine.

He gives you a small smile, his usual teasing edge softened. “Don’t mention it. Seriously. Just don’t leave your dirty dishes in the sink, and we’ll be fine.”

A faint laugh escapes you, surprising even yourself. “I think I can manage that.”

He stands up, stretching his arms overhead before motioning toward the hallway. “If you need help with your stuff, just let me know.”

You nod, feeling a little more grounded. “I will.”

The next morning, you’re standing outside your old apartment building, the last of your boxes stacked neatly by the curb. Before leaving the day before, you did ask Jin if he could help you move some of your stuff, and he somehow kindly agreed.

You’ve barely had time to double-check everything when you hear the rumble of a truck pulling up. Turning toward the sound, you see a sleek gray Ford truck roll to a stop in front of you.

Seokjin hops out of the driver’s seat, dressed casually in a lavender hoodie and dark wash jeans, looking every bit the picture of someone who’s done this a hundred times before. On the passenger side, another guy climbs out, taller and broader than Jin, with dimples flashing in a warm smile.

Woah, he’s kind of cute.

“Morning,” Seokjin calls, striding toward you. He gestures to the other man. “This is Namjoon. He’s here to help out with the heavier things.”

“Hi [Y/N],” Namjoon says, his voice deep but friendly as he extends a hand. “Jin told me you needed an extra set of hands, so here I am.”

You shake his hand, still a little taken aback. “Thanks. Nice to meet you, Namjoon.”

“He’s an old college buddy,” Seokjin explains, leaning against the side of the truck. “We were in the same professional fraternity back in the day. That’s how we met.”

Namjoon chuckles, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “Yeah, Jin somehow convinced me to join since we were floormates. Said it would look good on my resume. Ended up being one of the best decisions I made, though. The networking was great, and we had a lot of fun.”

“Too much fun,” Seokjin adds with a smirk. “I think we spent half our time organizing events and the other half trying to keep Namjoon from breaking stuff.”

Namjoon groans, his dimples deepening as he laughs. “Okay, that was one time—and it wasn’t even my fault!”

You find yourself smiling at their bickering and brief memory despite the stress of the day. Their banter feels easy and natural, a dynamic that’s comforting in a way you hadn’t expected. It’s nice to hear Jin had a pretty cool college experience.

“Well,” Namjoon says, clapping his hands together. “Let’s get started. The sooner we load this up, the sooner we can get everything settled.”

Between the three of you, the boxes are loaded into the truck in no time. Namjoon lifts the heavier ones like they’re nothing, while Seokjin teases him about showing off. You carry the smaller items, grateful for their help and relieved that the process is moving quickly.

Once the last box is secured in the truck bed, Seokjin glances over at you. “Ready to head out?”

You nod, brushing your hands off on your jeans. “Yeah. I’ll follow behind you guys with my car.”

As your car and his truck pulls away from your old apartment, you find yourself feeling a little lighter. It’s still hard to believe this is your life right now, but it doesn’t feel quite as overwhelming. Maybe, just maybe, this new chapter won’t be so bad after all.

The move-in process is exhausting but efficient. Seokjin and Namjoon take charge of the heavier boxes while you focus on the smaller ones. Your room starts to take shape, with your bed frame set up in one corner and your essentials arranged along the walls. The other boxes you don’t need immediately are stacked neatly in the living room, ready to be taken to your parents’ place for temporary storage later.

After two hours of hauling, unpacking, and arranging, the three of you are sweaty and starving.

“I think that’s everything,” Namjoon says, leaning against the couch and wiping his forehead with the hem of his shirt.

“Pizza?” Seokjin asks, already pulling out his phone.

“Pizza,” you and Namjoon echo in unison.

“And chicken wings,” Namjoon adds with a grin. “We earned it.”

“And beer,” Seokjin finishes, smirking. “That sounds good to you?”

You nod happily.

Within half an hour, the smell of pepperoni, garlic, and fried chicken fills the apartment. The three of you gather around the coffee table in the living room, the TV playing 30 Rock quietly in the background. You sit cross-legged on the rug while Seokjin and Namjoon sprawl on the couch, all of you diving into the food like it’s the best meal you’ve ever had.

“So, Namjoon,” you start between bites of pizza, “what do you do now? Not breaking stuff as Jin mentioned, right?”

He laughs, a deep, warm sound that makes you smile. “Thankfully, no. I’m working in publishing now, managing creative projects. Still a little chaotic, but at least it’s not as physically dangerous.”

“Only mentally,” Seokjin teases, raising his beer.

“True,” Namjoon admits, clinking his bottle against Jin’s.

“What about you?” Namjoon asks, turning the attention to you. “What do you do?”

You hesitate, picking at the crust of your pizza. “I worked at a fashion company, but the company underwent some layoffs. So this is kind of…a transitional period for me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I know it’s been a tough market, but with your focused attitude and experience, I’m sure you’ll find something new soon.”

“I hope so.”

After a few more slices and some casual conversation about work, gaming, and travel, the beers start to settle in. The atmosphere grows looser, and the conversation takes a turn into more, juicier topics.

“So,” Seokjin begins, leaning back against the armrest with a mischievous grin. “Getting into a more interesting topic…Relationships. What’s the story there?”

You groan, covering your face with your hands. “All of a sudden? Why do I feel like this is a setup?”

“It’s not a setup. We’re just curious. Plus easy topic to become closer.”

Namjoon chuckles, “Don’t bring me into this, Jin,”

“Well…” You pause, debating how much to share. The buzz from the beer nudges you toward honesty. “Without going to deep into it, let’s just say my last relationship ended badly. Cheating, lies, the whole package.”

Seokjin winces. “Ouch. That’s rough.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t fun,” you admit, swirling your drink. “But honestly, it’s probably for the best. I’ve got enough on my plate right now without dealing with that kind of drama.”

Namjoon nods thoughtfully. “It’s hard to find someone who’s actually worth your time these days. Everyone’s either too focused on themselves or doesn’t know what they want.”

Seokjin chuckles, a slightly bitter edge to his tone. “Or they’re just not ready to commit, no matter how much they say they are.”

You glance at him, intrigued by the shift in his demeanor. “Speaking from experience?”

He shrugs, taking a sip of his beer. “I plead the fifth.”

Namjoon raises an eyebrow at him but doesn’t press further. You decide not to either.

“What about you, Namjoon?” you ask, redirecting the spotlight. “Any tragic love stories to share?”

He grins, shaking his head. “Nothing tragic, thankfully. Just a lot of learning experiences. I’ve been too focused on work to really put myself out there lately.”

The conversation continues, flowing easily despite the heavy topic. As the night stretches on, you find yourself feeling unexpectedly comfortable. Seokjin and Namjoon’s company has been a comfortable change of pace from prior weeks of being alone and dealing with the aftermath of your ended relationship and job. Being all alone with your thoughts hasn’t been easy. Lost in a whirlpool of negative thoughts. And with your closest friends, Yunjin and Wendy, living miles away, even leaning on them hadn’t been an option.

But for the first time in a while, you could even say you feel happy to be around others.

The clock on the wall creeps past 11:00pm, and Namjoon glances at his phone with a small sigh. “I should probably get going before it gets too late.”

“Already?” Seokjin teases, though his tone is more playful than serious.

Namjoon chuckles. “Some of us have a really early morning commute tomorrow, Jin.” He stands, stretching his arms overhead before reaching for his jacket.

“I do too, you know!”

“But hey, this was fun. I’ll definitely swing by again. I’ll see you for your monthly Marvel movie nights, right?”

Seokjin grins. “You know it. You can’t miss those!”

Namjoon laughs, shaking his head fondly. “Yeah, yeah. Let me know when the next one is.”

You and Seokjin walk him to the elevator, chatting casually as you descend to the ground floor. Outside, the air is cooler, a light breeze stirring as Namjoon’s Uber pulls up to the curb.

“Thanks for helping out today,” you say, offering him a grateful smile. “I don’t think we could’ve done it without you.”

“Anytime,” Namjoon replies warmly. “And welcome to the apartment. I’m sure Jin’ll keep things interesting for you.”

Seokjin snorts.

Namjoon smirks. “See you both soon!”

With a wave, Namjoon climbs into the car, and you watch as it drives off into the night.

You and Seokjin linger outside for a moment, the hum of the city quieting as the car disappears from view.

“Well,” Seokjin says after a beat, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Guess it’s just us now.”

“Looks like it,” you reply, feeling a strange mix of ease and uncertainty.

Well you did just unload some emotional baggage about your shitty past relationship earlier. The alcohol running through your veins isn’t helping either.

“Come on,” he says, nodding toward the entrance. “Let’s get back inside. You’ve had a long day.”

You follow Jin back to the apartment, the soft hum of the elevator ride and the quiet hallways lulling you into a peaceful state. Once inside, the two of you automatically start tidying up the coffee table and living area, picking up empty beer bottles, wiping down surfaces, and folding the napkins that had been left scattered. It’s a quiet, easy rhythm, and before long, the space looks just as pristine as when you first arrived.

“I think we’ve earned a good night’s sleep.”

You nod, stifling a yawn. “Agreed. Thanks again, Jin… for everything.”

He shrugs, his expression light but genuine. “Don’t mention it. Get some rest, Roomie.”

You laugh, “Will do.”

With that, Jin heads down the hallway to the right, disappearing into his room. You make your way to the left, to your room, the soft padding of your steps on the hardwood floor the only sound.

Once inside, you close the door and lean against it for a moment, letting the day’s events settle in your mind. Your room is still sparse, with only the basics unpacked, but it feels cozy enough. The bed, made with fresh sheets, beckons invitingly, and your unpacked boxes wait patiently in the corner, reminding you there’s more work to be done tomorrow.

You slip into something comfortable, wash your face, and settle under the covers. The bed is surprisingly soft, the kind that you could sink into and never leave. But despite the exhaustion tugging at your body, sleep doesn’t come right away.

Your thoughts drift, unbidden, to Jin’s easy demeanor since you’ve started talking to him again. His kind words. His quick, charming smile and laughter. His height—tall enough that you had to tilt your head to look him in the eye. And those plump lips of his…

Huh? No, no wait a minute!

You blink at the ceiling, catching your thoughts veering dangerously south. What the hell is wrong with you? Maybe it’s the beer, or maybe it’s the fact that kindness from a man feels so foreign after everything you’ve been through. Whatever it is, your brain is doing laps around something you absolutely should not be thinking about.

Gross. Stop it. You scrunch your face in frustration, trying to shake the image of Jin’s stupidly handsome face from your mind.

This is Seokjin, your childhood rival, the annoying kid who used to show off his stupid gaming collection and beat you at literally everything. That’s all he is. That’s all he’ll ever be.

He is just kindly letting you stay with him, but you know he’s going to be waiting for you to move out soon enough.

With a groan, you roll over and pull the covers up to your chin, willing your thoughts to calm down. Sleep. That’s what you need. Just sleep.

With a groan, you roll over and pull the covers up to your chin, willing your thoughts to calm down. Eventually, you manage to quiet your mind, and your eyes drift shut. Slowly, the tension in your body melts away, and for the first time in what feels like ages, you fall into a deep, uninterrupted sleep.

It’s the kind of sleep that cradles you, soothing the jagged edges of your worries. The stressors in your life—the layoff, the breakup, the uncertainty of your future—haven’t disappeared, but for once, they feel distant, safely tucked on the backburner. This new chapter isn’t perfect, but at least one major burden has been lifted, and that’s enough for now.

Until it isn’t.

The urge comes on suddenly, pulling you from the cocoon of rest. You blink groggily, your senses slowly catching up to reality as you register the weight pressing against your bladder. Turning your head to the side, you squint at the clock on your phone: 2:33 a.m.

You need to pee.

You groan softly. Of course. Why wouldn’t your body choose the middle of the night to interrupt what was probably the nicest sleep you’ve had in months? Throwing off the covers, you shuffle out of bed and head for the bathroom, still half-asleep and stumbling in your room as you walk inside the en-suite bathroom.

The cool tile under your feet jolts you a bit closer to full consciousness. The soft hum of the apartment at night feels oddly soothing, even as you fumble to turn on the light.

After finishing up and washing your hands, you pause for a moment, the dryness in your throat making itself known. Great. Now you’re thirsty too.

The memory of Jin mentioning the case of bottled water he keeps under the kitchen sink stops you. Sighing, you quietly slip out of your room, padding into the darkened apartment.

The space is eerily still, the shadows from the streetlights outside casting faint patterns across the floor of the living room. You make your way to the kitchen, carefully navigating around the furniture, not wanting to stub a toe or knock anything over.

Opening one of the cabinet beneath the sink, you find the water bottle case Jin mentioned. The plastic crinkles as you grab a bottle, and you wince, hoping the noise doesn’t carry too far. Closing the cabinet as quietly as you can, you straighten up and twist the cap open, taking a long, refreshing sip.

As you stand there, your gaze drifts toward the living room and the hallway that leads toward Jin’s room. You notice light seeping from below the doorway. Is he still up? Shouldn’t he be sleeping? He did mention something earlier about needing to head into the office in the morning.

Well… maybe he’s streaming? Jin has been kind of hesitant to talk openly about his side hustle, but after your harmless sleuthing on his Instagram the other day, it makes sense to have this type of scheduling. His posts, the tags, the casual mentions of late-night work—it all points to streaming. And why not? No shame in being a streamer. Plenty of people are wildly successful doing it. And he’s probably catering to overseas fans in Asia during these hours.

You shrug to yourself. Whatever he’s doing, it’s not your business.

Deciding not to overthink it, you turn to head back to your room. But after a couple of steps in the living room, a faint noise catches your attention.

You freeze.

A voice… soft, low, and unmistakably a moan.

Your breath hitches as the sound cuts through the stillness, sending your thoughts racing. What was that…?

Haha… you must be overthinking things.

For a moment, you stand there, unsure whether to move or pretend you didn’t hear anything at all.

But now, from this angle, you notice something else. Jin’s door isn’t fully closed. It’s very, very slightly ajar.

The realization makes your pulse quicken. You’re not sure why—it’s not like you were planning to barge in or anything. But the faint glow spilling from the room and that sound… it feels like you’ve stumbled into something you weren’t meant to witness.

Your eyes dart to the gap in the doorway, then back to your water bottle. Just go to bed, you tell yourself. Whatever Jin is doing is none of your business. You’ve already overstepped enough by loitering here in the middle of the night.

But your feet don’t move.

Instead, you find yourself stepping a bit closer, trying to make sense of what’s going on. The soft glow of a screen flickers against the walls, accompanied by faint, muffled sounds—another low moan, followed by a voice, Jin’s voice, quiet but distinct.

He’s probably just streaming, you reason, though your mind betrays you, replaying the noise you just heard. That didn’t sound like any gaming commentary you’ve ever heard.

Your curiosity battles with your better judgment. This is weird. This is weird. Go back to bed, you scold yourself. Yet, you find yourself taking a hesitant step closer, your bare feet silent against the floor.

Peering at the slight crack in the door, you catch a glimpse of Jin sitting at his desk, his back to the door. He’s wearing a loose-fitting hoodie, the hood pulled halfway up, and his headphones cover his ears.

You hesitate for just a moment too long, your eyes flickering back to the gap in the door. Jin shifts slightly in his chair, and that’s when you see it—his hand moving slowly, deliberately, along the length of his member.

Oh my god…

Your breath catches in your throat as the realization slams into you.

You catch yourself lingering, unable to look away despite every nerve in your body screaming at you to turn back. Jin’s hoodie hangs loosely over his broad shoulders, the fabric shifting slightly with his movements. His hand moves with deliberate intent, wrapping firmly around his length as he strokes himself in a slow, unhurried rhythm.

The motion is mesmerizing, almost practiced—his grip tightening subtly at the base before sliding upward, then loosening as his hand glides back down. His fingers flex with precision, coaxing soft, breathy moans from his lips, barely audible but enough to make your skin prickle.

He shifts in his chair, angling himself slightly toward the camera, his movements smooth and calculated. His legs are spread comfortably apart, the outline of his frame illuminated by the soft glow of the monitor. The confidence in his actions is undeniable, as if he’s done this countless times before, every motion intentional and deliberate for the audience he can’t see but knows is watching.

Your heart pounds harder when his strokes pick up pace briefly, then slow again, teasing, calculated. His chest rises and falls in measured breaths, and every now and then, a low groan escapes, richer and deeper than the softer sounds he’s been making.

“Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” Jin murmurs suddenly, his tone smooth and teasing, almost playful. You jump up slightly from the sudden spoken words. His strokes grow a fraction faster, his hand tightening briefly before loosening again. “Bet you’ve been waiting all day for this.”

The faint click of his mouse follows, likely scrolling through the flood of comments. A soft chuckle escapes his lips, and he tilts his head as if he’s reading something amusing.

“Oh, you want me to go slower?” he says, his voice dropping a notch, rich and deliberate. His movements follow suit, his hand sliding torturously slow along his length, eliciting a low groan from deep in his chest. “Patience. You’ll get what you’re asking for. Just keep watching.”

He shifts in his chair, leaning back slightly, his free hand brushing over his thigh. “Such a needy audience tonight,” he adds with a smirk, his tone dripping with mock indulgence. “But I guess I can’t blame you. You love it when I take my time, don’t you?”

Your breath catches as you hear the faintest hitch in his voice, a sign that even he isn’t immune to his own ministrations. “Mm, that’s it,” he murmurs, his strokes quickening again as his chest rises and falls in heavier breaths. “Keep telling me what you want. I can’t get enough of it.”

The chat on his screen is moving so quickly it’s impossible to follow, but he clearly can. His responses are measured, tailored, and completely immersed in the moment.

“You’re spoiling me tonight,” he says with a breathy laugh, likely reacting to a particularly generous tip or comment. His hand slows again, teasing, his thumb brushing over the tip of his length in a way that draws a soft, shuddering groan from his lips. “Guess I should return the favor, huh?”

His voice lowers further, almost a whisper, intimate in a way that makes your heart pound. “Let me know how much you’re enjoying this,” he says, his words melting into another low moan. “Because I’m not stopping anytime soon.”

Your pulse races as you watch him lean back slightly, adjusting his position to maintain his pace, his focus entirely on the screen and the comments it displays. The intimacy of the scene feels almost overwhelming, and it’s enough to snap you out of your trance.

You step back, your breath hitching as you force yourself to retreat. Whatever this is, you weren’t meant to see it!

And yet the image is burned into your mind as you close your door, your thoughts swirling in a storm of confusion, embarrassment, and curiosity.

Oh my fucking god…

The soft click of the mouse breaks you from your trance, and you realize you’ve been standing there far too long. Before Jin can notice anything amiss, you step away from his side of the apartment as quietly as possible, your heart pounding like a drum in your chest.

You retreat down the hall to your room, shutting the door behind you with trembling hands. Leaning against it, you try to catch your breath, your mind racing. Jin, your childhood rival and now your new roommate, is apparently living a double life you never could have anticipated.

Never mind.

This new life that you’re living, will not be easy at all.

a/n: happy thanksgiving!! this is another very short series i plan to make with around 3-5 chapters. i'll keep brainstorming and slowly writing this along with my a(myg)dala fic series... but this is very brainrot not too heavy focus on plot so i probably won't take long to continue it compared to the other series hehe!! thank you all for the support and for reading!

➸ let me know what you think OR join the taglist for future works! ➸ check out my masterlist for other fics I have made

#seokjin x reader #jin x reader #kim seokjin #bts smut #jin smut #seokjin smut #bts imagines #bts reactions #smut #heart on the window #bts fic #bts #seokjin x y/n #jin fic #bts x reader #bts x y/n

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animehideout · 9 months ago

Text

LOVE IS THE MOST TWISTED CURSE OF THEM ALL

GOJO SATORU X FEM! READER

PART 12

check out final part here

a/n: Hiiii I'm back with another chapter, only one chapter left till we reach the end if this story. I apologize for the late update, my schedule kinda changed and it got busier so that's why I wasn't able to write and post, but good news that I'm back now yay ✨❤️.

Anyways I hope you enjoy this part as well. Some Angst, so grab some tissues and a snack of course to munch on while reading 😀.

Enjoy your reading session, love y'all so much 🫶🏻

Not Proofread ❌ Slight smut at the end.

You took another glance around the room, but didn't dare to ask any of your students about him. You sighed in disappointment but forced a smile to not worry your students and look suspicious or sad. You hated to admit it even within you, but you wished he was there, holding your hand till you awake. But you woke up surrounded only by your students, it's not like you don't appreciate them or they're not enough, you just wanted another kind of feeling, and that feeling could only be with your husband, Satoru. Once again you felt neglected by him even in this terrible condition.

Megumi was too focused on you, he knew right away by the way your gaze was shifting in every corner, every face in the room that you were looking for Gojo, he knew you needed him.

"Ehm, I'll go get Gojo since you're awake now" he said in a reassuring tone without meeting your gaze, and left the room to look for him.

"Where the hell did he go" he mumbled to himself.

"Hm Megumi? Is Y/n awake?" asked Nanami

"Oh yeah she's awake, and she's fine! By the way, did you, perhaps see Gojo around?"

"He's not here"

"Then where?"

"He'll be here later, don't worry about him"

"Nanami Sensei! I. Need. You. To. Tell. Me. please! It's important " he insisted,

With a tired sigh, he spoke,

"Alright! he's at one of the interrogation rooms at Jujutsu High, probably interrogating Mei Mei-"

"or my father"

and without further words, Megumi headed to Jujutsu High to bring Gojo to the hospital, to bring him to your side.

"Hey Megumi wait" yelled Nanami but je was already gone.

*1st Interrogation Room*

"Happy now? Where's that usual dirty smirk at? Gone?" started Gojo as he looked down at Mei Mei who got both her hands chained to the chair.

"How dare you chain me up? A well respected Jujutsu sorcerer!" she exclaimed angrily.

"Oh no no trust me, after releasing Toji from prison, paying him to kill my wife and putting the Jujutsu community in terrible danger, officially you're no longer respected" he spat and started to walk away

"NO NO PLEASE WAIT! GOJO WAIT I BEG YOU! I did this for you!" she started crying,

"I did this for you Gojo, just for your sake. You know about the prophecy, I couldn't let her exceed you and become stronger than you, you're the strongest Gojo and it should remain that way–please, I wanted to protect you–" she pleaded desperately, tears streaming down her cheeks, each sob echoed in the vast empty room.

With a mocking chuckle, he approached her again and bent down till he met her eye level, tilting his head to the side, his blue eyes piercing through her soul,

"oh yeah?" he started

"Y-es, yes just for you Gojo" she said with a soft smile while sniffing.

"Hah, pathetic how hard you're still trying, how hard you're still trying to manipulate me and get me to believe your lies–lemme give you the real fact behind all of this, the fact is that you desperately wanted Y/n to die. You knew Y/n will become something, more powerful than any of us, and of course your jealousy, ego and hate were triggered because another woman effortlessly stole the show and your desperate ass always wants to be in the spot light, taking all the attention, you've always wanted to br known as the strongest woman sorcerer, the perfect match for me, the strongest man! But all of that collapsed when I married Y/n" he paused and pointed his index finger at her,

"You desperately wanted to be her, you envied her even at her lowest, you're obsessed with her to the point that you betrayed the jujutsu world. But lemme tell you something, Mei Mei, Y/n didn't only steal the spot light, she also stole my heart! I love my wife, I love Y/n so much and if you dare to think of any possible plan that could possibly get you out of prison to hurt my wife again, then I'll end you–" he said calmly in a serious and low tone, moving away from her to open the door and leave.

"–end me? just like you ended Geto?"

she wanted to trigger him, to hit his weakest spot, to make his heart ache like hers and to see him all vulnerable, but he swallowed it, even though the name Geto was killing him and slicing him to pieces for years. His hand clutched the door handle tightly, turning his head, side eyeing her,

"Yes I'll end you just like I ended Geto"

Then he shut the door, leaving her all alone.

Right then, she knew she lost Gojo forever, and her last attempt to convince him by bringing Geto was only another reason for him to hate her even more.

"NO GOJO WAIT, no! don't leave me here! GOJO PLEASE"

She begged and begged, but for nothing he's left already and outside that room her screams are inaudible, no one is able to hear her loud cries, no matter how hard she tries.

Gojo reached the other door handle, moving into the next interrogation room,

"Gojo Satoru, we meet again" said Toji with a smirk, his hair falling on his face, his lip bleeding,

"Toji Zenin"

"I go by Fushiguro now"

"And I don't give a fuck, you're a criminal either way"

"Oww, too salty Satoru"

"I don't have time for this kind of chit chat, what was your plan to do to my wife?"

"Kill her obviously, duh!" said Toji rolling his eyes

"You son of a bitch, and you're proud of that, I'm not allowed to kill you, that was the higher ups call so be thankful for that, or else I would have put you through the most terrible death you could possibly think of"

"Are you threatening me? besides it wasn't my plan, it was your side chick's plan"

"The fuck did you say?" said Gojo angrily, taking quick steps to Toji punching him once again, making his nose bleed.

Toji started laughing hysterically,

"Alright you win, you win for the second time Gojo Satoru, but I don't think you won her heart, pity all this effort to save her is for nothing"

"Shut up"

"What? You think now you'll live happy ever after? That you'll start over and become a happy couple? Nah you're egocentric, selfish and fucking arrogant, and you've never known love and never will, I've spent three days with her and I can tell she can't live with someone like you. Both of you are far away from each other, two extremes, too empathetic and too apathetic. She'll leave your ass"

"I SAID SHUT UP" yelled Gojo, once again punching him,

"G-gojo?" said Megumi as he opened the door and witnessed it.

"Megumi?" said Gojo and Toji at the same time,

Megumi looked at Toji with what appeared empty eyes, but in the inside his heart was breaking into pieces.. He shifted his gaze to Gojo,

"Gumi what are you doing here?" asked Satoru

"Came to see you Gojo, you have to go to the hospital Y/n is awake and she was looking for you!!"

"D-did she tell you to l-look for me?" he asked hia heart skipping a beat,

"Nah I just figured out, you better go now"

"Wait aren't you coming with me?"

"No, I have to talk to him"

"Megumi! You know you don't have to stay here, you don't have to talk to him, he'll soon get the punishment he deserves–"

"I know, but he's my father and I need to ask him why!"

"Then I'll stay with you, it's not safe!" he reached to grab Megumi's arm,

"Gojo, please! just go to your wife, she's waiting, don't make her wait any longer! I promise I'll be fine" said Megumi with a smile,

As soon as Gojo left the room, Megumi approached his father standing right in front of him,

"S-son!"

"Why? Why did you do that?" said Megumi in a cold tone,

"Son please!"

"You've almost killed one of my close friends! Y/n is not just a teacher to me, she's my friend as well! and now I can't even look her in the eye, you know why?" he paused, trying to swallow back the lump that formed in his throat making him struggle to talk,

"Because of you! because of the shame I'm feeling whenever I see her or remember that MY FATHER WANTED TO KILL HER JUST TO GET SOME DIRTY MONEY FROM MEI MEI"

"Megumi! you need to listen to me! I had to do that!"

"No, there's no excuse that can get you away for murdering innocent people, first Riko and now attempted to do the same to Y/n just because Mei Mei told you?"

"I did all of this for you, to buy a house, a house that we can all call home! Where we can be a family again, me and you!"

"A family?" said Megumi in a mocking way,

"Yes, we can try again, I can fix everything, and make up for the years that I wasn't by your side–"

"You know what dad!"

"Yes son tell me!"

"I'm glad you left when I was young, I'm glad Gojo raised me and not you, or else I might end up a criminal like you. If my mom was alive she'd be the most disappointed in you, SHE WONT EVEN RECOGNIZE YOU DAD!"

"Megumi don't say please!" said Toji, tears forming in his eyes,

Megumi's words destroyed him because he knows they were true, his wife would be disappointed in him if she was alive.

"You ruined my life dad! Enough of it, stop trying to ruin others' lives just for money, just because you were neglected by the Zenin clan! Don't make others pay for what your clan did to you..." he added, taking steps backwards to leave the room,

"Son wait please! I'm so sorry I caused you all this pain, I'm sorry I wasn't there–"

"Just forget you ever had a son, just like what you did with your humanity....goodbye -dad"

with that he closed the door forever, not only the room's door but the door in his heart that he kept open for his father, wishing that some day, he would repent and fix his mistakes even though he knew deep down they can't be fixed. And now he's finally ready to let go, he can never forgive him for all this mess, for all these mistakes that he willingly committed.

Unable to keep it inside, unable to hide his true, delicate, sensitive self, after maintaining the cold, strong image for too long as a coping mechanism for always feeling inferior than others for being parentless. He finally let out the child thay was kept locked inside, and finally broke down into tears. With each loud sob, his chest rose and heaved with sadness. He cried because of the shame he felt, and because of the fact he's now letting go of his father, once and for all. He cried alone, hugging his knees like a baby, till it became hard to breathe.

But was he alone really?

"MEGUMI!!!!"

That voice, the voice that used to annoy him for telling jokes non stop, for laughing really loud and not letting him sleep, that voice now is saving him.

He looked up, his eyes puffy and red with tears.

Yuji and Nobara running towards him, worried expressions drawn on their faces, their eyes wide since it was the first time they see their friend shed a tear. They finally reached him, joining him on the floor.

"Megumi??! what's wrong buddy what happened?" asked Yuji his eyes softening,

"Fushiguro? Is everything okay? Why are you crying did someone hurt you?" asked Nobara her voice shaking with fear and worry.

He just started at them, not saying anything single word. Looking ay their genuine worried and confused faces, a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, realizing that his friends got his back, that they won't let him down and most importantly he realized that he doesn't have to feel alone anymore. They truly loved him and cared for him. He was too broken to realize that, he thought his dad abandon him because he hated him, so he grew up with that mindset; his father hates him let alone people out there. But now, finally realizing that love, friendship saved him, from himself, from his dark thoughts and now he can start anew.

Nobara waved her hand on front of his face,

"Hey Fushiguro??"

Without saying anything he hugged both of them, finally feeling the love he's been rejecting. Allowing himself to feel it for the first time and damn it felt good to have someone care for you, it made his heart at ease.

He hugged them really tight, refusing to let go, without hesitation they hugged him back in a comforting way, their warmth radiating.

"Awww Fushiguro-Kun is being soft" chuckled Nobara

"Shuh Nobara, we love this version of Megumi, geez didn't know you're a good hugger Fushiguro" said Yuji smiling,

"Aaaaa why'd you ruin the moment guys" groaned Megumi

"Nah nah we're sorry, we're just wondering where's the real Megumi and what did you do to him" she added,

"Nah it's the real Megumi here, you just unlocked a premium version. Get used to it" said Megumi pulling away from the hug a smile still decorating his face.

"Well for sure we'll get used to it" said Yuji and Nobara at the same time.

"Wait!! did you leave Y/n alone at the hospital, till Gojo arrives?" said Megumi in a moment of realization.

"Nah nah she's home now, we brought her at the dorms" explained Yuji

"Oh shit"

"What?"

"Gojo went to the hospital to see Y/n, so he won't find her there"

"Come on, he's a married man, his wife would tell him" said Nobara smirking

"Wasn't she supposed to spend the day there, till Shoko makes sure she's fine?" he asked again,

"Yeah but after you left the room to get Gojo she insisted to leave as well, she said she was feeling okay and doesn't need to stay there" exclaimed Nobara.

*At The Hospital*

Gojo pushed open the door of the room that you were in. A mix of anticipation and stress took over him, not knowing how he would behave in front of you, is he gonna hold your hand, kiss you? What was he going to say? Baby? My love? I missed you? All these thoughts disappeared when he found the room empty, devoid of your presence. Confusion clouded his features as he stepped inside, his eyes scanning the surroundings, trying to find any of your belongings, but there was absolutely nothing. Anxiety took over him, his heart racing inside his chest. He got really scared, thinking that someone abducted you, still terrified from the last incident that happened to you. With shaky hands he reached his phone to call one of his students, but before he can do he received a message from Nanami informing him that they moved you out of the hospital and took you to the dorms to rest there.

He let out a deep breath he didn't know he was holding, calming down slowly.

With a heavy sigh, he sank onto the edge of the bed, blaming himself for not being there when you woke up.

*Flashback*

You laid unconscious on the hospital bed after being treated by Shoko. No one was there except Gojo. He held your hand tightly, staring at your soft features as you were in your pretty slumber.

"I'm here Y/n, my beautiful wife, my princess" he whispered to you as you slept.

"I'm sorry, please wake up..wake up so I can tell you how much I love you, how bad I want to make you mine, how I want to fix things and start anew with you as a true husband, a husband that will love you, care for you and protect you, I won't let anyone hurt you.." he paused, remembering the state he found you in, on the floor, bloody nose, shirt almost torn off, his body tensed up.

"I'll punish them for what they had done to you" he added and left the room heading to the interrogation rooms at Jujutsu High.

*End of flash back*

*Time skip, night time*

Your students and Nanami already brought you everything you might need; food, water, some snacks and some manga books that Yuji gave to you to pass time.

You laid your back on the bed frame, grabbed a bag of chips, a manga book and started reading enjoying your own company, trying your best to distract yourself from thinking about Satoru.

Engrossed in the pages of your book and in your own world, the soft rustle of the door opening brought you back to reality. You already knew who it was, it was your husband Satoru. Even though, you were distant from each other, you got used to his footsteps. He closed the door behind and greeted you gently,

"Hii Y/n"

However, you remained absorbed in your reading, refusing to look up at him or even greet him back. He thought you were too focused on the book and didn't notice him arriving so he cleared his throat, attempting to get your attention this time and said,

"A-are you feeling better now? How's your leg?"

But again you remained silent, as if he wasn't in the room, as if his voice was inaudible to you. He received the message and realized that you don't wanna talk to him, and he respected your decision, he chose to not push too far especially that you're still traumatized from what happened to you.

With a resigned sigh, he took some clean clothes from the dresser, and made his way to the bathroom to take a shower that might wash the tiredness away. The sound of the running warm water that fell on his body mingled with the quiet of the room, a gentle reminder of the distance between you and him.

You put the book on your nightstand, and shut your eyes, you tried to go to sleep before he joins you again, you've already took your decision, you'll ignore him, you'll distance yourself even more, you won't let him pity you and help you because he feels sorry for what had happened to you. You refused to be the victim, you won't allow anyone to feel bad for you.

...

Opening the door again, he found you fast asleep, hugging your pillow for comfort. He smiled to himself as he saw your sleeping face.

He missed being in your presence, even if you were only sleeping. He dried his hair and then gently approached the bed, already dressed in his pajamas. The mattress sank as he joined you, getting under the covers. He used his elbow to keep himself up a bit while he watched you sleep. Your pouty lips that he craves to kiss, your soft skin that he wants to caress, your chest that rose and fell with each breath. It was the small details that made him fall for you, that made you so special. He was watching and watching till your comfy sight lulled him to sleep, and now he joined you, his head next to yours, his arms fell on your waist as he spooned you. Finally both of you not only sleeping under the same roof again all safe and sound, but being this close to each other.

.....

You woke up in the morning to him all over you, his arm laid comfortably on top of you. You rubbed your eyes, thinking it was a dream but it was reality. As much as it made the butterflies in your stomach go crazy, it made you feel sad as well. And the small smile that instinctively formed on your lips, disappeared.

"Maybe he just rolled over" you said to yourself, still convinced that whatever he was doing was everything and anything but love.

You pushed his hand away, getting ready to get breakfast with the rest of teachers and students as well. You missed those mornings, with Nobara talking nonstop, Panda eating everything on the table and Nanami annoyed whenever principal Yaga announced a new mission. You felt like family, you felt included but it's always something missing, the true love, the love of your husband.

It is indeed hard to live a one sided love story, realizing your feelings towards Gojo were more of a problem than a realization, maybe it could have been a lot easier if they remained undiscovered, because starting from today you'll live with the fact that your husband that you fell head over heels with doesn't reciprocate your feelings, at least that's what your mind told you.

The mind works in mysterious ways, sometimes when you're used to some kind of feeling, it becomes like a drug, so when you experience another feeling you always find a way to include that specific feeling again. And that's the case for you, you've been feeling lonely and unloved your whole life, and you thought you'd be feeling that way for the rest of your life not even giving yourself a chance to ask if he feels the same.

...

You walked towards the table, the food was ready, the scent of coffee was intoxicating. Your students already there, excited for food like every single morning.

"OH Y/N - SENSEI GOOD MORNING" said Yuji excitedly,

"Good morning Sensei" said the other students in union with a big smile.

You nodded smiling at their morning energy that was circulating in the air,

"Good morning everyone"

Nanami and Shoko joined, followed by Principal Yaga and then Gojo who came running and out of breath looking for you, but then letting a deep sigh once he saw you sitting around the table safe and happy. It became his new freshly unlocked fear; you not being by his side.

"Oh you're here" he mumbled,

"Huh Gojo what's up with that face? did you see a ghost?" said Principal Yaga

"I'm fine" he shrugged and then joined you, sitting on the chair that was right next to you.

He gazed at you, clearing his throat,

"You woke up early today, I thought about bringing you food to bed so you don't have to tire yourself" he started almost whispering.

You shoved the spoon full of rice in your mouth, not bothering to look at him. The others exchanged gazes but started eating shortly, not wanting to get into your business. Gojo started eating as well thinking about ways to approach you or find a key to start even a small conversation and get you to talk to him.

"So Y/n are you feeling better?" asked Nanami

"Yeah much better actually, thank you Nanami!" you smiled,

And Gojo felt his heart crash, as if he received a stab right in the chest. He wished it was him you were smiling at.

"Yuji can you pass me the salt please?" you said gently,

but before Yuji could reach it, Gojo already snatched it from in front of him and gave it to you,

"Here!" he said with a silly smile,

You poked the inside of your cheek and took the salt from him not even looking at him.

"Um Y/n–" started Satoru but you cut him off by starting a conversation with Yaga sensei.

"By the way Sensei, I feel like I'm ready to start teaching again–"

"WHAT NO!" yelled Satoru

You raised your eyebrow,

"You need to rest Y/n, you've been through a lot" he added worriedly.

But you ignored his concern and his comment and shifted your gaze to Principal Yaga again,

"My students must be missing my classes"

"But y/n Gojo is right! You need to rest! it's been only one day" exclaimed Principal Yaga

"I'm feeling okay!" you said smiling.

"Alright then, do as you please but don't tire yourself, okay?" said Yaga sensei with a smile

You nodded smiling.

"Y/n please, you've been through a traumatic experience, this phase is the hardest even if you're not realizing it" said Gojo with worried eyes.

But you ignored him again, getting up from the table, wiping your mouth with a napkin heading to your room to get ready for a day full of teaching.

......

It was a long day full of laugher with your students, they did everything they could to make sure you were comfortable and happy. Especially Yuji he acted extra silly to get you to laugh uncontrollably. They wanted to help you forget about the terrifying experience as soon as possible.

You were in the balcony at night, enjoying the night sky, getting back to your favorite night activity, watching the stars. It always put a smile on your face. It reminded you of how vast our universe is and how small our problems seem in front of it.

"sensei?"

You looked back,

"hm Megumi? are you okay?"

"Yeah! is it okay if w-we talk a bit?"

"Sure Gumi, tell me!" you replied with a soft grin, now giving him your full attention, anticipating his words

"I–I w-wanted to apologize!" he said looking down at his feet unable to meet your gaze

"Hm? for what?"

"I - I'm sorry sensei, I'm ashamed of what my father did to you, he doesn't represent me, I'm not like him and I completely oppose it, always been I–" he said nervously fidgeting with his fingers.

"Megumi" you started, placing your hands on his shoulders,

"I know who you are! I know how kind, caring and loving you are! You don't need to apologize, you don't need to explain anything. It's not your fault that your dad chose the wrong path, so don't ever blame yourself! Stand proud Megumi! You are an amazing student, an amazing person and an amazing friend of mine" you insisted giving him a light squeeze.

"Really?"

"Yes you are! Don't ever doubt yourself! come here" you added and pulled him into a warm hug.

.........

*2 days later*

"Yaga sensei, since Toji is in prison now what about Y/n and I go back to our house?" suggested Gojo.

"Huh? Why the rush you don't like it here?"

"No it's not like that, it's just since our marriage we had to live here so it would be nice to go back to our own house"

"I like it here" you said out of the blue, showing that you refuse to live with him in a vast house alone.

"But y/n, our house is big, you'll feel more comfortable there, our room is waiting for you–"

"Oh Yaga sensei I thought about making a writing test as well not only a practical one" you said cutting Satoru off, as if his words didn't matter.

Starting a new conversation, totally neglecting him. Everyone around the table noticed it but have no right to interfere. Your inside was screaming, wanting to give in and move back to your house again where you can live only you and your husband, enjoy each other's company and privacy but it was complicated, life is not a movie scene and you can't wipe away the bad memories easily.

*Time skip*

You were in the balcony, waiting for the sunset. You've been lying to yourself, thinking that teaching again and distracting yourself with some jokes would make you forget about the hell Toji and Mei Mei put you through. You were already suffering from anxiety and this incident made it worse. You were getting a good night sleep just because you were using the pills that Shoko gave to you or else you'll wake up screaming from your night terrors, from the trauma you had lived. You started getting random panic attacks whenever you were alone, your hands would get all sweaty and start shaking, cold sweat dripping from your forehead and you felt like being choked.

Maybe it would have been easier if you told them what you truly felt and not pretending to be okay. Maybe it would have been a lot easier if you confessed your true feelings to Satoru even if he rejects you.

A tear rolled down your cheek, knowing that it got worse and that Gojo did a mistake by saving you. Maybe the world would be a better place without you. You felt useless and a heavier burden now, going back to teaching to prove yourself useful in something, only to find your students pitying you and trying to help you instead of you helping them. With a deep breath, lost in your thoughts, you came to a conclusion, that leaving is the best option. It's been weeks and your curse didn't break, and you've already lost faith that it would break, and you can't live on false hope that one day you'll become a sorcerer and make your family proud. You feel like your husband that was forced to marry you, is now forced to take care of you and treat you differently because you were the unlucky one to get kidnapped by one the most dangerous murderers. Your family won't accept you or treat you fairly as long as you remain a monkey with no curse energy.

"It's all related" you chuckled to yourself,

You checked your phone, and credit card, already clothed in your jacket to protect you from the cold.

You took a moment to watch the sunset first, it was mesmerizing, the color degradation representing different phases.

"Sunsets are a living proof that endings can be beautiful too" you said to yourself.

You started walking away, leaving Jujutsu High behind, not knowing where your legs would take you but at least you know you'll be safe, Mei Mei and Toji are in prison now. You just wanted to get far away from everyone, you knew you didn't fit anywhere, you don't belong anywhere. So maybe you'll start as a normal simple human, with a normal simple job. It broke you to run away from them, you considered them a family and you knew you'll carry all those beautiful memories with you whenever you go, but what broke you the most, is leaving Gojo without a proper goodbye, but for your self-respect you chose not to give him another reason to feel sorry for you.

*Time skip*

"SENSEI! SENSEI HAVE YOU SEEN Y/N?" asked Gojo as he rushed downstairs after asking literally everyone and they said no.

"No!"

Panic coursed through his veins,

"Sensei what if someone abducted her again?"

"Relax Gojo, she's not a kid I'm sure she's safe, Toji is imprisoned so is Mei Mei, I'm sure she just went for a night stroll"

Gojo looked at him in disbelief, and left Jujutsu High and start searching for you, maybe he's being paranoid now and scared by the slightest thing but he can't afford to lose you, not again.

...

He searched everywhere, anywhere possible, he even went to Mei Mei's house to make sure you weren't there even though he knows damn well that both of them are paying for their mistakes. He check every corner, every street, every alley but you're nowhere to be found.

He started sweating, his heart hammering against his ribcage, feeling the sky narrowing around him and suffocating him.

"Where are you y/n, please!" he said to himself.

He paused when a thought crossed his mind, he knows you're a space enthusiast. You enjoy watching the clear night sky and chase the stars, but to do so you need an excluded area, away from Tokyo lights. A hill 2 hours away from Jujutsu High, but it's Satoru, he doesn't need 2 hours to reach that hill in a matter of seconds he found himself there.

It was dark, but he could see a figure standing, head's up to the sky. The city light bellow on full display. He knew right away that it was you. He wanted to announce his presence to not scare you, so with a soft voice he spoke,

"y/n?"

Yoh turned around, looking at him in disbelief. Without saying anything you started to walk away but he rushed towards you and grabbed your arm,

"Wait y/n please talk to me!"

"Satoru leave me alone"

"No! no I'm not leaving you alone, not this time! Why are you ignoring me? Why are you being being so cold towards me? I understand it was my fault and I'm so fucking sorry about it but please talk to me–"

"Satoru! For god's sake, let me go, let me live, let me try a new start away from all of this"

"Why? you can start anew here? with us! with me!"

"No you don't understand! I don't belong to your world, I don't belong here! I'm sick of it" you explained a tear fell down,

"You belong with me y/n, please let me help you"

"I don't fucking need your help, I don't need anyone's fucking help, I'm tired of being the one in need, I'm tired of being the one who needs to be saved. Because no one of you will, and because it's so fucking degrading, I'm sick of myself, sick of not being able to protect myself-"

"Y/n you're not realizing your potential, please don't rush things!"

"Don't rush things? It's been weeks Satoru and nothing worked, I can't let you go through this, you deserve to be with someone like you, you deserve to be with someone strong, a sorcerer not a talentless human. It's over okay!! I was ready to send you the divorce papers so you don't need worry about anything, I'm no longer a burden, and you won't take my responsibility, I know you're sick of me and of all this prophecy shit" you paused,

looking straight into his blue eyes, if you could trade the night sky for his eyes then you would, you would choose to look deep into those blue canvas. You wanted to take into his face, to stare longer memorizing his features so they take a longer time to fade from your memory.

"Rejoice Satoru, you're free!" you said and freed yourself from his grasp, walking away,

His heart beats escalated, watching you walk away. No it can't be, you can't leave him, not when he realized that he couldn't breathe without you, not when he realized he can't sleep without your scent in the room.

"No, you can't leave me"

He grabbed you again, pulling you against him,

"I can Satoru, that's what you fucking wanted so don't act like you don't want it"

"I'm not acting, I don't want you to leave"

"Why? So you can feel less guilty by making it up for me even if you don't want it?"

"NO!"

"Then fucking why?"

"BECAUSE I FUCKING LOVE YOU!"

A moment of silence fell over the place, looking into each other's eyes, only your heavy breathing is being heard,

"I love you y/n, I love you so fucking much that I can't take it anymore, I love you that the only thing I can focus on is you, I lOVE YOU THAT I WOULD GIVE UP HEAVEN IF IT MEANS I GET TO BE WITH YOU, BECAUSE YOU'RE MY HEAVEN Y/N, YOU'RE MY BLESSING. I WAS YOUR CURSE AND I HATE MYSELF FOR THAT, BUT LOVE, LOVE MADE ME A FOOL, A FOOL FOR YOU"

You didn't say a word, you were too shocked, words still processing in your mind. You froze, trying to figure out if it was a dream or a reality. But when he crashed his lips on yours, you knew it was real, by the way his soft plump lips felt on yours. His big hands grabbing your waist pulling you towards his body that was screaming, yelling for you, for your touch. You closed your eyes enjoying the sensation, a sensation you dreamt of for many nights, and days. Daydreaming, wondering how his lips would taste.

Instinctively your hands moved around his neck, pulling him closer. Your breath mixing, breathing each other in and out. Kissing each other so passionately as if your lives depend on it as if the world stops rotating, the clock stops ticking, and humans stops breathing. Only you and him in a vast world.

He pulled away, intoxicated by your taste, his eyes full of love and lust at the same time, growing impatient as the seconds passed by, the he spoke with a foggy voice,

"Let's go to our house, our home, tonight I'll make you mine and you'll make me yours.. let me do your duty as your husband, allow me to get a taste of you and get a taste of me"

Your chest rose and fell, feeling the electricity run in your system, turning you on even more.

"mhm" you nodded, you'd follow him everywhere even to your decease.

You were ready to finally give yourself to him, to allow him to do as he pleases to you and you do as you please to him. Finally, a few moments till you become a real husband and wife, a few moments till you taste heaven.

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morbethgames · 8 months ago

Text

The Final Part of Chapter 4 Mostly Is Now Live!

So, you guys are probably wondering what the mostly is about. Simply put, there’s a subroute in the final part that I still need to write. Not very long, it won’t be too big of a deal later on, but this scene was blocking me hard. After working on it for 2 months straight I just wanted to move on. Needless to say, if I had to write one more set of variations for how the PC fights the suspect, I was going to go insane. That being said, it is all mostly there. There’s simply one greyed out option is all. I’m going to come revisit this scene when it’s more fresh to me again and when I don’t have to push myself so damn hard and force myself to write it. Along with the final part, I’ll probably be adding a bit more variation to it in general. But, now that that’s out of the way, let me get to the patch notes!

Patch Notes:

Added most of the rest of Chapter 4, which includes another Text Box Investigation Scene!

Added an unlockable extra story of Ryder’s PoV before the after funeral scene.

Multiple gender variable mistakes have been fixed.

Fixed a mistake where Alvarez and Ryder were being referred to as ‘mommy’.

Added a small dialogue variation to Ryder’s train scene where, if you’ve already talked to Alvarez, the PC won’t ask Ryder to clarify details about Alvarez’s age.

Added a small dialogue variation to the talk with Hawks in Dennis’ Office where, if the PC didn’t answer the phone for their brother in Chapter 2, it will reflect that choice.

Fixed the error on my part where the hoplite in the painting in Hawks’ office was being referred to as ‘Roman’ instead of ‘Greek’.

Fixed a bug where, if you chose to talk to Lance first on the train, it wouldn’t give you the option to talk to a second person.

Thank you all so much for sticking with me while I’m pumping this stuff out! It feels like such a weight off my shoulders to be able to just moved on from this scene, and to give myself the room to just come back to it later. Expect the Patreon to pick back up to two posts a week again as I get to start writing all the in between stuff for Chapter 4.5! If you like this story, and you want to support either me or this story, head on over to my Patreon where you can get an early look at extra stories, audiobook readings of this story and other IF’s, original short stories with original characters, and so on.

Patreon Link ←

We’re getting close for sure everyone. Hopefully, bare minimum, by the end of the year, this story will be completed. I’m excited, scared, and worried all at the same time.

Thank you all again so much for sticking with me.

Stay Brilliant, -Vi

Demo Link: https://dashingdon.com/play/morbethgames/the-bureau-wip/mygame/

The Bureau forum page: https://forum.choiceofgames.com/t/wip-the-bureau-chapters-1-3-550k-total-words-updated-03-14-2024/99993

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yumeka-sxf · 1 month ago

Text

2-year anniversary post

My blog is now 2-years old~!

After my last anniversary post, I had quite a list of projects planned; in addition to making posts for all the upcoming SxF content, like the movie, season 2, and the video game, I had other personal projects in mind as well. I wanted to start on my Japanese Linguistic Observations in Spy x Family series, which I was able to write five posts for as of now! (I've currently exhausted all the topics I wanted to discuss for that, but I may come up with more ideas later on). There was also the Spy x Family Character Tracker, which took me a while to get motivated to do, but once I did, I'm proud of how it turned out 😃 I also made a lot of scan posts this year too, like the workbooks and my series of miscellaneous collab scans.

But compared to my last anniversary, which was at a time when there was a lot of new SxF content on the horizon, we've been in a bit of a dry spell the past several months. Hype for the aforementioned movie, game, and anime season have died down, and merch and collabs have slowed as well, since there hasn't been new anime content to promote. But I consider it the calm before the storm, lol.

This is also why my posts have gotten a little less frequent lately - there hasn't been as much new SxF content in general besides the manga chapters, and as mentioned previously, I was able to check off the projects I had wanted to do. So as of now, I don't have much new content planned in the coming year besides continuing my Chronological Analysis on Twilight and Yor series when season 3 airs (still no release date yet, but I'm betting on spring of 2025). I'll also make posts for each anime episode like I did with season 2. And of course, I'll continue my manga chapter reviews, and make merch and scan posts when I can.

I've always tried to maintain a "quality over quantity," "only write when I have something to say," mentality for the blog. I don't want to force myself to write when I'm not motivated (this is also why I don't take part in community writing projects and the like). I also have other hobbies besides SxF, so I like to focus my limited free time on those when there isn't much going on in the SxF fandom. Occasionally I think to myself, "Hm, I haven't posted on Tumblr in a while," but if there isn't anything I feel like writing about at the time, it's better if I hold off rather than force myself to churn out something uninspiring.

But as I said, I feel like we're in a calm before the storm. Season 3 will already be exciting enough, but there's a good chance more content will follow. The next Jump Festa is scheduled for late December, and as usual, SxF will have a dedicated panel with the four Forger voice actors in attendance!

The movie and season 2 were announced at this event in 2022, so there's a good chance we'll get more juicy announcements this year! Even if not another movie, I'd be happy with more artbooks, collabs, and other things down the line! There's also a good chance an idea for another SxF project will inspire me and I'll start working on that. Who knows. But I do know SxF is still a popular series with many more years of content to produce! And I look forward to seeing, and blogging about, it all 😁

#spy x family #sxf #spy family #spyxfamily #sxf manga #sxf anime

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thatgiraffefromtlou · 1 month ago

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The Aurora Project

(part 2)

(tumblr won’t let me tag part one for some odd reason but it’s in my pinned post! make sure you read that first 🫶🏻)

summary: as a result of a malfunction, you and ellie awaken from cryosleep aboard a spaceship with no memory. will you find evidence that you're more than just shipmates? something to give reason to your nagging familiarity to the stranger you wake up next to?

warnings: eventual explicit language, potential for smut in later chapters (depending), uh cringy teasing idk- Imk if there's more this is also pretty tame-

A/N: so erm this definitely isn’t the best work of mine i won’t lie to you guy. it’s only slightly proof read 🧍🏼 like i said the results of this election has my mind kind elsewhere, but writing is still very therapeutic for me and i really wanted to get something put out for you guys! plus im excited to post this and continue this story and i don’t want that to be taken from me. anyways enough about that i hope you guys enjoy!!

work count: 2.6K (ik sorry they will eventually be longer)

– Chapter two -

"Maybe your eye would work?" you break the silence, your voice echoing softly in the open space. You and Ellie sit on either side of the exit, your backs pressed against the cool, metallic walls. It took you two what felt like forever, but you finally found a door. The hope that cascaded through your bodies upon first seeing the door was palpable, a surge of excitement that quickly dissipated the moment you realized it was locked. The lock mechanism, a complex array of technological marvels you’ve never encountered, had multiple parts, but only needed one of the three ways to get through: an eye scanner, a password, or a thumbprint.

The eye scanner looked like a floating camera, or at least that's the best way you could describe it. It hovered eerily, set maybe a foot above a see-through keyboard that seemed to defy gravity. Glowing boxes surrounded glowing letters, numbers, and symbols, creating an otherworldly interface. It was strange, almost disconcerting, the way those two things seemed to float beside the door, as if held in place by some invisible force. In stark contrast, the fingerprint scan was firmly affixed to the actual door itself, a more tangible and familiar security measure. Either way, two of these things you thought Ellie might be able to manipulate, given her potential credentials.

"Huh?" Ellie turns her head to you, her brows furrowed in confusion and her upper lip slightly risen on one side, creating an expression of both intrigue and skepticism. "It's a shot in the dark but..." you begin, your mind racing to connect the dots, "Our name plates—only you had 'Dr.' in front of your name." You shrug your shoulders and lick your lips, your theory on the tip of your tongue. Turning your body to face more in her direction, your legs tucking slightly under your thighs in an attempt to get comfortable on the hard floor, you continue, "Maybe you have some form of authority here? I mean, hell, maybe you're even an astronaut? It's not too far-fetched considering our surroundings."

She looked at you with an expression that was a perfect blend of disbelief and flattery, as if you had just said the most absurd yet complimentary thing imaginable. Her eyes widened slightly, eyebrows raised, creating a very confused expression that spoke volumes. "Or," she countered, her voice tinged with a hint of skepticism, "I'm just a doctor who practices medicine and they need doctors in this place we're headed towards? It seems more likely, doesn't it?" Your shoulders literally slump at that, the weight of disappointment settling on you. "Yeah, you're probably right…" you concede, your voice trailing off.

You sit with your back against the wall again, the cool surface a stark reminder of your predicament. Your mind starts racing, deciding to go back to the drawing board. Maybe there's another door on the other side? Air vents? As these thoughts swirl in your head, Ellie suddenly stands up, her movement catching you off guard. She leans over slightly, putting her eye at level with the scanner, a look of determination etched on her face. You look up at her curiously, and suddenly there's a beep—a sharp, electronic sound that cuts through the silence—and the doors slide open with a smooth, hydraulic hiss.

You get on your feet immediately, adrenaline surging through your body, and she turns back to you, her face a mask of genuine shock mirroring your own. "No way..." you say in awe, your voice barely above a whisper as you look through the now open door. The view beyond is bleak, not really what you were hoping for. Just another long walkway stretches before you, more walkways branching off like a labyrinth of sterile corridors. "Guess I am an astronaut..." Ellie says quietly, a smile playing on her lips, tinged with a mixture of pride and bewilderment.

You look back to her, her smile a welcome contrast to the boring white hallway that seems to stretch endlessly before you. You can't help but smile back, a sense of camaraderie growing between you. "Of course you are," you say, your voice filled with a newfound confidence, "I'm never wrong." Ellie huffs air out of her nose in a small laugh, her smile widening as she shakes her head, a gesture that seems both exasperated and fond. She takes a deep breath, straightening her back again, and steps into the hallway with cautious steps. You follow close behind, your footsteps echoing in the empty corridor. The doors close with a whooshing sound behind you both, sealing off the room you just left.

"Why'd you give it a try?" you ask, curiosity getting the better of you as you fall into step beside her. Ellie shrugs, her eyes scanning the corridor ahead. "Better than sitting there with no solution," she replies, her tone matter-of-fact. She glances at you, a hint of amusement in her eyes, "and something told me you're never wrong or whatever." You smile as the warm sense of familiarity fills you again, this time less scary but just as confusing as before. It's a feeling you can't quite place, like a half-remembered dream or a song you can't quite recall. "Fair enough," you joke a little, your voice light.

Silence settles over the two of you for a moment before you speak again, "So, Dr. Ellie," you say, emphasizing her title with a playful tone, a little pep in your step, your body angled more towards her than forward. "What's our next move? Any pearls of astronaut wisdom to share with us mere mortals?" The question is wrapped in a layer of jest, but underneath, it's clear you're both grappling with the same pressing concern: what on earth—or rather, what in space—are you supposed to do now?

Ellie responds with a soft chuckle, her eyes never ceasing their scan of the corridors stretching out before you. "Well," she begins, her voice tinged with a hint of self-deprecation, "If I had to guess, I think our best bet would be to find some kind of control room or like a central hub. I mean.. there's bound to be a nerve center somewhere." As she speaks, her hands move in small, unconscious gestures, as if trying to shape her thoughts in the air.

She gives a little shrug, the movement almost diminishing the weight of her ideas. It's a strange contradiction—the self-assurance in her logic juxtaposed against a hint of awkwardness in her delivery. The dichotomy is intriguing; she clearly knows she's smart, but there's a flutter of something—maybe modesty, maybe uncertainty—when that intelligence is on display.

You nod, genuinely impressed by her logical approach despite her hesitation. "Makes sense," you agree, your voice trailing off a little as you mull over her suggestion. After a moment you ask, "Any ideas on how we might go about finding this hypothetical control room?"

Ellie's eyebrows lift a fraction, and when she speaks again, her words seem to require a touch more effort than before, as if she's carefully weighing each one. "Well, we could start by looking for signs, I suppose?" Her gaze flicks to you briefly before returning to the path ahead, a mix of consideration and caution in her eyes. "Or, failing that, we could follow the main corridor?" She gestures ahead with a sweep of her hand. "In my experience-“ she cuts herself off in a fluster. “Or what I think might be my experience, given our current memory situation—important areas are usually centrally located and well-marked."

You hum thoughtfully and nod, acknowledging the soundness of her strategy. "So, essentially, we keep walking straight until we stumble upon another door or some kind of signage?" A note of playful sarcasm creeps into your voice as you add, "Sounds absolutely thrilling..."

Ellie responds with an eye roll, but there's a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth, softening the gesture. "Well, unless you've got a better idea tucked away in that sarcasm-filled brain of yours, Captain Quip, I think that's our best bet for now." She pauses for a beat, then adds with a touch of dry humor coloring her words, "Who knows? Maybe if we're really lucky, we'll stumble upon a space casino or an alien petting zoo along the way."

"A petting zoo?" you echo, latching onto the absurd image with enthusiasm. "Maybe they've got some kind of high-tech Noah's Ark situation going on up here." The mental picture draws a laugh from both of you, the sound a welcome break in the tension. As your chuckles subside, you're struck by a sudden realization. "You know what? I could really go for a drink right now. God, I'm thirsty. Are you thirsty too?" The question hangs in the air for a moment before you notice something's off. You turn, expecting to see Ellie beside you, but she's nowhere in sight. Confusion floods your system. Wasn't she just—

You’re quickly interrupted by the sound of your name being called. It's Ellie's voice, but it's coming from at least 20 feet behind you. You spin around, your eyes searching, and finally spot her. She's standing in front of a doorway, her arm extended, finger pointing at something beyond. "Look," she calls again, her voice a mix of excitement and wariness.

You quickly jog back to where Ellie is standing. As you draw closer, you see what has captured her attention: before you a mini hall, maybe 3 feet long ending with a small door.

Your gaze follows Ellie's pointing finger to the side of the door, where a placard identical to those at the foot of your pods catches your attention. The name 'Dr. Williams' is etched onto its surface, below her name is a simple +1, causing a small jolt of recognition to course through you. "Oh..." you breathe, the single syllable barely audible as it escapes your lips. Your eyes dart between Ellie and the plain white door, a feeling of apprehension swirling in your gut.

"Well, let's open it," you suggest, your voice a blend of impatience and nervousness. Ellie responds with a nod, her face showing her own set of conflicting emotions. She reaches out, her hand settling on the doorknob - a long, flat apparatus that stands out against the sterile white of the door. Your eyes are drawn to a peculiar smooth shiny black rectangle spot near where the handle attaches to the door, its purpose unclear but somehow significant.

Ellie's fingers wrap around the handle, and she attempts to turn it. The door remains closed, the handle refusing to even budge an inch. A look of frustration flashes across her face as she tries again, her knuckles almost whitening with the force of her grip. Still, the door doesn't budge.

You watch intently as Ellie's brow furrows in concentration, her fingers now tracing the outline of the mysterious black spot. Suddenly, Ellie's eyes widen with realization, and she presses her thumb firmly against the black square. The silence that follows seems to stretch for an eternity, both of you holding your breath in anticipation. Then, a soft beep fills the air, shattering the tension.

Ellie turns the handle again and the door responds with a soft click as she pushes the door open. You and Ellie exchange a quick glance, a wordless communication passing between you. Taking a deep, steadying breath, you both step forward in unison. The room is small, almost like a one room apartment. The white sterile walls not following you into this space. You both set forward, Ellie in the lead as you both wordlessly scan the room. The walls may be white, but the room itself is vibrant with personality and life.

Every available surface is adorned with an array of memorabilia - framed photographs capturing moments frozen in time, colorful posters that speak of diverse interests, and shelves lined with an assortment of knick-knacks, each telling its own story. These decorations form a protective cocoon around the full-sized bed nestled at the far end of the room, creating a cozy sanctuary within the larger space. The front area of the room seamlessly blends the functionality of a kitchen with the comfort of a living room, defying the sterile environment beyond its walls.

As you step further into the room, your senses are overwhelmed by a collection of different scents, each fighting for dominance in the recycled air of the ship. The rich, invigorating aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingles with the smoky, complex notes of aged whiskey. A faint, earthy scent of stale marijuana lingers in the background. Underpinning it all is a warm, masculine fragrance - reminiscent of a what you’d smell when you hug a Southern dad, all sun-warmed cotton and subtle cologne.

Despite the main overhead light being off, the room is bathed in a gentle, welcoming glow. A strategically placed array of lamps and twinkling string lights cast a soft, amber radiance throughout the space. This warm illumination not only brightens the room but also seems to ignite a spark of recognition deep within you. As your eyes adjust and roam over the personal touches scattered throughout, you can't shake the feeling that this space is somehow intimately familiar, as if you've spent countless hours within these very walls, or at least around these things.

Ellie quietly calls your name, her voice tinged with a mixture of excitement and uncertainty. You slowly turn around to see her sitting on what you presume to be her bed, a framed photograph clutched in her hands. You make your way over to her, each step feeling both familiar and foreign on the ship's floor. As you settle beside her on the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under your combined weight, she carefully turns the photo to face you both.

The image captured within the frame immediately draws your attention. It's a snapshot of what appears to be a Halloween party, the background a blur of festive decorations and revelers. But it's the subjects of the photo that truly catch your eye - you and Ellie, looking carefree and happy, your costumes as whimsical as they are clever.

You find yourself staring at your own image, barely recognizing the person looking back at you. You're dressed in an elaborate moth costume, complete with intricately designed wings and antennae. Your costume-clad self is caught mid-motion, planting an exaggerated kiss on Ellie's cheek. Ellie, for her part, is sporting what can only be described as a lampshade on her head, her face alight with laughter and warmth.

The juxtaposition of the costumes isn't lost on you - a moth drawn to a lamp, a visual pun that speaks of inside jokes and shared humor. It's a moment of connection, of joy, frozen in time and preserved behind glass.

"Oh..." you breathe, the word barely more than an exhale. The photo feels like a key, unlocking a flood of emotions you can't quite place. Familiarity wars with the unsettling feeling of looking at strangers wearing your faces.

"Oh..." Ellie echoes, her voice a mirror of your own confusion and wonder. Her eyes flick between the photo and your face, searching for something - recognition, perhaps, or confirmation that you're feeling the same tumult of emotions that she is.

The silence stretches between you, filled with unspoken questions and the weight of implications neither of you are quite ready to voice.

A/N: hehehe lmk if you wanna be added to the tag listttttt

tag list: @autisticintr0vert (if you’re not tagged and asked to be, please check to make sure you’re ability to be tagged is on because your username did not show up!)

#ellie williams #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams × reader #ellie smut

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kamiversee · 9 months ago

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The F*ck List (semi-official) Breakdown.

The following was submitted by my lovely ☃️anon, & I needed to make this it’s own post given how long it is, my replies & clarifications are written in between this breakdown & theory (Ex: A/N > Etc.).

Here, you’ll find majority of details you may have missed & maybe even more to think about. Enjoy :)

(wc; 5.7k) (content; spoilers ofc)

holy shit Kami. i literally had to take the entire day to process everything. before anything else, i need you to know that you've created an absolute masterpiece. TFL was the first fic i ever cared to keep up with and it has set the bar impossibly high for any other writer out there. please take your time with TFL 2, i'm so excited to read your other work!! also a break sounds like it would be so good for your mind considering how long you've dedicated yourself to this story 😭😭😭 you're seriously impressive. heads up, i didn't proofread this at all bc i finished typing this at 4 am LMFAO so forgive me if it's all scrambled and makes no sense.

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A/N > Thank you for taking the time to write this breakdown, I seriously appreciate it so I wanted to take my time in responding to it & engaging with you :)

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now, on to the yap. i deadass cracked my knuckles before typing all this out.

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A/N > You’re so real for tht ngl

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i reread the entirety of TFL from chapter 1 and my brain is so melted from analyzing that i'll prob find more details tomorrow after i sleep on some theories 😭 BUT HOLY FUCK YOU REALLY WEREN'T KIDDING WHEN YOU SAID YOU WERE HINTING AT GOJO'S OBSESSION SINCE LITERALLY THE FIRST CHAPTER??? the fucking hint being that "Gojo's desire for you is so strong it's almost frightening." GIRLLLLLL 🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵

your foreshadowing and referencing is insane. idk if you intended a lot of it, but a lot of it caught my eye.

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A/N> I TOLD YOU GUYS IVE BEEN DOIN IT SINCE THE FIRST CHAPTER !! Okay not exactly but like there was a vibe I had from the first chapter & when I later came up with the twist & went back and saw that everything would connect perfectly ^.^

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chapter 7; the reader and Gojo have lighthearted banter about how the reader "started this" situation.

"I made a mistake." [reader]

"A good one."

"Bad one." You correct.

this was regarding a completely different situation but it baffled me how much it connects to the plot itself; the reader making the "mistake" of leaving her door open, and how it lead to months full of trauma and love. probably completely unintentional, but such a good detail.

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A/N > Very intentional btw, it’s supposed to be known that, in a sense, Gojo x reader is forbidden :)

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Choso's still staring at you intently, "What version of you would someone not like?"

The way he words his question only furthers that little feeling in your chest. It's almost as though he were implying that any and all versions of you would be acceptable in his eyes. - Chapter 16

THE WAY WE SHOULD HAVE KNOWN THAT CHOSO WOULD STICK BY US REGARDLESSSSSSSS AAAAAA WE'RE SO BLIND!!! i just hope this stays true to the sequel :')

"No, I wish you didn't have to hate me." He says, shutting his eyes again and sucking in a deep breath, "B-But... it's uh, It's okay. I can live with you hating me." - Chapter 21

AAAA WE SHOULD HAVE KNOWN!!!! WE SHOULD HAVE KNOWN THIS WAS FORESHADOWING OUR FUTURE WITHOUT GOJO 😭😭😭 how he can live with the idea of the reader hating him so long as she's happy with Choso, especially considering his later revelations of how twisted his actions were and how if you stuck with him, he'd view you differently. fuck.

You despise the fact that he loves you. To you, it's almost entitled for him to feel like he has that right. How dare he hold such a strong emotion for you? If he felt this way, why is he forcing you to sleep with people for him? It makes no sense.

Why would someone claim to love you and put you through so much?

If he's been in love with you all this time, why start the list in the first place? Why couldn't he have just tried to win your heart from the beginning? Why the list? Why the blackmail? You don't understand him. - Chapter 23

i'm crushed. we didn't understand because we didn't know that Sukuna was involved. that could mean a million other things. i have some far-fetched theories about this but hear me out later!!!

the entirety of chapter 23 had me fucking floored while i was rereading. THE FORESHADOWING WAS EVERYWHERE!!! EVERY FUCKING WHERE

"No sweetheart, Sukuna's an asshole but..." His expression flickers and his smile fades away. He swallows and then clears his throat, "I'm pretty sure he'll satisfy you just fine."

...

You narrow your eyes at him, "Are you sure?"

...

"Fuckin' positive," Gojo suddenly sounds pissed and you grow concerned. The arm around you gets a little tighter while he walks you through some crowds and you keep looking at the man confused.

There's a vein popping out along his jawline because of how hard he's gritting his teeth.

of course he's aggravated because he knows that Sukuna is the one behind the list in the first place 😭😭😭 I'M SORRY WE DOUBTED YOU SATORU, FUCKKKK

——FIFTEEN MINUTES. That was the exact amount of time it took you to seduce Sukuna. The act was way too easy. Actually, it was suspiciously easy.

BECAUSE HE FUCKING KNEW 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

"What all did you plan on doing tonight aside from getting harassed by strangers?" Sukuna suddenly questions against your skin.

You ignore how close he is and the way his lips make you tense, turning your head to face forward. Chuckling at his last comment, "Same thing as everyone else here." You reply, slightly confused by his question.

"Bullshit," He utters, "Nobody dresses like this without the intent of gaining my attention," Sukuna claims while his hands slide back down along your body.

this 100% could be just him being cocky and Sukuna, but the recent reveal just makes this feel like an extra demeaning interaction. but of course, it's Sukuna.

chapter 24 is so fucking shady too with everything we know. i know you addressed some of these points already bc i brought them up in previous anon messages, but these things still had me paranoid;

the way Sukuna leaves us and tells the reader to go to his room after a certain amount of time (i know he could have just been tidying up real quick but everything about this man has me on edge)

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A/N> A lot of people are on edge about this but I’ll be honest, there’s nothing crazy that happens in between this time period. Not saying nothing happens but nothing crazy— it’ll be addressed later (in the next fic most likely)

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the way he's been consistently on the phone since the reader entered the room, which is shortly after she messaged Gojo saying that she'll be able to cross Sukuna off of this list by tonight which he wasn't happy with at all.

no seriously, he kept diverting his attention to something in the bathroom and then came out, still on his phone. maybe he's talking to literally anyone else but STILL I'M PARANOID

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A/N> This is to show the fact that Sukuna is a very socially active individual, & hints to the theory (I think you later state) that he has connections.

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this happens in chapter 25 but the way he keeps smiling while the reader kisses him is just so smug of him especially considering the original reason as to why the reader's even interacting with him

then the spicy chapters with Sukuna…

the foreshadowing that the lack of knowledge of Sukuna's reputation will come back to bite her in the ass; first with the knowledge that he is abusive, and then her finding out that he is the curator of the list, knowing the full details of her blackmail and even threatening her again.

WHO DID HE FUCKING FIGHT HELPPPPP MY MIND IS BOGGLING there's no way it's Gojo, right? they're both too unscathed in these next few chapters for there to have been a fight between the two of them.

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A/N > It’s not Gojo. 🙏

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THE FUCKING MOMENT WHERE HE CONTEMPLATED SOMETHING WITH THE PHONE IN HIS HAND??? I FUCKING KNEW IT. I FUCKING CALLED IT WAS SOMETHING SHADY AS HELL.

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A/N> The other Sukuna hint I was talking about is right before this moment btw, you’re welcome ;)

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then he has the audacity to hold his tongue right afterwards?? it's such a big hint towards the fact that he knew about the list from the beginning UGHHHHHHHH.

the way he tried to humor the reader about her "job" even though he was in on the whole thing. UGH. SUKUNA WHEN I GET YOU SUKUNA?? 👊👊👊👊 especially with that "whore" joke right afterwards. i can't stand him. i know that it's implied that he has a twisted view on women from having abusive women in his life (his mom and his ex who he punched) BUT STILL. he's so lucky he's fictional and hot.

the fact that we're able to pick up on the fact that it's a "crazy coincidence" that he continues the whore jokes UGHHHHH HE HAS BEEN PLAYING US FROM THE STAAAAAARTT

Gojo got upset at something from Sukuna's party, he didn't want you to call yourself a whore all of a sudden, Sukuna seems to have believed that was your actual job, and you remember how pissed Gojo seemed as he thought about you sleeping with Sukuna-

Holy fuck. Are the two connected somehow? Is something going on? What does Gojo owe Sukuna? Does Sukuna know you only slept with him as payment to clear Gojo's debt? Is-

GIRL YOU WERE ALMOST THERE!!!! YOU ALMOST HAD IT!!!

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A/N > I love teasing in my narration by nearly spoiling things 😹

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---

seriously though, these chapters killed me. the official end obliterated my heart. it's so fucking bittersweet i want to scream at the top of a high building. the reader ends up happy and with someone she loves, which is fantastic for her. she deserves that after everything she went through. Choso treats her so, so well.

but Gojo. with the theories i have, i feel horrible. i was so harsh towards him as a die hard Choso girly but these endings changed me. i just hope i'm right.

the fact that his healing journey is harsher than ours makes this ending sting so much. he's healed, and you can see it with his demeanor from the call and the way he interacted with the reader.

we were always made aware of the way he looked at us such deep attachment. the initial gleam shows that he's happy to see us, but that he's not reliant on us for his happiness anymore. he's finding that on his own, and it's a grueling process for him. i wished the reader gave him a hug, but that would probably make me feel even worse.

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A/N> He gave her a lil side hug (with his arm over her shoulder) & was resting his head on hers at the end if that makes you feel any better 😅

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"Through my blackmailing, I fell for you but I also did it because I loved you from the start." i'm gonna throw up bro i'm so sad. i'm proud of his growth. his obsession was so, so strong but he always prioritized the reader's happiness over himself. i know that being self-sacrificial is so core to his personality but it doesn't make it suck any less. i'm devastated. i started blasting mitski in the car on my way to work after reading this.

i thought i was ready for the journal burning. i was so ready for this tie to be severed, for them to finally move on. but i failed to realize that it could ultimately mean a life without each other. it makes sense as to why, but it still sucks.

kami i need that poly ending before i cry my eyes out at 4 am rn. you know i can't handle angst, but bittersweet endings lowkey hurt me even more. i need all my babies to be happy. i desperately need it.

but that alt ending... fuck. in a horrible, sick, and twisted way, i'm relieved. i'm a Choso girly from the bottom of my heart but i can't let this Gojo go omfg. even if he shows up for one more chapter, i think i'll be alright. BUT IT BETTER NOT BE FOR DEATH KAMI!!!! I HAVE A FEW EXCERPTS THAT SUGGEST DEATH FLAGS BUT I AM SIMPLY NOT LOOKING AT THEM. DON'T DO THIS TO ME KAMIIIIIII. i need this boy to be frolicking in a field of flowers or something. my heart can't take this.

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A/N> I know I reference death a lot but that’s just to add a sense of how dramatic the characters are 🫶

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okay, time for my mind-fucky theory. pls bare with me. if it wasn't obvious by my last post, i'm 100% on board with the theory that Sukuna's blackmailing Gojo, which started this whole thing. but the thing that is getting me is how this all connects. i have some assumptions that could make sense, but there are a handful of gaps. here's my thought process;

Sukuna's blackmailing Gojo by using his obsession/love against him.

we are already familiar with the fact that Gojo has liked the reader for years. there was a chapter where Gojo mentioned that it started off as a "crush" but he was so oblivious to his own obsession up until the reader mentioned it to him. it's to the point that he didn't understand what was wrong with the idea of hurting people for the reader. who's to say that Sukuna didn't catch him in some sort of heinous act regarding the reader like stalking?

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A/N > You’re cooking with this one and I almost, almost had to go get the fire extinguisher :D

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Gojo didn't understand the difference between love and obsession until later on in the story. this would be consistent with the implication that Gojo just loved her so deeply that his morals were askew as we have yet to find out how far his love goes.

what if Sukuna caught him in the act of doing god knows what, and brought up the fact that if the reader found out about this, that she'd get super freaked out and would do everything she can to get away from him (considering probably barely knew each other, if at all, at this point). but why would Sukuna devise such a plan over a money bribe? well, Sukuna's already revealed to be wealthy, and maybe he was bored. the same line that Gojo kept repeating to the reader whenever she questioned him as to why he did it. what if Gojo asked Sukuna why he's blackmailing him, and he said the exact same thing; "I was bored." we see how much Sukuna mirrors Gojo's speech by calling the reader "sweetheart" often, what if Gojo did the same thing?

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A/N > Gojo & Sukuna do have a few parallels in this story & they will be addressed more in the sequel.

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we wondered in chapter 23 how Gojo reaches out to these men to ensure their debt is "paid," but considering how oblivious everyone else on the list is to Gojo owing them anything, it would make sense that he only reports to Sukuna as he is ordered to do so. but two things stumped me on this theory overall.

the reader said that she used to party a lot and get involved with boys before Gojo. if he was stalking her for so long, why did he wait so long to approach her?

what specifically would be the blackmail that Sukuna has on Gojo?

regarding the first point, it's been mentioned that Gojo has been "scared of women" and was shy when it came to approaching the reader. he knew of her for so long, but was able to constantly slip under her radar. considering how much of a pervert he is, it wouldn't have been surprising for him to sneak around and watch in on the reader hooking up with other guys. after all, these guys were probably complete strangers to him and all he cared about was you. remember how Gojo was basically able to tune out his own best friend, Suguru, when the reader was hooking up with him in their living room? it wouldn't be wild to assume that he was able to do the same for your other hookups as he spied on you.

to connect this with second point, what if Sukuna caught Gojo being a peeping tom on the reader during a party hook-up? while being so distracted in the act of spying, Sukuna spots him. the reader wouldn't be alright with the fact that someone who's barely an acquaintance (if that, depending on the time this occurred) to her has been perving around and watching her have sex without her consent. she would do anything to get away from Gojo, and of course that would crush him. Gojo tried to buy Sukuna's silence by any means necessary. so, Sukuna generated a list of people that he and Gojo mutually knew for the reader to fuck. the reasoning for it would be the fact that Gojo has to sit through the process of having the girl he likes fuck a bunch of guys besides him, and the fact that Gojo knew all these men would make it sting more. plus, he has a reputation for hookups. (chapter 8)

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A/N > You’re like RIGHT there with it and yet not there at the same time omg 😟

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but why would Gojo agree to this deal with Sukuna, and why would he also go with the method of blackmailing the reader? it's basically a guarantee that the reader would be scared away regardless. but again, we could recall that Shoko mentioned that he was too "scared of women" to approach the reader at first. this was his chance to finally approach her. plus, "once that video is gone, there is no excuse he'll have to be around you." (chapter 8)

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but the more i thought of this reasoning for the two points, the more bizarre it felt. so what if instead of Gojo being a peeping tom, it was Sukuna. we get so many hints that Sukuna has eyes and intel everywhere. we get an indirect implication of this when he called us out for rolling our eyes during our phone call with him. yes, it could be completely by chance, but it's still a great hint that he "sees everything" and "knows everything." we get an even bigger hint towards this in the alt ending when he directly references The F*ck List.

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A/N > Others have taken note of how Sukuna knew she rolled her eyes but trust me, that’s just to show that Sukuna knows the reader’s body language more than he’s let on & paid attention to her a lot during the time they were together.

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it wouldn't be too far fetched to assume that he has some shady videos taken of people without his consent, some possibly acquired through other people (like how Gojo was revealed to have sent Sukuna the video of the reader from the first chapter). what if Gojo caught Sukuna with the video, threatened him to delete it, and Sukuna counterthreatened to have it be sent and posted everywhere. it would be highly ironic, but consistent with the way that Gojo and Sukuna practically mirror each other at times. the reasoning for the list choices would still be the same for this theory, too.

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my citations for these theories ☝️🤓

“You once asked me if I love you because I blackmailed you or if I blackmailed you because I love you and my answer is both,” Gojo confesses as he turns to meet your gaze, “Through my blackmailing, I fell for you but I also did it because I loved you from the start.” - Chapter 56

loved you from the start; his obsession has been consistent from the start (supports Gojo being a peeping tom theory) or he has always had a deep concern for you (supports him wanting to stop Sukuna from spreading blackmail of you instead).

“I’ve sacrificed everything for you, y’know.”

“How? What’s everything that you’ve sacrificed, hm?”

“You. I sacrificed the woman I love to make her happy.” Gojo admits, and of all he’s said thus far, that feels like the truest statement.

“I could’ve been happy with you.” You remind him.

He laughs, “Yeah well, I’m an idiot.”

You scoff, “That’s all you have to say?”

“Yup.” - Chapter 56

is he an idiot for being a peeping pervert instead of just approaching you normally? maybe. how does this make her happy? she ends up finding love through Choso, through the list, through the blackmail.

But deleting the video means ... he has no more leverage over you and can't force you to help him with the hole he's dug for himself. - Chapter 8

the hole being the blackmail set against him by Sukuna.

Gojo's behind you cursing at himself for being unable to tell you the truth.

He's so scared that you'll never help him without the blackmail and, well, he has every right to be because you're pretty sure that if it weren't for those videos he has over your head, you wouldn't be doing any of this. - Chapter 9

the videos he's referencing is the original video from chapter 1 and the fake video he lied about with Suguru, but he can't tell the reader the truth because it's too twisted and risky (supports Gojo peeping tom theory).

He silences himself in thought. There are so many ways he could go about answering such a question but the possibilities of how you may react are endless. Plus, you're drunk and if he's going to admit or explain anything to you, it'll be while you're sober.

"Because..." Gojo's voice gets so quiet that you almost don't catch what he says, "...I don't have any other choice." - Chapter 21

if he didn't go through with his list, Sukuna would have went through with Gojo's blackmail, thus resulting in either you getting as far away from Gojo as soon as possible or Sukuna's video being sent around.

He let something slip abruptly, "W-Wish I c-could tell you everything, sweets..."

Your brows furrow at that.

Are you missing something here? - Chapter 22

YES GIRL!!!! SUKUNA'S BEHIND THE WHOLE LIST, HE'S BEHIND THE BLACKMAIL GIRLYPOP

"Anything," Gojo says, meeting your gaze. He's so serious that it's almost dark the way he looks at you, "I'd do anything for you." - Chapter 29

"I meant it when I said I'd do anything for you."

You follow his motions and then end up right back in his arms, "Right..."

"I'd sacrifice the very thing I love just to see you happy." Gojo claims proudly.

You scoff, "Thought' I was the thing you loved?"

"You are."

His words bewilder you, "Then that makes no sense."

"It won't." Gojo shrugs. - Chapter 29

🧍‍♀️

anything. even if it means putting your body, heart, mind, and career on the line. directly supports the theory that Sukuna initially had blackmail on the reader.

"We're the same, y'know..." He suddenly says, his voice breaking again, "We both want someone so terribly bad but our situations prohibit us from getting that person."

"You could've prevented all this though..."

Gojo sniffles and you feel a drop of wetness slide down his cheek and slip against your palm. The man was crying? Why? - Chapter 30

this whole time we've been told that Gojo and the reader share more similarities than the reader realizes. what Gojo is to the reader, the reader is to Choso. while Choso now knows of the men that the reader slept with, he doesn't know why. he doesn't know about you being blackmailed. you know that you had to sleep with these men. you don't know why. you didn't know it was because of Gojo being blackmailed.

"For loving me, Satoru. It's not a crime," You say, mocking a comment he made to you earlier, "You're allowed to love me. So, for that, and that only, I forgive you."

Those words healed so many more wounds in his heart than you realized. It was like that was all he ever needed to hear. If Gojo's mistake was loving you and that's what caused this, then you forgive him.

If in some twisted way, his feelings started the list, you forgive him.

COME ON NOW.

There’s so much going unspoken but the two of you knew what either was saying, you understood each other more than either of you realized. - Chapter 35

“Well,” Gojo sighs heavily and then draws your hands off his face, leaning down to you a bit, “Sometimes, sacrifices need to be made in exchange for one’s happiness.”

“Are you telling me that all this was for the greater good?” You quiz as you raise a curious brow.

“Something like that, yeah,” He shrugs. - Chapter 45

You tell him, “If I had one wish, it’d be that you did that from the beginning.”

Gojo opens his mouth to say something but then he swallows his words down. He nearly fucked up.

“All you had to do was talk to me,” Your shoulders raise into a shrug as you move a hand to the doorknob, “Things could’ve been different if you did.”

“Even if I’ve been obsessed with you since the beginning?” He questions and he’s stepping closer to you again. He can’t possibly wrap his head around that possibility-

You laugh a bit, “Especially if you were obsessed from the beginning,” You didn’t know it but that statement right there made the man feel as though his world was falling apart, loads of regret tumbling over him as he stares at you with wide eyes, “Satoru I think you forgot but, before all this started, aside from Shoko… I was lonely.”

Gojo’s throat goes dry and he fails to form a response to that, “I…”

“If you had just talked to me one time, and more than a hey or how are you,” The way your eyes soften, a slim sheer gloss of tears coating your gaze as you speak to him, “I would’ve fallen for you.”

He grits his teeth, “Don’t tell me that.”

“But it’s true.” You say.

And just like that, Gojo was crumbling all over again. If only you knew how much he regretted everything after hearing you say that. - Chapter 46

if he had just spoke to the reader before all of this, maybe she wouldn't have gone to those parties, hooked up with those people, and caused whatever kind of blackmail Sukuna had on Gojo (or on her).

He wishes he could take it all back, his feelings for you included. If only he could go back and stop himself from ever being curious about you. That’s what started it after all. Because, at the end of the day, Gojo knew who you were before you knew who he was— hell, even before Shoko knew who you were. - Chapter 53

then what is the timeline of his obsession starting? has it been before Gojo? could his blackmail have taken place even before Shoko introduced you two, adding to the weight of the threat that Sukuna held over Gojo's head (regarding the peeping tom theory).

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A/N > The timeline on Gojo’s interest, not obsession just yet, on the reader will be addressed in the sequel so this’ll be answered there <3

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but there were certain parts that stumped me and my theories so i have some weird reasonings around them;

It's selfish of him and seriously fucked up but, he's said it before and he'll say it over and over again-- you're all he has. He made promises to everyone on that list, promises of delivering a woman to them at some point, and of course, he couldn't convince anyone he knew to do such a thing.

So again, the situation with you just happened to be a coincidence.

The problem is that Gojo hates that it's you. He hates that you're the one he ended up doing this to. - Chapter 8

Gojo's known to be a silly guy so it could make sense that he actually did promise these guys hookups for reasons unrelated to his blackmail. after all, he does have a reputation for getting people hookups. the coincidence is that Sukuna now has dirt on Gojo and wants to toy with him. by making the reader sleep with them the guys he coincidentally owes hookups to, he fulfills his role/reputation and relieves his debt at the same time. two birds, one stone.

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A/N > As we later learn that some of the “debt” Satoru claimed to have isn’t real, we can also infer that his reputation & the promises he’s made to these men were done out of coincidence. Take Toji for example; tell me you can’t see an interaction between him & Gojo where Gojo gets a bad grade and wants to get it up so he taunts his professor with the idea of getting him a hookup & Toji would laugh it off considering Gojo’s reputation ;)

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another thing that stumped me is why Gojo got so worked up with the reader referring herself as a whore, and the connection to Sukuna. my delulu reasoning is that once Sukuna threatened Gojo with blackmail by either of the two theories/methods i mentioned, Sukuna casually referred to the reader as a whore. that caused a major fight between the two, possibly even getting physical (which can refer back to the implication that Gojo has hurt people for the reader).

the fight could have increased the tension and severity of the situation, so Sukuna decides to add Choso to the list knowing how easily attached Choso gets. in chapter 5, the reader and Gojo were discussing the list and Choso specifically. Gojo was even noted to be relieved when the reader had mentioned that they'll just have to hope that Choso doesn't get attached, as he obviously holds deep feelings for the reader. Sukuna knows that by going through with the blackmail with Choso involved, Gojo most likely will not end up with the reader if Choso get attached and the reader reciprocates those feelings.

also, the counterargument that Sukuna and Gojo are actually friends/allies in this situation just doesn't sit well with me. it would make for a crazy twist but it just feels too out of character for Gojo. but then again, how would Sukuna specifically know about The F*ck List? but idk, it just feels so wrong to me. maybe i have too much faith in Gojo lmfao. after all, he has consistently shown a great dislike towards the guy since chapter 23. but maybe it's my denial speaking. i really don't want to think of Satoru going through this whole arc only for it to reveal that he truly is a piece of shit. pls don't do this to my pookie my heart cannot handle it </3

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A/N > Remember, Gojo is a good actor & you go a long period of time in the book not realizing he’s not as much of a villain as he pretends to be 😉

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there's that moment after the reader fucked Sukuna that still messes with my brain. with my theories, my brain's thinking that he contemplated on collecting even more blackmail on the reader. for what reason? idk, to be an ass? to torment Gojo further and add more to his blackmail? but maybe he decided not to because he already has plenty of blackmail on the reader (if the theory of Sukuna having a video of her from way back then is true) and fucking her knowingly made Gojo pissed considering all the dirt Sukuna has.

so why can't Gojo tell her the truth now? why does he want to wait years in advance? maybe he's hoping that by that time, not only will you forget and not care about the situation overall, but maybe Sukuna will forget all about it as well. the chances of Sukuna holding on to the reader's blackmail for that long is slim and the reader would most likely be in a situation where she is completely separated from Sukuna depending on her job and living situation with Choso. the stakes are lower than if he were to reveal everything to you now, at a moment where your life is still so uncertain. it would go against his wish for you to end up happy.

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A/N > Maybe Gojo doesn’t tell her the truth because he can’t, just as he said 🌚 Perhaps he’s not allowed to yet. After all, why would Sukuna even tell the reader he made the list in the end? ^.^ Just some food for thought!

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regarding the future of TFL... fuck, bro. i have no fucking idea. i'm too caught up in the (presumed) past. i'm mourning fr. i love this fic sooooo fucking much. whenever you decide to pick up on the sequel, i will be there. if you choose to publish anything else in the meantime, i will be there. thanks for such a fun and memorable read, Kami. i'm excited to bookbind this soon 🤍🤍🤍 now, i need to watch blue lock to shove these feelings down.

yap fin (for now)

-☃️

A/N > I love you sosoosooooo much for this. These theories are like reading an entirely new fanfic sometimes except, I know all the answers & what’s going to happen next, which only makes me more excited ^.^ Thank you for taking the time to make this, thank you for reading, thank you for supporting, just, THANK YOU.

This right here is exactly what I write for; people like you :)

To the others reading this breakdown & theory, thank ☃️anon because she’s a damn godsend & ilhsm ^.^ (definitely showing favoritism rn, sorry not sorry, ily all I swear)

Edit; Since you’re watching Blue Lock, I can’t wait to bring my Shidou fanfic here because a lot of the drama in TFL has inspo from that fic, which I wrote first ^.^ & I could totally see you enjoying it because not only is it a childhood friends to lovers than enemies & back to lovers troupe BUT it also includes Itoshi Sae x reader which ofc, adds hella drama :))

P.S. It’s two am as I finally post this and omg sorry it took me a while, I wanted to answer other anons first before unpacking this badboy, again, tysm!!

#the f*ck list #tfl!theories #tfl spoiler #tfl #k!ans: ☃️

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ladykailitha · 6 months ago

Text

Sweet Home Indiana Part 8

I have finished the story (at long last! sheesh I can't believe how long this took me to get it done) and it has 10 chapters. And it has the happiest of endings. I couldn't stop smiling the whole time I was writing it.

Things appear hopeless, but Eddie and Chrissy start to find allies in their plight.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

****

Eddie woke up the next morning to a pounding head, an aching heart and signed divorce papers.

Of the three things the divorce papers were the worst.

So he did the only thing he could do in that moment, call Chrissy.

“Eddie!” she greeted. “I kinda expected a call before today. You know, being your fianceé and all.”

“Shit, Chris!” he murmured. “Is there someone there?”

She hummed her response.

“It been so hectic around here,” Eddie admitted. “And there was the fact that Steve wouldn’t give me a divorce.”

She sighed and he suddenly realized who was with her. “Come out here, tell them that we decided to have the wedding out here in Hawkins because that’s where all my family is. See if you can’t get an extension to plan the wedding.”

“Hold on, cher,” she murmured and put her hand over the speaker. He could hear her clearly but anything he said would be muffled.

Eddie stared down at the papers in his hand with a shattered heart. He could grieve once Chrissy’s dragon was slain.

A minute or so later she came back on.

“Okay, they’ve given me to the end of the month,” she said with a sigh of relief. “Just say the word and I’ll be down there in a flash.”

Eddie waited another moment or two before he said, “Are you alone now?”

Chrissy muttered, “One moment.” He heard the ding of the elevator door open and the sounds of a busy reception hall, then the sounds of a busy street.

She called for a taxi and once the door was closed behind her, she said, “All right, babe, what’s the problem.”

He opened his mouth to tell her but he just broke down.

“I–I thought I was happy in Seattle, but I’ve never felt more alive since coming back here. Seeing old friends, cruising familiar streets. It feels like home. When I first left I didn’t think there was anything in that town that would make me happy.” He let out a shuddering breath and ran his fingers through his hair. “I–I knew that the kids would all leave and they have. But Wayne is still here. Steve and Robin, too. The town has gotten softer. Something I never thought possible. I saw three same sex couples just vibing.”

He choked back a sob. “I thought everything I ever wanted was in Seattle and this trip was just about closing the doors that I left hanging open. Bu–but, oh god!” He threw his head back and covered his eyes. His lips quivered as the pain in his heart spread out through his chest. “Steve is still the one. I know, I know. I talk a lot of shit about love and there not being one person out there who’s your soulmate. but God, Chrissy. He’s it. I felt more myself the last three days then have the last five years.”

He let out another choking sob. “I don’t know what to do. He is like that first ray of sunlight after weeks of storms.”

“Oh, Eddie...” she cried.

“He signed the papers,” Eddie murmured. “And now I wish he hadn’t. I want to just tear up the papers and set fire to them. But I can’t do that to you. I won’t.”

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. Tell me what I can do and I’ll do it.”

He just sobbed and sobbed, forcing through the words that would tell her what he needed.

“Let me make a couple of phone calls, okay?” Chrissy said before hanging up.

Eddie murmured his thanks and then let her go. His brain went on autopilot and found himself on the pavement in front of the post office.

He stared at the mailbox in front of him in abject horror.

He had put the divorce papers in the mail and didn’t sign them himself.

****

Chrissy sighed. It was hard on Eddie she knew. He had spent the last decade running from himself and now he was face to face with the best parts of his past, not understanding why it felt so good.

She opened the file on Eddie’s divorce, the annulments had gone through just fine. It was just that one marriage.

She found what she was looking for and dialed the number.

“Sweetie’s Treats,” the female voice said in a faux cheerful customer service voice. “This is Robin what I can I get for you today?”

Chrissy took a deep breath and let out slow. “Hey, I’m Chrissy Cunningham, Eddie’s fianceé. I sorry, but I really need to talk to Steve.”

“Yeah...” Robin said. “No can do.”

Chrissy rubbed her her temple in frustration. “Eddie called me this morning in a hell of state and I just want to talk to Steve. It’s not anything bad, I guess I want to meet the person who has Eddie’s heart.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Robin said, “you can’t talk to him right now because he is working with the large stand mixer.”

Chrissy immediately pictured a KitchenAid mixer and huffed out her frustration. “Can’t he step away from it for a moment?”

“Sorry, no can do,” Robin said tersely. “He’s pouring in the sugar and has to put it in at specific intervals.”

Her temper was fraying with every passing moment with this woman. “Can I call his cellphone and you can hold it up to his ear?”

There was a bark of laughter. “That would also be a no. That thing has eaten three cellphones already and I’m not about to feed the beast another thanks.”

Chrissy blinked for a moment. “Just how big is this mixer anyway?”

This time the laughter was less bitter and more genuine.

“The size of a fifty gallon drum.”

“Oh!”

Robin cackled. “Yeah, when you have to make two hundred cookies, you aren’t going to be using a little electric hand mixer.”

“What kind of cookies?” she asked before she realized what was coming out of her mouth.

“Snickerdoodles,” she said, her grin evident even through the phone.

Chrissy shook her head. She was on a mission, damn it. She wouldn’t let let herself be distracted by baked goods!

“Okay,” she said, shoring herself up for a battle. “How about I talk to you and tell him what I said?”

“Sure,” Robin said. “I wouldn’t mind getting to know the girl who was the cause of Eddie’s bi awakening.”

Chrissy licked her lips slowly. “So about that...”

There was silence on the line long enough that she pulled the phone away to make sure the call was still connected.

“Are you his beard?” came the quiet reply. “Is this a lavender wedding?”

A little bell went off above Chrissy head. Oh. Maybe this wasn’t as hopeless as she thought.

“Yes,” she said, biting the bullet. “But not in the way you think.”

She could almost picture the head tilt of the bird on the other end of the line when Robin said, “Oh? Do tell.”

“Give me a second,” Chrissy said. “My taxi just pulled up to my apartment and I need to pay the driver.”

“Sure.”

Chrissy paid the man and hurried up to the stairs to her apartment, she fitted her keys into the lock and tossed her purse and keys on the table next to the door.

“So here’s the sitch,” she said flopping on her sofa with a heavy sigh.

****

Eddie opened the little door on the front with wide eyes. The door prevented people from sticking his hand in and grabbing it. He grabbed his hair.

“Fuck, fuck!” he cried. This day kept getting worse and worse. He opened the door again, hoping he could see a way to disable it.

He probably could, given the right tool. But as he was looking a little too closely another person walked by and eyed him suspiciously.

“Shit!” He looked down at himself and let loose a string of more colorful curse words.

Eddie looked like he was about to knock off the mailbox and make off with several felonies worth of someone else’s mail.

He was going to start crying again. He gripped his hair tightly as he paced back and forth.

He felt a hand on his elbow and he wasn’t be ashamed to say that the shriek that came out of him was the most emasculating sound in existence.

“Eddie,” Jonathan said. “Shit! I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Once Eddie had landed back on his feet like the scaredy-cat he was, he whirled around to see the oldest Byers boy looking at him with such concern.

“Hey, Johnny,” he breathed. “I’m sorry. God, today is the worst.”

Jonathan huffed a laugh. “You know, you are the only one I’ve ever met who doesn’t call me Jonathan.”

Eddie blushed. “I call everyone nicknames. I can stop if you want.”

Jonathan shook his head. “It was an observation, not a criticism.”

“Someone’s been hanging out with Nancy Wheeler a little too much,” Eddie huffed, already feeling better in the quiet presence of this man.

Jonathan threw his head back and laughed. “I hope so, we’re getting married next year.”

Eddie snapped his fingers. “That’s right. You did tell me that. Shit, man it feels like a life time ago.”

“You still love Steve, don’t you?” he said gently.

Eddie opened his mouth to deny it, but snapped it shut. He waved his hand at the mailbox. “It doesn’t matter. He signed the divorce papers, but my dumbass forgot to sign them too. So I need to get them back, but I don’t how.”

Jonathan smiled and then held up one finger. He went into the post office and five minutes later came out with his mom who carried the biggest key chain he’d ever seen.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Joyce greeted softly. “Let’s get this back for you.”

Eddie told her what it looked like and who it was addressed to.

After a little bit of searching, she turned around with the manilla envelope and handed it back to him.

“Next time,” she said with a smile. “Just come in and ask and we’ll be happy to grab it for you.”

Eddie nodded, clutching it to his chest and thanking her profusely. He took Jonathan out to lunch for the rescue.

They took it and sat on a park bench away from everyone else.

“Thanks for the gallant rescue, man,” Eddie said around his bite of his sandwich. “I was going to have a full blown breakdown right there on Hawkins Main and it wouldn’t have been pretty.”

“It’s no problem,” Jonathan said. “I’m glad it worked out.” He nodded to the papers on the table between them. “You going to sign them?”

Eddie let out a long sigh. “I have to.”

“You keep saying that,” he huffed. “But I don’t think you do. Shit, Eddie. I saw you and him at the carnival and it was like time travel. Like I was transported back a decade when you were both happy and free. He had his face buried in those stuff animals you’d won for him and you looked at him like he’d hung the moon.”

Eddie shook his head. “Look, you can’t tell anyone about this. It’s technically a crime. But it’s the only choice we have. Chrissy was here on a school visa from Barbados and she usually gets a work visa for the summer. Only there was a mix up and she didn’t get her work visa and her school visa is for while she’s at school. Which considering it was only for three months, I figured as long as she didn’t say anything to anyone, she could skate on through.”

“I’m guessing that’s not what happened?” Jonathan pressed. He took a bite of sandwich and nudged Eddie to eat.

Eddie took another bite, but really didn’t taste it. He choked it down around the bile in his throat. He shook his head.

“She works at a law firm,” he said mournfully. “Their HR department found out pretty much immediately. They, of course, alerted Immigration and was told to find another way to get a visa or be sent back to Barbados.”

“Hence getting the married?” Jonathan suggested.

He nodded. “We can’t let anyone know, because then we could get into trouble for fraud or whatever. I do love her, but not like that. Not like Steve.”

Jonathan huffed a laugh. He was silent for a moment and then shook his head sadly. “He went up to Seattle, you know.”

Eddie’s head snapped up. “What? When?”

“Right after you settled up there and started tattooing,” Jonathan said, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “He was there for a week. I think he went up there to ask you to come home. But when he found you, he also found a large city and a friendly LGBTQ community and he just couldn’t bare to ask you to return to homophobic Hawkins.”

Eddie’s lip quivered. He hadn’t known. His head spun as his world tilted off its axis.

“When he came back, he couldn’t really tell Robin the truth,” Jonathan continued. “That he couldn’t get up the courage to even see you closer than through the windows of the shop. So he told her he couldn’t find you and then vowed to make something of himself. Something you could be proud of.”

Tears slipped down Eddie’s cheeks and he pressed his hand to his mouth to keep the whimper that tried to escape between his teeth.

“The bakery...” he murmured.

Jonathan nodded. “Him and Robin starting working there together like they always do, to help save up for her to go to college.”

Eddie smiled, a weak, wet, little thing, but it was there. Steve and Robin, two peas in a pod. They always worked together since the summer after Steve graduated and Robin was about to start her senior year. They had worked at an ice cream parlor in the mall. When it burned down just a couple of months later due to shoddy workmanship, they had forged a friendship in literal fire.

“They weren’t intending to make it a permanent thing,” Jonathan continued, breaking into his thoughts. “But Steve’s good. He took a shop that only barely keeping itself in the black and made it into the thriving thing you see today.”

Eddie nodded. He was proud of Steve. And Robin. And all the things they managed to succeed in doing.

Jonathan hugged him tightly. “I won’t say to stay here with Steve and leave your financée to her fate, because that would be cruel and for all your faults, man, you aren’t cruel. And neither am I.”

Eddie let out a shuddering breath. And then another.

“You’ll do the right thing,” Jonathan said. “You might not figure it out right away, but somehow you always manage to get to the right thing in the end.”

Eddie finished his sandwich and thanked him for everything. Just being there when he needed someone.

And as he drove away from the park he felt lighter than he had in years.

****

I realize that that's probably not how visas work, but I'm just gonna hand wave that away for the drama.

Tag List: SIX SLOTS OPEN

Part 9 Part 10

1- @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @ravenfrog @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @goodolefashionedloverboi

3- @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @mac-attack19

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1

5- @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

6- @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95

7- @blackpanzy @amazing-spiderkeys @oldpinghai @raisedbylibrarians @kultiras

8- @swimmingbirdrunningrock @steddie-as-they-go @captain--low @micheledawn1975 @thespaceantwhowrites

9- @blondie1006 @stripey82 @w1ll0wtr33 @mcenziehughes

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #rom com au

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asphodeline-lutea · 5 months ago

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I think that quite a number of people who read the httyd books didn’t get a good hold of Book 11’s entire plot, but this book actually has maybe the most intricate plots (or so I think!), with a large portion of them hidden underwater, away from the reader’s direct view, and I have never read any analysis done about this part, so here are some Very Important things I found while doing my Book 11 analyses —

Excellinor planned for Snotlout to find Hiccup and trick him into coming to the war bunker, better if with the last Lost Thing — Toothless, and then force Hiccup to tell her the whereabouts of the Dragonmarkers’ Hideout in front of all the captured Dragonmarkers.

Excellinor sent Spydragons to catch one of Hiccup’s friends during the start of her plan, to force him to come, in case he didn’t trust Snotlout enough, or had realized that the latter was lying.

In fact, Hiccup knew that Snotlout was lying and was going to betray them, that this was part of Excellinor’s plan, possibly soon after they rescued Snotlout. So he chose to turn her plan on itself, by letting Toothless be taken away to the other Things’ hiding place, then using the Hogfly to track Toothless down, thus finding all the Things.

But of course Hiccup didn’t know of the torture that the witch had in mind for him… and he still had to come up with a plan to rescue Camicazi. During the “torture scene”, when Hiccup said “There is nothing you can do to me, that will make me change my mind”, he was actually hinting at the witch to “torture” Camicazi instead, while he knew that Windwalker underwater will rescue her. Then, during Camicazi’s “torture”, he pretended to give in, then pretended to not be able to talk or point, getting the witch to unchain him so he could escape.

It seems that Snotlout did think of stealing the Things and trying to become King when he agreed to play the part in Excellinor’s plan, but he may be looking for an opportunity to do so rather than having a complete plan. This, however, was completely destroyed after Excellinor “dispatched” him with her words in Chapter 10.

After releasing the Dragonmarkers (I’m not sure the exact reason why Snotlout did this, but I think he was not going to stick to the Alvinsmens’ side after what just happened, and releasing these people would cause some chaos, which might be useful for his later actions), Snotlout silently follows Hiccup to the ship on his Hurricane. He intended to defeat Hiccup in what would not be a fair swordfight (more on this later I promise), but I don’t think he wanted to actually kill Hiccup or take the things. Nor did he plan to reveal his pain and despair at having Turned his Back on himself — that was sort of out of control for him. (Like… you know what you get when you suppress certain emotions for too long? Not good) I’d say that he more or less knew/felt Hiccup’s attitude and feelings towards him, and to him this was confusing and irritating (this is Very Complicated, I will write more posts on this later), so he was going to scream it out at Hiccup.

When Snotlout flew out on Windwalker’s back towards the Alvinsmen, he not only knew that he was going to die (hinted in Book 11, stated/mentioned that he was “facing certain death” in Book 12), but also actually planned for himself to die, in order for his plan to work, to make the Alvinsmen believe that Hiccup had been killed, and therefore protect Hiccup until he reaches Tomorrow.

The plans of different characters are interlocked with each other, forming the plot of this book, and a huge portion of it is hidden under the surface, but visible if you look closely enough. This is truly the work of a great writer and storyteller.

#httyd books #httyd books analysis #how to betray a dragon's hero #hiccup the third #snotface snotlout #toothless #camicazi #Excellinor #Book 11 runs in my hyperfixated brain nearly every day #I can almost recite it by now…#and I constantly analyze it…#the Thoughts and Emotions are filling up my brain and I HAVE to get them out

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agent-cupcake · 11 months ago

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Flashbang

Chapter 1 - Puppet Loosely Strung

Spotify Playlist / All Chapters / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 /Chapter 7/ Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 pt.1 / Chapter 9 pt.2 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12

Pairing: One Piece Live Action Buggy x f! Reader

Synopsis: Running away to join the circus doesn’t go exactly as you hoped it would.

Warnings: Mentions of past abuse, murder, generally dark content

Word Count: 13.9k

Disclaimer: I don’t read the manga or watch the anime. This is based solely on OPLA Buggy because Jeff Ward.

Some quick notes before we start: This is what I've been working on this since October. Originally it was going to be one really big one-shot posted at the same time, but it's big enough that I can justify posting it as a series. I'll add warnings as I go, but this is not a happy story and there will be explicit content later on. The reader character might not be somebody you see yourself in, I had a very specific image of what character I had in mind while writing. To me, reader fic is more of a sort of play acting rather than "oh that's literally me" but I know that's not everybody's cup of tea. A lot of this is cope fic and it shows. When times get rough the porn gets rougher, right?

I had help writing this from an individual who is very dear to me. Flashbang wouldn't exist without her, especially since she was the one who gave me the clown brain rot. And then there has been the hours of brainstorming and spitballing and watching Jeff Ward shows/movies as she continued to feed my addiction. Thank you, my love, and also damn you because this wasn't what I needed.

New chapter every Sunday. Enjoy~

“Let me put myself in your shoes

As a puppet loosely strung

Around you, they were so confused

That a faulty man could have so much fun”

All it took was a little doubt. Through logic or confusion or wishful thinking, you could be convinced that the insignificant person who had parasitically driven you around for the past however many years was a stranger, and now they were gone. Everything that had ever happened fell into incomprehensible dust, and every thought you ever had belonged to somebody else. A cycle of a million memories you didn’t recognize spun through this foggy place, none of them real, none of them familiar.

Logic, confusion, wishful thinking, or unconsciousness. An endless dream of nothing at all. But as soon as you became aware, it was awareness that those thoughts happened in the past tense, crushed inward by the unrelenting force of existence, and you were shoved back into a body. You—not the real you, the stranger you, the one made of heat and fury and pain, the one you couldn’t recognize—were gasping and thrashing in ignorant confusion, coughing out the sickening taste of blood in your throat.

Everything, all of it, hurt. And that was all that existed.

Until it wasn’t.

Your panicked thrashing made you realize that you were upright, your body straining painfully against the various chains keeping you pinned against the wall in an X. The position put nearly all of your weight on your shoulders and left your head to sag heavily to the side, making the terrible, dizzying headache that much worse. Having suffered more than your fair share of them, you knew that this headache was from more than an uncomfortable position or your old injury. A hot throbbing pain radiated out from the back of your head, shooting little sparks down your spine. It hurt bad enough that nausea formed a tight, heavy ball in your stomach. Gritting your teeth, you forced your eye open, fighting the urge to cringe away from the light as it rolled this way and that. Colors and lights were nothing more than a nauseating smear, but at least you could see.

Little by little, you became aware of yourself. From far away, you had a vague recollection of leaving, of nerves, excitement, and then of danger. But… no, why weren’t you at home? Doom settled in its rightful place as you realized exactly how little you remembered or knew, slotting into the spot of coherence and reason. Despite the pain, you fought against the shackles holding you in the uncomfortable position, irrationally desperate to be free of them.

“There she is! Finally,” somebody said from your left. His voice hit like a hammer to the back of your aching head. You strained to look at the speaker, he sounded close, but you couldn’t turn your head far enough to make up for your limited vision.

Luckily, he didn’t stay out of sight for long. The man’s boots were loud and deliberate as he slowly moved out of your literal blind spot. To your ill-adjusting eye, he was not much more than a blur of white and red and blue, his big smile smudged as you rapidly blinked to focus. A little shock of meaningless recognition in your brain saw the makeup and red nose and said ‘clown’, but the sheer ridiculousness of that made you even more sure that this wasn’t real.

“Not a fun way to wake up, is it?” he asked. “Keep breathing, let it drain back and cough it out. Trust me, it’s over quicker that way.”

The question you tried to form was, “Who are you?” but all you could manage was a heavy groan followed by a fit of painful coughs, wheezing raggedly in between. Each desperate convulsion rattled the chains and caused the wood to creak, but did nothing to free your bound limbs. The man seemed bored by it, annoyed he had to wait for you to get ahold of yourself.

Since he hadn’t immediately helped you down, you could only assume that he was the one who shackled you in the first place. Strung you up against a wooden board of some kind in a room you didn’t know. Cramped and windowless, it reeked of paint and sweat and sawdust and sweet salty rot—a unique smell that didn’t help your nausea. Clutter stacked up against the walls. Dense, humid air pressed against you like a heavy coat, paradoxically chilling. Probably because of the fever burning beneath your skin, slicking you up with sweat, soaking into your clothes and the bandana you kept wrapped around your head over the left eye.

Breathe. You focused on your breathing. Panic wouldn’t help you.

“You done?” he asked. Without any other choices, you turned your head to shamefully wipe your face off on your sleeve before nodding. “Great. Well, now that you’re awake… Welcome!” He threw out his arms with the flamboyant manner of a showman with the greeting, but they wilted right after, his big smile dropping a bit. “Or, at least, that’s what I would say if you hadn’t let yourself in and stolen the opportunity from me.”

That was bad. Very, very bad. You jerked in an awkward, uncoordinated burst, physically reacting to the danger he presented.

“No, no, don’t leave on my account,” he said, waving his hands and getting closer as if to stop you. “Oh wait, you can’t! Hah! Yeah, ‘cause of the chains.” He smiled affably, like it was a harmless joke, standing close enough for his gloved fingers to skim along the chain wrapped around your neck. “I guess you’re not going anywhere, huh?”

You didn’t respond, barely daring to breathe when he was so close. Smiles and melodrama aside, his blue eyes were oddly dead, fixed on you without the slightest bit of humor. And then it finally came back to you, the vital thing that you should have known, that you would have known if you weren’t strung up and suffering such a crippling headache. The makeup, the nose, the hat—

“You’re,” you began to say, but your voice was hoarse and weak, you could barely get it out when he was looking at you so closely, so intently. You cleared your throat, wincing at the metallic taste. “You’re the-that pirate captain Buggy, like on the-the poster?” Right! The clown guy, the red-nosed pirate. You were looking for him. So this was… good, wasn’t it?

He gave you a flat look, clearly not sharing your weak enthusiasm. “Yes. I am that pirate captain. Buggy, the Genius Jester? The most feared pirate captain in all the East Blue?” He turned with a dramatic flick of his coat, messing with something that had to flash silver before you realized it was a knife. “The man destined to find the One Piece and become King of the Pirates. Yes. I am that pirate captain. And,” he paused, checking to make sure you were paying attention, “a very busy, very important man. I’ve got, oh, ten minutes or so for you to decide how this is gonna go. So let’s get straight to it.” He turned back, pointing the knife at you. “Who are you, and what are you after?”

The accusatory tone of his voice took you aback. “Nothing… I’m not anybody,” you stammered out. “And this… this isn’t what it looks like, I swear.”

Buggy, to your surprise, relented after a second of considering your appeal, nodding understandingly.

There was no transition from his look of sympathy to raising the knife and aiming it at you. By the time you realized he meant to throw it, you barely had a chance to yelp. The blade took a loud, thumping bite into the wood beside you. On your left side, of course. Where you couldn’t see it. You could feel it, though. The air displacement ruffled the fine hairs around your ear. If you had flinched in that direction, it probably would be in your skull. With your dizzy head aching and confused, you had no regulation to your fear or discomfort, your breathing dangerously unsteady and tears pricking the corner of your eyes.

“Let me try a different question,” Buggy said before you could collect yourself, pulling out another knife. “Who else knows about this place?”

“Nobody! I swear, nobody else. I was just…” You didn’t know what to say. It was all you could do to breathe the thick, heavy air and fight down the tide of nausea.

“Just what?” Buggy asked, leaning in with raised eyebrows to show that he was listening intently. You opened and closed your mouth, unable to come up with the right words. Thoughts churned through the thick sludge in your head, getting stuck or lost or confused.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, the stumbling apology coming out more naturally than anything else, an attempt to buy time while you organized your thoughts. “Please doh-don’t…. I’m so ss-sorry.”

Buggy sighed, standing up straight and raising his hand to aim.

“Nonono, please d-” You yelped louder this time, flinching away as the knife streaked through the air and stuck not even an inch away from your right cheek. You exhaled a pathetic little sob, whatever you were bound to shaking with your body.

“Listen, honey buns,” Buggy said. “Drop the act. Stop the whining. I caught you, red handed, sneaking into my lair.” He pulled something out of his pocket. Not another knife, but a piece of paper which he unfolded, holding it up for you to see. His wanted poster, creased into sixths from the way you folded it to keep it close, to keep it hidden. “I found this in your bag. You know who I am, and you know where you are. You have to, so let’s do away with all the theatrics, okay?”

You swallowed hard, nodding quickly in the hope that it would appease him.

“Right now, this is a conversation,” Buggy said, gesturing between the two of you. “A light interrogation, really. But if you keep being uncooperative and wasting my time, it’s gonna go from being interrogate-y to being torture-y real quick. You don’t want that, right?” Although he was unmistakably threatening you, Buggy’s tone was more natural than before. There was a bluntness to it, an honesty. Men like him didn’t idly use words like torture.

You sniffed, trying very hard to calm yourself down. This was a misunderstanding, so you just had to convince him. Simple as that. He would understand. You would make him understand.

“Right,” you agreed.

“Fantastic. So,” he loudly clapped his hands together, “who else knows about this place?”

“Nobody, I promise… I’m really sorry I broke in,” you told him, speaking slowly so your words didn’t catch. “I just wanted to meet with you.”

Buggy’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, the hair hanging out from the sides of his hat swaying as his head tilted curiously. “You’re a fan?” he clarified. “That explains why you’re so pathetic. Well I hate to break it to you, but there’s a reason I only hold meet and greets after shows.”

“No, that’s not why! I-I want to join your crew,” you said. “I came to ask you to let me join your crew.”

He blinked twice, staring at you with obvious disbelief. “Excuse me, what?”

“I want to be a pirate,” you told him, louder. “Please. Please let me join your crew.”

Buggy’s expression didn’t change, but you could see the rippling shift of incredulity, befuddlement, skepticism, and then amusement in his eyes. That emotion burst outward into a loud laugh, making you flinch. “That’s the best you can do?” he asked. “Ask to join my crew?” He looked at you again, laughing even harder. “I don’t know what’s funnier—that anybody would send you to spy on me, or that you’d think I would consider hiring you.”

“I mean it!” you argued, humiliation and desperation seeping into the thousand other discomforts of your position. This wasn’t at all how you wanted this to go.

“Sweetheart,” Buggy said condescendingly, “even assuming I believe you, this is a pirate crew, not an afterschool club.”

“I know. I know what pirates do, I know what you do,” you told him. “I’ll do anything, whatever you want. Please, please, just give me a chance.”

He nodded, turning to pace as he thought about it.

“Okay, let’s say that I buy this… this act of yours,” Buggy said. “Do you have any experience? Maintaining ships, reading maps, loading cannons. You know, basic stuff.”

There was a line you had prepared to answer this question, one that would paint you in the most charitable light. You remembered that, but you couldn’t remember the line. All you could give was the truth. “A little.”

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Thought so. What about specialties? Unique skills? Any sort of talent that I can use in my show—anything at all. I mean other than,” he gestured vaguely in your direction, “that. We don’t need another one eyed midget. They’re surprisingly common.”

“I’m not a midget,” you told him, nerves fading to incredulity.

Buggy stepped back to size you up before seemingly conceding the point with a shrug. “And the eye?” He covered his left eye to illustrate. “Is that for a bit or something?”

Your stomach twisted with a familiar lurch. Disgust. Shame. Phantom light in the dark. “It’s not.”

“How’d you lose it?”

“I didn’t… lose it.”

“It’s still in there?” he asked excitedly, stepping forward and reaching to remove the bandana. “I have got to see this.”

“No, please—please don’t,” you begged, trying to wriggle away from his hand. Pinned to the board with your hands bound above your head, there was nowhere to go. “Please don’t, please-”

“Come on,” Buggy said, indifferent to your pleas as he pulled the sweat soaked fabric off of your left eye. “How bad could it be—AH!” He yelled in horror, jumping away as if you’d bitten him.

The bandana hit the floor, leaving your ruined eye and its jagged scar exposed. You couldn’t hide. All you could do was flinch back, turning your head away. “I’m sorry,” you said, ready to continue apologizing before you realized that his shock had immediately dissolved into raucous laughter. “Why are you… why are you laughing?” you asked, pulling desperately against the chains.

“I got you good,” Buggy said, his laughter subsiding. “The way you reacted, I thought that you’d be completely deformed. A real sideshow. But this…” He grabbed your chin, forcing it to the side so he could get a better look. “I couldn’t charge for this.”

“Please stop,” you begged, shaking off his grip and staring hard at his shoulder.

“Ohhh. You’re really embarrassed about it.”

You didn’t say anything, focusing mostly on fighting the tears.

“Okay, alright, yeah,” Buggy said, stepping back. “I think I’m starting to get why you would risk life and limb to beg me for a job. You grew up as a cute girl in a shithole town like this. A big fish in a little pond, as they say. Then, suddenly, BAM, you’re deformed, and, sure, they all say that it was tragic, but the truth is that they can’t stand to look at you. Even the people who loved you, the people you trusted, think you’re a freak. They abandoned you. So, without any other options, you come to me, pleading for me to give you a place amidst your fellow freaks. That about it?”

You didn’t say anything—what could you say to that?— which Buggy seemed to take as confirmation, nodding thoughtfully.

“Well, go big or go home, right? As far as a starlet’s breakout role, you couldn’t go any bigger. Thing is, I’m not really looking for new acts. Not to mention your abysmal audition.” He sucked in a breath through his teeth, looking you up and down again.

You could feel your chance slipping away. Just like that. Go big or go home, that’s what he said.

“Please, Captain Buggy,” you begged, staring him in the eye despite how disquieting it was, despite how your skin crawled from exposing your left eye to somebody. Addressing him properly, at the very least, got his attention. “I promise that you won’t regret it. I’ll learn, I want to learn how to be a pirate, how to perform, all of it, everything. And if I can’t, I’ll do laundry and clean and cook, I have lots of experience with that. I don’t care what you ask me to do, if you let me join your crew, I’ll happily serve you for the rest of my life.”

Buggy didn’t respond right away. You thought—hoped—that it meant he understood how serious you were, but his expression gave you nothing. There wasn’t much light in the room in the first place, but somehow he found enough to shine unnervingly in his pale blue eyes. Somebody with a bright red clown nose shouldn’t have been able to look so intimidating, but the way he studied you burned with an uncomfortable intensity. It had been a while since anybody looked at you so frankly, so openly, without disgust or pity.

“Why?” he finally asked.

“Why…?” you repeated, confused.

“I get that you want to leave this place, and I even buy into your whole wanting to be a pirate thing, but, you know, aside from the obvious,” he gestured to himself, “why should I believe that you really want to serve me? You’re young and cute…ish, don’t you want freedom and empowerment and all those other things girls go on and on about?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Why would I?”

A moment of quiet that wasn’t quite silence but twice as heavy passed before a slow smile began to spread over Buggy’s face, and then—of all the bizarre, uncomfortable responses he could have—he laughed. “Oh, you’re broken, aren’t you?” he asked, clearly overjoyed by the revelation. “Well, I’m sold. I’ll have to start you on probation just in case you’re secretly up to no good. But, after that, you can audition for real. I’m sure I can find something you’ll be useful for.”

His reaction gave you whiplash. The word ‘broken’ was obviously bad, but everything else was good. You had succeeded. Only, you didn’t know why. You were still trying to decide if being called cute-ish was a compliment or not.

“Hey, just one more thing, okay?” Buggy asked, tapping your cheek. Standing mere inches away, he smiled a rictus grin. It wrinkled his eyes, but they were without life or pity or mercy. “If you’re lying to me about anything, I’ll carve some symmetry into your cute little face. You’ll thank me for it too. You won’t want to see what the guys will do to you after I toss you out there.”

“I’m not lying,” you said softly, shrinking back. “I promise.”

“Great!” Buggy said, his demeanor immediately cheering up. “Let’s get you down.” He walked behind the board you were strung up on, and you let out a shaky exhale. “Brace yourself,” he called. You had no idea what that meant, or how you were supposed to brace yourself when there was nothing for you to brace yourself on. “Three… two…”

He undid the lock, and the chains keeping you bound to the board went slack. You dropped hard, your limbs as heavy as lead. Luckily, your head was too light to feel anything when you hit the ground with a dull thump and the loud cacophony of rattling chains, spinning and blank and utterly empty. There was a suspended moment of floating, lighter than air itself. And then you were blinking rapidly and nauseous, pain shooting up your arms and knees.

Buggy dropped a key in front of you, metal bouncing on the old concrete.

“Unfortunately we didn’t bring any real props with us, so I had to improvise,” he said. With numb fingers, you grabbed the key and worked it into the locked cuff around your wrist. “You lucked out, if this were the real Wheel of Death, you’d be blowing chunks!” He paused, looking down at you. “Can you hurry this up?”

“Sorry,” you said. Your shaking hands kept missing the keyholes, but you finally got the last lock on your ankle open. The cuffs hadn’t broken skin, but your wrists and ankles were rubbed raw, ugly bruises already developing. You’d had worse.

“Alright, upsy daisy,” Buggy said, crouching down to take the key away and grab the only chain you hadn’t gotten out of—the one around your neck.

It acted as a noose, giving you no other choice but to lurch upward with an unappealing choking sound, your head spinning all over again, the weightless itch tingling all the way down to the base of your spine. You stumbled forward, unintentionally falling against him.

“Holy shit,” Buggy exclaimed, helping you stand up straight with a hand on your shoulder. “I didn’t know girls came in fun size. Legally, at least. Are you sure you’re not just like… the maxiest midget?”

“‘m dizzy,” you muttered, swaying despite his support.

“That’s not really… Ah, whatever. Hey, at least if you fall, you don’t have that far to go.”

“I’m… I’m okay,” you finally said, which was mostly true. Breathing slow, steady breaths helped, and then you shook your head a little. The bump on the back of it throbbed painfully, and you’d have bruises on your knees the size of apples, but you would survive. You were still trying to get control over your body. It was heavy and unwieldy, although part of that must have been the exhaustion.

“If you need to vomit, make sure to aim away from me,” he said. That was about all the warning you got before he decided it was time to go, dragging you along behind him like a dog on a leash.

You realized you were leaving your bandana behind, your left eye uncovered, and reared back, trying to stop him. “Wait, I have to grab my-”

“No time,” he said, talking over you and tugging again at the chain.

There was nothing you could do but stumble over your own feet to keep up with him as he led you through the cluttered and dark storage area. You felt a tiny bit of relief that you were still in the familiar decaying buildings northside. The old warehouses were dark, dank, and dingy. Easily defended and difficult to navigate, perfect for criminals to hide out in. You knew them very well, and that helped orient you.

"As I’m sure you noticed, I’m running a bit of a skeleton crew here. The rest aren’t coming ‘til the grand finale,” Buggy said, leading you into the main warehouse space by the chain around your neck like it was completely normal. The awful smell of rot and decay was only compounded by a sickly sweet, chalky scent you didn’t recognize. Gray sunshine flooded in through the broken windows around the high ceilings, piercingly bright. “And after that, we’re gonna blow this town.”

You didn’t respond, growing even more skittish. The two of you drew the attention of the people scattered around. Some were lounging, others were training. All of them turned to look at you, watching with the dark, focused stare of hungry dogs. Colorfully dressed, very dangerous dogs.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I have an introduction to make!” Buggy called in a loud enough voice to fill the large space. “Crew, new girl. New girl, crew. Make sure to give her a nice, warm welcome." None of them spoke or reacted, watching you with varying degrees of hostility. Buggy pulled you forward a few steps so he could whisper to you. “See that guy?” he asked, pointing to a bald man with square features and an especially dark glare. “That’s Ivo. He was the one who caught you. To be completely honest, I think he’s still a little angry that he didn't get to keep you. If I were you, I’d try to stay on his good side.”

“How?” you asked, your uneasy stomach sinking further, but Buggy was already preoccupied with something else.

“Oh, hey-” he called, flagging down a woman who was leaning against one of the steel supports. You stumbled behind him, holding the chain around your neck to ease the pressure. “Crina, I have got a very important job for you.”

The woman slowly looked from Buggy to you, giving you a weighty once-over with dark, kohl-lined eyes. Her clothes were different from the rest, draped with beads and loose and layered in shades of purple. Beneath the mystique, however, you felt the same hardness you recognized in all the pirate’s faces. “You want me to look after the little rat,” she said with an accent you didn’t recognize.

"God, it’s like you can read minds or something,” Buggy said, laughing. “Anyway, yes. Make sure she doesn’t get up to anything naughty while I’m gone. In fact, don’t let her out of your sight.”

“With all due respect,” Crina said, “why not just kill her?”

“Because I don’t want her dead,” Buggy snapped, suddenly irritated. If Crina was surprised or off put by the abrupt change of his mood, she didn’t show it.

“Of course, captain.”

“I thought I saw some cages over there,” Buggy said, gesturing vaguely and forcing the chain into Crina’s hand. “Stick her in one of those. In the back, away from any prying eyes.”

“A cage?” you asked.

“As fun as it is to see you all chained up,” Buggy said. “I worry that it might send the wrong message. Out of sight, out of mind—I don’t need you distracting my crew. They’re planning a very big surprise party. If you behave, I might be able to find some time for you later. Sound good?”

You nodded, almost surprised by how good that sounded. He ruffled your hair before turning away, barking orders to some of the men.

“Let’s go,” Crina said, pulling your attention back to her. “We have our orders.”

The cage Crina put you in, one out of several bolted to the floor in the corner out of the way from the main space, had just enough room for you to sit slouched, or lay curled on your side, meant for big dogs or small humans. There was a market for both, and you knew that this warehouse had likely housed both.

The old, dilapidated buildings had been out of use for a long time, as long as you could remember. Barley Village had been originally built to be close to the mineral deposits, but as those dried up and industry trended towards the water, southward expansion left all of the old buildings empty and rotting. There was always talk about tearing them down, but it was only ever talk. One time you were told that some people wanted to keep the buildings available to people who wished for some privacy. But when you asked your dad if that was true, he got angry, telling you that was a lie, that he would never let that happen. He said it would just be too expensive to take them down, and that there was really no point in it.

But he also told you to never, ever spend time northside. Of all of the rules he gave you, that was the only one you ever truly disobeyed. You had no idea how many times you had gotten in trouble for playing here, climbing up rusted stairs and crossing the support beams up by the ceiling, using rocks to knock out the jagged edges of broken glass from the windows so you could go onto the rooftops. Your health problems made it difficult, and sometimes impossible, but you were patient. Plus, that had been before the accident, when your coordination was still good.

Back then, you didn’t worry about the many dangers that lurked here, and you certainly didn’t believe you could be hurt. You were too entranced by the world you created for yourself. The only thing you worried about was the beatings you earned when you got caught. Dad used to tell you that if you kept disobeying him by going northside, you’d wind up locked in one of these cages—or worse. It took you a while to think of the word, because it wasn’t funny, but it also was. Ironic. It was ironic.

You couldn’t even imagine what kind of reaction he would have to what you had done now, what punishment you would earn. It would be bad. You knew it would be very bad.

Better not to think about it. Falling unconscious after being hit on the head was the most you had slept for the previous two days. It was the level of exhaustion that you could be staring down the business end of a sword with indifferent, sleepy eyes. Being locked up was bad, very bad, but you were content to lay listlessly on your side.

At some point, you must have fallen asleep because you weren’t entirely conscious when somebody kicked the front of your cage. “Hey, wake up.” Your physical response was to startle, jolting you awake enough to flinch away from the violence. But it was only Crina who crouched in front of the cage. “I have food for you. And medicine for the headache. I’m going let you out, and I suggest you don’t try to run. If the guys get a hold of you, I won’t stop them.”

“I won’t run,” you told her, your voice hoarse, your eyes fixed on what she had brought. A bowl of something that looked like stew and a bottle. More than food, you wanted water. Crina undid the lock and you shuffled out of the cage. Your head spun just as badly as it had when you dropped onto the floor earlier, your vision crawling with darkness and stomach heaving unhappily. She was right about the headache. It wasn’t a pain you ever got used to, no matter how many days you spent laid out from one. After an uneasy moment, you sat on the floor, grabbing the water and eagerly uncapping it.

“Hand,” Crina said, holding out a glass bottle. You allowed her to shake two capsules into your palm, tossing them into your mouth before taking in a blessedly wet mouthful of water. It soothed your tongue and throat like a salve, although you knew your stomach wouldn’t be quite so happy to receive anything. The stew’s scent alone made your stomach clench and churn with equal parts hunger and nausea. Slow. You had to take it slow.

“Thank you,” you told her, picking up the bowl. She’d brought a wrapped sailor’s biscuit to eat it with. Not very appetizing, but you hadn’t eaten much more than you slept. It could have been saw dust and you would have been grateful.

“I have your bag,” she said to fill the silence as you ate, pushing the limp canvas towards you. “They took anything that looked valuable, but your clothes are all there. They need to be washed. I’ll lend you something to wear in the meantime.”

Since your mouth was full, you nodded your thanks.

“While you eat, I’m going to talk. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to,” Crina said. “You don’t strike me as the talkative type.”

She didn’t say that in an accusatory tone, but it still caused your heart to skip with anxiety. The fear had to be irrational, it wasn’t as if you had lied to Captain Buggy, so what did you have to worry about? Besides, only the guilty feared scrutiny, that was a favored line of your dad’s.

“There’s a man in town asking if anyone has seen a girl. Petite. Missing an eye. Mentally unwell. He’s concerned that she might have gotten lost somewhere,” Crina told you. “From what I gather, her father is a pillar of the community. They’re all very worried.”

You averted your gaze, anxiously pulling your hair to cover your left eye. Of course Randall would be looking for you, although you had hoped you would have more time before he noticed your absence. It didn’t matter that you left in such a way to raise as little suspicion as possible, or that you were an adult, or that you didn’t want to be found. Your dad asked him to be your keeper while he was gone, and Randall did as your father said. Everybody did.

“Finish your food,” Crina prompted. “It’s worse when it’s cold.”

Right. You started eating again, your movements mechanical. She said nothing, and you had nothing to say.

“Everybody has their reasons for turning to piracy, and they’re not always pleasant,” Crina suddenly said. “Unless it interferes with my own business, I don’t care about who you were and why you ran away. It was a stupid choice, I think you know that. I won’t try and convince you to leave. Buggy seems to like you, so you wouldn’t be able to go anyway. But you need to understand that there will be consequences. The life you had before, no matter how terrible, did not prepare you for the life you’ve thrown yourself into.”

You stared hard at the bowl, thinking about that. It was true, you had to accept that you had blindly stumbled into a world you knew nothing about. But what choice did you have? The things that led you to this point were arranged like the rusty, creaky rungs of a ladder scaling the side of a building. Climbing up had always been the easy part, it was the inevitable descent that gave you trouble. You had to go slow, one rung at a time, blindly feeling with your toes, holding on with sweaty fingers, not looking up and not looking down because once you were on the ladder, you could only keep going. The first rung was spotting the Buggy Pirates, which you only did because you were sulking around the docks after seeing your father off on his trip. You only recognized the crew because your dad kept track of pirate captains with significant bounties. You only had the courage to sneak away from your house because dad was too far away to stop you. You only had the ability to scope out Buggy’s temporary hideout because of how much time you spent northside when you were younger. Those things all connected and followed so naturally and you didn’t know if fate existed, but you knew for a fact that you wouldn’t have wound up here on your own volition. It wasn’t a choice you made, it was the only way to get down from the roof that you had been stranded on for so long.

“I’ll give you some advice,” Crina continued, her tone lighter, “and I suggest you listen. You’re young and pretty, and you wouldn’t be the first to try and use that to get an advantage. It might work for a while, but men will get bored and your looks will fade. Before long you’ll be spat out into a cheap whorehouse with a couple of children you can’t afford and a hell of a rash.”

The whiplash from your thoughts to the conclusion she had drawn made your stomach twist with disgust. “No,” you said. Was that what she thought of you? Even if the idea was utterly ridiculous, shame rolled uncomfortable through you. “I would never—I could never ever do that.”

“Don’t be naive,” Crina said, rolling her eyes. “The boys you’re used to are disgusted by that scar, but the kind of men you’ll meet from now on won’t be. If your low self-esteem dictates who you let between your legs, you’ll find yourself in the gutter. I’m not saying that you shouldn’t sleep with men to get an advantage if that’s an option, only that you must be smart about it.”

You pulled your hair forward again, shaking your head clear of what she was saying. She didn’t understand. It wasn’t the assumption that men would be repulsed by your scar—which they would be, you knew that—but that you didn’t have it in you to invite or manipulate male attention. In so many ways you were already ruined, but to stoop down to letting other men touch you would be too far, it would destroy you.

“Assuming you live past tomorrow night,” Crina continued, “get a knife and figure out how to use it. The men aren’t going to accept you as a member of the crew until you prove yourself. So if anybody gets too close, you prove yourself with blood.”

“Do you think they’ll try to hurt me?”

“I think you look like an easy target,” she said. “And I know you have no concept of self preservation or defense.”

“Yes, I do,” you said, frowning. You had made it this far, after all. That was more than anybody would have thought of you.

“You don’t,” she said plainly. “The tablets I gave you are for treating pain, but imagine if they weren’t. You didn’t so much as ask me to clarify what they were.”

You opened your mouth to argue, and closed it, shame squeezing your throat. You hadn’t even thought about that.

“It might not matter anyway,” she said, “depending on Buggy’s reasons for keeping you.”

“What do you mean?”

Crina gave you a long, pitying look and you could tell there was something she wanted to say, something she was holding back. Eventually she shrugged. “That is between the two of you.”

You wanted to push for more, confused by the cryptic answer, but you didn’t. You could tell by the hard look on her face that she wouldn’t tell you anyway.

“One more thing. The most important thing,” Crina told you, leaning close so she could whisper. “Never, ever mention the captain’s nose. In fact, never mention noses at all.”

“His nose?” you repeated softly. “Is it… is it real?”

“What did I just say?” she asked sharply. “He killed a few of the last new recruits for saying something that sounded like nose while he was in a bad mood.”

“He… killed them?” you asked.

“Buggy is a very temperamental man,” she said, leaning back. “Try not to get on his bad side.”

“It sounds like you don’t like him.”

“I do, actually. God knows why. Are you finished?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Come on then,” Crina told you, getting to her feet and dusting herself off. “There’s running water on the other side. I’ll keep watch so you can clean up.”

Although birds called and the breeze carried all sorts of noises from Barley Village, none of it really reached the northside. A solemn graveyard hush settled heavy between the wreckage of ruined buildings, drafty even in broad daylight. No ghosts hid in the shadows, no historical tragedy marred its name, but there remained the haunted imprint of people who were no longer around.

Before setting you on your task of the day, Crina had given you a dress of hers to wear while your own clothes dried in the sun. You swam in it, but a sash at the waist made the fit look somewhat intentional and the long sleeves hid the ugly bruises cuffing your wrists. That, combined with having slept the previous night and most of the day, left you feeling oddly refreshed. Sure, all of the sleep had been in a cage and the only ‘bath’ you had was a couple of minutes alone with a spout that spat freezing water and a washcloth, but it was better than yesterday. Better than the day before that too, save for the bruises and big goose egg bump on the back of your head.

Despite the headache, you were glad to be given something to do. The task wasn’t difficult. Busywork that kept you out of the way. Checking to ensure that everything which would be loaded on the ship was documented, organized, and ready for transport. It wasn’t entirely unlike what you had done in the past and, you imagined, would be doing in the future. It was, however, the opposite way around. The goods were obviously looted, you were creating a list to know exactly what and how much of it had been stolen.

Vinegar, oil, wax.

You used the end of the pen to scratch beneath your bandana, which Crina had kindly retrieved for you. Sometimes the scar got itchy, like it had when it was healing.

Twine, needles, thread.

There was a particular smell to supply crates like these. Something to do with the place they were stored, or where they were made. Even now, years since you had been on a ship, it was overwhelmingly familiar. It made your stomach ache and chest clench, although you weren’t sure which quality of the scent was so unsettling.

You scratched the scar again.

Vinegar, oil-

Wait, you had already done that. Annoyed, you crossed out those words and crouched down to get into the next crate. Rope. It was coiled in tight loops like a huge snake, coarse beneath your fingers. Anything that was strong enough to endure the fury of the sea had to be coarse. Good rope was vital on a ship, you knew that even with your limited experience. Touching it reminded you of the time your dad tried to show you how to tie knots, and then subsequently had to treat your rope burn.

What would he think when he returned? Retired Marine or not, he was deeply involved with northside business and law. Missing supplies, missing daughter. Sometimes you felt an acidic sort of pleasure when imagining his reaction to your absence, but usually it was just dread.

Or worse. Prickling paranoia. You could run, for a time. But that was all it was. Running. He used to be a Marine, it wouldn’t be difficult for him to find you. When you were younger, the thought gave you comfort.

But you didn’t want to think about that. Not at all. Not ever again. You stared very hard at the rope, desperate to put those thoughts out of your mind.

You stared and stared and stared and-

Somebody grabbed you around the bicep, dragging you to your feet and forcing you back to reality. Yelping in fear, you were nearly knocked back down from the bloodrush dizziness of standing up too fast, saved only by the crates.

“Good god, girl,” the unfamiliar man said, taking a step back, clearly put off by your reaction. “Are you deaf or something? I hollered at you three or four times. Were you sleeping?”

Putting a hand to your racing heart, you looked from him to the still open crate and the notepad you had abandoned mid-task. You had no idea how long you had been sitting there. Long enough for your foot to go numb, prickling with pins and needles now that you were standing up.

“I’m sorry,” you told him.

“The captain wants to see you. It’s urgent,” he said. When you didn’t immediately respond, still orienting yourself, he sighed impatiently and grabbed your elbow, physically dragging you away. You stumbled to keep up, trying very hard to avoid falling. “If Buggy asks why you took so long, you better tell him it was your fault.”

“I will,” you said to appease him, attempting to shake off his hand before realizing that it was pointless. “Please slow down.”

“Not my fault you’ve got stumpy legs,” he said. “Keep up.”

The unfairness of that stung, but you didn’t have much choice. You had a feeling that he’d keep on pulling you along even if it meant dragging you across the ground.

“Where are we going?” you asked, embarrassingly out of breath.

“There,” he said, nodding to one of the waterfront buildings. At least it was close. You never strayed so close to the water, the buildings were too squat to make for fun exploration and too exposed to give cover.

The pirate released you when you got to the door, leaving you winded and scared. You adjusted your bandana and tried to catch your breath. “Don’t forget to tell him it was your fault it took so long, not mine,” he said, opening the door.

“I won’t,” you promised, the words papery thin on your dry tongue.

You were in trouble. You had no idea what you might have done, but there had to be something. Why would you be summoned like this otherwise? A very bad feeling pressed against your sternum, but you forced yourself to walk forward. The door shut behind you. Inside, the air was dark and cool and wet, sending a little shiver down your spine.

Buggy stood in the middle of the room, the only place where the sun found its way between the mangled teeth of glass and steel that used to be windows, his own little spotlight amidst the ruins. There were three other men on the edges of the light, their backs to you. One of them was bound. You did not like this.

“There she is!” Buggy exclaimed, inviting you forward with his arms spread wide. “Come on, don’t be shy. Especially not after keeping us waiting so long. Your friend over here could hardly handle the suspense.

Rocks and broken glass crunched beneath your feet as you approached them. Once you got close enough, finally, you could see the faces of the other men. One was the square-featured, angry man Buggy called Ivo. Another, a man you didn’t know. And the third, the one bound with a busted lip and developing black eye—

Randall called your name, trying to escape and rush to your side. Ivo grabbed him, pressing the blade of his knife against his throat.

“See, I told you, they’re working together,” Ivo said, glaring at you. “She tipped him off. No doubt this place will be swarming with the law before long.”

You stood completely still, staring at Randall with the steadily rising tide of panic sloshing in your stomach. After everything you had done to misdirect him, the note you left to beg he didn’t follow, the trouble you had put yourself through to keep from being seen, he was still here.

“Are you okay?” Randall asked, looking you up and down frantically, concerned in a way he never had looked before. “Did they hurt you?”

“I told you, she’s fine,” Buggy said with a grin. “I mean, yeah, Ivo over there did give her a little knock on the ole noggin—a love tap, really—but the eye was already like that when we found her.”

“I wasn’t asking you,” Randall said, glaring at Buggy.

“Shut up,” Ivo said, pressing the knife close enough to Randall’s throat that it broke skin.

“No, no, let him go,” Buggy ordered casually, waving his hand. “He’s not gonna do anything stupid.” He threw an arm around your shoulder. “Not when I’ve got her.”

Ivo reluctantly complied, releasing Randall. He watched you intently, and you knew what he was thinking. How could he save you?

“Ivo over there thinks that the two of you are working together,” Buggy told you, smiling. His arm was heavy around your shoulders, oppressively so. “He thinks that we should kill you both.”

“I’m not—I wouldn’t,” you told him.

“And see, I wanna believe you. I really do. But he’s not talking, and,” Buggy ran his finger over your right cheek, reminding you of his threat from yesterday, “I’m starting to worry you’ve been lying to me.”

“I’m not,” you said, ice cold dread dripping into your veins a drop at a time. You fought your discomfort and forced yourself to meet his eyes, hoping he could see your sincerity. “I promise I’m not.”

“Then how did he find this place?”

“I don’t… I don’t know…”

“She used to hide here when we were kids,” Randall answered. “I thought she ran away, not that you freaks had kidnapped her. If I had known I’d find pirates here, I would have come armed.”

“Is that true?” Buggy asked you, pulling you even closer. Close enough to be embarrassing, to give the wrong impression, especially when he was stroking your cheek with a sort of affection that didn’t mesh with the danger in his blue eyes.

“I told you it is. Let her go, clown!” Randall shouted. His voice was loud enough to echo, and harsh enough to make you wince. That sort of rage wasn’t one you expected from him, but it was familiar all the same.

“Oh, wow,” Buggy said with a laugh, looking up at him. “Is that jealousy I hear? She didn’t tell me she was leaving behind a boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you said softly, your insides twisting at the thought.

“Really?” Buggy asked. He shrugged, and looked at Randall. “If you’re not doing this because you want to have sex with her, why are you here?”

“I am a dear friend—both to her and her dad,” Randall answered. “He asked me to look after her because she… She’s not in a sound state of mind. And she’s the only family he has left. Without her, he’ll have nothing.” He grit his teeth. “Take me, kill me if you’re that thirsty for blood, but let her go. Please.”

“You’re a real knight in shining armor. Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but she came here all on her own,” Buggy said, releasing you to approach him instead. “She begged to join my crew, got down on her knees and told me that she would be happy to serve me for the rest of her life. It was the most adorable thing.”

“No,” Randall said, his face twisting with disgust. “You’re lying. She wouldn’t do that.”

“Ask her yourself,” Buggy invited, stepping aside and sweeping out his arm. All eyes landed on you like a spotlight. Blood rushed in your ears, and you felt dizzy with it, ready to pass out on the spot. When you looked at Buggy, he smiled and nodded encouragingly.

“It’s true,” you said.

“No. That is impossible,” Randall said. “This is insane. You are mad, you cannot make decisions like this for yourself.” You stared at his feet, your hands balled into fists. You were not crazy. You were not. That had to be true. “Whatever hysterics brought you here, give it up. These are pirates.”

“I’m a pirate too,” you declared, your hands forming fists at your sides. You weren’t crazy, or mad. You were thinking very clearly, more than you had in a while.

“No, you are your father’s daughter,” Randall insisted, loud enough to make you flinch. “Can you imagine the agony he would feel hearing you say that?”

Your breathing was too fast, rapid enough to make your head spin. You kept shaking your head, tears flying off of your cheek, but you couldn’t recall when you had begun to cry. “I don’t care.”

“Don’t care…? This bastard has already gotten into your head,” Randall said. “He has poisoned your broken mind with his lies and manipulations, please don’t let this go any further.”

You shook your head again, but there was nothing you could think of to say. You didn’t want to talk anymore, you just wanted this to be over.

“Believe me, as much as I would love to claim otherwise, I had nothing to do with this,” Buggy said, raising his hands innocently. “You’ve got no one to blame but yourself. Think about what would drive a girl like this into the arms of a pirate. A broken heart, maybe? Was that your doing, lover boy? Did you break her heart? Make her feel like she wasn’t good enough?”

“Keep your big goddamned nose out of our business, clown,” Randall said.

The other pirates audibly gasped, and you could feel the sudden zap of tension in the air. Buggy’s taunting smile froze in place, his posture icing over like a statue. And then, a second later, he was rushing at Randall, burying his fist in the other man’s stomach. Randall crumpled onto his knees with a heavy grunt and you waited for something else, something worse. Crina said that Buggy had killed over jokes about his nose, and, right then, you believed it.

Nothing happened. You watched, frozen, as Buggy breathed in deeply, his shoulders rising and falling with it, and then he raised a hand.

“New girl,” he called, snapping to beckon you closer. You obliged, rushing to his side. He didn’t look angry, not like you feared he would. Instead, he smiled. It was a mean smile, a frightening one. But a smile all the same. “Are you ready for your big moment?”

“What?”

“Your audition! I thought of the perfect act for you. Kill him.”

You looked down at Randall, he was clearly still in pain, his eyes watering as he looked up at you. “I can’t,” you whispered, shaking your head again.

“You can and will. Assuming you want to remain on my crew. Otherwise I’ll kill him and you’ll have to explain to daddy why prince charming was here in the first place.” He held out his hand towards Ivo. “Knife.” When he got it, Buggy flipped the knife handle first, holding it to you with a flourish. “You’re up, babydoll.”

“She won’t do it, clown,” Randall said through grit teeth.

“Of course she will,” Buggy said. “For me.”

As if moving through the dusky haze of a dream, you took the knife, wrapping your sweaty hand around the grip. The way Buggy smiled in response made your heart flutter, something to cling to amidst the horror and disgust. It didn’t feel real anymore. How could it be real?

“I don’t know what to do.” Were those your words? Your voice?

Buggy laughed. “Of course you don’t,” he said, circling behind Randall. “C’mere, I’ll help you.”

Randall was shouting and pleading, but Buggy had grabbed a fistfull of his hair to keep him from escaping.

“You’ve gotta hold him still,” Buggy told you. “Like this, see?”

“-don’t do this, please. You can’t… I love you!”

You got a fistful of Randall’s hair, making him cry out in pain. There was no pleasure in the sound, only a roiling sense of disgust. It would be better when he was dead, and then he wouldn’t be in pain.

“God you’re short,” Buggy said as he adjusted you into place, right between him and Randall. “You’ll be better off going for their ankles.” He wrapped his hand around yours, getting a good grip on the knife and holding it still.

“-when he gets bored of fucking you. That’s all pirates do, rape and murder. You’ll never be one of them, you’ll just-”

“Start on one side and move to the other, easy as that,” Buggy said comfortingly, resting his chin against the side of your head.

“-he doesn’t kill you, your dad will. Do you really think you’ll ever be able to hide from him?”

Moving slowly, through a dream, you put the knife on the left side of Randall’s neck. It was no different from what a butcher did, really.

Breath in. Pull. You instinctively locked up at the sound of Randall’s screams and the resistance of his flesh, but Buggy forced your hand, pulling the blade deep into his neck and then fast to the side. The knife got caught part way through, stuck in something hard. You tried to saw through it and Randall made an inhuman noise of agony. Buggy had to help you unstick it, to follow through until the knife slashed that horrifying scream short and then there was just a sort of gurgling sound and you didn’t know if it was because he was still alive or if it was an automatic process.

There was so much blood, and it was hot, burning you. For some reason, you hadn’t anticipated the messy scarlet spray. From the deep slice came more blood. More, and more still. Randall’s heavy, limp body dropped onto the floor into a puddle of it, although you weren’t sure when you let go of his hair. Buggy released your hand, but you didn’t drop the knife, holding it in a death grip as blood streamed like red veins down your hand and wrist, down the blade and all the way to its tip before dripping to the dirty floor. The tang of iron filled your lungs. You shook all over, all the way down inside, your bones and organs shivering. It was your heart. It pounded frantically, like butterfly wings. And your breathing. Wheezing, gasping, gurgling like Randall’s had before he fell.

Your mouth opened to exhale, but there was nothing there. No air, no words. Nothing. Your cold gaze turned to look at Buggy, confused as to what you were supposed to do next. He had led you this far, but now you were lost. He smiled, and laughed, and took the knife away from you, tossing it to the side where it clanged and slid away.

And then he folded you into his arms, your head pressed against his chest. His heartbeat was firm and steady, and he was so warm. He smelled of gunpowder and salty sea air and greasepaint and the natural warm scent of his skin. You clung to that, breathing in deep to excise the scent of blood.

“Congratulations, babydoll,” Buggy told you. “Looks like you just got the part.”

The first firecracker went off not long after the sun had gone down, kicking off the surprise party with an especially loud zip and then a bang and a bursting sizzle. “It’s a surprise party,” Buggy told you, his face illuminated by the flash of red. “As in, the people who live here are going to be so surprised by the party I’m throwing for my crew. Get it?”

A chain of firecrackers followed the first, a show that the pirates set off amidst a barrage of explosions, lighting up the sky with brilliant colors and smoke, making the earth tremble beneath your feet. They acted as distraction and lure, drawing people further into the town and inviting the ship that had been lurking nearby to enter the harbor.

And after that came the chaos.

Many things happened that you were aware of, if only passively. Leaving the northside and then Barley Village, waiting at the dock, and then boarding the ship as men and women in colorful attire flooded the yard, overtaking the few armed guards. You were told to sit on the deck and wait, so you did. Aware of it all—noxious sulfur and smoke filling the air, thunderous claps of explosives, popping gunshots, screaming voices, roaring fires—but uninvolved. There was a sense of great quiet. Not outside where things were loud and violent and scary, but inside. You were very quiet on the inside. Far away from everything and everyone else.

Blood flaked off of your skin, caking beneath the nails when you scratched your arm. It would have been nice to wash it off, but you didn’t know where you would go for that, and you didn’t want to get up.

“Yoo-hoo, is anybody in there?”

A gloved hand waved in front of your face.

You let out a hoarse scream, nearly tipping backwards from how violently you startled. It didn’t take long for you to realize how overblown the reaction was, Buggy’s laughter made the point quite clearly.

“What was that?” he asked, almost laughing too hard to get the words out. He stood above you without his coat and hat, although he kept the striped headscarf, and a bottle tucked under his arm.

“You scared me,” you told him, a hand on your racing heart.

“That noise you just made though,” he said, still laughing. “It sounded like one of those scream-y fireworks.”

“I didn’t know you were there.”

“Your fault, not mine. I was trying to talk to you, but you just sat there. I thought it was your eye that didn’t work, not your ears.”

“I guess I… zoned out a little.”

“No shit. Ah, that was good,” Buggy said as his laughter subsided. “I had no idea human beings could even make sounds like that.” Letting out a big breath to settle himself, he sat down next to you. Very close, far closer than you would have, almost touching. “Kinda makes me wonder what other kinds of sounds you can make.”

“I know, it’s annoying,” you said, staring hard at the deck. “I’m sorry.”

Buggy laughed at that too, shaking his head. “You really have no clue, do you?” he asked. “Is it weird that I’m into it?”

“Into what?” you asked. “I’m sorry, I… don’t understand.”

“I know you don’t, and that’s okay,” he said with a mocking sort of indulgence, patting your head. “Anyway, I had a little business in town and snagged this from some rich guy’s house.” He held up a bottle by the neck and swished its contents a little for effect. “We’re going to celebrate.”

“Wouldn’t you rather be out there?” you asked, the first coherent question that came to your mind as it scrambled to make sense of what he had just said.

“Between you and me, this,” Buggy said with a confidential hush, gesturing to your burning town, “isn’t my thing. It’s a reward for my freaks, gives ‘em an outlet to express themselves artistically. I prefer a more… performative platform. True art deserves a spotlight and an audience.” He waved that away, smiling. “But this isn’t about me, it’s about you.”

“Me?”

“You really impressed me earlier. I mean, yeah, your technique needs polish, and you’ve got no stage presence to speak of, but you displayed raw talent. I really think you have a shot at success, sweetheart. Stick with me, and I’ll make something out of you yet.”

“Thank you,” you said softly, shying away from thinking about earlier. The praise though, that was heady. That made you feel warm.

Buggy popped the cork off the bottle, taking a drink straight from it and smacking his lips appreciatively. “You like sweet things, right?”

“I-”

“You’ll love this then. Here, try it.”

You eyed the bottle he was proffering to you warily. Alcohol was something you were familiar with, but you could count on your fingers the number of times you had actually tasted it. “I don’t know…” you said, trying to think of ways to reject drinking without seeming ungrateful.

“You’re a pirate now, so you’ve gotta learn to drink like one,” Buggy told you, pushing it into your hand. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

You sniffed the open lip, surprised by the sweetness. It didn’t smell as strongly of alcohol as you feared. Not like what your father drank. Maybe it would be okay. Trying to avoid embarrassing yourself, you tipped the bottle back just like he had. That was a mistake. It didn’t smell like alcohol, but you could taste it—feel it, even. Panicked by your body’s natural response to expel it, you swallowed as much as you could, coughing out the rest. Red liquid drooled down your chin, staining the dress that was already ruined with dried blood. Buggy laughed. A little at first, and then a lot.

Flushing, you wiped your mouth.

“Oh, don’t be like that. That was hilarious,” Buggy told you. You looked away, even more embarrassed. “Your face was priceless. You threw that back with the confidence of a real fire-hazard, saggy skinned, dead eyed alcoholic. You were so serious about it too, and then… Good lord.”

“I didn’t know!” you said, trying and failing not to sound shrill.

“It’s okay, you’ve got me to help you now. Try it again, but don’t be so greedy. Baby sips.”

“No, thank you,” you said, holding the bottle back to him.

“Drink. That’s an order,” he said, pushing it back to you.

That gave you pause. “Do you mean that?” you asked.

He nodded, urging you on.

Your shoulders drooped in defeat. Trepidatiously, you took a small sip. At least you didn’t hack it back up this time. While the taste was sweet, the burn was not. It rose up like smoke into your head, you could feel it.

“What if I get drunk?” you asked.

“Oh, you’re going to get drunk, captain’s orders,” Buggy said with a grin. “I can’t stand watching you sit around moping about killing that guy. Besides, you’re a pirate now.”

The little ball of anxiety deep in your gut doubled. This was wrong, you knew it was. Or maybe you were wrong, and Buggy was right. You didn’t know.

“I don’t want to embarrass myself,” you muttered.

“As long as you don’t jump into the water or shit yourself, you’ll be fine…” You looked at him, horrified. “Joking! C’mon, I’ve taken good care of you so far, haven’t I? You’ll be fine.”

The way he laughed made you want to believe him. He was your captain now. You nodded seriously and, steeling yourself, took another drink. And another.

“See? It’s good, right?” Buggy asked, holding out his hand for the bottle.

You licked your lips, cleaning up the lingering sweetness. “It is. Thank you,” you said, unable to keep yourself from admiring the way his throat worked as he swallowed, the view unfortunately obscured by his cravat.

The perverse thought took you by surprise. Was it the alcohol? Already, your head was spinning, your thoughts a little more disorganized. It wasn’t like the quiet, empty feeling of before. It was warm and distant, it made your shoulders relax, the anxiety and uncertainty of before fading. This was a good idea, you already felt so much better. When he passed the bottle back, you didn’t have to be prompted to imbibe, chasing that feeling.

“I don’t mean to pry, but when that guy back there mentioned your dad, it really seemed to get to you,” Buggy said. “What, did daddy not love you? Or maybe he loved you a little too much.”

You didn’t want to talk about that. You didn’t want to think about it. You took another big drink.

On the horizon, the town was utterly ablaze. As the night grew darker, the flames rose higher. Which building was burning so brightly? It belched thick, black smoke into the night sky. Who was in it? Anybody you knew?

“Don’t wanna talk about it, hm? That’s fine,” Buggy said, stealing the bottle back. “With any luck, my freaks’ll kill him tonight, eh? Then you’ll really be free.”

“He’s gone right now,” you said, your words soft and slurring together. “Out of town.” What would he think of the smoldering ashes? Would he believe you had perished in the flame? Somehow, you doubted that. He would know what you had done. There was no chance of freedom, not for you.

“That’s even better,” Buggy said.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you turned to him, both in confusion and disbelief. “How?”

“Because, babydoll,” Buggy told you, shaking your shoulder to make sure you were paying attention. “It’s good to have somebody to hate—somebody to prove wrong. He tried to convince you that you’re crazy, he tried to keep you from ever being yourself. That pain and anger made you weak. But you’re not weak anymore. Tonight, I showed you how to be strong. It’s not enough to tell those assholes that they’re wrong, you have to prove it to them. That’s what tonight was about, right? You proved to your dad, to everybody, that you’re stronger than they thought. And, hey, you proved it to me, too. I wasn’t sure about you at first, but I changed my mind.” He threw an arm around you, pulling you close. “I like you, kiddo. A lot.”

“I like you too,” you said, relaxing into the little side hug, very aware of every place his bare arm met your bare shoulders and neck. The alcohol had stoked a nice blaze in your stomach and chest, making your head spin in a way you didn’t mind that much. Smoothing the colors, softening the air, making you want to lean into his touch, made you crave more of it.

Buggy pulled away, leaving the bottle in your hands. You felt a little cold without him.

“You know,” he said, smiling at you. The far off flames glinted mischievously in his eyes. The flaring reds and oranges highlighted his cheekbones too, defined the sharpness of his jaw. You were caught off guard by how viscerally you reacted to the thought that he was handsome, your filterless mind caught in an endless loop of focusing on the fact. “Burning down this shithole is nothing compared to what I will do. The towns I’ll raze to the ground, the treasure I’ll steal, the shows I’ll put on. Now that I’ve got a crew, I’m gonna put on a show like nobody’s ever seen. The biggest, flashiest, greatest show ever. Everybody will be screaming my name, recognize my face. I’ll shine so bright that they’ll have no choice but to love me. ”

Buggy’s intensity made you smile, you couldn’t help it. Alcohol had created a cloudy burst of affection within you, or maybe it was just the floodgates of tension finally collapsing, letting out something that would have otherwise been smothered. Either way, it was as intoxicating as the drink itself.

“Are you laughing at me?” Buggy asked, his tone filled with steel. You looked to see his dark expression, his narrowed eyes.

“I’m not,” you said, confused by his rapid shift in demeanor. “I’m… I’m happy. I’ll do anything to help you.”

He relaxed. “Well, you’d better start working on your act.”

That made you laugh, a dizzy, bubbly sound. “I can’t do an act. I wouldn’t know what to do.”

“There has to be something. Let me think… Can you sing?”

“I used to, a little. But not for a really long time.”

“Come on, let me hear it.”

You were drunk, you knew that for a fact because in no state of sobriety would you offer to sing in front of another person. But, right then, bubbling with alcohol and protected by the darkness of the smoky night sky, you felt invincible.

“Oh, what do you do with a drunken sailor? What do you do with a drunken sailor? What do you do with a drunken sailor, early in the morning? Slash his…um… something, something, captain’s daughter. Toss him in… to… the dirty water…” Whatever coherence you held onto unraveled into a fit of drunken laughter at the awful rhyme. “I’m sorry, I think… I think I forgot some of the words.”

“Seems like you forgot the tune too,” Buggy said, wincing dramatically. All that did was make you laugh harder. “Hold on a second, let me wipe the blood out of my ears.”

You swatted his shoulder, although your attempted indignance probably wasn’t very convincing when you were still smiling. “Don’t be mean!”

“That’s a bold way to treat your captain,” he told you, but he was smiling too.

“Please don’t be mean to me, Captain Buggy,” you said, speaking slowly to emphasize how serious you were.

“Beg me again.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said, waving it off in a way that made you think he was making fun of you. “Anyway, I’m being nice right now, especially after that performance. The critics would eat you alive for that one. So, singing is out. Clearly. What else have you got?”

“Oh! I know a, um, a rhyme. A joke.”

He looked at you skeptically. “Really?”

“What is that s’posed to mean?” you asked.

“You don’t strike me as somebody with… How should I put this… A sense of humor?”

You frowned.

“Alright, alright, quit pouting and tell me,” Buggy said impatiently, waving you to continue.

You cleared your throat very theatrically, sitting up as straight as you could manage.

“There was a young lass who thought

Very little but thought it a lot.

Then at long last she knew

What she wanted to do,

But before she could start, she forgot.”

Deflating, you laughed, surprised at how clearly you had delivered the words. Especially considering how long it had been since you heard them.

Buggy didn’t look nearly as impressed. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard a clean limerick before,” he said. “And now I know why. I mean, what’s the point of limerick without the ick.”

You blew a raspberry at him. “Fine, you do one.”

“Okay, but you have to prepare yourself,” Buggy said. You nodded encouragingly.

“There was a young plumber named Lee

Who was plumbing his girl by the sea.

She said, ‘Stop your plumbing,

There's somebody coming’

Said the plumber, still plumbing, ‘It's me.’"

Belatedly, you gasped, your hands covering your mouth. That shock dissolved into giggles. “That’s, oh, that’s… that’s dirty.”

“Aw, was it too much for your delicate sensibilities? Now that you’re a pirate, you’re gonna hear a lot worse than that. A looooooooot worse. I hope your unspoiled ears can handle it.”

“I can!” you insisted, taking a big drink to steel yourself before setting the bottle aside. If you were going to be a pirate, you had to stop getting so flustered. “More. Please.”

“Okay, okay…” Buggy cleared his throat. “A hooker roaming the East Blue,

Once filled her vagina with glue,

She said, with a grin, ‘Well, they paid to get in,

And they’ll damn sure pay to get out, too.’”

You laughed loudly, as much at the joke as the taboo nature of it. You laughed, and then giggled in a bubbly, drunken way that you knew was too loud and embarrassing. “That is icky,” you told him. “Jeez, that’s…” Your faux seriousness dissolved into a fit of giggles again and you leaned against him for stability. “What would you even do?”

“Yeah, I don’t know. It sounds like a sticky situation,” he said, nudging you with his elbow. That, of course, sent you into another fit of giggles.

“I’m sorry, I’m…” you said. “I think I’m drunk.” You looked behind yourself at the town, the glittery haze of joy buzzing in your head fading at the sight. It was horrific, wasn’t it? And here you were, laughing like a fool. You couldn’t really comprehend the magnitude of it all, even if you could acknowledge that it was terrible. “Is it okay?” you asked, looking back at him imploringly. “Everything that happened tonight… I thought I would feel very different after, but I don’t. It almost feels like it’s not even real. You ever get that? When things happen but they feel so impossible that you get confused?”

“If you can think that clearly,” Buggy said, “then you’re not drunk enough. Bottoms up, babydoll.” You smiled at his use of the pet name and the fluttery feeling it gave you. What else could you do but oblige, tipping the bottle back like before. Only, unlike before, you kept it all down. There wasn’t any real burn, just more sweetness, more warmth.

And then there was nothing left.

“Woah,” you said, lowering the empty bottle and wiping your mouth. “‘s all gone.”

“And how do you feel?” he asked.

You opened your mouth to respond, but all that came out was a dizzy sort of laugh. “I dunno…” you said, closing your eye, trying to collect your thoughts. “I’m…” Already things were getting even more fuzzy and foggy. Fabric stuck to your flushed skin, the salty air drying across your chest and cheeks. “I feel… very…”

Making an upset noise in the back of your throat, you pushed your hair back, catching the bandana and pulling it off so you could feel the breeze on your whole face. That helped. Drawing in a deep breath, you looked at him, trying to focus. Only, the second you saw him, all you could do was smile. His eyes were greedy about the light, sparkling with it. Even with the nose, Buggy was handsome. That was not something you could tell him though, not at all ever. Unfortunately you had forgotten what you were saying in the first place.

“Very… what?” Buggy asked. “‘Cause if you keep trying to be a buzzkill, I’ll give you something to laugh about.”

Were you a buzzkill? You couldn’t remember what you had said or done to earn that title. It was hard enough to comprehend what was happening in the moment. “Like what?” you asked.

“Like… this!” Buggy said, using the sash around your waist to pull you closer so he could tickle your sides. You jumped and squealed, the bottle rolling out of your hands as you tried to fight him off.

“No no no, don’t,” you cried, trying to escape. You were being too loud, moving too much, acting like an idiot, but you didn’t have enough control to stop.

“Why not?” he asked. “You’re laughing, aren’t you?”

It was true, you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing, letting it out in panicked little bursts. Time had a bizarre elasticity to it, everything hitting you at once and fading just as fast. Laughing, sobbing, begging him to stop. It was easy to catch and hold onto one of his hands, but that left the other one free. And if you tried to catch that one instead, you had to release the first. There must have been a better way to do it, but you felt as if, bit by bit, particle by particle, the world was separating, the hot and humid air splitting, your limbs becoming loose, your capacity for rational thought dissipating like mist.

Lacking any sort of control and with a completely undeserved sense of invulnerability, you tackled him. Buggy let it happen, still laughing. At least he had stopped.

“God, it’s like being attacked by a drunk, one-eyed toddler,” he said. “What are you gonna do, whine me into submission?”

“Don’t be mean,” you said seriously, your words ruined by something wavering between a laugh and a sob, or maybe it was just the drunken slur.

“You attacked me. If anything, I'm the victim here.”

“No! You started it!”

“Hold on, are you… crying?” Buggy asked incredulously. “Aw, you poor thing. I mean, you were laughing so much, how could I have known you didn’t like it?”

“I don’t!” you insisted.

“To be clear,” he said. “You don’t like this?” He attacked your sides, not tickling so much as just teasing, but to the same effect. You yelped and sat up squirm away, swatting at his hands.

Rather than laugh like before, Buggy groaned, his hips bucking up against you. A loud, harsh gasp left your mouth, your entire body going rigid from the liquid heat of friction, your thighs squeezing around him. At some point, your skirt had ridden up, your panties being the only barrier left. You didn’t think you had ever been as acutely aware of how achingly empty, electrically tingly, as you were right then.

Bad. Very bad.

“Oh, there’s another fun noise,” Buggy said, laughing as he propped himself upright with his arms. “I can’t believe that got you.”

“No,” you said quickly, dizzy from the intensity of your reaction and how close the two of you were. You could smell him, the sweat, the musk, the salt, the greasepaint, the gunpowder. You could see the glitter in his makeup, the fire catching in his eyes. “It jus’... surprised me.”

“Is that why you’re shaking?” Buggy asked, rubbing your exposed thigh, the fabric of his glove catching the sensitive skin.

“I’m… um…” Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to organize the drunken slush of your brain. Being so close to him, feeling his body against yours, sent deviously tantalizing tingling sparks through you. And guilt. It was wrong, he wasn’t doing anything to invite those feelings, you were just being weird and drunk and embarrassing and you couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to kiss him. You’d have to tilt your head a lot, although the stubble would be more hazardous than his nose. The last time you kissed someone, you were both young enough that you didn’t have to navigate facial hair. And then there was the matter of the makeup. You tried to imagine what you might look like after, the slash of red and imprint of white. Maybe they’d mix into pink. You tried to force yourself to focus on something else, but you couldn’t meet his eyes either. Nervous and confused and filled with a million different feelings you had no name for, you squirmed again, thoughtlessly adding to the anxious feedback loop of heat and need and intoxicated emptiness.

“You know, sweetheart, this reminds me,” Buggy said, “there’s still the matter of your physical. It’s standard procedure for new crew. We could get that over and done with while you’re… lubricated.”

“What’re you… talking about?”

“I’ve gotta make sure you’re fit, healthy… Clean of anything you could pass on to the forty or so people you’re gonna be stuck with in an enclosed space for weeks at a time.”

“How d’you do that?”

“You’ve been to a doctor, right? It’s kinda like that. I know it can feel a little invasive, so it might be better to do it while you’re drunk.”

“What…” you started to ask, but then Buggy shifted, his hips pushing up against you. The fresh wash of warmth it sent into your core scattered your mind, and you lost the already tenuous thread of thought. Your eyelashes fluttered, although you weren’t sure when you had closed your eye. “Umm…”

“Well, first,” he said, answering the question you hadn’t asked, “you’d have to take off your clothes. Then relax while I have a little look-see. It’s important that you stay as still as possible. I’ll have a hard time finishing if you can’t stop squirming around the whole time.”

“Do you really have to?” you asked, your brow furrowing. It sounded embarrassing. But maybe if it was him, you didn’t mind? Your dad did all of your past medical check-ups so it wasn’t inherently wrong. But the thought of Buggy seeing you without clothes wasn’t exactly nice, you could only imagine his disgust. That was bad.

“Depends on if you’re serious about being a pirate or not,” Buggy said.

“I am serious!” you exclaimed. Your hands went to the sash around your waist to pull the bow free. If you did it quickly, you wouldn’t be as embarrassed.

“Woah, wait. Holy shit,” Buggy said, “are you seriously—” He cracked up laughing, making you freeze. “I didn’t think you’d actually fall for that.”

“You’re… laughing,” you said, your fingers falling with the slow sink of humiliation.

“You really were going to strip for me, out in the open and everything.” Buggy laughed harder, rocking forward. “I didn’t expect you to be so eager. Hey, if you really wanna get naked, I’m not going to stop you.”

“I don’t, I just… I thought…” you said, pulling away from him and trying to get onto your feet to get away, embarrassment lighting the worst sort of fire within you.

“Woah, calm down, it was just a joke,” Buggy said, his laughter fading. “You’re absolutely plastered, if you stand up, you’re gonna fall right back down.” You didn’t stop, resolute to get onto your feet and put some distance between you and him. “I won’t catch you.”

“’m fine,” you told him.

You finally got your footing and braced against your knee to lurch upright. For a second, you were standing up and weightless. And then you were nothing.

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